Cavanagh, Forest Ranger: A Romance of the Mountain West Page 5

  IV

  VIRGINIA TAKES ANOTHER MOTOR RIDE

  Lee Virginia's efforts to refine the little hotel produced an amazingchange in Eliza Wetherford's affairs. The dining-room swarmed with thoseseeking food, and as the news of the girl's beauty went out upon therange, the cowboys sought excuse to ride in and get a square meal and aglimpse of the "Queen" whose hand had witched "the old shack" into amarvel of cleanliness.

  Say what you will, beauty is a sovereign appeal. These men, unspeakablyprofane, cruel, and obscene in their saddle-talk, were awed by the freshlinen, the burnished glass, and the well-ordered tables which they foundin place of the flies, the dirt, and the disorder of aforetime. "It'sworth a day's ride just to see that girl for a minute," declared oneenthusiast.

  They did not all use the napkins, but they enjoyed having them therebeside their plates, and the subdued light, the freedom from insectsimpressed them almost to decorum. They entered with awe, avid for a wordwith "Lize Wetherford's girl." Generally they failed of so much as aglance at her, for she kept away from the dining-room at meal-time.

  Lee Virginia was fully aware of this male curiosity, and vaguely consciousof the merciless light which shone in the eyes of some of them (men likeGregg), who went about their game with the shameless directness of thebrute. She had begun to understand, too, that her mother's reputation wasa barrier between the better class of folk and herself; but as they camenow and again to take a meal, they permitted themselves a word in herpraise, which she resented. "I don't want their friendship _now_," shedeclared, bitterly.

  As she gained courage to look about her, she began to be interested insome of her coatless, collarless boarders on account of theirextraordinary history. There was Brady, the old government scout, retiredon a pension, who was accustomed to sit for hours on the porch, gazingaway over the northern plains--never toward the mountains--as if hewatched for bear or bison, or for the files of hostile red hunters--thoughin reality there was nothing to see but the stage, coming and going, or abunch of cowboys galloping into town. Nevertheless, every cloud of dustwas to him diversion, and he appeared to dream, like a captive eagle,bedraggled, spiritless, but with an inner spark of memory burning deep inhis dim blue eyes.

  Then there was an old miner, distressingly filthy, who hobbled to hismeals on feet that had been frozen into clubs. He had a little gold loanedat interest, and on this he lived in tragic parsimony. He and the oldscout sat much together, usually without speech (each knew to the lastword the other's stories), as if they recognized each other's utterloneliness.

  Sifton, the old remittance man, had been born to a higher culture,therefore was his degradation the deeper. His poverty was due to hisweakness. Virginia was especially drawn toward him by reason of hisinalienable politeness and his well-chosen words. He was always thegentleman--no matter how frayed his clothing.

  So far as the younger men were concerned, she saw little to admire andmuch to hate. They were crude and uninteresting rowdies for the most part.She was put upon her defence by their glances, and she came to dreadwalking along the street, so open and coarse were their words of praise.She felt dishonored by the glances which her feet drew after her, and shealways walked swiftly to and from the store or the post-office.

  Few of these loafers had the courage to stand on their feet and court herfavor, but there was one who speedily became her chief persecutor. Thiswas Neill Ballard, celebrated (and made impudent) by two years' travelwith a Wild West show. He was tall, lean, angular, and freckled, but hishorsemanship was marvellous and his skill with the rope magical. Hisspecial glory consisted in a complicated whirling of the lariat. In hishand the limp, inert cord took on life, grace, charm. It hung in the airor ran in rhythmic waves about him, rising, falling, expanding,diminishing, as if controlled by some agency other than a man's hand, andits gyrations had won much applause in the Eastern cities, where suchskill is expected of the cowboys.

  He had lost his engagement by reason of a drunken brawl, and he was nowliving with his sister, the wife of a small rancher near by. He was vain,lazy, and unspeakably corrupt, full of open boasting of his exploits inthe drinking-dens of the East. No sooner did he fix eyes upon Virginiathan he marked her for his special prey. He had the depraved heart of theherder and the insolent confidence of the hoodlum, and something of thisthe girl perceived. She despised the other men, but she feared this one,and quite justly, for he was capable of assaulting and binding her withhis rope, as he had once done with a Shoshone squaw.

  The Greggs, father and son, were in open rivalry for Lee also, but indifferent ways. The older man, who had already been married several times,was disposed to buy her hand in what he called "honorable wedlock," butthe son, at heart a libertine, approached her as one who despised theWest, and who, being kept in the beastly country by duty to a parent, wasready to amuse himself at any one's expense. He had no purpose in life butto feed his body and escape toil.

  There are women to whom all this warfare would have been diverting, but itwas not so to Lee. Her sense of responsibility was too keen. It was both atorture and a shame. The chivalry of the plains, of which she had read somuch--and which she supposed she remembered--was gone. She doubted if ithad ever existed among these centaurs. Why should it inhere in ignorant,brutal plainsmen any more than in ignorant, brutal factory hands?

  There came to her, now and again, gentle old ranchers--"grangers," theywould be called--and shy boys from the farms, but for the most part themen she saw embittered her, and she kept out of their sight as much aspossible. Her keenest pleasures, almost her only pleasures, lay in theoccasional brief visits of the ranger, as he rode in for his mail.

  Lize perceived all these attacks on her daughter, and was infuriated bythem. She snapped and snarled like a tigress leading her half-grown kittenthrough a throng of leopards. Her brows were knotted with care as well aswith pain, and she incessantly urged Virginia to go back to Sulphur. "I'llsend you money to pay your board till you strike a job." But to this thegirl would not agree; and the business, by reason of her presence, went onincreasing from day to day.

  To Redfield Lize one day confessed her pain. "I ought to send for thatdoctor up there, but the plain truth is I'm afraid of him. I don't want toknow what's the matter of me. It's his job to tell me I'm sick and I'mscared of his verdict."

  "Nonsense," he replied; "you can't afford to put off getting him muchlonger. I'm going back to-night, but I'll be over again to-morrow. Whydon't you let me bring him down? It will save you twelve dollars. And, bythe way, suppose you let me take Lee Virginia home with me? She looks abit depressed; an outing will do her good. She's taken hold herewonderfully."

  "Hasn't she! But I should have sent her away the very first night. I'mgetting to depend on her. I'm plumb foolish about her now--can't let herout of my sight; and yet I'm off my feed worryin' over her. Gregg isgetting dangerous--you can't fool me when it comes to men. Curse 'em,they're all alike--beasts, every cussed one of them. I won't have my girlmistreated, I tell you that! I'm not fit to be her mother, now that's theGod's truth, Reddy, and this rotten little back-country cow-town is noplace for her. But what can I do? She won't leave me so long as I'm sick,and every day ties her closer to me. I don't know what I'd do without her.If I'm goin' to die I want her by me when I take my drop. So you see justhow I'm placed."

  She looked yellow and drawn as she ended, and Redfield was moved by herunwonted tenderness.

  "Now let me advise," he began, after a moment's pause. "We musn't let thegirl get homesick. I'll take her home with me this afternoon, and bringher back along with a doctor to-morrow."

  "All right, but before you go I want to have a private talk--I want totell you something."

  He warned her away from what promised to be a confession. "Now, now,Eliza, don't tell me anything that requires that tone of voice; I'm a badperson to keep a secret, and you might be sorry for it. I don't want toknow anything more about your business than I can guess."

  "I don't mean the whiskey trade," she explained. "
I've cut that all outanyway. It's something more important--it's about Ed and me."

  "I don't want to hear _that_ either," he declared. "Let bygones bebygones. What you did then is outlawed, anyway. Those were fierce times,and I want to forget them." He looked about. "Let me see this MissVirginia and convey to her Mrs. Redfield's invitation."

  "She's in the kitchen, I reckon. Go right out."

  He was rather glad of a chance to see the young reformer in action, andsmiled as he came upon her surrounded by waiters and cooks, busilysuperintending the preparations for the noon meal, which amounted to atumult each day.

  She saw Redfield, nodded, and a few moments later came toward him, flushedand beaming with welcome. "I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Supervisor."

  He bowed profoundly. "I'm delighted to find you well, Miss Virginia, anddoubly pleased to see you in your regimentals, which you mightily adorn."

  She looked down at her apron. "I made this myself. Do you know ourbusiness is increasing wonderfully? I'm busy every moment of the day tillbedtime."

  "Indeed I do know it. I hear of the Wetherford House all up and down theline. I was just telling your mother she'll be forced to build bigger,like the chap in the Bible."

  "She works too hard. Poor mother! I try to get her to turn the cash-drawerover to me, but she won't do it. Doesn't she seem paler and weaker toyou?"

  "She does, indeed, and this is what I came in to propose. Mrs. Redfieldsends by me a formal invitation to you to visit Elk Lodge. She is notquite able to take the long ride, else she'd come to you." Here he handedher a note. "I suggest that you go up with me this afternoon, andto-morrow we'll fetch the doctor down to see your mother. What do you sayto that?"

  Her eyes were dewy with grateful appreciation of his kindness as sheanswered: "That would be a great pleasure, Mr. Redfield, if mother feelsable to spare me."

  "I've talked with her; she is anxious to have you go."

  Virginia was indeed greatly pleased and pleasantly excited by thismessage, for she had heard much of Mrs. Redfield's exclusiveness, and alsoof the splendor of her establishment. She hurried away to dress with suchflutter of joyous anticipation that Redfield felt quite repaid for thepressure he had put upon his wife to induce her to write that note. "Youmay leave Lize Wetherford out of the count, my dear," he had said. "Thereis nothing of her discernible in the girl. Virginia is a lady. I don'tknow where she got it, but she's a gentlewoman by nature."

  Lize said: "Don't you figure on me in any way, Reddy. I'm nothing but theold hen that raised up this lark, and all I'm a-livin' for now is to makeher happy. Just you cut me out when it comes to any question about yourwife and Virginia. I'm not in their class."

  It was hot and still in the town, but no sooner was the car in motion thanboth heat and dust were forgotten. Redfield's machine was not large, andas he was content to go at moderate speed, conversation was possible.

  He was of that sunny, optimistic, ever-youthful nature which finds delightin human companionship under any conditions whatsoever. He accepted thisgirl for what she seemed--a fresh, unspoiled child. He saw nothing cheapor commonplace in her, and was not disposed to impose any of her father'swild doings upon her calendar. He had his misgivings as to herfuture--that was the main reason why he had said to Mrs. Redfield, "Thegirl must be helped." Afterward he had said "sustained."

  It was inevitable that the girl should soon refer to the ranger, andRedfield was as complimentary of him as she could wish. "Ross hasn't afault but one, and that's a negative one: he doesn't care a hang aboutgetting on, as they say over in England. He's content just to do the dutyof the moment. He made a good cow-puncher and a good soldier; but as forpromotion, he laughs when I mention it."

  "He told me that he hoped to be Chief Forester," protested Virginia.

  "Oh yes, he says that; but do you know, he'd rather be where he is, ridingover the hills, than live in London. You should see his cabin some time.It's most wonderful, really. His walls are covered with bookshelves of hisown manufacture, and chairs of his own design. Where the boy got theskill, I don't see. Heaven knows, his sisters are conventional enough!He's capable of being Supervisor, but he won't live in town and work in anoffice. He's like an Indian in his love of the open."

  All this was quite too absorbingly interesting to permit of any study ofthe landscape, which went by as if dismissed by the chariot wheels of somecontemptuous magician. Redfield's eyes were mostly on the road (in themanner of the careful driver), but when he did look up it was to admirethe color and poise of his seat-mate, who made the landscape of smallaccount.

  She kept the conversation to the desired point. "Mr. Cavanagh's workinterests me very much. It seems very important; and it must be new, for Inever heard of a forest ranger when I was a child."

  "The forester is new--at least, in America," he answered. "My dear younglady, you are returned just in the most momentous period in the history ofthe West. The old dominion--the cattle-range--is passing. The supremacy ofthe cowboy is ended. The cow-boss is raising oats, the cowboy is pitchingalfalfa, and swearing horribly as he blisters his hands. Some of therangers at the moment are men of Western training like Ross, but whoseallegiance is now to Uncle Sam. With others that transfer of allegiance isnot quite complete, hence the insolence of men like Gregg, who think theycan bribe or intimidate these forest guards, and so obtain favors; thenewer men are college-bred, real foresters. But you can't know what it allmeans till you see Ross, or some other ranger, on his own heath. We'llmake up a little party some day and drop down upon him, and have him showus about. It's a lonely life, and so the ranger keeps open house. Wouldyou like to go?"

  "Oh, yes indeed! I'm eager to get into the mountains. Every night as I seethe sun go down over them I wonder what the world is like up there."

  Then he began very delicately to inquire about her Eastern experience.There was not much to tell. In a lovely old town not far fromPhiladelphia, where her aunt lived, she had spent ten years of happyexile. "I was horribly lonely and homesick at first," she said. "Motherwrote only short letters, and my father never wrote at all. I didn't knowhe was dead then. He was always good to me. He wasn't a bad man, was he?"

  "No," responded Redfield, without hesitation. "He was very like the restof us--only a little more reckless and a little more partisan, that's all.He was a dashing horseman and a dead-shot, and so, naturally, a leader ofthese daredevils. He was popular with both sides of the controversy up tothe very moment when he went South to lead the invaders against therustlers."

  "What was it all about? I never understood it. What were they fightingabout?"

  "In a sense, it was all very simple. You see, Uncle Sam, in his careless,do-nothing way, has always left his range to whomever got there first, andthat was the cattle-man. At first there was grass enough for us all, butas we built sheds and corrals about watering-places we came to claim_rights_ on the range. We usually secured by fraud homesteads in thesections containing water, and so, gun in hand, 'stood off' the man whocame after. Gradually, after much shooting and lawing, we parcelled outthe range and settled down covering practically the whole State. Ouradjustments were not perfect, but our system was working smoothly for uswho controlled the range. We had convinced ourselves, and pretty nearlyeverybody else, that the State was only fit for cattle-grazing, and thatwe were the most competent grazers; furthermore, we were in possession,and no man could come in without our consent.

  "However, a very curious law of our own making was our undoing. Of coursethe 'nester' or 'punkin roller,' as we contemptuously called the smallfarmer, began sifting in here and there in spite of our guns, but he wasonly a mosquito bite in comparison with the trouble which our cow-punchersstirred up. Perhaps you remember enough about the business to know that anunbranded yearling calf without its mother is called a maverick?"

  "Yes, I remember that. It belongs to the man who finds him, and brandshim."

  "Precisely. Now that law worked very nicely so long as the poor cowboy waswilling to catch and brand him for his
employer, but it proved a 'joker'when he woke up and said to his fellows: 'Why brand these mavericks atfive dollars per head for this or that outfit when the law says it belongsto the man who finds him?'"

  Lee Virginia looked up brightly. "That seems right to me!"

  "Ah yes; but wait. We cattle-men had large herds, and the _probabilities_were that the calf belonged to some one of us; whereas, the cowboy, havingno herd at all, _knew_ the maverick belonged to some one's herd. True, thelaw said it was his, but the law did not mean to reward the freebooter;yet that is exactly what it did. At first only a few outlaws tookadvantage of it; but hard years came on, the cattle business became lessand less profitable, we were forced to lay off our men, and so at last therange swarmed with idle cow-punchers; then came the breakdown in ourscheme! The cowboys took to 'mavericking' on their own account. Some ofthem had the grace to go into partnership with some farmer, and so claim asmall bunch of cows, but others suddenly and miraculously acquired herdsof their own. From keeping within the law, they passed to violent methods.They slit the tongues of calves for the purpose of separating them fromtheir mothers. Finding he could not suck, bossy would at last wander awayfrom his dam, and so become a 'maverick.' In short, anarchy reigned on therange."

  "But surely my father had nothing to do with this?"

  "No; your father, up to this time, had been on good terms with everybody.He had a small herd of cattle down the river, which he owned in commonwith a man named Hart."

  "I remember him."

  "He was well thought of by all the big outfits; and when the situationbecame intolerable, and we got together to weed out 'the rustlers,' asthese cattle-thieves were called, your father was approached and convertedto a belief in drastic measures. He had suffered less than the rest of usbecause of his small herd and the fact that he was very popular among thecowboys. So far as I was concerned, the use of violent methods revoltedme. My training in the East had made me a respecter of the law. 'Changethe law,' I said. 'The law is all right,' they replied; 'the trouble iswith these rustlers. We'll hang a few of 'em, and that will break up thebusiness.'"

  Parts of this story came back to the girl's mind, producing momentaryflashes of perfect recollection. She heard again the voices of excited menarguing over and over the question of "mavericking," and she saw herfather as he rode up to the house that last day before he went South.

  Redfield went on. "The whole plan as developed was silly, and I wonderstill that Ed Wetherford, who knew 'the nester' and the cowboy so well,should have lent his aid to it. The cattle-men--some from Cheyenne, somefrom Denver, and a few from New York and Chicago--agreed to finance a sortof Vigilante Corps composed of men from the outside, on the understandingthat this policing body should be commanded by one of their own number.Your father was chosen second in command, and was to guide the party; forhe knew almost every one of the rustlers, and could ride directly to theirdoors."

  "I wish he hadn't done that," murmured the girl.

  "I must be frank with you, Virginia. I can't excuse that in him. It was akind of treachery. He must have been warped by his associates. Theyconvinced him by some means that it was his duty, and one fine day theFork was startled by a messenger, who rode in to say that thecattle-barons were coming with a hundred Texas bad men 'to clean out thetown,' and to put their own men into office. This last was silly rot tome, but the people believed it."

  The girl was tingling now. "I remember! I remember the men who rode intothe town to give the alarm. Their horses were white with foam; their headshung down, and their sides went in and out. I pitied the poor things.Mother jumped on her pony, and rode out among the men. She wanted to gowith them, but they wouldn't let her. I was scared almost breathless."

  "I was in Sulphur City, and did not hear of it till it was nearly allover," Redfield resumed, his speech showing a little of the excitementwhich thrilled through the girl's voice. "Well, the first act of vengeancewas so ill-considered that it practically ended the whole campaign. Theinvaders fell upon and killed two ranchers--one of whom was probably not arustler at all, but a peaceable settler, and the other one they mostbarbarously hanged. More than this, they attacked and vainly tried to killtwo settlers whom they met on the road--German farmers, with noconnection, so far as known, with the thieves. These men escaped, and gavethe alarm. In a few hours the whole range was aflame with vengeful fire.The Forks, as you may recall, was like a swarm of bumblebees. Every manand boy was armed and mounted. The storekeepers distributed guns andammunition, leaders developed, and the embattled 'punkin rollers,'rustlers, and townsmen rode out to meet the invaders."

  The girl paled with memory of it. "It was terrible! I went all day withouteating, and for two nights we were all too excited to sleep. It seemed asif the world were coming to an end. Mother cried because they wouldn't lether go with them. She didn't know father was leading the other army."

  "She must have known soon, for it was reported that your father was amongthem. She certainly knew when they were driven to earth in that log fort,for they were obliged to restrain her by force from going to your father.As I run over those furious days it all seems incredible, like a suddenreversal to barbarism."

  "How did it all end? The soldiers came, didn't they?"

  "Yes; the long arm of Uncle Sam reached out and took hold upon the necksof both parties. I guess your father and his band would have died rightthere had not the regular army interfered. It only required a sergeantwearing Uncle Sam's uniform to come among those armed and furious cowboysand remove their prisoners."

  "I saw that. It was very strange--that sergeant was so young and sobrave."

  He turned and smiled at her. "Do you know who that was?"

  Her eyes flashed. She drew her breath with a gasp. "Was it Mr. Cavanagh?"

  "Yes, it was Ross. He was serving in the regular army at the time. He hastold me since that he felt no fear whatever. 'Uncle Sam's blue coat waslike Siegfried's magic armor,' he said; 'it was the kind of thing themounted police of Canada had been called upon to do many a time, and Iwent in and got my men.' That ended the war, so far as violent measureswent, and it really ended the sovereignty of the cattle-man. The power ofthe 'nester' has steadily increased from that moment."

  "But my father--what became of him? They took him away to the East, andthat is all I ever knew. What do you think became of him?"

  "I could never make up my mind. All sorts of rumors come to us concerninghim. As a matter of fact, the State authorities sympathized with thecattle-barons, and my own opinion is that your father was permitted toescape. He was afterward seen in Texas, and later it was reported that hehad been killed there."

  The girl sat still, listening to the tireless whir of the machine, andlooking out at the purpling range with tear-mist eyes. At last she said:"I shall never think of my father as a bad man, he was always so gentle tome."

  "You need not condemn him, my dear young lady. First of all, it's not fairto bring him (as he was in those days) forward into these piping times ofdairy cows and alfalfa. The people of the Forks--some of them, atleast--consider him a traitor, and regard you as the daughter of arenegade, but what does it matter? Each year sees the Old West diminish,and already, in the work of the Forest Service, law and order advance.Notwithstanding all the shouting of herders and the beating to death ofsheep, no hostile shot has ever been fired within the bounds of a NationalForest. In the work of the forest rangers lies the hope of ultimate peaceand order over all the public lands."

  The girl fell silent again, her mind filled with larger conceptions oflife than her judgment had hitherto been called upon to meet. She knewthat Redfield was right, and yet that world of the past--the world of theswift herdsman and his trampling, long-horned, half-wild kine stillappealed to her imagination. The West of her girlhood seemed heroic inmemory; even the quiet account of it to which she had just listened couldnot conceal its epic largeness of movement. The part which troubled hermost was her father's treachery to his neighbors. That he should fight,that he should kill men in h
onorable warfare, she could understand; butnot his recreancy, his desertion of her mother and herself.

  She came back to dwell at last on the action of that slim young soldierwho had calmly ridden through the infuriated mob. She remembered that shehad thrilled even then at the vague and impersonal power which herepresented. To her childish mind he seemed to bear a charm, like theheroes of her story-books--something which made him invulnerable.

  After a long pause Redfield spoke again. "The memory of your father willmake life for a time a bit hard for you in Roaring Fork--perhaps yourmother's advice is sound. Why not come to Sulphur City, which is almostentirely of the new spirit?"

  "If I can get my mother to come, too, I will be glad to do so, for I hatethe Fork; but I will not leave her there, sick and alone."

  "Much depends upon the doctor's examination to-morrow."

  They had topped the divide now between the Fork and Sulphur Creek Basin,and the green fields, the alfalfa meadows, and the painted farm-housesthickened beneath them. Strange how significant all these signs were now.A few days ago they had appeared doubtful improvements, now theyrepresented the oncoming dominion of the East. They meant cleanliness anddecent speech, good bread and sweet butter. Ultimately houses with hotwater in their bath-rooms and pianos in their parlors would displace theshack, the hitching-pole, and the dog-run, and in those days EdwardWetherford would be forgotten.

  Redfield swept through the town, then turned up the stream directly towardthe high wall of the range, which was ragged and abrupt at this point.They passed several charming farm-houses, and the western sky grew evermore glorious with its plum-color and saffron, and the range reassertedits mastery over the girl. At last they came to the very jaws of thecanon; and there, in a deep natural grove of lofty cottonwood-trees,Redfield passed before a high rustic gate which marked the beginning ofhis estate. The driveway was of gravel, and the intermingling oftransplanted shrubs and pine-trees showed the care of the professionalgardener.

  The house was far from being a castle; indeed, it was very like a house inBryn-Mawr, except that it was built entirely of half-hewn logs, with awide projecting roof. Giant hydrangeas and other flowering shrubs borderedthe drive, and on the rustic terrace a lady in white was waiting.

  Redfield slowed down, and scrambled ungracefully out; but his voice wascharming as he said: "Eleanor, this it Miss Wetherford. She was on thepoint of getting the blues, so I brought her away," he explained.

  Mrs. Redfield, quite as urban as the house, was a slim little woman ofdelicate habit, very far from the ordinary conception of a rancher's wife.Her manner was politely considerate, but not heatedly cordial (the visitorwas not precisely hers), and though she warmed a little after looking intoVirginia's face, she could not by any stretch of phrase be calledcordial.

  "Are you tired? would you like to lie down before dinner?" she asked.

  "Oh no, indeed. Nothing ever tires me," Virginia responded, with a smile.

  "You look like one in perfect health," continued her hostess, in theenvious tone of one who knew all too well what ill-health meant. "Let meshow you to your room."

  The house was not precisely the palace the cowboy had reported it to be,but it was charmingly decorated, and the furnishings were tasteful. To thegirl it was as if she had been transported with instant magic from thehorrible little cow-town back to the home of one of her dearest friends inChester. She was at once exalted and humbly grateful.

  "We dine at seven," Mrs. Redfield was saying, "so you can take a cup oftea without spoiling your dinner. Will you venture it?"

  "If you please."

  "Very well; come down soon, and I'll have it ready. Mr. Redfield, I'msure, will want some."

  Virginia's heart was dancing with delight of this home as she came downthe stairs a little later. She found Mr. Redfield at the farther end of along sitting-room, whose dim light was as restful (after the glare of thetawny plains) as the voice of her hostess was to her ears, which stillached with the noise of profane and vulgar speech.

  Redfield heard her coming and met her half-way, and with stately ceremonyshowed her a seat. "I fear you will need something stronger than tea aftermy exhausting conversation."

  "I hope, Hugh, you were not in one of your talking moods?"

  "I was, Eleanor. I talked incessantly, barring an occasional jolt of themachine."

  "You poor thing!" This to Virginia. "Truly you deserve a two hours' restbefore dinner, for our dinner is always a talk-fest, and to-night, withSenator Bridges here, it will be a convention."

  He turned to Virginia. "We were talking old times 'before the war,' andyou know it never tires veterans to run over their ancient campaigns--doesit, Lee Virginia?"

  As they talked Mrs. Redfield studied the girl with increasing interest andfavor, and soon got at her point of view. She even secured a little moreof her story, which matched fairly well with the account her husband hadgiven. Her prejudices were swept away, and she treated her young guest asone well-born and well-educated woman treats another.

  At last she said: "We dress for dinner, but any frock you have will do. Weare not ironclad in our rules. There will be some neighbors in, but itisn't in any sense a 'party.'"

  Lee Virginia went to her room, borne high upon a new conception of thepossibilities of the West. It was glorious to think that one could enjoythe refinement, the comfort of the East at the same time that one dweltwithin the inspiring shadow of the range. She caught some prophetic hintin all this of the future age when each of these foot-hills would bepeopled by those to whom cleanliness of mind and grace of body werehabitual. Standing on the little balcony which filled the front of herwindows, she looked away at the towering heights, smoky purple against asky of burning gold, and her eyes expanded like those of the young eaglewhen about to launch himself upon the sunset wind.

  The roar of a waterfall came to her ears, and afar on the sage-greencarpet of the lower mesa a horseman was galloping swiftly. Far to the leftof this smoothly sculptured table-land a band of cattle fed, while underher eyes, formal as a suburban home, lay a garden of old-fashioned Englishflowers. It was a singular and moving union of the old and new--the Eastand the West.

  On her table and on the pretty bookshelves she found several of the latestvolumes of poetry and essays, and the bed, with its dainty covering andample spread, testified quite as plainly of taste and comfort. Her handswere a-tremble as she put on the bright muslin gown which was all she hadfor evening wear. She felt very much like the school-girl again, and aftershe had done her best to look nice, she took a seat in the little rocker,with intent to compose herself for her meeting with strangers. "I wish wewere dining without visitors," she said, as she heard a carriage drive up.A little later a galloping horse entered the yard and stopped at thedoor.

  "It all sounds like a play," she said to herself, forgetting for themoment that she was miles away from a town and in a lonely ranch-houseunder the very shadows of the mountains.

  She heard voices in the hall, and among them one with a very Englishaccent--one that sounded precisely like those she had heard on the stage.It was the voice of a man, big, hearty, with that thick, throaty gurglewhich is so suggestive of London that one is certain to find a tweed suitand riding-breeches associated with it.

  At last she dared wait no longer, and taking courage from necessity,descended the stairs--a pleasant picture of vigorous yet somewhat subduedmaidenhood.