Chapter 13

"If it could have been managed in a different fashion it would have pleased me better," Grant said, with a little impatient gesture. "I am sorry I frightened you, Hetty."

The colour crept back into Hetty's cheeks. "I was frightened, but only just a little at first," she said. "It was when I saw who it was and heard the boys below, that I grew really anxious."

She did not look at the man as she spoke; but it was evident to Miss Schuyler that he understood the significance of the avowal.

"Then," he said, "I must try to get away again more quietly."

"You can't," said Hetty. "Not until the man by the store goes away. You have taken too many chances already. You have driven a long way in the cold. Take off that big coat, and Flo will make you some coffee."

Grant, turning, drew the curtains aside a moment, and let them fall back again. Then, he took off the big coat and sat down with a little smile of contentment beside the glowing stove on which Miss Schuyler was placing a kettle.

"Well," he said, "I am afraid you will have to put up with my company until that fellow goes away; and I need not tell you that this is very nice for me. One hasn't much time to feel it, but it's dreadfully lonely at Fremont now and then."

Hetty nodded sympathetically, for she had seen the great desolate room at Fremont where Grant and Breckenridge passed the bitter nights alone. The man's half-audible sigh was also very expressive, for after his grim life he found the brightness and daintiness of the little room very pleasant. It was sparely furnished; but there was taste in everything, and in contrast with Fremont its curtains, rugs, and pictures seemed luxurious. Without were bitter frost and darkness, peril, and self-denial; within, warmth and refinement, and the companionship of two cultured women who were very gracious to him. He also knew that he had shut himself out from the enjoyment of their society of his own will, that he had but to make terms with Torrance, and all that one side of his nature longed for might be restored to him.

Larry was as free from sensuality as he was from asceticism; but there were times when the bleak discomfort at Fremont palled upon him, as did the loneliness and half-cooked food. His overtaxed body revolted now and then from further exposure to Arctic cold and the deprivation of needed sleep, while his heart grew sick with anxiety and the distrust of those he was toiling for. He was not a fanatic, and had very slight sympathy with the iconoclast, for he had an innate respect for the law, and vague aspirations after an ampler life made harmonious by refinement, as well as a half-comprehending reverence for all that was best in art and music. There are many Americans like him, and when such a man turns reformer he has usually a hard row, indeed, to hoe.

"What do you do up there at nights?" asked Hetty.

Larry laughed. "Sometimes Breckenridge and I sit talking by the stove, and now and then we quarrel. Breckenridge has taste, and generally smooths one the right way; but there are times when I feel like throwing things at him. Then we sit quite still for hours together listening to the wind moaning, until one of the boys comes in to tell me we are wanted, and it is a relief to drive until morning with the frost at fifty below. It is very different from the old days when I was here and at Allonby's two or three nights every week."

"It must have been hard to give up what you did," said Hetty, with a diffidence that was unusual in her. "Oh, I know you did it willingly, but you must have found it was very different from what you expected. I mean that the men you wanted to smooth the way for had their notions too, and meant to do a good deal that could never please you. Suppose you found they didn't want to go along quietly, making this country better, but only to trample down whatever was there already?"

Flora Schuyler looked up. "I think you will have to face that question, Mr. Grant," she said. "A good many men of your kind have had to do it before you. Isn't a faulty ruler better than wild disorder?"

"Yes," said Hetty eagerly. "That is just what I mean. If you saw they wanted anarchy, Larry, you would come back to us? We should be glad to have you!"

The man turned his eyes away, and Flora Schuyler saw his hands quiver.

"No," he said. "I and the rest would have to teach them what was good for them, and if it was needful try to hold them in. Whatever they did, we who brought them here would have to stand in with them."

Hetty accepted the decision in his tone, and sighed. "Well," she said, "we will forget it; and Flo has the coffee ready. That is yours, Larry, and here's a box of crackers. Now, we'll try to think of pleasant things. It's like our old-time picnics. Doesn't it remind you of the big bluff--only we had a black kettle then, and you made the fire of sticks? There was the day you shot the willow grouse. It isn't really so very long ago!"

"It seems years," said the man, wistfully. "So much has happened since."

"Well," said Hetty, "I can remember all of it still--the pale blue sky behind the bluff, with the little curl of grey smoke floating up against it. You sat by the fire, Larry, roasting the grouse, and talking about what could be done with the prairie. It was all white in the sunshine, and empty as far as one could see, but you told me it would be a great red wheat-field by and by. I laughed at you for dreaming things that couldn't be, but we were very happy that day."

Grant's face was very sad for a moment, but he turned to Miss Schuyler with a little smile. "Hetty is leaving you out," he said.

"I wasn't there, you see," Miss Schuyler said quickly. "Those days belong to you and Hetty."

Hetty glanced at her sharply, and fancied there was a slightly strained expression in the smiling face, but the next moment Miss Schuyler laughed.

"What are you thinking, Flo?" said Hetty.

"It was scarcely worth mentioning. I was wondering how it was that the only times we have crossed the bridge we met Mr. Grant."

"That's quite simple," said Larry. "Each time it was on Wednesday, and I generally drive round to see if I am wanted anywhere that day. They have had to do almost without provisions at the homesteads in the hollow lately. Your dollars will be very welcome, Hetty."

Hetty blushed for no especial reason, except that when Grant mentioned Wednesday she felt that Flora Schuyler's eyes were upon her. Then, a voice rose up below.

"Hello! All quiet, Jake?"

There were footsteps in the snow outside, and when the sentry answered, the words just reached those who listened in the room.

"I had a kind of notion I saw something moving in the bluff, but I couldn't be quite sure," he said. "There was a door or window banged up there on the verandah a while ago, but that must have been done by one of the women in the house."

Grant rose and drew back the curtain, when, after a patter of footsteps, the voices commenced again.

"Somebody has come in straight from the bluff," said one of the men. "You can see where he has been, but I'm blamed if I can figure where he went to unless it was up the post into the verandah, and he couldn't have done that without Miss Torrance hearing him. I'll stop right here, any way, and I wish my two hours were up."

"I'm that stiff I can scarcely move," said the man relieved, and there was silence in the room, until Hetty turned to the others in dismay.

"He is going to stay there two hours, and he would see us the moment we opened the window," she said.

Grant quickly put on his big fur coat, and unnoticed, he fancied, slipped one hand down on something that was girded on the belt beneath it.

"I must get away at once--through the house," he said.

Hetty had, however, seen the swift motion of his hand.

"There's a man with a rifle in the hall," she said, shudderingly. "Flo, can't you think of something?"

Flora Schuyler looked at them quietly. "I fancy it would not be very difficult for Mr. Grant to get away, but the trouble is that nobody must know he has been near the place. That is the one thing your father could not forgive, Hetty."

Hetty turned her head a little, but Grant nodded. "Had it been otherwise I should have gone an hour ago," he said.

"Well," said Flora Schuyler, with a curious look in her face, "while I fancy we can get you away unnoticed, if anybody did see you, it needn't appear quite certain that it was any affair with Hetty that brought you."

"No?" said Hetty, very sharply. "What do you mean, Flo?"

Miss Schuyler smiled a little and looked Grant in the eyes. "What would appear base treachery in Hetty's case would be less astonishing in me. Mr. Grant, you must not run risks again to talk to me, but since you have done it I must see you through. You are sure there is only one cow-boy in the hall, Hetty?"

Hetty turned and looked at them. Flora Schuyler was smiling bravely, the man standing still with grave astonishment in his eyes.

"No," she said, with quick incisiveness, "I can't let you, Flo."

"I don't think I asked your permission," said Miss Schuyler. "Could you explain this to your father, Hetty? I believe he would not be angry with me. Adventurous gallantry is, I understand, quite approved of on the prairie. Call your maid. Mr. Grant, will you come with me?"

For several seconds Hetty stood silent, recognizing that what Torrance might smile at in his guest would appear almost a crime in his daughter, but still horribly unwilling. Then, as Flora Schuyler, with a half-impatient gesture, signed to Grant, she touched a little gong, and a few moments later her maid met them in the corridor. The girl stopped suddenly, gasping a little as she stared at Grant, until Hetty grasped her arm, nipping it cruelly.

"If you scream or do anything silly you will be ever so sorry," she said. "Go down into the hall and talk to Jo. Keep him where the stove is, with his back to the door."

"But how am I to do it?" the girl asked.

"Take him something to eat," Miss Schuyler said impatiently. "Any way, it should not be hard to fool him--I have seen him looking at you. Now, I wonder if that grey dress of mine would fit you--I have scarcely had it on, but it's a little too tight for me."

The girl's eyes glistened, she moved swiftly down the corridor, Flora Schuyler laughed, and Grant looked away.

"Larry," said Hetty, "it isn't just what one would like--but I am afraid it is necessary."

Five minutes later Hetty moved across the hall, making a little noise, so that the cow-boy, who stood near the other end of it, with the maid close by him, should notice her. She softly opened the outer door, and then came back and signed to Grant and Flora Schuyler, who stood waiting in the corridor.

"No," he said, and the lamplight showed a darker hue than the bronze of frost and sun in his face. "Miss Schuyler, I have never felt quite so mean before, and you will leave the rest to me."

"It seems to me," she said coolly, "that what you feel does not count for much. Just now you have to do what is best for everybody. Stoop as low as you can."

She stretched out her hand with a little imperious gesture, and laid it on his arm, drawing herself up to her full height as she stood between him and the light. They moved forward together, and Hetty closed her hand as she watched them pass into the hall. The end was dim and shadowy, for the one big lamp that was lighted stood some distance away by the stove, where the man on watch was talking to the maid. Hetty realized that the girl was playing her part well as she saw her make a swift step backwards, and heard the man's low laugh.

Flora Schuyler and Grant were not far from the door now, the girl walking close to her companion. In another moment they would have passed out of sight into the shadow, but while Hetty felt her fingers trembling, the man on watch, perhaps hearing their footsteps, turned round.

"Hallo!" he said. "It seems kind of cold. What can Miss Schuyler want with opening the door? Is that Miss Torrance behind her?"

He moved forward a pace, apparently not looking where he was going, but towards the door, and might have moved further, but that the maid swiftly stretched out one foot, and a chair with the tray laid on it went over with a crash.

"Now there's going to be trouble. See what you've done," she said.

The man stopped, staring at the wreck upon the floor.

"Well," he said, "I'm blamed if I touched the thing. What made it fall over, any way?"

"Pick them up," the girl said sharply. "You don't want to make trouble for me!"

He stooped, and Hetty gasped with relief as she saw him carefully scraping some dainty from the floor, for just then one of the two figures slipped away from the other, and there was a sound that might have been made by a softly closing door. The cow-boy looked up quickly, and saw Miss Torrance and Miss Schuyler standing close together, then stood up as they came towards him. Hetty paused and surveyed the overturned crockery, and then, though her heart was throbbing painfully, gave the man a glance of ironical inquiry. He looked at the maid as if for inspiration, but she stood meekly still, the picture of bashful confusion.

"I'm quite sorry, Miss Torrance," he said. "The concerned thing went over."

Hetty laughed. "Well," she said, "it's a very cold night, and Lou can get you some more supper. She is, however, not to stay here a minute after she has given it you."

She went out with Miss Schuyler, and the two stood very silent by a window in the corridor. One of them fancied she saw a shadowy object slip round the corner of a barn, but could not be sure, and for five very long minutes they stared at the faintly shining snow. Nothing moved upon it, and save for the maid's voice in the hall, the great building was very still. Hetty touched Miss Schuyler's arm.

"He has got away," she said. "Come back with me. I don't feel like standing up any longer."

They sat down limply when they returned to the little room, and though Miss Schuyler did not meet her companion's gaze, there was something that did not seem to please the latter in her face.

"Flo," she said, "one could almost fancy you felt it as much as I did. It was awfully nice of you."

Miss Schuyler smiled, though there was a tension in her voice. "Of course I felt it," she said. "Hetty, I'd watch that maid of yours. She's too clever."

Hetty said nothing for a moment, then, suddenly crossing the room, she stooped down and kissed Miss Schuyler.

"I have never met any one who would do as much for me as you would, Flo," she said. "I don't think there is anything that could come between us."

There was silence for another moment, and during it Miss Schuyler looked steadily into Hetty's eyes. "No," she said, "although you do not seem quite sure, I don't think there is."

It was early the next morning when Christopher Allonby arrived at the Range. He smiled as he glanced at the packet Hetty handed him.

"I have never seen your father anything but precise," he said.

"Has anything led you to fancy that he has changed?" asked Hetty.

Allonby laughed as he held out the packet. "The envelope is all creased and crumpled. It might have been carried round for ever so long in somebody's pocket. Now, I know you don't smoke, Hetty."

"There is no reason why I should not, but, as it happens, I don't," said Miss Torrance.

"Then, the packet has a most curious, cigar-like smell," said Allonby, smiling. "Now, I don't think Mr. Torrance carries loose cigars and letters about with him together. I wonder what deduction one could make from this."

Hetty glanced at Miss Schuyler. "You could never make the right one, Chris," she said.

Allonby said nothing further and went out with the letter; a day or two later he handed it to the Sheriff.

"I guess you know what's inside it?" said the latter.

"Yes," said the lad. "I want to see you count them now."

The Sheriff glanced at him sharply, took out a roll of bills and flicked them over.

"Yes," he said, "that's quite right; but one piece of what I have to do is going to be difficult."

"Which?" said Allonby.

"Well," said the Sheriff, "I guess you know. I mean the getting hold of Larry."

XVII

LARRY'S PERIL

One afternoon several days later, Christopher Allonby drove over to Cedar Range, and, though he endeavoured to hide his feelings, was evidently disconcerted when he discovered that Miss Schuyler and Hetty were alone. Torrance had affairs of moment on hand just then, and was absent from Cedar Range frequently.

"One could almost have fancied you were not pleased to see us, and would sooner have talked to Mr. Torrance," said Miss Schuyler.

The lad glanced at her reproachfully.

"Hetty knows how diffident I am, but it seems to me a lady with your observation should have seen the gratification I did not venture to express."

"It was not remarkably evident," said Miss Schuyler. "In fact, when you heard Mr. Torrance was not here I fancied I saw something else."

"I was thinking," said Allonby, "wondering how I could be honest and, at the same time, complimentary to everybody. It was quite difficult. People like me generally think of the right thing afterwards, you see."

Hetty shook her head. "Sit down, and don't talk nonsense, Chris," she said. "You shouldn't think too much; when you're not accustomed to it, it isn't wise. What brought you?"

"I had a message for your father," said the lad, and Flora Schuyler fancied she saw once more the signs of embarrassment in his face.

"Then," said Hetty, "you can tell it me."

"There's a good deal of it, and it's just a little confusing," said Allonby.

Flora Schuyler glanced at Hetty, and then smiled at the lad. "That is certainly not complimentary," she said. "Don't you think Hetty and I could remember anything that you can?"

Allonby laughed. "Of course you could. But, I had my instructions. I was told to give Mr. Torrance the message as soon as I could, without troubling anybody."

"Then it is of moment?"

"Yes. That is, we want him to know, though there's really nothing in it that need worry anybody."

"Then, it is unfortunate that my father is away," said Hetty.

Allonby sat silent a moment or two, apparently reflecting, and then looked up suddenly, as though he had found the solution of the difficulty.

"I could write him."

Hetty laughed. "That was an inspiration! You can be positively brilliant, Chris. You will find paper and special envelopes in the office, as well as a big stick of sealing-wax."

Allonby, who appeared unable to find a neat rejoinder, went out; and when he left Flora Schuyler smiled as she saw the carefully fastened envelope lying on Torrance's desk, as well as something else. Torrance was fastidiously neat, and the blotting pad from which the soiled sheets had been removed bore the impress of Christopher Allonby's big, legible writing. It was, however, a little blurred, and Miss Schuyler, who had her scruples, made no attempt to read it then. It was the next afternoon, and Torrance had not yet returned, when a mounted man rode up to the Range, and was shown into the room where the girls sat together.

"Mr. Clavering will be kind of sorry Mr. Torrance wasn't here, but he has got it fixed quite straight," he said.

"What has he fixed?" said Hetty.

"Well," said the man, "your father knows, and I don't, though I've a kind of notion we are after one of the homestead-boys. Any way, what I had to tell him was this. He could ride over to the Cedar Bluff at about six this evening with two or three of the boys, if it suited him, but if it didn't, Mr. Clavering would put the thing through."

Hetty asked one or two leading questions, but the man had evidently nothing more to tell, and when he went out, the two girls looked at one another in silence. Hetty's eyes were anxious and her face more colourless than usual.

"Flo," she said sharply, "are we thinking the same thing?"

"I don't know," said Miss Schuyler. "You have not told me your notions yet. Still, this is clear to both of us, Mr. Clavering expects to meet somebody at the Cedar Bluff, and your father is to bring two or three men with him. The question is, what could they be wanted for?"

"No," said Hetty, with a little quiver in her voice, "it is who they expect to meet. You know what day this is?"

"Wednesday."

Once more there was silence for a few seconds, but the thoughts of the two girls were unconcealed now, and when she spoke Hetty closed her hand.

"Think, Flo. There must be no uncertainty." Miss Schuyler slipped out of the room and when she came back she brought an envelope, splashed with red wax, on a blotting-pad.

"There's the key. All is fair--in war!" she said.

A pink tinge crept into Hetty's cheeks, and a sparkle into her eyes as she looked at her companion.

"Don't make me angry with you, Flo," she said. "We can't read it."

"No?" said Miss Schuyler quietly, holding up the pad. "Now I think we can. This is another manifestation of the superiority of the masculine mind. Give me your hand-glass, Hetty."

"Of course," said Hetty, with a little gasp. "Still--it's horribly mean."

There was a slightly contemptuous hardness in Flora Schuyler's eyes. "If you let the man who rides by the bluff on Wednesdays fall into Clavering's hands, it would be meaner still."

The next moment Hetty was out of the room, and Miss Schuyler sat down with a face that had grown suddenly weary. But it betrayed nothing when Hetty came back with the glass, and when she held up the blotter in hands that were perfectly steady, they read:

"I have fixed it with the Sheriff. Clavering's boys had, as you guessed, been watching for Larry on the wrong day; but now we have found out it is Wednesday we'll make sure of him. If you care to come around to the bluff about six that night, you will probably see us seize him; but if you would sooner stand out in this case, it wouldn't count. We don't expect any difficulty."

Hetty flushed crimson. "Flo," she said, "it was the letter arranging his own arrest he brought me back."

"That is not the point," said Miss Schuyler sharply. "What are you going to do?"

Hetty laughed mockingly. "You and I are going to drive over to the Newcombes and stay the night. You get nervous when my father is away. But we are not going there quite straight; and you had better put your warmest things on."

An hour later two of the best horses in Torrance's stable drew the lightest sleigh up to the door, and Miss Schuyler turned with a smile to the remonstrating housekeeper.

"Nothing would induce me to stay here another night when Mr. Torrance was away," she said. "You can tell him that, if he is vexed with Hetty, and you needn't worry. We will be safe at Mrs. Newcombe's before an hour is over."

The housekeeper shook her head. "I guess not. It's a league round by the bridge, and you couldn't find the other trail in the dark."

Miss Schuyler laughed. "Then, look at the time, and we'll let you know when we get there," she said.

Hetty whipped the team, and with a whirling of dusty snow beneath the runners, they swept away. Both sat silent, until the beat of hoofs rang amidst the trees as they swept through the gloom of the big bluff at a gallop, and Hetty laughed excitedly.

"Hold fast, Flo. You did that very well; but we have our alibi to prove, and are not going near the bridge," she said.