The Sunset Trail

etold the coming of a moustache, he was known throughout that wide-flung region lying between the Platte

aloes and other animals, ferae naturae, and gray oldsters of the plains were thereby reminded of a Batiste Bro

less as an egg, primeval gravities and silences, and neither asked nor answered questions, neither took nor gave advice. Among his companions of the range he gained the re

red for hue-knotted about his brown throat was silk, not cotton, while his gray sombrero had been enriched with a bullion band of braided gold and silver, made in the likeness of a

im to

rson donned it, being privily a-blush to find himself so garish, he explained the same as something wherewith he might hogtie steers when in the course of duty he must rope and throw them. Doubtless the sash, being of a soft, reluctant texture and calculated to

s and leggings were faced with dogskin, the long black fell warranted to shed rain like a tin roof. The one thing w

f Mr. Masterson, and not to be regarded as jewelry; to mount it with silver or inlay its stock with gold would have been as unbecoming as to encrust a prayer-book with diamonds. Mr.

wordlessness, however, Mr. Masterson nourished a poor opinion of this social movement. At its best, the 'Dobe Walls, as well as the buffalo range of which it lived at once the centre and the ragged flower, was rude beyond description, and by no means calculated-so Mr. Masterson thought-

east so far as deeds done of daylight and on the surface were concerned, Mr. Masterson paid no mighty heed to the visitors. Indeed, he paid none at all until one of them caught up his rifle from the grass, and smote him with it on the head. The Cheyenne, cocking the gun and aiming it, told him in English learned at Carlisle, and, with epith

ndividual who had so smote upon him with his own personal gun. The lost rifle, which was as the honour of Mr. Masterson, was recovered; and inasmuch as the four scalps were worth one hundred dollars in Dodge-for which amount they were a l

have his fair relatives pay it a visit, did not offer those conditions of a civilised safe refinement for which ladies of culture would look as their due. Mr. Masterson was right. Mr. Dixon's approval of his sister and h

e mud structures that constituted the 'Dobe Walls, he observed that Mr. Wright was clearing

Dixon's sister and her gi

mp?" asked Mr. Maste

party, a Count or something, who is coming with them. It looks like he's going to marry Billy's

Masterson, "I won't care. I've put up with Mexi

of the array. She secretly admired his powerful shoulders, and compared him-graceful and limber and lithe as a mountain lion-with

sedate of the 'Dobe Walls' ponies to carry a lady without going insane. The training was successful, and the bronco thus taught to defy the dread mysteries of skirts and sidesaddle, h

ennes were not to be trusted. The several specimens of this interesting sept whom they saw about the 'Dobe Wa

rough. She asked Mr. Masterson if she might go to school to him in this study so near her pretty heart. That young gentleman, looki

ho

rassy stretch within two hundred yards of Mr. Wright's store. Once there, she looked on while Mr. Masterson pegged out the green hides. It interested her to see him sprinkle them, and the nearby grass, with poisoned water

right-eyed time to Mr. Masterson. Whereat Count Banti sulked; and presently deserting Ruth Pemberton he withdrew to Mr. Hanrahan's saloon, where he was taught

uth Pemberton tortured in order to try his love. Proceeding to extremes, he said that, should she drive him desperate, he would destroy

if only he would kill somebody

ly is retrogression, so easy comes reversion to type! She had supposed she loved Count Banti; and here was her soul going out to Mr. Masterson! How she dwelt upon him

eginning to love Mr. Masterson, she would have stared. Count Banti himself never thought of so hideous a possibility; his jealous petulance arose solely

t is intended, says of a man: "He'll do to cross the plains with." What the West means is that on such an expedition, what is treacherous or selfish or cowardly in

ad of blood it provoked, now thought kindly of mere slaughter, and insisted on ri

d!" cried Mad

mamma, I'll ever have t

ing shallow; to say that any chance was an only

exican would drive. Mr. Masterson, when told of the good company he would have on his next day's hunt, made

they discussed this feminine eagerness to see dead buffaloes. "If we cross up with a bunch of Cheyennes, there may be

drift within twenty miles of us, they are sure to show u

the front seat being given over to the Mexican, and a basket flowing with a refection prepared by Mr. Hanrahan's darky cook. Mr. Masterson

, and dived into their houses. The polite diminutive owls, the prairie dogs' companions, stood their ground and made obeisa

t unlike a dozen loafing dogs, keeping abreast o

he asked, "that they

nes; a coyote was not, to her eyes, without form

eave, there will be a battle royal betw

note of the parted lips, and that soft sparkle of the brown eyes, as Ruth Pemberton followed him with her glances. Co

with the skinners, must go and come every day to bring in the buffalo hides, he was surprised that Mr. Masterso

ttle lioness, that is, a little lioness subdued of Vassar and Beacon Hill. Ruth Pemberton said that she had never been treated to a more preposterous

erchief overboard. Mr. Masterson brought Houston to the right about, and riding ba

Ruth Pemberton, with a smile, "y

in his sombrero. Count Banti gasped; instead of tucking the dainty guerdon behind that go

it," said Mr. Maste

s an antelope's. Was he a fool? Was he deriding her? Ruth Pemberton decided that he was merely a white Indian. She appeased her vanity by turning her shoulder on the criminal and givi

He was a hero; he had haunted water-holes by night and killed black-maned lions; he had stalked t

tlantic by a hope that he might war with America's red natives. Alas, they were broken

had found the most lovely and most lovable woman in the world! And, by the way, would Ruth Pemberton make Count Banti delirious wi

a buckshot, and dropped it overboard again. And, because neither Mr. Masterson nor Count Banti sa

mberton opened both small hands to show how that desirable cambric had disapp

nted where hundreds of them were grazing or reposing about the base of a gently sloping hil

t have imagined that it had been shaped and sodded by a gardener. Mr. Masterson defined it as a buffalo wallow; he tried to ma

nd making the few camp arrangements required for their s

e Mr. Masterson to co

ould kill thirty buffaloes

at any moment. It was not worth while to sit through the slaughter of thirty buffaloes

d; she would wait and re

allant thrill in fighting Indians-painted and perilous! Count Banti would have summoned up an intere

a pair of rawhide hopples about his fetlocks, for Mr. Masterson, like all professional buffalo hunters, killed his g

black hair hanging from Mr. Masterson's bridle. "Cheye

e burgundy colour deserting his he

the Mexican, waving a vague paw. "Kille

e region into which he had stumbled, he was given no chance to divulge, for

ould you be interested in it, from the buckboard. You've brought a pair of

een, Mr. Masterson's remark about going straight to his quarry appeared a bit optimistic. However, Mr. Masterson did n

itement. When he had travelled thus far, however, those nearest began to exhibit a slow, angry alarm. They would paw the grass and toss a threatening hor

threw himself on his face and began to creep. His brown right hand gripped the stock of his rifle, and he dragged it over the

of his face, the buffaloes would believe him some novel form of wolf, and nobody to fly from. Acting upon this wolf theory, they watched

little distance in advance. Cautiously he lifted his eyes; the rattlesnake lay, coiled and open-mouthed,

was a big bull, evidently an individual of consequence, who, broadside on, stood furthest up the wind. Deliberately and without excitement, the Sh

, and the bull leaped heavily forward, shot through the lungs. With forefeet spread wide, blood pumping from both nostrils, the buffalo fought desperately for breath and for strength

, and the scent of that blood swept down upon them in a kind of madness. Their wits forsook them; they forgot their peril in the blood-frenzy that possessed them, a

other bull stood bleeding out his life.

rd, shot through and through, became

in his tracks and slain a dozen score; the scent of the n

his third fire, and while still the last stricken bleeding buffalo was on his feet, the wh

they are over the brow of the hill!" Then he turned, and

ome instinct she realised it-coiled and fanged and venomous-and shuddered. She drew a breath of relief as Mr. Masterson re-began his stalk. She saw him when he rose to his knee; then came the straight, streaky puff of white smoke, and the dying

the Canadian beyond. And sensations claimed her, to flow in her veins and race along her nerves, which archery and tennis had never called up. There abode a glow in he

d of bringing in his team, as Mr. Masterson had commanded, he cut the hopples of the nearest horse, and went powdering away to

the buckboard, where she sat in startled ignorance, he rem

spered Ruth

rest of the hill. Then he led Ruth Pemberton to the bu

hester on the buckboar

his face a dingy gray. The man was helple

e to her bosom and a red in her cheek. His own eyes were jade, and his brows had come sternly forward, masking his face with the very spiri

he said, meaning

here neither bullet nor arrow might reach her. Then, walking to the buckb

as though Ruth Pemberton might be interested i

wn the slope for a closer survey of the trio in the buffalo wallow. Mr. Masterson threw the

son in the buffalo wallow, their dainty little war ponies a-flutter of eagle feathers and strips of red c

shooting was bad; the bullets struck the grass and kicked up puffs of dirt one hundred yards in front, and t

danger level. She, for her side, watched his expression as he stood, rifle in hand, observing the attack. She felt no fear, felt nothing only a sweep and choke of exultation. It was as though she were the

so close and loud that it was like a fog to her senses. Mr. Masterson threw open his gun, and clipped in a second cartridge. The brass shell flirted over

emberton, holding up the e

papier-maché. What life might have been left in the latter was crushed ou

ey were, there could be no thought of missing, and Mr. Masterson emptied another s

s hand. The single Cheyenne was he who had followed the craven Mexican, and the thing he tossed and played with was the Mexican's scalp. When he had joined

ter and forced cartridges into the

ter. "It'll come handy to back up my Sharp's in a case of quick work. Ther

r mind was running on other matters

ng to charge

hey'll make a heap of hubbub, but

considered the possibilities of a shower, and was con

aid Ruth Pembe

his eye on the Cheyennes,

em take me! K

teadily. "First you, then me! You know the Western saying f

ar to one who accepted it without fear, and when he had spoken Ruth Pemberton felt as cheerfully light as a bird. She had a desire to seize on the Winchester an

e buffalo gun. Then she saw Mr. Masterson snatch up the Winchester, and spring clear of the buffalo wallow to the flat, grassy ground in front. Feeling nothing, knowing nothing beyond a resolution to be near him, live or die, she was out of the buffalo wallow as soon as was he, and on her knees at his feet. She could seize on no one element as distinct and separate from a whirling whole, made up of blur and

nnes made that charge upon the buffalo wallow; Ruth Pemberton counted but four to flash to the rear at the close. The four never paused; their hearts had turned weak, and they kept on al

f, wounded, on his elbow. Mr. Masterson, who had recovered his Sharp's, sent a bullet into his head.

erson. "We don't run any Red-C

d guttered the cheek of Mr. Masterson. She thought no more on dead or living

You can't fight all day w

turned from him, ashamed, and let her gaze rove to where the Cheyennes, far beyond the r

oughout the mêlée with the steadiness which should go with his name. Presently he rode ba

his coups," he vouch

tanding the argument which convinced her own breast, looked

of Count Banti-still speechless, nerves a-tangle. Then Mr. Masterson, taking a spare cinch from his war-bags, to the disgust of Houston, proceeded with

eatened Mr.

tful ears and acquiesced

Ruth Pemberton took it and, making a step of the

by my belt," qu

er cheek against his shoulder, while her soul wandered up and down in a world of stran

nd Count Banti drew away for the North. A lieutenant with ten cavalrym

Masterson that morning before the start, her eyes dim,

d Mr. Masterson, "but m

sombrero in farewell. Ruth Pemberton gazed and still gazed; the hunger of the brown eyes was as though her love lay starving. The trail sloped sharply downward, and the picture of the stat