Part 24 (1/2)

”I think you could do so,” she said. ”You seem to have trusty friends, Rancher Ormesby; though that is not surprising on the prairie.”

The words were simply spoken, and wholly unstudied; but Lucille Haldane had a very graceful way, and there was that in her eyes which brought a sparkle into those of Sally, and I saw had made the silent Gordon her slave. Her gift of fascination was part of her birthright, and she used it naturally without taint of artifice.

”Could anybody doubt it after to-day?” I said.

Then Boone smiled dryly. ”I suppose it devolves upon me to acknowledge the compliment, and I am afraid that some of his friends are better than he deserves,” he said. ”At least, I am willing to testify that Rancher Ormesby does not importune them, for I never met any man slower to accept either good advice or well-meant a.s.sistance. Have you not found it so, Miss Steel?”

”All you men are foolish, and most of you slow,” Sally answered archly.

”I had to convince one with a big hard brush to-day.”

This commenced the relation of reminiscences, mostly humorous, of the affray, for we could afford to laugh, and all joined in the burst of merriment which rose from outside when several hors.e.m.e.n came up at a gallop across the prairie. A stockrider of Caledonian extraction had borrowed my banjo to amuse his comrades, and they appreciated his irony when he played the new arrivals in to the tune of ”The Campbells are coming.”

Then he took off his hat to the uniformed figure which led the advance.

”Ye're surely lang in comin', Sergeant, dear,” he said.

There was another roar of laughter, and I heard Mackay's voice. ”It was no' my fault, and ye should ken what kind of horses ye sell the Government; but now I'm here I'm tempted to arrest the whole of ye for unlawful rioting!”

He halted in the doorway with displeasure in his face, and, disregarding my invitation, waited until Miss Haldane bade him be seated, while before commencing an attack upon a fowl, he said dryly: ”Maybe I had better begin my business first. It would be a poor return to eat your supper and than arrest ye, Ormesby.”

”You had better make sure of the supper, and if you can take me out of the hands of my allies you are welcome to,” I said.

Boone's lips twitched once or twice as though in enjoyment of a hidden joke as he discoursed with the sergeant upon the handling of mounted men and horses. He showed, I fancied, a curious knowledge of cavalry equipment and maneuvers, and Mackay was evidently struck with his opinions. I also saw Lucille Haldane smile when the sergeant said: ”If ever ye pa.s.s my station come in and see me. It's a matter o' regret to me I had not already met ye.”

”Thanks,” said Boone, just moving his eyebrows as he looked across at me. ”I narrowly missed spending some time in your company a little while ago.”

”And now to business,” said Mackay, with a last regretful glance at the skeletonized chicken. ”From what I gather ye are all of ye implicated. I would like an account from Mr. Adams and Miss Haldane first.”

”How did you come here instead of Gardiner; and how do you know there is anything for you to trouble about?” I asked, and the sergeant showed a trace of impatience.

”Gardiner goes back to-morrow. Ye are my own particular sheep, and it would take a new man ten years to learn the contrariness of ye. I heard some talk at the railroad and came on in a hurry. Do ye usually nail your stable or cut your own head open, Rancher Ormesby?”

Each in turn furnished an account of the affray, I last of all; and Mackay expressed no opinion until Lucille Haldane asked him: ”Was it not justifiable for me to take measures to protect my father's cattle?”

”Supposing the Bonaventure brand had not been on that draft, and Lane's men retained possession, what would ye have done?” was the shrewd rejoinder; and Lucille smiled as she looked steadily at the speaker.

”I really think, sergeant, that I should have ridden over them.”

Mackay seemed to struggle with some natural feeling; but the silent rancher smote the table. ”By the Lord, you would, and I'd have given five hundred dollars to go through beside you!” he said.

”Ye are quite old enough to ken better,” said Mackay sententiously; and the rancher squared his shoulders as he answered:

”I'm as good as any two of your troopers yet, and was never run into a cattle corral. When I'm old enough to be useless I'll join the police.”

”What were ye meaning?” asked the sergeant.

Gordon laughed. ”Just that, for a tired man, it's a nice soft berth. You take your money and as much care as you can that you never turn up until the trouble's over!”

Before Mackay could retort, Lucille, smiling, raised her hand. ”I think you should both know better, and I want you to tell me, sergeant, what will be the end of this. Surely n.o.body has any right to drive off cattle and horses that don't belong to him?”