The Story of the Foss River Ranch Part 37

Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter pa.s.sed out, and a bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.

The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew attention to the money-lender's words.

"Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks."

"He's a fool!"

Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the _insouciant_ Bill so roused out of himself.

"Why--how?"

"How? I tell you, man, that no one knows that path except--except--Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly. I tell you what it is, the man should be stopped. It's absolute suicide--nothing more nor less."

Something in the emphasis of "Lord" Bill's words kept the others silent until the doctor left them at his home. Then as the two men hurried out across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to the events of the previous evening.

At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man's return, on the veranda. She was surprised when she saw who was with him. Her surprise was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial welcome.

"Come right in, Bill. Gee, but you look fit--and slick."

The two young people smiled into each other's faces, and no onlooker, not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the understanding which pa.s.sed in that look. Jacky was radiant. Her sweet, dark face was slightly flushed. There were no tell-tale rings about her dark eyes. For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed the full measure of a night's rest. Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.

"I've brought the boy up to feed," said old John. "I guess we'll get right to it. I've got a 'twist' on me that'll take considerable to satisfy."

The meal pa.s.sed pleasantly enough. The conversation naturally was chiefly confined to the events of the night. But somehow the others did not respond very eagerly to the old rancher's evident interest and concern. Most of the talking--most of the theorizing--most of the suggestions for the stamping out of the scourge, Retief, came from him, the others merely contenting themselves with agreeing to his suggestions with a lack of interest which, had the old man been perfectly sober, he could not have failed to observe. However, he was especially obtuse this morning, and was too absorbed in his own impracticable theories and suggestions to notice the others' lack of interest.

At the conclusion of the meal the rancher took himself off down to the settlement again. He must endeavor to draw Lablache, he said. He would not wait for him to come to the ranch.

Jacky and Bill went out on to the veranda, and watched the old man as he set out with unsteady gait for the settlement.

"Bill," said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, "what news?"

"Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other--the very worst."

"Which means?"

"No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends to attempt the pa.s.sage of the keg."

"Lord" Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.

"Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?" She gazed appealingly up into the face of the tall figure beside her. "He is a brave man, if foolish."

"That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the cattle cross last night. My G.o.d! it turns me sick to think of it."

"Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade him? Lablache, or--or uncle, for instance."

Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.

"Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose," he replied.

"And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to capture--Relief," with a bitter laugh. "A life more or less would not upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle," with a shrug, "I don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky," he went on, with a sigh, "we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head."

They relapsed into silence for some moments. "Lord" Bill lit a cigarette, and leant himself against one of the veranda posts. He was worried at the turn events had taken. He had no grudge against Horrocks; the man was but doing his duty. But his meditated attempt he considered to be an exaggerated sense of that duty. Presently he spoke again.

"Jacky--do you know, I feel that somehow the end of this business is approaching. What the end is to be I cannot foretell. One thing, however, is clear. Sooner or later we must run foul of people, and when that occurs--well," throwing his cigarette from him viciously, "it simply means shooting. And--"

"Yes, Bill, I know what you would say. Shooting means killing, killing means murder, and murder means swinging. You're right, but," and the girl's eyes began to blaze, "before that, Lablache must go under.

Whatever happens, Bill, before we decorate any tree with our bodies, if our object is not already obtained, I'll shoot him with my own pistol. I guess we're embarked on a game that we're going to see through."

"That's so. We'll see it through. Do you know what stock we've taken, all told? Close on twenty thousand head, and--all Lablache's. They're snug over at 'Bad Man's' Hollow, and a tidy fine bunch they are. The division with the boys is a twentieth each, and the balance is ours. Our share is ten thousand." He ceased speaking. Then presently he went on, harking back to the subject of Horrocks. "I wish that man could be stayed. His failure must precipitate matters. Should he drown, as he surely will, the whole countryside will join in the hue and cry. It is only his presence here that keeps the settlers in check. Well, so be it.

It's a pity. But I'm not going to swing. They'll never take me alive."

"If it comes to that, Bill, you'll not be alone, I guess. You can gamble your soul, when it comes to open warfare I'm with you, an' I guess I can shoot straight."

Bill looked at the girl in astonishment. He noted the keen deep eyes, the set little mouth. The fearless expression on her beautiful face. Her words had fairly taken his breath away, but he saw that she had meant what she said.

"No, no, girlie. No one will suspect you. Besides, this is my affair.

You have your uncle."

"Say, boy, I love my uncle--I love him real well. I'm working for him, we both are--and we'll work for him to the last. But our work together has taught me something, Bill, and when I cotton to teaching there's nothing that can knock what I learn out of my head. I've just learned to love you, Bill. And, as the Bible says, old Uncle John's got to take second place. That's all. If you go under--well, I guess I'll go under too."

Jacky gave her lover no chance to reply. As he opened his lips to expostulate and took a step towards her she darted away, and disappeared into the sitting-room. He followed her in, but the room was empty.

He paused. Then a smile spread over his face.

"I don't fancy we shall go under, little woman," he muttered, "at least, not if I can help it."

He turned back to the veranda and strolled away towards the settlement.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PAW OF THE CAT

Lablache was alone. Horrocks had left him to set out on his final effort to discover Retief's hiding-place. The great man was eagerly waiting for his return. Evening was drawing on and the officer had not yet put in an appearance, neither had the money-lender received any word from him. In consequence he was beginning to hope that Horrocks had succeeded.

All day the wretched man had been tortured by horrid fears. And, as time pa.s.sed and evening drew on, his mood became almost a panic. The money-lender was in a deplorable state of mind; his nerves were shaken, and he was racked by a dread of he scarce knew what. What he had gone through the night before had driven him to the verge of mental collapse.

No bodily injury could have thus reduced him; for, whatever might have been his failings, physical cowardice was not amongst the number. Any moral weakness which might have been his had been so obscured by long years of success and prosperity, that no one knowing him would have believed him to be so afflicted. No, in spite of his present condition Lablache was a strong man.

But the frightful mental torture he had endured at Retief's hands had told its tale. The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next move if he were not stopped? What else was there of his--Lablache's--that the Breed could attack? His store--yes--yes; his store! That was all that was left of his property in Foss River. And then--what then? There was nothing after that, except, perhaps--except his life.

Lablache stirred in his seat and wheezed heavily as he arrived at this conclusion. His horrified thoughts were expressed in the look of fear that was in his lashless eyes.

His life--yes! That must be the raider's culminating object. Or would he leave him that, so that he might further torture him by burning him out of Calford. He pondered fearfully, and hard, practical as was his nature, the money-lender allowed his imagination to run riot over possibilities which surely his cooler judgment would have scoffed at.

Lablache rose hurriedly from his chair. It only wanted a quarter to five. Putting his head through the part.i.tion doorway he ordered his astonished clerks to close up. He felt that he could not--dare not keep the store open longer. Then he inspected the private door of his office.

The spring catch was fast. He locked his safe. All the time he moved about fearfully--like some hunted criminal. At last he returned to his seat. His bilious eyes roved over the various objects in the room. A hunted look was in them. His mind seemed fixed on one thought alone--the coming of Retief.