That Sunday afternoon Janet Hosmer had awakened about sunset from an after-dinner sleep, rested and refreshed, 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 friendship 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, undismayed 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, 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 gathering 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 interrupted 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–––”

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, indeed, was overbearing and brutal. But the girl concealing 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 229 rest of the schemes of you two to have you keep it, thinking 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,” Sorenson went on. “So your little scheme to keep me in ignorance 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, always 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 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 learning 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 savage utterance.

“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, double-faced, disreputable 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 appeared determined she should feel his power. She pulled back, jerking to free herself, and shrieked.

Intervention came from an unexpected quarter. Rushing 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 staggered 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.

“You’ve made one mistake in striking me; don’t make another by keeping that gun pointed at my head. Remember I’ve a mortgage on your place that you’ll wish renewed 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 congested, 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 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 adequately blast those before him, but they appeared lacking. 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 Spanish.”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s good. Show ’em what you have, daughter.”

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 understand 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 Vorse’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, critically.

“What do you mean, far as it goes?” Janet asked, 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 saloon, 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 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 cattleman’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 warning.”

“Did he say he was going himself?” Johnson asked.

“To get the paper, yes.” Then Janet continued anxiously. “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,” Johnson 237 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 happening in San Mateo.”

And to this there was no dissent.