Man to man

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Title:MantoMan
Author:JacksonGregory
ReleaseDate:July29,2006[EBook#18933]
Language:English

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Theblazingheatwassuchthatmenandhorsesandsteerssufferedterribly.

[Frontispiece:Theblazingheatwassuchthatmen
andhorsesandsteerssufferedterribly.]


MANTOMAN
BY


JACKSONGREGORY

AUTHOROF
JUDITHOFBLUELAKERANCH,
THEBELLSOFSANJUAN,

SIXFEETFOUR,ETC.

ILLUSTRATEDBY
J.G.SHEPHERD

GROSSET&DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS————NEWYORK

COPYRIGHT,1920,BY
CHARLESSCRIBNER'SSONS
PublishedOctober,1920


CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I. STEVEDIVESINTODEEPWATERS
II. MISSBLUECLOAKKNOWSWHENSHE'SBEAT
III. NEWSOFALEGACY
IV. TERRYBEFOREBREAKFAST
V. HOWSTEVEPACKARDCAMEHOME
VI. BANKNOTESANDABLINDMAN
THEOLDMOUNTAINLIONCOMESDOWNFROM
VII.
THENORTH
VIII. INREDCREEKTOWN
IX. "IT'SMYFIGHTANDHIS.LETHIMGO!"
X. ARIDEWITHTERRY
XI. THETEMPTINGOFYELLOWBARBEE
XII. INADARKROOM

XIII. ATTHELUMBERCAMP
XIV. THEMAN-BREAKERATHOME
XV. ATTHEFALLENLOG
XVI. TERRYDEFIESBLENHAM
XVII. ANDCALLSONSTEVE
XVIII. "IFHEKNOWS--DOESSHE?"
XIX. TERRYCONFRONTSHELL-FIREPACKARD
XX. AGATEANDARECORDSMASHED
XXI. PACKARDWRATHANDTEMPLERAGE
XXII. THEHANDOFBLENHAM
XXIII. STEVERIDESBYTHETEMPLEPLACE
XXIV. DOWNFROMTHESKY!
XXV. THESTAMPEDE


XXVI. YELLOWBARBEEKEEPSAPROMISE
XXVII. INHONOROFTHEFAIRYQUEEN!


ILLUSTRATIONS

Theblazingheatwassuchthatmenandhorsesandsteers
sufferedterribly......Frontispiece
ThemenabouthimandPackardwithdrewthiswayandthat
leavingemptyfloorspace.
Terry'shead,herfaceflushedrosily,hereyesneverbrighter,
poppedupononesideofthelog.
"Sayit!"laughedTerry."Well,I'mhere.Cameonbusiness."

MANTOMAN
CHAPTERI
STEVEDIVESINTODEEPWATERS
StevePackard'spulsesquickenedandabrighteagernesscameintohiseyes
asherode deeperintothepine-timberedmountains.To-dayhewasonthelast
lapofadelectablejourney.Threedaysagohehadriddenoutofthesun-baked
town of San Juan; three months had passed since he had sailed out of a South
Seaport.
Fardownthere,foregatheringwithsailormeninadirtywater-frontboardinghouse, hehadgrownsuddenlyandeventenderlyreminiscentofacleanerland
whichhehadroamedasaboy.Hestaredbackacrossthedepartedyearsasmany
amanhaslookedfromjustsomesuchresortasBlackJack'sboarding-house,a
littlewistfullywithal.Abruptlythrowingdownhisunplayedhandandforfeiting
hisanteinacardgame,hehadgottenupandtakenshipbackacrossthePacific.
ThehouseofPackardmighthavespelleditsnamewiththesevenlettersofthe
word"impulse."
Late to-night or early to-morrow he would go down the trail into Packard's
Grab, the valley which had been his grandfather's and, because of a burst of
reckless generosity on the part of the old man, Steve's father's also. But never
Steve's,ponderedthemanonthehorse;wordofhisfather'sdeathhadcometo
him five months ago and with it word of Phil Packard's speculations and
sweepinglosses.
Butneverhadmoney'scomingandmoney'sgoingbeenaseriousconcernof
Steve Packard; and now his anticipation was sufficiently keen. The world was
his;hehadnoneedofalegalpapertostatethatthesmallfragmentoftheworld
known as Ranch Number Ten belonged to him. He could ride upon it again,
perhapsfindonelikeoldBillRoyce,theforeman,left.Andthenhecouldgoon
untilhecametotheotherPackardranchwherehisgrandfatherhadlivedandstill


mightbeliving.

Afterallofthis—Well,thereweremanysunnybeacheshereandtherealong
thesevenseaswherehehadstilltolieandsunhimself.Nowitwasapurejoyto
notehowthebolesofpineandcedarpointedstraighttowardtheclear,cloudless
blue; how the little streams trickled through their worn courses; how the quail
scurried to their brushy retreats; how the sunlight splashed warm and golden
through the branches; how valleys widened and narrowed and the thickly
timbered ravines made a delightful and tempting coolness upon the
mountainsides.
It was an adventure with its own thrill to ride around a bend in the narrow
trailandbegreetedbyanold,well-rememberedlandmark:aflat-toppedboulder
where he had lain when a boy, looking up at the sky and thrilling to the
whisperedpromisesoflife;orapoolwherehehadfishedorswum;oratreehe
hadclimbedorfromwhosebrancheshehadshotagraysquirrel.Awagon-road
which he might have taken he abandoned for a trail which better suited his
presentfancysinceitledwithcloserintimacyintothewoods.
Itwaslateafternoonwhenhecametothegentlerisewhichgavefirstglintof
thelittlelakesolikeabluejewelsetinthedustygreenofthewoodedslopes.As
heroseinhisstirrupstogazedownavistathroughthetree-trunks,hesawthe
bright,vividblueofacloak.
"Now, there's a woman," thought Packard without enthusiasm. "The woods
werequitewellenoughalonewithouther.AsIsupposeEdenwas.Butalongshe
comesjustthesame.Andofcourseshemustpickouttheonedangerousspoton
thewholelakeshoretodisplayherselfon."
Forheknewhow,justyonderwherethebluecloakcaughtthesunlight,there
wasasheerbankandhowthelappingwaterhadcutintoit,gougingitoutyear
afteryearsothattheloosesoilabovewasalwaysreadytocrumbleandspillinto
the lake. The wearer of the bright garment stirred and stood up, her back still
towardhim.
"Younggirl,mostlikely,"hehazardedanopinion.
Though she was too far from him to be at all certain, he had sensed

somethingofyouth'sownintheveryqualityofhergesture.


Thensuddenlyheclappedhisspurstohishorse'ssidesandwentracingdown
theslopetowardthespotwhereaninstantagoshehadmadesuchagaycontrast
todullverdureandgrayboulders.Forhehadglimpsedthequickflashofanupthrownarm,hadheardalowcry,hadguessedratherthanseenthroughthelow
underbrushheryoungbodyfalling.
Ashethrewhimselffromhishorse'sback,hisspurcaughtinthebluecloak
which had dropped from her shoulders; he kicked at it savagely. He jerked off
his boots, poised a moment looking down upon the disturbed surface of the
waterwhichhadclosedoverherhead,madeoutthesweepofanarmunderthe
wideningcircles,anddivedstraightdown.
Andsodeepdownunderwatertheymetforthefirsttime,StevePackardwith
a sense of annoyance that was almost outright irritation, the girl struggling
franticallyashisrightarmclosedtightabouther.Aquicksuspicioncametohim
that she had not fallen but had thrown herself downward in some passionate
quarrelwithlife;thatshewantedtodieandwouldgivehimscantthanksforthe
rescue.
This thoughtwasfollowed bytheotherthatin heraccessofterror shewas
doing what the drowning person always does—losing her head, threatening to
bindhisarmswithherownanddraghimdownwithher.
Struggling half blindly and all silently they rose a little toward the surface.
Packardtightenedhisgripaboutherbody,managedtoimprisononeofherarms
against her side, beat at the water with his free hand, and so, just as his lungs
seemedreadytoburst,hebroughthisnostrilsintotheair.
Hedrewinagreatbreathandstruckoutmightilyfortheshore,seekingaless
precipitous bank at the head of a little cove. As he did so, he noted how her
struggles had suddenly given over, how she floated quietly with him, her free
armevenaidingintheirprogress.
A little later he crawled out of the clear, cold water to a pebbly beach,

drawingherafterhim.
And now he understood that his destiny and his own headlong nature had
again made a consummate fool of him. The same knowledge was offered him
freelyinapairofgrayeyeswhichfairlyblazedathim.Nogratitudethereofa
maidenheroicallysuccoredinthehourofhersupremedistress;justtheleaping


anger of a girl with a temper like hot fire who had been rudely handled by a
stranger.
Her scanty little bathing-suit, bright blue like the discarded cloak, the red
rubbercapbindingthebronzehair—shemusthavedonnedtheridiculousthing
with incredible swiftness while he batted an eye—might have been utterly
becominginothereyesthanthoseofStevePackard.Nowthattheymerelytold
himthathewasablunderingass,hewasconscioussolelyofadesiretopickher
upandshakeher.
"Gee!"shepantedathimwithanangryscornfulnesswhichmadehimwince.
"You'reaboutthefreshestpropositionIevercameacross!"
Later,perhaps,hewouldadmitthatshewasundeniablyandmostamazingly
pretty;thatthecurvesofherlittlewhitebodyweredelightfullyperfect;thatshe
had made an armful that at another time would have put sheer delirium into a
man'sblood.
Justnowheknewonlythatinhismomentofnothinglessthanstupidityhe
hadangeredherandthathisownangerthoughmoreunreasonablewasscarcely
lessheated;thathehadmadeandstillmadebutasorryspectacle;thathewas
soppingwetandcoldandwouldbeshiveringinamomentlikeafreezingdog.
"WhydidyouwanttoyelllikeaComancheIndianwhenyouwentin?" he
demandedrudely,offeringtheonlydefensehecouldputmindortongueto."A
manwouldnaturallysupposethatyouwerefalling."
"Youdidn'tsupposeanysuchthing!"sheretortedsharply."Yousawmedive;
ifyouhadthebrainsofascaredrabbit,you'dknowthatwhenagirlhadgoneto

the trouble to climb into a bathing-suit and then jumped into the water she
wantedaswim.Andtobeleftalone,"sheaddedscathingly.
Packard felt the afternoon breeze through the wet garments which stuck so
closetohim,andshivered.
"Ifyouthink,"hesaid,assharplyasshehadspoken,"thatIjustjumpedinto
thatinfernalice-pond,clothesandall,forthepurejoyofmakingyourcharming
acquaintanceinsometenfeetofwater,allIcansayisthatyouarebynomeans
lackingafullappreciationofyourownattractiveness."


Sheopenedhereyeswidelyathim,lyingathisfeetwherehehaddeposited
her.Shehadnotofferedtorise.Butnowshesatup,drawingherkneesintothe
circleofherclaspedarms,tiltingherheadbackasshestaredupathim.
"You'vegotyournerve,Mr.Man,"sheinformedhimcoolly."Anytimethat
you thinkI'llstandforafool manjumpinginand spoilingmyfunformeand
thenscoldingmeontopofit,you'vegotanothergood-sizedthinkcoming.And
takeitfromme,you'lllastagooddeallongerinthisneckofthewoodsifyou
'tendtoyourownbusinessafterthisandkeepyourpawsoffotherfolks'affairs.
Getmethattime?"
"I get you all right," grunted Packard. "And I find your gratitude to a man
whohasjustriskedhislifeforyouquitetouching."
"Gratitude? Bah!" she told him, leaping suddenly to her feet. "Risked your
life for me, did you?" She laughed jeeringly at that. "Why, you big lummox, I
couldhaveyankedyououtaseasyasturnasomersaultifyoustartedtodrown.
Andnowsupposeyouhammerthetrailwhileit'sopen."
He bestowed upon her a glance whose purpose was to wither her. It failed
miserably,partlybecauseshewaspatentlynotthesorttobewitheredbyalook
fromamereman,andpartlybecauseaviolentandinopportuneshivershookhim
fromheadtofoot.
Until now there had been only bright anger in the girl's eyes. Suddenly the

light there changed; what had begun as a sniff at him altered without warning
intoahighlyamusedgiggle.
"Golly, Mr. Man," she taunted him. "You're sure some swell picture as you
standthere,handonhipandpoppingyoureyesoutatme!Likeakinginastorybook,onlyhe'djustgotaduckingandwastryingtostaretheotherfellowdown.
Whichisonethingyoucan'tdowithme."
Hereyeshadtheadorabletrickofseemingtocrinkletoamirthwhichwould
havebeenanextremelypleasantphenomenontowitnesshadshebeenlaughing
with him instead of at him. As matters stood, Packard was quite prepared to
dislikeherheartily.
"I'daddtoyourkindinformationthatthetrailisopenatbothends,"hetold
her significantly. "I'm going to find a sunny spot and dry my clothes. No


objection,Isuppose?"
Heclamberedupthebankandmadehiswaytothespotwhencehehaddived
after her, bent on retrieving his boots and spurs. Her eyes followed him
interestedly. He ignored her and set about extricating a spur rowel from the
fabricofthebrightbluecloak.Hervoicefloateduptohimthen,demanding:
"Whatintheworldareyouuptonow?Notgoingtoswipemyclothes,are
you?"
"I'dhavetheright,"hecalledbackoverhisshoulder,"ifIhappenedtoneeda
makeshiftdressing-gown.Asitis,however,Iamtryingtogetmyspuroutofthe
thing."
"You great big brute!" she wailed at him, and here she came running along
thebank."YoujustdaretotearmycloakandI'llhoundyououtofthecountry
forit!IdrovefortymilestogetitandthisisthefirsttimeIeverworeit.Stupid!"
Andshejerkedboththegarmentandthespurfromhim.
Theliningwassilken,ofadeep,rich,goldenhue.Andalreadyitwastorn,
althoughbutthetiniestbitintheworld,byoneofthesharpspikes.Hertemper,
however, ever ready it seemed, flared out again; the crinkling merriment went

fromhereyes,leavingnotrace;thecolorwarmedinhercheeksasshecried:
"You'rejustlikealloftherestofyourbreed,bigandawkward,crowdingin
where you don't belong, messing up the face of the earth, spoiling things right
and left. I wonder if the good Lord Himself knows what he made men for,
anyway!"
Theoffendingspur,detachedbyherquickfingers,describedabrightarcin
thelatesunlight,flewfarout,dippedinalittleleapingspurtofspray,andwent
downquietlyinthelake.
"Gojumpinandgetthat,ifyouaresokeenonsavingthings,"shemocked
him."There'sonly,aboutfifteenfeetofwatertodigthrough."
"Youlittledevil!"hesaid.
For the spur with its companion had cost him twenty dollars down on the
Mexicanbordertendaysagoandhehadsetmuchstorebyit.


"Littledevil,amI?"sheretortedreadily."You'llknowitifyoudon'tkeepon
yoursideoftheroad.Lookatthattear!Justlookatit!"
She had stepped quite close to him, holding out the cloak, her eyes lifted
defiantlytohis.Heputoutasuddenhandandlaiditonherwetshoulder.She
openedhereyeswidelyagainatthenewlookinhis.Butevensoherregardwas
utterlyfearless.
"Younglady,"hesaidsternly,"sohelpmeGod,I'vegotthebiggestnotionin
theworldtotakeyouacrossmykneeandgiveyouthespankingofyourlife.IfI
didcrowdinwhereIdon'tbelong,asyousosweetlyputit,itwasatleasttodo
you a kindness. Another time I'd know better; I'd sooner do a favor for a
wildcat."
"Takeyourdirtypawsoffofme,"shecried,wrenchingawayfromhim."And
—spank me, would you?" The fire leaped higher in her eyes, the red in her
cheeks gave place to an angrier white. "If you ever so much as dare touch me
again——"

Shebrokeoff,panting.Packardlaughedather.
"You'dtrytoscratchme,Isuppose,"hejeered;"andthen,afterthefashionof
yourownsweetsexwhenyoudon'thavethestrengthtoputathingacross,you'd
mostlikelycry!"
"I'dblowyouruglyheadoffyourshoulderswithashot-gun,"sheconcluded
briefly.
And despite the extravagance of the words it was borne in upon Packard's
understandingthatshemeantjustexactlywhatshesaid.
Hewasgettingcolderallthetimeandknewthatinamomenthisteethwould
chatter.Soasecondtimeheturnedhisbackonher,gathereduphishorse'sreins,
andmovedaway,seekingaspotinthewoodswherehecouldgetdryandsunhis
clothes.AndsincePackardragecomesswiftlyandmoreoftenthannotgoesthe
same way, within five minutes over a comforting cigarette he was grinning
widely,seeinginaflashallofthehumorofthesituationwhichhadsuccessfully
concealeditselffromhimuntilnow.
"And I don't blame her so much, after all," he chuckled. "Taking a nice,


lonely dive, to have a fool of a man grab her all of a sudden when she was
enjoying herself half a dozen feet under water! It's enough to stir up a good
healthytemper.Which,bytheLord,shehas!"

CHAPTERII
MISSBLUECLOAKKNOWSWHENSHE'SBEAT
Half an hour later, his clothing wrung out and sun-dried after a fashion,
Packard dressed, swung up into the saddle, and turned back into the trail. And
throughthetrees,wheretheirruggedtrunksmadeanopenvista,hesawnottwo
hundredyardsawaythegayspotofcolormadebythe blue cloak.So shewas
still here, lingering down the road that wound about the lake's shores, when
alreadyhehadfanciedherfaronherway.Hewonderedforthefirsttimewhere

thatwayled?
Hedrewreinamongthepines,waitinginhisturnforhertogoon.Theblue
cloakdidnotmove.Heleanedtoonesidetoseebetter,peeringaroundalowflung cedar bough. His trail here led to the road; he must pass her unless she
wentonsoon.
Beside the vivid hue of her cloak the sunlight streaming through the forest
showed him another bright, gay color, a streak of red which through the
underbrushhewasatfirstatalosstoaccountfor.Hewouldhavesaidthatshe
wasseatedinalow-bodied,redwagon,wereitnotthatifsuchhadbeenthecase
hemusthaveseenthehorses.
"Anautomobile!"heguessed.
Herodeonascoreofstepsandstoppedagain.Sureenough,thereshesatat
the steering-wheel of a long, rakish touring-car, the slump of her shoulders
vaguely hinting at despair and perhaps a stalled engine. His grin widened
joyously.Hetouchedhishorsewithhisonespur,assumedanexpressionofvast
indifference,androdeon.Shejerkedupherhead,lookedaboutathimswiftly,
gavehimhershoulderagain.


He rode into the road and came on with tantalizing slowness, knowing that
shewouldwanttoturnagainandguessingthatshewouldconquertheimpulse.
Afewpacesbehindherhestoppedagain,rollingafreshcigaretteandseeming,
ashehadbeenbeforethemeeting,themostleisurelymanintheworld.
Hesawherleanforward,busiedwithignitionandstarter;hefanciedthatthe
littlebreezebroughttohimthefaintestofguardedexclamations.
"The blamed old thing won't go," chuckled Packard with vast satisfaction.
"Somecar,too.Boyd-MerrilTwinEight,latestmodel.Anddollarstodoughnuts
Iknowjustwhat'swrong—andshedoesn't!"
Sheignoredhimwithsuchaperfectunconsciousnessofhispresenceinthe
sameworldwithherthathewasmovedtoakeenadmiration.
"I'llbetherfaceisasredasabeet,justthesame,"washischeerfulthought.

"Andrighthere,StevePackard,iswhereyoudon't'crowdin'untilyou'recalled
on."
Shestraightenedup,sittingveryerect,hertwohandstenseupontheuseless
wheel.Henotedthepoiseofherheadandfoundinitsomethingalmostqueenly.
For a moment they were both very still, he watching and feeling his sense
pervadedbytheglowingsensationthatallwasrightwiththeworld,sheholding
herfaceavertedandkeepingherthoughtstoherself.
Presently she got out and lifted the hood, looking in upon the engine,
despairing. But did not glance toward him. Then she closed the hood and
returnedtoherseat,oncemoreattemptingtogetsomesortofresponsefromthe
startingsystem.Packardfelthimselffairlybeamingallover.
"Imaybealow-liveddogandadeep-dyedvillainbesides,"hewasfrankto
admittohimself."ButrightnowI'mhavingthetimeofmylife.AndIwouldn't
bettwobitswhichwayshe'sgoingtojumpnext,either—neverhavingmetjust
hertypebefore."
"Well?"shesaidabruptly.
Shehadn'tmoved,hadn'tsomuchasturnedherheadtolookathim.Ifshe
had done so just then perhaps Packard's extremely good-humored smile, a
contented,eminentlysatisfiedsmile,wouldnothavewarmedhertohim.


"Speaktome?"heaskedinnocently.
"Idid.Simplybecausethere'snobodyelsetospeakto.Don'thappentoknow
anythingaboutmotor-cars,doyou?"
Itwasallveryicilyenunciated,buthadnonoticeablyfreezingeffectuponthe
man'smood.
"Isuredo,"hetoldhercheerfully."Know'emfromfrontbumpertotail-lamp.
YoursisaBoyd-Merril,TwinEight,thisyear'smodel.Fox-Whitingstartingand
lightingsystem.Greatlittlecar,too,ifyouaskme."
"What I was going to ask you," came the cool little voice, more haughtily

than ever, "was not what you think of the car but if you—if you happened to
knowhowtomakethemiserablethinggo."
"Sure," he replied to the back of her head, with all of his former pleasant
manner."Pullouttheignitionbutton;pushdownthestarterpedalwithyourright
foot; throw out the clutch with your left; put her into low; let in your clutch
slowly;giveheralittle——"
"Smarty!"Hehadcounteduponsomesuchinterruption,andchuckledwhen
itcame."Iknowallthat."
"Thenwhydon'tyoudoit?"hequeriedinnocently."You'rerightsquareinmy
way,theroad'snarrow,andI'vegottobemovingon."
"Idon'tdoit,"sheinformedthatportionoftheworldwhichlayimmediately
in front of her slightly elevated nose, "because it won't work. I pulled out the
ignition button and—and nothing happened. Then I tried to force down the
starterpedalandthecrazythingwon'tgodown."
"I see," said Packard interestedly. "Don't know a whole lot about cars, do
you?"
"Theworldwasn'tmadeovernight,"shesaidtartly."I'vehadthispeskything
amonth.Doyouknowwhat'sthematter?"
Hetookhistimeinreplying.Hewassolongaboutit,infact,thatMissBlue
Cloakstirreduneasilyandfinallyshothimaquestioninglookoverhershoulder,


justtomakesure,hesuspected,thathehadn'tslippedawayandlefther.
"Well?"sheaskedagain.
"Speak to me?" he repeated himself, pretending to start from a deep
abstraction."Oh,doIknowwhat'sthematter?Sure!"
She waited a reasonable length of time for him to go on. He, secure in the
sense of his own mastery of the situation, waited for her. Between them they
allowed it to grow very quiet there in the wood by the lake shore. He saw her
glancefurtivelyattheloweringsun.

"If you do know," she said finally and somewhat faintly, but as frigidly as
ever,"willyoutellmeorwon'tyou?"
"Why,"hesaid,asthoughhehadnotthoughtofit,"Idon'tknow.IfIwere
reallysurethatIwasneeded.Youknowit'smightyhardtellingthesedayswhen
you stumble upon a damsel in distress whether a stranger's aid is welcome or
not. If there's one thing I won't do it's shove myself forward when I'm not
wanted."
"You'reanastyanimal!"shecriedhotly.
"ForallIknow,"heresumedinanuntroubledtone,"theendofyourjourney
maybejustaroundthebend,aboutahundredyardsoff.AndifIplungedintobe
ofassistanceImightbesuspectedofbeingafreshguy."
"It's half a dozen miles to the ranch-house," she condescended to tell him.
"And it's going to get dark in no time. And if you want to know, Mr. Smarty,
that'sascloseasI'veevercomeoreverwillcometoaskinganythingofanyman
thateverlived."
Hecouldhavesatthereuntildarkjustforthesheerjoyofteasingher,making
herpayalittleforherrecenttreatmentofhim.Buttherewasanoteoffinalityin
hervoicewhichdidnotescapehim;inanothermomentshewouldjumpdown
andgoononfootandheknewit.Soatlastherodeuptothecar,dismounted,
andliftedthehood.
"Ignition,"heorderedher.


Shepulledoutthelittlebuttonagain.Hiseyesuponhers,hisgrinfrankand
unconcealed,hetookastonefromtheroadandwithittappedgentlyuponthe
shaft running from the pump. Immediately there came that little hissing sound
shehadwaitedfor.
"Starter,"hecommanded.
And now her foot upon the pedal achieved the desired results; the engine
responded, humming pleasantly. He closed the hood and stood back eying her

withaminglingofamusementandtriumph.Herfacereddenedslowly.Andthen,
startlinghimwithitsunheraldedunexpectedness,agaypealoflaughterfromher
made quite another girl of her, a dimpling, radiant, altogether adorable and
desirablecreature.
"Oh,IknowwhenI'mbeat!"shecriedfrankly."You'veputoneacrossonme
to-day,Mr.Man.Andsinceyoumeantwellallalongandwerejustsimplythe
blunderheadedmanGodmadeyou,IguessIhavebeenalittlecat.Goodluckto
youandaworth-whiletrailtoride."
Sheblewhimafriendlykissfromherbrownfinger-tips,bentoverherwheel,
and took the first turn in the road at a swiftly acquired speed which left Steve
Packardbehindindustandgrowingwonderment.
"And she's been driving only a month," was his softly whistled comment.
"Recklesslittledevil!"
Then,inhisturncockingaspeculativeeyeatthesuninthewest,herodeon,
followinginthetrackmadebythespinningautomobiletires.

CHAPTERIII
NEWSOFALEGACY
WhenPackardcametoaforkingoftheroadshestoppedandhesitated.The
automobiletracksledtotheleft;hewastemptedtofollowthem.Anditwashis


way in the matter of such impulses to yield to temptation. But in this case he
finallydecidedthatcommonsenseifnotdownrightwisdompointedintheother
direction.
So,albeitabitreluctantly,heswervedtotheright.
"We'llseeyousomeothertime,though,MissBlueCloak,"hepondered."For
Ihaveanotionitwouldbegoodsportknowingyou."
Anhourlaterhemadeoutalightedwindow,seenandlostthroughthetrees.
Consciousofaman's-sizedappetitehegallopedupthelonglane,turnedinata

gatesaggingwearilyuponitshinges,androdetothedoorofthelightedhouse.
Thefirstglanceshowedhimthatitwasalong,low,ramblingaffairresembling
in dejectedness the drooping gate. An untidy sort of man in shirt-sleeves and
smokingapipecametothedoor,kickingintosilencehishalf-dozendogs.
"What's the chance of something to eat and a place to sleep in the barn?"
askedPackard.
Therancherwavedhispipewidely.
"Helpyourself,stranger,"heanswered,inavoicemeanttobehospitablebut
whichthroughlonghabithadacquiredanunpleasantlysullentone."You'llfind
thesleepingallright,butwhenitcomestosomethingtoeatyoucantakeitfrom
meyou'llfinddamn'poorpicking.Getdown,feedyourhorse,andcomein."
When he entered the house Packard was conscious of an oddly bare and
cheerlessatmospherewhichatfirsthewasatalosstoexplain.Fortheroomwas
large,amplyfurnished,cheerfullylightedbyacracklingfireofdrysticksinthe
big rock fireplace, and a lamp swung from the ceiling. What the matter was
dawned on him gradually: time was when this chamber had been richly, even
exquisitely, furnished and appointed. Now it presented rather a dejected
spectacle of faded splendor, not entirely unlike a fine gentleman of the old
schoolfallenamongbadcompanionsandintotatteredillrepute.
The untidy host, more untidy than ever here in the full light, dragged his
slipperedfeetacrossthethreadbarecarpettoacornercupboard,fromwhichhe
tookabottleandtwoglasses.
"We can have a drink anyhow," he said in that dubious tone which so


harmonizedbothwithhimselfandhissitting-room."Afterwhichwe'llseewhat's
toeat.Terryfiredthecooklastweekandthere'sbeensmallfeastingsince."
Packard accepted a moderate drink, the rancher filled his own glass
generously, and they drank standing. This ceremony briefly performed and
chairsdraggedcomfortablyuptothefireplace,Packard'shostcalledoutloudly:

"Hi,Terry!There'samanherewantssomethingtoeat.Anythingleft?"
"If he's hungry," came the cool answer from a room somewhere toward the
otherendofthelonghouse,"whycan'theforageforhimself?Wantsmetobring
hisrationsinthereandfeedittohim,Isuppose!"
Packardliftedhiseyebrowshumorously.
"IsthatTerry?"heasked.
"That'sTerry,"grumbledtherancher."She'sinthekitchennow.AndifIwas
you, pardner, and had a real hankering for grub I'd mosey right along in there
while there's something left." His eye roved to the bottle on the chimneypiece
anddroppedtothefire."I'lltrailyouinaminute."
Herewasinvitationsufficient,andPackardroseswiftly,wentoutthroughthe
doorattheendoftheroom,passedthroughanuntidychamberwhichnodoubt
hadbeenintendedoriginallyasadining-room,andsocameintolamplightagain
andthepresenceofMissBlueCloak.
He made her a bow and smiled in upon her cheerfully. She, perched on an
oilcloth-covered table, her booted feet swinging, a thick sandwich in one hand
and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, took time to look him up and down
seriously and to swallow before she answered his bow with a quick, bird-like
nod.
"Don'tmindme,"shesaidbriefly,havingswallowedagain."Diginandhelp
yourself."
Onthetablebesideherwerebread,butter,averydryandblack-lookingroast,
andablackerbutmoretemptingcoffee-pot.
"Ididn'tfollowyouonpurpose,"saidPackard."Backtherewheretheroads


forkedIsawthatyouhadturnedtotheleft,soIturnedtotheright."
"All roads lead to Rome," she said around the corner of the big sandwich.
"Anyway,it'sallright.IguessIoweyouasquaremealandanight'slodgingfor
beingonthejobwhenmycarstalled."

"Nottomentionfordivingintothelakeafteryou,"amendedPackard.
"Iwouldn'tmentionitifIwereyou,"sheretorted."Seeingthatyoujustmade
afoolofyourselfthattime."
Sheopenlysniffedtheairashesteppedbyherreachingoutforbutcher-knife
and roast. "So you are dad's kind, are you? Hitting the booze every show you
get.TheLorddelivermefromhischiefblunder.Meaningaman."
"He probably will," grinned Packard genially. "And as for turning up your
noseatafellowfortakingadropo'kindnesswithahospitablehost,why,that's
allnonsense,youknow."
Terry kicked her high heels impudently and vouchsafed him no further
answer beyond that easy gesture. Packard made his own sandwich, found the
salt,pouredatincupofcoffee.
"Thesugar'soverthere."Shejerkedherheadtowardashelfonwhich,after
somesearchingamongalotofemptyandnearlyemptycans,Packardfoundit.
"That'sallthereisandpreciouslittleleft;helpyourselfbutdon'tforgetbreakfast
comesinthemorning."
"ThisistheoldSladeplace,isn'tit?"Packardasked.
"It was, about the time the big wall was building in China. Where've you
beenthelastcoupleofhundredyears?It'stheTempleplacenow."
"Thenyou'reMissTemple?"
"Teresa Arriega for my mother, Temple for my dad," she told him in the
quick, bright way which already he found characteristic of her. "Terry for
myself,ifyousayitquick."
HehadsuspectedfromthebeginningthattherewasSouthernbloodofsome


straininher.Nowhestudiedherfrankly,and,justtotryherout,saidcarelessly:
"If you weren't so tanned you'd be quite fair; your eyes are gray too. Bluegray when you smile, dark gray when you are angry; and yet you say your
motherwasMexican——"
"Mexican, your foot!" she flared out at him, her trim little body stiffening

perceptibly,herchinproudlylifted."TheArriegaswerepure-bloodedCastilian,
I'dhaveyouunderstand.There'snomongrelaboutme."
Hedrownedhissatisfiedchucklewithadraftofcoffee.
"I'mlookingforajob,"hesaidabruptly."Happentoknowofanyofthecattle
outfitsaroundherethatareshort-handed?"
"Menarescarcerightnow,"sheanswered."Agoodcattle-handisashardto
locateasadodobird.Youcouldgetajobanywhereifyou'reworthyoursalt."
"I was thinking," said Packard, "of moseying on to Ranch Number Ten.
There'samanIusedtoknow—BillRoyce,hisnameis.Foreman,isn'the?"
"SoyouknowBillRoyce?"counteredTerry."Well,that'ssomethinginyour
favor.He'sagoodscout."
"Thenheisstillforeman?"
"Ididn'tsayso!No,heisn't.AndIguesshe'llneverbeforemanofthatoutfit
oranyotheragain.He'sblind."
OldBillRoyceblind!Herewasashock,andPackardsatbackandstaredat
herspeechlessly.Somehowthiswasincredible,unthinkable,nothingshort.The
old cattle-man who had been the hero of his boyhood, who had taught him to
shootandrideandswim,whohadbeensovitalandsoquickandkeenofeye—
blind?
"Whathappenedtohim?"askedPackardpresently.
"Suppose you ask him," she retorted. "If you know him so well. He is still
withtheoutfit.AmannamedBlenhamistheforemannow.He'soldPackard's
right-handbower,youknow."


"ButPhilPackardisdead.And——"
"And old 'Hell-Fire' Packard, Phil Packard's father, never will die. He's just
naturallytoolow-downmean;thedevilhimselfwouldn'thavehim."
"Terry!" came the voice of the untidy man, meant to be remonstrative but
chieflynoteworthyforanewlyacquiredthicknessofutterance.

Terry'seyessparkledandahotflushcameintohercheeks.
"Leavemealone,willyou,pa?"shecriedsharply."Idon'toweoldPackard
anything;no,norBlenhameither.Youcanwalkeasyallyoulike,butI'mblamed
if I've got to. If you'd smash your cursed old bottle on their heads and take a
bracewe'dcomealiveyet."
"Remember we have a guest with us," grumbled Temple from his place by
thesitting-roomfire.
"Oh, shoot!" exclaimed the girl impatiently. Reaching out for a second
sandwichshestabbedthekitchen-knifeviciouslyintotheroast."I'veanotionto
packupandclearoutandletthecut-throatcrowdcleanyoutothelastcopper
andpickyourbonesintothebargain.Whendidyouevergetanywherebytaking
your hat off and side-stepping for a Packard? If you're so all-fired strong for
remembering,whydon'tyoutrytorememberhowitfeelstostandontwofeet
likeamaninsteadofcrawlingonyourbellylikeaworm!"
"Mydear!"expostulatedTemple.
Terrysniffedandpaidnofurtherattentiontohim.
"Dadwasallmanonce,"shesaidwithoutloweringhervoice,makingclearer
thaneverthatMissTerryTemplehadawayofspeakingstraightoutwhatlayin
her mind, caring not at all who heard. "I'm hoping that some day he'll come
back.Arealmanwasdad,aman'sman.ButthatwasbeforethePackardsbroke
him and stepped on him and kicked him out of the trail. And, believe me, the
Packards,thoughtheyoughttobehungtothefirsttree,aremenjustthesame!"
"SoIhaveheard,"admittedtheyoungestofthedefamedhouse."Yougroup
themaltogether?They'reallthesamethen?"


"PhilPackard'sdead,"sheretorted."Sowe'lllethimgoatthat.OldHell-Fire
Packard,hisfather,isthebiggestlawbreakeroutofjail.He'stheonlyoneleft,
and from the looks of things he'll keep on living and making trouble another
hundredyears."

"TherewasanotherPackard,wasn'tthere?"heinsisted."PhilPackard'sson,
theoldman'sgrandson?"
"Never knew him," said Terry. "A scamp and a scalawag and a tomfool,
though,ifyouwanttoknow.Ifhewasn't,he'dhavestuckonthejobinsteadof
messing around in the dirty ports of the seven seas while his old thief of a
grandfatherstolehisheritagefromhim."
"How'sthat?"heaskedsharply."Howdoyoumean'stole'itfromhim?"
"Thesamewayhegobblesupeverythingelsehewants.RanchNumberTen
ought to belong to the fool boy now, oughtn't it? And here's old Packard's pet
dog Blenham running the outfit in old Packard's interests just the same as if it
washisalready.Setathieftorobathief,"sheconcludedbriefly.
StevePackardsatboltuprightinhischair.
"Iwouldn'tmindgettingthestraightofthis,"hetoldherquietly."Ithought
thatPhilipPackardhadsoldtheoutfittohisfatherbeforehisdeath."
"Hedidn'tsellittoanybody.Hemortgageditrightuptothehilttotheold
man.Thenheupanddied.Ofcourseeverythingheleft,amountingmostlytoa
pileofdebts,wenttohisgood-for-nothingson."
A light which she could not understand, eager and bright, shone in young
Packard'seyes.Ifwhatshetoldhimweretrue,thentheoldhomeranch,while
commonlylookeduponasbelongingalreadytohisgrandfather,wastheproperty
legallyofStevePackard.AndBlenham—yes,andoldBillRoyce—weretaking
hispay.Suddenlyinfinitepossibilitiesstretchedoutbeforehim.
"Come alive!" laughed Terry. "We were talking about your finding a job.
There'soneopenhereforyou;firsttoteachmeallyouknowabouttheinsidesof
mycar;second—What'sthematter?Gonetosleep?"
He started. He had been thinking about Blenham and Bill Royce. As Terry