Ranching for Sylvia Part 54

"We're a strong party already," Edgar broke in. "You're leaving the place poorly guarded, and the rustlers may have counted on something of the kind. Suppose they finish their work by driving off every beast that's left as soon as we have gone."

"I've got to take my chances; we'll want the boys to make a thorough search."

Grant swung round toward the remaining men.

"You two will watch out behind the woodstack or in the granary. No stranger's to come near house or stable."

"The woodpile," said Flora, with a hard white face and an ominous sparkle in her eyes. "You would command the outbuildings there. If anybody tries to creep up at night, call once, and then shoot to kill."

Edgar saw that she meant her instructions to be carried out; but he forced a smile.

"And this is the Canadian wheat-belt, which I was told was so peaceful and orderly!"

"It looks as if you had been misinformed," Flora rejoined with a cold collectedness which he thought of as dangerous. "One, however, now and then hears of violent crime in London."

They were mounted in a few minutes, and after a hard ride the party broke up at dawn, dispersing so that each member of it could make independent search and inquiries at the scattered homesteads. Meeting places and means of communication were arranged; but Flora and her father rode together, pushing on steadily southward over the vast gray plain. Little was said except when they called at some outlying farm, but Grant now and then glanced at the girl's set face with keenly scrutinizing eyes. In the middle of the scorching afternoon he suggested that she should await his return at a homestead in the distance, but was not surprised when she uncompromisingly refused.

They spent the night at a small ranch, borrowed fresh horses in the morning, and set out again; but they found no trace of the fugitives during the day, and it was evening when Edgar and Grierson joined them, as arranged, at a lonely farm. The two men rode in wearily on jaded horses, and Flora, who was the first to notice their approach, went out to meet them.

"Nothing?" she said, when she saw their dejected faces.

"Nothing," Edgar listlessly answered. "If the people we have seen aren't in league with the rustlers--and I don't think that's probable--the fellows must have gone a different way."

"They've gone south!" Flora insisted. "We may be a little too far to the east of their track."

"Then, we must try a different line of country tomorrow."

The farmer's wife had promised to find Flora quarters, the men were offered accommodation in a barn, and when the air cooled sharply in the evening, Edgar walked out on to the prairie with the girl. She had kept near him since his arrival, but he was inclined to believe this was rather on account of his a.s.sociation with George than because she found any charm in his society. By and by, they sat down on a low rise from which they could see the sweep of gra.s.s run on, changing to shades of blue and purple, toward the smoky red glare of sunset on its western rim. To the south, it was all dim and steeped in dull neutral tones, conveying an idea of vast distance.

Flora shivered, drawing her thin linen jacket together while she b.u.t.toned it, and Edgar noticed something beneath it that broke the outline of her waist.

"What's that at your belt?" he asked.

"A magazine pistol," she answered with a rather harsh laugh, producing the beautifully made weapon,

"It's a pretty thing. I wonder whether you can use it?"

"Will you stand up at about twenty paces and hold out your hat?"

"Certainly not!" said Edgar firmly. "I wouldn't mind putting it on a stick, only that the shot would bring the others out. But I've no doubt you can handle a pistol; you're a curious people."

He thought the last remark was justified. Here was a girl, as refined and highly trained in many ways as any he had met, and yet who owned a dangerous weapon and could use it effectively. Then there was her father, an industrious, peaceable farmer, whose attention was, as a rule, strictly confined to the ama.s.sing of money, but who was nevertheless capable of riding or shooting down the outlaws who molested him or his friends. What made the thing more striking was that neither of them had been used to alarms; they had dwelt in calm security until the past twelve months. Edgar, however, remembered that they sprang from a stock that had struggled sternly for existence with forest and flood and frost; no doubt, in time of stress, the strong primitive strain came uppermost. Their nature had not been altogether softened by civilization. The thought flung a useful light upon Flora's character.

"If the trial's a lengthy one and these fellows hold him up until it's over, it will be a serious thing for George," he resumed, by way of implying that this was the worst that could befall his comrade. "The grain's ripening fast, and he hasn't made his arrangements for harvest yet. Men seem pretty scarce around here, just now."

"It's a good crop; I'm glad of that," said Flora, willing to avoid the graver side of the topic. "Mr. Lansing was anxious about it, but this harvest should set him on his feet. I suppose he hasn't paid off the full price of the farm."

"As a matter of fact, he hasn't paid anything at all."

"Then has he only rented the place?"

There was surprise and strong interest in the girl's expression and Edgar saw that he had made a telling admission. However, he did not regret it.

"No," he said; "that's not the case, either. The farm is still Mrs.

Marston's."

"Ah! There's something I don't understand."

Edgar was sorry for her, and he felt that she was ent.i.tled to an explanation. Indeed, since George was strangely un.o.bservant, he thought it should have been made earlier; but the matter had appeared too delicate for him to meddle with. Now, however, when the girl's nature was strongly stirred, there was a risk that, supposing his comrade was discovered wounded or was rescued in some dramatic way, she might be driven to a betrayal of her feelings that would seriously embarra.s.s George and afterward cause her distress.

"George," he explained, "is merely carrying on the farm as Mrs.

Marston's trustee."

"But that hardly accounts for his keen eagerness to make his farming profitable. It strikes one as springing from something stronger than his duty as trustee."

Edgar nodded.

"Well, you see, he is in love with her!"

Flora sat quite still for a moment or two, and then laughed--a little bitter laugh; she was overstrained and could not repress it. A flood of hot color surged into her face, but in another moment she had recovered some degree of composure.

"So that is why he came out?" she said.

"Yes; he was in love with her before she married Marston. At least, that's his impression."

"His impression?" echoed Flora, keenly anxious to cover any signs of the shock she had received and to learn all that could be told. "Do you mean that Mr. Lansing doesn't know whether he is in love with her or not?"

"No, not exactly!" Edgar felt that he was on dangerous ground. "I'm afraid I can't quite explain what I really do mean. George, of course, is convinced about the thing; but I've a suspicion that he may be mistaken; though he'd be very indignant if he heard me say so."

He paused, doubtful whether he was handling the matter prudently, but he felt that something must be done to relieve the strain, and continued:

"George has the faculty of respectful admiration highly developed, but he doesn't use it with much judgment; in fact, he's a rather reckless idealist. There are excuses for him; he was never much thrown into women's society."

"You think that explains it?" Flora forced a smile. "But go on."

"My idea is that George has been led by admiration and pity, and not by love at all. I don't think he knows the difference; he's not much of a psychologist. Then, you see, he's thorough, and having got an idea into his mind, it possesses him and drives him to action. He doesn't stop to a.n.a.lyze his feelings."

"So he came out to look after Mrs. Marston's property because he felt sorry for her, and believed her worthy of respect? What is your opinion of her?"

"I'll confess that I wish she hadn't captivated George."

Flora's face grew very scornful.

"I haven't your chivalrous scruples; and I know Mrs. Marston. She's utterly worthless! What is likely to happen when your comrade finds it out?"

Then she rose abruptly.

"After all, that's a matter which chiefly concerns Mr. Lansing, and I dare say the woman he believes in will be capable of dealing with the situation. Let's talk of something else."

They turned back toward the farm, but Edgar found it difficult to start a fresh topic. All the workings of his mind centered upon George, and he suspected that his companion's thoughts had a similar tendency. It was getting dark when they rejoined the rest of the party, and the next morning Flett and another constable rode in. They had discovered nothing, but as they were ready to take up the trail, Grant left the task to them and turned back with his men.