Then a slight pause followed which amounted almost to awkwardness. The girl had come to find him. Her visit was not a matter of chance. She wanted to talk to this man from the East. And, somehow, Tresler understood that this was so. For some moments she sat stroking Bessie’s shoulder with her rawhide riding-switch. The mare grew restive. She, too, seemed to understand something of the awkwardness, and did her best to break it up by one or two of her frivolous gambols. When she had been pacified, the girl leaned forward in her saddle and looked straight into her companion’s eyes.
“Tell me,” she said, abruptly; “why did you ride that animal?”
The man laughed a little harshly. “Because – well, because I hadn’t sense enough to refuse, I suppose.”
“Ah, I understand. Jake Harnach.”
Tresler shrugged.
“I came out purposely to speak to you,” the girl went on, in a quiet, direct manner. There was not the least embarrassment now. She had made up her mind to avoid all chance of misunderstanding. “I want to put matters quite plainly before you. This morning’s business was only a sequel to your meeting with Jake, or rather a beginning of the sequel.”
Tresler shook his head and smiled. “Not the beginning of the sequel. That occurred last evening, after I left you.”
Diane looked a swift inquiry.
“Yes, Jake is not an easy man. But believe me, Miss Marbolt, you need have no fear. I see what it is; you, in the kindness of your heart, dread that I, a stranger here in your land, in your home, may be maltreated, or even worse by that unconscionable ruffian. Knowing your father’s affliction, you fear that I have no protection from Jake’s murderous savagery, and you are endeavoring bravely to thrust your frail self between us, and so stave off a catastrophe. Have no fear. I do not anticipate a collision. He is only an atrocious bully.”
“He is more than that. You underestimate him.”
The girl’s face had darkened. Her lips were firmly compressed, and an angry fire burned in her usually soft eyes.
Tresler, watching, read the hatred for Jake; read the hatred, and saw that which seemed so out of place in the reliant little face. A pronounced fear was also expressed, and the two were so marked that it was hard to say which feeling predominated. Hatred had stirred depths of fire in her beautiful eyes, but fear had paled her features, had set drawn lines about her mouth and brows. He wondered.
“You are right, Mr. Tresler, in that you think I dread for your safety,” she went on presently. “It was certainly that dread that brought me out here to-day. You do not anticipate a collision because you are a brave man. You have no fear, therefore you give no thought to possibilities. I am weak and a woman, and I see with eyes of understanding and knowledge of Jake, and I know that the collision will be forced upon you; and, further, when the trouble comes, Jake will take no chances. But you must not think too well of me. Believe me, there is selfishness at the root of my anxiety. Do you not see what trouble it will cause to us; my father, me?”
Tresler looked away. The girl had a strange insistence. It seemed to him folly to consider the matter so seriously. He was convinced that she was holding something back; that she was concealing her real reason – perhaps the reason of her own fear of Jake – for thus importuning him. It did not take him long to make up his mind with those lovely, appealing eyes upon him. He turned back to her with a frank smile, and held out his hand. Diane responded, and they shook hands like two friends making a bargain.
“You are right, Miss Marbolt,” he said. “I promise you to do all in my power to keep the peace with Jake. But,” and here he held up a finger in mock warning, “anything in the nature of a physical attack will be resented – to the last.”
Diane nodded. She had obtained all the assurance he would give, she knew, and wisely refrained from further pressure.
Now a silence fell. The sun was dropping low in the west, and already the shadows on the grass were lengthening. Tresler brought his grazing horse back. When he returned Diane reverted to something he had said before.
“This ‘sequel’ you spoke of. You didn’t tell me it.” Her manner had changed, and she spoke almost lightly.
“The matter of the sequel was a trivial affair, and only took the form of Jake’s spleen in endeavoring to make my quarters as uncomfortable for me as possible. No, the incident I had chiefly in mind was something altogether different. It was all so strange – so very strange,” he went on reflectively. “One adventure on top of another ever since my arrival. The last, and strangest of all, did not occur until nearly midnight.”
He looked up with a smile, but only to find that Diane’s attention was apparently wandering.
The girl was gazing out over the waving grass-land with deep, brooding, dreamy eyes. There was no anger in them now, only her features looked a little more drawn and hard. The man waited for a moment, then as she did not turn he went on.
“You have strange visitors at the ranch, Miss Marbolt – very strange. They come stealthily in the dead of night; they come through the shelter of the pinewoods, where it is dark, almost black, at night. They come with faces masked – at least one face – ”
He got no further. There was no lack of effect now. Diane was round upon him, gazing at him with frightened eyes.
“You saw them?” she cried; and a strident ring had replaced her usually soft tones.
“Them? Who?”
For a moment they stared into each other’s eyes. He inquiringly; she with fear and mingled horror.
“These – these visitors.” The words came almost in a whisper.
“Yes.”
“And what were they like?”
The girl spoke apprehensively.
Then Tresler told his story as he had told it to Joe Nelson. And Diane hung on every word he uttered, searching him through and through with her troubled eyes.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked as he finished.
Tresler was struck with the peculiarity of the question. She expressed no surprise, no wonder. It seemed as though the matter was in nowise new to her. Her whole solicitude was in her anticipation of what he would do about it.
“I am not sure,” he said, concealing his surprise under a leisurely manner. “I had intended to tell Jake,” he went on a moment later, “only the Lady Jezebel put it out of my head. I told Joe Nelson last night. He told me I had seen Red Mask, the cattle thief, and one of his men. He also tried to get me to promise that I would say nothing about it to Jake. I refused to give that promise. He gave me no sufficient reasons, you see, and – well, I failed to see the necessity for silence.”
“But there is a necessity, Mr. Tresler. The greatest.” Diane’s tone was thrilling with an almost fierce earnestness. “Joe was right. Jake is the last person to whom you should tell your story.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Diane echoed, with a mirthless laugh. “Pshaw!”
“Yes, why? I have a right to know, Miss Marbolt.”
“You shall know all I can tell you.” The girl seemed on the verge of making an impulsive statement, but suddenly stopped; and when at last she did proceed her tone was more calm and so low as to be little above a whisper. “Visitors such as you have seen have been seen by others before. The story, as you have told it, has in each case been told to Jake by the unfortunate who witnessed these strange movements at night – ”
“Unfortunate?”
“Yes. The informant has always met with misfortune, accident – whatever you like to call it. Listen; it is a long story, but I will merely outline the details I wish to impress on you. Some years ago this Red Mask appeared from no one knows where. Curiously enough his appearance was in the vicinity of this ranch. We were robbed, and he vanished. Some time later he was seen again, much the same as you saw him