"Wal, it's jest this here," he whispered, hoarsely. "Your dad has organized vigilantes, like he belonged to in the early days.… An' it's the vigilantes thet will attend to this I.W.W. outfit."
Those were thrilling words to Jake, as was attested by his emotion, and they surely made Lenore's knees knock together. She had heard many stories from her father of that famous old vigilante band, secret, making the law where there was no law.
"Oh, I might have expected that of dad!" she murmured.
"Wal, it's sure the trick out here. An' your father's the man to deal it. There'll be dog-goned little wheat burned in this valley, you can gamble on thet."
"I'm glad. I hate the very thought.… Jake, you know about Mr. Dorn's misfortune?"
"No, I ain't heerd about him. But I knowed the Bend was burnin' over, an' of course I reckoned Dorn would lose his wheat. Fact is, he had the only wheat up there worth savin' … Wal, these I.W.W.'s an' their German bosses hev put it all over the early days when rustlin' cattle, holdin' up stage-coaches, an' jest plain cussedness was stylish."
"Jake, I'd rather have lived back in the early days," mused Lenore.
"Me too, though I ain't no youngster," he replied. "Reckon you'd better go in now, Miss Lenore.… Don't you worry none or lose any sleep."
Lenore bade the cowboy good-night and went to the sitting-room. Her mother sat preoccupied, with sad and thoughtful face. Rose was writing many pages to Jim. Kathleen sat at the table, surreptitiously eating while she was pretending to read.
"My, but you look funny, Lenorry!" she cried.