a
courtship made him long for it at every sight of her with the river
between them. At once he began to plan how he should get near her, but,
through some freak, she had paid no further heed to him. He saw her less
often-for a week, in-deed, he had not seen her at all till this day-and
the forces that hindrance generates in an imperious nature had been at
work within him. The chance now was one of gold, and with his life in
his hand he turned into the stream. Across, he could see something white
on her shoulder-an empty bag. It was grinding-day, and she was going to
the mill--the Lewallen mill. She stopped as he galloped up, and turned,
pushing back her bonnet with one hand; and he drew rein. But the
friendly, expectant light in her face kindled to such a blaze of anger
in her eyes that he struck his horse violently, as though the beast
had stopped of its own accord, and, cursing himself, kept on. A little
farther, he halted again. Three horsemen, armed with Winchesters, were
jogging along toward town ahead of him, and he wheeled about sharply.
The girl, climbing rapidly toward Steve Bray-ton's cabin, was out of the
way, but he was too late to reach the ford again. Down the road two
more Lewallens with guns were in sight, and he lashed his horse into the
stream where the water was deep. Old Gabe, looking from the door of his
mill, quit laughing to himself; and under cover of the woods, the girl
watched man and horse fighting the tide. Twice young Stetson turned his
head. But his enemies apparently had not seen him, and horse and rider
scrambled up the steep bank and under shelter of the trees. The girl had
evidently learned who he was. Her sudden anger was significant, as
was the sight of the Lewallens going armed to court, and Rome rode on,
uneasy.
When he reached Troubled Fork, in sight of Hazlan, he threw a cartridge
into place and shifted the slide to see that it was ready for use.
Passing old Jasper's store on the edge of the town, he saw the old man's
bushy head through the open door, and Lewallens and Braytons crowded out
on the steps and looked after him. All were armed. Twenty paces farther
he met young Jasper on his gray, and the look on his enemy's face made
him grip his rifle. With a flashing cross-fire from eye to eye, the two
passed, each with his thumb on the hammer of his Winchester. The groups
on the court-house steps stopped talking as he rode by, and turned to
look at him. He saw none of his own frie
|