Just then Leland turned sharply in his chair, and the others, who noticed it, leant towards the window. It was wide open and there was no light in the room. Outside, the green transparency was just fading into the soft blueness of early dusk. n.o.body else had heard anything, but Leland's figure was outlined against the last of the light, and there was an ominous tenseness and expectancy in his att.i.tude. They waited a moment, though none of them knew exactly why, until a little square object, which had evidently entered by the window, struck the table.

In another moment Leland had swung himself out by the narrow window, which was some distance from the floor. Then there was a crash outside, and the rest made for the outer door on the opposite side of the building. There was no sign of anybody when they reached it, but two of them heard a beat of receding hoofs. The rider did not seem to be in any great haste, and they fancied he was rather bent upon slipping away quietly. Then Leland appeared again, limping, and beckoned them back to the room, where he lighted the lamp before he sat down. His face was drawn.

"I wasn't exactly careful how I went out, and came down hard on my elbow and my knee," he said. "It took all the running out of me, and the fellow evidently had his horse ready. Before we could get a horse saddled, he'd be 'most two miles away. Well, we'll see what he has sent me, though I have a notion what it is."

He opened the little packet, and took out a pistol bullet. "That may have been meant to weight it, or quite as likely as a hint. Now, I'll tell you what he says."

One of them moved the lamp for him, and there was close attention as he read the note that had been wrapped about the bullet: "'Let up before you get hurt. You have had two warnings, but it's going to be different with the third one. There's a man or two on your trail who mean business.'"

He flung the note on the table with a little contemptuous laugh. "I think it's genuine, and he means well, but I'm going on."

"That's not very clear to me," said one of his companions.

"It's quite easy. The rustlers are there for the money and aren't anxious for trouble, though, if it's necessary, they are quite willing to make it. That, I figure, is the view of most of them. But they had a man killed not long ago, and it's probably different with one or two of his friends. Unless the others freeze them off, they may undertake to run me down for the fun of the thing."

There was a murmur of sympathy and agreement, and Leland saw that the rest were watching him curiously.

"Oh," he said impatiently, "I'm going on."

Then they set about discussing the rumour that another lot of whisky was being run. By the time this was over, they were all, including the man with the misgivings, of one mind again. Still, the Sergeant knew that, if Leland had hesitated, it was quite probable he would have looked in vain for any support worth having from most of them. The last man had driven away when Carrie found him sitting thoughtfully in the empty room.

"Something has disturbed you?" she said.

Leland looked up, and there was a trace of dryness in his smile. "I have had quite a few things to worry me lately," he said, handing her the note. "This is merely one of them."

The girl read it, and looked at him with a perplexed frown on her face.

Its contents troubled her, for she had acquired from Gallwey and others a good deal of information concerning the outlaws. She also knew that Leland would, in all probability, not have given it to her, had he reason to suppose that it could cause her any great anxiety, and the knowledge hurt her.

"Well," she said quietly, "what do you propose to do?"

Leland smiled a little. "My dear, what would you expect me to do?"

There was a faint flash in Carrie's eyes, and she lifted her head a trifle. "Oh," she said, "there is of course only one thing possible--to you."

"Thank you! I'm afraid there may be just a little risk in this for my wife as well. I didn't quite remember it at the time."

Carrie laughed. "Do you think that would count?" Then she laid her hand upon his shoulder. "Still, Charley, you will--to please me--be very careful?"

Leland fancied he felt her hand tremble, and thought he saw a sudden softness in her eyes, but he could not be quite sure. Before he could decide how to profit by it, she had turned her face aside and gone.

CHAPTER XVII

CARRIE MAKES A COMPARISON

A week had pa.s.sed since the last meeting of the farmers at Prospect, when Carrie and Eveline Annersly sat out on the verandah of the house somewhat late at night. A full moon hung over the prairie, and the silence was impressive. Urmston, who was, as usual, also there, leant against the bal.u.s.trade with his back to the light, missing every uplifting appeal in the boundless sweep of softly gleaming gra.s.s of the prairie. He was not one of the men upon whom the silent strength of Nature has any marked reaction. His thoughts concerned himself and the pleasures of the moment, and he was seldom still or silent very long, though his activities, like his speeches, were usually petty, for the capacity for absorption in a sustaining purpose was not in him. Carrie Leland had come to realise it of late, though she did not exactly know why. It may have been the result of a subconscious comparison of him with another man. In any case, the recognition of the fact had brought her a sense of annoyance, for there was strength as well as pride in her, and she was fond of Urmston, who was a man of her own world.

Urmston, in the meanwhile, found the contemplation of her sufficient for him, and it is probable that most other men would have done the same.

She lay, clad in a long white dress, in a big lounge-chair, with the silvery moonlight full upon her. It brought out the duskiness of her eyes and hair, and made her somewhat cold beauty the more apparent, though there was at the time a faint, illusory gentleness in her face, a note the man had noticed more than once of late. He would have liked to think that he had brought it there, but could not quite persuade himself that this was so, though there had been a time when he had seen that soft light creep into her eyes as she greeted him. He had also a vague, uncomfortable feeling that, although circ.u.mstances had certainly been against him, it was, perhaps, his own fault that he could now no longer call it up. Carrie was gracious to him, save when he was too venturesome, but he saw that her regard for him was widely different from what it had been. There was more reserve in her att.i.tude towards him than her mere recognition of what was due to her husband could account for. He also noticed that she was a trifle anxious, which brought him no great consolation, in view of the fact that Leland had ridden out with his rifle early the day before. Eveline Annersly finally spoke after the silence that had lasted for several minutes.

"Gallwey seems to fancy Charley should have been back several hours ago," she said. "Charley told him he would be in to supper, if all went--as they expected it to."

She stole a swift glance at Carrie, who was then gazing out across the prairie as though in search of something, and, though the girl did not move, she fancied there was a change in her expression. It suggested a growing uneasiness.

"I scarcely suppose Charley could tell exactly how long they would be,"

she said.

"That," said Eveline Annersly, "is very probable, and, in any case, he is not likely to come to harm. In fact, one would be more inclined to feel anxious about the outlaws he might fall in with than about Charley Leland. I daresay it was fanciful, but, when he rode away, he reminded me of the picture the Acres have of the moss-trooper. You, of course, know the one I mean--the man in the steel cap with the moonlight sparkling on his spear. There is something of the same grimness in both faces, and, in the moss-trooper's case, the artist hit it rather well.

It is an intangible something one can't well define, primitive probably, for I don't remember having seen it in the face of any man I am acquainted with at home."

She turned towards Urmston with a little laugh. "You haven't got it, Reggie, though now and then I almost fancy that Carrie has. I don't think you would have made a good moss-trooper."

Urmston smiled in turn. "I really don't think the kind of life they led would have appealed to me."

"No," said Eveline Annersly, "you would have sat with the harp in the bower, and made love rather nicely and judiciously--that is, when circ.u.mstances were propitious."

Urmston flushed, glad he was in the shadow where Carrie could not see him. He felt, as he had felt before, that he would rather like to gag Eveline Annersly.

"Can one fall in love judiciously?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, I'm not sure that one can. In the days we are referring to, they very seldom did. The border knights apparently put on steel cap and corselet when they went wooing. When Lochinvar rode to Netherby, he swam the Esk, and it is very probable that the men who made love in his fashion later on had their swords loose when they crossed it, whipping hard for Gretna by the lower bridge. Of course, as everybody knows, all that has gone out of fashion long ago--only I think the primitive something remains which would drive a man full tilt against circ.u.mstances for sweet love's sake. At least, one sees it now and then in the eyes of the men out here."

Urmston longed to stop her, but he had discovered on other occasions that an attempt to do so was very apt to bring about unwished-for results. He accordingly said nothing, and Carrie, who, perhaps, felt as he did, changed the subject.

"It was rather curious that the man who threw the note through the window when our neighbours were last here was able to creep up without being seen," she said.

"I can't help thinking that somebody must have seen him," said Eveline Annersly.

"Then why didn't they mention it?"

"I naturally don't know. Still, one would fancy that the outlaw found means of impressing whomever he came across with the fact that he didn't want to be announced, and that it would be wiser to fall in with his wishes. Afterwards, the man he met would no doubt feel that, as his silence wasn't altogether creditable, it would be advisable to say nothing about it."

Carrie looked up sharply. "Of course, that sounds possible. Only from what I know of them, he would hardly have succeeded in overawing any of the boys at Prospect."

"You can't imagine your husband or Gallwey standing against a tree with his eyes shut for ten minutes because a ferocious stranger requested him to?"

"No," and Carrie's laugh had a little ring in it, "I certainly couldn't.

In fact, I think it would be very apt to bring trouble on the stranger."

She stopped a moment, and looked again, expectantly, across the prairie.

"I can't understand how the rustler got here without being noticed at all," she said reflectively. "Jake was in the paddock when I went out, and he feels quite sure that n.o.body could have slipped by without his seeing them. Of course, it is possible the man came through the bluff."

"I fancy not. In that case Reggie would have met him. I was standing by the window when he sauntered into the wood, and it would be about ten minutes, or, perhaps, a little more, before you left the house."