The Settling of the Sage | Page 9

wiped his hands and stepped into Billie's quarters. Waddles was a fixture at the Three Bar; he had ridden for her father until he had his legs smashed up by a horse and had thereafter reigned as cook. He was confidential adviser and self-appointed guardian of the girl. His mind was still pleasantly concerned with the stranger's warm praise of his culinary efforts.
"That new man now, Billie," he remarked. "He's away off ahead of the average run. You mark me--he'll be top hand with this outfit in no time at all." Then he observed the girl's expression. "What is it, Pet?" he inquired. "What's a-fretting you?"
"Do you know who he is?" she asked.
Waddles wagged a negative head.
"He's Calvin Harris," she stated.
Instead of the blank dismay which she had expected to see depicted on Waddles's face at this announcement, it seemed to her that the big man was pleased.
"The hell!" he said. "'Scuse me, Billie. So this here is Cal! Well, well--now what do you think of that?"
"I think that I don't want to stay here alone with him while you're out after the horses," she returned.
"Wrong idea!" the big man promptly contradicted. "You've got to stick it out for two years, girl. The best thing you can do is to get acquainted; and figure out how to get along the best you can--the pair of you."
"That's probably true," she assented indifferently. "I'll have to face a number of things that are equally unpleasant in the next two years--so I might as well start now. He must have praised the food in order to win you to his side in two minutes flat."
Waddles's face expressed pained reproach.
"Now there it is again!" he said. "You know I'm only on one side--yours. Old Cal Warren had some definite notion when he framed this play; so it's likely this young Cal is on your side, too."
"But even more likely not," she stated.
"Then what?"
"Why, then I'll have to kill him and put a stop to it," the big man announced. "But it's noways probable that it will come to that. Let's use logic. He spoke well of my cooking--like you said--which proves him a man of some discernment. No way to get around that. Now a man with his judgment wouldn't suspect for one living second that he could play it low-down on you with me roosting close at hand. Putting two plain facts together it works out right natural and simple that he's on the square. As easy as that," he finished triumphantly. "So don't you fret. And in case he acts up I'll clamp down on him real sudden," he added by way of further reassurance.
His great paw opened and shut to illustrate his point as he moved toward the door and the Three Bar girl knew that when Waddles spoke of clamping down it was no mere figure of speech.

III
Billie Warren heard the steady buzz of a saw and later the ringing strokes of an axe. The men had departed three hours before to be gone for a week on the horse round-up but she had not yet issued from her own quarters. The music of axe and saw was ample evidence that her new and undesired partner was making valuable use of his time. She went outside and he struck the axe in a cross section of pine log as she moved toward him.
"We'll have to get along the best we can," she announced abruptly. "Of course you will have a say in the management of the Three Bar and draw the same amount for yourself that I do."
He sat on a log and twisted a cigarette as he reflected upon this statement.
"I'd rather not do that," he decided. "I don't want to be a drain on the brand--but to help build it up. Suppose I just serve as an extra hand and do whatever necessary turns up--in return for your letting me advise with you on a few points that I happen to have worked out while I was prowling through the country."
"Any way you like," she returned. "It's for you to decide. Any money which you fail to draw now will revert to you in the end so it won't matter in the least."
His reply was irrelevant, a deliberate refusal to notice her ungenerous misinterpretation of his offer.
"Do you mind if I gather a few Three Bar colts round here close and break out my own string before they get back?" he asked.
"Anything you like," she repeated. "I'm not going to quarrel. I've made up my mind to that. I'll be gone the rest of the day."
Five minutes later he saw her riding down the lane. She was not seeking companionship but rather solitude and for hours she drifted aimlessly across the range, sometimes dismounting on some point that