The Land of Strong Men Part 8

But Alice Page saw how the land lay; saw also that the black-browed, awkward boy was in danger of losing his temper.

"Shall I call you 'Angus'?" she asked, and there was something in her tone and friendly smile which calmed him.

"That would be fine," he said. "And if you would lick Turkey Monday morning it would be a great favor."

A month afterward Alice Page came to live at the ranch. Her companionship meant much to Jean. It meant more to Angus, who presently suffered a severe attack of calf-love.

Being in love, Angus began to suffer the pangs of jealousy, for there were others who found Alice Page attractive. Chief among these was Nick Garland, the young man who had accompanied Mr. Braden on his first visit to the ranch. His visits became frequent, and he made himself very much at home at the ranch, treating Angus with a careless superiority and seniority which the latter found intensely irritating.

Now Garland, who esteemed himself a devil of a fellow, was merely attempting a flirtation with the pretty school teacher. He could not but notice Angus' att.i.tude toward himself, and in a flash of perception divined the cause. He found it humorous, as no doubt it was. He did not like Angus, which made it the more amusing. He intended to tell Alice Page the joke, but in the meantime kept it to himself.

He rode up one moonlight night while Angus was in the stable dressing by the light of a lantern the leg of a horse which had calked himself, put his mare in a stall and forked down hay as a matter of course. Angus, after a short greeting, maintained silence. Then picking up his lantern, he left the stable. Garland thought his chance had come.

"They tell me you're going to school this winter," he observed.

"No," Angus replied.

"Mighty pretty teacher," Garland insinuated. "If I had the chance, I'd sure go. I think I could learn a lot from her."

"There would be lots of room," Angus retorted.

"What!" Garland demanded, stopping short.

"Ay," Angus said grimly, setting his lantern on the ground and facing him. "You might learn to mind your own business."

Garland peered at him in the moonlight.

"I'm not used to talk like that, young fellow."

"You need not take it unless you like," Angus said.

Garland laughed contemptuously. "Sore, are you? This is the funniest thing I ever came across. I'm on to you, kid. It's too good to keep.

I'll have to tell her."

Angus scowled at him in silence for a moment. Then, deliberately, bitterly, he gave him what is usually regarded as a perfectly good _casus belli_.

Garland began to realize that he had made a mistake. He had antic.i.p.ated fun, but found this serious. If he thrashed Angus he could not very well continue to call at the ranch. Also, looking at the tall, raw-boned youth confronting him, he had an uneasy feeling that he might have his hands full if he tried. He had not realized till then how much the boy had grown. At bottom Garland was slightly deficient in sand. And so he tried to avert the break he had brought about.

"That's no way to talk," he said. "You'll have to learn to take a joke, some day."

"Maybe," Angus retorted. "But I will never learn to take what you are taking."

Garland flushed angrily. The element of truth in the words stung.

"I'd look well, beating up a boy," he said loftily. "I'm not going to quarrel with you. When you're older maybe you'll have more sense."

He left Angus, and marched away to the house. Angus looked after him till the door closed, and then struck straight away across the bare fields for the timber.

These night rambles by moonlight were a habit which fitted well with his nature. He was taciturn, reserved, with an infinite capacity, developed by circ.u.mstance for solitude. But that night, as he covered mile after mile with a swift, springy stride, his mood was as sinister as the black shadows the great firs threw across his path. His naturally hard, bitter temper, usually controlled, was in the ascendant. His long dislike of Garland had come to a head. And yet there was Garland seated in his house with Alice Page, while he was forced to walk in the night. It amounted to that in his estimation.

At last he turned back, in no better temper. It was late, and he was sure that Garland had gone. But as he came to the road leading to the house he saw figures black in the moonlight approaching. Just then he was in no mood to meet any one. An irrigation ditch bordered by willows paralleled the road. He jumped the ditch and, concealed by the willows, waited till whoever it was should go by.

It was Alice Page, and Garland, leading his horse. Opposite him they halted. s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation blurred by the gurgle of running water came to his ears. Garland moved closer to her. Suddenly he caught her in his arms. She strained back, pushing him away, but he kissed her, and at that moment Angus leaped the ditch, landing beside them. The suddenness of his appearance startled them. The horse snorted and pulled back.

Garland released Alice with an oath and turned to face the intruder.

"It's you, is it?" he said angrily.

"You had better get out of here," Angus told him, "and be quick about it."

But Garland, being angry, forgot his prudence. He was not going to be ordered off by a boy, especially before Alice Page.

"Be civil, you young fool!" he said. "I've taken enough from you to-night."

"Will you get on your horse and pull out?" Angus demanded between his teeth.

"When I get good and ready, and not before," Garland replied.

Without another word Angus went for him. Garland was older, heavier and presumably stronger, and furious as Angus was he felt that probably he was in for a licking. But he went in hard, like a forlorn hope, and like a forlorn hope he intended to do as much damage as he could.

Garland tried to fend him off with a push, and failing, hit. But his blow glanced from Angus' head and the latter slashed up under the ribs with a vicious right hand, and was amazed at the depth his fist sank in the body and the rasping gasp it brought forth. Angus' knowledge of offensive and defensive was not great. But at school he had engaged in various rough-and-tumble affairs and one winter a lithe young fellow hired by the elder Mackay had shown him how to hold his hands. But these things were quite forgotten for the moment. Like his claymore-wielding ancestors, his one idea was to get to close quarters and settle the matters there. He caught Garland around the middle and was gripped in return.

For a moment he thought Garland was not trying, was not doing his best; and then, suddenly and joyfully, he realized that he _was_ doing it, and that it was not good enough. He was stronger than Garland. He had the back, and the legs, and the arms and the lungs of him, man though he was. With the knowledge he snarled like a young wolf, and suddenly strength swelled in him like the bore of a tide. He ran Garland back half a dozen paces, and wrenched and twisted him. Getting his right hand free he smashed him again under the ribs, and as Garland, gasping, clinched, he locked his long arms around him, and with his shoulder against the stomach, his legs propped and braced, and every muscle from jaw to heel tautening, he squeezed him like a young python.

Garland tried to hold the walls of his body against the grip, and failed. Angus heard him pant, and felt the tremors of the man's frame as the strength oozed out of him. Garland's grip weakened and loosened, and he tried for Angus' throat and failed, for the boy's chin was tucked home on his breast-bone, and he beat him over the back and head wildly with his fists and caught at his arms; and then his head and body began to go backward.

Angus heard Alice Page's voice as from a great distance, for that locked grip of his was like the blind one of a bulldog.

"Angus! Angus! let him go!"

And he plucked Garland from his footing easily, for the latter was now little more than dead weight, and threw him on his back into the running ditch. He stood above him, his chest heaving, like a young wolf above his first kill.

Garland splashed into the chilly water, and drew himself out of it gasping and cursing with returning breath. Angus tapped him on the mouth with the toe of his moccasin.

"That is no talk for a woman to hear," he said. "Get out, or I'll throw you back in the ditch."

Garland got to his feet unsteadily, and went to his horse.

"I'll fix you for this," he said as he got into the saddle.

"You are a bluff," Angus told him, "and you know it as well as I do. Get out!"

When horse and rider were indistinct, Angus turned to Alice Page.

"You saw him--kiss me, Angus?" she said.

"Yes," he admitted, "but I didn't mean to. I had words with him to-night, and I was waiting till you would go past, but you stopped right in front of me."

"I'm very glad you were there. I don't want you to think I am the sort of girl who is kissed by moonlight."