This, then, was what Charleton really wanted; not whiskey, or promiscuous women, or wild horses, or Omar Khayham.  What he wanted was a son, bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh, to carry on his name.  And yet what had Charleton ever done to that name except to besmirch it?  For Douglas now in his heart had no illusions about the proper nomenclature for his mentor’s mysterious little deals.

“Charleton,” he demanded suddenly, “do you want the kid to grow up to be just like you?”

Charleton looked at Douglas in astonishment.  “Like me?  Listen, Doug, old-timer, I’m going to spend the rest of my life licking out of him anything I see in him like me!”

Douglas gave up in despair and went out to finish the chores.

It was a disjointed day, of course.  In the afternoon Charleton went to a choice gathering of spirits at the post-office; and Douglas, feeling particularly lonely and unsettled, rode up the south trail after three of Charleton’s young mules which had strayed.  He felt somehow that, with the dereliction of Charleton, the last hold he had on reality had gone.

CHAPTER VII

THE POST-OFFICE CONFERENCE

“Ride with your finger on the trigger—­but smile before you shoot.”

—­Sheriff Frank Day.

Douglas had no luck at all on his mule hunt.  And as if to add to his discomfort, while climbing down the trail from the cemetery, he saw Judith on Buster, accompanied by the leaping Wolf Cub, overtake Scott Parsons and saw them race toward the post-office.  Twilight came on, with the mud of the trail stiffening in the frosty air.  An overpowering sense of loneliness urged Douglas across the valley and brought him to pause beside the Rodman corral.  He dismounted at the buck fence and stood for a moment in the shadow of the Moose, wondering why he had stopped here.  He had stood thus but a few moments when two riders came up the trail.  They trotted into the door-yard.

“I don’t think I want to dance, after all, Scott,” said Judith’s voice.

“What harm is there in it?” demanded Scott.

“I make it a point never to go in here except when Inez is alone.”

“I suppose you’re afraid to meet Doug!” exclaimed Scott.  “He’s here half the time.”

Douglas leaped over the fence, rushed to Scott’s side and struck him twice.

“That’s a lie!  Get down and fight with your fists, you thief and murderer!” Doug’s voice was low with passion.

There was a quick movement of Scott’s right hand to his hip and Douglas felt a stinging pain in his left shoulder.  Simultaneously with the shot, Scott put the spurs to Ginger, and Doug reeled as the mare’s shoulder thrust against him.  Judith jumped from Buster.

“Doug, did he get you?”

Douglas had not fallen.  He pushed the girl aside and ran to the plunging Moose.  Inez Rodman called from the door.