'd do anything now. He wouldn't ever come back here
otherwise."

Ben Blair's blue eyes tightened until the lashes were all but parallel.

"Yes," Rankin repeated, "he's crazy desperate to come here at
all--especially so now." A pause, but the eyes did not shift. "God knows
I'm sorry he ever came back. I was glad we found that trail too late to
follow it to-day; but it's only postponing the end. I believe he'll be
here at the ranch to-night. He's got to get a horse--he's got to do
something right away; and I'm going to watch. If he don't come I'll take
up the old trail in the morning."

Once more the pause, more intense than words. "He can't escape again,
unless--unless he gets me first--He must be desperate crazy."

Rankin arose heavily and knocked the ashes out of his pipe preparatory
to bed.

"There are a lot of things I might say now, Ben, but I won't say them.
We're not living in a land of law. We haven't someone always at hand to
shift our responsibility onto. In self-protection, we've got to take
justice more or less into our own hands. One thing I will say, though,
and I hope you'll never forget it. Think twice before you ever take the
life of another human being, Ben; think twice. Be sure your reasons are
mighty good--and then think again. Don't ever act in hot blood, or as
long as you live you'll know remorse." The speaker paused and his breath
came fast. Something more--who knew how much?--trembled on the end of
his tongue. He roused himself with an effort and turned toward his bunk.
"Good-night, Ben. I trust you as I'd trust my own son."

The younger man watched the departing figure and felt the irony of the
separation that keeps us silent even when we wish to be nearest and most
helpful to our friends and makes our words a mockery.

"Thank you, sir, I shall not forget. Good-night," he said.

When a few minutes later the young man sauntered out to the barns,
everything was peaceful as usual. From the horse-stalls came the steady
monotonous grind of the animals at feed. In the cattle-yards was heard
the sleepy breathing of the multitude of cattle. Perfect contentment and
oblivion was the keynote of the place, and the watcher looked at the
lethargic mass thoughtfully. He had always responded instinctively to
the moods of dumb animals. He did so now. The passive trustfulness of
the great herd affected him deeply. Twice he made the circuit of the
buildings, but finding nothing amiss returned to his place.