Out Of The Depths Part 11

"Well, have you got the nerve, in case the man is loose over that way?"

Ashton's eyes flashed. "I'll go! Perhaps I'll get another crack at the scoundrel."

"Keep cool. It's ninety-nine chances in the hundred he's on the run and'll keep going all week."

"Shall I start now? As we came by a very roundabout way--We went first in the opposite direction, and then skirted High Mesa down from the mountains. So, you see, I may have a little difficulty--"

"No you won't. There's our wagon trail. Even if you got off that, all you'd have to do would be to keep headed for Split Peak. That's right in line with Stockchute. But you'll not start till morning. I haven't got all my letters written. That'll give you all day to go and come.

It's only twenty-five miles over there. Chuckie, you show this new puncher of ours over the place, while I write those letters."

"I'll start teaching him how to throw a rope," volunteered the girl.

She led the way out through a daintily furnished front room, in which Ashton observed an upright piano and other articles of culture that he would never have expected to come upon in this remote section. In pa.s.sing, the girl picked up a wide-brimmed lacy hat.

Once outside, she first took Ashton for a walk up Plum Creek to where half a dozen men were at work with a mowing machine and horse rakes making hay of the rich bunch-gra.s.s.

"Daddy feeds all he can in winter," she explained. "The spring when I first came back from Denver I cried so over the starving cattle that he promised to always afterwards cut and stack all the hay he could.

And he has found it pays to feed well. We would put a lot of land into oats, but, as you see, there's not enough water in the creek."

"That's where an irrigation system would come in," remarked Ashton.

"Oh, I hope you don't think it possible to water our mesa!" she cried.

"I told you how it would break up our range."

"I a.s.sure you, I don't think at all," he replied. "I'm not a reclamation engineer--never specialized on hydraulics."

She flashed an odd look at him. "You never? But Mr. Blake--that wonderful engineer of the Zariba Dam--he would know, wouldn't he?"

"I--suppose he would--that is, if he--" Ashton hesitated, and exclaimed, "But that's just it!"

"What?" she asked.

"Why, to--to have him come here. He's the luckiest for blundering on ways to do things," muttered Ashton. He added with growing bitterness: "Yes, if there's any way at all to do it, you'd have him flooding your whole range--deluging it. He's got all those millions to back him."

"You do not like him," said the girl. She looked off towards High Mesa, her face glowing with suppressed excitement. "No doubt you are right--as to his ability. But--don't you see?--if it can be done, it is bound to be done sooner or later. All the time Daddy and I--and Kid, too--are living under this constant dread that it may be possible. But if such an engineer as--as Mr. Blake came and looked over the situation and told us we needn't fear--don't you see how--?"

"You don't mean that you--?" Ashton, in turn, left his question unfinished and averted his face.

"Yes," she answered. "I'm sure it will be best to put an end to this uncertainty. So I believe I shall send for--for Mr. Blake."

"But--why for--for him--in particular?" he stammered.

"I am sorry you dislike him," she said, regaining her composure when she saw that he too was agitated.

He did not reply. She tactfully changed the subject. By the time they had circled around, back to the half open feed-sheds, he was gayly chatting with her on music and the drama. When they came down to the horse corral she proceeded to lecture him on the duties of a cowboy and showed him how to hold and throw a rope. Under her skillful tuition, he at last learned the knack of casting an open noose.

Evening was near when they returned to the house. As before, they caught Knowles in the front porch contentedly puffing at his pipe. He dropped it down out of sight. The girl shook her finger at him, nodded to Ashton, and went indoors. Immediately the cowman put his pipe back into his mouth and drew another from his pocket, together with an unopened sack of tobacco.

"Smoke?" he asked.

Ashton's eyes gleamed. In the girl's presence he had been able to restrain the fierce craving that had tortured him since dinner. Now it so overmastered him that he almost s.n.a.t.c.hed the pipe and tobacco out of the cowman's hand. The latter gravely shook his head.

"Got it that bad, have you?" he deplored.

Ashton could not answer until his pipe was well under way.

"I'm--I'm breaking off," he replied. "Haven't had a cigarette all day--nor anything else. A-ah!"

"Glad you like it," said Knowles. "A pipe is all right with this kind of tobacco. You can't inhale it like you can cigarettes, unless you want to strangle."

"I shall break off entirely as soon as I can," a.s.serted Ashton.

"Well," considered Knowles, "I'm not saying you can't or won't. It's mighty curious what a young fellow can do to please a pretty girl.

Just the same, I'd say from the color of Kid's fingers that he hasn't forgotten how to roll a fat Mexican _cigaretto_.--h.e.l.lo! 'Talk of the devil--' Here he comes now."

Gowan came around the corner of the house, his spurs jingling. His eyes were as cold and his face as emotionless as usual.

"Well?" asked Knowles. "Have a seat."

"Didn't get him," reported Gowan, dropping into a chair. "Near as I could make out, he cut straight across for the railroad, on the jump."

"Then it must have been that guide!" exclaimed Ashton.

"Looks that way," added Knowles. "Glad of it. We won't see him again, unless you want to notify the sheriff, when you ride over tomorrow."

"No, oh, no. I am satisfied to be rid of him."

"If he don't come back," remarked Gowan.

"He won't," predicted Knowles.

"Well, not for a time maybe," agreed Gowan.

CHAPTER VIII

A MAN'S SIZE HORSE

At dusk the sonorous boom of a j.a.panese gong gave warning of the approach of the supper hour. A few minutes later a second booming summoned all in to the meal. Miss Isobel sat at one end of the table; her father at the other. Along the sides were the employes, Ashton and Gowan at the corners nearest the girl. A large coal oil lamp with an artistic shade cast a pink light on the clean white oilcloth of the table and the simple tasteful table service.

Yuki, the silent j.a.p, served all with strict impartiality, starting with the mistress of the house and going around the table in regular succession, either one way or the other. The six rough-appearing haymakers used their knives with a freedom to which Ashton was unaccustomed, but their faces were clean, their behavior quiet, and their occasional remarks by no means inapt.

After the meal they wished Miss Knowles a pleasant "Good-night," and left for the bunkhouse. But Ashton and Gowan, at the smiling invitation of the girl, followed her into the front room. Knowles came in a few minutes later and, with scarcely a glance at the young people, settled down beside a tableful of periodicals and magazines to study the latest Government report on the reclamation service.

Ashton had entered the "parlor" under the impression that here he would have Gowan at a disadvantage. To his surprise, the puncher proved to be quite at ease; his manners were correct and his conversation by no means provincial. A moment's reflection showed Ashton that this could not well be otherwise, in view of the young fellow's intimacy with Miss Chuckie Isobel.