Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 by Harold Bindloss (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📕

A Smile Crept Into The Clergyman's Face.

"I Don't Think A Leader's Often In That Position, Mr. West; And

Considering What I'm Up Against, I Can't Refuse Any Support That's

Offered Me.  It's One Reason Why I've Taken Yours."

"Now That I've Joined You, I'd Better Mention A Little Discovery West

And I Made This Afternoon," Said George.

Hardie's Expression Grew Eager As He Listened.

"It's Certainly Liquor--For The Reservation Indians," He Broke Out.

"If We Can Fix The Thing On Beamish--I Haven't A Doubt That He's

Responsible--We Can Close The Sachem."

"Then We Had Better Decide How It's To Be Done," Grant Said Curtly.

He Ruled Out Several Suggestions, And Finally Said:

"I Expect The Case Will Be Sent For To-Night, And We Want Two Witnesses

Who'll Lie By In The Sloo.  One Of Them Ought To Be A Farmer; But We'll

See About That.  Guess Your Part Is To Find Out How The Liquor Left The

Butte, Mr. Hardie.  What Do You Think Of The Plan, Ma'am?"

"I Leave It To You," Said Mrs. Nelson, Half Reluctantly.  "But Be

Warned--If The Men Can't Close The Sachem, The Women Of Sage Butte Will

Undertake The Thing."

"Then We Have Only To Decide Who Is To Watch The Bluff," Said Hardie.

"As I First Mentioned The Matter, I'll Go, For One," George Volunteered.

"You're The Right Man," Declared Grant.  "As A Newcomer Who's Never

Been Mixed Up With Local Affairs, Your Word Would Carry More Weight

With The Court.  The Opposition Couldn't Make You Out A Partizan.  But

You Want To Recognize What You're Doing--After This, You'll Find

Yourself Up Against All The Sachem Toughs.  It's Quite Likely They'll

Make Trouble For You."

A Smile Crept Into The Clergyman's Face.

"I Don't Think A Leader's Often In That Position, Mr. West; And

Considering What I'm Up Against, I Can't Refuse Any Support That's

Offered Me.  It's One Reason Why I've Taken Yours."

"Now That I've Joined You, I'd Better Mention A Little Discovery West

And I Made This Afternoon," Said George.

Hardie's Expression Grew Eager As He Listened.

"It's Certainly Liquor--For The Reservation Indians," He Broke Out.

"If We Can Fix The Thing On Beamish--I Haven't A Doubt That He's

Responsible--We Can Close The Sachem."

"Then We Had Better Decide How It's To Be Done," Grant Said Curtly.

He Ruled Out Several Suggestions, And Finally Said:

"I Expect The Case Will Be Sent For To-Night, And We Want Two Witnesses

Who'll Lie By In The Sloo.  One Of Them Ought To Be A Farmer; But We'll

See About That.  Guess Your Part Is To Find Out How The Liquor Left The

Butte, Mr. Hardie.  What Do You Think Of The Plan, Ma'am?"

"I Leave It To You," Said Mrs. Nelson, Half Reluctantly.  "But Be

Warned--If The Men Can't Close The Sachem, The Women Of Sage Butte Will

Undertake The Thing."

"Then We Have Only To Decide Who Is To Watch The Bluff," Said Hardie.

"As I First Mentioned The Matter, I'll Go, For One," George Volunteered.

"You're The Right Man," Declared Grant.  "As A Newcomer Who's Never

Been Mixed Up With Local Affairs, Your Word Would Carry More Weight

With The Court.  The Opposition Couldn't Make You Out A Partizan.  But

You Want To Recognize What You're Doing--After This, You'll Find

Yourself Up Against All The Sachem Toughs.  It's Quite Likely They'll

Make Trouble For You."

"I Wonder Whether Such Reasons Count For Much With Mr. Lansing?" Flora

Said Suggestively.

George Made No Reply, But Edgar Laughed.

"They Don't, Miss Grant; You Can Set Your Mind At Rest On That.  You

Don't Seem Curious Whether They Count With Me."

"You're Not Going," Grant Told Him.  "We Must Have Two Men Who Can Be

Relied On, And I Can Put My Hand On Another Who's Younger And A Little

More Wiry Than I Am."  He Turned To George.  "What You Have To Do Is To

Lie Close In The Sloo Grass Until The Fellows Come For The Liquor, When

You'll Follow Them To The Reservation, Without Their Seeing You.  Then

You'll Ride Up And Make Sure You Would Know Them Again.  They Should

"I Wonder Whether Such Reasons Count For Much With Mr. Lansing?" Flora

Said Suggestively.

George Made No Reply, But Edgar Laughed.

"They Don't, Miss Grant; You Can Set Your Mind At Rest On That.  You

Don't Seem Curious Whether They Count With Me."

"You're Not Going," Grant Told Him.  "We Must Have Two Men Who Can Be

Relied On, And I Can Put My Hand On Another Who's Younger And A Little

More Wiry Than I Am."  He Turned To George.  "What You Have To Do Is To

Lie Close In The Sloo Grass Until The Fellows Come For The Liquor, When

You'll Follow Them To The Reservation, Without Their Seeing You.  Then

You'll Ride Up And Make Sure You Would Know Them Again.  They Should

Get There Soon After Daylight, As They Won't Strike The Bluff Until

It's Dark, But There's Thick Brush In The Ravine The Trail Follows For

The Last Few Miles.  It Won't Matter If They Light Out, Because Flett

Will Pick Up Their Trail.  I'll Send For Him Right Off, But He Could

Hardly Get Through Before Morning."

The Party Broke Up Shortly Afterward, And George Rode Home, Wondering

Why He Had Allowed Himself To Become Involved In What Might Prove To Be

A Troublesome Matter.  His Ideas On The Subject Were Not Very Clear,

But He Felt That Flora Grant Had Expected Him To Take A Part.  Then He

Had Been Impressed In Hardie's Favor; The Man Was In Earnest, Ready To

Court Popular Hostility, But He Was Nevertheless Genial And Free From

Dogmatic Narrow-Mindedness.  Behind All This, There Was In George A

Detestation Of Vicious Idleness And Indulgence, And A Respect For Right

And Order.  Since He Had Been Warned That The Badly-Kept Hotel

Sheltered A Gang Of Loafers Plotting Mischief And Willing To Prey Upon

Men Who Toiled Strenuously, He Was Ready For An Attempt To Turn Them

Out.  He Agreed With Grant: The Gang Must Be Put Down.

Dusk Was Closing In When George And The Hired Man Whom Grant Had Sent

With Him Reached The Bluff And Tethered Their Horses Where They Would

Be Hidden Among The Trees.  This Done, George Stood Still For A Few

Moments, Looking About.  A Dark, Cloud-Barred Sky Hung Over The

Prairie, Which Was Fast Fading Into Dimness; The Wood Looked Desolate

And Forbidding In The Dying Light.  He Did Not Think Any One Could Have

Seen Him And His Companion Enter It.  Then He And The Man Floundered

Through The Undergrowth Until They Reached The Sloo, Where They Hid

Themselves Among The Grass At Some Distance From The Case, Which Had

Not Been Removed.

There Was No Moon, And A Fresh Breeze Swept Through The Wood, Waking

Eerie Sounds And Sharp Rustlings Among The Trees.  Once Or Twice George

Started, Imagining That Somebody Was Creeping Through The Bushes Behind

Him, But He Was Glad Of The Confused Sounds, Because They Would Cover

His Movements When The Time For Action Came.  His Companion, A Teamster

Born On The Prairie, Lay Beside Him Amid The Tall Harsh Grass That

Swayed To And Fro With A Curious Dry Clashing.  He Broke Into A Soft

Laugh When George Suddenly Raised His Head.

"Only A Cottontail Hustling Through The Brush.  Whoever's Coming Will

Strike The Bluff On The Other Side," He Said.  "Night's Kind Of Wild;

Pity It Won't Rain.  Crops On Light Soil Are Getting Badly Cut."

George Glanced Up At The Patch Of Sky Above The Dark Mass Of Trees.

Black And Threatening Clouds Drove Across It; But During The Past Few

Weeks He Had Watched Them Roll Up From The West A Little After Noon

Almost Every Day.  For A While, They Shadowed The Prairie, Promising

The Deluge He Eagerly Longed For; And Then, Toward Evening, They

Cleared Away, And Pitiless Sunshine Once More Scorched The Plain.

Grain Grown Upon The Stiff Black Loam Withstood The Drought, But The

Light Soil Of The Marston Farm Was Lifted By The Wind, And The Sharp

Sand In It Abraded The Tender Stalks.  It Might Cut Them Through If The

Dry Weather And Strong Breeze Continued; And Then The Crop Which Was To

Cover His First Expenses Would Yield Him Nothing.

"Yes," He Returned Moodily.  "It Looks As If It Couldn't Rain.  We

Ought To Go In More For Stock-Raising; It's Safer."

"Costs Quite A Pile To Start With, And The Ranchers Farther West

Certainly Have Their Troubles.  We Had A Good Many Calves Missing, And

Now And Then Prime Steers Driven Off, When I Was Range-Riding."

"I Haven't Heard Of Any Cattle-Stealing About Here."

"No," Said The Teamster.  "Still, I Guess We May Come To It; There Are

More Toughs About The Settlement Than There Used To Be.  Indians Have

Been Pretty Good, But I've Known Them Make Lots Of Trouble In Other

Districts By Killing Beasts For Meat And Picking Up Stray Horses.  But

That Was Where They Had Mean Whites Willing To Trade With Them."

George Considered This.  It Had Struck Him That The Morality Of The

Country Had Not Improved Since He Had Last Visited It; Though This Was

Not Surprising In View Of The Swarm Of Immigrants That Were Pouring In.

Grant Had Pithily Said That Once Upon A Time The Boys Had Come There To

Work; But It Now Looked As If A Certain Proportion Had Arrived On The

Prairie Because Nobody Could Tolerate Them At Home.  Flett And The

Methodist Preacher Seemed Convinced That There Were A Number Of These

Undesirables Hanging About Sage Butte, Ready For Mischief.

"Well," He Said, "I Suppose The First Thing To Be Done Is To Stop