When at last she entered the dining-room, Weston was already there, talking with Nannie. The latter noticed Glen's pale face, but made no comment. With her naturally keen intuition, she divined the cause of the trouble and discreetly said nothing.

During the meal Weston seemed like an altogether different man, and talked and laughed in the most animated manner. He told a number of his experiences in the hills, several of which were of a humorous nature. Glen tried to be interested, although she found it difficult to follow what her father was saying. He puzzled her more than ever.

Why was he so stern and cruel at times, and again so bright and merry?

He did not seem the least angry now at her, neither was he apparently concerned about the two prisoners at Glen West.

When supper was ended, Weston pushed back his chair and lighted a cigar.

"My, that tastes good," he commented. "It's the first I've had in a long time. Now for some music, Glen."

Music! Glen started and looked at her father, as if she had not heard aright. What did he mean? Was he going to add further torture to her racked brain by asking her to play and sing? She had hardly spoken a word during the meal, and had barely tasted her food. This Weston noted, and he well understood the reason. How much will she safely stand? he asked himself. He was about to repeat his suggestion, when Sconda arrived, and with him came Curly, guarded by two stalwart Indians. Glen breathed a sigh of relief at this timely interruption, and leaving the table, she fled at once to the seclusion of her own room.

CHAPTER XVI

THE ORDEAL

"What are you doing here?"

Curly was a sorry looking specimen of humanity as he stood before his stern questioner, the ruler of Glen West. His clothes were torn, and his face dirty and unshaven. His eyes glowed with a sullen light of hatred, mingled with a nameless fear as he glanced furtively around the room.

"What are you doing here?" Weston repeated. "Why don't you answer?

Are you deaf?"

"I was prospectin'," was the surly reply.

"Where?"

"In the hills, north of Crooked Trail."

"And why did you come through the pa.s.s?"

"Me pardner an' I got lost; that's why."

"Who was your partner?"

"Slim Fales, from Big Draw."

"Where is he now?"

"Search me. He escaped, while I got pinched."

"Did you expect to find gold near the Golden Crest?"

"We thought it worth the try."

"You know better now, don't you?"

Curly made no reply, but kept his eyes fixed upon the floor.

"It seems to me that you were prospecting for something more valuable than gold, weren't you?" Weston queried.

"What do you mean?" and Curly lifted his head.

"You were prospecting for a woman, and that woman happens to be my daughter. Deny it, if you dare."

"I do deny it," Curly stoutly protested. "Your daughter is nothing to me."

Jim Weston's right hand toyed with a paper-weight on his desk, and his eyes gleamed with anger.

"You lie, Curly, and you know it," he charged. "You have had your foul eyes upon my daughter ever since you first saw her. You have declared over and over again that one day she would be yours."

Curly's face grew livid, and he tried to speak. But Weston lifted his hand.

"Wait until I am through," he thundered. "Have you not used my daughter's name very often while gambling? And did you not bet a short time ago at Big Draw that you would cross the Golden Crest and lure my daughter to a fate worse than death? You know it is true, and yet you have the impudence to stand here and deny it."

Curly's eyes were again fixed upon the floor, and he made no reply to this accusation. His terror of this man was becoming great. How did he know so much? he asked himself.

"Now, what should be done to a thing like you?" Weston continued.

"Your record is well known, not only here but all along the coast. No innocent woman or girl is safe when you are around, and you are a menace to any community. You leave the marks of your filthy trail wherever you go. And you are not alone in your villainous deeds, for there are others just like you, who defy the laws of G.o.d and man. So far you have escaped, but now you shall pay for your vile and cowardly acts. It would be a sin to allow a creature like you to remain at large. It is far better to settle with you immediately and thus make you incapable of doing more harm in the future. You took it upon yourself to enter Glen West to ruin my daughter, and you must abide by the result."

Curly fully understood the meaning of these words, and his face blanched with terror. He lifted his eyes and tried to speak. But intelligible words failed to come, for he was almost paralyzed with fear.

"Death is too good a punishment for you," Weston resumed. "But as that is about the only thing which will strike terror into the hearts of human devils, of which you are the chief, it must be done. It may teach others to keep clear of Glen West after this."

With a howl Curly dropped upon his knees. His teeth chattered, and his body trembled violently. He stretched out his hands in a beseeching manner.

"For G.o.d's sake, don't kill me!" he yelled. "Let me go, an' I swear I'll never come near this place again."

"H'm, you are too late with your prayers, Curly. It's nothing less than the Ordeal for you now, so stop your yelps. If you don't of your own accord, we shall be forced to do something to make you."

He then turned to Sconda and gave a brief order in the Indian tongue.

The next instant Curly was hurried out of the house, and down the trail leading to the village.

Weston sat for a while in his room after the others had gone. The grim expression had now left his face, and his eyes twinkled, while a smile lurked about the corners of his mouth. Anyone watching would have p.r.o.nounced him the most hardened villain in existence. How could a man smile who had just sentenced a fellow creature to death? This man's heart must be hard and cold as an iceberg. But Weston's thoughts were evidently not unpleasant, and when he at length picked up his hat and left the house he was in an excellent frame of mind. Could Glen have seen him then she would have wondered more than ever.

The light of day had not yet faded from the land, although the high ridge of the Golden Crest placed the village in deep shadows. The sky was heavy with big clouds, presaging a storm. The wind was steadily increasing, and Weston knew that the rain would shortly be upon them.

He continued on his way down through the village, past the store and the last house in the place until he came to the edge of a thicket of firs and jack-pines. Here he paused and listened intently, but no sound could he hear. Advancing fifty yards more, he left the main thoroughfare and entered upon a narrow trail leading down toward the lake. The trees were thicker here, and the ground suddenly sloped to a valley a short distance ahead. Weston needed no light to guide him, and he walked with the a.s.surance of one well acquainted with his surroundings.

In a few minutes a light gleamed through the trees, and a smile of satisfaction overspread Weston's face. He knew that the natives were obeying orders and doing their part. Beyond was a small clearing, and coming to the edge of this, he again paused and watched unseen all that was taking place.

It was a most gruesome spot, this Valley of the Ordeal, and Curly was by no means the first who had been conducted hither. But no one had ever come in a more cringing manner than did this latest victim. Some had shown the craven spirit, and had begged for mercy, while others had fought and cursed their captors. But Curly was different. Whatever spark of manhood he possessed deserted him the moment he left the big house on the hill. He sank upon the ground, and his guards had to drag him along by main force.

He wept and moaned all the way through the village until the valley was reached. Then what he beheld struck him dumb with terror, and for a while he sat crouched upon the ground, staring wild-eyed upon the Indians as they began their preparations for the Ordeal.

There were about two dozen natives present, and they knew their work thoroughly, due, no doubt, to considerable experience in the past.