LITMIR.BIZ

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turned and walked toward the ranchhouse. Both Duncan and Langford watched her until she had vanished, and then Langford turned to Duncan.

      “What on earth have you done to her?” he questioned.

      But Duncan was savagely pulling the saddle from Dakota’s pony and did not answer.

      Sheila really had no expectation of prevailing upon Duncan to return Dakota’s horse, and had she anticipated that the manager would accept her challenge she would not have given it, for after thinking over the incident of her rescue she had come to the conclusion that she had not treated Dakota fairly, and by personally taking his horse to him she would have an opportunity to proffer her tardy thanks for his service. She did not revert to the subject of the animal’s return during the evening meal, however, nor after it when she and her father and Duncan sat on the gallery of the ranchhouse enjoying the cool of the night breezes.

      After breakfast on the following morning she was standing near the windmill, watching the long arms travel lazily in their wide circles, when she saw Duncan riding away from the ranchhouse, leading Dakota’s pony. She started toward the corral gates, intending to call to him to return, but thought better of the impulse and hailed him tauntingly instead:

      “Please tell him to accept my thanks,” she said, and Duncan turned his head, bowed mockingly, and continued on his way.

      Half an hour after the departure of Duncan Sheila pressed a loafing puncher into service and directed him to rope a gentle pony for her. After the puncher had secured a suitable appearing animal and had placed a saddle and bridle on it, she compelled him to ride it several times around the confines of the pasture to make certain that it would not “buck.” Then she mounted and rode up the river.

      Duncan was not particularly pleased over his errand, and many times while he rode the trail toward Dakota’s cabin his lips moved from his teeth in a snarl. Following the incident of the theft of the calves by Blanca, Duncan had taken pains to insinuate publicly that Dakota’s purchase of the Star from the half-breed had been a clever ruse to avert suspicion, intimating that a partnership existed between Dakota and Blanca. The shooting of Blanca by Dakota, however, had exploded this charge, and until now Duncan had been very careful to avoid a meeting with the man whom he had maligned.

      During the night he had given much thought to the circumstance which was sending him to meet his enemy. He had a suspicion that Sheila had purposely taunted him with cowardice—that in all probability Dakota himself had suggested the plan in order to force a meeting with him. This thought suggested another. Sheila’s defense of Dakota seemed to indicate that a certain intimacy existed between them. He considered this carefully, and with a throb of jealously concluded that Dakota’s action in saving Sheila’s life would very likely pave the way for a closer acquaintance.

      Certainly, in spite of Sheila’s remark about Dakota being a “brute,” she had betrayed evidence of admiration for the man. In that case her veiled allusions to his own fear of meeting Dakota were very likely founded on something which Dakota had told her, and certainly anything which Dakota might have said about him would not be complimentary. Therefore his rage against both Sheila and his enemy was bitter when he finally rode up to the door of the latter’s cabin.

      There was hope in his heart that Dakota might prove to be absent, and when, after calling once and receiving no answer, he dismounted and hitched Dakota’s pony to a rail of the corral fence, there was a smile of satisfaction on his face.

      He took plenty of time to hitch the pony; he even lingered at the corral bars, leaning on them to watch several steers which were inside the enclosure. He found time, too, in spite of his fear of his enemy, to sneer over the evidences of prosperity which were on every hand. He was congratulating himself on his good fortune in reaching Dakota’s cabin during a time when the latter was absent, when he heard a slight sound behind him. He turned rapidly, to see Dakota standing in the doorway of the cabin, watching him with cold, level eyes, one of his heavy six-shooters in hand.

      Duncan’s face went slowly pale. He did not speak at once and when he did he was surprised at his hoarseness.

      “I’ve brought your cayuse back,” he said finally.

      “So I see,” returned Dakota. His eyes glinted with a cold humor, though they were still regarding Duncan with an alertness which the other could not mistake.

      “So I see,” repeated Dakota. His slow drawl was in evidence again. “I don’t recollect, though, that I sent word to have you bring him back.”

      “I wasn’t tickled to death over the job,” returned Duncan.

      Now that his first surprise was over and Dakota had betrayed no sign of resenting his visit, Duncan felt easier. There had been a slight sneer in his voice when he answered.

      “That isn’t surprising,” returned Dakota. “There never was a time when you were tickled a heap to stick your nose into my affairs.” His smile froze Duncan.

      “I ain’t looking for trouble,” said the latter, with a perfect knowledge of Dakota’s peculiar expression.

      “Then why did you come over here? I reckon there wasn’t anyone else to send my horse over by?” said Dakota, his voice coming with a truculent snap.

      Duncan flushed. “Sheila Langford sent me,” he admitted reluctantly.

      Dakota’s eyes lighted with incredulity. “I reckon you’re a liar,” he said with cold emphasis.

      Duncan’s gaze went to the pistol in Dakota’s hand and his lips curled. He knew that he was perfectly safe so long as he made no hostile move, for in spite of his derogatory remarks about the man he was aware that he never used his weapons without provocation.

      Therefore he forced a smile. “You ain’t running no Blanca deal on me,” he said. “Calling me a liar ain’t going to get no rise out of me. But she sent me, just the same. I reckon, liking you as I do, that I ought to be glad she gave me the chance to come over and see you, but I ain’t. We was gassing about you and she told me I was scared to bring your cayuse back.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I reckon I’ve proved that I ain’t any scared.”

      “No,” said Dakota with a cold grin, “you ain’t scared. You know that there won’t be any shooting done unless you get careless with that gun you carry.” His eyes were filled with a whimsical humor, but they were still alert, as he watched Duncan’s face for signs of insincerity. He saw no such signs and his expression became mocking. “So she sent you over here?” he said, and his was the voice of one enemy enjoying some subtle advantage over another. “Why, I reckon you’re a kind of handy man to have around—sort of ladies’ man—running errands and such.”

      Duncan’s face bloated with anger, but he dared not show open resentment. For behind Dakota’s soft voice and gentle, over-polite manner, he felt the deep rancor for whose existence he alone was responsible. So, trying to hold his passions in check, he grinned at Dakota, significantly, insinuatingly, unable finally to keep the bitter hatred and jealousy out of his voice. For in the evilness of his mind he had drawn many imaginary pictures of what had occurred between Dakota and Sheila immediately after her rescue by the latter.

      “I reckon,” he said hoarsely, “that you take a heap of interest in Sheila.”

      “That’s part of your business, I suppose?” Dakota’s voice was suddenly hard.

      Duncan had decided to steer carefully away from any trouble with Dakota; he had even decided that as a measure for his own safety he must say nothing which would be likely to arouse Dakota’s anger, but the jealous thoughts in his mind had finally gotten the better of prudence, and the menace in Dakota’s voice angered him.

      “I reckon,” he said with a sneer, “that I ain’t as much interested in her as you are.”

      He started back, his lips tightening over his teeth in a snarl of alarm and fear, for Dakota had stepped down from the doorway and was at his side, his eyes narrowed with cold wrath.

      “Meaning what?” he demanded harshly, sharply, for

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