have to offer, Son?"
Tom's arm raised toward the girl; and from the manner of the Major's glance it was plain he had not seen her before. Silence hung oppressively over the clearing, a silence in which Tom distinctly heard Colonel Wyatt's breath rise and fall. A stubborn man, yet made of shoddy material. As for the crews, they sat quietly—faded and weatherbeaten figures ready to fight on the spot.
The silence was at last broken by Lispenard's murmured astonishment. "My word—a beauty! A beauty out in all this desolation!"
Major Bob lifted his hat to the girl and turned his horse. Not a word, not so much as a change of a single muscle to indicate the tremendous disappointment. At his gesture the Circle G swung about and took the path back toward the valley; and it would have been a wordless withdrawal had not the girl, suddenly coming to life, sprung away from the wagon, pointed her finger at San Saba, and cried out:
"San Saba—you're a renegade cur!"
To a man, the Circle G riders whirled. Wyatt cursed his daughter. "Shut your fool mouth or I'll knock your teeth down your throat!"
"I've got no use for a traitor," said she stubbornly. "That man never did a decent thing in his life!"
San Saba sat in his saddle like a sack of meal, not meeting the girl's accusing face; a trace of colour tinged the sallow, malarial cheeks, and once he swept his own crew with what seemed to be fear. All attention was upon him, and he appeared to find it necessary to speak. So, venturing one brief look at Major Bob, he defended himself.
"I've done my duty by this outfit. Nobody's got a call to give weight to anything she might say."
"Let's go," said Tom. And again they passed down the trail. Not until they were completely out of the valley and on the ridge overlooking their own cattle did Major Bob pull himself from his profound reverie. "My heart was set on that location. I studied this country from end to end. There'll never be another like it."
San Saba tried to soften the Major's attitude. "Well, it's tough. But they's plenty more land in Dakota, suh. Just as good."
"There'll never be another piece like it," reiterated Major Bob.
The guide filled his pipe and spoke emphatically. "That be right. But since ye was beat out, foller me and I'll show'ee another spot. It ain't the same, but I reckon it'll pass muster."
"Go ahead," directed Major Bob. He had nothing more to say, either that day or the half of the next that they were on the trail. It seemed he wrestled with some bitter problem, a problem that he worried over and over in his mind, trying to reach a conclusion. Whatever the nature of his thoughts, he displayed no outward signals, but Tom made a shrewd guess, and when sunset came he drew Quagmire aside and spoke a brief phrase. Between the two of them they saw the night through, and never for a moment was San Saba beyond the range of their attention.
It was noon of the following day when the guide halted some twenty miles distant from their original destination and pointed at the rugged land ahead. "Thar she be. Water an' grass. Little Mizzoo off yonder two miles."
Major Bob no more than glanced at it. "Very well. Tom, look after things. Throw off the herd. Better ride along a piece and find a place fit to throw up cabins." Then his attention turned to San Saba and his voice filled with tremendous energy. "San Saba, come with me."
San Saba threw up his little head, the tinge of red filming across his pupils. It appeared for a moment that he meant to refuse. But in the end he nodded briefly and followed Major Bob over the ridge. Tom watched them go, stirred by an almost irresistible impulse to pursue the pair. Quagmire must have felt the same emotion, for he crowded toward Tom, muttering, "I'd never trust that gent to my back. I never would."
"No," acquiesced Tom. "But it's Dad's play right now. I can't interfere."
There were other things to do, and he beckoned Quagmire to come with him across the rolling ground on a tour of inspection. It might have been twenty minutes later when they heard the single gunshot come rolling over the ridge, and at the sound of it both their horses turned and raced northward in the direction whence it came. Quagmire shouted at the top of his voice:
"By God, I told yo' I wouldn't trust..."
"Stay back, damn you!" cried Tom. "It's my quarrel now!"
Quagmire reined in, a figure of wrath. Tom raced on up the ridge and down the farther slope. He had less than a mile to go, and he knew the answer to that shot before he slipped from the saddle and went running toward the single figure sprawled on the ground. It was his father; his father trying to hold himself up on an elbow, the blood staining his shirt front and a dimming light flickering from his deeply set eyes. At that precise moment Tom never knew what words came rioting out of his throat, but they caused Major Bob to shake his head sorrowfully.
"He's out of sight now. Never mind going after him. The world is a short and narrow trail for a murderer. I'm done. Gave him a fair break, but he played crooked. Bend down, Son..."
"Which way did he ride? Oh, by God, I'll tear his black heart out of his ribs!"
"In due time, Son. In due time. But I want your promise on that. You'll get him?"
"You've got it!"
"Well, the old flame's in you, Tom. I thought maybe the East had about killed it. Some girl took the sap out of your heart. Watched you on the trail. Wasn't the same boy I'd sent East. Don't go back there any more. Stick to your country—good country for men of our kind. We've got to have air to breathe."
He had only a few words left, and he nursed them along carefully. "Get him. Not just out of spite, Tom. But the Lord hates a traitor, and there ain't any room in the world for his kind. I gave him a fair break. The fool—I knew some of his past history, but I didn't know he was hooked up with Wyatt on this deal. He's always been a good foreman—and I'll forgive a man anything if he does his work well. Trusted him too far. Listen, my boy, it's your Circle G now..."
He stopped, peering at a sun that grew darker for him; a sun he would never see again. "Your Circle G. Good brand. I made it. Carry it on. Something tells me you'll have to fight to hold it. Never mind. Carry it on. That girl—she called the turn on San Saba. Spunky kid. Listen. When you go after San Saba, watch for a trick. Pay no attention to the gun in his holster. He carries another—in his armpit. Got me that way."
After that, the interval of silence was longer. "One of man's duties is to live so's he won't be afraid to die. I'm not afraid. But, by Godfrey, I hate to go! Takes a long time to understand it's a beautiful world. Better make Quagmire your foreman. Good man. Just give me another ten minutes..."
But the angel of death was already laying a cloak over him, leading his spirit down that infinite corridor whither all mortal creatures travel. He gripped Tom's hand, whispering out of the remote distance, "Takes a little bit of Texas blood to christen a new country. I'll—tell—your mamma..."
VI. AN ADVOCATE OF TROUBLE
Major Bob was buried at sunset on a knoll just back from the river. And after the subdued moment of farewell, his name was completely erased from the lips of the crew. Nor would they ever again utter it until time had made a tradition of his memory. Grimly the men went about the infinite chores ahead of them; Tom walked into
