CHAPTER V. A TRUST.
Two riders appeared upon the crest of the hill overlooking the Pass. They drew rein and looked down at the rough little town below them straggling along beside the river.
“Jeanne, we are going to win,” he said at length. There was quiet triumph in the tone.
Her eyes remained fixed on the scene below her. When she answered, her voice was sad. “Oh, Rand, think of what it is costing! I know that it has been necessary. But it’s terrible to me anyhow!”
“Is it any more terrible than what was going on before?” he asked kindly. “It was happening then simply as murder and crime. Now it is justice! There is a tremendous improvement all over the valley. Most of the people are secretly in favor of us, and there are a great many now who openly support us. It is a rough cure, I know; but remember that there was not one of these creatures we punished who had not merited it a dozen times. No one was ever killed in cold blood. All that did not resist were given the fairest trial we were able to give them under the circumstances. Nearly all of them admitted their guilt in the end. Of course, some of them fought it out; and I must admit that their courage would have been fine, if they had not been merely murderers resisting justice. My only regret, Jeanne, is that we haven’t been able to get our hands on that coward, Williams! But he’s shrewd enough not to leave town, and to keep close to the Silver Star.”
His voice had been growing more and more earnest as he spoke. “That incident in the Ravine was regrettable; but after Borresky killed poor Bernard, there was no hope of restraining the boys. You need not waste your sympathy on those rascals, Jeanne! They were caught in a trap they had hoped to spring themselves!” She did not answer, and after a moment he spoke again.
“We have done well in the first part of our work. But we will never be entirely successful until we make a public display of our power, and convince them that we are not merely a band of marauders working under cover of the dark, but a strong organization, capable of holding its own in the open. That is our final goal! It’s a chance; but if we win it our work is done. And we are strong enough now to try it with good chances of success.”
“And this time,” she said quietly, “I’m going with you.”
He started a little. “I hope you won’t do that,” he answered, his gray eyes gazing anxiously into hers. “You’ve done your part, Jeanne! Without that endless work of yours, we could not have made much of an impression. Isn’t it enough,” he asked, smiling a little, “to have supplied the—er—army with uniforms, without going out into the thick of the battle, too?”
“Not quite, Rand,” she replied. “I want to feel that I’ve done something more than just sit at home and sew. I want to have a little share in the actual winning of this victory! I’m jealous of you getting all the honor, you see!”
He hesitated. “You have done too much to be denied whatever you ask, Jeanne,” he answered seriously. “Moreover, the whole thing is your idea. I have no right to refuse you. But I hope you will change your mind.”
Her clear, blue eyes looked up into his, and she smiled. “We have an unfortunate habit in our family,” she said quietly, “of not changing our minds.”
She patted her horse affectionately, and moved off with her companion’s powerful chestnut pacing gracefully beside her.
They had scarcely begun the descent of the hill, however, when a voice hailed them. A moment later a small, gray-haired man trotted up. He was smiling amiably.
“Howdy, Miss Jeanne! Howdy, Rand!”
“Hello, Peterson,” Cameron answered heartily. “How is the convalescent?”
“Gittin’ along fine,” the little man answered. “Say,” lowering his voice, “I thought I’d tell you I’m with the boys to-morrow night.”
“Do you think you’re well enough?” Cameron’s voice was doubtful.
“Well or not well don’t make no difference! I got a few little obligations comin’ to me which I’m meanin’ to collect if anybody’ gits excited.”
“Suppose I forbid you?”
“I’d shore hate to go ag’in’ the rules o’ the organization,” Peterson grinned, “but I’m afeard I’d have to chance it.” His face became serious again. “Can I see you alone a minute, Rand? I asks your pardon, Miss Jeanne, but I got to talk over a little business with Rand in private.”
The girl smiled and nodded. The two men drew away a little, and Peterson took a sealed envelope from his pocket. He held it out to Cameron.
“I’m askin’ you to keep this,” he said gravely, “in case somethin’ might happen to me durin’ the next couple o’ weeks. Better put it in a safe place an’ take care of it. If I’m unlucky’ y’ understand—open it up. If not, I’ll take it back; an’ then I’ll have a little business proposition to talk over with you. But whatever you do, don’t lose it!”
Cameron took the envelope and put it in his pocket.
“I’ll be glad to, ‘Smiley,’” he said quietly, “and you can trust me to see that it’s kept safely.”
A look of relief flashed over the little man’s face. “Thanks,” he said. “It means a lot!”
They rejoined the girl, who had ridden her horse fearlessly to the edge of the cliff and was now looking out across the green valley. A moment later the three trotted down toward the town.