ar too great an understanding
for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache--in the way he
set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
demolishing of his beautiful ranch--probably the most beautiful in the
country--was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.

When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
that scathing tongue.

"I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?"

No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.

"A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
take it," he went on placidly. "When d'ye think you'll start
re-building? I wonder," thoughtfully, "why they don't fire that shed
yonder," pointing to the only building left untouched. "Ah, I was
forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
o' flesh, I guess," with a glance at the stricken man beside him.

Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
smile on the cruel face beside him.

"You don't seem to fancy things much," Retief went on. "Guess you ain't
enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they were
seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't a
notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
barns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid.
They'r