Judith of the Godless Valley. Honoré Morrow
phonograph and reciting with powerful lungs:
"'Tis but a tent where takes his one day's rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises and the dark Ferrash
Strikes and prepares it for another Guest."
No one heeded him particularly. He smiled amiably at Peter, leaned farther on the machine, and said, "Somebody will have to ease me to my horse," then he drowsed forward over the phonograph. Douglas and Peter, laughing, eased him to his horse, and Charleton, his arms around Democrat's neck, jogged slowly off on the home trail.
June dawn was peering over the Indian Range when the party broke up. Scott disappeared with Judith. When John discovered this, he bolted after the two.
"You'd better go see that nothing happens, Doug," said Mary Spencer.
"John's drunk too much."
"I'm going home," declared Douglas. "I got some pride, and Judith's treated me like a dog to-night. She's too fond of starting something she don't know the finish of."
Mary and he were riding alone in the dawn. "You promised me you'd look out for her. Don't you care for her any more, Douglas?"
"Yes, I do!"
"Have you ever told her so?"
"She's too young."
"No, she isn't, Douglas. You remember you told me she knew more than I do."
Douglas said nothing; and after a moment, his step-mother said, hesitatingly, "Doug, I hate to see you dancing so much with Inez."
"What harm was there in it?"
"I don't know that I can tell you, Doug. When I was a girl, going to the log schoolhouse, we girls never thought of touching whiskey. Our mothers would have killed us if we had."
"The world do move!" grunted Douglas.
"I don't believe it's the world. Not from the books I read. I think it's just Lost Chief. The old folks in my day had real influence in the valley. There were many like Grandma Brown. But now! Why, your father will never be the good influence his father was, and I'd never be like Grandma. I don't know why."
"You can't even train your own daughter," said Douglas with entire frankness.
"Can the other mothers?" asked Mary resentfully. "What can I do when the other mothers are so easy?"
"It ain't exactly easy." Douglas spoke thoughtfully. "The Lord knows, all the kids in Lost Chief work hard enough and get walloped enough."
Mary sighed deeply. Douglas watched her face, so like Judith's but bearing tragic lines it would have broken his heart to see around Judith's young lips. With unwonted gentleness he leaned over to put his hand on Mary's while he smiled at her half sadly.
"Poor Mother! We are an ornery lot! But you are as good as gold, and Jude and I both know it!"
Quick tears stung Mary's gray eyes. She lifted his hand to her cheek for a moment, then, as he drew it away, she tried to return his smile. But nothing more was said until they reached home.
Just as they entered the living-room, Judith rushed in,
"I hate Dad! I hate him! Scott and I were jogging home by way of the west trail as peaceful as anything when Dad has to come along and start a row going!"
"Anybody hurt?" asked Douglas, watching Judith as she sat down on the edge of her bed, big tears on her cheeks.
"No, but no thanks to Dad! Scott turned round and left because I asked him to. There's Dad now!"
John clanked in, but before he could speak Judith rose and shook her forefinger in his face.
"Now, Dad," she said steadily, "there's going to be no rowing and no cursing. I'm sick of it! Right here and now I warn you to stop interfering with me or I'll leave!"
John raised his ready fist.
"None of that!" Doug's voice was quiet. "Finish what you have to say,
Jude."
John scowled, breathing heavily, his eyes never leaving Judith.
"I'm sick of it," she repeated. "There must be places in the world where there's something beside family rows."
"Are you through?" demanded John.
"Yes, I am."
"Then I've got one thing to say. You let Scott Parsons alone." John flung himself on the bed, and before Mary had taken off his spurred riding boots he was asleep.
Douglas went out to the corral where, soon after, Judith appeared with her milking pail. The tender pink mists rolled slowly away from the yellow wall of Lost Chief range. Judith, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks, looked from the mists to Douglas, who leaned on the fence and watched her.
"Jude," he said, "you are on the wrong foot. You ought to let whiskey and
Inez Rodman alone."
"Why don't you let 'em alone?" demanded Judith.
"It's different with a man!"
"O, don't give me that old stuff!" cried the girl. "We women do men's work in this valley. We'll have the men's kind of fun if we want it!"
"That's not the point," returned Douglas. "Women have to pay a price the men don't and that's all there is to it."
"It's not fair! It's not fair! I hate the world! I hate it! Looks like you'd either got to be like Mother or Inez Rodman."
"Your mother's all right. Only Dad's broke her just like he broke old
Molly horse."
"Did I ever say my mother wasn't all right? Only I'll tell you one thing, Doug Spencer, Inez Rodman's given me more sensible warnings about men than my mother ever did."
Douglas wore a worried expression. "Seems like there's something wrong about that. Mother knows all about those things." He cleared his throat.
The half angry look on Judith's face gave way to a smile.
"O Doug! Doug! You old owl! What's the matter with you? After all, it's good to be alive! I wish I had a horse as good as Buster and I wouldn't ask for much more in life."
"I'll give you Buster," said Douglas suddenly.
Judith's jaw dropped. "Give me Buster!"
"I mean it."
"But—but—why, Douglas, what's happened to you?"
"Judith!" Douglas tossed back his yellow; hair and put a brown hand over
Judith's. "Judith! I love you. Won't you be engaged to me?"
"Love me?" Judith's beautiful gray eyes opened their widest. "Why, it doesn't seem more than yesterday that you were calling me a pug-nosed maverick. And besides, I'm only fifteen and you're only seventeen."
"Is it Scott?" asked Douglas.
"It isn't anybody! Why, Douglas, you must be crazy!"
"Do I look crazy?"
Judith stared deep into Douglas' blue eyes. "No," slowly, "you don't."
"You can have Buster and Prince too," said Douglas.
"No, sir, Doug! Why, they're all you've got in the world!"
"I have that dapple gray Young Jeff gave me after the trial. He's old enough to break now."
There were tears in Judith's eyes. "Douglas Spencer, you are a gentleman! If I do have a horse like Buster, I can be lots more help handling the cattle."
"He's yours from this minute," repeated Douglas. "And so am I yours. But I'm not going to nag you about it. I'm just going to try to look out for you."
There was something