With Hoops of Steel

by Florence Finch Kelly

CHAPTER XII

Albert Wellesly never made a new investment, nor allowed any change to be made in property in which he was interested, without first making a thorough personal inspection. For that reason he spent a number of busy days at the ranch, near the close of the round-up, inspecting the range and debating with Colonel Whittaker whether it would be better to enlarge it or to run the risk of overstocking by increasing the number of cattle on the land which they already held. They decided that if they could get control of certain springs and surrounding ranges, especially Emerson Mead’s Alamo and Cienega springs and another belonging to McAlvin, which joined the range they already held, it would be exactly what they needed.

“These water holes would be worth a lot to us,” said Colonel Whittaker, “but it would be just like these contrary cusses to refuse to sell at any price, especially to us.”

“Then they’ll have to be persuaded,” Wellesly replied.

It was necessary for Colonel Whittaker to return to Las Plumas before they had quite finished their inspection, and Wellesly decided to remain a little longer and go back to town alone. Whittaker hesitated over the arrangement, for he knew that Wellesly had neither the instinct nor the training of the plainsman, and that he was unusually deficient in that sense of direction which is the traveler’s best pilot over monotonous levels and rolling hills.

“Do you think you can find your way?” he said. “One of the boys can guide you over the range, and when you start back to town, unless you are perfectly sure of yourself, you’d better have him go with you, as far as Muletown, at least.”

“Oh, I’ll have no trouble about getting back,” Wellesly replied. “It’s a perfectly plain, straight road all the way, and all I’ll have to do will be to follow the main track. I’ll stay here two days longer and I’ll take two days for the trip to town. You can expect me—this is Monday—some time Thursday afternoon.”

The misadventure of Nick Ellhorn, which landed both him and Emerson Mead in jail, was on Tuesday afternoon, and it was early the next morning that Albert Wellesly left the ranch house and rode down through the foothills. He decided that the horse knew more about the road than he did, and would do just as well if left to its own guidance. So he let the reins lie loosely on its neck and, forgetful of his surroundings, was soon absorbed in a consideration of the problems of the cattle ranch. Well down toward the plain the road forked, one branch turning sharply to the right and the other to the left. The horse which he rode had, until recently, belonged to Emerson Mead, from whom the Fillmore Company had bought it. Left to its own will, at the forks it chose the left hand branch and cantered contentedly on over rising foothills. Wellesly’s thoughts turned from the ranch to other business ventures in which he was interested. It was a long time and the horse had covered much ground before he finally looked about him to take his bearings and consider his progress. Looking at his watch he thought he ought to be well down in the plain toward Muletown, and wondered that he was still among the foothills. He had an uneasy feeling that there was something wrong, but he said to himself that he had followed the straight road all the way and that therefore it must be all right. At any rate, it would be foolish not to go straight ahead until he should meet some one from whom he could ask directions. So he rode on and on and the sun rose higher and higher, and nowhere was there sign of human being. But at last he saw in the distance a splotch of green trees through which shone whitewashed walls. And presently he was hallooing in front of Emerson Mead’s ranch house.

A thick-set, elderly man, with a round, smooth, pleasant face, out of which shrewdly looked small dark eyes, came out to see what was wanted. In his knocking around the world Billy Haney had kept fast hold of two principles. One was to find out all that he could about any stranger whom he chanced to meet, and the other, never to tell that stranger anything about himself that was true. In response to Wellesly’s question, Haney told him that he was far off the road to Las Plumas, and then by means of two or three shrewd, roundabout questions and suggestions, he brought out enough information to enable him to guess who his visitor was. He knew about Wellesly’s connection with the cattle company and his recent presence at the ranch, and the man’s personal appearance had been described to him by Mead and Ellhorn. So he felt very sure of his ground when he shortly surprised the traveler by addressing him by name. Then he told Wellesly that his own name was Mullford, which was the name of a man who owned a cattle range much farther to the south and who had not been engaged in the recent trouble over the round-up. He represented himself as the owner of the place and said that he had been engaged in the cattle business ten years, but that he was not pleased with it and intended to pull out within the next year. It was nearly noon and he insisted that Wellesly should stay to dinner. An idea was dawning in his brain and he wanted time to consider it.