ain't enjoying it so much as he would if his plans had worked out a little smoother. He's holding the sack right now and cussing right smaht over it being empty, I reckon.”
“He did lock the stable door a little too late,” chuckled the sheepman. But even as he spoke a shadow fell over his face. “My God! I had forgotten. Y'u don't suppose he would take it out of Miss Messiter.”
“Not unless he's tired of living,” returned her foreman, darkly. “One thing, this country won't stand for is that. He's got to keep his hands off women or he loses out. He dassent lay a hand on them if they don't want him to. That's the law of the plains, isn't it?”
“That's the unwritten law for the bad man, but I notice it doesn't seem to satisfy y'u, my friend. Y'u and I know that my cousin, Ned Bannister, doesn't acknowledge any law, written or unwritten. He's a devil and he has no fear. Didn't he kidnap her before?”
“He surely would never dare touch those young ladies. But—I don't know. Bann, I guess we better roll along toward the Lazy D country, after all.”
“I think so.” Ned looked at his friend with smiling drollery. “I thought y'u smoked your troubles away, Jim. This one seems to worry y'u.”
McWilliams grinned sheepishly. “There's one trouble won't be smoked away. It kinder dwells.” Then, apparently apropos of nothing, he added, irrelevantly: “Wonder what Denver's doing right now?”
“Probably keeping that appointment y'u ran away from,” bantered his friend.
“I'll bet he is. Funny how some men have all the luck,” murmured the despondent foreman.
Chapter 16.
Hunting Big Game
In point of fact, Denver's occupation at that moment was precisely what they had guessed it to be. He was sitting beside Nora Darling in the grand stand, explaining to her the fine points of “roping.” Mr. Bob Austin, commonly known as “Texas,” was meanwhile trying to make himself agreeable to Helen Messiter. Truth to tell, both young women listened with divided interest to their admirers. Both of them had heard the story of the night, and each of them had tucked away in her corsage a scribbled note she wanted to get back to her room and read again. That the pursuit was still on everybody knew, and those on the inside were aware that the “King,” masquerading under the name of Jack Holloway, was the active power behind the sheriff stimulating the chase.
It was after the roping had begun, and Austin had been called away to take his turn, that the outlaw chief sauntered along the aisle of the grand stand to the box in which was seated the mistress of the Lazy D.
“Beautiful mo'ning, isn't it? Delightfully crisp and clear,” he said by way of introduction, stopping at her box.
She understood the subtle jeer in his manner, and her fine courage rose to meet it. There was a daring light in her eye, a buoyant challenge in her voice as she answered:
“It is a splendid morning. I'm not surprised you are enjoying it.”
“Did I say I was enjoying it?” He laughed as he lifted the bar, came into her box and took a seat.
“Of course not. How careless of me! I had forgotten you were in mourning for a deceased friend.”
His dark eyes flashed. “I'll not mourn for him long. He was a mighty trifling fellow, anyhow. Soon as I catch and hang his murderers I'll quit wearing black.”
“You may wear out several suits before then,” she hit back.
“Don't y'u believe it; when I want a thing I don't quit till it's done.”
She met his gaze, and the impact of eyes seemed to shock her physically. The wickedness in him threatened, gloated, dominated. She shivered in the warm sunlight, and would not have had him know it for worlds.
“Dear me! How confident you talk. Aren't you sometimes disappointed?”
“Temporarily. But when I want a thing I take it in the end.”
She knew he was serving notice on her that he meant to win her; and again the little spinal shiver raced over her. She could not look at his sardonic, evil face without fear, and she could not look away without being aware of his eyes possessing her. What was the use of courage against such a creature as this?
“Yes, I understand you take a good deal that isn't yours,” she retorted carelessly, her eyes on the arena.
“I make it mine when I take it,” he answered coolly, admiring the gameness which she wore as a suit of chain armor against his thrusts.
“Isn't it a little dangerous sometimes?” her even voice countered. “When you take what belongs to others you run a risk, don't you?”
“That's part of the rules. Except for that I shouldn't like it so well. I hunt big game, and the bigger the game the more risk. That's why y'u guessed right when y'u said I was enjoying the mo'ning.”
“Meaning—your cousin?”
“Well, no. I wasn't thinking of him, though he's some sizable. But I'm hunting bigger game than he is, and I expect to bag it.”
She let her scornful eyes drift slowly over him. “I might pretend to misunderstand you. But I won't. You may have your answer now. I am not afraid of you, for since you are a bully you must be a coward. I saw a rattlesnake last week in the hills. It reminded me of some one I have seen. I'll leave you to guess who.”
Her answer drew blood. The black tide raced under the swarthy tan of his face. He leaned forward till his beady eyes were close to her defiant ones. “Y'u have forgotten one thing, Miss Messiter. A rattlesnake can sting. I ask nothing of you. Can't I break your heart without your loving me? You're only a woman—and not the first I have broken, by God—”
His slim, lithe body was leaning forward so that it cut off others, and left them to all intents alone. At a touch of her fingers the handbag in her lap flew open and a little ivory-hilted revolver lay in her hand.
“You may break me, but you'll never bend me an inch.”
He looked at the little gun and laughed ironically. “Sho! If y'u should hit me with that and I should find it out I might get mad at y'u.”
“Did I say it was for you?” she said coldly; and again the shock of joined eyes ended in drawn battle.
“Have y'u the nerve?” He looked her over, so dainty and so resolute, so silken strong; and he knew he had his answer.
His smoldering eyes burned with desire to snatch her to him and ride away into the hills. For he was a man who lived in his sensations. He had won many women to their hurt, but it was the joy of conflict that made the pursuit worth while to him; and this young woman, who could so delightfully bubble with little laughs ready to spill over and was yet possessed of a spirit so finely superior to the tenderness of her soft, round, maidenly curves, allured him mightily to the attack.
She dropped the revolver back into the bag and shut
