The Cattle-Baron's Daughter Part 38

"You will be sorry for this night's work yet," he said.

The homesteader laughed derisively. "Well," he said, "I guess you're sorry now. Anyone who saw you would think you were. Get right back to the chair yonder and stay there."

It was at least five minutes before Clavering recovered sufficiently to survey himself, and then he groaned. His deerskin jacket was badly rent, there was a great burn on one side of it, and several red scratches defaced his hands. From the splotches on them after he brushed back his ruffled hair he also had a suspicion that his head was cut, and the tingling where the sc.r.a.per had struck him suggested a very visible weal.

He felt dizzy and shaken, but his physical was less than his mental distress. Clavering was distinguished for his artistic taste in dress and indolent grace; but no man appears dignified or courtly with discoloured face, tattered garments, and dishevelled hair. He thought he heard the bob-sled coming and in desperation glanced at his jailer.

"If you would like ten dollars you have only got to let me slip into that other room," he said.

The bushman grinned sardonically, and Clavering's fears were confirmed.

"You're that pretty I wouldn't lose sight of you for a hundred," he said.

"No, sir; you're going to stop where you are."

Clavering anathematized him inwardly, knowing that the beat of hoofs was unmistakable--he must face what he dreaded most. A sword-cut, or even a rifle-shot, would, he fancied, have ent.i.tled him to sympathy, not untinged with admiration, but he was unpleasantly aware that a man damaged in an encounter with nature's weapons is apt to appear either brutal or ludicrous, and he had noticed Miss Torrance's sensibility. He set his lips, and braced himself for the meeting.

A few minutes later the door opened, and, followed by the fraulein Muller, Hetty and Miss Schuyler came in. They did not seem to have suffered greatly in the interval, which Clavering knew was not the case with him, and he glanced at the homesteader with a little venomous glow in his eyes when Hetty turned to him.

"Oh!" she said with a gasp, and her face grew pale and stern as closing one hand she, too, looked at the bushman.

Clavering took heart at this; but his enemy's vindictiveness was evidently not exhausted, for he nodded comprehendingly.

"Yes," he said, "he's damaged. He got kind of savage a little while ago, and before I could quiet him he broke up quite a lot of crockery."

The imperious anger faded out of Hetty's face, and Flora Schuyler understood why it did so as she glanced at Clavering. There was nothing that could appeal to a fastidious young woman's fancy about him just then; he reminded Miss Schuyler of a man she had once seen escorted homewards by his drunken friends after a fracas in the Bowery. At the same time it was evident that Hetty recognized her duty, and was sensible, if not of admiration, at least of somewhat tempered sympathy.

"I am dreadfully sorry, Mr. Clavering--and it was all my fault," she said.

"I hope they didn't hurt you very much."

Clavering, who had risen, made her a little inclination; but he also set his lips, for Hetty had not expressed herself very tactfully, and just then Muller and another man came in and stood staring at them. The rancher endeavoured to smile, with very small success for he was consumed with an unsatisfied longing to destroy the bushman.

"I don't think you need be, Miss Torrance," he said. "I am only sorry I could not come back for you; but unfortunately--circ.u.mstances--prevented me."

"You have done enough," said Hetty impulsively, apparently forgetting the presence of the rest. "It was splendid of you."

Then the bushman looked up again with an almost silent chuckle. "I guess if it had been your plates he sat on, you wouldn't be quite so sure of it--and the circ.u.mstance was me," he said.

Hetty turned from the speaker, and glanced at the rest. Muller was standing near the door, with his spectacles down on his nose and mild inquiry in his pale blue eyes, and a big bronzed Dakota man beside him was grinning visibly. The fraulein was kneeling despairingly amidst her shattered china, while Flora Schuyler leaned against the table with her lips quivering and a most suspicious twinkle in her eyes.

"Flo," said Hetty half-aloud. "How can you?"

"I don't know," said Miss Schuyler, with a little gasp. "Don't look at me, Hetty. I really can't help it."

Hetty said no more, but she glanced at the red-cheeked fraulein, who was gazing at a broken piece of crockery with tearful eyes, and turned her head away. Clavering saw the effort it cost her to keep from laughing, and writhed.

"Well," said the man who had come with Muller, pointing to the wreck, "what started you smashing up the house?"

"It's quite simple," said the bushman. "Mr. Clavering and I didn't quite agree. He had a billet in his hand when he crept up behind me, and somehow we fell into the crockery. I didn't mean to damage him, but he wanted to get away, you see."

Hetty swung round towards Muller. "You haven't dared to make Mr. Clavering a prisoner?"

Muller was never very quick at speech, and the American by his side answered for him. "Well, we have got to keep him until Larry comes. He'll be here 'most directly."

"Flo," said Hetty, with relief in her face, "Larry is coming. We need not worry about anything now."

The fraulein had risen in the meanwhile, and was busy with the kettle and a frying-pan. By and by, she set a steaming jug of coffee and a hot cornmeal cake before her guests for whom Muller had drawn out chairs. They were glad of the refreshment, and still more pleased when Grant and Breckenridge came in. When Larry shook hands with them, Hetty contrived to whisper in his ear:

"If you want to please me, get Clavering away."

Grant glanced at her somewhat curiously, but both were sensible that other eyes were upon them, and with a just perceptible nod he pa.s.sed on with Muller into the adjoining room. Clavering and the two Americans followed him with Breckenridge, and Grant who had heard something of what had happened from the fraulein, asked a few questions.

"You can go when it pleases you, Clavering," he said. "I am sorry you have received some trifling injury, but I have an idea that you brought it upon yourself. In the face of your conduct to them it seems to me that my friends were warranted in detaining you until they made sure of the correctness of your story."

Clavering flushed, for there was a contemptuous incisiveness in Grant's voice which stung his pride.

"I don't know that I am very grateful," he said angrily, "and you are probably doing this because it suits you. In any case, your friends dare not have offered violence to me."

Grant smiled grimly. "I wouldn't try them too far. But I don't quite catch your meaning. I can gain nothing by letting you go."

"It should be tolerably plain. I fancied you desired to please some friends at Cedar who send money to you."

There was a murmur of astonishment from the rest and Clavering saw that the shot had told.

"I guess he's lying, Larry," said one of them.

Grant stood still a moment with his eyes fixed on Clavering. "I wonder,"

he said, "if you are hazarding a guess."

"No," said Clavering, "I don't think I am. I know you got a wallet of dollars--though I don't know who sent them. Are you prepared to deny it?"

"I'm not prepared to exchange any words with you," said Grant. "Go while the door is open, and it would not be advisable for you to fall into our hands again. We hanged a friend of yours who, I fancy, lived up to, at least, as high a standard as you seem to do."

When Clavering had left the room, the others turned to Grant. "You have something to tell us?"

"No," said Grant quietly. "I don't think I have."

The men looked at each other, and one of them said, "That fellow's story sounded kind of ugly. What were you taking dollars from the cattle-men for, Larry?"

Grant saw the growing distrust in their eyes, but his own were resolute.

"I can't help that," he said. "I am with you, as I have always been, but there are affairs of mine I can't have anybody inquiring into. That is all I can tell you. You will have to take me on trust."

"You're making it hard," said the man who had spoken first.

Before Grant could answer, Clavering returned ready for his ride, but Grant gave him no opportunity to address Hetty and Miss Schuyler. "It is too far to drive to Allonby's in the sled," he said to them. "My sleigh is at your service. Shall I drive you?"

Hetty, for a moment, looked irresolute, but she saw Clavering's face, and remembered what was due to him and what he had apparently suffered for her sake.

"It wouldn't be quite fair to dismiss Mr. Clavering in that fashion," she said.

Grant glanced at her, and the girl longed for an opportunity of making him understand what influenced her. But this was out of the question.