his face, his manner had reflected a hard, unyielding spirit — something savage and sinister and intolerant, a passionate intensity, an elemental brutality that had frightened her.
And she vacillated between two opinions; a grave question perplexed her; was he ruled by those dark passions she had seen slumbering in his eyes upon the day of the pipe-shooting incident, or did the lighter and gentler mood shape his attitude toward his fellows ?
Men, of course, were always at their best when in the presence of women who interested them; she knew that. But he had shown her two moods, and it remained for her to judge him. And she could not judge.
Nor could she reach a conclusion after having explored the timber with him. For during the ride his mood did not change; he was gravely polite, considerate, and gentlemanly.
However, she was strangely attracted to him, and she found herself hoping that the gentleness she had seen in him would prove to be the rule by which she must judge the man.
She came to see Bud the next day, and the next; and for many days following she managed to spend some time at the Three Bar.
Not always was Rand there to greet her. And during his absences she talked much with Aunt Betsey and Uncle Ephraim, to discover that the affection of the two for Rand was equaled only by the enthusiastic devotion of Bud.
Also, Aunt Betsey took her through the house, even into Rand's room, where the girl saw the picture of his mother on the wall. Eleanor stood long before the picture, studying the serenely smiling eyes that regarded her so steadily — eloquent, honest eyes that reflected the good that must have dwelt in the heart of their owner all the days of her life.
Also, looking keenly at the picture, Eleanor saw far back in the eyes a certain wistfulness and sadness; and she wondered if, when the picture was taken, the woman might not have been thinking of the man whose photograph hung on the wall in another room — Rand's father; the outlaw whose cruel, brooding face revealed evidence of those savage passions she had seen reflected in th? eyes of the son.
Chapter XIX. Compton Plots
TWICE during the week that followed the talk between Link Compton and Lucia Morell in the girl's room above the Gilt Edge saloon, Compton rode over to the Bar S. Each time he found Eleanor Seddon absent from the ranchhouse, and each time Compton's face darkened with passion.
From the Mexican woman who had been Seddon's housekeeper since the death of Seddon's wife Compton learned that Eleanor was seldom at the ranchhouse during the day.
Nor did Compton gain any consolation from the Mexican woman's manner. She disliked the big man — for Compton's attitude toward her had always been that of contemptuous insolence — and she looked at him maliciously as, on his second visit within a few days, he stood at the edge of the porch, frowning, having just been told by the woman that Eleanor had gone away.
"Where did she go?" he demanded, scowling at the woman.
The woman smiled silkily, her voice soft-toned and apologetic. "She's ride theeze way — on the Silver horse." She pointed toward the trail that led to the Three Bar, and Compton's gaze grew malignant.
"Does she go that way every day?"
"Ever' day," smiled the woman, veiling her dislike of the man with her smooth smile.
"How long does she stay?"
"How long?" The woman smiled broadly and knowingly, and held up a hand, the fingers spread wide. "She's stay theeze many hours — always. More — sometimes. Most always she come home with the dark." Her smile broadened as she launched a subtle shaft at Compton. "Rand is a nize man — you think?"
Compton sneered silently at her, leaped on his horse, and rode away, riding rigid in the saddle — betraying his rage; while the woman, watching him, grimaced at his back.
Compton had not been surprised to discover that Eleanor Seddon was visiting the Three Bar. In fact, he had expected the girl to be interested in Rand. For upon the day she had told him of her meeting with Rand in the timber, he had not failed to note the glow in her eyes when she had spoken of Rand; and though he knew that much of the girl's praise was sheer coquetry—with some per-verseness, aroused by the jealousy he must have exhibited — he had been aware that she had felt a deep interest in the man.
For Rand was a man who attracted the interest of every woman who saw him. The man's strong face; the cold confidence that he exuded; the brooding, passionate gleam of his eyes — all those unusual and visible signs of character could not fail to intrigue a woman's curiosity.
They had even impressed Compton! For despite his hatred of the man, Compton recognized him as a worthy antagonist. And beneath Compton's hatred was a respect — vague and reluctant, but undoubtedly sincere.
With jealousy raging within him — his face hideous with the reflection of it — Compton followed the trail taken by Rand on the morning the latter had ridden to Ocate to meet Kinney.
Compton's reflections were as bitter as the expression on his face. For he felt that Rand was an interloper.
During the three years that he had owned the Two Link, Compton had listened to Seddon's praises of his daughter until he had felt that he knew the girl. And Seddon had given him the girl's photograph.
Compton had studied the picture until the desire to possess her had grown acute, a passion that had laid its gripping yearning upon his soul. And on the day, sitting in the chair on the porch of the Bar S ranchhouse, he had seen her riding toward him, he had felt that he had known her during the years of her absence from the Bar S.
But even before her home-coming he had been jealous of Rand. He had been afraid of Rand, afraid that when Eleanor saw the Three Bar man there would be little chance for himself. That jealousy was what had made him hate Rand at first sight; it was his jealousy which had made him continue to hate the man; it was that passion which had made him so eager to bring about Rand's death through the instrumentality of Kinney, the gun-fighter ; the same passion had led him to spread the story which had linked Rand's name to the robberies and the cattle-rustling incidents which had occurred within the past two or three years.
And the thing he had feared had come to pass — Eleanor Seddon was interested in Rand. And Rand had succeeded in escaping the meshes of every plot that had been laid to trap him.
Compton rode through the immense basin in which Rand had come upon Larry Redfern. Compton knew the Three Bar outfit was in the basin with the Three Bar cattle, for he had seen men and cattle from the edge of the mesa from which Rand had viewed them on the morning he had gone to town to meet Kinney.
Compton, however, had no intention of conversing with the Three Bar men, for he hated them all with something of the same fervor with which he hated their employer. But when, traveling the trail that wound its way through the basin, he came upon Larry Redfern, riding toward him, on his way to join some of the Three Bar men far out in the basin, he returned Larry's grinning nod with a curt wave of the hand.
He was about to ride on, and was passing within a dozen feet of Larry when, noting the scowl on Compton's face, and yielding to one of those jocose impulses which sometimes moved him, Larry spoke:
"I reckon the Bar S is gettin' a heap popular."
Compton
