Part 47 (1/2)

And Simon accepted this ultimatum with resignation.

”All right,” said he. ”You my _tillik.u.m_; Tom my _tillik.u.m_. S'pose you catch _hiyu_ grubstake.”

Having arranged for a message to McHale, it occurred to Casey that he should see whether the sudden rise of the river had swept the company's temporary dam. Accordingly he rode thither.

The storm had entirely pa.s.sed, and the sun shone brightly. Great, white, billowy, fair-weather clouds rolled up in open order before the fresh west wind, and the shadows of them trailed across the face of the earth, moving swiftly, sharply defined, sweeping patches of shade against the green and gold of a clean-washed, sunny summer world. Off to the westward, where the ranges thrust gaunt, gray peaks against the sky line, the light s.h.i.+mmered against patches of white, the remnants of the last winter's snows. Far away, just to be discerned through a notch in the first range, was a vivid point of emerald or jade, the living green of a glacier.

It was a day when it was good to be alive, and Casey Dunne, hard, clean, in the full power of his manhood, the fresh west wind in his face, and a strong, willing horse beneath him, rejoiced in it.

As he rode his thoughts reverted to Clyde Burnaby. Indeed, she had never, since the preceding night, been entirely absent from them; but because his training had been to do one thing at a time, and think of what he was doing to the exclusion of all else, he had unconsciously pigeonholed her in the back of his mind. Now she emerged.

”s.h.i.+ner, m'son,” he apostrophized his horse, ”if things break right you're going to have a missus. What d'ye think of that, hey, you yellow-hided old scoundrel? And, by the Great Tyee! you'll eat apples and sugar out of her hand, and if you so much as lay back your ears at her I'll frale your sinful heart out with a neck yoke. D'ye get that, you buzzard-head?”

s.h.i.+ner in full stride made a swift grab for his rider's left leg, and his rider with equal swiftness kicked him joyously in the nose.

”You would, hey? Nice congratulations, you old man-eater. I'll make a lady's horse of you if you don't behave; I sure will. And we'll build a decent house and break two thousand acres, and keep every foot of it as fine and clean as a seed bed, and have it all under ditch, the show place of the whole dry belt. You bet we will. We won't sell an acre.

Fancy prices won't tempt us. We'll keep the whole shootin' match till we cash in.” His mood changed.

”Cash in! It's funny to think of that, old horse, isn't it? And yet ten years from now you'll be no good, and thirty years from now I'll be near the end of the deal. And Clyde! Why, s.h.i.+ner, we can't think of her as an old lady, can we? With her smooth cheeks a little withered and the suppleness gone from her body, and her eyes dim and her glorious hair white. Lord, horse, we mustn't think of it! She'll always be the same dear Clyde to us, won't she? 'Sufficient unto the day,' my equine trial and friend. Others will come after us, and there will be evil-tempered buckskins loping this foothill country and maybe a Casey Dunne cursing them when you and I are ranging the happy hunting grounds!”

Out of the sunlit distances a horse and rider appeared, rapidly approaching. It was Farwell, and, recognizing Dunne, he pulled up.

”In case you don't know it,” he said, without preliminary or greeting, ”I'll tell you that our dam went out with the flood. You didn't need to use dynamite this time.”

”Providence!” Casey suggested.

Farwell's comment consisted of but one word, which, unless by contrast, is not usually a.s.sociated with providential happenings.

”Call it that if you like,” he growled. ”We'll get the men responsible for it one of these days.”

”You made a beginning with young McCrae,” Casey reminded him.

”I don't know what you mean.”

”Don't you know that Gla.s.s tried to arrest him?”

”What?” cried Farwell.

His surprise was too genuine to be feigned. Thereupon Casey told him what had occurred in the last few hours both at Talapus and Chakchak.

Farwell listened, biting his lips and frowning. And his first words were an inquiry as to Sheila.

”Miss McCrae rode through that storm last night!” he exclaimed. ”Good Lord! Is she badly hurt?”

”Only shaken up, I think.”

”Thank G.o.d for that,” said Farwell, with evident sincerity. He hesitated for a moment. ”See here, Dunne, do you mind if I ask you an impertinent question?”

”Fire away.”

”Are you going to marry her?”