Her Prairie Knight by B. M. Bower (e reader comics txt) 📗

very much as if she would like to pull his hair. Keith in trouble appealed to her strangely.

“Sure thing. It's a peach, from the look of it. Mine's over the hill a piece. Step along there, kid! I want t' be movin'.”

“You'll need to go some!” flared Keith, over his shoulder.

“I expect t' go some,” retorted the man. “A fellow with three sheriff's posses campin' on his trail ain't apt t' loiter none.”

“Oh!” Beatrice sat down and stared. “Then you must be—”

“Yep,” the fellow laughed recklessly. “You ca, tell your maw yuh met up with Kelly, the darin' train-robber. I wouldn't be s'prised if she close herded yuh fer a spell till her scare wears off. Bu I've hung around these parts long enough. I fooled them sheriffs a-plenty, stayin' here. Gee! you'r' swift—I don't think!” This last sentence was directed at Keith, who was putting a snail to shame, and making it appear he was in a hurry.

“Git a move on!” commanded Kelly, threatening with his eyes.

Keith wisely made no reply—nor did he show any symptoms of haste, despite the menacing tone Slowly he pulled his saddle off Redcloud, and carefully he placed it upon the ground. When a fellow lives in his saddle, almost, he comes to think a great deal of it, and he is reluctant under any circumstances, to surrender it to another; to have a man deliberately confiscate it with the authority which lies in a lump of lead the size of a child thumb is not pleasant.

Through Keith's brain flashed a dozen impracticable plans, and one that offered a slender—very slender—chance of success. If he could get a little closer! He moved over beside Rex an unbuckling the cinch of Beatrice's saddle, pulled it sullenly off.

“Now, put your saddle on that there Rex horse, and cinch it tight!”

Keith picked up the saddle—his saddle, and threw it across Rex's back, raging inwardly at his helplessness. To lose his saddle worse, to let Beatrice lose her horse. Lord! a pretty figure he must cut in her eyes!

“Dry weather we're havin',” Kelly remarked politely to Beatrice; without, however, looking in her direction. “Prairie fires are gittin' t' be the regular thing, I notice.”

Beatrice studied his face, and found no ulterior purpose for the words.

“Yes,” she agreed, as pleasantly as she could, in view of the disquieting circumstances. “I helped fight a prairie-fire last week over this way. We were out all night.”

“Prairie-fires is mean things t' handle, oncet they git started. I always hate t' see 'em git hold of the grass. What fire was that you mention?”

Beatrice glanced toward Keith, and was thankful his back was turned to her. But a quick suspicion had come to her, and she went steadily on with the subject.

“It was the Pine Ridge country. It started very mysteriously.”

“It wasn't no mystery t' me.” Kelly laughed grimly. “I started that there blaze myself accidentally. I throwed a cigarette down, thinkin' it had gone out. After a while I seen a blaze where I'd jest left, but I didn't have no license t' go back an' put it out—my orders was to git out uh that. I seen the sky all lit up that night. Kid, are yuh goin' t' sleep?”

Keith started. He had been listening, and thanking his lucky star that Beatrice was listening also. If she had suspected him of setting the range afire, she knew better now. A weight lifted off Keith's shoulders, and he stood a bit straighter; those chance words meant a great deal to him, and he felt that he would not grudge his saddle in payment. But Rex—that was another matter. Beatrice should not lose him if he could prevent it; still, what could he do?

He might turn and spring upon Kelly, but in the meantime Kelly would not be idle; he would probably be pumping bullets out of the rifle into Keith's body—and he would still have the horse. He stole a glance at Beatrice, and went hot all over at what he thought he read in her eyes. For once he was not glad to be near his Heart's Desire; he wished her elsewhere—anywhere but sitting on that rock, over there, with her little, gloved hands folded quietly in her lap, and that adorable, demure look on her face—the look which would have put her mother instantly upon the defensive—and a gleam in her eyes Keith read for scorn.

Surely he might do something! Barely six feet now separated him from Kelly. If one of those lumps of rock that strewed the ground was in his hand—he stooped to reach under Rex's body for the cinch, and could almost feel Kelly's eyes boring into his back. A false move—well, Keith had heard of Kelly a good many times; if this fellow was really the man he claimed to be, Keith did not need to guess what would follow a suspicious move; he knew. He looked stealthily toward him, and Kelly's eyes met his with a gleam sinister.

Kelly grinned. “I wouldn't, kid,” he said softly.

Keith swore in a whisper, and his fingers closed upon the cinch. It was no use to fight the devil with cunning, he thought, bitterly.

Just then Beatrice gave an unearthly screech, that made the horses' knees bend under them. When Keith whirled to see what it was, she was standing upon the rock, with her skirts held tightly around her, like the pictures of women when a mouse gets into the room.

“Oh, Mr. Cameron! A sn-a-a-ke!”

Came a metallic br-r-r, the unmistakable war cry of the rattler. Into Kelly's eyes came a look of fear, and he sidled gingerly. The buzz had sounded unpleasantly close to his heels. For one brief instant the cold eye of his rifle regarded harmlessly the hillside. During that instant a goodly piece of sandstone whinged under his jaw, and he went down, with Keith upon him like a mountain lion. The latter snatched the rifle and got up hurriedly, for he had not forgotten the rattler. Kelly lay looking up at him in a dazed way that might have been funny at any other time.

“I wondered if you were good at grasping opportunities,” said Beatrice. When he looked, there she was, sitting down on the rock, with her little, gloved hands folded in her lap, and that adorable demure look on her face; and a gleam in her eyes he knew was not scorn, though he could not rightly tell what it really did mean.

Keith wondered at her vaguely, but a man can't have his mind on a dozen things at once. It was important that he keep a sharp watch on Kelly, and his eyes were searching for a gleaming, gray spotted coil which he felt to be near.

“You needn't look, Mr. Cameron. There isn't any snake. It—it was I.”

“You!” Keith's jaw dropped.

“Look out, Mr. Cameron. It wouldn't work a second time, I'm afraid.”

Keith turned back before Kelly had more than got to his elbow; plainly Kelly was not feeling well just then. He looked unhappy, and rather sick.

“If you'll