XXII
THE CAVALRY OFFICER
The winter was relaxing its iron grip at last and there were alternations of snow and thaw and frost when one evening a few of his scattered neighbours assembled at Allonby’s ranch. Clavering was there, with Torrance, Hetty, and Miss Schuyler, among the rest; but though the guests made a spirited attempt to appear unconcerned, the signs of care were plainer in their faces than when they last met, and there were times when the witty sally fell curiously flat. The strain was beginning to tell, and even the most optimistic realized that the legislature of the State was more inclined to resent than yield to any further pressure that could be exerted by the cattle-barons. The latter were, however, proud and stubborn men, who had unostentatiously directed affairs so long that they found it difficult to grasp the fact that their ascendancy was vanishing. Showing a bold front still, they stubbornly disputed possession of every acre of land the homesteaders laid claim upon. The latters’ patience was almost gone, and the more fiery spirits were commencing to obstruct their leader’s schemes by individual retaliation and occasionally purposeless aggression.
Torrance seemed older and grimmer, his daughter paler, and there were moments when anxiety was apparent even in Clavering’s usually careless face. He at least, was already feeling the pinch of straitened finances, and his only consolations were the increasing confidence that Torrance reposed in him, and Hetty’s graciousness since his capture by the homesteaders. It was, perhaps, not astonishing that he should mistake its meaning, for he had no means of knowing, as Miss Schuyler did, that the cattle-baron’s daughter met Larry Grant now and then.
Hetty was sitting in a corner of the big room, with Flo Schuyler and Christopher Allonby close at hand, and during a lull in the conversation she turned to him with a smile.
“You find us a little dull to-night, Chris?” she said.
Allonby laughed. “There was a time when you delighted in trapping me into admissions of that kind, but I’m growing wise,” he said. “In fact, another year like this one would make an old man of me. I don’t mind admitting that there is something wrong with the rest. I have told them the stories they have laughed over the last three years, and could not raise a smile from one of them; and when I got my uncle started playing cards I actually believe your father forgot what trumps were, for the first time in his life!”
“That is significant,” said Hetty, whose face had grown serious. “Nothing has gone well for us lately, Chris.”
Allonby sighed. “We don’t like to acknowledge it, but it’s a fact,” he said. “Still, there’s hope yet, if we can just stir up the homestead-boys into wrecking a railroad bridge or burning somebody’s ranch.”
“It is a little difficult to understand how that would improve affairs, especially for the man whose place was burned,” said Miss Schuyler drily.