“Carmichael, gimme a word in,” hoarsely broke out Beasley. “You're right, it won't do no good to call me.... But let's talk.... I'll buy you off. Ten thousand dollars--” “Haw! Haw! Haw!” roared Las Vegas. He was as tense as a strung cord and his face possessed a singular pale radiance. His right hand began to quiver more and more. “I'll--double--it!” panted Beasley. “I'll--make over--half the ranch--all the stock--” “Swaller thet!” yelled Las Vegas, with terrible strident ferocity. “Listen--man!... I take--it back!... I'll give up--Auchincloss's ranch!” Beasley was now a shaking, whispering, frenzied man, ghastly white, with rolling eyes. Las Vegas's left fist pounded hard on the table. “GREASER, COME ON!” he thundered. Then Beasley, with desperate, frantic action, jerked for his gun. CHAPTER XXVI For Helen Rayner that brief, dark period of expulsion from her home had become a thing of the past, almost forgotten. Two months had flown by on the wings of love and work and the joy of finding her place there in the West. All her old men had been only too glad of the opportunity to come back to her, and under Dale and Roy Beeman a different and prosperous order marked the life of the ranch. Helen had made changes in the house by altering the arrangement of rooms and adding a new section. Only once had she ventured into the old dining-room where Las Vegas Carmichael had sat down to that fatal dinner for Beasley. She made a store-room of it, and a place she would never again enter. Helen was happy, almost too happy, she thought, and therefore made more than needful of the several bitter drops in her sweet cup of life. Carmichael had ridden out of Pine, ostensibly on the trail of the Mexicans who had executed Beasley's commands. The last seen of him had been reported from Show Down, where he had appeared red-eyed and dangerous, like a hound on a scent. Then two months had flown by without a word. Dale had shaken his head doubtfully when interrogated about the cowboy's absence. It would be just like Las Vegas never to be heard of again. Also it would be more like him to remain away until all trace of his drunken, savage spell had departed from him and had been forgotten by his friends. Bo took his disappearance apparently less to heart than Helen. But Bo grew more restless, wilder, and more wilful than ever. Helen thought she guessed Bo's secret; and once she ventured a hint concerning Carmichael's return. “If Tom doesn't come back pretty soon I'll marry Milt Dale,” retorted Bo, tauntingly. This fired Helen's cheeks with red. “But, child,” she protested, half angry, half grave. “Milt and I are engaged.” “Sure. Only you're so slow. There's many a slip--you know.” “Bo, I tell you Tom will come back,” replied Helen, earnestly. “I feel it. There was something fine in that cowboy. He understood me better than you or Milt, either.... And he was perfectly wild in love with you.” “Oh! WAS he?”