needn't lecture me. I'm not your wife and I don't think I'm going to be,” cut in Nora, whose temper was ruffled on account of having had to wait for him as well as for other reasons.
“Y'u surely wouldn't make me sue y'u for breach of promise, would y'u?” he demanded, with a burlesque of anxiety that was the final straw.
Nora turned on her heel and headed for the house.
“Now don't y'u get mad at me, honey. I was only joking,” he explained as he pursued her.
“You think you can laugh at me all you please. I'll show you that you can't,” she informed him icily.
“Sho! I wasn't laughing at y'u. What tickled me—”
“I'm not interested in your amusement, Mr. McWilliams.”
“What's the use of flying out about a little thing like that? Honest, I don't even know what you're mad at me for,” the perplexed foreman averred.
“I'm not mad at you, as you call it. I'm simply disgusted.”
And with a final “Good night” flung haughtily over her shoulder Miss Nora Darling disappeared into the house.
Mac took off his hat and gazed at the door that had been closed in his face. He scratched his puzzled poll in vain.
“I ce'tainly got mine good and straight just like Reddy got his. But what in time was it all about? And me thinkin' I was a graduate in the study of the ladies. I reckon I never did get jarred up so. It's plumb discouraging.”
If he could have caught a glimpse of Nora at that moment, lying on her bed and crying as if her heart would break, Mac might have found the situation less hopeless.
Chapter 21.
The Signal Lights
In a little hill-rift about a mile back of the Lazy D Ranch was a deserted miner's cabin.
The hut sat on the edge of a bluff that commanded a view of the buildings below, while at the same time the pines that surrounded it screened the shack from any casual observation. A thin curl of smoke was rising from the mud chimney, and inside the cabin two men lounged before the open fire.
“It's his move, and he is going to make it soon. Every night I look for him to drop down on the ranch. His hate's kind of volcanic, Mr. Ned Bannister's is, and it's bound to bubble over mighty sudden one of these days,” said the younger of the two, rising and stretching himself.
“It did bubble over some when he drove two thousand of my sheep over the bluff and killed the whole outfit,” suggested the namesake of the man mentioned.
“Yes, I reckon that's some irritating,” agreed McWilliams. “But if I know him, he isn't going to be content with sheep so long as he can take it out of a real live man.”
“Or woman,” suggested the sheepman.
“Or woman,” agreed the other. “Especially when he thinks he can cut y'u deeper by striking at her. If he doesn't raid the Lazy D one of these nights, I'm a blamed poor prophet.”
Bannister nodded agreement. “He's near the end of his rope. He could see that if he were blind. When we captured Bostwick and they got a confession out of him, that started the landslide against him. It began to be noised abroad that the government was going to wipe him out. Folks began to lose their terror of him, and after that his whole outfit began to want to turn State's evidence. He isn't sure of one of them now; can't tell when he will be shot in the back by one of his own scoundrels for that two thousand dollars reward.”
The foreman strolled negligently to the door. His eyes drifted indolently down into the valley, and immediately sparkled with excitement.
“The signal's out, Bann,” he exclaimed. “It's in your window.”
The sheepman leaped to his feet and strode to the door. Down in the valley a light was gleaming in a window. Even while he looked another light appeared in a second window.
“She wants us both,” cried the foreman, running to the little corral back of the house.
He presently reappeared with two horses, both saddled, and they took the downward trail at once.
“If Miss Helen can keep him in play till we arrive,” murmured Mac anxiously.
“She can if he gives her a chance, and I think he will. There's a kind of cat instinct in him to play with his prey.”
“Yes, but he missed his kill last time by letting her fool him. That's what I'm afraid of' that he won't wait.”
They had reached lower ground now, and could put their ponies at a pounding gallop that ate up the trail fast. As they approached the houses, both men drew rein and looked carefully to their weapons. Then they slid from the saddles and slipped noiselessly forward.
What the foreman had said was exactly true. Helen Messiter did want them both, and she wanted them very much indeed.
After supper she had been dreamily playing over to herself one of Chopin's waltzes, when she became aware, by some instinct, that she was not alone in the room. There had been no least sound, no slightest stir to betray an alien presence. Yet that some one was in the room she knew, and by some subtle sixth sense could even put a name to the intruder.
Without turning she called over her shoulder: “Shall I finish the waltz?” No faintest tremor in the clear, sweet voice betrayed the racing heart.
“Y'u're a cool hand, my friend,” came his ready answer. “But I think we'll dispense with the music. I had enough last time to serve me for twice.”
She laughed as she swung on the stool, with that musical scorn which both allured and maddened. “I did rather do you that time,” she allowed.
“This is the return match. You won then. I win now,” he told her, with a look that chilled.
“Indeed! But isn't that rather discounting the future?”
“Only the immediate future. Y'u're mine, my beauty, and I mean to take y'u with me.”
Just a disdainful sweep of her eyes she gave him as she rose from the piano-stool and rearranged the lamps. “You mean so much that never comes to pass, Mr. Bannister. The road to the nether regions is paved with good intentions, we are given to understand. Not that yours can by any stretch of imagination be called 'good intentions.'”
“Contrariwise, then, perhaps the road to heaven may be paved with evil intentions. Since y'u travel the road with me, wherever it may lead, it were but gallant to hope so.”
He took three sharp steps toward her and stood looking down in her face, her sweet slenderness so close to him that the perfume mounted to his brain. Surely no maiden had ever been more desirable than this one, who held him in such contemptuous estimation that only her steady eyes moved at his approach. These held to his and defied him, while she stood leaning motionless against
