Diane was furious. Her gentle brown eyes flashed, and two bright patches of color burned on her cheeks. The half-breed watched her carelessly. Turning to Tresler she held out her hand abruptly.
“Good-night, Mr. Tresler,” she said quietly. Then she chirruped to her light-hearted mare and drove off.
Anton looked after her. “Sacre!” he cried, with a light shrug. “She is so mad—so mad. Voilà!” and he leisurely followed in the wake of the buckboard.
And Tresler looked after him. Then it was that his thoughts reverted to the scene in the saloon at Forks. So this was Anton—“Black” Anton—the man who had slid into the country without any one knowing it. He remembered Slum Ranks’s words and description. This was the man who had the great Jake’s measure.
CHAPTER VII
WHICH DEALS WITH THE MATTER OF DRINK
Although the murder of Manson Orr caused a wide-spread outcry, it ended at that in so far as the inhabitants of the district were concerned. There were one or two individuals who pondered deeply on the matter, and went quietly about a careful investigation, and of these Tresler was the most prominent. He found excuse to visit the scene of the outrage; he took interest in the half-breed settlement six miles out from Mosquito Bend. He hunted among the foot-hills, even into the obscurer confines of the mountains; and these doings of his were the result of much thought, and the work of much time and ingenuity; for everything had to be done without raising the suspicion of anybody on the ranch, or for that matter, off it. Being a “green” hand helped him. It was really astonishing how easily an intelligent man like Tresler could get lost; and yet such was the deplorable fact. Even Arizona’s opinion of him sank to zero, while Jake found a wide scope for his sneering brutality.
As the days lengthened out into a week, and then a fortnight passed and nothing more was heard of Red Mask, the whole matter began to pass out of mind, and gradually became relegated to the lore of the country. It was added to the already long list of barroom stories, to be narrated, with embellishments, by such men as Slum or the worthy Forks carpenter.