Front matter (continued 4)

“I am half-Indian.” She turned and faced them, her eyes half-closed. “Maybe the Indian half is the strongest. Ben would not love an Indian—tomorrow. And you will all be much happier. I want to be happy, too.”

“—— right!” exclaimed Mrs. Cassidy inelegantly.

“Well,” Mrs. Lanpher gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad it has all turned out for the best.”

“Yes, for the best,” said Lorna softly.

“But nobody has asked me what I think,” complained Ben. “Haven’t I anything to say about it?”

“Very little,” said Cassidy. “Go on back to your town and settle down, Bennie. You’ve been a lucky lad to stay as long as ye have. Come, Lorna. Are ye ready, Minnie?”

“—— right,” said Minnie, “Mamook klatawa.”

Hashknife and Sleepy were watching Cassidy, Minnie and Lorna crossing the street, when Lanpher grasped Hashknife by the arm, yanking at him nervously.

“I’m still in a whirl,” he declared. “It is like waking from a nightmare, don’t you know it? Why, there isn’t a man left on the Circle Cross. Four dead men! Can you imagine that?”

Hashknife nodded slowly, sadly. His face seemed to have aged years in a few minutes.

“Yeah, I can imagine it.”

“Well, I don’t know which way to turn.”

Lanpher nervously fumbled in his pocket and produced a check-book.

“I promised you a thousand apiece, didn’t I? I’m going to double that. My Lord, it was worth three times that much. I—I mean, it is worth everything in the world to me.”

Helen and her mother had come to them, and Lanpher turned nervously to them.

“I—I’m trying to pay my debts,” he explained, showing them the check-book.

“In money?” asked Mrs. Lanpher.

“That’s—right,” Lanpher’s voice softened and he shook his head.

“Not my debts, mother—my bills.”

He started to write a check, but stopped and looked straight at Hashknife.

“Hartley, will you and Stevens accept half-interest in the Circle Cross, and handle my half for me?”

“No, I reckon not,” he said slowly, apologetically. “Yuh see, me and Sleepy have got so much iron in our system that we’d kinda rust if we hung around in one place too long. Thank yuh just the same, folks. It’s a fine offer.”

“Will you come to visit us at San Francisco?” asked Helen. “Our home is your home now.”

“When you have a dry season,” said Sleepy. “Fog and iron don’t go well together.”

“Where will you go from here?” asked Lanpher, handing them each a check. “We want to keep track of you two.”

“Keep track of us?” Hashknife smiled wistfully. “You’ll have a job, pardner. We’ve been called the antidotes for poisoned ranges. We’ll likely keep goin’ until our medicine gets too weak. But we’ll let yuh hear from us once in a while.”

When Hashknife turned he found Sleepy grinning widely at him.

“What did Helen Lanpher mean, Hashknife?”

Hashknife grinned and rubbed his chin.

“I dunno,” he confessed. “Did sound kinda funny. I wish it wasn’t so danged drizzly in Frisco town.”

“They have a dry season down there,” said Sleepy suggestively.

“I s’pose. I’m havin’ mine right now, cowboy. Let’s bust these checks and hit the grit. I’m all fed up on tears, and I hate a quiet country like this. C’mon.”

“It used to be a good country,” sighed Sleepy.

Hashknife laughed softly, glanced back toward the hotel, and they rattled their spurs across the door step together.

Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the February 29, 1924 issue of Adventure magazine.