It could not have been later than ten o’clock in the morning when a puncher with sharp eyes might have seen two figures approaching the Bar T ranch house on horseback. They rode needlessly close together and swung their clasped and gauntleted hands like happy children.

One was a girl into whose radiant eyes a new wonder had come, and the other a handsome, tanned young man bathed in a deliriously happy expression.

“Isn’t it jolly to be married without anyone’s knowing?” cried Julie. “Oh, but won’t they be surprised at home?”

“Rather!” remarked Bud, with a sobered expression. “I only hope your father doesn’t widow you just as I ride into the yard with the olive branch.”

“Stop it, Bud! What puts such awful thoughts into your head?”

“Experience. Your father was so mad about my getting the sheep across the river that he 302 started his punchers walking home that same night, and nobody has seen him since.”

Larkin spoke the truth, but little exaggerated. Beef Bissell, humiliated, beaten, and forced to accept the small end of a deal for once in his life, had started from the useless cowmen’s camp by the Gray Bull the very night of the crossing. He ordered the men to follow and round up their stampeded horses and then to ride home.

Meanwhile he appropriated one horse that had not been in the corral and trotted homeward, eaten by chagrin and beside himself with impotent fury.

Bud and Julie had found this out the day of their talk concerning Lester, when they forded the stream on horses and asked for Bissell. Under the circumstances Bud developed a genius for inspiration that was little short of marvelous.

“What’s the use of riding all the way home and having a grand row with your father?” he asked. “Why not go over to Rattlesnake, where there’s a sky-pilot, and be married? Then we’ll go home, and there can’t be any row, because there will only be one party in the mood for it.”

But the girl demurred. It was cruel to her father and mother, she said, not to have them present on the greatest day of her life. She allowed 303 it was mighty ungrateful after all they had done for her. Then Bud took her hand in his and told her his principal reasons.

“I’m a business man, honey, and I’ve got to start north after Simmy and the sheep in three or four days,” he said. “Shearing is late now, but I guess we can make it. This trouble has set me behind close to fifteen thousand dollars, and everything is in a critical state.

“I know it don’t sound much like a lover, but as soon as we get on our feet we’ll take a honeymoon to Japan that will make you think I’d never heard of a sheep.

“You want your mother and father in on the joy, I know, but it doesn’t seem to me there can be much joy with nine or ten men sitting around waiting for their necks to be stretched. Does it to you?”

“No,” said Julie, and shuddered.

“Then come along over to Rattlesnake and be married. Then we’ll ride back to the Bar T, so you can see your folks, and I can see Caldwell. We can be through and away before anything is really done about the rustlers.”

So it was arranged, and the two were married by an Episcopal clergyman who had a surplice but no cassock, and whose trouser-legs 304 looked very funny moving about inside the thin, white material—and Julie nearly laughed out loud.

After the ceremony they had ridden out of town with their equipment and made their first honeymoon camp in a cool, green place beside a little brook that had trout in it and sang to them for hours on end.

Now, the day afterward, they were on the way home, and not without a few secret misgivings.

As they neared the Bar T a single man rode out to meet them. It was Lester, who had come the night before and was waiting for Bud, so as to be present at the interview with Smithy Caldwell, whom he had not yet seen.

He congratulated the pair warmly and rode with them to the corral.

Suddenly there was a shriek, and Martha Bissell tore out of the cook-house. She ran to Julie, kissed her, and welcomed her back; then when she heard the news she picked up her apron to start crying, and dropped it again, undecided what to do.

What with Bissell’s safe arrival and Julie’s glorious home-coming the poor woman was nearly out of her mind.

The excitement brought Beef Bissell around the 305 house from the front veranda, where he had been grumbling and swearing all the morning. At sight of Larkin he halted in his tracks and began to redden. But he got no farther, for Julie flung herself into his arms, tears of happiness streaming down her face, and overwhelmed him with caresses.

Bissell was mightily relieved to see her. In fact, it had been all his wife could do to restrain him from starting out to unearth Julie when he arrived home and found her gone. But Martha said that the girl had gone to find Larkin, and added that the two were old enough to settle their troubles between them. So Bissell, remembering his last miserable interview with his daughter, decided not to interfere.

“Father, I’m married; please be happy and good to me,” the girl said, clinging to him, and the fury that had flown to his head like wine died a natural death. After all, to see her happy was what he most wanted.

“Are you sure he will love you always?” he asked gently.

“Yes, father, I am. I refused to marry him long ago in Chicago.” He kissed her for the first time in a long while, and then gently disengaged himself and took a step toward Bud. 306

“Larkin,” he said, “yuh were always lucky, but yuh’ve beat all records for Wyoming now. I allow yuh can take her away with yuh on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That yuh never beat her like yuh beat me.”

“Agreed!” laughed Bud, and grasped the other’s hand. “But can you stand a sheepman in the family?”

“I sure can, Larkin. Ever since I seen Jimmie Welsh and his men fight, I ain’t got anythin’ against sheepmen.”

“Jimmie Welsh!” cried Bud. “Tell me, did any of his party come through alive?”

“Jes’ Jimmie himself; the boys couldn’t kill him, so he’s over at Billy Speaker’s mendin’ up. Heart’s pretty near broke because he hasn’t seen yuh to explain why he’s still alive.”

“Good old Jimmie!” said Bud, the tears leaping to his eyes. “Dearest,” he added, turning to Julie, “there’s one more stop on our honeymoon, and that’s at Billy Speaker’s to-morrow.”

Bissell continued the conversation, and asked for the full story of how Bud had run down and captured the rustlers, saying that the whole cow country owed him a debt, and if they had only 307 known of the capture in time would have let his sheep through without protest.

“I imagined as much,” remarked Bud; “but I didn’t care to get them through that way once I had started the other. I hope, Mr. Bissell, that we can be friends, although we have been enemies up to now. I’m sorry I had to sacrifice those cattle of the association, but there was no other way out of it.”

“I’ll tell yuh this, Larkin,” returned Bissell. “Anybody that can beat me at anything is good enough to be my friend fer life, an’ I’m here to state that yuh could count my friends of that type, before you came, on the hairs of a hairless dog!”

Bud laughed, they shook hands again, and peace was finally made between them; but not until Beef Bissell had signed away half of the interest in the Bar T to Julie as her dower.

That was a happy and hilarious dinner at the ranch. Some of the cowboys coming in at noon from near-by ranges heard of the marriage and cheered the bride lustily when she appeared on the veranda. Bud made himself solid with the disgruntled punchers by walking out to them and talking over the battle of Welsh’s Butte, while he rolled cigarettes and smoked them one after another. 308

Shortly afterward, Bud and Lester found themselves in a room with Smithy Caldwell. The blackmailer, when he saw Lester, fell down in a faint, so great was the shock to his already wrecked nervous system. The man was really in a terrible condition both from physical fear and the tormenting by his comrades. He started at every slight sound, whirled about fearfully to meet any footfall that sounded near, and trembled with uncontrollable nervous spasms.

To both the Larkins he was a piteous sight, and Bud wondered that the miserable creature had not gone mad.

The wretch fell on his knees and pleaded with them for his life, so that when Bud put the proposition squarely up to him that he forswear everything in regard to the Larkin family, he could not accept it eagerly enough.

“But about the papers that you said were in Chicago?” asked Bud.

“I lied about them,” replied Smithy. “They’re sewed in the lining of my shirt. Give me your knife and I’ll get ’em for you.”

“Give me your shirt and I’ll find them,” countered Bud; and he presently did.

Together the brothers looked them over. Every bit of incriminating evidence was there, and as 309 Bud slipped it all into his pocket he gave a great sigh: “Thank Heaven, that’s over!”

He did not let Caldwell off, however, without securing from him the written and signed statement that he wanted. When all was done they let him go, and now his mind was almost as unbalanced by joy as it had formerly been by fear.

Bissell, knowing Caldwell’s condition, had agreed to his being released on clearing his account with the Larkins, for he realized that the man, in fearing death, had suffered the penalty a thousand times, and that the memory would remain with him through life, and perhaps help keep him straight.

Shortly after Bud and Lester had joined the others on the veranda again, a sudden scream was heard from the bunk-house, followed by the sounds of a terrible struggle. All hands rushed around to the rear and, with drawn revolvers, forced an entrance among the sullen rustlers.

On the floor in the middle of the room lay Smithy Caldwell, white and contorted, while Mike Stelton was just rising from his prostrate body, making sounds in his throat like a wild animal. Smithy was dead.

“How’d it happen, boys?” asked Bissell.

“This here Caldwell come out an’ ’lowed as 310 how he wasn’t goin’ to swing like the rest of us, an’ he began packin’ up his truck. Stelton asked him about it, an’ when Smithy repeated what he said before and got plumb cocky about it, Mike there smeared him plenty. Then he broke his neck. Smithy betrayed Stelton, yuh know.”

There is not much more to tell, except that, three days later, the rustlers paid the penalty of their lawless daring. It was the biggest “hangin’ bee” Wyoming had ever seen, and was largely attended by men of all sections who stood for right and justice, if not law and order.

Bud and Julie brought pride and sunlight to a slowly recuperating Jimmie Welsh on their way north, and from him and Billy Speaker heard again the details of the great fight. Now, if you go to Welsh’s Butte, you will see a tall white shaft rising amid the tumbling of the wretched hogbacks. On one side are the names of the sheepmen who fell (including Jimmie, who is still alive), and on the other those of the cowmen. It is the humble offering of Bud and Julie Larkin.

Time has proven that Bud’s prophecy in regard to sheep was right. Wyoming has far more sheep than cattle now, and one of the biggest of the ranches is the former Bar T, run under the 311 Larkin name, in connection with the home ranch in Montana.

I hope it will not be a shock to some readers to know that the first Bud and Julie have another Bud and Julie, who are over twenty years of age, quite old enough to have romances of their own.

All their lives they have heard the story of the adventures that brought their parents together, but all four rather sadly admit that the Free Range, which Bud fought for so hard, is now almost a thing of the past, that the great drives have passed never to return, and that the cowboy himself is a dim figure against the prairie sunset.

THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE.

Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

The “lonesome pine” from which the story takes its name was a tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder chase than “the trail of the lonesome pine.”

THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME.

Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as “Kingdom Come.” It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization.

“Chad,” the “little shepherd” did not know who he was nor whence he came—he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery—a charming waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains.

A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND.

Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.

The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner’s son, and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened “The Blight.” Two impetuous young Southerners’ fall under the spell of “The Blight’s” charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the mountaineers.

Included in this volume is “Hell fer-Sartain” and other stories, some of Mr. Fox’s most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives.

THE RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lajaren A. Hiller.

The romance of the son of “The Riverman.” The young college hero goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by “graft” and comes into the romance of his life.

ARIZONA NIGHTS. Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth.

A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece.

THE BLAZED TRAIL. With illustrations by Thomas Fogarty.

A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines.

THE CLAIM JUMPERS. A Romance.

The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the Black Hills has a hard time of it, but “wins out” in more ways than one.

CONJUROR’S HOUSE. Illustrated Theatrical Edition.

Dramatized under the title of “The Call of the North.”

“Conjuror’s House” is a Hudson Bay trading post where the head factor is the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and won a bride on this forbidden land.

THE MAGIC FOREST. A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated.

The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open air. Based on fact.

THE RIVERMAN. Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood.

The story of a man’s fight against a river and of a struggle between honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the other.

THE SILENT PLACES. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin.

The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian and the instinct of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story.

THE WESTERNERS.

A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among the best American novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no other book has done in recent years.

THE MYSTERY. In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams With illustrations by Will Crawford.

The disappearance of three successive crews from the stout ship “Laughing Lass” in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrutable. In the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage that man ever undertook.

Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York