Code of the West. Zane Grey

the deception and not enlighten Cal as to the truth regarding Georgiana. He would be all the more amazed and dazed when the realization burst suddenly upon him. How supremely happy he would be to lord it over his tricky comrades! And as for Tim Matthews, and those few evidently elected to have great fun at Cal’s expense—what poignant consternation and regret they would suffer! Miss Stockwell reveled in her idea. Georgiana, too, would make the best of it.

      “Let me see that picture you showed the boys—so I’ll know her,” said Cal.

      Miss Stockwell handed it to him without a word. Cal gazed at it for a moment.

      “Can’t see any resemblance to you,” he remarked, presently. “She’s homely an’ you’re good-lookin’.”

      “Thank you, Cal,” replied Miss Stockwell, demurely. “I appreciate your compliment. But you didn’t have to say so just because you found my—my sister plain.”

      “Say!—I mean it, teacher. Why, Enoch thinks you’re the best-lookin’ woman he ever saw. An’ sure he’s a good judge.”

      Miss Stockwell felt a little warmth on her cheek that was not all the westering sun. She liked the boy’s faith in Enoch. There was a singularly fine relation between these brothers, and one that augured well for the boy’s future.

      “Cal, I think I’d take the buckboard instead of that old car,” suggested Miss Stockwell. She was thinking of the spirited black horses usually driven with the buckboard, and how much more they might appeal to a girl.

      “Aw, she won’t mind the looks of that old gas-wagon. An’ sure I don’t care,” said Cal, with a laugh. “You see, the stage gets in late sometimes, an’ if I take the car I can drive your sister out here quick, before dark. It’s fifteen miles to Ryson, you know, an’ would take me several hours with the team. I’d like to get home before dark.”

      “Why—so particularly? I’ve heard how you can ride the trails after night.”

      “Aw, that outfit will be up to some trick, an’ between you an’ me I’d rather not be caught along a dark road with that old—I mean—your sister,” replied Cal, finishing lamely.

      “Oh, I see,” mused Miss Stockwell, slowly, studying the perplexed face of the young man. “Very well, Cal. You do as you think best. But take a hunch from me, as you boys say. You won’t be sorry I inflicted this job on you.”

      “Aw, now, teacher, I didn’t mean you’d done that,” he protested. “It’s only Tim an’ those darn fools. They’ve got a chance to get even. You don’t know what I did to them last dance.”

      “Well, I don’t care what you did to them or what they do to you—tomorrow. You’re not going to be sorry you went. You might be very glad.”

      “Why?” he asked, with a dawning of curiosity. He eyed her in confidence, yet withal as a boy who realized an unknown quantity in women. He had not the slightest idea what she meant, yet he had acquired an interest apart from his kindliness or desire to oblige her. “Maybe she’s rich an’ will give me a new saddle or somethin’,” he remarked, jokingly.

      “Maybe. She’ll give you something, that’s certain,” replied Miss Stockwell, mysteriously.

      She left him at the corral gate, holding it open for her, a pleased and rather vaguely expectant smile on his face as he turned to look back at his scheming comrades.

CHAPTER TWO

      NEXT morning when Cal presented himself at the breakfast table, fully two hours later than the usual time for the riders, he was filled with dismay to discover that several of his comrades had not gone off about their range tasks.

      “Howdy,” was Pan Handle’s greeting.

      “Mawnin’, Cal,” drawled Arizona.

      “Wal, Cal, you shore hit the hay last night,” said Wess, dryly.

      “Reckon it’s bad fer you to have meetin’ ladies on yore mind,” added Tim Matthews, solicitously.

      “Ahuh!” growled Cal as he eyed his friends distrustfully.

      During warm weather the Thurmans served meals on the porch that connected the adjoining sections of the large, rambling ranch house. A roof of rough boards stretched rather low above the porch, and a stairway led from the floor up to a hole in the attic. Here some of the riders slept. Cal, who preferred the outdoors, had slept in a little log bunkhouse of one room, which he had erected himself. With a knowing smile Cal passed the boys at the long table and proceeded to a bench against the log wall, where he filled a basin with water and vigorously washed face and hands. In fact, he splashed so violently and shook his tousled wet head so vehemently that he dashed water clear to the table.

      “Hey, air you a whale blowin’?” complained Pan Handle.

      “Naw, he’s only coolin’ off his haid,” observed Tim.

      Cal went about his morning ablutions without paying any attention to his tormentors; and he broke his rule of shaving only once a week. This appeared to be of exceeding interest to the boys.

      “Say, he’s shavin’,” ejaculated Arizona, as if that simple action was astounding.

      “Got on his Sunday jeans, too,” observed Wess. “Reckon he wants to look handsome.”

      “Wal, he never could—no matter what a dude he makes of himself,” added Pan Handle.

      “Rarin’ to go!” exclaimed Tim, mockingly.

      When Cal finally turned to the breakfast table the others had almost finished eating. Cal called into the kitchen: “Mother, won’t you or Molly bring me somethin’ to eat? These hawgs out here have grazed like sheep across a pasture.”

      “Cal,” replied his mother, “you oughta get up in the mawnin’.”

      Then his sister Molly appeared, carrying several smoking dishes which she set down before him. She was a wholesome-looking girl of about seventeen, unmistakably a Thurman in features.

      “Cal, can I go to town with you?” she asked, appealingly.

      “I should say not,” he replied.

      “But I want to buy some things,” she protested.

      “I’ll buy them for you,” replied Cal.

      “Miss Stockwell left a list of things she wants.”

      “All right. Has she gone to school?”

      “Yes. She went with father in the buckboard. She wanted to see you, but you weren’t up. Said good-bye and you weren’t to forget what she told you about meeting Georgiana.”

      “Now, Molly, cain’t you see there ain’t any danger of Cal’s forgettin’ his date with George-anner?” put in Wess, facetiously.

      Then Cal began his breakfast in silence, aware of the bland observance of his comrades, and he did not waste any time eating. Pushing back his empty plate, he looked square at them.

      “Not ridin’ today, huh?” he queried.

      “Nope,” replied Wess, laconically.

      “Nor tacklin’ any of the lot of work that ought to be done?”

      “Nope.”

      “Goin’ huntin’ with the dogs, maybe?”

      “Reckon it’s too dry an’ hot to hunt. But I’m shore goin’ soon as it rains an’ gets cooler. Lots of bear this fall. An’ a world of acorns up on the high ridges.”

      “Well, what are you goin’ to do today?” deliberately questioned Cal.

      “Reckon I’m takin’ a day off,” said Wess, serenely.

      “Goin’ to Ryson?” went on Cal, grimly.

      “Shore.