Part 38

He did, indeed, look like a man in the final year of life as he spoke. "Better turn in," he said, in kindlier tone; "I'm an early riser."

The old fellow rose stiffly, and, laying aside his boots and trousers, rolled into his bunk and was asleep in three minutes.

Cavanagh himself was very tired, and went to bed soon after, to sleep dreamlessly till daylight. He sprang from his bed, and after a plunge in the stream set about breakfast; while Edwards rose from his bunk, groaning and sighing, and went forth to wrangle the horses, rubbing his hands and shivering as he met the keen edge of the mountain wind. When he returned, breakfast was ready, and again he expressed his gratitude.

"Haven't you any slicker?" asked Cavanagh. "It looks like rain."

"No, I'm run down pretty low," he replied. "The truth is, Mr. Ranger, I blew in all my wages at roulette last week."

Ross brought out a canvas coat, well worn but serviceable. "Take this along with you. It's likely to storm before we reach the sheep-camp. And you don't look very strong. You must take care of yourself."

Edwards was visibly moved by this kindness. "Sure you can spare it?"

"Certain sure; I've another," returned the ranger, curtly.

It was hardly more than sunrise as they mounted their ponies and started on their trail, which led sharply upward after they left the canon. The wind was strong and stinging cold. Over the high peaks the gray-black vapor was rushing, and farther away a huge dome of cloud was advancing like an army in action. It was all in the day's work of the ranger, but the plainsman behind him turned timorous eyes toward the sky. "It looks owly," he repeated. "I didn't know I was going so high--Gregg didn't say the camp was so near timber-line."

"You've cut out a lonesome job for yourself," Ross assured him, "and if you can find anything else to do you'd better give this up and go back."

"I'm used to being lonesome," the stranger said, "but I can't stand the cold and the wet as I used to. I never was a mountaineer."

Taking pity on the shivering man, Cavanagh turned off the trail into a sheltered nook behind some twisted pine-trees. "How do you expect to take care of your sheep a thousand feet higher than this?" he demanded as they entered the still place, where the sun shone warm.

"That's what I'm asking myself," replied Edwards. He slipped from his horse and crouched close to the rock. "My blood is mostly ditch-water, seems like. The wind blows right through me."

"How do you happen to be reduced to herding sheep? You look like a man who has seen better days."

Edwards, chafing his thin fingers to warm them, made reluctant answer: "It's a long story, Mr. Ranger, and it concerns a whole lot of other people--some of them decent folks--so I'd rather not go into it."

"John Barleycorn was involved, I reckon."

"Sure thing--he's generally always in it."

"You'd better take my gloves--it's likely to snow in half an hour. Go ahead--I'm a younger man than you are."

The other made a decent show of resistance, but finally accepted the offer, saying: "You certainly are white to me. I want to apologize for making that attempt to sneak away that night--I had a powerful good reason for not staying any longer."

Ross smiled a little. "You showed bad judgment--as it turned out."

"I sure did. That girl can shoot. Her gun was steady as a door-knob. She filled the door. Where did she learn to hold a gun like that?"

"Her father taught her, so she said."

"She wouldn't remember me--an old cuss like me--but I've seen her with Wetherford when she was a kidlet. I never thought she'd grow up into such a 'queen.' She's a wonder."

Strange to say, Ross no longer objected to the old man's words of admiration; on the contrary, he encouraged him to talk on.

"Her courage is greater than you know. When she came to that hotel it was a place of dirt and vermin. She has transformed it. She's now engaged on the reformation of her mother."

"Lize was straight when I knew her," remarked the other, in the tone of one who wishes to defend a memory. "Straight as a die."

"In certain ways she's straight now, but she's been hard pushed at times, and has traded in liquor to help out--then she's naturally a slattern."

"She didn't used to be," asserted Edwards; "she was a mighty handsome woman when I used to see her riding around with Ed."