Her uncle needed all her care.  And, too, the consciousness that the result of all her work was insufficient to pay the exorbitant interest on mortgages which had been forced upon her uncle by the hated, designing Lablache took something of the zest from her labors.  Then, besides this, there were thoughts of the compact sealed between her lover and herself in Bad Man’s Hollow, and the knowledge of the intentions of the money-lender towards “Lord” Bill, all helped to render her distrait.  She knew all about the scene which had taken place at Bill’s ranch, and she knew that, for her lover at least, the crash had come.  During that first month of the open season the girl had been sorely tried.  There was no one but “Aunt” Margaret to whom she could go for comfort or sympathy, and even she, with her wise councils and far-seeing judgment, could not share in the secrets which weighed so heavily upon the girl.

Jacky had not experienced, as might have been expected, very great difficulty in keeping her uncle fast to the grind-stone of duty.  Whatever his faults and weaknesses, John Allandale was first of all a rancher, and when once the winter breaks every rancher must work—­ay, work like no negro slave ever worked.  It was only in the evenings, when bodily fatigue had weakened the purpose of ranching habit, and when the girl, wearied with her day’s work, relaxed her vigilance, that the old man craved for the object of his passion and its degrading accompaniment.  Then he would nibble at the whisky bottle, having “earned his tonic,” as he would say, until the potent spirit had warmed his courage and he would hurry off to the saloon for “half an hour’s flutter,” which generally terminated in the small hours of the morning.

Such was the state of affairs at the Foss River Ranch when Lablache put into execution his threats against the Hon. Bunning-Ford.  The settlement had returned to its customary torpid serenity.  The round-up was over, and all the “hands” had returned to the various ranches to which they belonged.  The little place had entered upon its period of placid sleep, which would last until the advent of the farmers to spend the proceeds of their garnered harvest.  But this would be much later in the year, and in the meantime Foss River would sleep.

The night before the sale of “Lord” Bill’s ranch, he and Jacky went for a ride.  They had thus ridden out on many evenings of late.  Old John was too absorbed in his own affairs to bother himself at these evening journeyings, although, in his careless way, he noticed how frequent a visitor at the ranch Bill had lately become.  Still, he made no objection.  If his niece saw fit to encourage these visits he would not interfere.  In his eyes the girl could do no wrong.  It was his one redeeming feature, his love for the motherless girl, and although his way of showing it was more than open to criticism, it was true he loved her with a deep, strong affection.