His purpose had been the wild impulse of unstable youth; there was no strength to it, no real resolution. Besides, he was a gentle-hearted lad, to whom Diane’s appeal for his mother and sister was irresistible.
“Thank you, Miss Diane,” he said, with a profound sigh. “Your kind heart has seen where my anger has been blind. Yes, I will return and help my mother. And I thank you, sir,” he went on, turning reluctantly to face the stare of the rancher’s eyes again. “You, too, have plainly shown me my duty, and I shall follow it, but—if ever——”
“And you’ll do well,” broke in Jake, with a rough laugh that jarred terribly. “Your father’s paid his pound. If his son’s wise, he’ll hunt his hole.”
Archie’s eyes flashed ominously. Diane saw the look, and, in an instant, drew his attention to his horse, which was moving off toward the barn.
“See, Archie,” she said, with a gentle smile, “your horse is weary, and is looking for rest.”
The boy read her meaning. He held out his hand impulsively, and the girl placed hers into it. In a moment his other had closed over it, and he shook it tenderly. Then, without a word, he made off after his horse.
The blind man’s face was turned in his direction as he went, and when the sound of his footsteps had died away, he turned abruptly and tapped his way back to the door. At the threshold he turned upon the foreman.
“Two days in succession I have been disturbed,” he gritted out. “You are getting past your work, Jake Harnach.”
“Father——” Diane started forward in alarm, but he cut her short.
“And as for you, miss, remember your place in my house. Go, look to your duties. Sweep, wash, cook, sew. Those are the things your sex is made for. What interest have you, dare you have, in that brainless boy? Let him fight his own battles. It may make a man of him; though I doubt it. He is nothing to you.”