"And wasn't that sorcery? To make a steady laborer of Mose? To coerce all of these young ranchers into service?" The Judge laughed softly, deeply.
"You know it was the pioneer spirit," she answered. "Nothing else influenced Mill Thornton to drive oxen for his neighbor, grubbing out stumps, when his own clearing was hardly under way, and Samantha wavered in the balance. Nothing else led Mr. Myers to lend his cattle for the work, in plowing time. And this same spirit, that calls the whole district out in a body to fight a forest fire, or hunt a trespasser, brought these men together to give their best effort to my house-raising. It meant a step further for the settlement, and each man takes a personal pride and interest in the new homestead he helped to make. Can't you understand that? And, dear Uncle Silas, can't you see what it means to me?"—Her voice was low and vibrant; her eyes gathered a soft brightness.—"I worked for it—endured—it's mine. Every foot of this ground is dear to me; every log in these walls. You mustn't expect me to love any other home—as well."
"I understand," said the Judge slowly, "I think that I understand. But—Forrest will be here in a few days; he intends to take up a systematic search for that lost prospect. And his heart is still set on this section. What will you do?"
"Meet my promise," she said, "of course. What else can I do? I will commute it, if you advise that, or relinquish, or sell him my right. I'm ready any time. But,—" she rose from her chair and looked off to the meadow, "I must go down and bring Colonel in. Wait here, won't you?—and have your cigar."
"I would rather walk with you," and he rose and went with her down the steps. "I noticed that meadow from the spur up the trail; it is a fine field."
"And you noticed my hayrick," she said quickly. "That was the best yield of timothy, to the acre, in the settlement this year. Jake Myers came from the prairie with his father's team to help me with the harvesting. I undertook to drive in a load,"—she paused, and he felt rather than saw, in the uncertain light, that her face rippled a smile,—"and Mr. Stratton rode down the trail just in time to see me spilled, hay and all, into the field. He was over the fence, in an instant, to rescue me from the bottom of the heap. And he stayed to help me reload, though he must have found it hard learning to use a pitchfork that warm afternoon."
The Judge laughed. He knew how she had looked at that moment, standing all flushed, irresistible, with a sweet quiver of her mobile lips, and the unconscious appeal growing in her eyes. And clearly Stratton had made the most of his opportunities, as any man must; as he had feared. "So, even Stratton came under the spell," he said; "you made him spoil those immaculate hands. And there was that other time, in the dry season when this meadow slashing accidentally burned. You did not tell me fully, but I understood he arrived, then, at the right moment, and helped to prevent a bad blaze.'
"It was a bad blaze; it looked for awhile as if the whole fence, the buildings, the timber would go. And he found me fallen, my dress afire, and he risked himself to save me. He stayed hours, afterwards, bandaging my burns, bathing my face, doing all he could, when he, himself, must have been suffering agony. Dear Uncle Silas," her voice broke, "I believed in him; he disappointed me, but I'm not ungrateful; I shall never forget."
"I understand," the Judge answered slowly, "I think that I understand. And I appreciate, I am more than grateful, for what he did, but I did not know he was hurt. How was it?"
"I had fallen close to the burning slash pile, and, when he bent to move me, a blazing sapling sprang out and struck the back of his head. I didn't realize it at the time, and he always avoided speaking of it if he could, but it seemed to have left some permanent hurt that affected his eyes; any over exertion or exposure to strong light brought on paroxysms of pain, and once, when he had been taken by an attack on the trail, he was forced to stop here. It was then he told me and that he meant to go to New York and consult an oculist. He was only waiting for his schooner to come back from the North with her cargo of furs. You know she was wrecked—a total loss; and the trip East, the services of a specialist, demanded a great deal of ready money. Sometimes—sometimes—I believe that tempted him to—do what he did. It makes me feel responsible."