boxes, and others carried small
square packages. As Hervey's eyes became used to the strange scene he
was able to distinguish something of the habiliments of these denizens
of the grave. He noted the long, dark, smock-shaped garment each
figure wore, and, after a while, in the starlight, he was able to note
that most of them wore on their heads little skull-caps. Then a
muttered exclamation broke from his lips, and in his tone was a world
of satisfaction.

"Chinese!" he whispered. Then: "Traffic in yellow, by all that's
holy!"

CHAPTER XII

THE BREAKING OF THE STORM

The master of Lonely Ranch was seated before the table in his
unpretentious sitting-room. Before him were piled a number of open
account-books, and books containing matters relating to the business
of his ranch.

He was not looking at them now, but sat gazing at the blank wall in
front of him with thoughtful, introspective eyes. His chin was resting
upon his clenched hands, and his elbows were propped upon the table.
He was sitting with his shirt-sleeves rolled up above his elbows, for
the day was hot and the air was close and heavy. On one hand the
window was wide open, but no jarring sounds came in to disturb the
thinker. The door on the other side was also open wide. George Iredale
showed no desire for secrecy. His attitude was that of a man who feels
himself to be perfectly safe-guarded against any sort of surprise.
Thus he sat in the quiet of the oppressive heat thinking of many
things which chiefly concerned his life in the valley of Owl Hoot.

He had been going over the accounts which represented his fifteen
years of labour in that quiet corner of the great Dominion, and the
perusal had given him a world of satisfaction. Fifteen years ago he
had first settled in the valley. He had acquired the land for a mere
song; for no one would look at the region of Owl Hoot as a district
suitable either for stock-raising or for the cultivation of grain. But
he had seen possibilities in the place--possibilities which had since
been realized even beyond his expectations. His sense of humour was
tickled as he thought of the cattle he had first brought to the
ranch--a herd of old cows which he had picked up cheap somewhere out
West at the foot of the Rockies. He almost laughed aloud as he thought
of the way in which he had fostered and added to the weird, stupid
legends of the place, and how he had never failed to urge the
undesirability of his neig