E

The Cattle Baron's Daughter."

CHAPTER VI.

THE INCENDIARY.

By Harold Bindloss.

VENTS of no apparent moment have extensive issues now and then, and while cattleman and homesteader braced themselves for the conflict which they felt would come, the truce might have lasted longer but for the fact that one night Muller slept indifferently in the new house he had built. He was never quite sure what made him restless, or prompted him to open his window and lean out; while, when he had done this, he saw and heard nothing unusual for a while.

On one hand the birch bluff rose, a dusky wall, against the indigo of the sky, and in front of him the prairie rolled away, silent and shadowy. There was scarcely a sound but the low ripple of the creek, until, somewhere far off in the distance, a coyote howled. The drawn-out wail had in it something unearthly, and Muller, who was by no means an imaginative man, shivered a little. The deep silence of the great empty land it emphasized reacted upon him and increased his restlessness.

Scarcely knowing why he did so, except that he felt he could not sleep, he slipped on a few garments, and moved softly to the door, that he might not disturb his daughter. There was no moon when he went out, but the stars shone clearly in the great vault of blue, and the barns and stables he had built rose black against the sky. Though Grant had lent him assistance and he had hewn the lumber on the spot, one cannot build a homestead and equip it for nothing, and when he had provided himself, with working horses, Muller had sunk the last of his scanty capital in the venture. It was perhaps this fact which induced him to approach the stable, moving noiselessly in his slippers, and glance within.

*

Muller attached no especial importance to
the affair; but Grant, who did not tell him
so, differed in this when he heard of it.
He knew that the cattle-rider is usually
rather chivalrous than addicted to dis-
tasteful gallantries.

In any case, Muller heard nothing for a
while, and felt tempted to return to his
bed when he grew chilly. He had, how
ever, spent bitter nights stalking the franc
tireurs in the snow, and the vigilance
taught and demanded by an inflexible dis-
cipline had not quite deserted him, though
he was considerably older and less nimble
now. At last, however, a dim, moving
shadow appeared round a corner of the
building, stopped a moment, and then sli
on again toward the door. So noiseless
was it that Muller could almost have be-
lieved his eyes had deceived him until
he heard the hasp rattle. Still he waited
until the figure passed into the stable, and
then very cautiously crept along the wall.
Muller was not so vigorous as he had been
when proficiency in the use of the bayonet
had been drilled into him; but while his
fingers tightened on the haft of the fork
he fancied that he had still strengt
enough to serve his purpose. He had also
been taught to use it to the best ad-
vantage.

He straightened himself a little when he stood in the entrance and looked about him. There was a gleam of light in the stable now, for a lantern stood upon a manger and revealed by its uncertain glimmer a pile of prairie hay, with a kerosene-can upon it, laid against the logs. Muller was not wholly astonished, but he was looking for more than that, and next moment saw a shadowy object apparently loosing the nearest horse's halter. It was doubtless a merciful deed, but it was to cost the incendiary dear; for when, perhaps warned by some faint sound, he looked up suddenly, he saw a black figure between him and the door.

On the instant he dropped the halter, and the hand that had held it toward his belt; but, as it happened, the horse pinned him against the stall, and his opportunity had passed when it moved again. Muller had drawn his right leg back with his knee bent a trifle, and there was a rattle as he brought the long fork down to the charge. Thus when the man was free the deadly points twinkled in a ray from the lantern within a foot of his breast. It was also unpleasantly evident. that a heave of the farmer's shoulder would bury them in quivering flesh.

The interior was black and shadowy, but there was no doubting the fact that the beasts were moving restlessly. Muller went in, holding his breath as he peered about him, and one broncho backed away as he approached its stall. Muller patted it on the flank, and the horse stood still, as though reassured, when it recognized him, which was not without its meaning. He listened, but hearing nothing, groped round the stable and went out as softly as he had entered it, with a hayfork, and took up his post in the deepest shadow, where he commanded outbuildings and house. There was, he knew, no- "Hands oop!" a stern voice said. body but Grant dwelling within several The man delayed a second. The butt of leagues of him, and as yet property was the pistol that would equalize the affair at least as safe in that country as it was was almost within his grasp, and Muller in Chicago or New York; but as he leaned, stood in the light, but he saw an ominous impassively watchful, against the wall, he remembered an episode which had happened a few weeks earlier.

He had been overtaken by a band of stock-riders when fording the creek with his daughter, and one who loitered behind them reined his horse in and spoke to the girl. Muller never knew what his words had been; but he saw the sudden color in the fraulein's face, and seized the man's bridle. An altercation ensued, and when the man rejoined his comrades, who apparently did not sympathize with him, his bridle hand hung limp and the farmer was smiling as he swung a stick.

* Copyright, 1906, by Harold Bindloss.

glint in the pale blue eyes and the
farmer's fingers tighten on the haft. There
was also a suggestive raising of one
shoulder; and his hands went up above
his head. Muller advanced the points an
inch or two, stiffening his right leg, and
smiled grimly. The other man stared
straight in front of him with dilated eyes,
and a little grey patch growing larger in
either cheek.

"Are you going to murder me, you con-
demned Dutchman?" he said.

"Yes," said Muller tranquilly, "if you der movement make. So! It is done without der trouble when you have der bayonet exercise make."

The points gleamed as they swung forward, and the man gasped; but they stopped at the right second, and Muller, who had hove his burly form a trifle more upright, sank back again, bringing his foot down with a stamp. The little demonstration was more convincing than an hour of argument.

"Well," said the man hoarsely, "I'm corralled. Throw that thing away, and I'll give you my pistol."

Muller laughed, and then raised his great voice in what was to the other an unknown tongue. "Lotta," he said, "come quick, and bring the American rifle."

There was silence for perhaps five minutes, and the men watched each other, one white in face and quivering a little, his adversary impassive as a statue, but quietly observant. Then there was a patter of hasty footsteps, and the fraulein stood in the lantern light with a flushed. plump face and somewhat scanty dress. She apparently recognized the man, and her color deepened, but that was the only sign of confusion; and it was evident that the discipline of the fatherland had not been neglected in Muller's household.

"Lotta," he said in English, "open der little slide. You feel der cartridge? Now, der butt to der shoulder und der eye on der sight, as I have teach you. Der middle of him is der best place. I shout, und you press quite steady."

He spoke with a quiet precision that had its effect; and, whatever the girl felt, she obeyed each command in rotation. There was, however, one danger which the stranger realized, and that was that, with an involuntary contraction of the forefinger, she might anticipate the last one.

"She'll shoot me before she means to," he said, with a little gasp. "Come and take the condemned pistol."

"Der middle of him!" said Muller tranquilly. "No movement make, you!"

Dropping the fork he moved forward, not in front of the man, but to his side, and whipped the pistol from his belt.

"One turn make," he said. "So! Your hands behind you. Lotta, you will now a halter get."

The girl's loose bodice rose and fell as she laid down the rifle, but she was swift, and in less than another minute Muller had bound his captive's hands securely behind his back and cross-lashed them from wrist to elbow. He inspected the work critically and then nodded, as if contented.

"Lotta," he said, "put der saddle on der broncho horse. Then in der house you der cordial find, und of it one large spoonfui mit der water take. My pipe you bring me also, and then you ride for Mr. Grant."

The girl obeyed him; and when the drumming of horse-hoofs died away Muller sat down in front of his prisoner, who now lay upon a pile of prairie hay, and with his usual slow precision lighted his big meerschaum. The American watched him for a minute or two, and then grew red in face as a fit of passion shook him. "You condemned Dutchman!" he said. Muller laughed. "Der combliment," he said, "is nod of much use to-night."

It was an hour later when Grant and several horsemen arrived, and he nodded as he glanced at the prisoner.

"I figured it was you. There's not another man on the prairie mean enough for this kind of work," he said, pointing to the kerosene-can. "You didn't even know enough to do it decently, and you're about the only American who'd have let an old man tie his hands."

The prisoner winced "Well," he said hoarsely, glancing toward perceptibly. the hayfork, rifle and pistol, which still lay at Muller's feet, "if you're astonished,

look at the blamed Dutchman's armory." "I've one thing to ask you," Grant said sternly. "It's going to pay you to be quite straight with me. Who hired you?"

There was defiance in the incendiary's eyes, but Grant was right in his surmise that he was resolute only because that of the two fears which oppressed him he preferred to bear the least.

"You can ask till you get sick of it, but you'll get nothing out of me," he said.

"Take him out," said Grant. "Put him on to the led horse. If you'll come round to my place for breakfast I'll be glad to see you, Muller."

"I come," said Muller. "Mit der franc tireur it is finish quicker, but here in der Republic we reverence have for der law." Grant laughed a little. "Well," he said dryly, "I'm aot quite sure."

He swung himself to the saddle, swept off his hat to the girl, who stood with the lantern light upon her in the doorway, smiling but flushed in face, and shook his bridle. Then there was a jingle that was lost in the thud of hoofs, and the men vanished into the shadowy prairie. Half an hour later the homestead was once more dark and silent; but three men sent out by Grant were riding at a reckless gallop across the great dusky levels, and breakfast was not finished when those whom they had summoned reached Fremont ranch.

They were young men for the most part, and Americans, though there were a few who had only just become so among them, and two or three whose grim faces and grey hair told of a long struggle with adversity. They were clad in blue shirts and jean, and the hard brown hands of most betokened a close acquaintance with plough stilt, axe, and bridle, though here and there one had from his appearance evidently lived delicately. All appeared quietly resolute, for they knew that the law which had given them the right to build their homes upon that prairie as yet left them to bear the risks attached to the doing of it. Hitherto, the fact that the great ranchers had made their own laws and enforced them had been ignored or tacitly accepted by the State.

When they were seated, one of the men deputed to question the prisoner stood up. "You can take it that there's nothing to be got out of him," he said.

of them, and thinly-veiled pride, was a
type of all their democracy anathematized.
More than one of them had winced under
his soft laugh and lightly spoken jibes,
which rankled more than a downright in-
jury.

"The question," said a third speaker, "is
what we're going to do with him."

Again the low voices murmured, until a man stood up. There's one cure for his complaint, and that's a sure one, but I'm not going to urge it now," he said. "Boys, we don't want to be the first to take up the rifle, and it would make our intentions quite as plain if we dressed him in a coat of tar and rode him round the town. Nobody would have any use for him after that, and it would be a bigger slap in Clavering's face than anything else we could do to him."

Some of the men appeared relieved, for it was evident they had no great liking for the sterner alternative; and there was acclamation until Grant rose quietly at the head of the table.

"I've got to move a negative," he said. "It would be better if you handed him to the sheriff."

There was astonishment in most of the faces, and somebody said, "The sheriff! He'd let him go right off. The cattlemen have got the screw on him."

I

"Well," said Larry quietly, "he has done
his duty so far, and may do it again.
figure we ought to give him the chance."
Exclamations of dissent followed, and a
man with a grim, lean face stood up. He
spoke tolerable English, but his accentua-
tion was different from that of the rest.

"The first man put it straight when he
told you there was only one cure-the one
they found out in France a hundred years
ago,” he said. "You don't quite realize it
yet. You haven't lived as we did back
there across the sea, and seen your women
thrust off the pavement into the gutter to
make room for an officer, or been struck
with the sword-hilt if you resented an in-
sult before your fellow-citizens. Will you
take off your hats to the rich men who
are trampling on you, you republicans,
and, while they leave you the right o
speech, beg them to respect your right:
and liberties? Do that, and sit still a
tle, and they'll fasten the yoke we've
groaned under on your necks."

"I don't know that it isn't eloquent, br

"Well," said another, "we know he is it isn't business," said somebody. one of Clavering's boys."

There was a little murmur, for of all the cattle barons Clavering was the only man who had as yet earned his adversaries' individual dislike. They were prepared to pull down the others because their interests, which they had little difficulty in fancying coincided with those of their country, demanded it; but Clavering, with his graceful insolence, ironical contempt

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The man laughed sardonically. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "I'm trying to show you that if you want your liberties you've got to fight for them, and your leader doesn't seem to know when, by hanging one man, he can save a hundred from misery. It's not the man who laid the kindling you're striking at, but, through him, those who employed him. Let them see you'll take your rights with. out leave of them. They've sent you warning that if you stay here they'll burn your homesteads down, and they're waiting your answer. Hang their firebug where everyone can see him, in the mid

dle of the town.

It was evident that the men were wavering. They had come there with the law behind them, but, from their youth up, some following visions that could never be realized had hated the bureaucrat, and the rest, crippled by the want of dollars, had fought with frost and drought and hail. It was also plain that they felt the capture of the incendiary had given them an opportunity. Then, when a word would have turned the scale, Grant stood up at the head of the table, very resolute in face.

"I still move a negative and an amendment, boys," he said. "First, though that's not the most important, because I've a natural shrinking from butchering an un

armed man. Secondly, it was not the cattlemen who sent him, but one of them, and just because he meant to draw you on it would be the blamedest bad policy to humor him. Would Torrance, or Allonby,

or

the others, have done this thing? They're hard men, but they believe they're right, as we do, and they're Americans. Now for the third reason: When Clavering meant to burn Muller's homestead, he struck at me, guessing that some of you would stand behind me. He knew your temper, and he'd have laughed at us as hot-blooded rabble-you know how he can do it when he'd put us in the wrong. Well, this time we'll give the law a show."

There was discussion, but Larry sat still, saying nothing further, with a curious gravity in his face, until a man stood up again.

"We think you're right," he said. "Still, there's a question. What are you going to do if they try again?"

"Strike," said Larry quietly. "I'll go with you to the hanging of the next one." Nothing more was said, and the men rode away with relief in their faces, (Continued on page 1070, second column.)

KNOWS NOW. Doctor Was Fooled by His Own Case for a Time.

It's easy to understand how ordinary people get fooled by coffee when doctors themselves sometimes forget the facts. A physician speaks of his own experi

ence:

"I had used coffee for years and really did not exactly believe it was injuring me, although I had palpitation of the heart every day.

"Finally one day a severe and almost fatal attack of heart trouble frightened me and I gave up both tea and coffee, using Postum instead, and since that time I have had absolutely no heart palpitation except on one or two occasions when I tried a small quantity of coffee which caused severe irritation and proved to me I must let it alone. "When we it began using Postum seemed weak-that was because we did not make it according to directions-but now we put a little bit of butter in the pot when boiling and allow the Postum to boil full 15 minutes, which gives it the proper rich flavor and the deep brown color.

"I have advised a great many of my friends and patients to leave off coffee and drink Postum, in fact I daily give this advice." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich.

Many thousands of physicians use Postum in place of tea and coffee in their own homes and prescribe it to patients. "There's a reason."

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The Cattle Baron's Daughter.

(Continued from page 1069.)
though three of them, girt with rifle and
bandolier, trotted behind the wagon in
which the prisoner sat.

CHAPTER VII.

LARRY PROVES INTRACTABLE.

T was some little time after her arrival at Cedar Range when Miss Torrance, who took Flora Schuyler with her, rode out across the prairie. There were a good many things she desired to investigate personally, and, though a somewhat independent young woman, she was glad that the opportunity of informing Torrance of her intention was not afforded her, since he had ridden off somewhere earlier in the day. It also happened that, although the days were growing colder, she arrayed herself fastidiously in a long, light skirt, which she had not worn since she had left Cedar, and which, with the white hat that matched it, became her better than the conventional riding attire. Miss Schuyler naturally noticed this.

"Is it a garden party we are going to?"

she asked.

Hetty laughed. "We may meet some of our neighbors, and after staying with you all that while in New York I don't want to go back on you. I had the thing specially made in Chicago for riding in."

Miss Schuyler was not quite satisfied, but she made no further comment, and there was much to occupy her attention. The bleached plain was bright with sunshine and rolled back into the distance under an arch of cloudless blue, while the crisp, clear air stirred her blood like an elixir. They swept up a rise and down it,

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long hollow, and up a slope again, until,
as the white grass rolled behind her, Flora
Schuyler yielded to the exhilaration of
swift motion, and, flinging off the con-
straint of the city, rejoiced in the springy
rush of the mettlesome beast beneath her.
Streaming white levels, the blue of the
sliding sky, the kiss of the wind on her
hot cheek, and the roar of hoofs, all re-
acted upon her until she laughed aloud
when she hurled her half-wild broncho
down a slope.

"This is surely the finest country in the
world," she said.

The words were blown behind her, but Hetty caught some of them, and when at last she drew bridle where a rise ran steep and seamed with badger-holes against the sky, nodded with a little air of pride.

"Oh, yes, and it's ours. All of it," she said. "Worth fighting for, isn't it?"

Flora Schuyler laughed a little, but she shook her head. "It's a pity one couldn't leave that out. You would stay here wi' your men folk if there was trouble?"

Hetty looked at her with a little flash in her eyes. "Why, of course. It's our country. We made it, and I'd go around in rags and groom the boys' horses if it would help them to whip out the men who want to take it from us."

Flora Schuyler smiled a trifle dryly. "The trouble is that when we fall out, one is apt to find as good Americans as we are, and sometimes the men we like the most, standing in with the opposition. It has

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Hetty shook her bridle impatiently. "Then, of course, one would not like them any longer," she said. Nothing more said until they crossed the ridge above them, when Hetty Across the wide pulled her horse up. Pamphlet, "Funds for Travellers," upon application levels before her advanced a line of dusty

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teams, the sunlight twinkling on the great breaker ploughs they hauled, while th black loam rolled in softly gleaming waves behind them. They came on with slow precision, and in the forefront rolled a great machine that seamed and rent the prairie into triple furrows.

"What are they doing there? They belong to you?" asked Miss Schuyler.

The flush the wind had brought ther turned to a deeper crimson in Hetty's usually colorless face. "To us!" she said, and her voice had a thrill of scorn. Ride down. I "They're homesteaders. want to see who's leading them."

She led the way with one little gloved hand clenched on the dainty switch she held; but before she reached the foremost team the man who pulled it up sprang down from the driving-seat of the big machine. A tall wire fence, with a notice attached to it, barred his way. The other ploughs stopped behind him, somebody brought an axe, and Hetty set her lips when the glistening blade whirled hig and fell. Thrice it flashed in the sunlight, swung by sinewy arms, and then, as the fence went down, a low, half-articulate cry rose from the waiting men. It was not exultant, but there was in it the suggestion of a steadfast purpose.

Hetty sat still and looked at them, a little sparkle in her dark eyes, and a crimson streak in either cheek; while the laces that hung from her neck across the bodice of the white dress rose and fell. It occurred to Flora Schuyler that she had never seen her companion look half so (Continued on page 1071, second column.)

THE DOCTOR'S WIFE Agrees With Him About Food.

A trained nurse says: "In the practice of my profession I have found so many points in favor of Grape-Nuts food that I unhesitatingly recommend it to all my patients.

"It is delicate and pleasing to the palate (an essential in food for the sick) and can be adapted to all ages, being softened with milk or cream for babies or the aged when deficiency of teeth renders mastication impossible. For fever patients or those on liquid diet I find Grape-Nuts and albumen water very nourishing and refreshing. This recipe is my own idea and is made as follows: Soak a teaspoonful of Grape-Nuts in a glass of water for an hour, strain and serve with the beaten white of an egg and a spoonful of fruit juice or flavoring. This affords a great deal of nourishment that even the weakest stomach can assimilate without any distress.

"My husband is a physician and he uses himself and orders it Grape-Nuts many times for his patients. "Personally I regard a dish of GrapeNuts with fresh or stewed fruit as the ideal breakfast for anyone-well or sick." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich.

In any case of stomach trouble, nervous prostration or brain fag, a ten days' trial of Grape-Nuts will work wonders toward nourishing and rebuilding, and in this "There's a reaway ending the trouble. son" and trial proves.

Look in packages for the famous little book, "The Road to Wellville."

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