Part 42 (2/2)

The miserable old man flung himself back in his chair and his head bowed until his chin sank heavily upon his chest. Two great tears welled into his bloodshot eyes and trickled slowly down his seared old cheeks. It was a pitiable sight. Jacky looked on silently for a moment. Her eyes took in every detail of that picture of despair. She had heard the old man's words but took no heed of them. She was thinking very hard.

Suddenly she seemed to arrive at a decision. Her laugh rang out, and she came and knelt at her uncle's side.

”So you've sold me, you old dear, and not a bad thing too. What's the price?”

Her uncle raised his bowed head. Her smiling face dried his tears and put fresh heart into him. He had expected bitter invective, but instead the girl smiled.

Jacky's task now became a simple one. A mere matter of pumping. Sharp questions and rambling replies. Bit by bit she learned the story of Lablache's proposal and the manner in which an acceptance had been forced upon her uncle. She did not relinquish her task until the minutest detail had been gleaned. At last she was satisfied with her cross-examination.

She rose to her feet and pa.s.sed her hand with a caressing movement over her uncle's head, gazing the while out of the window. Her mind was made up. Her uncle needed her help now. That help should be his. She condoned his faults; she saw nothing but that which was lovable in his weakness.

Hers was now the strength to protect him, who, in the days of his best manhood had sheltered her from the cruel struggles of a life in the half-breed camp, for such, at the death of her impecunious father, must otherwise have been her lot.

Now she looked down into that worn, old face, and her brisk, business-like tones roused him into new life.

”Uncle, you must meet Lablache and play--the game. For the rest, leave it to me. All I ask is--no more whisky to-day. Stay right here and have a sleep. Guess you might go an' lie down. I'll call you for supper. Then you'll be fit. One thing you must remember; watch that ugly-faced cur when you play. See he don't cheat any. I'll tell you more before you start out. Come right along now and have that sleep.”

The old man got up and the girl led him from the room. She saw him to his bedroom and then left him. She decided that, for herself, she would not leave the house until she had seen Bill. She must get her uncle sober before he went to meet Lablache.

CHAPTER XXVI

IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX

Foss River Settlement was, at the time, a very small place, and of practically no importance. It was brought into existence by the neighborhood of one or two large ranches; these ranches employed considerable labor. Foss River might be visited by an earthquake, and, provided the earthquake was not felt elsewhere, the world would not be likely to hear of it for weeks. The newspapers of the Western cities were in their infancy, and contented themselves with the news of their own towns and feverish criticisms of politics which were beyond the understanding of their editors. Progress in the West was very slow--almost at a standstill.

After the death of Horrocks the police had withdrawn to report and to receive augmentation. No one felt alarm at their absence. The inhabitants of Foss River were a self-reliant people--accustomed to look to themselves for the remedy of a grievance. Besides, Horrocks, they said, had shown himself to be a duffer--merely a tracker, a prairie-man and not the man to bring Retief to justice. Already the younger members of the settlement and district were forming themselves into a vigilance committee. The elders--those to whom the younger looked for a lead in such matters--had chosen to go to the police; now the younger of the settlement decided to act for themselves.

This was the condition and feeling in Foss River at the time of the death of Horrocks; this was the state of affairs when the _insouciant_ Bill leisurely strolled into the sitting-room at the Foss River Ranch, about the time that Joaquina Allandale had finished her tea. With the familiarity of the West, Bill entered by the French window. His lazy smile was undisturbed. He might have been paying an ordinary call instead of answering a summons which he knew must be a matter of emergency, for it was understood between these two that private meetings were tabooed, except when necessity demanded them.

Jacky's greeting was not rea.s.suring, but her lover's expression remained unchanged, except that his weary eyelids further unclosed.

”Guess we're side-tracked, Bill,” she said meaningly. ”The line's blocked. Signals dead against us.”

Bill looked into her eyes; then he turned and closed the window, latching it securely. The door was closed. His keen eyes noted this.

”What do you mean?”

The girl shrugged.

”The next twelve hours must finish our game.”

”Ah!”

”Yes,” the girl went on, ”it is Lablache's doing. We must settle our reckoning with him to-night.”

Bill flung himself into a chair.

”Will you explain?--I don't understand. May I smoke?”

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