Henry Herbert Knibbs

“ Then along the edge of the far range ran an instant delicate light, a light that melted into space and was gone, leaving a palpitating glory of myriad summer stars.
The little fire died down. The barren outland wastes slumbered in the charitable dusk of night.
Overland, cross-legged on his blanket, smoked moodily. His thoughts drifted out on the tide of silence to Moonstone Cañon and Collie and the Rose Girl, Louise Lacharme. ”

“ Then he saw him mount quickly and disappear on the Old Meadow Trail.
Collie whirled the pony round and down the hill. Through the gateway he thundered. The steel-sinewed flanks stiffened and relaxed rhythmically as the hillside flew past. The Yuma colt, half-wild, ran with great leaps that ate into space. They swept through the first ford. A thin sheet of water spread on either side of them. The outlaw fought the curb all the way up the hill beyond. Pebbles clattered from her hoofs and spun skyward as she raced along the level of the hilltop. ”

“ On their packs hung dusty, weatherworn canteens, a pick and shovel, and a rifle in its soiled and frayed scabbard. The sturdy, shaggy burros followed a little, lean old man, whose flop-brimmed hat, faded shirt, and battered boots told a tale of the outlands, whispered of sun-swept immensities, of sage and cacti, sand and silence. Winthrop drew a long breath. Such an adventurer was the Overland Red he had talked with the evening previous. The tramp had mentioned a town far out on the desert. Winthrop sauntered down to the deserted office and secured a timetable. ”

“ The little cañon stream still wound down its shaded course, disappearing in a patch of sand at the cañon's mouth, so the prospector felt secure. None had ridden out to look for him through that furnace of burning sand that stretched between the hills and the desert town.
The stream dwindled slowly, imperceptibly.
One morning the prospector noticed it, and immediately explored the creek clear to its source—a spurt of water springing from the roof of a grotto in the cliff. Such a supply, evidently from the rocky heart of the range itself, would be inexhaustible. ”

“ To ride some ten miles in the blazing sun of midsummer requires a kind of anticipatory fortitude, at fifty, especially when one's own vine and fig tree is cool and fragrant, embowered in blue flowers and graced by, let us say, Louise. And a cigar is always at its best when half-smoked. But when Louise came blithely leading the two saddle-ponies, Black Boyar and the big pinto Rally,57 Walter Stone shook an odd twenty years from his broad shoulders and swung into the saddle briskly. ”

“ It's a lack of exercise. And you wouldn't be half so fine-looking if you were fat. I always sigh when I don't know what to do. Then I just saddle Boy and ride. And I'll never let myself get fat."
"A vow is a vow—at sixteen."
"Now I know you need exercise. You're getting reminiscent, and that's a sign of torpid liver."
Walter Stone laughed till the tears came. "Exercise!" he exclaimed. "Ah! I begin to divine a subtle method in your doctrine of health. Ah, ha! I look well on a horse! I need exercise! It's a very satisfactory ride from here to town and back. Incidentally, Louise, I smell a rat. ”

“ She was all the more pleased that Collie should act so admirably. She had loaned him books, some of which he had read faithfully and intelligently. In secret he had kissed her name written on the flyleaf of each of them. He really rather adored Louise than loved her, and he builded well, for his adoration (unintimate as adoration must ever be until perchance it touches earth and is translated into love) was of that blithe and inspiriting quality that lifts a man above his natural self and shapes the lips to song and the heart to unselfish service. ”

“ But Overland was in the road, hat in hand, and Yuma's bridle-reins over one arm.
"'Mornin', Billy! 'Mornin', Doctor! You run right up to the house. I left the gate open."
Then Overland rode back, following them. Later he reappeared, minus spurs and chaps, but still clad in the garb of the range-rider. He was as proud and happy as a boy. He seemed to have dropped ten years from his shoulders. ”

“ The deputy, angered out of his usual judgment, spurred his horse directly down the footless shale that the tramp had ridden across diagonally. "Look! He can't—The horse—! Oh!" she groaned as Tenlow's pony stumbled and all but pitched headlong. "The other man—knew better than that—" she gasped, turning to the boy. "He waited—till he struck rock and brush before he turned Boyar."
"Can he ride?" shouted Collie, grinning. But the grin died to a gasp. A burst of shale and dust shot up from the hillside. ”

“ The boy Collie took the empty tomato-can and went for water with which to put out the fire.
Louise and Overland Red gazed silently at the youthful figure crossing the meadow. The same thought was in both their hearts—that the boy's chance in life was still ahead of him. Something of this was in the girl's level gray eyes as she asked, "Why did you come up here, so far from the town and the railroad?"
"We generally don't," replied Overland Red. "We ain't broke. Collie's got some money. We got out of grub from comin' up here. We come up to see the scenery. I ain't kiddin'; we sure did! ”

“ There remained but Brand Williams the foreman, Collie, and the sturdy, hard-riding Miguel, a young Spanish vaquero who was devoted to but two things in life, his splendid pinto pony, and the Moonstone Ranch.
The others had been lured to the new oil-fields up north—to the excitement of Goldfield, or to Mexico City, where even more excitement promised. In their stead came new men—Bud Light, Parson Long, Billy Dime, and one Silent Saunders.
Louise became acquainted with the new men while riding with her uncle. She was his constant companion in the hills. ”

“ I'm a puncher, working for the Moonstone. You kind of liked me because I had hard luck when I was a kid. But that made me love you. It ain't wrong, I guess, to love something you can't ever reach up to. It ain't wrong to keep on loving, only it's awful lonesome not to ever tell you about it."
"I'm sorry, Collie," said Louise gently.
"Please don't you be sorry. Why, I'm glad! Maybe you don't think it is the best thing in the world to love a girl. I ain't asking anything but to just go on loving you. Seems like a man wants the girl he loves to know it, even if that is just all. ”

“ It is the Moonstone Ranch, the home of Louise, whose ancestors, the Lacharmes, grew roses in old France.
Among the many riders to and from the ranch, there is one, a great, two-fisted, high-complexioned man, whose genial presence is ever welcome. He answers to many names. To the youngsters he is "Uncle Jack,"—usually with an exclamation. To some of the older folk he is "Mr. Summers," or "Jack." Again, the foreman of the Moonstone Ranch seldom calls him anything more dignified than "Red." Louise does sometimes call him—quite affectionately—"Overland." ”

“ The tramp had worthily determined to hold wise and remunerative converse with the first Easterner that "looked good to him." He would make half-truths do double duty. He needed money to purchase a burro, packs, canteen, pick,90 shovel, dynamite, and provisions. He intended to repay the investor by money-order from some desert town as soon as he found the hidden gold. This unusual and worthy intention lent Overland added assurance, and he needed it. Fortune, goddess evanishing and coy, was with him for once. If he could but dodge the plain-clothes men long enough to outfit and get away.... ”

“ He pushed back his hat, felt for tobacco and papers, and rolled a cigarette. This was the renowned "Yuma colt," the outlaw. He wanted her. She was a horse in a thousand.
In some strange way he was conscious that Louise stood beside him, before he turned and raised his sombrero.
"More beautiful than strong men or beautiful women," said Louise.
"That's so, Miss Louise. Because they just live natural and act natural. And that copper-colored mare,—she's only a colt yet,—there's a horse a man would be willing to work seven years for like the man in the Bible did for his wife." ”

“ Collie lifted his broad-brimmed hat as Louise rode up. His face was flushed. His lips were smiling, but his dark eyes were steady and grave.
"'Morning, Collie! Boyar is just bound to lope. He never can bear to have a horse ahead of him."
"He don't have to, very often," said Collie.
"Of course, there are Kentucky saddle-horses that could beat him. But they are not cow-ponies." ”

“ What Boyar could not accomplish in the way of equine gymnastics in harness, Apache, Collie's pony, could.
Louise was a little fearful for her guests, yet she had confidence in the driver. The Marshalls apparently saw nothing more than a pair of very spirited "real Western horses like one reads about, you know," until Dr. Marshall, slowly coming out of a kind of anticipatory haze, as Boyar stood on his hind feet and tried to face the buckboard, recognized the black horse as Louise's saddle animal. He took a firmer grip on the seat and looked at Collie. ”

“ Collie climbed into the saddle and started for the corral gate. He arrived there far ahead of the horse. He got to his feet and brushed his knees. The pony was humping round the corral with marvelous agility for so old a horse.
"He never did like a left-handed man," said Williams gravely. "Next time get on him from the other side, and see if he don't behave. Hold on; don't be in a hurry. Let him throw a few more jumps, then he'll quit for to-day most likely. And say, son, if he does take to buckin' with you again, don't choke that saddle to death hangin' on to the horn. ”

“ His pony set its feet and leaned to the work. Slowly the colt was drawn to solid ground.
He was a pitiful object as he lay panting and shivering, plastered with mud and black slime, and almost dead from shock and chill. Collie spread his slicker over him and rode up the hill at a trot. The blunder colt raised its head a little, then dropped it and lay motionless.
When Collie and Billy Dime returned with gunnysacks and an old blanket, the sun had warmed the air. The mud on the colt's side and neck had begun to dry.
Billy Dime commented briefly. "He's a goner. He's froze clean to his heart. ”

“ A week had gone since he mailed his letter to Brand Williams,280 of the Moonstone, and Collie was still alive. Overland shifted his position, standing beside him the Winchester that had lain across his knees, and pulling his sombrero over his eyes. The notch made an excellent background for an object over the sights of a rifle, even at night, so long as the moon shone. Gophertown riders would never venture that far up the cañon with horses. They would tether their ponies at the entrance and come afoot and under cover. Still, they would have to pass the notch in any event. ”

“ Collie yawned. "Mebby. But it isn't in it with the hit she'll make with you if you try to take up her feet. She's half-sister to a shot of dynamite. I'm only telling you so she won't kick your fool head off."
"You talk like most a full-size man," said Overland.
Down at the meadow, Overland looked at the colt and shook his head. "He is correct," he said succinctly. "That hoss don't welcome handlin' worth a bean."
Winthrop's silence rather stirred Overland's sensitive pride in his horsemanship. ”

“ She thought Collie was the manliest and most striking figure she had ever seen.
To all of which Louise listened quietly, blushing a little. "And he is wealthy," concluded Anne. "For so young a man, he is wealthy. The Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, my dear, pays well. Collie is one of the three largest stockholders. You see, Billy and Overland Red have decided to turn the claim into a corporation." ”

“ Winthrop glanced up. "I'm awake," he said, smiling. "Very much awake. I can see it all—you two, down on your luck, and the snow freezing and melting on the bottoms of your trousers. And the stuffy little rescue mission with a few weary faces and many empty chairs; the 'preacher guy,' as you call him, earnest, and ignorant, and altogether wrong in trying to reason with Toledo Blake's empty stomach."
"That's it!" concurred Overland. "A empty stomach is a plumb unreasonable thing. But the preacher guy done some good, at that. ”

“ Some old Spanish padre named it "Nuestra Señora Reina de Los Angeles," making melody that still lures with its ancient charm. A city for angels, verily. A city of angels? Verily; some fallen, indeed, for there is much nefarious trafficking in real estate, but all in all the majority of souls in Los Angeles are celestial bound, treading upon sunbeams in their pilgrimage.
The plaza, round which the new town roars from dawn to dusk, is still haunted by a crumbling old adobe, while near it droop dusty pepper trees that seem to whisper to each other endlessly—"Mañana! ”

“ Only I want it. I don't want to make trouble."
"You! A Western man, and speak that way to a woman! Saunders, I'm ashamed to think you ever worked for us."
"Oh, I know you got nerve. But I'm in a hurry. Hand it over. Then you can call me anything you like."
"I shall not hand it over."
"All right. I got to have it."
The girl, her gray eyes blazing with indignation, backed away as he strode toward her. "You'd dare, would you?" And as Saunders laughed she cut him across the face with her quirt.
His face, streaked with the red welt of the rawhide, grew white as he controlled his anger. ”