Robert Stead .............................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I .............................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II ............................................................................................................................................7

CHAPTER III........................................................................................................................................14

CHAPTER IV........................................................................................................................................22

CHAPTER V.........................................................................................................................................27

CHAPTER VI........................................................................................................................................33

CHAPTER VII .......................................................................................................................................41

CHAPTER VIII.....................................................................................................................................47

CHAPTER IX........................................................................................................................................54

CHAPTER X.........................................................................................................................................62

CHAPTER XI........................................................................................................................................66

CHAPTER XII .......................................................................................................................................73

CHAPTER XIII.....................................................................................................................................80

CHAPTER XIV.....................................................................................................................................85

CHAPTER XV......................................................................................................................................91

CHAPTER XVI.....................................................................................................................................95

CHAPTER XVII ..................................................................................................................................102

CHAPTER XVIII .................................................................................................................................108

CHAPTER XIX...................................................................................................................................113

CHAPTER XX....................................................................................................................................118

CHAPTER XXI...................................................................................................................................123

CHAPTER XXII ..................................................................................................................................130

"Chuck at the Y.D. tonight, and a bed under the shingles," shouted Transley, waving to the procession to be

Linder, foreman and head teamster, straightened up from the half load of new hay in which he had been

awaiting the final word, tightened the lines, made an unique sound in his throat, and the horses pressed their

shoulders into the collars. Linder glanced back to see each wagon or implement take up the slack with a jerk

like the cars of a freight train; the cushioned rumble of wagon wheels on the soft earth, and the noisy chatter

of the steel teeth of the hayrakes came up from the rear. Transley's "outfit" was under way.

Transley was a contractor; a master of men and of circumstances. Six weeks before, the suspension of a

grading order had left him high and dry, with a dozen men and as many teams on his hands and hired for the

season. Transley galloped all that night into the foothills; when he returned next evening he had a contract

with the Y.D. to cut all the hay from the ranch buildings to The Forks. By some deft touch of those financial

strings on which he was one day to become so skilled a player Transley converted his dump scrapers into

mowing machines, and three days later his outfit was at work in the upper reaches of the Y.D.

The contract had been decidedly profitable. Not an hour of broken weather had interrupted the operations,

and today, with two thousand tons of hay in stack, Transley was moving down to the headquarters of the

Y.D. The trail lay along a broad valley, warded on either side by ranges of foothills; hills which in any other

country would have been dignified by the name of mountains. From their summits the greygreen uptilted

limestone protruded, whipped clean of soil by the chinooks of centuries. Here and there on their northern

slopes hung a beard of scrub timber; sharp gulleys cut into their fastnesses to bring down the turbulent waters

Some miles to the left of the trail lay the bed of the Y.D., fringed with poplar and cottonwood and occasional

dark green splashes of spruce. Beyond the bed of the Y.D., beyond the foothills that looked down upon it,

hung the mountains themselves, their giant crests pitched like mighty tents drowsing placidly between earth

and heaven. Now their four o'clock veil of blue purple mist lay filmed about their shoulders, but later they

would stand out in bold silhouette cutting into the twilight sky. Everywhere was the soft smell of newmown

hay; everywhere the silences of the eternal, broken only by the muffled noises of Transley's outfit trailing

Linder, foreman and head teamster, cushioned his shoulders against his half load of hay and contemplated the

scene with amiable satisfaction. The hay fields of the foothills had been a pleasant change from the railway

grades of the plains below. Men and horses had fattened and grown content, and the foreman had reason to

know that Transley's bank account had profited by the sudden shift in his operations. Linder felt in his pocket

for pipe and matches; then, with a frown, withdrew his fingers. He himself had laid down the law that there

must be no smoking in the hay fields. A carelessly dropped match might in an hour nullify all their labor.

Linder's frown had scarce vanished when hoofbeats pounded by the side of his wagon, and a rider, throwing

"Thought I'd ride with you a spell, Lin. That Petehorse acts like he was goin' sore on the off front foot.

"Only to know his name is good on a cheque, and they say he still throws a good rope."

George wriggled to a more comfortable position in the hay. He had a feeling that he was approaching a

delicate subject with consummate skill. After a considerable silence he continued

"Oh," said Linder, slowly. The occasion of the soreness in that Petehorse's off front foot was becoming

"You better stick to Pete," Linder continued. "Women is most uncertain critters."

"Don't I know it?" chuckled George, poking the foreman's ribs companionably with his elbow. "Don't I know

it?" he repeated, as his mind apparently ran back over some reminiscence that verified Linder's remark. It was

evident from the pleasant grimaces of George's face that whatever he had suffered from the uncertain sex was

"Say, Lin," he resumed after another pause, and this time in a more confidential tone, "do you s'pose

"Shouldn't wonder. Transley always knows what he's doing, and why. Y.D. must be worth a million or so,

and the girl is all he's got to leave it to. Besides all that, no doubt she's well worth having on her own

"Well, I'm sorry for the boss," George replied, with great soberness. "I alus hate to disappoint the boss."

"Huh!" said Linder. He knew George Drazk too well for further comment. After his unlimited pride in and

devotion to his horse, George gave his heart unreservedly to womankind. He suffered from no cramping

niceness in his devotions; that would have limited the play of his passion; to him all women were alikeor

nearly so. And no number of rebuffs could convince George that he was unpopular with the objects of his

democratic affections. Such a conclusion was, to him, too absurd to be entertained, no matter how many

experiences might support it. If opportunity offered he doubtless would propose to Y.D.'s daughter that very

The Y.D. creek had crossed its valley, shouldering close against the base of the foothills to the right. Here the

current had created a precipitous cutbank, and to avoid it and the stream the trail wound over the side of the

hill. As they crested a corner the silver ribbon of the Y.D. was unravelled before them, and half a dozen miles

down its course the ranch buildings lay clustered in a grove of cottonwoods and evergreens. All the great

valley lay warm and pulsating in a flood of yellow sunshine; the very earth seemed amorous and content in

the embrace of sun and sky. The majesty of the view seized even the unpoetic souls of Linder and Drazk, and

because they had no other means of expression they swore vaguely and relapsed into silence.

"Oh, here you are, Drazk. How long do you reckon it would take you to ride down to the Y.D. on that

"I tell you, Boss," he said, "if there's any jackrabbits in the road they'll get tramped on."

"I bet they will," said Transley, genially. "Well, you just slide down and tell Y.D. we're coming in. She's

going to be later than I figured, but I can't hurry the work horses. You know that, Drazk."

"Sure I do, Boss," said Drazk, springing into his saddle. "Just watch me lose myself in the dust." Then, to

The sun had fallen behind the mountains, the valley was filled with shadow, the afterglow, mauve and purple

and copper, was playing far up the sky when Transley's outfit reached the Y.D. corrals. George Drazk had

"Y.D. wants you an' Linder to eat with him at the house," he said as Transley halted beside him. "The rest of

us eat in the bunk house." There was something strangely modest in Drazk's manner.

"Had yours handed to you already?" Linder managed to banter in a low voice as they swung through the gate.

"Hell!" protested Mr. Drazk. "A fellow that ain't a boss or a foreman don't get a lookin. Never even seen

her. . . . Come, you Petehorse!" It was evident George had gone back to his first love.

The wagons drew up in the yard, and there was a fine jingle of harness as the teamsters quickly unhitched.

Y.D. himself approached through the dusk; his large frame and confident bearing were unmistakable even in

"Glad to see you, Transley," he said cordially. "You done well out there. 'So, Linder! You made a good job of

it. Come up to the houseI reckon the Missus has supper waitin'. We'll find a room for you up there, too; it's

So saying, and turning the welfare of the men and the horses over to his foreman, the rancher led Transley

and Linder along a path through a grove of cottonwoods, across a footbridge where from underneath came

the babble of water, to "the house," marked by a yellow light which poured through the windows and lost

The nucleus of the house was the log cabin where Y.D. and his wife had lived in their first married years.

With the passage of time additions had been built to every side which offered a point of contact, but the log

cabin still remained the family centre, and into it Transley and Linder were immediately admitted. The poplar

floor had long since worn thin, save at the knots, and had been covered with edgegrained fir, but otherwise

the cabin stood as it had for twenty years, the whitewashed logs glowing in the light of two bracket lamps

and the reflections from a wood fire which burned merrily in the stove. The skins of a grizzly bear and a

timber wolf lay on the floor, and two moose heads looked down from opposite ends of the room. On the walls

hung other trophies won by Y.D.'s rifle, along with handmade bits of harness, lariats, and other insignia of

The rancher took his guests' hats, and motioned each to a seat. "Mother," he said, directing his voice into an

In a moment "Mother" appeared drying her hands. In her appearance were courage, resourcefulness,

energy,fit mate for the man who had made the Y.D. known in every big cattle market of the country. As

Linder's eye caught her and her husband in the same glance his mind involuntarily leapt to the suggestion of

what the offspring of such a pair must be. The men of the cattle country have a proper appreciation of

"My wifeMr. Transley, Mr. Linder," said the rancher, with a courtliness which sat strangely on his

otherwise roughandready speech. "I been tellin' her the fine job you boys has made in the hay fields, an' I

"Y.D. has been full of your praises," said the woman. There was a touch of culture in her manner as she

She led them into another room, where a table was set for five. Linder experienced a tang of happy

excitement as he noted the number. Linder allowed himself no foolishness about women, but, as he

sometimes sagely remarked to George Drazk, you never can tell what might happen. He shot a quick glance

at Transley, but the contractor's face gave no sign. Even as he looked Linder thought what an able face it was.

Transley was not more than twentysix, but forcefulness, assertion, ability, stood in every line of his

cleancut features. He was such a man as to capture at a blow the heart of old Y.D., perhaps of Y.D.'s

"She'll be here presently," his wife replied. "We don't have Mr. Transley and Mr. Linder every night, you

But at that moment a door opened, and the girl appeared. She did not burst upon them, as Linder had half

expected; she slipped quietly and gracefully into their presence. She was dressed in black, in a costume which

did not too much conceal the charm of her figure, and the nutbrown lustre of her face and hair played

against the sober background of her dress with an effect that was almost dazzling.

She shook hands frankly, first with Transley, then with Linder, as had been the order of the introduction. In

her manner was neither the shyness which sometimes marks the women of remote settlements, nor the

boldness so readily bred of outdoor life. She gave the impression of one who has herself, and the situation, in

"We're always glad to have guests at the Y.D." she was saying. "We live so far from everywhere."

Linder thought that a strange peg on which to hang their welcome. But she was continuing

"And you have been so successful, haven't you? You have made quite a hit with Dad."

"How about Dad's daughter?" asked Transley. Transley had a manner of direct and forceful action. These

"Perhaps," thought Linder to himself, as he turned the incident over in his mind, "perhaps that is why

Transley is boss, and I'm just foreman." The young woman's behavior seemed to support that conclusion. She

The rancher and his wife sat at the ends of the table; Transley on the side at Y.D.'s right; Linder at Transley's

right. In the better light Linder noted Y.D.'s face. It was the face of a man of fifty, possibly sixty. Life in the

open plays strange tricks with the appearance. Some men it ages before their time; others seem to tap a spring

of perpetual youth. Save for the grey moustache and the puckerings about the eyes Y.D.'s was still a young

man's face. Then, as the rancher turned his head, Linder noted a long scar, as of a burn, almost grown over in

the right cheek. . . . Across the table from them sat the girl, impartially dividing her position between the two.

A Chinese boy served soup, and the rancher set the example by "piling in" without formality. Eight hours in

the open air between meals is a powerful deterrent of table smalltalk. Then followed a huge joint of beef,

from which Y.D. cut generous slices with swift and dexterous strokes of a great knife, and the Chinese boy

added the vegetables from a side table. As the meat disappeared the call of appetite became less insistent.

"She's been a great summer, ain't she?" said the rancher, laying down his knife and fork and lifting the carver.

"Transley, some more meat? Pshaw, you ain't et enough for a chicken. Linder? That's right, pass up your

plate. Powerful dry, though. That's only a small bit; here's a better slice here. Dry summers gen'rally mean

open winters, but you can't never tell. Zen, how 'bout you? Old Y.D.'s been too long on the job to take

chances. Mother? How much did you say, Transley? About two thousand tons? Not enough. Don't care if I

"I think you'll find two thousand tons, good hay and good measurement," said Transley.

"I'm sure of it," rejoined his host, generously. "I'm carryin' more steers than usual, and'll maybe run in a

So the meal progressed, the rancher furnishing both the hospitality and the conversation. Transley

occasionally broke in to give assent to some remark, but his interruption was quite unnecessary. It was Y.D.'s

practice to take assent for granted. Once or twice the women interjected a lead to a different subject of

conversation in which their words would have carried greater authority, but Y.D. instantly swung it back to

The Chinese boy served a pudding of some sort, and presently the meal was ended.

"She's been a dry summerpowerful dry," said the rancher, with a wink at his guests. "Zen, I think there's a

The girl left the room without remark, returning shortly with a jug and glasses, which she placed before her

"I suppose you wear a man's size, Transley," he said, pouring out a big drink of brown liquor, despite

Transley's deprecating hand. "Linder, how many fingers? Two? Well, we'll throw in the thumb. Y.D? If you

"The daughter of the Y.D!" said Transley, looking across the table at the girl. She met his eyes full; then, with

The men drained their glasses and reseated themselves, but the women remained standing.

"Perhaps you will excuse us now," said the rancher's wife. "You will wish to talk over business. Y.D. will

With a bow she left the room, followed by her daughter. Linder had a sense of being unsatisfied; it was as

though a ravishing meal has been placed before a hungry man, and only its aroma had reached his senses

The rancher refilled the glasses, but Transley left his untouched, and Linder did the same. There were

business matters to discuss, and it was no fair contest to discuss business in the course of a drinking bout with

"I got to have another thousand tons," the rancher was saying. "Can't take chances on any less, and I want you

"Well, it's a branch of the Y.D. which runs southeast from The Forks. Guess it got its name from me,

because I built my first cabin at The Forks. That was about the time you was on a milk diet, Transley, and us

oldtimers had all outdoors to play with. You see, the Y.D. is a cantank'rous stream, like its godfather. At

The Forks you'd nat'rally suppose is where two branches joined, an' jogged on henceforth in double harness.

Well, that ain't it at all. This crick has modern ideas, an' at The Forks it divides itself into two, an' she hikes

for the Gulf o' Mexico an' him for Hudson's Bay. As I was sayin', I built my first cabin at The Forksa sort

o' peekaboo cabin it was, where the wolves usta come an' look in at nights. Well, I usta look out through

the same holes. I had the advantage o' usin' language, an' I reckon we was about equal scared. There was no

The rancher paused, took a long draw on his pipe, and his eyes glowed with the light of old recollections.

"Well, as I was sayin'," he continued presently, "folks got to callin' the stream the Y.D., after me. That's what

you get for bein' first on the grounda monument for ever an ever. This bein' the main stream got the name

proper, an' the other branch bein' smallest an' running kind o' south nat'rally got called the South Y.D. I run

stock in both valleys when I was at The Forks, but not much since I came down here. Well, there's maybe a

thousand tons o' hay over in the South Y.D., an' you boys better trail over there tomorrow an' pitch into

"The price is all right," said Transley, "and we'll hit the trail at sunup. There'll be no troubleno confliction

"Whose interests?" demanded the rancher, beligerently. "Ain't I the father of the Y.D? Ain't the whole valley

"Of course," Transley agreed, "but I just wanted to know how things stood in case we ran up against

something. It's not like the old days, when a rancher would rather lose twentyfive per cent. of his stock over

winter than bother putting up hay. Hay land is getting to be worth money, and I just want to know where we

"Quite proper," said Y.D., "quite proper. An' now the matter's under discussion, I'll jus' show you my hand.

There's a fellow named Landson down the valley of the South Y.D. that's been flirtin' with that hay meadow

for years, but he ain't got no claim to it. I was first on the ground an' I cut it whenever I feel like it an' I'm

goin' to go on cuttin' it. If anybody comes out raisin' trouble, you just shoo 'em off, an' go on cuttin' that hay,

The rancher had ridden into the Canadian plains country from below "the line" long before barbed wire had

become a menace in cattle land. From Pincher Creek to Maple Creek, and far beyond, the plains lay

unbroken save by the deep canyons where, through the process of ages, mountain streams had worn their

beds down to gravel bottoms, and by the occasional trail which wandered through the wilderness like some

thousandmile lariat carelessly dropped from the hand of the Master Plainsman. Here and there, where the

cutbanks of the river Canyons widened out into sloping valleys, affording possible access to the deeplying

streams, some ranchman had established his headquarters, and his redroofed, whitewashed buildings flashed

back the hot rays which fell from an opalescent heaven. At some of the more important fords trading posts

had come into being, whither the ranchmen journeyed twice a year for groceries, clothing, kerosene, and

other liquids handled as surreptitiously as the vigilance of the Mounted Police might suggest. The virgin

prairie, with her strange, subtle facility for entangling the hearts of men, lay undefiled by the mercenary

Into such a country Y.D. had ridden from the South, trailing his little bunch of scrub heifers, in search of

grass and water and, it may be, of a new environment. Up through the Milk River country; across the Belly

and the Old Man; up and down the valley of the Little Bow, and across the plains as far as the Big Bow he

rode in search of the essentials of a ranch headquarters. The first of these is water, the second grass, the third

fuel, the fourth shelter. Grass there was everywhere; a fine, short, hairy crop which has the peculiar quality of

selfcuring in the autumn sunshine and so furnishing a natural, uncut hay for the herds in the winter months.

Water there was only where the mountain streams plowed their canyons through the deep subsoil, or at little

lakes of surface drainage, or, at rare intervals, at points where pure springs broke forth from the hillsides.

Along the river banks dark, crumbling seams exposed coal resources which solved all questions of fuel, and

fringes of cottonwood and poplar afforded rough but satisfactory building material. As the rancher sat on his

horse on a little knoll which overlooked a landscape leading down on one side to a sheltering bluff by the

river, and on the other losing itself on the rim of the heavens, no fairer prospect surely could have met his

And yet he was not entirely satisfied. He was looking for no temporary location, but for a spot where he

might drive his claim stakes deep. That prairie, which stretched under the hot sunshine unbroken to the rim

of heaven; that brown grass glowing with an almost phosphorescent light as it curled close to the mother

sod; a careless match, a cigar stub, a bit of gunwadding, and in an afternoon a million acres of pasture

Y.D. turned in his saddle. Along the far western sky hung the purple draperies of the Rockies. For fifty miles

eastward from the mighty range lay the country of the foothills, its great valleys lost to the vision which leapt

only from summit to summit. In the clear air the peaks themselves seemed not a dozen miles away, but Y.D.

had not ridden cactus, sagebrush and prairie from the Rio Grande to the St. Mary's for twenty years to be

deceived by a so transparent illusion. Far over the plains his eye could trace the dark outline of a trail leading

The heifers drowsed lazily in the brown grass. Y.D., shading his eyes the better with his hand, gazed long and

thoughtfully at the purple range. Then he spat decisively over his horse's shoulder and made a strange "cluck"

in his throat. The knowing animal at once set out on a trot to stir the lazy heifers into movement, and

Far up, where the trail ahead apparently dropped over the end of the world, a horse and rider hove in view.

They came on leisurely, and half an hour elapsed before they met the rancher trailing west.

The stranger was a rancher of fifty, windwhipped and weather beaten of countenance. The iron grey of his

hair and moustache suggested the iron of the man himself; iron of figure, of muscle, of will.

"'Day," he said, affably, coming to a halt a few feet from Y.D. "Trailing into the foothills?"

Y.D. lolled in his saddle. His attitude did not invite conversation, and, on the other hand, intimated no desire

"Maybe," he said, noncommittally. Then, relaxing somewhat,"Any water farther up?"

"About eight miles. Sundown should see you there, and there's a decent spot to camp. You're a stranger

here?" The older man was evidently puzzling over the big "Y.D." branded on the ribs of the little herd.

"It's a big country," Y.D. answered. "It's a plumb big country, for sure, an' I guess a man can be a stranger in

"Might stand for Yankee devil," said Y.D., with a noneofyour business curl of his lip. But he had carried

"Might also stand for yellow dog, and be damned to you!" The stranger's strong figure sat up stern and knit in

Y.D.'s hand went to his hip, but the other man was unarmed. You can't draw on a man who isn't armed.

"Listen!" the older man continued, in sharp, clearcut notes. "You are a stranger not only to our trails, but our

customs. You are a young man. Let me give you some advice. Firstget rid of that artillery. It will do you

more harm than good. And second, when a stranger speaks to you civilly, answer him the same. My name is

WilsonFrank Wilson, and if you settle in the foothills you'll find me a decent neighbor, as soon as you are

To his own great surprise, Y.D. took his dressing down in silence. There was a poise in Wilson's manner that

enforced respect. He recognized in him the English rancher of good family; usually a man of fine courtesy

within reasonable bounds; always a hard hitter when those bounds are exceeded. Y.D. knew that he had made

at least a tactical blunder; his sensitiveness about his brand would arouse, rather than allay, suspicion. His

cheeks burned with a heat not of the afternoon sun as he submitted to this unaccustomed discipline, but he

"Well, now that the shower is over, we'll move on," he said, turning his back on Wilson and "clucking" to his

Y.D. followed the stream which afterwards bore his name as far as the Upper Forks. As he entered the

foothills he found all the advantages of the plains below, with others peculiar to the foothill country. The

richer herbage, induced by a heavier precipitation; the occasional belts of woodland; the rugged ravines and

limestone ridges affording good natural protection against fire; abundant fuel and water everywherethese

seemed to constitute the ideal ranch conditions. At the Upper Forks, through some freak of formation, the

stream divided into two. From this point was easy access into the valleys of the Y.D. and the South Y.D., as

they were subsequently called. The stream rippled over beds of grey gravel, and mountain trout darted from

the rancher's shadow as it fell across the water. Up the valley, now ruddy gold with the changing colors of

autumn, whitecapped mountains looked down from amid the infinite silences; and below, broad vistas of

brown prairie and silver ribbons of running water. Y.D. turned his swarthy face to the sunlight and took in the

scene slowly, deliberately, but with a commercialized eye; blue and white and ruddy gold were nothing to

him; his heart was set on grass and water and shelter. He had roved enough, and he had a reason for seeking

some secluded spot like this, where he could settle down while his herds grew up, and, perhaps, forget some

With sudden decision the cattle man threw himself from his horse, unstrapped the little kit of supplies which

he carried by the saddle; drew off saddle and bridle and turned the animal free. The die was cast; this was the

spot. Within ten minutes his ax was ringing in the grove of spruce trees close by, and the following night he

It was the next summer when Y.D. had another encounter with Wilson. The Upper Forks turned out to be less

secluded than he had supposed; it was on the trail of trappers and prospectors working into the mountains.

Traders, too, in mysterious commodities, moved mysteriously back and forth, and the log cabin at The Forks

became something of a centre of interest. Strange companies forgathered within its rude walls.

It was at such a gathering, in which Y.D. and three companions sat about the little square table, that one of

"Not so bad, not so bad," said Y.D., casually. "Some winter losses, of course; snow's too deep this far up.

"Oh, some of your neighbors down the valley say your cows are uncommon prolific."

Y.D. sprang to his feet. "I've had one runin with that ," he shouted, "an' I let him talk to me like a

Y.D. was sufficiently drunk to be supersensitive about his honor, and the inference from Wilson's remark was

"No, boys, no!" he protested. "I'll make that Englishman eat his words or choke on them."

"That's right," the company agreed. "The only thing to do. We'll all go down with you."

"An' you won't do that, neither," Y.D. answered. "Think I need a bodyguard for a little chore like that?

But a fresh bottle was produced, and Y.D. was persuaded that his honor would suffer no serious damage until

the morning. Before that time his company, with many demonstrations of affection and admonitions to "make

Y.D. saddled his horse early, buckled his gun on his hip, hung a lariat from his saddle, and took the trail for

the Wilson ranch. During the drinking and gambling of the night he had been able to keep the insult in the

background, but, alone under the morning sun, it swept over him and stung him to fury. There was just

Wilson was branding calves in his corral as Y.D. came up. He was alone save for a girl of eighteen who

Wilson looked up with a hot iron in his hand, nodded, then turned to apply the iron before it cooled. As he

leaned over the calf Y.D. swung his lariat. It fell true over the Englishman, catching him about the arms and

the middle of the body. Y.D. took a half hitch of the lariat about his saddle horn, and the welltrained horse

dragged his victim in the most matteroffact manner out of the gate of the corral and into the open.

Y.D. shortened the line. After the first moment of confused surprise Wilson tried to climb to his feet, but a

quick jerk of the lariat sent him prostrate again. In a moment Y.D. had taken up all the line, and sat in his

"You are!" cried Wilson. "Give me a man's chance and I'll thrash you here and now to prove it."

For answer Y.D. clucked to his horse and dragged his enemy a few yards farther. "How's the goin', Frank?"

But at that instant an unexpected scene flashed before Y.D. He caught just a glimpse of itjust enough to

indicate what might happen. The girl who had been tending the fire was rushing upon him with a redhot iron

extended before her. Quicker than he could throw himself from the saddle she had struck him in the face with

"You brand our calves!" she cried in a fury of recklessness. "I'll brand YOUdamn you!"

Y.D. threw himself from the saddle, but in the suddenness of her onslaught he failed to clear it properly, and

stumbled to the ground. In a moment she was on him and had whipped his gun from his belt.

"Walk to that post, put your arms around it with your back to me, and stand there." He did so.

The girl kept him covered with the revolver while she released the lariat that bound her father.

The girl walked to the next post from Y.D.'s, climbed it leisurely and seated herself on the top.

"Now, Mr. Y.D.," she said, "you are going to fight like a white man, with your fists. I'll sit up here and see

"Don't talk back to me again," she cried, "or you won't be able to fight. Now shake hands."

"Now when I count three," said the girl, "pile in. There's no time limit. Fight 'til somebody's satisfied.

At the sound of the last word Wilson caught his opponent a punch on the chin which stretched him. He got up

slowly, gathering his wits about him. He was twenty years younger than Wilson, but a rancher of fifty is

occasionally a better man than he was at thirty. Any disadvantages Wilson suffered from being shaken up in

the lariat were counterbalanced by Y.D.'s branding. His face was burning painfully, and his vision was not

the best. But he had not followed the herds since childhood without learning to use his fists. He steadied

himself on his knee to bring his mind into tune with this unusual warfare. Then he rushed upon Wilson.

He received another straight knockout on the chin. It jarred the joints of his neck and left him dazed. It was

half a minute before he could steady himself. He realized now that he had a fight on his hands. He was too

cool a head to get into a panic, but he found he must take his time and do some brain work. Another chin

He advanced carefully. Wilson stood awaiting him, a picture of poise and selfconfidence. Y.D. led a quick

left to Wilson's ribs, but failed to land. Wilson parried skilfully and immediately answered with a left swing

to the chin. But Y.D. was learning, and this time he was on guard. He dodged the blow, broke in and seized

Wilson about the body. The two men stood for a moment like bulls with locked horns. Y.D. brought his

weight to bear on his antagonist to force him to the ground, but in some way the Englishman got elbow room

and began raining short jabs on his face, already raw from the brandingiron. Y.D. jerked back from this

Y.D. gathered himself up very slowly. The world was swimming around in circles. On a post sat a girl,

covering him with a revolver and laughing at him. Somewhere on the horizon Wilson's figure whipped

forward and back. Then his horse came into the circle. Y.D. rose to his feet, strode with quick, uncertain steps

to his horse, threw himself into the saddle and without a word started up the trail to The Forks.

"Seems to have gone with as little ceremony as he came," Wilson remarked to his daughter. "Now, let us get

Y.D. rode the trail to The Forks in bitterness of spirit. He had sallied forth that morning strong and daring to

administer summary punishment; he was retracing his steps thrashed, humiliated, branded for life by a red

iron thrust in his face by a slip of a girl. He exhausted his by no means limited vocabulary of epithets, but

even his torrents of abuse brought no solace to him. The hot sun beat down on his wounded face and hurt

terribly, but he almost forgot that pain in the agony of his humiliation. He had been thrashed by an old man,

with a wisp of a girl sitting on a post and acting as referee. He turned in his saddle and through the empty

Then Y.D. slowly began to feel his face burn with a fire not of the brandingiron nor of the afternoon sun. He

knew that his word was a lie. He knew that he would not have dared use it in her father's hearing. He knew

that he was a coward. No man had ever called Y.D. a coward; no man had ever known him for a coward; he

had never known himself as suchuntil today. With all his roughness Y.D. had a sense of honor as keen as

any razor blade. If he allowed himself wide latitude in some matters it was because he had lived his life in an

atmosphere where the wide latitude was the thing. The prairie had been his bed, the sky his roof, himself his

own policeman, judge, and executioner since boyhood. When responsibility is so centralized wide latitudes

must be allowed. But the uttermost borders of that latitude were fixed with iron rigidity, and when he had

thrown a vile epithet at a decent woman he knew he had broken the law of honor. He was a cura cur who

Y.D. did hard thinking all the way to The Forks. Again and again the figure of the girl flashed before him; he

would close his eyes and jerk his head back to avoid the burning iron. Then he saw her on the post, sitting,

with apparent impartiality, on guard over the fight. Yes, she had been impartial, in a way. Y.D. was willing to

admit that much, although he surmised that she knew more about her father's prowess with his fists than he

"Well, she's good backing for her old man, anyway," he admitted, with returning generosity. He had reached

his cabin, and was dressing his face with salve and soda. "She sure played the game into the old man's hand."

Y.D. could not sleep that night. He was busy sorting up his ideas of life and revising them in the light of the

day's experience. The more he thought of his behavior the less defensible it appeared. By midnight he was

Presently he began to feel lonely. It was a strange sensation to Y.D., whose life had been loneliness from the

first, so that he had never known it. Of course, there was the hunger for companionship; he had often known

that. A drinking bout, a night at cards, a whirl into excess, and that would pass away. But this loneliness was

different. The moan of the wind in the spruce trees communicated itself to him with an eerie oppressiveness.

He sat up and lit a lamp. The light fell on the bare logs of his hut; he had never known before how bare they

were. He got up and shuffled about; took a lid off the stove and put it back on again; moved aimlessly about

"Y.D.," he said with a laugh, "I believe you've got nerves. You're behavin' like a woman."

But he could not laugh it off. The mention of a woman brought Wilson's daughter back vividly before him.

He sat up with a shock at his own words. Then he rested his chin on his hands and gazed long at the blank

wall before him. That was lifehis life. That blank wall was his life. . . . If only it had a window in it; a

bright space through which the vision could catch a glimpse of something broader and better. . . . Well, he

The next noon Frank Wilson looked up with surprise to see Y.D. riding into his yard. Wilson stiffened

instantly, as though setting himself against the shock of an attack, but there was nothing belligerent in Y.D.'s

"Wilson," he said, "I pulled a dirty trick on you yesterday, an' I got more than I reckoned on. The old Y.D.

would have come back with a gun for vengeance. Well, I ain't after vengeance. I reckon you an' me has got to

live in this valley, an' we might as well live peaceful. Does that go with you?"

"Full weight and no shrinkage," said Wilson, heartily, extending his hand. "Come up to the house for dinner."

Y.D. was nothing loth to accept the invitation, even though he had his misgivings as to how he should meet

the women folks. It turned out that Mrs. Wilson had been at a neighboring ranch for some days, and the girl

was in charge of the home. The flash in her eyes did not conceal a glint of triumphor was it humor?

"Jessie," her father said, with conspicuous matteroffactness, "Y.D. has just dropped in for dinner."

Y.D. stood with his hat in his hand. This was harder than meeting Wilson. He felt that he could manage better

"Miss Wilson," he managed to say at length, "I just thought I'd run in an' thank you for what you did

"You're very welcome," she answered, and he could not tell whether the note in her voice was of fun or

"That's what I wanted to talk about," he broke in. There was something bewitching about the girl. She more

than realized his fantastic visions of the night. She had mastered him. Perhaps it was a subtle masculine

"That's just what I want to talk about. You started breakin' in an outlaw yesterday, so to speak. How'd you

Y.D. was very red when this speech was finished. He had not known that a wisp of a girl could so discomfit a

"Is that a proposal?" she asked, and this time he was sure the note in her voice was one of banter. "I never had

"Well we won't, either," she flared back. "Just because I sat on a post and superintended thethe

ceremonies, is no reason that you should want to marry me,or I, you. You'll find water and a basin on the

But the next spring he built a larger cabin down the valley from The Forks, and to that cabin one day in June

Transley and Linder were so early about on the morning after their conversation with Y.D. that there was no

opportunity of another meeting with the rancher's wife or daughter. They were slipping quietly out of the

"Breakfast is waitin', boys," he said, and led them back into the room where they had had supper the previous

In the yard all was jingling excitement. The men of the Y.D. were fraternally assisting Transley's gang in

hitching up and getting away, and there was much bustling activity to an accompaniment of friendly

profanity. It was not yet six o'clock, but the sun was well up over the eastern ridges that fringed the valley,

and to the west the snowcapped summits of the mountains shone like polished ivory. The exhilaration in the

Linder quickly converted the apparent chaos of horses, wagons and implements into order; Transley had a

last word with Y.D., and the rancher, shouting "Good luck, boys! Make it a thousand tons or more," waved

Linder glanced back at the house. The bright sunshine had not awakened it; it lay dreaming in its grove of

The trail lay, not up the valley, but across the wedge of foothills which divided the South Y.D. from the

parent stream. The assent was therefore much more rapid than the trails which followed the general course of

the stream. Huge hills, shouldering together, left at times only wagontrack room between; at other places

they skirted dangerous cutbanks worn by spring freshets, and again trekked for long distances over gently

curving uplands. In an hour the horses were showing the strain of it, and Linder halted them for a momentary

It was at that moment that Drazk rode up, his face a study in obvious annoyance.

"Danged if I ain't left that Petehorse's blanket down at the Y.D.," he exclaimed.

"Oh, well, you can easily ride back for it and catch up on us this afternoon," said Linder, who was not in the

"Thanks, Lin," said Drazk. "I'll beat it down an' catch up on you this afternoon, sure," and he was off down

At the Y.D. George conducted the search for his horse blanket in the strangest places. It took him mainly

about the yard of the house, and even to the kitchen door, where he interviewed the Chinese boy.

"You catchee horse blanket around here?" he inquired, with appropriate gesticulations.

"No!" said the Chinaman, whose manner instantly changed. In this brief conversation he had classified

Drazk, and classified him correctly. "You catchee him, thoughsome hell, tooyou stickee lound here.

Drazk wandered slowly around the side of the house, and was not above a surreptitious glance through the

windows. They revealed nothing. He followed a path out by a little gate. His ruse had proven a blind trail,

and there was nothing to do but go down to the stables, take the horse blanket from the peg where he had

As he turned a corner of the fence the sight of a young woman burst upon him. She was hatless and facing the

sun. Drazk, for all his admiration of the sex, had little eye for detail. "A sort of chestnut, about sixteen hands

high, and with the look of a thoroughbred," he afterwards described her to Linder.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps, and Drazk instantly summoned a smirk which set his homely face

"Pardon me, ma'am," he said, with an elaborate bow. "I am Mr. DrazkMr. George DrazkMr. Transley's

She was inside the enclosure formed by the fence, and he outside. She turned on him eyes which set Drazk's

pulses strangely atingle, and subjected him to a deliberate but not unfriendly inspection.

"No, I don't believe he did," she said at length. Drazk cautiously approached, as though wondering how near

he could come without frightening her away. He reached the fence and leaned his elbows on it. She showed

no disposition to move. He cautiously raised one foot and rested it on the lower rail.

The question gave George an opening. "Well, you see," he said, "it's all on account of that Petehorse. That's

him down there. I rode away this morning and plumb forgot his blanket. So when Mr. Transley seen it he

says, 'Drazk, take the day off an' go back for your blanket,' he says. 'There's no hurry,' he says. 'Linder an'

"So here I am." He glanced at her again. She was showing no disposition to run away. She was about two

yards from him, along the fence. Drazk wondered how long it would take him to bridge that distance. Even as

he looked she leaned her elbows on the fence and rested one of her feet on the lower rail. Drazk fancied he

saw the muscles about her mouth pulling her face into little, laughing curves, but she was gazing soberly into

"He's some horse, that Petehorse," he said, taking up the subject which lay most ready to his tongue. "He's

"Yep," Drazk continued. "Him an' me has seen some times. Whew! Things I couldn't tell you about, at all."

Drazk glanced at her curiously. This girl showed signs of leading him out of his depth. But it was a very

delightful sensation to feel one's self being led out of his depth by such a girl. Her face was motionless; her

eyes fixed dreamily upon the brown prairies that swept up the flanks of the foothills to the south. Far and

away on their curving crests the dark snakeline of Transley's outfit could be seen apparently motionless on

Drazk changed his foot on the rail and the motion brought him six inches nearer her.

"Well, f'r instance," he said, spurring his imagination into action, "there was the fellow I run down an' shot in

"Shot!" she exclaimed, and the note of admiration in her voice stirred him to further flights.

"Yep," he continued, proudly. "Shot an' buried him there, right by the road where he fell. Only me an' that

George sighed sentimentally. "It's awful sad, havin' to kill a man," he went on, "an' it makes you feel strange

an' creepy, 'specially at nights. That is, the first one affects you that way, but you soon get used to it. You see,

"Oh yes, lots of them. A man like me, what knocks around all over with all sorts of people, has to do it.

"Then there's the police. After you kill a few men nat'rally the police begins to worry you. I always hate to

"It is, but it's a hard one," he said, after a pause during which he had changed feet again and taken up another

six inches of the distance which separated them. He was almost afraid to continue the conversation. He was

finding progress so much easier than he had expected. It was evident that he had made a tremendous hit with

Y.D.'s daughter. What a story to tell Linder! What would Transley say? He was shaking with excitement.

"It's an awful hard life," he went on, "an' there comes a time, Miss, when a man wants to quit it. There comes

a time when every decent man wants to settle down. I been thinkin' about that a lot lately. . . . What do YOU

think about it?" Drazk had gone white. He felt that he actually had proposed to her.

"Might be a good idea," she replied, demurely. He changed feet again. He had gone too far to stop. He must

strike the iron when it was hot. Of course he had no desire to stop, but it was all so wonderful. He could

"It wouldn't be fair to accept you like this, Mr. Drazk. You don't know anything about me."

"But it wouldn't be fair until you know," she continued. "There are things I'd have to tell you, and I don't like

She was looking downwards now, and he fancied he could see the color rising about her cheeks and her

frame trembling. He turned toward her and extended his arms. "Tell metell your own George," he cooed.

She seemed to be weighing the matter. "If I tell you, you will never, never mention it to anyone?"

"Well," she said, looking down bashfully and making little marks with her fingernail in the pole on which

they were leaning, "I never told anyone before, and nobody in the world knows it except he and I, and he

"Of course you did, dear," he murmured. It was wonderful to receive a woman's confidence like this.

"Yes, I had to kill him," she repeated. "You see, hehe proposed to me without being introduced!"

It was some seconds before Drazk felt the blow. It came to him gradually, like returning consciousness to a

"Oh, George dear, how could I?" she protested. "Now perhaps you better run along to that Petehorse. He

"All right," he said, striding away angrily. As he walked his rage deepened, and he turned and shook his fist

at her, shouting, "All right, but I'll get you yet, see? You think you're smart, and Transley thinks he's smart,

She waved her hand complacently, but her composure had already maddened him. He jerked his horse up

roughly, threw himself into the saddle, and set out at a hard gallop along the trail to the South Y.D.

It was midafternoon when he overtook Transley's outfit, now winding down the southern slope of the

tongue of foothills which divided the two valleys of the Y.D. Pete, wet over the flanks, pulled up of his own

"'Lo, George," said Linder. "What's your hurry?" Then, glancing at his saddle, "Where's your blanket?"

"Well, Lin, I clean forgot all about it," he admitted, with a laugh, "but when a fellow spends the morning

"Reckon you don't believe it, eh, Lin? Reckon you don't believe I stood an' talked with her over the fence for

George was thinking fast. Here was an opportunity to present the incident in a light which had not before

"Guess you wouldn't believe she told me her secrettold me somethin' she had never told anybody else, an'

"You guess right again." Linder was quite unperturbed. He knew something of Drazk's gift for romancing.

Drazk leaned over in the saddle until he could reach Linder's ear with a loud whisper. "And she called me

"The hell she did!" said Linder, at last prodded into interest. He considered the "George dear" idea a daring

flight, even for Drazk. "Better not let old Y.D. hear you spinning anything like that, George, or he'll be likely

"Oh, Y.D.'s all right," said George, knowingly. "Y.D.'s all right. Well, I guess I'll let Pete feed a bit here, and

then we'll go back for his blanket. You'll have to excuse me a bit these days, Lin; you know how it is when a

George dropped behind, and an amused smile played on the foreman's face. He had known Drazk too long to

be much surprised at anything he might do. It was Drazk's idea of gallantry to make love to every girl on

sight. Possibly Drazk had managed to exchange a word with Zen, and his imagination would readily expand

that into a love scene. Zen! Even the placid, balanced Linder felt a slight leap in the blood at the unusual

name, which to him suggested the bright girl who had come into his life the night before. Not exactly into his

life; it would be fairer to say she had touched the rim of his life. Perhaps she would never penetrate it further;

Linder rather expected that would be the case. As for Drazkshe was in no danger from him. Drazk's

methods were so precipitous that they could be counted upon to defeat themselves.

Below stretched the valley of the South Y.D., almost a duplicate of its northern neighbor. The stream hugged

the feet of the hills on the north side of the valley; its ribbon of green and gold was like a fringe gathered

about the hem of their skirts. Beyond the stream lay the level plains of the valley, and miles to the south rose

the next ridge of foothills. It was from these interlying plains that Y.D. expected his thousand tons of hay.

There is no sleugh hay in the foothill country; the hay is cut on the uplands, a short, fine grass of great

nutritive value. This grass, if uncut, cures in its natural state, and affords sustenance to the herds which graze

over it all winter long. But it occasionally happens that after a snow fall the Chinook wind will partially

melt the snow, and then a sudden drop in the temperature leaves the prairies and foothills covered with a thin

coating of ice. It is this ice covering, rather than heavy snowfall or severe weather, which is the principal

menace to winter grazing, and the foresighted rancher aims to protect himself and his stock from such a

Here, then, was the valley in which Y.D. hoped to supplement the crop of his own hay lands. Linder's

appreciative eye took in the scene: a scene of stupendous sizes and magnificent distances. As he slowly

turned his vision down the valley a speck in the distance caught his sight and brought him to his feet. Shading

his eyes from the bright afternoon sun he surveyed it long and carefully. There was no doubt about it: a

Leaving his team to manage themselves Linder dropped from his wagon and joined Transley. "Some one has

"So I observed," said Transley. "Well, it's a big valley, and if they're satisfied to stay where they are there

"You heard what Y.D. said. He said, 'Cut it, spite o' hell an' high water,' and I always obey orders."

They wound down the hillside until they came to the stream, the horses quickening their pace with the smell

of water in their eager nostrils. It was a good ford, broad and shallow, with the typical boulder bottom of the

mountain stream. The horses crowded into it, drinking greedily with a sort of droning noise caused by the bits

in their mouths. When they had satisfied their thirst they raised their heads, stretched their noses far out and

After a pause in the stream they drew out on the farther bank, where were open spaces among cottonwood

trees, and Transley indicated that this would be their camping ground. Already smoke was issuing from the

chuck wagon, and in a few minutes the men's sleeping tent and the two stable tents were flashing back the

afternoon sun. They carried no eating tent; instead of that an eating wagon was backed up against the chuck

wagon, and the men were served in it. They had not paused for a midday meal; the cook had provided

sandwiches of bread and roast beef to dull the edge of their appetite, and now all were keen to fall to as soon

as the welcome clanging of the plowcolter which hung from the end of the chuck wagon should give the

Presently this clanging filled the evening air with sweet music, and the men filed with long, slouchy tread

into the eating wagon. The table ran down the centre, with bench seats at either side. The cook, properly

gauging the men's appetites, had not taken time to prepare meat and potatoes, but on the table were ample

basins of graniteware filled with beans and bread and stewed prunes and canned tomatoes, pitchers of syrup

and condensed milk, tins with marmalade and jam, and plates with butter sadly suffering from the summer

heat. The cook filled their granite cups with hot tea from a granite pitcher, and when the cups were empty

filled them again and again. And when the tables were partly cleared he brought out deep pies filled with

raisins and with evaporated apples and a thick cake from which the men cut hunks as generous as their

appetite suggested. Transley had learned, what women are said to have learned long ago, that the way to a

man's heart is through his stomach, and the cook had carte blanche. Not a man who ate at Transley's table but

The meal was nearing its end when through a window Linder's eye caught sight of a man on horseback

rapidly approaching. "Visitors, Transley," he was able to say before the rider pulled up at the open door of the

He was such a rider as may still be seen in those last depths of the ranching country where wheels have not

entirely crowded Romance off of horseback. Spare and wellknit, his figure had a suggestion of slightness

which the scales would have belied. His face, keen and cleanshaven, was brown as the August hills, and

above it his broad hat sat in the careless dignity affected by the gentlemen of the plains. His leather coat

"Good evening, men," he said, courteously. "Don't let me disturb your meal. Afterwards perhaps I can have a

"No, don't get up," the stranger protested, but Transley insisted that he had finished, and, getting down from

"My name is Grant," said the stranger; "Dennison Grant. I am employed by Mr. Landson, who has a ranch

"And I am perhaps further correct," continued Grant, "in surmising that you are here on behalf of the Y.D.,

"Your grasp of the situation does you credit." Transley's manner was that of a man prepared to meet trouble

"And I may further surmise," continued Grant, quite unruffled, "that Y.D. neglected to give you one or two

points of information bearing upon the ownership of this land, which would doubtless have been of interest to

"Suppose you dismount," said Transley. "I like to look a man in the face when I talk business to him."

"That's fair," returned Grant, swinging lightly from his horse. "I have a preference that way myself." He

advanced to within arm's length of Transley and for a few moments the two men stood measuring each other.

"We may as well get to business, Grant," said Transley at length. "I also can do some surmising. I surmise

that you were sent here by Landson to forbid me to cut hay in this valley. On what authority he acts I neither

know nor care. I take my orders from Y.D. Y.D. said cut the hay. I am going to cut it."

"The Mounted Police?" There was contempt in his voice, but the contempt was not for the Force. It was for

"No, I don't think it will be necessary to call in the police," returned Grant, dropping back to his pleasant,

casual manner. "You know Y.D., and doubtless you feel quite safe under his wing. But you don't know

Landson. Neither do you know the facts of the case the right and wrong of it. Under these handicaps you

"Further argument is simply waste of time," Transley interrupted. "I have told you my instructions, and I have

"Yes, thanks. All right, we won't argue any more. I'm not arguing nowI'm telling you, Y.D. has cut hay in

this valley so long he thinks he owns it, and the other ranchers began to think he owned it. But Landson has

been making a few inquiries. He finds that these are not Crown lands, but are privately owned by speculators

in New York. He has contracted with the owners for the hay rights of these lands for five years, beginning

with the present season. He is already cutting farther down the valley, and will be cutting here within a day or

"The trout ought to bite on a fine evening like this," said Transley. "I have an extra rod and some flies. Will

"I would be glad to, but I must get back to camp. I hope you land a good string," and so saying Grant

remounted, nodded to Transley and again to the men now scattered about the camp, and started his horse on

"Well, what is it to be?" said Linder, coming up with the rest of the boys. "War?"

"War if they fight," Transley replied, unconcernedly. "Y.D. said cut the hay; 'spite o' hell an' high water,' he

Slowly the great orb of the sun sank until the crest of the mountains pierced its molten glory and sent it

burnishing their rugged heights. In the east the plains were already wrapped in shadow. Up the valley crept

the veil of night, hushing even the limitless quiet of the day. The stream babbled louder in the lowering

gloom; the stamp and champing of horses grew less insistent; the cloudlets overhead faded from crimson to

"How about a ride over to the South Fork this afternoon, Zen?" said Y.D. to his daughter the following

morning. "I just want to make sure them boys is hittin' the high spots. The grass is gettin' powerful dry an'

"You're on," the girl replied across the breakfast table. Her mother looked up sharply. She wondered if the

prospect of another meeting with Transley had anything to do with Zen's alacrity.

"I had hoped you would outgrow your slang, Zen," she remonstrated gently. "Men like Mr. Transley are

"I should worry. Slang is to language what feathers are to a hat they give it distinction, class. They lift it

"Still, I would not care to be dressed entirely in feathers," her mother thrust quietly.

"Good for you, Mother!" the girl exclaimed, throwing an arm about her neck and planking a firm kiss on her

forehead. "That was a solar plexus. Now I'll try to be good and wear a feather only here and there. But Mr.

"Of course not," said Y.D. "Still, Transley is a man with snap in him. That's why he's boss. So many of these

ornery goodfor nothin's is always wishin' they was boss, but they ain't willin' to pay the price. It costs

"Better take a democrat, I guess," her father said. "We can throw in a tent and some bedding for you, as we'll

"The blue sky is tent enough for me," Zen protested, "and I can surely rustle a blanket or two around the

"You can run him beside the democrat," said her father. "You're gettin' too big to go campin' promisc'us like

"That's the penalty for growing up," Zen sighed. "All right, Dad. Say two o'clock?"

The girl spent the morning helping her mother about the house, and casting over in her mind the probable

developments of the near future. She would not have confessed outwardly to even a casual interest in

Transley, but inwardly she admitted that the promise of another meeting with him gave zest to the prospect.

Transley was interesting. At least he was out of the commonplace. His bold directness had rather fascinated

her. He had a will. Her father had always admired men with a will, and Zen shared his admiration. Then there

was Linder. The fierce light of Transley's charms did not blind her to the glow of quiet capability which she

saw in Linder. If one were looking for a husband, Linder had much to recommend him. He was probably less

capable than Transley, but he would be easier to manage. . . . But who was looking for a husband? Not Zen.

Then there was George Drazk, whose devotions fluctuated between "that Petehorse" and the latest female to

cross his orbit. At the thought of George Drazk Zen laughed outright. She had played with him. She had

made a monkey of him, and he deserved all he had got. It was not the first occasion upon which Zen had let

herself drift with the tide, always sure of justifying herself and discomfiting someone by the swift, strong

strokes with which, at the right moment, she reached the shore. Zen liked to think of herself as careering

through life in the same way as she rode the halfbroken horses of her father's range. How many such a horse

had thought that the lithe body on his back was something to race with, toy with, and, when tired of that, fling

precipitately to earth! And not one of those horses but had found that while he might race and toy with his

rider within limitations, at the last that light body was master, and not he. . . . Yet Zen loved best the horse

That was her philosophy of life so far as a girl of twenty may have a philosophy of life. It was to go on and

see what would happen, supported always by a quiet confidence that in any pinch she could take care of

herself. She had learned to ride and shoot, to sleep out and cook in the open, to ride the ranges after dark by

instinct and the starsshe had learned these things while other girls of her age learned the rudiments of

Her father and mother knew her disposition, loved it, and feared for it. They knew that there was never a rider

so brave, so skilful, so strong, but some outlaw would throw him at last. So at fourteen they sent her east to a

boardingschool. In two months she was back with a letter of expulsion, and the boast of having blacked the

"They couldn't teach me any more, Mother," she said. "They admitted it. So here I am."

Y.D. was plainly perplexed. "It's about time you was halter broke," he commented, "but who's goin' to do

"If a girl has learned to read and think, what more can the schools do for her?" she demanded.

The sun was capping the Rockies with molten gold when the rancher and his daughter swung down the

foothill slopes to the camp on the South Y.D. Strings of men and horses returning from the upland meadows

"They're hittin' the high spots," he said, approvingly. "That boy Transley is a humdinger."

The girl looked up with a quick flush of surprise. Y.D. was no puzzle to her, and if he went out of his way to

"Well, I do like to see a man who's got the goods in him. I like a man that can get there, just as I like a horse

that can get there. I've often wondered, Zen, what kind you'd take up with, when it came to that, an' hoped

he'd be a live crittur. After I'm dead an' buried I don't want no other dead one spendin' my simoleons."

Zen laughed. "I don't figure you're exactly serious, Dad, in your talk about Transley. You're just feeling out.

"Linder's all right," Y.D. replied. "Better than the average, I admit. But he's not the man Transley is. If he

was, he wouldn't be workin' for Transley. You can't keep a man down, Zen, if he's got the goods in him.

Linder comes up over the average, so's you can notice it, but not like Transley does."

Zen did not pursue the subject. She understood her father's philosophy very well indeed, and, to a large

degree, she accepted it as her own. It was natural that a man of Y.D.'s experience, who had begun life with no

favors and had asked none since, and had made of himself a big successit was natural that such a man

should judge all others by their material achievements. The only quality Y.D. took off his hat to was the

ability to do things. And Y.D.'s idea of things was very concrete; it had to do with steers and land, with hay

and money and men. It was by such things he measured success. And Zen was disposed to agree with him.

"Glad to see you, Y.D.; honored to have a visit from you, Ma'am," he said, as he helped them from the

democrat, and gave instructions for the care of their horses. "Supper is waiting, and the men won't be ready

Y.D. shook hands with Transley cordially. "Zen an' me just thought we'd run over and see how the wind

blew," he said. "You got a good spot here for a camp, Transley. But we won't go in to supper just now. Let

the men eat first; I always say the work horses should be first at the barn. Well, how's she goin'?"

"Fine," said Transley, "fine," but it was evident his mind was divided. He was glancing at Zen, who stood by

"I must try and make your daughter at home," he continued. "I allow myself the luxury of a private tent, and

"But I have my own tent with me, in the democrat," said Zen. "If you will let the men pitch it under the trees

"Who'd have thought it, from the daughter of the practical Y.D!" Transley bantered. "All right, Ma'am, but in

the meantime take my tent. I'll get water, and there's a basin." He already was leading the way. "Make

yourself at homeZen. May I call you Zen?" he added, in a lower voice, as they left Y.D. at a distance.

They were standing at the door of the tent, he holding back the flap that she might enter. The valley was

already in shadow, and there was no sunlight to play on her hair, but her face and figure in the mellow dusk

seemed entirely winsome and adorable. There was no taint of Y.D.'s millions in the admiration that Transley

bent upon her. . . . Of course, as an adjunct, the millions were not to be despised.

When the men had finished supper Transley summoned her. On the way to the chuckwagon she passed

close to George Drazk. It was evident that he had chosen a station with that result in view. She had passed by

She bit her lip over his familiarity, but she had no comeback. She had given him the opening, by calling him

"You see, I got quite well acquainted with Mr. Drazk when he came back to hunt for a horse blanket which

They ascended the steps which led from the ground into the wagon. The table had been reset for four, and as

the shadows were now heavy in the valley, candles had been lighted. Y.D. and his daughter sat on one side,

Transley on the other. In a moment Linder entered. He had already had a talk with Y.D., but had not met Zen

"Glad to see you again, Mr. Linder," said the girl, rising and extending her hand across the table. "You see we

Linder took her hand in a frank grasp, but could think of nothing in particular to say. "We're glad to have

Zen was rather sorry that Linder had not made more of the situation. She wondered what quick repartee, shot,

no doubt, with double meaning, Transley would have returned. It was evident that, as her father had said,

Linder was second best. And yet there was something about his shyness that appealed to her even more than

The meal was spent in small talk about horses and steers and the merits of the different makes of mowing

machines. When it was finished Transley apologized for not offering his guests any liquor. "I never keep it

"Quite right," Y.D. agreed, "quite right. Booze is like fire; a valuable thing in careful hands, but mighty

dangerous when everybody gets playin' with it. I reckon the grass is gettin' pretty dry, Transley?"

"I'm sure you are, but you can't take precautions for other people. Has anybody been puttin' you up to any

"Well, no, I can't exactly say trouble," said Transley, "but we've got notice it's coming. A chap named Grant,

foreman, I think, for Landson, down the valley, rode over last night, and invited us not to cut any hay

hereabouts. He was very courteous, and all that, but he had the manner of a man who'd go quite a distance in

"He did not. He cantered off back, courteous as he came. And this morning we went out on the job, and have

"I guess he found you were not to be bluffed," said Zen, and Transley could not prevent a flush of pleasure at

"Of course not. I reckon them'll be his stacks we saw down the valley. Well, I'm not wantin' to rob him of the

fruit of his labor, an' if he keeps calm perhaps we'll let him have what he has cut, but if he don't" Y.D.'s

face hardened with the set of a man accustomed to fight, and win, his own battles. "I think we'll just stick

"Well, five o'clock comes early," said Transley, "and you folks must be tired with your long drive. We've had

your tent pitched down by the water, Zen, so that its murmurs may sing you to sleep. You see, I have some of

the poetic in me, too. Mr. Linder will show you down, and I will see that your father is made comfortable.

The camp now lay in complete darkness, save where a lantern threw its light from a tent by the river. Zen

"Of course you should. Mr. Transley would not have waited to be told. Dad thinks that anything that's worth

having in this world is worth going after, and going after hard. I guess I'm Dad's daughter in more ways than

"I suppose he's right," Linder confessed, "but I've always been shy. I get along all right with men."

"The truth is, Mr Linder, you're not shyyou're frightened. Now I can well believe that no man could

frighten you. Consequently you get along all right with men. Do I need to tell you the rest?"

"I never thought of myself as being afraid of women," he replied. "It has always seemed that they were, well,

They had reached the tent but the girl made no sign of going in. In the silence the sibilant lisp of the stream

"Mr. Linder," she said at length, "do you know why Mr. Transley sent you down here with me?"

"That was the least of his purposes. He wanted to show you that he wasn't afraid of you; and he wanted to

show me that he wasn't afraid of you. Mr. Transley is a very selfconfident individual. There is such a thing

as being too selfconfident, Mr. Linder, just as there is such a thing as being too shy. Do you get me? Good

Linder walked slowly down to the water's edge, and stood there, thinking, until her light went out. His brain

was in a whirl with a sensation entirely strange to it. A light wind, laden with snow smell from the

mountains, pressed gently against his features, and presently Linder took deeper breaths than he had ever

When Zen awoke next morning the mowing machines of Transley's outfit were already singing their

symphony in the meadows; she could hear the metallic rhythm as it came borne on the early breeze. She lay

awake on her camp cot for a few minutes, stretching her fingers to the canvas ceiling and feeling that it was

good to be alive. And it was. The ripple of water came from almost underneath the walls of her tent; the smell

of spruce trees and balmo'Gilead and newmown hay was in the air. She could feel the warmth of the

sunshine already pouring upon her white roof; she could trace the gentle sway of the trees by the leafy

patterns gliding forward and back. A cheeky gopher, exploring about the door of her tent, ventured in, and,

sitting bolt upright, sent his shrill whistle boldly forth. She watched his fine bravery for a minute, then

"Therein we have the figures of both Transley and Linder," she mused to herself. "Upright, Transley;

horizontal, Linder. I doubt if the poor fellow slept last night after the fright I gave him." Slowly and calmly

she turned the incident over in her mind. She wondered a little if she had been quite fair with Linder. Her

words and conduct were capable of very broad interpretations. She was not at all in love with Linder; of that

Zen was very sure. She was equally sure that she was not at all in love with Transley. She admitted that she

admired Transley for his calm assumptions, but they nettled her a little nevertheless. If this should develop

into a love affairIF it shouldshe had no intention that it was to be a pleasant afternoon's canter. It was to

be a racea race, mind youand may the best man win! She had a feeling, amounting almost to a

conviction, that Transley underrated his foreman's possibilities in such a contest. She had seen many a dark

Then Zen smiled her own quiet, selfconfident smile, the smile which had come down to her from Y.D. and

from the Wilsonsthe only family that had ever mastered him. The idea of either Transley or Linder

thinking he could gallop home with HER! For the moment she forgot to do Linder the justice of remembering

that nothing was further from his thoughts. She would show them. She would make a race of itALMOST

to the wire. In the home stretch she would make the leap, out and over the fence. She was in it for the race,

Zen contemplated for some minutes the possibilities of that race; then, as the imagination threatened to

become involved, she sprang from her cot and thrust a cautious head through the door of her tent. The gang

had long since gone to the fields, and friendly bushes sheltered her from view from the cookcar. She drew

on her boots, shook out her hair, threw a towel across her shoulders, and, soap in hand, walked boldly the few

steps to the stream rippling over its shiny gravel bed. She stopped and tested the water with her fingers; then

"Mornin', Zen!" said a familiar voice. "'Scuse me for happenin' to be here. I was jus' waterin' that Petehorse

"Now look here, Mr. Drazk!" said the girl, whipping her scanty clothing about her, "if I had a gun that

Petehorse would be scheduled for his fastest travel in the next twenty seconds, and he'd end it without a

"Aw, don' be cross," Drazk protested. He was sitting on his horse in the ford a dozen yards away. "I jus'

happened along. I guess the outside belongs to all of us. Say, Zen, if I was to get properly interduced, what's

"Gee, but ain't she innercent?" Drazk stepped his horse up a few feet to facilitate conversation. "I alus take an

interest in innercent gals away from home, so I kinda kep' my angel eye on you las' night. An' I see Linder

stalkin' aroun' here an' sighin' out over the water when he should 'ave been in bed. But, of course, he's been

"George Drazk, if you speak to me again I'll horsewhip you out of the camp at noon before all the men.

"Jus' as you say, Ma'am," he returned, with mock courtesy. "But I could tell a strange story if I would. But

you don't need to be scared. That's one thing I never doI never squeal on a friend."

She was burning with his insults, and if she had had a gun at hand she undoubtedly would have made good

her threat. But she had none. Drazk very deliberately turned his horse and rode away toward the meadows.

"Oh, won't I fix him!" she said, as she continued her toilet in a fury. She had not the faintest idea what

revenge she would take, but she promised herself that it would leave nothing to be desired. Then, because she

was young and healthy and an optimist, and did not know what it meant to be afraid, she dismissed the

Tompkins, the cook, had not needed Transley's suggestion to put his best foot forward when catering to Y.D.

and his daughter. Tompkins' soul yearned for a cooking berth that could be occupied the year round. Work in

the railway camps had always left him high and dry at the freezeupdry, particularly, and a few nights in

Calgary or Edmonton saw the end of his season's earnings. Then came a precarious existence for Tompkins

until the scrapers were back on the dump the following spring. A steady job, cooking on a ranch like the

Y.D.; if Tompkins had written the Apocalypse that would have been his picture of heaven. So he had left

nothing undone, even to despatching a courier over night to a railway station thirty miles away for fresh fruit

and other delicacies. Another of the gang had been impressed into a trip up the river to a squatter who was

"This way, Ma'am," Tompkins was waving as Zen emerged from the grove. "Another of our usual mornings.

Hope you slep' well, Ma'am." He stood deferentially aside while she ascended the three steps that led into the

Zen gave a little shriek of delight, and Tompkins felt that all his efforts had been well repaid. One end of the

tableit was with a sore heart Tompkins had realized that he could not cut down the big tableone end of

the table was set with a clean linen cloth and granite dishware scoured until it shone. Beside Zen's plate were

"Nothing's too good for Y.D.'s daughter," was the only explanation Tompkins would offer, but, as Zen

afterwards said, the smile on his face was as good as another breakfast. After the fruit came porridge, and

more cream; then fresh boiled eggs with toast; then fresh ripe strawberries with more cream.

"Well, Mr. Tompkins, you're a wonder, and when there's a new cook to be engaged for the Y.D. I shall think

"Indeed I wish you would, Ma'am," he said, earnestly. "This road work's all right, and nobody ever cooked

for a better boss than Mr. Transleysavin' it would be your father, Ma'ambut I'm a man of family, an' it's

"Well, it's seven years since I heard from themI haven't corresponded very reg'lar of late, but they WAS

The story of Tompkins' family was cut short by the arrival of a team and mowing machine.

"What's up, Fred?" called Tompkins through a window of his dining car to the driver. "Breakfust is just over,

For answer the man addressed as Fred slowly produced an iron stake about eighteen inches long and

"Well, it ain't buffalo grass, an' it ain't brome grass, an' I don't figger it's alfalfa," said Tompkins,

"No, and it ain't a grubstake," Fred replied, with some sarcasm. "It's a iron stake, growin' right in a nice little

clump of grass, and I run on to it and bust my cuttin'bar all tothat is, all to pieces," he completed rather

"Nope. Have to go to town for a new one. Two days' lost time, when every hour counts. Hello! Here comes

Another of the teamsters was drawing into camp. "Hello, Fred!" he said, upon coming up with his fellow

workman, "you in too? I had a bit of bad luck. I run smash on to an iron stake right there in the ground and

The two men exchanged a steady glance for half a minute. Then the newcomer gave vent to a long, low

"So that's the way of it," he said. "That's the kind of war Mr. Landson makes. Well, we can fight back with

By this time Y.D. and Transley, with four other teamsters, were observed coming in. Each driver had had the

same experience. An iron stake, carefully hidden in a clump of grass, had been driven down into the ground

until it was just high enough to intercept the cuttingbar. The fine, sharp knives were crumpled against it; in

"That's the lowest, mangyest, cowardliest trick I ever had pulled on me," he was saying. "I'm plumb equal to

ridin' down to Landson's an' drivin' one of them stakes through under his short ribs."

"But can you prove that Landson did it?" said Zen, who had an element of caution in her when her father was

concerned. She had a vision of a fight, with Landson pleading entire ignorance of the whole cause of offence,

"No, I can't prove that Landson did it, an' I can't prove that the grass my steers eat turns to hair on their

backs," he retorted, "but I reach my own conclusions. Is there any shootin' irons in the place?"

"Now, Dad, that's enough," said the girl, firmly. "There'll be no shooting between you and Landson. If there

is to be anything of that kind I'll ride down ahead and warn him of what's coming."

"Darter," said Y.D.it was only on momentous occasions that he addressed her as daughter"I brought you

over here as a guest, not as manager o' my affairs. I've taken care of those affairs for some considerable years,

an' I reckon I still have the qualifications. If you're agoin' to act up obstrep'rous I'll get Mr. Transley to lend

"At your service, Y.D.," said George Drazk, who was in the crowd which had gathered about the rancher, his

daughter, and Transley. "That Petehorse an' me would jus' see her over the hills a whoopin'."

"I don't think it would be wise to take any extreme measures, at least, not just yet," said Transley. "It's out of

the question to suppose that Landson has picketed the whole valley with those stakes. It is now quite clear

why we were left in peace yesterday. He wanted us to get started, and get a few swaths cut, so that he would

know where to drive the stakes to catch us the next morning. Some of these machines can be repaired at once,

and the others within a day or two. We will just move over a little and start on new fields. There's pretty good

moonlight these nights and we'll leave a few men out on guard, and perhaps we can catch the enemy at his

Y.D. was somewhat pacified by this suggestion. "You're a practical devil, Transley," he said, with

considerable admiration. "Now, in a case of this kind I jus' get plumb fightin' mad. I want to bore somebody.

I guess it's the only kind o' procedure that comes easy to my hand. I guess you're right, but I hate to let

anybody have the laugh on me." Y.D. looked down the valley, shading his eyes with his hand. "That

sonofagun has got a dozen or more stacks down there. I don't wish nobody any hard luck, but if some

"In that case I suppose you'd pray for a west wind, Dad," Zen suggested, "but the winds in these valleys, even

"Everybody to work on fixing up these machines," Transley ordered. "Linder, make a list of what repairs are

needed and Drazk will ride to town with it at once. Some of them may have to come out from the city by

express. Drazk can get the orders in and a team will follow to bring out the repairs."

In a moment Transley's men were busy with wrenches and hammers, replacing knives and appraising

damages. Even in his anger Y.D. took approving note of the promptness of Transley's decisions and the zest

"A heman, that fellow, Zen," he confided to his daughter, "If he'd blowed into this country thirty years ago,

"Beat it to town on that Petehorse of yours, George," he said. "Burn the grass on the road."

"I bet I'll be ten miles on the road back when I meet my shadow goin'," said Drazk, making a spectacular leap

into his saddle. "Bye, Y.D!; bye, Zen!" he shouted while he whirled his horse's head eastward and waved his

hand to where they stood. In spite of her annoyance at him she had to smile and return his salute.

"And irresponsible," the contractor returned. "I sometimes wonder why I keep him. In fact, I don't really keep

him; he just stays. Every spring he hunts me up and fastens on. Still, I get a lot of good service out of him.

Praise 'that Petehorse,' and George would ride his head off for you. He has a weakness for wanting to marry

"I know something of his weakness," Zen replied. "I have already been honored with a proposal."

Transley looked in her face. It was slightly flushed, whether with the summer sun or with her confession, but

"Zen," he said, in a low voice that Y.D. and the others might not hear, "how would you take a serious

proposal, made seriously by one who loves you, and who knows that you are, and always will be, a queen

"If you had been a cow puncher instead of a contractor," she told him, "I'm sure you would long ago have

Meanwhile Drazk pursued his way to town. The trail, after crossing the ford, turned abruptly to the right from

that which led across country to the North Y.D. For a mile or more it skirted the stream in a parklike drive

through groves of spruce and cottonwood. Sunshine and the babble of water everywhere filled the air.

Sunshine, too, filled George Drazk's heart. The importance of his mission was pleasantly heavy upon him. He

pictured the impression he would make in town, galloping in with his horse wet over the back, and rushing to

the implement agency with all the importance of a courier from Y.D. He would let two of the boys take Pete

to the stable, and then, seated on a mower seat in the shade, he would tell the story. It would lose nothing in

the telling. He would even add how Zen had thrown a kiss at him in parting. Perhaps he would have Zen kiss

him on the cheek before the whole camp. He turned that possibility over in his mind, weighing nicely the

credulity of his imaginary audience. . . . At any rate, whether he decided to put that in the story or not, it was

Presently the trail turned abruptly up a gully leading into the hills. A huge cutbank, jutting into the river,

barred the way in front, and its precipitous side, a hundred feet or more in height, kept continually crumbling

and falling into the stream. These cutbanks are a terror to inexperienced riders. The valleys are swallowed up

in the tawny sameness of the ranges; the vision catches only the higher levels, and one may gallop to the

verge of a precipice before becoming aware of its existence. It was to this that Zen had referred in speaking of

Drazk followed the gully up into the hills, letting his horse drop back to a walk in the hard going along the

dry bed of a stream which flowed only in the spring freshets. Pete had to pick his way over boulders and

across stretches of sand and boggy patches of black mud formed by little springs leaking out under clumps of

willows. Here and there the white ribs of a steer's skeleton peered through the brush; once or twice an

It was not a pleasant environment, but in an hour Drazk was out again on the brow of the brown hills, where

the sunshine flooded about and a fresh breeze beat up against his face. After all his winding about in the gully

"I reckon I could get a great view from that cutbank of what Landson is doin'," he suddenly remarked to

himself. He took off his hat and scratched his tousled head in reflection. "Linder said to beat it," he

ruminated, "but I can't get back tonight anyway, an' it might be worth while to do a little scoutin'. Here

He struck a smart gallop to the southward, and brought his horse up, spectacularly, a yard from the edge of

the precipice. The view which his position commanded was superb. Up the valley lay the white tents of

Transley's outfit, almost hidden in green foliage; the ford across the river was distinctly visible, and stretching

south from it lay, like a great curving snake, the trail which wound across the valley and lost itself in the

foothills far to the south; across the western horizon hung the purple curtain of the mountains, soft and vague

in their noonday mists, but touched with settings of ivory where the snow fields beat back the blazing

sunshine; far down the valley was the gleam of Landson's whitewashed buildings, and nearer at hand the

greenishbrown of the upland meadows which his haymakers had already cleared of their crop of prairie

wool. This was now arising in enormous stacks; it must have been three miles to where they lay, but Drazk's

keen eyes could distinguish ten completed stacks and two others in course of building. He could even see the

sweeps hauling the new hay, after only a few hours of sundrying, and sliding it up the inclined platforms

which dumped it into the form of stacks. The foothill rancher makes hay by horse power, and almost without

the aid of a pitchfork. Even as Drazk watched he saw a load skidded up; saw its apparent momentary poise

in air; saw the welltrained horses stop and turn and start back to the meadow with their sweep. And up the

Drazk employed his limited but expressive vocabulary. It was against all human nature to look on such a

scene unmoved. He recalled Y.D.'s halfspoken wish about a random cigar. Then suddenly George Drazk's

Of course, it was against all the rules of the rangeit was outlaw businessbut what about driving iron

stakes in a hay meadow? Drazk's philosophy was that the end justifies the means. And if the end would win

the approval of Y.D.and of Y.D.'s daughter then any means was justified. Had not Linder said, "Burn

the grass on the road?" Drazk knew well enough that Linder's remark was a figure of speech, but his eccentric

Drazk sniffed the air and looked at the sun. A soft breeze was moving slowly up the valley; the sun was just

past noon. There was every reason to expect that as the lowland prairies grew hot with the afternoon sunshine

a breeze would come down out of the mountains to occupy the area of great atmospheric expansion. Drazk

knew nothing about the theory of the thing; all that concerned him was the fact that by midafternoon the

Two miles down the valley he found a gully which gave access to the water's edge. He descended, located a

ford, and crossed. There were cattletrails through the cottonwoods; he might have followed them, but he

feared the telltale shoeprints. He elected the more difficult route down the stream itself. The South Y.D. ran

mostly on a wide gravel bottom; it was possible to pick out a course which kept Pete in water seldom higher

than his knees. An hour of this, and Drazk, peering through the trees, could see the nearest of Landson's

stacks not half a mile away. The Landson gang were working farther down the valley, and the stack itself

Drazk slipped from the saddle, and stole quietly into the open. The breeze was now coming down the valley.

Transley's men had repaired such machines as they could and returned to work. The clatter of mowing

machines filled the valley; the horses were speeded up to recover lost time. Transley and Y.D. rode about,

carefully scrutinizing the short grass for iron stakes, and keeping a general eye on operations.

The rancher turned and followed the line of Transley's vision. The nearest of Landson's stacks was ablaze,

and a great pillar of smoke was rolling skyward. Even as they watched, the base of the fire seemed to spread;

"Looks like your prayers were answered, Y.D.," said Transley. "I bet they haven't a plow nearer than the

Y.D. seemed fascinated by the sight. He could not take his eyes off it. He drew a cigar from his pocket and

thrust it far into his mouth, chewing it savagely and rolling it in his lips, but, according to the law of the

hayfield, refraining from lighting it. At first there was a gleam of vengeance in his eyes, but presently that

gave way to a sort of horror. Every honorable tradition of the range demanded that he enlist his force against

"Hell, Transley!" he ejaculated, "we can't sit and look at that! Order the men out! What have we got to fight

"Good boy, Y.D!" he said. "I did you an injusticeI mean, about your prayers being answered. We haven't

as much as a plow, either, but we can gallop down with some barrels in a wagon and put a sack brigade to

work. I'm afraid it won't save Landson's hay, but it will show where our hearts are."

Transley and Y.D. galloped off to round up the men, some of whom had already noticed the fire. Transley

despatched four men and two teams to take barrels, sacks, and horse blankets to the Landson meadows. The

Zen rode up just as they left, and already her fine horse seemed to realize the tension in the air. His keen,

"No, but I just asked the question that Landson will ask, so you better have your answer handy. I'm going to

"The ranch buildings are safe enough, I think," said Transley. "The grass there is close cropped, and there is

For a moment the three sat, watching the spread of the flames. By this time the whole lower valley was

blanketed in smoke. Clouds of blue and mauve and creamy yellow rolled from the meadows and stacks. The

fire was whipping the light breeze of the afternoon to a gale, and was already running wildly over the flanks

"Be careful, Zen!" her father shouted. "Fire is fire." But already her horse was stretching low and straight in a

"I'll ride in to camp and tell Tompkins to make up a double supply of sandwiches and coffee," said Transley.

"I guess there'll be no cooking in Landson's outfit this afternoon. After that we can both run down and lend a

As they rode to camp together Y.D. drew up close to the contractor. "Transley," he said, "how do you reckon

"A man isn't supposed to reckon in things of this kind. He should know, or keep his mouth shut. But I allow

"Why Drazk?" Y.D. demanded. "He has nothin' to gain, and this prank may put him in the cooler."

"Drazk would do anything to be spectacular," Transley explained. "He probably will boast openly about it.

"Now don't do him an injustice, Y.D. Drazk doesn't realize that he is no mate for Zen. He doesn't know of

any reason why Zen shouldn't look on him with favor; indeed, with pride. It's ridiculous, I know, but Drazk is

"Then I'll change his style of architecture the first time I run into him," said Y.D. savagely. "Zen is too young

"She will always be too young to think of such a thing, so far as Drazk or his type is concerned," Transley

"Transley, you work quick," said Y.D. "I admit I like a quick worker. But just now we have a fire on our

By this time they had reached the camp. Transley gave his instructions in a few words, and then turned to ride

down to Landson's. They had gone only a few hundred yards when Y.D. pulled his horse to a stop.

The contractor drew up and sniffed the air. When he turned to Y.D. his face was white.

It was true. Already low clouds of smoke were drifting overhead like a broken veil. The erratic foothill wind,

which a few minutes before had been coming down the valley, was now blowing back up again. Even while

they took in the situation they could feel the hot breath of the distant fire borne against their faces.

"Well, it's up to us," said Transley tersely. "We'll make a fight of it. Got any speed in that nag of yours?"

Without waiting for an answer he put spurs to his horse and set forward on a wild gallop into the smoke.

A mile down the line he found that Linder had already gathered his forces and laid out a plan of defence. The

valley, from the South Y.D. to the hills, was about four miles wide, and up the full breadth of it was now

coming the fire from Landson's fields. There was no natural fighting line; Linder had not so much as a

buffalo path to work against. But he was already starting backfires at intervals of fifty yards, allotting three

men to each fire. A backfire is a fire started for the purpose of stopping another. Usually a road, or a plowed

strip, or even a cattle path, is used for a base. On the windward side of this base the backfire is started and

allowed to eat its way back against the wind until it meets the main fire which is rushing forward with the

wind, and chokes it out for lack of fuel. A few men, stationed along a furrow or a trail, can keep the small

backfire from jumping it, although they would be powerless to check the momentum of the main fire.

This was Linder's position, except that he had no furrow to work against. All he could do was tell off men

with sacks and horse blankets soaked in the barrels of water to hold the backfire in check as best they could.

So far they were succeeding. As soon as the fire had burned a few feet the forward side of it was pounded out

with wet sacks. It didn't matter about the other side. It could be allowed to eat back as far as it liked; the

"Good boy, Lin!" Transley shouted, as he drew up and surveyed operations. "She played us a dirty trick,

Linder looked up, redeyed and coughing. "We can hold it here," he said, "but we can never cross the valley.

The fire will be on us before we have burned a mile. It will beat around our south flank and lick up

Transley jumped from his horse. He seized Linder in his arms and literally threw him into the saddle. "You're

played, boy!" he shouted in his foreman's ear. "Ride down to the river and get into the water, and stay there

Then Transley threw himself into the fight. As the men said afterwards, Linder fought like a wildcat, but

Transley fought like a den of lions. When the wagon galloped up from the river with barrels of water

Transley seized a barrel at the end and set it bodily on the ground. He sprang into the wagon, shouting

commands to horses and men. A hundred yards they galloped along the fighting front; then Transley sprang

out and set another barrel on the ground. In this way, instead of having the men all coming to the wagon to

wet their sacks, he distributed water along the line. Then they turned back, picked up the empty barrels, and

Soon they had the first mile secure. The backfires had all met; the forward line of flames had all been

pounded out; the rear line had burned back until there was no danger of it jumping the burned space. Then

Transley picked up his kit and rushed it on to a new front farther south. At intervals of a hundred yards he

started fires, holding them in check and beating out the western edge as before.

But his difficulties were increasing. He was farther from the river. It took longer to get water. One of the

barrels fell off and collapsed. Some of the men were playing out. The horses were wild with excitement and

terror. The smoke was growing denser and hotter. Men were coughing and gasping through dry, seared lips.

A mile and a half had been made safe, but the smoke was suffocatingly thick and the roar of the oncoming

fire rose above the shouts of the fighters. Up galloped the water wagon; made a sharp lurch and turn, and a

front wheel collapsed with the shock. The wagon went down at one corner and the barrels were dumped on

"Hitch on to the tire of this broken wheel. Some of you men yank the hub out of it. Others pull grass. Pull,

They pulled. In a minute or two Transley had the rim of the wheel flat on the ground, with a team hitched to it

and a little pile of dry grass inside. Then he set fire to the little pile of grass and started the team slowly along

the battle front. As they moved the burning grass in the rim set fire to the grass on the prairie underneath; the

rim partly rubbed it out again as it came over, and the men were able to keep what remained in check, but as

he lengthened his line Transley had to leave more and more men to beat out the fire, and had fewer to pull

grass. The sacks were too wet to burn; he had to have grass to feed his moving firespreader.

At length he had only a teamster and himself, and his fire was going out. Transley whipped off his shirt,

rolled it into a little heap, set fire to it, and ran along beside the rim, firing the little moving circle of grass

It was the teamster, looking back, who saw Transley fall. He had to drop the lines to run to his assistance, and

the horses, terrified by smoke and fire and the excitement of the fight, immediately bolted. The teamster took

Transley in his arms and half carried, half dragged him into the safe area behind the backfires. And a few

minutes later the main fire, checked on its front, swept by on the flank and raced on up through the valley.

In riding down to the assistance of Mrs. Landson Zen found herself suddenly caught in an eddy of smoke.

She did not realize at the moment that the wind had turned; she thought she must have ridden into the fire

area. To avoid the possibility of being cut off by the fire, and also for better air, she turned her horse to the

river. All through the valley were billows of smoke, with here and there a reddishyellow glare marking the

more vicious sections of flame. Vaguely, at times, she thought she caught the shouting of men, but all the

When Zen reached the water the smoke was hanging low on it, and she drove her horse well in. Then she

swung down the stream, believing that by making a detour in this way she could pass the wedge of fire that

had interrupted her and get back on to the trail leading to Landson's. She was coughing with the smoke, but

It did. A whip of wind raised it like a strong arm throwing off a blanket. She sat up and breathed freely. The

hot sun shone through rifts in the canopy of smoke; the blue sky looked down serene and unmoved by this

outburst of the elements. Then as Zen brought her eyes back to the water she saw a man on horseback not

forty yards ahead. Her first thought was that it must be one of the fire fighters, driven like herself to safety,

but a second glance revealed George Drazk. For a moment she had an impulse to wheel and ride out, but even

as she smothered that impulse a tinge of color rose in her cheeks that she should for a moment have

entertained it. To let George Drazk think she was afraid of him would be utmost humiliation.

She continued straight down the stream, but he had already seen her and was headed her way. In the

"Hello, Zen!" he said. "Mighty decent of you to ride down an' meet me like this. Mighty decent, Zen!"

"I didn't ride down to meet you, Drazk, and you know it. Keep out of the way or I'll use a whip on you!"

"Oh, how haughty! Y.D. all over! Never mind, dear, I like you all the better for that. Who wants a tame

horse? An' as for comin' down to meet me, what's the odds, so long as we've met?"

He had turned his horse and blocked the way in front of her. When Zen's horse came within reach Drazk

"Will you let go?" the girl said, speaking as calmly as she could, but in a white passion. "Will you let go of

He looked her full in the face. "Gad, but you're a stunner!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad we methere."

She brought her whip with a biting cut around the wrist that held her bridle. Drazk winced, but did not let go.

"Jus' for that, young Y.D.," he hissed, "jus' for that we drop all formalities, so to speak."

With a dexterous spurring he brought his horse alongside and threw an arm about Zen before she could beat

him off. She used her whip at short range on his face, but had not armroom in which to land a blow. They

were stirrupdeep in water, and as they struggled the horses edged in deeper still. Finding that she could not

beat Drazk off Zen clutched her saddle and drove the spurs into her horse. At this unaccustomed treatment he

plunged wildly forward, but Drazk's grip on her was too strong to be broken. The manoeuvre had, however,

the effect of unhorsing Drazk. He fell in the water, but kept his grip on Zen. With his free hand he still had

the reins of his own horse, and he managed also to get hold of hers. Although her horse was plunging and

"You fight well, Zen, damn youyou fight well," he cried. "So you might. You played with meyou made

a fool of me. We'll see who's the fool in the end." With a mighty wrench he tore her from her saddle and she

"If I put you under for a minute I guess you'll be good," he threatened. "I'll half drown you, Zen, if I have to."

In their struggles they had been getting gradually into deeper water. At this moment they found their feet

carried free, and the horses began to swim for the shore. Drazk held to both reins with one hand, still

clutching his victim with the other. More than once they went under water together and came up half

Zen was not a good swimmer, but she would gladly have broken away and taken chances with the current.

Once on land she would be at his mercy. She was using her head frantically, but could think of no device to

foil him. It was not her practice to carry weapons; her whip had already gone down the stream. Presently she

saw a long leather thong floating out from the saddle of Drazk's horse. It was no larger than a whiplash;

apparently it was a spare lace which Drazk carried, and which had worked loose in the struggle. It was

"Don't let me sink, George!" she cried frantically, in sudden fright. "Save me! I won't fight any more."

"That's better," he said, drawing her up to him. "I knew you'd come to your senses."

Her hand reached the lash. With a quick motion of the arm, such as is given in throwing a rope, she had

looped it once around his neck. Then, pulling the lash violently, she fought herself out of his grip. He

clutched at her wildly, but could reach only some stray locks of her brown hair which had broken loose and

She saw his eyes grow round and big and horrified; saw his mouth open and refuse to close; heard strange

"When you insulted me this morning I promised to settle with you; I did not expect to have the chance so

His head had gone under water. . . . Suddenly she realized that he was drowning. She let go of the thong,

Sitting on the gravel, she tried to think. Drazk had disappeared; his horse had landed somewhat farther down.

. . . Doubtless Drazk had drowned. Yes, that would be the explanation. Why change it?

Zen turned it over in her mind. Why make any explanations? It would be a good thing to forget. She could

not have done otherwise under the circumstances; no jury would expect her to do otherwise. But why trouble

"He got what was coming to him," she said to herself presently. She admitted no regret. On the contrary, her

inborn selfconfidence, her assurance that she could take care of herself under any circumstances, seemed to

She got up, drew her hair into some kind of shape, and scrambled a little way up the steep bank. Clouds of

smoke were rolling up the valley. She did not grasp the significance of the fact at the first glance, but in a

moment it impacted home to her. The wind had changed! Her help now would be needed, not by Mrs.

Landson, but probably at their own camp. She sprang on her horse, re crossed the stream, and set out on a

gallop for the camp. On the way she had to ride through one thin line of fire, which she accomplished

successfully. Through the smoke she could dimly see Transley's gang fighting the backfires. She knew that

was in good hands, and hastened on to the camp. Zen had had prairie experience enough to know that in

hours like this there is almost sure to be something or somebody, in vital need, overlooked.

She galloped into the camp and found only Tompkins there. He had already run a little backfire to protect

"How goes it, Tompkins?" she cried, bursting upon him like a courier from battle.

"All set here, Ma'am," he answered. "All set an' safe. But they'll never hold the main fire; it'll go up the valley

"There is. There's the Lintssquatters about six miles upit was from them I got the cream an' fresh eggs

you was good enough to notice, Ma'am. An' there's no men folks about; jus' Mrs. Lint an' a young herd of

"I must go up," said Zen, with instant decision. "I can get there before the fire, and as the Lints are evidently

farmers there will be some plowed land, or at least a plow with which to run a furrow so that we can start a

Tompkins directed her as to the way, and, leaving a word of explanation to be passed on to her father, she

was off. A half hour's hard riding brought her to Lint's, but she found that this careful settler had made full

provision against such a contingency as was now come about. The farm buildings, implements, stables,

everything was surrounded, not by a fireguard, but by a broad plowed field. Mrs. Lint, however, was little

less thankful for Zen's interest than she would have been had their little steading been in danger. She pressed

Zen to wait and have at least a cup of tea, and the girl, knowing that she could be of little or no service down

the valley, allowed herself to be persuaded. In this little harbor of quiet her mind began to arrange the day's

events. The tragic happening at the river was as yet too recent to appear real; had it not been for the touch of

her wet clothing Zen could have thought that all an unhappy dream of days ago. She reflected that neither

Tompkins nor Mrs. Lint had commented upon her appearance. The hot sun had soon dried her outer apparel,

The wind had gone down as the afternoon waned, and the fire was working up the valley leisurely when Zen

set out on her return trip. A couple of miles from the Lint homestead she met its advance guard. It was

evening now; the sun shone dull red through the banked clouds of smoke resting against the mountains to the

west; the flames danced and flickered, advanced and receded, sprang up and died down again, along mile

after mile of front. It was a beautiful thing to behold, and Zen drew her horse to a stop on a hilltop to take in

the grandeur of the scene. Near at hand frolicking flames were working about the base of the hill, and far

down the valley and over the foothills the flanks of the fire stretched like lines of impish infantry in single

Suddenly she heard the sound of hoofs, and a rider drew up at her side. She supposed him one of Transley's

men, but could not recall having seen him in the camp. He sat his horse with an ease and grace that her eye

was quick to appraise; he removed his broad felt hat before he spoke; and he did not call her "ma'am."

"Pardon meI believe I am speaking to Y.D.'s daughter?" he asked, and before waiting for a reply hastened

to introduce himself. "My name is Dennison Grant, foreman on the Landson ranch."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I thoughtI thought you were one of Mr. Transley's men." Then, with a quick sense

of the barrier between them, she added, "I hope you don't think that Ithat wehad anything to do with

"No more than I had to do with those coward's stakes," he answered. "Neither of us understand just now, but

There was something about him that rather appealed to her. "I think we can," she said, simply.

For a moment they watched the kaleidoscopic scene below them. "It may help you to understand," she

continued, "if I say that I was riding down to see if I could be of some use to Mrs. Landson when the wind

"And it may help you to understand," he said, "if I say that as soon as immediate danger to the Landson ranch

was over I rode up to Transley's camp. Only the cook was there, and he told me of your having set out to help

Mrs. Lint, so I followed up. Fortunately the fire has lost its punch; it will probably go out through the night."

There was a short silence, in which she began to realize her peculiar position. This man was the rival of

Transley and Linder in the business of haycutting in the valley. He was the foreman of the Landson

crowdLandson, against whom her father had been voicing something very near to murder threats not many

hours ago. Had she met him before the fire she would have spurned and despised him, but nothing unites the

factions of man like a fight against a common elemental enemy. Besides, there was the question, How DID

the fire start? That was a question which every Landson man would be asking. Grant had been generous

about it; he had asked her to be equally generous about the episode of the stakes. . . . And there was

something about the man that appealed to her. She had never felt that way about Transley or Linder. She had

been interested in them; amused, perhaps; out for an adventure, perhaps; but this man Nonsense! It was the

environmentthe romantic setting. As for Drazk A quick sense of horror caught her as the memory of his

"Well, suppose we ride home," he suggested. "By Jove! The fire has worked around us."

It was true. The hill on which they stood was now entirely surrounded by a ring of fire, eating slowly up the

side. The warmth of its breath already pressed against their faces; the funnel effect created by the circle of

fire was whipping up a stronger draught. The smoke seemed to be gathering to a centre above them.

He swung up close to her. "Will your horse face it?" he asked. "If not, we'd better blindfold him."

"I'll try him," she said. "He was all right this afternoon, but he was reckless then with a hard gallop."

Zen's horse trotted forward at her urging to within a dozen yards of the circle of fire. Then he stopped,

"Better blindfold him," Grant advised, pulling off his leather coat. "A sleeve of my shirt should be about

"There's no time to lose," he reminded her, as he placed his knife in her hand. "My horse will go through it all

So urged she deftly cut off his sleeve above the elbow and drew it through the bridle of her horse across his

"Now keep your head down close to his neck. You'll go through all right. Give him the spurs, and good luck!"

She was already careering down the hillside. A few paces from the fire the horse plunged into a badger hole

and fell headlong. She went over his head, down, with a terrific shock, almost in the very teeth of the fire.

When Zen came to herself it was with a sense of a strange swimming in her head. Gradually it resolved itself

into a sound of water about her head; a splashing, fighting water; two heads in the water; two heads in the

"But where am I? What has happened?" She tried to sit up. All was dark. "Where am I?" she demanded.

"Don't be alarmed, ZenI think your name is Zen," she heard a man's voice saying. "You've been hurt, but

Then the curtain lifted. "You are Dennison Grant," she said. "I remember you now. But what has happened?

"Well, so far, you've been enjoying about three hours' unconsciousness," he told her. "At a distance which

seems about a mile from herealthough it may be lessis a little pond. I've carried water in the sleeve of

my coatfortunately it is leather and poured it somewhat generously upon your brow. And at last I've

"Let me help you," he said, gently. "We have camped, as you may notice, on a big, flat rock. I found it not far

from the scene of the accident, so I carried you over to it. It is drier than the earth, and, for the forepart of the

night at least, will be warmer." With a strong arm about her shoulders he drew her into a sitting posture.

Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness. "What's wrong with my foot?" she demanded. "My

"I'm afraid you turned your ankle getting free from your stirrup," he explained. "I had to do a little surgery. I

could find nothing broken. It will be painful, but I fear there is nothing to do but bear it."

She reached down and felt her foot. It was neatly bandaged with cloth very much like that which she had used

to blindfold Quiver. It was easy to surmise where it came from. Evidently her protector had stopped at

"Only for the night," he told her. "If we're lucky, not that long. Search parties will be hunting for you, and

"I remember riding into the fire," she continued, "and then next thing I was on this rock. How did it all

"Your horse fell," he explained, "just as you reached the fire, and threw you, pretty heavily, to the ground. I

It was plain that he was holding something back. She turned and laid her fingers on his arm. "Tell me how

The darkness hid his modest confusion. "It was really nothing," he stammered. "You see, I had a leather coat,

She was silent for a moment while the meaning of his words came home to her. Then she placed her hand

"Thank you," she said, and even in the darkness she knew that their eyes had met.

"You are very resourceful," she continued presently. "Must we sit here all night?"

"I can think of no alternative," he confessed. "If we had fire arms we could shoot a signal, or if there were

grass about we could start a fire, although it probably would not be noticed with so many glows on the

horizon tonight." He stopped to look about. Dull splashes of red in the sky pointed out remnants of the day's

conflagration still eating their way through the foothills. The air was full of the pungent but not unpleasant

"A pretty hard night to send a signal," he said, "but they're almost sure to ride this way."

She wondered why he did not offer to walk to the camp for help; it could not be more than four or five miles.

"I am not afraid to stay here alone," she said, with a little laugh. It was the first time Grant had heard her

laugh, and he thought it very musical indeed. "I've slept out many a night, and you would be back within a

"I'm quite sure you're not afraid," he agreed, "but, you see, I am. You got quite a tap on the head, and for

some time before you came to you were talkingrather foolishly. Now if I should leave you it is not only

possible, but quite probable, that you would lapse again into unconsciousness. . . . I really think you'll have to

"Rather. Seemed to think you were swimmingor fightingI couldn't be sure which. Sometimes you

"Oh!" With a cold chill the events of the day came back upon her. That struggle in the water; it came to her

now like a bad dream out of the long, long past. How much had she said? How much would she have given to

Presently she pulled herself up with a start. She must not let him think her moody.

"Well, if we MUST enjoy each other's company, we may as well do so companionably," she said, with an

"Oh, I've nothing to tell. My life has been very unromantic. A few years at school, and the rest of it on the

"I think it's the 'everyday kind of existence' that IS romantic," he returned. "It is a great mistake to think of

romance as belonging to other times and other places. Even the most commonplace person has experienced

romance enough for a dozen books. Quite possibly he has not recognized the romance, but it was there. The

trouble is that with our limited sense of humor, what we think of as romance in other people's lives becomes

"I know it is so," he went on. "If we could read the thoughts know the experiencesof those nearest to us,

we would never need to look out of our own circles for either romance or tragedy. But it is as well that we

can't. Take the experience of today, for example. I admit it has not been a commonplace day, and yet it has

not been altogether extraordinary. Think of the experiences we have been through just this day, and how, if

they were presented in fiction they would be romantic, almost unbelievable. And here we are at the close,

sitting on a rock, matteroffact people in a matteroffact world, accepting everything as commonplace and

"Not quite that," she said daringly. "I see that you are neither commonplace nor unexceptional." She spoke

with sudden impulse out of the depth of her sincerity. She had not met a man like this before. In her mind she

fixed him in contrast with Transley, the selfconfident and aggressive, and Linder, the shy and unassertive.

None of those adjectives seemed to fit this new acquaintance. Nevertheless, he suffered nothing by the

"If I had been bright enough I would have said that first," he apologized, "but I got rather carried away in one

of my pet theories about romance. Now my life, I suppose, to many people would seem quite tame and

unromantic, but to me it has been a delightful succession of somewhat placid adventures. It began in a very

orthodox way, in a very orthodox family. My father, under the guidance, no doubt, of whatever star governs

such lucky affairs, became possessed of a piece of land. In doing so he contributed to society no service

whatever, so far as I have been able to ascertain. But it so fell about that society, in considerable numbers,

wanted his land to live on, so society made of my father a wealthy man, and gave him power over many

people. Could anything be more romantic than that? Could the fairy tales of your childhood surpass it for

"My father has also become wealthy," she said, "although I never thought of it in that way."

"Yes, but in exchange for his wealth your father has given service to society; supplied many thousands of

steers for hungry people to eat. That's a different story, but not less romantic.

"Well, to proceed. I was brought up to fit my station in life, whatever that means. There were just two boys of

us, and I was the elder. My father had become a broker. I believe he had become quite a successful broker,

using the word in its ordinary sense, which denotes the making of money. You see, he already had too much

money, so it was very easy for him to make more. He wanted me to go into the office with him, but some

way I didn't fit in. I've no doubt there was lots of romance there, too, but I was of the wrong nature; I simply

couldn't get enthusiastic over it. As we already had more money than we could possibly spend on things that

were good for us, I failed to see the point in sitting up nights to increase it. Being of a frank disposition I

confided in my father that I felt I was wasting my time in a broker's office. He, being of an equally frank

"Then I delivered myself of some of my pet theories about wealth. I told him that I didn't believe that any

man had a right to money unless he earned it in return for service given to society, and I said that as society

had to supply the money, society should determine the amount. I confessed that I was a little hazy about how

that was to be carried out, but I insisted that the principle was right, and, that being so, the working of it out

was only a matter of detail. I realize now that this was all fanatical heresy to my father; I remember the

pained look that came into his eyes. I thought at the time that it was anger, but I know now that it was

griefgrief and humiliation that a son of his should entertain such wild and unbalanced ideas.

"Well, there was more talk, and the upshot of it was that I got out, accompanied by an assurance from my

father that I would never be burdened with any of the family ducats. Roymy younger brothersucceeded

to the worries of wealth, and I came to the ranges where, no doubt to the deep chagrin of my father, I have

been able to make a living, and have, incidentally, been profoundly happy. I'll take a wager that today I look

ten years younger than Roy, that I can lick him with one hand, that I have more real friends than he has, and

that I'm getting more out of life than he is. I'm a man of whims. When they beckon I follow."

Grant had been talking intensely. He paused now, feeling that his enthusiasm had carried him into rather

"I'm sorry I bored you with that harangue," he said contritely. "You couldn't possibly be interested in it."

"On the contrary, I am very much interested in it," she protested. "It seems so much finer for a man to make

his own way, rather than be lifted up by someone else. I am sure you are already doing well in the West.

"I was afraid you would say that," he answered. "You see, you don't understand me, either. I don't want to

"Well, everybody does. Money is powerit is a mark of success. It would open up a wider life for you. It

would bring you into new circles. Some day you will want to marry and settle down, and money would

"You're all wrong," he said amusedly. It did not even occur to Zen that he was contradicting her. She had not

been accustomed to being contradicted, but then, neither had she been accustomed to men like Dennison

Grant, nor to conversations such as had developed. She was too interested to be annoyed.

"I don't wonder that you can't fill in my name," she said. "Nobody knows Dad except as Y.D. But I heard you

"That was when you were coming out of your unconsciousness. I apologize for the liberty taken. I thought it

"Well, I'm still coming out," she interrupted. "I am beginning to feel that I have been unconscious for a very

Grant was aware of a pleasant glow excited by her frank interest. She was altogether a desirable girl.

"I have observed," he said, "that poor people worry over what they haven't got, and rich people worry over

what they have. It is my disposition not to worry over anything. You said that money is power. That is one of

its deceits. It offers a man power, but in reality it makes him its slave. It enchains him for life; I have seen it

in too many casesI am not mistaken. As for opening up a wider life, what wider life could there be than

She wondered why he had said "you and I." Evidently he was wondering too, for he fell into reflection. She

changed her position to ease the dull pain in her ankle, which his talk had almost driven from her mind. The

rock had a perpendicular edge, so she let her feet hang over, resting the injured one upon the other. He was

sitting in a similar position. The silence of the night had gathered about them, broken occasionally by the

yapping of coyotes far down the valley. Segments of dull light fringed the horizon; the breeze was again

blowing from the west, mild and balmy. Presently one of the segments of light grew and grew. It was as

though it were rushing up the valley. They watched it, fascinated; then burst into laughter as the orb of the

moon became recognizable. . . . There was something very companionable about watching the moon rise, as

"The greatest wealth in the world," he said at length, as though his thoughts had been far afield, searching,

perchance, the mazy corridors of Truth for this atom of wisdom; "the greatest wealth in the world is to be

able to do something useful. That is the only wealth which will not be disturbed in the coming reorganization

Zen did not reply. For the first time in her life she stood convicted, before her own mind, of a very profound

ignorance. Dennison Grant had been drawing back the curtain of a world of the existence of which she had

never known. He had talked to her about "the coming reorganization of society"? What did it mean? She was

at home in discussions of herds or horses; she was at home with the duties of kitchen or receptionroom; she

was at home with her father or Transley or Linder or Drazk or Tompkins the cook, but Dennison Grant in an

hour had carried her into a far country, where she would be hopelessly lost but for his guidance. . . . Yet it

"That is an allnight order," he returned. "Besides, I can't tell you all, because I don't know all. I know only

very, very little. I see my little gleam of light and keep my eye close upon it. But you must know that society

is always in a state of reorganization. Nothing continues as it was. Those who dismiss a problem glibly by

saying it has always been so and always will be so don't read history and don't understand human nature."

He turned toward her as interest in his theme developed. The moonlight was now pouring upon them; her

face was beautiful and fine as marble in its soft rays. For a moment he hesitated, overwhelmed by a sudden

realization of her attractiveness. He had just been saying that the law of nature was the law of change, and

He brought himself back to earth. "I was saying that everything changes," he continued. "Look at our

economic system, for instance. Not so many centuries ago the man who got the most wealth was the man

with the biggest muscle and the toughest skin. He wielded a stout club, and what he wanted, he took. His

system of operation was simple and direct. You have money, you have cattle, you have a wifeI'm speaking

of the times that were. I am stronger than you. I take them. Simplicity itself!"

"Our sense of justice is due to our education," he continued. "If we are taught to believe that a certain thing is

just, we believe it is just. I am convinced that there is no sense of justice inherent in humanity; whatever

sense we have is the result of education, and the kind of justice we believe in is the kind of justice to which

we are educated. For example, the justice of the plains is not the justice of the cities; the justice of the

vigilance committee is not the justice of judge and jury. Now to get back to our subject. When Baron Battle

Ax, back in the fifth or sixth century, knocked all his rivals on the head and took their wealth away from

them, I suppose there was here and there an advanced thinker who said the thing was unjust, but I am quite

sure the great majority of people said things had always been that way and always would be that way. But the

little minority of thinkers gradually grew in strength. The Truth was with them. It is worthy of notice that the

advance guard of Truth always travels with minorities. And the day came that society organized itself to say

that the man who uses physical force to take wealth from another is an enemy of society and must not be

"But we have passed largely out of the era of physical force. To day, an engineer presses a button and

releases more physical force than could be commanded by all the armies of Rome. Brain power is today the

dominant power. And just as physical force was once used to take wealth without earning it, so is brain force

now used to take wealth without earning it. And just as the masses in the days of Battle Ax said things had

always been that way and always would be that way, just so do the masses in these days of brain supremacy

say things have always been that way and always will be that way. But just as there was a minority with an

advanced vision of Truth in those days, so is there a minority with an advanced vision of Truth in these days.

You may be absolutely sure that, just as society found a way to deal with muscle brigands, so also it will find

a way to deal with brain brigands. I confess I don't see how the details are to be worked out, but there must be

a plan under which the value of the services rendered to society by every man and every woman will be

"I don't know. I don't think so. Certainly it does not contemplate an equal distribution of the world's wealth.

Some men are a menace to themselves and society when they have a hundred dollars. Others can be trusted

with a hundred million. All men have not been equally gifted by naturewe know that. We can't make them

equal. But surely we can prevent the gifted ones from preying upon those who are not gifted. That is what the

"It is very interesting," she said. "And very deep. I have never heard it discussed before. Why don't people

"I don't know," he answered, "but I suppose it is because they are too busy in the fight. When a self was

dodging Battle Ax he hadn't much time to think about evolving a Magna Charta. But most of all I suppose it

is just natural laziness. People refuse to think. It calls for effort. Most people would find it easier to pitch a

The moon was now well up; the smoke clouds had been scattered by the breeze; the sky was studded with

diamonds. Zen had a feeling of being very happy. True, a certain haunting spectre at times would break into

her consciousness, but in the companionship of such a man as Grant she could easily beat it off. She studied

the face in the moon, and invited her soul. She was living through a new experiencean experience she

could not understand. In spite of the discomfort of her injuries, in spite of the events of the day, she was very,

If only that horrid memory of Drazk would not keep tormenting her! She began to have some glimpse of what

remorse must mean. She did not blame herself; she could not have done otherwise; and yetit was horrible

to think about, and it would not stay away. She felt a tremendous desire to tell Grant all about it. . . . She

wondered how much he knew. He must have discovered that her clothing had been wet.

"You're cold," he said, as he placed his arm about her, and there was something very far removed from

"I'm a little chilly," she admitted. "I had to swim my horse across the river todayhe got into a deep

spotand I got wet." She congratulated herself that she had made a very clever explanation.

He put his coat about her shoulders and drew it tight. Then he sat beside her in silence. There were many

things he could have said, but this seemed to be neither the time nor the place. Grant was not Transley. He

had for this girl a delicate consideration which Transley's nature could never know. Grant was a

thinkerTransley a doer. Grant knew that the charm which enveloped him in this girl's presence was the

perfectly natural product of a set of conditions. He was worldlywise enough to suspect that Zen also felt that

charm. It was as natural as the bursting of a seed in moist soil; as natural as the unfolding of a rose in warm

Presently he felt her head rest against his shoulder. He looked down upon her in awed delight. Her eyes had

closed; her lips were smiling faintly; her figure had relaxed. He could feel her warm breath upon his face. He

Just as the first flush of dawn mellowed the East Grant heard the pounding of horses' feet and the sound of

voices borne across the valley. They rapidly approached; he could tell by the hard pounding of the hoofs that

they were on a trail which he took to be the one he had followed before he met Zen. It passed possibly a

The girl had slept soundly, almost without stirring. Now he must wake her. He shook her gently, and called

her name; her eyes opened; he could see them, strange and wondering, in the thin grey light. Then, with a

"But you shouldn't have let me sleep," she reprimanded. "Besides, you had to stay awake. You have had no

There was a sympathy in her voice very pleasant to the ear. But Grant could not continue so delightful an

"I had to wake you," he explained. "There are several people riding up the valley; undoubtedly a search party.

They listened, and could now hear the hoofbeats close at hand. Grant called; not a loud shout; it seemed

little more than his speaking voice, but instantly there was silence, save for the echo of the sound rolling

down the valley. Then a voice answered, and Grant gave a word or two of directions. In a minute or two

"Here we are," said Zen, as she distinguished her father. "Gone lame on the off foot and held up for repairs."

Y.D. swung down from his saddle. "Are you all right, Zen?" he cried, as he advanced with outstretched arms.

There was an eagerness and a relief in his voice which would have surprised many who knew Y.D. only as a

Zen accepted and returned his embrace, with a word of assurance that she was really nothing the worse. Then

Grant extended his hand, but Y.D. hesitated. The truce occasioned by the fire did not by any means imply

Y.D. was stiffening, but his daughter averted what would in another moment have been an embarrassing

"This is no time, even for explanations," she said, "except that Mr. Grant saved my life last evening at the risk

"That was a man's work," said Y.D. It would not have been possible for his lips to have framed a greater

compliment. "I'm obliged to you, Grant. You know how it is with us cattlemen; we run mostly to horns and

They shook hands with as much cordiality as the situation permitted, and then Zen introduced Transley and

Linder, who were in the party. There were two or three others whom she did not know, but they all shook

"What happened, Zen?" said Transley, with his usual directness. "Give us the whole story."

Then she told them what she knew, from the point where she had met Grant on the fireencircled hill.

"Two lucky peopletwo lucky people," was all Transley's comment. Words could not have expressed the

jealousy he felt. But Linder was not too shy to place his hand with a friendly pressure upon Grant's shoulder.

Two of the unnamed members of the party volunteered their horses to Zen and Grant, and all hands started

back to camp. Y.D. talked almost garrulously; not even himself had known how heavily the hand of Fate had

"The haymakin' is all off, Darter," he said. "We will trek back to the Y.D. as soon as you feel fit. The steers

The girl professed her fitness to make the trip at once, and indeed they did make it that very day. Y.D.

pressed Grant to remain for breakfast, and Tompkins, notwithstanding the demoralization of equipment and

supplies effected by the fire, again excelled himself. After breakfast the old rancher found occasion for a

"You know how it is, Grant," he said. "There's a couple of things that ain't explained, an' perhaps it's as well

all round not to press for opinions. I don't know how the iron stakes got in my meadow, an' you don't know

how the fire got in yours. But I give you Y.D.'s wordwhich goes at par except in a cattle trade" and Y.D.

laughed cordially at his own limitations"I give you my word that I don't know any more about the fire than

"Well, then, let it stand at that. But mind," he added, with returning heat, "I'm not committin' myself to

anythin' in advance. This grass'll grow again next year, an' by heavens if I want it I'll cut it! No son of a sheep

Grant did not reply. He had heard enough of Y.D.'s boisterous nature to make some allowances.

"An' mind I mean it," continued Y.D., whose chagrin over being baffled out of a thousand tons of hay

overrode, temporarily at least, his appreciation of Grant's services. "Mind, I mean it. No monkeydoodles

Obviously Y.D. was becoming worked up, and it seemed to Grant that the time had come to speak.

"There will be none," he said, quietly. "If you come over the hills to cut the South Y.D. next summer I will

Y.D. stood openmouthed. It was preposterous that this young upstart foreman on a secondrate ranch like

"You see, Y.D.," continued Grant, with provoking calmness, "I've seen the papers. You've run a big bluff in

this country. You've occupied rather more territory than was coming to you. In a word, you've been a good bit

of a bully. Nowlet me break it to you gentlythose good old days are over. In future you're going to stay

on your own side of the line. If you crowd over you'll be pushed back. You have no more right to the hay in

this valley than you have to the hide on Landson's steers, and you're not going to cut it any more, at all."

Y.D. exploded in somewhat ineffective profanity. He had a wide vocabulary of invective, but most of it was

of the standandfight variety. There is some language which is not to be used, unless you are willing to

have it out on the ground, there and then. Y.D. had no such desire. Possibly a curious sense of honor entered

into the case. It was not fair to call a young man names, and although there was considerable truth in Grant's

remark that Y.D. was a bully, his bullying did not take that form. Possibly, also, he recalled at that moment

the obligation under which Zen's accident had placed him. At any rate he wound up rather lamely.

"Grant," he said, "if I want that hay next year I'll cut it, spite o' hell an' high water."

"All right, Y.D.," said Grant, cheerfully. "We'll see. Now, if you can spare me a horse to ride home, I'll have

Y.D. went to find Transley and arrange for a horse, and in a moment Zen appeared from somewhere.

"You've been quarreling with Dad," she said, half reproachfully, and yet in a tone which suggested that she

"Not exactly that," he parried. "We were just having a frank talk with each other."

"I know something of Dad's frank talks. . . I'm sorry. . . I would have liked to ask you to come and see

meto see usmy mother would be glad to see you. I can hardly ask you to come if you are going to be

Grant shook hands, rather formally, with Y.D. and Transley, and then with Zen. She murmured some words

of thanks, and just as he would have withdrawn his hand he felt her fingers tighten very firmly about his. He

Transley immediately struck camp, and Y.D. and his daughter drove homeward, somewhat painfully, over the

Transley lost no time in finding other employment. It was late in the season to look for railway contracts, and

continued dry weather had made grading, at best, a somewhat difficult business. Influx of ready money and

of those who follow it had created considerable activity in a neighboring centre which for twenty years had

been the principal cowtown of the foothill country. In defiance of all tradition, and, most of all, in defiance

of the predictions of the ranchers who had known it so long for a cowtown and nothing more, the place

began to grow. No one troubled to inquire exactly why it should grow, or how. As for Transley, it was

enough for him that team labor was in demand. He took a contract, and three days after the fire in the

foothills he was excavating for business blocks about to be built in the new metropolis.

It was no part of Transley's plan, however, to quite lose touch with the people on the Y.D. They were, in fact,

the centre about which he had been doing some very serious thinking. His outspokenness with Zen and her

father had had in it a good deal of bravadothe bravado of a man who could afford to lose the stake, and

smile over it. In short, he had not cared whether he offended them or not. Transley was a very selfreliant

contractor; he gave, even to the millionaire rancher, no more homage than he demanded in return. . . . Still,

Zen was a very desirable girl. As he turned the matter over in his mind Transley became convinced that he

wanted Zen. With Transley, to want a thing meant to get it. He always found a way. And he was now quite

sure that he wanted Zen. He had not known that positively until the morning when he found her in the grey

light of dawn with Dennison Grant. There was a suggestion of companionship there between the two which

had cut him to the quick. Like most ambitious men, Transley was intensely jealous.

Up to this time Transley had not thought seriously of matrimony. A wife and children he regarded as

desirable appendages for declining yearsfor the quiet and shade of that evening toward which every active

man looks with such irrational confidence. But for the heat of the dayfor the climb up the hillthey would

be unnecessary encumbrances. Transley always took a practical view of these matters. It need hardly be

stated that he had never been in love; in fact Transley would have scouted the idea of any passion which

would throw the practical to the winds. That was a thing for weaklings, and, possibly, for women.

But his attachment for Zen was a very practical matter. Zen was the only heir to the Y.D. wealth. She would

bring to her husband capital and credit which Transley could use to good advantage in his business. She

would also bring personalitya delightful individualityof which any man might be proud. She had that

fine combination of attractions which is expressed in the word charm. She had health, constitution, beauty.

She had courage and sympathy. She had qualities of leadership. She would bring to him not only the material

means to build a house, but the spiritual qualities which make a home. She would make him the envy of all

So after the work on the excavations had been properly started Transley turned over the detail to the always

dependable Linder, and, remarking that he had not had a final settlement with Y.D., set out for the ranch in

the foothills. While spending the long autumn day alone in the buggy he was able to turn over and develop

plans on an even more ambitious scale than had occurred to him amid the hustle of his men and horses.

The valley was lying very warm and beautiful in yellow light, and the setting sun was just capping the

mountains with gold and painting great splashes of copper and bronze on the few clouds becalmed in the

heavens, when Transley's tired team jogged in among the cluster of buildings known as the Y.D. The rancher

met him at the bunkhouse. He greeted Transley with a firm grip of his great palm, and with jaws open in

"Come up to the house, Transley," he said, turning the horses over to the attention of a ranch hand. "Supper is

Zen, walking with a limp, met them at the gate. Transley's eyes reassured him that he had not been led astray

by any process of idealization; Zen was all his mind had been picturing her. She was worth the effort. Indeed,

a strange sensation of tenderness suffused him as he walked by her side to the door, supporting her a little

with his hand. There they were ushered in by the rancher's wife, and Zen herself showed Transley to a cool

room where were white towels and soft water from the river and quiet and restful furnishings. Transley

After supper he had a social drink with Y.D., and then the two sat on the veranda and smoked and discussed

business. Transley found Y.D. more liberal in the adjustment than he had expected. He had not yet realized to

what an extent he had won the old rancher's confidence, and Y.D. was a man who, when his confidence had

been won, never haggled over details. He was willing to compromise the loss on the operations on the South

This settled, Transley proceeded to interest Y.D. in the work in which he was now engaged. He drew a

picture of activities in the little metropolis such as stirred the rancher's incredulity.

"Well, well," Y.D. would say. "Transley, I've known that little hole for about thirty years, an' never seen it

was any good excep' to get drunk in. . . . I've seen more things there than is down in the books."

"You wouldn't know the change that has come about in a few months," said Transley, with enthusiasm.

"Double shifts working by electric light, Y.D! What do you think of that? Men with rolls of money that

would choke a cow sleeping out in tents because they can't get a roof over them. Why, man, I didn't have to

hunt a job there; the job hunted me. I could have had a dozen jobs at my own price if I could have handled

them. It's just as if prosperity was a river which had been trickling through that town for thirty years, and all

of a sudden the dam up in the foothills gives away and down she comes with a rush. Lots which sold a year

ago for a hundred dollars are selling now for five hundredsometimes more. Old ranchers living on the

baldheaded a few years ago find themselves today the owners of city property worth millions, and are

dressing uncomfortably, in keeping with their wealth, or vainly trying to drink up the surplus. So far sense

and brains has had nothing to do with it, Y.D., absolutely nothing. It has been fool luck. But the brains are

Transley paused and lit another cigar. Y.D. rolled his in his lips, reflectively.

"I mind some doin's in that burg," he said, as though the memory of them was of greater importance than all

Transley switched back to business. "We ought to be in on it, Y.D.," he said. "Not on the flybynight stuff; I

don't mean that. But I could take twice the contracts if I had twice the outfit."

"It would be a great compliment to me, if you had that confidence in me, and I'm sure it would make some

"You have a bunch of horses running here on the ranch, eating their heads off. Many of them are broke, and

the others would soon tame down with a scraper behind them. Give them to me and let me put them to work.

I'd have to have equipment, too. Your name on the back of my note would get it, and you wouldn't actually

have to put up a dollar. Then we'd make an inventory of what you put into the firm and what I put into it, and

"That's immaterial. With a bigger outfit and more capital I can make so much more money out of the earnings

that I don't care whether I get a salary or not. But I wouldn't figure on going on contracting all the time for

other people. We might as well have the cream as the skimmed milk. This is the way it's done. We go to the

owner of a block of lots somewhere where there's no building going on. He's anxious to start something,

because as soon as building starts in that district the lots will sell for two or three times what they do now.

We say to him, 'Give us every second lot in your block and we'll put a house on it.' In this way we get the lots

for a trifle; perhaps for nothing. Then we build a lot of houses, more or less to the same plan. We put 'em up

quick and cheap. We build 'em to sell, not to live in. Then we mortgage 'em for the last cent we can get. Then

we put the price up to twice what the mortgage is and sell them as fast as we can build them, getting our

equity out and leaving the purchasers to settle with the mortgage company. It's good for from thirty to forty

"It sounds interesting," said Y.D., "an' I suppose I might as well put my spare horses an' credit to work. I

This was all Transley had hoped for, and the talk turned to less material matters. After a while Zen joined

"Your father and I may go into partnership, Zen," Transley said to her, when they were alone together. He

"And are you notwill you not bejust a little interested in the things that I undertake?"

She paused a moment before replying. The dusk had settled about them, and he could not see the contour of

"Why yes," she said at length, "I will be interested in what you undertake. You will be Dad's partner."

"Don't we?" She had turned slightly toward him, and he could feel the laughing mockery in her eyes.

"Seriously, Zen, do you imagine I came over here today simply to make a deal with your father?"

"Of course it was. But it wasn't the whole purposeit wasn't half the purpose. I wanted to see Y.D., it is true,

She did not answer, and he could only guess what was the trend of her thoughts. After a silence he continued.

"You may think I am precipitate. You intimated as much to me once. I am. I know of no reason why an

honest man should go beating about the bush. When I want something I want it, and I make a bee line for it.

If it is a contractif it is a business matterI go right after it, with all the energy that's in me. When I'm

looking for a contract I don't start by talking about the weather. Well this is my first experience in love,

and perhaps my methods are all wrong, but it seems to me they should apply. At any rate a girl of your

"Applying your business principles," she interrupted, "I suppose if you wanted a wife and there was none in

He defended his position. "I don't see why not," he declared. "I can't understand the general attitude of levity

toward matrimonial advertisements. Apparently they are too open and aboveboard. Matrimony should not

be committed in a roundabout, indirect, hit ormiss manner. A young man sees a girl whom he thinks he

would like to marry. Does he go to her house and say, 'Miss SoandSo, I think I would like to marry you.

Will you allow me to call on you so that we may get better acquainted, with that object in view?' He does not.

Such honesty would be considered almost brutal. He calls on her and pretends he would like to take her to the

theatre, if it is in town, or for a ride, if it is in the country. She pretends she would like to go. Both of them

know what the real purpose is, and both of them pretend they don't. They start the farce by pretending a

deceit which deceives nobody. They wait for nature to set up an attraction which shall overrule their

judgment, rather than act by judgment first and leave it to nature to take care of herself. How much better it

would be to be perfectly frankto boldly announce the purposeto come as I now come to you and say,

'Zen, I want to marry you. My reason, my judgment, tells me that you would be an ideal mate. I shall be

proud of you, and I will try to make you proud of me. I will gratify your desires in every way that my means

will permit. I pledge you my fidelity in return for yours. II' Zen, will you say yes? Can you believe that

there is in my simple words more sincerity than there could be in any mad ravings about love? You are

young, Zen, younger than I, but you must have observed some things. One of them is that marriage, founded

on mutual respect, which increases with the years, is a much safer and wiser business than marriage founded

on a passion which quickly burns itself out and leaves the victims cold, unresponsive, with nothing in

common. You may not feel that you know me well enough for a decision. I will give you every opportunity

to know me betterI will do nothing to deceive youI will put on no veneerI will let you know me as I

He had left his seat and approached her; he was leaning close over her chair. While his words had suggested

marriage on a purely intellectual basis he did not hesitate to bring his physical presence into the scale. He was

accustomed to having his wayhe had always had itnever did he want it more than he did now. . . . And

although he had made his plea from the intellectual angle he was sure, he was very, very sure there was more

than that. This girl; whose very presence delighted himintoxicated himwould have made him mad

"Will you say yes?" he repeated, and his hands found hers and drew her with his great strength up from her

chair. She did not resist, but when she was on her feet she avoided his embrace.

"You must not hurry me," she whispered. "I must have time to think. I did not realize what you were saying

"Say yes now," he urged. Transley was a man very hard to resist. She felt as though she were in the grip of a

powerful machine; it was as though she were being swept along by a stream against which her feeble strength

was as nothing. Zen was as nearly frightened as she had ever been in her vigorous young life. And yet there

was something delightful. It would have been so easy to surrenderit was so hard to resist.

"Say yes now," he repeated, drawing her close at last and breathing the question into her ear. "You shall have

time to thinkyou shall ask your own heart, and if it does not confirm your words you will be released from

They heard the footsteps of her father approaching, and Transley waited no longer for an answer. He turned

Zen thought over the events of that evening until they became a blur in her memory. Her principal

recollection was that she had been quite swept off her feet. Transley had interpreted her submission as assent,

and she had not corrected him in the vital moment when they stood before her father that night in the deep

"Y.D.," Transley had said, "your consent and your blessing! Zen and I are to be married as soon as she can be

That was the moment at which she should have spoken, but she did not. She, who had prided herself that she

would make a race of it she, who had always been able to slip out of a predicament in the nick of

timestood mutely by and let Transley and her father interpret her silence as consent. She was not sure that

she was sorry; she was not sure but she would have consented anyway; but Transley had taken the matter

quite out of her hands. And yet she could not bring herself to feel resentment toward him; that was the

strangest part of it. It seemed that she had come under his domination; that she even had to think as he would

In the darkness she could not see her father's face, for which she was sorry; and he could not see hers, for

which she was glad. There was a long moment of tense silence before she heard him say,

"Well, well! I had a hunch it might come to that, but I didn't reckon you youngsters would work so fast."

"This was a stake worth working fast for," Transley was saying, as he shook Y.D.'s hand. "I wouldn't trade

"She's a good girl, Transley," her father commented; "a good girl, even if a bit obstrep'rous at times. She's got

spirit, Transley, an' you'll have to handle her with sense. She's aa thoroughbred!"

Y.D. had reached his arms toward his daughter, and at these words he closed them about her. Zen had never

known her father to be emotional; she had known him to face matters of life and death without the quiver of

an eyelid, but as he held her there in his arms that night she felt his big frame tremble. Suddenly she had a

powerful desire to cry. She broke from his embrace and ran upstairs to her room.

When she came down her father and mother and Transley were sitting about the table in the livingroom; the

room hung with trophies of the chase and of competition; the room which had been the nucleus of the Y.D.

estate. There was a colored cover on the table, and the shaded oil lamp in the centre sent a comfortable glow

of light downward and about. The mammoth shadows of the three people fell on the log walls, darting

Her mother arose as Zen entered the room and took her hands in a warm, tender grip.

"You're early leaving us," she said. "I'm not saying I object. I think Mr. Transley will make you a good

husband. He is a man of energy, like your father. He will do well. You will not know the hardships that we

knew in our early married life." Their eyes met, and there was a moment's pause.

"You will not understand for many years what this means to me, Zenith," her mother said, and turned quickly

She could not remember what they had talked about after that. She had been conscious of Transley's eyes

often on her, and of a certain spiritual exaltation within her. She could not remember what she had said, but

she knew she had talked with unusual vivacity and charm. It was as though certain storehouses of brilliance

in her being, of which she had been unaware, had been suddenly opened to her. It was as though she had been

intoxicated by a very subtle wine which did not deaden, but rather quickened, all her faculties.

Afterwards, she had spent long hours among the foothills, thinking and thinking. There were times when the

flame of that strange exaltation burned low indeed; times when it seemed almost to expire. There were

momentshoursof misgivings. She could not understand the strange docility which had come over her;

the unprecedented willingness to have her course shaped by another. That strange willingness came as near to

frightening Zen as anything had ever done. She felt that she was being carried along in a stream; that she was

making no resistance; that she had no desire to resist. She had a strange fear that some day she would need to

resist; some day she would mightily need qualities of self direction, and those qualities would refuse to arise

She did not fear Transley. She believed in him. She believed in his ability to grapple with anything that stood

in his way; to thrust it aside, and press on. She respected the judgment of her father and her mother, and both

of them believed in Transley. He would succeed; he would seize the opportunities this young country

afforded and rise to power and influence upon them. He would be kind, he would be generous. He would

That was just it. There were dark moments when she felt that surely there must be something more than all

this. She did not know what it wasshe could not analyze her thoughts or give them definite formbut in

these dark moments she feared that she was being tricked, that the whole thing was a sham which she would

discover when it was too late. She did not suspect her mother, or her father, or Transley, one or all, of being

parties to this trick; she believed that they did not know it existed. She herself did not know it existed. But the

After a week she admitted, much against her will, that possibly Dennison Grant had something to do with it.

She had not seen him since she had pressed his fingers and he had ridden away through the smokehaze of

the South Y.D. She had dutifully tried to force him from her mind. But he would not stay out of it. It was

about that fact that her misgivings seemed most to centre. When she would be thinking of Transley, and

wondering about the future, suddenly she would discover that she was not thinking of Transley, but of

Dennison Grant. These discoveries shocked and humiliated her. It was an impossible position. She would

throw Grant forcibly out of her mind and turn to Transley. And then, in an unguarded moment, Transley

would fade from her consciousness, and she would know again that she was thinking of Grant.

At length she allowed herself the luxury of thinking frankly about Dennison Grant. It WAS a luxury. It

brought her a secret happiness which she was wholly at a loss to understand, but which was very delightful,

nevertheless. She amused herself with comparing Grant with Transley. They had two points in common: their

physical perfection and their fearless, selfconfident manner. With these exceptions they seemed to be

complete contradictions. The ambitious Transley worshipped success; the philosophical Grant despised it.

That difference in attitude toward the world and its affairs was a ridge which separated the whole current of

their lives. It even, in a way, shut one from the view of the other; at least it shut Grant from the view of

Transley. Transley would never understand Grant, but Grant might, and probably did, understand Transley.

She reproached herself for such a thought; it was disloyal to admit that this stranger on the Landson ranch

was a greater man than her husbandtobe. And yet honestyor, perhaps, something deeper than

honestycompelled her to make that admission. . . . She ran back over the remembered incidents of the

night they had spent together, marooned like shipwrecked sailors on a rock in the foothills. His attentiveness,

his courtesy, his freedom from any conventional restraint, his manly respect which was so much greater than

conventional restraintall these came back to her with a poignant tenderness. She pictured Transley in his

place. Transley would probably have proposed even before he bandaged her ankle. Grant had not said a word

of love, or even of affection. He had talked freely of himselfat her requestbut there had been nothing

that might not have been said before the world. She had been safe with Grant. . . .

After she had thought on this theme for a while Zen would acknowledge to herself that the situation was

absurd and impossible. Grant had given no evidence of thinking more of her than of any other girl whom he

might have met. He had been chivalrous only. She had sat up with a start at the thought that there might be

another girl. . . . Or there might be no girl. Grant was an unusual character. . . .

At any rate, the thing for her to do was to forget about him. She should have no place in her mind for any

man but Transley. It was true he had stampeded her, but she had accepted the situation in which she found

herself. Transley was worthy of hershe had nothing to take backshe would go through with it.

On the principle that the way to drive an unwelcome thought out of the mind is to think vigorously about

something else, Zen occupied herself with plans and daydreams centering about the new home that was to

be built in town. Neither her father nor Transley had as yet returned from the trip on which they had gone

with a view to forming a partnership, so there had been no opportunity to discuss the plans for the future, but

Zen took it for granted that Transley would build in town. He was so enthusiastic over the possibilities of that

young and bustling centre of population that there was no doubt he would want to throw in his lot with it.

This prospect was quite pleasing to the girl; it would leave her within easy distance of her old home; it would

introduce her to a type of society with which she was well acquainted, and where she could do herself justice,

and it would not break up the associations of her young life. She would still be able, now and again, to take

long rides through the tawny foothills; to mingle with her old friends; possibly to maintain a somewhat

After ten days Y.D. returnedalone. He had scarcely been able to believe the developments which he had

seen. It was as though the sleepy, lazy cowtown had become electrified. Y.D. had looked on for three days,

wondering if he were not in some kind of a dream from which he would awaken presently among his herds in

the foothills. After three days he bought a property. Before he left he sold it at a profit greater than the

earnings of his first five years on the ranch. It would be indeed a stubborn confidence which could not be won

by such an experience, and before leaving for the ranch Y.D. had arranged for Transley practically an open

credit with his bankers, and had undertaken to send down all the horses and equipment that could be spared.

Transley had planned to return to the foothills with Y.D., but at the last moment business matters developed

which required his attention. He placed a tiny package in Y.D.'s capacious palm.

Y.D. fumbled the tiny package into a vest pocket. "Sure, I'll attend to that," he promised. "Wasn't much of

these fancy trimmin's when I settled into double harness, but lots of things has changed since then. You'll be

On his return home Y.D., after maintaining an exasperating silence until supper was finished, casually handed

"Some trinket Transley sent out," he explained. "He'll be here himself as soon as business permits."

She took the package with a glow of expectancy, started to open it, then folded the paper again and ran up to

her room. Here she tempted herself for minutes before she would finally open it, whetting the appetite of

anticipation to the full. . . . The gem justified her little play. It was magnificent; more beautiful and more

She hesitated strangely about putting it on. To Zen it seemed that the putting on of Transley's ring would be a

voluntary act symbolizing her acceptance of him. If she had been carried off her feetswept into the position

in which she found herselfthat explanation would not apply to the deliberate placing of his ring upon her

finger. There would be no excuse; she could never again plead that she had been the victim of Transley's

She rather blamed Transley for not having left his old business and come to perform this rite himself, as he

should have done. What was one day of business, more or less? Yet Zen gathered no hint from that incident

that always, with Transley, business would come first. It was symbolicpropheticbut she did not see the

She held the ring between her fingers; slipped it off and on her little fingers; held it so the rays of the sun fell

through the window upon it and danced before her eyes in all their primal colors.

"I have to put this on," she said, pursing her lips firmly, "and and forget about Dennison Grant!"

For a long time she thought of that and all it meant. Then she raised the jewel to her lips.

"Help mehelp me" she murmured. With a quick little impetuous motion she drew it on to the finger

where it belonged. There she gazed upon it for a moment, as though fascinated by it. Then she fell upon her

The events of these days had almost driven from Zen's mind the tragedy of George Drazk. When she thought

of it at all it presented such a grotesque unrealityit was such an unreasonable thingthat it assumed the

vague qualities of a dream. It was something unreal and very much better forgotten, and it was only by an

unwilling effort at such times that she could bring herself to know that it was not unreal. It was a matter that

concerned her tremendously. Sooner or later Drazk's disappearance must be noted,perhaps his body would

be foundand while she had little fear that anyone would associate her with the tragedy it was a most

unpleasant thing to think about. Sometimes she wondered if she should not tell her father or Transley just

what had happened, but she shrank from doing so as from the confession of a crime. Mostly she was able to

Her father brought it up in a startling way at breakfast. Absolutely out of a blue sky he said, "Did you know,

Zen, that Drazk has disappeared? Transley tells me you were int'rested a bit in him, or perhaps I should say

Zen was so overcome by this startling change in the conversation that she was unable to answer. The color

"Yep," continued Y.D., with no more concern than if a steer had been lost from the herd. "Transley said to

tell you Drazk had disappeared an' he reckoned you wouldn't be bothered any more with him."

"Now who said he was?" her father retorted. "For a young woman with the price of a herd of steers on her

third finger you're sort o' short this mornin'. Now I'm jus' wonderin' how far you can see through a board

She was entirely at a loss to understand the drift of her father's talk. He could not connect her with Drazk's

disappearance, or he would not approach the matter with such unconcern. That was unthinkable. Neither

could Transley, or he would not have sent so brutal a message. And yet it was clear that they thought she

"Drazk's movements wereare nothing to me. I don't know that I have any occasion to be surprised about

"Well, I'm rather glad you're not, because if you don't jump to conclusions, perhaps other people won't. Not

"It was all plain enough to me, an' plain enough to Transley," her father continued with remarkable calmness.

"You're talking in riddles, Y.D.," his wife remonstrated. "You're getting Zen all worked up."

"Jewelry seems to be mighty upsettin'," Y.D. commented. "There was nothin' like that in our engagement, eh,

Jessie? Well, to come to the point. There was a fire which burned up the valley of the South Y.D. Fires don't

start themselvesusually. This one started among the Landson stacks, so it was natural enough to suspec'

Y.D. or some of his sympathizers. Well it wasn't Y.D., an' I reckon it wasn't Zen, an' it wasn't Transley nor

Linder an' every one of the gang's accounted for excep' Drazk. Drazk thought he was doin' a great piece of

business when he fired the Landson hay, but when the wind turned an' burned up the whole valley Drazk sees

where he can't play no hero part around here so he loses himself for good. I gathered from Transley that

The girl's heart was pounding violently at this explanation. It was logical, and would be accepted readily by

those who knew Drazk. She would not trust herself in further conversation, so she slipped away as soon as

The afternoon wore on, and as the day was warm she dismounted by a ford and sat down upon a flat rock

close to the water. The rock reminded her of the one on which she and Grant had sat that night while the thin

red lines of fire played far up and down the valley. Her ankle was paining a little so she removed her boot and

As she sat watching her reflection in the clear stream and toying with the ripple about her foot a horseman

rode quickly down through the cottonwoods on the other side and plunged into the ford. It happened so

quickly that neither saw the other until he was well into the river. Although she had had no dream of seeing

him here, in some way she felt no surprise. Her heart was behaving boisterously, but she sat outwardly

demure, and when he was close enough she sent a frank smile up to him. The look on his sunburned face as

he returned her greeting convinced her that the meeting, on his part, was no less unexpected and welcome

When his horse was out of the water he dismounted and walked to her with extended hand.

"Well enough," she returned, "but it gets tired as the day wears on. I am just resting a bit."

She did not invite him with words, but she gave her body a slight hitch, as though to make room, although

"Not unlike a rock I remember up in the foothills," he remarked, after a silence.

She found herself holding one of her hands in the other. She could feel the pressure of Transley's ring on her

"No. Just mooning." She looked up at him again, this time at close quarters. It was a quick, bright flash on his

She gave a forced little laugh. "What a mind reader you are! Can you tell my fortune?"

"I cannot read it there," he said, after his long gaze had begun to whip the color to her cheeks. "There is no

She turned again to the water, and after a long while she heard his voice, very low and earnest.

"Zen, I could read a fortune for you, if you would not be offended. We are only chance acquaintancesnot

She knew what he meant, but she pretended she did not. Even in that moment something came to her of

Transley's speech about love being a game of pretence. Very well, she would play the gamethis once.

"Then this is the fortune I would read for you," he said boldly. "I see a young man, a rather foolish young

man, perhaps, by ordinary standards, and yet one who has found a great deal of happiness in his simple,

unconventional life. Until a short time ago he felt that life could give him all the happiness that was worth

having. He had health, strength, hours of work and hours of pleasure, the fields, the hills, the mountains, the

skyall God's open places to live in and enjoy. He thought there was nothing more.

"Well, then he found, all of a sudden, that there was something moreeverything more. He made that

discovery on a calm autumn night, when fire had blackened all the foothills and still ran in dancing red

ribbons over their distant crests. That night a great thingtwo great thingscame into his life. First was

something he gave. Not very much, indeed, but typical of all it might be. It was service. And next was

something he received, something so wonderful he did not understand it then, and does not understand it yet.

It was trust. These were things he had been leaving largely out of his life, and suddenly he discovered how

empty it was. I think there is one word for both these things, and, it may be, for even more. You know?"

"But it is YOUR fortune I am to read," he corrected himself. "It has been your fortune to open that new world

to me. That can never be undonethose gates can never be closedno matter where the paths may lead.

Those two paths go down to the futureas all paths musteven as this road leads away through the valley

to the sunset. Zenif only, like this road, they could run side by side to the sunsetOh! Zen, if they could?"

"I know," she said, and as she raised her face he saw that her eyes were wet. "I knowif only they could!"

There was a little sob in her voice, and in her beauty and distress she was altogether irresistible. He reached

out his arms and would have taken her in them, but she thrust her hands in his and held herself back. She

turned the diamond deliberately to his eyes. She could feel his grip relax and apparently grow suddenly cold.

"You see, I should not have let you talkit is my fault," she said, speaking hurriedly. "I should not have let

you talk. Please do not think I am shallow; that I let you suffer to gratify my vanity." Her eyes found his

again. "If I had not believed every word you saidif I had not liked every word you saidif I had

notHOPEDevery word you said, I would not have listened. . . . But you see how it is."

He was silent for so long that she thought he was not going to answer her at all. When he spoke it was in a

"You liked me enough to let me speak as I did. I opened my heart to you. I ask no such concession in return. I

hope you will not think me presumptuous, but I do not plead now for my happiness, but for yours. Is this

He said the last words so slowly and deliberately that she felt that each of them was cutting the very rock

from underneath her. She knew she was at a junction point in her life, and her mind strove to quickly appraise

the situation. On one side was this man who had for her so strange and so powerful an appeal. It was only by

sheer force of will that she could hold herself aloof from him. But he was a man who had broken with his

family and quarrelled with her fathera man whom her father would certainly not for a moment consider as

a soninlaw. He was a foreman; practically a ranch hand. Neither Zen nor her father were snobs, and if

Grant worked for a living, so did Transley. That was not to be counted against him. The point was, what kind

of living did he earn? What Transley had to offer was perhaps on a lower plane, but it was more substantial. It

had been approved by her father, and her mother, and herself. It wasn't as though one man were good and the

other bad; it wasn't as though one thing were right and the other wrong. It would have been easy then. . . .

She released her hands from his, and, sitting down, silently put on her stocking and boot. She was aware that

he was still standing near, as though waiting to be formally dismissed. She walked by him to her horse and

put her foot in the stirrup. Then she looked at him and gave her hand a little farewell wave.

Then a great pang, irresistible in its yearning, swept over her. She drew her foot from the stirrup, and, rushing

And Dennison Grant continued his way down the valley while Zen rode back to the Y.D., wondering if she

Linder scratched his tousled brown hair reflectively as he gazed after the retreating form of Transley. His hat

was off, and the perspiration stood on his sunburned facea face which, in point of handsomeness, needed

Linder stood for some time, thinking "of that" as deeply as his somewhat disorganized mental state would

permit. For Transley had announced, with his usual directness, that he wanted so many men and teams for a

house excavation in the most exclusive part of the city. So far they had been building in the cheaper districts a

cheap type of house for those who, having little capital, are the easier deprived of what they have. The shift in

"I may as well make you wise, Linder," he said. "We're going to build a house for Mr. and Mrs. Transley."

"That's the good word," Transley confirmed. "Never expected it to happen to me, but it did, all of a sudden.

Transley was evidently in prime humor. Linder had, indeed, noted this good humor for some time, but had

attributed it to the very successful operations in which his employer had been engaged. He pulled himself

"You may," said Transley, "but if you could see the length of your nose it wouldn't be necessary. Linder,

you're the best foreman I ever had, just because you don't ever think of anything else. When you pass on

there'll be no heaven for you unless they give you charge of a bunch of men and teams where you can raise a

sweat and make money for the boss. If you weren't like that you would have anticipated what I've told

"If I don't mean Y.D.'s daughter I don't mean anybody, and you can take that from me. You bet it's Zen. Say,

Linder, I didn't think I could go silly over a girl, but I'm plumb locoed. I bought the biggest old sparkler in

this town and sent it out with Y.D., if he didn't lose it through the lining of his vesthe handled it like it

might have been a box of pillsbad pills, Linderand I've got an architect figuring how much expense he

can put on a househe gets a commission on the cost, you seeand one of these nights I'm going to buy

you a dinner that'll keep you fed till Christmas. I never knew before that silliness and happiness go together,

but they do. I'm glad I've got a sober old foremanthat's all that keeps the business going."

And after Transley had turned away Linder had scratched his head and said "By thunder. . . . Linder, when

you wake up you'll be dead. . . . After her practically saying 'The water's fine.' . . . Well, that's why I'm a

But after a little reflection Linder came to the conclusion that perhaps it was all for the best. He could not

have bought Y.D.'s daughter a big sparkler or have built her a fine homebecause he was a foreman. It was

a round circle. . . . He threw himself into the building of Transley's house with as much fidelity as if it had

been his own. He gave his undivided attention to Transley's interests, making dollars for him while earning

cents for himself. This attention was more needed than it ever had been, as Transley found it necessary to

make weekly trips to the ranch in the foothills to consult with Y.D. upon business matters.

Zen found her interest in Transley growing as his attentions continued. He spent money upon her lavishly, to

the point at which she protested, for although Y.D. was rated as a millionaire the family life was one of

almost stark simplicity. Transley assured her that he was making money faster than he possibly could spend

it, and even if not, money had no nobler mission than to bring her happiness. He explained the blueprints of

the house, and discussed with her details of the appointments. As the building progressed he brought her

weekly photographs of it. He urged her to set the date about Christmas; during the winter contracting would

be at a standstill, so they would spend three months in California and return in time for the spring business.

Day by day the girl turned the situation over in her mind. Her life had been swept into strange and unexpected

channels, and the experience puzzled her. Since the episode with Drazk she had lost some of her native

recklessness; she was more disposed to weigh the result of her actions, and she approached the future not

without some misgivings. She assured herself that she looked forward to her marriage with Transley with the

proper delight of a brideto be, and indeed it was a prospect that could well be contemplated with pleasure. .

. . Transley had won the complete confidence of her father and when doubts assailed her Zen found in that

fact a very considerable comfort. Y.D. was a shrewd man; a man who seldom guessed wrong. Zen did not

admit that she was allowing her father to choose a husband for her, but the fact that her father concurred in

the choice strengthened her in it. Transley had in him qualities which would win not only wealth, but

distinction, and she would share in the laurels. She told herself that it was a delightful outlook; that she was a

Particularly she laid it upon herself that she must now, finally, dismiss Dennison Grant from her mind. It was

absurd to suppose that she cared more for Grant than she did for Transley. The two men were so different; it

was impossible to make comparisons. They occupied quite different spheres in her regard. To be sure, Grant

was a very likeable man, but he was not eligible as a husband, and she could not marry two, in any case. Zen

entertained no girlish delusions about there being only one man in the world. On the contrary, she was

convinced that there were very many men in the world, and, among the better types, there was, perhaps, not

so much to choose between them. Grant would undoubtedly be a good husband within his means; so would

Transley, and his means were greater. The blueprints of the new house in town had not been without their

effect. It was a different prospect from being a foreman's wife on a ranch. Her father would never hear of it. .

So she busied herself with preparations for the great event, and what preparations they were! "Zen," her

father had said, "for once the lid is off. Go the limit!" She took him at his word. There were many trips to

town, and activities about the old ranch buildings such as they had never known since Jessie Wilson came to

finish Y.D.'s upbringing, nor even then. The good word spread throughout the foothill country and down

over the prairies, and many a lazy cloud of dust lay along the November hillsides as the women folk of

neighboring ranches came to pay their respects and gratify their curiosity. Zen had treasures to show which

Y.D. had not thought he could become so worked up over a simple matter like a wedding. Time had dulled

the edge of memory, but even after making allowances he could not recall that his marriage to Jessie Wilson

had been such an event in his life as this. It did not at least reflect so much glory upon him personally. He

basked in the reflected glow of his daughter's beauty and popularity, as happily as the big cat lying on the

sunny side of the bunkhouse. He found all sorts of excuses for invading where his presence was little

wanted while Zen's finery was being displayed for admiration. Y.D. always pretended that such invasions

were quite accidental, and affected a fine indifference to all this "women's fuss an' feathers," but his

As the great day approached Y.D.'s wife shot a bombshell at him. "What do you propose to wear for Zen's

"Y.D.," said his wife, kindly, "there are certain little touches which you overlook. Your town suit is all right

for selling steers, although I won't say that it hasn't outlived its prime even for that. To attend Zen's wedding

"It HAS. It is also a venerable suit. But really, Y.D., it will not do for this occasion. You must get yourself a

"It has to be," his wife insisted. "You'll have to deck yourself out in a new suit and a while shirt and collar."

Y.D. stamped around the room, and in a moment slipped out. "All fool nonsense," he confided to himself, on

his way to the bunk house. "It's all right for Zen to have good clothesdidn't I tell her to go the limit?but

as for me, 'tain't me that's gettin' married, is it? Standin' up before all them cow punchers in a white shirt!"

The bitterness of such disgrace cut the old rancher no less keenly than the physical discomfort which he

forecast for himself, yet he put his own desires sufficiently to one side to buy a suit of clothes, and a white

It must not be supposed that Y.D. admitted to the salesman that he personally was descending to any such

"A suit for a fellow about my size," he explained. "He's visitin' out at the ranch, an' he hefts about the same as

Y.D. tucked the package surreptitiously in his room and awaited the day of Zen's marriage with mingled

Zen, yielding to Transley's importunities, had at last said that it should be Christmas Day. The wedding

would be in the house, with the leading ranchers and farmers of the district as invited guests, and the general

understanding was to be given out that the countryside as a whole would be welcome. All could not be taken

care of in the house, so Y.D. gave orders that the hay was to be cleared out of one of the barns and the floor

put in shape for dancing. Open house would be held in the barn and in the bunk house, where substantial

Christmas Day dawned with a seasonable nip to the air, but the sun rose warm and bright. There was no

snow, and by early afternoon clouds of dust were rising on every trail leading to the Y.D. The old ranchers

and their wives drove in buckboards, and one or two in automobiles; the younger generation, of both sexes,

came on horseback, with many an exciting impromptu race by the way. Y.D. received them all in the yard,

commenting on the horses and the weather, and how the steers were wintering, and revealing, at the proper

moments, the location of a wellfilled stone jug. The faithful Linder was on hand to assist in caring for the

horses and maintaining organization about the yard. The women were ushered into the house, but the men sat

about the bunkhouse or leaned against the sunny side of the barn, sharpening their wits in conversational

In the house every arrangement had been completed. Zen was to come down the stairs leaning on her father's

arm, and the ceremony would take place in the big central room, lavishly decorated with flowers which

Transley had sent from town in a heated automobile. After the ceremony the principals and the older people

would eat the wedding dinner in the house, and all others would be served in the bunkhouse. One of the

As the hour approached Zen found herself possessed of a calmness which she deemed worthy of Y.D.'s

daughter. She had elected to be unattended as she had no very special girl friend, and that seemed the

simplest way out of the problem of selecting someone for this honor. She was, however, amply assisted with

her dressing, and the color of her fine cheeks burned deeper with the compliments to which she listened with

At a quarter to the hour it was discovered that Y.D. had not yet dressed for the occasion. He was, in fact,

engaged with Landson in making a tentative arrangement for the distribution of next year's hay. Zen had been

so insistent upon an invitation being sent to Mr. and Mrs. Landson, that Y.D., although fearing a snub for his

pains, at last conceded the point. He had done his neighbor rather less than justice, and now he and Landson,

with the assistance of the jug already referred to, were burying the hatchet in a corner of the bunkhouse.

"Dang this dressin'," Y.D. remonstrated when a message demanding instant action reached him. "Landson,

hear me now! I wouldn't take a million dollars for that girl, y' understandand I wouldn't trade a mangy

So, grumbling, he found his way to his room and began a wrestle with his "store" clothes. Before the fight

was over he was being reminded through the door that he wasn't roping a steer, and everybody was waiting.

At the last moment he discovered that he had neglected to buy shoes. There was nothing for it but his long

He sought Zen in her room. "Will I do in this?" he asked, feeling very sheepish.

Zen could have laughed, or she could have cried, but she did neither. She sensed in some way the fact that to

her father this experience was a positive ordeal. So she just slipped her arm through his and whispered, "Of

course you'll do, you silly old duffer," and tripped down the stairs by the side of his ponderous steps.

After the ceremony the elder people sat down to dinner in the house, and the others in the bunkhouse. Zen

was radiant and calm; Transley handsome, delighted, selfpossessed. His good luck was the subject of many

a comment, both inside and out of the old house. He accepted it at its full value, and yet as one who has a

Suddenly there was a rush from outside, and Zen found herself being carried bodily away. The young people

had decided that the dancing could wait no longer, so a half dozen hustlers had been deputed to kidnap the

bride and carry her to the barn, where the fiddles were already strumming. Zen insisted that the first dance

must belong to Transley, but after that she danced with the young ranchers and cowboys with strict

impartiality. And even as she danced she found herself wondering if, among all this representation of the

countryside, that one upon whom her thoughts had turned so much should be missing. She found herself

watching the door. Surely it would have been only a decent respect to hersurely he might have helped to

whirl her joyously away into the new life in which the past had to be forgotten. . . . How much better that they

But Dennison Grant did not appear. Evidently he preferred to keep his memories. . . .

When at last the night had worn thin and it was time for the bridal couple to leave if they were to catch the

morning train in town, and they had ridden down the foothill trails to the thunder of many accompanying

hoofbeats, the old ranch became suddenly a place very quiet and still and alone. Y.D. sat down in the corner

of the big room by the fire, and saw strange pictures in its dying embers. Zen. . . . Zen! . . . Transley was a

good fellow, but how much a man will take with scarce a thankyou! . . . Presently Y.D. became aware of a

hand resting upon his shoulder, and tingling from its fingertips came something akin to the almost forgotten

rapture of a day long gone. He raised his great palm and took that slowly ageing hand, once round and fresh

like Zen's, in his. Together they watched the fire die out in the silence of their empty house. . . .

Grant read the account of her wedding in the city papers a day or two later. It was given the place of

prominence among the Christmas Day nuptials. He read it through twice and then tossed the paper to the end

of his little office. Grant was housed in a building by himself; a shack twelve by sixteen feet, double boarded

and tarpapered. A single square window in the eastern wall commanded a view of the Landson corrals. On

the opposite side of the room was his bed; in the centre a huge woodburning stove; near the window stood a

table littered with daily papers and agricultural journals. The floor was of bare boards; a leather trunk, with D.

G. in aggressive letters, sat by the head of his bed, and in the corner near the foot was a washstand with basin

and pitcher of graniteware. In another corner was a short shelf of wellselected books; clothing hung from

nails driven into the twobyfours which formed the framework of the little building; a rifle was suspended

over the door, and lariat and saddle hung from spikes in the wall. Grant sat in an arm chair by the stove,

After throwing the sheet across the room he half turned in his chair, so that the yellow light fell across his

face. Fidget, the pup, always alert for action, was on her feet in a moment, eager to lead the way to the door

and whatever adventure might lie outside. But Grant did not leave his chair, and, finding all her tailwaving

of no avail, she presently settled down again by the stove, her chin on her outstretched paws, her drooping

eyes half closed, but a wakeful ear flopping occasionally forward and back. Grant snuggled his foot against

There was nothing else for it; he must absolutely dismiss ZenZen Transleyfrom his mind. That was not

only the course of honor; it was the course of common sense. After all, he had not sought her for his bride. He

had not pressed his suit. He had given her to Transley. The thought was rather a pleasant one. It implied some

sort of voluntary action upon Grant's part. He had been magnanimous. Nevertheless, he was cave man

"If things had been different," he remarked to himself; "if I had been in a position to offer her decent

conditions, I would have followed up the lead. And I would have won." He turned the incident on the river

bank over in his mind, and a faint smile played along his lips. "I would have won. But I couldn't bring her

here. . . . It's the first time I ever felt that money could really contribute to happiness. WellI was happy

He crossed the room and picked up the newspaper he had thrown away; he crumpled it in his hand as he

approached the stove. It said the bride was beautifulthe happy couplethe groom, prosperous young

contractorCaliforniathree months. . . . He turned to the table, smoothed out the paper, and studied it

again. Of course he had heard the whole thing from the Landsons; they had done Y.D. and his daughter

justice. He clipped the article carefully from the sheet and folded it away in a little book on the shelf.

Then he told himself that Zen had been swept from his mind; that if ever they should meetand he dallied a

moment with that possibilitythey would shake hands and say some decent, insipid things and part as

Grant occupied himself with the work of the ranch that winter, spring, and summer. Occasional news of Mrs.

Transley filtered through; she was too prominent a character in that countryside to be lost track of in a season.

But anything which reached Grant came through accidental channels; he sought no information of her, and

turned a deaf ear, almost, to what he heard. Then in the fall came an incident which immediately changed the

It came in the form of an importantlooking letter with an eastern postmark. It had been delivered with other

mail at the house, and Landson himself brought it down. Grant read it and at first stared at it somewhat

"Not bad news, I hope?" said his employer, cloaking his curiosity in commiseration.

"It is our duty to place before you information which must be of a very distressing nature, and which at the

same time will have the effect of greatly increasing your responsibilities and opportunities. Unless you have

happened to see the brief despatches which have appeared in the Press this letter will doubtless be the first

intimation to you that your father and younger brother Roy were the victims of a most regrettable accident

while motoring on a brief holiday in the South. The automobile in which they were travelling was struck by a

fast train, and both of them received injuries from which they succumbed almost immediately.

"Your father, by his will, left all his property, aside from certain behests to charity, to his son Roy, but Roy

had no will, and as he was unmarried, and as there are no other surviving members of the family except

yourself, the entire estate, less the behests already referred to, descends to you. We have not yet attempted an

appraisal, but you will know that the amount is very considerable indeed. In recent years your father's

business undertakings were remarkably successful, and we think we may conservatively suggest that the

"The brokerage firm which your father founded is, temporarily, without a head. You have had some

experience in your father's office, and as his solicitors for many years, we take the liberty of suggesting that

you should immediately assume control of the business. A faithful staff are at present continuing it to the best

of their ability, but you will understand that a permanent organization must be effected at as early a date as

"Inability to locate you until after somewhat exhaustive inquiries had been made explains the failure to notify

you by wire in time to permit of your attending the funeral of your father and brother, which took place in

"We beg to tender our very sincere sympathy, and to urge upon you that you so arrange your affairs as to

enable you to assume the responsibilities which have, in a sense, been forced upon you, at a very early date.

"Well, I guess it means you've struck oil, and I've lost a good foreman," said Landson, as he returned the

letter. "I'm sorry about your loss, Grant, and glad to hear of your good luck, if I may put it that way."

"No particular good luck that I can see," Grant protested. "I came west to get away from all that bothering

nuisance, and now I've got to go back and take it all up again. I feel badly about Dad and the kid; they were

decent, only they didn't understand me. . . . I suppose I didn't understand them, either. At any rate they didn't

"What do you reckon she's worth?" Landson asked, after waiting as long as his patience would permit.

"Look after it. Mr. Landson, you know that I have never worried about money; if I had I wouldn't be here. I

figure that the more money a man has the greater are his responsibilities and his troubles; worse than that, his

wealth excites the jealousy of the public and even the envy of his friends. It builds a barrier around him,

shutting out all those things which are really most worth while. It makes him the legitimate prey of the

unprincipled. I know all these things, and it is because I know them that I sought happiness out here on the

ranges, where perhaps some people are rich and some are poor, but they all think alike and live alike and are

part of one community and stand together in a pinchand out here I have found happiness. Now I'm going

back to the other job. I don't care for the money, but any sonofagun who takes it from me is a better man

than I am, and I'll sit up nights at both ends of the day to beat him at his own game. Now, just as soon as you

The news of Grant's fortune spread rapidly, and many were the congratulations from his old cow puncher

friends; congratulations, for the most part, without a suggestion of envy in them. Grant put his affairs in order

as quickly as possible, and started for the East with a trunkful of clothes. But even before he started one

thought had risen up to haunt him. He crushed it down, but it would insist. If only this had happened a year

Dennison Grant's mother had died in his infancy, and as soon as Roy was old enough to go to

boardingschool his father had given up housekeeping. The club had been his home ever since. Grant

reflected on this situation with some satisfaction. He would at least be spared the unpleasantness of

discharging a houseful of servants and disposing of the family furniture. As for the club he had no notion

for that. A couple of rooms in some quiet apartment house, where he could cook a meal to his own liking as

the fancy took him; that was his picture of something as near domestic happiness as was possible for a single

Grant reached his old home city late at night, and after a quiet cigar and a stroll through some of the

halfforgotten streets he put up at one of the best hotels. He was deferentially shown to a room about as large

as the whole Landson house; soft lights were burning under pink shades; his feet fell noiselessly on the thick

carpets. He placed a chair by a window, where he could watch the myriad lights of the city, and tried to

appraise the new sphere in which he found himself. It would be a very different game from riding the ranges

or roping steers, but it would be a game, nevertheless; a game in which he would have to stand on his own

resources even more than in those brave days in the foothills. He relished the notion of the game even while

he was indifferent to the prize. He had no clear idea what he eventually should do with his wealth; that was

something to think about very carefully in the days and years to come. In the meantime his job was to handle

a big business in the way it should be handled. He must first prove his ability to make money before he

He turned the water into his bath; there was a smell about the towels, the linen, the soap, that was very

In the morning he passed by the office of Grant Son. He did not turn in, but pursued his way to a door where

a great brass plate announced the law firm of Barrett, Jones, Barrett, Deacon Barrett. He smiled at this

elaboration of names; it represented three generations of the Barrett family and two sonsinlaw. Grant

found himself speculating over a name for the Landson ranch; it might have been Landson, Grant, Landson,

"Mr. David Barrett, senior, sir; he's out of the city, sir; he has not yet come in from his summer home in the

Grant suppressed a grin. "The Barretts are a somewhat leisurely family, I take it," he remarked.

"No, I think I'll just take it in." He pressed through a counter gate and opened a door upon which was

Mr. Jones proved to be a man with thin, irongrey hair and a stubby, pugnacious moustache. He sat at a desk

at the end of a long, narrow room, down both sides of which were rows of cases filled with

impressivelooking books. He did not raise his eyes when Grant entered, but continued poring over a file of

"What an existence!" Grant commented to himself. "And yet I suppose this man thinks he's alive."

Grant remained standing for a moment, but as the lawyer showed no disposition to divide his attention he

"Only for the moment. You are a lawyer. You will take care of that. I understand the firm of Barrett, Jones,

"In a sense, yes. I also understand that although all the Barretts, and also Mr. Deacon, share in the name plate,

The lawyer laid down his papers. "Who the dickens are you, anyway, and what do you want?"

"That's better. With undivided attention we shall get there much quicker. I have a certain amount of legal

business which requires attention, and in connection with which I am willing to pay what the service is worth.

But I'm not going to pay two generations of Barretts which are out of the city, and a third which doesn't come

down in the forenoon. If I have to buy name plates, I'll buy name plates of my own, and that is what I've

"Then I'll make myself understood. I am Dennison Grant. By force of circumstances I find myself"

Grant ignored the outstretched hand. "I'm exactly the same man who came into your office five minutes ago,

and you were too busy to raise your eyes from your papers. It is not me to whom you are now offering

"Then you will know in future. If you've got a hand on you, stick it out, whether your visitor has any money

Grant was glaring at the lawyer across the desk, and the pugnaciouslooking moustache was beginning to

"Did you come in here to read me a lecture, or to get legal advice?" the lawyer returned with some spirit.

"I came in here on business. In the course of that business I find it necessary to tell you where you get off at,

The lawyer came around from behind his desk. "And I'll show you," he said, very curtly. "You've been

drinking, or you're out of your head. In either case I'm going to put you out of this room until you are in a

"Hop to it!" said Grant, bracing himself. Jones was an oldish man, and he had no intention of hurting him. In

a moment they clenched, and before Grant could realize what was happening he was on his back.

He arose quickly, laughing, and sat down in a chair. "Mr. Jones, will you sit down? I want to talk to you."

"Perhaps. For my rudeness I apologize. But I was not untruthful. And I wanted to find something out. I found

"Whether you had any sand in you. You have, and considerable muscle, or knack, as well. I'm not saying you

"Simply this. If I am to manage the business of Grant Son I shall need legal advice of the highest order, and I

want it from a man with red blood in himI should be afraid of any other advice. What is your price? You

understand, you leave this firm and think of nothing, professionally, but what I pay you for."

Mr. Jones had seated himself, and the pugnacious moustache was settling back into a less hostile attitude.

"Quite. You see, I know nothing about business. It is true I spent some time in my father's office, but I never

had much heart for it. I went west to get away from it. Fate has forced it back upon my hands. WellI'm not

a piker, and I mean to show Fate that I can handle the job. To do so I must have the advice of a man who

knows the game. I want a man who can look over a bond issue, or whatever it is, and tell me at a glance

whether it's spavined or windbroken. I want a man who can sense out the legal badger holes, and who

won't let me gallop over a cutbank. I want a man who has not only brains to back up his muscle, but who also

has muscle to back up his brains. To be quite frank, I didn't think you were the man. I had no doubt you had

the legal ability, or you wouldn't be guiding the affairs of this fivecylinder firm, but I was afraid you didn't

have the fight in you. I picked a quarrel with you to find out, and you showed me, for which I am much

Before answering Mr. Jones got up, walked around behind his desk, unlocked a drawer and produced a box of

"That's a mistake you Westerners make," he remarked, when they had lighted up. "You think the muscle is all

out there, just as some Easterners will admit that the brains are all down here. Both are wrong. Life at a desk

calls for an antidote, and two nights a week keep me in form. I wrestled a bit when I was a boy, but I haven't

had a chance to try out my skill in a long while. I rather welcomed the opportunity."

Mr. Jones ruminated. "I wouldn't care to break with the firm," he said at length. "There are family ties as well

as those of business. A year's leave of absence might be arranged. By that time you would be safe in your

Grant smiled. "I don't expect to hire any more staff. I presume there is already a complete organization,

doubtless making money for me at this very moment. I will not interfere except when necessary, but I want a

Terms were agreed upon, and Mr. Jones asked only the remainder of the week to clean up important matters

on hand. Telegrams were despatched to Mr. David Barrett, senior, and Mr. David Barrett, junior, and Jones in

some way managed to convey the delicate information to young Mr. Barrett that a morning appearance on his

part would henceforth be essential. Grant decided to fill in the interval with a little fishing expedition. He was

determined that he would not so much as call at the office of Grant Son until Jones could accompany him. "A

When he finally did appear at the office he was received with a deference amounting almost to obeisance.

Murdoch, the chief clerk, and manager of the business in all but title, who had known him in the old days

when he had been "Mr. Denny," bore him into the private office which had for so many years been the sacred

recess of the senior Grant. Only big men or trusted employees were in the habit of passing those silent green

"Well Murdy, old boy, how goes it?" Grant had said when they met, taking his hand in a husky grip.

"Not so bad, sir; not so bad, considering the shock of the accident, sir. And we are all so glad to see youwe

"Why," said the somewhat abashed official, "you know you are now the head of the firm, sir."

"Quite so. Because a chauffeur neglected to look over his shoulder I am converted from a cow puncher to a

sir. Well, go easy on it. If a man has native dignity in him he doesn't need it piled on from outside."

"Very true, sir. I hope you will be comfortable here. Some memorable matters have been transacted within

"What for? Have you rattlers here? Oh, I seemore dignity. No, I don't carry a stick. Perhaps when I'm

"You'll have to try and accommodate yourself to our manners," said Jones, when Murdoch had left the room.

"They may seem unnecessary, or even absurd, but they are sanctioned by custom, and, you know, civilization

is built on custom. The poet speaks of a freedom which 'slowly broadens down from precedent to precedent.'

Precedent is custom. Never defy custom, or you will find her your master. Humor her, and she will be your

slave. Now I think I shall leave, while you try and tune yourself to the atmosphere of these surroundings. I

Grant saw him out with a friendly grip on his arm. "You will need another course of wrestling lessons

So this was the room which had been the inner shrine of the firm of Grant Son. The quarters were new since

he had left the East; the furnishings revealed that large simplicity which is elegance and wealth. A painting of

the elder Grant hung from the wall; Dennison stood before it, looking into the sad, capable, grey eyes. What

had life brought to his father that was worth the price those eyes reflected? Dennison found his own eyes

"Environment," the young man murmured, as he turned from the portrait, "environment, master of

A photograph of Roy stood on the mantelpiece, and beside it, in a little silver frame, was one of his mother. . .

. Grant pulled himself together and fell to an examination of the papers in his father's desk.

Grant's first concern was to get a grasp of the business affairs which had so unexpectedly come under his

direction. To accomplish this he continued the practice of the Landson ranch; he was up every morning at

five, and had done a day's work before the members of his staff began to assemble. For advice he turned to

Jones and Murdoch, and the management of routine affairs he left entirely in the hands of the latter. He had

soon convinced himself that the camaraderie of the ranch would not work in a staff of this kind, so while he

was formulating plans of his own he left the administration to Murdoch. He found this absence of

companionship the most unpleasant feature of his position; it seemed that his wealth had elevated him out of

the human family. He wavered between amusement and annoyance over the deference that was paid him.

Not so Miss Bruce. Miss Bruce had tapped on the door and entered with the words, "I was your father's

stenographer. He left practically all his personal correspondence to me. I worked at this desk in the corner,

and had a private office through the door there into which I slipped when my absence was preferred."

She had crossed the room, and, instead of standing respectfully before Grant's desk, had come around the end

of it. Grant looked up with some surprise, and noted that her features were not without commending qualities.

Grant swung around quickly in his chair. No one in the staff had spoken to him like that; Murdoch himself

would not have dared address him in so familiar a manner. He decided to take a firm position.

"Your father was a man well on in years, Mr. Grant. Every man according to his age."

"That is so," she assented. "But if it were not for me and the others on your pay roll there would be no firm to

require a head, and you'd be out of a job. You see, we are quite as essential to you as you are to us."

Grant looked at her keenly. Whatever her words, he had to admit that her tone was not impertinent. She had a

manner of stating a fact, rather than engaging in an argument. There was nothing hostile about her. She had

voiced these sentiments in as matter offact a way as if she were saying, "It's raining out; you had better

"You appear to be a very advanced young woman," he remarked. "I am a little surprisedI had hardly

thought my father would select young women of your type as his confidential secretaries."

"Private stenographer," she corrected. "A little extra side on a title is neither here nor there. Well, I will admit

that I rather took your father's breath at times; he discharged me so often it became a habit, but we grew to

have a sort of tacit understanding that that was just his way of blowing off steam. You see, I did his work, and

I did it right. I never lost my head when he got into a temper; I could always read my notes even after he had

spent most of the day in death grips with some business rival. You see, I wasn't afraid of him, not the least

"I don't believe you are," Grant admitted. "You are a remarkable woman. I think we shall get along all right if

you are able to distinguish between independence and bravado." He turned to his desk, then suddenly looked

"I don't mind telling you," he said abruptly, "that the deference which is being showered upon me around this

institution gives me a good deal of a pain. I've been accustomed to working with men on the same level. They

took their orders from me, and they carried them out, but the older hands called me by my first name, and any

of them swore back when he thought he had occasion. I can't fit in to this 'Yes sir,' 'No sir,' 'Very good, sir,'

"I know what you mean," she said. "There's too much servility in it. And yet one may pay these courtesies

and not be servile. I always 'sir'd' your father, and he knew I did it because I wanted to, not because I had to.

And I shall do the same with you once we understand each other. The position I want to make clear is this: I

don't admit that because I work for you I belong to a lower order of the human family than you do, and I don't

admit that, aside from the giving of faithful service, I am under any obligation to you. I give you my labor,

worth so much; you pay me; we're square. If we can accept that as an understanding I'm ready to begin work

The selection of a place to call home was a matter demanding Grant's early attention. He discussed it with

"Of course you will take memberships in some of the better clubs," the lawyer had suggested. "It's the best

home life there is. That is why it is not to be recommended to married men; it has a tendency to break up the

"You don't quite get me," said Grant. "If I used the money which was left by my father, or the income from

the business, no doubt I could do as you say. But I feel that that money isn't really mine. You see, I never

earned it, and I don't see how a person can, morally, spend money that he did not earn."

"Then there are a great many immoral people in the world," the lawyer observed, dryly.

"I am disposed to agree with you," said Grant, somewhat pointedly. "But I don't intend that they shall set my

"You have your salary. That comes under the head of earnings, if you are finnicky about the profits. What do

"I have been thinking about that. On the ranch I got a hundred dollars a month, and board."

"Well, your father got twenty thousand a year, and Roy half that, and if they wanted more they charged it up

"Considering the cost of board here, I think I would be justified in taking two hundred dollars a month,"

Jones got up and took the young man by the shoulders. "Look here, Grant, you're not taking yourself

seriously. I don't want to assail your pet theoriesyou'll grow out of them in timebut you hired me to give

you advice, and right here I advise you not to make a fool of yourself. You are now in a big position; you're a

big man, and you've got to live in a big way. If for nothing else than to hold the confidence of the public you

must do it. Do you think they're going to intrust their investments to a firm headed by a

"But I AM a twohundreddollaramonth man. In fact, I'm not sure I'm worth quite that much. I've got no

more muscle, and no more sense, and very little more experience than I had a month ago, when in the open

"When a man is big enoughor his job is big enough" Jones argued, "he arises above the ordinary law of

supply and demand. In fact, in a sense, he controls supply and demand. He puts himself in the job and

dictates the salary. You have a perfect right to pay yourself what other men in similar positions are getting.

Besides, as I said, you'll have to do so for the credit of the firm. Do you call a doctor who lives in a

tumbledown tenement? You do not. You call one from a fine home; you select him for his appearance of

prosperity, regardless of the fact that he may have mortgaged his future to create that appearance, and of the

further fact that he will charge you a fee calculated to help pay off the mortgage. When you want a lawyer, do

you seek some garret practitioner? You do not. You go to a big building, with a big name plate"the

pugnacious moustache gave hint of a smile gathering beneath"and you pay a big price for a man with an

office full of imposinglooking books, not a tenth part of which he has ever read, or intends ever to read. I

admit there's a good deal of bunco in the game, but if you sit in you've got to play it that way, or the dear

public will throw you into the discard. Many a man who votes himself a salary in five figuresor gets a

friendly board of directors to do it for himif thrown unfriended between the millstones of supply and

demand probably couldn't qualify for your modest hundred dollars a month and board. But he has risen into a

different world; instead of being dictated to, he dictates. That is your position, Grant. Look at it sensibly."

"Nevertheless, I shall get along on two hundred a month. If I find it necessary in order to protect the interests

of the business to take a membership in an expensive club, or commit any other extravagance, I shall do so,

and charge it up as a business expense. Besides, I think I can be happier that way."

"And in the meantime your business is piling up profits. What are you going to do with them? Give them

"No. That, too, is immoralwhether it be a quarter to a beggar or a library to a city. It feeds the desire to get

money without earning it, which is the most immoral of all our desires. I have not yet decided what I shall do

with it. I have hired an expert, in you, to show me how to make money. I shall probably find it necessary to

hire another to show me how to dispose of it. But not a dollar will be given away."

"No. I would correct the conditions that made him a beggar. That's the only kind of altruism that will make

"Some people would beg in any case, Grant. They are incapable of anything better."

"It is not charity; it is the discharge of an obligation. A father may support his children, but he must not let

Grant laughed and extended a cigar box. "Don't hesitate," he said, "this doesn't come out of the two hundred.

This is entertainment expense. And you must come and see me when I get settled."

"When you get settledyes. You won't be settled until you're married, and you might as well do some

thinking about that. A man in your position gets a pretty good range of choice; you'd be surprised if you knew

the wirepulling I have already encountered; ambitious old dames fishing for introductions for their

daughters. You may be an expert with rope or brandingiron, but you're outclassed in this matrimonial game,

and some one of them will land you one of these times before you know it. You should be very proud," and

Mr. Jones struck something of an attitude. "The youth and beauty of the city are raving about you."

"About my money," Grant retorted. "If my father had had time to change his will they would every one of

them have passed me by with their noses in the air. As for marryingthat's all off."

The lawyer was about to aim a humorous sally, but something in Grant's appearance closed his lips. "Very

Grant found what he wanted in a little apartment house on a side street, overlooking the lake. Here was a

place where the vision could leap out without being beaten back by barricades of stone and brick. He rested

his eyes on the distance, and assured the inveigling landlady that the rooms would do, and he would arrange

for decorating at his own expense. There was a livingroom, about the size of his shack on the Landson

ranch; a bathroom, and a kitchenette, and the rent was twentytwo dollars a month. A decorator was called in

to repaper the bathroom and kitchenette, but for the livingroom Grant engaged a carpenter. He ordered that

the inside of the room should be boarded up with rough boards, with exposed scantlings on the walls and

ceiling. No doubt the tradesman thought his patron mad, or nearly so, but his business was to obey orders,

and when the job was completed it presented a very passable duplicate of Grant's old quarters on the ranch.

He had spared the fireplace, as a concession to comfort. When he had gotten his personal effects out of

storage, when he had hung rifle, saddle and lariat from spikes in the wall; had built a little bookshelf and set

his old favorites upon it; had installed his bed and the trunk with the big D. G.; sitting in his arm chair before

the fire, with Fidget's nose snuggled companionably against his foot, he would not have traded his quarters

for the finest suite in the most expensive club in the city. Here was something at least akin to home.

As he was arranging the books on his shelf the clipping with the account of Zen's wedding fell to the floor.

He sat down in his chair and read it slowly through. Later he went out for a walk.

It was in his long walks that Grant found the only real comfort of his new life. To be sure, it was not like

roaming the foothills; there was not the soft breath of the Chinook, nor the deep silence of the mighty valleys.

But there was movement and freedom and a chance to think. The city offered artificial attractions in which

the foothills had not competed; faultlessly kept parks and lawns; splashes of perfume and color; spraying

fountains and vagrant strains of music. He reflected that some merciful principle of compensation has made

no place quite perfect and no place entirely undesirable. He remembered also the toll of his life in the saddle;

the physical hardship, the strain of long hours and broken weather. And here, too, in a different way, he was

in the saddle, and he did not know which strain was the greater. He was beginning to have a higher regard for

the men in the saddle of business. The world saw only their success, or, it may be, their pretence of success.

But there was a different story from all that, which each one of them could have told for himself.

On this evening when his mind had been suddenly turned into old channels by the finding of the newspaper

clipping dealing with the wedding of Y.D.'s daughter, Grant walked far into the outskirts of the city, paying

little attention to his course. It was late October; the leaves lay thick on the sidewalks and through the parks;

there was in all the air that strange, sad, sweet dreariness of the dying summer. . . . Grant had tried heroically

to keep his thoughts away from Transley's wife. The past had come back on him, had rather engulfed him, in

that little newspaper clipping. He let himself wonder where she was, and whether nearly a year of married life

had shown her the folly of her decision. He took it for granted that her decision had been folly, and he arrived

at that position without any reflection upon Transley. OnlyZen had been in love with him, with him,

Dennison Grant! Sooner or later she must discover the tragedy of that fact, and yet he told himself he was big

enough to hope she might never discover it. It would be best that she should forget him, as he

hadalmostforgotten her. There was no doubt that would be best. And yet there was a delightful sadness

in thinking of her still, and hoping that some day He was never able to complete the thought.

He had been walking down a street of modest homes; the bare trees groped into a sky clear and blue with the

first chill presage of winter. A quick step fell unheeded by his side; the girl passed, hesitated, then turned and

"Oh, Miss Bruce, I beg your pardon. I am glad to see you." Even at that moment he had been thinking of Zen,

and perhaps he put more cordiality into his words than he intended. But he had grown to have considerable

regard, on her own account, for this unusual girl who was not afraid of him. He had found that she was what

he called "a good head." She could take a detached view; she was absolutely fair; she was not easily flustered.

He turned with her at a corner, and they went up a narrow street lying deep in dead leaves. Friendly domestic

"This is our home," she said, stopping before a little gate. Grant's eye followed the pathway to a cottage set

back among the trees. "I live here with my sister and brother and mother. Father is dead," she went on

hurriedly, as though wishing to place before him a quick digest of the family affairs, "and we keep up the

home by living on with mother as boarders; that is, Grace and I do. Hubert is still in high school. Won't you

He followed her up the path and into a little hall, lighted only by chance rays falling through a halfopened

door. She did not switch on the current, and Grant was aware of a comfortable sense of her nearness, quite

distinct from any office experience, as she took his hat. In the livingroom her mother received him with

visible surprise. She was not old, but widowhood and the cares of a young family had whitened her hair

"We are glad to see you, Mr. Grant," she said. "It is an unexpected pleasure. Big business men do not

"Mr. Grant is different," her daughter interrupted, lightly. "I found him wandering the streets and I

"I think I AM different," he admitted, as his eye took in the surroundings, which he appraised quickly as

modest comfort, attained through many little economies and makeshifts. "You are very happy here," he went

on, frankly. "Much more so, I should say, than in many of the more pretentious homes. I have always

contended that, beyond the margin necessary for decent living, the possession of money is a burden and a

"Phyllis is a great help to meand Grace," the mother observed. "I hope she is a good girl in the office."

Grant was hurrying an assent but the girl interrupted, perhaps wishing to relieve him of the necessity of an

"'Decent living' is a very elastic term," she remarked. "There are so many standards. Some women think they

must have maids and social statuswhatever that isand so on. It can't be done on mother's income."

"That quality is not confined to women," Grant said. "I know I am regarded as something of a freak because I

prefer to live simply. They can't understand my preference for a plain room to read and sleep in, for quiet

walks by myself when I might be buzzing around in big motor cars or revelling with a bunch at the club. I

Miss Bruce had seated herself near him. "They are beginning to offer explanations," she said. "I hear

themsuch things always filter down. They say you are mean and niggardlythat you're afraid to spend a

dollar. The fact that you have raised the wages of your staff doesn't seem to answer them; they rather hold

that against you, because it has a tendency to make them do the same. Other office staffs are going to their

heads and saying, 'Grant is paying his help so much.' That doesn't popularize you. To be a good fellow you

should hold your staff down to the lowest wages at which you can get service, and the money you save in this

way should be spent with gusto and abandon at expensive hotels and other places designed to keep rich

"I am afraid you are satirizing them a little, but there is a good deal in what you say. They think I'm mean

because they don't understand me, and they can't understand my point of view. I believe that money was

created as a medium for the exchange of value. I think they will all agree with me there. If that is so, then I

have no right to money unless I have given value for it, and that is where they part company with me; but

Grant found himself thumbing his pockets. "You may smoke, if you have tobacco," said Mrs. Bruce. "My

husband smoked, and although I did not approve of it then, I think I must have grown to like it."

He lighted a cigarette, and continued. "Not all the moral law was given on Mount Sinai. It seems to me that

the supernaturalism which has been introduced into the story of the Ten Commandments is most unfortunate.

It seems to remove them out of the field of natural law, whereas they are, really, natural law itself. No social

state can exist where they are habitually ignored. But of course these natural laws existed long before Moses.

He did not make the law; he discovered it, just as Newton discovered the law of gravitation. Wellthere

must be many other natural laws, still undiscovered, or at least unaccepted. The thing is to discover them, to

obey them, and, eventually, to compel others to obey them. I am no Moses, but I think I have the germ of the

law which would cure our economic illsthat no person should be allowed to receive value without earning

it. Because I believed in that I gave up a fortune and went to work as a laborer on a ranch, but Fate has forced

wealth upon me, doubtless in order that I may prove out my own theories. Well, that is what I am doing."

"It shouldn't be hard to get rid of money if you don't want it," Mrs. Bruce ventured.

"But it is. It is the hardest kind of thing. You see, I am limited by my principles. I believe it is morally wrong

to receive money without earning it; consequently I cannot give it away, as by doing so I would place the

recipient in that position. I believe it is morally wrong to spend on myself money which I have not earned;

consequently I can spend only what I conceive to be a reasonable return for my services. Meanwhile, my

At this moment Grace and Hubert came in from the pictureshow together, and the conversation turned to

lighter topics. Mrs. Bruce insisted on serving tea and cake, and when Grant found that he must go Phyllis

She extended her hand, and he held it for a moment. "I have not changed my first opinion," he said, as he

Grant's first visit to the home of his private stenographer was not his last, and the news leaked out, as it is

sure to do in such cases. The social set confessed to being on the point of being shocked. Two schools of

criticism developed over the five o'clock tea tables; one held that Grant was a gay dog who would settle down

and marry in his class when he had had his fling, and the other that Phyllis Bruce was an artful hussy who

was quite ready to sell herself for the Grant millions. And there were so many eligible young women on the

Grant's behavior, however, placed him under no cloud in so far as social opportunities were concerned; on the

contrary, he found himself being showered with invitations, most of which he managed to decline on the

grounds of pressure of business. When such an excuse would have been too transparent he accepted and

made the best of it, and he found no lack of encouragement in the one or two incipient amorous flurries which

resulted. From such positions he always succeeded in extricating himself, with a quiet smile at the vagaries of

life. He had to admit that some of the young women whom he had met had charms of more than passing

Mrs. LeCord carried the warfare into his own office. The late Mr. LeCord had left her to face the world with

a comfortable fortune and three daughters, of whom the youngest was now married and the oldest was a

forlorn hope. To place the second was now her purpose, and the best bargain on the market was young Grant.

Caroline, she was sure, would make a very acceptable wife, and the young lady herself confessed a belief that

she could love even a bold Westerner whose bank balance was expressed in seven figures.

The fact that Grant avoided social functions only added zest to the determination with which Mrs. LeCord

carried the war into his own office. She chose to consult him for advice on financial matters and she came

accompanied by Caroline, a young woman rather prepossessing in her own right. The two were readily

admitted into Grant's private office, where they had opportunity not only to meet the young man in person,

"I am Mrs. LeCord, Mr. Grant," the lady introduced herself. "This is my daughter Caroline. We wish to

Grant received them cordially. "I shall be glad to advise you, if I can," he said.

Mrs. LeCord took up her subject after a moment's silence. "Mr. LeCord left me not entirely unprovided for,"

she explained. "Almost a million dollars in bonds and real estate made a comfortable protection for me and

my three daughters against the buffetings of a world which, as you may have found, Mr. Grant, is not

"The buffetings of the world are an excellent training for the world's affairs."

"Maybe so, maybe so," his visitor conceded. "However, there are other trainingstrainings of finer quality,

Mr. Grantthan those which have to do with subsistence. I have been able to give my daughters the best

education that money could command, and, if I do say it, I permit myself some gratification over the result.

Gretta is comfortably and happily married,a young man of some distinction in the financial worlda Mr.

Powers, Mr. Newton Powersyou may happen to know him; Madge, I think, is always going to be her

"I said you could never tell, Mr. Grant,while handsome young men like yourself are at large. Mrs. LeCord

laughed heartily, as much as to say that her remark must be regarded only as a little pleasantry. "But you will

think I am a gossipy old body," she continued briskly. "I really came to discuss certain financial matters.

Since Mr. LeCord's death I have taken charge of all the family business affairs with, if I may confess it, some

success. We have lived, and my girls have been educated, and our little reserve against a rainy day has been

almost doubled, in addition to giving Gretta a hundred thousand in her own right on the occasion of her

marriage. Caroline is to have the same, and when I am done with it there will be a third of the estate for each.

In the meantime I am directing my investments as wisely as I can. I want my daughters to be provided for,

quite apart from any income marriage may bring them. I should be greatly humiliated to think that any

daughter of mine would be dependent upon her husband for support. On the contrary, I mean that they shall

bring to their husbands a sum which will be an appreciable contribution toward the family fortune."

"Oh, yes, we must get back to that. How I wander! I'm afraid, Mr. Grant, I must be growing old."

Grant protested gallantly against such conclusion, and Mrs. LeCord, after asking his opinion on certain issues

"You must find life in this city somewhat lonely, Mr. Grant," she murmured as she drew on her gloves. "If

ever you find a longing for a quiet hour away from business stressa little domesticity, if I may say itour

She extended her hand with her sweetest smile. Caroline shook hands, too, and Grant bowed them out.

On other occasions Mrs. LeCord and her daughter were fortunate enough to find Grant alone, and at such

times the mother's conversation became even more pointed than in their first interview. Grant hesitated to

offend her, mainly on account of Caroline, for whom he admitted to himself it would not be at all difficult to

muster up an attachment. There were, however, three barriers to such a development. One was the obvious

purpose of Mrs. LeCord to arrange a match; a purpose which, as a mere matter of the game, he could not

allow her to accomplish. One was Zen Transley. There was no doubt about it. Zen Transley stood between

him and marriage to any girl. Not that he ever expected to take her into his life, or be admitted into hers, but

in some way she hedged him about. He felt that everything was not yet settled; he found himself entertaining

a foolish sense that everything was not quite irrevocable. . . . And then there wasperhapsPhyllis Bruce.

When at length, for some reason, Mrs. LeCord visited him alone he decided to be frank with her.

"You have thought me clever enough to advise you on financial matters?" he queried, when his visitor had

"Why, yes," she returned, detecting the personal note in his voice. "I sometimes think, Mr. Grant, you hardly

do yourself justice. Even the hardest old heads on the Exchange are taking notice of you. I have heard your

"Then it may be presumed," he interrupted, "that I am clever enough to know the real purpose of your visits

She turned a little in her chair, facing him squarely. "I hardly understand you, Mr. Grant."

"Then I possess an advantage, because I quite clearly understand you. I have hesitated, out of consideration

for your daughter, to show any resentment of your behavior. But I must now tell you that when I marry, if

ever I do, I shall choose my wife without the assistance of her mother, and without regard to her dowry or the

"Oh, I protest!" exclaimed Mrs. LeCord, who had grown very red. "I protest against any such conclusion. I

have seen fit to intrust my financial affairs to your firm; I have visited you on business accompanied at

times by my daughter, it is truebut only on business; recognizing in you a social equal I have invited you

to my house, a courtesy which, so far, you have not found yourself able to accept; but in all this I have shown

toward you surely nothing but friendliness and a respect amounting, if I may say it, to esteem. But now that

you are frank, Mr. Grant, I too will be frank. You cannot be unaware of the rumors which have been

"Ah, then you know of them. You are a young man, and we older people are disposed to make allowance for

thefor that. But you must realize the great mistake you would be making should you allow this matter to

"I do not admit your right to question me on such a subject, Mrs. LeCord, but I shall not avoid a discussion of

it. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that I were to contemplate marriage with Miss Bruce; if she and her

"It would be a great mistake," Mrs. LeCord insisted, avoiding his question. "She is not in your class"

"Why, I mean socially, of course. She lives in a different world. She has no standing, in a social way. She

"So do I," he interrupted, "and your daughters do not. It would therefore appear that I am more in Miss

"Ah, but you are an employer. You direct things. You work because you want to, not because you have to.

"Apparently it does. Well, if I had my way, everybody would work, whether he wanted to or not. I would not

allow any healthy man to spend money which he had not earned by the sweat of his own brow. I am

convinced that that is the only economic system which is sound at the bottom, but it would destroy 'class,' as

"I am afraid you are rather radical, Mr. Grant. You may be sure that a system which has served so long and so

"That introduces the clash between East and West. The East says because things are so, and have always been

so, they must be right. The West says because things are so, and have always been so, they are in all

"You should not allow your theories of economics to stand in the way of your success," Mrs. LeCord

pursued. "Suppose I admit that Caroline would not be altogether deaf to your advances. Suppose I admit that

much. Allowing for a mother's prejudice, will you not agree with me that Caroline has her attractions? She is

well bred, well educated, and not without appearance. She belongs to the smartest set in town. Her circle

would bring you not only social distinction, but valuable business connections. She would introduce that

But Grant, now thoroughly angry, had risen from his chair. "You speak of refinement," he exclaimed, in the

quick, sharp tones which alone revealed the fighting Grant;"you, who have been guilty of I could use a

very ugly word which I will give you the credit of not understanding. When I decide to buy myself a wife I

Grant dismissed Mrs. LeCord from his office with the confident expectation that he soon would have

occasion to know something of the meaning of the proverb about hell's furies and a woman scorned. She

But his attention was at once to be turned to very different matters. A stock market, erratic for some days,

went suddenly into a paroxysm. Grant escaped with as little loss as possible for himself and his clients, and

after three sleepless nights called his staff together. They crowded into the boardroom, curious,

apprehensive, almost frightened, and he looked over them with an emotion that was quite new to his

experience. Even in the aloofness which their standards had made it necessary for him to adopt there had

grown up in his heart, quite unnoticed, a tender, sweet foliage of love for these men and women who were a

part of his machine. Now, as he looked in their faces he realized how, like little children, they leaned on

himhow, like little children, they feared his power and his displeasurehow, perhaps, like little children,

they had learned to love him, too. He realized, as he had never done before, that they WERE children; that

here and there in the mass of humanity is one who was born to lead, but the great mass itself must be children

"My friends," he managed to say, "we suddenly find ourselves in tremendous times. Some of you know my

attitude toward this business in which we are engaged. I did not seek it; I did not approve of it; I tried to avoid

it; yet, when the responsibility was forced upon me I accepted that responsibility. I gave up the life I enjoyed,

the environment in which I found delight, the friends I loved. Wellour nation is now in a somewhat similar

position. It has to go into a business which it did not seek, of which it does not approve, but which fate has

thrust upon it. It has to break off the current of its life and turn it into undreamedof channels, and we, as

individuals who make up the nation, must do the same. I have already enlisted, and expect that within a few

hours I shall be in uniform. Some of you are single men of military age; you will, I am sure, take similar

steps. For the restthe business will be wound up as soon as possible, so that you may be released for some

form of national service. You will all receive three months' salary in lieu of notice. Mr. Murdoch will look

after the details. When that has been done my wealth, or such part of it as remains, will be placed at the

disposal of the Government. If we win it will be well invested in a good cause; if we lose, it would have been

"We are not going to lose!" It was one of the younger clerks who interrupted; he stood up and for a moment

looked straight at his chief. In that instant's play of vision there was surely something more than can be told

in words, for the next moment he rushed forward and seized one of Grant's hands in both his own. There was

He turned and made his way out of the room, leaving his chief breathless in a rapture of joy and pride. Others

crowded up. They too were goingNOW. Even old Murdoch tried to protest that he was as good a man as

ever. It seemed to Grant that the drab everyday costumings of his staff had fallen away, and now they were

No one knew just how the meeting broke up, but Grant had a confused remembrance of many handclasps and

some tears. He was not sure that he had not, perhaps, added one or two to the flow, but they were all tears of

friendship and of an emotion born of high resolve. . . . The most wonderful thing was that the youngster had

As he stood in his own office again, trying to get the events of these last few days into some sort of

perspective, Phyllis Bruce entered. He motioned dumbly to a chair, but she came and stood by his desk. Her

"He is sixteen, and large for his age. He came home confessing, and saying it was his first lie, and the first

important thing he ever did without consulting mother. He said he knew he wouldn't be able to stand it if he

"Foolish, but heroic," Grant commented. "Be proud of him. It takes more than wisdom to be heroic."

"And Grace is going to England. She was taking nursing, you know, and so gets a preference. We can't ALL

"No, I'm not. I'm a little fool to tell you this, but how can I staywhy should I staywhen you are gone?"

She was looking down, but after her confession she raised her eyes to his, and he wondered that he had never

known how beautiful she was. He could have taken her in his arms, but something, with the power of

invisible chains, held him back. In that supreme moment a vision swam before him; a vision of a mountain

stream backed by tawny foothills, and a girl as beautiful as even this Phyllis who had wrapped him in her

When he did not respond she drew herself slowly away. "You will hate me," she said.

"That is impossible," he corrected, quickly. "I am very sorry if I have let you think more than I intended. I

care for you very, very much indeed. I care for you so much that I will not let you think I care for you more.

He was disconcerted by her intuition and the terse frankness with which she stated the case.

"I will take you into my confidence, Phyllis, if I may," he said at length. "I DO like you; I DID love someone

else. And that old attachment is still so strong that it would be hardly fairit would be hardly fair"

Her hands found his this time. "I'm sorry," she said. "Sorry I brought this upsorry I raised these memories.

"No. It is better that you should forget. Only, I shall see you off; I shall wave my handkerchief to YOU; I

Four years of war add only four years to the life of a man according to the record in the family Bible, if he

happen to spring from stock in which that sacred document is preserved. But four years of war add twenty

years to the grey matter behind the eyes eyes which learn to dream and ponder strangely, and sometimes to

shine with a hardness that has no part with youth. When Captain Grant and Sergeant Linder stepped off the

train at Grant's old city there was, however, little to suggest the ageing process that commonly went on

among the soldiers in the Great War. Grant had twice stopped an enemy bullet, but his fine figure and

sunburned health now gave no evidence of those experiences. Linder counted himself lucky to carry only an

They had fallen in with each other in France, and the friendship planted in the foothills of the range country

had grown, through the strange prunings and graftings of war, into a tree of very solid timber. Linder might

have told you of the time his captain found him with his arm crushed under a wrecked piece of artillery, and

Grant could have recounted a story of being dragged unconscious out of No Man's Land, but for either to

dwell upon these matters only aroused the resentment of the other, and frequently led to exchanges between

captain and sergeant totally incompatible with military discipline. They were content to pay tribute to each

"First thing is a place to eat," Grant remarked, when they had been dismissed. Words to similar effect had,

indeed, been his first remark upon every suitable opportunity for three months. An appetite which has been

four years in the making is not to be satisfied overnight, and Grant, being better fortified financially against

the stress of a good meal, sought to be always first to suggest it. Linder accepted the situation with the

When they had eaten they took a walk through the old townGrant's old town. It looked as though he had

stepped out of it yesterday; it was hard to realize that ages lay between. There are experiences which soak in

slowly, like water into a log. The new element surrounds the body, but it may be months before it penetrates

to the heart. Grant had some sense of that fact as he walked the old familiar streets, apparently unchanged by

all these cataclysmic days. . . . In time he would come to understand. There was the name plate of Barrett,

Jones, Barrett, Deacon Barrett. There had not even been an addition to the firm. Here was the old Grant

office, now used for some administration purpose. That, at least, was a move in the right direction.

They wandered along aimlessly while the sunset of an early summer evening marshalled its glories overhead.

On a side street children played in the roadway; on a vacant spot a game of ball was in progress. Women sat

on their verandas and shot casual glances after them as they passed. Handsome pleasure cars glided about;

Linder pulled slowly on his cigarette. Even his training as a sergeant had not made him ready of speech, but

"That's the way it gets me, too. So unnecessary. You see, when you get down to fundamentals there are only

two things necessary food and shelter. Everything else may be described as trimmings. We've been dealing

with fundamentals so longmighty bare fundamentals at thatthat all these trimmings seem just a little

"And I can't imagine myself sitting in an office and dealing with such unessential things as stocks and bonds.

"Got any notion what you will do?" said Linder, when he had reached the middle of another cigarette.

"Not the slightest. I don't even know whether I'm rich or broke. I suppose if Jones and Murdoch are still alive

they will be looking after those details. Doing their best, doubtless, to embarrass me with additional wealth.

The mention of Transley threw Grant's mind back into old channels. He had almost forgotten Transley. He

told himself he had quite forgotten Zen Transley, but once he knew he lied. That was when they potted him in

No Man's Land. As he lay there, waiting . . . . he knew he had not forgotten. And he had thought many times

of Phyllis Bruce. At first he had written to her, but she had not answered his letters. Evidently she meant him

to forget. Nor had she come to the station to welcome him home. Perhaps she did not know. Perhaps Many

Suddenly it occurred to Grant that it might be a good idea to call on Phyllis. He would take Linder along.

That would make it less personal. He knew his man well enough to keep his own counsel, and eventually they

"Let's turn in here. I used to know these people. Mother and daughter; very fine folk."

Linder looked for an avenue of retreat, but Grant barred his way, and together they went up the path. A

strange woman, with a baby on her arm, met them at the door. Grant inquired for Mrs. Bruce and her

"Oh, you haven't heard?" said the woman. "I suppose you are just back. Well, it was a sad thing, but these

have been sad times. It was when Hubert was killed I came here first. Poor dear, she took that to heart awful,

and couldn't be left alone, and Phyllis was working in an office, so I came here part time to help out. Then

she was just beginning to brace up again when we got the word about Grace. Grace, you know, was lost on a

Grant received this information with a strange catching about the heart. There had been changes, after all.

"I moved into the house after Mrs. Bruce died," the woman continued, "as my man came back discharged

about that time. Phyllis tried to get on as a nurse, but couldn't manage it. Then her office was moved to

another part of the city and she took rooms somewhere. At first she came to see us often, but not lately. I

"Trying to forget," Grant muttered to himself. "How much of life is made up of trying to forget!"

Further questions brought no further information. The woman didn't know the firm for which Phyllis worked;

she thought it had to do with munitions. Suddenly Grant found himself impelled by a tremendous desire to

locate this girl. He would set about it at once; possibly Jones or Murdoch could give him information.

Strangely enough, he now felt that he would prefer to be rid of Linder's company. This was a matter for

himself alone. He took Linder to an hotel, where they arranged for lodgings, and then started on his search.

He located Murdoch without difficulty. It was now late, and the old clerk came down the stairs with

inoffensive imprecations upon the head of his untimely caller, but his mutterings soon gave way to a cry of

"My dear boy!" he exclaimed, embracing him. "My dear boyexcuse me, sir, I'm a blithering old man, but

oh! sirmy boy, you're home again!" There was no doubting the depth of old Murdoch's welcome. He ran

before Grant into the livingroom and switched on the lights. In a moment he was back with his arm about

"Sit you down, Mr. Grant; herethis chairit's easier. I must get the women up. This is no night for

"There is a tradition that official word is sent in advance," Grant tried to explain.

"Aye, a tradition. There's a tradition that a Scotsman is a dour body without any sentiment. WellI must call

He hurried up the stairs and Grant settled back into his chair. So this was the home of Murdoch, the man who

really had earned a considerable part of the Grant fortune. He had never visited Murdoch before; he had never

thought of him in a domestic sense; Murdoch had always been to him a man of figures, of competent office

routine, of almost too respectful deference. The light over the centre table fell subdued through a pinkish

shade; the corners of the room lay in restful shadows; the comfortable furniture showed the marks of years.

The walls suggested the need of new paper; the wellworn carpet had been shifted more than once for

economy's sake. Grant made a hasty appraisal of these conditions; possibly his old clerk was feeling the pinch

Murdoch, returning, led in his wife, a motherly woman who almost kissed the young soldier. In the welcome

of her greeting it was a moment before Grant became aware of the presence of a fourth person in the room.

"I am very glad to see you safely back," said Phyllis Bruce. "We have all been thinking about you a great

"Why, MissPhyllis! It was you I was looking for!" The frank confession came before he had time to

"Yes, Phyllis is making her home with us now," Mrs. Murdoch explained. "It is more convenient to her

Grant wondered how much of this arrangement was due to Mrs. Murdoch's sympathy for the bereaved girl,

and how much to the addition which it made to the family income. No doubt both considerations had

"I called at your old home," he continued. "I needn't say how distressed I was to hear The woman could

"Yes," she said, simply, as though there were nothing more to explain. Grant noticed that her eyes were larger

and her cheeks paler than they had been, but the delight of her presence leapt about him. Her hurried costume

seemed to accentuate her beauty despite of all that war had done to destroy it. There was a silence which

Mrs. Murdoch met the situation by insisting that she would put on the kettle, and Mr. Murdoch, in a burst of

almost divine inspiration, insisted that his wife was quite incompetent to light the gas alone at that hour of the

night. When the old folks had shuffled into the kitchen Grant found himself standing close to Phyllis Bruce.

"Why didn't you answer my letters?" he demanded, plunging to the issue with the directness of his nature.

"Because I had promised to let you forget," she replied. There was a softness in her voice which he had not

noted in those bygone days; she seemed more resigned and yet more poised; the strange wizardry of suffering

had worked new wonders in her soul. Suddenly, as he looked upon her, he became aware of a new quality in

Phyllis Brucethe quality of gentleness. She had added this to her unique selfconfidence, and it had toned

down the angularities of her character. To Grant, straight from his long exile from fine womanly domesticity,

She could not misunderstand the emphasis he placed on that last word, but she continued as though he had

"I knew you would write once or twice out of courtesy. I knew you would do that. I made up my mind that if

you wrote three times, then I would know you really wanted to remember me. . . . I did not get any third

"But how could I know that you had placed such a testsuch an arbitrary measurementupon my

"It wasn't necessary for you to know. If you had caredenough you would have kept on writing."

He had to admit to himself that there was just enough truth in what she said to make her logic unanswerable.

His delight in her presence now did not alter the fact that he had found it quite possible to live for four years

without her, and it was true that upon one or two great vital moments his mind had leapt, not to Phyllis Bruce,

but to Zen Transley! He blushed at the recollection; it was an impossible situation, but it was true!

He was framing some plausible argument about honorable men not persisting in a correspondence when

"Mother is going to set the diningroom table," he announced, "and the coffee will be ready presently. Well,

sir, you do look well in uniform. You will be wondering how the business has gone?"

"Not half as much as I am wondering some other things," he said, with a significance intended for the ear of

Phyllis. "You seeI was just talking it over with a pal today, a very good comrade whom I used to know in

the West, and who pulled me out of No Man's Land where I would have been lying yet if he hadn't thought

more of me than he did of himselfI was talking it over with him today, and we agreed that business isn't

worth the effort. Fancy sitting behind a desk, wondering about the stock market, when you've been

accustomed to leaning up against a parapet wondering where the next shell is going to burst! If that is not

from the sublime to the ridiculous, it is at least from the vital to the inconsequential. You can't expect men to

"No, not as a jump," Murdoch agreed. "They'll have to move down gradually. But they must remember that

life depends quite as much on wheatfields as it does on trenches, and that all the machinery of commerce

and industry is as vital in its way as is the machinery of war. They must remember that, or instead of being at

"I suppose," Grant conceded, "but it all seems so unnecessary. No doubt you have been piling up more

"Your peculiar conscience, I might almost correct, sir. Your responsibilities do seem to insist upon

increasing. Following your instructions I put the liquid assets into Government bonds. Interest, even on

Government bonds, has a way of working while you sleep. Then, you may remember, we were carrying a

large load of certain steel stocks. These I did not dispose of at once, with the result that they, in themselves,

"I suppose I should thank you for your foresight, Murdoch. I was rather hoping you would lose my money

"I don't know, sir, but I feel sure you will use it for some good purpose. I was glad to get as much of it

together for you as I did, because otherwise it might have fallen to people who would have wasted it."

"Upon my word, Murdoch, that smacks of my own philosophy. Is it possible even you are becoming

"Come, Mr. Grant; come, everybody!" a cheerful voice called from behind the sliding doors which shut off

the diningroom. The fragrant smell of coffee was already in the air, and as Grant took his seat Mrs.

Murdoch declared that for once she had decided to defy all the laws of digestion.

At the table their talk dribbled out into thin channels. It was as though there were at hand a great reservoir of

thought, of experience, of deep gropings into the very wellsprings of life, which none of them dared to tap

lest it should rush out and overwhelm them. They seemed in some strange awe of its presence, and spoke,

when they spoke at all, of trivial things. Grant proved uncommunicative, and perhaps, in a sense,

disappointing. He preferred to forget both the glories and the horrors of war; when he drew on his experience

at all it was to relate some humorous incident. That, it seemed, was all he cared to remember. He was

conscious of a restraint which hedged him about and hampered every mental deployment.

Phyllis, too, must have been conscious of that restraint, for before they parted she said something about

human minds being like pianos, which get out of tune for lack of the mastertouch. . . .

When Grant found himself in the street air again he was almost swallowed up in the rush of things which he

might have said. His mental machinery, which seemed to have been out of mesh,came back into

adjustment with a jerk. He suddenly discovered that he could think; he could drive his mind from his own

batteries. In soldiering the mind is driven from the batteries of the rank higher up. The business of discipline

is to make man an automatic machine rather than a thinking individual. It seemed to Grant that in that

moment the machine part of him gave way and the individual was restored. In his case the change came in a

moment; he had been retuned; he was able to think logically in terms of civil life. He pieced together

Murdoch's conversation. "Not as a jump," Murdoch had said, when he had argued that a man cannot emerge

in a moment from the psychology of the trenches to that of the countinghouse. Undoubtedly that would be

There are moments when the mind, highly vitalized, reaches out into the universe of thought and grasps ideas

far beyond its conscious intention. All great thoughts come from uncharted sources of inspiration, and it may

be that the function of the mind is not to create thought, but only to record it. To do so it must be tuned to the

proper key of receptivity. Grant had a consciousness, as he walked along the deserted streets toward his hotel,

that he was in that key; the quietness, the domesticity of Murdoch's home, the loveliness of Phyllis Bruce,

had, for the moment at least, shut out a background of horror and lifted his thought into an exalted plane. He

paused at a bridge to lean against the railing and watch the trembling reflection of city lights in the river.

He paused for a moment to turn over his thought, as though to make sure it should not escape. Then, at a pace

which aroused the wondering glance of one or two placid policemen, he hurried to the hotel.

Linder and Grant had been assigned to the same room, and the sergeant's dreams, if he dreamt at all, were of

the sweet hay meadows of the West. Grant turned on the light and looked down into the face of his friend. A

smile, born of fields afar from war's alarms, was playing about his lips. Even in his excitement Grant could

"THEM, you mean," said Linder, suddenly awake. "Why, man, what's wrong with you? You're more excited

"Well, don't do it tonight," Linder protested. "Someone has to settle for this dugout in the morning."

"We're leaving for the West tomorrow, Linder, old scout. Everybody will say we're crazy, but that's a good

The window was grey with the light of dawn before Grant's mind had calmed down enough for sleep. When

"No better than you did last night," retorted Grant, springing out of bed. "Let me see . . . . yes, I still have it

clearly. I'll tell you about it sometime, if you can stay awake. When do we eat?"

"Now, or as soon as you are presentable. I've a notion to give you three days' C.B. for appearing on parade in

"Make it a cash fine, Sergeant, old dear, and pay it out of what you owe me. Now that that is settled order up

a decent meal. I'll be shaved and dressed long before it arrives. You know this is a firstclass hotel, where

As they ate together Grant showed no disposition to discuss what Linder called his Big Idea, nor yet to give

any satisfaction in response to his companion's somewhat pointed references as to his doings of the night

"There are times, Linder," he said, "when my soul craves solitude. You, being a sergeant, and therefore

"Furthermore," Grant continued, "tonight I mean to resume my soliloquies, and your absence will be much

"Good! Here are some morsels of money. If you will buy our railway tickets and settle with the chief

Linder sprang to attention, gave a salute in which mock deference could not entirely obscure the respect

beneath, and set about on his commissions, while Grant devoted the afternoon to a session with Murdoch and

Jones, to neither of whom would he reveal his plans further than to say he was going west "to engage in some

development work." During the afternoon it was noted that Grant's interest centred more in a certain

telephone call than in the very gratifying financial statement which Murdoch was able to place before him.

And it was probably as a result of that telephone call that a taxi drew up in front of Murdoch's home at

exactly six thirty that evening and bore Miss Phyllis Bruce and an officer wearing a captain's uniform in the

The diningroom was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and soft strains of music stole vagrantly about its

high arching pillars, mingling with the chatter of lovely women and of men to whom expense was no

consideration. Grant was conscious of a delicious sense of intimacy as he helped Phyllis remove her wraps

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I don't make compliments for exercise, but you do look stunning tonight!"

A warmth of color lit up her cheekhe had noticed at Murdoch's how pale she wasand her eyes laughed

They gave their orders, and sat in silence through an overture. Grant was delighting himself simply in her

presence, and guessed that for her part she could not retract the confession her love had wrung from her so

"There are some things which don't change, Phyllis," he said, when the orchestra had ceased.

There seemed no reason why Grant should not there and then have laid himself, figuratively, at her feet. And

there was not any reasononly one. He wanted first to go west. He almost hoped that out there some light of

disillusionment would fall about him; that some sudden experience such as he had known the night before

"I asked you to dine with me tonight," he heard himself saying, "for two reasons: first, for the delight of

your exquisite companionship; and second, because I want to place before you certain business plans which,

"You know the position which I have taken with regard to the spending of money, that one should not spend

on himself or his friends anything but his own honest earnings for which he has given honest service to

society. I have seen no reason to change my position. On the contrary the war has strengthened me in my

convictions. It has brought home to me and to the world the fact that heroism is a flower which grows in no

peculiar soil, and that it blossoms as richly among the unwashed and the underfed as among the children of

fortune. This fact only aggravates the extremes of wealth and poverty, and makes them seem more unjust

"For myself I have accepted this view, but our financial system is founded upon very different ethics. I

wonder if you have ever thought of the fact that when the barons at Runnymede laid the foundations of

democratic government for the world they overlooked the almost equally important matter of creating a

democratic system of finance. Welllet's not delve into that now. The point is that under our present system

we do acquire wealth which we do not earn, and the only thing to be done for the time being is to treat that

wealth as a trust to be managed for the benefit of humanity. That is what I call the new morality as applied to

money, although it is not so new either. It can be traced back at least nineteen hundred years, and all our

philanthropists, great and little, have surely caught some glimpse of that truth, unless, perhaps, they gave

their alms that they might have honor of men. But giving one's money away does not solve the problem; it

pauperizes the recipient and delays the evolution of new conditions in which present injustices would be

"Perfectly. It is easy for me, who have nothing to lose, to follow your logic. You will have more trouble

"I am not so sure of that. Humanity is pretty sound at heart, but we can't abandon the boat we're on until we

have another that is proven seaworthy. However, it seems to me that I have found a solution which I can

apply in my individual case. Have you thought what are the three greatest needs, commercially speaking, of

"Yesmost particularly production of food. And the others are corollary to it. They are instruction and

"Productioninstructionopportunity," she repeated. "How are you going to bring them about?"

"That is my Big Idea, as Linder calls it, although I have not yet confided in him what it is. Wellthe world is

crying for food, and in our western provinces are millions of acres which have never felt the plow"

"I know, but I naturally think of the West. I propose to form a company and buy a large block of land, cut it

up into farms, build houses and community centres, and put returned men and their families on these farms,

under the direction of specialists in agriculture. I shall break up the rectangular survey of the West for

something with humanizing possibilities; I mean to supplant it with a system of survey which will permit of

settlement in groups villages, if you likewhere I shall instal all the modern conveniences of the city,

including movie shows. Our statesmen are never done lamenting that population continues to flow from the

country to the city, but the only way to stop that flow is to make the country the more attractive of the two."

"That is the keystone of the Big Idea. There never before was a company like this will be. In the first place, I

shall put up all the money myself. Then, when I have prepared a farm ready to receive a man and his family, I

will sell him shares equivalent to the value of his farm, and give him a perpetual lease, subject to certain

restrictions. Let me illustrate. Suppose you are the prospective shareholder. I say, Miss Bruce, I can place you

on a farm worth, with buildings and equipment, ten thousand dollars. I do not ask any cash from you; not a

cent, but I want you to subscribe for ten thousand dollars stock in my company. That will make you a

shareholder. When the farm begins to produce you are to have all you and your familythis is an

illustration, you know can consume for your own use. The balance is to be sold, and one third of the

proceeds is to be paid into the treasury of the company and credited on your purchase of shares. When you

have paid for all your shares in this way you will have no further payments to make, except such levy as may

be made by the company for running expenses. You, as a shareholder of the company, will have a voice with

the other shareholders in determining what that levy shall be. You and your descendents will be allowed

possession of that farm forever, subject only to your obeying the rules of the company. You"

"But why the company? It simply amounts to buying the land on payments to be made out of each year's

crop, except that you want me to pay for shares in the company instead of for the land itself."

"That, as I told you, is the keystone of my Big Idea. If I sold you the land you would be master of it; you

could do as you liked with it. You could let it lie idle; you could allow your buildings and machinery to get

out of repair; you could keep scrub stock; all your methods of husbandry might be slovenly or antiquated;

you could even rent or sell the land to someone who might be morally or socially undesirable in the

community. On the other hand you might be peculiarly successful, when you would proceed to buy out your

less successful neighbors, or make loans on their land, and thus create yourself a land monopolist. But as a

shareholder in the company you will be subject to the rules laid down by the company. If it says that houses

must be painted every four years you will paint your house every fourth year. If it rules that hayracks are not

to be left on the front lawn you will have to deposit yours somewhere else. If it orders that crops must be

rotated to preserve the fertility of the soil you will obey those instructions. If you do not like the regulations

you can use your influence with the board of directors to have them changed. If you fail there you can sell

your shares to someone elseprovided you can find a purchaser acceptable to the boardand get out. The

Big Idea is that the communitythe company in this caseshall control the individual, and the individual

shall exert his proper measure of control over the community. The two are interlocked and interdependent,

each exerting exactly the proper amount of power and accepting proportionate responsibility."

"But have you provided against the possibility of one man or a group of men buying up a majority of the

stock and so controlling the company? They could then freeze out the smaller owners."

"Yes," said Grant, toying with his coffee, "I have made a provision for that which I think is rather ingenious.

Don't imagine that this all came to me in a moment. The central thought struck me last night on my way

home, and I knew then I had the embryo of the plan, but I lay awake until daylight working out details. I am

going to allot votes on a very unique principle. It seems to me that a man's stake in a country should be

measured, not by the amount of money he has, but by the number of mouths he has to feed. I will adopt that

rule in my company, and the voting will be according to the number of children in the family. That should

They laughed over this proviso, and Phyllis agreed that it was all a very wonderful plan. "And when they

"Oh, no. I don't want my money back. I didn't explain that to you. I will advance the money on the bonds of

the company, without interest. Suppose I am able to finance a hundred farms that way, then as the payments

come in, still more farms. The thing will spread like a ripple in a pool, until it covers the whole country.

When you turn a sum of money loose, WITH NO INTEREST CHARGE ATTACHED TO IT, there is no

"But what will you do with your bonds, eventually? They will be perfectly secured. I don't see that you are

getting rid of your money at all, except the interest, which you are giving away."

"That, Phyllis, is where autocracy and democracy meet. All progress is like the swinging of a pendulum, with

autocracy at one end of the arc and democracy at the other, and progress is the mean of their opposing forces.

But there are times when the most democratic countries have to use autocratic methods, as, for example,

Great Britain and the United States in the late war. We must learn to make autocracy the servant of

democracy, not its enemy. WellI'm going to be the autocrat in this case. I am going to sit behind the scenes

and as long as my company functions all right I will leave it alone, but if it shows signs of wrecking itself I

will assume the role of the benevolent despot and set it to rights again. Oh, Phyllis, don't you see? It's not just

MY company I'm thinking about. This is an experiment, in which my company will represent the State. If it

succeeds I shall turn the whole machinery over to the State as my contribution to the betterment of humanity.

If it failswell, then I shall have demonstrated that the idea is unsound. Even that is worth something.

"I like to think of the great inventors, experimenting with the mysterious forces of nature. Their business is to

find the natural laws that govern material things. And I am quite sure that there are also natural laws designed

to govern man in his social and economic relationships, and when those laws have been discovered the

impossibilities of today will become the common practice of tomorrow, just as steam and electricity have

made the impossibilities of yesterday the common practice of today. The first need is to find the law, and to

what more worthy purpose could a man devote himself? When I landed here yesterdaywhen I walked

again through these old streetsI was a being without purpose; I was like a battery that had dried up. All

these petty affairs of life seemed so useless, so humdrum, so commonplace, I knew I could never settle down

to them again. Then last night from some unknown source came a new ideaan inspirationand presto! the

battery is recharged, life again has its purposes, and I am eager to be at work.

"I said 'some unknown source,' but it was not altogether unknown. It had something to do with honest old

Murdoch, and his good wife pouring coffee for the midnight supper in their cozy diningroom, and Phyllis

Bruce across the table! We never know, Phyllis, how much we owe to our friends; to that charmed circle, be

it ever so small, in which every note strikes in harmony. I know my Big Idea is only playing on the surface;

Grant had talked himself out, but he continued to sit at the little table, reveling in the happiness of a man who

feels that he has been called to some purpose worth while. His companion hesitated to interrupt his thoughts;

her somewhat drab business experience made her pessimistic toward all idealism, and yet she felt that here,

surely, was a man who could carry almost any project through to success. The unique quality in him, which

distinguished him from any other man she had ever known, was his complete unselfishness. In all his

undertakings he coveted no reward for himself; he was seeking only the common good.

"If all men were like you there would be no problems," she murmured, and while he could not accept the

A movement among the diners reminded him of the flight of time, and with a glance at his watch he sprang

up in surprise. "I had no idea the evening had gone!" he exclaimed. "I have just time to see you home and get

He called a taxi and accompanied her into it. They seated themselves together, and the fragrance of her

presence was very sweet about him. It would have been so easy to forgetall that he had been trying to

forgetin the intoxication of such environment. Surely it was not necessary that he should go westthat he

"Phyllis," he breathed, "do you imagine I could undertake these things if I cared only for myselfif it were

not that I longed for someone's approvalfor someone to be proud of me? The strongest man is weak

enough for that, and the strongest man is stronger when he knows that the woman he loves"

On the way west Grant gradually unfolded his plan to Linder, who accepted it with his customary stoicism.

"I'm not very strong for a scheme that hasn't got any profits in it," Linder confessed. "It doesn't sound

"I don't notice that you have ever figured very high in profits on your own account," Grant retorted. "Your

usefulness has been in making them for other people. I suppose if I would let you help to swell my bank

account you would work for me for board and lodging, but as I refuse to do that I shall have to pay you three

times Transley's rate. I don't know what he paid you, but I suspect that for every dollar you earned for

yourself you earned two for him, so I am going to base your scale accordingly. You are to go on with the

physical work at once; buy the horses, tractors, machinery; break up the land, fence it, build the houses and

barns; in short, you are to superintend everything that is done with muscle or its substitute. I will bring

Murdoch out shortly to take charge of the clerical details and the general organization. As for myself, after I

have bought the land and placed the necessary funds to the credit of the company I propose to keep out of the

limelight. I will be the heart of the undertaking; Murdoch will be the head, and you are to be the hands, and I

hope you two conspirators won't give me palpitation. You think it a mistake to work without profits, but

Murdoch thinks it a sin. When I lay my plans before him I am quite prepared to hear him insist upon calling

"I'm going to buy a half section of my own, and I'm going to start myself on it on identically the same terms

that I offer to the shareholders in my company. I want to prove by my own experience that it can be done, but

I must keep away from the company. Human nature is a clinging vine at best, and I don't want it clinging

about me. You will notice that my plan, unlike most communistic or socialist ventures, relieves the individual

of no atom of responsibility. I give him the opportunity, but I put it up to him to make good with that

opportunity. I have not overlooked the fact that a man is a man, and never can be made quite into a machine."

The two friends discussed at great length the details of the Big Idea, and upon arrival in the West Linder lost

no time in preparing blueprints and charts descriptive of the improvements to be made on the land and the

order in which the work was to be carried on. Grant bought a tract suitable to his purpose, and the wheels of

the machine which was to blaze a path for the State were set in motion. When this had been done Grant

During the period in which these arrangements were being made it was inevitable that Grant should have

heard more or less of Transley. He had not gone out of his way to seek information of the contractor, but it

rather had been forced upon him. Transley's name was frequently heard in the offices of the business men

with whom he had to do; it was mentioned in local papers with the regularity peculiar to celebrities in

comparatively small centres. Transley, it appeared, had become something of a power in the land. Backed by

old Y.D.'s capital he had carried some rather daring ventures through to success. He had seized the panicky

moments following the outbreak of the war to buy heavily on the wheat and cattle markets, and increases in

prices due to the world's demand for food had made him one of the wealthy men of the city. The desire of

many young farmers to enlist had also afforded an opportunity to acquire their holdings for small

considerations, and Transley had proved his patriotism by facilitating the ambitions of as many men in this

position as came to his attention. The fact that even before the war ended the farms which he acquired in this

way were worth several times the price he paid was only an incident in the transactions.

But no word of Transley's domestic affairs reached Grant, who told himself that he had ceased to be

interested in them, but kept an alert ear nevertheless. It would seem that Transley rather eclipsed his wife in

So Grant set about with the development of his own farm, and kept his mind occupied with it and with his

larger experimentexcept when it went flirting with thoughts of Phyllis Bruce. He was rather proud of the

figure he had used to Linder, of the head, hands, and heart of his organization, but to himself he admitted that

that figure was incomplete. There was a soul as well, and that soul was the girl whose inspiring presence had

in some way jerked his mind out of the stagnant backwaters in which the war had left it. There was no doubt

of that. He had written to Murdoch to come west and undertake new work for him. He had intimated that the

He selected a farm where a ridge of foothills overlooked a broad valley receding into the mountains. The

dealer had no idea of selling him this particular piece of land; they were bound for a half section farther up

the slope when Grant stopped on the brow of the hill to feast his eyes on the scene that lay before him. It

burst upon him with the unexpectedness peculiar to the foothill valleys; miles of gently undulating plain,

lying apparently far below, but in reality rising in a sharp ascent toward the snow capped mountains looking

down silently through their gauze of blue purple afternoon mist. At distances which even his trained eye

would not attempt to compute lay little round lakes like silver coins on the surface of the prairie; here and

there were dark green bluffs of spruce; to the right a ribbon of river, bluegreen save where the rapids

churned it white, and along its edge a fringe of leafy cottonwoods; at vast intervals square black plots of

plowed land like sections on a chessboard of the gods, and farm buildings cut so clear in the mountain

atmosphere that the sense of space was lost and they seemed like childhouses just across the way.

Grant turned to his companion with an animation in his face which almost startled the prosaic dealer in real

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "We don't need to go any farther if you can sell me this."

"Sure I can sell you this," said the dealer, looking at him somewhat queerly. "That is, if you want it. I thought

The man's total lack of appreciation irritated Grant unreasonably. "Wheat makes good hog fodder," he

Again the dealer gave him a queer sidelong look, and made as though to argue with him, then suddenly

seemed to change his purpose. Perhaps he reflected that strange things happened to the boys overseas.

"Suit? No king in Christendom has his palace on a site like this. I'd go round the world for it."

Grant completed the purchase, ordered lumber for a house and barn, and engaged a carpenter to superintend

the construction. It was one of his whims that he would do most of the work himself.

"I guess I'm rather a man of whims," he reflected, as he stood on the brow of the hill where the material for

his buildings had been delivered. "It was a whim which first brought me west, and a whim which has brought

me west again. I have a whim about my money, a whim about my farm, a whim about my buildings. I do not

do as other people do, which is the unpardonable sin. To Linder I am a jester, to Murdoch a fanatic, to our

friend the real estate dealer a fool; I even noticed my honest carpenter trying to ask me something about shell

shock! Wellthey're MY whims, and I get an immense amount of satisfaction out of them."

The days that followed were the happiest Grant had known since childhood. The carpenter, a thin, twisted

man, bowed with much labor at the bench, and answering to the name Peter, sold his services by the day and

manifested a sympathy amounting to an indulgence toward the whims of his employer. So long as the wages

were sure Peter cared not whether the house was finished this year or nextor not at all. He enjoyed Grant's

cooking in the temporary workshed they had built; he enjoyed Grant's stories of funny incidents of the war

which would crop out at unexpected moments, and which were always good for a new pipe and a few

minutes' rest; he even essayed certain flights of his own, which showed that Peter was a creature not entirely

without humor. He developed an appreciation of scenery; he would stand for long intervals gazing across the

valley. Grant was not deceived by these little devices, but he never took Peter to task for his loitering. He was

prepared almost to suspend his rule that money must not be paid except for service rendered. "If the old

dodger isn't quite paying his way now, no doubt he has more than paid it many times in the past," he mused.

But it was in the planning and building of the house he found his real delight. He laid it out on very modest

lines, as became the amount of money he was prepared to spend. It was to be a single story bungalow, with

veranda round the south and west. The living room ran across the south side; into its east wall he built a

capacious fireplace, with narrow slits of windows to right and left, and in the western wall were deep French

windows commanding the magic of the view across the valley. The diningroom, too, faced to the west, with

more French windows to let in sun and soul. The kitchen was to the east, and off the kitchen lay Grant's

bedroom, facing also to the east, as becomes a man who rises early for his day's labors. And then facing the

west, and opening off the diningroom, was what he was pleased to call his whimroom.

The idea of the whimroom came upon him as he was working out plans on the smooth side of a board, and

thinking about things in general, and a good deal about Phyllis Bruce, and wondering if he should ever run

across Zen Transley. It struck him all of a sudden, as had the Big Idea that night when he was on his way

home from Murdoch's house. He worked it out surreptitiously, not allowing even old Peter to see it until he

had made it into his plan, and then he described it just as the whimroom. But it was to be by all means the

best room in the house; special finishing and flooring lumber were to be bought for it; the fireplace had to be

done in a peculiarly delicate tile; the French windows must be high and wide and of the most brilliant

The ring of the saw, the trill of the plane, the thwack of the hammer, were very pleasant music in his ears.

Day by day he watched his dwelling grow with the infinite joy of creating, and night after night he crept with

Peter into the workshed and slept the sleep of a man tired and contented. In the long summer evenings the

sunlight hung like a champagne curtain over the mountains even after bedtime, and Grant had to cut a hole in

the wall of the shed that he might watch the dying colors of the day fade from crimson to purple to blue on

the tassels of cloudwraith floating in the western sky. At times Linder and Murdoch would visit him to

report progress on the Big Idea, and the three would sit on a bench in the halfbuilt house, sweet with the

fragrance of new sawdust, and smoke placidly while they determined matters of policy or administration. It

had been something of a disappointment to Grant that Murdoch had not considered Phyllis Bruce one of "the

family." He had left her, regretfully, in the East, but had made provision that she was still to have her room in

"Phyllis would have come west, and gladly, if I could have promised her a position," Murdoch explained,

"but I could not do that, as I knew nothing of your plans, and a girl can't afford to trifle with her job these

Grant was almost sorry when the house was finished. "There's so much more enjoyment in doing things than

in merely possessing them after they're done," he philosophized to Linder. "I think that must be the secret of

the peculiar fascination of the West. The East, with all its culture and conveniences and beauty, can never win

a heart which has once known the West. That is because in the East all the obvious things are done, but in the

"Yes, and as soon as the stable is finished I am going to buy four horses and get to work."

"Not this time. I can admire a piece of machinery, but I can't love it. I can love horses."

"You'll be housing them in the whimroom," Linder remarked dryly, and had to jump to escape the hammer

But the plowing was really a great experience. Grant had an eye for horseflesh, and the four dapplegreys

which pressed their fine shoulders into the harness of his breaking plow might have delighted the heart of any

teamster. As he sat on his steel seat and watched the colter cut the firm sod with brittle cracking sound as it

snapped the tough roots of the wild roses, or looking back saw the regular terraces of shiny black mould

which marked his progress, he felt that he was engaged in a rite of almost sacramental significance.

"To take a substance straight from the hand of the Creator and be the first in all the world to impose a human

will upon it is surely an occasion for solemnity and thanksgiving," he soliloquized. "How can anyone be so

gross as to see only materialism in such work as this? Surely it has something of fundamental religion in it!

Just as from the soil springs all physical life, may it not be that deep down in the soil are, some way, the roots

of the spiritual? The soil feeds the city in two ways; it fills its belly with material food, and it is continually

revitalizing its spirit with fresh streams of energy which can come only from the land. Up from the soil

At that moment Grant's plowshare struck a submerged boulder, and he was dumped precipitately into that

element which he had been so generously apostrophizing. The welltrained horses came to a stop as he

"That WAS a spill," he commented. "Ditched not only myself, but my whole train of thought. Never mind;

perhaps I was dangerously close to the development of a new whim, and I am well supplied in that particular

The horses had come to a stop a short distance before the end of the furrow, and Grant, glancing ahead, saw

immediately in front of them a little chap of four or five obstructing the way. He stood astride of the furrow

with widespread legs bridging the distance from the virgin prairie to the upturned sod. He was hatless, and

curls of silky yellow hair fell about his round, bright face. His hands were stuck obtrusively in his trouser

"Well, son, what's the news?" said Grant, when the two had measured each other for a moment.

"Why, so you have!" Grant exclaimed. "Come around here until I see them better."

So encouraged, the little chap came skipping around the horses, and exhibited his braces for Grant's

"This one is Prince, on the left, and the others are Queen, and King, and Knave. I call him Knave because he's

always scheming, trying to get out of his share of the work, and I make him walk on the plowed land, too."

These credentials exchanged, the boy fell silent, while Grant looked down upon him with a whimsical

admixture of humor and tenderness. Suddenly, without a word, the boy dashed as fast as his legs could carry

him to the end of the field, and plunged into a clump of bushes. In a moment he emerged with something

"He's my teddy," he said to Grant. "He was watching in the bushes to see if you were a nice man."

"Yes." There was no evasion about Wilson. He approved of his new acquaintance, and said so.

Grant carefully arranged teddy on the horse's hames, and the boy clapped his hands with delight.

"Now let us all go for a ride. You will sit on my knee, and teddy will drive Prince."

He took the boy carefully on his knee, driving with one hand and holding him in place with the other. The

little body resting confidently against his side was a new experience for Grant.

"We must drive carefully," he remarked. "Here and there are big stones hidden in the grass. If we were to hit

Grant reflected that such implicit and unwarranted confidence implied a great responsibility, and he drove

with corresponding care. A mishap now might nip this very delightful little bud of heroworship.

They turned the end of the furrow with a fine jingle of loose tracechains, and Prince trotted a little on

account of being on the outer edge of the semicircle. The boy clapped his hands again as teddy bounced up

There was no evading this childish inquisitor. He had a way of pursuing a subject to bedrock.

Grant found himself getting into deep water, but the sharp little intellect had cut a corner and was now ahead

"Then I'll be your little boy," he said, and, clambering up to Grant's shoulder pressed a kiss on his cheek. In a

sudden burst of emotion Grant brought his team to a stop and clasped the little fellow in both his arms. For a

"And I have lived to be thirtytwo years old and have never known what this meant," he said to himself.

And so the conversation continued and the acquaintanceship grew as man and boy plied back and forth on

their milelong furrow. At length it occurred to Grant that he should send Wilson home; the boy's long

absence might be occasioning some uneasiness. They stopped at the end of the field and carefully removed

teddy from his place of prestige, but just at that moment a horsefly buzzing about caused Prince to stamp

impatiently, and the big hoof came down on the boy's foot. Wilson sent up a cry proportionate to the

possibilities of the occasion, and Grant in alarm tore off the boot and stocking. Fortunately the soil had been

soft, and the only damage done was a slight bruise across the upper part of the foot.

"There, there," said Grant, soothingly, caressing the injury with his fingers. "It will be all right in a minute.

Prince didn't mean to do it, and besides, I've seen much worse than that at the war."

"I've seen a German killed," said Grant, evading a question which no soldier cares to discuss.

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. Now you hop up on to my shoulders, and I'll tie the horses and then carry

He followed the boy's directions until they led him to a path running among pleasant trees down by the river.

Presently he caught a glimpse of a cottage in a little open space, its brown shingled walls almost smothered in

"That's our house. Don't you like it?" said the boy, who had already forgotten his injury.

"I think it is splendid." And Grant, taking his young charge from his shoulder, stepped up on to the porch and

Sitting on his veranda that evening while the sun dropped low over the mountains and the sound of horses

munching contentedly came up from the stables, Grant for the twentieth time turned over in his mind the

events of a day that was to stand out as an epochal one in his career. The meeting with the little boy and the

quick friendship and confidence which had been formed between them; the mishap, and the trip to the house

by the riverthese were logical and easily followed. But why, of all the houses in the world, should it have

been Zen Transley's house? Why, of all the little boys in the world, should this have been the son of his rival

and the only girl he had everthe girl he had loved most in all his life? Surely events are ordered to some

purpose; surely everything is not mere haphazard chance! The fatalism of the trenches forbade any other

conclusion; and if this was so, why had he been thrown into the orbit of Zen Transley? He had not sought her;

he had not dreamt of her once in all that morning while her child was winding innocent tendrils of affection

about his heart. And yethow the boy had gripped him! Could it be that in some way he was a small

incarnation of the Zen of the Y.D., with all her clamorous passion expressed now in childish love and

heroworship? Had some intelligence above his own guided him into this environment, deliberately inviting

him to defy conventions and blaze a path of broader freedom for himself, and for her? These were questions

he wrestled with as the shadows crept down the mountain slopes and along the valley at his feet.

For neither Zen nor himself had connived at the situation which had made them, of all the people in the

world, near neighbors in this silent valley. Her surprise on meeting him at the door had been as genuine as

his. When she had made sure that the boy was not seriously hurt she had turned to him, and instinctively he

had known that there are some things which all the weight of passing years can never crush entirely dead. He

loved to rehearse her words, her gestures, the quick play of sympathetic emotions as one by one he reviewed

"You! I am surprisedI had not known" She had become confused in her greeting, and a color that she

"I am surprised, tooand delighted," he had returned. "The little boy came to me in the field, boasting of his

braces." Then they had both laughed, and she had asked him to come in and tell about himself.

The livingroom, as he recalled it, was marked by the simplicity appropriate to the summer home, with just a

dash of elegance in the furnishings to suggest that simplicity was a matter of choice and not of necessity.

After soothing Wilson's sobs, which had broken out afresh in his mother's arms, she had turned him over to a

"You see, I am a farmer now," he had said, apologetically regarding his overalls.

"What changes have come! But I don't understand; I thought you were richvery richand that you were

"All of which is true. You see, I am a man of whims. I choose to live joyously. I refuse to fit into a

readymade niche in society. I do what other people don't domainly for that reason. I have some peculiar

"I know. You told me." And it was then that their eyes had met and they had fallen into a momentary silence.

"For several reasons. First, the world needs food. Food is the greatest safeguardI would almost say the

only safeguardagainst anarchy and chaos. Then, I want to learn by experience; to prove by my own

demonstrations that my theories are workableor that they're not. And then, most of all, I love the prairies

"You are very wonderful," she had murmured. And then, with startling directness, "Are you happy?"

She had risen and walked to the mantelpiece; then, with an apparent change of impulse, she had turned and

faced him. He had noted that her figure was rounder than in girlhood, her complexion paler, but the sunlight

still danced in her hair, and her reckless force had given way to a poise that suggested infinite resources of

"He has made money, and he is busy and excited over his pursuit of successwhat he calls success. He has

She had stopped suddenly, as though her tongue had trapped her into saying more than she had intended.

"What do you think of my summer home?" she had exclaimed, abruptly. "Come out and admire the sweet

peas," and with a gay little flourish she had led him into the garden. "They tell me Western flowers have a

brilliance and a fragrance which the East, with all its advantages, cannot duplicate. Is that true?"

"I believe it is. The East has greater profusionmore varieties but the individual qualities do not seem to

"I see you know something of Eastern flowers," she had said, and he fancied he had caught a note of

banteror was it inquiry?in her voice. Then, with another abrupt change of subject, she had made him

Then she had chosen a couple of blooms and pinned them on his coat, laughingly overriding his protest that

they consorted poorly with his costume. And she had shaken hands and said goodbye in the manner of good

The more Grant thought of it the more was he convinced that in her case, as in his own, the years had failed

to extinguish the spark kindled in the foothills that night so long ago. He reminded himself continually that

she was Transley's wife, and even while granting the irrevocability of that fact he was demanding to know

why Fate had created for them both an atmosphere charged with unspoken possibilities. He had turned her

words over again and again, reflecting upon the abrupt angles her speech had taken. In their few minutes'

conversation three times she had had to make a sudden tack to safer subjects. What had she meant by that

reference to Eastern and Western flowers? His answer reminded him how well he knew. And the confession

about her husband, the worshipper of success"what he calls success"how much tragedy lay under those

The valley was filled with shadow, and the level rays of the setting sun fell on the young man's face and

splashed the hilltops with gold and saffron as within his heart raged the ageold battle. . . . But as yet he felt

As the next forenoon passed Grant found himself glancing with increasing frequency toward the end of the

field where the little boy might be expected to appear. But the day wore on without sign of his young friend,

and the furrows which he had turned so joyously at nine were dragging leadenly at eleven. He had not

thought it possible that a child could so quickly have won a way to his affections. He fell to wondering as to

the cause of the boy's absence. Had Zen, after a night's reflection, decided that it was wiser not to allow the

acquaintance to develop? Had Transley, returning home, placed his veto upon it? Orand his heart paused at

this prospecthad the foot been more seriously hurt than they had supposed? Grant told himself that he must

go over that night and make inquiry. That would be the neighborly thing to do. . . .

But early that afternoon his heart was delighted by the sight of a little figure skipping joyously over the

furrows toward him. He had his hat crumpled in one hand, and his teddybear in the other, and his face was

alive with excitement. He was puffing profusely when he pulled up beside the plow, and Grant stopped the

"Yessir! A live one, too! He's awful big. A man brought him in a wagon. That is why I couldn't come this

Grant treated himself to a humble reflection upon the wisdom of childish preferments.

"Eat him up, I guess. Daddy said there was enough wasted about our house to keep a pig, so we got one.

"I'm to go home at five o'clock," the boy said, when he had got properly settled.

The hours slipped by all too quickly, and if the lad's presence did not contribute to good plowing, it at least

made a cheerful plowman. It was plain that Zen had sufficient confidence in her farmer neighbor to trust her

boy in his care, and his frequent references to his mother had an interest for Grant which he could not have

analyzed or explained. During the afternoon the merits of the pig were sung and resung, and at last Wilson,

after kissing his friend on the cheek and whispering, "I like you, Uncle Manon theHill," took his

The next morning he came again, but mournfully and slow. There were tear stains on the little round cheeks.

"Why, son, what had happened?" said Grant, his abundant sympathies instantly responding.

"Teddy's spoiled," the child sobbed. "I set himon the side of the pig pen, and he fell'd in, and the big pig

et himate himup. He didn't 'zactly eat him up, eitherjust kind of chewed him, like."

"Well that certainly is too bad. But then, you're going to eat the pig some day, so that will square it, won't it?"

"But we must have a teddy for Prince. See, he is looking around, waiting for it." Grant folded his coat into the

That afternoon, which was Saturday, the boy came thoughtfully and with an air of much importance. Delving

into a pocket he produced an envelope, somewhat crumpled in transit. It was addressed, "The Man on the

"DEAR MANONTHEHILL,That is the name Wilson calls you, so perhaps you will let me use it, too.

Frank is to be home to morrow, and will you come and have dinner with us at six? My father and mother

will be here, and possibly one or two others. You had a clash with my menfolk once, but you will find them

ready enough to make allowance for, even if they fail to understand, your point of view. Do come.ZEN.

"P.S.It just occurs to me that your associates in your colonization scheme may want to claim your time on

Sunday. If any of them come out, bring them along. Our table is an extension one, and its capacity has never

Although Grant's decision was made at once he took some time for reflection before writing an acceptance.

He was to enter Zen's house on her invitation, but under the auspices, so to speak, of husband and parents.

That was eminently proper. Zen was a sensible girl. Then there was a reference to that ancient squabble in the

hay meadow. It was evidently her plan to see the hatchet buried and friendly relations established all around.

"DEAR ZEN,Delighted to come. May have a couple of friends with me, one of whom you have seen

It was not until after the child had gone home that Grant remembered he had addressed Transley's wife by her

Christian name. That was the way he always thought of her, and it slipped on to paper quite naturally. Well, it

Grant unhitched early and hurried to his house and the telephone. In a few minutes he had Linder on the line.

The chuckle at the other end of the line irritated Grant. Linder had a strange sense of humor.

"I mean it. A big teddy, with electric eyes, and a deep bass growl, if they make 'em that way. The best you

can get. Fetch it out tomorrow afternoon, and come decently dressed, for once. Bring Murdoch along if you

Grant hung up the receiver. "Stupid chap, Linder, some ways," he muttered. "Why shouldn't I buy a

Sunday afternoon saw the arrival of Linder and Murdoch, with the largest teddy the town afforded. "What is

"It is for a little boy I know who has been bereaved of his first teddy by the activities of the family pig. You

will renew some pleasant acquaintanceships, Linder. You remember Transley and his wifeZen, of the

"You don't say! Thanks for that tip about dressing up. I may explain," Linder continued, turning to Murdoch,

"there was a time when I might have been an alsoran in the race for Y.D.'s daughter, only Transley beat me

"Well, Mr. Grant," said Murdoch, "I brought you a good cigar, bought at the company's expense. It comes out

"Since the war it is nothing but Player's," Grant returned, taking the proffered cigar. "They tell me it has

revolutionized the tobacco business. However, this does smell a bit all right. How goes our venture,

"None whatever. Your foreman here is spending every dollar in a way to make you two in spite of your daft

notionbegging your pardon, sirabout not taking profits. The subscribers are coming along for stock, but

fingering it gently, as though they can't well believe there's no catch in it. They say it doesn't look reasonable,

"Aye, they do. That's human nature. There's as many members booked now as can be accommodated in the

first colony. I suppose they reason that they will be sure of their winter's housing, anyway."

"Nor have I. Not in that kind of human nature which is always wanting something for nothing."

Linder's report was more cheerful. The houses and barns were built and were now being painted, the plowing

was done, and the fences were being run. By the use of a triangular system of survey twelve farm homes had

been centralized in one little community where a community building would be erected which would be used

as a school in daytime, a motionpicture house at night, and a church on Sunday. A community secretary

would have his office here, and would have charge of a select little library of fiction, poetry, biography, and

works of reference. The leading periodicals dealing with farm problems, sociology, and economics, as well as

lighter subjects, would be on file. In connection with this building would be an assemblyroom suitable for

dances, social events, and theatricals, and equipped with a player piano and concertsize talking machine.

Arrangements were being made for a weekly exchange of records, for a weekly musical evening by artists

from the city, for a semimonthly vaudeville show, and for Sunday meetings addressed by the best speakers

"What has surprised me in making these arrangements," Linder confessed, "is the comparatively small outlay

they involve. The building will cost no more than many communities spend on school and church which they

use thirty hours a week and three hours a week respectively. This one can be used one hundred and sixty

eight hours a week, if needed. Lecturers on many subjects can be had for paying their expenses; in some

cases they are employed by the Government, and will come without cost. Amateur theatrical companies from

the city will be glad to come in return for an appreciative audience and a dance afterward, with a good fillup

on solid farm cooking. Even some of the professionals can be had on these terms. Of course, before long we

"Then there is to be a plunge bath big enough to swim in, open to men and women alternate nights, and to

children every day. There will be a poolroom, cardroom, and refreshment buffet; also a quiet little room

for women's social events, and an emergency hospital ward. I think we should hire a trained nurse who would

not be too dignified to cook and serve meals when there's no business doing in the hospital. You know how

everyone gets hankering now and then for a meal from home,not that it's any better, but it's different. I

suppose there are farmer's wives who don't get a meal away from home once a year. I'm going to change all

"Bully for you, Linder!" said Grant, clapping him on the shoulder. "I believe you actually are enthusiastic for

"I understand my orders are to make the country give the city a run for its money, and I'm going to do it, or

break you. If all I've mentioned won't do it I've another great scheme in storage."

"I am inventing a machine that will make a noise like a trolleycar and a smell like a sewer. That will add the

"The office work is becoming pretty heavy, Mr. Grant, and I'm none too confident in the help I have. Now if I

"Then she must be worth two hundred. Wire her to come and start her at that figure."

Promptly at six Linder drew his automobile up in front of the Transley summer home with Grant and

Murdoch on board. Wilson had been watching, and rushed down upon them, but before he could clamber up

on Grant a great teddybear was thrust into his arms and sent him, wild with delight, to his mother.

"Look, mother! Look what TheManontheHill brought! See! He has fire in his eyes!"

Transley and Y.D. met the guests at the gate. "How do, Grant? Glad to see you, old man," said Transley,

shaking his hand cordially. "The wife has had so many good words for you I am almost jealous. What ho,

Linder! By all that's wonderful! You old prairie dog, why did you never look me up? I was beginning to think

Grant introduced Murdoch, and Y.D. received them as cordially as had Transley. "Glad to see you fellows

back," he exclaimed. "I al'us said the Western men 'ud put a crimp in the Kaiser, spite o' hell an' high water!"

"One thing the war has taught us," said Grant, modestly, "is that men are pretty much alike, whether they

"Well, come on in," Transley beckoned, leading the way. "Dinner will be ready sharp on time twenty minutes

late. Not being a married man, Grant, you will not understand that reckoning. You'll have to excuse Mrs.

Transley a few minutes; she's holding down the accelerator in the kitchen. Come in; I want you to meet

Squiggs proved to be a round man with huge round tortoiseshell glasses and round red face to match. He

shook hands with a manner that suggested that in doing so he was making rather a good fellow of himself.

"We must have a little lubrication, for Y.D.'s sake," said Transley, producing a bottle and glasses. "I suppose

it was the dust on the plains that gave these old cow punchers a thirst which never can be slaked. These be

"I'm a lawyer," said Squiggs, "and as booze is now ultra vires I do my best to keep it down," and Mr. Squiggs

"I take a snort when I want it and I don't care who knows it," said Y.D. "I al'us did, and I reckon I'll keep on

to the finish. It didn't snuff me out in my youth and innocence, anyway. Just the same, I'm admittin' it's bad

The glasses had just been drained when Mrs. Transley entered the room, flushed but radiant from a strenuous

"Well, here you are!" she exclaimed. "So glad you could come, Mr. Grant. Why, Mr. Linder! Of all people

"I suppose so," said Transley, "although all I get out of a meal when I have to carve is splashing and

profanity. You know, Squiggs, I've figured it out that this practice of requiring the nominal head of the house

to carve has come down from the days when there wasn't usually enough to go 'round, and the carver had to

make some fine decisions and, perhaps, maintain them by force. It has no place under modern civilization."

"Except that someone must do it, and it's about the only household responsibility man has not been able to

As they entered the diningroom Zen's mother, whiter and it seemed even more distinguished by the years,

joined them, accompanied by Mrs. Squiggs, a thin woman much concerned about social status, and the party

Transley managed the carving more skilfully than his protest might have suggested, and there was a lull in the

"Tell us about your settlement scheme, Mr. Grant," Mrs. Transley urged when it seemed necessary to find a

"Yes, wise us up, old man," said Transley. "I've heard something of it, but never could see through it."

"It's all very simple," Grant explained. "I am providing the capital to start a few families on farms. Instead of

lending the money directly to them I am financing a company in which each farmer must subscribe for stock

to the value of the land he is to occupy. His stock he will pay for with a part of the proceeds of each year's

crop, until it is paid in full, when he becomes a paid up shareholder, subject to no further call except a levy

"And then your advances are returned to you with interest," Squiggs suggested. "A very creditable plan of

"No, that is not the idea. In the first place, I am accepting no interest on my advances, and in the second place

the money, when repaid by the shareholders, will not be returned to me, but will be used to establish another

colony on the same basis, and so onthe movement will be extended from group to group."

"I had hoped to make it clear that I am not seeking to 'come in.' You see, the money I am doing this with is

"No. Mr. Squiggs, you are a lawyer, and therefore a man of perspicuity and accurate definitions. What is

"You flatter me. I should say that money is a medium for the exchange of value."

"Very well. Therefore, if a man accepts money without giving value for it in exchange he is violating the

fundamental principle underlying the use of money. He is, in short, an economic outlaw."

"Let me illustrate by my own experience, and that of my family. My father was possessed of a piece of land

which at one time had little or no value. Eventually it became of great value, not through anything he had

done, but as a result of the natural law that births exceed deaths. Yet he, although he had done nothing to

create this value, was able, through a faulty economic system, to pocket the proceeds. Then, as a result of the

advantages which his wealth gave him, he was able to extract from society throughout all the remainder of his

life value out of all proportion to any return he made for it. Finally it came down to me. Holding my peculiar

belief, which my right and left bower consider sinful and silly respectively, I found money forced upon me,

regardless of the fact that I had given absolutely no value in exchange. Now if money is a medium for the

exchange of value and I receive money without giving value for it, it is plain that someone else must have

parted with money without receiving value in return. The thing is basically immoral."

"But why should _I_ have it? I never contributed a fingerweight of service for it. From society the money

"You should worry," said Transley. "Society isn't worrying over you. Some more of the roast beef?"

"No, thank you. But to come down to date. It seems that I cannot get away from this wealth which dogs me at

every turn. Before enlisting I had been margining certain steel stocks, purely in the ordinary course of affairs.

With the demands made by the war on the steel industry my stocks went up in price and my good friend

Murdoch was able to report that it had made a fortune for me while I was overseas. . . . And we call ourselves

"And so we are," said Mr. Squiggs. "We stick to a system we know to be sound. It has weathered all the gales

of the past, and promises to weather those of the future. I tell you, Grant, communism won't work. You can't

"My dear fellow, that's exactly what I'm pleading for. I have no patience with any claim that all men are

equal, or capable of rendering equal service to society, and I want payment to be made according to service

rendered, not according to the freaks of a haphazard system such as I have been trying to describe."

"By education. The first thing is to accept the principle that wealth cannot be accepted except in exchange for

fullmeasure service. You, Mrs. Transleyyou teach your little boy that he must not steal. As he grows

older simply widen your definition of theft to include receiving value without giving value in exchange.

When all the mothers begin teaching that principle the golden age which Mr. Murdoch inquires about will be

"Let us agree on that. The acceptance of this principle will make half the laws now cluttering our statute

books unnecessary. I merely urge that we should treat the CAUSE of our economic malady rather than the

"Theoretically your idea has much to commend it, but it is quite impracticable," Mr. Squiggs announced with

"If a corporation can determine the value of the service rendered by each of its hundred thousand employees,

why cannot a nation determine the value of the service rendered by each of its hundred million citizens?"

"THERE'S something for you to chew on, Squiggs," said Transley. "You argue your case well, Grant; I

believe you have our legal light rather feazedthat's the word, isn't it, Mr. Murdoch?for once. I confess a

good deal of sympathy with your point of view, but I'm afraid you can't change human nature."

"I am not trying to do that. All that needs changing is the popular idea of what is right and what is wrong.

And that idea is changing with a rapidity which is startling. Before the war the man who made money, by

almost any means, was set up on a pedestal called Success. Moralists pointed to him as one to be emulated;

Sunday school papers printed articles to show that any boy might follow in his footsteps and become great

and respected. Today, for following precisely the same practices, the nation demands that he be thrown into

prison; the Press heaps contumely upon him; he has become an object of suspicion in the popular eye. This

"Is that due to a new sense of right and wrong, or to just old fashioned envy of the rich which now feels

strong enough to threaten where it used to fawn?" Y.D.'s wife asked, and Grant was spared a hard answer by

the rancher's interruption, "Hit the profiteer as hard as you like. He's got no friends."

"That depends upon who is the profiteera point which no one seems to have settled. In the cities you may

even hear prosperous ranchers included in that classabsurd as that must seem to you," Grant added, with a

smile to Y.D. "Require every man to give service according to his returns and you automatically eliminate all

"But you will admit," said Mrs. Squiggs, "that we must have some welloff people to foster culture and give

"I agree that the boy who is brought up in a home with a bath tub, and all that that stands for, is likely to be a

better citizen than the boy who doesn't have that advantage. That's why I want every home to have a bath

Mrs. Squiggs subsided rather heavily. In youth her Saturday night ablutions had been taken in the middle of

"I have a good deal of sympathy," said Transley, "with any movement which has for its purpose the

betterment of human conditions. Any successful man of today will admit, if he is frank about it, that he

owes his success as much to good luck as to good judgment. If you could find a way, Grant, to take the

element of luck out of life, perhaps you would be doing a service which would justify you in keeping those

millions which worry you so. But I can't see that it makes any difference to the prosperity of a country who

owns the wealth in it, so long as the wealth is there and is usefully employed. Money doesn't grow unless it

works, and if it works it serves Society just the same as muscle does. You could put all your wealth in a

strongbox and bury it under your house up there on the hill, and it wouldn't increase a nickel in a thousand

years, but if you put it to work it makes money for you and money for other people as well. I'm a little

nervous about newfangled notions. It's easier to wreck the ship than to build a new one, which may not sail

any better. What the world needs today is the gospel of hard work, and everybody, rich and poor, on the job

"We seem to have much in common," Grant returned. "Hard work is the only way out, and the best way to

encourage hard work is to find a system by which every man will be rewarded according to the service

At this point Mrs. Transley arose, and the men moved out into the livingroom to chat on less contentious

subjects. After a time the women joined them, and Grant presently found himself absorbed in conversation

with the old rancher's wife. Zen seemed to pay but little attention to him, and for the first time he began to

realize what consummate actresses women are. Had Transley been the most suspicious of husbandsand in

reality his domestic vision was as guileless as that of a boyhe could have caught no glint of any smoldering

spark of the long ago. Grant found himself thinking of this dissembling quality as one of nature's provisions

designed for the protection of women, much as the sombre plumage of the prairie chicken protects her from

the eye of the sportsman. For after all the hunting instinct runs through all men, be the game what it may.

Before they realized how the time had flown Linder was protesting that he must be on his way. At the gate

"I'm prepared to admit," he said, "that there's a whole lot in this old world that needs correcting, but I'm not

sure that it can be corrected. You have a right to try out your experiments, but take a tip and keep a

comfortable cache against the day when you'll want to settle down and take things as they are. It is true and

always has been true that a man who is worth his salt, when he wants a thing, takes itor goes down in the

attempt. The loser may squeal, but that seems to be the path of progress. You can't beat it."

"Well, we'll see," said Grant, laughing. "Sometimes two men, each worth his salt, collide."

"As in the meadow of the South Y.D.," said Transley, with a smile. "You remember that, Y.D.when our

"Sure, I remember, but I'm not holdin' it agin him now. A dead horse is a dead horse, an' I don't go sniffin' it."

"Perhaps I ought to say, though," Grant returned, "that I really do not know how the iron pegs got into that

"And I don't know how your haystacks got afire, but I can guess. Remember Drazk? A little locoed, an' just

the crittur to pull off a fool stunt like that. When the fire swept up the valley, instead of down, he made his

getaway and has never been seen since. I reckon likely there was someone in Landson's gang capable o'

The little group were standing in the shadow and Grant had no opportunity to notice the sudden blanching of

"You're wrong about his not having been seen again, Y.D.," said Grant. "He managed to locate me

somewhere in France. That reminds me, he had a message for you, Mrs. Transley. I'm afraid Drazk is as

irresponsible as ever, provided he hasn't passed out, which is more than likely."

Grant shook hands cordially with Y.D. and his wife, with Squiggs and Mrs. Squiggs, with Transley and Mrs.

Transley. Any inclination he may have felt to linger over Zen's hand was checked by her quick withdrawal of

it, and there was something in her manner quite beyond his understanding. He could have sworn that the self

The next day Wilson paid his usual visit to the field where Grant was plowing, and again was he the bearer of

a message. With much difficulty he managed to extricate the envelope from a pocket.

"Dear Mr. Grant," it read, "I am so excited over a remark you dropped last night I must see you again as soon

Grant read the message a second time, wondering what remark of his could have occasioned it. As he recalled

the evening's conversation it had been most about his experiment, and he had a sense that he had occupied a

little more of the stage than strictly good form would have suggested. However, it was HIS scheme that had

been under discussion, and he did not propose to let it suffer for lack of a champion. But what had he said

that could be of more than general interest to Zen Transley? For a moment he wondered if she had created a

pretext upon which to bring him to the house by the river, and then instantly dismissed that thought as

unworthy of him. At any rate it was evident that his addressing her by her Christian name in the last message

had given no offence. This time she had not called him "The ManontheHill," and there was no suggestion

of playfulness in the note. Then the signature, "Yours, Zen"; that might mean everything, or it might mean

nothing. Either it was purely formal or it implied a very great deal indeed. Grant reflected that it could hardly

be interpreted anywhere between those two extremes, and was it reasonable to suppose that Zen would use it

in an ENTIRELY formal sense? If it had been "yours truly," or "yours sincerely," or any such stereotyped

conclusion, it would not have called for a second thought, but the simple word "yours"

"If only she were," thought Grant, and felt the color creeping to his face at the thought. It was the first time he

had dared that much. He had not bothered to wonder much where or how this affair must end. Through all the

years that had passed since that night when she had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and he had watched the

ribbons of fire rising and falling in the valley, and the smell of grasssmoke had been strong in his nostrils,

through all those years Zen had been to him a sweet, evasive memory to be dreamed over and idealized, a

wild, daring, irresponsible incarnation of the spirit of the hills. Even in these last few days he had followed

the path simply because it lay before him. He had not sought her out in all that great West; he had been

content with his dream of the Zen of years gone by; if Fate had brought him once more within the orbit of his

star surely Fate had a purpose in all its doings. One who has learned to believe that no bullet will find him

unless "his name and number are on it" has little difficulty in excusing his own indiscretions by fatalistic

He wrote on the back of the note, "Look for me at eight," and then, observing that the boy had not brought

"He's all right, but mother wouldn't let me bring him. Said I might lose him." The tone in which the last

words were spoken implied just how impossible such a thing was. Lose teddy! No one but a mother could

"But I got a knife!" Wilson exclaimed, his mind darting to a happier subject. "Daddy gave it to me. Will you

Grant was to learn during the day that all the boy's figures of speech were now hung on the family pig. The

knife was as dull as a pig; the plow was as rough as a pig; the horses, when they capered at a corner, were as

wild as a pig; even Grant himself, while he held the little chap firmly on his knee, received the doubtful

compliment of being as strong as a pig. He went through the form of sharpening the knife on the leather lines

of the harness, and was pleased to discover that Wilson, with childish dexterity of imagination, now

The boy did not return to the field in the afternoon, and Grant spent the time in a strange admixture of

happiness over the pleasant companionship he had found in this little son of the prairies and anticipation of

his meeting with Zen that night. All his reflection had failed to suggest the subject so interesting to her as to

bring forth her unconventional note, but it was enough for him that his presence was desired. As to the

futurehe would deal with that when he came to it. As evening approached the horses began their usual

procedure of turning their heads homeward at the end of each furrow. Beginning about five o'clock, they had

a habit of assuming that each furrow was obviously the last one for the day, and when the firm hand on the

lines brought them sharply back to position they trudged on with an apologetic air which seemed to say that

of course they were quite willing to work another hour or two but they supposed their master would want to

be on his way home. Today, however, he surprised them, and the first time they turned their heads he

unhitched, and, throwing himself lightly across Prince's ample back, drove them to their stables.

Grant prepared his supper of bacon and eggs and fried potatoes, bread and jam and black tea, and ate it from

the kitchen table as was his habit except on state occasions. Sometimes a touch of the absurdity of his

behavior would tickle his imaginationhe, who might dine in the midst of wealth and splendor, with soft

lights beating down upon him, soft music swelling through arching corridors, softhanded waiters moving

about on deep, silent carpetings, perhaps round white shoulders across the table and the faint smell of delicate

perfumesthat he should prefer to eat from the white oilcloth of his kitchen table was a riddle far beyond

any ordinary intellect. And yet he was happy in this life; happy in his escape from the tragic routine of being

decently civilized; happier, he knew, than he ever could be among all the artificial pleasures that wealth could

buy him. Sometimes, as a concession to this absurdity, he would set his table in the diningroom with his

best dishes, and eat his silent meal very grandly, until the ridiculousness of it all would overcome him and he

But tonight he had no time for makebelief. Supper ended, he put a basin of water on the stove and went out

to give his horses their evening attention, after which he had a wash and a careful shave and dressed himself

in a light grey suit appropriate to an autumn evening. And then he noticed that he had just time to walk to

Zen received him at the door; the maid had gone to a neighbor's, she said, and Wilson was in bed. It was still

bright outside, but the sheltered livingroom, to which she showed him, was wrapped in a soft twilight.

"Shall we have a lamp, or the fireplace?" she asked, then inferentially answered by saying that a cool wind

was blowing down from the mountains. "I had the maid build the fire," she continued, and he could see the

outline of her form bending over the grate. She struck a match; its glow lit up her cheeks and hair; in a

moment the dry wood was crackling and ribbons of blue smoke were curling into the chimney.

"I have been so anxious to see youagain," she said, drawing a chair not far from his. "A chance remark of

yours last night brought to memory many thingsthings I have been trying to forget." Then, abruptly, "Did

"Yes, and you do not care to dwell on that phase of it. I should not have asked you, but you will be the better

able to understand. For years I have lived under the cloud of having killed a man."

Grant had started from his chair. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "There must have been justification!"

"YOU had justification at the Front, but it doesn't make the memory pleasant. I had justification, but it has

haunted me night and day. And then, last night you said he was still alive, and my soul seemed to rise up

"Yes. I thought I had killed him that day of the fire. It is rather an unpleasant story, and you will excuse me

repeating the details, I know. He attacked mewe were both on horseback, in the riverI suppose he was

crazed with his wild deed, and less responsible than usual. He dragged me from my horse and I fought with

him in the water, but he was much too strong. I had concluded that to drown myself, and perhaps him, was

the only way out, when I saw a leather thong floating in the water from the saddle. By a ruse I managed to

flip it around his neck, and the next moment he was at my mercy. I had no mercy then. I understand how it

might be possible to kill prisoners. I pulled it tight, tightpulled till I saw his face blacken and his eyes stand

out. He went down, but still I pulled. And then after a little I found myself on shore.

"I suppose it was the excitement of the fire that carried me on through the day, but at nightyou

remember?there came a reaction, and I couldn't keep awake. I suddenly seemed to feel that I was safe, and

Grant had resumed his seat. He was deeply moved by this strange confidence; he bent his eyes intently upon

her face, now shining in the ruddy light from the fireplace. Her frank reference to the event that night

seemed to create a new bond between them; he knew now, if ever he had doubted it, that Zen Transley had

"I was so embarrassed after thethe accident, you know," she continued. "I knew you must know I had been

in the water. For days and weeks I expected every hour to hear of the finding of the body. I expected to hear

the remark dropped casually by every new visitor at the ranch, 'Drazk's body was found today in the river.

The Mounted Police are investigating.' But time went on and nothing was heard of it. It would almost have

been a relief to me if it had been discovered. If I had reported the affair at once, as I should have done, all

would have been different, but having kept my secret for a while I found it impossible to confess it later. It

was the first time I ever felt my selfreliance severely shaken. . . . But what was his message, and why did

"Because I attached no value to it; because I was, perhaps, a little ashamed of it. I learned something of his

weaknesses at the Front. According to Drazk's statement of it he won the war, and could as easily win

another, if occasion presented itself, so when he said, 'If ever you see Y.D.'s daughter tell her I'm well; she'll

be glad to hear it,' I put it down to his usual boasting and thought no more about it. I thought he was trying to

impress me with the idea that you were interested in him, which was a very absurd supposition, as I saw it."

"Well, now you know," she said, with a little laugh. "I'm glad it's off my mind."

She arose and walked to the fireplace, pretending to stir the logs. When she had seated herself again she

"It has not been easy for me to tell all things to Frank. Don't misunderstand me; he has been a model husband,

"According to my standardswhen I married him. If standards were permanent I suppose happy matings

would be less unusual. A young couple must have something in common in order to respond at all to each

other's attractions, but as they grow older they set up different standards, and they drift apart."

She paused, and Grant sat in silence, watching the glow of the firelight upon her cheek.

"Why don't you smoke?" she exclaimed, suddenly springing up. "Let me find you some of Frank's cigars."

Grant protested that he smoked too much. She produced a box of cigars and extended them to him. Then she

"Your standards have changed?" said Grant, taking up the thread when she had sat down again.

"They have. They have changed more than Frank's, which makes me feel rather at fault in the matter. How

"Why shouldn't he know? That is the course of development. Without changing ideals there would be

"Perhaps," she returned, and he thought he caught a note of weariness in her voice. "But I don't blame

Franknow. I rather blame him then. He swept me off my feet; stampeded me. My parents helped him, and

I was only half disposed to resist. You see, I had this other matter on my mind, and for the first time in my

life I felt the need of protection. Besides, I took a matteroffact view of marriage. I thought that

sentimentlove, if you likewas a thing of books, an invention of poets and fiction writers. Practical

people would be practical in their marriages, as in their other undertakings. To marry Frank seemed a very

practical course. My father assured me that Frank had in him qualities of large success. He would make

money; he would be a prominent man in circles of those who do things. These predictions he has fulfilled.

"Do YOU need to ask that? I was beginning to see the light beginning to know myselfeven before I

married him, but I didn't stop to analyze. I plunged ahead, as I have always done, trusting not to get into any

position from which I could not find a way out. But there are some positions from which there is no way out."

Grant reflected that possibly his experience had been somewhat like hers in that respect. He, too, had been

following a path, unconcerned about its end. . . . Possibly for him, too, there would be no way out.

"Frank has been all I expected of him," she repeated, as though anxious to do her husband justice. "He has

made money. He spends it generously. If I live here modestly, with but one maid, it is because of a preference

which I have developed for simplicity. I might have a dozen if I asked it, and I think Frank is somewhat

surprised, and, it may be, disappointed, that I don't ask it. Although not a man for display himself, he likes to

see me make display. It's a strange thing, isn't it, that a husband should wish his wife to be admired by other

"I have not sought any man's admiration," she went on, with her astonishing frankness. "I am too independent

Grant had changed his position, and sat with his elbows upon his knees, his chin resting upon his hands. "You

know, Zen," he said, using her Christian name deliberately, "the picture I drew that day by the river? That is

the picture I have carried in my mind ever sinceshall carry to the end. Perhaps it has led me to be

"No, Zen, no! I want to staywith youalways! But organized society must respect its own conventions."

"You silly boy!" she said. "You didn't organize society, nor subscribe to its conventions. Still, I suppose there

must be a code of some kind, and we shall respect it. You had your chance, Denny, and you passed it up."

"Morevery much morethan you can do now. You could have shown me my mistake. How much better

to have learned it then, from you, than later, by my own experience! You could have swept me off my feet,

just as Frank did. You did nothing. If I had sought evidence to prove how impractical you are, as compared

with my superpractical husband, I would have found it in the way you handled, or rather failed to handle,

"What would your superpractical husband do now if he were in my position?" he said, drawing her hands

"You do! He says that any man worth his salt takes what he wants in this world. Am I worth my salt?"

"There are different standards of value. . . . Goodness! how late it is! You must go now, and don't come back

Whatever may have been Grant's philosophy about the unwisdom of creating a situation which had no way

out he found himself looking forward impatiently to Wednesday evening. An hour or two at Zen's fireside

provided the social atmosphere which his bachelor life lacked, and as Transley seemed unappreciative of his

domestic privileges, remaining in town unless his business brought him out to the summer home, it seemed

only a just arrangement that they should be shared by one who valued them at their worth.

The Wednesday evening conversation developed further the understanding that was gradually evolving

between them, but it afforded no solution of the problem which confronted them. Zen made no secret of the

error she had made in the selection of her husband, but had no suggestions to offer as to what should be done

about it. She seemed quite satisfied to enjoy Grant's conversation and company, and let it go at thatan

impossible situation, as the young man assured himself. She dismissed him again at a quite respectable hour

with some reference to Saturday evening, which Grant interpreted as an invitation to call again at that time.

When he entered Saturday night it was evident that she had been expecting him. A cool wind was again

blowing down from the mountains, laden with the soft smell of melting snow, and the fire in the grate was

"I am my own maid tonight," she said, as she stooped to light it. "Sarah usually goes to town Saturday

The fire curled up pleasantly about the wood. "There!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "All is well. You

see how economical I am; if we must spend on fires we save on light. I love a wood fire; I suppose it is

"To the days when our great ancestors roasted their victims while they danced about the coals," said Grant,

"Does it? I think our methods change with our environments, but that is all. Wasn't it you who propounded a

theory about an age when men took what they wanted by force giving way to an age in which they took what

they wanted by subtlety? Now, I believe, you want society to restrain the man of clever wits just as it has

learned to restrain the man of big biceps. And when that is done will not man discover some other means of

She had seated herself beside him on a divanette and the joy of her nearness fired Grant with a very happy

intoxication. It recalled that night on the hillside when, as she had since said, she felt safe in his protection.

"I am really very interested," she continued. "I followed the argument at the table on Sunday with as much

concern as if it had been my pet hobby, not yours, that was under discussion. If I said little it was because I

Her amazing frankness brought Grant, figuratively, to his feet at every turn. She seemed to have no desire to

conceal her interest in him, her attachment for him. Hers was such candor as might well be born of the vast

hillsides, the great valleys, the brooding silences of her girlhood. Yet it seemed obvious that she must be less

"I am glad you were interested," he answered. "I was afraid I was rather boring the company, but it was MY

"You were dealing with practical men," she returned, "and practical men are never converted to a new idea.

That is one of the things I have learned in my years of married life, Dennison. Practical men find many ways

of turning an old idea to advantage, but they never evolve new ones. New ideas come from

"The dreamer is always a lap ahead of the rest of civilization, and the funny thing is that the rest always

"That's not remarkable," she replied. "That's logical. The dreamer blazes the wayproves the possibilities of

his dreamand the practical man follows it up and makes money out of it. To a practical man there is

"I was not in need of conversion. I have been a follower of the new faithan imperfect and limping

"Certainly not! I have been brought up in an environment where there is no standard higher than the money

standard. Not that my father or husband are dishonest; they are rigidly honest according to their ideas of

honesty. But to say that a man must give actual service for every dollar he gets or it isn't histhat is a

conception of honesty so far beyond them as to be an absurdity. But I have wanted to ask you how you are

"Idealism is not enforced. We aspire to it; we may not attain to it. Christianity itself is idealismthe idealism

of unselfishness. That ideal has never been attained by any considerable number of people, and yet it has

drawn all humanity on to somewhat higher levels as surely as the moon draws the tide. Superficial persons in

these days are drawing pictures of the failure of Christianity, which has failed in part; but they could find a

much more depressing subject by painting a world from which all Christian idealism had been removed."

"But surely you have some plan for putting your theories to the testsome plan which will force those to

whom idealism appeals in vain. We do not trust to a man's idealism to keep him from stealing; we put him in

"All that will come in time, but the question for the seeker after truth is not 'Will it work?' but 'Is it true?' I

fancy I can see the practical men of Moses' time leaning over his shoulder as he inscribed the Ten

Commandments and remarking 'No use of putting that down, Moses; you can never enforce it.' But Moses

put it down and left the enforcement to natural law and the growing intelligence of the generations which

have followed him. We are too much disposed to think it possible to evade a law; to violate it, and escape

punishment; but if a law is true, punishment follows violation as implacably as the stars follow their courses.

And if society has failed to recognize the law that service, and service only, should be able to command

service in return, society must suffer the penalty. We have only to look about us to see that society is paying

"Yes, I have plans, and I think they would work, but the first thing is the idealthe new moral sensethat

value must not be accepted without giving equal value in return. Society, of course, will have to set up the

standards of value. That is a matter of detaila matter for the practical men who come in the wake of the

idealist. But of this I am certainand I hark back to my old themethat just as society has found a means of

preventing the man who is physically superior from taking wealth without giving service in return, so must

society find a means to prevent men who are mentally superior from taking wealth without giving service in

return. The superior person, mark you, will still have an advantage, in that his superiority will enable him to

EARN more; we shall merely stop him taking what he does not earn. That must come. I think it will come

She had drunk in his argument as one who hangs on every word, and her wrapt face turned toward his seemed

to glow and thrill him in return with a sense of their spiritual oneness. She did not need to tell him that

Transley never talked to her like this. Transley loved her, if he loved her at all, for the glory she reflected

upon him; he was proud of her beauty, of her daring, of her physical charm and selfreliance. The deeper side

of her mental life was to Transley a field unexplored; a field of the very existence of which he was probably

unaware. Grant looked into her eyes, now close and responsive, and found within their depths something

"Zen!" he exclaimed. "The mystery of life is too much for me. Surely there must be an answer somewhere!

Surely the puzzle has a system to ita key which may some day be found! Or can it be just chaosjust

blind, driveling, senseless chaos? In our own lives, why should we be stranded, helpless, wrecked, with the

happiness which might have been ours hung just beyond our reach? Is there no answer to this?"

"I suppose we disobeyed the law, back in those old days. We heard it clearly enough, and we disobeyed. I

allowed myself to be guided by motives which were not the highest; you seemed to lack the enterprise which

would have won you its own reward. And as you have said, those who violate the law must suffer for it. I

She drew up her chin; he could see the firm muscles set beneath the pink bloom of her flesh. . . . He had not

thought of Zen suffering; all his thought of her had been very grateful to his vanity, but he had not thought of

"I have sometimes wondered," he said, "why there is no second chance; why one cannot wipe the slate clear

"Would it be any better? Or would we go on making our mistakes over again? That seems to be the only way

"But a second chance; the idea seems so fair, so plausible. Suppose you are shooting on the ranges, for

instance; you are allowed a shot or two to find your nerve, to get your distance, to settle yourself to the

business in hand. But in this business of life you fire, and if some distraction, some momentary influence or

folly sends your aim wild, the shot is gone and you are left with all the years that follow to think about it.

"For you there is a second chance," she reminded him. "You must have thought of that."

She drew herself up slightly and away from him. "I have been very frank with you, Dennison," she said.

In her eyes was still the fire of Zen of the Y.D., a woman unconquered and unconquerable. She gave the

impression that she accepted the buffetings of life, but no one forced them upon her. She had erred; she

would suffer. That was fair; she accepted that. But as Grant gazed on her face, tilted still in some of its old

time recklessness and defiance, he knew that the day would come when she would say that her cup was full,

and, throwing it to the winds, would start life over, if there can be such a thing as starting life over. And

"All right," he said, "I will be frank. Fate HAS brought within my orbit a second chance, or what would have

been a second chance had my heart not been so full of you. She was a girl well worth thinking about. When

an employee introduces herself to you with a declaration of independence you may know that you have met

with someone out of the ordinary. I am not speaking of these days of labor scarcity; it takes no great moral

quality to be independent when you have the whiphand. But in the days before the war, with two applicants

for every position, a girl who valued her freedom of spirit more than her jobmore than even a very good

"I did. I was sick of the cringing and fawning of which my wealth made me the object; I loathed the

deference paid me, because I knew it was paid, not to me, but to my moneyI was homesick to hear

someone tell me to go to hell. I wanted to brush up against that spirit which says it is as good as anybody

elseagainst the manliness which stands its ground and hits back. I found that spirit in Phyllis Bruce."

"Phyllis Brucerather a nice name. But are the men and women of the East soso servile as you suggest?"

"No! That is where I was mistaken. Generations of environment had merely trained them into docility of

habit. Underneath they are redblooded through and through. The war showed us that. Zenthe proudest

moment of my lifeexcept onewas when a kid in the office who couldn't come into my room without

trembling jumped up and said 'We WILL win!'and called me Grant! Think of that! Poor chap. . . . What

was I saying? Oh, yes; Phyllis. I grew to like hervery muchbut I couldn't marry her. You know why."

Zen was looking into the fire with unseeing eyes. "I am not sure that I know why," she said at length. "You

She rested her fingers lightly on the back of his hand, extending them gently down until they fell between his

"Denny, you big, big boy!" she murmured. "Do you suppose every man marries his first choice?"

"It has always seemed to me that a second choice is a makeshift. It doesn't seem quite square"

"No. I fancy some second choices are really first choices. Wisdom comes with experience, you know."

"I suppose not," she answered, and again he noted a touch of weariness in her voice. "I know something of

what divided affectionif one can even say it is dividedmeans. Denny, I will make a confession. I knew

you would come back; I always was sure you would come back. 'Then,' I said to myself, 'I will see this man

Grant as he is, and the reality will clear my brain of all this idealism which I have woven about him.' Perhaps

you know what I mean. We sometimes meet people who impress us greatly at the time, but a second meeting,

perhaps years later, has a very different effect. It sweeps all the idealism away, and we wonder what it was

that could have charmed us so. WellI hopedI really hoped for some experience like that with you. If

only I could meet you again and find that, after all, you were just like other men; self centred, arrogant,

kind, perhaps, but quite superiorif I could only find THAT to be true then the mirage in which I have lived

for all these years would be swept away and my old philosophy that after all it doesn't matter much whom

one marries so long as he is respectable and gives her a good living would be vindicated. And so I have

encouraged you to come here; I have been most unconventional, I know, but I was always thatI have

"On the contrary, it grows more distorted every day. I see you towering above all your fellow humans;

reaching up into a heaven so far above them that they don't even know of its existence. I see you as really The

ManOntheHill, with a vision which lays all this selfish, commonplace world at your feet. The idealism

She had turned her face to him, and Grant, little as he understood the ways of women, knew that she had

made her great confession. For a moment he held himself in check. . . . then from somewhere in his

subconsciousness came ringing the phrase, "Every man worth his salt. . . . takes what he wants." That was

Transley's morality; Transley, the Usurper, who had bullied himself into possession of this heart which he

had never won and could never hold; Transley, the fool, frittering his days and nights with money! He seized

her in his arms, crushing down her weak resistance; he drew her to him until, as in that day by a foothill river

somewhere in the sunny past, her lips met his and returned their caress. He cared now for nothingnothing

"You must go," she whispered at length. "It is late, and Frank's habits are somewhat erratic."

He held her at arm's length, his hands upon her shoulders. "Do you suppose that fearof anythingcan

"Not fear, perhapsI know it could not be fearbut good sense may do it. It was not fear that made me

"Oh!" he said, a new light dawning, and he marvelled again at her consummate artistry.

"But I must tell you," she resumed, "Frank leaves on a business trip tomorrow night. He will be gone for

some time, and I shall motor into town to see him off. I am wondering about Wilson," she hurried on, as

though not daring to weigh her words; "Sarah will be awayI am letting her have a little holidayand I

can't take Wilson into town with me because it will be so late." Then, with a burst of confession she spoke

more deliberately. "That isn't exactly the reason, Dennison; Frank doesn't know I have let Sarah go, and II

Her face shone pink and warm in the glow of the firelight, and as the significance of her words sank in upon

him Grant marvelled at that wizardry of the gods which could bring such homage to the foot of man. A

"Bring the boy over and let him spend the night with me. We are great chums and we shall get along

Grant spent his Sunday forenoon in an exhaustive housecleaning campaign. Bachelor life on the farm is not

conducive to domestic delicacy, and although Grant had never abandoned the fundamentals he had allowed

his interpretation of essential cleanliness to become somewhat liberal. The result was that the day of rest

usually confronted him with a considerable array of unwashed pots and pans and other culinary utensils.

Today, while the tawny autumn hills seemed to fairly heave and sigh with contentment under a splendor of

opalescent sunshine, he scoured the contents of his kitchen until they shone; washed the floor; shook the rugs

from the livingroom and swept the corners, even behind the gramophone; cleared the ashes from the hearth

and generally set his house in order, for was not she to call upon him that evening on her way to town, and

was not little Wilsonhe of the high adventures with teddybear and knife and pigto spend the night with

When he was able to view his handiwork with a feeling that even feminine eyes would find nothing to offend,

Grant did an unwonted thing. He unlocked the whimroom and opened the windows that the fresh air might

play through the silent chamber. To the west the mountains looked down in sombre placidity as they had

looked down every bright autumn morning since the dawn of time, their shoulders bathed in purple mist and

their snowcrowned summits shining in the sun. For a long time Grant stood drinking in the scene; the fertile

valley lying with its square farms like a checkerboard of the gods, with its round little lakes beating back the

white sunshine like coins from the currency of the Creator; the ruddy coppercolored patches of ripe wheat,

and drowsy herds motionless upon the receding hills; the bluegreen ribbon of river with its yellow fringes of

cottonwood and bluffs of forbidding spruce, and behind and over all the silent, majestic mountains. It was a

sight to make the soul of man rise up and say, "I know I stand on the heights of the Eternal!" Then as his eyes

followed the course of the river Grant picked out a column of thin blue smoke, and knew that Zen was

The thought turned him to his dusting of the whimroom, and afterwards to his own kitchen. When he had

lunched and dressed he took a stroll over the hills, thinking a great deal, but finding no answer. On his return

he descried the familiar figure of Linder in a semirecumbent position on the porch, and Linder's wellworn

"How goes it, Linder?" he said, cheerily, as he came up. "Is the Big Idea going to fructify?"

"Thanks. But is it going to be selfsupportingI mean in the matter of motive power. Would it run if you

"Democracy must find its own headmust grow it out of the materials supplied. If it doesn't do that it's a

failure, and the Big Idea will end in being the Big Fizzle. That's why I'm leaving it so severely aloneI want

"What are you driving at?" demanded Grant, somewhat petulantly. "You are in a taciturn mood today,

"Perhaps I am, Grant, and if so it comes from wondering how a man with as much brains as you have can be

"It's just like this, Grant, old boy," said Linder, getting up and putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "I feel

that I still have an interest in the chap who saved all of me except what this empty sleeve stands for, and it's

that interest which makes me speak about something which you may say is none of my business. I was out

here Monday night to see you, and you were not at home. I came out again Wednesday, and you were not at

home. I came last night and you were not at home, and had not come back at midnight. Your horses were in

"If I hadn't cared more for you than I do for my job and the Big Idea thrown in I could have settled it that

"I believe you. But why this sudden worry over me? I was merely spending the evening at a neighbor's."

"Yesat Transley's. Transley was in town, and Mrs. Transley is not responsiblewhere you are

"I saw it all that night at dinner there. Some things are plain to everyoneexcept those most involved. Now

it's not my job to say to you what's right and wrong, but the way it looks to me is this: what's the use of

setting up a new code of morality about money which concerns, after all, only some of us, if you're going to

Grant regarded his foreman for some time without answering. "I appreciate your frankness, Linder," he said

at length. "Your friendship, which I can never question, gives you that privilege. Man to man, I'm going to be

equally frank with you. To begin with, I suppose you will admit that Y.D.'s daughter is a strong character, a

"It's not a case of wrecking; it's a case of trying to save something out of the wreck. Convention, Linder, is a

torture monger; it binds men and women to the stake of propriety and bids them smile while it snuffs out all

the soul that's in them. We have pitted ourselves against convention in economic affairs; shall we not"

"No! It was pure unselfishness which led you into the Big Idea. That isn't what's leading you now."

"Well, let me put it another way. Transley is a clever man of affairs. He knows how to accomplish his ends.

He applied the methodssomewhat modified for the occasionof a landshark in winning his wife. He

makes a great appearance of unselfishness, but in reality he is selfish to the core. He lavishes money on her to

satisfy his own vanity, but as for her finer nature, the real Zen, her soul if you likehe doesn't even know

she has one. He obtained possession by false pretences. Which is the more moral thingto leave him in

possession, or to throw him out? Didn't you yourself hear him say that men who are worth their salt take what

"I think it is. I think, too, that you are arguing against your own convictions. Well, I've had my say. I

deliberately came out today without Murdoch so that I might have it. You would be quite justified in firing

me for what I've done. But now I'm through, and no matter what may happen, remember, Linder will never

"That's like you, old chap. We'll drop it at that, but I must explain that Zen is going to town tonight to meet

Transley, and is leaving the boy with me. It is an event in my young life, and I have housecleaned for it

Linder admired as he was directed, and then the two men fell into a discussion of business matters.

Eventually Grant cooked supper, and just as they had finished Mrs. Transley drove up in her motor.

"Here we are!" she cried, cheerily. "Glad to see you, Mr. Linder. Wilson has his teddybear and his knife and

his pyjamas, and is a little put out, I think, that I wouldn't let him bring the pig."

"I shall try and make up the deficiency," said Grant, smiling broadly, as the boy climbed to his shoulder.

"Won't you come in? Linder, among his other accomplishments learned in France, is an excellent chaperon."

"Thank you, no; I must get along. I shall call early in the morning, so that you will not be delayed on Wilson's

"No need of that; he can ride to the field with me on Prince. He is a great help with the plowing."

"I'm sure." She stepped up to Grant and drew the boy's face down to hers. "Goodbye, dear; be a good boy,"

Linder took his departure soon after, and Grant was surprised to find himself almost embarrassed in the

presence of his little guest. The embarrassment, however, was all on his side. Wilson was greatly interested in

the strange things in the house, and investigated them with the romantic thoroughness of his years. Grant

placed a collection of war trophies that had no more fight in them at the child's disposal, and he played about

Where to start on the bedtime preparations was a puzzle, but Wilson himself came to Grant's aid with explicit

instructions about buttons and pins. Grant fervently hoped the boy would be able to reverse the process in the

Suddenly, with a little dexterous movement, the child divested himself of all his clothing, and rushed into a

Evidently it was a game, and Grant entered into the spirit of it, finally running Wilson to earth on the farthest

corner of the kitchen table. To adjust the pyjamas was, as Grant confessed, a bigger job than harnessing a

"You must hear my prayer, Uncle ManontheHill," said the boy. "You have to sit down in a chair."

Grant sat down and with a strange mixture of emotions drew the little chap between his knees as he listened

to the longforgotten prattle. He felt his fingers running through Wilson's hair as other fingers, now long,

"Huh, you don't know much," the child commented, and glibly quoted the remaining lines. "And God bless

Daddy and Mamma and teddybear and Uncle ManontheHill and the pig. Amen," he concluded,

accompanying the last word with a jump which landed him fairly in Grant's lap. His little arms went up about

his friend's neck, and his little soft cheek rested against a tanned and weatherbeaten one. Slowly Grant's

arms closed about the warm, lithe body and pressed it to his in a new passion, strange and holy. Then he led

him to the whimroom, turned down the white sheets in which no form had ever lain and placed the boy

between them, snuggled his teddy down by his side and set his knife properly in view upon the dresser. And

then he leaned down again and kissed the little face, and whispered, "Good night, little boy; God keep you

safe tonight, and always." And suddenly Grant realized that he had been praying. . . .

He withdrew softly, and only partly closed the door; then he chose a seat where he could see the little figure

lying peacefully on the white bed. The last shafts of the setting sun were falling in amber wedges across the

room. He picked up a book, thinking to read, but he could not keep his attention on the page; he found his

mind wandering back into the longforgotten chambers of its beginning, conjuring up from the faint

recollections of infancy visions of the mother he had hardly known. . . . After a while he tiptoed to the

whimroom door and found that Wilson, with his arms firmly clasped about his teddybear, was deep in the

"The dear little chap," he murmured. "I must watch by him tonight. It would be unspeakable if anything

He felt a sense of warmth, almost a smothering sensation, and raised his hand to his forehead. It came down

"It's amazingly close," he said, and walked to one of the French windows opening to the west. The sun had

gone down, and a brooding darkness lay over all the valley, but far up in the sky he could trace the outline of

a cloud. Above, the stars shone with an unwonted brightness, but below all was a bank of blueblack

darkness. The air was intensely still; in the silence he could hear the wash of the river. Grant reflected that

"Looks like a storm," he commented, casually, and suddenly felt something tighten about his heart. The

storms of the foothill country, which occasionally sweep out of the mountains and down the valleys on the

shortest notice, had no terror for him; he had sat on horseback under an oilskin slicker through the worst of

them; but tonight! Even as he watched, the distant glare of lightning threw the heaving proportions of the

He turned to his chair, but found himself pacing the livingroom with an altogether inexplicable nervousness.

He had held the line many a bad night at the Front while Death spat out of the darkness on every hand; he had

smoked in the faces of his men to cover his own fear and to shame them out of theirs; he had run the whole

gamut of the emotion of the trenches, but tonight something more awesome than any engine of man was

gathering its forces in the deep valleys. He shook himself to throw off the morbidness that was settling upon

him; he laughed, and the echo came back haunting from the silent corners of the house. Then he lit a lamp

and set it, burning low, in the whimroom, and noted that the boy slept on, all unconcerned.

"Damn Linder, anyway!" he exclaimed presently. "I believe he shook me up more than I realized. He charged

me with insincerity; me, who have always made sincerity my special virtue. . . . Well, there may be

A faint, indistinct growling, as of the grinding of mighty rocks, came down from the distances.

"The storm will be nothing," he assured himself. "A gust of wind; a spatter of rain; perhaps a dash of hail;

then, of a sudden, a sky so calm and peaceful one would wonder how it ever could have been disturbed."

Even as he spoke the house shivered in every timber as the gale struck it and went whining by.

He rushed to the whimroom, but found the boy still sleeping soundly. "I must stay up," he reasoned with

Suddenly it occurred to Grant that, quite apart from his love for Wilson, if anything should happen the child

in his house a very difficult situation would be created. Transley would demand explanationsexplanations

which would be hard to make. Why was Wilson there at all? Why was he not at home with Sarah? Sarah

away from home! Why had Zen kept that a secret? . . . How long had this thing been going on, anyway?

Grant feared neither Transley nor any other man, and yet there was something akin to fear in his heart as he

thought of these possibilities. He would be held accountabledoubly accountableif anything happened

the child. Even though it were something quite beyond his control; lightning, for example

The gale subsided as quickly as it had come, and the sudden silence which followed was even more

awesome. It lasted only for a moment; a flash of lightning lit up every corner of the house, bursting like white

fire from every wall and ceiling. Grant rushed to the whimroom and was standing over the child when the

crash of thunder came upon them. The boy stirred gently, smiled, and settled back to his sleep.

Grant drew the blinds in the whimroom, and went out to draw them in the livingroom, but the sight across

the valley was of a majesty so terrific that it held him fascinated. The play of the lightning was incessant, and

with every flash the little lakes shot back their white reflection, and distant farm windowpanes seemed

heliographing to each other through the night. As yet there was no rain, but a dense wall of cloud pressed

down from the west, and the farther hills were hidden even in the brightest flashes.

Turning from the windows, Grant left the blinds open. "Only cowardice would close them," he muttered to

himself, "and surely, in addition to the other qualities Linder has attributed to me, I am not a coward. If it

Presently rain began to fall; a few scattered drops at first, then thicker, harder, until the roof and windows

rattled and shook with their force. The wind, which had gone down so suddenly, sprang up again, buffeting

the house as it rushed by with the storm. Grant stood in the whimroom, in the dim light of the lamp turned

low, and watched the steady breathing of his little guest with as much anxiety as if some dread disease

threatened him. For the first time in his life there came into Grant's consciousness some sense of the price

which parents pay in the rearing of little children. He thought of all the hours of sickness, of all the childish

hurts and dangers, and suddenly he found himself thinking of his father with a tenderness which was strange

and new to him. Doubtless under even that stern veneer of business interest had beat a heart which, many a

As the night wore on the storm, instead of spending itself quickly as Grant had expected, continued unabated,

but his nervous tension gradually relaxed, and when at length Wilson was awakened by an exceptionally loud

clap of thunder he took the boy in his arms and soothed his little fears as a mother might have done. They sat

for a long while in a big chair in the livingroom, and exchanged such confidences as a man may with a child

of five. After the lad had dropped back into sleep Grant still sat with him in his arms, thinking. . . .

And what he thought was this: He was a long while framing the exact thought; he tried to beat it back in a

dozen ways, but it circled around him, gradually closed in upon him and forced its acceptance. "Linder called

me a fool, and he was right. He might have called me a coward, and again he would have been right. Linder

Some way it seemed easy to reach that conclusion while this little sleeping form lay in his arms. Perhaps it

had quickened into life that ennobling spirit of parenthood which is all sacrifice and love and

selfrenunciation. The ends which seemed so alldesirable a few hours ago now seemed sordid and mean

and unimportant. Reaching out for some means of selfjustification Grant turned to the Big Idea; that was

his; that was big and generous and noble. But after all, was it his? The idea had come in upon him from some

outside sourceas perhaps all ideas do; struck him like a bullet; swept him along. He was merely the agency

employed in putting it into effect. It had cost him nothing. He was doing that for society. Now was the time to

do something that would cost; to lay his hand upon the prize and then relinquish itfor the sake of Wilson

"And by God I'll do it!" he exclaimed, springing to his feet. He carried the child back to his bed, and then

turned again to watch the storm through the windows. It seemed to be subsiding; the lightning, although still

almost continuous, was not so near. The air was cooling off and the rain was falling more steadily, without

the gusts and splatters which marked the storm in its early stages. And as he looked out over the black valley,

lighted again and again by the glare of heaven's artillery, Grant became conscious of a deep, mysterious sense

of peace. It was as though his soul, like the elements about him, caught in a paroxysm of elemental passion,

"What little incidents turn our lives!" he thought. "That boy; in some strange way he has been the means of

bringing me to see things as they arewhich not even Linder could do. The mind has to be fertilized for the

thought, or it can't think it. He brought the necessary influence to bear. It was like the night at Murdoch's

house, the night when the Big Idea was born. Surely I owe that to Murdoch, and his wife, and Phyllis Bruce."

The name of Phyllis Bruce came to him with almost a shock. He had been so occupied with his farm and with

Zen that he had thought but little of her of late. As he turned the matter over in his mind now he felt that he

had used Phyllis rather shabbily. He recalled having told Murdoch to send for her, but that was purely a

business transaction. Yet he felt that he had never entirely forgotten her, and he was surprised to find how

tenderly the memory of her welled up within him. Zen's vision had been clearer than his; she had recognized

in Phyllis Bruce a party to his life's drama. "The second choice may be really the first," she had said.

Grant lit a cigar and sat down to smoke and think. The matter of Phyllis needed prompt settlement. It afforded

a means to burn his bridges behind him, and Grant felt that it would be just as well to cut off all possibility of

retreat. Fortunately the situation was one that could be explainedto Phyllis. He had come out West again to

be sure of himself; he was sure now; would she be his wife? He had never thought that line out to a

He had told himself, back in those days in the East, that it would not be fair to marry Phyllis Bruce while his

heart was another's. He had believed that then; now he knew the real reason was that he had allowed himself

to hope, against all reason, that Zen Transley might yet be his. He had harbored an unworthy desire, and

called it a virtue. Wellthe die was cast. He had definitely given Zen up. He would tell Phyllis everything. .

It would be best to settle it at oncethe sooner the better. He went to his desk and took out a telegraph blank.

He addressed it to Phyllis, pondered a minute in a great hush in the storm, and wrote,

This done he turned to the telephone, hurrying as one who fears for the duration of his good resolutions. It

was a chance if the line was not out of business, but he lifted the receiver and listened to the thump of his

Presently came a voice as calm and still as though it spoke from another world, "Number?"

He gave the number of Linder's rooms in town; it was likely Linder had remained in town, but it was a

question whether the telephone bell would waken him. He had recollections of Linder as a sound sleeper. But

even as this possibility entered his mind he heard Linder's phlegmatic voice in his ear.

"Oh, Linder! I'm so glad I got you. Rush this message to Phyllis Bruce. . . . Linder? . . . Linder!"

There was no answer. Nothing but a hollow, empty sound on the wire, as though it led merely into the

universe in general. He tried to call the operator, but without success. The wire was down.

He turned from it with a sense of acute impatience. Was this an omen of obstacles to bar him now from

Phyllis Bruce? He had a wild thought of saddling a horse and riding to town, but at that moment the storm

Suddenly came a quick knock at the door; the handle turned, and a drenched, hatless figure, with disheveled,

"Sound as a bell," he answered, alarmed by her manner. The self assured Zen was far from selfassurance

He led her into the whimroom and turned up the lamp. The lad was sleeping soundly, his teddybear

clasped in his arms, his little pink and white face serene under the magic skies of slumberland. Grant

expected that Zen would throw herself upon the child in her agitation, but she did not. She drew her fingers

"Rather an unceremonious way to break into your house," she said, with a little laugh. "I hope you will

"Not as wet as when you first met me, Dennison," she said, with a smile. "I have a good waterproof, but my

hat blew off. It's somewhere on the road. I couldn't see through the windshield, so I put my head out, and

Then both laughed, and an atmosphere that had been tense began to settle back to normal. Grant led her out to

"So you drove out over those roads?" he said, when the smoke began to curl up around the logs. "You had

"It wasn't courage, Dennison; it was terror. Fear sometimes makes one wonderfully brave. After I saw Frank

off I went to the hotel. I had a room on the west side, and instead of going to bed I sat by the window looking

out at the storm and at the wet streets. I could see the flashes of lightning striking down as though they were

aimed at definite objects, and I began to think of Wilson, and of you. You see, it was the first night I had ever

"After a while I could bear it no longer, and I rushed down and out to the garage. There was just one young

man on night duty, and I'm sure he thought me crazy. When he couldn't dissuade me he wanted to send a

She was looking squarely at him, her face strangely calm and emotionless. Grant nodded that he followed her

"So here I am," she continued. "No doubt you think me silly, too. You are not a mother."

They sat in silence for some time, and presently they became aware of a grey light displacing the yellow glow

from the lamp and the ruddy reflections of the fire. "It is morning," said Grant. "I believe the storm has

He stood beside her chair and took her hand in his. "Let us watch the dawn break on the mountains," he said,

and together they moved to the windows that overlooked the valley and the grim ranges beyond. Already

shafts of crimson light were firing the scattered drift of clouds far overhead. . . .

"Dennison," she said at length, turning her face to his, "I hope you will understand, butI have thought it all

over. I have not hidden my heart from you. For the boy's sake, and for your sake, and for the sake of 'a scrap

"Then you have been thinking, too? . . . I am so glad!" In the growing light he could see the moisture in her

bright eyes glisten, and it seemed to him this wild, daring daughter of the hills had never been lovelier than in

"I am so glad," she repeated, "for your sakeand for my own. Now, again, you are really the

ManontheHill. We have been in the valley of late. You can go ahead now with your high plans, with your

"I shall remember with chastened memory, but I shall never forget," he said at length. "I shall never forget

"I have the boy. I did not realize how much I had until tonight. Suddenly it came upon me that he was

everything. You won't understand, Dennison, but as we grow older our hearts wrap up around our children

with a love quite different from that which expresses itself in marriage. This love givesgivesgives,

They turned their eyes to the mountains, and as they looked the first shafts of sunlight fell on the white peaks

and set them dazzling like mighty diamondpoints against the blue bosom of the West. Slowly the flood of

light poured down their mighty sides and melted the mauve shadows of the valley. Suddenly a ray of the

morning splendor shot through the little window in the eastern wall of the livingroom and fell fairly upon

"It is morning on the mountainsand on you!" Grant exclaimed. "Zen, you are very, very beautiful." He

As they stood watching the sunlight pour into the valley a sharp knock sounded on the door. "Come," said

Dennison, and the next moment it swung open and Phyllis Bruce entered, followed immediately by Linder. A

question leapt into her eyes at the remarkable situation which greeted them, and she paused in

"It is all very simple," Grant explained, with a laugh. "Little Willie Transley was my guest overnight. On

account of the storm his mother became alarmed, and drove out from the city early this morning for him.

Mrs. Transley, let me introduce Miss Bruce Phyllis Bruce, of whom I have told you."

Zen's cordial handshake did more to reassure Phyllis than any amount of explanations, and Linder's timely

observation that he knew Wilson was there and was wondering about him himself had valuable corroborative

"Simple enough, from our side. When I got back to town last night I found Murdoch highly excited over a

telegram from Miss Bruce that she would arrive on the 3 a.m. train. He was determined to wait up, but when

the storm came on I persuaded him to go home, as I was sure I could identify her. So I was lounging in my

room waiting for three o'clock when I got your telephone call. All I could catch was the fact that you were

mighty glad to get me, and had some urgent message for Miss Bruce. Then the connection broke."

"I see. And you, of course, assured Miss Bruce that I was being murdered, or meeting some such happy and

"Not exactly that, but I reported what I could, and Miss Bruce insisted upon coming out at once. The roads

"It is the best kind of evidence that you had but recently come over the road," said Linder, significantly.

"I think no more evidence need be called," said Phyllis. "May I lay off my things?"

"Certainlycertainly," Grant apologized. "But I must introduce one more exhibit." He handed her the

telegram he had written during the night. "That is the message I wanted Linder to rush to you," he said, and

"I'm going to get breakfast, Mr. Grant," Zen announced with a sudden burst of energy. "Everybody keep out

"Guess I'll feed up for you, this morning, old chap," said Linder, beating a retreat to the stables.

And when Phyllis had laid aside her coat and hat and had straightened her hair a little in the glass above the

mantelpiece she walked straight to Grant and put both her hands in his. "Let me see this boy, Willie

Grant led her into the whimroom, where the boy still slept soundly, and drew aside the blinds that the

morning light might fall about him. Phyllis bent over the child. "Isn't he dear?" she said, and stooped and

Then she stood up and looked for what seemed to Grant a very long time at the panorama of grandeur that

"When may I expect an answer, Phyllis?" he said at length. "You know why my question has been so long

delayed. I shall not attempt to excuse myself. I have been very, very foolish. But today I am very, very wise.

He had taken her hands in his, and as she did not resist he drew her gently to him.

"Little Willie christened me The ManontheHill," he whispered. "I have tried to live on the hill, but I need

"We will give our lives to that, together, Phyllis, to that, and to making this house a home. If God should give

He did not finish the thought, for the form of Phyllis Bruce trembled against his, and her lips had murmured

"Mr. Grant! Mr. Grant! The telephone is ringing," called the clear voice of Zen Transley. "Shall I take the

"Please do," said Dennison, inwardly abjuring the efficiency of the lineman who had already made repairs.

"It's Mr. Murdoch, and he's highly excited, and he says have you Phyllis Bruce here."