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  CHAPTER XIV

  Three days passed, four, a week, and still no word came of the men forwhom the "Old Man" had wired to Denver. Conniston had nearly forgottenthem. His day was from daylight until dark, often until long afterdark. Upon more than one evening, after the men had had their suppersand crawled into their blankets, he and Truxton had sat in the tent atthe cook's rude table, a lantern between them, figuring and planningupon the next day.

  He began to notice a vague change in the older engineer as the dayswent by. At first he was hardly conscious of it, at a loss tocatalogue it. But before the middle of the week he realized that eachevening found Truxton more irritable, more prone to explode into quickrage over some trifle. The man's eyes began to show the restless feverwithin him, and some sort of an unsleeping, nervous anxiety.Throughout the days the men stood clear of him. His flaming wrathburst out at a blundering mistake or at a man's failure to follow tothe last letter some short-spoken instructions. It was only one nightwhen Conniston made careless mention of Oliver Swinnerton, and Truxtonflew into a towering, cursing rage, that he began to believe that hesaw the real reason for Truxton's growing ill temper.

  "The thievin', mangy, pot-bellied porcupine!" Truxton had shouted,banging his fist down upon the cook's table so hard that the lanternjumped two inches in the air. "I'll just naturally rid the earth ofhim one of these days. Those men ought to have arrived from Denverthree days ago. How am I ever goin' to get anything done, an' no mento work for me? With Colton Gray gone an' the rest of the P. C. & W.thieves playin' into that scoundrel Swinnerton's hands, where do weget off? We send for a hundred men, an' it saves Swinnerton thetrouble an' expense of a wire. By now every man jack of them is makin'fences an' buildin' houses for him, or I'm the worst-fooled man in thecountry." And he swung off into a string of curses which would nothave been unworthy of Ben the Englishman.

  One afternoon when they had run the ditch through the Seven Knolls andwere cutting rapidly through a level stretch with a double line ofsmaller hills a mile ahead of the foremost team, Truxton came stridingalong the ditch to where Conniston was standing.

  "Think you can handle all four gangs without me for the rest of theafternoon?" he asked, as he came to Conniston's side.

  "Yes," answered Conniston. "I can handle them."

  Truxton laughed softly.

  "You're comin' ahead, youngster. Wouldn't have wanted the job a weekago, would you? I believe you could handle 'em, too. But I'll do itthis trip. I want you to go to the office for me. See Tommy and runover these figures with him. I told you last night that I was sure of'em. To-day I'm gettin' balled up. Tell him that I'm puttin' a gang onthat double line of hills first thing in the mornin'. Run over thething with him and verify our figures. If there's anything left of theafternoon when you get through you can take it off an' see the sightsin Valley City. Find out how they're fixed for water an' grub an'wood. Tommy's got all that dope at the tip of his tongue. An' be backhere the first thing in the mornin'."

  He went back to his work, and Conniston hurried away, decidedly gladfor the change of work. Just to grip his horse between his knees, toswing out alone across the rolling fields, to drink deep of theuntroubled stillness of the wide places, to be an independent, swiftlymoving figure with nothing to break the silent harmony of the still,hot sky above and the still, hot sands beneath--a harmony which thesoul leaped out to meet--brought a quiet, peaceful content. The daywas serene and perfect, like yesterday and to-morrow in this land ofdreary barrenness and of infinite possibility; the faint blue of thecloudless sky met the gray monotone of the earth between two mounds infront of him; and as his horse's hoofs fell noiselessly, as thoughupon padded felt, his sensation was that of drifting across the widesweep of a gently swelling ocean toward a landlocked sea of paleturquoise.

  It was shortly after four o'clock when he rode into Valley City. Hepassed the one-room school-house, with its distinctive little belfryand flag-pole, and a glance in at the open windows told him that thechildren had been dismissed. At the corner of the building he camesuddenly upon a saddled horse biting and stamping at the flies whichdefied swishing tail and savage teeth. Half smiling, he stopped. Hehad recognized the horse as a Half Moon animal, one he had riddenseveral times, and thought that he could guess who was inside payinghis respects to the schoolmistress. Even as he paused Jocelyn Truxtoncame out, opening her white parasol. And in all the holiday regalia ofshaggy black chaps, bright-blue neck-handkerchief, and new Stetsonhat, Lonesome Pete followed her.

  Pete, as he emerged from behind the parasol, saw Conniston and calleda hearty "Hello, Con!" to him. And Conniston turned his horse and rodeback to the front steps.

  "Miss Jocelyn says as how she ain't been interdooced," Lonesome Petewas saying, his hat turning nervously in his hands, his face flushingas he met Conniston's eyes. "Shake han's with Mr. Conniston, MissJocelyn."

  Miss Jocelyn lifted her dropped eyelids with a quick flutter, favoredConniston with a flashing smile, banished her smile to replace it witha pouting of pursed lips, and said, archly:

  "I have half a mind _not_ to shake hands with Mr. Conniston! If he hadwanted to meet me he would have come with Billy Jordan the othernight."

  But, none the less, she finished by putting out a small, gloved hand,and Conniston, leaning from the saddle, took it in his.

  "I was sorry, Miss Truxton," he said, lightly. "Didn't Jordan tellyou? Garton and I had a lot to do that night, and worked late. It wasvery kind of you to say that I might come."

  "If you had wanted to come _very_ much--" she said, shaking her headsaucily. "_You_ would have found time to come, wouldn't you, Pete?"

  Lonesome Pete, his spurred boots shifting uneasily, put on his hat,noticed immediately that Conniston still held his in his hand,snatched it off again, spun it about upon a big forefinger, andgrinned redly.

  "I sure would, Miss Jocelyn," he declared with great emphasis.

  Miss Jocelyn turned back to lock the school-house door, and then camedown the steps and into the road.

  "I'll go git my hoss an' walk along," Lonesome Pete said, and hurriedaround to the back of the house.

  "Are you going my way, Mr. Conniston?"

  Conniston said that he was, and swung down, walking at her side andleading his horse.

  "If you really _do_ care to come to see me," Jocelyn said, quickly,before the cowboy had rejoined them, "you may call this evening."

  Conniston thanked her, and, not to seem rude, said that he would dropin after he and Tommy Garton had finished their work. Jocelyn smiledat him brightly.

  "You may come early, if you like. I am sure that you will have a wholelot of things to tell me about the progress you and papa are makingwith the ditch. I'm _so_ interested in the work, Mr. Conniston."

  Pete had taken up his horse's dragging reins and led him into thestreet. Jocelyn, her chin a trifle lifted, her air more than a triflecoquettish as she smiled at Conniston, pretended not to see herred-headed adorer. Walking between the two men, she even tilted herparasol so that it did no slightest good in the world in the matter ofprotecting her from the sun, but served very effectively in shuttingout Lonesome Pete. Conniston laughed and talked lightly with her,vastly amused at the situation and the discomfiture upon her ardentlover's expressive face. And so, with Pete trudging along in silence,unnoticed, they came to the office and stopped, Jocelyn and Connistonstill talking to each other, Lonesome Pete tying and untying knots inhis bridle-reins.

  "Can't you give up enough of your precious time to walk on home withme? I have some icy cold lemonade waiting for me," she tempted.

  "I'm sorry. I'd like to, but I've got a lot of work to get over withGarton--"

  Only three or four doors from the office was the little cottage whichhe had helped Argyl to prepare for her father. Even while he wasmaking his excuses he saw the door open, and Argyl herself, lithe andtrim in her gray riding-habit, step out upon the tiny porch.

  "I beg pardon," he broke off, suddenly. "I--Will you excuse me?"

  An
d, jerking his horse's reins so that the animal started up after himat a trot, he strode down the street, his hat off, his face liftedeagerly to Argyl's. A moment later he was holding her hand in his,oblivious of Jocelyn, Pete, Valley City, everything in the worldexcept the girl with the big gray eyes, the girl whom he had seenthrough his shifting day-dreams.

  When the cowboy and the schoolmistress passed him Lonesome Pete wastalking once more and she was being very gracious to him, butConniston had no eye for such trifles. Jocelyn nodded a bit stiffly toArgyl, and, smiling at Conniston, cried gaily, "You won't forget, Mr.Conniston!"

  But he had already forgotten. He had not hoped to see Argyl for manydays yet, perhaps many weeks, and the unexpected sight of her thrilledthrough him, driving all thoughts of Jocelyn out of his mind. And whenin a few minutes he was forced to remember that he had business withGarton he left reluctantly and with a promise to have dinner at sixo'clock with her and her father.

  Tommy Garton he found as cheerful as a cricket and heartily glad tosee him. Billy Jordan had looked out as Jocelyn and her two escortscame by, and now was back at his typewriter, pounding the keys fordear life, the ticking and clicking of his machine keeping time to"Yankee Doodle," which he was whistling softly. He, too, shook hands,but his cheerfulness was of a grade noticeably inferior to Garton's.And immediately he went back to his machine and his rhythmicalpounding.

  Conniston was of a mind to get the business of the day done withbefore six. The first part of his errand took up the greater part ofan hour. Then Garton reported upon the other matter which Truxton hadwanted ascertained. There was water enough to last four days.Provisions were holding out well, but soon there would be a need forfresh supplies of sugar, flour, and jerked beef. There was enough ofcanned goods at the general store to last for a month, a freshshipment having been recently received--two big wagon-loads fromCrawfordsville.

  "I expect Mr. Crawford to drop in on us some time before dark," Gartonsaid, as he put away carefully into a drawer the papers he had takenfrom it during the consultation. "Miss Argyl is already here. Stoppedin a minute to let us know that the Old Man is coming."

  "Yes, I know. I saw her a minute just before I came in."

  They chatted for a while longer, until Conniston saw by his watch thatit was six o'clock. Then he got up and reached for his hat.

  "You'll spend the night with me, Conniston," Tommy Garton offered."I've got plenty of bedding; a man doesn't suffer for covers thesenights. Drop in as soon as you and Billy get through supper. I thinkthat I can beat you a game of crib."

  "Much obliged, Garton. But I may not run in for an hour or so. MissCrawford has asked me to eat with them to-night."

  "Oh." There was a great lack of expression in Garton's monosyllable,but as he swung about upon his stool, bending over the box ofcigarettes which he swept up, Conniston thought that he saw a littletwitch as of pain about the sensitive lips. Not understanding, feelingat once that he would like to say something and not knowing what tosay, he went slowly to the door. As he was going out Garton called tohim, his voice and face alike as cheerful as they had been throughoutthe afternoon.

  "I say, Conniston. Remember me to Miss Argyl, will you? She's aglorious girl. I never saw her match. She's got the same capabilityfor doing big things that her father has. I said the other day that hewas the whole brain and brawn of this war for reclamation. I ought tohave been kicked. Do you know that the whole project, from itsinception, has been as much hers as his? Why, that girl has riddenover every foot of this valley, knows it like a book. Dam NumberThree, that auxiliary dam, is her idea. And a rattling good idea, too.The men call it 'Miss Argyl's Dam.' Better brush up on yourengineering before you talk reclamation with her, old man. She's readall the books I've got. A glorious girl, Conniston."

  Conniston came back into the room.

  "See here, Garton," he said, gently. "Why don't you come along. Shetold me that she wanted you, that she had asked you and--"

  Garton waved an interrupting hand, smiling quickly. But Conniston sawthat his face looked tired.