LITMIR.BIZ

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She wondered if he had seen Dakota; if he knew that the latter had already attempted to carry out the agreement to “Persuade Doubler to leave the county.”

      “Ride far?” he questioned, turning and facing her, his voice casual.

      “Not very far.”

      “The river trail?”

      Sheila nodded, and saw a sudden interest flash into his eyes.

      “Which way?” he asked quickly.

      “Down,” she returned. She had not lied, for she had ridden “down,” and though she had also ridden up the river she preferred to let him guess a little, for she resented the curiosity in his voice and was determined to broach the subject which she had in mind in her own time and after the manner that suited her best.

      He had not been interested in her for a long time, had not appeared to care where she spent her time. Why should he betray interest now? She saw a mysterious smile on his face and knew before he spoke that his apparent interest in her was not genuine—that he was merely curious.

      “Then you haven’t heard the news?” he said softly. He was looking out of the window now, and she could not see his face.

      She took up the magazine and turned several pages, pretending to read, but in reality waiting for him to continue. When he made no effort to do so her own curiosity got the better of her.

      “What news?” she questioned, without looking at him.

      “About Doubler,” he said. “He is dead.”

      Her surprise was genuine, and her hands trembled as the leaves of the magazine fluttered and closed. Had the nester died since she had left his cabin? A moment’s thought convinced her that this could not be the explanation, for assuredly she would have seen anyone who had arrived at Doubler’s cabin; she had scanned the surrounding country before and after leaving the vicinity of the crossing and had seen no signs of anyone. Besides, Langford’s news seemed to have abided with him a long time—it seemed to her that he had known it for hours. She could not tell why she felt this, but she was certain that he had not received word recently—within an hour or two at any rate—unless he had seen Dakota.

      This seemed to be the secret of his knowledge, and the more she considered the latter’s excitement during her meeting with him on the trail, the more fully she became convinced that Langford had talked to him. The latter’s anxiety to relieve her of the task of riding to Lazette for the doctor had been spurious; he had merely wanted to be the first to carry the news of Doubler’s death to Langford, and after leaving her he had undoubtedly taken a roundabout trail for the Double R. Possibly by this time he had settled with Langford and was on his way out of the country.

      “Dead?” she said, turning to Langford. “Who——” In her momentary excitement she had come very near to asking him who had brought him the news. She hesitated, for she saw a glint of surprise and suspicion in his eyes.

      “My dear girl, did I say that he had been ‘killed’?”

      His smile was without humor. Evidently he had expected that she had been about to ask who had killed the nester.

      He looked at her steadily, an intolerant smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “I am aware that you have been suspicious of me ever since you heard that I had a quarrel with Doubler. But, thank God, my dear, I have not that crime to answer for. Doubler, however, has been killed—murdered.”

      Sheila repressed a desire to shudder, and turned from Langford so that he would not be able to see the disgust that had come into her eyes over the discovery that in addition to being a murderer her father was that most despicable of all living things—a hypocrite! It required all of her composure to be able to look at him again.

      “Who killed him?” she asked evenly.

      “Dakota, my dear.”

      “Dakota!” She pronounced the name abstractedly, for she was surprised at the admission.

      “How do you know that Dakota killed him?” she said, looking straight at him. He changed color, though his manner was still smooth and his smile bland.

      “Duncan was fortunate enough to be in the vicinity when the deed was committed,” he told her. “And he saw Dakota shoot him in the back. With his own rifle, too.”

      There was a quality in his voice which hinted at satisfaction; a peculiar emphasis on the word “fortunate” which caused Sheila to wonder why he should consider it fortunate that Duncan had seen the murder done, when it would have been much better for the success of Dakota’s and her father’s scheme if there had been no witness to it at all.

      “However,” continued Langford, with a sigh of resignation that caused Sheila a shiver of repugnance and horror, “Doubler’s death will not be a very great loss to the country. Duncan tells me that he has long been suspected of cattle stealing, and sooner or later he would have been caught in the act. And as for Dakota,” he laughed harshly, with a note of suppressed triumph that filled her with an unaccountable resentment; “Dakota is an evil in the country, too. Do you remember how he killed that Mexican half-breed over in Lazette that day?—the day I came? Wanton murder, I call it. Such a man is a danger and a menace, and I shall not be sorry to see him hanged for killing Doubler.”

      “Then you will have Duncan charge Dakota with the murder?”

      “Of course, my dear; why shouldn’t I? Assuredly you would not allow Dakota to go unpunished?”

      “No,” said Sheila, “Doubler’s murderer should be punished.”

      Two things were now fixed in her mind as certainties. Dakota had not been to see her father since she had left him on the river trail; he had not received his blood-money—would never receive it. Her father had no intention of living up to his agreement with Dakota and intended to allow him to be hanged. She thought of the signed agreement in her bodice. Langford had given it to Dakota, but she had little doubt that in case Dakota still had it in his possession and dared to produce it, Langford would deny having made it—would probably term it a forgery. It was harmless, too; who would be likely to intimate that the clause regarding Dakota inducing Doubler to leave the country meant that Langford had hired Dakota to kill the nester? Sheila sat silent, looking at Langford, wondering how it happened that he had been able to masquerade so long before her; why she had permitted herself to love a being so depraved, so entirely lacking in principle.

      But a thrill of hope swept over her. Perhaps Doubler would not die? She had been considering the situation from the viewpoint of the nester’s death, but if Dakota had really been in earnest and had gone for a doctor, there was a chance that the tragedy which seemed so imminent would be turned into something less serious. Immediately her spirits rose and she was able to smile quietly at Langford when he continued:

      “Dakota will be hung, of course; decency demands it. When Duncan came to me with the news I sent him instantly to Lazette to inform the sheriff of what had happened. Undoubtedly he will take Dakota into custody at once.”

      “But not for murder,” said Sheila evenly, unable to keep a quiver of triumph out of her voice.

      “Not?” said Langford, startled. “Why not?”

      “Because,” returned Sheila, enjoying the sudden consternation that was revealed in her father’s face, and drawling her words a little to further confound him; “because Doubler isn’t dead.”

      “Not dead!” Langford’s jaws sagged, and he sat looking at Sheila with wide, staring, vacuous eyes. “Not dead?” he repeated hoarsely. “Why, Duncan told me he had examined him, that he had been shot through the lungs and had bled to death before he left him! How do you know that he is not dead?” he suddenly demanded, leaning toward her, a wild hope in his eyes.

      “I went to his cabin before noon,” said Sheila. “I found him lying in the doorway. He had been shot through the right side, near the shoulder, but not through the lung, and he was still alive. I dragged him into the cabin and did what I could for

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