Part 25 (1/2)

”Then,” said the old gentleman, ”you will need to kidnap him and wait till he sobers off.”

”I shall try,” said Shock quietly.

The old gentleman stared at him.

”By Jove!” he said, ”I believe you mean to. And if you do, you'll succeed.”

”Can you direct me to the house of Mr. Macfarren?” inquired Shock.

”Certainly. That is his house among the trees,” pointing to a cottage with a verandah about it, which stood back some distance from the main street. ”But if you wish to see Mr. Macfarren, you will find him down at the other end of the street at the finis.h.i.+ng post. He will be very busily engaged at the present, however, being one of the judges in this race, and if it is not of immediate importance I would advise your waiting till the race is over. But stay, here he comes. The man in the centre is Mr. Macfarren.”

As he spoke he pointed to a tall man, with a long, grizzled beard, riding a pony, followed by two younger men splendidly mounted. The elder of these was a man strongly built, face open and honest, but showing signs of hard living. He rode a powerful black horse, whose temper showed in his fierce s.n.a.t.c.hing at the bit. Just now the horse was covered with foam, reddened at the flanks and mouth with blood.

His companion was much younger, a mere boy, indeed. His fair hair, blue eyes, and smooth face accentuated his youthful appearance. It was his youthful face and boyish manner that gave him his name among the cattle men, and his place in their hearts. But though they called him ”The Kid,” and often ”The Kiddie,” and thought of him with admiring and caressing tenderness, no man of them failed to give him full respect; for boy as he was, he had a man's nerve, a man's grip, his muscles were all steel, and with all his smiling gentleness none of them would think of taking a liberty with him. Earlier in the day he had won from a dozen compet.i.tors that most coveted of all honours in the ranching country, The Bucking Belt, for he had ridden for the full hundred yards without ”touching leather,” the OUTLAW specially imported from the other side.

As the three men rode up the rider of the black horse was heard to say, ”That's the fellow that nearly spilled me. And if Demon hadn't been mighty quick in recovering, it would have been a blank nasty mess.”

”I say,” said Macfarren, in a loud, bl.u.s.tering tone, ”don't you know enough to keep off a race-course when a race is being run?”

Shock was much taken aback at this greeting.

”I beg your pardon, but I didn't know this was a race-course, nor did I know that a race was on.”

”The deuce you didn't! Hadn't you eyes to see?”

To this Shock made no reply, but taking a letter from his pocket said quietly, ”You are Mr. Macfarren, I believe. I have a letter for you from Mr. McIntyre.”

At this the other two rode away. Mr. Macfarren opened the letter with a scowl. As he read the flush on his face deepened.

”What the deuce does this mean?” he burst out, in an angry tone. ”I wrote both the Superintendent and McIntyre last week that it was a piece of folly to plant a man here, that we didn't require and didn't want a man. The community is well supplied already with church services, and as far as the Presbyterians are concerned, they would find the support of a minister an intolerable burden.”

For a moment or two Shock stood in speechless amazement. It was disconcerting in the extreme to be told by the man upon whom he had chiefly depended for support and counsel that he was not wanted.

”Your letters would not have reached them in time, I suppose,” he said at last.

”Well, that's the fact, at any rate,” replied Macfarren roughly. ”We won't want a minister. We are thoroughly well supplied. We don't need one, and we cannot support one.”

He was turning away without further words when he was arrested by the sharp and peremptory voice of the old gentleman, who had remained behind Shock during the conversation.

”Macfarren, this gentleman is a stranger, I presume. Will you kindly present me?”

”Oh--ah--certainly,” said Macfarren, wheeling his pony and looking rather ashamed. ”Mr.” looking at the letter.

”Macgregor,” said Shock quietly.

”Mr. Macgregor, this is General Brady, one of our leading ranchers.”

”I am delighted to make your acquaintance, sir,” said General Brady, shaking Shock warmly by the hand. ”You will find us rough and wild, but, sir, I am glad to say we are not all a blank lot of boors.”

”Thank you, sir,” said Shock, with a sudden flush on his face.

”Oh--ah--certainly we are glad to have you visit our town,” said Macfarren, as if trying to atone for his former rudeness. ”And, of course, it is no fault of yours, Mr.--ah--”