The Forbidden Trail Part 20

Before Roger had finished the dishes he was snoring. The little burro was standing in the shade of the living tent when Roger came out of the cook shelter. He looked pathetically small and thin and Roger, who had taken a great fancy to him, brought him a pail of water, and scratched his head and talked to him before going on into the tent. Here he was shortly absorbed in sorting his blue prints. He was studying the ground plan of the absorber, when an uncanny sense of being watched made him look over his shoulder. Von Minden, a sawed-off shot-gun aimed at Roger's back, was standing in the doorway.

"You will come down here and open up the world's best empire, will you--for America, eh? Not yet, my friend!" Von Minden's voice was husky and unsteady.

Roger did not move. In fact, he was incapable of moving.

"Look here," he began. Then as in a mist he saw Peter's gray head appear at his master's elbow and Peter himself, with his pack on his back, thrust his way past his master into the tent, just as Von Minden pulled the trigger. The shot seemed to hit everything in the tent but Roger.

The mist before Roger's eyes turned to red and he made a spring for his guest. But Von Minden turned and fled, Peter after him, straight eastward across the desert toward the Coyote Range. They ran with surprising speed. Roger delayed long enough to get Ernest's rifle out of his trunk. By the time he had loaded it, after searching frantically several minutes for the box of cartridges, Von Minden and his little burro were far beyond rifle shot.

Roger started after them, hot foot, swearing viciously as he ran. As he saw the little German turn into the ranch trail a sudden fear for the two girls mingled with his anger. But Von Minden did not stop at the ranch house. As Roger reached the alfalfa field, burro and man veered to the right, around the adobe and rapidly on up the mountain trail, where they were quickly lost to view.

Roger saw Charley come hastily out of the house, followed by Felicia and when, panting and shaken with rage, he reached the house, they were still looking curiously toward the mountain trail.

"What's the trouble, Roger?" called Charley.

"He shot at me, the d.a.m.ned hound! Tried to kill me!"

He would have pa.s.sed on up the mountain trail, but Charley had hurried down the trail and interrupted him quietly, with a steady hand on his arm.

"It's only Crazy Dutch!" she said. "You mustn't mind him!"

"Mind him!" shouted Roger. "I tell you he tried to kill me."

"You should have kept his gun for him until he was ready to go. That's what we always do. And as for his taking a pot shot at you, why, that's all in the day's work in this part of the country."

She smiled as she spoke, looking levelly into his eyes from her splendid height. Felicia caught his sleeve.

"We were coming down to call on you, Roger, and now you've spoiled it,"

she said.

"Sit down on the steps and cool off a little," suggested Charley. "You know you can always kill Crazy Dutch if you want to. He's always around.

He's really a dear old man when you come to know him. He's helped me out here many a time when d.i.c.k's been sick or away." She was smiling still more broadly as she led Roger to the steps. He felt as if he were being hypnotized.

"But he tried to kill me," he repeated feebly, as Charley stood his rifle in a corner of the porch and sent Felicia for a cup of water.

"Poor child! Did he try to kill you?" Charley patted his arm as if he were a small boy. "Sit down in the shade here. I know you think we're all crazy down here and I guess we are. But you'll get fond of poor Crazy Dutch yourself. d.i.c.k loves him and he tried to shoot d.i.c.ky, when they first knew each other."

The red mist cleared suddenly from Roger's vision. He drank deeply of the water Felicia brought him and looked at Charley curiously. She was the first person since his mother had died who had been able to ease his outbursts of temper. Felicia was still aggrieved. She looked at Roger reproachfully.

"We were coming down to call on you and now you've spoiled it."

Roger jumped to his feet with a laugh. "I'll go home at once. Come along."

"No, we've got to dress up. It's going to be a regular call," said the child.

"We were coming down about half past four to bring you back to supper with us," said Charley.

Roger was suddenly conscious of the fact that he had a day's beard on his face. He started down the trail, hastily, after retrieving his gun.

"I'll be glad to see you ladies whenever you call," he said, "but I'm not going to promise not to shoot Crazy Dutch if he comes round again."

The call, which was made with due ceremony at the hour mentioned, was a great success. Roger, fresh shaved, and quite recovered from the shock of Von Minden's visit, played host with just enough formality to delight Felicia. Charley was deeply interested in the plans for the Sun Plant.

It was the first time Roger had explained his general scheme of solar heating to her and he was surprised by her eager intelligence.

The sun was setting when they started back to the ranch house, with Felicia chatting like a magpie. Roger did the milking and the other ch.o.r.es, by the light of a "bug."

Charley gave them a simple supper, but the beans and bacon, hot biscuit and canned blackberries seemed extraordinarily delicious to Roger. He and Felicia washed the supper dishes while Charley put a batch of bread to rise.

The evening tasks finished, they established themselves before the living-room fire. Roger lighted his pipe.

"Can't I sit up till quarter after eight to-night, Charley?" asked Felicia.

"You wanted to do that last night," replied Charley.

"And you wouldn't let me. Won't you to-night?"

"No, dear."

"Then," great eyes on the implacable face of the alarm clock, "I've only five minutes to sit up. Charley, I can't bear it."

"Oh, yes, you can," said Roger. "Think how awful it would be if you had to go to bed at half-past seven. That's what happened to me when I was your age."

"Didn't your mother love you? I don't see how she could help it. You must have been a cunning boy."

"I was a long-legged, awkward, freckle-faced brat, but she loved me.

Mothers are like that."

Felicia nodded understandingly but did not take her eyes from the clock.

"There it goes, that nasty little minute hand! I'm sorry I ever learned to tell time."

"Say good night to Roger, Felicia, and run off to bed. There's a dear."

Felicia rose obediently, put her arms around Roger's neck and kissed him. "I don't like a man's kiss, when it tastes of tobacco," she said, "but I suppose I might as well get used to it for when we're married, Roger."

"I'm sorry," said Roger, meekly. "I'll give up smoking if you really want me to."

Felicia giggled, picked up her doll, then turned to look at the clock.

It pointed to one minute after eight. She put out her tongue at her enemy, then dragged slowly into the bedroom which she shared with Charley, and shut the door.

Roger and Charley smiled at each other. "Were you a chatterbox, too, at her age?" he asked. "I can't remember that you were."

"d.i.c.k says I was."

"But you're very silent for a girl. What has changed you?"

Charley laughed, then answered soberly: "The desert."

They both sat looking at the fire after this. The silence had lasted some time when Charley said thoughtfully: "And so a big dream will materialize in our valley after all. I can't tell you how glad I am."

"Why?" asked Roger, with interest. "Did d.i.c.k come out here with a big dream?"