CHAPTER V
TRESLER BEGINS HIS EDUCATION
But the story of the nocturnal visit of the horse thieves did notreach the foreman next morning. Jake hailed Tresler down to thecorrals directly after breakfast. He was to have a horse told off tohim, and this matter, and the presence of others, made him postponehis purpose to a more favorable time.
When he arrived at the corrals, three of the boys, under Jake'ssuperintendence, were cutting out a big, raw-boned, mud-brown marefrom a bunch of about sixty colts.
She stood well over sixteen hands--a clumsy, big-footed, mean-looking,clean-limbed lady, rough-coated, and scored all over with marks of"savaging." She was fiddle-headed and as lean as a hay-rake, but inbuild she was every inch a grand piece of horse-flesh. And Tresler wassufficient horseman to appreciate her lines, as well as the vicious,roving eye which displayed the flashing whites at every turn.
Jacob Smith was after her with a rope, and the onlookers watched hislithe, active movements as he followed her, wildly racing round andround the corral seeking a means of escape.
Suddenly the man made a dart in to head her off. She turned toretreat, but the other two were there to frustrate her purpose. Justfor a second she paused irresolutely; then, lowering her head andsetting her ears back, she came open-mouthed for Jacob. But heanticipated her intention, and, as she came, sprang lightly aside,while she swept on, lashing out her heels at him as she went. It wasthe opportunity the man sought, and, in the cloud of dust that rose inher wake, his lariat shot out low over the ground. The next moment shefell headlong, roped by the two forefeet, and all three men sprang into the task of securing her.
It was done so quickly that Tresler had hardly realized her capturewhen Jake's harsh voice rang out--
"That's your mare, Tresler!" he cried; "guess that plug of yours'll dofor fancy ridin'. You'll break this one to handlin' cattle. You're atolerable weight, but she's equal to it." He laughed, and his laughsent an angry flush into the other's face. "Say," he went on, incalmly contemptuous tones; "she's wild some. But she's been saddledbefore. Oh, yes, she ain't raw off the grass. You, comin' from downeast, can mebbe ride. They mostly reckon to be able to ride till theycome along to these parts."
Tresler understood the man's game; he also understood and fullyappreciated Joe Nelson's warning. He glanced at the saddle stillhanging on the corral wall. It would be simple suicide for him toattempt to ride an outlaw with a saddle fit for a boy of fifteen. Andit was Jake's purpose, trading on his ignorance of such matters, tofool him into using a saddle that would probably rupture him.
"I presume she's the worst outlaw on the ranch," he replied quietly,though his blue eyes shone dangerously. "She must be," he went on, asJake made no answer, "or you wouldn't give her to me, and point outthat she's been saddled before."
"Kind o' weakenin'?" Jake asked with a sneer.
"No. I was just thinking of my saddle. It will be no use on her; she'dburst the girths."
"That needn't worry you any. There's a stock saddle there, on thefence."
"Thank you, I'll ride on a saddle that fits a man of my size, or youcan ride the mare yourself."
Tresler was round and facing his man, and his words came in a tone theother was unaccustomed to. But Jake kept quite cool while he seemed tobe debating with himself. Then he abruptly turned away with a short,vicious laugh.
"Guess the 'tenderfoot's' plumb scared to ride her, boys," he calledout to the men, relapsing into the vernacular as he addressed them."Any o' you boys lendin' a saddle, or shall we find him a rockin'-hossto run around on?"
Tresler fell headlong into the trap. Jake had drawn him with a skillworthy of a better object.
"If there is anybody scared, I don't think it is I, boys," he saidwith a laugh as harsh as Jake's had been. "If one of you will lend mea man's saddle, I'll break that mare or she'll break me."
Now, Tresler was a very ordinary horseman. He had never in his lifesat a horse that knew the first rudiments of bucking; but at thatmoment he would have mounted to the back of any horse, even if hislife were to pay the forfeit next moment. Besides, even in his blindanger, he realized that this sort of experience must come sooner orlater. "Broncho-busting" would be part of his training. Therefore,when some one suggested Arizona's saddle--since Arizona was on thesick list--he jumped at the chance, for that individual was about hissize.
The mare was now on her legs again, and stood ready bridled, while twomen held her with the lariat drawn tight over her windpipe. She stoodas still as a rock, and to judge by the flashing of her eyes, inwardlyraging. They led her out of the corral, and Arizona's saddle wasbrought and the stirrups adjusted to Tresler's requirements. She wastaken well clear of the buildings into the open, and Jacob, with thesubtlety and art acquired by long practice in breaking horses,proceeded to saddle her. Lew and Raw Harris choked her quiet with thelariat, and though she physically attempted to resent the indignity ofbeing saddled, the cinchas were drawn tight.
Tresler had come over by himself, leaving Jake to watch theproceedings from the vantage ground of the rise toward the house. Hewas quite quiet, and the boys stole occasional apprehensive glances athim. They knew this mare; they knew that she was a hopeless outlaw andfit only for the knacker's yard. At last Jacob beckoned him over.
"Say, ther' ain't no need fer you to ride her, mister," he said,feeling that it was his duty as a man to warn him. "She's the worstestdevil on the range, an' she'll break your neck an' jump on you withher maulin' great hoofs, sure. I guess ther' ain't a 'buster' in thecountry 'ud tackle her fer less 'an a fi' dollar wager, she's thatmean."
"And she looks all you say of her, Jacob," replied Tresler, with agrim smile. "Thanks for your warning, but I'm going to try and rideher," he went on with quiet decision. "Not because I think I can, butbecause that bully up there"--with a nod in Jake's direction--"wouldonly be too glad of the chance of taunting me with 'weakening.' Sheshall throw me till she makes it a physical impossibility for me tomount her again. All I ask is that you fellows stand by to keep heroff when I'm on the ground."
By this time Jacob had secured the saddle, and now Tresler walkedround the great beast, patting her gently and speaking to her. And shewatched him with an evil, staring eye that boded nothing good. Then hetook a rawhide quirt from Jacob and, twisting it on his wrist, mountedher, while the men kept the choking rope taut about her throat, andshe stood like a statue, except for the heaving of her sides as shegasped for breath.
He gathered the reins up, which had been passed through the noose ofthe lariat, and sat ready. Jacob drew off, and held the end of therope. Tresler gave the word. The two men left her, while, with a shakeand a swift jerk, Jacob flung the lariat clear of the mare's head. Inan instant the battle had begun.
Down went the lady's head (the boys called her by a less complimentaryname), and she shot into the air with her back humped till she shapedlike an inverted U with its extremities narrowed and almost touching.There was no seesaw bucking about her. It was stiff-legged, with herfour feet bunched together and her great fiddle-head lost in theirmidst. And at the first jump Tresler shot a foot out of the saddle,lurched forward and then back, and finally came down where he hadstarted from. And as he fell heavily into the saddle his hand struckagainst a coiled blanket strap behind the cantle, and he instinctivelygrabbed hold of it and clung to it for dear life.
Up she shot again, and deliberately swung round in the air and camedown with her head where her tail had been. It was a marvelous,cat-like spring, calculated to unseat the best of horsemen. Treslerwas half out of the saddle again, but the blanket strap saved him, andthe next buck threw him back into his seat. Now her jumps came likethe shots from a gatling gun, and the man on her back was dazed, andhis head swam, and he felt the blood rushing to his ear-drums. Butwith desperate resolve he clung to his strap, and so retained hisseat. But it couldn't last, and he knew it, although those looking onbegan to have hopes that he would tire the vixen out. But they didn'tknow the demon that possessed her.
Suddenly it seemed as though an accident had happened to her. Her legsabsolutely shot from under her as she landed from one terrific buck,and she plunged to the ground. Then her intention became apparent. Butluckily the antic had defeated its own end, for Tresler was flungwide, and, as she rolled on the ground, he scrambled clear of herbody.
He struggled to his feet, but not before she had realized his escape,and, with the savage instinct of a man-eater, had sprung to her feetand was making for him open-mouthed. It was Jacob's readiness andwonderful skill that saved him. The rope whistled through the air andcaught her, the noose falling over her head with scarcely room betweenher nose and her victim's back for the rawhide to pass. In a flash thestrands strung tight, and her head swung round with such a jolt thatshe was almost thrown from her feet.
Again she was choked down, and Tresler, breathing desperately, butwith his blood fairly up, was on top of her almost before the manholding her realized his intention. The mare was foaming at the mouth,and a lather of sweat dripped from her tuckered flanks. The whites ofher eyes were flaming scarlet now, and when she was let loose againshe tried to savage her rider's legs. Failing this, she threw her headup violently, and, all unprepared for it, Tresler received the blowsquare in the mouth. Then she was up on her hind legs, fighting theair with her front feet, and a moment later crashed over backward. Andagain it seemed like a miracle that he escaped; he slid out of thesaddle, not of his own intention, and rolled clear as she came down.
This time she was caught before she could struggle to her feet, andwhen at last she stood up she was dazed and shaken, though stillunconquered.
Again Tresler mounted. He was bruised and bleeding, and shaking aswith an ague. And now the mare tried a new move. She bucked; but itwas a running buck, her body twisting and writhing with curiousserpentine undulations, and her body seemed to shrink under his legsas though the brute were drawing in her whole frame of a settledpurpose. Then, having done enough in this direction, she suddenlystood, and began to kick violently, with her head stretched lowbetween her forelegs. And Tresler felt himself sliding, saddle andall, over her withers! Suddenly the blanket strap failed him. Itcracked and gave, and he shot from the saddle like a new-fired rocket.
And when the mare had been caught again she was without the saddle,which was now lying close to where her rider had fallen. She hadbucked and kicked herself clean through the still-fastened cinchas.
Tresler was bleeding from nose and ears when he mounted again. Thesaddle was cinched up very tight, and the mare herself was so blownthat she was unable to distend herself to resist the pressure. But,nevertheless, she fought as though a devil possessed her, and,exhausted, and without the help of the blanket strap, he was thrownagain and again. Five times he fell; and each time, as no bones werebroken, he remounted her. But he was growing helpless.
But the men looking on realized that which was lost upon the riderhimself. The mare was done; she was fairly beaten. The fifth time heclimbed into the saddle her bucks wouldn't have thrown a babe; andwhen they beheld this, they, with one accord, shouted to him.
"Say, thrash her, boy! Lace h---- out of her!" roared Jacob.
"Cut her liver out wi' that quirt!" cried Lew.
"Ay, run her till she can't see," added Raw.
And Tresler obeyed mechanically. He was too exhausted to do much; buthe managed to bring the quirt down over her shoulders, until, maddenedwith pain, she rose up on her hind legs, gave a mighty bound forward,and raced away down the trail like a creature possessed.
It was dinner-time when Tresler saw the ranch again. He returned withthe mare jaded and docile. He had recovered from the battle, while shehad scarcely energy enough to put one foot before the other. She wasconquered. To use Arizona's expression, when, from the doorway of thebunkhouse, he saw the mare crawling up the trail toward the ranch--
"Guess she's loaded down till her springs is nigh busted."
And Tresler laughed outright in Jake's face when that individual cameinto the barn, while he was rubbing her down, and generally returninggood for evil, and found fault with his work.
"Where, I'd like to know, have you been all this time?" he askedangrily. Then, as his eyes took in the pitiful sight of the exhaustedmare, "Say, you've ruined that mare, and you'll have to make it good.We don't keep horses for the hands to founder. D'you see what you'vedone? You've broke her heart."
"And if I'd had the chance I'd have broken her neck too," Treslerretorted, with so much heat, that, in self-defense, the foreman wasforced to leave him alone.
That afternoon the real business of ranching began. Lew Cawley wassent out with Tresler to instruct him in mending barbed-wire fences.A distant pasture had been broken into by the roving cattle outside.Lew remained with him long enough to show him how to strain the wiresup and splice them, then he rode off to other work.
Tresler was glad to find himself out on the prairie away from theunbearable influence of the ranch foreman. The afternoon was hot, butit was bright with the sunshine, which, in the shadow of themountains, is so bracing. The pastures he was working in weredifferent from the lank weedy-grown prairie, although of the sameorigin. They were irrigated, and had been sown and re-sown withtimothy grass and clover. The grass rose high up to the horse's kneesas he rode, and the quiet, hard-working animal, his own property,reveled in the sweet-scented fodder which he could nip at as he movedleisurely along.
And Tresler worked very easily that afternoon. Not out of indolence,not out of any ill-feeling toward his foreman. He was weary after hismorning's exertions, and, besides, the joy of being out in the pure,bright air, on that wondrous sea of rolling green grass with itsillimitable suggestion of freedom and its gracious odors, seduced himto an indolence quite foreign to him. He was beyond the view of theranch, with two miles of prairie rollers intervening, so he did hiswork without concern for time.
It was well after four o'clock when the last strand of wire was strungtight. Then, for want of a shady tree to lean his back against, he satdown by a fence post and smoked, while his horse, with girthsloosened, and bit removed from its mouth, grazed joyfully near by.
And then he slept. The peace of the prairie world got hold of him; theprofound silence lulled his fagged nerves, his pipe went out, and heslept.
He awoke with a start. Nor, for the moment, did he know where he was.His pipe had fallen from his mouth, and he found himself stretchedfull length upon the ground. But something unusual had awakened him,and when he had gathered his scattered senses he looked about him toascertain what the nature of the disturbance had been. The next momenta laughing voice hailed him.
"Is this the way you learn ranching, Mr. Tresler? Oh, shame! Sleepingthe glorious hours of sunshine away."
It was the rich, gentle voice of Diane Marbolt, and its tone was oneof quiet raillery. She was gazing down at him from the back of hersturdy broncho mare, Bessie, with eyes from which, for the moment atleast, all sadness had vanished.
Just now her lips were wreathed in a bright smile, and her soft browneyes were dancing with a joyous light, which, when Tresler had firstseen her, had seemed impossible to them. She was out on the prairie,on the back of her favorite, Bessie; she was away from the ranch, fromthe home that possessed so many cares for her. She was out in herworld, the world she loved, the world that was the only world for her,breathing the pure, delicious air which, even in moments of profoundunhappiness, had still power to carry her back to the days of happy,careless childhood; had still power to banish all but pleasantthoughts, and to bestow upon her that wild sense of freedom such as isonly given to those who have made their home on its virgin bosom.
Tresler beheld this girl now in her native mood. He saw before him thetrue child of the prairie such as she really was. She was clad in ablue dungaree habit and straw sun-hat, and he marveled at theravishing picture she made. He raised himself upon his elbow andstared at her, and a sensation of delight swept over him as hedevoured each detail of face and figure. Then, suddenly, he wasrecalled to his senses by th
e abrupt fading of the smile from the facebefore him; and he flushed with a rueful sense of guiltiness.
"Fairly caught napping, Miss Marbolt," he said, in confusion. "Iacknowledge the sloth, but not the implied laxness anent ranching.Believe me, I have learned an ample lesson to-day. I now have a fullerappreciation of our worthy foreman; a fair knowledge of the horse,most accurately termed 'outlaw', as the bruised condition of my bodycan testify; and, as for barbed-wire fencing, I really believe I havediscovered every point in its construction worthy of consideration."
He raised a pair of lacerated hands for the girl's inspection, androse, smiling, to his feet.
"I apologize." Diane was smiling again now as she noted the network ofscratches upon his outstretched palms. "You certainly have not beenidle," she added, significantly.
Then she became serious with a suddenness that showed how very nearthe surface, how strongly marked was that quiet, thoughtful nature hercompanion had first realized in her.
"But I saw you on that mare, and I thought you would surely be killed.Do you know they've tried to break her for two seasons, and failedhopelessly. What happened after she bolted?"
"Oh, nothing much. I rode her to Forks and back twice."
"Forty miles! Good gracious! What is she like now?"
"Done up, of course. Jake assures me I've broken her heart; but Ihaven't. My Lady Jezebel has a heart of stone that would takesomething in the nature of a sledge-hammer to break. She'll buck likethe mischief again to-morrow."
"Yes."
The girl nodded. She had witnessed the battle between the "tenderfoot"and the mare; and, now that it was all over, she felt pleased that hehad won. And there was no mistaking the approval in the glance shegave him. She understood the spirit that had moved him to drive themare that forty miles; nor, in spite of a certain sympathy for thejaded creature, did she condemn him for it. She was too much a childof the prairie to morbidly sentimentalize over the matter. The marewas a savage of the worst type, and she knew that prairie horses intheir breaking often require drastic treatment. It was the stubborn,purposeful character of the man that she admired, and thought mostof. He had carried out a task that the best horse-breaker in thecountry might reasonably have shrunk from, and all to please thebrutal nature of Jake Harnach.
"And you've christened her 'Lady Jezebel'?" she asked.
Tresler laughed. "Why, yes, it seems to suit her," he saidindifferently.
Then a slight pause followed which amounted almost to awkwardness. Thegirl had come to find him. Her visit was not a matter of chance. Shewanted to talk to this man from the East. And, somehow, Treslerunderstood that this was so. For some moments she sat strokingBessie's shoulder with her rawhide riding-switch. The mare grewrestive. She, too, seemed to understand something of the awkwardness,and did her best to break it up by one or two of her frivolousgambols. When she had been pacified, the girl leaned forward in hersaddle and looked straight into her companion's eyes.
"Tell me," she said, abruptly; "why did you ride that animal?"
The man laughed a little harshly. "Because--well, because I hadn'tsense enough to refuse, I suppose."
"Ah, I understand. Jake Harnach."
Tresler shrugged.
"I came out purposely to speak to you," the girl went on, in a quiet,direct manner. There was not the least embarrassment now. She had madeup her mind to avoid all chance of misunderstanding. "I want to putmatters quite plainly before you. This morning's business was only asequel to your meeting with Jake, or rather a beginning of thesequel."
Tresler shook his head and smiled. "Not the beginning of the sequel.That occurred last evening, after I left you."
Diane looked a swift inquiry.
"Yes, Jake is not an easy man. But believe me, Miss Marbolt, you needhave no fear. I see what it is; you, in the kindness of your heart,dread that I, a stranger here in your land, in your home, may bemaltreated, or even worse by that unconscionable ruffian. Knowing yourfather's affliction, you fear that I have no protection from Jake'smurderous savagery, and you are endeavoring bravely to thrust yourfrail self between us, and so stave off a catastrophe. Have no fear. Ido not anticipate a collision. He is only an atrocious bully."
"He is more than that. You underestimate him."
The girl's face had darkened. Her lips were firmly compressed, and anangry fire burned in her usually soft eyes.
Tresler, watching, read the hatred for Jake; read the hatred, and sawthat which seemed so out of place in the reliant little face. Apronounced fear was also expressed, and the two were so marked that itwas hard to say which feeling predominated. Hatred had stirred depthsof fire in her beautiful eyes, but fear had paled her features, hadset drawn lines about her mouth and brows. He wondered.
"You are right, Mr. Tresler, in that you think I dread for yoursafety," she went on presently. "It was certainly that dread thatbrought me out here to-day. You do not anticipate a collision becauseyou are a brave man. You have no fear, therefore you give no thoughtto possibilities. I am weak and a woman, and I see with eyes ofunderstanding and knowledge of Jake, and I know that the collisionwill be forced upon you; and, further, when the trouble comes, Jakewill take no chances. But you must not think too well of me. Believeme, there is selfishness at the root of my anxiety. Do you not seewhat trouble it will cause to us; my father, me?"
Tresler looked away. The girl had a strange insistence. It seemed tohim folly to consider the matter so seriously. He was convinced thatshe was holding something back; that she was concealing her realreason--perhaps the reason of her own fear of Jake--for thusimportuning him. It did not take him long to make up his mind withthose lovely, appealing eyes upon him. He turned back to her with afrank smile, and held out his hand. Diane responded, and they shookhands like two friends making a bargain.
"You are right, Miss Marbolt," he said. "I promise you to do all in mypower to keep the peace with Jake. But," and here he held up a fingerin mock warning, "anything in the nature of a physical attack will beresented--to the last."
Diane nodded. She had obtained all the assurance he would give, sheknew, and wisely refrained from further pressure.
Now a silence fell. The sun was dropping low in the west, and alreadythe shadows on the grass were lengthening. Tresler brought hisgrazing horse back. When he returned Diane reverted to something hehad said before.
"This 'sequel' you spoke of. You didn't tell me it." Her manner hadchanged, and she spoke almost lightly.
"The matter of the sequel was a trivial affair, and only took the formof Jake's spleen in endeavoring to make my quarters as uncomfortablefor me as possible. No, the incident I had chiefly in mind wassomething altogether different. It was all so strange--so verystrange," he went on reflectively. "One adventure on top of anotherever since my arrival. The last, and strangest of all, did not occuruntil nearly midnight."
He looked up with a smile, but only to find that Diane's attention wasapparently wandering.
The girl was gazing out over the waving grass-land with deep,brooding, dreamy eyes. There was no anger in them now, only herfeatures looked a little more drawn and hard. The man waited for amoment, then as she did not turn he went on.
"You have strange visitors at the ranch, Miss Marbolt--very strange.They come stealthily in the dead of night; they come through theshelter of the pinewoods, where it is dark, almost black, at night.They come with faces masked--at least one face----"
He got no further. There was no lack of effect now. Diane was roundupon him, gazing at him with frightened eyes.
"You saw them?" she cried; and a strident ring had replaced herusually soft tones.
"Them? Who?"
For a moment they stared into each other's eyes. He inquiringly; shewith fear and mingled horror.
"These--these visitors." The words came almost in a whisper.
"Yes."
"And what were they like?"
The girl spoke apprehensively.
Then Tresler told his story as he had told it to Joe Nelson. An
d Dianehung on every word he uttered, searching him through and through withher troubled eyes.
"What are you going to do about it?" she asked as he finished.
Tresler was struck with the peculiarity of the question. She expressedno surprise, no wonder. It seemed as though the matter was in nowisenew to her. Her whole solicitude was in her anticipation of what hewould do about it.
"I am not sure," he said, concealing his surprise under a leisurelymanner. "I had intended to tell Jake," he went on a moment later,"only the Lady Jezebel put it out of my head. I told Joe Nelson lastnight. He told me I had seen Red Mask, the cattle thief, and one ofhis men. He also tried to get me to promise that I would say nothingabout it to Jake. I refused to give that promise. He gave me nosufficient reasons, you see, and--well, I failed to see the necessityfor silence."
"But there is a necessity, Mr. Tresler. The greatest." Diane's tonewas thrilling with an almost fierce earnestness. "Joe was right. Jakeis the last person to whom you should tell your story."
"Why?"
"Why?" Diane echoed, with a mirthless laugh. "Pshaw!"
"Yes, why? I have a right to know, Miss Marbolt."
"You shall know all I can tell you." The girl seemed on the verge ofmaking an impulsive statement, but suddenly stopped; and when at lastshe did proceed her tone was more calm and so low as to be littleabove a whisper. "Visitors such as you have seen have been seen byothers before. The story, as you have told it, has in each case beentold to Jake by the unfortunate who witnessed these strange movementsat night----"
"Unfortunate?"
"Yes. The informant has always met with misfortune, accident--whateveryou like to call it. Listen; it is a long story, but I will merelyoutline the details I wish to impress on you. Some years ago this RedMask appeared from no one knows where. Curiously enough his appearancewas in the vicinity of this ranch. We were robbed, and he vanished.Some time later he was seen again, much the same as you saw him lastnight. One of our boys gave the warning to Jake. Two days later thepoor fellow who informed upon him was found shot on the trail intoForks. Later, again, another hand witnessed a somewhat similar sceneand gave information. His end was by drowning in a shallow part of theriver. Folks attributed his end to drink, but----Again Red Maskshowed up--always at night--again he was seen, and Jake was warned.The victim this time met his death by the falling of a rock in thefoot-hills. The rock killed horse and rider. And so it has gone on atvarying intervals. Eight men have been similarly treated. The ninth,Arizona, barely escaped with his life a little while ago. I've nodoubt but that some accident will happen to him yet. And, mark this,in each case the warning has gone first to Jake. I may be altogetherwrong; certainly other folks do not look upon the death of thesevarious men with suspicion, but I have watched, and reasoned out all Ihave seen. And----"
"Why, Jake must----"
"Hush!"
Diane gazed round her apprehensively.
"No, no, Mr. Tresler," she went on hurriedly, "I do not say that; Idare not think of it. Jake has been with us so long; he cares forfather's interest as for his own. In spite of his terrible nature heis father's--friend."
"And the man who intends to marry you," Tresler added to himself.Aloud he asked, "Then how do you account for it?"
"That's just it. I--I don't account for it. I only warn you not totake your story to Jake."
Tresler drew a step nearer, and stood so close to her that herdungaree skirt was almost touching him. He looked up in a manner thatcompelled her gaze.
"You do account for it, Miss Marbolt," he said emphatically.
Nor did the girl attempt denial. Just for a moment there was abreathless silence. Then Bessie pawed the ground, and thrust her noseinto the face of Tresler's horse in friendly, caressing fashion; andthe movement broke the spell.
"Urge me no further, Mr. Tresler," Diane exclaimed appealingly. "Donot make me say something I have no right to say; something I mighthave cause to regret all my life. Believe me, I hardly know what tobelieve, and what not to believe; I hardly know what to think. I canonly speak as my instinct guides me. Oh, Mr. Tresler, I--I can trustyou. Yes--I know I can."
The girl's appeal had its effect. Tresler reached up and caught thelittle outstretched hands.
"Yes, you can trust me, Miss Marbolt," he said with infinite kindness."You have done the very best thing you could have done. You have givenme your confidence--a trouble that I can see has caused you ages ofunhappiness. I confess you have opened up suspicions that seem almostpreposterous, but you----" He broke off, and stood gazing downthoughtfully at the two hands he still held clasped within his. Thenhe seemed to become suddenly aware of the position, and, with a slightlaugh, released them. "Pardon me," he said, glancing up into thetroubled eyes with a kindly smile. "I was dreaming. Come, let usreturn to the ranch. It is time. It will be pleasant riding in thecool. By Jove, I begin to think that it is more than possible I oweJake considerable gratitude after all."
"You owe him nothing," answered Diane, with angry emphasis. "You owehim nothing but obedience as a ranch hand, and that you will have topay him. For the rest, avoid him as you would a pest."
Tresler sprang into the saddle, and the horses ambled leisurely off inthe direction of the ranch. And, as he rode, he set aside all thoughtsof Jake and of Red Mask. He thought only of the girl herself, of herdelightful companionship.
His steady-going horse, with due regard for the sex of his companion,allowed Bess to lead him by a neck. He traveled amiably by her side,every now and then raising his nose as though to bite his spiritedlittle companion, but it was only pretense. Nor did Tresler urge himfaster. He preferred that they should travel thus. He could gaze tohis heart's content upon Diane without displaying rudeness. He couldwatch the trim, erect figure, poised so easily and gracefully upon thesaddle. She rode like one born to the saddle, and by the gait of hermare, he could see that her hands were of the lightest, yet firm andconvincing to the high-mettled animal they controlled.
The girl was a perfect picture as she rode; her rich, dark hair wasloosely coiled, and several waving ringlets had fluffed loose with thebreeze and motion of riding, and strayed from the shadow of her widehat. Tresler's thoughts went back to his home; and, he told himself,none of the horsewomen he had known could have displayed such anabundant grace in the saddle with their rigid habits and smart hats.There was nothing of the riding-school here; just the horsemanshipthat is so much a natural instinct.
And so they rode on to the ranch.