The Trail of Conflict

le-fork and looked intently at the bluff which reared from the western bank of the stream. He was right. There were two men there. The day being Sunday, ordinarily he would have thought nothi

ut he would be willing to swear that t

r of a plane too often not to recognize it now. It was not uncommon to have one pass over the Double O, but for some unaccountable reason Courtlandt linked this one to t

n again. They were waving something. Something white. As though in answer to the signal the huge mechanical bird went wing-over-wings and slid graceful

the herd. The man who had taken them couldn't know much about cattle. Some of the boys appeared surly and disgruntled. The stand he had taken on the alien question couldn't account for it all. The trouble had started a

to meet her now. To-day they were resuming a custom that Nicholas Fairfax had inaugurated, which was to have luncheon beside the stream on Sunday. Old Nick, young Nick he was then, had announced that the ceremony would stand for church, that he would worship God through nature. He a

ould be like thinking of an elephant without his trunk. Beyond the firemaker a spring bubbled out of the bank in a clear, pure stream, above him the land sloped smoothly, greenly up to a clump of cottonwoods. In the middle of the clearing knelt Jerry. A lovely Jerry in

to the prejudiced eyes of the looker-on that their fingers touched and lingered. The two had evidently been prepar

e! Coo-

ack frock coat, with the unusual addition of hip boots of rubber. The effect of the combination would have tickled the risibilities of a stoic, if a stoic has the luck to be blessed with risibilities. A fish basket was slung from one shoulder, his white hair bushed beneath the brim of his Stetson; the sun on

his feet and gripped his extended hand. In that instant Courtlandt saw that the whiteness of the hair a

ll show these blown-in-the-glass New Yorkers that we are not entirely devoid of the social graces even if we are not in the Dude-ranch n

s, thank-oh, what beauties!" as Doc Rand puffed up th

he ground beside her and pulled off his hat. "These-these fishing trips aren't what they were. I miss Nick," he confided as he mopped his hot

range thing. I-I try to keep a brave front to

question in this way. At this moment I can send my mind to the Manor; in spirit I'm pacing the terrace with Sir Peter. I can see the boats chugging up and down the river, can smell the queer fragrance which the sun is baking out

nd Benson were cooking the fish. A tiny spiral of smoke ros

the plane tha

s,

the pilot do those stunts above the bluff? Curious that he should pull off that cut-up stuff there, in

tting ready for a contest," Courtlandt

uld take back to the ranch before he rode off to Upper Farm on an errand for Courtlandt. Steve helped

eutzer Sonata,"

lity to the music that most artists take too gravely. The variations of the slow movements gave

nce of disturbing the musician. "I don't care if he did drop from the sky, if he never receives letters, he

t like that, but-but it can't possibly be

ouble O and X Y Z outfits trailed over there every chance they could get to hear him play. That reminds me," her beautiful face glow

they line up outside the court wall after

ay. Ask them up this afternoon. We'll have an honest-to-goodness musicale with Signora Geraldina Courtlandta

for the Double O outfit. Gre

etween those strong white teeth of y

er that you'

you as Benedick the married man. You-you are such a good-looking boy." She was the incarnation of girlish diablerie indulging an irresis

rson who rocks a boat, Mrs. Court

slapped her horse smartly on the hip. Patches threw up his head and broke from Steve's hold. T

calls me

t, south

s lead me

road le

ole, which, feat brought the

Steve's pulses hammering, had never taken place. The piano had been moved out and the outfit, in its Sunday best, occupied the rustic seats and benches and overflo

she realized what it was that had made them seem so unfamiliar. They looked from her to Steve. He nodded. W

soms. In the dark shadow of the open doorway Ming and Hopi Soy made a patch of Oriental brilliance. Jerry in her filmy pink frock looked not unlike a flower herself, against the rosewood background of the raised

stopped a swarthy Italian stepped as near the piano as the terrace would permit. His black eyes see

ny?" Jerry aske

Jerry was nonplussed. She had not thought of opera

ke oper

ng stared at in amazement by the outfit. He mumbled an apology and hurried back to his seat. With a smile at Tony, Jerry placed Tales of Hoffmann on the rack. She sang the Barcarole. As the exquisite, langorous notes floated out over the court the shadows len

dying in

ouching ear

orship whi

evening l

all th

cture of mother and home and the village church at sunset. They sang until with the l

and thanked Jerry as she stood between Courtlandt and Bens

" With a quick change of tone he spoke to Courtlandt. "

expect them

n wondering where the dickens I'd seen him. When that airplane passed over to-day memory flipped into place

ure of tha

t 'Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the bloo

ms me in my suspicion that Marks and Schoeffl

gazed, and stil

head could carr

Benson in mo

loated a chorus of m

worship whi

evening l

all th