IN THE 
 SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE C. SHEDD 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 "THE IADY OF MYSTEBY HOUSE," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MACAULAY COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1919, 
 BY THE MACAULAY COMPANY 
 
 OOPTBIGHT, 1919, BT THK FBANK A. M UNSET CO.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I IN A HOSTILE COUNTBY 11 
 
 II A COMEDY AND SOMETHING ELSE 23 
 
 III THE ENEMY'S SPAWN 34 
 
 IV A SECRET CONFERENCE 42 
 
 V A SHOT IN THE DARK 53 
 
 VI JANET HOSMER 64 
 
 VII IN THE COIL 75 
 
 Vm THE GATHERING STORM 83 
 
 IX AN UNEXPECTED ALLY 91 
 
 X BY RIGHT OF POSSESSION 99 
 
 XI JANET AND MARY 107 
 
 XH THE PLOT 116 
 
 XIII THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 121 
 
 XIV OLD SAUREZ' DEPOSITION 135 
 
 XV THE MASK DROPPED 145 
 
 XVI WEIR TAKES UP THE HUNT 158 
 
 XVII EARTH'S RETRIBUTION 167 
 
 XVLII IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 177 
 
 XIX A QUEER PAPER 189 
 
 XX ANXIETIES 197 
 
 XXI THE WEAK LINK 209 
 
 XXH AN OLD ADOBE HOUSE 219 
 
 XXHI WITH FANGS BARED 226 
 
 XXIV THE ALARM 238 
 
 XXV No QUARTER 248 
 
 XXVI THE THUNDERBOLT 256 
 
 XXVH WEIR STRIKES WHILE THE IRON is HOT 261 
 
 XXVHI VORSE. 270 
 
 XXIX THE FOURTH MAN 279 
 
 XXX THE VICTOR 286 
 
 XXXI A FINAL CHALLENGE 294 
 
 XXXH THE RECLUSB 304 
 
 XXXIH UNDER THE MOON , . 314 
 
 2132754
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF 
 THE HILLS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IN A HOSTILE COUNTRY 
 
 EASTWARD out of the Torquilla Range the Burntwood 
 River emerged from a gorge, flowing swift and turbu- 
 lent during the spring months, shallow and murmurous 
 the rest of the year, to pass through a basin formed 
 by low mountains and break forth at last from a can- 
 yon and wind away over the mesa. In the canyon was 
 being erected the huge reservoir dam which was in the 
 future to store water for irrigating the broad acres 
 spreading from its base. 
 
 The construction camp rested on one of the hillsides 
 above the dam. And here one summer afternoon a man 
 stepped forth from the long low tar-papered shack that 
 served as headquarters, directing his gaze down the road 
 across the mesa at a departing automobile. He was 
 Steele Weir, the new chief, a tall, strong, tanned man of 
 thirty-five, with lean smooth-shaven face, a straight 
 heavy nose, mouth that by habit was set in grim Lines, 
 and heavy brows under which ruled cold, level, insistent, 
 gray eyes. He had come suddenly, unexpectedly, re- 
 turning with Magney, the engineer in charge, when the 
 latter had been summoned east for a conference with 
 
 11 
 
 \
 
 12 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the company's directors. He had replaced Magney, 
 who was now whirling away to the nearest railway 
 point, Bowenville, thirty-five miles distant. 
 
 He thoughtfully watched the car, a black spot in a 
 haze of dust, speeding towards the New Mexican town 
 of San Mateo, on the Burntwood River two miles below 
 camp, its cluster of brown adobe houses showing indis- 
 tinctly through the cottonwoods that embowered the 
 place. For Magney he felt a certain amount of sym- 
 pathy, for the engineer was leaving with a recognition 
 of defeat; he was a likeable man, as Steele Weir had 
 discovered during their brief acquaintance, a good theo- 
 retical engineer, but lacking in the prime quality of a 
 successful chief fighting spirit and an indomitable will. 
 
 Under Magney the work of construction had been in- 
 augurated the previous summer, but progress had not 
 been as rapid as desired; there had been delays, labor 
 difficulties, local opposition during the months since; 
 and Weir had been chosen to succeed Magney. In his 
 profession Weir had a reputation, built on relentless toil 
 and sound ideas and daring achievements a reputation 
 enhanced by a character of mystery, for the man was 
 unmarried, reserved, without intimates or even friends, 
 locking his lips about his life, and welcoming and execut- 
 ing with grim indifference to risk engineering commis- 
 sions of extreme hazard, on which account he had ac- 
 quired the soubriquet of "Cold Steel" Weir. 
 
 Who first bestowed upon Weir that name is not 
 known. But it was not misapplied. Cold steel he had 
 proved himself to be a score of times in critical moments 
 when other men would have broken: in pushing bridges 
 over mountain chasms, in mine disasters, in strikes, in 
 almost hopeless fights against bandits in Mexico. And 
 it was this ability to handle difficulties that had brought
 
 IN A HOSTILE COUNTRY 13 
 
 about the decision of the directors of the company to 
 put him in charge, as the man best qualified, at San 
 Mateo, where the situation was unsatisfactory, costly, 
 baffling. 
 
 Since his arrival a week before he had been consult- 
 ing with Magney, studying maps and blue-prints, exam- 
 ining the work and analyzing general conditions. What 
 had been accomplished had been well done; he had no 
 criticism to offer on that score. It was the delay; the 
 work was considerably behind schedule, which of course 
 meant excessive cost ; and this had undermined the spirit 
 of the enterprise. In a dozen places, in a dozen ways, 
 Magney, his predecessor, had been hampered, checked, 
 defeated and the main contributing cause was poor 
 workmen, inefficient work. On that sore Weir's skillful 
 finger fell at once. 
 
 Standing there before the low office building he 
 watched Magney depart. He, Steele Weir, had now 
 taken over full charge of the camp and assumed full re- 
 sponsibility for the project's failure or success. His eye 
 passed beyond the distant automobile to the town of 
 San Mateo a new town for him, but a town like many 
 he had seen in the southwest and in Mexico. And aside 
 from its connection with the construction work, it held 
 a fascinating interest, a profound interest for the man, 
 the interest that any spot would which has at a distance 
 cast a black and sinister shadow over one's life. San 
 Mateo the name lay like a smoldering coal in his 
 breast ! 
 
 At length he turned and strode down the hillside to 
 the dam site in the canyon. The time had come to shut 
 his hand about the work and let his hold be felt. He lo- 
 cated the superintendent directing the pouring of con- 
 crete in the frames of the dam core, Atkinson, a man
 
 14 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 of fifty with a stubby gray mustache, a wind-bitten face 
 and a tall angular frame. When Weir joined him he 
 was observing with speculative eyes the indolent move- 
 ments of a group of Mexican laborers. 
 
 "Those hombres don't appear to be breaking any 
 speed records, I see," Weir remarked, quietly. 
 "Humph," Atkinson grunted. 
 "What do they think this is? A rest cure?" 
 The superintendent's silence suddenly gave way. 
 "I ought to land on 'em with an ax-handle and put 
 the fear of God in their lazy souls," he exclaimed, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 'Well, do it." 
 "What!" 
 "Do it." 
 
 "Say, am I hearing right?" Atkinson swung fully 
 about to stare at the new chief. Then he went on, 
 "They'd quit to a man if made to do a man's work; I 
 supposed that Magney had told you that. A dozen 
 times I've been ready to throw up my job from self- 
 respect; I'm ashamed to boss work where men can loaf 
 and I must keep my tongue between my teeth. I was 
 considering just now the matter of leaving." 
 
 "No need, Atkinson. From this time these men will 
 work or get their dismissal." 
 
 The other pushed his hat atilt and rubbed his head 
 in surprise. 
 
 "What about that 'company policy' of hiring noth- 
 ing but local labor to keep the community friendly which 
 Magney was always kicking about?" he asked. "That 
 was what made him sorer than anything else, and beat 
 him. He said the directors had tied his hands by prom- 
 ising that no workmen should be imported. If they
 
 IN A HOSTILE COUNTRY 15 
 
 promised that, they sure bunkoed themselves. Friendly, 
 huh." 
 
 "The people haven't been friendly, eh?" Weir said. 
 
 "Does it look like it when these Mexicans won't work 
 enough to earn their salt? They openly boast that we 
 dare neither make them work nor fire them. They say 
 Sorenson and his bunch will pull every man off the works 
 if we lift a finger; and they all know about that fool 
 promise of the directors. Friendly? Just about as 
 friendly as a bunch of wildcats. This whole section, 
 white men and Mexicans, are putting a knife into this 
 project whenever they can. Do you think they want 
 all that mesa fenced up and farmed? This is a range 
 country ; they propose to keep it range ; they don't want 
 any more people coming here farmers, store-keepers, 
 and white people generally." 
 
 "That's always the case in a range country before it's 
 opened up," Weir said. "But they have to swallow the 
 pill." 
 
 "Let me tell you something; they don't intend to 
 swallow it here. They figure on keeping this county 
 just as it is, for only themselves and their cattle and 
 woolies, and everybody else keep out. The few big 
 sheep and cattle men, white and Mex, have their minds 
 made up to that, and they're the only ones who count; 
 all the rest are poor Mexicans with nothing but fleas, 
 children, goats and votes to keep Sorenson and, his gang 
 in control. They've set out to bust this company, or 
 tire it out till it throws up the sponge. They've spiked 
 Magney, and they'll try to spike you next, and every 
 manager who comes. That's plain talk I'm giving you, 
 Mr. Weir, but it's fact; and if it doesn't sound nice to 
 your ears, you can have my resignation any minute." 
 
 "I've been hoping to hear it. From now on drive this
 
 16 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 crowd of coffee-colored loafers. Put the lash on their 
 backs." 
 
 A gleam of unholy joy shone in Atkinson's eyes as 
 he heard Weir's words. 
 
 "All right; that goes," he said. "But I'm warning 
 you that they'll quit. You'll see 'em stringing out of 
 camp for home to-night, and those who hang out till 
 to-morrow will leave then for sure. By to-morrow night 
 the dam will be as quiet as a church week-days. They'll 
 not show up again, either, until you send word for them 
 to come back and then they'll know you've surren- 
 dered. Magney tried it once, just once. And that's 
 why you found me chewing tobacco so lamb-like and 
 saying nothing." 
 
 "Turn your gat loose," Weir said. And turning on 
 his heel, he went back to headquarters. 
 
 Before Atkinson fired a volley at the unsuspecting 
 workmen he crossed the canyon to where a cub engi- 
 neer was peering through a transit. The superintendent 
 had overheard a scrap of gossip among the staff one 
 evening before Weir's arrival when they were discussing 
 the advent of the new chief. 
 
 "What was that name you fellows were saying Weir 
 was called by?" he asked. 
 
 The boy straightened up. 
 
 "'Cold Steel' 'Cold Steel' Weir. Anyway that's 
 what Fergueson says," was the answer. "I never heard 
 it before myself. His first name's Steele, you know, and 
 he looks cold enough to be ice when he's asking ques- 
 tions about things, boring into a fellow with his eyes. 
 But he's up against a hard game here." 
 
 "Maybe. But a man doesn't get a name like that 
 for just parting his hair nice," Atkinson remarked. 
 "He told me to stretch 'em" a horny thumb jerked
 
 IN A HOSTILE COUNTRY 17 
 
 towards the workmen "and you'll see some real work 
 hereabouts for the rest of the afternoon." 
 
 "And to-morrow will be Sunday three days ahead of 
 time." 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "You know as much about that as I do. Make your 
 own guess." With which the speaker started off. 
 
 The morrow was "Sunday" with a vengeance. The 
 majority of the laborers demanded their pay checks the 
 minute work ceased at the end of the afternoon ; Atkin- 
 son tightened orders, and by noon next day the last of 
 the Mexicans had quit. The fires in the stationary en- 
 gines were banked; the concrete mixers did not revolve; 
 the conveyers were still; the dam site wore an air of 
 abandonment. In headquarters the engineers worked 
 over tracings or notes ; and in the commissary store the 
 half-dozen white foremen gathered to smoke and yarn. 
 That was the extent of the activity. 
 
 Two days passed. After dinner Weir held a terse 
 long-distance telephone conversation, the only incident 
 of the second day ; and it was overheard by no one. On 
 the fourth day this was repeated. At dawn of the fifth 
 he despatched all of the foremen, enginemen and engi- 
 neers with wagons to Bowenville; and about the middle 
 of the afternoon, accompanied by his assistant, Meyers, 
 and Atkinson, he sped in the manager's car down the 
 river for San Mateo, two miles below the camp. 
 
 Of the town Steele Weir had had but a glimpse as he 
 flashed through on his way to the dam the morning of 
 his arrival twelve days earlier. It had but a single 
 main street, from which littered side streets and alleys 
 ran off between mud walls of houses. The county court 
 house sat among cottonwood trees in an open space. A
 
 18 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 few pretentious dwellings, homes of white men and the 
 well-to-do Mexicans, arose among long low adobe struc- 
 tures that were as brown and characterless as the sun- 
 dried bricks of which they were built. That was San 
 Mateo. 
 
 Before doors and everywhere along the street work- 
 men from the dam were idling. As Meyers brought the 
 automobile to a stop before the court house, news of 
 Weir's visit spread miraculously and Mexicans began to 
 saunter forward to hear the engineer's words of sur- 
 render, couched in the form of a suave invitation to re- 
 turn to work. While the crowd gathered the three 
 Americans sat quietly in the car. Then Steele Weir 
 stood up. 
 
 "Who can speak for these men?" he demanded. 
 
 A lean Mexican with a long shiny black mustache 
 and a thin neck protruding from a soiled linen collar 
 elbowed a way to the front. 
 
 "I'm authorized to speak for them," he announced, 
 disclosing his white teeth in an engaging smile. 
 
 "Are you one of the workmen?" 
 
 "No. I'm a lawyer and represent them in this con- 
 troversy. By your favor therefore let us proceed. 
 You've come to persuade them to resume work, and that 
 is well. But there are conditions to be agreed upon 
 before they return, which with your permission I shall 
 state first, no harsh driving of the workmen by fore- 
 men; second, full wages for the days they have been 
 idle ; third, no Sunday work." 
 
 The engineer regarded the speaker without change of 
 countenance. 
 
 "Have you finished?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes. There are minor matters, but they can be 
 adjusted later. These are the important points."
 
 IN A HOSTILE COUNTRY 19 
 
 "Very well, this is my reply: I, not the workmen, 
 make the terms for work on this job I, not these men, 
 name the conditions on which they may return. And 
 they are as follows: no pay fop the idle days; if the 
 workmen return they agree to work as ordered by su- 
 perintendent and foremen; and last, they must start 
 for the dam within an hour or not at all." 
 
 Incredulity, amazement rested on the Mexican spokes- 
 man's face as he listened to this curt rejoinder. 
 
 "Preposterous, impossible, absurd P' he exclaimed. 
 Then revolving on his heels so as to face the crowd he 
 swiftly repeated in Spanish what Weir had said. 
 
 An angry stir followed, murmurs, sullen looks, a num- 
 ber of oaths and jeers. The lawyer turned again to the 
 engineer, spreading his hands in a wide gesture and lift- 
 ing his brows with exaggerated significance. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Weir, your position is hopeless," he 
 remarked. 
 
 "Ask them if they definitely refuse." 
 
 The lawyer put the question to the crowd. A chorus 
 of shouts vehemently gave affirmation a refusal imme- 
 diate, disdainful, unanimous. 
 
 "We'll now discuss the men's terms," the lawyer re- 
 marked politely and with an air of satisfaction. 
 
 "There's nothing more to discuss. The matter is 
 settled. They have refused; they need not seek work 
 at the dam again. Start the car, Meyers." 
 
 The roar of the machine drowned the indignant law- 
 yer's protest, the crowd hastened to give an opening 
 and the conference was at an end. 
 
 "Drive to Vorse's saloon; I want a look at Vorse," 
 said Weir. "I see the place a short way ahead." 
 
 When they entered the long low adobe building an 
 anemic-appearing Mexican standing at the far end of
 
 20 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the bar languidly started forward to serve them, but a 
 bald-headed, hawk-nosed man seated at a desk behind 
 the cigar-case laid aside his newspaper, arose and 
 checked the other by a sidewise jerk of his head. 
 
 He received their orders for beer and lifted three drip- 
 ping bottles from a tub of water at his feet. His eyes 
 passed casually over Steele Weir's face, glanced away, 
 then came back for a swift unblinking scrutiny. The 
 eyes his own met were as hard, stony and inscrutable 
 as his own. Finally Vorse, the saloonkeeper, turned 
 his gaze towards the window and extracting a quill 
 tooth-pick from a vest pocket began thoughtfully to 
 pick his teeth. 
 
 "You're the new manager at the dam?" he asked 
 presently, still considering the street through the win- 
 dow. 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "And your name is Weir?" 
 
 "You've got it right." 
 
 The questions ended there. The three men from camp 
 slowly consumed their beer and exchanged indifferent 
 remarks. At the end of five minutes the Mexican lawyer, 
 clutching the arm of an elderly, gray-mustached man, 
 entered the saloon. 
 
 They lined up at the bar nearby the others. The older 
 of the pair regarded the trio shrewdly, laid a calf -bound 
 book that he carried under his arm upon the counter 
 and ordered "a little bourbon." When he had swal- 
 lowed this, he addressed the men from the engineering 
 camp. 
 
 "Which of you is Mr. Weir?" 
 
 "I am he," Steele replied. 
 
 "Mr. Martinez here has solicited me, Mr. Weir, to use 
 my offices in explaining to you the workmen's point of
 
 IN A HOSTILE COUNTRY 21 
 
 view in the controversy that exists relative to the work. 
 I'm Senator Gordon, a member of the state legislature,, 
 and I have no interest in the matter beyond seeing an 
 amicable and just arrangement effected." 
 
 Steele Weir fixed his eyes on the speaker with an in- 
 tentness, a cold penetration, that seemed to bore to the 
 very recesses of his mind. In that look there was some- 
 thing questioning and something menacing. 
 
 "There's no controversy and hence no need of your 
 services. The men stopped work, refused to return, and 
 now the case is closed." 
 
 "My dear sir, let us talk it over," said the Senator, 
 bringing forth a pair of spectacles and setting the bow 
 upon his nose. 
 
 The engineer's visage failed to relax at this pacific 
 proposal. 
 
 "I gave them their chance and they declined; they'll 
 have no other," he stated. "Those men have browbeaten 
 the company long enough. They refused, and as I an- 
 ticipated that refusal I made preparations accordingly; 
 a hundred and fifty white workmen arrived at Bowenville 
 from Denver this morning and a hundred and fifty more 
 will come to-morrow. They will do the work." 
 
 The Senator's lips quivered and the upper one lifted 
 in a movement like a snarl, showing tobacco-stained 
 teeth. 
 
 "The matter isn't closed, understand that," he 
 snapped out. "We have the directors' promise no out- 
 side labor shall be brought in here for this job, and the 
 promise shall be kept." 
 
 "The new men go to work in the morning," Weir said. 
 
 "You'll repent of this action, young man, you'll re- 
 pent of it." The Senator seized the whisky bottle and
 
 22 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 angrily poured himself a second drink. "You'll repent 
 of it as sure as your name is is whatever it is." 
 
 The engineer took a step nearer the older man. His 
 face now was as hard as granite. 
 
 "Weir is my name," he said. "Did you ever hear it 
 before?" 
 
 "Weir Weir?" came in a questioning mutter. 
 
 "Yes, Weir." 
 
 The speaker's eyes held the Senator's in savage leash, 
 and a slight tremble presently began to shake the old 
 man. Atkinson and Meyers and even the volatile Mexi- 
 can lawyer, Martinez, remained unstirring, for in the 
 situation they suddenly sensed something beyond their 
 ken, some current of deep unknown forces, some play of 
 fierce, obscure and fateful passion. 
 
 A shadow of gray stole over Gordon's lineaments. 
 
 "You are are the son of " came gasping forth. 
 
 "I am. His son." 
 
 "And and " 
 
 "And I know what happened thirty years ago in this 
 selfsame room!" 
 
 The whisky that the Senator had poured into his 
 glass suddenly slopped over his fingers; his figure all 
 at once appeared more aged, hollow, bent. Without 
 further word, with his hand still shaking, he set the 
 glass on the bar, mechanically picked up the law book 
 and walked feebly towards the door. 
 
 Steele Weir turned his gaze on the saloonkeeper, 
 Vorse. The man's right hand was under the bar and 
 he seemed to be awaiting the engineer's nert move, taut, 
 tight-lipped, malignant. 
 
 "That was for you too, Vorse," was flung at him. 
 "One Weir went out of here, but another has returned." 
 
 And he led his companions away.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A COMEDT AND SOMETHING KLSE 
 
 TOWARDS noon one day a week later Steele Weir, 
 headed for Bowenville in his car, had gained Chico 
 Creek, half way between camp and San Mateo, when he 
 perceived that another machine blocked the ford. About 
 the wneela of the stalled car the shallow water ripple^i 
 briskly, four or five inches deep; entirely deep enough, 
 by all appearances, to keep marooned in the runabout 
 the girl sitting disconsolately at the wheel. 
 
 She was a very attractive-looking girl, Steele noted 
 casually as he brought his own car to a halt and sprang 
 out to join her, wading the water with his laced boots. 
 As he approached he perceived that she had a slender 
 well-rounded figure, fine-spun brown hair under her 
 hat brim, clear brown eyes and the pink of peach blos- 
 soms in her soft smooth cheeks. 
 
 But her look of relief vanished when she distinguished 
 his face and her shoulders squared themselves. 
 
 "Has your engine stopped ?" he inquired. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 'Til look into the hood." 
 
 "I prefer that you would not.'* 
 
 For an instant surprise marked his countenance. 
 
 "You mean that you desire to remain here ?" he asked. 
 
 *'I don't wish to remain here, but I choose that in 
 preference to your aid." 
 
 The man, who had bent forward to lift one cover of 
 the engine, straightened up at that. He considered her 
 
 23
 
 24 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 intently and in silence for a time, marking her height- 
 ened color, the haughty poise of her head, the firm set 
 of her lips. 
 
 "To my knowledge, I never saw you before in my life," 
 he remarked at last. "What, may I ask, is your par- 
 ticular reason for declining my services?" 
 
 She was dumb for a little, while she tucked back a 
 stray tendril of hair. The act was performed with the 
 left hand; and Weir's eyes, which seldom missed any- 
 thing, observed a diamond flash on the third finger. 
 
 "Well, I'd choose not to explain," said she, after- 
 wards, "but if you insist " 
 
 "I don't insist, I merely request . . . your highness." 
 
 A flash of anger shot from her eyes at this irony. 
 
 "Don't think I'm afraid to tell you!" she cried. "It's 
 because you're the manager of the construction camp; 
 and if you've never seen me before, I've at least had you 
 pointed out to me. I wish no assistance from the man 
 who turns off his poor workmen without excuse or warn- 
 ing, and brings want and trouble upon the community. 
 It was like striking them in the face. And then you 
 break your promise not to bring in other workmen !" 
 
 As she had said, she did not lack courage. Her words 
 gushed forth in a torrent, as if an expression of pent 
 up and outraged justice, disclosing a fervent sympathy 
 and a fine zeal and, likewise, a fine ignorance of the 
 facts. 
 
 "Well, why don't you say something?" she added, 
 when he gave no indication of replying. 
 
 Steele could have smiled at this feminine view of the 
 matter that violent assertions required affirmations or 
 denials. 
 
 "What am I supposed to say?" he asked. 
 
 Apparently that exhausted her patience.
 
 COMEDY AND SOMETHING ELSE 25 
 
 "You'll please molest me no longer," she stated, icily. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 He raised the hood and inspected the engine. During 
 his attempts to start it, she sat nonchalantly humming 
 an air and gazing at the mountains as if her mind were a 
 thousand miles away which it was not. 
 
 "Something wrong ; it will have to be hauled in," said 
 he finally. 
 
 No reply. Steele returned to his own car and de- 
 scending into the creek bed worked his way around her. 
 When he was on the far bank, he rejoined her again, 
 carrying a coil of rope. One end of this he fastened 
 securely to the rear axle of her runabout. 
 
 "What are you going to do, sir?" she demanded, 
 whirling about on her seat and glaring angrily. 
 
 "Drag you out." 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the kind!" 
 
 "Oh, yes," was his calm response. 
 
 "Against my wishes, sir?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "This is abominable!" 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "I'll put on the brakes." And put them on she did, 
 with a savage jerk. 
 
 But nevertheless Weir's powerful machine drew her 
 car slowly up out of the creek upon the road, where he 
 forced it about until it pointed towards San Mateo. 
 Then he retied the rope on the front axle. 
 
 "Now for town," said he. 
 
 "Why did you haul me out of there, I demand to 
 know?" 
 
 "Why? Because you were a public obstruction 
 blocking traffic. If you had remained there long enough 
 you would have become a public nuisance; and it's the
 
 duty of every citizen to abate nuisances. No one would 
 call you a nuisance, of course, not to your face, at 
 any rate. But travelers might have felt some annoy- 
 ance if compelled to drive around you ; they might even 
 have had you arrested when they learned you were 
 acting out of willful stubbornness." 
 
 In a sort of incredulous wonder, of charmed horror, 
 the girl heard herself thus unfeelingly described. 
 
 "You you barbarian!" she cried. 
 
 "Ready? We're off for town now." 
 
 "I'll run my car in the ditch and wreck it if you so 
 much as pull it another inch!" 
 
 "I don't like to be frustrated in my generous acts ; 
 they are so few, according to common report. Well, 
 we'll leave the car, but it must be drawn off the road." 
 
 When this was accomplished, Weir replaced the rope 
 in his machine. Then he returned to her. 
 
 "What now? Do you intend to sit here in the hot 
 sunshine, to say nothing 1 of missing your dinner?" 
 
 "That doesn't concern you." 
 
 Weir shook his head gravely. 
 
 **You must be saved from your own folly," said he. 
 
 Before she had realized what was happening, he had 
 opened the door of the runabout, swung her out upon 
 the ground and was marching her towards his own ma- 
 chine. Stupefaction at this quick, atrocious deed left 
 her an automaton; and before she had fully regained 
 her control they were speeding towards San Mateo, she 
 at his side. 
 
 "This is outrageous !" she gasped. 
 
 Steele Weir did not speak until they entered town. 
 
 "Where is your home?" he asked. 
 
 "Turn to the right at the end of the street." 
 
 It was before a house of modern structure, banked
 
 COMEDY AND SOMETHING ELSE 27 
 
 with a bewildering number of flowers and shaded by 
 trees, that he halted the car. He alighted, bared his 
 head, assisted her to descend, bowed and then without 
 a word drove away, leaving her to stare after him with 
 a baffling mixture of feelings and the single indignant 
 statement, "And he didn't even wait long enough for me 
 to thank him !" Nor did her perplexity lessen when her 
 car was left before the door during the afternoon by one 
 of the camp mechanics to whom Weir had telephoned 
 from San Mateo and who had put it in running order. 
 
 Weir himself proceeded to Bowenville, where matters 
 regarding shipments and the unloading of machinery 
 engaged him the rest of the day. Into his mind, however, 
 there floated at moments the image of the girl's face, 
 banish it as he would. He had learned her name by 
 asking who was the owner of the house where she had 
 alighted, information necessary to direct the mechanic 
 as to the delivery of the stalled car. Hosmer it was; 
 and the residence was that of Dr. Hosmer. Presumably 
 she was his daughter. And what a vivid, charming, 
 never-surrender enemy! Lucky the chap who had won 
 this high-spirited girl. 
 
 The memory of her eyes and her personality was stifl 
 with him when he ate his supper that evening in a res- 
 taurant in Bowenville. His own past in relation to the 
 other sex had been starred by no love affair, not even 
 by episodes of a sentimental nature; the character of 
 his work had for long periods kept him away from 
 women's society, but further than this there was the 
 shadow upon his life, the shadow of mystery that obliged 
 him to follow a solitary course. He considered himself 
 unfree to seek friendships or favors among women. By 
 every demand of honor he was bound to solicit no girl's 
 trust or affection until that mystery was cleared and
 
 28 IX THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 his father's innocence established. It was for this reason 
 that he seemed even to himself to grow more hard, more 
 harsh, more silent and aloof, until at last he had come 
 to believe that no fair face had the power to arouse 
 his interest or to quicken his pulse. 
 
 But now, this girl he had met at the ford ! 
 
 Long-stifled emotions struggled in his breast. Sleep- 
 ing desires awoke. His spirit swelled like a caged thing 
 within the shell of years of indurated habit. A strange 
 restlessness pervaded him. He had a fierce passion 
 somehow to rip in pieces the gray drab pattern of his 
 commonplace life. 
 
 Perhaps it was this revolt against the fetters of fate 
 that caused him to welcome the chance for action that 
 presently was offered. The restaurant was of an ordi- 
 nary type, with a lunch counter at one side, a row of 
 tables down the middle and half a dozen booths along 
 the wall offering some degree of privacy. In one of 
 these Steele Weir was smoking a cigar and finishing his 
 coffee before making his ride back to camp. From the 
 booth adjoining he had for some time been hearing 
 scraps of conversation; now all at once the voices rose 
 in protest and in answering explanation, in perplexed 
 appeal and earnest assurance. 
 
 Weir's own reflections ceased. His head turned and 
 remained fixed to listen, while the cigar grew cold be- 
 tween his fingers. For ten minutes or so his attitude of 
 concentrated harkening to the two voices, a girl's and 
 a man's, remained unchanged. Little by little he was 
 piecing out the thread of the confidential dialogue 
 and of the little drama being enacted in the booth. 
 
 His brows became lowering as he gathered its sig- 
 nificance, his lips drew together in a tight thin line. He 
 did not move when he heard the man push back his chair
 
 COMEDY AND SOMETHING ELSE 29 
 
 to leave the place, nor alter his position until there 
 came the sound of the door closing at the front of the 
 restaurant. Then he reached for his hat, stood up and 
 went lightly around into the other booth, where he 
 pulled the green calico curtain across the opening. 
 
 A girl of about seventeen, of plump clean prettiness, 
 still sat at the table, which was littered with dishes. 
 The cheap finery of her hat and dress showed a pathetic 
 attempt to increase her natural comeliness. At this 
 minute her face showed amazement and a hint of ap- 
 prehefasion. 
 
 "What are you coming in here for?" she demanded. 
 
 "I want to talk to you for a little while," Weir re- 
 plied, seating himself. "You will please listen. I've 
 overheard enough of your talk to catch its drift; you 
 came here to be married, but now this man wants to 
 induce you to go to Los Angeles first." 
 
 "That isn't any of your business," the girl flashed 
 back, going white and red by turns. 
 
 "I'm making it mine, however. You live up on 
 Terry Creek, by what I heard; that's not far from my 
 camp. I'm manager at the dam and my name's Weir." 
 
 At this statement the girl shrank back, beginning to 
 bite the hem of her handkerchief nervously and gazing 
 at him with terrified eyes. 
 
 "I'm here to help you, not harm you. You've run 
 away from home to-day to marry this fellow. Did he 
 promise to marry you if you came to Bowenville?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And now he wants you to go with him to Los 
 Angeles first, promising to marry you there?" 
 
 The girl hesitated, with a wavering look. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "He gives you excuses, of course. But they don't
 
 30 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 satisfy your mind, do they? They don't satisfy mine, 
 at any rate. It's the old trick. Suppose when you 
 reached the coast he didn't marry you after all and put 
 you off with more promises and after a week or two 
 abandoned you?" 
 
 "Oh, he wouldn't do that !" she cried, with a gulp. 
 
 "That's just what he is planning. He didn't meet 
 you here until after dark, I judge. You'll both go to 
 the train separately I overheard that part. After- 
 wards he could return from the coast and deny that 
 he had ever had anything to do with you, and it would 
 simply be your word against his. And which would 
 people hereabouts believe, tell me that, which would 
 they believe, yours or his, after you had gone wrong?" 
 
 The girl sat frozen. Then suddenly she began to cry, 
 softly and with jerks of her shoulders. Weir reached 
 out and patted her arm. 
 
 "What's your name?" he asked. 
 
 "Mary Mary Johnson." 
 
 "Mary, I'm interfering in your affairs only because 
 I know what men will do. You must take no chances. 
 If this fellow is really anxious to marry you, he'll do 
 it here in Bowenville." 
 
 After a few sobs she wiped her eyes. 
 
 "He said he didn't dare get the license in San Mateo, 
 or his folks would have stopped our marriage." 
 
 "Then you should stay here to-night, go to the next 
 county seat and be married to-morrow. His parents are 
 bound to learn about it once you're married. A few days 
 more or less make no difference. And though I should 
 return to my work, I'll just stay over a day and take 
 you in my car to-morrow to see that you're married 
 straight and proper. Why go clear to Los Angeles?"
 
 COMEDY AND SOMETHING ELSE 81 
 
 "He said it would be our honeymoon and and I 
 had never been away from here." 
 
 "What's his name?" 
 
 She hesitated in uncertainty whether or not she 
 should answer. 
 
 "Ed Sorenson," came at last from her lips. 
 
 Steele Weir slowly thrust his head forward, fixing 
 her with burning eyes. 
 
 "Son of the big cattleman?" he demanded. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And you love him?" 
 
 "Yes, oh, yes!" 
 
 Weir sat back in his seat, lighted a cigarette and 
 stared past her head at the opposite partition. The 
 evil strain of the father had been continued in the son 
 and was working here to seduce this simple, ignorant 
 girl, incited by her physical freshness and the expecta- 
 tion that she should be easy prey. 
 
 "Well, I doubt if he loves you," he said, presently. 
 
 "He does, he does !" 
 
 "If he really does above everything else in the world, 
 he'll be willing to marry you openly, no matter what 
 his father may say or do. That's the test, Mary. If 
 he's in earnest, he'll agree at once to go with us to the 
 next county seat to-morrow and be married there by a 
 minister. Isn't that true? Answer me that squarely; 
 isn't it true?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then by that we'll decide. If he agrees, well and 
 good; if he refuses, that will show him up show he 
 never had any intention of marrying you. I'm a 
 stranger to you, but I'm your friend. And you're not 
 going to Los Angeles unmarried!"
 
 32 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 The last words were uttered in a level menacing 1 tone 
 that caused Mary Johnson to shiver. To her, reared 
 in the humble adobe house on her father's little ranch 
 on Terry Creek, a man who could manage the great 
 irrigation project seemed a figure out of her ken, a vast 
 form working against the sky. His statements were not 
 to be disputed, whatever she might think. 
 
 "Yes, sir," she said, just above a whisper. 
 
 "All right. Now we'll wait for him. He was coming 
 back for you, wasn't he?" 
 
 "Yes. I was to stay at the hotel till train time." 
 
 "Is this your grip?" 
 
 Weir jerked a thumb towards a worn canvas "tele- 
 scope" fastened with a single shawl strap, resting in 
 the corner of the booth. 
 
 "It's mine. Yes, sir." 
 
 "How old is Ed Sorenson," he asked, after a pause. 
 
 "About thirty, maybe." 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Seventeen next month.'* 
 
 "But sixteen yet this month." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 He said nothing more. As the minutes passed, her 
 timorous gaze continued steadfastly on the stern coun- 
 tenance before her. She dully expected something ter- 
 rible to happen when Ed Sorenson appeared, for she 
 knew Ed would be angry ; but she had been powerless to 
 prevent the intrusion of this terrible stranger. 
 
 Fear, in truth, a fear that left her heart cold, was 
 her feeling as she contemplated Weir. Yet under that, 
 was there not something else? A sense of safety, of 
 comforting assurance of protection ? 
 
 "You you won't hurt Ed if he won't go with us?"
 
 COMEDY AND SOMETHING ELSE 33 
 
 she asked, in a low voice. "If he gets mad and won't 
 marry me here, I mean?" 
 
 The man's eyes came round to hers. 
 
 "I'll just break him in two, nothing more, Mary," was 
 the calm answer.
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 
 THE ENEMY'S SPAWN 
 
 THE curtain to the booth was flung back. 
 "I've the train tickets ; come along to the hotel- 
 
 exclaimed the man who quickly entered. But the words 
 died in his mouth at sight of Weir sitting in the place 
 he had vacated. 
 
 He was over average height, of strong fleshy build, 
 with a small blonde mustache on his upper lip. Under 
 his eyes little pouches had already begun to form; his 
 mouth was full and sensual; but he still retained an air 
 of liveliness, of carelessness and agility, that might at 
 first sight seem the spontaneity of youth. He wore a 
 brown suit, a gray flannel shirt and Stetson hat the 
 common apparel of the country. 
 
 "Who the devil are you? And what are you butting 
 in here for?" he exclaimed, with a vicious spark show- 
 ing in his pale blue eyes. At the same time he clapped 
 a hand on Weir's shoulder, closing it in a hard grasp. 
 
 Instantly Weir struck the hand off with his fist. 
 
 "Keep your dirty flippers to yourself," he said, rising. 
 
 The blood faded from the other's countenance, leav- 
 ing it white with rage. 
 
 "Get out of this booth, or 111 throw you out." 
 
 It was Weir's turn to act. Like a flash he caught 
 Soren son's elbow, jerked him forward, spun him about 
 and dropped him upon the chair. 
 
 "Sit there, you cradle-robber, until I'm through 
 
 34
 
 THE ENEMY'S SPAWN 35 
 
 with you," he commanded. "And if you don't want 
 everybody in this restaurant to know about your busi- 
 ness with this girl, you'll lower your voice when you 
 talk." 
 
 Sorenson shot an uneasy glance towards the curtain 
 and his wrath became not less furious but better con- 
 trolled. Clearly public attention was the last thing 
 he desired in this affair. He leaned back, staring at 
 Steele Weir insolently, and produced a cigarette, at 
 which he began to puff. 
 
 "Mary, get ready. Well be going in a minute," said 
 he. 
 
 "No, you'll not, Sorenson. I've taken a hand in your 
 game. This girl says you're going to marry her, is that 
 right?" The other rolled his eyes upward and began 
 to whistle a jig tune softly. "Well, this is the plan she 
 and I've made. Shell remain at the hotel to-night as 
 will you and I and to-morrow we'll drive to another 
 county seat in my car and you'll secure a licence there. 
 Then you'll go to a minister's, where I'll act as a wit- 
 ness, and the ceremony will be performed. Afterwards 
 the pair of you can proceed to Los Angeles, or else- 
 where as you please, on your wedding journey." 
 
 "You're quite a little planner, aren't you?" the other 
 jeered. 
 
 "That's the arrangement if you agree." 
 
 "I don't agree." 
 
 Mary Johnson, in whose eyes a light of hope had 
 dawned during Weir's low-toned statement, began ner- 
 vously to bite her lip. 
 
 "Won't you do it, Ed?" she asked, timidly. 
 
 "Well do as I planned, or nothing," he stated. Then 
 with sudden spite he continued, "You're responsible for 
 this mixup. What did you let this fellow in here for
 
 36 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 while I was gone? Didn't you have sense enough to 
 keep your mouth shut?" 
 
 Steele halted him by a gesture. 
 
 "Don't begin abusing her; you're not married to her 
 yet. I overheard your talk and guessed the low-lived, 
 scoundrelly trick you proposed to play on her." 
 
 "You damned eavesdropper " 
 
 "Sure, eavesdropper is right," Weir interrupted, 
 coolly. "So I just stepped in here from my booth next 
 door to discuss the situation with her; you can't mis- 
 lead an innocent girl like her with the intention of shak- 
 ing her when you get her into a city, not if I know about 
 it and am around. If you sincerely intend to marry 
 her, and will do so to-morrow in my presence, then I'll 
 withdraw. Afterwards I mean, of course." 
 
 Sorenson arose. 
 
 "Come, Mary. Stand aside, you !" 
 
 "She doesn't go with you," the engineer stated. 
 
 For a moment the men's eyes locked, those of one 
 full of blue fire and hatred, those of the other quiet 
 as pieces of flint. 
 
 "And she shall keep with me while I telephone to your 
 father that you brought her here under promise of 
 marriage, a girl of sixteen, without her own parents* 
 consent, and now refuse to marry her," Steele added. 
 
 A sneer twisted the other man's mouth. 
 
 "My father happens to be in the east, where he's been 
 for a month," he mocked. "If he were here, he wouldn't 
 believe you; he'd know you were a liar. He knows I'm 
 
 engaged to marry " Bite off the words as he tried, 
 
 they had escaped. 
 
 "Ah, that's the way of it!" Weir remarked with a 
 silky smoothness. "You expect to marry some other
 
 37 
 
 girl and have no intention whatever of marrying Mary 
 here." 
 
 "To hell with you and your opinions !" 
 
 "First, you coax her to Bowenville by a promise, then 
 you persuade her by more promises to go to Los Ange- 
 les," the engineer proceeded steadily, "and there you 
 would betray and abandon her to a life on the streets, 
 like the yellow cur you are." 
 
 Sorenson snapped his fingers and moved round to the 
 girl's side. 
 
 "Pay no attention to him," he addressed her. "He's 
 only a crazy fool." 
 
 But she drew back against the wall, staring at him 
 with a strained, searching regard. 
 
 "Will you marry me to-morrow as he asks?" she 
 questioned anxiously. 
 
 "No. I explained the reason why once. Come on; 
 let's get away from him. Then I'll make everything 
 clear and satisfactory to you." 
 
 For a moment she stood wavering, picking at her 
 handkerchief, her face pale and unhappy, questioning 
 his countenance. Finally she turned to look at Steele 
 Weir, standing silently by. 
 
 "You never said you were engaged to another girl; 
 you told me I was the only one you loved," she muttered 
 in a choked voice. "But I see now you won't marry me. 
 You wish me to go with you but not to marry. I'm 
 going away away anywhere. By myself! Where I'll 
 never see any one !" Burying her face in her hands, she 
 shook with sobs. 
 
 "This is what comes from your putting an oar in," 
 said Sorenson, lifting his fist in a burst of fury to strike 
 Weir. 
 
 The latter at once smote him across the mouth with
 
 38 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 open palm at the vile epithet that followed. Sorenson 
 staggered, then lunged forward, tugging at something 
 in his hip-pocket, while the table and dishes went over 
 in a crash. 
 
 Before he could draw the weapon Steele's fingers shot 
 forth and seized his wrist; his other hand closed about 
 Sorenson's throat in an iron grasp. Slowly under that 
 powerful grip the younger man's struggles ceased, his 
 eyes dilated, his knees yielded and gave way. The re- 
 volver was wrenched from his numbed hold. His eye- 
 balls seemed afire; his breast heaved in violent spasms 
 for the denied breath; and his heart appeared about to 
 burst. 
 
 <{ You miserable skunk!" Weir said, barely moving 
 his mouth, "I ought to choke the life out of you." 
 Then he released his hold. "I'll keep this gun and 
 use it if you ever try to pull another on me! Now, 
 make tracks. Remember, too, to pay your bill as you 
 go out." 
 
 When Sorenson had straightened his coat, giving 
 Weir a malignant look during the process, he departed. 
 His air of disdainful insolence had quite evaporated, but 
 that he considered the action between them only begun 
 was plain, though he spoke not a word. Weir, however, 
 heard him give a quieting explanation to the waiter hov- 
 ering outside, who had been drawn by the crash of 
 dishes. 
 
 "Thought a fight was going on," the aproned dis- 
 penser of food said to Steele when he and the girl 
 emerged. 
 
 "Just an accident. Nothing broken, I imagine," was 
 the response. 
 
 "You couldn't break those dishes with a hammer; 
 they're made for rough work."
 
 THE ENEMY'S SPAWN 39 
 
 "If there's any damage, this may cover it." And 
 Steele tossed the fellow a dollar. 
 
 Outside the restaurant he slipped his hand inside 
 Mary Johnson's arm and led her along the street. With 
 him he had brought the old strapped grip. 
 
 "Where you taking me?" she asked, in a worried 
 quaver. 
 
 "Home, Mary." 
 
 "Oh, I'm afraid to go home." 
 
 "Are you afraid of your own father and mother? 
 They're the ones to trust first of all." 
 
 "But when father mother is dead sees the tele- 
 scope, he'll want to know where I've been. He doesn't 
 know I have it. I told him I might stay with a girl at 
 San Mateo over night, and then sneaked it out." 
 
 "The best thing is to tell him all about this occur- 
 rence." 
 
 "Oh, I can't." 
 
 "Then I shall. Leave that part to me." 
 
 And though her heart was filled with fresh alarms 
 and fears at the prospect, there seemed nothing else to 
 do. She longed to flee, to hide in some dark hole, to 
 cover her shame from her father and the world, but in 
 the hands of this determined man she felt herself power- 
 less. What he willed, she dumbly did. 
 
 Terry Creek flowed out of the mountains four miles 
 north of San Mateo, an insignificant stream entering the 
 Bumtwood halfway down to Bowenville. The Johnson 
 ranch house was a mile up the canyon, where the rocky 
 walls expanded into a grassy park of no great area. 
 They reached the girl's home about half-past nine that 
 night. 
 
 For two hours Weir remained talking with the father, 
 describing the affair at Bowenville, fending off his first
 
 40 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 bitter anger at the girl and gradually persuading him 
 to see that Mary had been deceived, lured away on hol- 
 low promises and was guiltless of all except failing to 
 take him into her confidence. At last peace was made. 
 Mary wept for a time, and was patted on the head by 
 her rough, bearded father, who exclaimed, "There, 
 there, don't cry. You're safe back again; we'll just 
 forget it." 
 
 Outside of the house, however, where he had accom- 
 panied Weir to his car, he said with an oath : 
 
 "But I'll not forget Ed Sorenson, if I go to hell for 
 it. My little girl!" 
 
 "She's half a child yet, that's the worse of his of- 
 fense," Steele replied, savagely. 
 
 "Mary said you choked him." 
 
 "Some. Not enough." 
 
 "I'll not forget him or you, Mr. Weir." 
 
 Steele mounted into his machine. He thoughtfully 
 studied the rancher's bearded, weather-tanned face, il- 
 luminated by the moonlight. 
 
 "At present I'd say nothing about this matter to 
 any one. Later on you may be able to use it in squar- 
 ing accounts," the engineer advised. 
 
 "I hope so," was the answer, with a bitter note. "But 
 talking would only hurt Mary, not Ed Sorenson. What- 
 ever the Sorensons do is all right, you know, because 
 they're rich. The daughter of a poor man like me 
 would get all the black end of the gossip; and I can't 
 lift a finger, that's what grinds me, unless I go out and 
 shoot him, then hang for it. For the bank's got a 
 mortgage on my little bunch of stock, and on my ranch 
 here, and Sorenson, of course, is the bank. Gordon and 
 Vorse and a few others are in it too, but he's the bull 
 of the herd. If I opened my mouth about his son, I'd
 
 THE ENEMY'S SPAWN 41 
 
 be kicked off of Terry Creek, lock, stock and barrel. 
 That's the way Sorenson keeps all of us poor devils, 
 white and Mexican, eating out of his hand. I've just 
 been poor since I came here a boy; the gang in San 
 Mateo won't let anybody but themselves have a chance. 
 And I reckon old man Sorenson wouldn't care much if 
 his boy had ruined my girl. Cuss him a little, maybe; 
 that would be all. But I won't forget the whelp. Some 
 day my chance will come to play even." 
 
 "Sure; if one just keeps quiet and waits," Steele 
 agreed. "Well, I must hit the trail. If you want work 
 any time, come over to the dam; we can always use a 
 man with a team." 
 
 Johnson nodded. 
 
 "After haying is done, maybe. And remember, I'm 
 much obliged to you for looking after my little girl. I 
 won't forget that, either." 
 
 He reached up diffidently and shook hands with the 
 engineer. Weir's grip was sympathetic and sincere.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A SECK.ET CONFERENCE 
 
 ON a certain afternoon Felipe Martinez, the lean and 
 restless attorney who had acted as the Mexican work- 
 men's mouthpiece, observed through the broad plate- 
 glass window of the San Mateo Cattle Company's office 
 an incident that greatly interested him. For the mo- 
 ment he forgot the resentment kindled by Sorenson's 
 abrupt refusal and brutal words when he asked for the 
 nomination for county attorney. The election was in 
 the autumn; the nomination was equivalent to election; 
 and Felipe considered that he had too long been kept 
 apart from that particular spoil. 
 
 Martinez had once had a slight difference with the 
 banker, and now outrageously Sorenson had recalled it. 
 He had stated that Martinez should hold no political 
 office ; he gave offices only to men who did exactly as he 
 advised; his exact words were that the Mexican was 
 "tricky and no good." And picking up his hat Soren- 
 son who had that day returned home from the east went 
 out of the bank, leaving Martinez to stare out of the 
 window and meditatively twist a point of his silky black 
 mustache. 
 
 It was before the window that there occurred the meet- 
 ing between Sorenson and the manager of the dam. 
 Martinez perceived the two men glance at each other 
 and pass, but after a step or two both men halted. As 
 if worked by a single wire, they slowly swung about for 
 
 42
 
 A SECRET CONFERENCE 43 
 
 a second look. The Mexican's nimble brain calculated 
 that they could not have previously met and in conse- 
 quence their behavior bespoke something out of the 
 ordinary. 
 
 The pair stood exactly where they had turned, three 
 or four paces apart, he noted. The Mexican's mind 
 palpitated with a slight thrill of excitement. The 
 manner of each of the men was that of a fighting ani- 
 mal looking over another animal of the same sort: 
 neither uttering a word, nor stirring a finger, nor yield- 
 ing a particle in his fixed unwinking gaze. Martinez 
 could almost feel the exchanged challenge, the cold an- 
 tagonism, the hostile curiosity, the matching of wills, 
 the instant hate, between the men. 
 
 Though they had not met before, to be sure, neverthe- 
 less they were enemies. Was it because of the discharge 
 of the workmen? Then Martinez' mind flashed back to 
 the scene in Vorse's saloon when Gordon had showed such 
 sudden emotion at the engineer's name and his enigmat- 
 ical reference to some event in the past. That was it! 
 Something which had occurred thirty years ago, prob- 
 ably something crooked. Men committed deeds in those 
 early days that they would now like to forget. He, 
 Martinez, would look into the matter. 
 
 Sorenson passed out of sight, and Weir likewise pro- 
 ceeded on his way. Thereupon the lawyer sauntered 
 over to the court house, where presently he became en- 
 grossed in a pile of tomes in the register's office. As ex- 
 amining records is a part of a lawyer's regular work, 
 it never excites curiosity or arouses suspicion. 
 
 That same evening Martinez perceived Vorse enter 
 Sorenson's office. Vorse, he recalled, had been included 
 in the engineer's threatening remarks to Gordon. Short- 
 ly thereafter Gordon himself ambled along the street
 
 44 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 and passed through the door. Last of all, Burkhardt, a 
 short, fleshy, bearded man, went into the building. The 
 vultures of San Mateo, as he secretly called them, had 
 flocked together for conference. Presently Martinez 
 strolled by the office, outwardly displaying no interest 
 in the structure but furtively seeking to catch a glimpse 
 of the interior through a crack of the drawn shade. 
 But in this he was unsuccessful. 
 
 Of one thing he was certain, however. His prolonged 
 examination of the county records had revealed an old 
 bill of sale of a ranch and several herds of cattle from 
 one Joseph Weir to Sorenson, Vorse, Gordon and 
 Burkhardt. He had placed his finger on the link con- 
 necting the engineer with these men, the entire four, as 
 this old bill of sale thus recorded showed the intimate 
 though unexpressed partnership of the men, which was 
 common knowledge over the country ; and intuition told 
 him also that this private assembly of the quartette 
 quickly on Sorenson's return home had its inspiration in 
 the new manager of the dam. 
 
 Martinez determined to continue his investigations. 
 Events might yet prove that it would have been much 
 better for the cattleman to have given him the political 
 nomination. Truly, it was possible. In any case, it 
 would do no harm to have "something on" Sorenson and 
 the others, these rulers of San Mateo. And there was 
 the opposite side of the affair Weir's side ; so it looked 
 as if there might be profit either way. 
 
 The four men sitting in the railed-off space in the 
 San Mateo Cattle Company's office constituted the 
 cattle company. Moreover, they comprised the finan- 
 cial, political and general power of this remote section 
 of New Mexico. In face, manner, garb, they were dis-
 
 A SECRET CONFERENCE 45 
 
 similar. Vorse, clothed in gray, was hawk-nosed and im- 
 passive; and though now, like his companions, wealthy 
 beyond simple needs he nevertheless continued the op- 
 eration of his saloon that had been a landmark in San 
 Mateo for forty years. Burkhardt was rough-featured, 
 rough-tongued, choleric, and coatless: typically the 
 burly, uncurried, uncouth stock man, whose commonest 
 words were oaths or curses and whose way with obstinate 
 cattle or men was the way of the club or the fist. Gor- 
 don was the wily, cautious, unscrupulous politician; he 
 had represented San Mateo in the legislature for years, 
 both during the Territorial period and since New Mex- 
 ico had become a state, and was not unknown in other 
 parts of the southwest; but he was "Judge" only by 
 courtesy, the title most frequently given him, never hav- 
 ing been admitted to the bar or having practiced, and 
 engaged himself ostensibly in the insurance and real 
 estate business. Like the others, his share of the large 
 cattle, sheep and land holdings of the group made him 
 independent. Sorenson, the last of the four and in 
 reality the leader because of a greater breadth of vision 
 and a natural capacity for business, was dressed in a 
 tailored suit of greenish plaid a man with bushy eye- 
 brows, a long fleshy nose, predatory eyes, a heavy cat-fish 
 mouth and a great, barrel-like body that reared two or 
 three inches over six feet when he stood on his feet. But 
 one thing they had in common, in addition to the gray 
 hair of age, and that was a joint liability for the past. 
 For years they had believed that liability extinguished 
 through the operation of time. They had considered 
 as closed and sealed the account of early secret, lawless 
 acts by which they had acquired wealth and a grip on 
 the community. They were now law-observing members 
 of society ; they controlled even if they sometimes failed
 
 46 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 to possess the goodwill of the county and they were 
 not men to measure position by friendships ; their coun- 
 cils determined how much or how little other men should 
 own and in local politics their fingers moved the puppets 
 that served their will. 
 
 With the entrance here of the powerful group of finan- 
 ciers who were constructing the irrigation project they 
 recognized the threat to their old-time supremacy. 
 Cattle and sheep interests would succumb to farming; 
 a swarm of new, independent settlers would arrive like 
 locusts; and their leadership would eventually be chal- 
 lenged if not ended. New towns would spring up. New 
 money would flow in to dispute their financial mastery. 
 New leaders would arise to assail their political domin- 
 ion. And against the prospect of all this they had ini- 
 tiated a secret warfare, endeavoring by stealth to ruin 
 the irrigation company at the beginning and nip the 
 danger in the bud. 
 
 Now it had been revealed all at once that they had 
 not only a general and impersonal enemy in the form 
 of the company, but a specific one in the form of a man, 
 its manager. Out of nowhere he had emerged, out of 
 thirty years' silence, a sinister figure who tapped with 
 significant finger the book of their secret past while his 
 eyes steadfastly demanded a reckoning. Did he know 
 all, or nothing? Knowing, did he deliberately leave them 
 in doubt in order to shatter their confidence? 
 
 At least one of the four had been badly shaken on 
 learning Weir's identity, and all now were uneasy. It 
 was as if Fate after a long silence was about to open 
 the sealed record. 
 
 "Perhaps you were just imagining things, Judge," 
 Sorenson was saying.
 
 A SECRET CONFERENCE 47 
 
 Senator Gordon moistened his lips and tugged ner- 
 rously at his gray mustache. 
 
 "No, no," he exclaimed. "Just ask Vorse. The man 
 said his name was Weir and that he was the son of Joe 
 Weir. Then then " 
 
 "Well?" Sorenson demanded, frowning at the other's 
 visible trepidation. 
 
 "Weir added, 'And I know what happened thirty 
 years ago in this selfsame room.' Those were his very 
 words. Isn't that true, Vorse?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "They could mean only one thing," said Gordon. 
 
 "When the Judge went out he said to me," Vorse 
 stated, " 'That was for you too.' I had my hand on my 
 gun under the counter as he said it, ready if he made 
 a move. He knew what I had there, but it didn't faze 
 him. He's a better man than Joe Weir ever was, I want 
 to remark, and different; he has nerve and a bad eye. 
 He knows something, lay your bets on that." 
 
 "How much? How much? If we only knew how 
 much !" Judge Gordon vouchsafed, testily. 
 
 "How would he know anything? Joe Weir didn't 
 know, so how can this fellow know? Don't get scared 
 at a shadow." It was. the bearded, rough-tongued Burk- 
 hardt who spoke, concluding his words with a blasphe- 
 mous oath. 
 
 "There's the Mexican who saw what happened and 
 that boy who looked in at the back door," Gordon as- 
 serted. "We just caught sight of him and couldn't make 
 out his face against the h'ght. Then he had skipped 
 when we ran there. We never did learn who he was." 
 
 "Do you think he remembers?" Sorenson said, scorn- 
 fully. "He may be dead. He may be on the other side 
 of the world. Just some kid who happened to drift by
 
 48 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 at the minute and look in, and there's not one chance 
 in a million he's anywhere around these parts yet. He 
 would have blabbed long ago to some one if he had been ; 
 don't figure him in, he's lost." 
 
 "Saurez isn't, though." 
 
 At this Vorse put in a word. 
 
 "He saw more than one killing in those days when 
 he was roustabout for me. It was only one more to 
 him. Probably he has forgotten it. Anyway," Vorse 
 ended with deadly emphasis, "he knows what would 
 happen to him even now if he remembered it and talked. 
 Leave him out of the calculation too." 
 
 "Then that just makes the four of us," said Burk- 
 hardt. "Nobody else. So this fellow Weir doesn't know 
 a thing." 
 
 "But we can't be absolutely sure," Judge Gordon re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Well, he'd need proof, wouldn't he?" 
 
 "Certainly, to bring legal action. But how do we 
 know he hasn't even that? Look all around the ques- 
 tion as a lawyer does ; let us assume the millionth chance, 
 for instance. Suppose that he somewhere met and be- 
 came acquainted with that boy. Suppose that he learned 
 the latter had been here at the time and saw the shoot- 
 ing; and heard his story. Suppose that Weir knows 
 this instant where he is and can produce him as a wit- 
 ness in court." 
 
 "I reckon in this county his testimony wouldn't count 
 for much," Burkhardt, who had been sheriff, stated, with 
 a harsh laugh. 
 
 Sorenson, however, was impressed by the Judge's 
 reasoning, for he drummed with fingers on the desk 
 and sat in brooding silence. So likewise sat Vorse, who 
 had heard Weir's utterance and beheld his face.
 
 A SECRET CONFERENCE 49 
 
 "He knows something," he repeated, in a convinced 
 tone. "Or he's a damned good bluffer." 
 
 "I passed him here at the door this afternoon," the 
 banker remarked. "I turned to look at him, guessing 
 who he was, and he had stopped and was looking at me. 
 Cool about it too. We'll have to watch him." 
 
 "Perhaps if we just tip him off to keep his mouth shut 
 tight, that will be enough," Burkhardt suggested. "If 
 he knows the four of us are ready " 
 
 Vorse sniffed. 
 
 "You think he can be bluffed ?" he said. "You haven't 
 seen him yet ; go take a look. We'll not throw any scare 
 into him. If he were that kind, he wouldn't have told us 
 who he is. He wanted us to know he's after us, that's 
 my opinion. He wants to shake our nerve and he 
 shook the Judge's all right that day at my bar." 
 
 "He did," Gordon admitted. "The thing was so in- 
 fernally unexpected. Almost like Joe Weir himself 
 appearing. I didn't sleep a wink that night, what with 
 my heart being bad and what with seeing him." 
 
 "Suppose he has proofs ?" Vorse asked after a pause, 
 while his narrowed eyes moved from one to another of 
 his companions. 
 
 A considerable silence followed. The question jerked 
 into full light the issue that had all the while been lurk- 
 ing in the recesses of their minds an issue full of 
 ghastly possibilities. Judge Gordon's fingers trembled 
 as he wiped with handkerchief the cold sweat on his 
 brow. 
 
 "We're all in it," Vorse added. 
 
 Burkhardt brought his fist down on the 8esk with a 
 sudden crash. 
 
 "If he has proofs, then it's him or us," he exclaimed,
 
 50 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 while the blood suffused his face. "Him or us and that 
 means him ! I'll never go behind bars !" 
 
 "Sure not. None of us," Vorse said. 
 
 "It will mean " Judge Gordon began in an agi- 
 tated voice, but did not finish. 
 
 Sorenson gave a nod of his head. His bear-trap 
 mouth was compressed in a determined evil line. 
 
 "Exactly. He'll never use his proofs. We're in too 
 far to halt now if matters come to the point of his try- 
 ing to use them. He has a grip on us in one way; he 
 knows we can't declare his father, Joe Weir, did the 
 killing; that would make us what do you call it, 
 Judge?" 
 
 "Accomplices after the fact. Besides, it would then 
 come out that we had taken over and shared among us 
 his stuff, fifty thousand apiece. It's a deplorable situa- 
 tion we're in, gentlemen, deplorable. If we were but 
 able to start the story Joe Weir believed and fled because 
 of, it would cut the ground out from under this man's 
 feet at once." 
 
 "It's him we'll cut, not the ground under him," Burk- 
 hardt growled, thrusting his hairy chin forward towards 
 the lawyer. "And cut his damned throat." 
 
 "I hate to think of our being forced to to homicide. 
 Even justifiable homicide." 
 
 "Homicide nothing! It's just killing a rattlesnake 
 waiting in the brush to strike. That's the way we used 
 to do in the old days, and if he's going to bring them 
 back that's what we'll do again." 
 
 Sorenson smiled grimly. 
 
 "We'll wait till we're sure he has the proofs, 
 then 
 
 "Then we'll act quick and sure," Vorse shot out. 
 
 "And quietly," the cattleman added. "We'll take no
 
 51 
 
 more chances this time. It will be arranged carefully 
 beforehand ; all four of us will be in it, of course, equal 
 responsibility; and there'll be no witnesses." 
 
 Judge Gordon's face wore a pallid, sickish look. 
 
 "I hope to God there's some other way out of it," he 
 muttered. 
 
 "So do all of us," Burkhardt snarled. "But if there 
 isn't, it means guns. For you, too, along with the rest 
 of us." 
 
 Sorenson leaned forward and gazed from under his 
 heavy brows, compelling Gordon to meet his fixed look. 
 
 "You were keen enough at the time for your share 
 of Joe Weir's stuff," he said. "So you'll play the hand 
 out to the end now, the bad cards as well as the good. 
 You're no better than the rest of us, and it was you 
 who hatched the scheme for cleaning him up and who 
 put over the story." 
 
 "I know, I know. But but this would be too much 
 like cold-blooded murder." 
 
 "Murder !" Sorenson grated. "Did you look straight 
 into this fellow Weir's eyes? Didn't you see something 
 there that resembled murder? He'd like only the chance 
 to kill us one by one with his own hands: I saw that 
 much. Just as Burkhardt said, it's him or us. After 
 you told me about him, I had only to take one look. If 
 he has the goods on us well, he'll have to die. Make 
 up your mind to that. We're back to the time of thirty 
 years ago and fighting for our lives. We were not only 
 all in on the Weir job, but the Dent killing all of us. 
 Remember that. If the facts become known, we'll be 
 run into some other county and court and hanged. And 
 every enemy we've made in these years past will put up 
 his head and clamor for our blood. Let that sink into 
 your mind."
 
 52 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 The effect of this low fierce utterance was to hammer 
 the truth home. The Judge was ashen. Verse's face 
 appeared like an evil mask. Burkliardt glowered sav- 
 agely. 
 
 At that instant there sounded the faint report of a 
 shot in the street. Then as the group sat unmoving, 
 rigid, keyed to the highest pitch of expectancy, there 
 followed quickly two more shots. Afterwards, silence. 
 
 "A gun-play !" issued from Vorse's lips, softly. 
 
 They all sprang up to hasten to the door.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A SHOT IN THE DABK 
 
 STEELE WEIR driving his car down the street in the 
 dusk had caught sight of Felipe Martinez standing near 
 the cattle company's office. He stopped close by, beck- 
 oned. Martinez would do as well as another. 
 
 "You're a notary, I suppose?" he questioned. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Weir. Most of us lawyers here are," he 
 replied politely, when he had advanced. 
 
 "I've some papers I want acknowledged to-night. 
 Must get them into the mail going down to Bowenville 
 in the morning." 
 
 "Only too pleased to facilitate your business, Mr. 
 Weir. My office is down a few doors." 
 
 "Jump in." 
 
 "It's but a few steps." 
 
 "Then I'll get out here." And the engineer stopped 
 the engine and descended to the ground. 
 
 Along the street open doorways and windows were 
 already beginning to make yellow panels of lamplight in 
 the thin gloom. The air was still warm, balmy, scented 
 by the lingering aroma of the greasewood smoke of 
 supper fires in Mexican ovens. Stars were jeweling the 
 sky. Few persons moved in the twilight. 
 
 One of these was a man who, standing at the door of 
 a native saloon across the street and a little farther up, 
 had come diagonally over towards the bank on seeing the 
 engineer halt his car. He walked with a slouching haste 
 
 63
 
 54 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 seldom exhibited by a Mexican and gained the spot as 
 Weir stepped out. There he slackened his pace while he 
 scanned the American with an intense, slow gaze that 
 the engineer, chancing to raise his eyes, squarely met. 
 
 The Mexicans always looked at him and fell silent 
 when he passed since he had shown who was master at 
 the dam. In the eyes of some was merely stupid curi- 
 osity, in some a shrinking, and in many a half -veiled hos- 
 tility. That did not trouble Weir. In Mexico he had 
 dealt with recalcitrant workmen of more lawless nature 
 than these. He usually ignored them altogether now 
 as they no longer were in his employ. But this man 
 seized his attention. 
 
 It was not yet too dark to mark his face as he lounged 
 past, slowly turning his head about as he progressed 
 until his chin was on his shoulder, staring back. His 
 look the while remained riveted on Weir a steady, con- 
 templative, evil regard. In Chihuahua the engineer had 
 once seen a notorious local "killer" who had that same 
 gaze. 
 
 Martinez had also glanced at the fellow. 
 
 "Who is that man? One of the discharged work- 
 men?" Weir asked him, when moving forward they in 
 turn had passed the Mexican. 
 
 "No, I imagine not. At any rate, he doesn't belong in 
 San Mateo or anywhere hereabouts. I know everybody 
 for fifty miles, for I've been active in social and political 
 affairs. He's unknown to me. A stranger." Then a 
 little farther along: "Here is my office, Mr. Weir. I'll 
 have a light in an instant. Ah, now. Be so good as 
 to have a chair and we'll expedite your business." 
 
 As Martinez filled out the acknowledgment blanks 
 on the papers, his eyes furtively skipped over the vital 
 portions of the documents. The latter were connected
 
 t 
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARK 55 
 
 with company business. He had hoped they would be 
 personal so that he might learn something more of 
 this manager's affairs, possibly more of his secret an- 
 tagonism for Sorenson and his friends. Any intrigue 
 appealed to the thin, slippery lawyer's soul, but most of 
 all some one's else intrigue into which he might profitably 
 put a finger. However, from these papers he was to 
 learn nothing. 
 
 He had considered all possibilities of the affair, all 
 possible solutions of what long ago might have occurred 
 between Joseph Weir, undoubtedly the father of the 
 man sitting across the table from him, and the four 
 men now conferring in Sorenson's office. This was no 
 petty squabble, he divined. There was something going 
 on under the surface that was big big! And very 
 dangerous too, for the spirit of that moment in Vorse's 
 bar was not to be mistaken ; it had been tense, electric. 
 Utmost caution on Martinez's part would therefore be 
 necessary. 
 
 As between the two parties, his sympathies at present 
 inclined towards Weir. The refusal on the latter*s part 
 to reemploy the Mexican workmen on their own terms 
 was purely a matter of policy, and the lawyer's first 
 gusty anger had long been forgotten. But not so Sor- 
 enson's sneering words of that afternoon. They struck 
 to the heart of his vanity, breeding an animosity that 
 would last. Had not the banker stated that the lawyer 
 should hold no political office whatever? After all his 
 services? Had he not definitely shown that Martinez 
 might never expect anything there? Well, the lawyer 
 wasn't one tamely to yield his rights; he did not pro- 
 pose always to remain a scrimping, pettifogging attor- 
 ney, existing on crumbs. 
 
 When with a flourish he had appended his name to
 
 56 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the acknowledgments and affixed his seal, he sat back 
 thoughtfully studying the engineer, who was carefully 
 examining the paragraphs for errors. He knew his busi- 
 ness, did Martinez; the man would find no mistakes. 
 Then the lawyer's eyes suddenly glistened. He arose 
 and closed the door as Weir thrust the documents into 
 a stout linen envelope, addressed and stamped. 
 
 "I'll be pleased to see your letter goes in the mail in 
 the morning," he said, returning to his place. "The stage 
 leaves at eight-thirty." 
 
 "Post-office is closed now, I suppose. Very well. It 
 will be an accommodation," the engineer responded. 
 
 Martinez leaned forward. 
 
 "If you can spare the time, I should like to have a 
 little talk with you," said he. "Pardon me if I appear 
 presumptuous, but as you're aware, Mr. Weir, I over- 
 heard your words to Judge Gordon in Vorse's saloon. I 
 inferred check me at any instant if you consider this 
 none of my business ! that there exists some unpleasant 
 feeling between you two gentlemen and possibly others. 
 Judge Gordon has always handled the company's busi- 
 ness in his private capacity of counselor. As you know, 
 he's a silent partner in many enterprises with Sorenson, 
 Vorse and a man named Burkhardt. They run this town 
 and county. You should also know that they're secretly 
 opposed to your irrigation project, whatever they pro- 
 fess. They've misled the people into believing it will 
 work an injury to this district, whereas it will of course 
 be beneficial. Unfortunately too they lead the people 
 by the noses but not me! I refuse to be subservient." 
 
 He paused to note the effect of his words. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Weir, these are facts you can confirm if 
 you're not already informed of them, which I imagine 
 you are. Because I'm independent in my opinions and
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARK 5T 
 
 actions, I stand in disfavor with these gentlemen, which 
 may or may not be an objection in your view to what 
 I have in mind. And this is it. I should be pleased to 
 execute any legal work that you care to give me; it 
 might be of advantage to your company at times to have 
 an attorney other than Judge Gordon, who is aligned 
 against you and will serve his own interests first. He's 
 in a position to cause you embarrassment." 
 "Our eastern attorneys draw all documents." 
 "Of course. But I was thinking of delays more than 
 anything else. There are a thousand ways a lawyer 
 can push or halt matters at will, and your project will 
 never be free of legal red tape until completed if then ! 
 I'm not unselfish in this, I admit; the business would 
 be valuable to me. But aside from that, I'll give you 
 this advice anyway : secure another lawyer in any case, 
 one without antagonistic personal interests, if you can 
 find another in San Mateo besides me. See, I'm frank! 
 That may sound egotistical, but really I'm the only 
 free man of the lawyers here. And I've paid for my 
 liberty!" He made a sweeping gesture to indicate his 
 shabby office. "If I had taken orders, I could have been 
 county attorney and probably a judge. But I respect 
 myself too much to take orders from Sorenson and his 
 bunch. I choose this sort of thing in preference." 
 
 Steele Weir maintained a non-committal silence. 
 Again the thin dark-skinned lawyer swiftly weighed the 
 man before him, considered the dangers in which he 
 might become involved if he went a step farther, re- 
 coiled, then grew bolder. Sorenson had marked him for 
 poverty and nonentity; under the favoring shelter of 
 the irrigation company's power he might arise from 
 both. For at moments the acute Mexican sensed the 
 inevitable victory of the new forces at work; this, one
 
 58 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 of the last strong-holds of old time cattle and sheep in- 
 terests, would break down and yield to the plow and 
 fence. 
 
 "Now, there's something more, though I hesitate to 
 mention it," he went on, doubtfully. "While Sorenson 
 and his crowd run things, it's not because the people 
 and that means us Mexicans chiefly love them. We're 
 indolent by nature; we idle rather than work; borrow 
 when we can rather than earn I speak of our race, but 
 we're learning that work proves best in the long run. 
 These men have squeezed my people, and robbed them, 
 and kept them down. Nothing more would I wish than to 
 see these leaders deposed. It's no secret they've built 
 their wealth by questionable methods, but who can prove 
 it? 
 
 "Do you know what I suspect? You have something 
 on Sorenson's crowd. That's why they're uneasy ; that's 
 why the four are sitting over in the cattle company's 
 office this minute with their heads together, meeting the 
 minute Sorenson arrives home. I saw them go in. Leav- 
 ing aside the question of your own affairs, I'd like to 
 have matters changed here in this county so that every 
 man has a fair chance. Anything that will bring that 
 about enlists my interest. When I heard your statement 
 to Gordon and saw his face, I knew there was something 
 in the past that alarmed him. I recalled a name I had 
 once run across when abstracting a title " 
 
 It was not this ingenious twisting of the truth that 
 caused the lawyer to become filled with sudden dismay 
 and stop, but the savage hardening of the engineer's 
 face. 
 
 "Go on," Weir commanded. 
 
 "Well, the name was Joseph Weir. I looked it up 
 again to be sure, and found the property had been deeded
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARK 59 
 
 to Sorenson and the others, who still have it. I won- 
 dered " 
 
 "What did you wonder ?" came with a devouring look. 
 
 "If if Joseph Weir received consideration according 
 to law." Martinez* courage flowed back again. "I'll 
 make no attempt to justify my curiosity, sir, except to 
 say that more than one man in the southwest was done 
 out of property in early days ; and the practice has not 
 ceased, for that matter. But in these days the means 
 is usually legal and Mexicans the victims. Sharp mort- 
 gage dealings and so forth. Now, if I've said too much, 
 111 instantly forget all about it. On the other 
 hand " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I might be of assistance. If you wish to look into 
 that old transaction, that is. If there was anything 
 crooked about the deal, and I set it down that there 
 was with Sorenson mixed in, and with Vorse and Burk- 
 hardt the witnesses named in the deed and Judge Gor- 
 don taking the acknowledgment of Joseph Weir's signa- 
 ture, as the record shows, then there should be some 
 weak spot that could be attacked. There may be men 
 yet alive conversant with the circumstances ; they may 
 know whether duress or fraud was exercised, supposing 
 the sale was not honest. Some of the old Mexicans may 
 remember Weir, and could give a clue; they have good 
 memories for things of those days. Of course, if the 
 transaction was all right, then I'm all wrong in my 
 suppositions." 
 
 Weir arose. 
 
 "I can give you some of the company business, perhaps 
 considerable of it," he said. 
 
 Martinez sprang up, an expression of gratitude upon
 
 60 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 his face. He had not realized all that he had hoped for, 
 but he was nevertheless delighted. 
 
 "I'm really sincere when I give you a thousand 
 thanks, Mr. Weir," said he, spreading his arms wide. 
 "I'll not make promises as to the efficiency of my 
 services; let results speak for themselves." 
 
 "I always do," was the comment. "But I'll tell you 
 what I demand in any one associated with me absolute 
 trustworthiness first of all, then loyalty and ability." 
 
 "Which leaves nothing," Martinez smiled. 
 
 He preceded the engineer and swung the door open, 
 stepping aside. To the visitor's question regarding 
 fees for the acknowledgments taken, he waved a declin- 
 ing hand. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing. Delighted to render you the 
 service." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "I'll attend to the letter," the lawyer again assured 
 him. 
 
 "Come out to the dam in a day or two." 
 
 "To-morrow, if you wish." 
 
 "To-morrow afternoon will do." 
 
 Steele Weir's frame filled the lighted doorway as he 
 stepped forth from the office. He paused to accustom 
 his eyes to the darkness, for during his colloquy with the 
 attorney full night had descended. On the same side of 
 the street with himself and perhaps twelve or fifteen 
 paces off he saw a girl's figure appear and disappear be- 
 fore a window as she moved along. 
 
 Then suddenly a tongue of red flame darted at him 
 across the street, where lay a space of unlighted gloom. 
 His hat was whipped off his head. The sharp report 
 of a shot cracked between the adobe walls. With an 
 unbelievably rapid movement Steele Weir drew the re-
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARK 61 
 
 volver in his pocket, and which he had carried ever 
 since his encounter with young Sorenson in the restau- 
 rant, fired twice where he had seen the flame and leaped 
 aside into the darkness beside the doorway. There he 
 waited, half crouching, for a further attack. 
 
 But none came. Men began to run towards the place. 
 Shouts and calls echoed along the street. In two min- 
 utes a crowd was surging before Martinez' door wildly 
 asking questions. 
 
 Weir pocketed his pistol and walked back into the 
 office, where he found his bullet-pierced hat lying on the 
 floor and the attorney standing frozen with astonish- 
 ment. A stream of people followed at his heels. 
 
 ''Who did this shooting? Do you know, Felipe?" a 
 tall raw-boned white man who led them asked hastily. 
 
 "This gentleman, Mr. Weir, was fired on, sheriff," 
 Martinez burst out volubly. 
 
 "And I fired in return," the engineer stated. "The 
 fellow was across the street in the dark. You might look 
 over there." 
 
 Turning and pushing his way through the packed 
 door, the sheriff disappeared. The crowd melted away 
 again. Presently as Weir glanced about he saw a new 
 figure at the doorway, staring at him. He went toward* 
 the girl there outlined in the lamplight. ' 
 
 "Was that you I saw moving along just before the 
 exchange of compliments, Miss Hosmer?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes. I was coming towards you on my way home." 
 
 "It probably gave you a fright." 
 
 "It did, indeed. I heard the shot and saw your hat 
 knocked off. I just went cold in my tracks. At first I 
 believed you killed." 
 
 "I'm very much alive, as you see."
 
 62 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "But it was dreadful! Who would fire at you from 
 the dark? Some one tried to murder you!" 
 
 "It looks like it. Still here I am, ready to move your 
 car out of the water next time it's stalled." 
 
 She entered the room slowly. 
 
 "Who in San Mateo would do such a terrible thing, 
 Mr. Martinez?" she addressed the lawyer. The pallor 
 was still on her face and her eyes were large with horror. 
 
 "Ah, Miss Janet, if we but knew! We'd lay hands 
 on him and send him to the penitentiary." 
 
 Real emotion struggled in the lawyer's words. With 
 the return of his senses he had just begun to realize by 
 what a narrow margin the assassin's bullet had missed 
 destroying his future client and prospects. 
 
 A growing murmur across the street attracted their 
 attention. Then as they continued to chat of the event, 
 the sheriff reappeared, directing half a dozen men who 
 laid a burden in the light of Martinez' doorway. 
 
 "You got him," he said to Weir, with ominous sig- 
 nificance. "One bullet through the head, one through 
 his stomach. He's good and dead." 
 
 Weir walked forward and inspected that outstretched 
 figure. It was the man whose gaze had been so malevo- 
 lently fastened upon him as he joined Martinez before 
 Sorenson's office. 
 
 "Who is he?" he asked. 
 
 "A strange Mexican. Some of these men say he 
 showed up this morning and hung around the saloons, 
 not talking much. Haven't you ever seen him before?" 
 The question expressed a perplexed curiosity. 
 
 "Once. When Martinez and I were coming here to 
 transact some business. He was taking a good look at 
 me then when he passed us. That wasn't over half an 
 hour ago. Never saw him before that."
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARK 63 
 
 "He shot at you first?" 
 
 "I had just stepped out of this room. Could I see 
 him hiding over there? Or know he was there?" Then 
 he added, "I was taken by surprise, but I marked the 
 flash of his gun." 
 
 The sheriff, Madden by name, looked at Weir appre- 
 ciatively. 
 
 "You can use a gun yourself," said he, briefly. 
 
 Martinez now repeated the fact of the dead man hav- 
 ing fired the first shot, which Janet Hosmer confirmed. 
 
 "Well, is there anything more?" Weir questioned. 
 
 "Not to-night, I reckon," Madden replied. "We'll 
 have an inquest in the morning; show up then. Where 
 will I find your father, Miss Hosmer?" 
 
 "At home." Then to the engineer she explained, 
 "Father acts in the absence of the coroner, who's away 
 just now." 
 
 "I'm very sorry this happened on your account," said 
 he. 
 
 "And I'm very glad you were not hurt." 
 
 Outside the corpse was being borne away, followed 
 by the curious, avid crowd of Mexicans. 
 
 "You're still shaken by the thing," said Steele Weir. 
 "It's enough to upset any girl. Let me walk home with 
 you, or you may be starting at shadows all the way."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JANET HOSMER 
 
 A SILVERY brightness shone in the east as they came 
 out of Martinez* office, that increased as they went for- 
 ward until all at once the moon arose into view, lighting 
 the street, disclosing the flanking lines of squat build- 
 ings, revealing the tall cottonwoods about the court 
 house and elsewhere thrust up in the town. 
 
 Janet Hosmer breathed a sigh of relief. The dark- 
 ness had seemed potent for further evil, but now it was 
 as if the latter retreated with the shadows. She felt a 
 desire to go on alone, to separate herself from this com- 
 panion with whom chance had brought her in contact 
 at a dramatic moment, to get away from the whole 
 terrible affair. Involuntarily her spirit shrank at the 
 nearness of the man, for though he had struck back in 
 self-defense he nevertheless had killed another and the 
 act somehow appeared to set him apart from ordinary 
 men, isolate him, give him the character of an Ishmael. 
 
 Yet her feelings were confused. Against this inclina- 
 tion was an avid curiosity, or rather a wonderment, as 
 to what must now be occurring in his soul. Her eyes 
 sought his face as he walked beside her. Neither had 
 spoken; and his countenance wore the same stern con- 
 tained aspect, calm, forceful, as the first time she had 
 ever observed it. But what was below the surface? 
 What were the thoughts now revolving in his mind and 
 the emotions flowing in his breast? She could read noth- 
 
 64
 
 JANET HOSMER 65 
 
 ing on that composed mask of a face. Was it possible 
 for a man to slay another human being, even justifiably, 
 without suffering a hurricane of the spirit? 
 
 But perhaps he had killed men before. The fact of 
 his carrying a weapon and his swift deadly fire pointed 
 ominously to previous experience. 
 
 "Did you ever shoot any one before?" popped from, 
 between her lips. Then she stopped, clapping her hand 
 over her mouth in consternation and staring at him 
 palely. 
 
 Weir had halted too. He regarded her in silence for 
 a little, a slight smile resting on his face. They stood 
 before the cattle company's office and his look went past 
 her once to embrace the small darkened building. 
 
 "I'm not a murderer by trade, if that's what you 
 mean," said he, at last. "But I've killed a man or two 
 before, yes." Then at the white anguish of her lips and 
 cheeks, his tone softened a degree as he went on. "Un- 
 fortunately since becoming of age I've had to fight. If 
 not men, then the earth. If not the earth, then men. 
 Sometimes both together. You saw what happened to- 
 night; that fellow was unknown to me. He was not a 
 workman who had been discharged and felt he had a 
 grievance " 
 
 "Oh, no!" she interjected. "The Mexicans here 
 wouldn't attempt to murder you, however angry they 
 might feel." 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that," he answered. 
 
 "But I am ; I know them7 I've lived among them !" 
 
 "Well, let that go. The man tried to kill me, at any 
 rate. However, he was merely a tool, hired for the 
 business by some one else. Ordinarily I don't discuss my 
 affairs with any one, but since you've raised the matter
 
 66 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 I'll just say that Fve enemies in San Mateo who are 
 anxious to dispose of me." 
 
 "Such enemies here!" 
 
 "Yes. Who would be delighted to see me lie where 
 that dead man lies and who are apparently determined 
 to effect it." He touched her sleeve warningly. "But 
 you will speak of this to no one." 
 
 "No, oh, no ! Not a word !" 
 
 Steele gazed at her steadily. He already repented 
 disclosing even so little of his private concerns, an im- 
 pulse altogether at variance with his close-mouthed 
 habit, but he had, for some vague reason, felt it neces- 
 sary to explain his course, to justify himself to this 
 clear-eyed, fine-spirited girl. He could not let her rest 
 under a misapprehension that he was a brute who reveled 
 in blood-spilling. And as he regarded her a con- 
 viction that she was absolutely to be trusted settled 
 firmly into his mind. 
 
 She would be staunch ; oxen and ropes could not drag 
 information from her once she had determined not to 
 speak. Yes, she would be loyal to her given word and 
 to her friends. Weir's eyes glanced at the diamond on 
 her finger. It would be a girl like her with whom he 
 would have chosen to mate if fate had not directed his 
 feet on a road which seemingly left him no choice but 
 incessant and solitary struggle. 
 
 "I hate it all ; I have nothing but crusts and nettles !*' 
 he exclaimed, with sudden fierce passion. And with a 
 quick movement of his hand he beckoned her on. 
 
 Submissively she accompanied him, her bosom rising 
 and falling with a quickened rhythm. Too much had 
 happened, one thing piling on another, for her to sort 
 her thoughts or to attempt to understand things yet; 
 and in her tossing state of mind she went at his gesture
 
 JANET HOSMER 67 
 
 as one follows a guide, or as a simple matter of course. 
 
 In her mental turmoil that last passionate utterance 
 of the man played like a lambent flame. Tense, vio- 
 lent, spontaneous, it had come from the heart. What 
 harsh lot he had lived and sufferings borne she could 
 not even guess ; but no man spoke with such unconscious 
 bitterness who had not undergone pain and travail of 
 spirit. His head was now turned a little towards her 
 as they walked : she perceived him staring at the moon- 
 lit street, his lips compressed, his brows knit. 
 
 Then he glanced about at her, his face clearing. 
 
 "Pay no attention to what I said," he remarked. "I 
 shouldn't have let loose that way. Hello, what's OB 
 now?" 
 
 Before them, and in front of the court house, was a 
 packed crowd, people who had run forth at the sound 
 of shots, augmented by those who had since arrived 
 upon the scene. It was motionless. 
 
 "Stand back, stand back; don't trample the body!" 
 came Sheriff Madden's voice in an angry order. 
 
 The crowd surged a little apart in the center. 
 
 "How do you know this dead man fired the first 
 shot?" asked some one, vehemently. 
 
 The voices went lower so that Steele Weir and Janet 
 Hosmer, who had paused at the edge of the throng, 
 were able only to catch the tones. 
 
 "Who was that who questioned the sheriff?" Weif 
 whispered. 
 
 "Mr. Burkhardt, I think. Sounded like him.'* 
 
 So intent were the Mexicans upon the occurrence in 
 their midst that those close by remained with backs 
 towards the pair, failing to notice their presence. All 
 craned eagerly to miss nothing of the controversy.
 
 68 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "How do you know this engineer didn't start it?" 
 came Burkhardt's voice again. 
 
 "Don't be a fool; there were witnesses." 
 
 "I'd like to talk to those witnesses. I doubt if they 
 really saw anything. It looks to me as if there's an- 
 other side to this shooting." 
 
 "Well, of course you know you, sitting 1 there in 
 Sorenson's office, as you say," was the ironical retort. 
 
 At this juncture another voice interposed. 
 
 "Madden, we want no mistake here. This Weir 
 doesn't bear a very good reputation for peacefulness, 
 from what I've learned. If this Mexican has simply 
 been shot down " 
 
 "Who is that?" Steele demanded of the girl. "I can't 
 $ee him." 
 
 "That" Janet Hosmer's speech faltered "that is 
 Mr. Sorenson. Oh, they misunderstand! Let me push 
 in there and tell them how it happened." 
 
 The engineer's hand closed about her arm. 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the kind," he commanded, low. 
 
 "But " 
 
 "No. Remain quiet and listen." 
 
 Her eyes flew up to his at this extraordinary course, 
 so injurious to his own interests. She was anxious to 
 press to the front and declare his innocence in the affair 
 of everything but defending his life from an assassin. 
 She could not understand why he also was not eager to 
 spring forward, why he restrained her. Then she saw 
 the implacable hatred on his face. 
 
 A thrill quivered through her body. The feeling she 
 had at that instant was one of being on the point of 
 seeing behind the curtain of a mystery, of making a 
 discovery so sinister that she would gasp. Her very 
 finger almost rested upon it. Why were Mr. Sorenson
 
 JANET HOSMER 69 
 
 and Mr. Burkhardt talking as they were? Trying by 
 innuendo to make it seem her companion might have been 
 
 guilty of a crime? Could it be Her blood slowly 
 
 congealed to ice at the horror of where her reasoning 
 led. 
 
 Could it be they were the enemies he meant! 
 
 Such a thing was too dreadful, too absurd. They, the 
 respected leaders of the community, could never put a 
 pistol in the dead wretch's hand to slay this man beside 
 
 her. Mr. Sorenson ! The father of Ed, whom She 
 
 stared blankly at her left hand. 
 
 Yet the banker's heavy, smooth words continued to 
 assail her ears steadily. She grasped their import once 
 more. 
 
 " for the story is too thin. No man could hit 
 another across the street in the dark as this engineer 
 claims, not only once but twice put a bullet where it 
 would kill. Probably the dead man had something on 
 this Weir, and the latter knew it. It's not impossible 
 he found the fellow in his path, drew and murdered him 
 at once, quickly put a hole in his own hat and then 
 carried the body across the way, running back to Mar- 
 tinez' office. The thing could have been done in a 
 minute. Martinez' himself wouldn't have seen how it was 
 worked. I'm not saying that was exactly how it was 
 done, or that this Weir did actually murder him, but 
 investigate, Madden, investigate." 
 
 Steele Weir felt an angry tug at his sleeve. He looked 
 around and beheld Janet Hosmer's eyes distended with 
 incredulity. 
 
 "Come away, come away," she whispered. "I should 
 never have believed it if I hadn't heard with my own 
 ears !" 
 
 Keeping close to the line of buildings, they skirted
 
 70 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the crowd, still unnoticed, and left it behind. She 
 walked with quick nervous steps; her hand yet uncon- 
 sciously grasped his coat sleeve. All the way to her 
 home, which they found dark since a messenger had 
 called the doctor to the court house and the Mexican 
 girl servant also was gone, she said nothing. 
 
 "Come up on the veranda; I want to talk," she an- 
 nounced when he opened the gate. 
 
 'Wouldn't it be best if you took your mind off the 
 whole thing, by a book or something else ? I'll go." 
 
 "As if I could take my mind off! There are matters 
 in this I must know. You may wonder when I say it, 
 Mr. Weir, but this happening concerns me more than 
 you dream." Her dark glowing gaze brooded on him 
 with a sort of intense determination. Then she went on, 
 "It it involves my whole future as well as your own, 
 though in a different way. So come inside, if you 
 please." 
 
 Weir in silence accompanied her upon the dark, broad, 
 vine-clad porch. In the half-gloom he found chairs for 
 them. 
 
 "I'm going to the point at once," she declared. "Why 
 did Mr. Sorenson talk in such a fashion?" And he 
 could feel her bending forward as if hanging on his 
 answer. 
 
 "That's the one thing I can't discuss," said he. 
 
 "I must know, I must know." 
 
 "And unhappily I must refuse." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Weir, if you could but understand what 
 this involves for me, you wouldn't hesitate! I was 
 shocked at the shooting, but I saw its necessity on your 
 part; you're not one to run from a foe, a cowardly foe 
 least of all. But what I heard there in the street horri- 
 fied me. I couldn't believe it; I can scarcely credit my
 
 JANET HOSMER 71 
 
 ears yet. Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Burkhardt were not 
 near when you were attacked; they are not acquainted 
 with the circumstances or facts as you, Mr. Martinez 
 and I know them; they apparently didn't appear until 
 the crowd started away with the dead man. Yet at 
 once " 
 
 "Ay, at once," Steele Weir let slip. 
 
 "At once, immediately, when they had barely heard 
 the story, they began to tear it to pieces and suggest 
 another, making you out a villain. You're only an ac- 
 quaintance, sir, scarcely more than a stranger, but as 
 I listened it outraged all my sense of justice. Mr. 
 Sorenson, of all men! My brain was in a whirl. But 
 it's steady now." 
 
 The engineer failed to open his lips at her pause. 
 
 "I'm no fool, Mr. Weir; I think of other things be- 
 sides dressing my hair and using a powder puff. I can . 
 sometimes put two and two together when I see the 
 'twos' clearly. Now, tell me why Mr. Sorenson talked 
 as he did, for I must have my eyes clear." 
 
 "Ask me anything but that, Miss Hosmer." 
 
 He sat distressed and uneasy at her prolonged mute- 
 ness. Suddenly she questioned quietly : 
 
 "Are those two men the enemies you spoke off?" 
 
 "It will save me embarrassment if I go," he remarked, 
 starting to rise. "I don't want you to hate me, you 
 know, and still I can't say anything." 
 
 Her grasp pulled him imperatively back. 
 
 "You shall not go yet." 
 
 "Then I can only continue to decline making answers^ 
 I frankly say that I regret having uttered a word of 
 explanation." 
 
 "I don't regret it. And I intend to keep questioning 1 
 you, however rude you may think me. I must know,"
 
 72 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 she cried impetuously, "and I shall know! Mr. Soren- 
 son is one of the men you referred to, or he would never 
 seek to direct suspicion at you. I saw the look on your 
 face, sir, as he spoke. But why should you two be 
 enemies ! You come here a stranger to San Mateo, or 
 have you been here before sometime? Did you know 
 him before?'* 
 
 Again he could feel her eyes straining at him. 
 
 "It seems mad to think of him and Mr. Burkhardt, 
 and perhaps others, hiring some one to shoot you down 
 from a dark doorway. It is utterly mad crazy. But 
 why should they want to convict you, in the crowd's 
 opinion at least, of murdering the man. It would not 
 be just trouble about the dam oh, no. But I can't see 
 through it at all. Why won't you tell me? You can 
 trust me and I want to help you as well as help myself. 
 You certainly don't hold against me my silly nonsense 
 and unkind words of the day you brought me home from 
 the ford." 
 
 "I didn't think them silly ; they delighted me," he re- 
 sponded. "I hadn't had anything happen to me so re- 
 freshing in years." 
 
 "We must be friends. Something tells me they're 
 going to make you trouble over this shooting, and you'll 
 need friends." 
 
 "Something tells me you're right in both respects," 
 he laughed. 
 
 "And friends must stick together." 
 
 "That's what they should do." 
 
 In the dusk of the vine-clad, flower-scented place 
 where they sat he experienced the subtle power of this 
 intimacy. Not a soul stirred in the empty moonlit 
 street before the house. No sounds disturbed the warm
 
 JANET HOSMER 73 
 
 peace of the night. In this secluded spot only there 
 ran the murmur of their voices. 
 
 "I could never stand by and see any man unjustly 
 accused and defamed if I knew he was innocent, without 
 lifting up my word in defense," she proceeded. "But 
 let me ask if on your side you're treating me fairly ?" 
 
 Weir could have groaned. 
 
 "You have a noble spirit, Miss Hosmer. You're more 
 courageous and kind than any girl I've ever known. 
 Would you have me reveal what my best judgment tells 
 me should remain untold?" 
 
 "But what of me? Would you keep it to yourself if 
 my future happiness might turn on it?" 
 
 The appeal in her words shook Steele's heart. 
 
 "How does this business affect your happiness? 
 How?" he asked, in perplexity. 
 
 Now it was her turn to hesitate. Why should she 
 pause, indeed, before telling to this man what every one 
 else knew. Yet hesitate she did, from a feeling she could 
 but partly analyze. Of her fiance she had already had 
 disturbing secret doubts that had increased of late: 
 doubts of his habits, his character and the genuineness 
 of his love; so that it was with a little eddy of dissat- 
 isfaction and shame that she admitted the relationship. 
 More she questioned her own love as an actual thing. 
 In a startling way, too, this silent, forceful man, so 
 deadly in earnest and so earnestly deadly, so terrible in 
 some aspects, seemed at the instant to dwarf the other 
 in stature and power as if the latter were a plump mani- 
 kin. 
 
 Perhaps at the last minute she had a shiver of dread 
 at what might issue from the engineer's lips in the way 
 of facts if he took her at her word and told her what 
 she had demanded to know. Did she want to know?
 
 74 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Suppose she let the affair rest where it was and went 
 forward to the future in the comfortable assurance of 
 ignorance. 
 
 In that case, it might be wooing later revelations that 
 then could not be escaped, revelations like consuming 
 lightnings. She would settle it now once for all. 
 
 "It does concern my future and my happiness vitally," 
 she declared, earnestly. "For this reason " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I'm engaged to marry Ed Sorenson, son of Mr. Sor- 
 enson." 
 
 Weir leaped to his feet. 
 
 "Good God! That fellow!" he exclaimed, astounded. 
 
 Without another word he sprang down the steps and 
 strode away. Janet Hosmer, grasping the arms of her 
 chair and staring after him, saw him once bring down 
 his clenched fist on nothing. Then he passed rapidly 
 along the street and out of sight.
 
 CHAPTER VH 
 
 IN THE COIL 
 
 THE Spirit of Irony couldn't have devised a more 
 intolerable situation. So thought Steele Weir as he 
 strode away from the dwelling, still laboring under the 
 emotions provoked by the girl's disclosure, wincing at 
 his own biting thoughts and writhing at his own help- 
 lessness. It needed only this revelation to cap the 
 whole diabolical evening. 
 
 He could not have remained with her now if his life 
 had depended on it. She, engaged to that scoundrel 
 Ed Sorenson ! How could she have been so blind to the 
 lustful beast's nature? She must love him, of course. 
 He must have been careful to exhibit to her only such 
 qualities as would gain her affection and respect, or 
 rather hollow shams of qualities he never had possessed. 
 Propinquity, lack of rivals in this little town, no doubt 
 were largely responsible for her feeling for the man, 
 But it was like standing by and seeing her fair young 
 body, her fresh pure life, her high soul, flung to a de- 
 vouring swine. 
 
 And by the rules of the game he couldn't open his 
 lips to utter a word of warning! That was the worst 
 of it, that was the worst of it. No, not by the rules of 
 the game ; not, for that matter, by the rules of life ; for 
 the latter run that only can the person concerned see 
 with his or her own eyes what a loved one's character 
 is, and must make and abide by her own judgments. 
 
 75
 
 76 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Steele Weir all at once stopped in his tracks. He 
 stared straight before him for a time seeing Janet Hos- 
 mer's face as it appeared when she anxiously gazed at 
 him from Martinez' door, coming out of the night like 
 a pallid moon-flower. At that instant she had feared 
 he had been wounded; her heart was fluttering with 
 anguish. The tension of his body relaxed and his hands 
 slowly unclosed and involuntarily his eyes went up to 
 the moon sailing serenely in the sky above the treetops 
 and the flat-roofed adobe houses. What vaster blessing 
 could life bestow than to have such a look come seeking 
 one beloved! 
 
 He went on thoughtfully. 
 
 "She shall not marry him," he said to himself, with 
 a quick resolve. 
 
 What were the rules of any game when an innocent 
 girl's happiness was at stake? Did he care for con 
 ventions, or even the contempt she herself might feel 
 for him for apparently belittling her lover? He could 
 stand that, so that her eyes were opened and the fel- 
 low's yellow heart made plain. At the proper time he 
 should act, view his part as she might. A snap of his 
 fingers for being misunderstood ! He would go his own 
 way afterwards. 
 
 The thing had its curious features, too. No mistake, 
 the shock of hearing Sorenson senior talking to the 
 sheriff and the crowd, working up sentiment, had stirred 
 her indignation and wonder and uneasiness and alarm. 
 She was no fool, as she had said. She had a clear, prac- 
 tical mind, give it something to work on. Her intui- 
 tion had immediately grasped the fact that there might 
 be cellars under the Sorenson household of which she 
 knew nothing and which should be promptly entered with 
 a strong light. Whether the momentary desire would
 
 IN THE COIL 77 
 
 last, that was the question. To-morrow, or the first time 
 she found herself in Ed Sorenson's reassuring presence, 
 she might consider that her brain had been upset by 
 events of this night, jiggled awry in a sort of moonlight 
 madness, and her apprehensions as to happiness un- 
 founded shadows. 
 
 Well, Weir would strike later. 
 
 He turned into the main street. Evidently the body 
 of the dead Mexican had been carried into the jail be- 
 hind the court house, or somewhere. The throng had 
 dispersed, though its elements were every place talking, 
 in pairs or in little knots of people. As he came along, 
 these fell silent at his passing. They stared at him, 
 motionless, expressionless, with the characteristic Mexi- 
 can stolidity that is the heritage of Indian blood. By 
 his automobile he found Martinez posted, stroking his 
 long black mustache and regarding Sorenson's office, 
 which was still lighted though the curtain remained 
 drawn over the broad plate-glass window. 
 
 "Just wanted to give you a whispered word," he said, 
 in Steele Weir's ear, darting a glance towards some of 
 the Mexicans who, drawn by insatiable curiosity, were 
 lounging nearer. 
 
 "Speak," said the engineer. 
 
 "I came out of the office after you did and heard the 
 talk." He made a covert movement of forefinger 
 towards the nearby building. "The four of them are in 
 there again. I saw you listening to Sorenson here in the 
 street ; and would you care to have me express my opin- 
 ion as to what the signs indicate, Mr. Weir?" 
 
 "Go ahead." 
 
 "In the light of what I suggested during our talk in 
 my office, the silly twaddle of Burkhardt and Sorenson 
 is understandable. I look right through their scheme.
 
 78 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 They always frame up something against anybody they 
 want to dispose of; they do it in business matters regu- 
 larly, and very skillfully. They immediately perceived 
 a chance, sir, in this unfortunate encounter of yours 
 and laid hands on it; their talk was the first delicate 
 maneuver to 'frame' you.*' 
 
 "Sure," was the unperturbed answer. 
 
 Martinez laid a finger on Weir's lapel. 
 
 "Frankly, feeling hasn't been good towards you be- 
 cause of the work controversy at the dam," he went on, 
 with another swift glance about. "They will use that. 
 On the other hand, you have Miss Janet and me as wit- 
 nesses in support of your story. Unfortunately Miss 
 
 Janet is, as you may not be aware, engaged to " 
 
 Martinez paused dramatically. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "To Ed Sorenson," the lawyer half-hissed. "Nothing 
 could be worse." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Why? Look at the position she'll be in. Consider the 
 pressure they can put on her through that fact and 
 they'll not hesitate to do so, in one way or another. 
 Innocent as a dove, she is, Mr. Weir." He thrust his 
 head forward, showing his lips drawn apart and shining 
 teeth tight set. "And she's never heard a rumor of his 
 hushed-up affairs with poor, ignorant, Mexican girls 
 who knew no better." 
 
 "We'll simply have to trust to her courage to tell the 
 truth on the proper occasion." 
 
 "Ah, but they'll trick her some way." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 Martinez straightened, smiled, twirled his mustache. 
 
 "I? They aren't quite foxy enough for that, Mr. 
 Weir," he boasted, with glistening eyes.
 
 IN THE COIL 79 
 
 The engineer was almost ready to believe that, but 
 cunning was not the only weapon in his enemies' arse- 
 nal. How would this lean lawyer stand up under intimi- 
 dation, bribes, threats? 
 
 "I trust so, Martinez," said he. "Do you think they 
 will try to get me sometime by an out-and-out gun- 
 play?" 
 
 "No, no, no." 
 
 "Do you think they could if they tried?" Weir in- 
 quired, grimly. 
 
 The attorney paused with finger and thumb on the 
 point of his mustache, lifted his eyebrows and smiled 
 broadly. 
 
 "They'll consider twice before they attempt it, after 
 your expert exhibition this evening," said he. "It was 
 amazing, your speed, your accuracy." 
 
 Steele tapped the man on the breast, who experienced 
 a distinct tremor at that significant touch and at the 
 veiled menace in the dam manager's eyes. 
 
 "There's always one bullet in my gun for the man 
 who betrays me, Martinez." 
 
 The lawyer licked his lips. On general principles he 
 disliked statements that committed one to the future. 
 But it was necessary to say something. 
 
 "To be sure. I should feel the same in your circum- 
 stances," he responded. Then as Weir turned to his 
 car, he continued: "The inquest to-morrow morning 
 should be over early. I'll visit you in the afternoon as 
 planned." 
 
 "Don't forget that letter," Weir called out. 
 
 Martinez marveled. Kill a man, and still remember a 
 letter ! That magnified his respect immensely. Cool, 
 that fellow! Then a slight shiver as if a chill from 
 those black peaks west of the town had struck through
 
 80 IX THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 his flesh rippled along his spine; for he had been over 
 at the jail with the crowd and had viewed that dead 
 body lying there on the stone floor. Not only cool, but 
 dangerous and deadly, this engineer. He, Martinez, 
 must be discreet ; it would not do to risk gaining Weir's 
 enmity. That cold-faced man could not be "monkeyed 
 with." 
 
 Martinez gnawed his mustache and eyed the dully il- 
 luminated office window. He wondered if those four men 
 inside had not at last found their match, perhaps their 
 master. Any one with half a brain could see there was 
 going to be a desperate struggle between the four and 
 the one, and he was not exactly sure yet that he wanted 
 to venture farther into the affair. But the very danger 
 fascinated him with its subtle and obscure features, ex- 
 actly suited to his manipulation. 
 
 A man who had been standing apart sauntered nearer. 
 
 "Senor," he addressed the lawyer in Spanish. 
 
 Martinez whirled about. 
 
 "Ah, it's only you, Naharo." 
 
 "He is a bad fighter, eh?" And the man, almost white 
 because of intermixed blood, moved a hand in the di- 
 rection Weir's car had gone. 
 
 "Perhaps not bad. Quick with a gun, however," was 
 the careful reply. 
 
 "With his fists also. I saw, or if I did not see, I very 
 nearly did so it is the same saw him use them in Bow- 
 enville. And on that dog of an Ed Sorenson who would 
 have seduced my little Dolorosa, as he did Cristobal's 
 daughter, if I had not perceived what he was at." 
 
 The lawyer's ears were instantly pricked up. He 
 caught the man by the shirt-sleeve. 
 
 "Come with me," he said. 
 
 Once they were in his office he carefully closed and
 
 IN THE COIL 81 
 
 locked the door, drawing the window shades. Literally 
 he rubbed his hands one over the other as he bade 
 Naharo take a chair. Then the pair of them rolled and 
 lighted cigarettes. 
 
 "Perhaps I should say no more, Senor Martinez." 
 
 "It will go no farther. And if the engineer and Ed 
 Sorenson had a fight, then it must have been for that 
 reason the latter's father spoke as he did to-night. You 
 heard him." 
 
 "Yes. And I did not understand why. It was not be- 
 cause of what happened at Bowenville, unquestionably 
 not, for it had to do with another girl " 
 
 "Ha, a girl! And the engineer mixed in it?" 
 
 "Listen. As I say, he would not have told his father, 
 because he keeps such things quiet ; it is four years since 
 he last had to pay money to settle a matter. Some 
 think he now behaves, but it is not true. But he is more 
 careful. So his father did not know about this." 
 
 "Tell it all, Naharo." 
 
 The other inhaled a puff of smoke and half-closed his 
 eyes. Though nearly white, he retained the Mexican's 
 high cheek bones, and languor, and unforgiving nature. 
 
 "I was in Bowenville, freighting up flour to the store 
 of Smith's. I had loaded by evening, to make an early 
 start next day. I had gone into the restaurant for 
 supper, taking a seat far down at the end of the counter 
 near the kitchen. I was tired and thinking only of my 
 food. As I ate, there was a crash in one of the stalls 
 and I looked about. There was a fight, of course. But 
 it ended at once. Then I observed Ed Sorenson come 
 out presently, jerking his collar and tie straight. He 
 was mad. He had been whipped, too. For he yet looked 
 as if he wanted to kill the other man in there, but he 
 went away. Soon the other man came out and with him
 
 82 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 was a young white girl, whom I did not know. The 
 man was this engineer and he carried an old piece of 
 baggage, not such as he would carry but as the girl 
 might, for she looked like a ranch girl who was poor. 
 The girl was scared. The man was calm as a priest. 
 That scoundrel Ed Sorenson had been beaten. Aha, 
 so ; it was clear. The engineer had put a spoke in the 
 fellow's wheel. Then I walked to the door and saw the 
 two get into a car and start on the trail this way. After 
 that, I resumed my supper. You perceive, the man had 
 taken the girl away from the wolf." 
 
 Martinez' restless eyes wandered about the room as 
 he digested this account. 
 
 "Did you see the dead man?" he inquired, casually. 
 
 "Yes, senor." 
 
 Their looks met, held for an instant, dropped. Each 
 read the thought of the other: the motive for the at- 
 tack on the engineer was clear. But some convictions 
 are better not expressed. 
 
 "I should have liked to see Senor Weir do the shoot- 
 ing," Naharo stated. "Dios, such shooting! Two 
 shots, two hits. And in the dark !" 
 
 Martinez* grinned. 
 
 "It will not please whoever hired the dead man. He 
 was hired for the job, of course." 
 
 "Unquestionably, senor," was the reply.
 
 CHAPTER VIH 
 
 THE GATHERING STOBM 
 
 AT the inquest next morning no outward sign indi- 
 cated what Weir's enemies might be at. Indeed, none 
 of them was present. The engineer made a statement; 
 the two witnesses, Janet Hosmer and Felipe Martinez, 
 were briefly interrogated, and the finding was returned 
 that the unknown Mexican had met death from two 
 bullet wounds while attempting to kill Steele Weir. 
 
 One spectator there was who took a strong interest 
 in proceedings, Ed Sorenson. When, however, Janet 
 Hosmer was notified by her father, who was in charge, 
 that she could withdraw, the young fellow hastened to 
 lead her away, with an audible remark that it was a 
 shame she had had to be "dragged into this disreputable 
 gun-man's bloody show." Meaning Steele Weir, natu- 
 rally. 
 
 That feeling was being intensified against him was 
 only too apparent in the hostile manner of the crowd 
 and in the silence with which it received the finding. 
 There was his former unpopularity, to begin with ; there 
 was now added a race resentment, for the slain man, 
 stranger though he was, was Mexican; and finally, he 
 knew not what distilled poison of lies concerning his 
 innocence in the night fray. Nothing more was needed 
 to reveal the swelling hate which secret fear of Weir 
 but increased than a volley of curses and abuse hurled 
 
 83
 
 84, IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 at his head from a native saloon doorway as he passed 
 in his car on his way home. 
 
 During 1 the following week the engineer was too oc- 
 cupied with dam work to have time for other matters. 
 He pushed the concrete construction and inspired his 
 men with something of his own indomitable spirit, who 
 had learned of the cowardly attack in San Mateo and 
 rallied to his standard with a zeal and ardor for which 
 the fact of employment alone did not account. He had 
 become a leader as well as their "boss." From Meyers 
 down to the humblest workman the camp had for him a 
 new admiration, a new respect and a new loyalty, which 
 he could not help but feel; he had proved that he could 
 deliver the "goods"; and if the Mexicans wanted war, 
 the Americans here would be glad to oblige them. Nor 
 did they wait to let San Mateo know the fact. 
 
 "We're wid 'Cold Steel' Weir, our boss, four hundred 
 of us, till ye can skate on hell," a huge Irishman, one of 
 half a dozen standing at Verse's bar on Saturday night, 
 remarked when the saloon-man uttered a sneer at the 
 manager. "Say that agin and we'll tear your rotten 
 booze joint to pieces and make ye eat it! And if an- 
 other stinkin' greaser tries to wing him from the dark, 
 we'll come down here and wipe your dirty little town off 
 the map! That goes both ways from the jack!" He 
 snapped his fingers under the other's nose by way of 
 added insult. 
 
 A petty series of hostile acts against the company 
 developed. Teamsters were stoned by boys, which left 
 them raging and murderous to discover the men who 
 set them on. Half a carload of cement in sacks was 
 ripped open and emptied on the earth at Bowenville. 
 After Meyers, Weir's assistant, found his automobile 
 tires slashed to bits on coming out of the post-office in
 
 THE GATHERING STORM 85 
 
 San Mateo, it became necessary always to go in pairs, 
 one man to remain on watch. Weir himself just avoided 
 a serious accident one evening at dusk while a mile from 
 the dam when he instinctively ducked in his car as some- 
 thing grazed the top of his wind-shield. A wire had been 
 stretched across the road from a telephone pole to a 
 tree, at just the height to strike him at the throat. 
 
 He halted and removed the deadly contrivance. Men 
 on watch of his movements could have prepared it 
 against his return; and, indeed, he thought he detected 
 a pair of flitting shadows behind a row of willow bushes 
 lining a Mexican irrigation ditch, but in the dusk he 
 could not be sure. On running thither, he found no 
 one. 
 
 The camp was not of a temper, however, to allow the 
 attacks to be all on one side. Atkinson, the superin- 
 tendent, came to Weir one morning towards the end of 
 the week and informed him workmen were drifting down 
 to San Mateo nightly in hope of trouble. 
 
 "They'll get a knife put into them," Steele Weir re- 
 plied, with a frown that did not entirely hide his satis- 
 faction at this evidence of support. 
 
 "Maybe; and again maybe not," the superintendent 
 stated, grinning. "A bunch jumped some of our boys 
 last night and I guess when the dust settled there wertf 
 a couple of Mexicans beaten nearly to death." 
 
 "Call the men all together this noon," Weir ordered. 
 
 At that hour he gave them a talk for what he called 
 their long-eared cussedness, and laid down a little law 
 and wound up with a number of reasonable explanations 
 for the same. Every man who went out hunting trouble 
 was a camp liability, and would be fired. He did not 
 propose to give the town authorities a chance to jail 
 workmen and impair the dam work, just the thing they
 
 86 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 were waiting to do. The men should keep away from 
 San Mateo, or at least avoid disputes and rows. If they 
 spent no money there whatever it would sting the town 
 where it would hurt the most, in its pocket-book; and 
 he himself was transferring the company bank account 
 to Bowenville, by way of example. If any man felt 
 the need of change from camp, he could have two days 
 off at the end of the month to spend at Bowenville. But 
 keep away from the Mexicans ! 
 
 "And if they come up here huntin* us when we show 
 up no more?" yelled the same big Irishman who had 
 paid his respects to Vorse. 
 
 "In that case, tear their heads off," was the reply. 
 "But put on your gloves first or you'll dirty your 
 fingers." Which bit of rough humor caught the crowd's 
 fancy and won a roar of laughter. 
 
 Later as the crowd dispersed to eat Atkinson said to 
 Meyers, "The boss knows how to handle men all right, 
 all right; he put sugar on the pill. The gang went off 
 grinning. They know they've got to be good but only 
 up to a limit." 
 
 Meantime Felipe Martinez had not been idle. He 
 rode up to engineering headquarters on his pony one 
 evening and carried Weir out into the open where their 
 words would not be overheard. He reported that he 
 was quietly working for information of Weir's father 
 among the older Mexicans who would be likely to re- 
 member him, but proceeding cautiously so that no one 
 would suspect his purpose. He represented himself to 
 them as undertaking to write a history of San Mateo 
 County; he must depend upon them for data of early 
 days ; it would be a fine book bound in leather, in which 
 their names and possibly their pictures would appear; 
 which never failed to flatter the parties with whom
 
 THE GATHERING STORM 87 
 
 he talked. And the lawyer laughed with amusement 
 as he related the success of his method. 
 
 "I have already seen some thirty or forty people, 
 a few of whom recalled your father, but no more. But 
 this afternoon," he continued, "I discovered a woman 
 who worked at the Weir ranch house." Martinez per- 
 ceived the engineer's attention quicken. "She said the 
 Weirs had a little boy of four years of age, perhaps 
 five. You, Mr. Weir, of course. They suddenly paid 
 and discharged her one day, packed a trunk and drove 
 hurriedly off; and the next morning Sorenson took 
 possession of the ranch and she went home. They 
 drove off in a great haste there was no railroad any- 
 where near here then and that was the last she ever 
 saw or heard of them." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "One thing more there was: she said there was a 
 story that went around for awhile afterwards that 
 Weir and another had lost their ranches and cattle 
 gambling. For that reason Weir left the country; 
 and for that reason, too, the other man, Dent, by name, 
 committed suicide in Vorse's saloon where they had 
 gambled. She said Saurez, an old man living with his 
 son up a little creek, would know about that, for he used 
 to clean out Vorse's bar-room in those days." 
 
 Steele Weir grasped Martinez's shoulder in a quick 
 grip. 
 
 "He did! Get everything he knows out of him," 
 he commanded. 
 
 "Leave it to me, Mr. Weir. I understand how to 
 wheedle facts out of these old fellows." 
 
 But it was doubtful if the engineer heard his words. 
 He had dropped his hand, stood opening and shutting
 
 88 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 his fingers, while on his face grew the hard implacable 
 look that always whetted the attorney's curiosity. 
 
 Weir walked up on the hillside when Martinez had 
 ridden away and there sat down on a rock. It was a 
 rift, though but a faint rift, that this news made in the 
 blank dark wall he had to confront ; and he wished to 
 think. Proof as well as knowledge of what had hap- 
 pened in his father's case was what he must have. Act- 
 ing on intuition he had been able to put fear into the 
 hearts of the four men responsible for making his fa- 
 ther's life a hell, but proof of their guilt was necessary 
 to make them suffer in a similar fashion, to reveal their 
 crime to the world, to destroy them. Now at last, here 
 was a possibility. If this former roustabout of the 
 saloon knew anything! 
 
 Well, he must be patient the mill of the gods grinds 
 slowly. But when finally he had gained all the strands 
 and woven the net ! Unconsciously his hands arose be- 
 fore his face like talons closing on prey and shut on air, 
 until their veins swelled. That was how he would serve 
 them, those men. Though they might fall on their 
 knees and implore mercy, not one beat of pity should 
 move his heart. 
 
 It was almost dark when he arose. Behind him the 
 great peaks soared against the last greenish twilight. 
 In the shacks the camp lamps were showing at windows. 
 At one side and in the canyon the concrete core of the 
 dam appeared white in the gloom, like a bank of snow. 
 The murmur of voices, an occasional distant laugh, 
 came from men's quarters. 
 
 Presently he slanted down the hillside past the camp, 
 until he struck into a road leading towards town, where 
 he began to walk forward, hatless and without coat, 
 through the soft dusk. He was disinclined for work as
 
 THE GATHERING STORM 89 
 
 yet, the work always piled on his desk ; he desired yet 
 for a little to rest his spirit in the evening calm. 
 
 His thoughts had softened and turned to Janet Hos- 
 mer. He had not seen her since the morning at the 
 court house. He had not spoken with her since that 
 interview upon her veranda, which had terminated 
 with his shocked utterance. That he had thus given 
 away to his feeling he had a hundred times repented; 
 and that he had so bruskly departed he was profoundly 
 chagrined. But what could he have done? No ex- 
 planation was possible. The situation in which he had 
 been allowed of but one thing, escape. 
 
 With the rising tide of emotion reflected by memory 
 of that moment his steps had quickened. All at once 
 he discovered before him the rippling sheen of water. 
 He was at Chico Creek, a mile from camp, where he first 
 had met Janet Hosmer. Engaged with his tangled prob- 
 lem, he had been unaware of the distance covered. 
 
 Pausing but an instant he waded through, smiling to 
 himself at thought of that afternoon's spirited encoun- 
 ter with the girl. She had not dreamed then, nor he, 
 that events would fling them together in a more dra- 
 matic second meeting at Martinez' door. 
 
 Suddenly he perceived a white-clad figure before him, 
 standing motionless, leaning forward to peer his way 
 as he walked forth from the ford. 
 
 "It's you, Mr. Weir?" came in soft inquiry. 
 
 "Yes. How in the world do you happen to be here, 
 Janet Hosmer?" 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "I thought I recognized you marching through the 
 stream, so I wasn't alarmed." 
 
 *No one would think of harming you, Fm sure."
 
 90 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "But anyway I should have vanished if you had been 
 a stranger." 
 
 "Not being one, you remained. I had no idea of 
 such luck as this when I set out for a walk." 
 
 Both pleasure and satisfaction sounded in his voice. 
 
 "I was just taking a little stroll myself," said she-
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED AIXY 
 
 "LET me take the chance first thing to apologize for 
 my behavior the night we talked on your porch,'* Steele 
 Weir exclaimed. "Your statement of being engaged 
 surprised me into words and conduct that has had me 
 in an unhappy state of mind ever since. Mr. Soren- 
 son's talk to the crowd stirred my anger. Had I known 
 your exact relationship to him and his son, I should 
 have made no mistakes." 
 
 "I had urged you to speak, had I not?" 
 "Grant that. But I don't stand excused." 
 "There was no questioning the sincerity of your 
 last expression that night, in any case," she said. 
 "But I've not been indignant because of what you ex- 
 claimed or because you hate the Sorensons. 'Hate* 
 isn't too strong a word, is it ? I'm none the less inter- 
 ested however to know what it's all about. You see 
 I don't take any stock in the reasons commonly given: 
 that you're a 'bad man,' an agent of a rich corpora- 
 tion trying to put our people out of business, a public 
 menace and all the rest." 
 
 "Is that what they say ?" Weir asked, with a laugh. 
 "Part of it. Nor does it fool father, for he said 
 only yesterday that there's something more at bottom 
 of the feeling against you than merely a fight of mon- 
 eyed interests. He knows from what I told him that 
 that dead man tried to murder you; yet he hears con- 
 
 91
 
 92 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 stant talk of your 'crime,* of evidence being gathered 
 against you by the county attorney, Mr. Lucerio, and 
 of the penalty you shall pay. All absurd, to be sure." 
 
 "Mr. Martinez tells me the same," Steele responded. 
 "But he says also that all the people do not believe the 
 stories." 
 
 "That's true." And she appeared to reflect upon 
 the circumstance. 
 
 To Weir nothing could be stranger than this talk 
 on the dark road with the girl who, too, should be natu- 
 rally opposed to him. In fact, here at this very spot 
 and at their first meeting she had announced herself as 
 a critic and an enemy. He could smile over that now ; 
 she herself probably did smile at the recollection. Yet 
 she was calmly discussing his situation without animus 
 or even unfriendliness. 
 
 How could that be possible if she actually loved 
 the man whom she expected to marry, Ed Sorenson? 
 Why did she not at once spring to arms in defense 
 of the Sorenson side? Unless unless she suspected 
 the baseness of her lover and his father, and fear had 
 replaced love. 
 
 All at once she spoke. 
 
 "They will put you in jail if they can, and bring 
 you to trial, and and " 
 
 "And hang me, that's what you hesitate to say," 
 Steele finished for her. ''Whom do you mean by 
 'they'?" 
 
 "The people." 
 
 "Are the people here in this county really 'they'? 
 Do the people, that is, the mass of poor ignorant Mex- 
 icans, have anything to do with public affairs? Both 
 you and I know they do not." 
 
 "Why deny it!" she sighed. "It's generally known
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ALLY 93 
 
 that four men, with a few more at their skirts, run 
 things. They nominate the men who are to fill office 
 there's only one political party in the county worth 
 mentioning and give them orders and expect them to 
 obey. For that reason father would never accept an 
 office. He could be coroner ; he could be county treas- 
 urer; he could go to the legislature; or anything else 
 if he would but wear their political livery. But he 
 prefers to be a free man. I used to think nothing of it, 
 see no wrong in such a state of affairs, for everything 
 went along well enough and about the same as ever as 
 far as I could see." 
 
 "Possibly you didn't see everything that was oc- 
 curring below the surface even then." 
 
 "Exactly what father told me yesterday. We talked 
 about everything under the sun, I imagine. And I 
 informed him that you walked home with me the night 
 of the shooting; I had not spoken of it before." 
 
 "That was proper ; he should know it." 
 
 "He doesn't share in the feeling against you, Mr. 
 Weir, let me assure you of that. Ever since he heard 
 my explanation of the shooting and then met you at 
 the inquest, he's convinced that you're being done a 
 great injustice." 
 
 Steele experienced a warm glow of pleasure. 
 
 "I liked your father at first sight," said he, simply. 
 "But where does all this leave us?" He spoke in a 
 light tone of amusement that he was far from feeling. 
 "Our position is odd." 
 
 "It is," she assented so earnestly that he began to 
 laugh. 
 
 "You mustn't allow it to disturb you. I'm really 
 presuming upon your kindness of heart and innocence 
 in enjoying your company now. Acquaintance with
 
 94 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 me is a rather serious matter here in San Mateo and 
 carries consequences. You don't think for an instant 
 that I'd allow my personal pleasure and pleasure it 
 is to be with you, needless to say to bring you into 
 ill-favor among your friends and to make you the sub- 
 ject of gossip. I appreciate your good spirit towards 
 me; and I admire you greatly. But it will be well if I 
 admire you at a distance hereafter." 
 
 "I don't see whose business it is except mine." 
 
 To Steele Weir it was like pushing aside the only 
 thing that brightened his hard, toilsome existence thus 
 to abjure future companionship with her. 
 
 "Good heavens, do you fancy that comes easy for 
 me to say?" he exclaimed, drawing a deep breath. "I 
 never before knew any one who well, I'll stop there." 
 
 "Who what?" she demanded. 
 
 "I nearly overstepped the bounds." 
 
 "Oh, that's it." 
 
 What imp of perversity was in the girl? Weir 
 stared at her for a moment through the gloom. 
 
 And then she remarked that she must be returning 
 home, and said she would be glad if he would accom- 
 pany her part way as there was a Mexican's house half 
 way to town where a particularly vicious dog always 
 rushed out. The dog rushed out exactly as she had 
 predicted, barking savagely, so that she slipped her 
 arm into the engineer's and held fast until they were 
 past. 
 
 "He does that only after dark ; I hadn't expected to 
 walk so far and it was still light when I set out," said 
 she. 
 
 The touch of her fingers on his sleeve, the light 
 swing of her form at his side, the subtle fragrance that 
 emanated from her hair and face, this intimate near-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ALLY 95 
 
 ness on the dark road, the heavy scent of flowers in 
 the bordering fields, all sent the blood thumping from 
 his heart. If he if he were in Ed Sorenson's place, 
 what love he could pour out ! 
 
 Ed Sorenson, the double-faced wretch who while en- 
 gaged to her had attempted to entice away for his own 
 vile gratification the simple, trustful girl on Terry 
 Creek, he was to marry this sweet and charming com- 
 panion. What diabolical tragedies life could mix! 
 
 "See, the moon is rising," she said. 
 
 Over the edge of the mesa the yellow globe was 
 bulging, rayless for the moment, round and full. 
 
 "We're almost at the edge of town, and I'll stop 
 here," he replied. "As I said, I'd not bring down upon 
 your head a single unpleasant word." 
 
 "My head's not so tender," she responded quickly. 
 "But I think you're right for the present." A tight 
 little smile followed the words. "We'll see." 
 
 "That's best." 
 
 "But I propose to stand by you. I told you that 
 night I couldn't remain indifferent when I saw an inno- 
 cent man persecuted." 
 
 "You give me a tremendous amount of happiness.'* 
 
 "If I do, I'm glad. I don't believe you ever had 
 much of it. Do you know what is said? That you 
 never smile. But I can swear that isn't true, and I'm 
 beginning to wonder if you really are Heavens, what 
 was I about to say !" 
 
 "Go ahead. It's nothing terrible, I wager." 
 
 "Well, I won't finish that, but I'll ask a question 
 even more impertinent, if I may. Frankly, I'm dying 
 of curiosity to know." 
 
 Weir turned his head to listen to the approach of a 
 horseman. He could see the man galloping towards
 
 them for town, having turned into the road from a lane 
 a short distance off, his horse's hoofs striking an occa- 
 sional spark from a stone. Then the engineer looked 
 smilingly at Janet Hosmer. 
 
 "I'll tell you anything or almost anything.** One 
 subject alone was sealed. 
 
 "It's that name." 
 
 "Name?" 
 
 " 'Cold Steel.' How did you get it?" 
 
 "It was just pinned on me a few years ago. I'm not 
 particularly proud of it. I don't even know the rogue 
 who gave me the label. And it means nothing." 
 
 "Even you enemies are using it, and I understand 
 what it signifies." She bent her eyes upon him for a 
 time. "That is, what it signifies to your friends." 
 
 "And to my enemies?" 
 
 "More gossip. They say it's because you're a gun- 
 man and a knife-man. Oh, I wish I didn't have to have 
 my ears filled with such vicious slander ! But it means 
 the same to enemies as to friends if they would but 
 admit it. I'll wait until this rider passes, then I must 
 go." 
 
 No thought of friends or foes, both, or of any such 
 person as Ed Sorenson in particular, was in Steele's 
 mind as he made answer. 
 
 "I'd stand here forever if you didn't go," he said, 
 with a low eagerness that caused her breath to flutter 
 in spite of herself. 
 
 On her part, her mind was whispering, "He means 
 it, I believe he really means it." Which caused her to 
 lift and lower her eyes hurriedly, and feel a peculiar 
 sense of trepidation and excitement. Odd to state, she, 
 too, just then had no recollection of any such being as 
 Ed Sorenson, which was the extreme of unloverliness.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED ALLY 97 
 
 "Before I do go, I've something to tell you," she 
 said hurriedly, dropping her voice. "It's this : the dead 
 man's name was" here her tone went down to a mere 
 sibilance "Pete Ortez." 
 
 He leaned forward, once again the hard fierce man 
 she had seen in Martinez' office the night of the shoot- 
 ing. 
 
 "How did you learn that?" 
 
 "It well, it was let slip inadvertently in my pres- 
 ence." 
 
 Weir would not press her further. Nor was there 
 need, for the sudden embarrassment on her face and 
 indeed the information itself could have but one source, 
 the man who knew, Ed Sorenson. 
 
 "You're the equal of a thousand ordinary friends," 
 he declared. "I can make use of that item. Step aside, 
 please ; we're in the middle of the road." And he drew 
 her from in front of the horseman advancing upon 
 them. 
 
 They said nothing, but waited for the man to pass. 
 But he pulled his mount from a gallop to a trot, and 
 from a trot to a foot pace, and at last when squarely 
 even with them came to a full stop. From under his 
 broad hat brim he silently considered the girl in white 
 summer dress and the bare-headed engineer. 
 
 Then he began to shake with laughter, which lasted 
 but an instant. So insulting, so sinister was that 
 noiseless laugh that Janet's hand had flown to Weir's 
 arm, which she nervously clutched. As for Weir, his 
 limbs stiffened she felt the tightening of the arm she 
 grasped as a tiger's body grows taut preparatory to 
 a spring. 
 
 The short, fleshy, insolent rider sitting there in the 
 moonlight was Burkhardt.
 
 98 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Ed Sorenson better keep an eye on his little turtle- 
 dove," he remarked. And touching heel to his animal 
 he swung ahead for town. 
 
 For one dazed minute they stared after him. 
 
 "Shoot him !" she suddenly said, through shut teeth. 
 
 "I haven't my gun along, or I'd be glad to oblige 
 you." 
 
 "He deserves killing, the wretch !" 
 
 "On more accounts than one," he replied, quietly. 
 
 So quietly and so gravely, in truth, that her gust of 
 rage subsided before the low-spoken menace of the 
 words. No quick anger was his but a steady and 
 deadly purpose. Again she felt the hard-held force, 
 the mystery of the man, as if flowing suddenly upward 
 from subterranean channels. What wrong had he 
 suffered, what undeserved torture at the hands of this 
 man and others thus to freeze his soul ? 
 
 But he immediately turned to her, asking, "Does that 
 upset the broth?" 
 
 A wan smile greeted his words. 
 
 "I expect it will keep the cook busy, anyway," she 
 said,
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BY BIGHT OF POSSESSION 
 
 JANET HOSMER made no effort to guess what her 
 fiance would say when next he called, or to prepare a 
 defense of explanations and excuses. She was not that 
 kind. What was necessary to be stated at the proper 
 time would arise to her lips. Nevertheless she had a 
 heaviness of heart, a natural distress as to the unpleas- 
 antness in prospect; and had only the slightest hope 
 that Ed would ignore or refuse to hear Burkhardt'a 
 story. The man would tell her lover, of that she might 
 rest assured, out of hatred for the engineer if for no 
 other reason. 
 
 She knew how passionately Ed was set against Steele 
 Weir, for a score of times she had heard his incensed 
 opinions, increasing lately to tirades. It had seemed 
 strange at first that one could be so bitter over a sim- 
 ple difference like that of who should work at the dam. 
 But ever since Weir had uttered his hoarse exclama- 
 tion regarding her engagement, words so full of pro- 
 test and amazed indignation, she was aware the cause 
 went deeper. 
 
 At that moved ejaculation of her companion that 
 night something, too, had settled on her heart like a 
 weight an indefinable foreboding. The anxiety 
 aroused about Ed's father and his integrity came to 
 include Ed likewise. Loyalty of course required that 
 
 99
 
 100 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 she accept the man she had promised to marry, with- 
 out reservations. As between him and others there 
 should be but one choice. But did she really know 
 him? Was he simply the open, jolly, generous, upright 
 adoring fellow he appeared? Or were there less pleas- 
 ant, more ignoble sides to his character? Was he, as 
 well as his father, capable of a mean, unworthy, selfish 
 persecution of another? 
 
 The engineer had made no open accusation against 
 him or against any one, for that matter. She had 
 done her best to get him to express himself, but he had 
 refused. Enemies he might have, but he would not dis- 
 cuss the fact beyond admitting it was true. Only at 
 moments when his restraint slipped could she measure 
 his feelings. Quite different that from Ed Sorenson's 
 voluble, heated denunciations of the other. Yet, 
 heavens, how appalled this reserved man had been at 
 hearing of her engagement ! Far more than words, far 
 more than any open charge, did his face and incredu- 
 lity, both so patently sincere, bespeak the mistake she 
 was making and justify gnawing doubts of her lover. 
 
 As she approached her home Ed Sorenson came 
 dashing out to spring into his runabout waiting before 
 the gate. At sight of her he pulled up short. 
 
 "Ah, here you are," he said. 
 
 "Yes, here I am," was her reply. 
 
 "You doubtless know what I've been told," he stated, 
 significantly. 
 
 "No, I don't. I can only suspect." 
 
 "Is it true you've been meeting this man Weir on 
 the quiet? Meeting him while engaged to me? You 
 know what I think of him, and what every other re- 
 spectable person thinks of him." 
 
 "Was that Mr. Burkhardt's report? That I am
 
 BY RIGHT OF POSSESSION 101 
 
 meeting Mr. Weir on the quiet, to use your words?" 
 she countered. 
 
 Sorenson made an angry gesture at what he consid- 
 ered an evasion. 
 
 "Janet, listen. He said he saw you at the edge of 
 town, that you were both bare-headed, standing close 
 together, arms locked. Good heavens, can't you imag- 
 ine my feelings on hearing what he had to say! He 
 stopped me on the street and drew me aside to put me 
 on my guard, he said. Burkhardt wouldn't just make 
 up a yarn like that against you, and he's a good friend 
 of mine. He didn't say half what he suggested." 
 
 The girl turned her face towards the house, shut her 
 eyes for an instant. She could picture the rider's 
 brutal leering face and unspoken insinuations; and 
 her brain also placed in the scene her lover greedily if 
 angrily drinking in the tale. Harkening to it instead 
 of knocking the man down, that was the worst of it. 
 Harkening and believing. 
 
 "I'll not deign to resent your remark of meeting Mr. 
 Weir 'on the quiet'," said she, quietly. "I met him on 
 the road accidentally." 
 
 "Don't you think I'm entitled to know something 
 about it?" he asked, with an edged tone. 
 
 "What is it you desire to know?" 
 
 Nearly an oath of wrath escaped his mouth, but he 
 kept his control. 
 
 "Janet, you know what kind of a man he is," he 
 said. "You know what I feel against him, and father, 
 and all our friends, and the town. And the whole town, 
 too, will probably hear of this, with a lot of gossip 
 added that isn't true." 
 
 "But I met him accidentally."
 
 102 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "You didn't have to chat with him like an old 
 friend." 
 
 Janet Hosmer gave him a slow, meditative look. 
 
 "How do you know how I talked with him?" 
 
 "You talked with him. That in itself was too much." 
 
 "I don't view it in that light," she responded. "He 
 was perfectly civil. Whatever public opinion may be 
 regarding the shooting, I know he killed the man in self- 
 defence. So that's nothing against him. You would 
 have done the same in his place." 
 
 Ed Sorenson leaned towards her. 
 
 "You were mistaken, Janet. I've said before that I 
 feared you were, but the prosecuting attorney has wit- 
 nesses to the gun-play that he's dug up. Martinez saw 
 nothing; how could he from inside the office? And 
 remember that you're only a girl, Janet; in the dark- 
 ness and with the excitement you were confused. I 
 haven't a doubt this scoundrel Weir made you believe 
 you saw what never occurred, when you appeared in 
 Martinez' office. When you've thought it over, you'll 
 realize that yourself. These new witnesses tell just 
 the reverse of what you fancied happened. I'm going 
 to see that you're away from San Mateo when the 
 man's tried, as he will be." 
 
 No reply coming from her, he continued : 
 
 "He deceived you then and he'll endeavor to poison 
 your mind right along. You're too trustful. Now, I 
 was angry at first, but if there was anything in this 
 meeting to-night that was out of the way, it was his 
 doing, I know. If he got familiar with you, as Burk- 
 hardt hinted " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I'll kill the dog with my own hands !"
 
 BY RIGHT OF POSSESSION 103 
 
 "You may rest easy. His conduct was irreproach- 
 able, Mr. Burkhardt to the contrary." 
 
 Sorenson regarded her in perplexity, divided be- 
 tween anger and doubts. Too, a new feeling unac- 
 countably sprang into his breast jealousy. In the 
 end apprehension all at once filled his mind, darkening 
 his face and bringing down his brows. 
 
 Uneasy as at first he had been after the row in the 
 restaurant, he had eventually dismissed the matter from 
 his mind, for no rumor of it had reached San Mateo. 
 Neither Weir nor Johnson, the girl's father, had 
 blabbed of it, so his alarm passed; they didn't want 
 to talk of it for the girl's sake, any more than he 
 wished it known, was his grinning conclusion. The 
 deuce would have been to pay if Janet had got wind of 
 the business. But now his fears came winging back a 
 hundred-fold as he stared at her. 
 
 "What did he say to you?" he asked, in a tense 
 voice. 
 
 "Not that tone with me, if you please." 
 
 Sorenson, however, was past observation of her mood 
 or temper. 
 
 "He told you a lot of lies about me, didn't he?" he 
 went on, not hiding the sneer. "And you believed 
 them." 
 
 "He didn't say much, but what he did say was to 
 the point. I don't recall that there were any lies." 
 
 "There were, of course. It would be just his chance 
 to give you his made-up story about me and that John- 
 son girl. That was what so interested you." 
 
 "No, he didn't say anything about you and any girl 
 except me. Then he only said he was sorry he couldn't 
 have the pleasure of my friendship "
 
 104 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Ay-ee," the other grated. His lips worked above 
 his teeth. 
 
 A shudder passed over Janet Hosmer's skin at the 
 sound and the sight, for she had never seen him like 
 this. A cold hand might have been closing about her 
 heart : his glare was animal-like and bestial. His na- 
 ture at the instant stood unclothed. 
 
 "And he said he would be at pains to avoid even 
 chance meetings with me, because it would make talk 
 and cause me annoyance." 
 
 "He'll not meet you another time if I have anything 
 to say about it." 
 
 "I see. But I wanted you to understand that he 
 told me no lies, nor repeated any story about you and 
 a Johnson girl, I think you said." 
 
 A visible breath of relief lifted his breast. He now 
 would have been glad for some one to boot him along 
 the street for ever mentioning the thing. He almost 
 had put his foot in it. Apparently she was not inter- 
 ested in seeking further knowledge of the subject that 
 he so ill-advisedly had brought up. Lucky for him she 
 hadn't the inquisitiveness of some girls. 
 
 The narrow escape restored a trace of his good 
 humor, and he was shrewd enough to divert her mind 
 before the incident made an impression. He reached 
 out and patted her shoulder. 
 
 "Don't think me a scold, darling," said he. "Burk- 
 hardt upset me with his news, that was all. He hates 
 that gun-man so much that it's no wonder he was angry 
 at seeing him hoodwink you. He probably imagined a 
 lot. Just don't speak to Weir if he tries to stop you 
 again. And pretty soon we'll have him where he won't 
 interfere with anybody." 
 
 "When will that be?"
 
 BY RIGHT OF POSSESSION 105 
 
 "The county attorney's still collecting evidence. 
 Nothing will be done before the grand jury meets, which 
 is in a couple of weeks. You must arrange to go off 
 on a visit about that time." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "So you won't have to go through the ordeal of 
 appearing in court. There are ways of fixing such 
 things." He laughed softly. "EspeciaEy here in San 
 Mateo County. It's too rotten a business for you to 
 have to step into, this murder. Come along down to 
 the drug store and have some ice cream." 
 
 "Not to-night. I'm feeling a little tired." 
 
 "Then let us rest on your porch. I haven't seen 
 you twice in the last week." 
 
 "Some other evening, Ed. I promised father to help 
 get up his account books." 
 
 "You're not angry with me" he asked. "If you're 
 not, give me a kiss before I go." 
 
 A sharp smile showed on her lips. 
 
 "I'm not angry, but I'm going to penalize you to 
 that extent. If you must have a cheek to press, go 
 
 kiss " She paused, while the conviction darted into 
 
 his mind that she had remembered that Johnson girl 
 blunder after all, then said: "Mr. Burkhardt's cheek." 
 
 Again relief swept him. 
 
 "Come, be kind, Janet," he began. But she was 
 already through the gate and skipping up the walk, 
 vanishing in the gloom of the veranda. The screen 
 door clapped shut. "Peeved, all right. I'll have to be 
 extra-nice to her for a day or so until she calms down," 
 he murmured to himself. "Must send her a box of 
 chocolates and some magazines to-morrow to show my 
 contrite heart; that always gets 'em. Hang it, it's 
 time to fix a day, too. We've been engaged long
 
 106 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 enough. She sure has a figure and face a beaut! I 
 guess she didn't smell the booze on my breath. Got to 
 be careful about that till we're married." He jumped 
 into his car. 
 
 The screen door had clapped shut, but Janet had not 
 entered. She had employed the artifice to convey the 
 impression it had. She did not wish to go in to her 
 work just yet, for calm as she had appeared during the 
 interview her emotions were running full tide. Love 
 Ed Sorenson? Marry him? She groped for and 
 dropped into a wicker chair, her head sinking in shame 
 and self-abasement. Never never! 
 
 And before her mind swam another face, a face with 
 the hair ruffled about the brow, clear of eyes and 
 strong-lined, as she had beheld it in the moonlight of 
 the road. 
 
 All at once she tugged at a finger, fiercely pulling 
 off the engagement ring. She rubbed her cheek as well, 
 with an angry hand, for the memory of kisses was burn- 
 ing her as by fire. 
 
 Then she sat quite motionless for a long time. 
 
 "I'll just ask father," she exclaimed. "There can't 
 be more than a dozen Johnsons around here." 
 
 Which would have given Ed Sorenson a fresh jolt 
 in his breathing apparatus if he had overheard, and 
 shriveled the cocky self-assurance with which he sipped 
 a high-ball that moment at Vorse's bar.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 JANET AND MART 
 
 IN a region as sparsely settled by white people as 
 San Mateo and its adjoining counties there were not, 
 as Janet put it, more than a dozen Johnson families. 
 In fact, there were but two, she learned from her 
 father: one at Bowenville, the small railroad town of 
 three hundred people, a merchant with a wife and four 
 little children; the other a rancher on Terry Creek, 
 whose wife was dead and who had one child, a girl of 
 sixteen or seventeen years of age. 
 
 "I may be away at dinner time, so don't wait for 
 me," she told her father next morning. "I'm going 
 out in the country a few miles and you know my car ! 
 If you'd just let me squeeze some of these patients who 
 never pay, you could have a new car yourself." 
 
 "Mine's all right," he smiled. 
 
 "But mine isn't. Look at it. You gave it to me 
 only because you scorned to ride in it any longer your- 
 self. It would do for me, you said, but you prance 
 around in a bright shiny one yourself. I blush at the 
 row mine makes ; sounds like a boiler factory ; I drive 
 only along side streets. If the patients would pay 
 what they owe, I could ride like a lady instead of a 
 slinking magpie." 
 
 The doctor leaned back in his chair and laughed 
 (they were at breakfast) and remarked that old friends 
 were best. 
 
 107
 
 "Don't call my asthmatic tin beast a friend; we're 
 bitter enemies,'* said she. 
 
 It carried her to Terry Creek about noon, however, 
 safely enough, whither she went with a firm resolution 
 that crushed a certain embarrassment and anxiety. 
 Suppose these people resented her inquiries. 
 
 She placed the bearded, tanned rancher at once, when 
 she saw him working on a piece of harness before the 
 door as she drove up. She had seen him in town at dif- 
 ferent times. She once had stopped here, too, several 
 years previous when accompanying her father, who had 
 been called to dress the rancher's injured hand. The 
 girl could not have been over twelve or thirteen then, 
 a shabby, awkward girl wearing a braid who came out 
 to gaze shyly at her sitting in the car. 
 
 Johnson arose from the ground and approached as 
 she alighted, while the girl's head popped into sight 
 at the door. 
 
 "I'm Dr. Hosmer's daughter, Janet," she stated, put- 
 ting out her hand and smiling. "I've come to see you 
 on a matter. Shall we go into the house?" 
 
 With curiosity sharing a vague hostility in his bear- 
 ing he led her in, where his daughter was setting the 
 table. Janet also told the girl who she was. At once 
 dismay and startlement greeted the announcement. 
 But she invited Janet to be seated, she herself with- 
 drawing to a spot by the stove. 
 
 No need for Janet to beat about the bush with her 
 errand. 
 
 "Mr. Johnson," she said, "I've come to you and 
 your daughter for a little help if you can give it." 
 That seemed the best way to break down their reserve, 
 an appeal rather than simply blunt questions and 
 what was it if not an appeal? "What I have to say is
 
 JANET AND MARY 109 
 
 just among the three of us and I know it will go no 
 farther. You're acquainted with ray father; he's re- 
 spected by every one." 
 
 "He is," Johnson stated, nodding. 
 
 "The situation is this, to speak plainly: last night 
 I heard something that has caused me to come to you 
 for information; I'm engaged to Ed Sorenson, and in 
 a moment of anger he denounced Mr. Weir, the en- 
 gineer at the dam, for having told me a false story 
 lies about him and your daughter." 
 
 Janet perceived the quick, troubled look exchanged 
 by man and girl. 
 
 "Mr. Weir has never mentioned your daughter's 
 name in my hearing; I think him incapable of discuss- 
 ing any one maliciously. He's very careful of what 
 he says. I consider him a very honorable man. At any 
 rate, he said nothing of what Ed Sorenson suggested, 
 and if the latter himself hadn't spoken of the thing 
 I should have had no inkling that there had been any- 
 thing justifying an inquiry on my part. There may 
 not be. But why should he imagine Mr. Weir had told 
 me 'lies' linking him and your daughter?" 
 
 "I know Weir and I know Ed Sorenson, too," was 
 the rancher's grim rejoinder. 
 
 "This is a disagreeable subject, I know. But I'm 
 not here out of mere curiosity, but a desire to learn if 
 something has been concealed from me by Ed Soren- 
 son that I should be informed of. His manner, his 
 words, the whole incident has filled me with doubts. 
 See, I'm trusting you absolutely." And she extended 
 a hand in a gesture bespeaking sincerity. 
 
 Johnson peered at her in silence from under shaggy 
 brows. 
 
 "I ask myself why Mr. Sorenson took it for granted
 
 110 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 that the engineer had been telling me false stories and 
 if there was any ground for such fears," she went on. 
 "He had nothing to be afraid of, no matter what might 
 be said, if he had done nothing unworthy. I can't 
 imagine Mr. Weir, for instance, being alarmed in that 
 way." 
 
 "They're telling plenty of lies about him, for that 
 matter, but I guess it doesn't worry him any," John- 
 son said. 
 
 "What I ask you touches a delicate subject, per- 
 haps," Janet continued, reluctantly. "You may feel 
 that I'm pushing in where I'm not concerned. But if 
 Mr. Sorenson has done anything discreditable if he 
 has acted in a way to make me ashamed when I know, 
 then it becomes a matter affecting my happiness too. 
 I would never marry a man who had done something 
 dishonorable, for if I did so knowingly I should be dis- 
 honored and dishonorable as well." 
 
 Johnson suddenly thrust a brown forefinger at her. 
 "Do you want to know what Sorenson did?" he de- 
 manded, wrathfully. 
 
 Janet gripped her hands together. "Yes." 
 "You'll not go spreading it all around the country? 
 But I guess you won't as long as it would make you 
 out a fool too. I'll not have Mary's name dragged 
 about in a lot of gossip." 
 
 "I assure you I shall remain silent, for her sake and 
 my own." 
 
 "All right, I'll tell you. You're too good a girl 
 any decent girl is to marry Ed Sorenson. He met 
 Mary at a dance last spring in town where she went 
 with some friends of ours, and made love to her but 
 wouldn't let her tell me or any one. We don't get to 
 town so very often; she never knew he was engaged
 
 JANET AND MARY 111 
 
 to marry you, there never happening to be any men- 
 tion of it to her. Then he got her to go to Bowenville 
 one day awhile ago, under promise to marry her there 
 Mary is only sixteen, a little girl yet. To me, any- 
 way." 
 
 Janet felt the working of his love in those simple 
 words. Felt it but half-consciously, though, for her 
 own soul was stifling at Ed Sorenson's revealed in- 
 famy. 
 
 "When he got her there, he told her they would have 
 to go away farther to be married to Los Angeles." 
 Again his finger came up, this time to be shaken at her 
 like a hammer. "He never intended to marry her; he 
 planned to get her there, ruin her, and cast her off. 
 That's the sort of man you're going to marry !" 
 
 "I remember he expected to be away for a couple of 
 weeks a business trip, he said. But afterwards he ex- 
 plained that it hadn't been necessary to go." 
 
 "A business trip! Yes, the dirty kind of business 
 he likes. And if it hadn't been that Weir heard him 
 explaining to Mary that she must go on and interfered 
 there in the restaurant Ed Sorenson might have 
 succeeded. Mary trusted him, thought he was straight. 
 But he's crooked, crooked as his old man. When Weir 
 told him to his face what he thought of his tricks, he 
 let it out he was engaged to you. Didn't mean to, of 
 course. Weir said he would stay right with them and 
 see that they got married next day before a minister, 
 then Sorenson snapped out he was to marry you. That 
 opened Mary's eyes, that and his refusing to go before 
 a preacher as the engineer demanded. So Weir brought 
 her home to me. 
 
 "And that isn't all I know," he snarled. "Mexicans 
 and cowboys and others have talked women don't
 
 112 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 hear these things how he's had to pay Mexicans hush- 
 money for girls of theirs he's wronged. But what do 
 people care? He's rich, he's old man Sorenson's boy; 
 everything's kept quiet; and he goes around as big as 
 life." With a muttered oath he turned away, his lips 
 shut hard and his beard sticking out savagely. 
 
 He came back to her again. 
 
 "The young one gets it from the old one," he ex- 
 claimed. "Bad crooked blood in both of them. I 
 know. I've been here ever since I was a boy and re- 
 member things Sorenson believes every one has for- 
 gotten. I know how he got his start, how he and the 
 rest of his bunch cleaned out Dent of his ranch and 
 cattle gambling and then killed him when he discovered 
 they had used marked cards, how at the same time they 
 robbed another man ** 
 
 Janet struggled to her feet. She had covered her 
 eyes and bowed her head before the torrent of his ve- 
 hemence. 
 
 "No more, I want to hear no more," she gasped. 
 "Let me go home. I'm sick." 
 
 "It all makes me sick, too," he answered. "Sick 
 and sore, both. But it's the truth. I'm sorry if it's 
 been a bad pill to swallow, but it's the God's truth, 
 girl. I'm sorry it couldn't be any other way, but I 
 wouldn't see you marry that scoundrel if I lost a hand 
 stopping you. Mary felt sick at first, too ; she's over 
 it now. You'll not feel bad long. Better stay for din- 
 ner with us." 
 
 "I couldn't swallow a bite. Thank you for your 
 kindness in asking me and for telling me what I 
 wanted to know, too. Father never knew, or he would 
 have warned me. People saw I was engaged to Ed 
 Sorenson and would say nothing to father, of course.
 
 JANET AND MARY 113 
 
 I shall always count you as one of my best friends, Mr. 
 Johnson. And you too, Mary ; you must come down 
 and stay with me sometime, for I imagine you get lonely 
 here. No, another day I'll remain to dinner and I 
 want to be alone now." 
 
 They pressed her no further, seeing her wretchedness 
 of spirit. But they walked with her to the car and 
 shook hands with her when she was in and urged her to 
 come again. 
 
 When she had disappeared in the aspens among 
 which the trail led, Mary said to her father: 
 
 "You said they killed a man named Dent." 
 
 "They did. I saw the killing." 
 
 "And nothing was ever done about it ?" 
 
 "No. Nobody but me knew of the happening and 
 I'd of had a bullet through my heart if I'd talked. I 
 might yet even now, so see that you keep your mouth 
 shut." 
 
 "You told her." 
 
 "I was mad, so mad I could say anything. But she 
 isn't the kind to repeat the story; I'm not afraid on 
 that score. She's clean strain all through." 
 
 "Did you know the man whom Sorenson and the 
 others killed?" Mary questioned, in some awe. 
 
 "I knew of him, but I was only a lad then. I saw it 
 all through the back door of Verse's saloon where it 
 happened, but I've never breathed about it to a soul. I 
 didn't want to be murdered some dark night. Those 
 four men would see that the job was done quick even 
 now, I'm saying, if they were on to the fact. I know 
 *em, if nobody else does." 
 
 Mary's skin crawled with prickles of fear. 
 
 "They must be awful bad." 
 
 "They were devils then, and I don't think they've
 
 114 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 changed to angels to-day, though they try to appear 
 decent. I know 'em ; I know what they'll do once they 
 start. You can't make sheep out of wolves just by 
 giving 'em a fleece." 
 
 "You said they robbed another man at the same time 
 they killed that Dent." 
 
 "Yes; and it only goes to show the hellish crooks 
 they are. It was another man in the saloon. He was 
 drunk. They made him believe he had killed Dent. 
 Then said they'd help him to get away if he gave them 
 his property. He was a rich fellow who had come out 
 from the east and gone to ranching, a tenderfoot. 
 They took his stuff and he skipped the country with his 
 wife. That was the last of him, and I reckon he be- 
 lieves to this day that he's a murderer. And that's how 
 they got the start of their wealth, or a big part of it, 
 Sorenson and Vorse and the other two. They've got 
 the San Mateo Cattle Company, with fifty thousand 
 head of steers, and ten or twenty bands of sheeps and 
 ranches, and the bank, and all the rest, and they walk 
 around like honest men. But they're thieves and mur- 
 derers, Mary, thieves and murderers! I'd rather be 
 the man I am, poor and with nothing but this little 
 mortgaged piece of ground and my few cattle, than 
 them, who robbed Dent and killed him and then robbed 
 and drove out Weir." 
 
 "Was that the other man's name?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That's funny. The same as the man who brought 
 me home." 
 
 "There are lots of Weirs, like the Johnsons." 
 
 "Not so many, I guess. Maybe they're related. Did 
 the man who skipped have any children?"
 
 JANET AND MARY 115 
 
 "No. None I ever heard of, though I didn't know 
 much about him. Just him and his wife, I think." 
 
 Johnson had perceived no resemblance between the 
 engineer and the vanished man of whom he spoke. As 
 for that, however, he had no clear recollection of the 
 elder Weir's face; he was but twelve years old at 
 the time of the dramatic event, thirty years before. 
 
 "Now, come along and eat," he said. "And remem- 
 ber! Not a word of this to a soul." 
 
 Meanwhile Janet Hosmer was driving slowly down 
 the canyon, oblivious that opportunity to unlock the 
 whole mystery had been hers, never dreaming that she 
 had just missed by the slenderest margin what Steele 
 Weir would have given the world to know. 
 
 For an instant Fate had placed the key in her hand. 
 She knew it not; it was withdrawn again and the door 
 remained closed and locked while the threads of Des- 
 tiny continued to be spun.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE PLOT 
 
 IN Verse's saloon, where in the past so many evil 
 ideas for the acquisition of money or power had 
 sprouted, the scheme had its inception. It had been 
 of slow growth, with innumerable suggestions consid- 
 ered, tested, discarded. The intended arrest and trial 
 of Weir had been the first aim ; but this had expanded 
 until at last the plot had become of really magnificent 
 proportions, cunning yet daring, devilish enough even 
 to satisfy the hate and greed of its originators, consum- 
 mate in design, absolutely safe and conclusive. 
 
 It was Sorenson who conceived the notion of pulling 
 the irrigation project down in ruins at the moment of 
 Weir's own fall. Judge Gordon a few days later had 
 pieced out the method, which was either to corrupt the 
 workmen to wreck dam and camp or to place them in 
 the equivocal position of having done so apparently 
 though others did it in fact. Vorse and Burkhardt de- 
 vised the details. Weir should be left free until the 
 blow had fallen on the camp, whereupon he should be 
 immediately clapped into jail on the murder charge, 
 which, coming on top of the "riot," would paralyze all 
 company action and work. From such a crushing 
 double-blow no concern could quickly recover, if indeed 
 the loss did not result in total cessation of construc- 
 tion. 
 
 Thus shedding their coats of expedient lawfulness, 
 116
 
 THE PLOT 117 
 
 they reverted under the menace of Steele Weir's pres- 
 ence to the men they were in an earlier age an age 
 when a few white land and cattle "barons" dominated 
 the region, predatory, arrogant, masterful and des- 
 potic; the age just ceasing when the elder Weir and 
 Dent arrived ; the age of their youth forty years before, 
 the age when railroads and telegraphs and law were 
 remote, and chicanery and force were the common 
 agents, and "guns" the final arbiters. 
 
 To them Weir was like a reincarnated spirit of that 
 age. He guessed if he did not know their past. He 
 had appeared in order to challenge their supremacy, 
 end their rule, avenge his father's dispossession at their 
 hands. He instinctively and by nature was an enemy ; 
 he would have been their enemy in any other place and 
 under any other circumstances. He was a head-hunter, 
 and in turn was to be hunted down. He was the kind 
 who neither made compromises nor asked quarter. He 
 veiled his purposes in as great secrecy as did they, and 
 when he struck it would be suddenly, fiercely, merci- 
 lessly if he struck. They were determined he should 
 not strike, being himself first surprised and crushed, for 
 though in ignorance of what he could bring against 
 them their fears were real. Everything, indeed, about 
 the man antagonized them, alarmed them, stirred their 
 hate and filmed their eyes with blood. He must be 
 destroyed. 
 
 "And with him the dam," Sorenson had said. "Both 
 together." For there was no effort to conceal among" 
 themselves their savage intention. 
 
 "He'll never come to trial," Verse remarked, with a 
 malignant gleam in his blue eyes and a shutting of his 
 thin lips. "An attempted jail delivery by 'friends'
 
 118 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 will fix that. All they will have to do then is to buy him 
 a pine box." 
 
 "If the man had but stayed away!" Judge Gordon 
 exclaimed. Cunning, not force, was his forte; and the 
 measures in prospect at times had oppressed him with 
 dreadful forebodings. He was growing old, feeble, and 
 here when he was entitled to peace he still had to fight 
 for his own. 
 
 In accordance with the scheme Burkhardt vanished 
 from San Mateo for a time, ostensibly on business but 
 in fact on a journey across the Mexican line, where he 
 conducted negotiations with a certain "revolu9ionista" 
 of no particular notoriety as yet, of avaricious char- 
 acter, unscrupulous nature, and with a small following 
 of fellow bandits and a large animosity for Americans. 
 His ambition was to emulate the brilliant Villa. But 
 pickings had been poor of late, no more than that of 
 stealing a few horses from across the border. To 
 Burkhardt, who had heard of him and sought him out, 
 he listened with interest and bargained with zest. Five 
 thousand in gold for fifty men was like pearls from 
 Paradise. And whatever this Yankee's own private 
 purpose, it was a chance for the chieftain to strike 
 secretly and safely at Americans, in addition. 
 
 "They will come through in squads after they've 
 slipped across the line," Burkhardt reported. "They're 
 to pose as laborers." 
 
 "When?" Sorenson asked. 
 
 "Along next week. They're to drop off down along 
 the railroad at different towns and I'll run them up 
 into the mountains with some grub. Then we'll as- 
 semble them quietly a couple miles off from the dam, 
 where they'll be handy on the chosen night. After- 
 wards we'll slip them back to the railroad, and they
 
 THE PLOT 119 
 
 fade into Mexico. Weir's workmen will be drunk and 
 rowing and will have done the job, eh?" Burkhardt 
 shook with suppressed, evil laughter. 
 
 "If they're drunk, they may join in and help," Judge 
 Gordon stated, acutely. "A mob full of whiskey will 
 ido anything. If they did take a hand, it would round 
 out the case against them perfectly. Very likely next 
 day they, too, would fade, as you put it, Burkhardt; 
 they would want to get out of this part of country as 
 quickly as possible when they realized what had hap- 
 pened. I see no flaw in our plan. Fortunately the 
 three directors who are coming will be gone by the end 
 of next week." 
 
 "What's that? What directors?" Burkhardt asked. 
 
 "They're to be here on an inspection trip, so they 
 wrote, and will be pleased to hear our complaints in 
 regard to the question of workmen." Gordon's tone 
 was ironical. "I wrote them protesting Weir's dis- 
 charge of our people, you remember, but that was some 
 time ago." 
 
 "What's the use of paying attention to the fools 
 now?" 
 
 "We must carry out the farce, Burkhardt, for the 
 sake of appearances." 
 
 "I'd like to blow them up along with their dam !" was 
 the scowling rejoinder. "Well, let 'em inspect. Next 
 time they come back there won't be any." 
 
 "I believe we should arrest Weir before the thing's 
 pulled off," Gordon said, meditatively. "It would be 
 surer." 
 
 Sorenson set his heavy jaw. 
 
 "No. I want him to see the wreck; I want him to 
 know just what's happened before he's haled away; I
 
 120 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 want him feeling good and sick already when he gets 
 the next jolt." 
 
 "Sure. It's him or us, as I've said from the first; 
 and I've always believed in making a clean sweep," 
 Vorse remarked. "We have the right line this time. 
 First, make his men drunk and sore; then smash the 
 works; then arrest him quick; and last finish him off 
 with a bullet during a pretended jail delivery." 
 
 "There will be elements of danger in the last," Judge 
 Gordon stated, cautiously. 
 
 Vorse smiled and Burkhardt grinned. 
 
 "Not so you'll notice it," said the latter. "The town 
 won't know anything about it until afterwards. Just a 
 few good men at night, masked and working fast, and 
 the thing is done." 
 
 "J'H not feel easy tiU it's over." 
 
 "Keep up your nerve, Judge," Burkhardt grunted. 
 "You used to be as lively as anybody when you were 
 young." 
 
 "I know, I know. But this Weir isn't going to stand 
 idle. If he ever gets a chance with his gun " 
 
 "He won't get it," said Vorse. 
 
 "And he'll not resist the sheriff when Madden ar- 
 rests him legally," Sorenson added. "Nothing could 
 be better for us than if he did. He knows that." 
 
 "Still I'll be glad when next week is past," the Judge 
 replied, with a sigh.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE CURBENT OF EVENTS 
 
 THOUGH outwardly the world's face was as calm as 
 ever, though peace seemed to bask on San Mateo and 
 the broad mesa and lofty mountain range, events were 
 rapidly shaping themselves to bring a thunder crash 
 of contending forces. Not Weir, not even the little 
 evil cabal plotting so desperately against him, guessed 
 the scope and power of the passions to be released. 
 
 As a vital impulse towards the climax, though an 
 unconscious one on her part so far as the general play 
 of circumstance was concerned, Janet Hosmer in- 
 formed Ed Sorenson of her determination to break 
 their engagement. This was the same evening she re- 
 turned from the Johnson ranch, when he called at her 
 telephoned request. He went to her home under the 
 impression that his box of candy and bundle of new 
 magazines had restored him to favor. He was very 
 jaunty, in fact, and bent on persuading her to name 
 an early day for their nuptials. 
 
 Imagine his wrath when she explained that she 
 wished to say that she could not marry him, at the 
 same time handing him his ring and the other trinkets 
 he had bestowed upon her. 
 
 "Is it because of our little spat last night about the 
 engineer?" he demanded. "I apologized, Janet. I'm 
 sorry still, and I love you above everything else." 
 
 "I think not," said she. 
 121
 
 122 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "But I do, Janet. Above everything." 
 
 "No, not above yourself and your vices. You de- 
 ceived me for a long time, but now I know the truth. 
 You aroused my suspicions when you mentioned a John- 
 son girl ; there's only one Johnson girl hereabouts, as I 
 learned; and this noon I visited her and her father. 
 They informed me fully about your conduct towards 
 Mary at Bowenville and your promises to marry her 
 that, when you were engaged to me. There are other 
 things I heard to-day. Of affairs with Mexican girls 
 that are shameful." 
 
 "Lies, lies !" was the passionate disclaimer. "Or if 
 I have been flirting a little, and never since my en- 
 gagement, it's no more than any fellow does." 
 
 "You can neither excuse nor justify your words and 
 actions towards Mary Johnson not a month ago." 
 
 "They're liars, I tell you." 
 
 ''Will you confront them and say that?" 
 
 Taken by surprise Sorenson hesitated, flushed, and 
 then made a gesture of disdain. 
 
 "I'll not, because I'll not condescend to answer such 
 baseless charges," he stated. "I thought you had sense 
 enough not to believe every little thing you hear. Cer- 
 tainly I expect you not to believe this, and I know you 
 won't on consideration. Then we'll be married. I came 
 here to-night to urge you to marry me soon." 
 
 "I'll never marry you, and we're no longer engaged. 
 You've acted faithlessly and dishonorably. You're not 
 the decent man I thought you were." 
 
 "Don't you still love me, Janet?" 
 
 "No. I don't think I ever loved you ; I was loving a 
 man who didn't exist, an illusion I imagined to be Ed 
 Sorenson, not your real self. If I loved at all, which 
 I now doubt! And you never loved me, though you
 
 THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 123 
 
 may think you did and still do. But it's not so ; for no 
 man who really loved a respectable girl could at the 
 same time do what you did. Think of it ! While pre- 
 tending to love me, you were secretly trying to inveigle 
 that poor ignorant girl away from home. You're not 
 a man; you're a beast. The shame and disgust and 
 humiliation I suffer at the thought of my position dur- 
 ing that time, your effort to hoodwink both Mary 
 Johnson and me, so fills me with anger I can't talk to 
 you. Go, go! And please don't even speak to me 
 hereafter, on the street or anywhere else." 
 
 Instead of departing the man grasped her wrist and 
 gave her a venomous look. 
 
 "It was this sneak of an engineer, after all, who 
 told you this lie and turned you against me," he 
 snarled. 
 
 "Let me go. Mr. Weir said nothing. It was you 
 yourself who betrayed yourself, or I should not have 
 known as I do, thank heavens. Stop holding my 
 wrist!" 
 
 For an instant Sorenson wavered between whether 
 he should obey her command or strike her as his rage 
 prompted. A very devil of passion beating in his 
 breast urged him to show her her place, deal with her 
 as he would like to do and as she deserved throw 
 her down and drag her by the hair until she crawled 
 forward and clasped his knees in subjection. But the 
 look in her eyes cooled this half-insane, whiskey-in- 
 spired desire. 
 
 He took his hand off her wrist, picked up his hat. 
 
 "You can't throw me down this way," he sneered. 
 ''You're going to marry me just the same, whether you 
 think so or not. I have a voice in this engagement, 
 and you can't break your word and promise to me
 
 124 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 because it happens to strike your fancy. Not for a 
 single minute!" 
 
 "If you were a gentleman and a decent man you 
 wouldn't say that." 
 
 "I'm not either, by your judgment, so I do say it. 
 I say it again : you're going to marry me, willingly or 
 unwillingly. Now if after thinking it over, you want 
 to forget all this and go on as before, all right. If not, 
 our engagement still holds just the same. You may re- 
 lease me, but I haven't released you. Remember that. 
 And keep away from that engineer if you know what's 
 best for you!" 
 
 With a scowl he stalked out of the house, leaving a 
 very angry, very tremulous and very heart-sick girl. 
 The fellow was in truth not a man, she perceived, but a 
 creature so conscienceless and loathsome that she 
 seemed contaminated through and through by his 
 touch, his words, and their previous relations. How 
 grossly he had deceived her as to his real character! 
 What a horrible future as his wife she had escaped! 
 Nor was she yet free, for he promised to make an in- 
 finity of trouble. 
 
 That day she could do nothing. Her father noting 
 her face asked what was the trouble, and she told him 
 the whole affair. 
 
 "I've heard rumors of late about him and was wor- 
 ried," he said. "You did the only thing, of course. 
 Pay no attention to his words ; I'll see he doesn't annoy 
 you." 
 
 It was three or four days afterwards that she called 
 Weir up at the dam in a desire to hear the voice of a 
 man she knew to be straight and upright. 
 
 "I've wondered if a girl is allowed to look at your 
 dam," she said on impulse, when they had chatted for
 
 THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 125 
 
 a moment. "Father, who was at your camp to attend 
 an injured man, says you're making famous progress." 
 
 "I'd be more than delighted to show you the work. 
 But I wonder " 
 
 "Don't let what people say disturb you," she replied 
 quickly, divining his thought. "I've arranged all 
 that." A somewhat obscure remark to Weir. 
 
 "Then come any time and often. I hope to be able 
 to conduct you around, the first visit at least. Next 
 week I may not be able to do so as a committee of 
 directors arrive who'll take my time." 
 
 "Oh, indeed," Janet answered, politely. 
 
 "A manager has to be directed occasionally, or he 
 may run wild," she heard, with his laugh. 
 
 "I'll come before they do," she said. 
 
 Quite as she had announced she did run up to the 
 canyon and go with Weir over the hillsides and dam, 
 asking questions and displaying a great interest in the 
 men and the operation of the machinery. The con- 
 crete work was nearing an end. Already tracks were 
 laid for the dump trams that were to carry dirt from 
 steam-shovels to the dam to form its main body. 
 
 She perceived the immense labor of the project and 
 the coordinated effort required. The necessity in itself 
 of dragging hither from Bowenville all of the supplies, 
 the material, the huge machines, was overwhelming. 
 The responsibility of combining scientific knowledge 
 and raw industry to an exact result struck her as 
 prodigious. The handling of hundreds of subordinate 
 workmen and assistants of various grades and skill de- 
 manded exceptional ability, understanding, will and 
 generalship. Yet these things the man at her side, 
 Steele Weir, accomplished and supplied; and appeared
 
 126 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 quite calm and unmoved about it, as if it was all a mat- 
 ter of course. 
 
 She glanced at the ground, flushing. The thought 
 of Ed Sorenson, making only a pretense of doing any- 
 thing useful and because his father was rich doing 
 nothing in reality but waste himself in vicious prac- 
 tices, was in her mind. What must have the engineer 
 believed of her all this while when he knew Sorenson's 
 true nature and infamous record? Did he suppose her 
 a light-headed feather, indifferent to everything except 
 that her husband should be rich? Very likely. There 
 were plenty of girls of that type. He naturally would 
 suppose her one. 
 
 And she could say nothing to put herself in a better 
 light and to gain his respect for that she now desired 
 greatly. She saw him as he was, a big man, a strong 
 man, a man whose respect was to be prized. Beside 
 him she felt herself small and ordinary. That was all 
 right, but she was determined he should not believe 
 her insignificant, shallow, unworthy, mercenary. 
 
 While she could not explain matters openly with- 
 out shaming herself and still lowering herself in his 
 estimation, he being only an acquaintance, yet there 
 were ways of getting at the end. Janet could act 
 adroitly, like most women, when it best served the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 "Do you know, I just learned from friends of yours 
 on Terry Creek that you're a public benefactor as well 
 as an engineer," she stated, when they paused on the 
 hillside for a last look at the dam. 
 
 "I ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 His eyes came around and found hers fixed on him. 
 
 "I happened to stop at the Johnson ranch. They 
 ilidn't say so, but I know they would be pleased to
 
 THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 127 
 
 death if you would go to dinner there some day. They 
 have some fine fat chickens, if you like chicken fried 
 or baked, and they hesitate to ask you only because 
 they're afraid you'll refuse." 
 
 "Fried chicken is my weakness. Of course I'll go; 
 at the first spare chance." 
 
 But all the while Steele Weir's mind was eddying 
 with wonderment. He had colored at mention of the 
 Johnson ranch, as if he had been caught with a hand in 
 a jam pot. And it meant only one thing: she knew of 
 the Bowenville episode. Involuntarily his eyes flashed 
 to her left hand with which she was brushing back the 
 hair under her hat brim. There was no diamond soli- 
 taire on its third finger. Surely, something had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 "Well, I must be returning home. I just thought I'd 
 give you a tiny hint," said she. An odd smile rested 
 on her lips as she spoke, for hints may carry multiple 
 suggestions. 
 
 "By Jove !" Weir said suddenly. 
 
 Man of action though she knew him to be, she never 
 anticipated he would or could act so directly. He 
 reached out and seized her left hand and scanned it 
 significantly. Then he raised his eyes. 
 
 "What does this mean ?" he asked, tapping the finger 
 with one of his own. "Does this mean " 
 
 It was Janet's turn to become scarlet. She tried 
 to smile again, but it was a wavering smile that ap- 
 peared. 
 
 "What does what mean?" she fenced. 
 
 "That well, that the ring is off permanently?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "And that there's now a chance for me?" 
 
 Janet's eyes at that popped open very wide in-
 
 128 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 deed. Meanwhile Weir still held to the palm resting in 
 his own. 
 
 "You?" she breathed, faintly. 
 
 "Me, yes." 
 
 Presently with a gentle movement she drew her hand 
 free. She had been quite dumbfounded, but not so 
 dumbfounded that she did not realize that this new sit- 
 uation had requirements of its own. He appeared ab- 
 solutely sincere and resolute. 
 
 "But I never dreamed of such a thing!" she stam- 
 mered. 
 
 "Nor I because until now I hadn't the right. All 
 I ask is that you give me your friendship and a 
 chance and well, we'll see." 
 
 "There's no reason why we shouldn't be friends," 
 said she. "We are already, aren't we ?" 
 
 "Yes now. I never actually thought so before." 
 
 "Things have changed," she stated. And her lips 
 closed with a firm pressure as she spoke. "Or I 
 shouldn't have been here inspecting the dam, should 
 I?" Again the smile flashed upon her face. "You may 
 consider this a preliminary inspection to that of your 
 high and mighty directors, and I assure you my ver- 
 dict is that the word ? is favorable. Now I must be 
 going to the car. Father likes his meals on time." 
 
 "And when shall I see you again?" 
 
 The note of eagerness in his voice set her heart 
 moving a bit faster. If he carried on his engineering 
 work as he did his friendship, no wonder he got things 
 clone. 
 
 "Why, when you wish to call, Mr. Weir. Both 
 father and I shall be pleased to have you come any 
 time."
 
 THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 129 
 
 "I'll certainly avail myself of the privilege," said 
 he. "You must really go now?" 
 
 With a feeling of exaltation at this new turn of 
 affairs he watched her drive away from camp, a feeling 
 that persisted during the succeeding days. 
 
 The three directors arrived. That was Thursday 
 evening; and Friday and Saturday were devoted to a 
 discussion of construction plans, inspection of the 
 works, analysis of costs and so on. Weir found the 
 men what he expected: quick to comprehend facts, in- 
 cisive of mind, and though of course not engineers yet 
 able to measure results ; while they on their part were 
 appreciative of the exceptional progress made and of 
 his thorough command of the project. They knew 
 the first hour that the right manager was in charge 
 at last. 
 
 Saturday afternoon Sorenson and Judge Gordon 
 called at headquarters, by appointment, to discuss the 
 grievance held locally against the company. Weir was 
 present at the meeting. 
 
 "As to whether the Mexican workmen who were dis- 
 charged were actually giving a full return in work for 
 the wages, as you maintain, gentlemen," said Mr. Pol- 
 lock, one of the directors and a corporation lawyer 
 from New York, in reply to the visitors' statement, 
 "that is a question not of opinion but of fact." 
 
 "Fact, yes," Judge Gordon argued. "Fact sup- 
 ported by the evidence of the three hundred work- 
 men against that of a single man, your manager, who 
 had just come." 
 
 "Are not your three hundred men prejudiced wit- 
 nesses?" the New Yorker inquired, a slight smile upon 
 his thin face. 
 
 "No more than is Mr. Weir."
 
 130 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "But Mr. Weir is the manager and consequently has 
 the power of decision in such matters." 
 
 "Not to the extent of revoking unfairly your prom- 
 ise, given orally, to be sure, but still given, to employ 
 local labor." Sorenson was the speaker and his heavy 
 face wore an expression of ill-disguised contempt. 
 
 "Agreed. Local labor was to be hired," said Pol- 
 lock. "But our company isn't a philanthropic institu- 
 tion; it's run on strictly business principles. Any 
 agreement we made implied that local workmen should 
 give exactly what other workmen would give in work." 
 
 "They did so," Judge Gordon affirmed. 
 
 "There was no trouble until this man came," Soren- 
 son remarked. "I suppose he felt that he had to show 
 his authority." 
 
 "Ah, but there was if not trouble at any rate dis- 
 satisfaction on our part," Pollock stated, tapping a 
 finger on the table. "Construction wasn't progressing 
 as we knew it should, which was the very reason for 
 getting a new manager, one who could speed it up. 
 But as I said, it all comes down to a question of fact. 
 You gentlemen offer your workmen's avowals of indus- 
 try to support your claim; Mr. Weir, on the other 
 hand, gives us some definite records to back up his side. 
 Here they are for the last week the workmen from San 
 Mateo and neighborhood worked his first week here; 
 and for the succeeding weeks under the men shipped in ; 
 in material used, in cubic yards of concrete construc- 
 tion, and in percentage of work finished. Examine 
 them if you please. They show daily and weekly re- 
 sults to be just a trifle less than double for the cor- 
 responding time the imported workmen have been here. 
 In other words, the new men have, while shortening the 
 time of completion, given twice as much work for exact-
 
 THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 131 
 
 ly the same wage paid your Mexicans. In other words, 
 too, your local laborers cancelled our agreement by 
 their own incompetence." 
 
 "Your manager could easily have doctored those rec- 
 ords," Sorenson stated, coldly. 
 
 "You scarcely mean that, sir," Pollock instantly re- 
 plied icily, his amiability vanishing. 
 
 "Come, Judge, we may as well go, I think. We're 
 appealing to a prejudiced court." And Sorenson 
 arose. 
 
 "Our decision to view the matter like Mr. Weir is be- 
 cause his position is sustained by these facts, not be- 
 cause we're prejudiced, as you insinuate. But I may 
 add that it would not be strange if we were prejudiced, 
 as we've become convinced that you gentlemen haven't 
 been sincere in your attitude towards our company and 
 if anything are strongly hostile. Any one may be de- 
 ceived for a time, and we were, but not permanently. 
 You would have done much better to have recognized 
 that we have a perfect right to build this project on 
 land that we bought and with water that we acquired. 
 For it will be built in any case and in spite of such 
 local opposition as may be made." Pollock flicked the 
 ash from his cigar with a careful finger. "That is a 
 mere piece of information or a declaration of war, 
 whichever way you wish to take it." 
 
 "I told you we were wasting onr time coming here," 
 the cattleman said to his companion. 
 
 "Good day, gentlemen," said Judge Gordon, politely. 
 
 And the pair went out to Sorenson's maclu'ne. 
 
 Shortly after, the two other directors left to catch 
 a train at Bowenville, Pollock planning to stay with 
 Weir to formulate a report during the next day or two 
 for presentation to the entire directorate at its next
 
 132 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 meeting. Sorenson caught a glimpse of the car whirl- 
 ing through town, with Weir at the wheel, who with 
 Pollock accompanied the departing men that certain 
 unsettled points might be discussed up to the last mo- 
 ment. 
 
 As Weir and Pollock were returning, the latter eyed 
 the engineer and laughed. 
 
 "You've evidently brushed these fellows', Sorenson's 
 and Gordon's, fur the wrong way to please them. But 
 they'll probably leave us alone from now on." 
 
 "They'll not leave me alone." 
 
 "Eh? How's that?" 
 
 "Well, I have, as it happens, a little trouble with 
 them on my own hook. A private matter antedating 
 the building of the dam. They're after me. I had to 
 put a piece of lead into a fellow who tried to kill me 
 from the dark one night. I speak of it in case you 
 should be told and wonder ; otherwise I should not have 
 mentioned the thing. I'm not popular in San Mateo, 
 in consequence." 
 
 "Ah, I had heard nothing of that. It interests me. 
 You were not touched." 
 
 "My hat, that was all." 
 
 "Very interesting, very interesting, indeed," was 
 Pollock's only comment. But if his tone was casual, 
 his eyes were busy in sidelong study of the engineer, 
 making a new appraisal and drawing fresh conclu- 
 sions. 
 
 Meanwhile several knots were being tied in the web 
 of circumstance. Sorenson took his telephone and con- 
 versed briefly with Vorse, passing the information that 
 he had just seen the three directors leaving for the east. 
 So they were out of the way. In reply the saloon- 
 keeper stated that he would start the whisky end of the
 
 THE CURRENT OF EVENTS 133 
 
 game that evening. By the morrow, Sunday, when the 
 camp was at rest, the workmen would all be "celebrat- 
 ing." Burkhardt had reported the last load of "south- 
 ern cattle" shipped in and driven on the range the 
 previous evening a seemingly innocent statement that 
 Sorenson understood perfectly. Up in the hills, safely 
 hidden in the timber, lay the fifty men brought from 
 Mexico to make the assault on the dam the next night, 
 men whose instruments of destruction would be fire and 
 dynamite. Twenty-four hours more would bring the 
 moment of action. 
 
 Ignorant of all this Ed Sorenson had been forming a 
 little individual scheme that would promote his own 
 affairs, chief of which was to win Janet Hosmer. Drink- 
 ing heavily ever since his rebuff, he had sunk into a con- 
 dition of evil determination and recklessness that made 
 him fit for any desperate act. After much meditation 
 fed by whisky, he had evolved a plan that would bring 
 him success. Thereupon he had loaded his car with a 
 quantity of selected stuff and made a mysterious jour- 
 ney at night. 
 
 "She'll learn I meant business," was his frequent so* 
 liloquy. 
 
 And while these strands were being knit into the skein 
 Martinez was producing another. Quietly, carefully, 
 persuasively, he had been pursuing his own particular 
 course of eliciting history for use in his "Chronicle," as 
 he named it, and for another use concerning which he 
 was as still as death. 
 
 That he was successful in obtaining what he had been 
 after was made known to Weir about dusk that evening 
 while he was talking with Pollock in his office. But that 
 he had not been so lucky in covering his tracks was like- 
 wise apparent.
 
 134 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 The telephone rang. Steele took down the receiver. 
 
 "See Janet Hosmer at once," Felipe Martinez' terri- 
 fied voice came over the wire. "Shell have it, the paper 
 the one you want. They've learned I got it; they're 
 after me now. Hammering on the door. If you don't 
 hurry " 
 
 Kis words ceased abruptly in an anguished quaver. 
 At the same time Weir heard carried to him the sound 
 of a crash as of a door smashed. Excusing himself hur- 
 riedly, Steele Weir seized his holster from a nail and 
 buckled on the belt. Then snatching his hat, he ran 
 outside the building to his car. 
 
 "Now, who is he gunning for?" Pollock asked himself 
 aloud, "I rather wish he had invited me along." 
 
 But neither he nor Weir himself, nor any soul in San 
 Mateo, knew that at last the furious torrent of events 
 had burst upon the community. Weir sensed something. 
 But Sorenson brooding on the morrow thought the mo- 
 ment had not yet come. His son was occupied with his 
 own treacherous scheme. Even Vorse and Burkhardt 
 smashing their way into Martinez' office saw nothing 
 beyond the immediate necessity. Yet the flood was 
 bearing down on all.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 OLD SAUREZ' DEPOSITION 
 
 IN order to understand why Vorse and Borkhardt 
 were attacking Martinez' office it is necessary to trace the 
 lawyer's movements and the incidents which precipitated 
 that act. Martinez had, as stated, not been idle. Fol- 
 lowing the clue obtained from the woman who had worked 
 in the elder Weir's household, he visited the old Mexican 
 named as having been used as roustabout by Vorse in 
 early days. This was old Saurez, whom he knew. The 
 wrinkled old fellow seldom came to town now, spending 
 most of the time sitting against the sunny side of his 
 son's house on Pina Creek, twenty miles south, where 
 he lived. 
 
 Martinez in the ten days that had elapsed since in- 
 forming Weir he had learned of Saurez' possible knowl- 
 edge of the past had proceeded to make himself agree- 
 able to the gray-headed old man. He had explained his 
 "history." He exercised all the arts of graciousness and 
 flattery. Beginning at the present he worked back 
 through the past to the killing of Jim Dent and the 
 flight of Joseph Weir, extracting tales of early fights, 
 raids, accidents, big storms, violent deaths and killings, 
 making elaborate notes, winning the narrator's confi- 
 dence and gradually drawing forth the facts he really 
 sought. 
 
 Out of all the rambling talk and vague accounts of the 
 Dent and Weir affair Martinez was able to piece to- 
 
 135
 
 136 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 gether the fragments in a clear statement. This was 
 that Saurez had seen Weir and Dent in Vorse's saloon. 
 The pair had gambled for a time with Vorse, Burkhardt 
 (at that time sheriff), Sorenson and Judge Gordon. 
 After losing for a time Weir refused to continue in the 
 poker game, although he was drunk. Dent played on 
 notwithstanding Weir's urgence to desist; he had al- 
 ready lost all his money and began staking his cattle 
 and finally his ranch. At this stage Weir had gone to 
 sleep at another table, with his head on his arms. Vorse 
 had locked the front door to keep out visitors during 
 the big game. But the back door remained open for 
 air. 
 
 Saurez had busied himself cleaning the bar. All at 
 once he saw the players spring up in their game, Dent 
 talking angrily about cheating, marked cards and so 
 on. Then the guns came out when he pointed at a card 
 that was marked for it had been marked with pin- 
 pricks as Saurez saw later on examining the deck, which 
 Dent had perceived in spite of the whisky in him. And 
 Sorenson and Vorse had both shot him where he stood. 
 Yes, shootings were not uncommon. Every one but he, 
 Saurez, had likely forgotten all about the matter. That 
 was long ago. 
 
 Afterwards Vorse had sent the Mexican away for 
 something or other, with an injunction to keep his mouth 
 closed. As said, speaking of it now made no difference, 
 though he expected Martinez to keep his promise to pub- 
 lish none of the stories while he was still alive ; that was 
 agreed. When the Mexican had left the saloon Weir 
 was yet sleeping, having only raised his head at the 
 pistol shots to stare drunkenly and then relapse. What 
 occurred afterwards Saurez did not know. Weir left 
 the country. Dent was buried, the story being told
 
 OLD SAUREZ' DEPOSITION 137 
 
 that he had committed suicide. Every one believed it: 
 had he not lost his ranch at poker? That was the end 
 of the business. Other affairs happened and it was for- 
 gotten. 
 
 On this Saturday Martinez had persuaded Saurez to 
 accompany him to San Mateo. It would be necessary 
 to sign the stories, he explained lightly, to give them 
 proper weight and in order that when the book was pub- 
 lished after Saurez' death they would be seen to be true 
 accounts, with Saurez' picture that a photographer 
 would make appearing in the middle. He, Saurez, would 
 be famous, and his sons and grandsons would have copies 
 of the book in their houses to show visitors and the 
 priest. Ah, it would be well to have the priest witness 
 Saurez' signature, then sceptical people would know in- 
 deed that the stories were Saurez' own accounts. So on 
 and so on. 
 
 The matter required infinite precautions, patience, 
 skill on the lawyer's part. He had prepared two or 
 three dozen depositions of events, as a husk for the real 
 kernel. With Saurez in his office at last he telephoned 
 the priest to call at once and unostentatiously caught 
 on the street four other Mexicans of the better class, 
 bringing them in. When the priest arrived he closed 
 the door and explained his desire they should act as 
 witnesses to Saurez' statements. He had already solicited 
 the padre's advice as to the history ; the others all had 
 heard of it; he gave them a number of the most harm- 
 less depositions to read ; and set Saurez to work making 
 his mark on the rest of the papers. During the reading 
 and the accompanying lively discussion of the witnesses, 
 he had them pause to witness Saurez' mark with their 
 own names in the places provided. About the tenth de- 
 position when their attention was confused and flagging
 
 he slipped the account concerning Weir and Dent, a 
 many-paged attestation, upon the table, so folded that 
 nothing but the signing space was visible. It was the 
 critical instant for Martinez; his thin body was more 
 nervous than ever, his eyes brighter and more restless. 
 But at last the ordeal was over. 
 
 Saurez' heavy black cross was at the bottom of the 
 important deposition, the priest and the other four 
 men had appended their names, and all that remained 
 to do was for Martinez to fill out the acknowledgment 
 and affix his seal. He whisked the document behind his 
 back and called attention to a humorous episode in a 
 paper one of the men still held, starting a laugh. Then 
 he suggested they rest and opened a bottle of wine, over 
 which the others congratulated Saurez and Martinez 
 and predicted a wonderful fame for the "Chronicle." 
 Finally the lawyer perceived, as he said, that Saurez 
 was weary. Anyway, it was supper-time. The remain- 
 ing papers could be signed another day. 
 
 The witnesses departed, much pleased with the affair. 
 
 "Walk up and down outside for a little time while I 
 straighten the sheets, then we'll go eat and afterwards 
 111 drive you home to bed," the attorney said. "The 
 fresh air will give you an appetite. Behold, you're al- 
 ready becoming a famous man! I shall preserve these 
 documents safely as they are tremendously important 
 to our town, our state, our country !" And a grandilo- 
 quent gesture accompanied the words. "Come back in 
 a little while, my friend, then we'll see how much food 
 you can hide away." 
 
 Saurez much gratified at these words and at every- 
 thing went out slowly, for he was troubled by rheuma- 
 tism. The instant his back disappeared Martinez sprang 
 to the table, swiftly filled out the acknowledgment of the
 
 OLD SAUREZ' DEPOSITION 133 
 
 old man's signature to the Weir document, clapped the 
 page under the seal and pressed home the stamp. Then 
 pushing the folded statement into an envelope and that 
 into his pocket, he leaned back with a sigh of exhaustion. 
 The thing was accomplished at last, but the strain had 
 been great. Weir's command to secure evidence had 
 been obeyed. Only the promise to await Saurez' death 
 troubled Martinez, and with a convenient sophistry he 
 decided that an agreement not to print the narrative 
 in a book did not extend to using it in court. Weir 
 would be delighted it was a famous coup. 
 
 How long Martinez sat reveling in this well-earned 
 satisfaction he was unaware, until with a start he glanced 
 at his watch. Three-quarters of an hour had passed. 
 He went out to look for Saurez. But he was not in sight 
 and though several persons had seen him they could 
 not say where he had gone. Martinez went again into 
 his office. When another half-hour had drifted by he 
 decided the old man had encountered friends and either 
 caught a ride home or gone with one to supper. So 
 Martinez proceeded to his own meal. 
 
 Yet he was pervaded by an unaccountable uneasiness. 
 The sun had set in a bank of clouds and night was not 
 far off. He made another search for the old Mexican, 
 inquiring here and there, until he was informed by one 
 that he had seen Saurez in Vorse's saloon talking with 
 Vorse and sipping a glass of brandy. That was half 
 an hour before. A chill of fear spread over the law- 
 yer's skin. 
 
 Determined, however, to learn the worst, he stole to 
 the saloon and peered over the slatted door. The Mexi- 
 can bar-keeper was wiping a glass ; Vorse was not in 
 sight ; and ha ! there was Saurez himself drowsing by a
 
 140 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 table. Martinez slipped in and made his way to the 
 rear. 
 
 "Come; time to go home," he said softly, giving the 
 old Mexican's shoulder a shake. This did not arouse 
 the sleeper, so he added force to his hand, at which the 
 other sagged forward limply. 
 
 Martinez jumped back. Next he stood quite still, 
 staring. Then he approached and lifting the drooping 
 head, gazed at the wrinkled face and glazed eyes. 
 
 "Miguel, come here!" he exclaimed, anxiously. 
 "Saurez is dead." 
 
 "Dead !" The bar-keeper ran to the spot, eyes large 
 with alarm and excitement. "Dios, I thought him 
 asleep! See, there is the glass in which I gave him 
 brandy at Senor Vorse's order. The old one said he 
 had come in to pay a little visit to his old employer 
 and have a chat. They talked for some time." 
 
 "Was Vorse asking him questions?" 
 
 "Yes. I think Saurez was telling him how he hap- 
 pened to be in town. I paid little attention to them, 
 however. After a while I glanced up and saw Vorse 
 standing by him. They were not talking. Then Vorse 
 came away and said the old man had fallen asleep, and 
 he went out to supper." 
 
 Martinez again lifted the head and darted glances 
 over the dead man's breast. There were no wounds, but 
 on the shriveled brown throat he saw what might have 
 been a thumb-mark. He could not be sure, yet that was 
 his guess. 
 
 "He was an old man," Miguel remarked. 
 
 "Yes. You should notify his son and also the under- 
 taker, so the body can be taken care of. I'll telephone 
 the latter too when I reach my office." 
 
 This Martinez did, informing Saurez's family that
 
 OLD SAUREZ' DEPOSITION 141 
 
 the old man had died while apparently asleep at Vorse's, 
 and expressed his sympathy and sorrow. 
 
 One feature of the case he instantly perceived; he 
 was released from any obligation to keep silent regard- 
 ing the old man's declaration. Fortunate was he to 
 have obtained it before Vorse had got wind of his pur- 
 pose. At the thought of Vorse he arose and locked 
 both front and back doors of the building, pulled down 
 the window shades and turned out the light. 
 
 It was almost dark by now. In the darkness he felt 
 safer. Any one passing would suppose him away. Per- 
 haps he should spend the night elsewhere at the dam, 
 for instance. Again the same shudder shook his frame 
 that he had experienced on seeing the mark on Saurez' 
 throat. Vorse had killed the old Mexican, of that he 
 was convinced. With his tongue made garrulous by 
 brandy and by the presence of his old employer the old 
 man had doubtless related everything that occurred 
 between him and Martinez ; and the vulture-like, bald- 
 headed saloon-keeper, recognizing that he had been un- 
 consciously betrayed had immediately acted to close 
 this witness' lips forever against a second utterance. 
 
 Martinez himself was in danger. The perspiration 
 dampened his face as he realized that as far as he was 
 concerned the die was cast. He must fling in his for- 
 tunes with Weir to the utmost. He would first stand in 
 defense on his right as a lawyer to secure evidence for 
 a client, but if this failed and what rights would Vorse 
 halt for? he must depend upon the paper. Once they 
 had that, they would speedily put him out of the way as 
 they had done Saurez. But if they had it not, they 
 would at least hesitate to wreak their vengeance until 
 they could get it into their possession. He must place 
 it in Weir's hands at once, then if questioned refuse to
 
 142 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 inform them of its whereabouts. Perhaps they would 
 try to seize it some time this night. He stood up, lighted 
 the lamp, saw that all was well in the office and took his 
 hat. 
 
 A peremptory knock sounded on the door of the rear 
 room. 
 
 "Open up there, Martinez," a voice commanded. 
 
 He stole thither, listened. 
 
 "Who is it?" he asked. 
 
 "Never mind. Open this idoor or I'll pull it down," 
 came in hoarse tones he recognized as Burkhardt's. The 
 man, or men, outside had chosen the rear to force an en- 
 trance if necessary, where there would be no spectators. 
 "Jerk it open quick," Burkhardt continued savagely. 
 "We want you." Then again, "We knew you were 
 there, though you kept the place dark. Move lively be- 
 fore I use this ax." 
 
 Never did Martinez' mind work more rapidly. Like- 
 wise his eyes darted everywhere in search of the object 
 he needed. Then he glided to a decrepit arm-chair and 
 turning it over stuffed the document in a rent in its 
 padded seat, out of sight underneath. Next he filled his 
 pockets with other papers signed by Saurez. Last, he 
 hastily tore open the little telephone book and ran a 
 forefinger down the H's. 
 
 "Doctor Hosmer's, hurry," he exclaimed. "Number 
 F28." 
 
 Blows were already sounding on the rear door, but 
 the lock was strong and resisted. Of all the persons he 
 knew Janet Hosmer was the only one he could trust to 
 keep her word. And he dare not wait until Weir could 
 come. 
 
 "Is this you, Janet? Martinez talking," he said, when 
 he heard her answer. "Listen. I'm at my office; men
 
 are trying to break in to get a paper valuable for Mr. 
 Weir's defense. They must not get it. He's to be ar- 
 rested and tried for murder of the man he killed. You 
 and I know he's innocent. This is a life and death 
 matter. The paper is hidden in the old chair. The men 
 are breaking down the door. I'll get them away long 
 enough for you to come and obtain it. Give it to Weir 
 at once, to-night, immediately. Promise me you will, 
 promise! My own life probably hangs on it. Return 
 to your house and stay for half an hour and if he hasn't 
 arrived by that time, go to the dam. Thank you, thank 
 you from my heart ! Start now." 
 
 The words had tumbled out in an agitated stream, 
 occupying but a few seconds. The panels were splint- 
 ering in the door now, as the ax smashed a way through. 
 Martinez had no need to look up Weir's number; and it 
 was in a strain of terror and excitement that he waited 
 for the connection. 
 
 "See Janet Hosmer at once," he shot at the engineer, 
 followed by the rest of the warning already quoted which 
 had so electrifying an effect upon Steele Weir. 
 
 But the words had broken off abruptly. For as the 
 door crashed off its hinges Martinez dropped the tele- 
 phone receiver and darted for the front entrance, shoot- 
 ing back the bolt and flinging it open. He almost 
 plunged into Vorse who was on guard there. 
 
 "Stand still," the man ordered. And Martinez kept 
 the spot as if congealed, for in the saloon-keeper's hand 
 was a revolver with an exceedingly large muzzle. 
 
 Burkhardt burst in, ax still in hand, eyes bloodshot 
 with rage. Vorse turned and closed the front door. 
 Then he glanced over the lawyer's table and ran a hand 
 into his inside coat pocket bulging with documents. He 
 glanced through one or two.
 
 144, IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Here's what we're after," said he. "We'll take him 
 to my place where we can quietly settle the matter." 
 His eyes rested on tha Mexican with ominous meaning. 
 
 "Come along, you snake," Burkhardt growled, seizing 
 their prisoner's arm. "Out the back way and keep 
 your mouth shut. Don't try to make a break of any 
 kind, if you know what's best for you." 
 
 Martinez' yellow skin was almost white. 
 
 "But, gentlemen, what does this all mean?" he began, 
 endeavoring to pull back. 
 
 "You'll learn soon enough." 
 
 "Step right along," Vorse added. "Take him away, 
 Burkhardt, then I'll blow out this light." 
 
 With no further word Martinez accompanied his cap- 
 tors into the gloom of the night. They moved in silence 
 through the dark space behind the row of store build- 
 ings. The lawyer felt that at least the way was clear 
 for Janet Hosmer.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 
 
 WHEN Janet Hosmer, startled by Felipe Martinez* 
 agitated appeal, turned from the telephone, her single 
 thought was to carry out on the instant his fervid in- 
 junction. Something aimed at the engineer and the 
 lawyer was in movement, a plot for the former's arrest 
 and the destruction of evidence necessary to his defense, 
 according to Martinez' quick hurried words; and the 
 Mexican now sought her aid, as she was the only one 
 within reach whom he could trust. That he must call 
 to her showed the desperate nature of the exigency 
 and he had said lives were at stake ! 
 
 Haste was the imperative need. As her father was 
 absent, she summoned the Mexican girl from the kitchen, 
 for instinct advised the wisdom of having a companion 
 on this errand; and the two of them, bare-headed and 
 walking fast, set out for the house. Dusk was just 
 thickening to night. No stars were visible. A warm 
 moistness in the air forewarned of rain from the blanket 
 of clouds that had spread at sunset along the peaks. 
 Indeed, a few fine globules of water touched their faces 
 as they came into the main street and hurried along. 
 
 Neither girl had observed the automobile, unlighted 
 and moving slowly, that approached the Hosmer house 
 as they emerged. Apparently the driver perceiving them 
 against the lamplight of the doorway and noting their 
 departure thought better of bringing the car to a halt, 
 
 145
 
 146 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 for he kept the machine in motion and as quietly as 
 possible trailed the pair by glimpses of their figures 
 flitting before an occasional illuminated window. When 
 Janet and her companion turned into the main street 
 where the stores were lighted his task became easier. 
 
 The street was peaceful. Janet saw no evidence of 
 the violence or danger indicated by the Mexican lawyer's 
 declaration, but she was too sensible to imagine on that 
 account that peril did not exist. The town was not 
 aware of what had occurred, that was all, not yet. 
 The chief actors in the conspiracy were still moving 
 stealthily against their intended victims ; they had 
 pounced on Martinez and once they had seized the evi- 
 dence they sought they would arrest Weir. Afterwards 
 the people, as she guessed the matter, would be aroused 
 to create a strong sentiment against the helpless men. 
 It was an atrocious business. 
 
 But as yet things were in a lull and it was during 
 this pause, brief, critical, that Martinez expected her 
 to act. That mudh she had grasped from his hurried 
 words. She reached his office and halted to listen. No 
 gleam came from the building, nor from the low struc- 
 ture on either side, and across the way all was dark 
 dark as it had been that night when the assassin's shot 
 had been fired at Steele Weir. Repressing a shudder, 
 she bade the Mexican girl follow her, groped for the 
 door knob, found it and pushed the door open. 
 
 Martinez had spoken of men forcing an entrance, so 
 it must have been at the rear. Inside all was pitchy 
 black. 
 
 "Juanita, you have a match in your pocket, haven't 
 you?" she demanded, anxiously. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Janet." 
 
 "Strike it, then."
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 147 
 
 In the pent stillness of the dark office Janet could 
 hear the Mexican girl fumbling in the pocket of her 
 gingham dress. There came a scratching sound and a 
 tiny flame. 
 
 "Be careful of it," she warned. "Now give it to me. 
 And close the door." 
 
 Janet lighted the smoky lamp resting on the table, 
 next took it up in her hand. A few papers had fallen 
 upon the floor. The room was still strong with fresh 
 cigarette smoke. Martinez could not have been gone 
 more than five minutes. 
 
 And in another five minutes' time too Martinez' cap- 
 tors might be back again! 
 
 Holding the lamp aloft she peered about for an old 
 chair, her heart beating rapidly, her lips compressed. 
 But all the chairs, the three or four in the room, were 
 old. Her eyes encountered the Mexican girl staring 
 open-mouthed and scared. 
 
 "Take the lamp and keep by me," Janet ordered. 
 <e Don?t upset it. What are you shaking for, you 
 ninny ?" 
 
 "I can't help it and you're so white," the other 
 whimpered. 
 
 "Never you mind me ; do as I say." 
 
 Janet swiftly went from one chair to another, turn- 
 ing them about, upside down, all ways. No paper was 
 hidden in or under any one of them, or indeed was there 
 space capable of holding a document. At last she gave 
 up, gazing about in dismay, dread, tears of vexation 
 and anxiety almost rising to her lids. Only one conclu- 
 sion was to be drawn: the men who had seized the law- 
 yer had found the paper in spite of his precaution. 
 
 She examined the chairs a second time feverishly, for 
 time was flying.
 
 148 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "I can't find it, Juanita, the paper he telephoned me 
 to come and get," she exclaimed. 
 
 "Maybe it's in there where he sleeps." And the Mexi- 
 can girl pointed at the inner door standing barely ajar. 
 
 "We'll see." 
 
 Janet led the way within. There was Martinez* liv- 
 ing- and sleeping-room. The furnishings comprised a 
 bed, an old scratched bureau, a stand with wash-bowl, 
 a red and black Navajo blanket on the floor, a trunk, 
 a stool and a dilapidated stuffed chair just such a 
 chair as a paper could be hidden in. That into this 
 room the lawyer's assailants had burst their way was 
 apparent from the splintered door hanging from one 
 hinge at the rear. 
 
 Beckoning Juanita to bring the lamp, Janet ran to 
 the arm-chair. 
 
 "Ah, here it is!" she cried, when she had turned the 
 piece of furniture over and inserted her hand in the 
 rent. "It wasn't found, after all ! Come away now." 
 
 Relief and exultation replaced her depression of the 
 moment before. She had succeeded; she had helped the 
 lawyer outwit his enemies ; she must now return home to 
 await Steele Weir's arrival, or if he failed in that then 
 go to the dam. 
 
 In the outer room she bade the Mexican girl place the 
 lamp on the table once more and blow it out. This 
 was done. They groped forward to the door. 
 
 "Follow me out quietly, Juanita," Janet said. "Only 
 Mr. Martinez knows we've been here, and Mr. Weir, the 
 engineer. See, I'm trusting you. This is a very im- 
 portant paper for Mr. Weir, and other men are trying 
 to keep it out of his hands. So you must say nothing 
 to any one about our being here." 
 
 Juanita assented in a whisper. Janet thereupon
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 149 
 
 opened the door and the pair stepped forth. A faint 
 hissing sound directly before them startled both. 
 But the American girl immediately recognized it for 
 what it was, the faint murmur of an automobile 
 engine. 
 
 She quietly closed the office door, caught her compan- 
 ion's arm to lead her away. 
 
 "Don't talk," she whispered in her ear. 
 
 At the same instant the beam of an electric hand torch 
 flashed in their eyes, blinding them. Then as quickly 
 the light was extinguished and a heavy blanket was flung 
 over Janet's head. Her cry was choked off, but not that 
 of the Mexican girl who had been struck by the corner 
 of the cloth and who heard her mistress struggling in 
 the arms of the man who had seized her. The sound 
 of the struggle moved towards the car and then Juanita, 
 paralyzed by fright, was stunned by a sudden roar of 
 the exhaust, a grind of gears, and a rush in the dark- 
 ness. The automobile had gone, carrying off Janet Hos- 
 mer a muffled prisoner. Juanita regaining use of her 
 legs fled for Doctor Hosmer's unmindful of the mist 
 against her face. 
 
 Janet's sensation had been that of strangulation and 
 terror. In the thick folds of the blanket, held and lifted 
 by strong arms, all she could offer in the way of re- 
 sistance was futile kicks. She had been jammed into the 
 automobile seat and firmly kept there by an embrace 
 while the car was being started, which did not relax as 
 the machine gathered speed. For some minutes this 
 lasted, while she strained painfully for breath, and then 
 she perceived the car was stopping. 
 
 Her terror increased. What now would happen? 
 These men after overpowering Felipe Martinez had ab- 
 ducted her in their determination to possess themselves
 
 150 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 of the paper. Finding it in her hand for she still 
 clutched it what then? Would they kill her? 
 
 The car was now completely at rest. The arm was 
 withdrawn from about her ; hands gripped her hands and 
 forced them together ; a handkerchief was tightly knotted 
 about her wrists. Afterwards her ankles were bound by 
 a strap. Then the blanket was lifted from her form 
 and head and she gasped in again pure night air. 
 
 "Here's a gag," said the man at her side. "Keep 
 quiet and I'll not use it ; if you open your mouth to make 
 a sound, I shall. It's up to you." And with the hoarse 
 threat she caught the heavy sickening odor of whiskey 
 on the speaker's breath. 
 
 "You, Ed Sorenson! You've dared to do this!" she 
 exclaimed, fear vanishing in anger. 
 
 "Yes, sweetheart," came with a mocking accent. 
 
 <e Untie me this minute and let me out!" 
 
 "Oh, no. You've got the wrong line on this little 
 game. We're going for a ride, just you and me, as 
 lovers should." 
 
 Janet began to think fast. 
 
 "How did you know I was in Mr. Martinez' office?" 
 she demanded. 
 
 "Because I saw you go in, little one. I was just pull- 
 ing up at your door to coax you out when I saw you and 
 the Mexican wench appear. So I followed along. Saved 
 me the bother of telling you your father had been hurt 
 in an accident. He's chasing off somewhere thirty miles 
 from town on a 'false alarm* call to attend a dying man. 
 Sorry I had to use the blanket; sorry I have to keep 
 your naughty little hands and feet tied up. But it's 
 the only way. After we're married, you'll forget all 
 about it in loving me." 
 
 So this was the face of the matter. Not the paper
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 151 
 
 she gripped, but she herself was his object. His abduc- 
 tion of her had nothing to do with Martinez' affair; he 
 knew nothing of the larger plot; and for that reason 
 she experienced a degree of relief. 
 
 "I'll never marry you, be certain of that," said she, 
 recurring to his statement. "If anything had been 
 needed to settle that point, what you have done now 
 would be enough. You shall pay for this atrocious 
 treatment. Untie my hands." 
 
 "Oh, no. We're starting on." 
 
 "Your father as well as mine shall know of this." 
 
 "I think not, dearie. We're going up into the hills 
 where I've a nice little cabin fixed up. And we'll stay 
 there awhile. And then when we come back, you'll not 
 do any talking. On the contrary, you'll be anxious to 
 marry me you'll be begging me to marry you. Of 
 course! People know we're engaged, and they'll know 
 you've been away with me for two or three days. Do 
 you think they'll listen to any story about my carrying 
 you off against your will? They'll wink when they hear 
 it. Yes, you'll be ready to marry me all right, all right, 
 when we come back to San Mateo." 
 
 Janet's blood ran cold at this heartless, black plan 
 to ensnare her into marriage. 
 
 "Ed, you would never do a thing like that," she 
 pleaded. "You're just trying to scare me with a joke. 
 Be a good fellow and untie my hands and take me 
 home." 
 
 "No joke about this; straight business. I told you 
 you should marry me " 
 
 "You're drunk or mad!" she burst out, terrified. 
 
 "Neither; perfectly calm. But I'm not the fellow 
 to be tossed over at a whim. I'm holding you to your 
 word, that's all. You'll change your mind back as it
 
 152 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 was by to-morrow; you'll be crazy to have me as a 
 husband then. I won't have to tie your hands and feet 
 to keep you at my side when we come riding home to go 
 to the minister's. Now we've had our little talk and 
 understand each other; and it's beginning to drizzle. 
 Time to start for our little cabin. The less fuss you 
 make, the pleasanter it will be for both of us." 
 
 He set the gears and the car started forward once 
 more. A sensation of being under the paws of a beast, 
 odious and fetid, savage and pitiless, overwhelmed her. 
 That this was no trick of a moment but a calculated 
 scheme to abase and possess her she now realized with 
 a sort of dull horror. And on top of all he was, despite 
 his denial, partly drunk. 
 
 Through the terror of her situation two thoughts now 
 continued to course like fiery threads one a hope, one 
 a purpose. The former rested on Juanita, whom in 
 his inflamed ferocity of intention, the man seemed to 
 have forgotten on Juanita and Steele Weir, "Cold 
 Steel" Weir; and this failing, there remained the lat- 
 ter, a set idea to kill herself before this brute at her 
 side worked his will. Somehow she could and would 
 kill herself. Somehow she would find the means to free 
 her hands and the instrument to pierce her heart. 
 
 Sorenson had switched on his lights. He drove the 
 car through the damp darkness at headlong speed along 
 the trail that leaped from the gloom to meet them and 
 vanished behind. At the end of a quarter of an hour he 
 swung into a canyon ; and Janet perceived they were as- 
 cending Terry Creek. He stopped the car anew. 
 
 "I'll just take no chances with you," he exclaimed. 
 "We have to pass your friends, the Johnsons, you know. 
 Had to take my stuff up here in the middle of the night 
 up one night and back the next and mighty still too,
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 153 
 
 so that they wouldn't suspicion I was fixing a little bower 
 for you." 
 
 He bound a cloth over her mouth and again flung the 
 blanket over her head. Janet struggled fiercely for a 
 moment, but finally sank back choking and half in a 
 faint. She was barely conscious of the car's climbing 
 again. Though when passing the ranch house the man 
 drove with every care for silence, she was not aware 
 of the fact. Her breath, mind, soul, were stifled. She 
 seemed transfixed in a hideous nightmare. 
 
 At length her lips and head were released. But her 
 hands and feet were numb. Still feeling as if she were 
 in some dreadful dream she saw the beam of the head- 
 lights picking out the winding trail, flashing on trees by 
 the wayside, shining on wet rocks, heard the chatter of 
 the creek over stones and the labor of the engine. 
 
 The road was less plain, a mere track now, and 
 steeper. They were climbing, climbing up the mountain 
 side, up into the heavier timber, up into one of the 
 "parks" among the peaks. Johnson's ranch was miles 
 behind and far below. Occasionally billows of fog 
 swathed them in wet folds that sent a chill to Janet's 
 bones. 
 
 Sorenson held his watch down to the driver's light. 
 
 "Ten o'clock ; we're making good time. Must give the 
 engine a drink and take one myself." 
 
 He descended to the creek with a bucket, bringing 
 back water to fill the steaming radiator. Afterwards, 
 standing in the light of the car's lamps, he tilted a flask 
 to his lips and drank deep. 
 
 "Not far now; three or four miles. But it's slow 
 going. Have to make it on 'low'," said he, swinging 
 himself up into his place. 
 
 Janet held her face turned away. She was thinking
 
 154 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 of Juanita and Steele Weir. Had the girl gone home 
 again? Or, terrified, had she run to her own home and 
 said nothing? Had the engineer come and waited and 
 learning nothing at last returned to the dam? Despair 
 filled her breast. Even should the Mexican girl have 
 apprised him of the kidnapping, how should he know 
 where to follow? And in the solitude of the wet dark 
 mountains all about her hope died. 
 
 She began desperately to tug against the handkerchief 
 binding her wrists. 
 
 Suddenly the going became easier and she felt rather 
 than saw that the trees had thinned. A flash of the car 
 lamps at a curve in the trail showed a great glistening 
 wall of rock towering overhead, then this was passed 
 and the way appeared to lead into a grassy open space. 
 A dark shape beside the road loomed into view a cabin 
 by a clump of pine trees. Sorenson brought the car to 
 a stop a few yards from the house. 
 
 "Here at last," he announced, springing down. 
 
 He unstrapped her feet, bade her get out. 
 
 "I make a last appeal to your decency and manhood 
 if you have either," she said, sitting motionless. 
 
 "Rot," he answered. Half dragging her, half lifting 
 her, he removed her from the machine. Slipping a hand 
 within her arm he led her inside the log house. 
 
 "Sit there," he ordered. 
 
 Janet dropped upon the seat, a rude plank bench 
 against the wall farthest from the door. Indeed, fatigue 
 and the numbness of her limbs rendered her incapable 
 of standing. 
 
 "When I've touched off this fire and set out some 
 grub, then I'll untie your hands," he continued. "A 
 snug little cabin, eh? Just the place for us, what? See 
 all the stuff I've brought up here to make you warm and
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 155 
 
 happy and comfortable. Regular nest. Lot of work on 
 my part, I want to say." 
 
 He touched a match to the wood already laid in the 
 fire-place, flung off his rain coat and stood to warm his 
 hands at the blaze. Lighting a cigarette, he began 
 placing from a box of supplies plates and food on the 
 table in the middle of the room, but paused to reproduce 
 his flask. With a sardonic grin he lifted the bottle, 
 bowed to Janet and drank the liquor neat. When he had 
 finished, he turned the bottle upside down to show it was 
 empty, then tossed it into a corner. Again he fixed his 
 drunken, mocking smile upon her. 
 
 "Can't preach to me about booze here, can you, 
 honey?" he said. "Ought to take a swallow yourself; 
 warm you up. I have plenty. Guess I better untie your 
 hands now." He advanced towards her, swaying 
 slightly. "You're going to love me from this time on, 
 ain't you, girlie?" He untied the handkerchief and 
 dropped it at his feet. "No nonsense now about trying 
 to get away ; I'll rope you for good if you try to start 
 anything. Hello, what's that?" 
 
 "No ; give it to me !" she cried, in alarm as he pulled 
 the folded sheets of paper from her stiffened fingers. 
 
 "Something I ought to see, maybe." Then he added 
 harshly, "Sit down, if you don't care to have me teach 
 you a thing or two. I'm master here." 
 
 He stepped to the table and drawing a box beside him 
 settled upon it, pulled the candle-stick nearer and began 
 to read the document. Janet glanced swiftly about the 
 room for a weapon. Escape past him she could not, for 
 by a single spring he could bar the way ; but could she 
 lay hand on a stick of wood she might fight her way out. 
 None was nearer than the fire, and again he could in- 
 terpose.
 
 156 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 He read on and on, with a darkening brow and an 
 evil glint showing in his eyes. Page by page he perused 
 Saurez' deposition until he reached the end. Then he 
 got to his feet, shaking the paper at her head. 
 
 "You were in on this," he snarled. "This is what you 
 were in Martinez' office to get. You're wise to this 
 cursed scheme to help Weir make my father and Vorse 
 and Burkhardt and Judge Gordon out a gang of swind- 
 lers. So they trimmed his father of something at least 
 I fancy they did, and I hope to God they did, the 
 coward ! And you were in with them ! You're not quite 
 the little white angel you'd have people believe, are you? 
 Not quite so innocent and simple as you've made me 
 think, anyway. Well, I'll square all that. That slippery 
 snake, Martinez, I'll twist his neck the minute I get back 
 to town. I'll bet a thousand it was framed up to use 
 this when Weir was arrested but he'll never use it 
 now!" 
 
 He glared at the girl with a face distorted by rage. 
 
 "We'll just burn it here and now," he continued. 
 "Then we'll be sure it won't be used." 
 
 Janet gripped her hands tightly, while her lips opened 
 to utter a wild protest at this desecration. What the 
 document contained she did not yet know, except that 
 it was evidence that fixed upon the men named guilt for 
 some past deed in which Weir had suffered and which 
 would bring them to account. But something more than 
 protest was needed, she saw in a flash, to deflect the man 
 from his purpose and save the sheets from the flame. 
 
 She shut her lips for an instant to choke the cry, then 
 said with an assumption of unconcern: 
 
 "Go ahead. I didn't want your father to see it, in any 
 case." 
 
 The paper had almost reached the candle, but the
 
 THE MASK DROPPED 157 
 
 hand that held it paused. Sorenson stared at it, and 
 from it to her. At last a malignant curl of his lips 
 uncovered his teeth. 
 
 "Oh, you didn't want him to see it," he sneered. "If 
 that's so, I'll just save it. He'll be interested in reading 
 what your friends have prepared to destroy his good 
 name and reputation." 
 
 He folded the document and slipped it into his inner 
 coat pocket. Then he walked towards her. At the look 
 on his face Janet sprang to her feet. 
 
 "I've changed my mind about the marriage matter, 
 just as you did," he said. "I agree with you now; there 
 won't be any marriage. But I'll have your arms about 
 my neck just the same." 
 
 And he seized her wrist. 
 
 "Let me go, let " The words ceased on her lips. 
 
 Her eyes were riveted on the cabin door ; she scarcely 
 felt the man's loathsome touch on her arm. How had 
 the door come unlatched? And was it only the wind that 
 slowly moved it open?
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WEIR TAKES UP THE HUNT 
 
 i 
 
 ON leaving the construction camp Steele Weir had 
 whirled away down the river road for San Mateo with a 
 feeling both of satisfaction and of enmity satisfaction 
 at Martinez* success in at last having secured the evi- 
 dence ardently desired, as betokened by his words; 
 enmity at whoever was laying violent hands on the 
 lawyer. Unfortunately when yet half a mile from town 
 his car suffered one of the common misadventures of 
 automobiles: ping-g-g! sang a tire in a shrill dying 
 whine. 
 
 Weir did not stop to change and inflate the tube, but 
 pushed ahead on his mission though at slackened speed. 
 He brought his car to rest before Doctor Hosmer's 
 house. The windows were lighted, yet at his knock there 
 was no response; so brushing conventionalities aside he 
 entered and called Janet's name. Only echoes and a 
 following silence greeted his call. 
 
 Doubtful whether to remain awaiting the girl's return 
 or go at once to Martinez' office in the hope of still find- 
 ing her, he finally chose the latter course leaving his car 
 where it stood and proceeding on foot, as a result of 
 which he passed in the darkness Juanita hurrying home 
 in a fright. A bad choice and valuable time lost, he 
 afterwards discovered. At Martinez' office he stepped 
 inside, called the lawyer by name, called Janet Hosmer, 
 stood for a little while in the black room barkening and 
 thinking, then went forth into the street. 
 
 158
 
 WEIR TAKES UP THE HUNT 159 
 
 This time chance fell his way. He had but come out 
 when he heard footsteps and two men in low-toned talk 
 as they approached; and he withdrew further into the 
 concealing darkness of the street. The new visitors, 
 striking matches at the entrance, walked inside. The 
 men were Vorse and Burkhardt. 
 
 "If you had been here, we could have nailed him at 
 once as soon as I had Saurez* story," the former said. 
 "Martinez had half an hour and more to get the thing 
 into somebody else's hands." 
 
 "Well, I was looking after those men up in the hills," 
 was the growled answer. "Had to feed 'em and have 
 'em ready for to-morrow night. If we don't find the 
 document here, we'll screw its hiding-place out of that 
 dirty greaser if we have to use a cord on his head 
 Indian-fashion. Anyway it ought to be about this office. 
 Martinez didn't know you had learned about it from. 
 Saurez. He'd never let go a paper like that until he 
 had to." 
 
 "I think you're right there," Vorse said. "He'd want 
 to sell it for all it was worth. Better shut and lock the 
 door while we're searching. Don't care to have any of 
 his friends sticking in their heads while we're here." 
 
 Burkhardt, who had lighted the lamp, now closed the 
 door, cutting off so far as Steele Weir was concerned 
 both a view of the men and their conversation. However 
 he had learned if not enough, at least considerable. 
 They had not yet gained possession of the paper. They 
 knew nothing of Janet's part in the affair. They had 
 so far not succeeded in unlocking Martinez' lips, but 
 undoubtedly they would be able to wring from the lawyer 
 when they went about it the real truth regarding the 
 document. Very likely Martinez had anticipated that, 
 had known his powers were such as not to be greatly able
 
 160 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 to resist physical torture and had planned to get the 
 evidence into the engineer's hands before he should be 
 subjected to pains of the flesh. That would be remem- 
 bered to his credit, along with all the rest. Where 
 Martinez was being held prisoner was the additional 
 information Weir should have liked to glean before the 
 door was shut. 
 
 Postponing for the time the hunt along this line, he 
 returned to the Hosmer dwelling. In answer to his 
 knock and call on this visit the trembling Juanita 
 appeared, immediately pouring forth a recital of the 
 happenings at the office as affecting her mistress. 
 
 ''You've told no one else?" he demanded. 
 
 "No, senor. She said I was to say nothing of her 
 being there for the paper, and I was waiting for her 
 father to come. But she informed me Mr. Martinez and 
 you knew she was there, so I've told you." 
 
 "And you saw nothing of this man who cast the 
 blanket over her head and seized her?" 
 
 "It was dark; we had just come out of the office. 
 But but the car sounded like Ed Sorenson's. I've 
 heard it start from here many times with the same loud 
 noise. They had quarreled, Senor Weir, and were no 
 longer engaged." 
 
 "I know. Which way did he drive off?" 
 
 "East, down the lower end of the street." 
 
 "Bring a lamp out to my car, so I can fix my tire." 
 
 With the girl holding the light by his side the engineer 
 worker with concentrated energy in stripping the wheel, 
 in inserting a new tube, replacing the tire and pumping 
 it up. The thin drizzle glistened on his face, but for all 
 that it was none the less determined, stern. 
 
 "You need not be afraid for yourself; no one but us 
 knows you were there," he said to her, climbing into his
 
 WEIR TAKES UP THE HUNT 161 
 
 machine. "Nor for Miss Janet, either. 1*11 bring her 
 home safely. When Dr. Hosmer returns, tell him every- 
 thing. Also ask him to await our coming. Be sure and 
 say to him that I'll bring her home unharmed and that 
 I advise silence in regard to the matter until I have 
 talked with him. You will remain quiet, of course. This 
 isn't a thing to be gossiped about." 
 
 "No, senor." 
 
 Away the automobile shot under the impulsion of the 
 gas. Minutes, golden minutes, had been wasted in 
 taking up the pursuit because of his going to Martinez' 
 office and because of the flat tire. Sorenson now would 
 be miles away with his prisoner. 
 
 Sweeping out of town with the car's headlights illum- 
 inating the road, Steele Weir blessed the drizzling mist 
 that dampened the dust so as to leave a tire's imprint. 
 Almost at once he picked up the track, for not more than 
 twenty or twenty-five minutes had elapsed since Soren- 
 son's flight and not even a horseman had since been 
 over the way. 
 
 Though he knew it not, the interval of time had been 
 reduced by the stop made by the first machine, a mile or 
 so out of town, when the abductor removed the blanket 
 from Janet Hosmer's head to announce his evil scheme. 
 From the main road leading to Bowenville Weir saw the 
 car's trail turn aside into a mesa track pointing obliquely 
 for Terry Creek canyon ; and he suspected that Sorenson 
 was making a long drive northward, skirting the 
 mountain range and working away from the railroad- 
 tapped region. 
 
 Once he thought he caught a flash of light far ahead 
 of him, but knew this was an illusion. Through this 
 rainy darkness no car's beam, however powerful, would 
 show half a mile. The mist beat against his face in a
 
 162 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 steady stream as he rushed forward in the night, his 
 eyes immovable on the wet twin tire-marks stamped on 
 the road, his iron grip on the wheel, his ears filled with 
 the steady hum of the engine. If Sorenson had driven 
 fast, Steele Weir drove faster. 
 
 At Terry Creek he plunged down the bank, across the 
 water and up on the other side without a change of 
 gears, rocking and lurching. Once on the smooth trail 
 again the car seemed to stretch itself like a greyhound 
 for the race northward. But on a sudden he brought 
 the automobile to an abrupt halt. Hie surface of the 
 road was undisturbed ; nothing had passed here. 
 
 Swinging back again on the way he had come, Weir 
 recrossed the creek and slowly retraced his course. 
 Then with an exclamation of satisfaction he picked up 
 the track where it turned up the canyon trail. But why 
 was the man going to the Johnson ranch? Mystified by 
 this baffling procedure on Sorenson's part, he never- 
 theless headed up the stream with no lessening of his 
 purpose to overtake the other. 
 
 At the ranch house, whose kitchen window was lighted, 
 he stopped and leaped out. Johnson and Mary both 
 answered his thumping knock. 
 
 "Is Janet Hosmer here?" he questioned, while his eyes 
 darted about the kitchen. Then he made his own reply, 
 "I see she's not. Ed Sorenson kidnapped her to-night 
 and drove to this canyon. Did you hear a car?" 
 
 Mary faced her father. 
 
 "You remember I thought I heard one!" she cried. 
 "But the sound was so low I wasn't sure, and when I went 
 to the window I saw nothing. I didn't hear it again. 
 Father said it was just my imagination." 
 
 "Where does this road lead ?" 
 
 "Up into the timber and to a 'park.' Used to be an
 
 old wood road. Sheepmen sometimes use it to take their 
 wagons up above; sometimes cattle outfits too while on 
 round-ups.'* 
 
 "Could an auto go ahead on it?" 
 
 "Yes, I guess so. By hard driving." 
 
 "Then he's up there." 
 
 Weir ran back to his car, jumped in. 
 
 "Let me go with you," Johnson shouted after him. 
 
 "No, I can handle the fellow," the engineer answered. 
 And again his machine started on. "How long ago was 
 it that you heard him, Mary ?" was his parting question. 
 
 " 'Bout fifteen minutes ago," she cried. 
 
 Fifteen minutes ! But the girl's reckoning might be 
 vague, and "fifteen" minutes be half an hour. At any 
 rate, with the road ascending among the peaks 
 Sorenson's speed would be greatly diminished. The 
 incline would be against him, the uneven twisting rain- 
 washed trail would require careful driving, the rain 
 would hamper his sight. Yet the fellow he pursued 
 could not be more than three or four miles ahead at most. 
 
 On and on Weir pressed. The mist thickened; black 
 wet tree trunks loomed before him like ghosts and sank 
 out of view again; the road wound along the stream 
 among rocks and bushes and over hillocks with all the 
 difficult sinuosity of a serpent's track; in his ears 
 persisted the chuckling talk of the creek, flowing in 
 darkness except when lighted by his car's lamps as the 
 machine plunged through a ford, as became more and 
 more frequent with the ascent and the narrowing of the 
 canyon. 
 
 Five miles, ten miles, fifteen miles he must have come 
 since leaving the ranch house. His car now was high 
 in the mountain range, running on low gear, the engine 
 working hard in the thin air and against the steep grade.
 
 164 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 He was not making more than five miles an hour, he 
 judged, at this moment. The radiator was boiling and 
 steaming like a cauldron. But he might be sure that if 
 his travel was slow, Sorenson's was no better; the road 
 was the same for the pursued as for the pursuer. 
 
 At the end of another half hour he came around a 
 ledge of rock, where the creek flowed some fifty feet below 
 and the granite wall allowed just room to pass in a 
 hair-pin turn. There a light gleamed before him like a 
 beacon, a dim gleam of a window. It was perhaps a 
 hundred yards distant. It marked the end of the trail, 
 the end of the search. 
 
 Here was Janet Hosmer! 
 
 And he had come in time. They could not have been 
 here long, for Sorenson's tart had not been sufficient 
 for that ; the scoundrel had not yet recovered his breath 
 from his hard drive, so to speak. He probably would 
 imagine himself safe and so be in no haste to consummate 
 his vile plan of enjoying his helpless victim. 
 
 Rage that until now had been lying cold and 
 implacable in Steele Weir's breast began to flame in his 
 veins and brain. He drove his car paUft the rock and off 
 the trail upon an open grassy space, very carefully, 
 very quietly. Next he stopped the engine and put out 
 the lights, then he got out, felt his gun in its holster and 
 gazed ahead for an instant. 
 
 A form had passed and repassed before the window 
 Sorenson's figure, of course. Brute, coward, degenerate 
 he was, and to be dealt with as such. Not only as such, 
 indeed, but as a wretch who had dared to touch Janet 
 Hosmer against her will, to drag her from her home to 
 this lonely spot by violence for his own bestial purposes. 
 
 The blood seemed like to burst Steele Weir's heart. 
 This sweet, honest, kind-souled, noble girl! Janet
 
 WEIR TAKES UP THE HUNT 165 
 
 Hosmer, so bright-eyed and pure ! She, who had suffered 
 this man's hate to save Martinez* document, who had 
 dared peril to help him, Weir ! All the hunger of heart 
 of years, and all the stifled affection, now went out to 
 her. He loved her; the veil was rent from his mind and 
 he realized the fact indisputably he loved Janet 
 Hosmer. And the great creature of an Ed Sorenson 
 had dared to seize her with brutal hands ! 
 
 Weir broke into a run. By instinct he kept the trail, 
 though once or twice stumbling and once barely missing 
 a collision with a tree. When he reached the cabin, he 
 dropped to a walk and crept to the window, which was 
 without glass or frame, open to the night. Peering in 
 he perceived Sorenson at the table reading a document, 
 and as he watched he had no need to be told this was the 
 paper that so vitally concerned himself. 
 
 At last Sorenson got to his feet, shaking his hand at 
 Janet Hosmer who sat against the cabin wall and 
 beginning to speak. Weir listened for a little. Then 
 he stole along the log house to find the door. 
 
 At last his finger touched the latch. He lifted it 
 soundlessly, as silently pushed the door ajar until there 
 was space for him to slip in. This he did. His mouth 
 was shut hard, his eyes watchful, his right hand was 
 closed about the butt of his revolver still resting in the 
 holster. 
 
 Over Sorenson's shoulder he saw Janet Hosmer's face, 
 pale and drawn but with a sudden joy flaming there. If 
 ever gratitude were written on human countenance, it 
 was on hers. Gratitude and more! Something that 
 sent Steele Weir's blood rushing anew through his body, 
 with hope, with a song, with he knew not what. 
 
 Janet suddenly jerked herself free and stepped back, 
 her head held high and proud.
 
 166 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "You'll never touch me again, you coward. Look 
 behind you," she exclaimed. 
 
 Involuntarily Sorenson turned head on shoulder. The 
 frown still darkened his liquor-flushed face and the sneer 
 yet twisted his lips so that his mustache was drawn back 
 from his teeth. Thus he remained as if changed to stone. 
 
 What he saw was the man he most dreaded, with a 
 shadow of a smile on his lips, his figure motionless, his 
 hand ready, like an avenging Nemesis from out of the 
 night. A perceptible shudder shook the fellow. Weir it 
 was "Cold Steel," whose counter-stroke against one 
 man already had been swift and deadly, whom nothing 
 checked or turned or terrified, who now for a second time 
 was plucking away the fruit of Sorenson's efforts, who 
 probably on this occasion would shoot him outright. 
 
 For a moment Steele Weir regarded him in silence. 
 But at last he spoke : 
 
 "Stand away from that lady, you skunk !" 
 
 Sorenson moved hastily aside.
 
 CHAPTER XVH 
 
 EARTH'S RETRIBUTION 
 
 STEELE WEIR crossed the cabin to Janet's side. 
 
 "You are unhurt?" he asked, his eyes scanning her 
 face anxiously. 
 
 "Yes. And, oh, how glad I am you came !" she cried, 
 low. "I knew you would not fail me if you but learned 
 of my plight; but it's wonderful you should be here so 
 soon. I prayed every minute of my ride that Juanita 
 would find and tell you." 
 
 "I couldn't come half as fast as I wished." His smile 
 assured and cheered her. Then as his glance fell on her 
 wrists, still red and creased from being bound, he 
 exclaimed, "What's this? Let me see." And he caught 
 and lifted her hands to look. 
 
 "He had you tied?" Weir's gaze moved away to 
 Sorenson. 
 
 "Yes. Hands and feet." 
 
 "All the way ? All the long ride ?" 
 
 "Yes look out!" 
 
 Janet's words, half a gasp, half a shriek, gave 
 warning of Sorenson's movement, though none was 
 needed. While apparently neglecting to watch the other, 
 Weir had kept the man sharp in the corner of his eye. 
 The motion with which his hand darted to his hip and 
 up again was a single lightning-like sweep; and his 
 weapon covered his enemy before the latter's hand so 
 much as got his revolver in grasp. 
 
 167
 
 168 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Drop it ; drop it on the floor !" the engineer ordered. 
 The gun clattered on the rough-hewn logs. "Now put 
 your hands up and turn your back this way." Sorenson 
 obeyed, not without his eyes speaking the disappointed 
 wrath and hatred his tongue dared not utter. "I should 
 have allowed you to make a full draw and then killed 
 you," Steele Weir went on. "That would have been the 
 simplest way to settle your case. Only I don't like to 
 kill bunglers, even when they deserve it." 
 
 He re-sheathed his own gun and strode forward, 
 picking up the one on the floor a black, ugly-looking 
 automatic. This he dropped into a coat pocket. 
 
 "Now face about, you cur," he commanded. "I want 
 a good look at a man no, I'll not call you a man at a 
 low-lived imitation of a man who is such a sneaking, dirty 
 beast that all he can do is to trap and tie up a helpless 
 girl. I don't know yet just what I shall do with you, 
 but I know what I ought to do I ought to choke the 
 miserable life out of you! You're not fit to live. You 
 soil the earth and pollute the air. But you're of the 
 same treacherous, underhanded, scoundrelly breed as 
 your father, same yellow flesh and blood, same crooked 
 mind and heart, same sort of poisonous snake, and since 
 you get it all from him I suppose it can't be helped. Nor 
 changed, except by killing and burying you. One thing 
 is sure, when I'm done you won't be trying any more 
 deals like this. Bah, you slimy reptile, you belong in a 
 cess-pool !" 
 
 Under Steele Weir's biting speech Sorenson's face 
 went red and pale by turns. His lips twitched and 
 ,worked, moving his mustache in little angry lifts, while 
 he breathed with short spasmodic intakes. 
 
 "First, you're after Mexican girls," Weir went on 
 mercilessly. "Then Mary Johnson, whom I pulled out
 
 EARTH'S RETRIBUTION 169 
 
 of your vile fingers. And now it's " The engineer's 
 fist arose suddenly above the other's head. "Why, I 
 ought to drop you dead in your tracks for so much as 
 looking at Janet Hosmer ! Why don't you fight ? Why 
 don't you give me a chance, you cowardly girl-robber? 
 Haven't you a spark of well, you haven't, I see. I'll 
 just tie you up and later figure out some way to make 
 you suffer for this night's work." And with a gesture 
 of disgust Weir turned away. 
 
 It was the moment Sorenson had been waiting for. 
 As the engineer's back came about, exposed in one 
 instant of carelessness, the man struck Weir full force on 
 the neck, sending him staggering. Then Sorenson leaped 
 for the doorway. 
 
 Janet screamed. Weir recovered himself and whirled 
 around, whipping forth his revolver and firing two shots. 
 But the bullets only buried themselves in the door 
 slammed shut after the escaping prisoner. 
 
 "I myself ought to be shot for this," Steele snapped 
 out. 
 
 He ran across the cabin, flung the door open, sprang 
 out. The uselessness of seeking his enemy in the black 
 wet gloom was only too evident, but he would not give up. 
 Gun in hand, he stood listening for sound of fleeing 
 footsteps. 
 
 A light hand gripped his arm. Janet had followed 
 him out, was at his side. Barely audible he heard her 
 quick, excited breathing. 
 
 "Must you shoot him?" she whispered. 
 
 "Why spare him for more deviltry ? But 111 not have 
 the chance now." 
 
 "I can't bear to think of even his blood being on our 
 hands. Let him go," Janet said. 
 
 "He's gone without our permission, I'd say."
 
 170 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Isn't it j ust as well ? Pm. not harmed, and he'll never 
 dare show his face in San Mateo again," she said. 
 "He'll have to stay away ; he'll leave for good." 
 
 "Not until I see him first. I want that paper." 
 
 "Oh, the paper, I forgot it ! And it's in his pocket," 
 she cried, in despair. 
 
 "Like the fool I was, I forgot it for the moment too," 
 Steele said bitterly. "When I could have had it at once 
 I must go off ranting about his meanness. It was 
 thought of what he had done to you that made me over- 
 look the paper ; that set me boiling. Lost my head." 
 
 Janet's answer was almost sufficient recompense 
 for even such a serious deprivation as that of the docu- 
 ment. 
 
 "I'll never forget that you were angry in my behalf," 
 she said, softly. "But perhaps you can gain possession 
 of the paper yet." 
 
 Before he could make a reply the sound of a motor 
 engine startled them. Sorenson was in his car, not far 
 off. Weir immediately plunged forward through the 
 darkness in the direction of the noise, uttering a shout 
 for the man to stop or be shot. But after the taste of 
 liberty that he already had had Sorenson was prepared 
 to take further chances; the engine's roar burst into 
 full volume and the car leaped ahead, while its driver 
 sent back a derisive curse to the cabin. 
 
 Weir fired again, fired two or three times at the sound. 
 Perhaps Sorenson was crouching safely out of range ; at 
 any rate, the bullets did not reach him, for the auto- 
 mobile plunged away. Steele slowly went back to the 
 girl. 
 
 "How can he see without lights?" she questioned. 
 
 "He can't see, but he'd rather risk not seeing the road 
 than drawing my fire. There's a bad place there at the
 
 EARTH'S RETRIBUTION 171 
 
 rock ; he'd better turn on his lamps if he wants to round 
 that." 
 
 Sensing the danger that threatened Sorenson, both 
 remained unmoving, trying to penetrate the darkness, 
 harkening to the automobile's retreating murmur. A 
 curiosity, a sort of detached suspense, rooted them to 
 the spot. 
 
 "Ah, he's snapped them on !" Janet said, almost with 
 relief. 
 
 The powerful beam of the headlights had suddenly 
 blazed forth. Either feeling that he was safe from 
 Weir's gun or realizing that he was on the verge of a 
 graver danger, Sorenson had chosen to make the light. 
 He was going at headlong speed; even where they 
 watched, Steele and Janet perceived that, and only his 
 fear of the peril behind which made him heedless of the 
 difficulties in front could account for that reckless pace. 
 
 The light leaped out into the night. Something else 
 too seemed to spring forth within the circle of the glow, 
 dark, sudden, imminent, rushing at the machine. A 
 frantic jerk this way and that of the beam showed the 
 driver's mad effort to avoid the towering wall of granite. 
 Then a scream rang back to the man and girl before 
 the cabin. Followed instantly a crash, an extinguish- 
 ment of the light, darkness, silence, and finally a thin 
 quivering flame at the base of the ledge, delicate and 
 blue, like a dancing chimera. 
 
 Janet's hand reached out and closed in Steele Weir's, 
 and he covered it with his other hand. 
 
 "Oh, how terrible !" she gasped. "Did you see? The 
 rock seemed to smite him!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "He must be dead." 
 
 "You remain here and I'll go find out."
 
 172 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 He led her into the cabin and to a stool by the table, 
 where resting her elbows on the board she pressed her 
 hands over her eyes as if to blot out the sight she had 
 just witnessed. After all she had suffered, the climax 
 of this dreadful spectacle left her unnerved, weak, 
 shuddering. 
 
 "Don't stay long," she whispered. "Come back as 
 quick as you can. This cabin, this whole spot in the 
 mountains, is awful. I can almost feel him hovering 
 over me." 
 
 "You mustn't permit such thoughts." He gave her 
 shoulder an encouraging pat. "It will take but a few 
 minutes to see if he's still alive and then we'll start home. 
 You've been the bravest girl going and will continue to 
 be, I know. Everything is over; nothing can happen 
 to you now." 
 
 Weir went out. He perceived that the wrecked car 
 was fully afire by this time, its flames illuminating the 
 granite ledge and the ground about. Evidently the 
 machine's fuel tank had been smashed under the impact 
 and the gasoline had escaped, preventing an explosion 
 but fiercely feeding the blaze. He ran towards the place. 
 
 At first he did not find Sorenson, so that he supposed 
 him buried beneath the wreckage, but presently he 
 discovered his crumpled form lying jammed between the 
 base of the ledge and a boulder. Weir lifted the limp 
 figure from its resting place and bore it to open ground, 
 where he made an examination of the still form. Clearly 
 Sorenson had been pitched free of the car and crushed 
 against the rock wall. His cap was missing; his coat 
 was ripped up the back and a part of it gone as if caught 
 and held by some obstruction in the car when he had 
 been shot forth; blood and a great bruise marked one 
 cheek; and the way his legs dragged when he was lifted
 
 EARTH'S RETRIBUTION 173 
 
 up indicated some serious injury to those members. But 
 the man still breathed. 
 
 "Miracles haven't ceased," Weir muttered, when he 
 had made sure of the fact. "But his chance is slim at 
 best." 
 
 It would be false to say that the engineer felt 
 compassion at the other's sudden catastrophe; he 
 experienced none. On the contrary he had a sense of 
 justice fittingly executed, as if, escaping bullets and 
 man's blows, Sorenson had been felled by a more certain 
 power, by the inevitable consequences of his own deeds 
 and sins, by a wall of evil he himself had raised as much 
 as by a wall of stone. 
 
 He searched the man's breast pocket, then hunted for 
 the missing document among the stones and bushes. At 
 last he gave up for the time further seeking, with a 
 conviction that the vital paper was gone for good, 
 destroyed in the fire of the burning car. But for his 
 own over-confidence, his belief he had Sorenson a safe 
 prisoner back there in the cabin, the sheets might be 
 secure in his pocket. Well, it was too late now. 
 
 He again lifted the unconscious man in his arms and 
 returned to the log house. Inside he laid him on the 
 rude bed which Sorenson himself had spread with sheets 
 and blankets. 
 
 "He's alive?" Janet asked, awed. 
 
 "Alive, but badly hurt." 
 
 "You'll leave him here?" 
 
 "Yes, while I take you away. We could do nothing 
 for him in any case; his injuries are grave and need a 
 doctor's help. The best service we can perform in his 
 behalf is to start your father or some other physician 
 here as quickly as possible. He may live or he may die ; 
 that isn't in our hands. He's unconscious and not
 
 174 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 suffering, and probably will not feel pain for some hours 
 if he does live, so we can go without feeling that we're 
 robbing him of any of his chances of recovery. Your 
 conscience may rest quite easy on that point. Come, 
 we'll start at once. The quicker we reach your father, 
 the quicker he will arrive here." 
 
 When they were in his car he wrapped a robe about 
 her against the sharp chill. 
 
 "I am cold ; my teeth are chattering," she said. 
 
 "You've been under a great strain. Just lie back and 
 rest and think of something else than what has happened, 
 if you can," he urged. 
 
 "Ill try to." 
 
 The lamps blazed out at his touch of the switch and 
 the car began to move. She closed her eyes. She did 
 not wish to see the scene of the smash, with the leaping 
 fire and the horrible pile of crushed metal. Indeed, she 
 drew the robe before her face, where she kept it for some 
 time. 
 
 "Are we past the place?" she asked, finally. 
 
 "A long way past." 
 
 "Thank heaven! Nothing shall ever drag me up this 
 road again!" 
 
 "It will not take us long to reach Johnson's and be off 
 this trail altogether, for it's down-hill going all the way." 
 
 "You said nothing about the paper? Did you get it?" 
 
 "No; it wasn't on him. I'll return for another look, 
 but it fell in the fire, I think, and burned." 
 
 "Do you know what was in it, Mr. Weir?" 
 
 "No. But I can guess." 
 
 "I know a little of its contents, from what he said 
 before you entered. It was a statement, something 
 about his father and others doing dishonest acts, I think. 
 He didn't seem to be quite clear what it was about
 
 EARTH'S RETRIBUTION 175 
 
 either, but he spoke of your father and declared he hoped 
 the others had swindled him, which he inferred had 
 happened. I didn't know your father ever had been in 
 this country. That's the reason you hate those men, 
 Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Vorse and Mr. Burkhardt; 
 because of some injury they worked your father." 
 
 "That's the reason. And that too is why they're 
 trying to get rid of me one way or another. But they 
 didn't hire the Mexican to attempt to shoot me; 
 Ed Sorenson employed him. Martinez, when you told 
 me the man's name, telegraphed around the country 
 from Bowenville till he got track of the fellow. He also 
 secured evidence that a white man resembling Ed 
 Sorenson had been seen talking with him at the place he 
 came from. So we can draw our conclusions." 
 
 "Then he hired the man to assassinate you !" 
 
 "Looks like it. Because I took Mary Johnson away 
 from him, and from fear. He was afraid you might 
 learn of the matter, I suppose, and decided to get rid of 
 me. He's a coward at heart, but none the less a criminal 
 by instinct, so he hired another to do what he dared not 
 attempt himself. A crook like his father, but with less 
 nerve." 
 
 Janet was silent while the car wound its way down 
 the creek road, through the misty darkness and among 
 the invisible peaks. The full danger that she had 
 escaped was but now making itself clear to her mind. 
 
 "If he would go so far as to try to murder you," she 
 faltered, "I surely could have expected no pity from 
 him." 
 
 "Now listen to me," he said. "I'm going to give you 
 a little scolding: you must forget all this business; it 
 just makes you fearful and unhappy. The past is over, 
 and he's out of your life for good. Look at it that way.
 
 176 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Consider the thing as a bad dream, done with and no 
 more important. That's the right view to take" he 
 paused, then added softly "Janet." 
 
 "How strong-souled you are!" she whispered. 
 
 Strong, in truth, he seemed. Ignoring danger he had 
 come swift on Sorenson's track and rescued her, saved 
 her, kept her clean from her assailant's infamous 
 brutishness. The one was a knave and a beast ; but he, 
 Steele Weir, was a man, clear to see, quick to act, hard 
 towards enemies, gentle to friends. Every particle a 
 man sure of himself, and fearless, and true-hearted, and 
 firm of soul. 
 
 She pressed her hands tight against her breast. He 
 was a man one could love and honor. "Cold Steel" Weir 
 they called him and, she divined, his love if ever given 
 would be as lasting as hoops of steel.
 
 CHAPTER XVIH 
 
 IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 
 
 A LIGHT still burned in the Johnson ranch house, late 
 as was the hour, when the car swung round a copse of 
 aspens and brought it in view. Johnson himself came 
 forth at sound of the automobile, with a sleepy Mary 
 following. 
 
 "I wouldn't go to bed, of course, knowing you were 
 to come back," said he. But his true reason appeared in 
 his added words, "I was just about ready to saddle a 
 horse and head up there myself. Mighty glad to see you 
 safe back, Miss Hosmer. Mary has had some coffee on 
 the fire ever since Weir went along, knowing you'd be 
 cold and worn out." 
 
 "Just the thing!" Steele exclaimed. "We're both 
 chilled. Come, Janet." And he stepped from the 
 machine. 
 
 Without demur the girl placed her hand in the one he 
 offered and descended stiffly. Mary ran back into the 
 house to attend to the coffee-pot and the visitors pres- 
 ently were seated at the kitchen table at places already 
 laid, with cups of steaming strong coffee and plates of 
 food before them. 
 
 Janet contented herself with the hot, reviving drink, 
 but Weir ate heartily as well. Coming and going, forty 
 miles of driving a rough mountain road had given him a 
 laborer's appetite. 
 
 "It's late, one o'clock," Mary said to Janet. "Why 
 
 177
 
 178 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 don't you stay with us the rest of the night? I wish 
 you would." 
 
 Janet put up an arm and drew down the face of the 
 girl at her side and kissed her. 
 
 "You're a good friend, Mary, to be so thoughtful," 
 she answered. "But father will be terribly anxious 
 every minute I'm away. I must reach home as quickly 
 as possible to ease his mind." 
 
 Of Sorenson nothing had been spoken, though a 
 repressed curiosity on the part of the ranchman and his 
 daughter had been evident from the instant of Weir's 
 and Janet's return. 
 
 At this point Johnson jerked his head in the direction 
 of the creek. 
 
 "What did you do to him, Weir?" he growled. 
 
 "Not as much as I intended at first. But he made up 
 for it himself. Ran his car against that granite ledge 
 before the cabin while trying to get away, and smashed 
 himself up badly. I carried him into the hut and left 
 him there; he was alive when we drove off, but he may 
 be dead by now. Bad eggs like him are hard to kill, 
 however. I'll start a doctor up there when I arrive in 
 San Mateo; probably one from Bowenville." 
 
 "Father won't attend him now, so long as there's 
 another physician who can, I know," Janet stated. 
 
 "I should say not!" Johnson asseverated. "If that 
 young hound Sorenson had his deserts, we'd just leave 
 him there and forget all about him." 
 
 "That's where our civilized notions handicap us," 
 Steele Weir said, with a slight smile. "But at that, if he 
 were the only person concerned, I'd do no more than in- 
 form a doctor where he was and what had happened to 
 him, and wash my hands of the affair. There are other 
 things, though, to consider. Janet's position, primarily.
 
 IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 179 
 
 Her case is similar to that of Mary's awhile ago, and we 
 must prevent talk." 
 
 "Yes, of course." 
 
 "The worst of the doings of a scoundrel like him that 
 involve innocent people is the talk. There are always 
 some people low enough to ascribe evil to the girl as well 
 as the man in such a circumstance as this. I propose to 
 see that Janet doesn't suffer that. We avoided it in 
 Mary's case and we'll do so in this, though the situation 
 is more difficult. I've been thinking the matter over on 
 the way down and have a plan that will work out, I 
 believe, but it requires your help, Johnson." 
 
 "I reckon you know you'll not have to ask me twice for 
 anything," the rancher remarked. 
 
 "And we may have to shuffle the facts a v bit." 
 
 "All right. I'll do all the lying necessary and never 
 bat an eye." 
 
 "It won't require much decorating, the story. But 
 you will have to go up and get him, starting at once." 
 Then he concluded, "I hate to have to ask you to make 
 that drive late at night and in the darkness." 
 
 "Never mind that. Glad to do it, if that's what you 
 want." 
 
 "Take your wagon and fill the box with hay and bring 
 him down. By coming back slowly he won't be jarred, 
 and he has to be brought out anyway. If he's dead, 
 well, bring his body just the same. A doctor should be 
 easily at your house by the time you arrive; and your 
 itory is that a sheepherder found him lying by his 
 wrecked car, carried him into the cabin and then came 
 down and told you of the accident, on which you went 
 and brought him in, not knowing, of course, in the dark 
 who he was or what he was doing up there or how the 
 smash-up had occurred. You might suggest that he
 
 180 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 was camping there by himself to fish, and stop at 
 that." 
 
 Johnson nodded. 
 
 "I'll say just enough and no more," he remarked. 
 
 "If you start at once, you'll be there by day-light if 
 not before. That will get you back here by nine or ten 
 o'clock. I don't want him taken to San Mateo; that 
 would stir up a swarm of inquiries and might even send 
 some of the curious up to the spot. Let the trail get 
 cold, so to speak. People aren't half as curious about a 
 thing three or four days after it happens as at the 
 moment." 
 
 "I've noticed that myself." 
 
 "And another thing, I don't wish his father to learn of 
 the matter just yet. Under other circumstances he 
 should be the first to know, but I want the news kept 
 from him for a special reason. Besides, it would be 
 better if he found out about it from others and through 
 roundabout channels. His son up there I don't see 
 doing any talking himself for some time if he does 
 live. When he is able to talk, I believe he'll decide to 
 keep his mouth shut or just accept the explanation given 
 that he was fishing or something of that kind. When 
 the doctor has looked him over, either he or you will 
 carry him to Bowenville. If we could ship him at once 
 to Gaston, where there's some sort of a hospital, I 
 suppose, or even to Santa Fe, that would be the thing. 
 He'd be out of the way ; there'd be no talk ; there would 
 be no explanations to make except to the doctor." 
 
 "Every doctor round these parts probably knows 
 him," Johnson said, "and so would insist on taking him 
 home." 
 
 "There's a new one at Bowenville, father says," Janet 
 put in. "A young man, just starting practice. He
 
 IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 181 
 
 hasn't been there but a few weeks and may not know Ed." 
 
 "He's the man for us!" Weir declared. "We'll send 
 for him. Now we must be going." 
 
 Steele arose from the table and stretched his shoulders. 
 
 "And I'll hitch up my team immediately," the rancher 
 said. 
 
 "I'll go with you," Mary exclaimed. 
 
 "Tut, tut, girl." 
 
 "I can help you, and I want to do something to help 
 Mr. Weir and Janet Hosmer, even if it's only a little bit. 
 I'm strong, I don't care if it is late anyway, I'd just 
 have nightmares if I stayed here alone, and I can help 
 you with him. I'm going," she ended, obstinately. 
 
 Johnson eyed her for a moment, then yielded. 
 
 "Nothing to be afraid of now," he rejoined, "but 
 if you would rather go along with your dad, all 
 right." 
 
 Five minutes later Steele and Janet were emerging 
 from the canyon upon the mesa. The drizzling rain still 
 continued and the unseen mist beat cool upon their 
 cheeks as the car swung away from Terry Creek for 
 town. Except for the stream of light projected before 
 them, they were engulfed in Stygian darkness ; and save 
 for the slithering sound of the tires on the wet road, 
 they moved in profound night silence. 
 
 "That business is arranged," Steele said, after a time. 
 "But we still have the results of the attack on Martinez 
 to deal with. I don't know how long he'll hold out 
 against the men who dragged him off, probably not long. 
 I suppose Burkhardt and perhaps Vorse took him, and 
 they'll stop at nothing to get the paper they're after. 
 How they learned of it, I don't know, but find out about 
 it they did ; and they'll force the information they want 
 from Martinez if they have to resort to hot irons.
 
 182 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 That's the kind of men they are. The lawyer will stick 
 up to a certain point then he'll tell. That brings you 
 into their way." 
 
 "You also," Janet answered. 
 
 "I've been there for some time," was his grim 
 response. "But in your case it's different. I'm worried, 
 I tell you frankly." 
 
 "Do you think they would dare try to intimidate me 
 in my own home and with father to protect me?*' she 
 cried, incredulously. 
 
 "Not there, perhaps. But if they could inveigle you 
 away, yes. They wouldn't use hot irons in your case, of 
 course, and I can't guess just what they would do, but 
 they would do something. Those men think I have the 
 'goods' on them ; I repeat, they would stop at nothing to 
 save themselves if worst came to worst; their fear will 
 make them fiends. One couldn't suppose they would 
 dare seize Martinez in all defiance of law but they did. 
 One can't believe they would dream of torturing him for 
 information but I haven't a doubt that's what they've 
 done. So you see why I'm worried about you. If 
 anything happened, if any harm came to you now, 
 Janet" 
 
 His voice was unsteady as he spoke her name and 
 ceased abruptly. She thrilled to this betrayal of his 
 feeling. 
 
 "I wish I could just stick at your side, then I know I 
 should be safe," she said. 
 
 And for answer she felt his hand grope and press her 
 own for an instant. 
 
 "You can count on me being somewhere around." 
 
 "I know that," she said, confidently. 
 
 San Mateo was asleep, buried in gloom when they 
 entered it, and quiet except for the barking of a dog
 
 IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 183 
 
 or two that their passage stirred to activity. But in 
 Dr. Hosmer's cottage a light was burning and as the 
 car came to a stop at its gate the door was flung open 
 and the doctor himself appeared framed in the doorway. 
 He ran hastily down the walk to meet them. 
 
 "Janet !" he cried. And the girl flung her arms about 
 him. 
 
 "Juanita told you? Oh, it was dreadful! But Mr. 
 Weir has brought me home safe." 
 
 Dr. Hosmer too agitated to speak reached out and 
 grasped the engineer's hand, pressing it fervently. 
 
 At about that moment three men sat in the rear of 
 Vorse's saloon. The shades were drawn and the front 
 part of the long room was dark. Only a dull light 
 burned where they sat. They were talking in low tones, 
 with long pauses, with worried but determined, savage 
 faces Vorse, Burkhardt, Sorenson. 
 
 "Where the devil is she, that's what I want to know !" 
 Burkhardt growled. "I've been over twice and looked 
 through a window. Doc was there." 
 
 "She's in bed and asleep, probably," Sorenson said. 
 
 "I don't believe it. The old man would be in the sheets 
 himself if that were the case. Didn't I call up twice by 
 'phone too? She was out, they said." 
 
 "Couldn't do much with her father there, anyway. 
 We've got to get the paper by soft talk," Vorse 
 commented. "I still half believe Martinez was lying 
 when he said it had been in that old chair. She couldn't 
 have got to the office and away in the hour or two before 
 he told without some one seeing her, and no one did so far 
 as we can learn. We locked the door too the second 
 time we went back and it hasn't been opened since ; and 
 we were there ten minutes after our first visit when we
 
 184 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 learned the papers weren't among those in his pocket. I 
 think he's got it cached away somewhere still." 
 
 "Then we'll give him another dose of our medicine." 
 
 "If I know anything about men, he told the truth," 
 Sorenson said. 
 
 "Well, if the girl has it, we've got to get it from her if 
 I have to wring her neck to do it." It was Burkhardt's 
 inflamed utterance. 
 
 A pause followed. 
 
 "Sorenson, your boy is engaged to her," Vorse stated. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then it's up to him to get it first thing in the 
 morning. Maybe it goes against the grain to let him 
 know about this business of the past, but it ain't going to 
 knock him over ; he's no fool, he's a wise bird, he under- 
 stands that a good many things are done in business that 
 aren't advertised. He knows we weren't missionaries in 
 the old days. And she'll hand it over for him when she 
 might not for any one else." 
 
 "That's right, Sorenson," Burkhardt affirmed, his 
 scowling face visibly clearing. 
 
 "Ed went away somewhere this evening, that's the only 
 drawback to your scheme. Said something about 
 Bowenville and catching the night train to Santa Fe, and 
 that he might be gone maybe a couple of days and maybe 
 a week." 
 
 "Hell !" Burkhardt exploded, in consternation. 
 
 Vorse however remained cool. 
 
 "Then you must start telegrams to head him off, start 
 them the instant you get home. Telephone to Bowenville 
 the message you want sent and have the operator 
 dispatch it to all trains going both ways since early 
 evening, in order to make sure. If you can reach him 
 within two or three hours, wherever he is, he can hop off,
 
 IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 185 
 
 catch a train back and be here by to-morrow evening. 
 Make your message urgent. And meanwhile we'll do 
 what we can to get hold of that paper. At any rate we 
 can keep her from seeing Weir. If we have to watch her 
 we'll do it ; and if we have to stop her from going to the 
 dam, we'll do that someway too. You might invite her 
 over to-morrow to spend the day at your house." 
 
 "Do you think she'll be likely to come if she reads that 
 document?" the banker inquired coldly. 
 
 "Why not? Tell her right off the bat that the thing 
 is a lie and a forgery and that you want to explain about 
 how it was made. She might fall for that and carry the 
 document to you. She's always had a good opinion of 
 you, hasn't she?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then why should she change at a mere story." 
 
 "You're right," Sorenson exclaimed with sudden 
 energy. "The matter described happened so long ago 
 that she won't probably attach as much importance to it 
 as we've imagined she would. I'll ask her to bring it to 
 me to see and that will be all that's necessary, once it's 
 in my fingers." 
 
 "And what about him ?" Burkhardt asked, striking the 
 floor with his heel. 
 
 "Just leave him there for the present. To-morrow 
 we'll have another talk with him," the cattleman stated. 
 "Better offer him a couple of thousand to go to another 
 state; he'll grab at the chance, I fancy. Money heals 
 most wounds. But, Vorse, keep your cellar locked and 
 the bartender away from it. We can start Martinez 
 away sometime to-morrow." 
 
 "Don't know about that. To-morrow night will be 
 our busy night," the ex-sheriff said. 
 
 "We might let Gordon handle him," Vorse suggested.
 
 186 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "I thought perhaps you intended to keep the Judge in 
 ignorance of this Martinez matter. He seems to be 
 getting sort of feeble." 
 
 "He's not too feeble to take his share of the unpleasant 
 jobs along with the rest of us," Vorse answered, unfeel- 
 ingly. "I shall have him in here first thing in the morn- 
 ing and tell him what's happened and what we've done 
 and what he has to do." 
 
 "Sure,'* said Burkhardt. 
 
 "Well, that's agreeable to me," Sorenson stated, 
 looking at his watch and rising : "Time we were turning 
 in, if there's nothing more." 
 
 At the dam camp Meyers, the assistant chief engineer, 
 and Atkinson, the superintendent, were still awake, 
 smoking and talking in the office. 
 
 "I smelt enough booze on those fellows who came 
 stringing in here to fill the reservoir," the latter was 
 saying. "Some one's feeding it to them." 
 
 "Nobody drunk, though." 
 
 "No. But who's giving it to them and why ? I asked 
 one fellow and he said he'd been to a birthday party, and 
 wouldn't tell where. They were all feeling pretty lush, 
 even if they weren't soused. And to-morrow's Sunday !" 
 
 "They'll all be idle, you mean?" 
 
 "Sure. If there's more liquor, they'll be after it. All 
 day to drink in means a big celebration. The whiskey is 
 sent up from town, of course, and I reckon sent just at 
 this time to get us all in bad while Mr. Pollock's here." 
 
 "We'll look up the bootlegging nest to-morrow," 
 Meyers said, with finality. 
 
 "What can we do if we do locate it? They're not 
 selling the stuff, I judge, but giving it away. That 
 clears their skirts and forces us to deal with the men
 
 IN THE NIGHT WATCHES 187 
 
 themselves if there's any dealing done. Probably they 
 hope to start a big row among us that way." 
 
 "We'll await Weir's advice." 
 
 "Well, I've waited all I'm going to to-night. Seems 
 to me for a steady, quiet, self-respecting, dignified, 
 unhooked, unmarried, unmortgaged, unromantic man he's 
 skylarking and gallivanting around pretty late." 
 
 On the rocky creek road the ranchman and his 
 daughter Mary were driving up among the trees on their 
 way to the cabin, a lantern swinging from the end of the 
 wagon tongue, the horses straining against the grade. 
 On Johnson's beard the moisture formed beads which 
 from time to time he brushed away. From the trees 
 collected drops of water fell on their hands and knees. 
 All about as they proceeded the bushes and rocks 
 appeared in shadowy outline, to disappear in the night 
 once more, yielding to others. 
 
 "Isn't this cabin where we're going the one we drove 
 to three years ago when you were hunting some cattle?" 
 Mary asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I never thought then that Ed Sorenson would be 
 lying up there all mashed to pieces," she said, with awed 
 voice. 
 
 "I guess he didn't either," was the dry response. 
 
 "He ought to be ready to stop chasing girls after 
 this," she declared. 
 
 "He won't if he can walk; his kind never does quit." 
 
 "Then his kind ought to be locked up somewhere like 
 mad dogs. In a 'sylum, maybe." 
 
 "I guess you're right on that, Mary. They're 
 dangerous." 
 
 "Funny we didn't know he'd been up there, going past
 
 188 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 our house. He must have been there first before taking 
 Janet." 
 
 "Sneaked up in the night, probably. He'd have to 
 have grub and so on if he expected to stay even a day or 
 two. Crooks always look after their bellies, be sure." 
 
 "I reckon Janet Hosmer will like Mr. Weir a whole lot 
 now, don't you?" 
 
 "She ought to, if she doesn't." 
 
 A long silence followed while Mary apparently pur- 
 sued the line of thought opened up by this speculation. 
 
 "If she has the good sense I think she has," the ranch- 
 er stated at length, for his mind at least had been fol- 
 lowing out the subject, "she'll not only like him a whole 
 lot, but she'll lead him to the altar and put her brand on 
 him." 
 
 He spoke to unhearing ears. For just then Mary 
 sagged against him, her head sank on his shoulder. He 
 put an arm around her form and let her sleep, thus 
 roughly expressing his tenderness and love. Weir had 
 not only rescued Janet Hosmer from the clutches of the 
 man now lying injured ; he also had once saved Johnson's 
 own child Mary from the scoundrel's grasp. 
 
 Weir might ask anything of him, even to the laying 
 down of his life in his defense.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A QUEER PAPER 
 
 WHEN Mary Johnson next opened her eyes it was at 
 a little shake by her father. She had slept heavily de- 
 spite the jolting of the wagon; and now looked about 
 drowsy-eyed and at a loss to know where she was. Her 
 clothes and face were damp, her hands cold. She wasn't 
 sure yet but this was still a dream the team and wagon, 
 the cabin before which they stood, the trees and rocks 
 scattered about the grassy park-like basin, and the 
 soaring mountain peaks on every hand that were just 
 touched by the first early sun-rays. 
 
 The rain and mists were gone, leaving the dawn clear, 
 gray, sharp, scented with the pungent odor of balsam 
 and pine. From a distance came the subdued murmur of 
 Terry Creek, which here high in the mountain range had 
 its source in springs and brooks flowing from pools. All 
 was peaceful. 
 
 Mary's look came to rest on the cabin. Over it reared 
 the great pines that grew in a clump behind. Its door 
 was ajar, but the log house for any sign of occupancy 
 might have been untenanted. Immediately the girl 
 glanced back along the road they had come and beheld 
 there in the dim shadow at the foot of the lofty granite 
 ledge a shapeless black lump. She shivered. 
 
 "You awake?" her father asked. 
 
 "Yes." And she began to climb down over the wagon 
 wheel. 
 
 189
 
 190 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Wait here. I'll go in first. He might be " But 
 
 though the rancher did not complete his sentence the 
 words spoken carried their own grave implication. 
 
 He came out again presently. Mary gazed at his 
 face to read from it the news it might carry, and it was 
 with a breath of relief she perceived that the injured man 
 was still alive, for her father himself appeared easier of 
 mind. Neither would by choice have a dead man for a 
 passenger on the ride home, even Ed Sorenson. 
 
 "He's breathing, but is still unconscious," Johnson 
 declared. "Must have got a crack in the head along with 
 the rest. Face is covered with dried blood. From the 
 stuff inside the house he must have been fixing for quite 
 a stay blankets, grub, whiskey, candles, and so on. 
 We'll eat a bite ourselves before starting back ; get the 
 pail out of the wagon and bring some water and I'll make 
 a pot of coffee. There's a fireplace and wood inside." 
 
 "I'll get the water, but I'll stay out while you're boiling 
 it," the girl said. "I don't want to see him until I have 
 to go in and help carry him out." 
 
 She went off for the water, on her return setting the 
 bucket by the door. Then curious to see the place of 
 Ed Sorenson's accident, she wandered back along the 
 trail to the ledge. There she beheld the crumpled, fire- 
 blackened remains of his automobile in a heap near the 
 stone wall. Apparently the car had first struck a small 
 boulder, which had flung Sorenson out on one side and 
 forward, then leaping this hit the ledge full force. 
 
 At the instant he must have been off the road and 
 headed wrong, she guessed. The rapid daybreak of the 
 mountains had by now dispersed the last dimness and 
 indeed the crags far above were bright with sunshine. 
 She could plainly see the ruin that the machine was, fire 
 having completed what the smash had left undamaged,
 
 A QUEER PAPER 191 
 
 and the part of the rock that was smoked by the flames, 
 and was able to smell yet the reek of burnt oil, varnish 
 and rubber. 
 
 With the eyes of the curious she stared at the wreck, 
 at the ledge, at the ground, absorbed with simple specu- 
 lations and filled with a sense of awe. The machine must 
 have made a big sound when it struck. It was a lot of 
 money gone quickly, that car. Not enough of it 
 left to make it worth hauling away. And so on and so 
 on. 
 
 Then all at once her wandering regard detected some- 
 thing white in a crevice between two stones. At first she 
 thought it the gleam of a bird or a chipmunk. The thing; 
 was some yards off from the spot where she stood, but 
 the flutter persisted. So she approached it to learn its 
 nature. 
 
 The thing was a paper. One corner of a sheet stuck 
 up from the crack in which it lay and was waved gently 
 by the rising dawn breeze. She drew it out and perceived 
 it was fastened to other sheets that were folded, all damp 
 from the rain though not soaked because the cranny had 
 admitted little moisture. It was the last sheet which 
 had come partly unfolded, apparently as it fell, so was 
 left in sight or she would never have noticed the white 
 flutter. This last sheet was blank, but the others, neat- 
 ly folded though wrinkled, were covered with writing she 
 saw on spreading them open. However, she could not 
 read the pages ; the matter was typewritten, but it was 
 not English. Some foreign language, maybe. 
 
 If Mary could not read the document, she could at 
 least logically deduce how it had happened to be in its 
 present resting-jalace. The paper was here because the 
 wrecked automobile was here, so when Ed Sorenson was 
 pitched out the folded sheets of paper must have been
 
 192 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 propelled from his pocket by the same force and at the 
 same instant. It hit a rock after flying through the air 
 and slid down into the crack. 
 
 Perhaps it was only a business document; it looked 
 like one. Again perhaps it told something about his 
 crooked private affairs about his schemes for ruining 
 girls, possibly. Very likely, indeed. That seemed to be 
 about all he engaged himself at. When she found som 
 one who could read it, she would know for certain. She 
 would just take it along with her and say nothing about 
 her find until she could have somebody who under- 
 stood the writing read it over for her. 
 
 In places the typing had stained from dampness, but 
 not seriously. She could dry out the pages over the 
 kitchen stove at home. So folding the sheets again, she 
 doubled the document, tied it in her handkerchief and 
 placed it inside her waist, where it could not be lost. 
 Perhaps there were other papers. But a further search 
 disclosed none, whereupon as her father was shouting to 
 her from the cabin to come she retraced her steps. 
 
 When they had drunk their coffee and eaten some of 
 Sorenson's food, making their meal before the door, they 
 carried the unconscious man out to the wagon, bearing 
 him in the blanket on which he lay. Other blankets they 
 spread over him. Johnson also placed at the prostrate 
 figure's feet the rest of the eatables in the cabin. 
 
 "No need to leave this stuff to the pack-rats," said he. 
 "We'll just consider it a little pay towards fetching him 
 out." 
 
 "He ought to be willing to pay you a whole lot more 
 when he learns the trouble you've been to." 
 
 "I wouldn't touch his money if he offered me a thou- 
 sand dollars; I'd throw it back in his face. I'm not 
 doing this for pay, or friendship, or charity ; I'm doing
 
 A QUEER PAPER 193 
 
 it to help Janet Hosmer and because Weir asked me. 
 If the Sorensons had all the money on earth, they 
 couldn't give me a penny as between man and man. If 
 they owed it to me, that would be another matter. 
 They'd pay it if I had to stick a gun down their throats 
 to make them come across." 
 
 "We don't need any of their money, I guess," Mary 
 said. 
 
 "Nope. We're poor but we're straight. So we're 
 better off than they are richer, if we just look at it 
 that way." 
 
 Once during the long drive, as they neared the ranch 
 house, a low moan came from the form on the straw in 
 the wagonbed. Both Johnson and Mary looked around 
 quickly, then regarded each other. 
 
 "Beginning to suffer," said the parent. "It's a won- 
 der there's a whole bone in his body. I hope the doctor 
 is down below waiting for us." 
 
 This proved to be the case when about ten o'clock 
 Johnson drove his worn-out team into his dooryard. 
 Weir's car was there and with it the engineer himself 
 and a young medical practitioner. Climbing up into the 
 wagon, the doctor made a hasty examination of the pa- 
 tient. 
 
 "Hips broken. Slight concussion of the skull, but not 
 dangerous," was his opinion. "I shall not be able to 
 tell the full seriousness of his injuries until I have him 
 stripped on a table or bed. Probably there are other 
 broken bones, ribs or something. We must get him 
 down to Bowenville as quickly as possible, for his is a 
 bad case. But I guess if he has pulled through so far 
 he'll recover. If you'll drive your wagon down to the 
 mouth of the canyon, we'll transfer him to my car, which 
 is double seated, and then you can accompany me to
 
 194 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 town; Mr. Weir says you are willing to go along and 
 help. I'll send you back from Bowenville." 
 
 "Yes, I'll go along. Mary will ride down with us and 
 bring back the team and wagon." 
 
 "Strange what he was doing up there in the moun- 
 tains with an automobile alone," the doctor remarked. 
 
 "Oh, he might have wanted a day's fishing, or was 
 taking a look at cattle or range, something like that," 
 Johnson stated. 
 
 "Mr. Weir said a sheepherder found him. Wasn't 
 that it, sir?" 
 
 The engineer turned to the rancher. 
 
 "Wasn't that the way of it?" 
 
 "Yes. Showed up here late and said he had found the 
 man and carried him into the cabin. Said his wrecked 
 car was still burning, so the accident couldn't have oc- 
 curred very long previous. Said we ought to bring 
 him down immediately as he was badly hurt. So I sent 
 word to Dr. Hosmer, and my girl and I set off at once, 
 the sheepherder going back with us. Said he just hap- 
 pened to be looking for a stray sheep or he would never 
 have come on this man, as he was heading his band for 
 a pass to get over on the west side of the range. S'pose 
 we'll never see him again." 
 
 "Do you know who this man is ?" 
 
 "His face seems sort of familiar," Johnson replied, 
 scratching his chin. "But he looks like a city chap, by 
 his clothes, what's left of them. No papers or anything 
 on him to tell his name. Might have come over the pass 
 himself from the other side ; men go everywhere in these 
 hill-climbing cars they make nowadays." 
 
 "Somebody will be seeking information soon and then 
 we'll know," the physician said. "He'll probably give 
 his name and address himself when he comes round. But
 
 A QUEER PAPER 195 
 
 if I'm not mistaken he'll need another sort of car if he 
 does any moving about when he's out of bed." 
 
 "Why's that?" 
 
 "Speaking off-hand, I'll say he'll never walk again. 
 That's the way broken hips usually turn out ; and if his 
 spine is injured, as I suspect, he will probably be para- 
 lyzed from the waist down. Hard luck for a young man 
 like him. He'll wish at times he was killed outright." 
 
 Unobserved by the speaker Weir and Johnson ex- 
 changed a meaningful look. In the minds of both moved 
 the same thought, that Providence had punished Ed 
 Sorenson according to his sins and more adequately than 
 could man. Dreadful years were before him. He would, 
 in truth, wish a thousand times that he had died at the 
 foot of the ledge. 
 
 Half an hour later the visitors had departed, the 
 rancher going with the physician and his charge to 
 Bowenville, Weir returning to San Mateo. Mary had 
 driven the wagon up from the mouth of the canyon, un- 
 harnessed the horses, watered and fed them, and now 
 was seated in the kitchen staring absently out the open 
 door. After so much excitement she felt distrait, de- 
 pressed. 
 
 Finally she produced and dried the papers over the 
 stove, in which she had re-kindled a fire. 
 
 "Funny how anybody should want to talk or write 
 anything but English," she remarked to herself, gazing 
 at the pages. 
 
 She attempted to extract some sense from the strange 
 words. At the bottom of the last sheet she deciphered 
 Felipe Martinez' name under the notorial acknowledg- 
 ment. All at once in scanning certain lines she came 
 on names that were plain enough Sorenson, Vorse, 
 Burkhardt, Gordon. The last must mean Judge Gordon.
 
 196 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Then presently she found two more names that excited 
 her curiosity James Dent's and Joseph Weir's. 
 
 Springing to her feet she stared at the sheets in her 
 hand. For some reason or other her blood was beating 
 with an odd sensation of impending discovery. 
 
 "Why why " she stammered. "Why, those are 
 
 the men father told about being shot, and him looking on 
 as a boy ! This is a queer paper ! I wish he were here.** 
 
 Possession of it gave her a feeling of uneasiness. Her 
 father had warned her never to speak of the matter to 
 any one and here was something about it in writing, 
 or so she guessed. He had said Sorenson and the other 
 men would kill him at once if they learned he had been 
 a witness. That meant they would kill her too if they 
 found out that she not only knew about their crime 
 but had this paper as well. 
 
 She looked about. Finally she retied the document 
 in a tea-towel, tight and secure, and buried it deep in 
 the flour barrel. They would not think of looking in 
 the flour. But she went to the door just the same and 
 gazed anxiously down the canyon as if enemies might 
 put their heads in sight that very minute.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ANXIETIES 
 
 "MY dear doctor, your talents are wasted in San 
 Mateo. They should be employed in the larger field of 
 diplomacy," said Steele Weir, when on his arrival from 
 Terry Creek he was apprised of what had occurred 
 during his absence. 
 
 "From all indications I shall have full opportunity 
 for their use hereafter, whatever they may be, in our own 
 bailiwick," Doctor Hosmer replied, smiliBg. "There's 
 more going on in our village, apparently, than in many 
 a small kingdom. I merely had Janet use the truth with 
 certain limitations, and there's no wiser course when 
 part of the facts are known. Sorenson seemed quite 
 satisfied with her explanation." 
 
 The colloquy resulted from a meeting between Janet 
 and the cattleman while Weir was guiding the young 
 physician, summoned from Bowenville, to Johnson's 
 ranch. Sorenson had appeared at the house about ten 
 o'clock that morning desiring to see the girl. They had 
 talked together on the veranda, where the visitor stated 
 he had effected a settlement and obtained an acknowledg- 
 ment from Martinez, who was trying to blackmail him 
 and others ; that a certain paper had been prepared by 
 the lawyer for use in the disreputable business ; that the 
 man had said he had asked Janet to secure it from an 
 old chair in his office; and he wished to learn if she had 
 done so. 
 
 197
 
 198 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Janet had admitted such to be the case. 
 
 "It was odd Mr. Martinez should telephone me to go 
 get it, wasn't it?" she had asked. "But I went, and 
 there it was stuffed in the lining of the chair." 
 
 "You have it then?" Sorenson stated, with a sigh of 
 relief and his eyes kindling with eagerness. 
 
 "No, I haven't it now." 
 
 "What in heaven's name did you do with it?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "As I was coming out of Mr. Martinez' office, there 
 at the door was Ed. He had seen me go in and so 
 stopped his car before the door; after a time he took 
 the paper to see what it was." 
 
 "Then you didn't see its contents?" 
 
 "No ; I didn't even open it." 
 
 "And he has it?" 
 
 "He had it the last I saw of the paper. He read it. 
 First, he was going to burn it up because it made him 
 angry, then he changed his mind, saying he would take 
 it to show to you, as he thought you would be interested. 
 Is there anything else you wish to know, Mr. Sorenson ?" 
 
 "Where did he go from there?" 
 
 "He drove away. From something he said, I judged 
 that he planned to be away from home several days." 
 
 Revolting as it was to Janet to put so fair a face on 
 Ed Sorenson's conduct, nevertheless she had braced her- 
 self to go through with the part and presented to the 
 cattleman a clear, natural countenance. The very sim- 
 plicity of her story, its directness, its accord with the 
 facts as he knew them, carried conviction. Innocently 
 drawn into the affair, she had, in his view, been quickly 
 guided out again by Ed's luck and wit. 
 
 Ed had the deadly document. The four men con- 
 cerned might breathe easily once more. Ed himself, in all
 
 ANXIETIES 199 
 
 
 probability, did not realize the true menace of old 
 Saurez' deposition, or he would at once have brought 
 it to him instead of continuing on his trip: the boy no 
 doubt thought it sufficient to keep it until he returned 
 or mailed it back from somewhere ; he perhaps had taken 
 it along for a more careful reading. Good boy, anyway. 
 He had got possession of the thing, that was the main 
 consideration. 
 
 "He told me too that he was leaving last evening for 
 a few days' jaunt," Sorenson said, rising to go. "You'll 
 likely have a whole basketful of letters from him. Finest 
 boy going, Ed, even if it's his own father who says it. 
 But he's the lucky one, Janet." The girl lowered her 
 eyelids, for at this flattery she felt she could no longer 
 dissemble her feelings. "Sorry to have bothered you 
 about the matter," he concluded. "Fellows like this 
 Martinez are always making us trouble. Run over and 
 eat dinner with us soon." 
 
 He went down the walk, large, dominant and still with 
 a trace of his early cowman's walk. Both his step and 
 his erectness bespoke the buoyant effect of the talk upon 
 his spirits, which was not to be wondered at as he had 
 splendid news to import to his confreres in crime. They 
 would get rid of Martinez, destroy the paper when Ed 
 delivered it, and their skeleton this one (of a number) 
 which had unexpectedly kicked the door open and started 
 to dance in public would be safely locked up forever. 
 For Saurez, the only witness (as they believed) was now 
 dead: he would make no more depositions. Certainly 
 Sorenson had reason to walk briskly away from Doctor 
 Hosmer's dwelling. 
 
 Janet had somberly watched him till he was out of 
 sight, then had gone inside. 
 
 "I don't see how I ever imagined him an honorable
 
 200 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 man," she said to her father. "For all his pretended 
 politeness he was ready if necessary to bully me. One 
 thing he can't ever say is that I didn't tell him exact 
 facts ; what I omitted was the circumstances giving rise 
 to the facts." And her father, who now knew from Weir 
 the story of the happening of thirty years before, as- 
 sured her that she need be troubled over no moral hair- 
 splitting. 
 
 The incident, as Steele Weir perceived, diverted both 
 suspicion and danger from Janet, at least for a time. 
 A big gain that. And he was impressed by the subtle 
 sagacity of the maneuver. 
 
 "That wasn't just a clever move, it was a flash of gen- 
 ius," he told father and daughter. Then after a few 
 minutes more of talk he said: "Now I must be running 
 up to the dam. To-day is Sunday and the works are 
 quiet, so if I find everything all right I shall strike back 
 immediately for Terry Creek and the cabin up above. 
 I want to make a search for that paper by daylight." 
 
 "After your hard night?" Janet exclaimed. "I 
 snatched some sleep when we had done talking last night, 
 but father says you and he had none. You can't make 
 that terrible ride again without rest!" 
 
 "Missing a night in bed is nothing new," he laughed. 
 "Once or twice in my life I've not had my clothes off in 
 a week, and only such cat-naps as I could steal mean- 
 time. But I'll not boast of that ; your father probably 
 has gone longer periods without sleep, or with only 
 broken rest, than ever I did. Most doctors do. Be sure 
 and let me know if anything new occurs." 
 
 But if Weir's mind was put at ease so far as Janet 
 was concerned, he had more than enough other cares 
 to burden his thoughts. The loss of the deposition, 
 chief of all; then the matter of effecting Martinez' re-
 
 ANXIETIES 201 
 
 lease, wherever he was immured; and finally, as he 
 learned from Meyers and Atkinson on reaching camp, 
 the insidious promise of trouble in the "free whiskey 
 party." 
 
 "Perhaps whoever supplied the fire-water underesti- 
 mated this copper-lined crew's capacity and didn't fur- 
 nish enough," Meyers suggested. "Nobody was really 
 drunk last night and here it is nearly noon, with the 
 men all hanging about camp. If there was whiskey yet 
 to be had, some of these thirsty, rollicking scrappers 
 of ours would be right back at the spigot this morn- 
 ing" 
 
 "Maybe so," Atkinson admitted. "Seems so and yet 
 I ain't easy in my mind. The men don't act right ; they 
 behave as if they're just waiting; they're restless and 
 not a man could I get to open his mouth about where 
 they found the stuff. If there wasn't to be any more, 
 they would have told and tried to kid me. They appear 
 to me as if just biding their time. Some men weren't 
 gone, of course, those who don't drink. They stayed in 
 the bunk-house and they know nothing.'* 
 
 "We'll go on the supposition then that there will be 
 more coming, and act accordingly," Weir stated, at 
 once. "Watch them close, and put up a warning that 
 men who are not at work in the morning, or who bring 
 booze into camp, will be fired." 
 
 "That's the trouble," the superintendent declared. "I 
 don't think they brought a drop in except in their skins. 
 And as we say, they weren't drunk. There's not a thing 
 we can object to and they know it; somebody has put 
 'em wise how to act. Here they are, sober this morn- 
 ing, behaving themselves, and so on. We can't keep men 
 from going for a walk if they want to; we can't string 
 barb-wire around the camp and hold them in; we can't
 
 202 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 even say they can't touch a bottle if a stranger offers 
 them one when they're on the outside." 
 
 "But we can hold up the consequences if they go on a 
 spree," Steele replied. "Most of them are satisfied with 
 the work and pay and grub ; they don't want to go." 
 
 "No, but they like whiskey too, free whiskey in par- 
 ticular. They would say they're not getting drunk no 
 man ever really expects to when he starts drinking and 
 talk about their *rights.' There are two or three fellows 
 in camp now who are doing a lot of mouthing about 
 labor's rights; I. W. W.'s, I'd say. Shouldn't be sur- 
 prised if they were the ring-leaders." 
 
 "If more whiskey comes, we must beat them to it." 
 
 "That's my notion," Atkinson said, with a nod. "I 
 didn't locate the booze fountain last night, but I did 
 this morning. Took a horse at daylight and rode along 
 the hills; about a mile south in some trees at the foot 
 of the mountain, I came across a case of empty bottles 
 and a keg half-full of water. That was all, but it 
 showed where the 'birthday party' was." 
 
 'That's the place to watch, then. Better send a 
 trusty man there to report to us immediately if he sees 
 signs of a supply arriving for to-night. Half a dozen 
 of us with axes will soon start a temperance wave in that 
 locality." 
 
 In accordance with this instruction the superintendent 
 dispatched a reliable man to maintain guard at the spot ; 
 and Weir, feeling that all had been done that was pos- 
 sible under the circumstances, gave his attention to other 
 matters. 
 
 But he perceived that with this "liquor attack" in the 
 air, for it was but another of his enemies' moves against 
 him, of course, directed with the purpose of creating 
 internal disorder, he must postpone his trip to the head-
 
 ANXIETIES 203 
 
 waters of Terry Creek. Knowing the crafty, persistent, 
 conscienceless character of the four men inspiring the 
 trick, he was under no delusion that the "free whiskey" 
 would end with a single case of bottles. Among three 
 hundred men that would amount to but two or three 
 drinks apiece a mere taste, only a teaser. And because 
 it was only a teaser, the men would want more. If he 
 could carry them over this idle Sunday sober, they would 
 be at work on the morrow and the chief danger be 
 passed. 
 
 Unfortunately a manager cannot take his workmen 
 into his confidence in such a case and explain the na- 
 ture of such a cunning attack; the thing was too com- 
 plex, and their untutored minds would fail to perceive if 
 they did not actually reject the explanation, in jealousy 
 for their "rights" concluding that they were being hood- 
 winked. By very perverseness they would refuse to deny 
 themselves a free gift of whiskey. 
 
 With Pollock, however, whose interest as a director 
 was vital, he could talk in full expectation of being un- 
 derstood. And moreover, owing to the entangled con- 
 dition into which the company's and his own personal 
 affairs had come, strict honor required that he inform 
 his visitor of the entire situation and offer, if in the 
 director's view such action would best serve the com- 
 pany's ends, to resign. 
 
 In his office immediately after dinner he gave the 
 easterner a complete account of happenings in San 
 Mateo since his arrival as manager, with a statement of 
 his father's earlier residence here, of the fraud practiced 
 by Sorenson and his companions on him and his tragi- 
 cally ruined life. 
 
 "This, you see, has resulted not only in bringing the 
 animosity of these men against me but in aggravating
 
 204 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 their hostility to the company," he concluded. "I've 
 never been a quitter. It would go sorely against the 
 grain with me to quit now while under fire. But my own 
 feelings or fortunes should have no weight; the com- 
 pany's interests alone are to be considered. I shall 
 turn over the management to Meyers and retire if you 
 desire ; I count my contract not binding upon your board 
 under the circumstances.'* 
 
 Pollock arose and began to pace the office, gently 
 beating the air with his eye-glasses and thoughtfully 
 regarding the floor. 
 
 "I should not do your remarkable story proper justice 
 if I did not give it the serious attention it deserves," he 
 said, after a time. "Certain aspects of the case would 
 appear to favor our accepting your resignation, but on 
 analysis, Weir, they turn out to be aspects only, not 
 real arguments. Assuming the facts are as you relate, 
 which I personally don't doubt, these men, if they will 
 stop at nothing to injure you, will be no more reluctant 
 to injure us. In fact, if you withdrew they would feel 
 that they had gained a distinct triumph, forced us to 
 yield to their will, and would be inspired to further and 
 greater opposition. Personal hatred for you on their 
 pa,rt is no ground for their fixing their enmity on the 
 company. But that enmity, apparently, already existed 
 before you came. Therefore if they hate you likewise, 
 you and our company have a common bond. And that 
 assures us of one thing, or several things : your vigilance, 
 care of company property, and loyalty. Last, and 
 aside from that, you are, I am confident, possessed of 
 the exact qualities essential to the successful solution of 
 present difficulties. We prefer as manager an energetic, 
 determined, fighting man, however much disliked by en- 
 vious neighbors, to some fellow less firm and more in-
 
 ANXIETIES 205 
 
 clined to conciliation. The latter never gained anything 
 with out-and-out foes, from what I've seen. So you per- 
 ceive, Weir, that when my associates and I get into a 
 row we're not quitters either. We shall therefore just 
 dismiss all talk of your resignation." 
 
 "Very good ; I wanted you to know the facts." 
 
 Pollock paced to and fro for a time longer. 
 
 "What really interests me is your own fight," he re- 
 marked at length. "If the paper you spoke of should 
 be found, I would be pleased to have it translated for 
 you. I should also like to consult with this man Mar- 
 tinez ; he seems a clever fellow. You expect to settle with 
 this quartet who defrauded your father, of course." 
 
 "Certainly. But the money isn't the main thing. For 
 no amount of money would ever pay for the wrong done 
 my father. I want to make these men suffer, suffer as 
 he suffered. Call it a simple desire for revenge if you 
 will; that's what it really is. They robbed him of his 
 future as well as of his ranch and cattle. They took 
 away hope and implanted in his breast terror and remorse 
 wholly undeserved. But for them he might have been a 
 happy, prosperous, well-thought of man in this state. 
 Yes, revenge is what I want, not money. Revenge that 
 will be for them an equivalent of hell." 
 
 "But they should pay the legal penalties of their 
 crime as well," the lawyer spoke. "Recovery of the 
 original amounts gained by fraud from both your 
 father and this man Dent, and accumulated interest as 
 well as damages, should be had. In all it should make 
 a large amount." 
 
 "I suppose so. Probably enough to clean the four 
 men out. But though of course I should enjoy getting 
 the property or money that was rightfully my father's 
 and now mine, still I'd let that go if I could secure the
 
 206 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 satisfaction of making the four men pay in the coin I 
 want." 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Weir. Don't overlook any bets, as 
 the saying- is. Taking their property away from them 
 will but add to their pain and to your pleasure. Now 
 we must see if Dent's heirs can be found. I suggest 
 that you employ some good attorney to start a hunt 
 along that line, for an action by Dent's relatives will 
 indirectly strengthen your own case. I'm doubtful 
 about one thing, however " 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Your courts here, and the value of this old Mexi- 
 can's deposition. The case could be brought in a Fed- 
 eral Court as you're a non-resident, which would solve 
 the first point, but how much weight would this Mexi- 
 can's testimony have against white men of standing and 
 after a period of thirty years. If you could find an- 
 other witness " 
 
 "There was one, a white boy, so Martinez hinted," 
 Weir said. 
 
 "Find him, find him. Search the whole country until 
 you find him !" 
 
 "That's a big undertaking, when I don't even know 
 his name or whether he's alive." 
 
 "Begin nevertheless." 
 
 "Well, I had better find my lost paper or secure an- 
 other statement from old Saurez first. At present I have 
 absolutely nothing that a court would look at ; I haven't 
 as much as I had yesterday. And even Martinez has 
 been spirited away." 
 
 Pollock smiled. 
 
 "I'm interested, greatly interested," he said. "I'm 
 not actively engaged in legal affairs at home and I may 
 stay on here awhile longer. Perhaps I can assist you;
 
 ANXIETIES 207 
 
 it promises excitement, at any rate. After dry corpora- 
 tion matters, it should be a refreshing change and I 
 haven't had a real vacation in years. Possibly this is 
 the time to take one." 
 
 "I appreciate your kindness in speaking so, Mr. Pol- 
 lock." 
 
 "But I'm quite selfish; I'm seeking entertainment. 
 And your peppery affairs promise it. Do you give me 
 permission to take a hand?" 
 
 "Gladly." 
 
 "Then as a beginning I'll go to town. Saurez, you 
 say, was the old Mexican's name? And give me the 
 facts again as you know them about the affair of your 
 father and the man Dent in the saloon." 
 
 Pollock listened closely as Steele Weir repeated the 
 story. 
 
 "That's all I know, and it's meager at best," the en- 
 gineer concluded. 
 
 "Pity you didn't get to read the deposition, which 
 would have increased your fund of information. More 
 unfortunate it is that you haven't the paper itself. But 
 we'll do the best we can without it for the present. Kindly 
 have some one drive me in to San Mateo." 
 
 "Atkinson, the superintendent, is going there for 
 me. I thought he might pick up something of Martinez' 
 whereabouts." 1 
 
 "Where does Judge Gordon live?" 
 
 "I can't tell you that. But you can easily learn when 
 you reach town." 
 
 "Well, the Judge used to handle company matters, 
 you know." The smile on Pollock's lips was inscrutable. 
 "I used to have frequent conferences with him when I was 
 here at the inception of our project. He is very 
 shrewd in certain ways, but he impressed me as being
 
 208 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 not exactly what shall I say? 'cold steel*, for in- 
 stance." And still wearing the thin smile, he went out. 
 
 If Weir had not had so many things to make his 
 mind grave, from a missing paper and a missing lawyer 
 to mysterious whiskey and fierce enemies, he would have 
 leaned back and laughed.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE WEAK IJNK 
 
 THOUGH the sun was bright that day, unseen forces 
 were gathering in the sky above town, mesa and moun- 
 tains, not of weather but of fate, to loose their 
 lightnings. Sunday peace seemed to reign, the languid 
 summer Sunday peace of tranquil nature. Yet even 
 through this there was a faint breath of impending 
 events, a quiver or excitement in the air, an increasing 
 expectation on the part of men, who sensed but did not 
 realize what was to come. 
 
 All day whispers and hints had passed among the 
 people in San Mateo and out to isolated farms and up 
 nearby creeks, kindling in the ignorant, brown-skinned 
 Mexicans a lively interest and an exorbitant curiosity. 
 Nothing was said definitely ; nothing was promised out- 
 right. So in consequence speculation ran wild and ru- 
 mors wilder. The hints had to do with the manager of 
 the dam who had shot the strange Mexican: something 
 was to be done with him, something was to happen to him. 
 He had been arrested, or was to be arrested ; he had con- 
 fessed, or was about to confess the murder ; he was going 
 to kill other Mexicans, or had killed other Mexicans ; he 
 was about to raid San Mateo with his workmen and slay 
 the town ; he was to be hanged ; and so on eternally. 
 Uncertain as was everything else, what was sure appar- 
 ently was that something would happen at San Mateo 
 that night. 
 
 209
 
 210 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Families visiting about in wagons spread the news. 
 Horsemen were at pains to ride to outlying Mexican 
 ranch houses, for what messenger is so welcome as he 
 who brings tales of great doings? He might be sure of 
 an audience at once. So it was that the plan craftily put 
 in operation by Weir's enemies, to gather and inflame the 
 people, under cover of whose pressure and excitement 
 when the engineer was arrested he might be slain by a 
 pretended rescue or popular demonstration, whichever 
 should serve best, produced the expected result. During 
 the afternoon wagons and horsemen and men on foot 
 began to appear in town, to join already aroused rela- 
 tives or friends at their adobe houses or to loaf along 
 the main street in groups. 
 
 Outwardly there were few signs in the aspect of the 
 Mexican folk of something extraordinary developing. 
 But to the sheriff, Madden, aroused from an afternoon 
 nap at his home by a telephoned message from the county 
 attorney requesting him to come to the court house, the 
 unwonted number in the town was in itself a significant 
 fact. 
 
 "I didn't know this was a fiesta, Alvarez. What's up 
 with you people?" he asked of one he met on the street. 
 
 "The fiesta is to be to-night, eh?" the man laughed. 
 "Have you this engineer locked up yet?" 
 
 "What engineer?" 
 
 "The killer, the gun-man, that Weir. It is said he is 
 already arrested ana is to be hanged from the big cot- 
 tonwood at dark beside the jail. It is also said he is 
 still loose and bringing five hundred workmen to burn 
 the town, rob the bank, kill the men and steal the girls." 
 
 "If he is to do either, it's news to me," Madden said, 
 and proceeded to the office of Lucerio, the county attor- 
 ney.
 
 THE WEAK LINK 211 
 
 Madden was a blunt man, who for policy's sake might 
 close his eyes to unimportant political influence as ex- 
 ercised by the Sorenson crowd. But he was no mere 
 compliant tool. This was his first term in office. He had 
 never yet crossed swords with the cattleman and the 
 others associated with him, because the occasion had 
 never arisen. When he had allowed himself to be nomi- 
 nated for sheriff, though Sorenson might imagine 
 Madden to be at his orders, the latter had accepted the 
 office with certain well-defined ideas of his duty. 
 
 "What do you want of me?" he asked Lucerio, for 
 whom he had little liking. 
 
 "I desire to tell you, Madden, that at eight o'clock 
 I'll have a warrant for you to serve on the engineer 
 Weir. You'll go to the dam and arrest him and bring 
 him in to the jail." 
 
 "Well, apparently the whole country except me knew 
 this was to happen. The town's filling up as if it were 
 going to be a bull-fight." 
 
 "I know nothing of that." 
 
 "All right; give me the warrant." 
 
 "At eight o'clock. I don't want it served before then." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I have my reasons." 
 
 "Sorenson? And Vorse and Burkhardt? They've 
 stirred up this charge against the man." Lucerio mak- 
 ing an angry answer, he continued. "Well, everybody 
 knows you jump when they pull the string. I'll have 
 to serve the warrant, naturally. But I'm going to tell 
 you what I think : you've faked the evidence you've got ; 
 we had the truth from Martinez and Janet Hosmer at 
 the inquest; you're trying to railroad Weir to the gal- 
 lows." 
 
 "Mr. Sorenson shall know what you've said. As for
 
 212 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 me" the Mexican swelled with outraged dignity 
 "the evidence was placed in my hands. It warrants the 
 engineer's arrest and trial. You attend to your de- 
 partment and I'll attend to mine." 
 
 "All to the good, Mr. County Attorney. I'll arrest 
 him; he won't make me any trouble on that score. But 
 you won't find it so easy to prove his guilt. And after- 
 wards, just look out, for if he doesn't come gunning for 
 you and fill your carcass full of lead, I miss my guess. 
 You won't be able to hide behind Sorenson, either." 
 
 He left the county attorney at that, the latter un- 
 able despite all his efforts to hide his uneasiness and 
 alarm. Madden reaching the street looked at his watch ; 
 it was half past five, so he started home for supper. 
 
 Some way before him he saw Martinez walking. The 
 lawyer did not stop to converse with any of the loiterers 
 along the street, but moved steadily along. He had 
 come out of Vorse's saloon and was going towards his 
 office. Just then the sound of an automobile caused 
 Madden to turn his head in time to see Weir speed along 
 but stop with a sudden application of brakes as he 
 caught sight of the attorney. 
 
 A hail brought Martinez to the car. A few minutes' 
 rapid speech there followed. Then the lawyer mounted 
 beside Weir, the machine went on, turning into a side 
 street and vanishing. To Madden there was nothing un- 
 usual in the circumstance, and he only noted the sur- 
 prise and silence along the street at the engineer's pas- 
 sage. The Mexicans would know the man wasn't yet ar- 
 rested at any rate, he thought. But he should like to 
 learn what was the purpose in bringing them all to town ! 
 He would keep an eye open for any lynching nonsense 
 if it were attempted. 
 
 Weir and Martinez were hastening to Judge Gordon's
 
 THE WEAK LINK 213 
 
 house, for shortly before the engineer had received an 
 unexpected call from Pollock for him to join him there. 
 Evidently the eastern lawyer had turned a card of some 
 sort; and Weir had gone at once, wondering what the 
 meeting might portend. The sight of Martinez, free and 
 composed of bearing, walking along the street, further 
 amazed him. 
 
 He perceived, however, when the lawyer stepped out 
 to the car from Vorse's place that he was pale, his mouth 
 tight-drawn and his eyes glittering. 
 
 "You got my message?" the latter asked, quickly. 
 
 "The telephone message, yes. Janet Hosmer got the 
 paper also." 
 
 "They dragged me to Vorse's cellar," Martinez whis- 
 pered fiercely. "They beat me with their fists, Vorse and 
 Burkhardt. Then they tied me and squeezed my eye- 
 balls till I could stand the pain no longer and told. I've 
 been there ever since, bound and without food or water, 
 the devils! Sorenson came with them last night, after- 
 wards. And now he and Vorse came again there they 
 are back there in the bar yet and gave me a draft on a 
 Chicago bank for a thousand dollars and said to get out 
 and stay out of New Mexico and never open my mouth 
 about what had happened." 
 
 "Get in with me," Weir ordered. 
 
 At Judge Gordon's house the lawyer said: 
 
 "You are going in here? He's one of them." 
 
 "I know it. Come in, however. I may need you. 
 You're not going to leave San Mateo, but there's no rea- 
 son why you shouldn't cash the draft. That's only part 
 of the damages you'll make them pay for what you un- 
 derwent." 
 
 "It isn't money I want from them," Martinez replied, 
 between his teeth.
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Judge Gordon lived in a rambling adobe house two 
 squares from the Hosmer dwelling. It was old but had 
 been kept in good repair, and as he had never married 
 he had lived comfortably enough with an old Mexican 
 pair as servants. One of these, the woman, admitted the 
 visitors at their knock and conducted them, as if ex- 
 pected, to the Judge's study, a long room lined with 
 cases of books, mostly legal, and filled with old-fashioned 
 furniture. 
 
 That something had occurred to change the Judge's 
 aspect during the hours in which Pollock had been 
 closeted with him was at once apparent. He looked 
 older, broken, haggard of face, terrified. 
 
 "I met Mr. Martinez and brought him along," Weir 
 said. 
 
 "Was that necessary?" Judge Gordon asked, heavily. 
 
 "He's my attorney, for one thing." 
 
 "And I've been a prisoner in Vorse's cellar for twenty- 
 four hours for another, and you're one of those respon- 
 sible for my being there and for the torture to which 
 I was subjected," Martinez exclaimed, glaring. 
 
 "Mr. Martinez, I give you my word of honor that 
 I knew nothing of youi incarceration until this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "That for your word of honor!" the lawyer cried, 
 snapping his fingers in the air. "And in any case, you're 
 an accessory alter the fact. You let me stay." 
 
 Pollock stepped forward. 
 
 "Is this Mr. Martinez? Glad to meet you, sir. Mr. 
 Weir has spoken very favorably of you and of your 
 handling of legal matters for the irrigation company, of 
 which I am a director. Pollock is my name. Are you a 
 notary? \h, that is good. There will be some papers 
 to acknowledge and witness and so on."
 
 THE WEAK LINK 215 
 
 He pointed at seats, seemingly having direction of 
 matters, and the visitors sat down. Judge Gordon had 
 sagged down in the padded leather chair in which 
 he sat; his face was colorless, his eyes moving aim- 
 lessly to and fro, his white mustache and hair in dis- 
 order. 
 
 "Let us begin on business at once," Pollock stated, on 
 his feet as was usual when entering a discussion and 
 removing his eye-glasses. "I called on Judge Gordon 
 this afternoon after my talk with you, Weir, and dis- 
 closed the evidence which has been gathered relative to 
 the fraud perpetrated on your father and the crime 
 against the man Dent. I assumed, and rightly, that to a 
 man of the Judge's legal mind the facts we hold would 
 prove the futility of resistance, and I set out to con- 
 vince him of the wisdom of sparing himself a long losing 
 fight, in which he would be opposing not only the evi- 
 dence which was sure to convict him, and not only you, 
 Mr. Weir, but our company which proposed to see the 
 fight through. I went so far, Weir, as to promise him 
 immunity from your wrath and from pubb'c prosecu- 
 tion." 
 
 Weir arose slowly. 
 
 "No," said he, "no." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow " 
 
 "No. He made my father's life a hell for thirty years. 
 Why should I spare him?" 
 
 "If granting him freedom from prosecution did ac- 
 tually spare him anything, I should say 'No' also, stand- 
 ing in your place. But with the facts made public as 
 they will be, with Judge Gordon losing his legislative 
 office and the esteem in which he had been held, with him 
 relinquishing the bulk of his fortune as he agrees, with 
 his finding it necessary to go elsewhere to live at his time
 
 216 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 of life, with the thought constantly in his mind of how 
 low he has been brought, don't you think he will be suf- 
 fering quite adequately? I should think so. He would 
 probably die quicker in prison, but I believe he will suffer 
 more outside. See, I don't hesitate to measure the alter- 
 natives, for the Judge and I have discussed and canvassed 
 the whole situation, which was necessary, of course, in 
 order to arrive at a clear understanding." And Pollock 
 smiled genially. 
 
 "Does he admit my charges?" 
 
 "He hasn't denied them." 
 
 "Will he admit them?" 
 
 "I've outlined exactly what we must have deeds to 
 his property and an acknowledged statement of the 
 Joseph Weir and James Dent affair, supplementing the 
 Saurez affidavit, which by the way he at first thought 
 we did not possess but which an account of what hap- 
 pened last night in the mountains and your recovery of 
 the same" Pollock's eyelid dropped for an instant 
 towards Weir "convinced him of. This statement is 
 not to be produced as evidence against his associates 
 except in the last extremity, and if not needed is always 
 to be kept secret. We are to give him, when the papers 
 are signed, a draft for ten thousand dollars. This will 
 permit him to have something to live on. He states that 
 he will want to go from San Mateo at once." 
 
 During this speech Weir's eyes had glanced to and 
 fro between the lawyer ticking off his words with his 
 glasses and the figure in the leather chair. Old and 
 shattered as Judge Gordon had suddenly become, 
 wretched as Weir saw him to be, the engineer nevertheless 
 felt no pity. The man had been in the conspiracy that 
 had ruined his father; he suffered now not because of 
 remorse but through fear of public opinion ; and was a
 
 THE WEAK LINK 217 
 
 fox turned craven because he found himself enmeshed 
 in a net. And to save his own skin he was selling out 
 his friends. 
 
 Weir's face went dark, but Pollock quickly stepped 
 forward and drew him into a corner of the room. 
 
 "Keep calm, man," was the lawyer's low advice. "Do 
 you think if we had him tied up as tightly as I've made 
 him believe that I should propose a compromise in his 
 case. He's the weak link. Do you think I've had an 
 easy time the last three hours bringing him to the point 
 he's at? I had to invent evidence that couldn't possibly 
 exist. I had to give him a merciless mental 'third degree.' 
 I told him if he refused I was going to Sorenson with 
 the same offer, who would jump at the chance. And, my 
 dear man, we haven't, in reality, enough proof to convict 
 a mouse since you lost that paper. So now, so far as 
 he's concerned, you must bend a little, a very little and 
 you'll be able to hang the remaining three." 
 
 This incisive reasoning was not to be denied. 
 
 "I yield," said Weir. 
 
 Beaming, Mr. Pollock walked back to the table. 
 
 "Mr. Weir consents," he stated. "Mr. Martinez, if 
 you will go to your office and bring the necessary forms 
 and your seal we can make the transfers and statement 
 and wind the matter up." 
 
 An hour later Judge Gordon had signed the deeds, 
 stock certificates from his safe and bills of sale spread 
 before him, passing the ownership of lands, cattle and 
 shares in companies to Pollock for equitable division 
 between Weir and the Dent heirs if found. The old 
 Mexican servants were called in and witnessed his shaky 
 signatures to the papers. 
 
 At the statement regarding the Dent shooting and 
 Weir fraud, which Pollock had dictated to Martinez with-
 
 218 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Gordon's assistance, he staggered to his feet while the 
 pen dropped from his hand. 
 
 "I can't sign it, I can't sign it ; they would kill me !" he 
 groaned. 
 
 The two aged servants stared at him wonderingly. 
 
 "My dear Judge, they'll never know of it until it's 
 too late for them to do anything if they ever know," 
 came the easterner's words, in smooth persuasiveness. 
 
 Judge Gordon brushed a hand over his eyes. 
 
 "Give me a moment," he muttered. 
 
 He stood for a time motionless. Then he walked across 
 the room and opened a door and entered an inner cham- 
 ber. 
 
 "He won't live a year after this," Pollock whispered 
 to his companions. 
 
 The speaker could have shortened the time immensely 
 and have still been safe in his prophecy. For when at the 
 end of five minutes he sent the woman to request the 
 Judge to return, she stumbled out of the bed-chamber 
 with affrighted eyes. She said the Judge was asleep on 
 his bed and could not be aroused. 
 
 Sleep of the profoundest, the men discovered on going 
 in. And in his fingers was an empty vial. So far as 
 Judge Gordon was concerned Weir had had his revenge.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AN OLD ADOBE HOUSE 
 
 REVENGE Weir had. But even in death Judge Gordon, 
 true to his evasive, contriving character, had tricked 
 him ; and the irony lay in the fact that in this last act 
 the trick was unpremeditated, unconscious, unintentional. 
 Instead of the signed confession, necessary above every- 
 thing else, which seemed almost in his fingers, the man 
 had left a little poison vial. 
 
 Night had settled over the earth when the three men, 
 after directing the Mexican servants to bring the under- 
 taker, went out of the house, for considerable time had 
 been occupied in the discussion and the preparation of 
 papers preceding Judge Gordon's tragic end. With 
 him Mr. Pollock carried the documents pertaining to the 
 property restitution. These, considered in connection 
 with the suicide, would constitute something like a con- 
 fession, he grimly asserted. 
 
 Avoiding the main street of San Mateo they drove out 
 of the town for camp. The first part of the ride was 
 pursued in silence, for each was busy with his own 
 thoughts in consequence of the sudden shocking termi- 
 nation of the meeting. When about half way to camp, 
 however, their attention was taken from the subject by 
 a sight wholly unexpected, a scene of high colors and of 
 a spirit that mocked at what had just happened. 
 
 Some way off from the road, at one side, two bonfires 
 burned brightly before an adobe house, the flames leap- 
 
 219
 
 220 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 ing upward in the darkness and lighting the long low- 
 roofed dwelling and the innumerable figures of persons. 
 At the distance the place was from the highway, perhaps 
 two hundred yards, one could make out only the shadowy 
 forms of men of a considerable number of men, at that. 
 
 "I never saw any one at that old tumble-down house 
 before, Martinez," Weir remarked, lessening the speed 
 of the car. "Always supposed it empty." 
 
 "No one does live there. The ground belongs to 
 Vorse, who leases it for farming to Oterez. Perhaps 
 Oterez is giving a party there. They are dancing." 
 
 Weir brought the machine to a full stop, with sus- 
 picion rapidly growing in his mind. The place was 
 owned by Vorse, for one thing, and the number about the 
 house was too large for an ordinary Mexican family 
 merry-making, for another. In view of what had oc- 
 curred the previous night all "parties" in the neighbor- 
 hood of the dam deserved inquiry, and this house was but 
 a mile from camp. 
 
 They could now hear the sound of music, the shrill 
 quick scrap of a pair of fiddles and the notes of guitars. 
 Against the fire-light too they could distinguish the whirl 
 of skirts. 
 
 "Just run over there, will you, Martinez, and have a 
 look at that dance ?" Weir said. "See how much whiskey 
 is there, and who the people are." 
 
 The Mexican jumped down, climbed through the barb- 
 wire fence bordering the field and disappeared towards 
 the house. 
 
 "I told you about some one giving the men booze last 
 night," the engineer addressed his remaining companion. 
 "We found the place off south along the hills where that 
 business happened, and stationed a man there to warn 
 us if another attempt was made to use the spot. But I
 
 221 
 
 shouldn't be surprised if this is the location used for 
 to-night; it has all the signs. We suspected that this 
 evening would be the real blow-out and if the men are 
 going there I shall send down the foremen and engineers 
 to break it up. Vorse's owning this house and his being 
 the source of the liquor is almost proof. I met Atkinson 
 returning to the dam when you sent him back from town 
 and he'll know something is up if the workmen have been 
 melting away from camp. This is simply another damn- 
 ably treacherous move of the gang against us to inter- 
 fere with our work, starting a big drunk and perhaps a 
 row. We'll stop it right at the beginning." 
 
 "Are the officials of this county so completely under 
 Sorenson and his crowd's thumbs that they won't move 
 in a case like this?" Pollock questioned. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then we must act on our own initiative, as you say." 
 
 "That's our only recourse. Giving whiskey isn't ac- 
 tually an illegal act and they're giving it away, not 
 trying to sell it here without a government licence." 
 
 "The thing's illegal if it's part of a conspiracy to dis- 
 rupt our work, and if we can secure proof that such is 
 the fact it will but add one more item to the score to be 
 settled with these San Mateo outlaws." 
 
 "There are more men going there. See them?" Weir 
 asked. "You hear them on the road ahead of us. 
 They're ducking through the fence and crossing to the 
 house. Our workmen. The thing's plain now ; they had 
 word there would be another 'party' to-night, but they 
 didn't know just where until they received word this 
 evening. I suppose the whole camp except a few men 
 will be here." 
 
 "Won't they turn ugly if you interfere?" 
 
 "Can't help that. I'll send men down with axes and
 
 222 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 when the booze is poured on the ground it makes no dif- 
 ference then; the men will be kept sober. If they are 
 stubborn, I'll run a new bunch in and fire these fellows. 
 But I don't imagine they will quit work, however surly, 
 for they know whiskey's no excuse. Men usually cool 
 down after a night's sleep." 
 
 From where they sat and since Weir had turned out 
 his car lamps, they could see the steady string of men 
 emerging from the darkness of the field and approach- 
 ing the house, to quickly dissolve in the gathering al- 
 ready there. In their lively steps, as well as in the eager 
 voices occasionally raised along the dark road, the men's 
 desire to join in the debauch was apparent. 
 
 With the swelling of the crowd the scraping of the 
 fiddles became louder, the dancing more furious, shouts 
 and yells more frequent, while a dense line of men passing 
 and jamming in and out of the door pointed only too 
 plainly that inside the house liquor flowed. This would 
 be no matter of a few drinks per man, but a big drunk 
 if not stopped. 
 
 Martinez confirmed this opinion on his return. 
 
 "There are two barrels inside and a couple of fellows 
 are dipping it up in tin cups like water," said he. 
 "They're not even troubling to draw the stuff ; the bar- 
 rels have been placed on end and the heads knocked out. 
 It will be the biggest spree San Mateo ever saw, with 
 plenty of fighting after awhile. Women, you know, al- 
 ways start fights during a spree." 
 
 "Those surely are not women from town," Weir ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Oh, no. I never saw them before. Brought in here 
 from somewhere Santa Fe perhaps, El Paso more 
 likely. You know the kind who would mix with that 
 crowd tough girls. They're wearing low necks and
 
 AN OLD ADOBE HOUSE 223 
 
 short skirts, red stockings and all that. You know the 
 kind. Out of joints and dives somewhere. There's only 
 a dozen, but they keep circulating and dancing with dif- 
 ferent ones. I just put my head through a window to 
 look inside, which is lighted by a big kerosene lamp 
 hanging from the roof ; and I tell you, gentlemen, it made 
 me sick the way those two fellows were dipping up whis- 
 key and the crowd drinking it down." 
 
 "And more men coming all the time," Weir stated. 
 
 "And more coming, yes. It will be very bad there by 
 midnight. Vorse and Burkhardt and Sorenson are man- 
 aging the thing, of course." Martinez lighted a ciga- 
 rette and stepped into the car. "No mistake about that, 
 for Vorse's bartender is one of the men at the barrels. 
 And I imagine Judge Gordon knew this thing was com- 
 ing off though he made no mention of it." 
 
 "Since we were ignorant of the matter, he naturally 
 wouldn't inform us," Pollock remarked, dryly. 
 
 "Time to put a stop to the show before it grows 
 bad," Weir stated resolutely. And he started the ma- 
 chine. 
 
 "If it can be stopped," Martinez replied. 
 
 That was the question, whether or not now it would 
 be possible even to reach and destroy the barrels inside 
 the house, what with the numbers who would oppose the 
 move and what with the state of intoxication that must 
 rapidly prevail at the place. 
 
 For as they drove away they could already detect in 
 the mad revel about the old adobe dwelling a faster beat 
 in the sharp shrieking music, a wilder abandon in the 
 movements of the figures about the flames, a more reck- 
 less, fiercer note in the cries and oaths. 
 
 "This is deviltry wholesale," Pollock said. "On a 
 grand scale, one might put it."
 
 224 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 So thought a horseman who approached and halted 
 almost at the same spot where the car had rested. This 
 was Madden who with a warrant for Weir's arrest in 
 his pocket had arrived opposite the house a moment 
 after the automobile's departure. He had secured the 
 warrant at eight o'clock according to the county attor- 
 ney's request, but he had taken his own time about 
 setting off to serve it. 
 
 For a quarter of a mile he had been interested in the 
 evidences of unwonted hilarity at the usually untenanted 
 structure. Now he sat in his saddle, silent and motion- 
 less, observing the distant scene. He easily guessed the 
 men were from the construction camp and that liquor 
 was running. 
 
 "I can almost smell it here, Dick," he addressed his 
 horse. 
 
 But two circumstances puzzled him. One was that 
 there had been no news in town of such a big affair im- 
 pending for the night; the second, that there were 
 women present for no Mexican, however ignorant, 
 would take or allow his women folks to attend such a 
 howling show. Coming on top of the crowd in town, he 
 wondered if this business might not be linked up with 
 Weir's affairs. These were his workmen and this was 
 Verse's farm-house and very likely Vorse's liquor. After 
 he had arrested the engineer he would look into the thing. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later, when he had gone on, other 
 passers-by paused for a minute on the road to stare at 
 the amazing picture across the field. These were Dr. 
 Hosmer and Janet, Johnson and his daughter Mary : the 
 two men being in the doctor's car, the two girls in Janet's 
 runabout. 
 
 "What on earth is going on there!" Janet exclaimed, 
 when the two machines had pulled up.
 
 AN OLD ADOBE HOUSE 225 
 
 The two fires, fed by fresh fuel, were leaping higher 
 than ever, bringing out in strong relief the long squat 
 building, the dark, restless, noisy throng, and the space 
 of illuminated earth. Against the night the flames and 
 building and mob of hundreds of men seemed a crimson 
 vision from some inferno to an accompaniment of mad 
 music. 
 
 "The camp's gone on a tear; drive ahead," her father 
 said. "This isn't a sight for you girls to look at." 
 
 And with that the two cars sped forward towards 
 the dam, where on this night so much was converging. 
 For their occupants already had had an experience that 
 had started them at once to seek the man around whose 
 figure were swirling a hundred passions and dark cur- 
 rents of destiny.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 WITH FANGS BAKED 
 
 THAT Sunday afternoon Janet Hosmer had awakened 
 about sunset from an after-dinner sleep, rested and re- 
 freshed, with her mind continuing to be occupied by 
 thoughts of Steele Weir about whom had eddied her 
 dreams. The man was no longer the mystery he had 
 been, since now she knew all the circumstances of his 
 life, and on that account was nearer, more human, and 
 yet as compelling. 
 
 That on his part his interest went beyond mere friend- 
 ship she had recognized from his voice and eyes when 
 they were together. Ah, in truth, how his tones deepened 
 and his look betrayed his feelings ! At the thought 
 Janet's heart beat faster and her cheeks grew warm and 
 an indefinable joy seemed to fill her breast. She would 
 not deny it: his presence, his touch gave her a greater 
 happiness than she had ever known. At a single stride, 
 as it were, he had come into the middle of her life and 
 dominated her mind and changed her whole outlook. 
 
 How he too had changed and grown in the coming! 
 From the avaricious, calculating, heartless manager of 
 the construction work, as she seeing through colored 
 San Mateo eyes had believed him to be, he now stood 
 forth a figure of power, undaunted by difficulties, un- 
 dismayed by enemies however numerous, fearless to a 
 fault, stern perhaps but who would not have been made 
 stern in his place? and determined, cool, resourceful, 
 
 226
 
 WITH FANGS BARED 227 
 
 alert, and of an integrity as firm and upright as a 
 marble shaft. Yet beneath this exterior his heart was 
 quick and tender for those who needed sympathy or 
 help, and his hand swift to aid. 
 
 More than once a hot flush burned on Janet's face, 
 as sitting there on the vine-hung veranda in the gather- 
 ing dusk, recollection assailed her with memories of 
 wasted kindnesses given the infamous Ed Sorenson, of 
 trust bestowed and of love plighted. That passage in 
 her life seemed to leave her contaminated forever. It 
 burned in her soul like a disgrace or a dishonorable act. 
 But Steele Weir and she swam in glorious ether at the 
 thought did not appear to view it in that light. 
 
 Juanita running in the twilight to the house inter- 
 rupted her introspection. 
 
 "I came to tell you," the Mexican girl exclaimed, 
 panting before Janet. 
 
 "Tell me what ?" For Juanita's reappearance in itself 
 was unusual, as Sunday afternoon and evening were her 
 own to spend at home. 
 
 "People are saying Mr. Weir is to be arrested and 
 hanged from a tree in the court house yard ! Everybody 
 has come to town to see. Three uncles and aunts and 
 nine cousins of ours have already come to our house 
 from where they live four miles down the river. All the 
 town is talking about it. But though I said nothing, I 
 knew how Mr. Weir had saved you and that he had done 
 nothing to be hanged for. If anybody is to be killed it 
 ought to be that Ed Sorenson." 
 
 "Are you sure of this, Juanita?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Miss Janet. It is so." 
 
 "Then this is part of the plot against him; let me 
 think. They might arrest him but they would never dare 
 try to hang him, unless they could pretend "
 
 228 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 What they might pretend Janet never stated, as at 
 that instant a motor car dashed up and stopped before 
 the gate. Even in the gloom she made out that the 
 figure garbed in a gray dust coat was Sorenson's. 
 Springing out of the machine, he jerked the gate open 
 and strode towards the house, while a premonition of 
 a fresh and unpleasant turn of affairs quivered in Janet's 
 mind. 
 
 "I've come back again, you see," he said. "Step inside 
 where you can hear what I have to say." 
 
 The words were like an order; the man's manner, in- 
 deed, was overbearing and brutal. But the girl conceal- 
 ing her resentment, preceded him into the house and 
 bade Juanita light a lamp. 
 
 "And now you get out !" Sorenson commanded the 
 servant in so savage a tone that she fled to the kitchen 
 without waiting to consult Janet's eyes. "I see your 
 father isn't here," he continued, addressing Janet. 
 
 The latter made no reply. To be sure, Dr. Hosmer 
 was not in the room but he was in the house, sleeping. 
 Let the cattleman think him absent if he wished. 
 
 "So much the better; if he's not about, he won't try 
 to interfere," the man went on. "Now, my girl, I've 
 learned all about your tricks, and " 
 
 "Sir, you talk like that to me in my own house!" 
 Janet broke in, with a flash of eyes. "You will walk 
 out of that door this instant and never set foot here 
 again." 
 
 "Will I, you slippery young Jezebel? I'll do nothing 
 of the kind until I'm ready, which will be when you've 
 handed over that paper. Don't try to deny that you 
 have it or Weir has it; I suppose he has now, and I'll 
 be forced to go shoot him down as he deserves. But I 
 came here first to make sure. It would be just like the
 
 WITH FANGS BARED 229 
 
 rest of the schemes of you two to have you keep it, think- 
 ing I'd be fooled. I have half a notion to wring your 
 white neck for lying to me to-day lying, while all the 
 time you knew my son was hanging between life and 
 death." 
 
 So savage was his voice, so threatening his visage and 
 air that Janet retreated a step. His hands worked as 
 if he actually felt her soft throat in his clutch ; his huge 
 body and big beefy head swayed towards her ominously ; 
 while his eyes carried a baleful light that revealed in full 
 intensity the man's real brutal soul. Hitherto carefully 
 coated in an appearance of respectability fitted to a 
 station of wealth, influence and prominence, he now stood 
 as he truly was, domineering, repellant, lawless. Janet 
 could at that minute measure the close kinship of father 
 and son. 
 
 "Fortunately a man in Bowenville recognized Ed, or 
 I should never have known he had been injured," Soren- 
 son went on. "So your little scheme to keep me in ig- 
 norance went wrong. The doctor 'phoned me about five 
 and I took my wife and we rushed there, and I have just 
 this instant returned. Do you know what the doctor 
 says ? Ed will live, but be a life cripple, a useless wreck, 
 a bundle of smashed bones, always sitting in a chair, al- 
 ways eating out his heart. And all because of you and 
 that engineer ! Ed was conscious ; he told me the real 
 story about which you lied " 
 
 "I did not lie," Janet stated, firmly. 
 
 Sorenson made an angry gesture as if to sweep aside" 
 this declaration. 
 
 "He told me how you promised to slip away with him 
 to spend a week in the mountains, and how you warned 
 this Weir so that the two of you could trick my son and 
 get him out of the way. You, who always pretended to
 
 230 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 be so innocent and virtuous ! And then Weir caused the 
 accident up there in the hills that has crippled my boy 
 for life ! Did it to get him out of the path to you, and 
 you helped, like the traitress you are; and the two of 
 you took the paper.'* 
 
 Janet's form had stiffened at these insulting speeches. 
 
 "Your son is the liar," said she. "Did he tell you how 
 he flung a blanket over my head as Juanita and I were 
 coming out of Martinez* office? How he tied my hands 
 and feet and carried me off like a victim and victim he 
 intended me to be! Yes, Mr. Weir rescued me because 
 Juanita met and told him what had happened and he 
 followed. Your son was drunk. He tried to commit a 
 crime because I had rejected him a week before, on learn- 
 ing that during our engagement he had endeavored to 
 mislead another girl. A drunkard and a criminal both, 
 that's your son. And he alone brought on his accident 
 by his drunken, reckless driving. Now I've told you the 
 truth ; leave the house !" 
 
 "You can't put that kind of a story over on me," he 
 snarled. "I believe what Ed said. Even if he has had 
 affairs with other girls, that makes no difference now. 
 You tried to double-cross him ; you've wrecked his body 
 and life; and you shall pay for it." 
 
 Neither of the pair in their intense excitement had 
 heard a wagon drive to a stop before the house. Whether 
 in fact they would have heard a peal of thunder might be 
 a question. Sorenson, enraged by his son's injury and 
 burning for revenge, was oblivious to all else but his 
 passion, while Janet Hosmer, divided between contempt 
 and fear, had but the single thought of ridding herself 
 of the man. 
 
 "You cannot injure me," she said, in reply to his sav- 
 age utterance.
 
 WITH FANGS BARED 231 
 
 "I'll drive you and your father out of this town and 
 this state," he exclaimed. "They shall know here in San 
 Mateo, and wherever you go if it's in my power to reach 
 there, what sort of a pretending 1 , double-faced, disrepu- 
 table wanton " 
 
 "You coward !" Janet burst out. 
 
 Then she turned to flee out of the room to arouse her 
 father. But Sorenson was too quick for her ; he sprang 
 forward and seized one of her wrists. 
 
 "No you don't, you perfumed wench !" he growled. 
 
 A scream formed on Janet's lips. The heavy, rage- 
 crimsoned face bent over her as if to kill her by its very 
 nearness. Brute the man was, and as a brute he ap- 
 peared determined she should feel his power. She pulled 
 back, jerking to free herself, and shrieked. 
 
 Intervention came from an unexpected quarter. Rush- 
 ing into the room came the rancher Johnson, followed by 
 his daughter. 
 
 "Let go of her," the man ordered, harshly. 
 
 Sorenson looked about over his shoulder. 
 
 "Keep out of this, and get out," he answered. 
 
 Johnson leaped forward and struck the other on the 
 jaw. The cattleman releasing his hold on Janet stag- 
 gered back, at the same time thrusting a hand under 
 his coat. 
 
 But the rancher's pistol was whipped forth first. 
 
 "You'd try that game, would you?" Johnson said, with 
 his ragged beard out-thrust and stiff. "Put up your 
 hands ; I want to see how they look sticking up over 
 your head." 
 
 Sorenson though now holding them in sight did not 
 at once comply. 
 
 "Johnson, you're butting into something that doesn't 
 concern you," he said, endeavoring to speak calmly.
 
 232 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "You've made one mistake in striking me ; don't make an- 
 other by keeping that gun pointed at my head. Remem- 
 ber I've a mortgage on your place that you'll wish re- 
 newed one of these days." 
 
 The expression of scorn on the rancher's face was 
 complete. 
 
 "Trying that line, are you ?" he sneered. "Think you 
 can play the money-lender now and scare me? You 
 didn't look much like a banker reaching for your gun; 
 you just looked like a killer then, a plain bar-room killer 
 but I beat you to the draw. You've got fat and slow, 
 haven't you, since early days when you use to put lead 
 into poor devils whose stuff you wanted. And you didn't 
 look like a banker to me, either, trying to bulldoze Janet 
 when I came in ; you looked like the big dirty coward you 
 are. Aha, here's the doctor! Now just tell him how it 
 comes you can order me out of his house, and why you 
 were threatening Janet and making her scream." 
 
 The physician turned a white, angry countenance to 
 Sorenson. 
 
 "I heard the scream. Is it true you were abusing my 
 daughter?" he demanded, stepping in front of the man. 
 
 "I came here because I learned my son Ed had been 
 broken to bits through her trickery and damnable " 
 
 The words were cut off by the doctor's hand which 
 smote the blasphemous lips uttering them. 
 
 Even more than Johnson's blow did this slap upon 
 the mouth enrage the cattleman. His face became con- 
 gested, his shoulders heaved, but behind the doctor was 
 the revolver still directed at his head. 
 
 "You've come here uninvited and you've said too 
 much," Doctor Hosmer stated in cold even tones. "You 
 may be the town magnate, but you're only a ruffian and a 
 crook after all. You can't bluff or bully us. More than
 
 WITH FANGS BARED 233 
 
 that, you've insulted my daughter and me beyond any 
 future reparation. As for your son, he got less than he 
 deserved." He turned to the rancher. "You came just 
 in time, it seems. Please see that he leaves the house." 
 
 Johnson waved with his gun significantly towards the 
 door. 
 
 "Move right along lively," he added. "And I'll go 
 along with you to see that you don't hamstring my 
 horses, which I don't put past an underhanded cattle- 
 thief like you." 
 
 Sorenson seemed striving for words that would ade- 
 quately blast those before him, but they appeared lack- 
 ing. With a last malignant glare he walked out upon 
 the veranda and down across the yard, with his guard 
 following him. 
 
 When Johnson returned after Sorenson's departure 
 in his car, he was grinning sardonically. 
 
 "I shouldn't want him running among my cattle ; he'd 
 bite 'em and give 'em the rabies," he remarked. 
 
 Janet caught and pressed his toil-roughened hand. 
 
 "You'll never know how much I thank you for coming 
 in just when you did," she cried. 
 
 "Pshaw, your father would have showed up and 
 stopped him." 
 
 "I'm not so sure. Father has no weapon, and that 
 man did have one. It was the sight of your pistol that 
 made him cower. You couldn't have chosen a more 
 lucky minute to arrive." 
 
 "Well, it was a little bit timely, as it turned out. 
 Considering too that we were coming to see you anyway, 
 it was just as well to walk in when we could do some good. 
 Mary has something for you to read, if you read Span- 
 ish." 
 
 "Yes, I do."
 
 234 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "That's good. Show 'em what you have, daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 Mary drew a knotted handkerchief from her bosom and 
 undid the knots. Appeared the doubled paper she had 
 found. This she passed to Janet. 
 
 "Why, why, this is the document I had !" the latter 
 exclaimed, joyfully. "Where did you find it?" 
 
 "Up by the smashed automobile, when father and I 
 were at the cabin." She exchanged a guarded look with 
 her father. "There are names in it that made me think 
 it might be valuable. So when father came back from 
 Bowenville I showed it to him. But neither of us could 
 read it. We thought we'd better bring it to you to 
 read." 
 
 "It is valuable, very valuable. I had it when I was 
 seized by Ed Sorenson and he took it away from me. 
 Evidently, then, it fell from his pocket at the time of 
 the accident. Yes, indeed, it's important. It means 
 everything to certain parties. I'll read it, but you un- 
 derstand what it tells is private at present." 
 
 "We understand and I think I know what it's going 
 to say," Johnson remarked, grimly. 
 
 Thereupon while the others listened Janet read a 
 translation of the long document. To her and her father 
 the facts were not new, for Weir had already related such 
 as he knew of the happenings in Verse's saloon on that 
 eventful day thirty years previous. Nor for that matter 
 were they strange to Johnson and his daughter, though 
 of course neither Janet nor her father were aware of 
 the rancher's more intimate knowledge of the subject. 
 
 "A pretty good story as far as it goes, but like all 
 lawyers' papers long-winded," Johnson stated, crit- 
 ically. 
 
 "What do you mean, far as it goes?" Janet asked.
 
 WITH FANGS BARED 235 
 
 curiously. "Did you know this old Mexican? Did you 
 ever hear him tell about the thing?" 
 
 "I knew he was there at the time, but he never told me 
 anything." 
 
 Here Dr. Hosmer spoke. 
 
 "Saurez died yesterday. It must have been shortly 
 after he made this deposition. He died in Vorse's sa- 
 loon, which gives a color of suspicion to his death. In 
 addition, Martinez, as you know, was dragged away 
 somewhere." 
 
 "Then Vorse learned old Saurez had blabbed, and 
 killed him," Johnson said, in a convinced tone. "Vorse 
 is a bad bird, I want to say. But so are all of them, 
 Sorenson, Burkhardt and Judge Gordon as well." 
 
 Janet brought the talk back to the subject. 
 
 "You make me still wonder, Mr. Johnson," she said. 
 "You seemed to think there's more to the account than is 
 told in this paper." 
 
 Again the rancher and his daughter glanced at each 
 other, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Tell them, father," Mary broke forth all at once. 
 "They know this much, and you know you can trust 
 them." 
 
 The man, however, shook his head with a certain 
 dogged purpose. 
 
 "If this is just a paper in some trifling lawsuit or 
 other, it will be better if I keep my own counsel," he 
 stated. "I've riled Sorenson considerable as it is now, 
 and I don't care particularly about having him gunning 
 on my trail active-like. If it really mattered " 
 
 "It does matter; it matters everything," Janet cried, 
 "if you really know something more!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because it concerns Mr. Weir. The Joseph Weir
 
 236 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 described and named in this affidavit was his father. 
 He believes these men robbed his father; this paper 
 proves it, but not absolutely, for Mexican evidence here 
 in this country doesn't carry as much weight against 
 white men especially men as rich and strong as these 
 named as it would in other places perhaps. You know 
 that. This paper was obtained for Mr. Weir." 
 
 "Oho, so that's the way of it!" Johnson said, with a 
 long drawn-out tone. 
 
 He regarded the paper in silence for a time, busy with 
 his thoughts, absently twisting his beard, until at length 
 a look of satisfaction grew on his face. 
 
 "Well, well, this is fine," he went on presently. "I 
 never thought I should be able to pay the obligation I 
 owe him, and I won't fully at that, but this will help. 
 No, that paper doesn't tell all, for I reckon Saurez didn't 
 see all." He glanced triumphantly at the doctor and the 
 girl. "But I did." 
 
 "You !" both exclaimed. 
 
 But before he could explain, the memory of the cat- 
 tleman's threat recurred to Janet to banish thoughts 
 of aught else than Weir's danger from her mind. 
 
 "Mr. Sorenson said he was going up to the dam to 
 shoot Mr. Weir," she exclaimed. "We must give warn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Did he say he was going himself?" Johnson asked. 
 
 "To get the paper, yes." Then Janet continued anx- 
 iously. "But the paper isn't all. His son told him 
 what occurred in the mountains and I believe the man 
 wants to harm Mr. Weir as well as to obtain the paper. 
 Perhaps he plans on gaining the document first, then 
 killing him. In any case, we must put Mr. Weir on 
 guard." 
 
 "I'll just drive up there and tell the engineer," 1 John-
 
 WITH FANGS BARED 237 
 
 son stated. "Shouldn't be surprised if I got a chance 
 yet to use my gun. You girls can stay here." 
 
 Janet gazed at him with a flushing face. 
 
 "The man could go to the dam and kill Mr. Weir and 
 get safely home while you're starting with your team," 
 said she. "No, we must drive there in a car. Father, 
 you take Mr. Johnson in yours, and I'll carry Mary in 
 mine. We'll go along of course, for we'll not remain 
 here in the cottage alone with such terrible things hap- 
 pening in San Mateo." 
 
 And to this there was no dissent.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE ALAUM 
 
 AT the dam Weir found Meyers and Atkinson anxious- 
 ly waiting his return. The sudden concerted melting 
 away of workmen from camp had been warning to his 
 subordinates that the danger of a general spree had 
 taken definite form, which the report of a pair of young 
 engineers confirmed when they followed a group of la- 
 borers to the old adobe house and beheld the beginning 
 of the debauch. 
 
 "Get out all the staff, Meyers, and you, Atkinson, all 
 the foremen and sober men left, then go down the road 
 and put that joint out of business, taking axes and what- 
 ever is necessary.'* 
 
 "And if they fight?" Meyers asked. 
 
 "Try first to placate them. If that fails, some of you 
 draw them off in order to permit the others to enter the 
 house and destroy the whiskey. It's a tough job, but 
 you may succeed. If the crowd turns ugly as it may, 
 being drunk, come back. No need to take the risk of 
 broken heads or being beaten up. See, however, if you 
 can't outwit the outfit. Possibly you could push that 
 mud house over from the rear by means of a beam ; that 
 would do the business. I leave it to you to decide what's 
 best to do, men, after you've examined the situation." 
 
 "The camp will be unguarded except for you and the 
 two men with you," Weir's assistant suggested. "If 
 the crowd drinking down at that place should take the 
 
 238
 
 THE ALARM 239 
 
 notion to come here and tear things up, there would be 
 nothing to hinder them. A few should stay, anyway, 
 I imagine half a dozen, who can use guns." 
 
 "Well, pick out six to remain," the other agreed. 
 
 For Meyers' suggestion had raised a disagreeable pos- 
 sibility. It was never safe to ignore precautions when a 
 gang of two or three hundred rough, active laborers, 
 however loyal when sober, were made irresponsible and 
 crazy by liquor; and one stage of drunkenness in such 
 men was usually manifested in a wild desire for violence. 
 The scheme of Weir's enemies might comprise using this 
 very act for wrecking the camp. 
 
 Six men, to be sure, would offer little resistance to 
 stemming the movement once it was started, but the sight 
 of steel in the guards' hands might cause even a reckless 
 mob to pause long enough for an appeal. If the men 
 should be brought to listen, they could probably be di- 
 verted from their purpose, as impassioned crowds are 
 easily swayed by men of force. 
 
 In any case the camp and dam should be defended to 
 the last. That went without saying. 
 
 Meyers and Atkinson had little more than departed 
 with their muster of engineers, foremen and sober work- 
 men, some fifty in all, when the two cars driven by Dr. 
 Hosmer and Janet arrived at headquarters. To the oc- 
 cupants of both machines the camp appeared singularly 
 dark and silent, the office building and the commissary 
 shack alone showing lights. 
 
 The four visitors entered the main room in the former 
 building, where they found Mr. Pollock and Martinez. 
 
 "Mr. Weir stepped out for a moment to make a round 
 of the camp and the horse corrals," the easterner replied 
 in answer to an inquiry from the doctor. "Will you be 
 seated?" And he politely placed chairs for Janet and
 
 240 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Mary, while his look scrutinized the party with discreet 
 interest. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Martinez, you've escaped !" Janet exclaimed, 
 after a surprised stare at the lawyer. 
 
 The Mexican smiled, bowed and drew one point of his 
 black mustache through his fingers. 
 
 "I have indeed, Miss Janet," said he. "Not without 
 an unpleasant experience, however. I understand you 
 secured the paper concerning which I telephoned you, 
 and though I understand it has since been lost through 
 no fault of yours I desire to express my thanks for 
 your excellent assistance in the matter." 
 
 "But it has been found again ; we have it with us." 
 
 Martinez gave a start, none the less sincere for being 
 dramatic. 
 
 "What ! Saurez' deposition? Weir thought it 
 burned. Why, this is the most wonderful luck in the 
 world ! It gives us the whip-hand again." 
 
 Janet nodded. 
 
 "Mary Johnson here found it in a crack in the rocks 
 when she and her father went up to the cabin to bring 
 Ed Sorenson down. Father has it. That's one reason 
 we're here. But there's another; Mr. Sorenson has 
 learned of his son's accident, has seen him, talked with 
 him, been told lies and now is in a dreadful rage, threat- 
 ening every one concerned. He was at our house and 
 made a scene. He's coming here, or so he said, to kill 
 Mr. Weir and obtain the document. So we hurried to 
 the dam to give warning." 
 
 At this juncture Mr. Pollock stepped forward. 
 
 "Mr. Sorenson hasn't yet appeared, and I assure you 
 he will be prevented from harming any one if he comes. 
 You are Miss Janet Hosmer, I judge, of whom I've 
 heard so much that is praiseworthy. Will you allow
 
 THE ALARM 241 
 
 me to introduce myself? I'm Mr. Pollock, a company 
 director, and to a degree in Mr. Weir's confidence." 
 
 Janet expressed her pleasure at his acquaintance and 
 in turn introduced her father and the Johnsons. 
 
 "Mr. Weir spoke of you to us, but we weren't aware 
 he had informed you of the paper.'* Then she added, 
 "But he would wish to, naturally." 
 
 Weir's voice, without, in conversation with some one 
 caused them all to look towards the door. In the panel 
 of light falling on the darkness before the house they 
 perceived the engineer's tall figure by a horse, from 
 which the rider was dismounting. Letting the reins drag 
 and leaving the horse to stand, the latter walked with 
 Weir into the room. 
 
 "Why, this is a delightful surprise !" the engineer ex- 
 claimed on beholding the four who had come while he was 
 out. "And unexpected." His eyes rapidly interrogated 
 the different faces. "I suppose it's business, not pleas- 
 ure, that brings you." 
 
 "That's so," said Johnson, the rancher, nodding. 
 
 "Well, Madden is here on business, too, it seems." 
 He glanced at Mr. Pollock. "Mr. Madden is our sheriff 
 and he has a warrant for my arrest." He turned back 
 to the officer. "You come at a bad time for my affairs. 
 You saw that big show at the old house half way down 
 the road? That crowd is made up of my workmen, who 
 are being entertained with free whiskey, and there's no 
 telling but what they may come here to tear things up. 
 The whiskey is furnished by Vorse, I suspect, and is be- 
 ing served at Vorse's place. Your warrant is inspired 
 by Vorse and others, isn't it? The two circumstances 
 coming at the same moment, the free drunk and my ar- 
 rest, look fishy to me. What do you think? I'm in 
 charge of a property here representing a good deal of
 
 242 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 money and I should hate to be absent if the men took 
 the idea into their heads to turn the camp upside down, 
 especially if the idea was inspired by Vorse and his 
 friends." 
 
 "I haven't served the warrant yet," Madden re- 
 plied. 
 
 "And you know that I'm not going to skip the coun- 
 try at the prospect of your serving it?" 
 
 "No. There's no hurry; I'll just sit around for 
 a while. And understand, Weir, this arrest is none of 
 my doings, except officially. I take no stock in the 
 yarn about your having attacked the greaser you killed. 
 Martinez' and Miss Janet's testimony at the inquest 
 satisfied me in that respect." 
 
 Mr. Pollock now drew Weir aside for a whispered con- 
 ference. When they rejoined the others the engineer 
 made the lawyer acquainted with the sheriff. 
 
 "Mr. Weir has agreed to my suggestion to take you 
 into our confidence, Mr. Madden," he stated. "There 
 may be other warrants for you to serve soon, and I'm 
 sure you will respect what we reveal. All of us here ex- 
 cept you know the facts I'm about to relate; indeed, 
 have shared in them to an extent ; and in addition to our 
 word we'll present proof. You know Dr. Hosmer and 
 his daughter certainly, you probably know Mr. Johnson 
 and the young lady with him, and are aware whether 
 their statements are to be relied on." 
 
 "They are," Madden answered, without hesitation. 
 
 "You're already convinced of the truth of Weir's inno- 
 cence in the charge of murder now being preferred 
 against him. Well, now, a friend at court is worth some- 
 thing; and we propose to make you that friend." 
 
 "I'm not against him like most of the town, anyway," 
 was the sheriff's answer.
 
 THE ALARM 243 
 
 "Go ahead with your explanation," Pollock said to the 
 engineer. 
 
 Thereupon Weir briefly sketched out events for the of- 
 ficer as they had occurred and as showing the motives 
 which had inspired his enemies in seeking to destroy him: 
 the original plot against his father, his determination 
 to uncover the four conspirators, the episode at the res- 
 taurant in Bowenville, the discovery of Ed Sorenson as 
 the hirer of the dead Mexican assassin, the obtaining of 
 Saurez' deposition and Martinez' imprisonment in 
 Vorse's saloon cellar, Janet's abduction and rescue and 
 the loss of the paper." 
 
 "But the paper isn't lost," Dr. Hosmer interrupted. 
 "Mary Johnson found it and here it is." With which 
 he drew the crumpled document from his breast pocket 
 and laid it on the table. 
 
 "You have it again !" Weir exclaimed. "You found it^ 
 Mary !" He stepped forward and took the girPs hand in 
 his for a moment. "You're a friend indeed to bring 
 this back to me." 
 
 "I owed you more than that," she said, coloring. 
 
 "But Mr. Sorenson has learned about his son and the 
 paper and everything that happened, except Ed Soren- 
 son told him lies instead of the truth," Janet put in. 
 "He's terribly angry at all of us. He said he would 
 kill you for crippling Ed." 
 
 "Sorenson is welcome to try," Weir responded, with a 
 quick blaze in his eyes. 
 
 At this point Mr. Pollock interposed. 
 
 "You didn't finish your story, Weir. Relate for Mr. 
 Madden's benefit what occurred at Judge Gordon's 
 house." 
 
 This tragic conclusion to the afternoon's happenings 
 the engineer told, though remarking that the company
 
 24,4 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 director should be the true narrator. At his announce- 
 ment that Judge Gordon had taken his own life by poison 
 his listeners remained dumbfounded. 
 
 "He's dead, then?" Madden asked, at last. 
 
 "Yes. And the transfer of property made to Mr. 
 Pollock amounts to an acknowledgment of his guilt. 
 Now, I should like to have Martinez read this deposition, 
 for I've never heard its contents myself." 
 
 This the Mexican did, translating the Spanish para- 
 graphs into English with fluent ease, ending by reading 
 the list of witnesses. Martinez gave the paper a slap of 
 his hand. 
 
 "And old Saurez was found dead in Vorse's saloon by 
 me an hour after he had signed this," he said. "Draw 
 your own conclusions." 
 
 Madden shifted on his seat. He glanced at the docu- 
 ment and at the others and then gazed out the door at 
 the darkness. 
 
 "Looks like a clear case; I always imagined if these 
 men's past was dug into there would be a lot of crooked 
 business turned up. But granting that everything is as 
 shown, with Lucerio the county attorney under Soren- 
 son's thumb and the community as it is there's a ques- 
 tion if Saurez' statement even will be enough to convict 
 them." 
 
 At that Janet jumped up, her eyes gleaming. 
 
 "That is not all the proof, not all by any means!" 
 she cried. 
 
 "What more is there?" 
 
 "Mr. Johnson's evidence." 
 
 "Johnson's!" came in surprised tones from all four 
 of the men uninformed of the rancher's story. 
 
 "Yes, he saw the man Dent killed and the plotters make 
 your father, Mr. Weir, believe he had done the killing."
 
 THE ALARM 245 
 
 Steele stared at Johnson dumbfounded. 
 
 "Just that ; I saw the whole dirty trick worked, look- 
 ing through the back door of the saloon." 
 
 "Then you were the boy!" Weir gasped. "The boy 
 who looked in ! After thirty years I supposed that boy 
 gone, lost, vanished beyond finding." 
 
 "I stayed right here," was the reply. "Of course I 
 kept my mouth shut about what I had seen. I worked 
 on ranches and rode range and at last got the little 
 place on Terry Creek and married. Nothing strange in 
 my remaining in the country where I grew up, especially 
 as I only knew the cattle business." 
 
 Weir swung about to Madden. 
 
 "Here's a live witness," said he. "With the other 
 proof his evidence should be final." 
 
 "Whenever you say, I'll arrest the men. As for this 
 warrant I have, I'll just continue to carry it in my 
 pocket," the sheriff stated. "I must remark that I 
 never heard of a more villainous plot, taking it all 
 around, than you've brought to light." 
 
 "And the charges must cover everything," Pollock said 
 sternly. "From Dent's murder to the conspiracy 
 against the irrigation company." 
 
 "I'll stay here in case you need me to stop any trouble 
 with your workmen," Madden remarked. 
 
 But trouble though imminent was coming from an- 
 other direction, as was suddenly shown when a man, 
 dust-covered and hatless, rushed into the office. 
 
 "They're on the way," he cried. 
 
 "Who ? The workmen ?" Weir demanded. 
 
 "No. I don't know anything about the workmen, but 
 a bunch of Mexicans, fifty or more, are headed this way 
 to blow up the dam. I saw and heard them." 
 
 "Where?"
 
 246 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "At the spring a mile south. I was watching down 
 there, where Atkinson had sent me after supper, reliev- 
 ing the man who kept lookout during the afternoon. 
 That was where the booze was dealt out last night, you 
 remember. I was sitting there when I heard a crowd 
 coming. At first I thought it was our men, but when 
 they stopped to drink and smoke, I saw by their talk 
 they were Mexicans. But there was one white man with 
 them, a leader. He and a Mexican talked in English. 
 They're to raid the camp, crawling up the canyon, to 
 dynamite the dam first, then fire the buildings." 
 
 "Then they're on the road here now?" 
 
 "Yes." The speaker licked his lips. "I cut along 
 the hillside until I got ahead of them, but it was slow 
 going in the dark and stumbling through the sage. They 
 must be close at hand by this time, though I came faster 
 than they did. The white man said to the Mexican that 
 they wanted to reach the dam just at moonrise, and that 
 will be pretty quick now." 
 
 "Go to the bunk-house and call the men waiting there, 
 and get a gun yourself," Weir ordered. "The store- 
 keeper will give you one." When the messenger had 
 darted out, he looked at the others. <f You must take 
 these girls away from here, doctor, at once." 
 
 "But I don't go," Johnson snapped forth, drawing his 
 revolver and giving the cylinder a spin. 
 
 "I never could hit anything, and haven't had a firearm 
 in my hand for years, but I can try," Pollock stated. 
 "This promises to be interesting, very interesting." 
 
 "Very," said Weir. 
 
 For a little he stood in thought, while the others gazed 
 at him without speaking. His straight body seemed to 
 gather strength and power before their eyes, his clean- 
 cut features to become hard and masterful.
 
 THE ALARM 247 
 
 "Up the canyon he said they were coming, didn't 
 he?" he remarked at last, more to himself than to them. 
 "Very well, so much the better. Johnson, you and Mad- 
 den take charge of the men when they come and line 
 them along the hillside this side of the dam. Put out 
 all lights." With which he strode out of the building. 
 
 They looked after him in uncertainty. 
 
 "I'm not going; you may be hurt, and need me,'* 
 Mary stated, with a stubborn note in her voice. 
 
 "Then keep out of reach and run for town if the 
 ruffians get into camp," was her father's answer. 
 
 "I stay too," Janet exclaimed, resolutely.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 NO QUARTER 
 
 THE peril threatening the unfinished dam now alone 
 engaged Steele Weir's mind. Personal considerations 
 did not enter into his calculations, least of all thought 
 of personal danger; for when he placed himself in an 
 undertaking whatever rested under his hand, as in this 
 case the irrigation company's property, became for him 
 a trust to attend, to direct, to guard. Even more than 
 if it had been his own property did he feel the obligation, 
 for the interests concerned were not his. But the mat- 
 ter went deeper than a prospective money loss ; it struck 
 down to principles and rights the principles of order 
 and industry as against viciousness and havoc ; the rights 
 of law-abiding men who create as against the wantonness 
 of lawless men who would destroy. 
 
 Were it his own workmen who, inflamed by drink and 
 incited by a spirit of recklessness, were coming to wreck 
 the camp in a moment of mad intoxication, he would have 
 made allowances for the cause. Before resorting to ex- 
 treme measures in defending his charge, he first would 
 have sought to bring them to their senses. Drunken 
 men are men unbalanced, irrational. 
 
 But here was another case: an attack by a secret, 
 sober, malevolent band, who in cold blood approached to 
 demolish the company works. Not liquor moved them on 
 their mission, but money money paid by his arch ene- 
 mies. The men were simply hired tools, brazenly indif- 
 
 248
 
 ferent no doubt to crimes, desperate in character cer- 
 tainly, for a handful of coins ready to wipe out a mil- 
 lion dollars' worth of property and effort. Such de- 
 served no consideration or quarter. 
 
 Weir proposed to give none. With enemies of this 
 kind he had but one policy, strike first and strike with 
 deadly force. One does not seek to dissuade a rattle- 
 snake ; one promptly stamps it under heel. One cannot 
 compromise with ravenous wolves ; one shoots them down. 
 One does not wait to see how far a treacherous foe will 
 go; one forestalls and crushes him before he begins. 
 Moreover, if wise, one does it in such fashion that the 
 enemy will not arise from the blow. 
 
 With the information given him by the guard posted 
 at the spring Weir immediately grasped the true nature 
 of the plot. The "whiskey party" was but a means of 
 withdrawing the workmen from the scene, of weakening 
 the camp, while a picked company of ruffians wrecked 
 the property. It was an assault intended to wipe out 
 the works and end construction, coincident with his ar- 
 rest. Both the company and he were to pay the penalty 
 for resisting the powers that rule San Mateo. And if 
 the tale were spread that the destruction had been 
 wrought by his workmen while drunk, who would doubt 
 it? 
 
 Like shadows the band of Mexican desperadoes would 
 come, dynamite the dam, fire the buildings, stampede the 
 horses, and like shadows vanish again. In the unexpect- 
 edness of the raid, in the confusion, in the dim light, no 
 one would with certainty be able to say who the assail- 
 ants were. A scheme ferocious in its conception and 
 diabolical in its cunning! But there was one flaw 
 the element of chance. Chance had given Weir warn- 
 ing.
 
 250 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 A strong man warned is a strong man armed. 
 
 As the engineer stood in the office, swiftly measuring 
 the imminent menace of which he had just been told, 
 calculating the meager instruments of defense at hand, 
 his mind sweeping up all the salient aspects, features, 
 advantages and disadvantages of the situation, he seized 
 on the one weak spot in the attacking party's plan. At 
 that spot he would strike. 
 
 So giving Johnson and Madden the order to take 
 charge of the little handful of guards, he had plunged 
 out into the night. 
 
 The men from the bunk-house were already running to- 
 ward the office, before the door of which the rancher 
 gathered them together to make sure of their arms and 
 ammunition. All told, when Martinez and Pollock pres- 
 ently came from the store with guns, the little party num- 
 bered eleven. 
 
 "Is this all there are of us?" Dr. Hosmer asked. 
 
 "We are worth all that crowd that's coming," John- 
 son exclaimed, taking a spare gun Martinez had brought 
 him. 
 
 "Did Weir send the rest of the engineers down to that 
 house? I understood so." 
 
 "That's where they are, I reckon." 
 
 Dr. Hosmer considered for a minute. 
 
 "I can be there in five minutes in my car. The road 
 is on the north side of the stream, as is this camp: 
 the gang that's heading here to blow things up is com- 
 ing up from the south, so it will not block the way. 
 Men could be here in twenty minutes from down yonder 
 by running." 
 
 "A good suggestion, doctor," Pollock said. "It may 
 take you a bit longer to find and tell them what's occur- 
 ring, but even so they may return in time. Fifty, or
 
 NO QUARTER 251 
 
 even twenty, might give us enough assistance to beat off 
 the attack." 
 
 "There comes the moon," said the man who had been at 
 the spring. "They must be near now." 
 
 Far in the east the moon was stealing above the hori- 
 zon. Under its light the mesa took form out of the 
 darkness the level sagebrush plain criss-crossed by wil- 
 low-lined ditches and checkered by small Mexican fields, 
 the winding shimmering Burntwood River with its bor- 
 der of cottonwoods, the narrow road, the distant town of 
 San Mateo, a vague blot of shadow picked out by tiny 
 specks of light. 
 
 The mountains too now reared in view, silent, silvered, 
 majestic, towering about the camp on the lower base. 
 One could see, as the moon swam higher, the low long 
 buildings of the camp clustered on the hillside above the 
 canyon, in the bottom of which was the dashing stream 
 and the bone-white core of the dam. 
 
 "Look down yonder on the other side!" Martinez ex- 
 claimed suddenly, pointing a long thin forefinger at the 
 mouth of the canyon where a group of black dots were 
 moving up the river. 
 
 "That's them," said the man who had given the warn- 
 ing. 
 
 "And they're armed," said another. "You can see the 
 moon shine on their gun-barrels." 
 
 On the opposite side of the stream, some two hundred 
 yards below the dam and three or four hundred feet 
 lower in elevation than the camp, advancing up the 
 canyon in a string, the men looked like a line of in- 
 sects. 
 
 "I'm off for help," the doctor said, springing into his 
 car. "Janet, you and Mary go higher up among the 
 rocks and hide if these buildings are attacked." Away
 
 252 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 he went, buzzing down the hillside to the long stretch of 
 road. 
 
 Weir now came into sight, walking quickly towards the 
 group. That he saw the Mexicans down in the canyon 
 was evident from his swift appraising glances thither. 
 
 "Johnson, move your men down halfway to the dam 
 and have them scatter there behind bowlders. I shall go 
 still lower down," he said. "You will hold your fire until 
 I signal with my hat from the dam." 
 
 "You're going to the dam?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "We ought to go with you." 
 
 "I don't need you. You'll be more effective hidden 
 above. You'll have plenty of light as the moon is shin- 
 ing squarely in the gorge. And await my signal." 
 
 "All right ; you're the general." 
 
 "But take no extreme risks, Weir. The company 
 doesn't ask you to sacrifice yourself," Pollock stated. 
 
 "The sacrifice will be down among those fellows," 
 Steele replied, with set jaw. "Don't worry about me. 
 Now, start, men." 
 
 He stood for a little watching the rate of progress of 
 the line of Mexicans ascending the stream, which was 
 not rapid owing to the broken rocks lining the bank. 
 Then he swung about to the two girls. 
 
 "Every one here now is under my orders," he said. 
 "You two will take your car and go at once. This is 
 no place for you." 
 
 "But " Janet began. 
 
 "I'm taking no chances that you shall fall into the 
 hands of those scoundrels," he declared, sternly. "They 
 may succeed in reaching this spot. You must not be 
 here; you must go." 
 
 Taking each by an arm he piloted them to the car.
 
 NO QUARTER 253 
 
 "Sorry, but it has to be,'* he added. "This is work 
 for men, and men alone." 
 
 Janet and Mary climbed up into the seat. 
 
 "You you will take care of yourself," Janet said, 
 tremulously. 
 
 "I expect to. Still, this isn't going to be a croquet 
 party ; anything may happen. Good-by." 
 
 With that he swung about and breaking into a run 
 made for a small building half-buried in the hillside and 
 apart from the camp. There he stooped and picked up 
 under each arm what looked like a cylinder of some size 
 and went down towards the dam. For a time they could 
 see him, but all at once he slipped behind an outcrop of 
 rock and they saw him no more. 
 
 Janet turned to eye her companion. Once more her 
 face was pale. 
 
 "Well?" she inquired of Mary. 
 
 "I reckon we'd better do as he says. He'd be awful 
 mad if we didn't. Did you see his eyes when he talked 
 to us?" 
 
 "But if he he and others are wounded?" 
 
 Uneasily Mary gazed at the older girl and then down 
 at the canyon. On the hillside the men led by her 
 father were no longer in sight, somewhere concealed 
 among the stones that dotted the earth. But down by 
 the stream and now scarcely fifty yards from the white 
 stretch of concrete barring the river bed through a tun- 
 nel in which the water foamed and escaped, the Mexi- 
 cans were clearly visible, their hats bobbing about, their 
 guns flinging upward an occasional gleam. 
 
 "It doesn't seem as if anything was going to happen," 
 Mary went on in awed tones. "Things are so quiet and 
 peaceful." 
 
 Still Janet delayed starting the car, divided in feel-
 
 254 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 ings between a wish to respect Steele Weir's insistent 
 command and a growing fear for his safety. She could 
 see nothing of him. Into the shadow of a rock he had 
 disappeared and thither she gazed with straining eyes, 
 hoping to see again his straight strong figure. 
 
 "Why, look down there at the dam," Mary said, whose 
 eyes had been wandering from point to point of the 
 scene. "Isn't that him?" 
 
 Janet's heart gave a quicker beat, then seemed to sink 
 in her breast as staring downward she recognized the en- 
 gineer. He had come out all at once from the shade 
 cast by a wooden framework. He had with him the bur- 
 dens he had lifted from the ground before the little de- 
 tached stone house at the edge of the camp, and these, 
 the cylinders, he placed on the surface of the concrete 
 core at the spot where he stood. Then he knelt down, 
 struck a match, lighted a cigar as if any man in his 
 senses would stop to smoke in such a situation! and 
 busied himself at some task over the cylinders. 
 
 Only for an instant had he stood erect on the flat top 
 of the dam. Apparently he had been unseen by the 
 attackers, engaged in picking their footing: and now in 
 his crouching position, retired from the upper edge of 
 the dam's front as he was, it was very likely that he 
 was wholly out of view of the band. 
 
 At last Weir moved his cylinders forward towards this 
 edge. Afterwards he straightened up and standing 
 hands on hips, smoking his cigar, the tiny crimson glow 
 of which rose and fell, he watched the party near- 
 ing the foot of the white gleaming wall, fifty feet below 
 him. 
 
 For Janet the sight was too much. His indifference 
 to risk froze her ; he appeared to be courting death ; and 
 she strove to open her lips to send down to him an im-
 
 NO QUARTER 255 
 
 ploring cry to draw back, but succeeded in uttering only 
 a tremulous wail. 
 
 "They'll shoot him," Mary was saying, "oh, they'll 
 kill him!" 
 
 A surge of terror swept Janet. Next thing she knew 
 she was out of the car and running down the hillside 
 among the stones and the stalks of sagebrush, frantic to 
 reach him, to pull him out of view of the men beneath. 
 Only a single one of them had to cast a glance upward 
 and to raise his gun and fire, then he would die. He 
 should not die .' She should fling herself as a protection 
 before him rather than that he should be slain ! 
 
 On a sudden a hand reached up from a rock and seized 
 her arm, stopping her with a jerk. Then she was 
 roughly pulled down beside it. The man was Madden, 
 the sheriff . 
 
 "What in hell are you doing?" he demanded harshly. 
 "Have you gone crazy?" 
 
 His grip was not relinquished. 
 
 "But see him! Aren't you men going to help him? 
 Are you going to let him be killed ?" 
 
 Madden forced her to her knees, so that she was shel- 
 tered by the outcrop of stone. 
 
 "Any man who can smoke a cigar like that at such 
 a time as this knows just what he's doing," was the 
 answer. "Keep quiet and watch." 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to see," she said. But she con- 
 tinued to look with fascinated eyes at the lone, calm 
 figure on the dam. 
 
 Presently Madden pushed his gun forward over the 
 rock. 
 
 "They've caught sight of him," he stated.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE THUNDERBOLT 
 
 THE greater part of the number of bandits had 
 stopped in a group a few yards from the base of the 
 white dam core, though a few stragglers were some way 
 behind. Among these Steele Weir made out the figure 
 of one whom he recognized as a white man; he whom 
 the guard from the spring had mentioned as directing 
 the company; and when at a number of exclamations 
 from Mexicans who perceived the engineer the man lifted 
 his face, Weir saw he was Burkhardt. 
 
 No more than this was needed to show whose the hand 
 behind this treacherous conspiracy. Clear, too, it was 
 that Burkhardt, determined that no mistake or abandon- 
 ment of the operation should occur, had come to see it 
 through in person. Weir could ask nothing better; he 
 had one of the plotters caught in the act. 
 
 Apparently orders had been to carry through the first 
 part of the diabolical plan of destruction in silence, that 
 of gaining control of the dam, for when two or three 
 Mexicans flung up rifles to shoot at Weir a sharp word 
 from another Mexican, seemingly their leader, had 
 checked the volley and shouted to Burkhardt. 
 
 The latter had stopped; he stared for a few seconds 
 at the man on the white wall above and finally signaled 
 with a wave of his arm. 
 
 "Come down here," he ordered. 
 
 But Weir made no move to obey. He continued to 
 
 256
 
 THE THUNDERBOLT 257 
 
 stand motionless, coolly regarding the party beneath. 
 His eyes particularly considered two men who carried 
 wooden boxes, square and stout, on their shoulders. At 
 last he spoke. 
 
 "What do you want here?" 
 
 "Come down, then you'll learn," Burkhardt shouted 
 up, making no effort to hide the enmity in his voice. 
 
 Weir puffed at his cigar, removed it from his lips to 
 glance at its glowing end, while the Mexicans stared up 
 at him in silence, puzzled by this lone guard who carried 
 no rifle, who did not flee away to spread an alarm and 
 seek aid, and who so unexpectedly had appeared as if 
 anticipating their visit. 
 
 Murmurs broke out. Why were they not allowed to 
 shoot him at once in the approved Mexican bandit fash- 
 ion and proceed to their work? If he were not shot at 
 once, he yet could escape for aid. The party had to 
 ascend the hillside in order to mount to the top of the 
 concrete work. Time would be required to place and 
 fire their charges of dynamite and they were eager to 
 get at the loot in the buildings above. 
 
 "Kill him," Burkhardt roared suddenly, jerking forth 
 his revolver and blazing at the engineer. 
 
 The bullet sang past Weir's head. He did not duck ; 
 indeed, kept his place calmly while the Mexicans were 
 raising their guns, as if to show his supreme contempt 
 for their power. But at the instant Burkhardt fired 
 again and a dozen rifles blazed he sprang back and 
 dropped flat, leaving the deadly missiles to speed harm- 
 lessly above the dam. 
 
 Raising himself cautiously he seized the end of a fuse 
 projecting from one of the canisters and held the crimson 
 end of his cigar against it until a sputter of sparks 
 showed that it had caught. From this fuse he turned
 
 258 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 to the one in the second can and repeated the operation. 
 
 This was the essence of his plan of defense. With 
 guns the defenders on the hillside would be outnumbered 
 and probably killed in an attack. The information that 
 the assailants were to steal up the canyon, however, 
 was the key that would unlock a desperate situation, and 
 his mind had grasped the mode and means of defeating 
 the enemy. 
 
 With the first shots quiet had returned. The night 
 seemed for Weir as peaceful as ever, the earth bathed 
 in moonlight, the camp at rest. Only before him there 
 was the sputter of the two fuses, one at the right, one at 
 the left, as the trains of fire burned towards the holes 
 in the canisters. He watched these calculatingly. His 
 cigar no longer of service had been cast aside. 
 
 All at once he rose erect again. A few men were start- 
 ing along the wall to climb the hillside, but the greater 
 number were gathered about Burkhardt and the Mexican 
 leader. Now Weir glanced at them and now at the 
 fuses. 
 
 "I warn you to leave this dam and camp, Burkhardt," 
 he shouted, when a few seconds had passed. "Don't say 
 I didn't give you warning." 
 
 Every head jerked upward at this surprising re- 
 appearance and voice. They had supposed him fled, the 
 men down there, and were having a last hasty confer- 
 ence, doubtless as to the wisdom of now first attacking 
 the camp. A grim smile came on the engineer's face. 
 ' Their astonishment was comic or would have been at a 
 moment less perilous and fraught with less grave conse- 
 quences. 
 
 An oath ripped from Burkhardt's lips. An angry 
 curse it might have been at Madden that he had failed 
 to arrest and hold the engineer according to plan. He
 
 THE THUNDERBOLT / 259 
 
 gestured right and left, yelling something to the men 
 around him. He himself began to run towards one end 
 of the dam. 
 
 Weir stooped, picked up one of the canisters, blew on 
 the fuse now burned so near the hole. Some men per- 
 haps at this instant would have quailed for their own 
 safety and at the prospect of hurling death among oth- 
 ers. For death this tin cylinder meant for those below. 
 But there was no tremor in Steele Weir's arm or heart. 
 
 He was the man of metal who had won the name "Cold 
 Steel" calm, implacable, of steel-like purpose. With 
 such enemies he could hold no other communion than that 
 which gave death. For such there was no mercy. By 
 the same sort of law that they would execute let them 
 suffer the law of lawlessness and force. Destruction 
 they would give, destruction let them gain. 
 
 He straightened. He took a last look at the snapping, 
 sparkling, smoldering fuse, then flung his burden full 
 down upon the spot where the Mexicans were again point- 
 ing their guns at him. Swiftly picking up the second 
 canister, while bullets whined by, he cast it down after the 
 first. A glimpse of startled faces he had, of men at- 
 tempting to scatter from before the huge missiles, then 
 he flung himself full length upon the dam. 
 
 Interminably time seemed to stretch itself out as lying 
 there he listened, waited, sought to brace himself for 
 the impending shock. A quick doubt assailed his mind. 
 Had the charges failed. 
 
 All at once the earth seemed rent by a roar that shook 
 the very dam. Followed instantly a second volume of 
 sound more terrific, more blasting in its quality, more 
 dreadful in its power, deafening, stunning, as if the world 
 had erupted. 
 
 "Their dynamite !" Weir breathed to himself.
 
 260 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 His ear-drums appeared to be broken. His hat was 
 gone. His body ached from the tremendous dispersion 
 of air. But that he could still hear he discovered when 
 through his shocked auditory nerves he distinguished, as 
 if far off, faint booming echoes from the hills. 
 
 He got to his knees, finally to his feet. Pressing his 
 hands to his head he gazed slowly about. Stones and a 
 rain of earth were still falling, as if from a meteoric 
 bombardment. About him he perceived sections of wood- 
 work shaken to pieces, collapsed. 
 
 Stepping to the edge of the dam he peered downward. 
 A vast hole showed in the earth before the wall though 
 the wall itself was uninjured and only smeared with a 
 layer of soil. Huge rocks lay where there had been none 
 before, uprooted and flung aside by the explosion, dis- 
 persed by the gigantic blast. On the hillside half a dozen 
 men were picking themselves up and struggling wildly to 
 flee. Nearer, a few other forms lay in the moonlight 
 mangled and still, or mangled, and writhing in pain. Of 
 all the rest nothing. 
 
 Almost completely Burkhardt's predatory band had 
 been blotted out. Weir's thunderbolt had struck down 
 into its very heart, and it had vanished. 
 
 As he turned and walked towards the end of the dam, 
 he staggered a little. The sight had shaken even his 
 iron nerve.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 WEIB. STRIKES WHILE THE IRON IS HOT 
 
 IN his runabout, with Sheriff Madden at his side, and 
 followed by Atkinson and half a dozen men for guards 
 in two other machines, Weir sped along the road to San 
 Mateo. They carried with them Burkhardt, who had 
 been found stunned and slightly injured, and two Mexi- 
 can bandits who had been captured. Those of the party 
 of attackers yet alive but seriously hurt were being 
 treated at camp by Dr. Hosmer, while the young en- 
 gineers, armed and eager, were scouring the mountain 
 side for the few Mexicans who had got away. 
 
 It seemed a miracle that Burkhardt had escaped death, 
 but the explanation was found no doubt in the fact he 
 had started from the spot where the canisters fell and 
 so at the moment of explosion was outside the area 
 of its full destruction. To Weir the matter went deeper 
 than that. Providence appeared to have saved him for 
 punishment, for the long term of imprisonment he de- 
 served for his crimes. 
 
 "I'd much rather have him alive than dead," Steele 
 had remarked to Madden, when the man was brought up 
 from the canyon a prisoner. 
 
 The tremendous thunder-clap of sound from the camp 
 had quickened the return of the superintendent and his 
 men, already reached and warned by the doctor. More, 
 it had startled even the drunken workmen so that when 
 some one shouted that the dam had been blown up the 
 
 261
 
 262 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 debauch came to an immediate end, the house was de- 
 serted and the throng, incited by curiosity and wonder, 
 went staggering and running for camp. 
 
 The first of these had arrived and the rest were tailing 
 behind for half a mile when Weir and his companions 
 set out for town, the blinding headlights of the ma- 
 chines scattering on either side of the road the ap- 
 proaching workmen. It was not likely many would go 
 back to the house when they were told at headquarters 
 how narrowly destruction of the works had been averted 
 and how their spree had been a move in the plot. Be- 
 tween shame at being duped and drowsiness resulting 
 from drink they would, after a look at the hole blown 
 in the earth at the base of the dam, want to seek their 
 bunk-houses. 
 
 As they sped towards town Weir and Madden rapidly 
 made their plans, for the sheriff having witnessed with 
 his own eyes the enormity of the plotters' guilt was all 
 for quick action. 
 
 "These engineers of yours with us and the other men 
 Meyers will bring down can be thrown as a guard around 
 the jail," he stated. "I'll swear them all in as deputies. 
 With Sorenson and Vorse locked up along with Burk- 
 hardt and I'll throw Lucerio, the county attorney, in 
 with them on the off chance he's an accomplice there 
 will be high feeling running in San Mateo. As quick as 
 I can make arrangements, we'll take them to safe quar- 
 ters elsewhere to-night if possible, to-morrow at the 
 latest, in fast machines. These men have friends, re- 
 member." 
 
 "You've Burkhardt handcuffed; it might be well to 
 gag him, too, for fear the crowd might make trouble if 
 he yelled for help," Weir replied. 
 
 "Yes, we'll do that, though I think we can rush him
 
 WEIR STRIKES 263 
 
 into the jail before any one knows what's happening." 
 On the outskirts of town therefore the cars stopped. 
 When Burkhardt, who had recovered his senses and with 
 them a knowledge of his plight, perceived the sheriff's 
 intention his rage burst all bounds. 
 
 "You fool, you muddle-headed blunderer!" he ex- 
 claimed, with a string of oaths. "Take these cuffs off! 
 You'll lose your job for this trick. When I see Soren- 
 son " 
 
 "When you see him, you'll see him; and that will be 
 inside a cell," was the cool rejoinder. "I didn't know 
 you were a dynamiter and would-be murderer until to- 
 night, but I watched you at work and saw you shoot 
 twice at Weir." 
 
 "You'll unlock these, I say, here and now !" And the 
 raging voice went off in a further stream of biting curses. 
 "Look at me; I'm Burkhardt. You're crazy to talk of 
 throwing me in jail, with my influence and " 
 
 "Your influence be damned," was the imperturbable 
 answer. "You'll have a long time in a penitentiary to 
 see how much influence you have, if you don't swing 
 first." 
 
 Burkhardt struggled fiercely for a moment against 
 the steel bands about his wrists and the men who held 
 him. 
 
 "No crook like this Weir shall ever send me behind 
 bars, or any other man put me there. Wait till Soren- 
 son and Vorse and Judge Gordon learn what you're try- 
 ing! Wait till they find out you've double-crossed us 
 for this engineer ! Wait till Gordon turns me loose with 
 a habeas corpus, you'll sweat blood for this night's work, 
 Madden !" 
 
 The sheriff shook out the red handkerchief with which 
 he expected to bind the prisoner's mouth.
 
 264 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "I'll wait for a long time if I wait for Gordon to issue 
 the writ," he remarked. "Seeing that he's dead." 
 
 "Dead! You're a liar, you sneaking cur; you can't 
 bluff me. And when I'm loose, if I don't fill you full 
 of lead it will be because " 
 
 But Burkhardt's explanation was never finished on 
 that point, for Madden whipped the rolled handkerchief 
 over his mouth and quickly knotted it behind, shutting 
 off the flow of seething vituperative speech. If looks 
 could slay, those he received from the prisoner's blood- 
 shot maddened eyes would have dropped the sheriff in his 
 tracks ; as it was, they fell harmless against the law of- 
 ficer's person. 
 
 "Tilings have changed sort of sudden, haven't they, 
 Burkhardt?" Madden stated, sardonically. "Never can 
 tell what's going to happen between supper and break- 
 fast. Here I go out to serve a warrant on Weir, and 
 instead I'm bringing you in for trying a low I.W.W. 
 trick. Surprising cards a fellow sometimes gets on the 
 draw." With which he went back to the other car. 
 
 Counting on quickness for the safe delivery of his 
 men in jail, Madden did not attempt to approach the 
 court house by a side street. On the contrary he drove 
 fast down the main way, with the other two cars fol- 
 lowing close, passing without pause through the crowd 
 of Mexicans drawn forth in wonder at the booming re- 
 port of the explosion that had sounded from the dam. 
 
 One could see that excitement was at a high pitch. 
 With the rumors that all day had been in circulation, 
 with later vague tales of the great debauch proceeding 
 at the old 'dobe house half way up the road to camp, 
 with the thunder-clap that had burst from the base of 
 the mountains coming on top of all, every man, woman 
 and child had run to the main street, where those in the
 
 WEIR STRIKES 265 
 
 automobiles could see by wagging tongues and ges- 
 ticulating hands that speculation was rife and curiosity 
 afire. 
 
 "The talk this evening when I set out for your camp 
 was that I expected to bring you in and hang you," 
 Madden said dryly, to the engineer. "Quite a crowd had 
 come to town. Plain to see now that Burkhardt and his 
 bunch had started the talk. I shouldn't be surprised 
 if there had been trouble had I arrested and locked you 
 up. There are a few bad Mexicans around these parts 
 that would do anything for money, and it's evident from 
 what's happened that Sorenson's gang was ready to go 
 the limit. What I'm trying to figure out is where these 
 fellows Burkhardt had with him up yonder came from." 
 
 "I can tell you. From across the line. I've seen 
 plenty just like them down there," Weir affirmed. "Look 
 at their hats and clothes but you'll be able to make 
 them talk after a while. However, you won't find any 
 of them speaking English. Offer one of them some 
 money and a trip home and he'll give you the story quick 
 enough, especially after you've thrown a scare into him. 
 We can afford to let one go to get the facts." 
 
 "You better keep out of sight after we have the men 
 in the jail. Slip behind the jail to the rear of the yard, 
 and when I've locked them up and told Atkinson what 
 to do about keeping the people away from the building, 
 I'll join you there." 
 
 "I understand," Weir stated. 
 
 "And we can slip off and grab Vorse if he's in his 
 saloon and then Sorenson before any one knows what's 
 happening." 
 
 "That's right ; don't want the game spoiled now. Here 
 we are.'* 
 
 The cars had arrived at the gate before the court-
 
 266 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 house. Here, too, however, the crowd was densest, hav- 
 ing gathered at the spot as if the roar of powder from 
 the camp was an overture to Weir's arrest and appear- 
 ance. It had proved a prelude to his appearance, at any 
 rate. The crowd perceived him with Madden and it be- 
 lieved him a prisoner even if not handcuffed and marched 
 with a pistol at his head. 
 
 A profound silence at first greeted the party as it 
 alighted. Madden, assisting Burkhardt to alight, pulled 
 the man's broad-brimmed hat low over his eyes to con- 
 ceal his face from the revealing moonlight. A short 
 struggle again ensued, but Burkhardt finally yielded to 
 the pressure exerted by his companion guards. 
 
 A murmur of astonishment ran over the surrounding 
 throng, each instant being augmented by the voices of 
 others running to the place. Not only did it appear 
 that the engineer was under arrest, but likewise others, ' 
 a handcuffed, gagged man and, two sullen Mexicans, 
 strangers to the community. Yet a number of the on- 
 lookers, possibly men with Vorse's or Sorenson's money 
 in their pockets, shouted as the new-comers moved 
 through the press : 
 
 "Killer, murderer! Hang him, shoot him!" And 
 more voices began to join in the cry. 
 
 Clearly the intent was to stir up feeling in the crowd 
 to a point where action against Weir would seem a 
 spontaneous outbreak. Even women joined in the cry; 
 curses followed ; fists were shaken. 
 
 "Open up the way," Madden ordered, as a surge of 
 the crowd threatened to surround him and his party. 
 In his hand, as if to emphasize his command, a six j 
 shooter swung into view, sweeping to and fro and menac- 
 ing the press of people. 
 
 The frightened men directly before the party strug-
 
 WEIR STRIKES 267 
 
 gled to get out of line of the weapon, yielding suddenly 
 a clear passage. 
 
 "Quick! Around the courthouse and back to the 
 jail," Madden exclaimed to those with him. 
 
 Pushing forward from the moonlight into the shade 
 cast by the cottonwoods, they dragged their prisoners 
 past the first building towards the low stout stone struc- 
 ture at the rear, half-illuminated and half-concealed 
 by the patches of light and shade falling from the 
 trees. 
 
 A minute later Madden whipped out his keys. 
 
 "Two men remain here at the door and don't be afraid 
 to show your rifles to that bunch," he said. "In with 
 you, Burkhardt; there's a nice soft stone floor to sleep 
 on. Keep those Mexican camp-burners covered, Atkin- 
 son, till I get the cells open. You, Weir, slip on back 
 there in the shadow and wait for me." 
 
 The engineer had taken but three steps into the gloom 
 along the outside jail wall, glancing about to avoid any 
 curious straggler of the crowd already hurrying around 
 the court house towards the jail, when he heard a call. 
 In the advance was a slim well-dressed Mexican, full in 
 the moonlight and very important of bearing. The call 
 was directed not at Weir but at Madden. 
 
 "You got him all right, sheriff?" he said. 
 
 "Yes. He came in with me," was the answer. 
 
 "But who are these others?" 
 
 "Step inside and I'll tell you, Lucerio." 
 
 The county attorney joined the sheriff, peered inside 
 the doorway and hesitated. It was dark within ; no light 
 showed except a patch of moonlight at the far side of 
 the building that fell through a barred window. 
 
 "Go right in," Madden exclaimed. And laying hand 
 on the other's shoulder he forced him ahead. The door
 
 268 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 closed after the pair. Before the doorway there re- 
 mained, however, the pair of young engineers, rifle in 
 hand, whose threatening bearing and glistening gun- 
 barrels were apparent even in the patchy light dropping 
 through the boughs. At a distance of about ten feet off 
 the crowd of people halted, staring eagerly at the jail 
 building, showing their white teeth as they carried on 
 low talk in Spanish and awaiting with impatience the re- 
 turn of Madden and Lucerio that they might flood them 
 with questions. 
 
 Weir remained to see no more, for the increasing crowd 
 pushed out further and further on the flanks, a circum- 
 stance that would eventually result in his discovery. So 
 slipping to the rear of the jail and keeping well in the 
 shadows he gained the fence. This he leaped and, light- 
 ing a cigarette, examined his pistol, then proceeded to 
 smoke calmly until Madden arrived. 
 
 "Hurry ; slip away," the latter said. "They wondered 
 what the devil I dodged back here for and are coming, 
 curious as cats." 
 
 The two men glided away, keeping well in shadows 
 until they gained the side street and thence passed to 
 the main thoroughfare. 
 
 "What if Sorenson and Vorse are somewhere in that 
 crowd?" Madden asked. "They're likely to be, expect- 
 ing your arrest." 
 
 "Then we'll have to wait till they leave it. But I 
 don't believe they're there. They won't want to show 
 their hand even by being on the scene." 
 
 "Probably they've found out Gordon is dead." 
 
 "Probably. But on the other side, they suppose now 
 that the dam has been destroyed and that I'm locked 
 up," Weir said. "Still, I'll guess that if they've learned 
 Pollock and Martinez and I were at Gordon's all the
 
 WEIR STRIKES 269 
 
 afternoon, and he committed suicide, they'll be worrying 
 some just the same." 
 
 Madden glanced at his companion. 
 
 "I don't believe we'll bring Vorse in alive," he said. 
 
 "That's the way I want him, and Sorenson, too. I 
 want to see them go up for life, but if not that then 
 hanged. But a life term for both, along with Burk- 
 hardt, is my choice. I want them to suffer as my father 
 suffered. Only worse. Dying's too easy for them. Let 
 them have hell here for awhile before they get it on the 
 other side. Let the iron bars and stone walls kill them. 
 I hope they live for twenty years to gnaw out their 
 hearts every day and every night behind steel doors. 
 That wouldn't half pay what they owe. But if they 
 finish in prison, knowing there's no hope, knowing I've 
 put them there for what they did to my father and Jim 
 Dent, knowing that all the money and cattle they stole 
 had slipped through their fingers, that they've lost all 
 they gained and more, that their curses and crimes are 
 crushing their own heads, why, that will help. And 
 Sorenson Sorenson there every day knowing his son lies 
 a helpless cripple, without the money that has been piled 
 up for him ! I couldn't invent a worse hell for him. 
 And that's the hell he's going to have !" 
 
 Though a man not easy to move, Madden at Weir's 
 cold inplacable expression of hatred shivered slightly. 
 Sorenson and his accomplices would be lucky indeed if 
 they died by the rope.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 VORSE 
 
 ACROSS the main street the two men walked, wearing 
 their hats low and making no answer to shouted ques- 
 tions of those hurrying to the courthouse yard. Al- 
 ready the grounds about the court house and the street 
 in front were jammed with eager, excited Mexicans, 
 thrilled with an expectation of something to happen, 
 though they knew not exactly what. The murderer, the 
 killer, they have taken the killer, was the constant state- 
 ment tossed from mouth to mouth. 
 
 "But not the killer they think," Madden said, in a low 
 aside to Weir as they moved ahead on their errand. 
 
 The pair were now advancing toward the saloon, along 
 the opposite side of the street where R slight shadow af- 
 forded them concealment. By the time they came op- 
 posite the building they had escaped altogether from the 
 crowd, though looking thither over shoulder they could 
 see the black press of people in the moonlight at the pub- 
 lic building; and here the street was empty except for a 
 few belated women and children running toward the 
 assemblage. 
 
 Madden's hand suddenly gripped the engineer's arm as 
 they were about to step forth from the shadow to cross 
 the street to the saloon. 
 
 "There he is," the sheriff whispered. 
 
 Vorse had pushed open the slatted door of his place 
 and stepped outside. In the moonlight his figure and 
 
 270
 
 VORSE 271 
 
 face were clearly visible: his thin whip-cord body and 
 predatory face, and bald head as shiny and hard as a 
 fish-scale. He wore no coat, while his vest hung un- 
 buttoned and open as usual. About his waist was an 
 ammunition belt carrying a holster, as if he were pre- 
 pared for action. 
 
 Thus he stood for a time, hands on hips, motionless, 
 his cruel hatchet-like face directed towards the scene 
 further along the street. Presently a man came run- 
 ning to him, Miguel, his bartender, who had been one 
 of the two men serving out whiskey to the workmen at 
 the old adobe house and who at the break-up of the 
 spree had hastened back to town to report to his em- 
 ployer. Now, it seemed, he had fresher news to give. 
 
 "Yes, it is the engineer, for a certainty," he exclaimed 
 panting, as he stopped before Vorse. "The sheriff ar- 
 rested him and he now lies in jail there. It is said he 
 fought and tried to shoot Madden, but that the sheriff 
 was too quick and shot the gun out of his hand. It is 
 said also that the dam is blown into a million little 
 stones, but men are riding there on horses to see for 
 themselves. They will soon return. Anyway a fight 
 there was up there undoubtedly, for Madden brought in 
 not only the engineer but three other men, bound and 
 handcuffed and struggling furiously, trying to strike and 
 bite the crowd like mad dogs. From time to time the 
 sheriff had to beat them on the heads with his pistol, 
 especially the engineer, who is the worst. I did not see 
 them, but those who did said their faces were streaming 
 with blood." 
 
 "All right. Go find Jose Molina and 'Silver* 
 Leon.' 
 
 "Are they not up in the hills with their bands of 
 sheep ?"
 
 272 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "No. They are here. Look around till you find 
 them; then send them to me. 5 * 
 
 "That means something lively to happen, eh?" Miguel 
 said with a laugh. 
 
 He did not wait, however, for an answer, but set off 
 at once for the court house. 
 
 "I hope Meyers shows up soon with more men," Mad- 
 den said to Weir. "Those two sheepherders of Verse's 
 are a pair of snakes ; he always hires that kind ; and they 
 probably have some fellows with them like themselves." 
 
 "Meyers is on the way with twenty men or so by this 
 time. They had to come in wagons, as we had the cars. 
 Atkinson ought to be able to stand off the crowd 
 with the half dozen boys he has until the others ar- 
 rive." 
 
 While they had conducted this brief exchange of 
 opinions they had kept their gaze on the saloon-keeper, 
 who continued to stand before his door. The cold and 
 merciless character of the man was never more revealed 
 than now as he waited for his hired assassins to come 
 to receive orders. Possessing already a full knowledge 
 of the plot, Weir and Madden were able to guess what 
 culmination was now contemplated and measure the true 
 depth of the conspirators* infamy. The sheriff es- 
 pecially boiled with inward wrath that they should ex- 
 pect to make him not only a dupe but a tool in their 
 crime. 
 
 "It's clear they never intended you should come to trial 
 when arrested," he said to his companion. 
 
 "Certainly not. That isn't the way they play the 
 game. And I suppose Vorse there imagines the cards 
 are all falling his way at this moment." 
 
 "He's going in." 
 
 "Good. Now then!"
 
 VORSE 273 
 
 Weir struck off across the street, striding forward at 
 a pace Madden found it difficult to keep. As they neared 
 the door, Weir loosened the gun in his holster. 
 
 In this action the sheriff imitated him and then chang- 
 ing his mind drew the weapon itself. Plain man that he 
 was, he was an instinctive judge of character; he had 
 encountered men of Verse's type before, less shrewd but 
 equally savage ; their nature was to fight, not surrender ; 
 their way was to kill or be killed in the final issue. He 
 anticipated no arrest. 
 
 He felt no necessity, however, to express this view to 
 the engineer, who had proved himself in the time he had 
 been at San Mateo wholly competent to deal with any 
 situation that arose. Moreover, while Vorse had had a 
 reputation of being a quick shot in the past, he was 
 confident Weir was his master. 
 
 With a quiet movement the engineer pushed open the 
 door and stepped into the saloon. Madden following 
 him had allowed the slatted door to swing shut again and 
 the sound of its hinges caused Vorse, who was just start- 
 ing away from the bar, to turn about. In his hand was 
 a tray holding a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of mineral 
 water and glasses, which apparently he had just lifted 
 up. 
 
 For a space of ten seconds or so he remained un- 
 moving, the tray in his hand and his eyes regarding th 
 visitors fixedly. Behind him in the rear of the saloon 
 a second man had sprung up from the table where he 
 sat, but after that first startled action he, too, had not 
 stirred. The man was Sorenson. 
 
 With Madden at his side and with a grim smile on his 
 lips Weir walked slowly towards Vorse. In his tread 
 there was something of the quality of a tiger's, the light, 
 deliberate, poised advance, the easy and dangerous move-
 
 274 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 ment of body, the effortless glide of a powerful animal 
 ready to spring and strike. His hands swung idly at 
 his sides, but that did not mean they would not be swift 
 once they responded to the call of the brain that con- 
 trolled them. 
 
 "You gentlemen were just about to celebrate my down- 
 fall, I perceive, by pouring a libation," Weir said. 
 "Don't let me interrupt. Only I must request you to 
 conduct the proceedings there where you're standing, 
 Vorse, instead of at the rear of the room: Madden and 
 I wish a good view of the ceremony. If Mr. Sorenson 
 will be so agreeable as to step forward, you may go 
 ahead." 
 
 Sorenson did not join Vorse, but instead he spoke. 
 
 "Why haven't you locked up your prisoner, Madden?" 
 he demanded harshly. "And you're letting him keep his 
 gun. Don't you know enough to disarm a murderer and 
 throw him into j ail when you arrest him ?" 
 
 "I haven't arrested him yet," was the sheriffs answer. 
 
 "Well, do it then. You have the warrant for the 
 scoundrel. Perhaps you haven't heard he almost killed 
 my boy Ed last night and you're allowing him to walk 
 around with you as if he were a bosom friend. Do your 
 duty, or we'll get a sheriff who will." 
 
 "That's why I'm here, to do my duty." 
 
 "You didn't have to bring this man here to do it." 
 
 "I decided to bring him, however." 
 
 From Vorse had come not a word. Only his gleaming 
 evil eyes continued to rest on the two men without wink 
 or change. For him explanations were unnecessary ; he 
 had divined instantly that somewhere, somehow the plot- 
 ters' plans had gone awry. 
 
 "Did you know that Gordon is dead?" Weir asked, all 
 at once.
 
 VORSE 275 
 
 Vorse lowered the tray to the bar and ran the tip of 
 his tongue over his lips. 
 
 "No," said he, "we didn't know it." 
 
 "He deeded his property over this evening and then 
 swallowed poison," the engineer stated. "He saw the 
 game was up." 
 
 "You can't make me believe your lies," came sneering 
 from Sorenson. "And you shall pay, you and that girl, 
 for every broken bone in my boy's body. I'll spend my 
 last dollar for that if necessary. Madden, do your duty 
 and lock him up." 
 
 The sheriff said nothing, but lifted his gun a little. 
 Vorse by a slight movement of his body had edged from 
 the bar as if to gain freedom for action. 
 
 "The game's up for you men too," Weir said. 
 "You've murdered and robbed and swindled in this coun- 
 try long enough ; I've got the proof and I'm going to re- 
 move you from this community. It's not I who will be 
 arrested. You killed Jim Dent after cleaning him out 
 at cards and then made my father believe he was guilty 
 of the crime. All I fear is that the court will hang you 
 instead of sending you up for life ; that would be too good 
 for you. I want your crooked souls to die a thousand 
 deaths within stone walls before you die in body. The 
 game's up, I say. I've Saurez' deposition and I've the 
 man who was the boy looking in the back door there 
 that day thirty years ago and saw you shoot Dent, and 
 he'll go on the stand against you." 
 
 A stillness so profound that one could hear the tiny 
 insects hovering about the lamps succeeded this state- 
 ment. If words had not been enough, Weir's cold, harsh 
 face would have removed the men's last hope, for on it 
 was not a single trace of relenting. A stone could have 
 been no flintier.
 
 276 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Well?" Vorse inquired softly. 
 
 His arched bony nose appeared thinner and more 
 hawk-like. His lips were compressed in a white scorn- 
 ful smile, while his eyelids now drooped until but slits 
 of light showed from the orbs. 
 
 "And you may be interested to know Burkhardt and 
 some of the Mexicans he hired are now locked up in 
 jail; the rest, or nearly all, are dead," Weir continued, 
 with slow distinctness. "Your little scheme to blow up 
 the dam and burn the camp failed. We caught Burk- 
 hardt at the spot leading the gang. Your plot to make 
 the workmen drunk and leave the dam unprotected 
 worked well enough so far as that part was concerned, 
 but a keg of powder dropped on your bunch of imported 
 bandits ended that part of the show. And we have 
 Burkhardt! You gentlemen are going to join him in the 
 jail, where we shall give you all the care and attention 
 you deserve." 
 
 Vorse turned his head about towards Sorenson. 
 
 "Do you hear ?" he asked. 
 
 "Madden, you've too much sense to believe all this 
 trumped-up libel!" Sorenson exclaimed furiously. 
 "About us, respected leaders of this town! Arrest the 
 blackguard !** 
 
 Even facing assured proof of his complicity and guilt, 
 the cattleman still believed in the power of his wealth 
 and influence, in his ability to browbeat opponents, to 
 command the man he had elected to office, to dominate 
 and ruthlessly crush by sheer will power all resistance, 
 as he had done for years. 
 
 "I take no orders from you," the sheriff re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Well, I suppose I can empty the till and lock the safe 
 before going?" Vorse questioned.
 
 VORSE 277 
 
 "No. Keep in front of the bar where you are," the 
 sheriff commanded. 
 
 "And have everything stolen." 
 
 "Your bar-keeper will be back presently. He will 
 look after things for you." 
 
 "You say Burkhardt is locked up?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That will hurt his pride," Vorse laughed. "He al- 
 ways swore that no one should put him behind bars. He 
 wouldn't have minded so much finishing in a gun-fight, 
 but to serve a term in prison would surely go against the 
 grain with Burk. Though I think with Sorenson " 
 
 Weir's eyes had never left the speaker. Through the 
 other's inconsequential talk and apparently careless ac- 
 ceptance of the fact of arrest the engineer had noted the 
 tense gathering of the man's body. 
 
 "Put your hands up," he interrupted at this point. 
 
 Vorse had uttered no following word after speaking 
 Sorenson's name ; his voice terminated abruptly. At the 
 same instant his right hand flew to his holster and 
 whipped out his gun. It was the advantageous time for 
 which he had waited, for Madden's look which had been 
 moving back and forth from Vorse to Sorenson so as to 
 cover both had passed to the latter. And Weir's weapon 
 was undrawn. 
 
 But if Vorse drew fast, the engineer's motion was like 
 a flash of light. His weapon leaped on a level with the 
 other's breast. The report sounded a second before that 
 of Vorse's and three before Madden's, who also had 
 fired. 
 
 Then, if ever, Steele Weir had displayed his amazing 
 speed in beating an enemy to his gun, for Vorse had in- 
 deed been quick, keyed by a knowledge that for him this 
 meant imprisonment or freedom, a slow death or liberty.
 
 278 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 For a minute he stood half crouching as he had been 
 at the instant of shooting, his eyes glaring balefully at 
 his enemy and the thin cruel smile on his lips, while the 
 two men in front stood warily waiting with weapons ex- 
 tended. Then Vorse clutched at his breast, muttered 
 thickly and toppled over full length on the floor. 
 
 The sharp pungent smell of powder smoke mingled 
 with the reek of liquor. 
 
 "He's dead," Madden said. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Are you hit?" 
 
 "No. His bullet went past my hip; he never got his 
 gun up." 
 
 Madden glanced about towards the rear of the room. 
 A command for Sorenson to stop broke from his lips. 
 Next he fired. And Weir swinging his look that way 
 saw Sorenson's form, untouched by the bullet, vanishing 
 through the rear door into the night. Using the minute 
 that the two men's surveillance had been lifted he had 
 escaped. 
 
 "Hard luck when we had him," Weir growled. 
 
 "He can't get away." 
 
 "I'm not so sure. And he's armed." 
 
 "Hell strike for home to get his car." 
 
 "Or to the office for money," Weir exclaimed.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE FOURTH MAN 
 
 A LAST look Steele Weir had at the dead man on the 
 floor before he turned to go in search of Sorenson. Not 
 so astute or crafty as Judge Gordon, nor so intelligent 
 as Sorenson, nor so belligerent as Burkhardt, he had 
 been as rapacious and infinitely more cool-minded than 
 any of the three. If anything, he was the one of them all 
 to proceed to a crime, whether fraud or murder, in sheer 
 cold blood and by natural craving. No uneasy con- 
 science would have ever disturbed his rest : no remorse or 
 pity ever stirred in his breast. He was the human coun- 
 terpart of a bird of prey. 
 
 Well, he was dead now. Three of the quartette who 
 had been joined by avarice and lawless actions were taken 
 care of Burkhardt a prisoner, Gordon dead by self- 
 administered poison, Vorse by bullets. Almost did Steele 
 Weir feel himself an embodiment of Fate, clipping the 
 strands of these men's power and lives as with shears. 
 Sorenson alone remained to be dealt with and his free- 
 dom should be short. 
 
 Beckoning Madden, he went swiftly through the door 
 where the cattleman had leaped into the shadows. Where 
 the gloom ceased and the space behind the row of store 
 buildings was clear in the moonlight, nothing was to be 
 seen. Naturally the man had kept within black shade 
 in his flight. 
 
 When they reached the rear of the cattle company's 
 
 279
 
 280 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 office building, they peered in through its barred back 
 windows, but all was dark inside the structure so far as 
 they could determine. To all appearance Sorenson had 
 not stopped here: it was quiet, gloomy, untenanted. 
 
 "We'll have to try his home now," the sheriff stated. 
 "If we don't find him there, we'll set the telephones go- 
 ing to warn all the ranches and towns around to be on 
 the lookout and either to stop or report him if he shows 
 up. He hasn't start enough to get away now." 
 
 They hastened on along the line of buildings until they 
 reached a side street. But when they had proceeded a 
 short way, Weir stopped. 
 
 "I'm not satisfied about the office," said he. "Suppose 
 you go on to his house and I'll return for a look inside 
 from the front. If you fail to find him join me at Mar- 
 tinez' office, where no one is likely to be around and we 
 can then lay further plans." 
 
 "That suits," Madden responded, and set off alone. 
 
 Weir's alert brain had been turning over the possi- 
 bilities of Sorenson's course. Rather by pursuing what 
 would be the man's line of reasoning than by depending 
 on chance, he had come to the quick decision to turn 
 back once again to the office. Sorenson would so act as 
 would best serve his immediate escape and that of the fu- 
 ture. 
 
 Would he expect the sheriff and the engineer to look 
 for him to flee by the speediest means, an automobile, 
 and to the natural avenue of escape, the railroad? Yes. 
 Therefore on that expectation he would adopt another 
 way to throw off pursuit. And perilous as a delay would 
 be in getting away from San Mateo, yet he must risk the 
 few minutes necessary to get money. For to fly with 
 pockets empty meant eventual, certain capture. Money 
 a fugitive from justice must possess above everything
 
 THE FOURTH MAN 281 
 
 in order to possess wings ; and no one would know that 
 better than Sorenson. 
 
 Though Madden and he had seen no light in the office 
 building, the cattleman nevertheless might have been 
 within. If he had been in the vault, he could safely have 
 lighted a candle without their perceiving its beams ; and 
 though the safe was modern it probably had no time lock. 
 Sorenson could unlock it with a few twirls of the com- 
 bination, stuff his pockets with currency and negotiable 
 paper to the amount of thousands and then slip away. 
 
 Fortunately the moonlight was to Weir's advantage. 
 He quickened his steps, passed round the corner into 
 the main street and moved towards the building. For 
 him the crowd at the court house at that moment had 
 no interest; one person, and one person alone, com- 
 manded his thoughts. 
 
 How correct had been his logic logic not unmixed 
 with intuition, perhaps appeared when he was yet some 
 fifty yards away from the door he sought. A tall bulky 
 figure suddenly stepped forth from the building and in- 
 stantly ran across the street and lost itself in the shift- 
 ing, jostling crowd that was half-disclosed, half-con- 
 cealed by the broken shadows of the moonlit trees. 
 
 Steele Weir proceeded to a spot near the office and 
 halted. His first impulse to rush after Sorenson had 
 been promptly suppressed, as cooler judgment ruled. To 
 seek his quarry in that throng would be labor wasted, 
 while to reveal his identity would be to court a disastrous 
 interference with the business at hand. From where he 
 stood he should much better be able to see Sorenson when 
 he did emerge, unless he chose to remain in the crowd or 
 steal away at the rear of the court house yard, a chance 
 Weir must take. 
 
 Five minutes passed. The restless, talkative Mexicans
 
 continued to swarm and buzz with excitement, ceaselessly 
 moving about, forming and reforming in groups, agi- 
 tatedly repeating newer and wilder rumors concerning 
 events. Despite Weir's intent watch for Sorenson, the 
 engineer could not but observe the mob's manifestations, 
 observe them with sardonic humor. For their ebullition 
 of the present would be nothing to what it would be if 
 they learned he stood across the street, uncaged, un- 
 fettered, free and armed, a "gun-man" loose instead of 
 a "gun-man" in jail. 
 
 All at once Weir noted out of the tail of his eye a 
 slight stir among a number of horses standing with reins 
 a-trail before a store a little way down the street. The 
 horses were partly in the light, partly in the shadow, 
 so that all he could see was that one or two of them 
 had jerked aside quickly, then resumed their listless pos- 
 tures. 
 
 He was about to withdraw his eyes when he saw a man 
 swing upon the back of one of them and start off at 
 an easy canter. Weir sprang towards the spot at a run. 
 That big figure could only be Sorenson's, for no Mexican 
 he had ever seen in San Mateo could match it. And the 
 plan of escape showed the other's craft in an emergency ; 
 gradually working his way through the crowd he had at 
 last gained the protective shadow of the building on that 
 side of the street and slipped along in it until he reached 
 the horses. 
 
 Doubtless the man had conceived the plan at the in- 
 stant he had stepped from his office, sweeping the street 
 by one gauging look. With the whole town assembled 
 at the court house, his departure was little likely to be 
 noted by the Mexicans, while Madden and Weir would 
 never suspect him of riding off on a horse, or suspect too 
 late. Indeed, he rode at first as if in no great haste,
 
 THE FOURTH MAN 283 
 
 but as he turned his mount into a narrow by-way, more 
 a lane than a street that disappeared between two mud 
 walls, Weir saw him strike his heels into the pony's 
 flanks. 
 
 But for the startled movement of the nearby horses 
 when Sorenson took stirrup, Weir would not have looked 
 that way. He might possibly have seen the horseman 
 start off, but that is not certain. He unquestionably 
 would have supposed him an ordinary rider if he had not 
 noticed the man until he reached the mouth of the lane. 
 
 Meantime the engineer had made his best speed to the 
 line of waiting horses. Slowing to a walk so as not to 
 scare them, though as he discovered on examination most 
 of them looked too bony and spiritless for that, he ap- 
 proached and carefully inspected the bunch. He took 
 his time in the selection: the more haste in choosing a 
 mount might prove less speed in the end. He tightened 
 the saddle-girths and ran a finger along the head straps 
 of the bridle of the horse picked to judge their fit, re- 
 ceiving a snap from the pony's teeth, which gave him 
 satisfaction. Not only was this animal a wiry, tough- 
 looking little beast, but he had life. 
 
 Up into the saddle Weir went, followed Sorenson's 
 line to the lane, down which he swung. Coming out into 
 the next street, he pursued it to an intersecting street, 
 and there galloped for the edge of town without trying 
 to guess the way taken by his enemy. Once he reached 
 the open fields he would quickly get sight of the man rac- 
 ing away somewhere on the mesa. 
 
 Evidently the quarry he pursued had not taken so 
 direct a course as Weir, for when the latter at length" 
 came forth where he could have a wide view he perceived 
 the horseman a quarter of a mile off and further east, 
 galloping south. The engineer at once raced thither to
 
 284 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 gain the same road and turning into it made for Soren- 
 son. 
 
 Thus the two men sped away from San Mateo. The 
 wire fences and the adobe houses of Mexicans owning 
 little farms adjoining soon ceased. The wide mesa lay 
 on either side. Though a quarter of a mile had sepa- 
 rated the men when Weir first observed the other, the dis- 
 tance between had been increased while the engineer was 
 gaining the road, until now the interval was almost twice 
 as great. 
 
 Weir guessed the fleeing man's plan. Instead of seek- 
 ing the railroad for the present, he would disappear in 
 the mountains, where with the assistance of some loyal 
 employee, cowman or sheepherder, he would lie hid until 
 the first fury of the hunt had subsided. Possibly his 
 bold brain even conceived the idea of again returning to 
 San Mateo some dark night soon and further looting the 
 office, vigilance being relaxed. 
 
 In any case, he would expect to remain safe from pur- 
 suit in a mountain fastness until either on horseback or 
 by automobile he could work his way out of the country. 
 With what he had unquestionably carried off he would 
 not be a poor man. In some spot far away he could 
 assume a new name, start in business and later be joined 
 by his wife and crippled son. 
 
 Alas, for those plans, arising like mushrooms on the 
 ruins of his life! Behind him followed the same inexor- 
 able antagonist who so swiftly had brought everything 
 crashing about his head. Possibly Sorenson once out of 
 the town had failed to look back ; possibly looking back 
 he had been unable to distinguish against the blur of 
 houses and trees the horseman galloping in the moonlight 
 along the same road. 
 
 But all at once when they were two miles away from
 
 THE FOURTH MAN 285 
 
 San Mateo he discovered Weir, who had been gradually 
 cutting down the space between until now again he was 
 within a quarter of a mile of his quarry. Sorenson had 
 been riding rapidly but not hard ; he now beat his horse 
 to a furious gallop, a good pony, too, from its speed, 
 showing that the banker as well as Weir had picked his 
 mount with care. 
 
 Weir did not urge his horse to a similar pace, only 
 maintaining a fast steady gallop that kept the other in 
 sight though the space between again widened. Appar- 
 ently Sorenson realized the folly of attempting to out- 
 run his pursuer at once, for he soon dropped back into 
 a regular, mile-eating gallop. Gradually in turn Weir 
 crept up to his old position. 
 
 To each the only sound was that of drumming hoof- 
 beats. In front rode the fleeing man dethroned leader 
 and criminal and murderer. Behind relentlessly came 
 his Nemesis, the son of the man whom he had deceived 
 and damned to mental suffering. All about them as they 
 flew along was the silent, moonlit, sage-covered mesa. 
 At their right towered the misty, unchanging peaks, as if 
 watching unmoved this strange race of two human beings. 
 A strange race, in truth, a race where vengeance rode.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE VICTOB 
 
 TEN miles the two men had gone when Sorenson's horse 
 began to fail. The rider's weight was proving too much 
 for the sturdy little animal and though he strove to main- 
 tain his speed the strain told on lungs and legs. Weir 
 had reduced the distance first to three hundred yards, 
 then to two hundred, and at last but a hundred sepa- 
 rated him from the man and horse ahead. 
 
 The hard chase indeed was beginning to tell on his 
 own mount. Flecks of foam flew from its lips; its neck 
 was wet with sweat ; the whistle of its breath was audible 
 to the engineer at every stride. For as both men had 
 realized that now the end could not be far off, they had 
 pushed their horses to faster and faster galloping. 
 
 On a sudden Sorenson swung his animal into a dim 
 trail leading from the main road skirting the mountain 
 range to the base of the mountains themselves. The first 
 slopes were but a mile away, covered with a scattering 
 growth of pinyon pines. Just in front, too, for which 
 the trail seemed pointing, was a dark ravine filled with 
 brush that rose to the denser timber above. This was 
 the fugitive's goal. Once he could fling himself from 
 the saddle and plunge into the undergrowth he would 
 be safe from his pursuer. 
 
 The two ponies struggled on with exhausted leaps. 
 Weir had reduced the interval to seventy-five yards by 
 the time half the distance was covered and to fifty as 
 
 286
 
 THE VICTOR 287 
 
 they drew near the mouth of the ravine. He measured 
 his gain and the remaining two hundred yards or so with 
 savage eyes, then drew his revolver. He desired to take 
 Sorenson unharmed. But rather than that the man 
 should escape he would kill him. 
 
 Sorenson's horse stumbled, but a jerk of the reins 
 saved him and kept him moving on. The engineer struck 
 his own pony fiercely on the flank, which produced a tre- 
 mendous effort in the striving beast that brought it 
 within thirty paces or so of Sorenson. That, however, 
 was the best it could do, labor as it would. Its knees 
 were trembling at every stride, its head swinging heav- 
 
 fly. 
 
 Sorenson's horse suddenly went to its knees. But the 
 man leaping clear took the ground on his feet and in- 
 stantly set off at a run for the line of brush in the draw 
 some seventy or eighty paces away. A last spurt Weir's 
 pony made, bringing his rider to within thirty yards of 
 the cattleman, who glancing over his shoulder halted, 
 swung about, fired a shot and again started to run. 
 
 The pony under Weir came to an abrupt stop, shak- 
 ing. He was done, whether from exhaustion or the bullet 
 the engineer did not wait to see. Flinging himself out 
 the saddle he raced after his man, taking the rough trail 
 leading up the slope in swift strides. On foot Sorenson 
 was no match for him. But the latter had the start ; he 
 was now almost within reach of the thick screen of 
 bushes; and he bent every energy to make the ambus- 
 cade. 
 
 Still running, Weir flung up his gun and fired. Close 
 the shot must have gone to Sorenson, so close as to 
 inject into the man's mind recollection of his pursuer's 
 accuracy and a fear of a bullet in his back, for when 
 within twenty feet of the bushes he dropped behind a
 
 288 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 small bowlder, whence he fired twice at Weir but without 
 striking his mark. 
 
 Neither man after the furious ride and the concluding 
 run on foot was fit for sure marksmanship. This Weir 
 realized, so stopped where he was some forty feet off 
 from Sorenson's stone in order to regain his breath and 
 calm his nerves. Of the cattleman he could see nothing ; 
 the man crouched low out of sight, perhaps reloading his 
 weapon, perhaps steeling himself for a dash across that 
 small moonlit space that separated him from safety, or 
 perhaps preparing for a quick upward spring and a 
 fresh volley directed at his foe. 
 
 It may be questioned if in his heart Sorenson was not 
 almost disposed to fight the matter out. He was no 
 coward; his original hatred for the engineer had by 
 recent events been swelled to a diabolical desire to kill; 
 and now even if he, Sorenson, succeeded in slipping away, 
 his whereabouts would be known unless he destroyed the 
 man. Safety demanded that he not only escape but 
 escape without this witness. 
 
 Weir had not sought cover. He stood upright, his 
 revolver ready, trusting to have an advantage in his 
 speed when it came to an exchange of shots. Then he 
 began an advance, a slow noiseless circling advance that 
 at the same time of taking him closer to his enemy 
 brought him round on his flank. 
 
 Sorenson's hand and pistol appeared and half his face 
 while three shots rattled from his gun, two at the spot 
 where Weir had been and one at him in his new position, 
 which the hiding man had immediately located. The last 
 shot ticked the engineer's sleeve. In return Weir fired 
 twice, the first bullet striking the rock and ricocheting 
 off with a loud whine, while the second struck the pistol 
 from Sorenson's hand.
 
 THE VICTOR 289 
 
 Instantly Weir sprang forward. 
 
 "Show yourself," he ordered. And the kneeling fugi- 
 tive, disarmed, gripping his bleeding hand, sullenly arose 
 to his feet. "You've led me a chase, but I have you at 
 last," the engineer continued. "Now you're going back 
 to San Mateo and jail. Walk towards the horses." 
 
 Sorenson cast one bitter glance at the thicket in the 
 ravine; by only the little matter of a few yards he had 
 failed to gain liberty. For Weir his visage when he 
 looked around again was never more hard, hostile, full 
 of undying hatred. Though balked, he was not submis- 
 sive, and was the kind who kept his animosity to the end. 
 Then he started off towards the horses, his own which 
 had staggered to its feet again and Weir's, both stand- 
 ing with hanging heads and heaving, quivering sides. 
 
 All at once the cattleman halted and faced about. 
 
 "Most men have a price, and I suppose you have 
 yours," he said, with forced calmness. "I'm ready to 
 pay it." 
 
 "You're going to pay it," was the answer. 
 
 "How much will you ask to let me go ?" 
 
 "If you offered me ten million, which you haven't got, 
 I wouldn't accept it," Weir said, harshly. "There isn't 
 enough money in the world to buy your liberty. You're 
 going back to San Mateo, and from there to the peni- 
 tentiary or to the gallows, one or the other." 
 
 "It will be neither," Sorenson stated. 
 
 "You're mistaken, but I shall not argue the matter 
 with you. Keep walking towards the horses." 
 
 Sorenson's lips became compressed. He glanced down 
 at his bleeding hand, shook the blood from his fingers. 
 
 "I stay here," said he. 
 
 Weir went a step nearer and thrust his face forward, 
 jaw set, eyes smoldering.
 
 290 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "Go on, I say," he exclaimed. 
 
 But the other did not retreat before him or indeed 
 move at all. A sneer lifted his gray mustache. 
 
 "You have a gun ; you're a killer ; here I am unarmed 
 and in your power," he said. "You intend to take me 
 in; I propose to stay here. If I go to San Mateo, it 
 will be as a dead man. I'll see whether you have the 
 nerve to shoot me down where I now stand. If you have, 
 go to it. You can then take my body to town, but I'll 
 not have paid the price you name and I'll have the 
 satisfaction of knowing I beat you at the last in that, 
 at least. Your bragging will be empty. Start your 
 shooting any time you please." The tone spoke complete 
 contempt. 
 
 Weir said nothing. The defiance, the supreme auda- 
 city of this assertion, coming so unexpectedly, surprised 
 him and left him at a loss. He would not kill an un- 
 resisting man, even Sorenson, his worst enemy. Soren- 
 son in his place probably would not have hesitated to do 
 so, for he had no fine scruples in such matters ; but for 
 Steele Weir the thing was no more possible than striking 
 a woman or a child. 
 
 It was not a question of nerve, as the other had stated. 
 It was a test of brutality and consciencelessness. To 
 shoot a man while escaping is one thing; to kill him 
 while a prisoner, however contemptuous and brazen, was 
 another. But there are means other than bullets for 
 handling obstinate prisoners. 
 
 Weir shifted his weapon so as to grasp the barrel and 
 have the butt free. 
 
 "I'll leave your execution to the proper officials, if 
 an execution is what you want," he said. "Now will 
 you go?" he demanded, threateningly. 
 
 His foe gazed at the clubbed pistol and turned as if
 
 THE VICTOR 291 
 
 to yield. Next instant he whirled, lunging at Weir and 
 Hinging his arms about his captor. An exultant excla- 
 mation slipped from his lips ; his hot breath fell on the 
 engineer's cheek; his eyes glared into those of the man 
 his arms encircled. He had tricked Weir by his pre- 
 tense of obstinacy, led him to weaken his guard and 
 had him in his grasp. 
 
 Weir braced himself to resist the man's effort to force 
 him down. Strong arms the other had, now doubly 
 strengthened by hate and a belief in victory. All the 
 power of Sorenson's great body was exerted to lift him 
 off his feet, crush him in a terrific bear-hug, put him on 
 his back and render him helpless; and Weir in his turn 
 was tensing his muscles and arching his frame with every 
 ounce of his lean, iron-like frame. 
 
 Thus they swayed and struggled in the moonlight, 
 without witnesses. A sinister silent fight, marked only 
 by their fierce breathing and fiercer heart-beats. The 
 pistol had dropped from Steele Weir's hand ; instead of 
 attempting to break the other's hold he had yielded to 
 it and pushing his own arms forward had clasped his 
 hands behind Sorenson's back in the wrestler's true de- 
 fense to such an attack. 
 
 Once Sorenson almost had him on his knees, but by a 
 quick powerful upthrust of his legs he regained his up- 
 right position. However, it had been a close shave for 
 Weir, for he well knew that his opponent would use any 
 tactics, fair or foul, to kill him if he once lay on his back. 
 
 "You hound from hell!" Sorenson snarled. "You 
 crippled my boy, and you shall die for that. You've 
 ruined me in San Mateo, and you shall die for that. You 
 jailed Burkhardt and poisoned Gordon and shot Vorse, 
 and you shall die for that. I'm going to choke the life 
 out of you, and grind your dead head into the dust, and
 
 then spit on you. That's how I treat snakes. Say your 
 prayers, if you know any, for you'll never get another 
 chance. Your friends won't recognize your remains 
 when I'm done with you." 
 
 Venomous and impassioned, all the hate in the man's 
 heart flowed forth in a fuming stream. For hate and 
 murderous desire was all that was left him in the wreck 
 of life caused by the engineer. If he could no longer 
 rule, he could at least destroy. 
 
 Weir had made no response to the fierce imprecations. 
 He was working his hands upward, straining his arms 
 so as to reach Sorenson's head. 
 
 "When the coyotes are gnawing your skull," Soren- 
 son went on, raging, "when the worms are feeding on 
 you " 
 
 The words died in a gurgle of pain. Weir's hands had 
 closed about his temples, a finger sunk in each eye, forc- 
 ing his head back. Sorenson shook himself frantically 
 to break the torturing hold. His head went farther and 
 farther back as if it seemed his neck would snap; his 
 mouth opened to gasp, "Oh, God!" and all at once his 
 hug slipped apart. 
 
 Instantly Weir tripped him, falling on top. Reach- 
 ing out like a flash he seized his pistol lying on the 
 ground and brought it down on the head of his enemy, 
 who momentarily blinded and suffering could not resist. 
 Sorenson went limp. From the savage beast of a minute 
 before he had been changed to a huge, motionless, sprawl- 
 ing figure, with face upturned to the moon. 
 
 And on that face the victor of the life and death 
 struggle could still behold, through the contorted lines 
 stamped by pain, the man's brutal passion and fixed ma- 
 levolence. 
 
 Weir arose.
 
 THE VICTOR 293 
 
 "You felt the hound of hell's teeth," he muttered. 
 
 With thongs from one of the saddles he bound Soren- 
 son's hands, pulling the knots tight and hard. The pros- 
 trate man moaned, opened his eyes. Weir jerked him 
 dazed and staggering to his feet. 
 
 "Up into the saddle with you if you don't want an- 
 other rap on the head," Steele ordered, bruskly. "And 
 go straight this time. From now on I'll take you at your 
 word and put a hole through your black heart if you 
 try any more tricks." 
 
 When his prisoner was mounted, he fastened his ankles 
 together by another thong under the belly of the pony. 
 Weir was taking no chances. Up into his own saddle 
 then he swung himself. 
 
 No exultant curses now came from his captive's lips.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A FINAL CHALLENGE 
 
 THE hour was drawing near midnight when Weir and 
 his prisoner entered the town. Most of the women and 
 children of the crowd of Mexicans had gone to their 
 homes, but men yet remained before the court house and 
 in the street, discussing and arguing the exciting events 
 of the night. 
 
 In some mysterious manner knowledge that Burkhardt 
 and not Weir was the prisoner in the jail, together with 
 news of Judge Gordon's suicide and Vorse's death, had 
 spread from mouth to mouth. Amazement and incredu- 
 lity had been followed by an aroused feeling of anger, 
 for to the Mexicans it appeared that the crushing blow 
 dealt the leaders of the town was the arbitrary act of 
 the man they believed a lawless gun-man. Were not 
 Weir's foremen and engineers guarding the jail? Men 
 who were strangers, not even citizens of the county? 
 
 But though an undercurrent of feeling ran among the 
 talking groups, gradually increasing as the time passed, 
 yet was there no active desire on the part of all or a 
 concerted movement to drive away the seeming invaders 
 of the law. For any such attempt a strong leader was 
 necessary. There was none: Madden frowned upon 
 them, only saying as he moved about that he was ex- 
 ecuting the law; Sorenson, the dominating figure of the 
 town, and Burkhardt's, Vorse's and Gordon's friend, was 
 strangely absent. 
 
 294
 
 A FINAL CHALLENGE 295 
 
 The determined guard about the jail was in itself n 
 deterrent to mob action. Meyers had brought twenty 
 or more men from camp, armed and alert, who with those 
 already about the building constituted a force to make 
 any crowd of Mexicans, however angry, think twice 
 before seeking to rescue prisoners. But the wish and 
 the spirit were not lacking. Employees of the plotters, 
 men who had received favors from Sorenson or Vorse or 
 Burkhardt, Mexicans of a naturally vicious and unruly 
 temper, were all for rushing the jail. The great num- 
 ber of the people, however, peaceful and indolent, pre- 
 ferred to content themselves with satisfying their curios- 
 ity by talk instead of seeking a taste of blood. And so as 
 ar result of this divided opinion the hostility for Weir had 
 not expressed itself in an effort to assail the keepers of 
 the jail. 
 
 When he was discovered to have returned to town, 
 this angry feeling assumed a menacing form. He ap- 
 proached the court house by the side street, Sorenson 
 riding at his side, for it was his plan to lodge his pris- 
 oner in the jail with as much secrecy as possible. Never- 
 theless in this he was disappointed; men saw him arrive, 
 assist his prisoner to alight and climb the board fence 
 about the yard; and drawn by the expectation of new 
 events the nearer groups hastened forward. 
 
 Weir impelled his man towards the jail. 
 
 "Stand back," he commanded the Mexicans. 
 
 The latter at first stared in astonishment at beholding 
 the pair, one of whom was San Mateo's foremost citizen, 
 now sullenly advancing with wrists bound. Exclamations 
 burst from their lips. 
 
 At that a flash of hope filled Sorenson's breast. 
 
 "To my rescue, friends !" he cried, beginning to 
 struggle.
 
 296 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 Weir jerked him ahead fiercely and cast fiercer looks 
 at the Mexicans. 
 
 "This man is under arrest. And remember I can still 
 shoot straight," he warned. 
 
 Towards him came Madden running, who in Weir's 
 disappearance earlier in the night he had guessed a pur- 
 suit of the cattleman and had therefore returned to the 
 jail. He placed himself at Sorenson's right. 
 
 "Whoever tries to take Sorenson from the hands of 
 the law does so at his own peril," he exclaimed. 
 
 A few mocking shouts resulted. These were gradually 
 increased until the Mexicans, now being joined by scores 
 of others from the street, became a howling, cursing, hys- 
 terical mob, crying Sorenson and Burkhardt's innocence, 
 calling down imprecations on the heads of the sheriff 
 and the engineer, stirred by certain lawless spirits to 
 wilder and wilder passion. 
 
 Weir and Madden had not been standing still, for the 
 crowd was not yet numerous enough at first or bold 
 enough to attack. Moreover the two men held their 
 pistols well in view. Forcing Sorenson ahead, driving 
 apart those who blocked their way, they pushed across 
 the yard until but a few paces from the jail. 
 
 One Mexican, a ranch hand from one of Vorse's 
 ranches, wearing a great high-peaked felt hat and chaps, 
 insolently thrust himself before the trio, spitting at 
 Weir's face and in Spanish begging companions to help 
 him release Sorenson. His right hand was resting on his 
 holster as if but awaiting an excuse to use his gun. 
 
 "Get to one side," was Weir's harsh order. 
 
 The man's answer was a string of foul curses. Like 
 a panther the engineer leaped forward and struck the 
 fellow on the side of his head with revolver barrel, 
 dropping him where he stood.
 
 A FINAL CHALLENGE 297 
 
 As the crowd remained suddejkg mute, unmoving, their 
 howls checked by this swift reprisal, Weir spoke to 
 Madden : 
 
 "Quick ! To the door !" 
 
 Each with an arm in Sorenson's, they made a run for 
 the jail, passed through the line of armed guards and 
 for the moment were safe. The sheriff lost no time in 
 dragging the prisoner inside and when presently he 
 stepped forth again, locking the door after him, he 
 showed a relieved face. 
 
 "I put irons on him, hands and feet," he informed 
 Weir. "He's out of the way at any rate if we're in for 
 a row." 
 
 That was exactly what appeared in prospect. Only 
 the rifles in the grip of the two dozen men about the 
 jail kept the now thoroughly aroused mob from 
 rushing forward. From yelling it had changed to low 
 fierce murmurs that bespoke a more desperate 
 mood. 
 
 "We ought to move the men somewhere else," Steele 
 Weir stated. "Pretty soon they'll go for arms and then 
 we'll have real trouble." 
 
 "I arranged while you were gone to transfer them to 
 the county seat in the next county," Madden said. 
 "Telephoned the sheriff; he's expecting them. To-mor- 
 row we can take them to Santa Fe, out of this part of 
 the country till time for their trial. I placed the auto- 
 mobile your man brought Burkhardt in from the dam 
 and another machine back in the alley; they are there 
 now in the shadow." 
 
 "Good. The quicker you take them, the better. They 
 ought to be gagged when brought out. Get them here to 
 the door; the men who are to drive should have the cars 
 ready, engines going "
 
 298 IX THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "That's fixed. Your superintendent will drive one 
 car and one of the engineers the other; they can slip 
 back there at once. Six more of the guards are to go 
 with us." 
 
 "All right. You know whom you want. Station them 
 here at the door to rush the prisoners back the instant 
 you're ready. Have them go round to the rear on the 
 dark side of the jail; they should gain a good start 
 before they're discovered." 
 
 Madden called from the line Atkinson and the men 
 whom he had chosen to accompany him on the night ride. 
 A brief parley followed. Then he and two of the engi- 
 neers went inside the jail, while the superintendent and 
 one young fellow stole away in the shadows towards the 
 spot where stood the cars. 
 
 Meanwhile the throng had grown until it filled all the 
 space about the rear of the court house and formed a 
 mass of human bodies on which the checkered moonlight 
 played reaching to within half a dozen paces of the jail. 
 A shot rang out and a bullet struck the jail. It was 
 like a match lighted near powder, that if allowed to burn 
 would set off an explosion. One shot would lead to others 
 from reckless spirits, to a volley and in the end to an 
 onslaught. 
 
 Perhaps that was the reasoning and the purpose of 
 the man who had fired. In any case, it must not be re- 
 peated. 
 
 Weir strode forward towards the crowd. 
 
 "If that man, or any of you, want to shoot this out 
 with me, let him show himself," he said, threateningly 
 and swinging the muzzle of his weapon along the line 
 of faces. 
 
 A quick retreat on the part of those nearest marked 
 the respect with which it was considered. Frantically
 
 A FINAL CHALLENGE 299 
 
 they strove to push further back into the mob, clawing 
 and elbowing. 
 
 "If you try any more shots," he continued, speaking 
 in Spanish as before, "those rifles will open fire." He 
 paused to allow this information to have full effect. 
 "Finally, if you attempt wrecking this jail, the three 
 hundred workmen from the dam will march down to San 
 Mateo and teach you proper observance of the law. If 
 you're really looking for trouble, those three hundred 
 men will give this town trouble that will be remembered 
 for twenty years." 
 
 Standing there in the moonlight between the two 
 parties, between the thin line of sentinels about the jail 
 and the dense mob in front, Steele Weir's action seemed 
 the height of rashness. A rush of the Mexicans and he 
 would be overwhelmed, a cowardly shot from somewhere 
 in the rear and he might be killed. It was like inviting 
 disaster. 
 
 If, however, he recognized his danger, he gave no sign 
 of it. By the power of his gun and sheer boldness he 
 faced them, calm, fearless, masterful. His unexpected 
 advance had surprised the Mexicans, left them confused 
 and uncertain. Wild and sinister tales concerning his 
 prowess magnified him in their eyes notwithstanding their 
 animosity. Now they seemed to feel his iron will beating 
 against their faces. 
 
 During the pause that ensued Weir heard the jail door 
 open. Madden was preparing to take his prisoners out. 
 
 "I'm not seeking trouble, but I'm not avoiding it," the 
 engineer proceeded, for this was the critical minute, and 
 he sought to have all eyes focused upon him instead of 
 upon the activity at his back. "The sheriff represents 
 the law here in San Mateo, and I give you plain warning 
 that every man who attempts violence to-night will be
 
 300 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 called upon to pay the account. By to-morrow the Gov- 
 ernor may have soldiers stationed in your houses and in 
 your streets, for the prisoners are now the prisoners of 
 the state, arrested for stealing cattle " 
 
 That was a happy inspiration. Had Weir stated the 
 whole category of Sorenson's and Burkhardt's crimes, 
 including murder and dynamiting, he could not have 
 struck so shrewdly as in naming the sin of cattle-steal- 
 ing. For this was a cattle country and even the most 
 ignorant Mexican grasped the significance of this charge. 
 
 A visible stir answered the statement. 
 
 "For stealing cattle from other men" he did not 
 trouble to mention the fact the crime had occurred thirty 
 years previous "and for that and other things Sheriff 
 Madden has arrested them. Because they are rich, their 
 guilt is all the worse. Perhaps they have taken cattle 
 belonging to you, who knows? That may come out in 
 their trial ; if they have taken them, you shall have them 
 back." 
 
 From the rear of the grounds came the low sounds of 
 automobile engines being started. Weir dared not look 
 about to learn if Madden and his party were safely on 
 their way thither. As for the Mexicans, the speaker's 
 words had created a sensation. For men were there 
 who owned small herds now feeding on the range, and 
 from anger their minds yielded to sudden anxiety; each 
 saw himself a possible sufferer from cattle depredations ; 
 and in the minds of these, at least, thought of loss sup- 
 planted thought of Sorenson and Burkhardt. 
 
 "I helped Sheriff Madden arrest these men because 
 they stole cattle, possibly some of your steers among 
 them. Is that why you would like to lynch me, as I've 
 heard you wanted to do?" he demanded, savagely. "Be- 
 cause I save your animals? Or is it because I shot that
 
 A FINAL CHALLENGE 301 
 
 renegade Mexican whom Ed Sorenson hired to try and 
 kill me? Ed Sorenson, yes. Sheriff Madden has the 
 knowledge of it. Not only would Sorenson the father like 
 to see me die because I know about his cattle-stealing, 
 but Ed Sorenson, the son, hired that strange Mexican 
 to shoot me from the dark because I stopped him from 
 trying to steal a girl. Has Ed Sorenson left your daugh- 
 ters alone? I would save your daughters from his evil 
 hands, as I would your cattle from his father's." 
 
 A man all at once pushed forth from the crowd, wrath- 
 fully elbowing his way among neighbors. He was 
 Naharo, the Mexican who had chatted once with Mar- 
 tinez in the latter's office. 
 
 "It is true," he shouted, facing his countrymen. "I, 
 Naharo, vow it the truth. For I saw this engineer take 
 a young girl away from Ed Sorenson in the restaurant 
 at Bowenville that the scoundrel intended to seduce. It 
 is so, the truth ; the engineer saved her. And are there 
 not men among you" his voice gained a savage, rasping 
 note "whose girls have been betrayed by the cattle- 
 stealing Sorenson's son?" 
 
 "Where is he where is he now?" some one shouted, 
 angrily. It might have been a father who stood in 
 Naharo's case. 
 
 "He lies crippled," Weir stated. "Last night he tried 
 to steal yet another girl from San Mateo, and fleeing 
 when overtaken was pitched from his car and crushed 
 against a rock. He will steal no more daughters of 
 San Mateo." 
 
 Sensation on sensation. The crowd fairly hummed 
 with new excitement resulting from these disclosures. 
 Ed Sorenson's ways were known to most and the revela- 
 tions seemed true to his character; and from believing 
 the statements of the son to accepting those concerning
 
 302 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the father was but a step. Cattle girls ! It began to 
 look as if this engineer was in the right. 
 
 With half of his attention Weir was harkening for the 
 sound of starting automobiles. He had heard the scuffle 
 of feet when the party slipped away from the jail door 
 into the shadows. He had almost measured their passage 
 to the alley. Ah, and now ! There was a quick grind of 
 gears, the pop of exhausts, then a dying of the sounds 
 as the cars left the grounds. 
 
 "You wished to kill me when you came here, but I had 
 not then and have not now any intention of dying," he 
 stated. "For I have work to do and work for you if 
 you want it. Instead of stealing your cattle and daugh- 
 ters as the Sorensons did, I'll give you jobs. We are 
 about to begin digging canals and ditches on the mesa; 
 I want men and teams you and yours at good pay for 
 a good day's work. Our quarrel of the past need not 
 be remembered. I have never been your enemy, only the 
 enemy of the four men who deceived and oppressed you. 
 And now they are gone, two dead and two off to be tried 
 for their crimes." 
 
 Weir stood for a moment silent, while they as silently 
 stared at him. 
 
 "Ha, bueno, we shall work !" Naharo exclaimed. 
 
 "We shall work and build your ditches, senor," cried 
 a score of voices. 
 
 Then the cry swelled to a noisy chorus. The crowd 
 began to stir and disintegrate and break into groups, 
 gesticulating, talking, discussing all the astonishing 
 items of news given by the engineer, from the particulars 
 of the Sorensons 5 depravity to announcement of renewed 
 hire. 
 
 "Senor, we hold you in greatest respect," said a man to 
 Weir, smiling in friendly fashion.
 
 A FINAL CHALLENGE 303 
 
 "And also your pistol," said a companion, laughing. 
 
 "No one will need to wear pistols here in San Mateo 
 from now on," was the answer. And he politely bade 
 them good-night. 
 
 His belief was sincere. San Mateo had gained an end 
 of violence, and henceforth his weapon would gather 
 dust. He had triumphed. Not only had he subdued his 
 enemies, but he had won the good will of the people. 
 
 One thing more alone remained to be won to bring 
 him utter happiness.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 t 
 
 THE RECLUSE 
 
 As Weir drove his car homeward through the moon- 
 light, he knew that at last the dark shadow upon his life 
 had passed forever. Memories poignant and sad, memo- 
 ries bitter and stern, returned again and again to his 
 mind; but these henceforth with time would soften and 
 change. Of these his last visit to his father was most 
 vivid, that day in spring that had proved their last 
 together. . . . 
 
 He had been there with his father for a week, and 
 now must go. He was chopping wood that morning, with 
 his father looking on. Steele had cast a measuring 
 glance at the pile of wood cut, then wiped the fine dew 
 of perspiration from his brow, buried the ax blade in the 
 chopping-log and seated himself upon a sawn block. A 
 smile shaped itself upon his lips. Though he never 
 chopped wood now except on these rare visits to his re- 
 cluse father's cabin here on the forested mountain side, 
 his tall lean figure was as tough and wiry as ever, his 
 arm as tireless, his eye as true to cut the exact line. 
 There was yet no softening of his fibers or fat on his 
 ribs, and there would be neither if he had anything to 
 say about it. 
 
 From the little Idaho town in the valley below, which 
 he viewed through the clearing before the cabin, his gaze 
 came around to his father seated on the doorstep. Taci- 
 
 304
 
 THE RECLUSE 305 
 
 turn and brooding the latter had always been, but the 
 pity and sorrow struck at the son's heart as he perceived 
 what a mere shell of a man now sat there, gray-haired, 
 bent, fleshless, consumed body and soul by the destroying 
 acid of some dark secret. Even when a lad Steele Weir 
 had sensed the mystery clouding his father's life. Like 
 an evil spell it had condemned them to solitude here in 
 the mountains, until Steele's youth at last rebelled and 
 he had departed, hungry for schooling, for human society 
 and for a wider field of action. 
 
 What that secret might be he had for years not al- 
 lowed himself to speculate. Unbidden at times the mem- 
 ory of certain revealing looks or acts of his father's 
 floated into his mind : a dread if not terror that on oc- 
 casion dilated the elder man's eyes, and a steadfast driv- 
 ing of himself at work as if to obliterate painful and 
 despairing thoughts, and an uneasy, furtive vigilance 
 when forced to visit town. Once when a stranger, a 
 short heavy-set bearded man, had unexpectedly appeared 
 at the door, his father had leaped for the revolver hang- 
 ing in its holster on the wall. 
 
 On catching a second view of the chance visitor he had 
 exclaimed, "Not Burkhardt after all !" With which he 
 burst into a wild laugh, the shrill mirthless laugh of a 
 man suddenly freed of a terrible fear. However, as he 
 returned the gun-belt to its place, his hand shook so 
 that he pawed all around the nail on which it was ac- 
 customed to hang. 
 
 Steele Weir would never forget that moment of panic, 
 his father's spring to the wall and following laugh the 
 only laugh he had heard from those lips ; and though but 
 twelve years old at the time he could not misread the 
 episode. On another occasion he found his father kneel- 
 ing at the grave under the giant pine beyond the cabin
 
 306 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the grave of the gentle mother of whom Steele had but 
 dim recollections and his father's hands were clasped, 
 his head bowed. With an infinite yearning he had longed 
 to creep forward and comfort him by his presence, by 
 a clasp of the hand, but the recollection of his father's 
 habitual chill reserve daunted him and he stole away. 
 
 On his own life the mystery had left its gloomy im- 
 press. A solitary and joyless boyhood, overhung by 
 he knew not what danger, haunted by a parent's lurking 
 fear and anguish, had made him a silent, cold, ever watch- 
 ful man, never entirely free from the expectation that 
 his father's sealed past at some instant would open and 
 confront him with the terrible facts. For that reason 
 he felt that the success he had gained as an engineer, 
 a success won by relentless toil and solid ability, rested 
 on a quicksand. For that cause he had welcomed engi- 
 neering projects full of danger and by his indifference 
 to that danger gained his name "Cold Steel." 
 
 Now on this day with his father he once again put 
 the question he always asked on his visits, and with no 
 more hope of a consenting reply than before. 
 
 "I must be going to-morrow. Won't you come along 
 with me this time, father? I want you to live with me, 
 so that I can look after you and be with you. We can 
 fix up a good cabin at the engineering camp. You're 
 not so strong as you were ; you could fall sick here and 
 die and never a person know it. I doubt if you spend, 
 making yourself comfortable, one dollar in ten of the 
 money I send you. You would be interested in the build- 
 ing of this big irrigation project I'm to direct." 
 
 His father appeared to shudder. 
 
 "No, no," he muttered. "I've lived here and I'll die 
 here." 
 
 "That's what I'm afraid of," Steele responded.
 
 I 
 THE RECLUSE 307 
 
 "Afraid you may become sick and die for lack of care.'* 
 
 "No. I'll remain, my son." 
 
 That was conclusive. It was the answer of not only 
 thirty years of living at the spot, but of his secret dread. 
 Steele saw once more the stark fear in his eyes, the fear 
 of contact with men, of venturing out into the world, of 
 precipitating fate. 
 
 For a time his father plucked his white unkempt beard 
 with unsteady hand. 
 
 "Where's the place you're going this time?" he pres- 
 ently inquired, without real interest. 
 
 "New Mexico." 
 
 On the elder's face appeared suddenly a gray shadow 
 as if the blood were ebbing from his heart. 
 
 "Where in New Mexico?" he whispered. 
 
 "The town of San Mateo." 
 
 His father struggled to his feet. With one hand he 
 clutched the doorframe for support. The skin of his 
 cheeks had gone a sickly white. 
 
 "San Mateo San Mateo!" he gasped. "Not there, 
 not there, Steele! Keep away, keep away, keep away! 
 My God, not San Mateo you !" 
 
 He swayed as if about to fall full length, gesturing 
 blindly before his face as if to sweep away the thought, 
 while his son ran towards him. 
 
 "Father, you're sick," Steele exclaimed, putting an 
 arm about the other. And, in truth, the elder man 
 seemed fainting, ready to collapse. "Come, let me help 
 you in so you can lie down. I must bring a doctor." 
 
 Steele almost carried him to the bed. On it his father 
 sank, remaining with closed eyes and scarcely breath- 
 ing. 
 
 "No doctor; bring no doctor," he said painfully, at 
 last. "I feel I feel as if dying."
 
 308 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "I must bring a doctor. And I have a flask of whis- 
 key ; let me pour you a little to revive your heart." 
 
 The change the words wrought from passivity to 
 action was startling. The elder Weir arose suddenly on 
 elbow, glaring fiercely. 
 
 "Whiskey, never! It brought me to this, it damned 
 
 my life. If it had not been for whiskey " Without 
 
 finishing the words he fell back on the bed. 
 
 The loathing, the hatred, the utter horror of his ex- 
 clamation, banished from his son's mind further thought 
 of using this stimulant. 
 
 "But the doctor?" he inquired, gently. 
 
 "No use, Steele. I've been the same as a dead man 
 for days. Just ashes. I want to die ; I want to lie by 
 your mother there under the big pine. And maybe I'll 
 have peace peace." 
 
 Steele took in his own the wasted hand hanging from 
 the bed. He held it tight, with a feeling of infinite 
 tragedy. 
 
 "You'll be yourself again soon," he said comfortingly, 
 though without faith in the assurance. 
 
 His father's lips moved in a whisper. 
 
 "No ; my time is here at last," said he. "But don't go 
 to San Mateo, Steele, don't go, don't go. Oh, my God, 
 spare me that !" 
 
 "Would you have me break my word? I never have 
 to any man, father. I accepted this offer and signed a 
 contract. I'm morally bound; these men are depending 
 on me. Were you ever at San Mateo? Was it something 
 that happened there that makes you fearful to have me 
 go ? San Mateo is a thousand miles from here." 
 
 The face before him became like the face of a corpse. 
 For an instant Steele's heart went cold in the belief that 
 his father had died under the effect of his declaration.
 
 THE RECLUSE 309 
 
 But at last the eyelids raised, the eyes gazed at him. 
 And all at once the features of the harsh visage seemed 
 softened, changed, lightened by a dim illumination. 
 
 "I see you now as you are, a man, stronger than I 
 ever was," he murmured. "I lived in fear, but my fear 
 was not for myself. Had I been alone, nothing would 
 have mattered after your mother died. But my fear 
 was for you and of you. I was afraid your life would 
 be blasted; I was in terror lest you should hate and 
 idespise me when you learned the truth. So I sought to 
 conceal it." 
 
 "You had no need to fear that." 
 
 "I see it now. Tell me everything or nothing as you 
 wish about your going to San Mateo to work; it will 
 frighten me no longer." 
 
 Steele briefly spoke of his new work there, of the 
 magnitude of the project and the desire he had had that 
 his father might be with him. 
 
 "I'm proud of you," his father said. "God knows I 
 have not been the parent I would or should have been." 
 
 "It's enough for me if your heart's easy now." 
 
 "I feel as if I were gaining peace at last and and 
 I must speak. In San Mateo ah, Steele, you will hear 
 of me there, you may have to fight the damning in- 
 fluence of my name and past, but I know now you'll come 
 through it. And all I pray for is that you can retain a 
 little love for me despite everything." 
 
 "Whatever it is I shall hear of my father, I should 
 rather hear it from his lips than from strangers'." 
 
 The hand in his closed spasmodically. For a long 
 time nothing was said, and the only sound in the room 
 was the ticking of the tin clock on the shelf busily 
 measuring off the seconds of the old man's failing span. 
 To Steele it was as if his father was slowly summoning
 
 310 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 the few remaining shreds of his fortitude to reveal the 
 cancer of his past. 
 
 "I'm a branded murderer," he said at last, gasping. 
 
 "But you never killed a man out of mere wanton de- 
 sire to slay," Steele responded firmly. "I too have 
 killed men in fights in Mexico. That fact doesn't weight 
 my mind." 
 
 "In the line of your duty, in the line of your duty. 
 But I was drunk. He was a friend. When I became 
 sober, I saw him with a bullet hole in his head." 
 
 "Do you remember nothing of shooting him?" 
 
 "Nothing, nothing." 
 
 "How do you know you killed him ?" his son demanded 
 "with inexorable logic. "What is the proof?" 
 
 A low groan escaped his father. 
 
 "Men said I had killed him. But my own mind was 
 blank." 
 
 "Who were the men? Were they present at the time?" 
 
 "They were four Sorenson, Vorse, Gordon, Burk- 
 hardt." 
 
 "Were you arrested and tried?" 
 
 "No. They helped me to escape. Because of your 
 mother, they said, and because they said they were my 
 friends. But I never felt they were really friends. For 
 they were always against newcomers and wanted to keep 
 things in their own hands. You were only three or four 
 years old at that time, Steele, so you wouldn't remember 
 anything about matters there." 
 
 "What were you doing at San Mateo, father?" 
 
 Now that the hideous past at last stood uncovered the 
 son was able to turn upon it his incisive mind ; he would 
 drag out and scrutinize every bone of the skeleton which 
 had terrorized his father and shadowed his own life. 
 Facts faced are never so dreadful as fears unmaterialized.
 
 THE RECLUSE 311 
 
 Ancl more, he sought with all the love of a son for cir- 
 cumstances that would mitigate, excuse, or even justify 
 his father's act. 
 
 "I was ranching," was the low answer. "I had come 
 to San Mateo two years before from the east, bringing 
 you and your mother and considerable money. I bought 
 a ranch and stocked it with cattle; I was doing well, in 
 spite of the fact I was new to the country and the busi- 
 ness. Also I was making friends, and I had been nomi- 
 nated for the legislature of the Territory to run against 
 Gordon. But I had taken to drinking with the men I 
 met, other cattlemen, because I fancied no harm in it. 
 And then while in a drunken stupor I killed Jim Dent." 
 
 "Had you quarreled with him?" 
 
 "Never, never till that moment I killed Jim. They 
 said I quarreled with him then. But I remember nothing. 
 Jim was my best friend ; I would have trusted him with 
 my life. Even now I can't make it seem real I shot him, 
 though it must be true by those four witnesses." 
 
 "What of your ranch? Your political nomination?" 
 
 "I withdrew from the latter ; that was one of the terms 
 made by Gordon on which they were to help me escape 
 instead of turning me over for prosecution. And my 
 ranch and cattle, I had to deed them over to the four 
 men too." 
 
 "Then their friendship wasn't disinterested," Steele 
 said quickly, with suspicion dawning on his face. 
 
 "They weren't really friends, I knew that." 
 
 "How were they to arrange your escape?" 
 
 The senior Weir seemed to shudder at the question. 
 
 "By bribing the sheriff and county attorney. I was 
 then to leave the country at once, never showing my face 
 again, or I should be arrested. I was still half dazed 
 by whiskey and terror ; I took your mother and you and
 
 312 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 fled this far, when my money gave out. So here I've re- 
 mained ever since, for here I could hide and here was her 
 grave." 
 
 "What's the last thing you remember of the circum- 
 stance previous to learning Dent was dead?" he asked. 
 
 "Ah, though I had been drinking I can remember 
 clearly up to the time I stopped playing poker with Jim 
 and the four men, for we were losing and I felt they 
 were working a crooked deal on us somehow. I asked 
 Jim to quit also, for though I hadn't lost much he was 
 losing fast and playing recklessly. But he wouldn't drop 
 out of the game, and when Vorse and Sorenson cursed 
 me and said for me to mind my own business I went back 
 to a table near the rear door and laid my head on my 
 arms and went to sleep. When I was awake again, Vorse 
 and Gordon were holding me up by their table and Jim 
 was dead on the floor. I had come forward, they said, 
 begun a big row with Dent and finally shot him." 
 
 "Then the only witnesses were these four men who 
 were gambling with him, who cursed you when you at- 
 tempted to persuade him to drop his cards," Steele pro- 
 ceeded, "one of whom was your political adversary, men 
 who were old-timers and opposed to new-comers, who 
 pretended to be your friends but took your ranch and 
 cattle. It begins to look to me as if they not only killed 
 your friend Dent but double-crossed you in the bargain. 
 Did you look in your gun afterwards?" 
 
 "No. I was sick with the horror of the accusation, I 
 tell you, Steele. I had no way to deny it ; it seemed in- 
 deed as if I must have killed him. And from that day 
 until this I've never had the courage of soul to reload 
 my pistol, or even clean it. It hangs there on the wall 
 with the very shells, two empty, the rest unfired, that it 
 carried that day in San Mateo."
 
 THE RECLUSE 313 
 
 Weir sprang up and crossed to the nail where hung 
 the weapon. The latter he drew from the holster and 
 broke open, so that the cartridges were ejected into his 
 hand. For an instant he stared at them, but at length 
 walked to the bed before which he extended his palm. 
 
 "Look look for yourself!" he exclaimed hoarsely. 
 "You never killed Jim Dent; drunk or sober, you never 
 killed any one. You're not a murderer. You're the in- 
 nocent victim of those four infamous scoundrels; they 
 deceived you, they ruined your life; and their damnable 
 fraud not only killed my mother in her youth, as I guess, 
 by grief and despair, but has brought you now to your 
 death too." 
 
 His father had raised himself on an arm to gaze 
 incredulously at the six unfired cartridges lying in 
 Weir's palm. Then all at once his bearded lips trembled 
 and a great light of joy flashed upon his face. 
 
 "Innocent innocent !" he whispered. "Steele, my son, 
 Helen, my wife! No stain on my soul!" 
 
 As he sank back Steele's arms caught him. He did 
 not speak again, but his eyes rested radiantly on his 
 boy's before they glazed in death. Fear had passed 
 from them forever.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIH 
 
 UNDER THE MOON 
 
 LIGHTS still were burning at headquarters when Steele 
 Weir slowly drove his runabout up the hillside slope to 
 the dam camp. The men who had acted as guards about 
 the jail, except those who went with Madden, were some- 
 where on the road behind him, returning home in the 
 wagons. A reaction of mind and body had set in for 
 Weir; after the previous night's loss of sleep and pro- 
 longed exertions, after the swift succession of dramatic 
 events, after the tremendous call that had been made 
 upon his brain power, nervous force and will, he ex- 
 perienced a strange unrest of spirit. His triumph 
 seemed yet incomplete, somehow unsatisfying. 
 
 It was as he approached the camp that he saw a 
 slender girlish figure sitting on a rock in the moonlight. 
 He swung his car off the road beside the spot where 
 Janet Hosmer sat. 
 
 "What, you are still awake?" he asked, with a smile. 
 
 "Could I sleep while not knowing what was happening 
 or what danger you might be in?" she returned. "Mr. 
 Pollock said we must not think of returning home until 
 quiet was restored in San Mateo. One of the engineer's 
 houses was given to us by Mr. Meyers before he left, 
 where Mary and I could sleep. But I could not close 
 my eyes. So much had happened, so much was yet going 
 on! So I came out here to be alone and to think and 
 watch." 
 
 314
 
 UNDER THE MOON 315 
 
 "And your father?" 
 
 "He's attending the wounded Mexicans in the store." 
 
 Steel alighted and tossing his hat upon the car seat 
 gazed out over the mesa, misty in the moonlight. 
 
 "There will be no more trouble," said he. "Sorenson 
 and Burkhardt are Madden's prisoners, and on their way 
 to a place of safe-keeping in another county. Vorse is 
 dead. The people in town have a fairly good under- 
 standing of matters now, I think." 
 
 "How in the world did such a change of opinion oc- 
 cur?" Janet exclaimed. 
 
 "I had a little talk with the crowd and made explana- 
 tions. The feeling for me was almost friendly when I 
 left; what enmity remains will soon die out, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 Though unaware from Steele Weir's laconic statement 
 of what had actually occurred, the girl divined that his 
 words concealed vastly more than their surface purport. 
 With the general hostility against the engineer that had 
 existed, for him to swing the community to his side meant 
 a dramatic moment and a remarkable moral conquest. 
 
 "Your friends have always known you would win," she 
 said, smiling up at him. 
 
 He seated himself on the rock beside her. 
 
 "It's but a short time ago, Janet, that I had no 
 friends, or so few they could be counted on the fingers 
 of one hand. Business acquaintances, yes. Professional 
 companions, yes. Men who perhaps respected my ability 
 as an engineer, yes. But real friends, scarcely one. 
 And now I think I have gained some, which is the great- 
 est satisfaction I have from all that has happened. After 
 years the pendulum has swung to my side. Do you know 
 the hour my luck changed?" 
 
 Janet shook her head wonderingly.
 
 316 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 "No, I can't even guess," said she. 
 
 "Well, it was that afternoon, and that moment, I 
 found you sitting in your stalled car in the creek down 
 there. That was the beginning. From that time things 
 began to run in my favor and they haven't ceased to do 
 so for a moment since, I now see looking back over 
 events. You brought good luck to me that day in your 
 car." 
 
 "What an extraordinary idea ! Then at bottom you're 
 superstitious," Janet replied. "I shall have to give 
 you a new name; I must no longer call you 'Cold 
 Steel.' " 
 
 "I really never liked that name," Weir said quickly. 
 "Perhaps I was cold steel once, but I have changed along 
 with everything else. And you're responsible for that 
 too." 
 
 Janet leaned forward and looked into his eyes. 
 
 "You were never truly harsh to any one except those 
 who deserved it," she said. "I know ! You would never 
 have been so quick to help Mary Johnson or me, or 
 others who needed help, if your heart was not always 
 generous and sympathetic. Only against evil were you 
 as steel, and in moments requiring supreme courage and 
 sacrifice. And that's how you gained the name before 
 you ever came here." 
 
 "Anyway I've changed," said he. "I'm out from under 
 the cloud which I felt always hung above me. As I say, 
 you brought me good luck that day and I see clearly 
 that I shall continue to be superstitious." 
 
 "Why, all occasion for that is past now." 
 
 "No," said Steele Weir. "No, less than ever. For 
 I'm certain you hold my good fortune in your hand yet, 
 and will continue to hold it. And that means " 
 
 He paused, regarding her so intensely that the blood
 
 UNDER THE MOON 317 
 
 beat up into her face. There was no mistaking that 
 look and it thrilled her to the soul. 
 
 "Yes?" she managed to say. 
 
 "It means mj happiness, now and for all time to 
 come," he went on. "See, I shall have accomplished 
 what I set out to do and what in justice had to be done, 
 bringing these men to punishment to punishment in one 
 form or another. I shall have given my employer, the 
 company, service worthy of the hire. I shall have rid 
 you and San Mateo of an unscrupulous parasite in the 
 person of Ed Sorenson, though my persecution of him 
 now shall stop and I shall leave him enough out of the 
 property recovered from his father to live in comfort 
 somewhere with his mother. 
 
 "Mr. Pollock states I shall have no trouble in getting 
 legal title and possession of most of the wealth of these 
 four men, I and any relatives of the dead Jim Dent who 
 can be found. For thirty years' accumulated interest 
 charges owing me will swallow up all the men's proper- 
 ties. That, however, is only a material victory. I shall 
 have relieved Johnson of fear of financial constraint; 
 and saved his daughter from a serious mistake. I shall 
 have started Martinez on the road to success and I 
 should not be surprised if he prospered, became the 
 leading attorney in this county, was elected judge and 
 so on. 
 
 "In a way, too, I shall have helped to remove the 
 oppressive weight of these men, Sorenson, Burkhardt, 
 Judge Gordon and Vorse, with their sinister influence, 
 from this community and region. They have always 
 held the natives in more or less open subjection, finan- 
 cial, political, and moral. There should be a freer air 
 in San Mateo henceforth. The people will have a chance 
 to grow. They no longer will feel the threat of brutal.
 
 318 IN THE SHADOW OF THE HILLS 
 
 masters always over them; and with the completion of 
 the irrigation project and the infusion of new settlers 
 they will become better citizens. 
 
 "I see all this," he concluded. "It pleases me ; it gives 
 me cause for satisfaction. But it doesn't give me the 
 liappiness I want, or the love. That is alone in your 
 hands to bestow." 
 
 Janet felt herself trembling; she could not speak. 
 
 "I think I felt the stirring of love from the moment I 
 saw you there at the ford," he exclaimed. "Last night 
 when I knew that wretch had carried you off to the 
 mountains, I could have torn him limb from limb. That 
 was my love speaking, Janet. If I should have to go 
 through life without you oh, the thought is too bitter 
 to dwell on! then I should think life not worth living. 
 But I have imagined that you might have for me a 
 little " 
 
 Janet swiftly clasped his hand with her own. 
 
 "I love you," she cried softly. "I was sitting here 
 when you came because I loved you. If I am necessary 
 to your happiness, you also are necessary to mine. I 
 honor you for what you have done and love you for what 
 you are, a strong true heart." 
 
 "Ah, Janet, you give me the greatest joy in 
 the world," he whispered. "Love that is more than 
 all." 
 
 His arms drew her to his breast. Her lips went to 
 his in consecration of that love. Their hearts beat the 
 rapture of that love. 
 
 Over the silent peaceful mountains the moon spread 
 its effulgent light. Over the mesa that was no more to 
 know the fierce sound of strife. Over the town, at last 
 free of its avaricious masters, free of the savage spirit 
 of an outlaw time. Over the Burntwood River flowing
 
 UNDER THE MOON 319 
 
 in a shimmering band to the horizon. Over the camp 
 where centered so many men's plans and labors. And 
 over the lovers, chief of all, that light fell as in a silvery 
 halo. 
 
 THE END
 
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