The Law-Breakers

Bill nodded dubiously.

“I get that, but – I don’t understand – ” he began.

But Charlie gave him no time to finish.

“Don’t worry to,” he said quickly. Then he gripped the other’s muscular arm affectionately. “See you later,” he added, smiling whimsically up into the troubled blue eyes as he moved off the veranda.

Bill was left puzzled. He was thinking very hard and very slowly as he looked after the departing man. He watched him till he reached the barn and disappeared within it to get his horse. Then he, too, moved away, but it was in the direction of the trail which led ultimately to the village.

Bill’s nature was too recklessly happy to long remain a prey to disquieting thoughts. Once the avenue of spruce trees swallowed him up he abandoned all further contemplation of his disquietude, and gave himself up to the full enjoyment of his new surroundings.

It was in the gayest possible mood and highest spirits that Helen, with her “two-book” excuse tucked under her arm, set out for Charlie Bryant’s ranch.

When she appeared at supper time Kate’s dark eyes shone with admiration and a lurking mischief. At the sight of Helen she clapped her hands delightedly. The younger girl’s smart, tailored suit had made way for the daintiest of summer frocks, diaphanous, seductive, and wholly fascinating.

“A vision of fluffy whiteness,” cried Kate delightedly, as Helen sat down at the table. “Helen,” she went on, mischievously, “as a man hunter you are just too dreadful. Poor Big Brother Bill, why, he hasn’t the chance of a rat in a corner. He surely is as good as engaged, married, and – done for.”

Helen’s eyebrows went up in lofty resentment.

“Katherine Seton, I – don’t understand you – thank goodness. If I did I should want to box your ears,” she added, in mild scorn. “You’re a perfectly ridiculous woman, and of no account at all.”

Kate’s amusement was good to see.

“Oh, Hel – ” she cried.

But her sister cut her short.

“Don’t use bad language, please. My name’s ‘Helen’ – unless you’ve got something pleasant to say.”

Kate poured out the coffee, and helped herself to cold meat. The supper was the characteristic evening meal of the village. Cakes, and sweets, and cold meat.

“How could I have anything but something pleasant to say, with you looking such a vision?” Kate went on, quite undisturbed. “Why, I hadn’t a notion you had such a pretty frock.”

Helen’s attitude modified, as she helped herself to home-made scones and butter.

“I’ve been saving it up,” she deigned to explain. “Do I look all right? How’s my hair?”

She beamed on her sister, waiting for an expected compliment.

“Lovely!” exclaimed Kate. Then with added mischief: “And your hair is simply as fluffy as – as a feather duster.”

Helen laughed. Her eyes were dancing with that merriment she could never long restrain.

“I – I simply hate you, Kate,” she cried. “I’m so upset I can’t eat a thing. Feather duster indeed. Well, it’s better than the mop Pete swabs up the floors with. If you’d said that, I’d sure have gone straight off into a trance, and – and got buried alive. But your appetite’s awful, Kate, and I can’t sit here forever. I’d say food’s mighty important, but it’s nothing beside a man waiting for you somewhere, and you don’t know where. Guess I’ll have something to eat before I go to bed. Please, Kate – please may I go?”

The humility of the final request was quite too much for Kate, who laughed immoderately while she gave the required permission.

“Yes, off with you, bless your heart,” she cried joyously. “And don’t you dare come back here without bringing your future husband with you. Remember, I want to see him, too, and – and if you’re not mighty good, and nice to me, I’ll see what I can do cutting you out. Remember, too, I’m not quite on the shelf yet – in spite of what folks may say. Off with you!”

Helen needed no second bidding. She snatched up her books, took a swift glance at herself in the small mirror on the wall, and hastened out of the house.

“So long, Kitty,” she cried lightly; “my nets are spread for the big fish, my dear. He’s there, slumbering peacefully in the shady pool, waiting to be caught. Do you think he’s ever been fished before? I hope he’s not wily. You see, I’m so out of practice. That’s the worst of living in a place where men have to get drunk before they have the courage to become attentive. And, Kitty, dear – ”

“Off with you, you man hunter,” cried Kate, from her place at the table, “and don’t you dare ever to call me ‘Kitty’ again. I – ”

But the door was closed, and further expostulation was useless. The next moment Kate beheld a waving hand through the window. She responded, and, a moment later, as her sister passed from view, the smile died out of her eyes.

She sat on at the table, although her meal was finished. And somehow all her gaiety had dropped like a mask from her face, leaving her handsome eyes strangely thoughtful and something hard.

Meanwhile Helen crossed the river by the quaint log footbridge which had been one of the first efforts at construction upon which Kate had embarked on arrival at Rocky Springs. It was stout, and, from a distance, picturesque. Close to it was a trap for the unwary. For the two sisters, and their hired men, it was a simple matter for negotiation. They were used to its pitfalls, which increased with every spring flood.

Beyond this the track wound through the bush on its way to the village main trail, but Helen had no thought of adopting such a circuitous route when the bush offered her a far more direct one. She vanished into the wood like a flitting shadow, nor did she reappear until half the slope up to Charlie Bryant’s house had been negotiated.

Her reappearance was in the midst of a small clearing, whence she had an uninterrupted view of Charlie’s house, and a less clear view of the winding track leading up to it.

Somehow, by the time she reached this spot, a marked change had come over her. Her pretty, even brows were slightly drawn together in an odd, thoughtful pucker. Her usually merry eyes were watchful and sober. It may have been the gradient of the hills, but somehow her gait had lost something of its buoyancy. Her steps were lagging, even hesitating, and, when she finally halted, it was almost with an air of relief.

There were several fallen tree trunks about, and, though they must have been sufficiently inviting if she were weary with her effort, she quite ignored them. She stood quite still, looking first ahead at her goal, and then back over the valley toward the little house where her sister was probably still watching her. Her eyes slowly became expressive of doubt and indecision. It seemed as though she found it hard to make up her mind about something.

After a moment or two she removed the two books from under her arm, and idly read their titles. She knew them quite well, and promptly returned them to their place with an impatient sigh.

Again her look had changed. Now her cheeks suddenly flushed a burning, shamefaced crimson. Then they paled, and something like a panic grew in her eyes. But this, too, passed, all but the panic, and, with a little vicious stamp of her foot, she half determinedly faced the ranch house on the hill. Her determination, however, was evidently insufficient, for she did not move on, and, presently, she laughed a short mirthless laugh. It was her belated sense of humor mocking her. Her courage, she knew, had failed her. She could not live up to her boasted claims as a man hunter.

But her laugh died almost at its birth. Something moving down the hill among the trees caught her troubled eyes. Then, too, the sound of a whistle reached her. Some one was approaching from the direction of Charlie’s house, whistling a tune which somehow seemed familiar. She promptly warned herself it could not be Charlie. She never remembered to have heard Charlie whistling so blithe an air.

Now she distinctly heard the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps drawing nearer. The panic in her eyes deepened. They were staring intently at the surrounding bush, searching for a definite sight of the intruder. Nor had she to wait long. The path was just beyond the clearing, and she had fixed her gaze upon a narrow gap in the foliage. She felt almost safe in doing so, for the stranger must pass that way if he were on the path, and the gap was so narrow that it would probably escape his notice.

The whistling came nearer, so, too, the rapid footsteps. Then followed realization. A figure passed the gap. She saw it quite plainly. The big, broad-shouldered figure of a man with fair hair and blue eyes. It was Big Brother Bill. Instinctively she drew back, entirely forgetful of the fallen tree trunks. Then tragedy came upon her.

How it happened she didn’t know. She afterward felt she never wanted to know. Something seemed to hit her sharply at the back of the knees. She remembered that they bent under her. Then, in a second, she found herself sitting upon the ground with her feet sticking up in the air in a perfectly ridiculous manner, and, by some horribly mysterious means, with the support of a fallen sapling pine holding them there.

At the moment of impact she was too paralyzed with fear to move, then as a sharp exclamation in a man’s deep voice reached her, a wild terror seized upon her, and, with a violent effort she rolled herself clear of the log, scrambled to her feet, her dainty frock stained and torn with her tumble, and fled for dear life down the hill.

Faster and faster she ran, breaking her way through all obstructing foliage utterly regardless of the rents she was making in the soft material of her frock. She felt she dared not pause for anything with that man behind her. She felt that she hated him worse than anybody in the world. To think that he must have witnessed her discomfiture, and worse than all her two absurd feet sticking up in the air like – like signposts. It was too awful to contemplate.

She did not pause for breath until she reached the footbridge. Then a fresh panic set in. She had left the books behind. They were at the place where she had fallen.

Oh dear, oh dear! He would find them. He would find her name in them. He would take them back to Charlie, and her last hope would be gone. She would undoubtedly be recognized!

She wanted to burst into tears, then and there, but something inside her would not permit her such relief. Instead a whimsical humor came to her aid and she laughed.

At first her laugh was pathetically near to tears, but the moment of doubt passed, and the whole humor of the situation took hold of her. She hurried on home, laughing as she went; and, desperately near hysterics, she at last burst into her sister’s presence.

Kate was on her feet in an instant.

“Oh, Kate,” she cried, with a wild sort of laughter. “Behold the man hunter – hunted!” Then she flung herself into a chair, gasping for breath.

Kate’s anxious eyes took in something of the situation at a glance.

“Stop that laughing,” she cried severely.

Helen’s laugh died out, and she sighed deeply. The next moment she stood up, and began to smooth out her tattered frock.

“I’m – all right now – Kate,” she said almost humbly. “But – ”

Again Kate took charge of the situation.

“Go and change your frock before you tell me anything,” she said decidedly.

Helen was about to protest, but the quiet command of her sister had its effect. She moved toward the door, and Kate’s serious tones further composed her.

“Take your time,” she said. “You can tell me later.”

Helen left the room, and Kate remained gazing after her at the closed door.

But it was only for a few moments. The sound of footsteps approaching the house startled her. She remembered the torn condition of her sister’s dress. The poor girl had been on the verge of hysterics. “The man hunter hunted!” she had cried.

Kate glanced at her revolvers hanging on the wall. Then, with a shrug, she flung open the door.

Big Brother Bill was standing outside it. He had removed his hat, and the evening light was shining on his good-looking fair head. His wide blue eyes were smiling their most persuasive smile as he held two books out toward her.

“I’m fearfully sorry to trouble you, but I was just coming along down from up there,” he pointed back across the river, “and saw a – a lady suddenly jump up as though she was scared some, and run on down the hill toward this house. I guessed it must have been a – a rattler or – or maybe a bear, or something had scared her, so I jumped in to – to find it. I was too late, however. Couldn’t find it. Only found these two books instead. I just followed the lady on down here, and – well, I brought ’em along.”

The man’s manner was so frankly ingenuous, and his whole air so hopelessly that of a tenderfoot that Kate recognized him at once. Instantly she held out her hand with a smile.

“Thanks, Mr. Bryant. They’re my sister’s. She was taking them up to your brother. It’s very kind of you to take so much trouble. Won’t you come in, and let her thank you herself? You see, we’re great friends of your brother’s. I am Kate Seton, and – the lady you so gallantly sought to help is my sister – Helen.”

CHAPTER XIII

LIGHT-HEARTED SOULS

A pair of gray eyes were struggling to glare coldly into a pair of amiably smiling blue eyes. It was a battle of one against an opponent who had no idea battle was intended. From the vantage ground of only partial understanding a pair of dark eyes looked on, smiling with the wisdom which is ever the claim of the onlooker.

“This is my sister, Helen, Mr. Bryant,” Kate said, with quiet enjoyment, as her sister, perfectly composed once more, but still angry with the world in general, abruptly entered the room from that part of the house where her bedroom was situated.

As the words fell upon her ears, and she looked into the good-looking, cheerful face of the man, all Helen’s feelings underwent a shock, as though a mighty seismological upheaval were going on inside her.

The man who had witnessed her discomfiture – the man who had dared to be within one hundred miles of her when her daintily shod feet, with a display of diaphanous stocking, had been waving in the air like two wobbly semaphores celebrating Dominion Day or the Fourth of July, or – or something. Those silly looking prying eyes had seen. How dared he? What right had he to be walking down that particular trail at that particular moment? How dared he whistle, any way? What right had he in Rocky Springs? Why – why was he on earth at all?

At that moment Helen felt that if there was one combination in the world she disliked more than another it was blue eyes and fair hair. Yes, and long noses were hateful, too; they were always poking themselves into other people’s business. Big men were always clumsy. If this man hadn’t been clumsy he – he – wouldn’t have been there to see. Yes, she hated this man, and she hated her sister for standing there looking on, grinning like – like a Cheshire cat. She didn’t know what a Cheshire cat was like, but she was certain it resembled Kate at that moment.

“How d’you do?”

The frigidity of Helen’s greeting was a source of dismay to the man, who had suddenly become aware that she was again dressed in the tailored suit which had so caught his fancy earlier in the day. His dismay became evident to Kate, the onlooker. Helen, too, noted the effect in his sobering eyes, and was resentfully glad.

“It was a lucky chance my coming along,” Bill blundered. “You see, if the dew had got on these books they’d have got all mussed. Must have been a sort of fate about my being around, and – and finding ’em for you.”

“Fate?” sniffed Helen, with the light of battle in her eyes, while Kate began to laugh.

“Why, sure,” said Bill eagerly. “Don’t you believe in fate? I do. Say,” he went on, gaining confidence from the sound of his own voice, “it was like this. Charlie and I had been talking a piece, and then he had to go off, and didn’t want me. If he had, I should have gone with him. Instead, I set off by myself, making toward the village. Being a sort of feller who never sees much but what’s straight ahead of him, it didn’t occur to me to look around at things. That’s how it was I didn’t see you till I caught sight of your – ”

“You needn’t go into details,” broke in Helen icily. “I just think it was hateful your standing there looking on while I fell over that tree trunk.”

Bill’s eyes took on a sudden blank look of bewilderment, which raised a belated hope in Helen’s broken heart, and set Kate chuckling audibly.

“Tree trunk?” he exclaimed. “Did you fall? Say, I’m real sorry, Miss Helen. I surely am. You see, I just caught sight of” – again came Helen’s warning glance, but the man went on without understanding – “somebody in white, disappearing through the bushes, on the run. I guessed a rattler, or a bear, or – or something had got busy scaring you to death. So I jumped right in to fix him. That’s how I found these books,” he finished up rather regretfully. “And I was just feeling good enough to scrap a – a house.”

A thaw had abruptly set in in Helen’s frozen feelings. The memory of those unfortunate feet of hers no longer waved before her mind’s eye. It was fading – fading rapidly. He had not seen – them. And as the frozen particles melted, she could not help noticing what splendidly cut features the man really had. His nose was really beautifully shaped. She was glad, too, that his eyes were blue; it was her favorite color, and went so well with fair hair, especially when it was slightly wavy.

She smiled.

“Won’t you sit down awhile?” she inquired, with a sudden access of graciousness. “You see, we’re very unconventional here, and your brother’s a great friend of ours.” Then, out of the corners of her eyes she detected Kate’s satirically smiling eyes. She promptly resolved to get even with her. “Especially Kate’s, and – I’ll let you into a secret. A great secret, mind. We knew you were coming to-day – had arrived, in fact – and Kate’s been dying to see you all day. Said she really couldn’t rest till she’d seen Charlie’s brother. Truth.”

Bill lumbered heavily into an ample rocker, and Helen propped herself upon the table, while Kate, upon whom had descended an avalanche of displeasure, suddenly bestirred herself.

“How dare you, Helen?” she cried, in an outraged tone. “You – mustn’t take any notice of her, Mr. Bryant. You see, she isn’t altogether – responsible. She has a naturally truth-loving nature, but she has somehow become corrupted by contamination with this – this dreadful village. I – I feel very sorry for her at times,” she added, laughing. “But really it can’t be helped. She keeps awful company.”

“Well, I like that,” protested Helen, now thoroughly restored to good humor by the conviction that Big Brother Bill had not witnessed her shameful trouble. “Mr. Bryant will soon know which of us to believe, after a statement like that.”

“I always believe everybody.” The man laughed heartily. “It saves an awful lot of trouble.”

“Does it?” inquired Kate, as she slipped quietly into the other rocker.

Helen shook her head decidedly.

“Not when you’re living in this ‘dump’ of a village. Say, Mr. Bryant, you’ve heard of Mr. Ananias in the Bible? If you haven’t you ought to have. Well, the people who wrote about him never guessed there was such a place as Rocky Springs, or they’d sure have choked rather than have written about such a milk-and-water sort of liar as Mr. Ananias. Truth, he’s not a – circumstance. All you need to believe in Rocky Springs is what you come up against, and then you don’t need to be too sure you haven’t got – visions.”

“Yes, and generally mighty unpleasant – visions,” chimed in Kate, with a laugh.

Bill’s smiling eyes refused to become serious under the portent of these warnings.

“Guess I’ve been around Rocky Springs about five hours, and the visions I’ve had, so far, don’t seem to worry me a thing,” he said.

Helen smiled. She remembered her first meeting with this man.

“What were you doing with Fyles to-day?” she inquired unguardedly.

Bill suddenly brought his fist down on the arm of his rocker.

“There,” he cried, as though he had suddenly made a great discovery. “I knew it was you I saw on the trail. Why,” he added, with guileful simplicity, “you were wearing that very suit you have on now. Say, was there ever such a fool, not recognizing you before?”

Helen was deceived – and so easily.

“I didn’t think you really saw me,” she said, without the least shame. “You were so busy with the – sights.” Bill nodded.

“Yes, we’d just come along down past that mighty big pine. Fyles had told me it was the landmark. I – I was just thinking about things.”

“Thinking about the old pine?” inquired Helen.

“Well, not exactly,” replied Bill. “Though it’s worth it. I mean thinking about – . You see, a fellow like me don’t need to waste many big thinks. Guess I haven’t got ’em to waste,” he added deprecatingly.

Helen shook her head, but her laughing eyes belied the seriousness of her denial.

“That’s not a bit fair to – yourself,” she said. “I just don’t believe you haven’t got any big ‘thinks.’”

Bill’s manner warmed.

“Say, that makes me feel sort of glad, Miss Helen. You see, I’m not such a duffer really. I think an awful lot, and it don’t come hard either. But folks have always told me I’m such a fool, that I’ve kind of got into the way of believing it. Now, when I saw that pine and the valley I felt sort of queer. It struck me then it was sort of mysterious. Just as though the hand of Fate was groping around and trying to grab me.”

He reached out one big hand to illustrate his words, and significantly pawed the air.

Helen’s face wreathed itself in smiles.

“I know,” she declared. “You felt your fate was somehow linked with it all.”

Kate was gently rocking herself, listening to the light-hearted inconsequent talk of these two. Now she checked the movement of the rocker and leaned forward.

Her eyes were smiling, but her manner was half serious.

“It’s not at all strange to me that that old pine inspired you with – superstitious feelings,” she said. “It has the same effect on most folks – right back to the old Indian days. You know, there’s a legend attached to it. I don’t know where it comes from. Maybe it’s really Indian. Maybe it belongs to the time when King Fisher used to live in the old Meeting House, before it was a – saloon. I don’t know.”

Helen suddenly raised herself to a seat upon the table. Her eyes lit, and Big Brother Bill, watching her, reveled in the picture she made. Now he knew her, his first feelings at sight of her on the trail had received ample confirmation. She surely was one of the most delightful creatures he had ever met.

“Oh, Kate, a legend,” cried the girl, as she settled herself on the table. “However did you know about it? You – you never told me.”

Kate shook her head indulgently.

“I don’t tell you everything,” she said with mock severity. “You’re too imaginative, too young – too altogether irresponsible. Besides, you might have nightmare. Anyway most folk know it in the village.”

“Oh, Kate!”

“Say, tell us, Miss Seton,” cried Bill, his big eyes alight with interest. “If there’s one thing I’m crazy on it is legends. I just love ’em to death.”

“I don’t think I ought to tell it in front of Helen,” Kate said mischievously. “She’s – ”

Helen sprang from her seat and stood threateningly before her sister.

“Kate Seton,” she cried, “I demand your story.” Then she went on melodramatically, “You’ve said too much or too little. You’ve got to tell it right here and now, or – or I’ll never speak to you again – never,” she finished up feebly.

Kate smiled.

“What a dreadful threat!” Then she turned to Bill. “Mr. Bryant, I s’pose I’ll have to tell her. You don’t know what an awful tempered woman it is. I really believe it would actually carry out its threat for – five minutes.”

Bill’s good-natured guffaw came readily.

“I’ll back Miss Helen up,” he declared promptly. “If you don’t tell us we’ll both refrain from speech for – five minutes.”

Kate sighed.

“Oh, dear. Then I’ll have to tell. It’s bullying. That’s what it is. But – here goes.”

Helen beamed upon Bill, and the man’s blue eyes beamed back again. While he settled himself in his chair Helen returned to her less dignified seat upon the table.