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diff --git a/3457-h/3457-h.htm b/3457-h/3457-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4eb3308 --- /dev/null +++ b/3457-h/3457-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19001 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Man of the Forest, by Zane Grey + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man of the Forest, by Zane Grey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man of the Forest + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: February 12, 2009 [EBook #3457] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN OF THE FOREST *** + + + + +Produced by Richard Fane, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MAN OF THE FOREST + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Zane Grey + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <div class="mynote"> + Harper and Brothers <br /><br /> New York <br /><br /> 1920 <br /> Published: + 1919 <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + At sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tang of fir and + spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; and the man who glided on under + the great trees seemed to blend with the colors and, disappearing, to have + become a part of the wild woodland. + </p> + <p> + Old Baldy, highest of the White Mountains, stood up round and bare, rimmed + bright gold in the last glow of the setting sun. Then, as the fire dropped + behind the domed peak, a change, a cold and darkening blight, passed down + the black spear-pointed slopes over all that mountain world. + </p> + <p> + It was a wild, richly timbered, and abundantly watered region of dark + forests and grassy parks, ten thousand feet above sea-level, isolated on + all sides by the southern Arizona desert—the virgin home of elk and + deer, of bear and lion, of wolf and fox, and the birthplace as well as the + hiding-place of the fierce Apache. + </p> + <p> + September in that latitude was marked by the sudden cool night breeze + following shortly after sundown. Twilight appeared to come on its wings, + as did faint sounds, not distinguishable before in the stillness. + </p> + <p> + Milt Dale, man of the forest, halted at the edge of a timbered ridge, to + listen and to watch. Beneath him lay a narrow valley, open and grassy, + from which rose a faint murmur of running water. Its music was pierced by + the wild staccato yelp of a hunting coyote. From overhead in the giant fir + came a twittering and rustling of grouse settling for the night; and from + across the valley drifted the last low calls of wild turkeys going to + roost. + </p> + <p> + To Dale's keen ear these sounds were all they should have been, betokening + an unchanged serenity of forestland. He was glad, for he had expected to + hear the clipclop of white men's horses—which to hear up in those + fastnesses was hateful to him. He and the Indian were friends. That fierce + foe had no enmity toward the lone hunter. But there hid somewhere in the + forest a gang of bad men, sheep-thieves, whom Dale did not want to meet. + </p> + <p> + As he started out upon the slope, a sudden flaring of the afterglow of + sunset flooded down from Old Baldy, filling the valley with lights and + shadows, yellow and blue, like the radiance of the sky. The pools in the + curves of the brook shone darkly bright. Dale's gaze swept up and down the + valley, and then tried to pierce the black shadows across the brook where + the wall of spruce stood up, its speared and spiked crest against the pale + clouds. The wind began to moan in the trees and there was a feeling of + rain in the air. Dale, striking a trail, turned his back to the fading + afterglow and strode down the valley. + </p> + <p> + With night at hand and a rain-storm brewing, he did not head for his own + camp, some miles distant, but directed his steps toward an old log cabin. + When he reached it darkness had almost set in. He approached with caution. + This cabin, like the few others scattered in the valleys, might harbor + Indians or a bear or a panther. Nothing, however, appeared to be there. + Then Dale studied the clouds driving across the sky, and he felt the cool + dampness of a fine, misty rain on his face. It would rain off and on + during the night. Whereupon he entered the cabin. + </p> + <p> + And the next moment he heard quick hoof-beats of trotting horses. Peering + out, he saw dim, moving forms in the darkness, quite close at hand. They + had approached against the wind so that sound had been deadened. Five + horses with riders, Dale made out—saw them loom close. Then he heard + rough voices. Quickly he turned to feel in the dark for a ladder he knew + led to a loft; and finding it, he quickly mounted, taking care not to make + a noise with his rifle, and lay down upon the floor of brush and poles. + Scarcely had he done so when heavy steps, with accompaniment of clinking + spurs, passed through the door below into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Beasley, are you here?” queried a loud voice. + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. The man below growled under his breath, and again the + spurs jingled. + </p> + <p> + “Fellars, Beasley ain't here yet,” he called. “Put the hosses under the + shed. We'll wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, huh!” came a harsh reply. “Mebbe all night—an' we got nuthin' + to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, Moze. Reckon you're no good for anythin' but eatin'. Put them + hosses away an' some of you rustle fire-wood in here.” + </p> + <p> + Low, muttered curses, then mingled with dull thuds of hoofs and strain of + leather and heaves of tired horses. + </p> + <p> + Another shuffling, clinking footstep entered the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, it'd been sense to fetch a pack along,” drawled this newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon so, Jim. But we didn't, an' what's the use hollerin'? Beasley + won't keep us waitin' long.” + </p> + <p> + Dale, lying still and prone, felt a slow start in all his blood—a + thrilling wave. That deep-voiced man below was Snake Anson, the worst and + most dangerous character of the region; and the others, undoubtedly, + composed his gang, long notorious in that sparsely settled country. And + the Beasley mentioned—he was one of the two biggest ranchers and + sheep-raisers of the White Mountain ranges. What was the meaning of a + rendezvous between Snake Anson and Beasley? Milt Dale answered that + question to Beasley's discredit; and many strange matters pertaining to + sheep and herders, always a mystery to the little village of Pine, now + became as clear as daylight. + </p> + <p> + Other men entered the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't a-goin' to rain much,” said one. Then came a crash of wood + thrown to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, hyar's a chunk of pine log, dry as punk,” said another. + </p> + <p> + Rustlings and slow footsteps, and then heavy thuds attested to the + probability that Jim was knocking the end of a log upon the ground to + split off a corner whereby a handful of dry splinters could be procured. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, lemme your pipe, an' I'll hev a fire in a jiffy.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I want my terbacco an' I ain't carin' about no fire,” replied Snake. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you're the meanest cuss in these woods,” drawled Jim. + </p> + <p> + Sharp click of steel on flint—many times—and then a sound of + hard blowing and sputtering told of Jim's efforts to start a fire. + Presently the pitchy blackness of the cabin changed; there came a little + crackling of wood and the rustle of flame, and then a steady growing roar. + </p> + <p> + As it chanced, Dale lay face down upon the floor of the loft, and right + near his eyes there were cracks between the boughs. When the fire blazed + up he was fairly well able to see the men below. The only one he had ever + seen was Jim Wilson, who had been well known at Pine before Snake Anson + had ever been heard of. Jim was the best of a bad lot, and he had friends + among the honest people. It was rumored that he and Snake did not pull + well together. + </p> + <p> + “Fire feels good,” said the burly Moze, who appeared as broad as he was + black-visaged. “Fall's sure a-comin'... Now if only we had some grub!” + </p> + <p> + “Moze, there's a hunk of deer meat in my saddle-bag, an' if you git it you + can have half,” spoke up another voice. + </p> + <p> + Moze shuffled out with alacrity. + </p> + <p> + In the firelight Snake Anson's face looked lean and serpent-like, his eyes + glittered, and his long neck and all of his long length carried out the + analogy of his name. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, what's this here deal with Beasley?” inquired Jim. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you'll l'arn when I do,” replied the leader. He appeared tired and + thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't we done away with enough of them poor greaser herders—for + nothin'?” queried the youngest of the gang, a boy in years, whose hard, + bitter lips and hungry eyes somehow set him apart from his comrades. + </p> + <p> + “You're dead right, Burt—an' that's my stand,” replied the man who + had sent Moze out. “Snake, snow 'll be flyin' round these woods before + long,” said Jim Wilson. “Are we goin' to winter down in the Tonto Basin or + over on the Gila?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south,” replied Snake, + gruffly. + </p> + <p> + At the juncture Moze returned. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Snake rose and stood at the door, listening. Outside the wind moaned + fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!” exclaimed Snake, in relief. + </p> + <p> + Silence ensued then for a moment, at the end of which interval Dale heard + a rapid clip-clop on the rocky trail outside. The men below shuffled + uneasily, but none of them spoke. The fire cracked cheerily. Snake Anson + stepped back from before the door with an action that expressed both doubt + and caution. + </p> + <p> + The trotting horse had halted out there somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “Ho there, inside!” called a voice from the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Ho yourself!” replied Anson. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Snake?” quickly followed the query. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon so,” returned Anson, showing himself. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer entered. He was a large man, wearing a slicker that shone wet + in the firelight. His sombrero, pulled well down, shadowed his face, so + that the upper half of his features might as well have been masked. He had + a black, drooping mustache, and a chin like a rock. A potential force, + matured and powerful, seemed to be wrapped in his movements. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Snake! Hullo, Wilson!” he said. “I've backed out on the other + deal. Sent for you on—on another little matter... particular + private.” + </p> + <p> + Here he indicated with a significant gesture that Snake's men were to + leave the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! ejaculated Anson, dubiously. Then he turned abruptly. Moze, you + an' Shady an' Burt go wait outside. Reckon this ain't the deal I + expected.... An' you can saddle the hosses.” + </p> + <p> + The three members of the gang filed out, all glancing keenly at the + stranger, who had moved back into the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “All right now, Beasley,” said Anson, low-voiced. “What's your game? Jim, + here, is in on my deals.” + </p> + <p> + Then Beasley came forward to the fire, stretching his hands to the blaze. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' to do with sheep,” replied he. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckoned not,” assented the other. “An' say—whatever your + game is, I ain't likin' the way you kept me waitin' an' ridin' around. We + waited near all day at Big Spring. Then thet greaser rode up an' sent us + here. We're a long way from camp with no grub an' no blankets.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't keep you long,” said Beasley. “But even if I did you'd not mind—when + I tell you this deal concerns Al Auchincloss—the man who made an + outlaw of you!” + </p> + <p> + Anson's sudden action then seemed a leap of his whole frame. Wilson, + likewise, bent forward eagerly. Beasley glanced at the door—then + began to whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Old Auchincloss is on his last legs. He's goin' to croak. He's sent back + to Missouri for a niece—a young girl—an' he means to leave his + ranches an' sheep—all his stock to her. Seems he has no one else.... + Them ranches—an' all them sheep an' hosses! You know me an' Al were + pardners in sheep-raisin' for years. He swore I cheated him an' he threw + me out. An' all these years I've been swearin' he did me dirt—owed + me sheep an' money. I've got as many friends in Pine—an' all the way + down the trail—as Auchincloss has.... An' Snake, see here—” + </p> + <p> + He paused to draw a deep breath and his big hands trembled over the blaze. + Anson leaned forward, like a serpent ready to strike, and Jim Wilson was + as tense with his divination of the plot at hand. + </p> + <p> + “See here,” panted Beasley. “The girl's due to arrive at Magdalena on the + sixteenth. That's a week from to-morrow. She'll take the stage to + Snowdrop, where some of Auchincloss's men will meet her with a team.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!” grunted Anson as Beasley halted again. “An' what of all thet?” + </p> + <p> + “She mustn't never get as far as Snowdrop!” + </p> + <p> + “You want me to hold up the stage—an' get the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal—an' what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Make off with her.... She disappears. That's your affair. ... I'll press + my claims on Auchincloss—hound him—an' be ready when he croaks + to take over his property. Then the girl can come back, for all I care.... + You an' Wilson fix up the deal between you. If you have to let the gang in + on it don't give them any hunch as to who an' what. This 'll make you a + rich stake. An' providin', when it's paid, you strike for new territory.” + </p> + <p> + “Thet might be wise,” muttered Snake Anson. “Beasley, the weak point in + your game is the uncertainty of life. Old Al is tough. He may fool you.” + </p> + <p> + “Auchincloss is a dyin' man,” declared Beasley, with such positiveness + that it could not be doubted. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, he sure wasn't plumb hearty when I last seen him.... Beasley, in + case I play your game—how'm I to know that girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Her name's Helen Rayner,” replied Beasley, eagerly. “She's twenty years + old. All of them Auchinclosses was handsome an' they say she's the + handsomest.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!... Beasley, this 's sure a bigger deal—an' one I ain't + fancyin'.... But I never doubted your word.... Come on—an' talk out. + What's in it for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let any one in on this. You two can hold up the stage. Why, it was + never held up.... But you want to mask.... How about ten thousand sheep—or + what they bring at Phenix in gold?” + </p> + <p> + Jim Wilson whistled low. + </p> + <p> + “An' leave for new territory?” repeated Snake Anson, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “You've said it.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I ain't fancyin' the girl end of this deal, but you can count on + me.... September sixteenth at Magdalena—an' her name's Helen—an' + she's handsome?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. My herders will begin drivin' south in about two weeks. Later, if + the weather holds good, send me word by one of them an' I'll meet you.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley spread his hands once more over the blaze, pulled on his gloves + and pulled down his sombrero, and with an abrupt word of parting strode + out into the night. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, what do you make of him?” queried Snake Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Pard, he's got us beat two ways for Sunday,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!... Wal, let's get back to camp.” And he led the way out. + </p> + <p> + Low voices drifted into the cabin, then came snorts of horses and striking + hoofs, and after that a steady trot, gradually ceasing. Once more the moan + of wind and soft patter of rain filled the forest stillness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + Milt Dale quietly sat up to gaze, with thoughtful eyes, into the gloom. + </h3> + <p> + He was thirty years old. As a boy of fourteen he had run off from his + school and home in Iowa and, joining a wagon-train of pioneers, he was one + of the first to see log cabins built on the slopes of the White Mountains. + But he had not taken kindly to farming or sheep-raising or monotonous home + toil, and for twelve years he had lived in the forest, with only + infrequent visits to Pine and Show Down and Snowdrop. This wandering + forest life of his did not indicate that he did not care for the + villagers, for he did care, and he was welcome everywhere, but that he + loved wild life and solitude and beauty with the primitive instinctive + force of a savage. + </p> + <p> + And on this night he had stumbled upon a dark plot against the only one of + all the honest white people in that region whom he could not call a + friend. + </p> + <p> + “That man Beasley!” he soliloquized. “Beasley—in cahoots with Snake + Anson!... Well, he was right. Al Auchincloss is on his last legs. Poor old + man! When I tell him he'll never believe ME, that's sure!” + </p> + <p> + Discovery of the plot meant to Dale that he must hurry down to Pine. + </p> + <p> + “A girl—Helen Rayner—twenty years old,” he mused. “Beasley + wants her made off with.... That means—worse than killed!” + </p> + <p> + Dale accepted facts of life with that equanimity and fatality acquired by + one long versed in the cruel annals of forest lore. Bad men worked their + evil just as savage wolves relayed a deer. He had shot wolves for that + trick. With men, good or bad, he had not clashed. Old women and children + appealed to him, but he had never had any interest in girls. The image, + then, of this Helen Rayner came strangely to Dale; and he suddenly + realized that he had meant somehow to circumvent Beasley, not to befriend + old Al Auchincloss, but for the sake of the girl. Probably she was already + on her way West, alone, eager, hopeful of a future home. How little people + guessed what awaited them at a journey's end! Many trails ended abruptly + in the forest—and only trained woodsmen could read the tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “Strange how I cut across country to-day from Spruce Swamp,” reflected + Dale. Circumstances, movements, usually were not strange to him. His + methods and habits were seldom changed by chance. The matter, then, of his + turning off a course out of his way for no apparent reason, and of his + having overheard a plot singularly involving a young girl, was indeed an + adventure to provoke thought. It provoked more, for Dale grew conscious of + an unfamiliar smoldering heat along his veins. He who had little to do + with the strife of men, and nothing to do with anger, felt his blood grow + hot at the cowardly trap laid for an innocent girl. + </p> + <p> + “Old Al won't listen to me,” pondered Dale. “An' even if he did, he + wouldn't believe me. Maybe nobody will.... All the same, Snake Anson won't + get that girl.” + </p> + <p> + With these last words Dale satisfied himself of his own position, and his + pondering ceased. Taking his rifle, he descended from the loft and peered + out of the door. The night had grown darker, windier, cooler; broken + clouds were scudding across the sky; only a few stars showed; fine rain + was blowing from the northwest; and the forest seemed full of a low, dull + roar. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I'd better hang up here,” he said, and turned to the fire. The + coals were red now. From the depths of his hunting-coat he procured a + little bag of salt and some strips of dried meat. These strips he laid for + a moment on the hot embers, until they began to sizzle and curl; then with + a sharpened stick he removed them and ate like a hungry hunter grateful + for little. + </p> + <p> + He sat on a block of wood with his palms spread to the dying warmth of the + fire and his eyes fixed upon the changing, glowing, golden embers. + Outside, the wind continued to rise and the moan of the forest increased + to a roar. Dale felt the comfortable warmth stealing over him, drowsily + lulling; and he heard the storm-wind in the trees, now like a waterfall, + and anon like a retreating army, and again low and sad; and he saw + pictures in the glowing embers, strange as dreams. + </p> + <p> + Presently he rose and, climbing to the loft, he stretched himself out, and + soon fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + When the gray dawn broke he was on his way, 'cross-country, to the village + of Pine. + </p> + <p> + During the night the wind had shifted and the rain had ceased. A suspicion + of frost shone on the grass in open places. All was gray—the parks, + the glades—and deeper, darker gray marked the aisles of the forest. + Shadows lurked under the trees and the silence seemed consistent with + spectral forms. Then the east kindled, the gray lightened, the dreaming + woodland awoke to the far-reaching rays of a bursting red sun. + </p> + <p> + This was always the happiest moment of Dale's lonely days, as sunset was + his saddest. He responded, and there was something in his blood that + answered the whistle of a stag from a near-by ridge. His strides were + long, noiseless, and they left dark trace where his feet brushed the + dew-laden grass. + </p> + <p> + Dale pursued a zigzag course over the ridges to escape the hardest + climbing, but the “senacas”—those parklike meadows so named by + Mexican sheep-herders—were as round and level as if they had been + made by man in beautiful contrast to the dark-green, rough, and rugged + ridges. Both open senaca and dense wooded ridge showed to his quick eye an + abundance of game. The cracking of twigs and disappearing flash of gray + among the spruces, a round black lumbering object, a twittering in the + brush, and stealthy steps, were all easy signs for Dale to read. Once, as + he noiselessly emerged into a little glade, he espied a red fox stalking + some quarry, which, as he advanced, proved to be a flock of partridges. + They whirred up, brushing the branches, and the fox trotted away. In every + senaca Dale encountered wild turkeys feeding on the seeds of the high + grass. + </p> + <p> + It had always been his custom, on his visits to Pine, to kill and pack + fresh meat down to several old friends, who were glad to give him lodging. + And, hurried though he was now, he did not intend to make an exception of + this trip. + </p> + <p> + At length he got down into the pine belt, where the great, gnarled, yellow + trees soared aloft, stately, and aloof from one another, and the ground + was a brown, odorous, springy mat of pine-needles, level as a floor. + Squirrels watched him from all around, scurrying away at his near approach—tiny, + brown, light-striped squirrels, and larger ones, russet-colored, and the + splendid dark-grays with their white bushy tails and plumed ears. + </p> + <p> + This belt of pine ended abruptly upon wide, gray, rolling, open land, + almost like a prairie, with foot-hills lifting near and far, and the + red-gold blaze of aspen thickets catching the morning sun. Here Dale + flushed a flock of wild turkeys, upward of forty in number, and their + subdued color of gray flecked with white, and graceful, sleek build, + showed them to be hens. There was not a gobbler in the flock. They began + to run pell-mell out into the grass, until only their heads appeared + bobbing along, and finally disappeared. Dale caught a glimpse of skulking + coyotes that evidently had been stalking the turkeys, and as they saw him + and darted into the timber he took a quick shot at the hindmost. His + bullet struck low, as he had meant it to, but too low, and the coyote got + only a dusting of earth and pine-needles thrown up into his face. This + frightened him so that he leaped aside blindly to butt into a tree, rolled + over, gained his feet, and then the cover of the forest. Dale was amused + at this. His hand was against all the predatory beasts of the forest, + though he had learned that lion and bear and wolf and fox were all as + necessary to the great scheme of nature as were the gentle, beautiful wild + creatures upon which they preyed. But some he loved better than others, + and so he deplored the inexplicable cruelty. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the wide, grassy plain and struck another gradual descent where + aspens and pines crowded a shallow ravine and warm, sun-lighted glades + bordered along a sparkling brook. Here he heard a turkey gobble, and that + was a signal for him to change his course and make a crouching, silent + detour around a clump of aspens. In a sunny patch of grass a dozen or more + big gobblers stood, all suspiciously facing in his direction, heads erect, + with that wild aspect peculiar to their species. Old wild turkey gobblers + were the most difficult game to stalk. Dale shot two of them. The others + began to run like ostriches, thudding over the ground, spreading their + wings, and with that running start launched their heavy bodies into + whirring flight. They flew low, at about the height of a man from the + grass, and vanished in the woods. + </p> + <p> + Dale threw the two turkeys over his shoulder and went on his way. Soon he + came to a break in the forest level, from which he gazed down a + league-long slope of pine and cedar, out upon the bare, glistening desert, + stretching away, endlessly rolling out to the dim, dark horizon line. + </p> + <p> + The little hamlet of Pine lay on the last level of sparsely timbered + forest. A road, running parallel with a dark-watered, swift-flowing + stream, divided the cluster of log cabins from which columns of blue smoke + drifted lazily aloft. Fields of corn and fields of oats, yellow in the + sunlight, surrounded the village; and green pastures, dotted with horses + and cattle, reached away to the denser woodland. This site appeared to be + a natural clearing, for there was no evidence of cut timber. The scene was + rather too wild to be pastoral, but it was serene, tranquil, giving the + impression of a remote community, prosperous and happy, drifting along the + peaceful tenor of sequestered lives. + </p> + <p> + Dale halted before a neat little log cabin and a little patch of garden + bordered with sunflowers. His call was answered by an old woman, gray and + bent, but remarkably spry, who appeared at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Why, land's sakes, if it ain't Milt Dale!” she exclaimed, in welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon it's me, Mrs. Cass,” he replied. “An' I've brought you a turkey.” + </p> + <p> + “Milt, you're that good boy who never forgits old Widow Cass.... What a + gobbler! First one I've seen this fall. My man Tom used to fetch home + gobblers like that.... An' mebbe he'll come home again sometime.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband, Tom Cass, had gone into the forest years before and had never + returned. But the old woman always looked for him and never gave up hope. + </p> + <p> + “Men have been lost in the forest an' yet come back,” replied Dale, as he + had said to her many a time. + </p> + <p> + “Come right in. You air hungry, I know. Now, son, when last did you eat a + fresh egg or a flapjack?” + </p> + <p> + “You should remember,” he answered, laughing, as he followed her into a + small, clean kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Laws-a'-me! An' thet's months ago,” she replied, shaking her gray head. + “Milt, you should give up that wild life—an' marry—an' have a + home.” + </p> + <p> + “You always tell me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an' I'll see you do it yet.... Now you set there, an' pretty soon + I'll give you thet to eat which 'll make your mouth water.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the news, Auntie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nary news in this dead place. Why, nobody's been to Snowdrop in two + weeks!... Sary Jones died, poor old soul—she's better off—an' + one of my cows run away. Milt, she's wild when she gits loose in the + woods. An' you'll have to track her, 'cause nobody else can. An' John + Dakker's heifer was killed by a lion, an' Lem Harden's fast hoss—you + know his favorite—was stole by hoss-thieves. Lem is jest crazy. An' + that reminds me, Milt, where's your big ranger, thet you'd never sell or + lend?” + </p> + <p> + “My horses are up in the woods, Auntie; safe, I reckon, from + horse-thieves.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's a blessin'. We've had some stock stole this summer, Milt, + an' no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, while preparing a meal for Dale, the old woman went on recounting + all that had happened in the little village since his last visit. Dale + enjoyed her gossip and quaint philosophy, and it was exceedingly good to + sit at her table. In his opinion, nowhere else could there have been such + butter and cream, such ham and eggs. Besides, she always had apple pie, it + seemed, at any time he happened in; and apple pie was one of Dale's few + regrets while up in the lonely forest. + </p> + <p> + “How's old Al Auchincloss?” presently inquired Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Poorly—poorly,” sighed Mrs. Cass. “But he tramps an' rides around + same as ever. Al's not long for this world.... An', Milt, that reminds me—there's + the biggest news you ever heard.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say so!” exclaimed Dale, to encourage the excited old woman. + </p> + <p> + “Al has sent back to Saint Joe for his niece, Helen Rayner. She's to + inherit all his property. We've heard much of her—a purty lass, they + say.... Now, Milt Dale, here's your chance. Stay out of the woods an' go + to work.... You can marry that girl!” + </p> + <p> + “No chance for me, Auntie,” replied Dale, smiling. + </p> + <p> + The old woman snorted. “Much you know! Any girl would have you, Milt Dale, + if you'd only throw a kerchief.” + </p> + <p> + “Me!... An' why, Auntie?” he queried, half amused, half thoughtful. When + he got back to civilization he always had to adjust his thoughts to the + ideas of people. + </p> + <p> + “Why? I declare, Milt, you live so in the woods you're like a boy of ten—an' + then sometimes as old as the hills.... There's no young man to compare + with you, hereabouts. An' this girl—she'll have all the spunk of the + Auchinclosses.” + </p> + <p> + “Then maybe she'd not be such a catch, after all,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you've no cause to love them, that's sure. But, Milt, the + Auchincloss women are always good wives.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Auntie, you're dreamin',” said Dale, soberly. “I want no wife. I'm + happy in the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Air you goin' to live like an Injun all your days, Milt Dale?” she + queried, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed. But some lass will change you, boy, an' mebbe + it'll be this Helen Rayner. I hope an' pray so to thet.” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie, supposin' she did change me. She'd never change old Al. He hates + me, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I ain't so sure, Milt. I met Al the other day. He inquired for you, + an' said you was wild, but he reckoned men like you was good for pioneer + settlements. Lord knows the good turns you've done this village! Milt, old + Al doesn't approve of your wild life, but he never had no hard feelin's + till thet tame lion of yours killed so many of his sheep.” + </p> + <p> + “Auntie, I don't believe Tom ever killed Al's sheep,” declared Dale, + positively. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Al thinks so, an' many other people,” replied Mrs. Cass, shaking her + gray head doubtfully. “You never swore he didn't. An' there was them two + sheep-herders who did swear they seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “They only saw a cougar. An' they were so scared they ran.” + </p> + <p> + “Who wouldn't? Thet big beast is enough to scare any one. For land's + sakes, don't ever fetch him down here again! I'll never forgit the time + you did. All the folks an' children an' hosses in Pine broke an' run thet + day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but Tom wasn't to blame. Auntie, he's the tamest of my pets. Didn't + he try to put his head on your lap an' lick your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Milt, I ain't gainsayin' your cougar pet didn't act better 'n a lot + of people I know. Fer he did. But the looks of him an' what's been said + was enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what's all that, Auntie?” + </p> + <p> + “They say he's wild when out of your sight. An' thet he'd trail an' kill + anythin' you put him after.” + </p> + <p> + “I trained him to be just that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, leave Tom to home up in the woods—when you visit us.” + </p> + <p> + Dale finished his hearty meal, and listened awhile longer to the old + woman's talk; then, taking his rifle and the other turkey, he bade her + good-by. She followed him out. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Milt, you'll come soon again, won't you—jest to see Al's niece—who'll + be here in a week?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll drop in some day.... Auntie, have you seen my friends, the + Mormon boys?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I 'ain't seen them an' don't want to,” she retorted. “Milt Dale, if + any one ever corrals you it'll be Mormons.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Auntie. I like those boys. They often see me up in the woods + an' ask me to help them track a hoss or help kill some fresh meat.” + </p> + <p> + “They're workin' for Beasley now.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” rejoined Dale, with a sudden start. “An' what doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley is gettin' so rich he's buildin' a fence, an' didn't have enough + help, so I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley gettin' rich!” repeated Dale, thoughtfully. “More sheep an' + horses an' cattle than ever, I reckon?” + </p> + <p> + “Laws-a'-me! Why, Milt, Beasley 'ain't any idea what he owns. Yes, he's + the biggest man in these parts, since poor old Al's took to failin'. I + reckon Al's health ain't none improved by Beasley's success. They've bad + some bitter quarrels lately—so I hear. Al ain't what he was.” + </p> + <p> + Dale bade good-by again to his old friend and strode away, thoughtful and + serious. Beasley would not only be difficult to circumvent, but he would + be dangerous to oppose. There did not appear much doubt of his driving his + way rough-shod to the dominance of affairs there in Pine. Dale, passing + down the road, began to meet acquaintances who had hearty welcome for his + presence and interest in his doings, so that his pondering was interrupted + for the time being. He carried the turkey to another old friend, and when + he left her house he went on to the village store. This was a large log + cabin, roughly covered with clapboards, with a wide plank platform in + front and a hitching-rail in the road. Several horses were standing there, + and a group of lazy, shirt-sleeved loungers. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be doggoned if it ain't Milt Dale!” exclaimed one. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Milt, old buckskin! Right down glad to see you,” greeted another. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Dale! You air shore good for sore eyes,” drawled still another. + </p> + <p> + After a long period of absence Dale always experienced a singular warmth + of feeling when he met these acquaintances. It faded quickly when he got + back to the intimacy of his woodland, and that was because the people of + Pine, with few exceptions—though they liked him and greatly admired + his outdoor wisdom—regarded him as a sort of nonentity. Because he + loved the wild and preferred it to village and range life, they had + classed him as not one of them. Some believed him lazy; others believed + him shiftless; others thought him an Indian in mind and habits; and there + were many who called him slow-witted. Then there was another side to their + regard for him, which always afforded him good-natured amusement. Two of + this group asked him to bring in some turkey or venison; another wanted to + hunt with him. Lem Harden came out of the store and appealed to Dale to + recover his stolen horse. Lem's brother wanted a wild-running mare tracked + and brought home. Jesse Lyons wanted a colt broken, and broken with + patience, not violence, as was the method of the hard-riding boys at Pine. + So one and all they besieged Dale with their selfish needs, all + unconscious of the flattering nature of these overtures. And on the moment + there happened by two women whose remarks, as they entered the store, bore + strong testimony to Dale's personality. + </p> + <p> + “If there ain't Milt Dale!” exclaimed the older of the two. “How lucky! My + cow's sick, an' the men are no good doctorin'. I'll jest ask Milt over.” + </p> + <p> + “No one like Milt!” responded the other woman, heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Good day there—you Milt Dale!” called the first speaker. “When you + git away from these lazy men come over.” + </p> + <p> + Dale never refused a service, and that was why his infrequent visits to + Pine were wont to be prolonged beyond his own pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Presently Beasley strode down the street, and when about to enter the + store he espied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo there, Milt!” he called, cordially, as he came forward with + extended hand. His greeting was sincere, but the lightning glance he shot + over Dale was not born of his pleasure. Seen in daylight, Beasley was a + big, bold, bluff man, with strong, dark features. His aggressive presence + suggested that he was a good friend and a bad enemy. + </p> + <p> + Dale shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Beasley?” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't complainin', Milt, though I got more work than I can rustle. Reckon + you wouldn't take a job bossin' my sheep-herders?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I wouldn't,” replied Dale. “Thanks all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “What's goin' on up in the woods?” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of turkey an' deer. Lots of bear, too. The Indians have worked + back on the south side early this fall. But I reckon winter will come late + an' be mild.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! An' where 're you headin' from?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cross-country from my camp,” replied Dale, rather evasively. + </p> + <p> + “Your camp! Nobody ever found that yet,” declared Beasley, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “It's up there,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you've got that cougar chained in your cabin door?” queried + Beasley, and there was a barely distinguishable shudder of his muscular + frame. Also the pupils dilated in his hard brown eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Tom ain't chained. An' I haven't no cabin, Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to tell me that big brute stays in your camp without bein' + hog-tied or corralled!” demanded Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “Sure he does.” + </p> + <p> + “Beats me! But, then, I'm queer on cougars. Have had many a cougar trail + me at night. Ain't sayin' I was scared. But I don't care for that brand of + varmint.... Milt, you goin' to stay down awhile?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll hang around some.” + </p> + <p> + “Come over to the ranch. Glad to see you any time. Some old huntin' pards + of yours are workin' for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Beasley. I reckon I'll come over.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley turned away and took a step, and then, as if with an + after-thought, he wheeled again. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you've heard about old Al Auchincloss bein' near petered out?” + queried Beasley. A strong, ponderous cast of thought seemed to emanate + from his features. Dale divined that Beasley's next step would be to + further his advancement by some word or hint. + </p> + <p> + “Widow Cass was tellin' me all the news. Too bad about old Al,” replied + Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Sure is. He's done for. An' I'm sorry—though Al's never been square—” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley,” interrupted Dale, quickly, “you can't say that to me. Al + Auchincloss always was the whitest an' squarest man in this sheep + country.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley gave Dale a fleeting, dark glance. + </p> + <p> + “Dale, what you think ain't goin' to influence feelin' on this range,” + returned Beasley, deliberately. “You live in the woods an'—” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon livin' in the woods I might think—an' know a whole lot,” + interposed Dale, just as deliberately. The group of men exchanged + surprised glances. This was Milt Dale in different aspect. And Beasley did + not conceal a puzzled surprise. + </p> + <p> + “About what—now?” he asked, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, about what's goin' on in Pine,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + Some of the men laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Shore lots goin' on—an' no mistake,” put in Lem Harden. + </p> + <p> + Probably the keen Beasley had never before considered Milt Dale as a + responsible person; certainly never one in any way to cross his trail. But + on the instant, perhaps, some instinct was born, or he divined an + antagonism in Dale that was both surprising and perplexing. + </p> + <p> + “Dale, I've differences with Al Auchincloss—have had them for + years,” said Beasley. “Much of what he owns is mine. An' it's goin' to + come to me. Now I reckon people will be takin' sides—some for me an' + some for Al. Most are for me.... Where do you stand? Al Auchincloss never + had no use for you, an' besides he's a dyin' man. Are you goin' on his + side?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I reckon I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'm glad you've declared yourself,” rejoined Beasley, shortly, and + he strode away with the ponderous gait of a man who would brush any + obstacle from his path. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, thet's bad—makin' Beasley sore at you,” said Lem Harden. + “He's on the way to boss this outfit.” + </p> + <p> + “He's sure goin' to step into Al's boots,” said another. + </p> + <p> + “Thet was white of Milt to stick up fer poor old Al,” declared Lem's + brother. + </p> + <p> + Dale broke away from them and wended a thoughtful way down the road. The + burden of what he knew about Beasley weighed less heavily upon him, and + the close-lipped course he had decided upon appeared wisest. He needed to + think before undertaking to call upon old Al Auchincloss; and to that end + he sought an hour's seclusion under the pines. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + In the afternoon, Dale, having accomplished some tasks imposed upon him by + his old friends at Pine, directed slow steps toward the Auchincloss ranch. + </p> + <p> + The flat, square stone and log cabin of unusually large size stood upon a + little hill half a mile out of the village. A home as well as a fort, it + had been the first structure erected in that region, and the process of + building had more than once been interrupted by Indian attacks. The + Apaches had for some time, however, confined their fierce raids to points + south of the White Mountain range. Auchincloss's house looked down upon + barns and sheds and corrals of all sizes and shapes, and hundreds of acres + of well-cultivated soil. Fields of oats waved gray and yellow in the + afternoon sun; an immense green pasture was divided by a willow-bordered + brook, and here were droves of horses, and out on the rolling bare flats + were straggling herds of cattle. + </p> + <p> + The whole ranch showed many years of toil and the perseverance of man. The + brook irrigated the verdant valley between the ranch and the village. + Water for the house, however, came down from the high, wooded slope of the + mountain, and had been brought there by a simple expedient. Pine logs of + uniform size had been laid end to end, with a deep trough cut in them, and + they made a shining line down the slope, across the valley, and up the + little hill to the Auchincloss home. Near the house the hollowed halves of + logs had been bound together, making a crude pipe. Water ran uphill in + this case, one of the facts that made the ranch famous, as it had always + been a wonder and delight to the small boys of Pine. The two good women + who managed Auchincloss's large household were often shocked by the + strange things that floated into their kitchen with the ever-flowing + stream of clear, cold mountain water. + </p> + <p> + As it happened this day Dale encountered Al Auchincloss sitting in the + shade of a porch, talking to some of his sheep-herders and stockmen. + Auchincloss was a short man of extremely powerful build and great width of + shoulder. He had no gray hairs, and he did not look old, yet there was in + his face a certain weariness, something that resembled sloping lines of + distress, dim and pale, that told of age and the ebb-tide of vitality. His + features, cast in large mold, were clean-cut and comely, and he had frank + blue eyes, somewhat sad, yet still full of spirit. + </p> + <p> + Dale had no idea how his visit would be taken, and he certainly would not + have been surprised to be ordered off the place. He had not set foot there + for years. Therefore it was with surprise that he saw Auchincloss wave + away the herders and take his entrance without any particular expression. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Al! How are you?” greeted Dale, easily, as he leaned his rifle + against the log wall. + </p> + <p> + Auchincloss did not rise, but he offered his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Milt Dale, I reckon this is the first time I ever seen you that I + couldn't lay you flat on your back,” replied the rancher. His tone was + both testy and full of pathos. + </p> + <p> + “I take it you mean you ain't very well,” replied Dale. “I'm sorry, Al.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain't thet. Never was sick in my life. I'm just played out, like a + hoss thet had been strong an' willin', an' did too much.... Wal, you don't + look a day older, Milt. Livin' in the woods rolls over a man's head.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm feelin' fine, an' time never bothers me.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, mebbe you ain't such a fool, after all. I've wondered lately—since + I had time to think.... But, Milt, you don't git no richer.” + </p> + <p> + “Al, I have all I want an' need.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, then, you don't support anybody; you don't do any good in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't agree, Al,” replied Dale, with his slow smile. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we never did.... An' you jest come over to pay your respects to + me, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Not altogether,” answered Dale, ponderingly. “First off, I'd like to say + I'll pay back them sheep you always claimed my tame cougar killed.” + </p> + <p> + “You will! An' how'd you go about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't very many sheep, was there? + </p> + <p> + “A matter of fifty head.” + </p> + <p> + “So many! Al, do you still think old Tom killed them sheep?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Milt, I know damn well he did.” + </p> + <p> + “Al, now how could you know somethin' I don't? Be reasonable, now. Let's + don't fall out about this again. I'll pay back the sheep. Work it out—” + </p> + <p> + “Milt Dale, you'll come down here an' work out that fifty head of sheep!” + ejaculated the old rancher, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'll be damned!” He sat back and gazed with shrewd eyes at Dale. + “What's got into you, Milt? Hev you heard about my niece thet's comin', + an' think you'll shine up to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Al, her comin' has a good deal to do with my deal,” replied Dale, + soberly. “But I never thought to shine up to her, as you hint.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Haw! You're just like all the other colts hereabouts. Reckon it's a + good sign, too. It'll take a woman to fetch you out of the woods. But, + boy, this niece of mine, Helen Rayner, will stand you on your head. I + never seen her. They say she's jest like her mother. An' Nell Auchincloss—what + a girl she was!” + </p> + <p> + Dale felt his face grow red. Indeed, this was strange conversation for + him. + </p> + <p> + “Honest, Al—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Son, don't lie to an old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Lie! I wouldn't lie to any one. Al, it's only men who live in towns an' + are always makin' deals. I live in the forest, where there's nothin' to + make me lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, no offense meant, I'm sure,” responded Auchincloss. “An' mebbe + there's somethin' in what you say... We was talkin' about them sheep your + big cat killed. Wal, Milt, I can't prove it, that's sure. An' mebbe you'll + think me doddery when I tell you my reason. It wasn't what them greaser + herders said about seein' a cougar in the herd.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, then?” queried Dale, much interested. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet day a year ago I seen your pet. He was lyin' in front of the + store an' you was inside tradin', fer supplies, I reckon. It was like + meetin' an enemy face to face. Because, damn me if I didn't know that + cougar was guilty when he looked in my eyes! There!” + </p> + <p> + The old rancher expected to be laughed at. But Dale was grave. + </p> + <p> + “Al, I know how you felt,” he replied, as if they were discussing an + action of a human being. “Sure I'd hate to doubt old Tom. But he's a + cougar. An' the ways of animals are strange... Anyway, Al, I'll make good + the loss of your sheep.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't,” rejoined Auchincloss, quickly. “We'll call it off. I'm + takin' it square of you to make the offer. Thet's enough. So forget your + worry about work, if you had any.” + </p> + <p> + “There's somethin' else, Al, I wanted to say,” began Dale, with + hesitation. “An' it's about Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + Auchincloss started violently, and a flame of red shot into his face. Then + he raised a big hand that shook. Dale saw in a flash how the old man's + nerves had gone. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mention—thet—thet greaser—to me!” burst out the + rancher. “It makes me see—red.... Dale, I ain't overlookin' that you + spoke up fer me to-day—stood fer my side. Lem Harden told me. I was + glad. An' thet's why—to-day—I forgot our old quarrel.... But + not a word about thet sheep-thief—or I'll drive you off the place!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Al—be reasonable,” remonstrated Dale. “It's necessary thet I + speak of—of Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't. Not to me. I won't listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you'll have to, Al,” returned Dale. “Beasley's after your + property. He's made a deal—” + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven! I know that!” shouted Auchincloss, tottering up, with his face + now black-red. “Do you think thet's new to me? Shut up, Dale! I can't + stand it.” + </p> + <p> + “But Al—there's worse,” went on Dale, hurriedly. “Worse! Your life's + threatened—an' your niece, Helen—she's to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up—an' clear out!” roared Auchincloss, waving his huge fists. + </p> + <p> + He seemed on the verge of a collapse as, shaking all over, he backed into + the door. A few seconds of rage had transformed him into a pitiful old + man. + </p> + <p> + “But, Al—I'm your friend—” began Dale, appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “Friend, hey?” returned the rancher, with grim, bitter passion. “Then + you're the only one.... Milt Dale, I'm rich an' I'm a dyin' man. I trust + nobody... But, you wild hunter—if you're my friend—prove + it!... Go kill thet greaser sheep-thief! DO somethin'—an' then come + talk to me!” + </p> + <p> + With that he lurched, half falling, into the house, and slammed the door. + </p> + <p> + Dale stood there for a blank moment, and then, taking up his rifle, he + strode away. + </p> + <p> + Toward sunset Dale located the camp of his four Mormon friends, and + reached it in time for supper. + </p> + <p> + John, Roy, Joe, and Hal Beeman were sons of a pioneer Mormon who had + settled the little community of Snowdrop. They were young men in years, + but hard labor and hard life in the open had made them look matured. Only + a year's difference in age stood between John and Roy, and between Roy and + Joe, and likewise Joe and Hal. When it came to appearance they were + difficult to distinguish from one another. Horsemen, sheep-herders, + cattle-raisers, hunters—they all possessed long, wiry, powerful + frames, lean, bronzed, still faces, and the quiet, keen eyes of men used + to the open. + </p> + <p> + Their camp was situated beside a spring in a cove surrounded by aspens, + some three miles from Pine; and, though working for Beasley, near the + village, they had ridden to and fro from camp, after the habit of + seclusion peculiar to their kind. + </p> + <p> + Dale and the brothers had much in common, and a warm regard had sprang up. + But their exchange of confidences had wholly concerned things pertaining + to the forest. Dale ate supper with them, and talked as usual when he met + them, without giving any hint of the purpose forming in his mind. After + the meal he helped Joe round up the horses, hobble them for the night, and + drive them into a grassy glade among the pines. Later, when the shadows + stole through the forest on the cool wind, and the camp-fire glowed + comfortably, Dale broached the subject that possessed him. + </p> + <p> + “An' so you're working for Beasley?” he queried, by way of starting + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “We was,” drawled John. “But to-day, bein' the end of our month, we got + our pay an' quit. Beasley sure was sore.” + </p> + <p> + “Why'd you knock off?” + </p> + <p> + John essayed no reply, and his brothers all had that quiet, suppressed + look of knowledge under restraint. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to what I come to tell you, then you'll talk,” went on Dale. And + hurriedly he told of Beasley's plot to abduct Al Auchincloss's niece and + claim the dying man's property. + </p> + <p> + When Dale ended, rather breathlessly, the Mormon boys sat without any show + of surprise or feeling. John, the eldest, took up a stick and slowly poked + the red embers of the fire, making the white sparks fly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Milt, why'd you tell us thet?” he asked, guardedly. + </p> + <p> + “You're the only friends I've got,” replied Dale. “It didn't seem safe for + me to talk down in the village. I thought of you boys right off. I ain't + goin' to let Snake Anson get that girl. An' I need help, so I come to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley's strong around Pine, an' old Al's weakenin'. Beasley will git + the property, girl or no girl,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Things don't always turn out as they look. But no matter about that. The + girl deal is what riled me.... She's to arrive at Magdalena on the + sixteenth, an' take stage for Snowdrop.... Now what to do? If she travels + on that stage I'll be on it, you bet. But she oughtn't to be in it at all. + ... Boys, somehow I'm goin' to save her. Will you help me? I reckon I've + been in some tight corners for you. Sure, this 's different. But are you + my friends? You know now what Beasley is. An' you're all lost at the hands + of Snake Anson's gang. You've got fast hosses, eyes for trackin', an' you + can handle a rifle. You're the kind of fellows I'd want in a tight pinch + with a bad gang. Will you stand by me or see me go alone?” + </p> + <p> + Then John Beeman, silently, and with pale face, gave Dale's hand a + powerful grip, and one by one the other brothers rose to do likewise. + Their eyes flashed with hard glint and a strange bitterness hovered around + their thin lips. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, mebbe we know what Beasley is better 'n you,” said John, at length. + “He ruined my father. He's cheated other Mormons. We boys have proved to + ourselves thet he gets the sheep Anson's gang steals.... An' drives the + herds to Phenix! Our people won't let us accuse Beasley. So we've suffered + in silence. My father always said, let some one else say the first word + against Beasley, an' you've come to us!” + </p> + <p> + Roy Beeman put a hand on Dale's shoulder. He, perhaps, was the keenest of + the brothers and the one to whom adventure and peril called most. He had + been oftenest with Dale, on many a long trail, and he was the hardest + rider and the most relentless tracker in all that range country. + </p> + <p> + “An' we're goin' with you,” he said, in a strong and rolling voice. + </p> + <p> + They resumed their seats before the fire. John threw on more wood, and + with a crackling and sparkling the blaze curled up, fanned by the wind. As + twilight deepened into night the moan in the pines increased to a roar. A + pack of coyotes commenced to pierce the air in staccato cries. + </p> + <p> + The five young men conversed long and earnestly, considering, planning, + rejecting ideas advanced by each. Dale and Roy Beeman suggested most of + what became acceptable to all. Hunters of their type resembled explorers + in slow and deliberate attention to details. What they had to deal with + here was a situation of unlimited possibilities; the horses and outfit + needed; a long detour to reach Magdalena unobserved; the rescue of a + strange girl who would no doubt be self-willed and determined to ride on + the stage—the rescue forcible, if necessary; the fight and the + inevitable pursuit; the flight into the forest, and the safe delivery of + the girl to Auchincloss. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Milt, will we go after Beasley?” queried Roy Beeman, significantly. + </p> + <p> + Dale was silent and thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “Sufficient unto the day!” said John. “An' fellars, let's go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + They rolled out their tarpaulins, Dale sharing Roy's blankets, and soon + were asleep, while the red embers slowly faded, and the great roar of wind + died down, and the forest stillness set in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Helen Rayner had been on the westbound overland train fully twenty-four + hours before she made an alarming discovery. + </p> + <p> + Accompanied by her sister Bo, a precocious girl of sixteen, Helen had left + St. Joseph with a heart saddened by farewells to loved ones at home, yet + full of thrilling and vivid anticipations of the strange life in the Far + West. All her people had the pioneer spirit; love of change, action, + adventure, was in her blood. Then duty to a widowed mother with a large + and growing family had called to Helen to accept this rich uncle's offer. + She had taught school and also her little brothers and sisters; she had + helped along in other ways. And now, though the tearing up of the roots of + old loved ties was hard, this opportunity was irresistible in its call. + The prayer of her dreams had been answered. To bring good fortune to her + family; to take care of this beautiful, wild little sister; to leave the + yellow, sordid, humdrum towns for the great, rolling, boundless open; to + live on a wonderful ranch that was some day to be her own; to have + fulfilled a deep, instinctive, and undeveloped love of horses, cattle, + sheep, of desert and mountain, of trees and brooks and wild flowers—all + this was the sum of her most passionate longings, now in some marvelous, + fairylike way to come true. + </p> + <p> + A check to her happy anticipations, a blank, sickening dash of cold water + upon her warm and intimate dreams, had been the discovery that Harve Riggs + was on the train. His presence could mean only one thing—that he had + followed her. Riggs had been the worst of many sore trials back there in + St. Joseph. He had possessed some claim or influence upon her mother, who + favored his offer of marriage to Helen; he was neither attractive, nor + good, nor industrious, nor anything that interested her; he was the + boastful, strutting adventurer, not genuinely Western, and he affected + long hair and guns and notoriety. Helen had suspected the veracity of the + many fights he claimed had been his, and also she suspected that he was + not really big enough to be bad—as Western men were bad. But on the + train, in the station at La Junta, one glimpse of him, manifestly spying + upon her while trying to keep out of her sight, warned Helen that she now + might have a problem on her hands. + </p> + <p> + The recognition sobered her. All was not to be a road of roses to this new + home in the West. Riggs would follow her, if he could not accompany her, + and to gain his own ends he would stoop to anything. Helen felt the + startling realization of being cast upon her own resources, and then a + numbing discouragement and loneliness and helplessness. But these feelings + did not long persist in the quick pride and flash of her temper. + Opportunity knocked at her door and she meant to be at home to it. She + would not have been Al Auchincloss's niece if she had faltered. And, when + temper was succeeded by genuine anger, she could have laughed to scorn + this Harve Riggs and his schemes, whatever they were. Once and for all she + dismissed fear of him. When she left St. Joseph she had faced the West + with a beating heart and a high resolve to be worthy of that West. Homes + had to be made out there in that far country, so Uncle Al had written, and + women were needed to make homes. She meant to be one of these women and to + make of her sister another. And with the thought that she would know + definitely what to say to Riggs when he approached her, sooner or later, + Helen dismissed him from mind. + </p> + <p> + While the train was in motion, enabling Helen to watch the ever-changing + scenery, and resting her from the strenuous task of keeping Bo well in + hand at stations, she lapsed again into dreamy gaze at the pine forests + and the red, rocky gullies and the dim, bold mountains. She saw the sun + set over distant ranges of New Mexico—a golden blaze of glory, as + new to her as the strange fancies born in her, thrilling and fleeting by. + Bo's raptures were not silent, and the instant the sun sank and the color + faded she just as rapturously importuned Helen to get out the huge basket + of food they had brought from home. + </p> + <p> + They had two seats, facing each other, at the end of the coach, and piled + there, with the basket on top, was luggage that constituted all the girls + owned in the world. Indeed, it was very much more than they had ever owned + before, because their mother, in her care for them and desire to have them + look well in the eyes of this rich uncle, had spent money and pains to + give them pretty and serviceable clothes. + </p> + <p> + The girls sat together, with the heavy basket on their knees, and ate + while they gazed out at the cool, dark ridges. The train clattered slowly + on, apparently over a road that was all curves. And it was supper-time for + everybody in that crowded coach. If Helen had not been so absorbed by the + great, wild mountain-land she would have had more interest in the + passengers. As it was she saw them, and was amused and thoughtful at the + men and women and a few children in the car, all middle-class people, poor + and hopeful, traveling out there to the New West to find homes. It was + splendid and beautiful, this fact, yet it inspired a brief and + inexplicable sadness. From the train window, that world of forest and + crag, with its long bare reaches between, seemed so lonely, so wild, so + unlivable. How endless the distance! For hours and miles upon miles no + house, no hut, no Indian tepee! It was amazing, the length and breadth of + this beautiful land. And Helen, who loved brooks and running streams, saw + no water at all. + </p> + <p> + Then darkness settled down over the slow-moving panorama; a cool night + wind blew in at the window; white stars began to blink out of the blue. + The sisters, with hands clasped and heads nestled together, went to sleep + under a heavy cloak. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, while the girls were again delving into their + apparently bottomless basket, the train stopped at Las Vegas. + </p> + <p> + “Look! Look!” cried Bo, in thrilling voice. “Cowboys! Oh, Nell, look!” + </p> + <p> + Helen, laughing, looked first at her sister, and thought how most of all + she was good to look at. Bo was little, instinct with pulsating life, and + she had chestnut hair and dark-blue eyes. These eyes were flashing, + roguish, and they drew like magnets. + </p> + <p> + Outside on the rude station platform were railroad men, Mexicans, and a + group of lounging cowboys. Long, lean, bow-legged fellows they were, with + young, frank faces and intent eyes. One of them seemed particularly + attractive with his superb build, his red-bronze face and bright-red + scarf, his swinging gun, and the huge, long, curved spurs. Evidently he + caught Bo's admiring gaze, for, with a word to his companions, he + sauntered toward the window where the girls sat. His gait was singular, + almost awkward, as if he was not accustomed to walking. The long spurs + jingled musically. He removed his sombrero and stood at ease, frank, cool, + smiling. Helen liked him on sight, and, looking to see what effect he had + upon Bo, she found that young lady staring, frightened stiff. + </p> + <p> + “Good mawnin',” drawled the cowboy, with slow, good-humored smile. “Now + where might you-all be travelin'?” + </p> + <p> + The sound of his voice, the clean-cut and droll geniality; seemed new and + delightful to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “We go to Magdalena—then take stage for the White Mountains,” + replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + The cowboy's still, intent eyes showed surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Apache country, miss,” he said. “I reckon I'm sorry. Thet's shore no + place for you-all... Beggin' your pawdin—you ain't Mormons?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We're nieces of Al Auchincloss,” rejoined Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you don't say! I've been down Magdalena way an' heerd of Al.... + Reckon you're goin' a-visitin'?” + </p> + <p> + “It's to be home for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore thet's fine. The West needs girls.... Yes, I've heerd of Al. An old + Arizona cattle-man in a sheep country! Thet's bad.... Now I'm wonderin'—if + I'd drift down there an' ask him for a job ridin' for him—would I + get it?” + </p> + <p> + His lazy smile was infectious and his meaning was as clear as crystal + water. The gaze he bent upon Bo somehow pleased Helen. The last year or + two, since Bo had grown prettier all the time, she had been a magnet for + admiring glances. This one of the cowboy's inspired respect and liking, as + well as amusement. It certainly was not lost upon Bo. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle once said in a letter that he never had enough men to run his + ranch,” replied Helen, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'll go. I reckon I'd jest naturally drift that way—now.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed so laconic, so easy, so nice, that he could not have been taken + seriously, yet Helen's quick perceptions registered a daring, a something + that was both sudden and inevitable in him. His last word was as clear as + the soft look he fixed upon Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen had a mischievous trait, which, subdue it as she would, occasionally + cropped out; and Bo, who once in her wilful life had been rendered + speechless, offered such a temptation. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe my little sister will put in a good word for you—to Uncle + Al,” said Helen. Just then the train jerked, and started slowly. The + cowboy took two long strides beside the car, his heated boyish face almost + on a level with the window, his eyes, now shy and a little wistful, yet + bold, too, fixed upon Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by—Sweetheart!” he called. + </p> + <p> + He halted—was lost to view. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” ejaculated Helen, contritely, half sorry, half amused. “What a + sudden young gentleman!” + </p> + <p> + Bo had blushed beautifully. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, wasn't he glorious!” she burst out, with eyes shining. + </p> + <p> + “I'd hardly call him that, but he was—nice,” replied Helen, much + relieved that Bo had apparently not taken offense at her. + </p> + <p> + It appeared plain that Bo resisted a frantic desire to look out of the + window and to wave her hand. But she only peeped out, manifestly to her + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he—he'll come to Uncle Al's?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Child, he was only in fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'll bet you he comes. Oh, it'd be great! I'm going to love + cowboys. They don't look like that Harve Riggs who ran after you so.” + </p> + <p> + Helen sighed, partly because of the reminder of her odious suitor, and + partly because Bo's future already called mysteriously to the child. Helen + had to be at once a mother and a protector to a girl of intense and wilful + spirit. + </p> + <p> + One of the trainmen directed the girls' attention to a green, sloping + mountain rising to a bold, blunt bluff of bare rock; and, calling it + Starvation Peak, he told a story of how Indians had once driven Spaniards + up there and starved them. Bo was intensely interested, and thereafter she + watched more keenly than ever, and always had a question for a passing + trainman. The adobe houses of the Mexicans pleased her, and, then the + train got out into Indian country, where pueblos appeared near the track + and Indians with their bright colors and shaggy wild mustangs—then + she was enraptured. + </p> + <p> + “But these Indians are peaceful!” she exclaimed once, regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious, child! You don't want to see hostile Indians, do you?” queried + Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I do, you bet,” was the frank rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'LL bet that I'll be sorry I didn't leave you with mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell—you never will!” + </p> + <p> + They reached Albuquerque about noon, and this important station, where + they had to change trains, had been the first dreaded anticipation of the + journey. It certainly was a busy place—full of jabbering Mexicans, + stalking, red-faced, wicked-looking cowboys, lolling Indians. In the + confusion Helen would have been hard put to it to preserve calmness, with + Bo to watch, and all that baggage to carry, and the other train to find; + but the kindly brakeman who had been attentive to them now helped them off + the train into the other—a service for which Helen was very + grateful. + </p> + <p> + “Albuquerque's a hard place,” confided the trainman. “Better stay in the + car—and don't hang out the windows.... Good luck to you!” + </p> + <p> + Only a few passengers were in the car and they were Mexicans at the + forward end. This branch train consisted of one passenger-coach, with a + baggage-car, attached to a string of freight-cars. Helen told herself, + somewhat grimly, that soon she would know surely whether or not her + suspicions of Harve Riggs had warrant. If he was going on to Magdalena on + that day he must go in this coach. Presently Bo, who was not obeying + admonitions, drew her head out of the window. Her eyes were wide in amaze, + her mouth open. + </p> + <p> + “Nell! I saw that man Riggs!” she whispered. “He's going to get on this + train.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I saw him yesterday,” replied Helen, soberly. + </p> + <p> + “He's followed you—the—the—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bo, don't get excited,” remonstrated Helen. “We've left home now. + We've got to take things as they come. Never mind if Riggs has followed + me. I'll settle him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Then you won't speak—have anything to do with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + Other passengers boarded the train, dusty, uncouth, ragged men, and some + hard-featured, poorly clad women, marked by toil, and several more + Mexicans. With bustle and loud talk they found their several seats. + </p> + <p> + Then Helen saw Harve Riggs enter, burdened with much luggage. He was a man + of about medium height, of dark, flashy appearance, cultivating long black + mustache and hair. His apparel was striking, as it consisted of black + frock-coat, black trousers stuffed in high, fancy-topped boots, an + embroidered vest, and flowing tie, and a black sombrero. His belt and gun + were prominent. It was significant that he excited comment among the other + passengers. + </p> + <p> + When he had deposited his pieces of baggage he seemed to square himself, + and, turning abruptly, approached the seat occupied by the girls. When he + reached it he sat down upon the arm of the one opposite, took off his + sombrero, and deliberately looked at Helen. His eyes were light, glinting, + with hard, restless quiver, and his mouth was coarse and arrogant. Helen + had never seen him detached from her home surroundings, and now the + difference struck cold upon her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Nell!” he said. “Surprised to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll gamble you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Harve Riggs, I told you the day before I left home that nothing you could + do or say mattered to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon that ain't so, Nell. Any woman I keep track of has reason to + think. An' you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you followed me—out here?” demanded Helen, and her voice, + despite her control, quivered with anger. + </p> + <p> + “I sure did,” he replied, and there was as much thought of himself in the + act as there was of her. + </p> + <p> + “Why? Why? It's useless—hopeless.” + </p> + <p> + “I swore I'd have you, or nobody else would,” he replied, and here, in the + passion of his voice there sounded egotism rather than hunger for a + woman's love. “But I reckon I'd have struck West anyhow, sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not going to—all the way—to Pine?” faltered Helen, + momentarily weakening. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'll camp on your trail from now on,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Then Bo sat bolt-upright, with pale face and flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Harve Riggs, you leave Nell alone,” she burst out, in ringing, brave + young voice. “I'll tell you what—I'll bet—if you follow her + and nag her any more, my uncle Al or some cowboy will run you out of the + country.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Pepper!” replied Riggs, coolly. “I see your manners haven't + improved an' you're still wild about cowboys.” + </p> + <p> + “People don't have good manners with—with—” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, hush!” admonished Helen. It was difficult to reprove Bo just then, + for that young lady had not the slightest fear of Riggs. Indeed, she + looked as if she could slap his face. And Helen realized that however her + intelligence had grasped the possibilities of leaving home for a wild + country, and whatever her determination to be brave, the actual beginning + of self-reliance had left her spirit weak. She would rise out of that. But + just now this flashing-eyed little sister seemed a protector. Bo would + readily adapt herself to the West, Helen thought, because she was so + young, primitive, elemental. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Bo turned her back to Riggs and looked out of the window. The + man laughed. Then he stood up and leaned over Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'm goin' wherever you go,” he said, steadily. “You can take that + friendly or not, just as it pleases you. But if you've got any sense + you'll not give these people out here a hunch against me. I might hurt + somebody.... An' wouldn't it be better—to act friends? For I'm goin' + to look after you, whether you like it or not.” + </p> + <p> + Helen had considered this man an annoyance, and later a menace, and now + she must declare open enmity with him. However disgusting the idea that he + considered himself a factor in her new life, it was the truth. He existed, + he had control over his movements. She could not change that. She hated + the need of thinking so much about him; and suddenly, with a hot, bursting + anger, she hated the man. + </p> + <p> + “You'll not look after me. I'll take care of myself,” she said, and she + turned her back upon him. She heard him mutter under his breath and slowly + move away down the car. Then Bo slipped a hand in hers. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Nell,” she whispered. “You know what old Sheriff Haines said + about Harve Riggs. 'A four-flush would-be gun-fighter! If he ever strikes + a real Western town he'll get run out of it.' I just wish my red-faced + cowboy had got on this train!” + </p> + <p> + Helen felt a rush of gladness that she had yielded to Bo's wild + importunities to take her West. The spirit which had made Bo incorrigible + at home probably would make her react happily to life out in this free + country. Yet Helen, with all her warmth and gratefulness, had to laugh at + her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Your red-faced cowboy! Why, Bo, you were scared stiff. And now you claim + him!” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly could love that fellow,” replied Bo, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “Child, you've been saying that about fellows for a long time. And you've + never looked twice at any of them yet.” + </p> + <p> + “He was different.... Nell, I'll bet he comes to Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he does. I wish he was on this train. I liked his looks, Bo.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nell dear, he looked at ME first and last—so don't get your + hopes up.... Oh, the train's starting!... Good-by, Albu-ker—what's + that awful name?... Nell, let's eat dinner. I'm starved.” + </p> + <p> + Then Helen forgot her troubles and the uncertain future, and what with + listening to Bo's chatter, and partaking again of the endless good things + to eat in the huge basket, and watching the noble mountains, she drew once + more into happy mood. + </p> + <p> + The valley of the Rio Grande opened to view, wide near at hand in a great + gray-green gap between the bare black mountains, narrow in the distance, + where the yellow river wound away, glistening under a hot sun. Bo squealed + in glee at sight of naked little Mexican children that darted into adobe + huts as the train clattered by, and she exclaimed her pleasure in the + Indians, and the mustangs, and particularly in a group of cowboys riding + into town on spirited horses. Helen saw all Bo pointed out, but it was to + the wonderful rolling valley that her gaze clung longest, and to the dim + purple distance that seemed to hold something from her. She had never + before experienced any feeling like that; she had never seen a tenth so + far. And the sight awoke something strange in her. The sun was burning + hot, as she could tell when she put a hand outside the window, and a + strong wind blew sheets of dry dust at the train. She gathered at once + what tremendous factors in the Southwest were the sun and the dust and the + wind. And her realization made her love them. It was there; the open, the + wild, the beautiful, the lonely land; and she felt the poignant call of + blood in her—to seek, to strive, to find, to live. One look down + that yellow valley, endless between its dark iron ramparts, had given her + understanding of her uncle. She must be like him in spirit, as it was + claimed she resembled him otherwise. + </p> + <p> + At length Bo grew tired of watching scenery that contained no life, and, + with her bright head on the faded cloak, she went to sleep. But Helen kept + steady, farseeing gaze out upon that land of rock and plain; and during + the long hours, as she watched through clouds of dust and veils of heat, + some strong and doubtful and restless sentiment seemed to change and then + to fix. It was her physical acceptance—her eyes and her senses + taking the West as she had already taken it in spirit. + </p> + <p> + A woman should love her home wherever fate placed her, Helen believed, and + not so much from duty as from delight and romance and living. How could + life ever be tedious or monotonous out here in this tremendous vastness of + bare earth and open sky, where the need to achieve made thinking and + pondering superficial? + </p> + <p> + It was with regret that she saw the last of the valley of the Rio Grande, + and then of its paralleled mountain ranges. But the miles brought + compensation in other valleys, other bold, black upheavals of rock, and + then again bare, boundless yellow plains, and sparsely cedared ridges, and + white dry washes, ghastly in the sunlight, and dazzling beds of alkali, + and then a desert space where golden and blue flowers bloomed. + </p> + <p> + She noted, too, that the whites and yellows of earth and rock had begun to + shade to red—and this she knew meant an approach to Arizona. + Arizona, the wild, the lonely, the red desert, the green plateau—Arizona + with its thundering rivers, its unknown spaces, its pasture-lands and + timber-lands, its wild horses, cowboys, outlaws, wolves and lions and + savages! As to a boy, that name stirred and thrilled and sang to her of + nameless, sweet, intangible things, mysterious and all of adventure. But + she, being a girl of twenty, who had accepted responsibilities, must + conceal the depths of her heart and that which her mother had complained + was her misfortune in not being born a boy. + </p> + <p> + Time passed, while Helen watched and learned and dreamed. The train + stopped, at long intervals, at wayside stations where there seemed nothing + but adobe sheds and lazy Mexicans, and dust and heat. Bo awoke and began + to chatter, and to dig into the basket. She learned from the conductor + that Magdalena was only two stations on. And she was full of conjectures + as to who would meet them, what would happen. So Helen was drawn back to + sober realities, in which there was considerable zest. Assuredly she did + not know what was going to happen. Twice Riggs passed up and down the + aisle, his dark face and light eyes and sardonic smile deliberately forced + upon her sight. But again Helen fought a growing dread with contemptuous + scorn. This fellow was not half a man. It was not conceivable what he + could do, except annoy her, until she arrived at Pine. Her uncle was to + meet her or send for her at Snowdrop, which place, Helen knew, was distant + a good long ride by stage from Magdalena. This stage-ride was the climax + and the dread of all the long journey, in Helen's considerations. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nell!” cried Bo, with delight. “We're nearly there! Next station, the + conductor said.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if the stage travels at night,” said Helen, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Sure it does!” replied the irrepressible Bo. + </p> + <p> + The train, though it clattered along as usual, seemed to Helen to fly. + There the sun was setting over bleak New Mexican bluffs, Magdalena was at + hand, and night, and adventure. Helen's heart beat fast. She watched the + yellow plains where the cattle grazed; their presence, and irrigation + ditches and cottonwood-trees told her that the railroad part of the + journey was nearly ended. Then, at Bo's little scream, she looked across + the car and out of the window to see a line of low, flat, red-adobe + houses. The train began to slow down. Helen saw children run, white + children and Mexican together; then more houses, and high upon a hill an + immense adobe church, crude and glaring, yet somehow beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Helen told Bo to put on her bonnet, and, performing a like office for + herself, she was ashamed of the trembling of her fingers. There were + bustle and talk in the car. + </p> + <p> + The train stopped. Helen peered out to see a straggling crowd of Mexicans + and Indians, all motionless and stolid, as if trains or nothing else + mattered. Next Helen saw a white man, and that was a relief. He stood out + in front of the others. Tall and broad, somehow striking, he drew a second + glance that showed him to be a hunter clad in gray-fringed buckskin, and + carrying a rifle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Here, there was no kindly brakeman to help the sisters with their luggage. + Helen bade Bo take her share; thus burdened, they made an awkward and + laborious shift to get off the train. + </p> + <p> + Upon the platform of the car a strong hand seized Helen's heavy bag, with + which she was straining, and a loud voice called out: + </p> + <p> + “Girls, we're here—sure out in the wild an' woolly West!” + </p> + <p> + The speaker was Riggs, and he had possessed himself of part of her baggage + with action and speech meant more to impress the curious crowd than to be + really kind. In the excitement of arriving Helen had forgotten him. The + manner of sudden reminder—the insincerity of it—made her + temper flash. She almost fell, encumbered as she was, in her hurry to + descend the steps. She saw the tall hunter in gray step forward close to + her as she reached for the bag Riggs held. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Riggs, I'll carry my bag,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Let me lug this. You help Bo with hers,” he replied, familiarly. + </p> + <p> + “But I want it,” she rejoined, quietly, with sharp determination. No + little force was needed to pull the bag away from Riggs. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Helen, you ain't goin' any farther with that joke, are you?” he + queried, deprecatingly, and he still spoke quite loud. + </p> + <p> + “It's no joke to me,” replied Helen. “I told you I didn't want your + attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But that was temper. I'm your friend—from your home town. An' + I ain't goin' to let a quarrel keep me from lookin' after you till you're + safe at your uncle's.” + </p> + <p> + Helen turned her back upon him. The tall hunter had just helped Bo off the + car. Then Helen looked up into a smooth bronzed face and piercing gray + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Helen Rayner?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “My name's Dale. I've come to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! My uncle sent you?” added Helen, in quick relief. + </p> + <p> + “No; I can't say Al sent me,” began the man, “but I reckon—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by Riggs, who, grasping Helen by the arm, pulled her + back a step. + </p> + <p> + “Say, mister, did Auchincloss send you to meet my young friends here?” he + demanded, arrogantly. + </p> + <p> + Dale's glance turned from Helen to Riggs. She could not read this quiet + gray gaze, but it thrilled her. + </p> + <p> + “No. I come on my own hook,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You'll understand, then—they're in my charge,” added Riggs. + </p> + <p> + This time the steady light-gray eyes met Helen's, and if there was not a + smile in them or behind them she was still further baffled. + </p> + <p> + “Helen, I reckon you said you didn't want this fellow's attention.” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly said that,” replied Helen, quickly. Just then Bo slipped + close to her and gave her arm a little squeeze. Probably Bo's thought was + like hers—here was a real Western man. That was her first + impression, and following swiftly upon it was a sensation of eased nerves. + </p> + <p> + Riggs swaggered closer to Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Buckskin, I hail from Texas—” + </p> + <p> + “You're wastin' our time an' we've need to hurry,” interrupted Dale. His + tone seemed friendly. “An' if you ever lived long in Texas you wouldn't + pester a lady an' you sure wouldn't talk like you do.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” shouted Riggs, hotly. He dropped his right hand significantly to + his hip. + </p> + <p> + “Don't throw your gun. It might go off,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + Whatever Riggs's intention had been—and it was probably just what + Dale evidently had read it—he now flushed an angry red and jerked at + his gun. + </p> + <p> + Dale's hand flashed too swiftly for Helen's eye to follow it. But she + heard the thud as it struck. The gun went flying to the platform and + scattered a group of Indians and Mexicans. + </p> + <p> + “You'll hurt yourself some day,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + Helen had never heard a slow, cool voice like this hunter's. Without + excitement or emotion or hurry, it yet seemed full and significant of + things the words did not mean. Bo uttered a strange little exultant cry. + </p> + <p> + Riggs's arm had dropped limp. No doubt it was numb. He stared, and his + predominating expression was surprise. As the shuffling crowd began to + snicker and whisper, Riggs gave Dale a malignant glance, shifted it to + Helen, and then lurched away in the direction of his gun. + </p> + <p> + Dale did not pay any more attention to him. Gathering up Helen's baggage, + he said, “Come on,” and shouldered a lane through the gaping crowd. The + girls followed close at his heels. + </p> + <p> + “Nell! what 'd I tell you?” whispered Bo. “Oh, you're all atremble!” + </p> + <p> + Helen was aware of her unsteadiness; anger and fear and relief in quick + succession had left her rather weak. Once through the motley crowd of + loungers, she saw an old gray stage-coach and four lean horses. A + grizzled, sunburned man sat on the driver's seat, whip and reins in hand. + Beside him was a younger man with rifle across his knees. Another man, + young, tall, lean, dark, stood holding the coach door open. He touched his + sombrero to the girls. His eyes were sharp as he addressed Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, wasn't you held up?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But some long-haired galoot was tryin' to hold up the girls. Wanted + to throw his gun on me. I was sure scared,” replied Dale, as he deposited + the luggage. + </p> + <p> + Bo laughed. Her eyes, resting upon Dale, were warm and bright. The young + man at the coach door took a second look at her, and then a smile changed + the dark hardness of his face. + </p> + <p> + Dale helped the girls up the high step into the stage, and then, placing + the lighter luggage, in with them, he threw the heavier pieces on top. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, climb up,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Milt,” drawled the driver, “let's ooze along.” + </p> + <p> + Dale hesitated, with his hand on the door. He glanced at the crowd, now + edging close again, and then at Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I ought to tell you,” he said, and indecision appeared to + concern him. + </p> + <p> + “What?” exclaimed Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Bad news. But talkin' takes time. An' we mustn't lose any.” + </p> + <p> + “There's need of hurry?” queried Helen, sitting up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this the stage to Snowdrop? + </p> + <p> + “No. That leaves in the mornin'. We rustled this old trap to get a start + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “The sooner the better. But I—I don't understand,” said Helen, + bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “It'll not be safe for you to ride on the mornin' stage,” returned Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Safe! Oh, what do you mean?” exclaimed Helen. Apprehensively she gazed at + him and then back at Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Explainin' will take time. An' facts may change your mind. But if you + can't trust me—” + </p> + <p> + “Trust you!” interposed Helen, blankly. “You mean to take us to Snowdrop?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon we'd better go roundabout an' not hit Snowdrop,” he replied, + shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Then to Pine—to my uncle—Al Auchincloss? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm goin' to try hard.” + </p> + <p> + Helen caught her breath. She divined that some peril menaced her. She + looked steadily, with all a woman's keenness, into this man's face. The + moment was one of the fateful decisions she knew the West had in store for + her. Her future and that of Bo's were now to be dependent upon her + judgments. It was a hard moment and, though she shivered inwardly, she + welcomed the initial and inevitable step. This man Dale, by his dress of + buckskin, must be either scout or hunter. His size, his action, the tone + of his voice had been reassuring. But Helen must decide from what she saw + in his face whether or not to trust him. And that face was clear bronze, + unlined, unshadowed, like a tranquil mask, clean-cut, strong-jawed, with + eyes of wonderful transparent gray. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll trust you,” she said. “Get in, and let us hurry. Then you can + explain.” + </p> + <p> + “All ready, Bill. Send 'em along,” called Dale. + </p> + <p> + He had to stoop to enter the stage, and, once in, he appeared to fill that + side upon which he sat. Then the driver cracked his whip; the stage + lurched and began to roll; the motley crowd was left behind. Helen + awakened to the reality, as she saw Bo staring with big eyes at the + hunter, that a stranger adventure than she had ever dreamed of had began + with the rattling roll of that old stage-coach. + </p> + <p> + Dale laid off his sombrero and leaned forward, holding his rifle between + his knees. The light shone better upon his features now that he was + bareheaded. Helen had never seen a face like that, which at first glance + appeared darkly bronzed and hard, and then became clear, cold, aloof, + still, intense. She wished she might see a smile upon it. And now that the + die was cast she could not tell why she had trusted it. There was singular + force in it, but she did not recognize what kind of force. One instant she + thought it was stern, and the next that it was sweet, and again that it + was neither. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you've got your sister,” he said, presently. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know she's my sister?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon she looks like you.” + </p> + <p> + “No one else ever thought so,” replied Helen, trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + Bo had no difficulty in smiling, as she said, “Wish I was half as pretty + as Nell.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell. Isn't your name Helen?” queried Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But my—some few call me Nell.” + </p> + <p> + “I like Nell better than Helen. An' what's yours?” went on Dale, looking + at Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Mine's Bo. Just plain B-o. Isn't it silly? But I wasn't asked when they + gave it to me,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Bo. It's nice an' short. Never heard it before. But I haven't met many + people for years.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! we've left the town!” cried Bo. “Look, Nell! How bare! It's just like + desert.” + </p> + <p> + “It is desert. We've forty miles of that before we come to a hill or a + tree.” + </p> + <p> + Helen glanced out. A flat, dull-green expanse waved away from the road on + and on to a bright, dark horizon-line, where the sun was setting rayless + in a clear sky. Open, desolate, and lonely, the scene gave her a cold + thrill. + </p> + <p> + “Did your uncle Al ever write anythin' about a man named Beasley?” asked + Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed he did,” replied Helen, with a start of surprise. “Beasley! That + name is familiar to us—and detestable. My uncle complained of this + man for years. Then he grew bitter—accused Beasley. But the last + year or so not a word!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” began the hunter, earnestly, “let's get the bad news over. + I'm sorry you must be worried. But you must learn to take the West as it + is. There's good an' bad, maybe more bad. That's because the country's + young.... So to come right out with it—this Beasley hired a gang of + outlaws to meet the stage you was goin' in to Snowdrop—to-morrow—an' + to make off with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Make off with me?” ejaculated Helen, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Kidnap you! Which, in that gang, would be worse than killing you!” + declared Dale, grimly, and he closed a huge fist on his knee. + </p> + <p> + Helen was utterly astounded. + </p> + <p> + “How hor-rible!” she gasped out. “Make off with me!... What in Heaven's + name for?” + </p> + <p> + Bo gave vent to a fierce little utterance. + </p> + <p> + “For reasons you ought to guess,” replied Dale, and he leaned forward + again. Neither his voice nor face changed in the least, but yet there was + a something about him that fascinated Helen. “I'm a hunter. I live in the + woods. A few nights ago I happened to be caught out in a storm an' I took + to an old log cabin. Soon as I got there I heard horses. I hid up in the + loft. Some men rode up an' come in. It was dark. They couldn't see me. An' + they talked. It turned out they were Snake Anson an' his gang of + sheep-thieves. They expected to meet Beasley there. Pretty soon he came. + He told Anson how old Al, your uncle, was on his last legs—how he + had sent for you to have his property when he died. Beasley swore he had + claims on Al. An' he made a deal with Anson to get you out of the way. He + named the day you were to reach Magdalena. With Al dead an' you not there, + Beasley could get the property. An' then he wouldn't care if you did come + to claim it. It 'd be too late.... Well, they rode away that night. An' + next day I rustled down to Pine. They're all my friends at Pine, except + old Al. But they think I'm queer. I didn't want to confide in many people. + Beasley is strong in Pine, an' for that matter I suspect Snake Anson has + other friends there besides Beasley. So I went to see your uncle. He never + had any use for me because he thought I was lazy like an Indian. Old Al + hates lazy men. Then we fell out—or he fell out—because he + believed a tame lion of mine had killed some of his sheep. An' now I + reckon that Tom might have done it. I tried to lead up to this deal of + Beasley's about you, but old Al wouldn't listen. He's cross—very + cross. An' when I tried to tell him, why, he went right out of his head. + Sent me off the ranch. Now I reckon you begin to see what a pickle I was + in. Finally I went to four friends I could trust. They're Mormon boys—brothers. + That's Joe out on top, with the driver. I told them all about Beasley's + deal an' asked them to help me. So we planned to beat Anson an' his gang + to Magdalena. It happens that Beasley is as strong in Magdalena as he is + in Pine. An' we had to go careful. But the boys had a couple of friends + here—Mormons, too, who agreed to help us. They had this old + stage.... An' here you are.” Dale spread out his big hands and looked + gravely at Helen and then at Bo. + </p> + <p> + “You're perfectly splendid!” cried Bo, ringingly. She was white; her + fingers were clenched; her eyes blazed. + </p> + <p> + Dale appeared startled out of his gravity, and surprised, then pleased. A + smile made his face like a boy's. Helen felt her body all rigid, yet + slightly trembling. Her hands were cold. The horror of this revelation + held her speechless. But in her heart she echoed Bo's exclamation of + admiration and gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “So far, then,” resumed Dale, with a heavy breath of relief. “No wonder + you're upset. I've a blunt way of talkin'.... Now we've thirty miles to + ride on this Snowdrop road before we can turn off. To-day sometime the + rest of the boys—Roy, John, an' Hal—were to leave Show Down, + which's a town farther on from Snowdrop. They have my horses an' packs + besides their own. Somewhere on the road we'll meet them—to-night, + maybe—or tomorrow. I hope not to-night, because that 'd mean Anson's + gang was ridin' in to Magdalena.” + </p> + <p> + Helen wrung her hands helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have I no courage?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'm as scared as you are,” said Bo, consolingly, embracing her + sister. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that's natural,” said Dale, as if excusing them. “But, scared or + not, you both brace up. It's a bad job. But I've done my best. An' you'll + be safer with me an' the Beeman boys than you'd be in Magdalena, or + anywhere else, except your uncle's.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr.—Mr. Dale,” faltered Helen, with her tears falling, “don't think + me a coward—or—or ungrateful. I'm neither. It's only I'm so—so + shocked. After all we hoped and expected—this—this—is + such a—a terrible surprise.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Nell dear. Let's take what comes,” murmured Bo. + </p> + <p> + “That's the talk,” said Dale. “You see, I've come right out with the + worst. Maybe we'll get through easy. When we meet the boys we'll take to + the horses an' the trails. Can you ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo has been used to horses all her life and I ride fairly well,” + responded Helen. The idea of riding quickened her spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Good! We may have some hard ridin' before I get you up to Pine. Hello! + What's that?” + </p> + <p> + Above the creaking, rattling, rolling roar of the stage Helen heard a + rapid beat of hoofs. A horse flashed by, galloping hard. + </p> + <p> + Dale opened the door and peered out. The stage rolled to a halt. He + stepped down and gazed ahead. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, who was that?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Nary me. An' Bill didn't know him, either,” replied Joe. “I seen him 'way + back. He was ridin' some. An' he slowed up goin' past us. Now he's runnin' + again.” + </p> + <p> + Dale shook his head as if he did not like the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, he'll never get by Roy on this road,” said Joe. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he'll get by before Roy strikes in on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't likely.” + </p> + <p> + Helen could not restrain her fears. “Mr. Dale, you think he was a + messenger—going ahead to post that—that Anson gang?” + </p> + <p> + “He might be,” replied Dale, simply. + </p> + <p> + Then the young man called Joe leaned out from the seat above and called: + “Miss Helen, don't you worry. Thet fellar is more liable to stop lead than + anythin' else.” + </p> + <p> + His words, meant to be kind and reassuring, were almost as sinister to + Helen as the menace to her own life. Long had she known how cheap life was + held in the West, but she had only known it abstractly, and she had never + let the fact remain before her consciousness. This cheerful young man + spoke calmly of spilling blood in her behalf. The thought it roused was + tragic—for bloodshed was insupportable to her—and then the + thrills which followed were so new, strange, bold, and tingling that they + were revolting. Helen grew conscious of unplumbed depths, of instincts at + which she was amazed and ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “Joe, hand down that basket of grub—the small one with the canteen,” + said Dale, reaching out a long arm. Presently he placed a cloth-covered + basket inside the stage. “Girls, eat all you want an' then some.” + </p> + <p> + “We have a basket half full yet,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “You'll need it all before we get to Pine.... Now, I'll ride up on top + with the boys an' eat my supper. It'll be dark, presently, an' we'll stop + often to listen. But don't be scared.” + </p> + <p> + With that he took his rifle and, closing the door, clambered up to the + driver's seat. Then the stage lurched again and began to roll along. + </p> + <p> + Not the least thing to wonder at of this eventful evening was the way Bo + reached for the basket of food. Helen simply stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, you CAN'T EAT!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I should smile I can,” replied that practical young lady. “And you're + going to if I have to stuff things in your mouth. Where's your wits, Nell? + He said we must eat. That means our strength is going to have some pretty + severe trials.... Gee! it's all great—just like a story! The + unexpected—why, he looks like a prince turned hunter!—long, + dark, stage journey—held up—fight—escape—wild ride + on horses—woods and camps and wild places—pursued—hidden + in the forest—more hard rides—then safe at the ranch. And of + course he falls madly in love with me—no, you, for I'll be true to + my Las Vegas lover—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, silly! Bo, tell me, aren't you SCARED?” + </p> + <p> + “Scared! I'm scared stiff. But if Western girls stand such things, we can. + No Western girl is going to beat ME!” + </p> + <p> + That brought Helen to a realization of the brave place she had given + herself in dreams, and she was at once ashamed of herself and wildly proud + of this little sister. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, thank Heaven I brought you with me!” exclaimed Helen, fervently. + “I'll eat if it chokes me.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon she found herself actually hungry, and while she ate she glanced + out of the stage, first from one side and then from the other. These + windows had no glass and they let the cool night air blow in. The sun had + long since sunk. Out to the west, where a bold, black horizon-line swept + away endlessly, the sky was clear gold, shading to yellow and blue above. + Stars were out, pale and wan, but growing brighter. The earth appeared + bare and heaving, like a calm sea. The wind bore a fragrance new to Helen, + acridly sweet and clean, and it was so cold it made her fingers numb. + </p> + <p> + “I heard some animal yelp,” said Bo, suddenly, and she listened with head + poised. + </p> + <p> + But Helen heard nothing save the steady clip-clop of hoofs, the clink of + chains, the creak and rattle of the old stage, and occasionally the low + voices of the men above. + </p> + <p> + When the girls had satisfied hunger and thirst, night had settled down + black. They pulled the cloaks up over them, and close together leaned back + in a corner of the seat and talked in whispers. Helen did not have much to + say, but Bo was talkative. + </p> + <p> + “This beats me!” she said once, after an interval. “Where are we, Nell? + Those men up there are Mormons. Maybe they are abducting us!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dale isn't a Mormon,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I could tell by the way he spoke of his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish it wasn't so dark. I'm not afraid of men in daylight.... + Nell, did you ever see such a wonderful looking fellow? What'd they call + him? Milt—Milt Dale. He said he lived in the woods. If I hadn't + fallen in love with that cowboy who called me—well, I'd be a goner + now.” + </p> + <p> + After an interval of silence Bo whispered, startlingly, “Wonder if Harve + Riggs is following us now?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is,” replied Helen, hopelessly. + </p> + <p> + “He'd better look out. Why, Nell, he never saw—he never—what + did Uncle Al used to call it?—sav—savvied—that's it. + Riggs never savvied that hunter. But I did, you bet.” + </p> + <p> + “Savvied! What do you mean, Bo?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that long-haired galoot never saw his real danger. But I felt it. + Something went light inside me. Dale never took him seriously at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Riggs will turn up at Uncle Al's, sure as I'm born,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Let him turn,” replied Bo, contemptuously. “Nell, don't you ever bother + your head again about him. I'll bet they're all men out here. And I + wouldn't be in Harve Riggs's boots for a lot.” + </p> + <p> + After that Bo talked of her uncle and his fatal illness, and from that she + drifted back to the loved ones at home, now seemingly at the other side of + the world, and then she broke down and cried, after which she fell asleep + on Helen's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + But Helen could not have fallen asleep if she had wanted to. + </p> + <p> + She had always, since she could remember, longed for a moving, active + life; and for want of a better idea she had chosen to dream of gipsies. + And now it struck her grimly that, if these first few hours of her advent + in the West were forecasts of the future, she was destined to have her + longings more than fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + Presently the stage rolled slower and slower, until it came to a halt. + Then the horses heaved, the harnesses clinked, the men whispered. + Otherwise there was an intense quiet. She looked out, expecting to find it + pitch-dark. It was black, yet a transparent blackness. To her surprise she + could see a long way. A shooting-star electrified her. The men were + listening. She listened, too, but beyond the slight sounds about the stage + she heard nothing. Presently the driver clucked to his horses, and travel + was resumed. + </p> + <p> + For a while the stage rolled on rapidly, evidently downhill, swaying from + side to side, and rattling as if about to fall to pieces. Then it slowed + on a level, and again it halted for a few moments, and once more in motion + it began a laborsome climb. Helen imagined miles had been covered. The + desert appeared to heave into billows, growing rougher, and dark, round + bushes dimly stood out. The road grew uneven and rocky, and when the stage + began another descent its violent rocking jolted Bo out of her sleep and + in fact almost out of Helen's arms. + </p> + <p> + “Where am I?” asked Bo, dazedly. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, you're having your heart's desire, but I can't tell you where you + are,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + Bo awakened thoroughly, which fact was now no wonder, considering the + jostling of the old stage. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on to me, Nell!... Is it a runaway?” + </p> + <p> + “We've come about a thousand miles like this, I think,” replied Helen. + “I've not a whole bone in my body.” + </p> + <p> + Bo peered out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how dark and lonesome! But it'd be nice if it wasn't so cold. I'm + freezing.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you loved cold air,” taunted Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Nell, you begin to talk like yourself,” responded Bo. + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to hold on to the stage and each other and the cloak all + at once, but they succeeded, except in the roughest places, when from time + to time they were bounced around. Bo sustained a sharp rap on the head. + </p> + <p> + “Oooooo!” she moaned. “Nell Rayner, I'll never forgive you for fetching me + on this awful trip.” + </p> + <p> + “Just think of your handsome Las Vegas cowboy,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + Either this remark subdued Bo or the suggestion sufficed to reconcile her + to the hardships of the ride. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, as they talked and maintained silence and tried to sleep, the + driver of the stage kept at his task after the manner of Western men who + knew how to get the best out of horses and bad roads and distance. + </p> + <p> + By and by the stage halted again and remained at a standstill for so long, + with the men whispering on top, that Helen and Bo were roused to + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the darkness ahead. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's Roy,” said Joe Beeman, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon. An' meetin' us so quick looks bad,” replied Dale. “Drive on, + Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe it seems quick to you,” muttered the driver, “but if we hain't come + thirty mile, an' if thet ridge thar hain't your turnin'-off place, why, I + don't know nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + The stage rolled on a little farther, while Helen and Bo sat clasping each + other tight, wondering with bated breath what was to be the next thing to + happen. + </p> + <p> + Then once more they were at a standstill. Helen heard the thud of boots + striking the ground, and the snorts of horses. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I see horses,” whispered Bo, excitedly. “There, to the side of the + road... and here comes a man.... Oh, if he shouldn't be the one they're + expecting!” + </p> + <p> + Helen peered out to see a tall, dark form, moving silently, and beyond it + a vague outline of horses, and then pale gleams of what must have been + pack-loads. + </p> + <p> + Dale loomed up, and met the stranger in the road. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Milt? You got the girl sure, or you wouldn't be here,” said a low + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, I've got two girls—sisters,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + The man Roy whistled softly under his breath. Then another lean, rangy + form strode out of the darkness, and was met by Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Now, boys—how about Anson's gang?” queried Dale. + </p> + <p> + “At Snowdrop, drinkin' an' quarrelin'. Reckon they'll leave there about + daybreak,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been here?” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe a couple of hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Any horse go by?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, a strange rider passed us before dark. He was hittin' the road. An' + he's got by here before you came.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like thet news,” replied Roy, tersely. “Let's rustle. With girls + on hossback you'll need all the start you can get. Hey, John?” + </p> + <p> + “Snake Anson shore can foller hoss tracks,” replied the third man. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, say the word,” went on Roy, as he looked up at the stars. “Daylight + not far away. Here's the forks of the road, an' your hosses, an' our + outfit. You can be in the pines by sunup.” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that ensued Helen heard the throb of her heart and the + panting little breaths of her sister. They both peered out, hands clenched + together, watching and listening in strained attention. + </p> + <p> + “It's possible that rider last night wasn't a messenger to Anson,” said + Dale. “In that case Anson won't make anythin' of our wheel tracks or horse + tracks. He'll go right on to meet the regular stage. Bill, can you go back + an' meet the stage comin' before Anson does?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon so—an' take it easy at thet,” replied Bill. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” continued Dale, instantly. “John, you an' Joe an' Hal ride + back to meet the regular stage. An' when you meet it get on an' be on it + when Anson holds it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Thet's shore agreeable to me,” drawled John. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to be on it, too,” said Roy, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I'll need you till I'm safe in the woods. Bill, hand down the bags. + An' you, Roy, help me pack them. Did you get all the supplies I wanted?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore did. If the young ladies ain't powerful particular you can feed + them well for a couple of months.” + </p> + <p> + Dale wheeled and, striding to the stage, he opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Girls, you're not asleep? Come,” he called. + </p> + <p> + Bo stepped down first. + </p> + <p> + “I was asleep till this—this vehicle fell off the road back a ways,” + she replied. + </p> + <p> + Roy Beeman's low laugh was significant. He took off his sombrero and stood + silent. The old driver smothered a loud guffaw. + </p> + <p> + “Veehicle! Wal, I'll be doggoned! Joe, did you hear thet? All the spunky + gurls ain't born out West.” + </p> + <p> + As Helen followed with cloak and bag Roy assisted her, and she encountered + keen eyes upon her face. He seemed both gentle and respectful, and she + felt his solicitude. His heavy gun, swinging low, struck her as she + stepped down. + </p> + <p> + Dale reached into the stage and hauled out baskets and bags. These he set + down on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Turn around, Bill, an' go along with you. John an' Hal will follow + presently,” ordered Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, gurls,” said Bill, looking down upon them, “I was shore powerful + glad to meet you-all. An' I'm ashamed of my country—offerin' two + sich purty gurls insults an' low-down tricks. But shore you'll go through + safe now. You couldn't be in better company fer ridin' or huntin' or + marryin' or gittin' religion—” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, you old grizzly!” broke in Dale, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Haw! Good-by, gurls, an' good luck!” ended Bill, as he began to whip + the reins. + </p> + <p> + Bo said good-by quite distinctly, but Helen could only murmur hers. The + old driver seemed a friend. + </p> + <p> + Then the horses wheeled and stamped, the stage careened and creaked, + presently to roll out of sight in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “You're shiverin',” said Dale, suddenly, looking down upon Helen. She felt + his big, hard hand clasp hers. “Cold as ice!” + </p> + <p> + “I am c-cold,” replied Helen. “I guess we're not warmly dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, we roasted all day, and now we're freezing,” declared Bo. “I didn't + know it was winter at night out here.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss, haven't you some warm gloves an' a coat?” asked Roy, anxiously. “It + 'ain't begun to get cold yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, we've heavy gloves, riding-suits and boots—all fine and new—in + this black bag,” said Bo, enthusiastically kicking a bag at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so we have. But a lot of good they'll do us, to-night,” returned + Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Miss, you'd do well to change right here,” said Roy, earnestly. “It'll + save time in the long run an' a lot of sufferin' before sunup.” + </p> + <p> + Helen stared at the young man, absolutely amazed with his simplicity. She + was advised to change her traveling-dress for a riding-suit—out + somewhere in a cold, windy desert—in the middle of the night—among + strange young men! + </p> + <p> + “Bo, which bag is it?” asked Dale, as if she were his sister. And when she + indicated the one, he picked it up. “Come off the road.” + </p> + <p> + Bo followed him, and Helen found herself mechanically at their heels. Dale + led them a few paces off the road behind some low bushes. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry an' change here,” he said. “We'll make a pack of your outfit an' + leave room for this bag.” + </p> + <p> + Then he stalked away and in a few strides disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Bo sat down to begin unlacing her shoes. Helen could just see her pale, + pretty face and big, gleaming eyes by the light of the stars. It struck + her then that Bo was going to make eminently more of a success of Western + life than she was. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, those fellows are n-nice,” said Bo, reflectively. “Aren't you + c-cold? Say, he said hurry!” + </p> + <p> + It was beyond Helen's comprehension how she ever began to disrobe out + there in that open, windy desert, but after she had gotten launched on the + task she found that it required more fortitude than courage. The cold wind + pierced right through her. Almost she could have laughed at the way Bo + made things fly. + </p> + <p> + “G-g-g-gee!” chattered Bo. “I n-never w-was so c-c-cold in all my life. + Nell Rayner, m-may the g-good Lord forgive y-you!” + </p> + <p> + Helen was too intent on her own troubles to take breath to talk. She was a + strong, healthy girl, swift and efficient with her hands, yet this, the + hardest physical ordeal she had ever experienced, almost overcame her. Bo + outdistanced her by moments, helped her with buttons, and laced one whole + boot for her. Then, with hands that stung, Helen packed the + traveling-suits in the bag. + </p> + <p> + “There! But what an awful mess!” exclaimed Helen. “Oh, Bo, our pretty + traveling-dresses!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll press them t-to-morrow—on a l-log,” replied Bo, and she + giggled. + </p> + <p> + They started for the road. Bo, strange to note, did not carry her share of + the burden, and she seemed unsteady on her feet. + </p> + <p> + The men were waiting beside a group of horses, one of which carried a + pack. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' slow about you,” said Dale, relieving Helen of the grip. “Roy, + put them up while I sling on this bag.” + </p> + <p> + Roy led out two of the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Get up,” he said, indicating Bo. “The stirrups are short on this saddle.” + </p> + <p> + Bo was an adept at mounting, but she made such awkward and slow work of it + in this instance that Helen could not believe her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Haw 're the stirrups?” asked Roy. “Stand in them. Guess they're about + right.... Careful now! Thet hoss is skittish. Hold him in.” + </p> + <p> + Bo was not living up to the reputation with which Helen had credited her. + </p> + <p> + “Now, miss, you get up,” said Roy to Helen. And in another instant she + found herself astride a black, spirited horse. Numb with cold as she was, + she yet felt the coursing thrills along her veins. + </p> + <p> + Roy was at the stirrups with swift hands. + </p> + <p> + “You're taller 'n I guessed,” he said. “Stay up, but lift your foot.... + Shore now, I'm glad you have them thick, soft boots. Mebbe we'll ride all + over the White Mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, do you hear that?” called Helen. + </p> + <p> + But Bo did not answer. She was leaning rather unnaturally in her saddle. + Helen became anxious. Just then Dale strode back to them. + </p> + <p> + “All cinched up, Roy?” + </p> + <p> + “Jest ready,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + Then Dale stood beside Helen. How tall he was! His wide shoulders seemed + on a level with the pommel of her saddle. He put an affectionate hand on + the horse. + </p> + <p> + “His name's Ranger an' he's the fastest an' finest horse in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he shore is—along with my bay,” corroborated Roy. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, if you rode Ranger he'd beat your pet,” said Dale. “We can start + now. Roy, you drive the pack-horses.” + </p> + <p> + He took another look at Helen's saddle and then moved to do likewise with + Bo's. + </p> + <p> + “Are you—all right?” he asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + Bo reeled in her seat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm n-near froze,” she replied, in a faint voice. Her face shone white in + the starlight. Helen recognized that Bo was more than cold. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bo!” she called, in distress. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, don't you worry, now.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me carry you,” suggested Dale. + </p> + <p> + “No. I'll s-s-stick on this horse or d-die,” fiercely retorted Bo. + </p> + <p> + The two men looked up at her white face and then at each other. Then Roy + walked away toward the dark bunch of horses off the road and Dale swung + astride the one horse left. + </p> + <p> + “Keep close to me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Bo fell in line and Helen brought up the rear. + </p> + <p> + Helen imagined she was near the end of a dream. Presently she would awaken + with a start and see the pale walls of her little room at home, and hear + the cherry branches brushing her window, and the old clarion-voiced cock + proclaim the hour of dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The horses trotted. And the exercise soon warmed Helen, until she was + fairly comfortable except in her fingers. In mind, however, she grew more + miserable as she more fully realized her situation. The night now became + so dark that, although the head of her horse was alongside the flank of + Bo's, she could scarcely see Bo. From time to time Helen's anxious query + brought from her sister the answer that she was all right. + </p> + <p> + Helen had not ridden a horse for more than a year, and for several years + she had not ridden with any regularity. Despite her thrills upon mounting, + she had entertained misgivings. But she was agreeably surprised, for the + horse, Ranger, had an easy gait, and she found she had not forgotten how + to ride. Bo, having been used to riding on a farm near home, might be + expected to acquit herself admirably. It occurred to Helen what a plight + they would have been in but for the thick, comfortable riding outfits. + </p> + <p> + Dark as the night was, Helen could dimly make out the road underneath. It + was rocky, and apparently little used. When Dale turned off the road into + the low brush or sage of what seemed a level plain, the traveling was + harder, rougher, and yet no slower. The horses kept to the gait of the + leaders. Helen, discovering it unnecessary, ceased attempting to guide + Ranger. There were dim shapes in the gloom ahead, and always they gave + Helen uneasiness, until closer approach proved them to be rocks or low, + scrubby trees. These increased in both size and number as the horses + progressed. Often Helen looked back into the gloom behind. This act was + involuntary and occasioned her sensations of dread. Dale expected to be + pursued. And Helen experienced, along with the dread, flashes of + unfamiliar resentment. Not only was there an attempt afoot to rob her of + her heritage, but even her personal liberty. Then she shuddered at the + significance of Dale's words regarding her possible abduction by this + hired gang. It seemed monstrous, impossible. Yet, manifestly it was true + enough to Dale and his allies. The West, then, in reality was raw, hard, + inevitable. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly her horse stopped. He had come up alongside Bo's horse. Dale had + halted ahead, and apparently was listening. Roy and the pack-train were + out of sight in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” whispered Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I heard a wolf,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Was that cry a wolf's?” asked Bo. “I heard. It was wild.” + </p> + <p> + “We're gettin' up close to the foot-hills,” said Dale. “Feel how much + colder the air is.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm warm now,” replied Bo. “I guess being near froze was what ailed + me.... Nell, how 're you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm warm, too, but—” Helen answered. + </p> + <p> + “If you had your choice of being here or back home, snug in bed—which + would you take?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Bo!” exclaimed Helen, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'd choose to be right here on this horse,” rejoined Bo. + </p> + <p> + Dale heard her, for he turned an instant, then slapped his horse and + started on. + </p> + <p> + Helen now rode beside Bo, and for a long time they climbed steadily in + silence. Helen knew when that dark hour before dawn had passed, and she + welcomed an almost imperceptible lightening in the east. Then the stars + paled. Gradually a grayness absorbed all but the larger stars. The great + white morning star, wonderful as Helen had never seen it, lost its + brilliance and life and seemed to retreat into the dimming blue. + </p> + <p> + Daylight came gradually, so that the gray desert became distinguishable by + degrees. Rolling bare hills, half obscured by the gray lifting mantle of + night, rose in the foreground, and behind was gray space, slowly taking + form and substance. In the east there was a kindling of pale rose and + silver that lengthened and brightened along a horizon growing visibly + rugged. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we'd better catch up with Roy,” said Dale, and he spurred his + horse. + </p> + <p> + Ranger and Bo's mount needed no other urging, and they swung into a + canter. Far ahead the pack-animals showed with Roy driving them. The cold + wind was so keen in Helen's face that tears blurred her eyes and froze her + cheeks. And riding Ranger at that pace was like riding in a rocking-chair. + That ride, invigorating and exciting, seemed all too short. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nell, I don't care—what becomes of—me!” exclaimed Bo, + breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + Her face was white and red, fresh as a rose, her eyes glanced darkly blue, + her hair blew out in bright, unruly strands. Helen knew she felt some of + the physical stimulation that had so roused Bo, and seemed so + irresistible, but somber thought was not deflected thereby. + </p> + <p> + It was clear daylight when Roy led off round a knoll from which patches of + scrubby trees—cedars, Dale called them—straggled up on the + side of the foot-hills. + </p> + <p> + “They grow on the north slopes, where the snow stays longest,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + They descended into a valley that looked shallow, but proved to be deep + and wide, and then began to climb another foot-hill. Upon surmounting it + Helen saw the rising sun, and so glorious a view confronted her that she + was unable to answer Bo's wild exclamations. + </p> + <p> + Bare, yellow, cedar-dotted slopes, apparently level, so gradual was the + ascent, stretched away to a dense ragged line of forest that rose black + over range after range, at last to fail near the bare summit of a + magnificent mountain, sunrise-flushed against the blue sky. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, beautiful!” cried Bo. “But they ought to be called Black Mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “Old Baldy, there, is white half the year,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Look back an' see what you say,” suggested Roy. + </p> + <p> + The girls turned to gaze silently. Helen imagined she looked down upon the + whole wide world. How vastly different was the desert! Verily it yawned + away from her, red and gold near at hand, growing softly flushed with + purple far away, a barren void, borderless and immense, where dark-green + patches and black lines and upheaved ridges only served to emphasize + distance and space. + </p> + <p> + “See thet little green spot,” said Roy, pointing. “Thet's Snowdrop. An' + the other one—'way to the right—thet's Show Down.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Pine?” queried Helen, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Farther still, up over the foot-hills at the edge of the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we're riding away from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If we'd gone straight for Pine thet gang could overtake us. Pine is + four days' ride. An' by takin' to the mountains Milt can hide his tracks. + An' when he's thrown Anson off the scent, then he'll circle down to Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dale, do you think you'll get us there safely—and soon?” asked + Helen, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “I won't promise soon, but I promise safe. An' I don't like bein' called + Mister,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Are we ever going to eat?” inquired Bo, demurely. + </p> + <p> + At this query Roy Beeman turned with a laugh to look at Bo. Helen saw his + face fully in the light, and it was thin and hard, darkly bronzed, with + eyes like those of a hawk, and with square chin and lean jaws showing + scant, light beard. + </p> + <p> + “We shore are,” he replied. “Soon as we reach the timber. Thet won't be + long.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we can rustle some an' then take a good rest,” said Dale, and he + urged his horse into a jog-trot. + </p> + <p> + During a steady trot for a long hour, Helen's roving eyes were everywhere, + taking note of the things from near to far—the scant sage that soon + gave place to as scanty a grass, and the dark blots that proved to be + dwarf cedars, and the ravines opening out as if by magic from what had + appeared level ground, to wind away widening between gray stone walls, and + farther on, patches of lonely pine-trees, two and three together, and then + a straggling clump of yellow aspens, and up beyond the fringed border of + forest, growing nearer all the while, the black sweeping benches rising to + the noble dome of the dominant mountain of the range. + </p> + <p> + No birds or animals were seen in that long ride up toward the timber, + which fact seemed strange to Helen. The air lost something of its cold, + cutting edge as the sun rose higher, and it gained sweeter tang of + forest-land. The first faint suggestion of that fragrance was utterly new + to Helen, yet it brought a vague sensation of familiarity and with it an + emotion as strange. It was as if she had smelled that keen, pungent tang + long ago, and her physical sense caught it before her memory. + </p> + <p> + The yellow plain had only appeared to be level. Roy led down into a + shallow ravine, where a tiny stream meandered, and he followed this around + to the left, coming at length to a point where cedars and dwarf pines + formed a little grove. Here, as the others rode up, he sat cross-legged in + his saddle, and waited. + </p> + <p> + “We'll hang up awhile,” he said. “Reckon you're tired?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm hungry, but not tired yet,” replied Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen dismounted, to find that walking was something she had apparently + lost the power to do. Bo laughed at her, but she, too, was awkward when + once more upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + Then Roy got down. Helen was surprised to find him lame. He caught her + quick glance. + </p> + <p> + “A hoss threw me once an' rolled on me. Only broke my collar-bone, five + ribs, one arm, an' my bow-legs in two places!” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this evidence that he was a cripple, as he stood there + tall and lithe in his homespun, ragged garments, he looked singularly + powerful and capable. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon walkin' around would be good for you girls,” advised Dale. “If you + ain't stiff yet, you'll be soon. An' walkin' will help. Don't go far. I'll + call when breakfast's ready.” + </p> + <p> + A little while later the girls were whistled in from their walk and found + camp-fire and meal awaiting them. Roy was sitting cross-legged, like an + Indian, in front of a tarpaulin, upon which was spread a homely but + substantial fare. Helen's quick eye detected a cleanliness and + thoroughness she had scarcely expected to find in the camp cooking of men + of the wilds. Moreover, the fare was good. She ate heartily, and as for + Bo's appetite, she was inclined to be as much ashamed of that as amused at + it. The young men were all eyes, assiduous in their service to the girls, + but speaking seldom. It was not lost upon Helen how Dale's gray gaze went + often down across the open country. She divined apprehension from it + rather than saw much expression in it. + </p> + <p> + “I—declare,” burst out Bo, when she could not eat any more, “this + isn't believable. I'm dreaming.... Nell, the black horse you rode is the + prettiest I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + Ranger, with the other animals, was grazing along the little brook. Packs + and saddles had been removed. The men ate leisurely. There was little + evidence of hurried flight. Yet Helen could not cast off uneasiness. Roy + might have been deep, and careless, with a motive to spare the girls' + anxiety, but Dale seemed incapable of anything he did not absolutely mean. + </p> + <p> + “Rest or walk,” he advised the girls. “We've got forty miles to ride + before dark.” + </p> + <p> + Helen preferred to rest, but Bo walked about, petting the horses and + prying into the packs. She was curious and eager. + </p> + <p> + Dale and Roy talked in low tones while they cleaned up the utensils and + packed them away in a heavy canvas bag. + </p> + <p> + “You really expect Anson 'll strike my trail this mornin'?” Dale was + asking. + </p> + <p> + “I shore do,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + “An' how do you figure that so soon?” + </p> + <p> + “How'd you figure it—if you was Snake Anson?” queried Roy, in reply. + </p> + <p> + “Depends on that rider from Magdalena,” said Dale, soberly. “Although it's + likely I'd seen them wheel tracks an' hoss tracks made where we turned + off. But supposin' he does.” + </p> + <p> + “Milt, listen. I told you Snake met us boys face to face day before + yesterday in Show Down. An' he was plumb curious.” + </p> + <p> + “But he missed seein' or hearin' about me,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe he did an' mebbe he didn't. Anyway, what's the difference whether + he finds out this mornin' or this evenin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ain't expectin' a fight if Anson holds up the stage?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, he'd have to shoot first, which ain't likely. John an' Hal, since + thet shootin'-scrape a year ago, have been sort of gun-shy. Joe might get + riled. But I reckon the best we can be shore of is a delay. An' it'd be + sense not to count on thet.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you hang up here an' keep watch for Anson's gang—say long + enough so's to be sure they'd be in sight if they find our tracks this + mornin'. Makin' sure one way or another, you ride 'cross-country to Big + Spring, where I'll camp to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Roy nodded approval of that suggestion. Then without more words both men + picked up ropes and went after the horses. Helen was watching Dale, so + that when Bo cried out in great excitement Helen turned to see a savage + yellow little mustang standing straight up on his hind legs and pawing the + air. Roy had roped him and was now dragging him into camp. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, look at that for a wild pony!” exclaimed Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen busied herself getting well out of the way of the infuriated + mustang. Roy dragged him to a cedar near by. + </p> + <p> + “Come now, Buckskin,” said Roy, soothingly, and he slowly approached the + quivering animal. He went closer, hand over hand, on the lasso. Buckskin + showed the whites of his eyes and also his white teeth. But he stood while + Roy loosened the loop and, slipping it down over his head, fastened it in + a complicated knot round his nose. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's a hackamore,” he said, indicating the knot. “He's never had a + bridle, an' never will have one, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't ride him?” queried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I do,” replied Roy, with a smile. “Would you girls like to try + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” answered Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” ejaculated Bo. “He looks like a devil. But I'd tackle him—if + you think I could.” + </p> + <p> + The wild leaven of the West had found quick root in Bo Rayner. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'm sorry, but I reckon I'll not let you—for a spell,” replied + Roy, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “He pitches somethin' powerful bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Pitches. You mean bucks?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + In the next half-hour Helen saw more and learned more about how horses of + the open range were handled than she had ever heard of. Excepting Ranger, + and Roy's bay, and the white pony Bo rode, the rest of the horses had + actually to be roped and hauled into camp to be saddled and packed. It was + a job for fearless, strong men, and one that called for patience as well + as arms of iron. So that for Helen Rayner the thing succeeding the + confidence she had placed in these men was respect. To an observing woman + that half-hour told much. + </p> + <p> + When all was in readiness for a start Dale mounted, and said, + significantly: “Roy, I'll look for you about sundown. I hope no sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it'd be bad if I had to rustle along soon with bad news. Let's hope + for the best. We've been shore lucky so far. Now you take to the pine-mats + in the woods an' hide your trail.” + </p> + <p> + Dale turned away. Then the girls bade Roy good-by, and followed. Soon Roy + and his buckskin-colored mustang were lost to sight round a clump of + trees. + </p> + <p> + The unhampered horses led the way; the pack-animals trotted after them; + the riders were close behind. All traveled at a jog-trot. And this gait + made the packs bob up and down and from side to side. The sun felt warm at + Helen's back and the wind lost its frosty coldness, that almost appeared + damp, for a dry, sweet fragrance. Dale drove up the shallow valley that + showed timber on the levels above and a black border of timber some few + miles ahead. It did not take long to reach the edge of the forest. + </p> + <p> + Helen wondered why the big pines grew so far on that plain and no farther. + Probably the growth had to do with snow, but, as the ground was level, she + could not see why the edge of the woods should come just there. + </p> + <p> + They rode into the forest. + </p> + <p> + To Helen it seemed a strange, critical entrance into another world, which + she was destined to know and to love. The pines were big, brown-barked, + seamed, and knotted, with no typical conformation except a majesty and + beauty. They grew far apart. Few small pines and little underbrush + flourished beneath them. The floor of this forest appeared remarkable in + that it consisted of patches of high silvery grass and wide brown areas of + pine-needles. These manifestly were what Roy had meant by pine-mats. Here + and there a fallen monarch lay riven or rotting. Helen was presently + struck with the silence of the forest and the strange fact that the horses + seldom made any sound at all, and when they did it was a cracking of dead + twig or thud of hoof on log. Likewise she became aware of a springy nature + of the ground. And then she saw that the pine-mats gave like rubber + cushions under the hoofs of the horses, and after they had passed sprang + back to place again, leaving no track. Helen could not see a sign of a + trail they left behind. Indeed, it would take a sharp eye to follow Dale + through that forest. This knowledge was infinitely comforting to Helen, + and for the first time since the flight had begun she felt a lessening of + the weight upon mind and heart. It left her free for some of the + appreciation she might have had in this wonderful ride under happier + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Bo, however, seemed too young, too wild, too intense to mind what the + circumstances were. She responded to reality. Helen began to suspect that + the girl would welcome any adventure, and Helen knew surely now that Bo + was a true Auchincloss. For three long days Helen had felt a constraint + with which heretofore she had been unfamiliar; for the last hours it had + been submerged under dread. But it must be, she concluded, blood like her + sister's, pounding at her veins to be set free to race and to burn. + </p> + <p> + Bo loved action. She had an eye for beauty, but she was not contemplative. + She was now helping Dale drive the horses and hold them in rather close + formation. She rode well, and as yet showed no symptoms of fatigue or + pain. Helen began to be aware of both, but not enough yet to limit her + interest. + </p> + <p> + A wonderful forest without birds did not seem real to her. Of all living + creatures in nature Helen liked birds best, and she knew many and could + imitate the songs of a few. But here under the stately pines there were no + birds. Squirrels, however, began to be seen here and there, and in the + course of an hour's travel became abundant. The only one with which she + was familiar was the chipmunk. All the others, from the slim bright blacks + to the striped russets and the white-tailed grays, were totally new to + her. They appeared tame and curious. The reds barked and scolded at the + passing cavalcade; the blacks glided to some safe branch, there to watch; + the grays paid no especial heed to this invasion of their domain. + </p> + <p> + Once Dale, halting his horse, pointed with long arm, and Helen, following + the direction, descried several gray deer standing in a glade, motionless, + with long ears up. They made a wild and beautiful picture. Suddenly they + bounded away with remarkable springy strides. + </p> + <p> + The forest on the whole held to the level, open character, but there were + swales and stream-beds breaking up its regular conformity. Toward noon, + however, it gradually changed, a fact that Helen believed she might have + observed sooner had she been more keen. The general lay of the land began + to ascend, and the trees to grow denser. + </p> + <p> + She made another discovery. Ever since she had entered the forest she had + become aware of a fullness in her head and a something affecting her + nostrils. She imagined, with regret, that she had taken cold. But + presently her head cleared somewhat and she realized that the thick pine + odor of the forest had clogged her nostrils as if with a sweet pitch. The + smell was overpowering and disagreeable because of its strength. Also her + throat and lungs seemed to burn. + </p> + <p> + When she began to lose interest in the forest and her surroundings it was + because of aches and pains which would no longer be denied recognition. + Thereafter she was not permitted to forget them and they grew worse. One, + especially, was a pain beyond all her experience. It lay in the muscles of + her side, above her hip, and it grew to be a treacherous thing, for it was + not persistent. It came and went. After it did come, with a terrible + flash, it could be borne by shifting or easing the body. But it gave no + warning. When she expected it she was mistaken; when she dared to breathe + again, then, with piercing swiftness, it returned like a blade in her + side. This, then, was one of the riding-pains that made a victim of a + tenderfoot on a long ride. It was almost too much to be borne. The beauty + of the forest, the living creatures to be seen scurrying away, the time, + distance—everything faded before that stablike pain. To her infinite + relief she found that it was the trot that caused this torture. When + Ranger walked she did not have to suffer it. Therefore she held him to a + walk as long as she dared or until Dale and Bo were almost out of sight; + then she loped him ahead until he had caught up. + </p> + <p> + So the hours passed, the sun got around low, sending golden shafts under + the trees, and the forest gradually changed to a brighter, but a thicker, + color. This slowly darkened. Sunset was not far away. + </p> + <p> + She heard the horses splashing in water, and soon she rode up to see the + tiny streams of crystal water running swiftly over beds of green moss. She + crossed a number of these and followed along the last one into a more open + place in the forest where the pines were huge, towering, and far apart. A + low, gray bluff of stone rose to the right, perhaps one-third as high as + the trees. From somewhere came the rushing sound of running water. + </p> + <p> + “Big Spring,” announced Dale. “We camp here. You girls have done well.” + </p> + <p> + Another glance proved to Helen that all those little streams poured from + under this gray bluff. + </p> + <p> + “I'm dying for a drink,” cried Bo with her customary hyperbole. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'll never forget your first drink here,” remarked Dale. + </p> + <p> + Bo essayed to dismount, and finally fell off, and when she did get to the + ground her legs appeared to refuse their natural function, and she fell + flat. Dale helped her up. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong with me, anyhow?” she demanded, in great amaze. + </p> + <p> + “Just stiff, I reckon,” replied Dale, as he led her a few awkward steps. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, have you any hurts?” queried Helen, who still sat her horse, loath to + try dismounting, yet wanting to beyond all words. + </p> + <p> + Bo gave her an eloquent glance. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, did you have one in your side, like a wicked, long darning-needle, + punching deep when you weren't ready?” + </p> + <p> + “That one I'll never get over!” exclaimed Helen, softly. Then, profiting + by Bo's experience, she dismounted cautiously, and managed to keep + upright. Her legs felt like wooden things. + </p> + <p> + Presently the girls went toward the spring. + </p> + <p> + “Drink slow,” called out Dale. + </p> + <p> + Big Spring had its source somewhere deep under the gray, weathered bluff, + from which came a hollow subterranean gurgle and roar of water. Its + fountainhead must have been a great well rushing up through the cold + stone. + </p> + <p> + Helen and Bo lay flat on a mossy bank, seeing their faces as they bent + over, and they sipped a mouthful, by Dale's advice, and because they were + so hot and parched and burning they wanted to tarry a moment with a + precious opportunity. + </p> + <p> + The water was so cold that it sent a shock over Helen, made her teeth + ache, and a singular, revivifying current steal all through her, wonderful + in its cool absorption of that dry heat of flesh, irresistible in its + appeal to thirst. Helen raised her head to look at this water. It was + colorless as she had found it tasteless. + </p> + <p> + “Nell—drink!” panted Bo. “Think of our—old spring—in the + orchard—full of pollywogs!” + </p> + <p> + And then Helen drank thirstily, with closed eyes, while a memory of home + stirred from Bo's gift of poignant speech. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The first camp duty Dale performed was to throw a pack off one of the + horses, and, opening it, he took out tarpaulin and blankets, which he + arranged on the ground under a pine-tree. + </p> + <p> + “You girls rest,” he said, briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Can't we help?” asked Helen, though she could scarcely stand. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be welcome to do all you like after you're broke in.” + </p> + <p> + “Broke in!” ejaculated Bo, with a little laugh. “I'm all broke UP now.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, it looks as if Mr. Dale expects us to have quite a stay with him in + the woods.” + </p> + <p> + “It does,” replied Bo, as slowly she sat down upon the blankets, stretched + out with a long sigh, and laid her head on a saddle. “Nell, didn't he say + not to call him Mister?” + </p> + <p> + Dale was throwing the packs off the other horses. + </p> + <p> + Helen lay down beside Bo, and then for once in her life she experienced + the sweetness of rest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sister, what do you intend to call him?” queried Helen, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, of course,” replied Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen had to laugh despite her weariness and aches. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, then, when your Las Vegas cowboy comes along you will call him + what he called you.” + </p> + <p> + Bo blushed, which was a rather unusual thing for her. + </p> + <p> + “I will if I like,” she retorted. “Nell, ever since I could remember + you've raved about the West. Now you're OUT West, right in it good and + deep. So wake up!” + </p> + <p> + That was Bo's blunt and characteristic way of advising the elimination of + Helen's superficialities. It sank deep. Helen had no retort. Her ambition, + as far as the West was concerned, had most assuredly not been for such a + wild, unheard-of jaunt as this. But possibly the West—a living from + day to day—was one succession of adventures, trials, tests, + troubles, and achievements. To make a place for others to live comfortably + some day! That might be Bo's meaning, embodied in her forceful hint. But + Helen was too tired to think it out then. She found it interesting and + vaguely pleasant to watch Dale. + </p> + <p> + He hobbled the horses and turned them loose. Then with ax in hand he + approached a short, dead tree, standing among a few white-barked aspens. + Dale appeared to advantage swinging the ax. With his coat off, displaying + his wide shoulders, straight back, and long, powerful arms, he looked a + young giant. He was lithe and supple, brawny but not bulky. The ax rang on + the hard wood, reverberating through the forest. A few strokes sufficed to + bring down the stub. Then he split it up. Helen was curious to see how he + kindled a fire. First he ripped splinters out of the heart of the log, and + laid them with coarser pieces on the ground. Then from a saddlebag which + hung on a near-by branch he took flint and steel and a piece of what Helen + supposed was rag or buckskin, upon which powder had been rubbed. At any + rate, the first strike of the steel brought sparks, a blaze, and burning + splinters. Instantly the flame leaped a foot high. He put on larger pieces + of wood crosswise, and the fire roared. + </p> + <p> + That done, he stood erect, and, facing the north, he listened. Helen + remembered now that she had seen him do the same thing twice before since + the arrival at Big Spring. It was Roy for whom he was listening and + watching. The sun had set and across the open space the tips of the pines + were losing their brightness. + </p> + <p> + The camp utensils, which the hunter emptied out of a sack, gave forth a + jangle of iron and tin. Next he unrolled a large pack, the contents of + which appeared to be numerous sacks of all sizes. These evidently + contained food supplies. The bucket looked as if a horse had rolled over + it, pack and all. Dale filled it at the spring. Upon returning to the + camp-fire he poured water into a washbasin, and, getting down to his + knees, proceeded to wash his hands thoroughly. The act seemed a habit, for + Helen saw that while he was doing it he gazed off into the woods and + listened. Then he dried his hands over the fire, and, turning to the + spread-out pack, he began preparations for the meal. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Helen thought of the man and all that his actions implied. At + Magdalena, on the stage-ride, and last night, she had trusted this + stranger, a hunter of the White Mountains, who appeared ready to befriend + her. And she had felt an exceeding gratitude. Still, she had looked at him + impersonally. But it began to dawn upon her that chance had thrown her in + the company of a remarkable man. That impression baffled her. It did not + spring from the fact that he was brave and kind to help a young woman in + peril, or that he appeared deft and quick at camp-fire chores. Most + Western men were brave, her uncle had told her, and many were roughly + kind, and all of them could cook. This hunter was physically a wonderful + specimen of manhood, with something leonine about his stature. But that + did not give rise to her impression. Helen had been a school-teacher and + used to boys, and she sensed a boyish simplicity or vigor or freshness in + this hunter. She believed, however, that it was a mental and spiritual + force in Dale which had drawn her to think of it. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I've spoken to you three times,” protested Bo, petulantly. “What + 're you mooning over?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm pretty tired—and far away, Bo,” replied Helen. “What did you + say?” + </p> + <p> + “I said I had an e-normous appetite.” + </p> + <p> + “Really. That's not remarkable for you. I'm too tired to eat. And afraid + to shut my eyes. They'd never come open. When did we sleep last, Bo?” + </p> + <p> + “Second night before we left home,” declared Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Four nights! Oh, we've slept some.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet I make mine up in this woods. Do you suppose we'll sleep right + here—under this tree—with no covering?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks so,” replied Helen, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “How perfectly lovely!” exclaimed Bo, in delight. “We'll see the stars + through the pines.” + </p> + <p> + “Seems to be clouding over. Wouldn't it be awful if we had a storm?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't know,” answered Bo, thoughtfully. “It must storm out West.” + </p> + <p> + Again Helen felt a quality of inevitableness in Bo. It was something that + had appeared only practical in the humdrum home life in St. Joseph. All of + a sudden Helen received a flash of wondering thought—a thrilling + consciousness that she and Bo had begun to develop in a new and wild + environment. How strange, and fearful, perhaps, to watch that growth! Bo, + being younger, more impressionable, with elemental rather than + intellectual instincts, would grow stronger more swiftly. Helen wondered + if she could yield to her own leaning to the primitive. But how could + anyone with a thoughtful and grasping mind yield that way? It was the + savage who did not think. + </p> + <p> + Helen saw Dale stand erect once more and gaze into the forest. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon Roy ain't comin',” he soliloquized. “An' that's good.” Then he + turned to the girls. “Supper's ready.” + </p> + <p> + The girls responded with a spirit greater than their activity. And they + ate like famished children that had been lost in the woods. Dale attended + them with a pleasant light upon his still face. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow night we'll have meat,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What kind?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Wild turkey or deer. Maybe both, if you like. But it's well to take wild + meat slow. An' turkey—that 'll melt in your mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Uummm!” murmured Bo, greedily. “I've heard of wild turkey.” + </p> + <p> + When they had finished Dale ate his meal, listening to the talk of the + girls, and occasionally replying briefly to some query of Bo's. It was + twilight when he began to wash the pots and pans, and almost dark by the + time his duties appeared ended. Then he replenished the campfire and sat + down on a log to gaze into the fire. The girls leaned comfortably propped + against the saddles. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'll keel over in a minute,” said Bo. “And I oughtn't—right + on such a big supper.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how I can sleep, and I know I can't stay awake,” rejoined + Helen. + </p> + <p> + Dale lifted his head alertly. + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + The girls grew tense and still. Helen could not hear a sound, unless it + was a low thud of hoof out in the gloom. The forest seemed sleeping. She + knew from Bo's eyes, wide and shining in the camp-fire light, that she, + too, had failed to catch whatever it was Dale meant. + </p> + <p> + “Bunch of coyotes comin',” he explained. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the quietness split to a chorus of snappy, high-strung, strange + barks. They sounded wild, yet they held something of a friendly or + inquisitive note. Presently gray forms could be descried just at the edge + of the circle of light. Soft rustlings of stealthy feet surrounded the + camp, and then barks and yelps broke out all around. It was a restless and + sneaking pack of animals, thought Helen; she was glad after the chorus + ended and with a few desultory, spiteful yelps the coyotes went away. + </p> + <p> + Silence again settled down. If it had not been for the anxiety always + present in Helen's mind she would have thought this silence sweet and + unfamiliarly beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Listen to that fellow,” spoke up Dale. His voice was thrilling. + </p> + <p> + Again the girls strained their ears. That was not necessary, for + presently, clear and cold out of the silence, pealed a mournful howl, long + drawn, strange and full and wild. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! What's that?” whispered Bo. + </p> + <p> + “That's a big gray wolf—a timber-wolf, or lofer, as he's sometimes + called,” replied Dale. “He's high on some rocky ridge back there. He + scents us, an' he doesn't like it.... There he goes again. Listen! Ah, + he's hungry.” + </p> + <p> + While Helen listened to this exceedingly wild cry—so wild that it + made her flesh creep and the most indescribable sensations of loneliness + come over her—she kept her glance upon Dale. + </p> + <p> + “You love him?” she murmured involuntarily, quite without understanding + the motive of her query. + </p> + <p> + Assuredly Dale had never had that question asked of him before, and it + seemed to Helen, as he pondered, that he had never even asked it of + himself. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon so,” he replied, presently. + </p> + <p> + “But wolves kill deer, and little fawns, and everything helpless in the + forest,” expostulated Bo. + </p> + <p> + The hunter nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, can you love him?” repeated Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Come to think of it, I reckon it's because of lots of reasons,” returned + Dale. “He kills clean. He eats no carrion. He's no coward. He fights. He + dies game.... An' he likes to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Kills clean. What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “A cougar, now, he mangles a deer. An' a silvertip, when killin' a cow or + colt, he makes a mess of it. But a wolf kills clean, with sharp snaps.” + </p> + <p> + “What are a cougar and a silvertip?” + </p> + <p> + “Cougar means mountain-lion or panther, an' a silvertip is a grizzly + bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they're all cruel!” exclaimed Helen, shrinking. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon. Often I've shot wolves for relayin' a deer.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes two or more wolves will run a deer, an' while one of them rests + the other will drive the deer around to his pardner, who'll, take up the + chase. That way they run the deer down. Cruel it is, but nature, an' no + worse than snow an' ice that starve deer, or a fox that kills + turkey-chicks breakin' out of the egg, or ravens that pick the eyes out of + new-born lambs an' wait till they die. An' for that matter, men are + crueler than beasts of prey, for men add to nature, an' have more than + instincts.” + </p> + <p> + Helen was silenced, as well as shocked. She had not only learned a new and + striking viewpoint in natural history, but a clear intimation to the + reason why she had vaguely imagined or divined a remarkable character in + this man. A hunter was one who killed animals for their fur, for their + meat or horns, or for some lust for blood—that was Helen's + definition of a hunter, and she believed it was held by the majority of + people living in settled states. But the majority might be wrong. A hunter + might be vastly different, and vastly more than a tracker and slayer of + game. The mountain world of forest was a mystery to almost all men. + Perhaps Dale knew its secrets, its life, its terror, its beauty, its + sadness, and its joy; and if so, how full, how wonderful must be his mind! + He spoke of men as no better than wolves. Could a lonely life in the + wilderness teach a man that? Bitterness, envy, jealousy, spite, greed, and + hate—these had no place in this hunter's heart. It was not Helen's + shrewdness, but a woman's intuition, which divined that. + </p> + <p> + Dale rose to his feet and, turning his ear to the north, listened once + more. + </p> + <p> + “Are you expecting Roy still?” inquired Helen. + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain't likely he'll turn up to-night,” replied Dale, and then he + strode over to put a hand on the pine-tree that soared above where the + girls lay. His action, and the way he looked up at the tree-top and then + at adjacent trees, held more of that significance which so interested + Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he's stood there some five hundred years an' will stand through + to-night,” muttered Dale. + </p> + <p> + This pine was the monarch of that wide-spread group. + </p> + <p> + “Listen again,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + Bo was asleep. And Helen, listening, at once caught low, distant roar. + </p> + <p> + “Wind. It's goin' to storm,” explained Dale. “You'll hear somethin' worth + while. But don't be scared. Reckon we'll be safe. Pines blow down often. + But this fellow will stand any fall wind that ever was.... Better slip + under the blankets so I can pull the tarp up.” + </p> + <p> + Helen slid down, just as she was, fully dressed except for boots, which + she and Bo had removed; and she laid her head close to Bo's. Dale pulled + the tarpaulin up and folded it back just below their heads. + </p> + <p> + “When it rains you'll wake, an' then just pull the tarp up over you,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Will it rain?” Helen asked. But she was thinking that this moment was the + strangest that had ever happened to her. By the light of the camp-fire she + saw Dale's face, just as usual, still, darkly serene, expressing no + thought. He was kind, but he was not thinking of these sisters as girls, + alone with him in a pitch-black forest, helpless and defenseless. He did + not seem to be thinking at all. But Helen had never before in her life + been so keenly susceptible to experience. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be close by an' keep the fire goin' all night,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She heard him stride off into the darkness. Presently there came a + dragging, bumping sound, then a crash of a log dropped upon the fire. A + cloud of sparks shot up, and many pattered down to hiss upon the damp + ground. Smoke again curled upward along the great, seamed tree-trunk, and + flames sputtered and crackled. + </p> + <p> + Helen listened again for the roar of wind. It seemed to come on a breath + of air that fanned her cheek and softly blew Bo's curls, and it was + stronger. But it died out presently, only to come again, and still + stronger. Helen realized then that the sound was that of an approaching + storm. Her heavy eyelids almost refused to stay open, and she knew if she + let them close she would instantly drop to sleep. And she wanted to hear + the storm-wind in the pines. + </p> + <p> + A few drops of cold rain fell upon her face, thrilling her with the proof + that no roof stood between her and the elements. Then a breeze bore the + smell of burnt wood into her face, and somehow her quick mind flew to + girlhood days when she burned brush and leaves with her little brothers. + The memory faded. The roar that had seemed distant was now back in the + forest, coming swiftly, increasing in volume. Like a stream in flood it + bore down. Helen grew amazed, startled. How rushing, oncoming, and heavy + this storm-wind! She likened its approach to the tread of an army. Then + the roar filled the forest, yet it was back there behind her. Not a + pine-needle quivered in the light of the camp-fire. But the air seemed to + be oppressed with a terrible charge. The roar augmented till it was no + longer a roar, but an on-sweeping crash, like an ocean torrent engulfing + the earth. Bo awoke to cling to Helen with fright. The deafening + storm-blast was upon them. Helen felt the saddle-pillow move under her + head. The giant pine had trembled to its very roots. That mighty fury of + wind was all aloft, in the tree-tops. And for a long moment it bowed the + forest under its tremendous power. Then the deafening crash passed to + roar, and that swept on and on, lessening in volume, deepening in low + detonation, at last to die in the distance. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had it died than back to the north another low roar rose and + ceased and rose again. Helen lay there, whispering to Bo, and heard again + the great wave of wind come and crash and cease. That was the way of this + storm-wind of the mountain forest. + </p> + <p> + A soft patter of rain on the tarpaulin warned Helen to remember Dale's + directions, and, pulling up the heavy covering, she arranged it hoodlike + over the saddle. Then, with Bo close and warm beside her, she closed her + eyes, and the sense of the black forest and the wind and rain faded. Last + of all sensations was the smell of smoke that blew under the tarpaulin. + </p> + <p> + When she opened her eyes she remembered everything, as if only a moment + had elapsed. But it was daylight, though gray and cloudy. The pines were + dripping mist. A fire crackled cheerily and blue smoke curled upward and a + savory odor of hot coffee hung in the air. Horses were standing near by, + biting and kicking at one another. Bo was sound asleep. Dale appeared busy + around the camp-fire. As Helen watched the hunter she saw him pause in his + task, turn his ear to listen, and then look expectantly. And at that + juncture a shout pealed from the forest. Helen recognized Roy's voice. + Then she heard a splashing of water, and hoof-beats coming closer. With + that the buckskin mustang trotted into camp, carrying Roy. + </p> + <p> + “Bad mornin' for ducks, but good for us,” he called. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Roy!” greeted Dale, and his gladness was unmistakable. “I was + lookin' for you.” + </p> + <p> + Roy appeared to slide off the mustang without effort, and his swift hands + slapped the straps as he unsaddled. Buckskin was wet with sweat and foam + mixed with rain. He heaved. And steam rose from him. + </p> + <p> + “Must have rode hard,” observed Dale. + </p> + <p> + “I shore did,” replied Roy. Then he espied Helen, who had sat up, with + hands to her hair, and eyes staring at him. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin', miss. It's good news.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven!” murmured Helen, and then she shook Bo. That young lady + awoke, but was loath to give up slumber. “Bo! Bo! Wake up! Mr. Roy is + back.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Bo sat up, disheveled and sleepy-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h, but I ache!” she moaned. But her eyes took in the camp scene to the + effect that she added, “Is breakfast ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost. An' flapjacks this mornin',” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + Bo manifested active symptoms of health in the manner with which she laced + her boots. Helen got their traveling-bag, and with this they repaired to a + flat stone beside the spring, not, however, out of earshot of the men. + </p> + <p> + “How long are you goin' to hang around camp before tellin' me?” inquired + Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Jest as I figgered, Milt,” replied Roy. “Thet rider who passed you was a + messenger to Anson. He an' his gang got on our trail quick. About ten + o'clock I seen them comin'. Then I lit out for the woods. I stayed off in + the woods close enough to see where they come in. An' shore they lost your + trail. Then they spread through the woods, workin' off to the south, + thinkin', of course, thet you would circle round to Pine on the south side + of Old Baldy. There ain't a hoss-tracker in Snake Anson's gang, thet's + shore. Wal, I follered them for an hour till they'd rustled some miles off + our trail. Then I went back to where you struck into the woods. An' I + waited there all afternoon till dark, expectin' mebbe they'd back-trail. + But they didn't. I rode on a ways an' camped in the woods till jest before + daylight.” + </p> + <p> + “So far so good,” declared Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. There's rough country south of Baldy an' along the two or three + trails Anson an' his outfit will camp, you bet.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't to be thought of,” muttered Dale, at some idea that had struck + him. + </p> + <p> + “What ain't?” + </p> + <p> + “Goin' round the north side of Baldy.” + </p> + <p> + “It shore ain't,” rejoined Roy, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I've got to hide tracks certain—rustle to my camp an' stay + there till you say it's safe to risk takin' the girls to Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “Milt, you're talkin' the wisdom of the prophets.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't so sure we can hide tracks altogether. If Anson had any eyes for + the woods he'd not have lost me so soon. + </p> + <p> + “No. But, you see, he's figgerin' to cross your trail.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could get fifteen or twenty mile farther on an' hide tracks certain, + I'd feel safe from pursuit, anyway,” said the hunter, reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Shore an' easy,” responded Roy, quickly. “I jest met up with some greaser + sheep-herders drivin' a big flock. They've come up from the south an' are + goin' to fatten up at Turkey Senacas. Then they'll drive back south an' go + on to Phenix. Wal, it's muddy weather. Now you break camp quick an' make a + plain trail out to thet sheep trail, as if you was travelin' south. But, + instead, you ride round ahead of thet flock of sheep. They'll keep to the + open parks an' the trails through them necks of woods out here. An', + passin' over your tracks, they'll hide 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposin' Anson circles an' hits this camp? He'll track me easy out + to that sheep trail. What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Jest what you want. Goin' south thet sheep trail is downhill an' muddy. + It's goin' to rain hard. Your tracks would get washed out even if you did + go south. An' Anson would keep on thet way till he was clear off the + scent. Leave it to me, Milt. You're a hunter. But I'm a hoss-tracker.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. We'll rustle.” + </p> + <p> + Then he called the girls to hurry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Once astride the horse again, Helen had to congratulate herself upon not + being so crippled as she had imagined. Indeed, Bo made all the audible + complaints. + </p> + <p> + Both girls had long water-proof coats, brand-new, and of which they were + considerably proud. New clothes had not been a common event in their + lives. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I'll have to slit these,” Dale had said, whipping out a huge + knife. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” had been Bo's feeble protest. + </p> + <p> + “They wasn't made for ridin'. An' you'll get wet enough even if I do cut + them. An' if I don't, you'll get soaked.” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead,” had been Helen's reluctant permission. + </p> + <p> + So their long new coats were slit half-way up the back. The exigency of + the case was manifest to Helen, when she saw how they came down over the + cantles of the saddles and to their boot-tops. + </p> + <p> + The morning was gray and cold. A fine, misty rain fell and the trees + dripped steadily. Helen was surprised to see the open country again and + that apparently they were to leave the forest behind for a while. The + country was wide and flat on the right, and to the left it rolled and + heaved along a black, scalloped timber-line. Above this bordering of the + forest low, drifting clouds obscured the mountains. The wind was at + Helen's back and seemed to be growing stronger. Dale and Roy were ahead, + traveling at a good trot, with the pack-animals bunched before them. Helen + and Bo had enough to do to keep up. + </p> + <p> + The first hour's ride brought little change in weather or scenery, but it + gave Helen an inkling of what she must endure if they kept that up all + day. She began to welcome the places where the horses walked, but she + disliked the levels. As for the descents, she hated those. Ranger would + not go down slowly and the shake-up she received was unpleasant. Moreover, + the spirited black horse insisted on jumping the ditches and washes. He + sailed over them like a bird. Helen could not acquire the knack of sitting + the saddle properly, and so, not only was her person bruised on these + occasions, but her feelings were hurt. Helen had never before been + conscious of vanity. Still, she had never rejoiced in looking at a + disadvantage, and her exhibitions here must have been frightful. Bo always + would forge to the front, and she seldom looked back, for which Helen was + grateful. + </p> + <p> + Before long they struck into a broad, muddy belt, full of innumerable + small hoof tracks. This, then, was the sheep trail Roy had advised + following. They rode on it for three or four miles, and at length, coming + to a gray-green valley, they saw a huge flock of sheep. Soon the air was + full of bleats and baas as well as the odor of sheep, and a low, soft roar + of pattering hoofs. The flock held a compact formation, covering several + acres, and grazed along rapidly. There were three herders on horses and + several pack-burros. Dale engaged one of the Mexicans in conversation, and + passed something to him, then pointed northward and down along the trail. + The Mexican grinned from ear to ear, and Helen caught the quick “SI, + SENOR! GRACIAS, SENOR!” It was a pretty sight, that flock of sheep, as it + rolled along like a rounded woolly stream of grays and browns and here and + there a black. They were keeping to a trail over the flats. Dale headed + into this trail and, if anything, trotted a little faster. + </p> + <p> + Presently the clouds lifted and broke, showing blue sky and one streak of + sunshine. But the augury was without warrant. The wind increased. A huge + black pall bore down from the mountains and it brought rain that could be + seen falling in sheets from above and approaching like a swiftly moving + wall. Soon it enveloped the fugitives. + </p> + <p> + With head bowed, Helen rode along for what seemed ages in a cold, gray + rain that blew almost on a level. Finally the heavy downpour passed, + leaving a fine mist. The clouds scurried low and dark, hiding the + mountains altogether and making the gray, wet plain a dreary sight. + Helen's feet and knees were as wet as if she had waded in water. And they + were cold. Her gloves, too, had not been intended for rain, and they were + wet through. The cold bit at her fingers so that she had to beat her hands + together. Ranger misunderstood this to mean that he was to trot faster, + which event was worse for Helen than freezing. + </p> + <p> + She saw another black, scudding mass of clouds bearing down with its + trailing sheets of rain, and this one appeared streaked with white. Snow! + The wind was now piercingly cold. Helen's body kept warm, but her + extremities and ears began to suffer exceedingly. She gazed ahead grimly. + There was no help; she had to go on. Dale and Roy were hunched down in + their saddles, probably wet through, for they wore no rain-proof coats. Bo + kept close behind them, and plain it was that she felt the cold. + </p> + <p> + This second storm was not so bad as the first, because there was less + rain. Still, the icy keenness of the wind bit into the marrow. It lasted + for an hour, during which the horses trotted on, trotted on. Again the + gray torrent roared away, the fine mist blew, the clouds lifted and + separated, and, closing again, darkened for another onslaught. This one + brought sleet. The driving pellets stung Helen's neck and cheeks, and for + a while they fell so thick and so hard upon her back that she was afraid + she could not hold up under them. The bare places on the ground showed a + sparkling coverlet of marbles of ice. + </p> + <p> + Thus, storm after storm rolled over Helen's head. Her feet grew numb and + ceased to hurt. But her fingers, because of her ceaseless efforts to keep + up the circulation, retained the stinging pain. And now the wind pierced + right through her. She marveled at her endurance, and there were many + times that she believed she could not ride farther. Yet she kept on. All + the winters she had ever lived had not brought such a day as this. Hard + and cold, wet and windy, at an increasing elevation—that was the + explanation. The air did not have sufficient oxygen for her blood. + </p> + <p> + Still, during all those interminable hours, Helen watched where she was + traveling, and if she ever returned over that trail she would recognize + it. The afternoon appeared far advanced when Dale and Roy led down into an + immense basin where a reedy lake spread over the flats. They rode along + its margin, splashing up to the knees of the horses. Cranes and herons + flew on with lumbering motion; flocks of ducks winged swift flight from + one side to the other. Beyond this depression the land sloped rather + abruptly; outcroppings of rock circled along the edge of the highest + ground, and again a dark fringe of trees appeared. + </p> + <p> + How many miles! wondered Helen. They seemed as many and as long as the + hours. But at last, just as another hard rain came, the pines were + reached. They proved to be widely scattered and afforded little protection + from the storm. + </p> + <p> + Helen sat her saddle, a dead weight. Whenever Ranger quickened his gait or + crossed a ditch she held on to the pommel to keep from falling off. Her + mind harbored only sensations of misery, and a persistent thought—why + did she ever leave home for the West? Her solicitude for Bo had been + forgotten. Nevertheless, any marked change in the topography of the + country was registered, perhaps photographed on her memory by the + torturing vividness of her experience. + </p> + <p> + The forest grew more level and denser. Shadows of twilight or gloom lay + under the trees. Presently Dale and Roy, disappeared, going downhill, and + likewise Bo. Then Helen's ears suddenly filled with a roar of rapid water. + Ranger trotted faster. Soon Helen came to the edge of a great valley, + black and gray, so full of obscurity that she could not see across or down + into it. But she knew there was a rushing river at the bottom. The sound + was deep, continuous, a heavy, murmuring roar, singularly musical. The + trail was steep. Helen had not lost all feeling, as she had believed and + hoped. Her poor, mistreated body still responded excruciatingly to + concussions, jars, wrenches, and all the other horrible movements making + up a horse-trot. + </p> + <p> + For long Helen did not look up. When she did so there lay a green, + willow-bordered, treeless space at the bottom of the valley, through which + a brown-white stream rushed with steady, ear-filling roar. + </p> + <p> + Dale and Roy drove the pack-animals across the stream, and followed, going + deep to the flanks of their horses. Bo rode into the foaming water as if + she had been used to it all her days. A slip, a fall, would have meant + that Bo must drown in that mountain torrent. + </p> + <p> + Ranger trotted straight to the edge, and there, obedient to Helen's clutch + on the bridle, he halted. The stream was fifty feet wide, shallow on the + near side, deep on the opposite, with fast current and big waves. Helen + was simply too frightened to follow. + </p> + <p> + “Let him come!” yelled Dale. “Stick on now!... Ranger!” + </p> + <p> + The big black plunged in, making the water fly. That stream was nothing + for him, though it seemed impassable to Helen. She had not the strength + left to lift her stirrups and the water surged over them. Ranger, in two + more plunges, surmounted the bank, and then, trotting across the green to + where the other horses stood steaming under some pines, he gave a great + heave and halted. + </p> + <p> + Roy reached up to help her off. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty miles, Miss Helen,” he said, and the way he spoke was a + compliment. + </p> + <p> + He had to lift her off and help her to the tree where Bo leaned. Dale had + ripped off a saddle and was spreading saddle-blankets on the ground under + the pine. + </p> + <p> + “Nell—you swore—you loved me!” was Bo's mournful greeting. The + girl was pale, drawn, blue-lipped, and she could not stand up. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I never did—or I'd never have brought you to this—wretch + that I am!” cried Helen. “Oh, what a horrible ride!” + </p> + <p> + Rain was falling, the trees were dripping, the sky was lowering. All the + ground was soaking wet, with pools and puddles everywhere. Helen could + imagine nothing but a heartless, dreary, cold prospect. Just then home was + vivid and poignant in her thoughts. Indeed, so utterly miserable was she + that the exquisite relief of sitting down, of a cessation of movement, of + a release from that infernal perpetual-trotting horse, seemed only a + mockery. It could not be true that the time had come for rest. + </p> + <p> + Evidently this place had been a camp site for hunters or sheep-herders, + for there were remains of a fire. Dale lifted the burnt end of a log and + brought it down hard upon the ground, splitting off pieces. Several times + he did this. It was amazing to see his strength, his facility, as he split + off handfuls of splinters. He collected a bundle of them, and, laying them + down, he bent over them. Roy wielded the ax on another log, and each + stroke split off a long strip. Then a tiny column of smoke drifted up over + Dale's shoulder as he leaned, bareheaded, sheltering the splinters with + his hat. A blaze leaped up. Roy came with an armful of strips all white + and dry, out of the inside of a log. Crosswise these were laid over the + blaze, and it began to roar. Then piece by piece the men built up a frame + upon which they added heavier woods, branches and stumps and logs, + erecting a pyramid through which flames and smoke roared upward. It had + not taken two minutes. Already Helen felt the warmth on her icy face. She + held up her bare, numb hands. + </p> + <p> + Both Dale and Roy were wet through to the skin, yet they did not tarry + beside the fire. They relieved the horses. A lasso went up between two + pines, and a tarpaulin over it, V-shaped and pegged down at the four ends. + The packs containing the baggage of the girls and the supplies and bedding + were placed under this shelter. + </p> + <p> + Helen thought this might have taken five minutes more. In this short space + of time the fire had leaped and flamed until it was huge and hot. Rain was + falling steadily all around, but over and near that roaring blaze, ten + feet high, no water fell. It evaporated. The ground began to steam and to + dry. Helen suffered at first while the heat was driving out the cold. But + presently the pain ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I never knew before how good a fire could feel,” declared Bo. + </p> + <p> + And therein lay more food for Helen's reflection. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes Helen was dry and hot. Darkness came down upon the dreary, + sodden forest, but that great camp-fire made it a different world from the + one Helen had anticipated. It blazed and roared, cracked like a pistol, + hissed and sputtered, shot sparks everywhere, and sent aloft a dense, + yellow, whirling column of smoke. It began to have a heart of gold. + </p> + <p> + Dale took a long pole and raked out a pile of red embers upon which the + coffee-pot and oven soon began to steam. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, I promised the girls turkey to-night,” said the hunter. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe to-morrow, if the wind shifts. This 's turkey country.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, a potato will do me!” exclaimed Bo. “Never again will I ask for cake + and pie! I never appreciated good things to eat. And I've been a little + pig, always. I never—never knew what it was to be hungry—until + now.” + </p> + <p> + Dale glanced up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Lass, it's worth learnin',” he said. + </p> + <p> + Helen's thought was too deep for words. In such brief space had she been + transformed from misery to comfort! + </p> + <p> + The rain kept on falling, though it appeared to grow softer as night + settled down black. The wind died away and the forest was still, except + for the steady roar of the stream. A folded tarpaulin was laid between the + pine and the fire, well in the light and warmth, and upon it the men set + steaming pots and plates and cups, the fragrance from which was strong and + inviting. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch the saddle-blanket an' set with your backs to the fire,” said Roy. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the girls were tucked away snugly in their blankets and + sheltered from the rain, Helen remained awake after Bo had fallen asleep. + The big blaze made the improvised tent as bright as day. She could see the + smoke, the trunk of the big pine towering aloft, and a blank space of sky. + The stream hummed a song, seemingly musical at times, and then discordant + and dull, now low, now roaring, and always rushing, gurgling, babbling, + flowing, chafing in its hurry. + </p> + <p> + Presently the hunter and his friend returned from hobbling the horses, and + beside the fire they conversed in low tones. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet trail we made to-day will be hid, I reckon,” said Roy, with + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “What wasn't sheeped over would be washed out. We've had luck. An' now I + ain't worryin',” returned Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Worryin'? Then it's the first I ever knowed you to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Man, I never had a job like this,” protested the hunter. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet's so.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Roy, when old Al Auchincloss finds out about this deal, as he's + bound to when you or the boys get back to Pine, he's goin' to roar.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you reckon folks will side with him against Beasley?” + </p> + <p> + “Some of them. But Al, like as not, will tell folks to go where it's hot. + He'll bunch his men an' strike for the mountains to find his nieces.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, all you've got to do is to keep the girls hid till I can guide him + up to your camp. Or, failin' thet, till you can slip the girls down to + Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “No one but you an' your brothers ever seen my senaca. But it could be + found easy enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Anson might blunder on it. But thet ain't likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Why ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'll stick to thet sheep-thief's tracks like a wolf after a + bleedin' deer. An' if he ever gets near your camp I'll ride in ahead of + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” declared Dale. “I was calculatin' you'd go down to Pine, sooner or + later.” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless Anson goes. I told John thet in case there was no fight on the + stage to make a bee-line back to Pine. He was to tell Al an' offer his + services along with Joe an' Hal.” + </p> + <p> + “One way or another, then, there's bound to be blood spilled over this.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore! An' high time. I jest hope I get a look down my old 'forty-four' + at thet Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case I hope you hold straighter than times I've seen you.” + </p> + <p> + “Milt Dale, I'm a good shot,” declared Roy, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “You're no good on movin' targets.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, mebbe so. But I'm not lookin' for a movin' target when I meet up + with Beasley. I'm a hossman, not a hunter. You're used to shootin' flies + off deer's horns, jest for practice.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, can we make my camp by to-morrow night?” queried Dale, more + seriously. + </p> + <p> + “We will, if each of us has to carry one of the girls. But they'll do it + or die. Dale, did you ever see a gamer girl than thet kid Bo?” + </p> + <p> + “Me! Where'd I ever see any girls?” ejaculated Dale. “I remember some when + I was a boy, but I was only fourteen then. Never had much use for girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to have a wife like that Bo,” declared Roy, fervidly. + </p> + <p> + There ensued a moment's silence. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, you're a Mormon an' you already got a wife,” was Dale's reply. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Milt, have you lived so long in the woods thet you never heard of a + Mormon with two wives?” returned Roy, and then he laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “I never could stomach what I did hear pertainin' to more than one wife + for a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, my friend, you go an' get yourself ONE. An' see then if you wouldn't + like to have TWO.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon one 'd be more than enough for Milt Dale.” + </p> + <p> + “Milt, old man, let me tell you thet I always envied you your freedom,” + said Roy, earnestly. “But it ain't life.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean life is love of a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Thet's only part. I mean a son—a boy thet's like you—thet + you feel will go on with your life after you're gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I've thought of that—thought it all out, watchin' the birds an' + animals mate in the woods.... If I have no son I'll never live hereafter.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal,” replied Roy, hesitatingly, “I don't go in so deep as thet. I mean a + son goes on with your blood an' your work.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly... An', Roy, I envy you what you've got, because it's out of all + bounds for Milt Dale.” + </p> + <p> + Those words, sad and deep, ended the conversation. Again the rumbling, + rushing stream dominated the forest. An owl hooted dismally. A horse trod + thuddingly near by and from that direction came a cutting tear of teeth on + grass. + </p> + <p> + A voice pierced Helen's deep dreams and, awaking, she found Bo shaking and + calling her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you dead?” came the gay voice. + </p> + <p> + “Almost. Oh, my back's broken,” replied Helen. The desire to move seemed + clamped in a vise, and even if that came she believed the effort would be + impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Roy called us,” said Bo. “He said hurry. I thought I'd die just sitting + up, and I'd give you a million dollars to lace my boots. Wait, sister, + till you try to pull on one of those stiff boots!” + </p> + <p> + With heroic and violent spirit Helen sat up to find that in the act her + aches and pains appeared beyond number. Reaching for her boots, she found + them cold and stiff. Helen unlaced one and, opening it wide, essayed to + get her sore foot down into it. But her foot appeared swollen and the boot + appeared shrunken. She could not get it half on, though she expended what + little strength seemed left in her aching arms. She groaned. + </p> + <p> + Bo laughed wickedly. Her hair was tousled, her eyes dancing, her cheeks + red. + </p> + <p> + “Be game!” she said. “Stand up like a real Western girl and PULL your boot + on.” + </p> + <p> + Whether Bo's scorn or advice made the task easier did not occur to Helen, + but the fact was that she got into her boots. Walking and moving a little + appeared to loosen the stiff joints and ease that tired feeling. The water + of the stream where the girls washed was colder than any ice Helen had + ever felt. It almost paralyzed her hands. Bo mumbled, and blew like a + porpoise. They had to run to the fire before being able to comb their + hair. The air was wonderfully keen. The dawn was clear, bright, with a red + glow in the east where the sun was about to rise. + </p> + <p> + “All ready, girls,” called Roy. “Reckon you can help yourselves. Milt + ain't comin' in very fast with the hosses. I'll rustle off to help him. + We've got a hard day before us. Yesterday wasn't nowhere to what to-day + 'll be.” + </p> + <p> + “But the sun's going to shine?” implored Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you bet,” rejoined Roy, as he strode off. + </p> + <p> + Helen and Bo ate breakfast and had the camp to themselves for perhaps half + an hour; then the horses came thudding down, with Dale and Roy riding + bareback. + </p> + <p> + By the time all was in readiness to start the sun was up, melting the + frost and ice, so that a dazzling, bright mist, full of rainbows, shone + under the trees. + </p> + <p> + Dale looked Ranger over, and tried the cinches of Bo's horse. + </p> + <p> + “What's your choice—a long ride behind the packs with me—or a + short cut over the hills with Roy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I choose the lesser of two rides,” replied Helen, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon that 'll be easier, but you'll know you've had a ride,” said Dale, + significantly. + </p> + <p> + “What was that we had yesterday?” asked Bo, archly. + </p> + <p> + “Only thirty miles, but cold an' wet. To-day will be fine for ridin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Milt, I'll take a blanket an' some grub in case you don't meet us + to-night,” said Roy. “An' I reckon we'll split up here where I'll have to + strike out on thet short cut.” + </p> + <p> + Bo mounted without a helping hand, but Helen's limbs were so stiff that + she could not get astride the high Ranger without assistance. The hunter + headed up the slope of the canyon, which on that side was not steep. It + was brown pine forest, with here and there a clump of dark, silver-pointed + evergreens that Roy called spruce. By the time this slope was surmounted + Helen's aches were not so bad. The saddle appeared to fit her better, and + the gait of the horse was not so unfamiliar. She reflected, however, that + she always had done pretty well uphill. Here it was beautiful forest-land, + uneven and wilder. They rode for a time along the rim, with the white + rushing stream in plain sight far below, with its melodious roar ever + thrumming in the ear. + </p> + <p> + Dale reined in and peered down at the pine-mat. + </p> + <p> + “Fresh deer sign all along here,” he said, pointing. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I seen thet long ago,” rejoined Roy. + </p> + <p> + Helen's scrutiny was rewarded by descrying several tiny depressions in the + pine-needles, dark in color and sharply defined. + </p> + <p> + “We may never get a better chance,” said Dale. “Those deer are workin' up + our way. Get your rifle out.” + </p> + <p> + Travel was resumed then, with Roy a little in advance of the pack-train. + Presently he dismounted, threw his bridle, and cautiously peered ahead. + Then, turning, he waved his sombrero. The pack-animals halted in a bunch. + Dale beckoned for the girls to follow and rode up to Roy's horse. This + point, Helen saw, was at the top of an intersecting canuon. Dale + dismounted, without drawing his rifle from its saddle-sheath, and + approached Roy. + </p> + <p> + “Buck an' two does,” he said, low-voiced. “An' they've winded us, but + don't see us yet.... Girls, ride up closer.” + </p> + <p> + Following the directions indicated by Dale's long arm, Helen looked down + the slope. It was open, with tall pines here and there, and clumps of + silver spruce, and aspens shining like gold in the morning sunlight. + Presently Bo exclaimed: “Oh, look! I see! I see!” Then Helen's roving + glance passed something different from green and gold and brown. Shifting + back to it she saw a magnificent stag, with noble spreading antlers, + standing like a statue, his head up in alert and wild posture. His color + was gray. Beside him grazed two deer of slighter and more graceful build, + without horns. + </p> + <p> + “It's downhill,” whispered Dale. “An' you're goin' to overshoot.” + </p> + <p> + Then Helen saw that Roy had his rifle leveled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Dale's remark evidently nettled Roy. He lowered the rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, it's me lookin' over this gun. How can you stand there an' tell me + I'm goin' to shoot high? I had a dead bead on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, you didn't allow for downhill... Hurry. He sees us now.” + </p> + <p> + Roy leveled the rifle and, taking aim as before, he fired. The buck stood + perfectly motionless, as if he had indeed been stone. The does, however, + jumped with a start, and gazed in fright in every direction. + </p> + <p> + “Told you! I seen where your bullet hit thet pine—half a foot over + his shoulder. Try again an' aim at his legs.” + </p> + <p> + Roy now took a quicker aim and pulled trigger. A puff of dust right at the + feet of the buck showed where Roy's lead had struck this time. With a + single bound, wonderful to see, the big deer was out of sight behind trees + and brush. The does leaped after him. + </p> + <p> + “Doggone the luck!” ejaculated Roy, red in the face, as he worked the + lever of his rifle. “Never could shoot downhill, nohow!” + </p> + <p> + His rueful apology to the girls for missing brought a merry laugh from Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Not for worlds would I have had you kill that beautiful deer!” she + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “We won't have venison steak off him, that's certain,” remarked Dale, + dryly. “An' maybe none off any deer, if Roy does the shootin'.” + </p> + <p> + They resumed travel, sheering off to the right and keeping to the edge of + the intersecting canuon. At length they rode down to the bottom, where a + tiny brook babbled through willows, and they followed this for a mile or + so down to where it flowed into the larger stream. A dim trail overgrown + with grass showed at this point. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where we part,” said Dale. “You'll beat me into my camp, but I'll + get there sometime after dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Milt, I forgot about thet darned pet cougar of yours an' the rest of + your menagerie. Reckon they won't scare the girls? Especially old Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “You won't see Tom till I get home,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't he corralled or tied up?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He has the run of the place.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, good-by, then, an' rustle along.” + </p> + <p> + Dale nodded to the girls, and, turning his horse, he drove the pack-train + before him up the open space between the stream and the wooded slope. + </p> + <p> + Roy stepped off his horse with that single action which appeared such a + feat to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Guess I'd better cinch up,” he said, as he threw a stirrup up over the + pommel of his saddle. “You girls are goin' to see wild country.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's old Tom?” queried Bo, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's Milt's pet cougar.” + </p> + <p> + “Cougar? That's a panther—a mountain-lion, didn't he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore is. Tom is a beauty. An' if he takes a likin' to you he'll love + you, play with you, maul you half to death.” + </p> + <p> + Bo was all eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Dale has other pets, too?” she questioned, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I never was up to his camp but what it was overrun with birds an' + squirrels an' vermin of all kinds, as tame as tame as cows. Too darn tame, + Milt says. But I can't figger thet. You girls will never want to leave + thet senaca of his.” + </p> + <p> + “What's a senaca?” asked Helen, as she shifted her foot to let him tighten + the cinches on her saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's Mexican for park, I guess,” he replied. “These mountains are full + of parks; an', say, I don't ever want to see no prettier place till I get + to heaven.... There, Ranger, old boy, thet's tight.” + </p> + <p> + He slapped the horse affectionately, and, turning to his own, he stepped + and swung his long length up. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't deep crossin' here. Come on,” he called, and spurred his bay. + </p> + <p> + The stream here was wide and it looked deep, but turned out to be + deceptive. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, girls, here beginneth the second lesson,” he drawled, cheerily. + “Ride one behind the other—stick close to me—do what I do—an' + holler when you want to rest or if somethin' goes bad.” + </p> + <p> + With that he spurred into the thicket. Bo went next and Helen followed. + The willows dragged at her so hard that she was unable to watch Roy, and + the result was that a low-sweeping branch of a tree knocked her hard on + the head. It hurt and startled her, and roused her mettle. Roy was keeping + to the easy trot that covered ground so well, and he led up a slope to the + open pine forest. Here the ride for several miles was straight, level, and + open. Helen liked the forest to-day. It was brown and green, with patches + of gold where the sun struck. She saw her first bird—big blue grouse + that whirred up from under her horse, and little checkered gray quail that + appeared awkward on the wing. Several times Roy pointed out deer flashing + gray across some forest aisle, and often when he pointed Helen was not + quick enough to see. + </p> + <p> + Helen realized that this ride would make up for the hideous one of + yesterday. So far she had been only barely conscious of sore places and + aching bones. These she would bear with. She loved the wild and the + beautiful, both of which increased manifestly with every mile. The sun was + warm, the air fragrant and cool, the sky blue as azure and so deep that + she imagined that she could look far up into it. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Roy reined in so sharply that he pulled the bay up short. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he called, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Bo screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Not thet way! Here! Aw, he's gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Nell! It was a bear! I saw it! Oh! not like circus bears at all!” cried + Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen had missed her opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon he was a grizzly, an' I'm jest as well pleased thet he loped off,” + said Roy. Altering his course somewhat, he led to an old rotten log that + the bear had been digging in. “After grubs. There, see his track. He was a + whopper shore enough.” + </p> + <p> + They rode on, out to a high point that overlooked canuon and range, gorge + and ridge, green and black as far as Helen could see. The ranges were bold + and long, climbing to the central uplift, where a number of fringed peaks + raised their heads to the vast bare dome of Old Baldy. Far as vision could + see, to the right lay one rolling forest of pine, beautiful and serene. + Somewhere down beyond must have lain the desert, but it was not in sight. + </p> + <p> + “I see turkeys 'way down there,” said Roy, backing away. “We'll go down + and around an' mebbe I'll get a shot.” + </p> + <p> + Descent beyond a rocky point was made through thick brush. This slope + consisted of wide benches covered with copses and scattered pines and many + oaks. Helen was delighted to see the familiar trees, although these were + different from Missouri oaks. Rugged and gnarled, but not tall, these + trees spread wide branches, the leaves of which were yellowing. Roy led + into a grassy glade, and, leaping off his horse, rifle in hand, he + prepared to shoot at something. Again Bo cried out, but this time it was + in delight. Then Helen saw an immense flock of turkeys, apparently like + the turkeys she knew at home, but these had bronze and checks of white, + and they looked wild. There must have been a hundred in the flock, most of + them hens. A few gobblers on the far side began the flight, running + swiftly off. Helen plainly heard the thud of their feet. Roy shot once—twice—three + times. Then rose a great commotion and thumping, and a loud roar of many + wings. Dust and leaves whirling in the air were left where the turkeys had + been. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I got two,” said Roy, and he strode forward to pick up his game. + Returning, he tied two shiny, plump gobblers back of his saddle and + remounted his horse. “We'll have turkey to-night, if Milt gets to camp in + time.” + </p> + <p> + The ride was resumed. Helen never would have tired riding through those + oak groves, brown and sear and yellow, with leaves and acorns falling. + </p> + <p> + “Bears have been workin' in here already,” said Roy. “I see tracks all + over. They eat acorns in the fall. An' mebbe we'll run into one yet.” + </p> + <p> + The farther down he led the wilder and thicker grew the trees, so that + dodging branches was no light task. Ranger did not seem to care how close + he passed a tree or under a limb, so that he missed them himself; but + Helen thereby got some additional bruises. Particularly hard was it, when + passing a tree, to get her knee out of the way in time. + </p> + <p> + Roy halted next at what appeared a large green pond full of vegetation and + in places covered with a thick scum. But it had a current and an outlet, + proving it to be a huge, spring. Roy pointed down at a muddy place. + </p> + <p> + “Bear-wallow. He heard us comin'. Look at thet little track. Cub track. + An' look at these scratches on this tree, higher 'n my head. An old + she-bear stood up, an' scratched them.” + </p> + <p> + Roy sat his saddle and reached up to touch fresh marks on the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Woods's full of big bears,” he said, grinning. “An' I take it particular + kind of this old she rustlin' off with her cub. She-bears with cubs are + dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + The next place to stir Helen to enthusiasm was the glen at the bottom of + this canuon. Beech-trees, maples, aspens, overtopped by lofty pines, made + dense shade over a brook where trout splashed on the brown, swirling + current, and leaves drifted down, and stray flecks of golden sunlight + lightened the gloom. Here was hard riding to and fro across the brook, + between huge mossy boulders, and between aspens so close together that + Helen could scarce squeeze her knees through. + </p> + <p> + Once more Roy climbed out of that canuon, over a ridge into another, down + long wooded slopes and through scrub-oak thickets, on and on till the sun + stood straight overhead. Then he halted for a short rest, unsaddled the + horses to let them roll, and gave the girls some cold lunch that he had + packed. He strolled off with his gun, and, upon returning, resaddled and + gave the word to start. + </p> + <p> + That was the last of rest and easy traveling for the girls. The forest + that he struck into seemed ribbed like a washboard with deep ravines so + steep of slope as to make precarious travel. Mostly he kept to the bottom + where dry washes afforded a kind of trail. But it was necessary to cross + these ravines when they were too long to be headed, and this crossing was + work. + </p> + <p> + The locust thickets characteristic of these slopes were thorny and close + knit. They tore and scratched and stung both horses and riders. Ranger + appeared to be the most intelligent of the horses and suffered less. Bo's + white mustang dragged her through more than one brambly place. On the + other hand, some of these steep slopes, were comparatively free of + underbrush. Great firs and pines loomed up on all sides. The earth was + soft and the hoofs sank deep. Toward the bottom of a descent Ranger would + brace his front feet and then slide down on his haunches. This mode + facilitated travel, but it frightened Helen. The climb out then on the + other side had to be done on foot. + </p> + <p> + After half a dozen slopes surmounted in this way Helen's strength was + spent and her breath was gone. She felt light-headed. She could not get + enough air. Her feet felt like lead, and her riding-coat was a burden. A + hundred times, hot and wet and throbbing, she was compelled to stop. + Always she had been a splendid walker and climber. And here, to break up + the long ride, she was glad to be on her feet. But she could only drag one + foot up after the other. Then, when her nose began to bleed, she realized + that it was the elevation which was causing all the trouble. Her heart, + however, did not hurt her, though she was conscious of an oppression on + her breast. + </p> + <p> + At last Roy led into a ravine so deep and wide and full of forest verdure + that it appeared impossible to cross. Nevertheless, he started down, + dismounting after a little way. Helen found that leading Ranger down was + worse than riding him. He came fast and he would step right in her tracks. + She was not quick enough to get away from him. Twice he stepped on her + foot, and again his broad chest hit her shoulder and threw her flat. When + he began to slide, near the bottom, Helen had to run for her life. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nell! Isn't—this—great?” panted Bo, from somewhere ahead. + </p> + <p> + “Bo—your—mind's—gone,” panted Helen, in reply. + </p> + <p> + Roy tried several places to climb out, and failed in each. Leading down + the ravine for a hundred yards or more, he essayed another attempt. Here + there had been a slide, and in part the earth was bare. When he had worked + up this, he halted above, and called: + </p> + <p> + “Bad place! Keep on the up side of the hosses!” + </p> + <p> + This appeared easier said than done. Helen could not watch Bo, because + Ranger would not wait. He pulled at the bridle and snorted. + </p> + <p> + “Faster you come the better,” called Roy. + </p> + <p> + Helen could not see the sense of that, but she tried. Roy and Bo had dug a + deep trail zigzag up that treacherous slide. Helen made the mistake of + starting to follow in their tracks, and when she realized this Ranger was + climbing fast, almost dragging her, and it was too late to get above. + Helen began to labor. She slid down right in front of Ranger. The + intelligent animal, with a snort, plunged out of the trail to keep from + stepping on her. Then he was above her. + </p> + <p> + “Lookout down there,” yelled Roy, in warning. “Get on the up side!” + </p> + <p> + But that did not appear possible. The earth began to slide under Ranger, + and that impeded Helen's progress. He got in advance of her, straining on + the bridle. + </p> + <p> + “Let go!” yelled Roy. + </p> + <p> + Helen dropped the bridle just as a heavy slide began to move with Ranger. + He snorted fiercely, and, rearing high, in a mighty plunge he gained solid + ground. Helen was buried to her knees, but, extricating herself, she + crawled to a safe point and rested before climbing farther. + </p> + <p> + “Bad cave-in, thet,” was Roy's comment, when at last she joined him and Bo + at the top. + </p> + <p> + Roy appeared at a loss as to which way to go. He rode to high ground and + looked in all directions. To Helen, one way appeared as wild and rough as + another, and all was yellow, green, and black under the westering sun. Roy + rode a short distance in one direction, then changed for another. + </p> + <p> + Presently he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'm shore turned round,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You're not lost?” cried Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I've been thet for a couple of hours,” he replied, cheerfully. + “Never did ride across here I had the direction, but I'm blamed now if I + can tell which way thet was.” + </p> + <p> + Helen gazed at him in consternation. + </p> + <p> + “Lost!” she echoed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + A silence ensued, fraught with poignant fear for Helen, as she gazed into + Bo's whitening face. She read her sister's mind. Bo was remembering tales + of lost people who never were found. + </p> + <p> + “Me an' Milt get lost every day,” said Roy. “You don't suppose any man can + know all this big country. It's nothin' for us to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!... I was lost when I was little,” said Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon it'd been better not to tell you so offhand like,” replied + Roy, contritely. “Don't feel bad, now. All I need is a peek at Old Baldy. + Then I'll have my bearin'. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + Helen's confidence returned as Roy led off at a fast trot. He rode toward + the westering sun, keeping to the ridge they had ascended, until once more + he came out upon a promontory. Old Baldy loomed there, blacker and higher + and closer. The dark forest showed round, yellow, bare spots like parks. + </p> + <p> + “Not so far off the track,” said Roy, as he wheeled his horse. “We'll make + camp in Milt's senaca to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He led down off the ridge into a valley and then up to higher altitude, + where the character of the forest changed. The trees were no longer pines, + but firs and spruce, growing thin and exceedingly tall, with few branches + below the topmost foliage. So dense was this forest that twilight seemed + to have come. + </p> + <p> + Travel was arduous. Everywhere were windfalls that had to be avoided, and + not a rod was there without a fallen tree. The horses, laboring slowly, + sometimes sank knee-deep into the brown duff. Gray moss festooned the + tree-trunks and an amber-green moss grew thick on the rotting logs. + </p> + <p> + Helen loved this forest primeval. It was so still, so dark, so gloomy, so + full of shadows and shade, and a dank smell of rotting wood, and sweet + fragrance of spruce. The great windfalls, where trees were jammed together + in dozens, showed the savagery of the storms. Wherever a single monarch + lay uprooted there had sprung up a number of ambitious sons, jealous of + one another, fighting for place. Even the trees fought one another! The + forest was a place of mystery, but its strife could be read by any eye. + The lightnings had split firs clear to the roots, and others it had + circled with ripping tear from top to trunk. + </p> + <p> + Time came, however, when the exceeding wildness of the forest, in density + and fallen timber, made it imperative for Helen to put all her attention + on the ground and trees in her immediate vicinity. So the pleasure of + gazing ahead at the beautiful wilderness was denied her. Thereafter travel + became toil and the hours endless. + </p> + <p> + Roy led on, and Ranger followed, while the shadows darkened under the + trees. She was reeling in her saddle, half blind and sick, when Roy called + out cheerily that they were almost there. + </p> + <p> + Whatever his idea was, to Helen it seemed many miles that she followed him + farther, out of the heavy-timbered forest down upon slopes of low spruce, + like evergreen, which descended sharply to another level, where dark, + shallow streams flowed gently and the solemn stillness held a low murmur + of falling water, and at last the wood ended upon a wonderful park full of + a thick, rich, golden light of fast-fading sunset. + </p> + <p> + “Smell the smoke,” said Roy. “By Solomon! if Milt ain't here ahead of me!” + </p> + <p> + He rode on. Helen's weary gaze took in the round senaca, the circling + black slopes, leading up to craggy rims all gold and red in the last flare + of the sun; then all the spirit left in her flashed up in thrilling wonder + at this exquisite, wild, and colorful spot. + </p> + <p> + Horses were grazing out in the long grass and there were deer grazing with + them. Roy led round a corner of the fringed, bordering woodland, and + there, under lofty trees, shone a camp-fire. Huge gray rocks loomed + beyond, and then cliffs rose step by step to a notch in the mountain wall, + over which poured a thin, lacy waterfall. As Helen gazed in rapture the + sunset gold faded to white and all the western slope of the amphitheater + darkened. + </p> + <p> + Dale's tall form appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you're late,” he said, as with a comprehensive flash of eye he + took in the three. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, I got lost,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + “I feared as much.... You girls look like you'd done better to ride with + me,” went on Dale, as he offered a hand to help Bo off. She took it, tried + to get her foot out of the stirrups, and then she slid from the saddle + into Dale's arms. He placed her on her feet and, supporting her, said, + solicitously: “A hundred-mile ride in three days for a tenderfoot is + somethin' your uncle Al won't believe.... Come, walk if it kills you!” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon he led Bo, very much as if he were teaching a child to walk. The + fact that the voluble Bo had nothing to say was significant to Helen, who + was following, with the assistance of Roy. + </p> + <p> + One of the huge rocks resembled a sea-shell in that it contained a hollow + over which the wide-spreading shelf flared out. It reached toward branches + of great pines. A spring burst from a crack in the solid rock. The + campfire blazed under a pine, and the blue column of smoke rose just in + front of the shelving rock. Packs were lying on the grass and some of them + were open. There were no signs here of a permanent habitation of the + hunter. But farther on were other huge rocks, leaning, cracked, and + forming caverns, some of which perhaps he utilized. + </p> + <p> + “My camp is just back,” said Dale, as if he had read Helen's mind. + “To-morrow we'll fix up comfortable-like round here for you girls.” + </p> + <p> + Helen and Bo were made as easy as blankets and saddles could make them, + and the men went about their tasks. + </p> + <p> + “Nell—isn't this—a dream?” murmured Bo. + </p> + <p> + “No, child. It's real—terribly real,” replied Helen. “Now that we're + here—with that awful ride over—we can think.” + </p> + <p> + “It's so pretty—here,” yawned Bo. “I'd just as lief Uncle Al didn't + find us very soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo! He's a sick man. Think what the worry will be to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet if he knows Dale he won't be so worried.” + </p> + <p> + “Dale told us Uncle Al disliked him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! What difference does that make?... Oh, I don't know which I am—hungrier + or tireder!” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't eat to-night,” said Helen, wearily. + </p> + <p> + When she stretched out she had a vague, delicious sensation that that was + the end of Helen Rayner, and she was glad. Above her, through the lacy, + fernlike pine-needles, she saw blue sky and a pale star just showing. + Twilight was stealing down swiftly. The silence was beautiful, seemingly + undisturbed by the soft, silky, dreamy fall of water. Helen closed her + eyes, ready for sleep, with the physical commotion within her body + gradually yielding. In some places her bones felt as if they had come out + through her flesh; in others throbbed deep-seated aches; her muscles + appeared slowly to subside, to relax, with the quivering twinges ceasing + one by one; through muscle and bone, through all her body, pulsed a + burning current. + </p> + <p> + Bo's head dropped on Helen's shoulder. Sense became vague to Helen. She + lost the low murmur of the waterfall, and then the sound or feeling of + some one at the campfire. And her last conscious thought was that she + tried to open her eyes and could not. + </p> + <p> + When she awoke all was bright. The sun shone almost directly overhead. + Helen was astounded. Bo lay wrapped in deep sleep, her face flushed, with + beads of perspiration on her brow and the chestnut curls damp. Helen threw + down the blankets, and then, gathering courage—for she felt as if + her back was broken—she endeavored to sit up. In vain! Her spirit + was willing, but her muscles refused to act. It must take a violent + spasmodic effort. She tried it with shut eyes, and, succeeding, sat there + trembling. The commotion she had made in the blankets awoke Bo, and she + blinked her surprised blue eyes in the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “Hello—Nell! do I have to—get up?” she asked, sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Can you?” queried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Can I what?” Bo was now thoroughly awake and lay there staring at her + sister. + </p> + <p> + “Why—get up.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know why not,” retorted Bo, as she made the effort. She got + one arm and shoulder up, only to flop back like a crippled thing. And she + uttered the most piteous little moan. “I'm dead! I know—I am!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you're going to be a Western girl you'd better have spunk enough + to move.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!” ejaculated Bo. Then she rolled over, not without groans, and, + once upon her face, she raised herself on her hands and turned to a + sitting posture. “Where's everybody?... Oh, Nell, it's perfectly lovely + here. Paradise!” + </p> + <p> + Helen looked around. A fire was smoldering. No one was in sight. Wonderful + distant colors seemed to strike her glance as she tried to fix it upon + near-by objects. A beautiful little green tent or shack had been erected + out of spruce boughs. It had a slanting roof that sloped all the way from + a ridge-pole to the ground; half of the opening in front was closed, as + were the sides. The spruce boughs appeared all to be laid in the same + direction, giving it a smooth, compact appearance, actually as if it had + grown there. + </p> + <p> + “That lean-to wasn't there last night?” inquired Bo. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see it. Lean-to? Where'd you get that name?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Western, my dear. I'll bet they put it up for us.... Sure, I see our + bags inside. Let's get up. It must be late.” + </p> + <p> + The girls had considerable fun as well as pain in getting up and keeping + each other erect until their limbs would hold them firmly. They were + delighted with the spruce lean-to. It faced the open and stood just under + the wide-spreading shelf of rock. The tiny outlet from the spring flowed + beside it and spilled its clear water over a stone, to fall into a little + pool. The floor of this woodland habitation consisted of tips of spruce + boughs to about a foot in depth, all laid one way, smooth and springy, and + so sweetly odorous that the air seemed intoxicating. Helen and Bo opened + their baggage, and what with use of the cold water, brush and comb, and + clean blouses, they made themselves feel as comfortable as possible, + considering the excruciating aches. Then they went out to the campfire. + </p> + <p> + Helen's eye was attracted by moving objects near at hand. Then + simultaneously with Bo's cry of delight Helen saw a beautiful doe + approaching under the trees. Dale walked beside it. + </p> + <p> + “You sure had a long sleep,” was the hunter's greeting. “I reckon you both + look better.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning. Or is it afternoon? We're just able to move about,” said + Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I could ride,” declared Bo, stoutly. “Oh, Nell, look at the deer! It's + coming to me.” + </p> + <p> + The doe had hung back a little as Dale reached the camp-fire. It was a + gray, slender creature, smooth as silk, with great dark eyes. It stood a + moment, long ears erect, and then with a graceful little trot came up to + Bo and reached a slim nose for her outstretched hand. All about it, except + the beautiful soft eyes, seemed wild, and yet it was as tame as a kitten. + Then, suddenly, as Bo fondled the long ears, it gave a start and, breaking + away, ran back out of sight under the pines. + </p> + <p> + “What frightened it?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + Dale pointed up at the wall under the shelving roof of rock. There, twenty + feet from the ground, curled up on a ledge, lay a huge tawny animal with a + face like that of a cat. + </p> + <p> + “She's afraid of Tom,” replied Dale. “Recognizes him as a hereditary foe, + I guess. I can't make friends of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So that's Tom—the pet lion!” exclaimed Bo. “Ugh! No wonder that + deer ran off!” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been up there?” queried Helen, gazing fascinated at + Dale's famous pet. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't say. Tom comes an' goes,” replied Dale. “But I sent him up + there last night.” + </p> + <p> + “And he was there—perfectly free—right over us—while we + slept!” burst out Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. An' I reckon you slept the safer for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Of all things! Nell, isn't he a monster? But he doesn't look like a lion—an + African lion. He's a panther. I saw his like at the circus once.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a cougar,” said Dale. “The panther is long and slim. Tom is not only + long, but thick an' round. I've had him four years. An' he was a kitten no + bigger 'n my fist when I got him.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he perfectly tame—safe?” asked Helen, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I've never told anybody that Tom was safe, but he is,” replied Dale. “You + can absolutely believe it. A wild cougar wouldn't attack a man unless + cornered or starved. An' Tom is like a big kitten.” + </p> + <p> + The beast raised his great catlike face, with its sleepy, half-shut eyes, + and looked down upon them. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call him down?” inquired Dale. + </p> + <p> + For once Bo did not find her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Let us—get a little more used to him—at a distance,” replied + Helen, with a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “If he comes to you, just rub his head an' you'll see how tame he is,” + said Dale. “Reckon you're both hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so very,” returned Helen, aware of his penetrating gray gaze upon + her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am,” vouchsafed Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Soon as the turkey's done we'll eat. My camp is round between the rocks. + I'll call you.” + </p> + <p> + Not until his broad back was turned did Helen notice that the hunter + looked different. Then she saw he wore a lighter, cleaner suit of + buckskin, with no coat, and instead of the high-heeled horseman's boots he + wore moccasins and leggings. The change made him appear more lithe. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I don't know what you think, but <i>I</i> call him handsome,” + declared Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen had no idea what she thought. + </p> + <p> + “Let's try to walk some,” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + So they essayed that painful task and got as far as a pine log some few + rods from their camp. This point was close to the edge of the park, from + which there was an unobstructed view. + </p> + <p> + “My! What a place!” exclaimed Bo, with eyes wide and round. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, beautiful!” breathed Helen. + </p> + <p> + An unexpected blaze of color drew her gaze first. Out of the black spruce + slopes shone patches of aspens, gloriously red and gold, and low down + along the edge of timber troops of aspens ran out into the park, not yet + so blazing as those above, but purple and yellow and white in the + sunshine. Masses of silver spruce, like trees in moonlight, bordered the + park, sending out here and there an isolated tree, sharp as a spear, with + under-branches close to the ground. Long golden-green grass, resembling + half-ripe wheat, covered the entire floor of the park, gently waving to + the wind. Above sheered the black, gold-patched slopes, steep and + unscalable, rising to buttresses of dark, iron-hued rock. And to the east + circled the rows of cliff-bench, gray and old and fringed, splitting at + the top in the notch where the lacy, slumberous waterfall, like white + smoke, fell and vanished, to reappear in wider sheet of lace, only to fall + and vanish again in the green depths. + </p> + <p> + It was a verdant valley, deep-set in the mountain walls, wild and sad and + lonesome. The waterfall dominated the spirit of the place, dreamy and + sleepy and tranquil; it murmured sweetly on one breath of wind, and lulled + with another, and sometimes died out altogether, only to come again in + soft, strange roar. + </p> + <p> + “Paradise Park!” whispered Bo to herself. + </p> + <p> + A call from Dale disturbed their raptures. Turning, they hobbled with + eager but painful steps in the direction of a larger camp-fire, situated + to the right of the great rock that sheltered their lean-to. No hut or + house showed there and none was needed. Hiding-places and homes for a + hundred hunters were there in the sections of caverned cliffs, split off + in bygone ages from the mountain wall above. A few stately pines stood out + from the rocks, and a clump of silver spruce ran down to a brown brook. + This camp was only a step from the lean-to, round the corner of a huge + rock, yet it had been out of sight. Here indeed was evidence of a hunter's + home—pelts and skins and antlers, a neat pile of split fire-wood, a + long ledge of rock, well sheltered, and loaded with bags like a huge + pantry-shelf, packs and ropes and saddles, tools and weapons, and a + platform of dry brush as shelter for a fire around which hung on poles a + various assortment of utensils for camp. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar—you git!” shouted Dale, and he threw a stick at something. A + bear cub scampered away in haste. He was small and woolly and brown, and + he grunted as he ran. Soon he halted. + </p> + <p> + “That's Bud,” said Dale, as the girls came up. “Guess he near starved in + my absence. An' now he wants everythin', especially the sugar. We don't + have sugar often up here.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't he dear? Oh, I love him!” cried Bo. “Come back, Bud. Come, Buddie.” + </p> + <p> + The cub, however, kept his distance, watching Dale with bright little + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mr. Roy?” asked Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Roy's gone. He was sorry not to say good-by. But it's important he gets + down in the pines on Anson's trail. He'll hang to Anson, an' in case they + get near Pine he'll ride in to see where your uncle is.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect?” questioned Helen, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “'Most anythin',” he replied. “Al, I reckon, knows now. Maybe he's + rustlin' into the mountains by this time. If he meets up with Anson, well + an' good, for Roy won't be far off. An' sure if he runs across Roy, why + they'll soon be here. But if I were you I wouldn't count on seein' your + uncle very soon. I'm sorry. I've done my best. It sure is a bad deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think me ungracious,” replied Helen, hastily. How plainly he had + intimated that it must be privation and annoyance for her to be compelled + to accept his hospitality! “You are good—kind. I owe you much. I'll + be eternally grateful.” + </p> + <p> + Dale straightened as he looked at her. His glance was intent, piercing. He + seemed to be receiving a strange or unusual portent. No need for him to + say he had never before been spoken to like that! + </p> + <p> + “You may have to stay here with me—for weeks—maybe months—if + we've the bad luck to get snowed in,” he said, slowly, as if startled at + this deduction. “You're safe here. No sheep-thief could ever find this + camp. I'll take risks to get you safe into Al's hands. But I'm goin' to be + pretty sure about what I'm doin'.... So—there's plenty to eat an' + it's a pretty place.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty! Why, it's grand!” exclaimed Bo. “I've called it Paradise Park.” + </p> + <p> + “Paradise Park,” he repeated, weighing the words. “You've named it an' + also the creek. Paradise Creek! I've been here twelve years with no fit + name for my home till you said that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that pleases me!” returned Bo, with shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Eat now,” said Dale. “An' I reckon you'll like that turkey.” + </p> + <p> + There was a clean tarpaulin upon which were spread steaming, fragrant pans—roast + turkey, hot biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes as white as if prepared at + home, stewed dried apples, and butter and coffee. This bounteous repast + surprised and delighted the girls; when they had once tasted the roast + wild turkey, then Milt Dale had occasion to blush at their encomiums. + </p> + <p> + “I hope—Uncle Al—doesn't come for a month,” declared Bo, as + she tried to get her breath. There was a brown spot on her nose and one on + each cheek, suspiciously close to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + Dale laughed. It was pleasant to hear him, for his laugh seemed unused and + deep, as if it came from tranquil depths. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you eat with us?” asked Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I will,” he said, “it'll save time, an' hot grub tastes better.” + </p> + <p> + Quite an interval of silence ensued, which presently was broken by Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Tom.” + </p> + <p> + Helen observed with a thrill that the cougar was magnificent, seen erect + on all-fours, approaching with slow, sinuous grace. His color was tawny, + with spots of whitish gray. He had bow-legs, big and round and furry, and + a huge head with great tawny eyes. No matter how tame he was said to be, + he looked wild. Like a dog he walked right up, and it so happened that he + was directly behind Bo, within reach of her when she turned. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord!” cried Bo, and up went both of her hands, in one of which was a + huge piece of turkey. Tom took it, not viciously, but nevertheless with a + snap that made Helen jump. As if by magic the turkey vanished. And Tom + took a closer step toward Bo. Her expression of fright changed to + consternation. + </p> + <p> + “He stole my turkey!” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, come here,” ordered Dale, sharply. The cougar glided round rather + sheepishly. “Now lie down an' behave.” + </p> + <p> + Tom crouched on all-fours, his head resting on his paws, with his + beautiful tawny eyes, light and piercing, fixed upon the hunter. + </p> + <p> + “Don't grab,” said Dale, holding out a piece of turkey. Whereupon Tom took + it less voraciously. + </p> + <p> + As it happened, the little bear cub saw this transaction, and he plainly + indicated his opinion of the preference shown to Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the dear!” exclaimed Bo. “He means it's not fair.... Come, Bud—come + on.” + </p> + <p> + But Bud would not approach the group until called by Dale. Then he + scrambled to them with every manifestation of delight. Bo almost forgot + her own needs in feeding him and getting acquainted with him. Tom plainly + showed his jealousy of Bud, and Bud likewise showed his fear of the great + cat. + </p> + <p> + Helen could not believe the evidence of her eyes—that she was in the + woods calmly and hungrily partaking of sweet, wild-flavored meat—that + a full-grown mountain lion lay on one side of her and a baby brown bear + sat on the other—that a strange hunter, a man of the forest, there + in his lonely and isolated fastness, appealed to the romance in her and + interested her as no one else she had ever met. + </p> + <p> + When the wonderful meal was at last finished Bo enticed the bear cub + around to the camp of the girls, and there soon became great comrades with + him. Helen, watching Bo play, was inclined to envy her. No matter where Bo + was placed, she always got something out of it. She adapted herself. She, + who could have a good time with almost any one or anything, would find the + hours sweet and fleeting in this beautiful park of wild wonders. + </p> + <p> + But merely objective actions—merely physical movements, had never + yet contented Helen. She could run and climb and ride and play with hearty + and healthy abandon, but those things would not suffice long for her, and + her mind needed food. Helen was a thinker. One reason she had desired to + make her home in the West was that by taking up a life of the open, of + action, she might think and dream and brood less. And here she was in the + wild West, after the three most strenuously active days of her career, and + still the same old giant revolved her mind and turned it upon herself and + upon all she saw. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” she asked Bo, almost helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, rest, you silly!” retorted Bo. “You walk like an old, crippled woman + with only one leg.” + </p> + <p> + Helen hoped the comparison was undeserved, but the advice was sound. The + blankets spread out on the grass looked inviting and they felt comfortably + warm in the sunshine. The breeze was slow, languorous, fragrant, and it + brought the low hum of the murmuring waterfall, like a melody of bees. + Helen made a pillow and lay down to rest. The green pine-needles, so thin + and fine in their crisscross network, showed clearly against the blue sky. + She looked in vain for birds. Then her gaze went wonderingly to the lofty + fringed rim of the great amphitheater, and as she studied it she began to + grasp its remoteness, how far away it was in the rarefied atmosphere. A + black eagle, sweeping along, looked of tiny size, and yet he was far under + the heights above. How pleasant she fancied it to be up there! And drowsy + fancy lulled her to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Helen slept all afternoon, and upon awakening, toward sunset, found Bo + curled beside her. Dale had thoughtfully covered them with a blanket; also + he had built a camp-fire. The air was growing keen and cold. + </p> + <p> + Later, when they had put their coats on and made comfortable seats beside + the fire, Dale came over, apparently to visit them. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you can't sleep all the time,” he said. “An' bein' city girls, + you'll get lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + “Lonesome!” echoed Helen. The idea of her being lonesome here had not + occurred to her. + </p> + <p> + “I've thought that all out,” went on Dale, as he sat down, Indian fashion, + before the blaze. “It's natural you'd find time drag up here, bein' used + to lots of people an' goin's-on, an' work, an' all girls like.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd never be lonesome here,” replied Helen, with her direct force. + </p> + <p> + Dale did not betray surprise, but he showed that his mistake was something + to ponder over. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said, presently, as his gray eyes held hers. “That's how I + had it. As I remember girls—an' it doesn't seem long since I left + home—most of them would die of lonesomeness up here.” Then he + addressed himself to Bo. “How about you? You see, I figured you'd be the + one that liked it, an' your sister the one who wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't get lonesome very soon,” replied Bo. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad. It worried me some—not ever havin' girls as company + before. An' in a day or so, when you're rested, I'll help you pass the + time.” + </p> + <p> + Bo's eyes were full of flashing interest, and Helen asked him, “How?” + </p> + <p> + It was a sincere expression of her curiosity and not doubtful or ironic + challenge of an educated woman to a man of the forest. But as a challenge + he took it. + </p> + <p> + “How!” he repeated, and a strange smile flitted across his face. “Why, by + givin' you rides an' climbs to beautiful places. An' then, if you're + interested,' to show you how little so-called civilized people know of + nature.” + </p> + <p> + Helen realized then that whatever his calling, hunter or wanderer or + hermit, he was not uneducated, even if he appeared illiterate. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be happy to learn from you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Me, too!” chimed in Bo. “You can't tell too much to any one from + Missouri.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, and that warmed Helen to him, for then he seemed less removed + from other people. About this hunter there began to be something of the + very nature of which he spoke—a stillness, aloofness, an unbreakable + tranquillity, a cold, clear spirit like that in the mountain air, a + physical something not unlike the tamed wildness of his pets or the + strength of the pines. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet I can tell you more 'n you'll ever remember,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What 'll you bet?” retorted Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Well, more roast turkey against—say somethin' nice when you're safe + an' home to your uncle Al's, runnin' his ranch.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed. Nell, you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Helen nodded her head. + </p> + <p> + “All right. We'll leave it to Nell,” began Dale, half seriously. “Now I'll + tell you, first, for the fun of passin' time we'll ride an' race my horses + out in the park. An' we'll fish in the brooks an' hunt in the woods. + There's an old silvertip around that you can see me kill. An' we'll climb + to the peaks an' see wonderful sights.... So much for that. Now, if you + really want to learn—or if you only want me to tell you—well, + that's no matter. Only I'll win the bet!... You'll see how this park lies + in the crater of a volcano an' was once full of water—an' how the + snow blows in on one side in winter, a hundred feet deep, when there's + none on the other. An' the trees—how they grow an' live an' fight + one another an' depend on one another, an' protect the forest from + storm-winds. An' how they hold the water that is the fountains of the + great rivers. An' how the creatures an' things that live in them or on + them are good for them, an' neither could live without the other. An' then + I'll show you my pets tame an' untamed, an' tell you how it's man that + makes any creature wild—how easy they are to tame—an' how they + learn to love you. An' there's the life of the forest, the strife of it—how + the bear lives, an' the cats, an' the wolves, an' the deer. You'll see how + cruel nature is how savage an' wild the wolf or cougar tears down the deer—how + a wolf loves fresh, hot blood, an' how a cougar unrolls the skin of a deer + back from his neck. An' you'll see that this cruelty of nature—this + work of the wolf an' cougar—is what makes the deer so beautiful an' + healthy an' swift an' sensitive. Without his deadly foes the deer would + deteriorate an' die out. An' you'll see how this principle works out among + all creatures of the forest. Strife! It's the meanin' of all creation, an' + the salvation. If you're quick to see, you'll learn that the nature here + in the wilds is the same as that of men—only men are no longer + cannibals. Trees fight to live—birds fight—animals fight—men + fight. They all live off one another. An' it's this fightin' that brings + them all closer an' closer to bein' perfect. But nothin' will ever be + perfect.” + </p> + <p> + “But how about religion?” interrupted Helen, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Nature has a religion, an' it's to live—to grow—to reproduce, + each of its kind.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is not God or the immortality of the soul,” declared Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's as close to God an' immortality as nature ever gets.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you would rob me of my religion!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I just talk as I see life,” replied Dale, reflectively, as he poked a + stick into the red embers of the fire. “Maybe I have a religion. I don't + know. But it's not the kind you have—not the Bible kind. That kind + doesn't keep the men in Pine an' Snowdrop an' all over—sheepmen an' + ranchers an' farmers an' travelers, such as I've known—the religion + they profess doesn't keep them from lyin', cheatin', stealin', an' + killin'. I reckon no man who lives as I do—which perhaps is my + religion—will lie or cheat or steal or kill, unless it's to kill in + self-defense or like I'd do if Snake Anson would ride up here now. My + religion, maybe, is love of life—wild life as it was in the + beginnin'—an' the wind that blows secrets from everywhere, an' the + water that sings all day an' night, an' the stars that shine constant, an' + the trees that speak somehow, an' the rocks that aren't dead. I'm never + alone here or on the trails. There's somethin' unseen, but always with me. + An' that's It! Call it God if you like. But what stalls me is—where + was that Spirit when this earth was a ball of fiery gas? Where will that + Spirit be when all life is frozen out or burned out on this globe an' it + hangs dead in space like the moon? That time will come. There's no waste + in nature. Not the littlest atom is destroyed. It changes, that's all, as + you see this pine wood go up in smoke an' feel somethin' that's heat come + out of it. Where does that go? It's not lost. Nothin' is lost. So, the + beautiful an' savin' thought is, maybe all rock an' wood, water an' blood + an' flesh, are resolved back into the elements, to come to life somewhere + again sometime.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what you say is wonderful, but it's terrible!” exclaimed Helen. He + had struck deep into her soul. + </p> + <p> + “Terrible? I reckon,” he replied, sadly. + </p> + <p> + Then ensued a little interval of silence. + </p> + <p> + “Milt Dale, I lose the bet,” declared Bo, with earnestness behind her + frivolity. + </p> + <p> + “I'd forgotten that. Reckon I talked a lot,” he said, apologetically. “You + see, I don't get much chance to talk, except to myself or Tom. Years ago, + when I found the habit of silence settlin' down on me, I took to thinkin' + out loud an' talkin' to anythin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I could listen to you all night,” returned Bo, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you read—do you have books?” inquired Helen, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I read tolerable well; a good deal better than I talk or write,” he + replied. “I went to school till I was fifteen. Always hated study, but + liked to read. Years ago an old friend of mine down here at Pine—Widow + Cass—she gave me a lot of old books. An' I packed them up here. + Winter's the time I read.” + </p> + <p> + Conversation lagged after that, except for desultory remarks, and + presently Dale bade the girls good night and left them. Helen watched his + tall form vanish in the gloom under the pines, and after he had + disappeared she still stared. + </p> + <p> + “Nell!” called Bo, shrilly. “I've called you three times. I want to go to + bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I—I was thinking,” rejoined Helen, half embarrassed, half + wondering at herself. “I didn't hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “I should smile you didn't,” retorted Bo. “Wish you could just have seen + your eyes. Nell, do you want me to tell you something? + </p> + <p> + “Why—yes,” said Helen, rather feebly. She did not at all, when Bo + talked like that. + </p> + <p> + “You're going to fall in love with that wild hunter,” declared Bo in a + voice that rang like a bell. + </p> + <p> + Helen was not only amazed, but enraged. She caught her breath preparatory + to giving this incorrigible sister a piece of her mind. Bo went calmly on. + </p> + <p> + “I can feel it in my bones.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, you're a little fool—a sentimental, romancing, gushy little + fool!” retorted Helen. “All you seem to hold in your head is some rot + about love. To hear you talk one would think there's nothing else in the + world but love.” + </p> + <p> + Bo's eyes were bright, shrewd, affectionate, and laughing as she bent + their steady gaze upon Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, that's just it. There IS nothing else!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + The night of sleep was so short that it was difficult for Helen to believe + that hours had passed. Bo appeared livelier this morning, with less + complaint of aches. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, you've got color!” exclaimed Bo. “And your eyes are bright. Isn't + the morning perfectly lovely?... Couldn't you get drunk on that air? I + smell flowers. And oh! I'm hungry!” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, our host will soon have need of his hunting abilities if your + appetite holds,” said Helen, as she tried to keep her hair out of her eyes + while she laced her boots. + </p> + <p> + “Look! there's a big dog—a hound.” + </p> + <p> + Helen looked as Bo directed, and saw a hound of unusually large + proportions, black and tan in color, with long, drooping ears. Curiously + he trotted nearer to the door of their hut and then stopped to gaze at + them. His head was noble, his eyes shone dark and sad. He seemed neither + friendly nor unfriendly. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, doggie! Come right in—we won't hurt you,” called Bo, but + without enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + This made Helen laugh. “Bo, you're simply delicious,” she said. “You're + afraid of that dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Wonder if he's Dale's. Of course he must be.” + </p> + <p> + Presently the hound trotted away out of sight. When the girls presented + themselves at the camp-fire they espied their curious canine visitor lying + down. His ears were so long that half of them lay on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “I sent Pedro over to wake you girls up,” said Dale, after greeting them. + “Did he scare you?” + </p> + <p> + “Pedro. So that's his name. No, he didn't exactly scare me. He did Nell, + though. She's an awful tenderfoot,” replied Bo. + </p> + <p> + “He's a splendid-looking dog,” said Helen, ignoring her sister's sally. “I + love dogs. Will he make friends?” + </p> + <p> + “He's shy an' wild. You see, when I leave camp he won't hang around. He + an' Tom are jealous of each other. I had a pack of hounds an' lost all but + Pedro on account of Tom. I think you can make friends with Pedro. Try it.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Helen made overtures to Pedro, and not wholly in vain. The dog + was matured, of almost stern aloofness, and manifestly not used to people. + His deep, wine-dark eyes seemed to search Helen's soul. They were honest + and wise, with a strange sadness. + </p> + <p> + “He looks intelligent,” observed Helen, as she smoothed the long, dark + ears. + </p> + <p> + “That hound is nigh human,” responded Dale. “Come, an' while you eat I'll + tell you about Pedro.” + </p> + <p> + Dale had gotten the hound as a pup from a Mexican sheep-herder who claimed + he was part California bloodhound. He grew up, becoming attached to Dale. + In his younger days he did not get along well with Dale's other pets and + Dale gave him to a rancher down in the valley. Pedro was back in Dale's + camp next day. From that day Dale began to care more for the hound, but he + did not want to keep him, for various reasons, chief of which was the fact + that Pedro was too fine a dog to be left alone half the time to shift for + himself. That fall Dale had need to go to the farthest village, Snowdrop, + where he left Pedro with a friend. Then Dale rode to Show Down and Pine, + and the camp of the Beemans' and with them he trailed some wild horses for + a hundred miles, over into New Mexico. The snow was flying when Dale got + back to his camp in the mountains. And there was Pedro, gaunt and worn, + overjoyed to welcome him home. Roy Beeman visited Dale that October and + told that Dale's friend in Snowdrop had not been able to keep Pedro. He + broke a chain and scaled a ten-foot fence to escape. He trailed Dale to + Show Down, where one of Dale's friends, recognizing the hound, caught him, + and meant to keep him until Dale's return. But Pedro refused to eat. It + happened that a freighter was going out to the Beeman camp, and Dale's + friend boxed Pedro up and put him on the wagon. Pedro broke out of the + box, returned to Show Down, took up Dale's trail to Pine, and then on to + the Beeman camp. That was as far as Roy could trace the movements of the + hound. But he believed, and so did Dale, that Pedro had trailed them out + on the wild-horse hunt. The following spring Dale learned more from the + herder of a sheepman at whose camp he and the Beemans; had rested on the + way into New Mexico. It appeared that after Dale had left this camp Pedro + had arrived, and another Mexican herder had stolen the hound. But Pedro + got away. + </p> + <p> + “An' he was here when I arrived,” concluded Dale, smiling. “I never wanted + to get rid of him after that. He's turned out to be the finest dog I ever + knew. He knows what I say. He can almost talk. An' I swear he can cry. He + does whenever I start off without him.” + </p> + <p> + “How perfectly wonderful!” exclaimed Bo. “Aren't animals great?... But I + love horses best.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Helen that Pedro understood they were talking about him, for + he looked ashamed, and swallowed hard, and dropped his gaze. She knew + something of the truth about the love of dogs for their owners. This story + of Dale's, however, was stranger than any she had ever heard. + </p> + <p> + Tom, the cougar, put in an appearance then, and there was scarcely love in + the tawny eyes he bent upon Pedro. But the hound did not deign to notice + him. Tom sidled up to Bo, who sat on the farther side of the tarpaulin + table-cloth, and manifestly wanted part of her breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Gee! I love the look of him,” she said. “But when he's close he makes my + flesh creep.” + </p> + <p> + “Beasts are as queer as people,” observed Dale. “They take likes an' + dislikes. I believe Tom has taken a shine to you an' Pedro begins to be + interested in your sister. I can tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Bud?” inquired Bo. + </p> + <p> + “He's asleep or around somewhere. Now, soon as I get the work done, what + would you girls like to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Ride!” declared Bo, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you sore an' stiff?” + </p> + <p> + “I am that. But I don't care. Besides, when I used to go out to my uncle's + farm near Saint Joe I always found riding to be a cure for aches.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure is, if you can stand it. An' what will your sister like to do?” + returned Dale, turning to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll rest, and watch you folks—and dream,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “But after you've rested you must be active,” said Dale, seriously. “You + must do things. It doesn't matter what, just as long as you don't sit + idle.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” queried Helen, in surprise. “Why not be idle here in this + beautiful, wild place? just to dream away the hours—the days! I + could do it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you mustn't. It took me years to learn how bad that was for me. An' + right now I would love nothin' more than to forget my work, my horses an' + pets—everythin', an' just lay around, seein' an' feelin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Seeing and feeling? Yes, that must be what I mean. But why—what is + it? There are the beauty and color—the wild, shaggy slopes—the + gray cliffs—the singing wind—the lulling water—the + clouds—the sky. And the silence, loneliness, sweetness of it all.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a driftin' back. What I love to do an' yet fear most. It's what + makes a lone hunter of a man. An' it can grow so strong that it binds a + man to the wilds.” + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” murmured Helen. “But that could never bind ME. Why, I must + live and fulfil my mission, my work in the civilized world.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Helen that Dale almost imperceptibly shrank at her earnest + words. + </p> + <p> + “The ways of Nature are strange,” he said. “I look at it different. + Nature's just as keen to wean you back to a savage state as you are to be + civilized. An' if Nature won, you would carry out her design all the + better.” + </p> + <p> + This hunter's talk shocked Helen and yet stimulated her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Me—a savage? Oh no!” she exclaimed. “But, if that were possible, + what would Nature's design be?” + </p> + <p> + “You spoke of your mission in life,” he replied. “A woman's mission is to + have children. The female of any species has only one mission—to + reproduce its kind. An' Nature has only one mission—toward greater + strength, virility, efficiency—absolute perfection, which is + unattainable.” + </p> + <p> + “What of mental and spiritual development of man and woman?” asked Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Both are direct obstacles to the design of Nature. Nature is physical. To + create for limitless endurance for eternal life. That must be Nature's + inscrutable design. An' why she must fail.” + </p> + <p> + “But the soul!” whispered Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! When you speak of the soul an' I speak of life we mean the same. You + an' I will have some talks while you're here. I must brush up my + thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “So must I, it seems,” said Helen, with a slow smile. She had been + rendered grave and thoughtful. “But I guess I'll risk dreaming under the + pines.” + </p> + <p> + Bo had been watching them with her keen blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, it'd take a thousand years to make a savage of you,” she said. “But + a week will do for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, you were one before you left Saint Joe,” replied Helen. “Don't you + remember that school-teacher Barnes who said you were a wildcat and an + Indian mixed? He spanked you with a ruler.” + </p> + <p> + “Never! He missed me,” retorted Bo, with red in her cheeks. “Nell, I wish + you'd not tell things about me when I was a kid.” + </p> + <p> + “That was only two years ago,” expostulated Helen, in mild surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose it was. I was a kid all right. I'll bet you—” Bo broke up + abruptly, and, tossing her head, she gave Tom a pat and then ran away + around the corner of cliff wall. + </p> + <p> + Helen followed leisurely. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Nell,” said Bo, when Helen arrived at their little green ledge-pole + hut, “do you know that hunter fellow will upset some of your theories?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe. I'll admit he amazes me—and affronts me, too, I'm afraid,” + replied Helen. “What surprises me is that in spite of his evident lack of + schooling he's not raw or crude. He's elemental.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister dear, wake up. The man's wonderful. You can learn more from him + than you ever learned in your life. So can I. I always hated books, + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + When, a little later, Dale approached carrying some bridles, the hound + Pedro trotted at his heels. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'd better ride the horse you had,” he said to Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you say. But I hope you let me ride them all, by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. I've a mustang out there you'll like. But he pitches a little,” he + rejoined, and turned away toward the park. The hound looked after him and + then at Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Pedro. Stay with me,” called Helen. + </p> + <p> + Dale, hearing her, motioned the hound back. Obediently Pedro trotted to + her, still shy and soberly watchful, as if not sure of her intentions, but + with something of friendliness about him now. Helen found a soft, restful + seat in the sun facing the park, and there composed herself for what she + felt would be slow, sweet, idle hours. Pedro curled down beside her. The + tall form of Dale stalked across the park, out toward the straggling + horses. Again she saw a deer grazing among them. How erect and motionless + it stood watching Dale! Presently it bounded away toward the edge of the + forest. Some of the horses whistled and ran, kicking heels high in the + air. The shrill whistles rang clear in the stillness. + </p> + <p> + “Gee! Look at them go!” exclaimed Bo, gleefully, coming up to where Helen + sat. Bo threw herself down upon the fragrant pine-needles and stretched + herself languorously, like a lazy kitten. There was something feline in + her lithe, graceful outline. She lay flat and looked up through the pines. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't it be great, now,” she murmured, dreamily, half to herself, “if + that Las Vegas cowboy would happen somehow to come, and then an earthquake + would shut us up here in this Paradise valley so we'd never get out?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo! What would mother say to such talk as that?” gasped Helen. + </p> + <p> + “But, Nell, wouldn't it be great?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there never was any romance in you, Nell Rayner,” replied Bo. “That + very thing has actually happened out here in this wonderful country of + wild places. You need not tell me! Sure it's happened. With the + cliff-dwellers and the Indians and then white people. Every place I look + makes me feel that. Nell, you'd have to see people in the moon through a + telescope before you'd believe that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm practical and sensible, thank goodness!” + </p> + <p> + “But, for the sake of argument,” protested Bo, with flashing eyes, + “suppose it MIGHT happen. Just to please me, suppose we DID get shut up + here with Dale and that cowboy we saw from the train. Shut in without any + hope of ever climbing out.... What would you do? Would you give up and + pine away and die? Or would you fight for life and whatever joy it might + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Self-preservation is the first instinct,” replied Helen, surprised at a + strange, deep thrill in the depths of her. “I'd fight for life, of + course.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, really, when I think seriously I don't want anything like that + to happen. But, just the same, if it DID happen I would glory in it.” + </p> + <p> + While they were talking Dale returned with the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Can you bridle an' saddle your own horse?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm ashamed to say I can't,” replied Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Time to learn then. Come on. Watch me first when I saddle mine.” + </p> + <p> + Bo was all eyes while Dale slipped off the bridle from his horse and then + with slow, plain action readjusted it. Next he smoothed the back of the + horse, shook out the blanket, and, folding it half over, he threw it in + place, being careful to explain to Bo just the right position. He lifted + his saddle in a certain way and put that in place, and then he tightened + the cinches. + </p> + <p> + “Now you try,” he said. + </p> + <p> + According to Helen's judgment Bo might have been a Western girl all her + days. But Dale shook his head and made her do it over. + </p> + <p> + “That was better. Of course, the saddle is too heavy for you to sling it + up. You can learn that with a light one. Now put the bridle on again. + Don't be afraid of your hands. He won't bite. Slip the bit in sideways.... + There. Now let's see you mount.” + </p> + <p> + When Bo got into the saddle Dale continued: “You went up quick an' light, + but the wrong way. Watch me.” + </p> + <p> + Bo had to mount several times before Dale was satisfied. Then he told her + to ride off a little distance. When Bo had gotten out of earshot Dale said + to Helen: “She'll take to a horse like a duck takes to water.” Then, + mounting, he rode out after her. + </p> + <p> + Helen watched them trotting and galloping and running the horses round the + grassy park, and rather regretted she had not gone with them. Eventually + Bo rode back, to dismount and fling herself down, red-cheeked and radiant, + with disheveled hair, and curls damp on her temples. How alive she seemed! + Helen's senses thrilled with the grace and charm and vitality of this + surprising sister, and she was aware of a sheer physical joy in her + presence. Bo rested, but she did not rest long. She was soon off to play + with Bud. Then she coaxed the tame doe to eat out of her hand. She dragged + Helen off for wild flowers, curious and thoughtless by turns. And at + length she fell asleep, quickly, in a way that reminded Helen of the + childhood now gone forever. + </p> + <p> + Dale called them to dinner about four o'clock, as the sun was reddening + the western rampart of the park. Helen wondered where the day had gone. + The hours had flown swiftly, serenely, bringing her scarcely a thought of + her uncle or dread of her forced detention there or possible discovery by + those outlaws supposed to be hunting for her. After she realized the + passing of those hours she had an intangible and indescribable feeling of + what Dale had meant about dreaming the hours away. The nature of Paradise + Park was inimical to the kind of thought that had habitually been hers. + She found the new thought absorbing, yet when she tried to name it she + found that, after all, she had only felt. At the meal hour she was more + than usually quiet. She saw that Dale noticed it and was trying to + interest her or distract her attention. He succeeded, but she did not + choose to let him see that. She strolled away alone to her seat under the + pine. Bo passed her once, and cried, tantalizingly: + </p> + <p> + “My, Nell, but you're growing romantic!” + </p> + <p> + Never before in Helen's life had the beauty of the evening star seemed so + exquisite or the twilight so moving and shadowy or the darkness so charged + with loneliness. It was their environment—the accompaniment of wild + wolf-mourn, of the murmuring waterfall, of this strange man of the forest + and the unfamiliar elements among which he made his home. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, her energy having returned, Helen shared Bo's lesson in + bridling and saddling her horse, and in riding. Bo, however, rode so fast + and so hard that for Helen to share her company was impossible. And Dale, + interested and amused, yet anxious, spent most of his time with Bo. It was + thus that Helen rode all over the park alone. She was astonished at its + size, when from almost any point it looked so small. The atmosphere + deceived her. How clearly she could see! And she began to judge distance + by the size of familiar things. A horse, looked at across the longest + length of the park, seemed very small indeed. Here and there she rode upon + dark, swift, little brooks, exquisitely clear and amber-colored and almost + hidden from sight by the long grass. These all ran one way, and united to + form a deeper brook that apparently wound under the cliffs at the west + end, and plunged to an outlet in narrow clefts. When Dale and Bo came to + her once she made inquiry, and she was surprised to learn from Dale that + this brook disappeared in a hole in the rocks and had an outlet on the + other side of the mountain. Sometime he would take them to the lake it + formed. + </p> + <p> + “Over the mountain?” asked Helen, again remembering that she must regard + herself as a fugitive. “Will it be safe to leave our hiding-place? I + forget so often why we are here.” + </p> + <p> + “We would be better hidden over there than here,” replied Dale. “The + valley on that side is accessible only from that ridge. An' don't worry + about bein' found. I told you Roy Beeman is watchin' Anson an' his gang. + Roy will keep between them an' us.” + </p> + <p> + Helen was reassured, yet there must always linger in the background of her + mind a sense of dread. In spite of this, she determined to make the most + of her opportunity. Bo was a stimulus. And so Helen spent the rest of that + day riding and tagging after her sister. + </p> + <p> + The next day was less hard on Helen. Activity, rest, eating, and sleeping + took on a wonderful new meaning to her. She had really never known them as + strange joys. She rode, she walked, she climbed a little, she dozed under + her pine-tree, she worked helping Dale at camp-fire tasks, and when night + came she said she did not know herself. That fact haunted her in vague, + deep dreams. Upon awakening she forgot her resolve to study herself. That + day passed. And then several more went swiftly before she adapted herself + to a situation she had reason to believe might last for weeks and even + months. + </p> + <p> + It was afternoon that Helen loved best of all the time of the day. The + sunrise was fresh, beautiful; the morning was windy, fragrant; the sunset + was rosy, glorious; the twilight was sad, changing; and night seemed + infinitely sweet with its stars and silence and sleep. But the afternoon, + when nothing changed, when all was serene, when time seemed to halt, that + was her choice, and her solace. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon she had camp all to herself. Bo was riding. Dale had climbed + the mountain to see if he could find any trace of tracks or see any smoke + from camp-fire. Bud was nowhere to be seen, nor any of the other pets. Tom + had gone off to some sunny ledge where he could bask in the sun, after the + habit of the wilder brothers of his species. Pedro had not been seen for a + night and a day, a fact that Helen had noted with concern. However, she + had forgotten him, and therefore was the more surprised to see him coming + limping into camp on three legs. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Pedro! You have been fighting. Come here,” she called. + </p> + <p> + The hound did not look guilty. He limped to her and held up his right fore + paw. The action was unmistakable. Helen examined the injured member and + presently found a piece of what looked like mussel-shell embedded deeply + between the toes. The wound was swollen, bloody, and evidently very + painful. Pedro whined. Helen had to exert all the strength of her fingers + to pull it out. Then Pedro howled. But immediately he showed his gratitude + by licking her hand. Helen bathed his paw and bound it up. + </p> + <p> + When Dale returned she related the incident and, showing the piece of + shell, she asked: “Where did that come from? Are there shells in the + mountains?” + </p> + <p> + “Once this country was under the sea,” replied Dale. “I've found things + that 'd make you wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Under the sea!” ejaculated Helen. It was one thing to have read of such a + strange fact, but a vastly different one to realize it here among these + lofty peaks. Dale was always showing her something or telling her + something that astounded her. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said one day. “What do you make of that little bunch of + aspens?” + </p> + <p> + They were on the farther side of the park and were resting under a + pine-tree. The forest here encroached upon the park with its straggling + lines of spruce and groves of aspen. The little clump of aspens did not + differ from hundreds Helen had seen. + </p> + <p> + “I don't make anything particularly of it,” replied Helen, dubiously. + “Just a tiny grove of aspens—some very small, some larger, but none + very big. But it's pretty with its green and yellow leaves fluttering and + quivering.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't make you think of a fight?” + </p> + <p> + “Fight? No, it certainly does not,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's as good an example of fight, of strife, of selfishness, as you + will find in the forest,” he said. “Now come over, you an' Bo, an' let me + show you what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Nell,” cried Bo, with enthusiasm. “He'll open our eyes some + more.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing loath, Helen went with them to the little clump of aspens. + </p> + <p> + “About a hundred altogether,” said Dale. “They're pretty well shaded by + the spruces, but they get the sunlight from east an' south. These little + trees all came from the same seedlings. They're all the same age. Four of + them stand, say, ten feet or more high an' they're as large around as my + wrist. Here's one that's largest. See how full-foliaged he is—how he + stands over most of the others, but not so much over these four next to + him. They all stand close together, very close, you see. Most of them are + no larger than my thumb. Look how few branches they have, an' none low + down. Look at how few leaves. Do you see how all the branches stand out + toward the east an' south—how the leaves, of course, face the same + way? See how one branch of one tree bends aside one from another tree. + That's a fight for the sunlight. Here are one—two—three dead + trees. Look, I can snap them off. An' now look down under them. Here are + little trees five feet high—four feet high—down to these only + a foot high. Look how pale, delicate, fragile, unhealthy! They get so + little sunshine. They were born with the other trees, but did not get an + equal start. Position gives the advantage, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Dale led the girls around the little grove, illustrating his words by + action. He seemed deeply in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “You understand it's a fight for water an' sun. But mostly sun, because, + if the leaves can absorb the sun, the tree an' roots will grow to grasp + the needed moisture. Shade is death—slow death to the life of trees. + These little aspens are fightin' for place in the sunlight. It is a + merciless battle. They push an' bend one another's branches aside an' + choke them. Only perhaps half of these aspens will survive, to make one of + the larger clumps, such as that one of full-grown trees over there. One + season will give advantage to this saplin' an' next year to that one. A + few seasons' advantage to one assures its dominance over the others. But + it is never sure of holdin' that dominance. An 'if wind or storm or a + strong-growin' rival does not overthrow it, then sooner or later old age + will. For there is absolute and continual fight. What is true of these + aspens is true of all the trees in the forest an' of all plant life in the + forest. What is most wonderful to me is the tenacity of life.” + </p> + <p> + And next day Dale showed them an even more striking example of this + mystery of nature. + </p> + <p> + He guided them on horseback up one of the thick, verdant-wooded slopes, + calling their attention at various times to the different growths, until + they emerged on the summit of the ridge where the timber grew scant and + dwarfed. At the edge of timber-line he showed a gnarled and knotted + spruce-tree, twisted out of all semblance to a beautiful spruce, bent and + storm-blasted, with almost bare branches, all reaching one' way. The tree + was a specter. It stood alone. It had little green upon it. There seemed + something tragic about its contortions. But it was alive and strong. It + had no rivals to take sun or moisture. Its enemies were the snow and wind + and cold of the heights. + </p> + <p> + Helen felt, as the realization came to her, the knowledge Dale wished to + impart, that it was as sad as wonderful, and as mysterious as it was + inspiring. At that moment there were both the sting and sweetness of life—the + pain and the joy—in Helen's heart. These strange facts were going to + teach her—to transform her. And even if they hurt, she welcomed + them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + “I'll ride you if it breaks—my neck!” panted Bo, passionately, + shaking her gloved fist at the gray pony. + </p> + <p> + Dale stood near with a broad smile on his face. Helen was within earshot, + watching from the edge of the park, and she felt so fascinated and + frightened that she could not call out for Bo to stop. The little gray + mustang was a beauty, clean-limbed and racy, with long black mane and + tail, and a fine, spirited head. There was a blanket strapped on his back, + but no saddle. Bo held the short halter that had been fastened in a + hackamore knot round his nose. She wore no coat; her blouse was covered + with grass and seeds, and it was open at the neck; her hair hung loose and + disheveled; one side of her face bore a stain of grass and dirt and a + suspicion of blood; the other was red and white; her eyes blazed; beads of + sweat stood out on her brow and wet places shone on her cheeks. As she + began to strain on the halter, pulling herself closer to the fiery pony, + the outline of her slender shape stood out lithe and strong. + </p> + <p> + Bo had been defeated in her cherished and determined ambition to ride + Dale's mustang, and she was furious. The mustang did not appear to be + vicious or mean. But he was spirited, tricky, mischievous, and he had + thrown her six times. The scene of Bo's defeat was at the edge of the + park, where thick moss and grass afforded soft places for her to fall. It + also afforded poor foothold for the gray mustang, obviously placing him at + a disadvantage. Dale did not bridle him, because he had not been broken to + a bridle; and though it was harder for Bo to try to ride him bareback, + there was less risk of her being hurt. Bo had begun in all eagerness and + enthusiasm, loving and petting the mustang, which she named “Pony.” She + had evidently anticipated an adventure, but her smiling, resolute face had + denoted confidence. Pony had stood fairly well to be mounted, and then had + pitched and tossed until Bo had slid off or been upset or thrown. After + each fall Bo bounced up with less of a smile, and more of spirit, until + now the Western passion to master a horse had suddenly leaped to life + within her. It was no longer fun, no more a daring circus trick to scare + Helen and rouse Dale's admiration. The issue now lay between Bo and the + mustang. + </p> + <p> + Pony reared, snorting, tossing his head, and pawing with front feet. + </p> + <p> + “Pull him down!” yelled Dale. + </p> + <p> + Bo did not have much weight, but she had strength, an she hauled with all + her might, finally bringing him down. + </p> + <p> + “Now hold hard an' take up rope an' get in to him,” called Dale. “Good! + You're sure not afraid of him. He sees that. Now hold him, talk to him, + tell him you're goin' to ride him. Pet him a little. An' when he quits + shakin', grab his mane an' jump up an' slide a leg over him. Then hook + your feet under him, hard as you can, an' stick on.” + </p> + <p> + If Helen had not been so frightened for Bo she would have been able to + enjoy her other sensations. Creeping, cold thrills chased over her as Bo, + supple and quick, slid an arm and a leg over Pony and straightened up on + him with a defiant cry. Pony jerked his head down, brought his feet + together in one jump, and began to bounce. Bo got the swing of him this + time and stayed on. + </p> + <p> + “You're ridin' him,” yelled Dale. “Now squeeze hard with your knees. Crack + him over the head with your rope.... That's the way. Hang on now an' + you'll have him beat.” + </p> + <p> + The mustang pitched all over the space adjacent to Dale and Helen, tearing + up the moss and grass. Several times he tossed Bo high, but she slid back + to grip him again with her legs, and he could not throw her. Suddenly he + raised his head and bolted. Dale answered Bo's triumphant cry. But Pony + had not run fifty feet before he tripped and fell, throwing Bo far over + his head. As luck would have it—good luck, Dale afterward said—she + landed in a boggy place and the force of her momentum was such that she + slid several yards, face down, in wet moss and black ooze. + </p> + <p> + Helen uttered a scream and ran forward. Bo was getting to her knees when + Dale reached her. He helped her up and half led, half carried her out of + the boggy place. Bo was not recognizable. From head to foot she was + dripping black ooze. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bo! Are you hurt?” cried Helen. + </p> + <p> + Evidently Bo's mouth was full of mud. + </p> + <p> + “Pp—su—tt! Ough! Whew!” she sputtered. “Hurt? No! Can't you + see what I lit in? Dale, the sun-of-a-gun didn't throw me. He fell, and I + went over his head.” + </p> + <p> + “Right. You sure rode him. An' he tripped an' slung you a mile,” replied + Dale. “It's lucky you lit in that bog.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucky! With eyes and nose stopped up? Oooo! I'm full of mud. And my nice—new + riding-suit!” + </p> + <p> + Bo's tones indicated that she was ready to cry. Helen, realizing Bo had + not been hurt, began to laugh. Her sister was the funniest-looking object + that had ever come before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Nell Rayner—are you—laughing—at me?” demanded Bo, in + most righteous amaze and anger. + </p> + <p> + “Me laugh-ing? N-never, Bo,” replied Helen. “Can't you see I'm just—just—” + </p> + <p> + “See? You idiot! my eyes are full of mud!” flashed Bo. “But I hear you. + I'll—I'll get even.” + </p> + <p> + Dale was laughing, too, but noiselessly, and Bo, being blind for the + moment, could not be aware of that. By this time they had reached camp. + Helen fell flat and laughed as she had never laughed before. When Helen + forgot herself so far as to roll on the ground it was indeed a laughing + matter. Dale's big frame shook as he possessed himself of a towel and, + wetting it at the spring, began to wipe the mud off Bo's face. But that + did not serve. Bo asked to be led to the water, where she knelt and, with + splashing, washed out her eyes, and then her face, and then the bedraggled + strands of hair. + </p> + <p> + “That mustang didn't break my neck, but he rooted my face in the mud. I'll + fix him,” she muttered, as she got up. “Please let me have the towel, + now.... Well! Milt Dale, you're laughing!” + </p> + <p> + “Ex-cuse me, Bo. I—Haw! haw! haw!” Then Dale lurched off, holding + his sides. + </p> + <p> + Bo gazed after him and then back at Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose if I'd been kicked and smashed and killed you'd laugh,” she + said. And then she melted. “Oh, my pretty riding-suit! What a mess! I must + be a sight.... Nell, I rode that wild pony—the sun-of-a-gun! I rode + him! That's enough for me. YOU try it. Laugh all you want. It was funny. + But if you want to square yourself with me, help me clean my clothes.” + </p> + <p> + Late in the night Helen heard Dale sternly calling Pedro. She felt some + little alarm. However, nothing happened, and she soon went to sleep again. + At the morning meal Dale explained. + </p> + <p> + “Pedro an' Tom were uneasy last night. I think there are lions workin' + over the ridge somewhere. I heard one scream.” + </p> + <p> + “Scream?” inquired Bo, with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an' if you ever hear a lion scream you will think it a woman in + mortal agony. The cougar cry, as Roy calls it, is the wildest to be heard + in the woods. A wolf howls. He is sad, hungry, and wild. But a cougar + seems human an' dyin' an' wild. We'll saddle up an' ride over there. Maybe + Pedro will tree a lion. Bo, if he does will you shoot it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” replied Bo, with her mouth full of biscuit. + </p> + <p> + That was how they came to take a long, slow, steep ride under cover of + dense spruce. Helen liked the ride after they got on the heights. But they + did not get to any point where she could indulge in her pleasure of gazing + afar over the ranges. Dale led up and down, and finally mostly down, until + they came out within sight of sparser wooded ridges with parks lying below + and streams shining in the sun. + </p> + <p> + More than once Pedro had to be harshly called by Dale. The hound scented + game. + </p> + <p> + “Here's an old kill,” said Dale, halting to point at some bleached bones + scattered under a spruce. Tufts of grayish-white hair lay strewn around. + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Deer, of course. Killed there an' eaten by a lion. Sometime last fall. + See, even the skull is split. But I could not say that the lion did it.” + </p> + <p> + Helen shuddered. She thought of the tame deer down at Dale's camp. How + beautiful and graceful, and responsive to kindness! + </p> + <p> + They rode out of the woods into a grassy swale with rocks and clumps of + some green bushes bordering it. Here Pedro barked, the first time Helen + had heard him. The hair on his neck bristled, and it required stern calls + from Dale to hold him in. Dale dismounted. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar, Pede, you get back,” he ordered. “I'll let you go presently.... + Girls, you're goin' to see somethin'. But stay on your horses.” + </p> + <p> + Dale, with the hound tense and bristling beside him, strode here and there + at the edge of the swale. Presently he halted on a slight elevation and + beckoned for the girls to ride over. + </p> + <p> + “Here, see where the grass is pressed down all nice an' round,” he said, + pointing. “A lion made that. He sneaked there, watchin' for deer. That was + done this mornin'. Come on, now. Let's see if we can trail him.” + </p> + <p> + Dale stooped now, studying the grass, and holding Pedro. Suddenly he + straightened up with a flash in his gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Here's where he jumped.” + </p> + <p> + But Helen could not see any reason why Dale should say that. The man of + the forest took a long stride then another. + </p> + <p> + “An' here's where that lion lit on the back of the deer. It was a big + jump. See the sharp hoof tracks of the deer.” Dale pressed aside tall + grass to show dark, rough, fresh tracks of a deer, evidently made by + violent action. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” called Dale, walking swiftly. “You're sure goin' to see + somethin' now.... Here's where the deer bounded, carryin' the lion.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Bo, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “The deer was runnin' here with the lion on his back. I'll prove it to + you. Come on, now. Pedro, you stay with me. Girls, it's a fresh trail.” + Dale walked along, leading his horse, and occasionally he pointed down + into the grass. “There! See that! That's hair.” + </p> + <p> + Helen did see some tufts of grayish hair scattered on the ground, and she + believed she saw little, dark separations in the grass, where an animal + had recently passed. All at once Dale halted. When Helen reached him Bo + was already there and they were gazing down at a wide, flattened space in + the grass. Even Helen's inexperienced eyes could make out evidences of a + struggle. Tufts of gray-white hair lay upon the crushed grass. Helen did + not need to see any more, but Dale silently pointed to a patch of blood. + Then he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “The lion brought the deer down here an' killed him. Probably broke his + neck. That deer ran a hundred yards with the lion. See, here's the trail + left where the lion dragged the deer off.” + </p> + <p> + A well-defined path showed across the swale. + </p> + <p> + “Girls, you'll see that deer pretty quick,” declared Dale, starting + forward. “This work has just been done. Only a few minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you tell?” queried Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Look! See that grass. It has been bent down by the deer bein' dragged + over it. Now it's springin' up.” + </p> + <p> + Dale's next stop was on the other side of the swale, under a spruce with + low, spreading branches. The look of Pedro quickened Helen's pulse. He was + wild to give chase. Fearfully Helen looked where Dale pointed, expecting + to see the lion. But she saw instead a deer lying prostrate with tongue + out and sightless eyes and bloody hair. + </p> + <p> + “Girls, that lion heard us an' left. He's not far,” said Dale, as he + stooped to lift the head of the deer. “Warm! Neck broken. See the lion's + teeth an' claw marks.... It's a doe. Look here. Don't be squeamish, girls. + This is only an hourly incident of everyday life in the forest. See where + the lion has rolled the skin down as neat as I could do it, an' he'd just + begun to bite in there when he heard us.” + </p> + <p> + “What murderous work, The sight sickens me!” exclaimed Helen. + </p> + <p> + “It is nature,” said Dale, simply. + </p> + <p> + “Let's kill the lion,” added Bo. + </p> + <p> + For answer Dale took a quick turn at their saddle-girths, and then, + mounting, he called to the hound. “Hunt him up, Pedro.” + </p> + <p> + Like a shot the hound was off. + </p> + <p> + “Ride in my tracks an' keep close to me,” called Dale, as he wheeled his + horse. + </p> + <p> + “We're off!” squealed Bo, in wild delight, and she made her mount plunge. + </p> + <p> + Helen urged her horse after them and they broke across a corner of the + swale to the woods. Pedro was running straight, with his nose high. He let + out one short bark. He headed into the woods, with Dale not far behind. + Helen was on one of Dale's best horses, but that fact scarcely manifested + itself, because the others began to increase their lead. They entered the + woods. It was open, and fairly good going. Bo's horse ran as fast in the + woods as he did in the open. That frightened Helen and she yelled to Bo to + hold him in. She yelled to deaf ears. That was Bo's great risk—she + did not intend to be careful. Suddenly the forest rang with Dale's + encouraging yell, meant to aid the girls in following him. Helen's horse + caught the spirit of the chase. He gained somewhat on Bo, hurdling logs, + sometimes two at once. Helen's blood leaped with a strange excitement, + utterly unfamiliar and as utterly resistless. Yet her natural fear, and + the intelligence that reckoned with the foolish risk of this ride, shared + alike in her sum of sensations. She tried to remember Dale's caution about + dodging branches and snags, and sliding her knees back to avoid knocks + from trees. She barely missed some frightful reaching branches. She + received a hard knock, then another, that unseated her, but frantically + she held on and slid back, and at the end of a long run through + comparatively open forest she got a stinging blow in the face from a + far-spreading branch of pine. Bo missed, by what seemed only an inch, a + solid snag that would have broken her in two. Both Pedro and Dale got out + of Helen's sight. Then Helen, as she began to lose Bo, felt that she would + rather run greater risks than be left behind to get lost in the forest, + and she urged her horse. Dale's yell pealed back. Then it seemed even more + thrilling to follow by sound than by sight. Wind and brush tore at her. + The air was heavily pungent with odor of pine. Helen heard a wild, full + bay of the hound, ringing back, full of savage eagerness, and she believed + Pedro had roused out the lion from some covert. It lent more stir to her + blood and it surely urged her horse on faster. + </p> + <p> + Then the swift pace slackened. A windfall of timber delayed Helen. She + caught a glimpse of Dale far ahead, climbing a slope. The forest seemed + full of his ringing yell. Helen strangely wished for level ground and the + former swift motion. Next she saw Bo working down to the right, and Dale's + yell now came from that direction. Helen followed, got out of the timber, + and made better time on a gradual slope down to another park. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the open she saw Bo almost across this narrow open + ground. Here Helen did not need to urge her mount. He snorted and plunged + at the level and he got to going so fast that Helen would have screamed + aloud in mingled fear and delight if she had not been breathless. + </p> + <p> + Her horse had the bad luck to cross soft ground. He went to his knees and + Helen sailed out of the saddle over his head. Soft willows and wet grass + broke her fall. She was surprised to find herself unhurt. Up she bounded + and certainly did not know this new Helen Rayner. Her horse was coming, + and he had patience with her, but he wanted to hurry. Helen made the + quickest mount of her experience and somehow felt a pride in it. She would + tell Bo that. But just then Bo flashed into the woods out of sight. Helen + fairly charged into that green foliage, breaking brush and branches. She + broke through into open forest. Bo was inside, riding down an aisle + between pines and spruces. At that juncture Helen heard Dale's melodious + yell near at hand. Coming into still more open forest, with rocks here and + there, she saw Dale dismounted under a pine, and Pedro standing with fore + paws upon the tree-trunk, and then high up on a branch a huge tawny + colored lion, just like Tom. + </p> + <p> + Bo's horse slowed up and showed fear, but he kept on as far as Dale's + horse. But Helen's refused to go any nearer. She had difficulty in halting + him. Presently she dismounted and, throwing her bridle over a stump, she + ran on, panting and fearful, yet tingling all over, up to her sister and + Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, you did pretty good for a tenderfoot,” was Bo's greeting. + </p> + <p> + “It was a fine chase,” said Dale. “You both rode well. I wish you could + have seen the lion on the ground. He bounded—great long bounds with + his tail up in the air—very funny. An' Pedro almost caught up with + him. That scared me, because he would have killed the hound. Pedro was + close to him when he treed. An' there he is—the yellow deer-killer. + He's a male an' full grown.” + </p> + <p> + With that Dale pulled his rifle from its saddle-sheath and looked + expectantly at Bo. But she was gazing with great interest and admiration + up at the lion. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't he just beautiful?” she burst out. “Oh, look at him spit! Just like + a cat! Dale, he looks afraid he might fall off.” + </p> + <p> + “He sure does. Lions are never sure of their balance in a tree. But I + never saw one make a misstep. He knows he doesn't belong there.” + </p> + <p> + To Helen the lion looked splendid perched up there. He was long and round + and graceful and tawny. His tongue hung out and his plump sides heaved, + showing what a quick, hard run he had been driven to. What struck Helen + most forcibly about him was something in his face as he looked down at the + hound. He was scared. He realized his peril. It was not possible for Helen + to watch him killed, yet she could not bring herself to beg Bo not to + shoot. Helen confessed she was a tenderfoot. + </p> + <p> + “Get down, Bo, an' let's see how good a shot you are,” said Dale. Bo slowly + withdrew her fascinated gaze from the lion and looked with a rueful smile + at Dale. + </p> + <p> + “I've changed my mind. I said I would kill him, but now I can't. He looks + so—so different from what I'd imagined.” + </p> + <p> + Dale's answer was a rare smile of understanding and approval that warmed + Helen's heart toward him. All the same, he was amused. Sheathing the gun, + he mounted his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Pedro,” he called. “Come, I tell you,” he added, sharply, “Well, + girls, we treed him, anyhow, an' it was fun. Now we'll ride back to the + deer he killed an' pack a haunch to camp for our own use.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the lion go back to his—his kill, I think you called it?” + asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “I've chased one away from his kill half a dozen times. Lions are not + plentiful here an' they don't get overfed. I reckon the balance is pretty + even.” + </p> + <p> + This last remark made Helen inquisitive. And as they slowly rode on the + back-trail Dale talked. + </p> + <p> + “You girls, bein' tender-hearted an' not knowin' the life of the forest, + what's good an' what's bad, think it was a pity the poor deer was killed + by a murderous lion. But you're wrong. As I told you, the lion is + absolutely necessary to the health an' joy of wild life—or deer's + wild life, so to speak. When deer were created or came into existence, + then the lion must have come, too. They can't live without each other. + Wolves, now, are not particularly deer-killers. They live off elk an' + anythin' they can catch. So will lions, for that matter. But I mean lions + follow the deer to an' fro from winter to summer feedin'-grounds. Where + there's no deer you will find no lions. Well, now, if left alone deer + would multiply very fast. In a few years there would be hundreds where now + there's only one. An' in time, as the generations passed, they'd lose the + fear, the alertness, the speed an' strength, the eternal vigilance that is + love of life—they'd lose that an' begin to deteriorate, an' disease + would carry them off. I saw one season of black-tongue among deer. It + killed them off, an' I believe that is one of the diseases of + over-production. The lions, now, are forever on the trail of the deer. + They have learned. Wariness is an instinct born in the fawn. It makes him + keen, quick, active, fearful, an' so he grows up strong an' healthy to + become the smooth, sleek, beautiful, soft-eyed, an' wild-lookin' deer you + girls love to watch. But if it wasn't for the lions, the deer would not + thrive. Only the strongest an' swiftest survive. That is the meanin' of + nature. There is always a perfect balance kept by nature. It may vary in + different years, but on the whole, in the long years, it averages an even + balance.” + </p> + <p> + “How wonderfully you put it!” exclaimed Bo, with all her impulsiveness. + “Oh, I'm glad I didn't kill the lion.” + </p> + <p> + “What you say somehow hurts me,” said Helen, wistfully, to the hunter. “I + see—I feel how true—how inevitable it is. But it changes my—my + feelings. Almost I'd rather not acquire such knowledge as yours. This + balance of nature—how tragic—how sad!” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” asked Dale. “You love birds, an' birds are the greatest killers + in the forest.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me that—don't prove it,” implored Helen. “It is not so + much the love of life in a deer or any creature, and the terrible clinging + to life, that gives me distress. It is suffering. I can't bear to see + pain. I can STAND pain myself, but I can't BEAR to see or think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied. Dale, thoughtfully, “There you stump me again. I've lived + long in the forest an' when a man's alone he does a heap of thinkin'. An' + always I couldn't understand a reason or a meanin' for pain. Of all the + bafflin' things of life, that is the hardest to understand an' to forgive—pain!” + </p> + <p> + That evening, as they sat in restful places round the camp-fire, with the + still twilight fading into night, Dale seriously asked the girls what the + day's chase had meant to them. His manner of asking was productive of + thought. Both girls were silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Glorious!” was Bo's brief and eloquent reply. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked. Dale, curiously. “You are a girl. You've been used to home, + people, love, comfort, safety, quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe that is just why it was glorious,” said Bo, earnestly. “I can + hardly explain. I loved the motion of the horse, the feel of wind in my + face, the smell of the pine, the sight of slope and forest glade and + windfall and rocks, and the black shade under the spruces. My blood beat + and burned. My teeth clicked. My nerves all quivered. My heart sometimes, + at dangerous moments, almost choked me, and all the time it pounded hard. + Now my skin was hot and then it was cold. But I think the best of that + chase for me was that I was on a fast horse, guiding him, controlling him. + He was alive. Oh, how I felt his running!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what you say is as natural to me as if I felt it,” said Dale. “I + wondered. You're certainly full of fire, An', Helen, what do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo has answered you with her feelings,” replied Helen, “I could not do + that and be honest. The fact that Bo wouldn't shoot the lion after we + treed him acquits her. Nevertheless, her answer is purely physical. You + know, Mr. Dale, how you talk about the physical. I should say my sister + was just a young, wild, highly sensitive, hot-blooded female of the + species. She exulted in that chase as an Indian. Her sensations were + inherited ones—certainly not acquired by education. Bo always hated + study. The ride was a revelation to me. I had a good many of Bo's feelings—though + not so strong. But over against them was the opposition of reason, of + consciousness. A new-born side of my nature confronted me, strange, + surprising, violent, irresistible. It was as if another side of my + personality suddenly said: 'Here I am. Reckon with me now!' And there was + no use for the moment to oppose that strange side. I—the thinking + Helen Rayner, was powerless. Oh yes, I had such thoughts even when the + branches were stinging my face and I was thrilling to the bay of the + hound. Once my horse fell and threw me.... You needn't look alarmed. It + was fine. I went into a soft place and was unhurt. But when I was sailing + through the air a thought flashed: this is the end of me! It was like a + dream when you are falling dreadfully. Much of what I felt and thought on + that chase must have been because of what I have studied and read and + taught. The reality of it, the action and flash, were splendid. But fear + of danger, pity for the chased lion, consciousness of foolish risk, of a + reckless disregard for the serious responsibility I have taken—all + these worked in my mind and held back what might have been a sheer + physical, primitive joy of the wild moment.” + </p> + <p> + Dale listened intently, and after Helen had finished he studied the fire + and thoughtfully poked the red embers with his stick. His face was still + and serene, untroubled and unlined, but to Helen his eyes seemed sad, + pensive, expressive of an unsatisfied yearning and wonder. She had + carefully and earnestly spoken, because she was very curious to hear what + he might say. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you,” he replied, presently. “An' I'm sure surprised that I + can. I've read my books—an' reread them, but no one ever talked like + that to me. What I make of it is this. You've the same blood in you that's + in Bo. An' blood is stronger than brain. Remember that blood is life. It + would be good for you to have it run an' beat an' burn, as Bo's did. Your + blood did that a thousand years or ten thousand before intellect was born + in your ancestors. Instinct may not be greater than reason, but it's a + million years older. Don't fight your instincts so hard. If they were not + good the God of Creation would not have given them to you. To-day your + mind was full of self-restraint that did not altogether restrain. You + couldn't forget yourself. You couldn't FEEL only, as Bo did. You couldn't + be true to your real nature.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you,” replied Helen, quickly. “I don't have to be an + Indian to be true to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes you do,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + “But I couldn't be an Indian,” declared Helen, spiritedly. “I couldn't + FEEL only, as you say Bo did. I couldn't go back in the scale, as you + hint. What would all my education amount to—though goodness knows + it's little enough—if I had no control over primitive feelings that + happened to be born in me?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have little or no control over them when the right time comes,” + replied Dale. “Your sheltered life an' education have led you away from + natural instincts. But they're in you an' you'll learn the proof of that + out here.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not if I lived a hundred years in the West,” asserted Helen. + </p> + <p> + “But, child, do you know what you're talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + Here Bo let out a blissful peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dale!” exclaimed Helen, almost affronted. She was stirred. “I know + MYSELF, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not. You've no idea of yourself. You've education, yes, but + not in nature an' life. An' after all, they are the real things. Answer + me, now—honestly, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, if I can. Some of your questions are hard to answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been starved?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been lost away from home?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever faced death—real stark an' naked death, close an' + terrible?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever wanted to kill any one with your bare hands?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Dale, you—you amaze me. No!... No!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I know your answer to my last question, but I'll ask it, + anyhow.... Have you ever been so madly in love with a man that you could + not live without him?” + </p> + <p> + Bo fell off her seat with a high, trilling laugh. “Oh, you two are great!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven, I haven't been,” replied Helen, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't know anythin' about life,” declared Dale, with finality. + </p> + <p> + Helen was not to be put down by that, dubious and troubled as it made her. + </p> + <p> + “Have you experienced all those things?” she queried, stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + “All but the last one. Love never came my way. How could it? I live alone. + I seldom go to the villages where there are girls. No girl would ever care + for me. I have nothin'.... But, all the same, I understand love a little, + just by comparison with strong feelin's I've lived.” + </p> + <p> + Helen watched the hunter and marveled at his simplicity. His sad and + penetrating gaze was on the fire, as if in its white heart to read the + secret denied him. He had said that no girl would ever love him. She + imagined he might know considerably less about the nature of girls than of + the forest. + </p> + <p> + “To come back to myself,” said Helen, wanting to continue the argument. + “You declared I didn't know myself. That I would have no self-control. I + will!” + </p> + <p> + “I meant the big things of life,” he said, patiently. + </p> + <p> + “What things?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you. By askin' what had never happened to you I learned what will + happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Those experiences to come to ME!” breathed Helen, incredulously. “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “Sister Nell, they sure will—particularly the last-named one—the + mad love,” chimed in Bo, mischievously, yet believingly. + </p> + <p> + Neither Dale nor Helen appeared to hear her interruption. + </p> + <p> + “Let me put it simpler,” began Dale, evidently racking his brain for + analogy. His perplexity appeared painful to him, because he had a great + faith, a great conviction that he could not make clear. “Here I am, the + natural physical man, livin' in the wilds. An' here you come, the complex, + intellectual woman. Remember, for my argument's sake, that you're here. + An' suppose circumstances forced you to stay here. You'd fight the + elements with me an' work with me to sustain life. There must be a great + change in either you or me, accordin' to the other's influence. An' can't + you see that change must come in you, not because of anythin' superior in + me—I'm really inferior to you—but because of our environment? + You'd lose your complexity. An' in years to come you'd be a natural + physical woman, because you'd live through an' by the physical.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, will not education be of help to the Western woman?” queried + Helen, almost in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Sure it will,” answered Dale, promptly. “What the West needs is women who + can raise an' teach children. But you don't understand me. You don't get + under your skin. I reckon I can't make you see my argument as I feel it. + You take my word for this, though. Sooner or later you WILL wake up an' + forget yourself. Remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'll bet you do, too,” said Bo, seriously for her. “It may seem + strange to you, but I understand Dale. I feel what he means. It's a sort + of shock. Nell, we're not what we seem. We're not what we fondly imagine + we are. We've lived too long with people—too far away from the + earth. You know the Bible says something like this: 'Dust thou art and to + dust thou shalt return.' Where DO we come from?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + Days passed. + </h3> + <p> + Every morning Helen awoke with a wondering question as to what this day + would bring forth, especially with regard to possible news from her uncle. + It must come sometime and she was anxious for it. Something about this + simple, wild camp life had begun to grip her. She found herself shirking + daily attention to the clothes she had brought West. They needed it, but + she had begun to see how superficial they really were. On the other hand, + camp-fire tasks had come to be a pleasure. She had learned a great deal + more about them than had Bo. Worry and dread were always impinging upon + the fringe of her thoughts—always vaguely present, though seldom + annoying. They were like shadows in dreams. She wanted to get to her + uncle's ranch, to take up the duties of her new life. But she was not + prepared to believe she would not regret this wild experience. She must + get away from that in order to see it clearly, and she began to have + doubts of herself. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the active and restful outdoor life went on. Bo leaned more and + more toward utter reconciliation to it. Her eyes had a wonderful flash, + like blue lightning; her cheeks were gold and brown; her hands tanned dark + as an Indian's. + </p> + <p> + She could vault upon the gray mustang, or, for that matter, clear over his + back. She learned to shoot a rifle accurately enough to win Dale's praise, + and vowed she would like to draw a bead upon a grizzly bear or upon Snake + Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, if you met that grizzly Dale said has been prowling round camp lately + you'd run right up a tree,” declared Helen, one morning, when Bo seemed + particularly boastful. + </p> + <p> + “Don't fool yourself,” retorted Bo. + </p> + <p> + “But I've seen you run from a mouse!” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, couldn't I be afraid of a mouse and not a bear?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, bears, lions, outlaws, and other wild beasts are to be met with + here in the West, and my mind's made up,” said Bo, in slow-nodding + deliberation. + </p> + <p> + They argued as they had always argued, Helen for reason and common sense + and restraint, Bo on the principle that if she must fight it was better to + get in the first blow. + </p> + <p> + The morning on which this argument took place Dale was a long time in + catching the horses. When he did come in he shook his head seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Some varmint's been chasin' the horses,” he said, as he reached for his + saddle. “Did you hear them snortin' an' runnin' last night?” + </p> + <p> + Neither of the girls had been awakened. + </p> + <p> + “I missed one of the colts,” went on Dale, “an' I'm goin' to ride across + the park.” + </p> + <p> + Dale's movements were quick and stern. It was significant that he chose + his heavier rifle, and, mounting, with a sharp call to Pedro, he rode off + without another word to the girls. + </p> + <p> + Bo watched him for a moment and then began to saddle the mustang. + </p> + <p> + “You won't follow him?” asked Helen, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I sure will,” replied Bo. “He didn't forbid it.” + </p> + <p> + “But he certainly did not want us.” + </p> + <p> + “He might not want you, but I'll bet he wouldn't object to me, whatever's + up,” said Bo, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So you think—” exclaimed Helen, keenly hurt. She bit her tongue + to keep back a hot reply. And it was certain that a bursting gush of anger + flooded over her. Was she, then, such a coward? Did Dale think this slip + of a sister, so wild and wilful, was a stronger woman than she? A moment's + silent strife convinced her that no doubt he thought so and no doubt he + was right. Then the anger centered upon herself, and Helen neither + understood nor trusted herself. + </p> + <p> + The outcome proved an uncontrollable impulse. Helen began to saddle her + horse. She had the task half accomplished when Bo's call made her look up. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” + </p> + <p> + Helen heard a ringing, wild bay of the hound. + </p> + <p> + “That's Pedro,” she said, with a thrill. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. He's running. We never heard him bay like that before.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Dale?” + </p> + <p> + “He rode out of sight across there,” replied Bo, pointing. “And Pedro's + running toward us along that slope. He must be a mile—two miles from + Dale.” + </p> + <p> + “But Dale will follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But he'd need wings to get near that hound now. Pedro couldn't have + gone across there with him... just listen.” + </p> + <p> + The wild note of the hound manifestly stirred Bo to irrepressible action. + Snatching up Dale's lighter rifle, she shoved it into her saddle-sheath, + and, leaping on the mustang, she ran him over brush and brook, straight + down the park toward the place Pedro was climbing. For an instant Helen + stood amazed beyond speech. When Bo sailed over a big log, like a + steeple-chaser, then Helen answered to further unconsidered impulse by + frantically getting her saddle fastened. Without coat or hat she mounted. + The nervous horse bolted almost before she got into the saddle. A strange, + trenchant trembling coursed through all her veins. She wanted to scream + for Bo to wait. Bo was out of sight, but the deep, muddy tracks in wet + places and the path through the long grass afforded Helen an easy trail to + follow. In fact, her horse needed no guiding. He ran in and out of the + straggling spruces along the edge of the park, and suddenly wheeled around + a corner of trees to come upon the gray mustang standing still. Bo was + looking up and listening. + </p> + <p> + “There he is!” cried Bo, as the hound bayed ringingly, closer to them this + time, and she spurred away. + </p> + <p> + Helen's horse followed without urging. He was excited. His ears were up. + Something was in the wind. Helen had never ridden along this broken end of + the park, and Bo was not easy to keep up with. She led across bogs, + brooks, swales, rocky little ridges, through stretches of timber and + groves of aspen so thick Helen could scarcely squeeze through. Then Bo + came out into a large open offshoot of the park, right under the mountain + slope, and here she sat, her horse watching and listening. Helen rode up + to her, imagining once that she had heard the hound. + </p> + <p> + “Look! Look!” Bo's scream made her mustang stand almost straight up. + </p> + <p> + Helen gazed up to see a big brown bear with a frosted coat go lumbering + across an opening on the slope. + </p> + <p> + “It's a grizzly! He'll kill Pedro! Oh, where is Dale!” cried Bo, with + intense excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Bo! That bear is running down! We—we must get—out of his + road,” panted Helen, in breathless alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Dale hasn't had time to be close.... Oh, I wish he'd come! I don't know + what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ride back. At least wait for him.” + </p> + <p> + Just then Pedro spoke differently, in savage barks, and following that + came a loud growl and crashings in the brush. These sounds appeared to be + not far up the slope. + </p> + <p> + “Nell! Do you hear? Pedro's fighting the bear,” burst out Bo. Her face + paled, her eyes flashed like blue steel. “The bear 'll kill him!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that would be dreadful!” replied Helen, in distress. “But what on + earth can we do?” + </p> + <p> + “HEL-LO, DALE!” called Bo, at the highest pitch of her piercing voice. + </p> + <p> + No answer came. A heavy crash of brush, a rolling of stones, another growl + from the slope told Helen that the hound had brought the bear to bay. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'm going up,” said Bo, deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “No-no! Are you mad?” returned Helen. + </p> + <p> + “The bear will kill Pedro.” + </p> + <p> + “He might kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “You ride that way and yell for Dale,” rejoined Bo. + </p> + <p> + “What will—you do?” gasped Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I'll shoot at the bear—scare him off. If he chases me he can't + catch me coming downhill. Dale said that.” + </p> + <p> + “You're crazy!” cried Helen, as Bo looked up the slope, searching for open + ground. Then she pulled the rifle from its sheath. + </p> + <p> + But Bo did not hear or did not care. She spurred the mustang, and he, wild + to run, flung grass and dirt from his heels. What Helen would have done + then she never knew, but the fact was that her horse bolted after the + mustang. In an instant, seemingly, Bo had disappeared in the gold and + green of the forest slope. Helen's mount climbed on a run, snorting and + heaving, through aspens, brush, and timber, to come out into a narrow, + long opening extending lengthwise up the slope. + </p> + <p> + A sudden prolonged crash ahead alarmed Helen and halted her horse. She saw + a shaking of aspens. Then a huge brown beast leaped as a cat out of the + woods. It was a bear of enormous size. Helen's heart stopped—her + tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. The bear turned. His mouth was + open, red and dripping. He looked shaggy, gray. He let out a terrible + bawl. Helen's every muscle froze stiff. Her horse plunged high and + sidewise, wheeling almost in the air, neighing his terror. Like a stone + she dropped from the saddle. She did not see the horse break into the + woods, but she heard him. Her gaze never left the bear even while she was + falling, and it seemed she alighted in an upright position with her back + against a bush. It upheld her. The bear wagged his huge head from side to + side. Then, as the hound barked close at hand, he turned to run heavily + uphill and out of the opening. + </p> + <p> + The instant of his disappearance was one of collapse for Helen. Frozen + with horror, she had been unable to move or feel or think. All at once she + was a quivering mass of cold, helpless flesh, wet with perspiration, sick + with a shuddering, retching, internal convulsion, her mind liberated from + paralyzing shock. The moment was as horrible as that in which the bear had + bawled his frightful rage. A stark, icy, black emotion seemed in + possession of her. She could not lift a hand, yet all of her body appeared + shaking. There was a fluttering, a strangling in her throat. The crushing + weight that surrounded her heart eased before she recovered use of her + limbs. Then, the naked and terrible thing was gone, like a nightmare + giving way to consciousness. What blessed relief! Helen wildly gazed about + her. The bear and hound were out of sight, and so was her horse. She stood + up very dizzy and weak. Thought of Bo then seemed to revive her, to shock + different life and feeling throughout all her cold extremities. She + listened. + </p> + <p> + She heard a thudding of hoofs down the slope, then Dale's clear, strong + call. She answered. It appeared long before he burst out of the woods, + riding hard and leading her horse. In that time she recovered fully, and + when he reached her, to put a sudden halt upon the fiery Ranger, she + caught the bridle he threw and swiftly mounted her horse. The feel of the + saddle seemed different. Dale's piercing gray glance thrilled her + strangely. + </p> + <p> + “You're white. Are you hurt?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No. I was scared.” + </p> + <p> + “But he threw you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he certainly threw me.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” + </p> + <p> + “We heard the hound and we rode along the timber. Then we saw the bear—a + monster—white—coated—” + </p> + <p> + “I know. It's a grizzly. He killed the colt—your pet. Hurry now. + What about Bo?” + </p> + <p> + “Pedro was fighting the bear. Bo said he'd be killed. She rode right up + here. My horse followed. I couldn't have stopped him. But we lost Bo. + Right there the bear came out. He roared. My horse threw me and ran off. + Pedro's barking saved me—my life, I think. Oh! that was awful! Then + the bear went up—there.... And you came.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo's followin' the hound!” ejaculated Dale. And, lifting his hands to his + mouth, he sent out a stentorian yell that rolled up the slope, rang + against the cliffs, pealed and broke and died away. Then he waited, + listening. From far up the slope came a faint, wild cry, high-pitched and + sweet, to create strange echoes, floating away to die in the ravines. + </p> + <p> + “She's after him!” declared Dale, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Bo's got your rifle,” said Helen. “Oh, we must hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “You go back,” ordered Dale, wheeling his horse. + </p> + <p> + “No!” Helen felt that word leave her lips with the force of a bullet. + </p> + <p> + Dale spurred Ranger and took to the open slope. Helen kept at his heels + until timber was reached. Here a steep trail led up. Dale dismounted. + </p> + <p> + “Horse tracks—bear tracks—dog tracks,” he said, bending over. + “We'll have to walk up here. It'll save our horses an' maybe time, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Bo riding up there?” asked Helen, eying the steep ascent. + </p> + <p> + “She sure is.” With that Dale started up, leading his horse. Helen + followed. It was rough and hard work. She was lightly clad, yet soon she + was hot, laboring, and her heart began to hurt. When Dale halted to rest + Helen was just ready to drop. The baying of the hound, though infrequent, + inspirited her. But presently that sound was lost. Dale said bear and + hound had gone over the ridge and as soon as the top was gained he would + hear them again. + </p> + <p> + “Look there,” he said, presently, pointing to fresh tracks, larger than + those made by Bo's mustang. “Elk tracks. We've scared a big bull an' he's + right ahead of us. Look sharp an' you'll see him.” + </p> + <p> + Helen never climbed so hard and fast before, and when they reached the + ridge-top she was all tuckered out. It was all she could do to get on her + horse. Dale led along the crest of this wooded ridge toward the western + end, which was considerably higher. In places open rocky ground split the + green timber. Dale pointed toward a promontory. + </p> + <p> + Helen saw a splendid elk silhouetted against the sky. He was a light gray + over all his hindquarters, with shoulders and head black. His ponderous, + wide-spread antlers towered over him, adding to the wildness of his + magnificent poise as he stood there, looking down into the valley, no + doubt listening for the bay of the hound. When he heard Dale's horse he + gave one bound, gracefully and wonderfully carrying his antlers, to + disappear in the green. + </p> + <p> + Again on a bare patch of ground Dale pointed down. Helen saw big round + tracks, toeing in a little, that gave her a chill. She knew these were + grizzly tracks. + </p> + <p> + Hard riding was not possible on this ridge crest, a fact that gave Helen + time to catch her breath. At length, coming out upon the very summit of + the mountain, Dale heard the hound. Helen's eyes feasted afar upon a wild + scene of rugged grandeur, before she looked down on this western slope at + her feet to see bare, gradual descent, leading down to sparsely wooded + bench and on to deep-green canuon. + </p> + <p> + “Ride hard now!” yelled Dale. “I see Bo, an' I'll have to ride to catch + her.” + </p> + <p> + Dale spurred down the slope. Helen rode in his tracks and, though she + plunged so fast that she felt her hair stand up with fright, she saw him + draw away from her. Sometimes her horse slid on his haunches for a few + yards, and at these hazardous moments she got her feet out of the stirrups + so as to fall free from him if he went down. She let him choose the way, + while she gazed ahead at Dale, and then farther on, in the hope of seeing + Bo. At last she was rewarded. Far Down the wooded bench she saw a gray + flash of the little mustang and a bright glint of Bo's hair. Her heart + swelled. Dale would soon overhaul Bo and come between her and peril. And + on the instant, though Helen was unconscious of it then, a remarkable + change came over her spirit. Fear left her. And a hot, exalting, + incomprehensible something took possession of her. + </p> + <p> + She let the horse run, and when he had plunged to the foot of that slope + of soft ground he broke out across the open bench at a pace that made the + wind bite Helen's cheeks and roar in her ears. She lost sight of Dale. It + gave her a strange, grim exultance. She bent her eager gaze to find the + tracks of his horse, and she found them. Also she made out the tracks of + Bo's mustang and the bear and the hound. Her horse, scenting game, + perhaps, and afraid to be left alone, settled into a fleet and powerful + stride, sailing over logs and brush. That open bench had looked short, but + it was long, and Helen rode down the gradual descent at breakneck speed. + She would not be left behind. She had awakened to a heedlessness of risk. + Something burned steadily within her. A grim, hard anger of joy! When she + saw, far down another open, gradual descent, that Dale had passed Bo and + that Bo was riding the little mustang as never before, then Helen flamed + with a madness to catch her, to beat her in that wonderful chase, to show + her and Dale what there really was in the depths of Helen Rayner. + </p> + <p> + Her ambition was to be short-lived, she divined from the lay of the land + ahead, but the ride she lived then for a flying mile was something that + would always blanch her cheeks and prick her skin in remembrance. + </p> + <p> + The open ground was only too short. That thundering pace soon brought + Helen's horse to the timber. Here it took all her strength to check his + headlong flight over deadfalls and between small jack-pines. Helen lost + sight of Bo, and she realized it would take all her wits to keep from + getting lost. She had to follow the trail, and in some places it was hard + to see from horseback. + </p> + <p> + Besides, her horse was mettlesome, thoroughly aroused, and he wanted a + free rein and his own way. Helen tried that, only to lose the trail and to + get sundry knocks from trees and branches. She could not hear the hound, + nor Dale. The pines were small, close together, and tough. They were hard + to bend. Helen hurt her hands, scratched her face, barked her knees. The + horse formed a habit suddenly of deciding to go the way he liked instead + of the way Helen guided him, and when he plunged between saplings too + close to permit easy passage it was exceedingly hard on her. That did not + make any difference to Helen. Once worked into a frenzy, her blood stayed + at high pressure. She did not argue with herself about a need of desperate + hurry. Even a blow on the head that nearly blinded her did not in the + least retard her. The horse could hardly be held, and not at all in the + few open places. + </p> + <p> + At last Helen reached another slope. Coming out upon canuon rim, she heard + Dale's clear call, far down, and Bo's answering peal, high and piercing, + with its note of exultant wildness. Helen also heard the bear and the + hound fighting at the bottom of this canuon. + </p> + <p> + Here Helen again missed the tracks made by Dale and Bo. The descent looked + impassable. She rode back along the rim, then forward. Finally she found + where the ground had been plowed deep by hoofs, down over little banks. + Helen's horse balked at these jumps. When she goaded him over them she + went forward on his neck. It seemed like riding straight downhill. The mad + spirit of that chase grew more stingingly keen to Helen as the obstacles + grew. Then, once more the bay of the hound and the bawl of the bear made a + demon of her horse. He snorted a shrill defiance. He plunged with fore + hoofs in the air. He slid and broke a way down the steep, soft banks, + through the thick brush and thick clusters of saplings, sending loose + rocks and earth into avalanches ahead of him. He fell over one bank, but a + thicket of aspens upheld him so that he rebounded and gained his feet. The + sounds of fight ceased, but Dale's thrilling call floated up on the + pine-scented air. + </p> + <p> + Before Helen realized it she was at the foot of the slope, in a narrow + canuon-bed, full of rocks and trees, with a soft roar of running water + filling her ears. Tracks were everywhere, and when she came to the first + open place she saw where the grizzly had plunged off a sandy bar into the + water. Here he had fought Pedro. Signs of that battle were easy to read. + Helen saw where his huge tracks, still wet, led up the opposite sandy + bank. + </p> + <p> + Then down-stream Helen did some more reckless and splendid riding. On + level ground the horse was great. Once he leaped clear across the brook. + Every plunge, every turn Helen expected to come upon Dale and Bo facing + the bear. The canuon narrowed, the stream-bed deepened. She had to slow + down to get through the trees and rocks. Quite unexpectedly she rode + pell-mell upon Dale and Bo and the panting Pedro. Her horse plunged to a + halt, answering the shrill neighs of the other horses. + </p> + <p> + Dale gazed in admiring amazement at Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Say, did you meet the bear again?” he queried, blankly. + </p> + <p> + “No. Didn't—you—kill him?” panted Helen, slowly sagging in her + saddle. + </p> + <p> + “He got away in the rocks. Rough country down here.” + </p> + <p> + Helen slid off her horse and fell with a little panting cry of relief. She + saw that she was bloody, dirty, disheveled, and wringing wet with + perspiration. Her riding habit was torn into tatters. Every muscle seemed + to burn and sting, and all her bones seemed broken. But it was worth all + this to meet Dale's penetrating glance, to see Bo's utter, incredulous + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Nell—Rayner!” gasped Bo. + </p> + <p> + “If—my horse 'd been—any good—in the woods,” panted + Helen, “I'd not lost—so much time—riding down this mountain. + And I'd caught you—beat you.” + </p> + <p> + “Girl, did you RIDE down this last slope?” queried Dale. + </p> + <p> + “I sure did,” replied Helen, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “We walked every step of the way, and was lucky to get down at that,” + responded Dale, gravely. “No horse should have been ridden down there. + Why, he must have slid down.” + </p> + <p> + “We slid—yes. But I stayed on him.” + </p> + <p> + Bo's incredulity changed to wondering, speechless admiration. And Dale's + rare smile changed his gravity. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry. It was rash of me. I thought you'd go back.... But all's well + that ends well.... Helen, did you wake up to-day?” + </p> + <p> + She dropped her eyes, not caring to meet the questioning gaze upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe—a little,” she replied, and she covered her face with her + hands. Remembrance of his questions—of his assurance that she did + not know the real meaning of life—of her stubborn antagonism—made + her somehow ashamed. But it was not for long. + </p> + <p> + “The chase was great,” she said. “I did not know myself. You were right.” + </p> + <p> + “In how many ways did you find me right?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think all—but one,” she replied, with a laugh and a shudder. “I'm + near starved NOW—I was so furious at Bo that I could have choked + her. I faced that horrible brute.... Oh, I know what it is to fear + death!... I was lost twice on the ride—absolutely lost. That's all.” + </p> + <p> + Bo found her tongue. “The last thing was for you to fall wildly in love, + wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “According to Dale, I must add that to my new experiences of to-day—before + I can know real life,” replied Helen, demurely. + </p> + <p> + The hunter turned away. “Let us go,” he said, soberly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + After more days of riding the grassy level of that wonderfully gold and + purple park, and dreamily listening by day to the ever-low and + ever-changing murmur of the waterfall, and by night to the wild, lonely + mourn of a hunting wolf, and climbing to the dizzy heights where the wind + stung sweetly, Helen Rayner lost track of time and forgot her peril. + </p> + <p> + Roy Beeman did not return. If occasionally Dale mentioned Roy and his + quest, the girls had little to say beyond a recurrent anxiety for the old + uncle, and then they forgot again. Paradise Park, lived in a little while + at that season of the year, would have claimed any one, and ever afterward + haunted sleeping or waking dreams. + </p> + <p> + Bo gave up to the wild life, to the horses and rides, to the many pets, + and especially to the cougar, Tom. The big cat followed her everywhere, + played with her, rolling and pawing, kitten-like, and he would lay his + massive head in her lap to purr his content. Bo had little fear of + anything, and here in the wilds she soon lost that. + </p> + <p> + Another of Dale's pets was a half-grown black bear named Muss. He was + abnormally jealous of little Bud and he had a well-developed hatred of + Tom, otherwise he was a very good-tempered bear, and enjoyed Dale's + impartial regard. Tom, however, chased Muss out of camp whenever Dale's + back was turned, and sometimes Muss stayed away, shifting for himself. + With the advent of Bo, who spent a good deal of time on the animals, Muss + manifestly found the camp more attractive. Whereupon, Dale predicted + trouble between Tom and Muss. + </p> + <p> + Bo liked nothing better than a rough-and-tumble frolic with the black + bear. Muss was not very big nor very heavy, and in a wrestling bout with + the strong and wiry girl he sometimes came out second best. It spoke well + of him that he seemed to be careful not to hurt Bo. He never bit or + scratched, though he sometimes gave her sounding slaps with his paws. + Whereupon, Bo would clench her gauntleted fists and sail into him in + earnest. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon before the early supper they always had, Dale and Helen were + watching Bo teasing the bear. She was in her most vixenish mood, full of + life and fight. Tom lay his long length on the grass, watching with + narrow, gleaming eyes. + </p> + <p> + When Bo and Muss locked in an embrace and went down to roll over and over, + Dale called Helen's attention to the cougar. + </p> + <p> + “Tom's jealous. It's strange how animals are like people. Pretty soon I'll + have to corral Muss, or there'll be a fight.” + </p> + <p> + Helen could not see anything wrong with Tom except that he did not look + playful. + </p> + <p> + During supper-time both bear and cougar disappeared, though this was not + remarked until afterward. Dale whistled and called, but the rival pets did + not return. Next morning Tom was there, curled up snugly at the foot of + Bo's bed, and when she arose he followed her around as usual. But Muss did + not return. + </p> + <p> + The circumstance made Dale anxious. He left camp, taking Tom with him, and + upon returning stated that he had followed Muss's track as far as + possible, and then had tried to put Tom on the trail, but the cougar would + not or could not follow it. Dale said Tom never liked a bear trail, + anyway, cougars and bears being common enemies. So, whether by accident or + design, Bo lost one of her playmates. + </p> + <p> + The hunter searched some of the slopes next day and even went up on one of + the mountains. He did not discover any sign of Muss, but he said he had + found something else. + </p> + <p> + “Bo you girls want some more real excitement?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Helen smiled her acquiescence and Bo replied with one of her forceful + speeches. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mind bein' good an' scared?” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “You can't scare me,” bantered Bo. But Helen looked doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “Up in one of the parks I ran across one of my horses—a lame bay you + haven't seen. Well, he had been killed by that old silvertip. The one we + chased. Hadn't been dead over an hour. Blood was still runnin' an' only a + little meat eaten. That bear heard me or saw me an' made off into the + woods. But he'll come back to-night. I'm goin' up there, lay for him, an' + kill him this time. Reckon you'd better go, because I don't want to leave + you here alone at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to take Tom?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “No. The bear might get his scent. An', besides, Tom ain't reliable on + bears. I'll leave Pedro home, too.” + </p> + <p> + When they had hurried supper, and Dale had gotten in the horses, the sun + had set and the valley was shadowing low down, while the ramparts were + still golden. The long zigzag trail Dale followed up the slope took nearly + an hour to climb, so that when that was surmounted and he led out of the + woods twilight had fallen. A rolling park extended as far as Helen could + see, bordered by forest that in places sent out straggling stretches of + trees. Here and there, like islands, were isolated patches of timber. + </p> + <p> + At ten thousand feet elevation the twilight of this clear and cold night + was a rich and rare atmospheric effect. It looked as if it was seen + through perfectly clear smoked glass. Objects were singularly visible, + even at long range, and seemed magnified. In the west, where the afterglow + of sunset lingered over the dark, ragged, spruce-speared horizon-line, + there was such a transparent golden line melting into vivid star-fired + blue that Helen could only gaze and gaze in wondering admiration. + </p> + <p> + Dale spurred his horse into a lope and the spirited mounts of the girls + kept up with him. The ground was rough, with tufts of grass growing close + together, yet the horses did not stumble. Their action and snorting + betrayed excitement. Dale led around several clumps of timber, up a long + grassy swale, and then straight westward across an open flat toward where + the dark-fringed forest-line raised itself wild and clear against the cold + sky. The horses went swiftly, and the wind cut like a blade of ice. Helen + could barely get her breath and she panted as if she had just climbed a + laborsome hill. The stars began to blink out of the blue, and the gold + paled somewhat, and yet twilight lingered. It seemed long across that + flat, but really was short. Coming to a thin line of trees that led down + over a slope to a deeper but still isolated patch of woods, Dale + dismounted and tied his horse. When the girls got off he haltered their + horses also. + </p> + <p> + “Stick close to me an' put your feet down easy,” he whispered. How tall + and dark he loomed in the fading light! Helen thrilled, as she had often + of late, at the strange, potential force of the man. Stepping softly, + without the least sound, Dale entered this straggly bit of woods, which + appeared to have narrow byways and nooks. Then presently he came to the + top of a well-wooded slope, dark as pitch, apparently. But as Helen + followed she perceived the trees, and they were thin dwarf spruce, partly + dead. The slope was soft and springy, easy to step upon without noise. + Dale went so cautiously that Helen could not hear him, and sometimes in + the gloom she could not see him. Then the chill thrills ran over her. Bo + kept holding on to Helen, which fact hampered Helen as well as worked + somewhat to disprove Bo's boast. At last level ground was reached. Helen + made out a light-gray background crossed by black bars. Another glance + showed this to be the dark tree-trunks against the open park. + </p> + <p> + Dale halted, and with a touch brought Helen to a straining pause. He was + listening. It seemed wonderful to watch him bend his head and stand as + silent and motionless as one of the dark trees. + </p> + <p> + “He's not there yet,” Dale whispered, and he stepped forward very slowly. + Helen and Bo began to come up against thin dead branches that were + invisible and then cracked. Then Dale knelt down, seemed to melt into the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to crawl,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + How strange and thrilling that was for Helen, and hard work! The ground + bore twigs and dead branches, which had to be carefully crawled over; and + lying flat, as was necessary, it took prodigious effort to drag her body + inch by inch. Like a huge snake, Dale wormed his way along. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the wood lightened. They were nearing the edge of the park. + Helen now saw a strip of open with a high, black wall of spruce beyond. + The afterglow flashed or changed, like a dimming northern light, and then + failed. Dale crawled on farther to halt at length between two tree-trunks + at the edge of the wood. + </p> + <p> + “Come up beside me,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Helen crawled on, and presently Bo was beside her panting, with pale face + and great, staring eyes, plain to be seen in the wan light. + </p> + <p> + “Moon's comin' up. We're just in time. The old grizzly's not there yet, + but I see coyotes. Look.” + </p> + <p> + Dale pointed across the open neck of park to a dim blurred patch standing + apart some little distance from the black wall. + </p> + <p> + “That's the dead horse,” whispered Dale. “An' if you watch close you can + see the coyotes. They're gray an' they move.... Can't you hear them?” + </p> + <p> + Helen's excited ears, so full of throbs and imaginings, presently + registered low snaps and snarls. Bo gave her arm a squeeze. + </p> + <p> + “I hear them. They're fighting. Oh, gee!” she panted, and drew a long, + full breath of unutterable excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet now an' watch an' listen,” said the hunter. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the black, ragged forest-line seemed to grow blacker and lift; + slowly the gray neck of park lightened under some invisible influence; + slowly the stars paled and the sky filled over. Somewhere the moon was + rising. And slowly that vague blurred patch grew a little clearer. + </p> + <p> + Through the tips of the spruce, now seen to be rather close at hand, shone + a slender, silver crescent moon, darkening, hiding, shining again, + climbing until its exquisite sickle-point topped the trees, and then, + magically, it cleared them, radiant and cold. While the eastern black wall + shaded still blacker, the park blanched and the border-line opposite began + to stand out as trees. + </p> + <p> + “Look! Look!” cried Bo, very low and fearfully, as she pointed. + </p> + <p> + “Not so loud,” whispered Dale. + </p> + <p> + “But I see something!” + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet,” he admonished. + </p> + <p> + Helen, in the direction Bo pointed, could not see anything but + moon-blanched bare ground, rising close at hand to a little ridge. + </p> + <p> + “Lie still,” whispered Dale. “I'm goin' to crawl around to get a look from + another angle. I'll be right back.” + </p> + <p> + He moved noiselessly backward and disappeared. With him gone, Helen felt a + palpitating of her heart and a prickling of her skin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my! Nell! Look!” whispered Bo, in fright. “I know I saw something.” + </p> + <p> + On top of the little ridge a round object moved slowly, getting farther + out into the light. Helen watched with suspended breath. It moved out to + be silhouetted against the sky—apparently a huge, round, bristling + animal, frosty in color. One instant it seemed huge—the next small—then + close at hand—and far away. It swerved to come directly toward them. + Suddenly Helen realized that the beast was not a dozen yards distant. She + was just beginning a new experience—a real and horrifying terror in + which her blood curdled, her heart gave a tremendous leap and then stood + still, and she wanted to fly, but was rooted to the spot—when Dale + returned to her side. + </p> + <p> + “That's a pesky porcupine,” he whispered. “Almost crawled over you. He + sure would have stuck you full of quills.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon he threw a stick at the animal. It bounced straight up to turn + round with startling quickness, and it gave forth a rattling sound; then + it crawled out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Por—cu—pine!” whispered Bo, pantingly. “It might—as + well—have been—an elephant!” + </p> + <p> + Helen uttered a long, eloquent sigh. She would not have cared to describe + her emotions at sight of a harmless hedgehog. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” warned Dale, very low. His big hand closed over Helen's + gauntleted one. “There you have—the real cry of the wild.” + </p> + <p> + Sharp and cold on the night air split the cry of a wolf, distant, yet + wonderfully distinct. How wild and mournful and hungry! How marvelously + pure! Helen shuddered through all her frame with the thrill of its music, + the wild and unutterable and deep emotions it aroused. Again a sound of + this forest had pierced beyond her life, back into the dim remote past + from which she had come. + </p> + <p> + The cry was not repeated. The coyotes were still. And silence fell, + absolutely unbroken. + </p> + <p> + Dale nudged Helen, and then reached over to give Bo a tap. He was peering + keenly ahead and his strained intensity could be felt. Helen looked with + all her might and she saw the shadowy gray forms of the coyotes skulk + away, out of the moonlight into the gloom of the woods, where they + disappeared. Not only Dale's intensity, but the very silence, the wildness + of the moment and place, seemed fraught with wonderful potency. Bo must + have felt it, too, for she was trembling all over, and holding tightly to + Helen, and breathing quick and fast. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!” muttered Dale, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + Helen caught the relief and certainty in his exclamation, and she divined, + then, something of what the moment must have been to a hunter. + </p> + <p> + Then her roving, alert glance was arrested by a looming gray shadow coming + out of the forest. It moved, but surely that huge thing could not be a + bear. It passed out of gloom into silver moonlight. Helen's heart bounded. + For it was a great frosty-coated bear lumbering along toward the dead + horse. Instinctively Helen's hand sought the arm of the hunter. It felt + like iron under a rippling surface. The touch eased away the oppression + over her lungs, the tightness of her throat. What must have been fear left + her, and only a powerful excitement remained. A sharp expulsion of breath + from Bo and a violent jerk of her frame were signs that she had sighted + the grizzly. + </p> + <p> + In the moonlight he looked of immense size, and that wild park with the + gloomy blackness of forest furnished a fit setting for him. Helen's quick + mind, so taken up with emotion, still had a thought for the wonder and the + meaning of that scene. She wanted the bear killed, yet that seemed a pity. + </p> + <p> + He had a wagging, rolling, slow walk which took several moments to reach + his quarry. When at length he reached it he walked around with sniffs + plainly heard and then a cross growl. Evidently he had discovered that his + meal had been messed over. As a whole the big bear could be seen + distinctly, but only in outline and color. The distance was perhaps two + hundred yards. Then it looked as if he had begun to tug at the carcass. + Indeed, he was dragging it, very slowly, but surely. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that!” whispered Dale. “If he ain't strong!... Reckon I'll have + to stop him.” + </p> + <p> + The grizzly, however, stopped of his own accord, just outside of the + shadow-line of the forest. Then he hunched in a big frosty heap over his + prey and began to tear and rend. + </p> + <p> + “Jess was a mighty good horse,” muttered Dale, grimly; “too good to make a + meal for a hog silvertip.” + </p> + <p> + Then the hunter silently rose to a kneeling position, swinging the rifle + in front of him. He glanced up into the low branches of the tree overhead. + </p> + <p> + “Girls, there's no tellin' what a grizzly will do. If I yell, you climb up + in this tree, an' do it quick.” + </p> + <p> + With that he leveled the rifle, resting his left elbow on his knee. The + front end of the rifle, reaching out of the shade, shone silver in the + moonlight. Man and weapon became still as stone. Helen held her breath. + But Dale relaxed, lowering the barrel. + </p> + <p> + “Can't see the sights very well,” he whispered, shaking his head. + “Remember, now—if I yell you climb!” + </p> + <p> + Again he aimed and slowly grew rigid. Helen could not take her fascinated + eyes off him. He knelt, bareheaded, and in the shadow she could make out + the gleam of his clear-cut profile, stern and cold. + </p> + <p> + A streak of fire and a heavy report startled her. Then she heard the + bullet hit. Shifting her glance, she saw the bear lurch with convulsive + action, rearing on his hind legs. Loud clicking snaps must have been a + clashing of his jaws in rage. But there was no other sound. Then again + Dale's heavy gun boomed. Helen heard again that singular spatting thud of + striking lead. The bear went down with a flop as if he had been dealt a + terrific blow. But just as quickly he was up on all-fours and began to + whirl with hoarse, savage bawls of agony and fury. His action quickly + carried him out of the moonlight into the shadow, where he disappeared. + There the bawls gave place to gnashing snarls, and crashings in the brush, + and snapping of branches, as he made his way into the forest. + </p> + <p> + “Sure he's mad,” said Dale, rising to his feet. “An' I reckon hard hit. + But I won't follow him to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Both the girls got up, and Helen found she was shaky on her feet and very + cold. + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h, wasn't—it—won-wonder-ful!” cried Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Are you scared? Your teeth are chatterin',” queried Dale. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it sure is cold, all right,” he responded. “Now the fun's over, + you'll feel it.... Nell, you're froze, too?” + </p> + <p> + Helen nodded. She was, indeed, as cold as she had ever been before. But + that did not prevent a strange warmness along her veins and a quickened + pulse, the cause of which she did not conjecture. + </p> + <p> + “Let's rustle,” said Dale, and led the way out of the wood and skirted its + edge around to the slope. There they climbed to the flat, and went through + the straggling line of trees to where the horses were tethered. + </p> + <p> + Up here the wind began to blow, not hard through the forest, but still + strong and steady out in the open, and bitterly cold. Dale helped Bo to + mount, and then Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—numb,” she said. “I'll fall off—sure.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You'll be warm in a jiffy,” he replied, “because we'll ride some + goin' back. Let Ranger pick the way an' you hang on.” + </p> + <p> + With Ranger's first jump Helen's blood began to run. Out he shot, his + lean, dark head beside Dale's horse. The wild park lay clear and bright in + the moonlight, with strange, silvery radiance on the grass. The patches of + timber, like spired black islands in a moon-blanched lake, seemed to + harbor shadows, and places for bears to hide, ready to spring out. As + Helen neared each little grove her pulses shook and her heart beat. Half a + mile of rapid riding burned out the cold. And all seemed glorious—the + sailing moon, white in a dark-blue sky, the white, passionless stars, so + solemn, so far away, the beckoning fringe of forest-land at once + mysterious and friendly, and the fleet horses, running with soft, rhythmic + thuds over the grass, leaping the ditches and the hollows, making the + bitter wind sting and cut. Coming up that park the ride had been long; + going back was as short as it was thrilling. In Helen, experiences + gathered realization slowly, and it was this swift ride, the horses neck + and neck, and all the wildness and beauty, that completed the slow, + insidious work of years. The tears of excitement froze on her cheeks and + her heart heaved full. All that pertained to this night got into her + blood. It was only to feel, to live now, but it could be understood and + remembered forever afterward. + </p> + <p> + Dale's horse, a little in advance, sailed over a ditch. Ranger made a + splendid leap, but he alighted among some grassy tufts and fell. Helen + shot over his head. She struck lengthwise, her arms stretched, and slid + hard to a shocking impact that stunned her. + </p> + <p> + Bo's scream rang in her ears; she felt the wet grass under her face and + then the strong hands that lifted her. Dale loomed over her, bending down + to look into her face; Bo was clutching her with frantic hands. And Helen + could only gasp. Her breast seemed caved in. The need to breathe was + torture. + </p> + <p> + “Nell!—you're not hurt. You fell light, like a feather. All grass + here.... You can't be hurt!” said Dale, sharply. + </p> + <p> + His anxious voice penetrated beyond her hearing, and his strong hands went + swiftly over her arms and shoulders, feeling for broken bones. + </p> + <p> + “Just had the wind knocked out of you,” went on Dale. “It feels awful, but + it's nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + Helen got a little air, that was like hot pin-points in her lungs, and + then a deeper breath, and then full, gasping respiration. + </p> + <p> + “I guess—I'm not hurt—not a bit,” she choked out. + </p> + <p> + “You sure had a header. Never saw a prettier spill. Ranger doesn't do that + often. I reckon we were travelin' too fast. But it was fun, don't you + think?” + </p> + <p> + It was Bo who answered. “Oh, glorious!... But, gee! I was scared.” + </p> + <p> + Dale still held Helen's hands. She released them while looking up at him. + The moment was realization for her of what for days had been a vague, + sweet uncertainty, becoming near and strange, disturbing and present. This + accident had been a sudden, violent end to the wonderful ride. But its + effect, the knowledge of what had got into her blood, would never change. + And inseparable from it was this man of the forest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + On the next morning Helen was awakened by what she imagined had been a + dream of some one shouting. With a start she sat up. The sunshine showed + pink and gold on the ragged spruce line of the mountain rims. Bo was on + her knees, braiding her hair with shaking hands, and at the same time + trying to peep out. + </p> + <p> + And the echoes of a ringing cry were cracking back from the cliffs. That + had been Dale's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Nell! Nell! Wake up!” called Bo, wildly. “Oh, some one's come! Horses and + men!” + </p> + <p> + Helen got to her knees and peered out over Bo's shoulder. Dale, standing + tall and striking beside the campfire, was waving his sombrero. Away down + the open edge of the park came a string of pack-burros with mounted men + behind. In the foremost rider Helen recognized Roy Beeman. + </p> + <p> + “That first one's Roy!” she exclaimed. “I'd never forget him on a + horse.... Bo, it must mean Uncle Al's come!” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! We're born lucky. Here we are safe and sound—and all this + grand camp trip.... Look at the cowboys.... LOOK! Oh, maybe this isn't + great!” babbled Bo. + </p> + <p> + Dale wheeled to see the girls peeping out. + </p> + <p> + “It's time you're up!” he called. “Your uncle Al is here.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant after Helen sank back out of Dale's sight she sat there + perfectly motionless, so struck was she by the singular tone of Dale's + voice. She imagined that he regretted what this visiting cavalcade of + horsemen meant—they had come to take her to her ranch in Pine. + Helen's heart suddenly began to beat fast, but thickly, as if muffled + within her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry now, girls,” called Dale. + </p> + <p> + Bo was already out, kneeling on the flat stone at the little brook, + splashing water in a great hurry. Helen's hands trembled so that she could + scarcely lace her boots or brush her hair, and she was long behind Bo in + making herself presentable. When Helen stepped out, a short, powerfully + built man in coarse garb and heavy boots stood holding Bo's hands. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, wal! You favor the Rayners,” he was saying, “I remember your dad, + an' a fine feller he was.” + </p> + <p> + Beside them stood Dale and Roy, and beyond was a group of horses and + riders. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, here comes Nell,” said Bo, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Aw!” The old cattle-man breathed hard as he turned. + </p> + <p> + Helen hurried. She had not expected to remember this uncle, but one look + into the brown, beaming face, with the blue eyes flashing, yet sad, and + she recognized him, at the same instant recalling her mother. + </p> + <p> + He held out his arms to receive her. + </p> + <p> + “Nell Auchincloss all over again!” he exclaimed, in deep voice, as he + kissed her. “I'd have knowed you anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Al!” murmured Helen. “I remember you—though I was only four.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, wal,—that's fine,” he replied. “I remember you straddled my + knee once, an' your hair was brighter—an' curly. It ain't neither + now.... Sixteen years! An' you're twenty now? What a fine, + broad-shouldered girl you are! An', Nell, you're the handsomest + Auchincloss I ever seen!” + </p> + <p> + Helen found herself blushing, and withdrew her hands from his as Roy + stepped forward to pay his respects. He stood bareheaded, lean and tall, + with neither his clear eyes nor his still face, nor the proffered hand + expressing anything of the proven quality of fidelity, of achievement, + that Helen sensed in him. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Miss Helen? Howdy, Bo?” he said. “You all both look fine an' + brown.... I reckon I was shore slow rustlin' your uncle Al up here. But I + was figgerin' you'd like Milt's camp for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “We sure did,” replied Bo, archly. + </p> + <p> + “Aw!” breathed Auchincloss, heavily. “Lemme set down.” + </p> + <p> + He drew the girls to the rustic seat Dale had built for them under the big + pine. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must be tired! How—how are you?” asked Helen, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Tired! Wal, if I am it's jest this here minit. When Joe Beeman rode in on + me with thet news of you—wal, I jest fergot I was a worn-out old + hoss. Haven't felt so good in years. Mebbe two such young an' pretty + nieces will make a new man of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Al, you look strong and well to me,” said Bo. “And young, too, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Haw! Thet 'll do,” interrupted Al. “I see through you. What you'll + do to Uncle Al will be aplenty.... Yes, girls, I'm feelin' fine. But + strange—strange! Mebbe thet's my joy at seein' you safe—safe + when I feared so thet damned greaser Beasley—” + </p> + <p> + In Helen's grave gaze his face changed swiftly—and all the serried + years of toil and battle and privation showed, with something that was not + age, nor resignation, yet as tragic as both. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, never mind him—now,” he added, slowly, and the warmer light + returned to his face. “Dale—come here.” + </p> + <p> + The hunter stepped closer. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I owe you more 'n I can ever pay,” said Auchincloss, with an arm + around each niece. + </p> + <p> + “No, Al, you don't owe me anythin',” returned Dale, thoughtfully, as he + looked away. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh!” grunted Al. “You hear him, girls.... Now listen, you wild hunter. + An' you girls listen.... Milt, I never thought you much good, 'cept for + the wilds. But I reckon I'll have to swallow thet. I do. Comin' to me as + you did—an' after bein' druv off—keepin' your council an' + savin' my girls from thet hold-up, wal, it's the biggest deal any man ever + did for me.... An' I'm ashamed of my hard feelin's, an' here's my hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Al,” replied Dale, with his fleeting smile, and he met the + proffered hand. “Now, will you be makin' camp here?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, no. I'll rest a little, an' you can pack the girls' outfit—then + we'll go. Sure you're goin' with us?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll call the girls to breakfast,” replied Dale, and he moved away + without answering Auchincloss's query. + </p> + <p> + Helen divined that Dale did not mean to go down to Pine with them, and the + knowledge gave her a blank feeling of surprise. Had she expected him to + go? + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Jeff,” called Al, to one of his men. + </p> + <p> + A short, bow-legged horseman with dusty garb and sun-bleached face hobbled + forth from the group. He was not young, but he had a boyish grin and + bright little eyes. Awkwardly he doffed his slouch sombrero. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff, shake hands with my nieces,” said Al. “This 's Helen, an' your boss + from now on. An' this 's Bo, fer short. Her name was Nancy, but when she + lay a baby in her cradle I called her Bo-Peep, an' the name's stuck.... + Girls, this here's my foreman, Jeff Mulvey, who's been with me twenty + years.” + </p> + <p> + The introduction caused embarrassment to all three principals, + particularly to Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff, throw the packs an' saddles fer a rest,” was Al's order to his + foreman. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, reckon you'll have fun bossin' thet outfit,” chuckled Al. “None of + 'em's got a wife. Lot of scalawags they are; no women would have them!” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, I hope I'll never have to be their boss,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you're goin' to be, right off,” declared Al. “They ain't a bad lot, + after all. An' I got a likely new man.” + </p> + <p> + With that he turned to Bo, and, after studying her pretty face, he asked, + in apparently severe tone, “Did you send a cowboy named Carmichael to ask + me for a job?” + </p> + <p> + Bo looked quite startled. + </p> + <p> + “Carmichael! Why, Uncle, I never heard that name before,” replied Bo, + bewilderedly. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! Reckoned the young rascal was lyin',” said Auchincloss. “But I + liked the fellar's looks an' so let him stay.” + </p> + <p> + Then the rancher turned to the group of lounging riders. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, come here,” he ordered, in a loud voice. + </p> + <p> + Helen thrilled at sight of a tall, superbly built cowboy reluctantly + detaching himself from the group. He had a red-bronze face, young like a + boy's. Helen recognized it, and the flowing red scarf, and the swinging + gun, and the slow, spur-clinking gait. No other than Bo's Las Vegas cowboy + admirer! + </p> + <p> + Then Helen flashed a look at Bo, which look gave her a delicious, almost + irresistible desire to laugh. That young lady also recognized the + reluctant individual approaching with flushed and downcast face. Helen + recorded her first experience of Bo's utter discomfiture. Bo turned white + then red as a rose. + </p> + <p> + “Say, my niece said she never heard of the name Carmichael,” declared Al, + severely, as the cowboy halted before him. Helen knew her uncle had the + repute of dealing hard with his men, but here she was reassured and + pleased at the twinkle in his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, boss, I can't help thet,” drawled the cowboy. “It's good old Texas + stock.” + </p> + <p> + He did not appear shamefaced now, but just as cool, easy, clear-eyed, and + lazy as the day Helen had liked his warm young face and intent gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Texas! You fellars from the Pan Handle are always hollerin' Texas. I + never seen thet Texans had any one else beat—say from Missouri,” + returned Al, testily. + </p> + <p> + Carmichael maintained a discreet silence, and carefully avoided looking at + the girls. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, reckon we'll all call you Las Vegas, anyway,” continued the rancher. + “Didn't you say my niece sent you to me for a job?” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Carmichael's easy manner vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Now, boss, shore my memory's pore,” he said. “I only says—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me thet. My memory's not p-o-r-e,” replied Al, mimicking the + drawl. “What you said was thet my niece would speak a good word for you.” + </p> + <p> + Here Carmichael stole a timid glance at Bo, the result of which was to + render him utterly crestfallen. Not improbably he had taken Bo's + expression to mean something it did not, for Helen read it as a mingling + of consternation and fright. Her eyes were big and blazing; a red spot was + growing in each cheek as she gathered strength from his confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, didn't you?” demanded Al. + </p> + <p> + From the glance the old rancher shot from the cowboy to the others of his + employ it seemed to Helen that they were having fun at Carmichael's + expense. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I did,” suddenly replied the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! All right, here's my niece. Now see thet she speaks the good + word.” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael looked at Bo and Bo looked at him. Their glances were strange, + wondering, and they grew shy. Bo dropped hers. The cowboy apparently + forgot what had been demanded of him. + </p> + <p> + Helen put a hand on the old rancher's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, what happened was my fault,” she said. “The train stopped at Las + Vegas. This young man saw us at the open window. He must have guessed we + were lonely, homesick girls, getting lost in the West. For he spoke to us—nice + and friendly. He knew of you. And he asked, in what I took for fun, if we + thought you would give him a job. And I replied, just to tease Bo, that + she would surely speak a good word for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Haw! So thet's it,” replied Al, and he turned to Bo with merry eyes. + “Wal, I kept this here Las Vegas Carmichael on his say-so. Come on with + your good word, unless you want to see him lose his job.” + </p> + <p> + Bo did not grasp her uncle's bantering, because she was seriously gazing + at the cowboy. But she had grasped something. + </p> + <p> + “He—he was the first person—out West—to speak kindly to + us,” she said, facing her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet's a pretty good word, but it ain't enough,” responded Al. + </p> + <p> + Subdued laughter came from the listening group. Carmichael shifted from + side to side. + </p> + <p> + “He—he looks as if he might ride a horse well,” ventured Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Best hossman I ever seen,” agreed Al, heartily. + </p> + <p> + “And—and shoot?” added Bo, hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, he packs thet gun low, like Jim Wilson an' all them Texas + gun-fighters. Reckon thet ain't no good word.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—I'll vouch for him,” said Bo, with finality. + </p> + <p> + “Thet settles it.” Auchincloss turned to the cowboy. “Las Vegas, you're a + stranger to us. But you're welcome to a place in the outfit an' I hope you + won't never disappoint us.” + </p> + <p> + Auchincloss's tone, passing from jest to earnest, betrayed to Helen the + old rancher's need of new and true men, and hinted of trying days to come. + </p> + <p> + Carmichael stood before Bo, sombrero in hand, rolling it round and round, + manifestly bursting with words he could not speak. And the girl looked + very young and sweet with her flushed face and shining eyes. Helen saw in + the moment more than that little by-play of confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Miss—Miss Rayner—I shore—am obliged,” he stammered, + presently. + </p> + <p> + “You're very welcome,” she replied, softly. “I—I got on the next + train,” he added. + </p> + <p> + When he said that Bo was looking straight at him, but she seemed not to + have heard. + </p> + <p> + “What's your name?” suddenly she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Carmichael.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard that. But didn't uncle call you Las Vegas?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. But it wasn't my fault. Thet cow-punchin' outfit saddled it on me, + right off. They Don't know no better. Shore I jest won't answer to thet + handle.... Now—Miss Bo—my real name is Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “I simply could not call you—any name but Las Vegas,” replied Bo, + very sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “But—beggin' your pardon—I—I don't like thet,” blustered + Carmichael. + </p> + <p> + “People often get called names—they don't like,” she said, with deep + intent. + </p> + <p> + The cowboy blushed scarlet. Helen as well as he got Bo's inference to that + last audacious epithet he had boldly called out as the train was leaving + Las Vegas. She also sensed something of the disaster in store for Mr. + Carmichael. Just then the embarrassed young man was saved by Dale's call + to the girls to come to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + That meal, the last for Helen in Paradise Park, gave rise to a strange and + inexplicable restraint. She had little to say. Bo was in the highest + spirits, teasing the pets, joking with her uncle and Roy, and even poking + fun at Dale. The hunter seemed somewhat somber. Roy was his usual dry, + genial self. And Auchincloss, who sat near by, was an interested + spectator. When Tom put in an appearance, lounging with his feline grace + into the camp, as if he knew he was a privileged pet, the rancher could + scarcely contain himself. + </p> + <p> + “Dale, it's thet damn cougar!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, that's Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “He ought to be corralled or chained. I've no use for cougars,” protested + Al. + </p> + <p> + “Tom is as tame an' safe as a kitten.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! Wal, you tell thet to the girls if you like. But not me! I'm an + old hoss, I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Al, Tom sleeps curled up at the foot of my bed,” said Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Aw—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Honest Injun,” she responded. “Well, isn't it so?” + </p> + <p> + Helen smilingly nodded her corroboration. Then Bo called Tom to her and + made him lie with his head on his stretched paws, right beside her, and + beg for bits to eat. + </p> + <p> + “Wal! I'd never have believed thet!” exclaimed Al, shaking his big head. + “Dale, it's one on me. I've had them big cats foller me on the trails, + through the woods, moonlight an' dark. An' I've heard 'em let out thet + awful cry. They ain't any wild sound on earth thet can beat a cougar's. + Does this Tom ever let out one of them wails?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes at night,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, excuse me. Hope you don't fetch the yaller rascal down to Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll you do with this menagerie?” + </p> + <p> + Dale regarded the rancher attentively. “Reckon, Al, I'll take care of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're goin' down to my ranch.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + Al scratched his head and gazed perplexedly at the hunter. “Wal, ain't it + customary to visit friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Al. Next time I ride down Pine way—in the spring, perhaps—I'll + run over an' see how you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Spring!” ejaculated Auchincloss. Then he shook his head sadly and a + far-away look filmed his eyes. “Reckon you'd call some late.” + </p> + <p> + “Al, you'll get well now. These, girls—now—they'll cure you. + Reckon I never saw you look so good.” + </p> + <p> + Auchincloss did not press his point farther at that time, but after the + meal, when the other men came to see Dale's camp and pets, Helen's quick + ears caught the renewal of the subject. + </p> + <p> + “I'm askin' you—will you come?” Auchincloss said, low and eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I wouldn't fit in down there,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, talk sense. You can't go on forever huntin' bear an' tamin' cats,” + protested the old rancher. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked the hunter, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Auchincloss stood up and, shaking himself as if to ward off his testy + temper, he put a hand on Dale's arm. + </p> + <p> + “One reason is you're needed in Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “How? Who needs me?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I'm playin' out fast. An' Beasley's my enemy. The ranch an' all I + got will go to Nell. Thet ranch will have to be run by a man an' HELD by a + man. Do you savvy? It's a big job. An' I'm offerin' to make you my foreman + right now.” + </p> + <p> + “Al, you sort of take my breath,” replied Dale. “An' I'm sure grateful. + But the fact is, even if I could handle the job, I—I don't believe + I'd want to.” + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself want to, then. Thet 'd soon come. You'd get interested. + This country will develop. I seen thet years ago. The government is goin' + to chase the Apaches out of here. Soon homesteaders will be flockin' in. + Big future, Dale. You want to get in now. An'—” + </p> + <p> + Here Auchincloss hesitated, then spoke lower: + </p> + <p> + “An' take your chance with the girl!... I'll be on your side.” + </p> + <p> + A slight vibrating start ran over Dale's stalwart form. + </p> + <p> + “Al—you're plumb dotty!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Dotty! Me? Dotty!” ejaculated Auchincloss. Then he swore. “In a minit + I'll tell you what you are.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Al, that talk's so—so—like an old fool's.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! An' why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because that—wonderful girl would never look at me,” Dale replied, + simply. + </p> + <p> + “I seen her lookin' already,” declared Al, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Dale shook his head as if arguing with the old rancher was hopeless. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind thet,” went on Al. “Mebbe I am a dotty old fool—'specially + for takin' a shine to you. But I say again—will you come down to + Pine and be my foreman?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, I've no son—an' I'm—afraid of Beasley.” This was + uttered in an agitated whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Al, you make me ashamed,” said Dale, hoarsely. “I can't come. I've no + nerve.” + </p> + <p> + “You've no what?” + </p> + <p> + “Al, I don't know what's wrong with me. But I'm afraid I'd find out if I + came down there.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! It's the girl!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but I'm afraid so. An' I won't come.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw yes, you will—” + </p> + <p> + Helen rose with beating heart and tingling ears, and moved away out of + hearing. She had listened too long to what had not been intended for her + ears, yet she could not be sorry. She walked a few rods along the brook, + out from under the pines, and, standing in the open edge of the park, she + felt the beautiful scene still her agitation. The following moments, then, + were the happiest she had spent in Paradise Park, and the profoundest of + her whole life. + </p> + <p> + Presently her uncle called her. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, this here hunter wants to give you thet black hoss. An' I say you + take him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ranger deserves better care than I can give him,” said Dale. “He runs + free in the woods most of the time. I'd be obliged if she'd have him. An' + the hound, Pedro, too.” + </p> + <p> + Bo swept a saucy glance from Dale to her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Sure she'll have Ranger. Just offer him to ME!” + </p> + <p> + Dale stood there expectantly, holding a blanket in his hand, ready to + saddle the horse. Carmichael walked around Ranger with that appraising eye + so keen in cowboys. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, do you know anything about horses?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Me! Wal, if you ever buy or trade a hoss you shore have me there,” + replied Carmichael. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Ranger?” went on Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'd buy him sudden, if I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Las Vegas, you're too late,” asserted Helen, as she advanced to lay a + hand on the horse. + </p> + <p> + “Ranger is mine.” + </p> + <p> + Dale smoothed out the blanket and, folding it, he threw it over the horse; + and then with one powerful swing he set the saddle in place. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much for him,” said Helen, softly. + </p> + <p> + “You're welcome, an' I'm sure glad,” responded Dale, and then, after a few + deft, strong pulls at the straps, he continued. “There, he's ready for + you.” + </p> + <p> + With that he laid an arm over the saddle, and faced Helen as she stood + patting and smoothing Ranger. Helen, strong and calm now, in feminine + possession of her secret and his, as well as her composure, looked frankly + and steadily at Dale. He seemed composed, too, yet the bronze of his fine + face was a trifle pale. + </p> + <p> + “But I can't thank you—I'll never be able to repay you—for + your service to me and my sister,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you needn't try,” Dale returned. “An' my service, as you call + it, has been good for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going down to Pine with us?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will come soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very soon, I reckon,” he replied, and averted his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly before spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Spring?... That is a long time. Won't you come to see me sooner than + that?” + </p> + <p> + “If I can get down to Pine.” + </p> + <p> + “You're the first friend I've made in the West,” said Helen, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “You'll make many more—an' I reckon soon forget him you called the + man of the forest.” + </p> + <p> + “I never forget any of my friends. And you've been the—the biggest + friend I ever had.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be proud to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “But will you remember—will you promise to come to Pine?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. All's well, then.... My friend, goodby.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said, clasping her hand. His glance was clear, warm, + beautiful, yet it was sad. + </p> + <p> + Auchincloss's hearty voice broke the spell. Then Helen saw that the others + were mounted. Bo had ridden up close; her face was earnest and happy and + grieved all at once, as she bade good-by to Dale. The pack-burros were + hobbling along toward the green slope. Helen was the last to mount, but + Roy was the last to leave the hunter. Pedro came reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + It was a merry, singing train which climbed that brown odorous trail, + under the dark spruces. Helen assuredly was happy, yet a pang abided in + her breast. + </p> + <p> + She remembered that half-way up the slope there was a turn in the trail + where it came out upon an open bluff. The time seemed long, but at last + she got there. And she checked Ranger so as to have a moment's gaze down + into the park. + </p> + <p> + It yawned there, a dark-green and bright-gold gulf, asleep under a + westering sun, exquisite, wild, lonesome. Then she saw Dale standing in + the open space between the pines and the spruces. He waved to her. And she + returned the salute. + </p> + <p> + Roy caught up with her then and halted his horse. He waved his sombrero to + Dale and let out a piercing yell that awoke the sleeping echoes, splitting + strangely from cliff to cliff. + </p> + <p> + “Shore Milt never knowed what it was to be lonesome,” said Roy, as if + thinking aloud. “But he'll know now.” + </p> + <p> + Ranger stepped out of his own accord and, turning off the ledge, entered + the spruce forest. Helen lost sight of Paradise Park. For hours then she + rode along a shady, fragrant trail, seeing the beauty of color and + wildness, hearing the murmur and rush and roar of water, but all the while + her mind revolved the sweet and momentous realization which had thrilled + her—that the hunter, this strange man of the forest, so deeply + versed in nature and so unfamiliar with emotion, aloof and simple and + strong like the elements which had developed him, had fallen in love with + her and did not know it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Dale stood with face and arm upraised, and he watched Helen ride off the + ledge to disappear in the forest. That vast spruce slope seemed to have + swallowed her. She was gone! Slowly Dale lowered his arm with gesture + expressive of a strange finality, an eloquent despair, of which he was + unconscious. + </p> + <p> + He turned to the park, to his camp, and the many duties of a hunter. The + park did not seem the same, nor his home, nor his work. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon this feelin's natural,” he soliloquized, resignedly, “but it's + sure queer for me. That's what comes of makin' friends. Nell an' Bo, now, + they made a difference, an' a difference I never knew before.” + </p> + <p> + He calculated that this difference had been simply one of responsibility, + and then the charm and liveliness of the companionship of girls, and + finally friendship. These would pass now that the causes were removed. + </p> + <p> + Before he had worked an hour around camp he realized a change had come, + but it was not the one anticipated. Always before he had put his mind on + his tasks, whatever they might be; now he worked while his thoughts were + strangely involved. + </p> + <p> + The little bear cub whined at his heels; the tame deer seemed to regard + him with deep, questioning eyes, the big cougar padded softly here and + there as if searching for something. + </p> + <p> + “You all miss them—now—I reckon,” said Dale. “Well, they're + gone an' you'll have to get along with me.” + </p> + <p> + Some vague approach to irritation with his pets surprised him. Presently + he grew both irritated and surprised with himself—a state of mind + totally unfamiliar. Several times, as old habit brought momentary + abstraction, he found himself suddenly looking around for Helen and Bo. + And each time the shock grew stronger. They were gone, but their presence + lingered. After his camp chores were completed he went over to pull down + the lean-to which the girls had utilized as a tent. The spruce boughs had + dried out brown and sear; the wind had blown the roof awry; the sides were + leaning in. As there was now no further use for this little habitation, he + might better pull it down. Dale did not acknowledge that his gaze had + involuntarily wandered toward it many times. Therefore he strode over with + the intention of destroying it. + </p> + <p> + For the first time since Roy and he had built the lean-to he stepped + inside. Nothing was more certain than the fact that he experienced a + strange sensation, perfectly incomprehensible to him. The blankets lay + there on the spruce boughs, disarranged and thrown back by hurried hands, + yet still holding something of round folds where the slender forms had + nestled. A black scarf often worn by Bo lay covering the pillow of + pine-needles; a red ribbon that Helen had worn on her hair hung from a + twig. These articles were all that had been forgotten. Dale gazed at them + attentively, then at the blankets, and all around the fragrant little + shelter; and he stepped outside with an uncomfortable knowledge that he + could not destroy the place where Helen and Bo had spent so many hours. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon, in studious mood, Dale took up his rifle and strode out to + hunt. His winter supply of venison had not yet been laid in. Action suited + his mood; he climbed far and passed by many a watching buck to slay which + seemed murder; at last he jumped one that was wild and bounded away. This + he shot, and set himself a Herculean task in packing the whole carcass + back to camp. Burdened thus, he staggered under the trees, sweating + freely, many times laboring for breath, aching with toil, until at last he + had reached camp. There he slid the deer carcass off his shoulders, and, + standing over it, he gazed down while his breast labored. It was one of + the finest young bucks he had ever seen. But neither in stalking it, nor + making a wonderful shot, nor in packing home a weight that would have + burdened two men, nor in gazing down at his beautiful quarry, did Dale + experience any of the old joy of the hunter. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a little off my feed,” he mused, as he wiped sweat from his heated + face. “Maybe a little dotty, as I called Al. But that'll pass.” + </p> + <p> + Whatever his state, it did not pass. As of old, after a long day's hunt, + he reclined beside the camp-fire and watched the golden sunset glows + change on the ramparts; as of old he laid a hand on the soft, furry head + of the pet cougar; as of old he watched the gold change to red and then to + dark, and twilight fall like a blanket; as of old he listened to the + dreamy, lulling murmur of the water fall. The old familiar beauty, + wildness, silence, and loneliness were there, but the old content seemed + strangely gone. + </p> + <p> + Soberly he confessed then that he missed the happy company of the girls. + He did not distinguish Helen from Bo in his slow introspection. When he + sought his bed he did not at once fall to sleep. Always, after a few + moments of wakefulness, while the silence settled down or the wind moaned + through the pines, he had fallen asleep. This night he found different. + Though he was tired, sleep would not soon come. The wilderness, the + mountains, the park, the camp—all seemed to have lost something. + Even the darkness seemed empty. And when at length Dale fell asleep it was + to be troubled by restless dreams. + </p> + <p> + Up with the keen-edged, steely-bright dawn, he went at the his tasks with + the springy stride of the deer-stalker. + </p> + <p> + At the end of that strenuous day, which was singularly full of the old + excitement and action and danger, and of new observations, he was bound to + confess that no longer did the chase suffice for him. + </p> + <p> + Many times on the heights that day, with the wind keen in his face, and + the vast green billows of spruce below him, he had found that he was + gazing without seeing, halting without object, dreaming as he had never + dreamed before. + </p> + <p> + Once, when a magnificent elk came out upon a rocky ridge and, whistling a + challenge to invisible rivals, stood there a target to stir any hunter's + pulse, Dale did not even raise his rifle. Into his ear just then rang + Helen's voice: “Milt Dale, you are no Indian. Giving yourself to a + hunter's wildlife is selfish. It is wrong. You love this lonely life, but + it is not work. Work that does not help others is not a real man's work.” + </p> + <p> + From that moment conscience tormented him. It was not what he loved, but + what he ought to do, that counted in the sum of good achieved in the + world. Old Al Auchincloss had been right. Dale was wasting strength and + intelligence that should go to do his share in the development of the + West. Now that he had reached maturity, if through his knowledge of + nature's law he had come to see the meaning of the strife of men for + existence, for place, for possession, and to hold them in contempt, that + was no reason why he should keep himself aloof from them, from some work + that was needed in an incomprehensible world. + </p> + <p> + Dale did not hate work, but he loved freedom. To be alone, to live with + nature, to feel the elements, to labor and dream and idle and climb and + sleep unhampered by duty, by worry, by restriction, by the petty interests + of men—this had always been his ideal of living. Cowboys, riders, + sheep-herders, farmers—these toiled on from one place and one job to + another for the little money doled out to them. Nothing beautiful, nothing + significant had ever existed in that for him. He had worked as a boy at + every kind of range-work, and of all that humdrum waste of effort he had + liked sawing wood best. Once he had quit a job of branding cattle because + the smell of burning hide, the bawl of the terrified calf, had sickened + him. If men were honest there would be no need to scar cattle. He had + never in the least desired to own land and droves of stock, and make deals + with ranchmen, deals advantageous to himself. Why should a man want to + make a deal or trade a horse or do a piece of work to another man's + disadvantage? Self-preservation was the first law of life. But as the + plants and trees and birds and beasts interpreted that law, merciless and + inevitable as they were, they had neither greed nor dishonesty. They lived + by the grand rule of what was best for the greatest number. + </p> + <p> + But Dale's philosophy, cold and clear and inevitable, like nature itself, + began to be pierced by the human appeal in Helen Rayner's words. What did + she mean? Not that he should lose his love of the wilderness, but that he + realize himself! Many chance words of that girl had depth. He was young, + strong, intelligent, free from taint of disease or the fever of drink. He + could do something for others. Who? If that mattered, there, for instance, + was poor old Mrs. Cass, aged and lame now; there was Al Auchincloss, dying + in his boots, afraid of enemies, and wistful for his blood and his + property to receive the fruit of his labors; there were the two girls, + Helen and Bo, new and strange to the West, about to be confronted by a big + problem of ranch life and rival interests. Dale thought of still more + people in the little village of Pine—of others who had failed, whose + lives were hard, who could have been made happier by kindness and + assistance. + </p> + <p> + What, then, was the duty of Milt Dale to himself? Because men preyed on + one another and on the weak, should he turn his back upon a so-called + civilization or should he grow like them? Clear as a bell came the answer + that his duty was to do neither. And then he saw how the little village of + Pine, as well as the whole world, needed men like him. He had gone to + nature, to the forest, to the wilderness for his development; and all the + judgments and efforts of his future would be a result of that education. + </p> + <p> + Thus Dale, lying in the darkness and silence of his lonely park, arrived + at a conclusion that he divined was but the beginning of a struggle. + </p> + <p> + It took long introspection to determine the exact nature of that struggle, + but at length it evolved into the paradox that Helen Rayner had opened his + eyes to his duty as a man, that he accepted it, yet found a strange + obstacle in the perplexing, tumultuous, sweet fear of ever going near her + again. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, then, all his thought revolved around the girl, and, thrown off + his balance, he weltered in a wilderness of unfamiliar strange ideas. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke next day the fight was on in earnest. In his sleep his mind + had been active. The idea that greeted him, beautiful as the sunrise, + flashed in memory of Auchincloss's significant words, “Take your chance + with the girl!” + </p> + <p> + The old rancher was in his dotage. He hinted of things beyond the range of + possibility. That idea of a chance for Dale remained before his + consciousness only an instant. Stars were unattainable; life could not be + fathomed; the secret of nature did not abide alone on the earth—these + theories were not any more impossible of proving than that Helen Rayner + might be for him. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, her strange coming into his life had played havoc, the + extent of which he had only begun to realize. + </p> + <p> + For a month he tramped through the forest. It was October, a still golden, + fulfilling season of the year; and everywhere in the vast dark green a + glorious blaze of oak and aspen made beautiful contrast. He carried his + rifle, but he never used it. He would climb miles and go this way and that + with no object in view. Yet his eye and ear had never been keener. Hours + he would spend on a promontory, watching the distance, where the golden + patches of aspen shone bright out of dark-green mountain slopes. He loved + to fling himself down in an aspen-grove at the edge of a senaca, and there + lie in that radiance like a veil of gold and purple and red, with the + white tree-trunks striping the shade. Always, whether there were breeze or + not, the aspen-leaves quivered, ceaselessly, wonderfully, like his pulses, + beyond his control. Often he reclined against a mossy rock beside a + mountain stream to listen, to watch, to feel all that was there, while his + mind held a haunting, dark-eyed vision of a girl. On the lonely heights, + like an eagle, he sat gazing down into Paradise Park, that was more and + more beautiful, but would never again be the same, never fill him with + content, never be all and all to him. + </p> + <p> + Late in October the first snow fell. It melted at once on the south side + of the park, but the north slopes and the rims and domes above stayed + white. + </p> + <p> + Dale had worked quick and hard at curing and storing his winter supply of + food, and now he spent days chopping and splitting wood to burn during the + months he would be snowed-in. He watched for the dark-gray, fast-scudding + storm-clouds, and welcomed them when they came. Once there lay ten feet of + snow on the trails he would be snowed-in until spring. It would be + impossible to go down to Pine. And perhaps during the long winter he would + be cured of this strange, nameless disorder of his feelings. + </p> + <p> + November brought storms up on the peaks. Flurries of snow fell in the park + every day, but the sunny south side, where Dale's camp lay, retained its + autumnal color and warmth. Not till late in winter did the snow creep over + this secluded nook. + </p> + <p> + The morning came at last, piercingly keen and bright, when Dale saw that + the heights were impassable; the realization brought him a poignant + regret. He had not guessed how he had wanted to see Helen Rayner again + until it was too late. That opened his eyes. A raging frenzy of action + followed, in which he only tired himself physically without helping + himself spiritually. + </p> + <p> + It was sunset when he faced the west, looking up at the pink snow-domes + and the dark-golden fringe of spruce, and in that moment he found the + truth. + </p> + <p> + “I love that girl! I love that girl!” he spoke aloud, to the distant white + peaks, to the winds, to the loneliness and silence of his prison, to the + great pines and to the murmuring stream, and to his faithful pets. It was + his tragic confession of weakness, of amazing truth, of hopeless position, + of pitiful excuse for the transformation wrought in him. + </p> + <p> + Dale's struggle ended there when he faced his soul. To understand himself + was to be released from strain, worry, ceaseless importuning doubt and + wonder and fear. But the fever of unrest, of uncertainty, had been nothing + compared to a sudden upflashing torment of love. + </p> + <p> + With somber deliberation he set about the tasks needful, and others that + he might make—his camp-fires and meals, the care of his pets and + horses, the mending of saddles and pack-harness, the curing of buckskin + for moccasins and hunting-suits. So his days were not idle. But all this + work was habit for him and needed no application of mind. + </p> + <p> + And Dale, like some men of lonely wilderness lives who did not retrograde + toward the savage, was a thinker. Love made him a sufferer. + </p> + <p> + The surprise and shame of his unconscious surrender, the certain + hopelessness of it, the long years of communion with all that was wild, + lonely, and beautiful, the wonderfully developed insight into nature's + secrets, and the sudden-dawning revelation that he was no omniscient being + exempt from the ruthless ordinary destiny of man—all these showed + him the strength of his manhood and of his passion, and that the life he + had chosen was of all lives the one calculated to make love sad and + terrible. + </p> + <p> + Helen Rayner haunted him. In the sunlight there was not a place around + camp which did not picture her lithe, vigorous body, her dark, thoughtful + eyes, her eloquent, resolute lips, and the smile that was so sweet and + strong. At night she was there like a slender specter, pacing beside him + under the moaning pines. Every camp-fire held in its heart the glowing + white radiance of her spirit. + </p> + <p> + Nature had taught Dale to love solitude and silence, but love itself + taught him their meaning. Solitude had been created for the eagle on his + crag, for the blasted mountain fir, lonely and gnarled on its peak, for + the elk and the wolf. But it had not been intended for man. And to live + always in the silence of wild places was to become obsessed with self—to + think and dream—to be happy, which state, however pursued by man, + was not good for him. Man must be given imperious longings for the + unattainable. + </p> + <p> + It needed, then, only the memory of an unattainable woman to render + solitude passionately desired by a man, yet almost unendurable. Dale was + alone with his secret; and every pine, everything in that park saw him + shaken and undone. + </p> + <p> + In the dark, pitchy deadness of night, when there was no wind and the cold + on the peaks had frozen the waterfall, then the silence seemed + insupportable. Many hours that should have been given to slumber were + paced out under the cold, white, pitiless stars, under the lonely pines. + </p> + <p> + Dale's memory betrayed him, mocked his restraint, cheated him of any + peace; and his imagination, sharpened by love, created pictures, fancies, + feelings, that drove him frantic. + </p> + <p> + He thought of Helen Rayner's strong, shapely brown hand. In a thousand + different actions it haunted him. How quick and deft in camp-fire tasks! + how graceful and swift as she plaited her dark hair! how tender and + skilful in its ministration when one of his pets had been injured! how + eloquent when pressed tight against her breast in a moment of fear on the + dangerous heights! how expressive of unutterable things when laid on his + arm! + </p> + <p> + Dale saw that beautiful hand slowly creep up his arm, across his shoulder, + and slide round his neck to clasp there. He was powerless to inhibit the + picture. And what he felt then was boundless, unutterable. No woman had + ever yet so much as clasped his hand, and heretofore no such imaginings + had ever crossed his mind, yet deep in him, somewhere hidden, had been + this waiting, sweet, and imperious need. In the bright day he appeared to + ward off such fancies, but at night he was helpless. And every fancy left + him weaker, wilder. + </p> + <p> + When, at the culmination of this phase of his passion, Dale, who had never + known the touch of a woman's lips, suddenly yielded to the illusion of + Helen Rayner's kisses, he found himself quite mad, filled with rapture and + despair, loving her as he hated himself. It seemed as if he had + experienced all these terrible feelings in some former life and had + forgotten them in this life. He had no right to think of her, but he could + not resist it. Imagining the sweet surrender of her lips was a sacrilege, + yet here, in spite of will and honor and shame, he was lost. + </p> + <p> + Dale, at length, was vanquished, and he ceased to rail at himself, or + restrain his fancies. He became a dreamy, sad-eyed, camp-fire gazer, like + many another lonely man, separated, by chance or error, from what the + heart hungered most for. But this great experience, when all its + significance had clarified in his mind, immeasurably broadened his + understanding of the principles of nature applied to life. + </p> + <p> + Love had been in him stronger than in most men, because of his keen, + vigorous, lonely years in the forest, where health of mind and body were + intensified and preserved. How simple, how natural, how inevitable! He + might have loved any fine-spirited, healthy-bodied girl. Like a tree + shooting its branches and leaves, its whole entity, toward the sunlight, + so had he grown toward a woman's love. Why? Because the thing he revered + in nature, the spirit, the universal, the life that was God, had created + at his birth or before his birth the three tremendous instincts of nature—to + fight for life, to feed himself, to reproduce his kind. That was all there + was to it. But oh! the mystery, the beauty, the torment, and the terror of + this third instinct—this hunger for the sweetness and the glory of a + woman's love! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Helen Rayner dropped her knitting into her lap and sat pensively gazing + out of the window over the bare yellow ranges of her uncle's ranch. + </p> + <p> + The winter day was bright, but steely, and the wind that whipped down from + the white-capped mountains had a keen, frosty edge. A scant snow lay in + protected places; cattle stood bunched in the lee of ridges; low sheets of + dust scurried across the flats. + </p> + <p> + The big living-room of the ranch-house was warm and comfortable with its + red adobe walls, its huge stone fireplace where cedar logs blazed, and its + many-colored blankets. Bo Rayner sat before the fire, curled up in an + armchair, absorbed in a book. On the floor lay the hound Pedro, his racy, + fine head stretched toward the warmth. + </p> + <p> + “Did uncle call?” asked Helen, with a start out of her reverie. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't hear him,” replied Bo. + </p> + <p> + Helen rose to tiptoe across the floor, and, softly parting some curtains, + she looked into the room where her uncle lay. He was asleep. Sometimes he + called out in his slumbers. For weeks now he had been confined to his bed, + slowly growing weaker. With a sigh Helen returned to her window-seat and + took up her work. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, the sun is bright,” she said. “The days are growing longer. I'm so + glad.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, you're always wishing time away. For me it passes quickly enough,” + replied the sister. + </p> + <p> + “But I love spring and summer and fall—and I guess I hate winter,” + returned Helen, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + The yellow ranges rolled away up to the black ridges and they in turn + swept up to the cold, white mountains. Helen's gaze seemed to go beyond + that snowy barrier. And Bo's keen eyes studied her sister's earnest, sad + face. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, do you ever think of Dale?” she queried, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The question startled Helen. A slow blush suffused neck and cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she replied, as if surprised that Bo should ask such a thing. + </p> + <p> + “I—I shouldn't have asked that,” said Bo, softly, and then bent + again over her book. + </p> + <p> + Helen gazed tenderly at that bright, bowed head. In this swift-flying, + eventful, busy winter, during which the management of the ranch had + devolved wholly upon Helen, the little sister had grown away from her. Bo + had insisted upon her own free will and she had followed it, to the + amusement of her uncle, to the concern of Helen, to the dismay and + bewilderment of the faithful Mexican housekeeper, and to the undoing of + all the young men on the ranch. + </p> + <p> + Helen had always been hoping and waiting for a favorable hour in which she + might find this wilful sister once more susceptible to wise and loving + influence. But while she hesitated to speak, slow footsteps and a jingle + of spurs sounded without, and then came a timid knock. Bo looked up + brightly and ran to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! It's only—YOU!” she uttered, in withering scorn, to the one who + knocked. + </p> + <p> + Helen thought she could guess who that was. + </p> + <p> + “How are you-all?” asked a drawling voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mister Carmichael, if that interests you—I'm quite ill,” + replied Bo, freezingly. + </p> + <p> + “Ill! Aw no, now?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a fact. If I don't die right off I'll have to be taken back to + Missouri,” said Bo, casually. + </p> + <p> + “Are you goin' to ask me in?” queried Carmichael, bluntly. “It's cold—an' + I've got somethin' to say to—” + </p> + <p> + “To ME? Well, you're not backward, I declare,” retorted Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rayner, I reckon it 'll be strange to you—findin' out I didn't + come to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! No. But what was strange was the deluded idea I had—that + you meant to apologize to me—like a gentleman.... Come in, Mr. + Carmichael. My sister is here.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed as Helen turned round. Carmichael stood just inside with + his sombrero in hand, and as he gazed at Bo his lean face seemed hard. In + the few months since autumn he had changed—aged, it seemed, and the + once young, frank, alert, and careless cowboy traits had merged into the + making of a man. Helen knew just how much of a man he really was. He had + been her mainstay during all the complex working of the ranch that had + fallen upon her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon you was deluded, all right—if you thought I'd crawl + like them other lovers of yours,” he said, with cool deliberation. + </p> + <p> + Bo turned pale, and her eyes fairly blazed, yet even in what must have + been her fury Helen saw amaze and pain. + </p> + <p> + “OTHER lovers? I think the biggest delusion here is the way you flatter + yourself,” replied Bo, stingingly. + </p> + <p> + “Me flatter myself? Nope. You don't savvy me. I'm shore hatin' myself + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Small wonder. I certainly hate you—with all my heart!” + </p> + <p> + At this retort the cowboy dropped his head and did not see Bo flaunt + herself out of the room. But he heard the door close, and then slowly came + toward Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up, Las Vegas,” said Helen, smiling. “Bo's hot-tempered.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nell, I'm just like a dog. The meaner she treats me the more I love + her,” he replied, dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + To Helen's first instinct of liking for this cowboy there had been added + admiration, respect, and a growing appreciation of strong, faithful, + developing character. Carmichael's face and hands were red and chapped + from winter winds; the leather of wrist-bands, belt, and boots was all + worn shiny and thin; little streaks of dust fell from him as he breathed + heavily. He no longer looked the dashing cowboy, ready for a dance or lark + or fight. + </p> + <p> + “How in the world did you offend her so?” asked Helen. “Bo is furious. I + never saw her so angry as that.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nell, it was jest this way,” began Carmichael. “Shore Bo's knowed I + was in love with her. I asked her to marry me an' she wouldn't say yes or + no.... An', mean as it sounds—she never run away from it, thet's + shore. We've had some quarrels—two of them bad, an' this last's the + worst.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo told me about one quarrel,” said Helen. “It was—because you + drank—that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore it was. She took one of her cold spells an' I jest got drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “But that was wrong,” protested Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't so shore. You see, I used to get drunk often—before I come + here. An' I've been drunk only once. Back at Las Vegas the outfit would + never believe thet. Wal, I promised Bo I wouldn't do it again, an' I've + kept my word.” + </p> + <p> + “That is fine of you. But tell me, why is she angry now?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo makes up to all the fellars,” confessed Carmichael, hanging his head. + “I took her to the dance last week—over in the town-hall. Thet's the + first time she'd gone anywhere with me. I shore was proud.... But thet + dance was hell. Bo carried on somethin' turrible, an' I—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me. What did she do?” demanded Helen, anxiously. “I'm responsible + for her. I've got to see that she behaves.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, I ain't sayin' she didn't behave like a lady,” replied Carmichael. + “It was—she—wal, all them fellars are fools over her—an' + Bo wasn't true to me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, is Bo engaged to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord—if she only was!” he sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Then how can you say she wasn't true to you? Be reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon now, Miss Nell, thet no one can be in love an' act reasonable,” + rejoined the cowboy. “I don't know how to explain, but the fact is I feel + thet Bo has played the—the devil with me an' all the other fellars.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean she has flirted?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, I'm afraid you're right,” said Helen, with growing + apprehension. “Go on. Tell me what's happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet Turner boy, who rides for Beasley, he was hot after Bo,” + returned Carmichael, and he spoke as if memory hurt him. “Reckon I've no + use for Turner. He's a fine-lookin', strappin', big cow-puncher, an' + calculated to win the girls. He brags thet he can, an' I reckon he's + right. Wal, he was always hangin' round Bo. An' he stole one of my dances + with Bo. I only had three, an' he comes up to say this one was his; Bo, + very innocent—oh, she's a cute one!—she says, 'Why, Mister + Turner—is it really yours?' An' she looked so full of joy thet when + he says to me, 'Excoose us, friend Carmichael,' I sat there like a locoed + jackass an' let them go. But I wasn't mad at thet. He was a better dancer + than me an' I wanted her to have a good time. What started the hell was I + seen him put his arm round her when it wasn't just time, accordin' to the + dance, an' Bo—she didn't break any records gettin' away from him. + She pushed him away—after a little—after I near died. Wal, on + the way home I had to tell her. I shore did. An' she said what I'd love to + forget. Then—then, Miss Nell, I grabbed her—it was outside + here by the porch an' all bright moonlight—I grabbed her an' hugged + an' kissed her good. When I let her go I says, sorta brave, but I was + plumb scared—I says, 'Wal, are you goin' to marry me now?'” + </p> + <p> + He concluded with a gulp, and looked at Helen with woe in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! What did Bo do?” breathlessly queried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “She slapped me,” he replied. “An' then she says, I did like you best, but + NOW I hate you!' An' she slammed the door in my face.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you made a great mistake,” said Helen, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if I thought so I'd beg her forgiveness. But I reckon I don't. + What's more, I feel better than before. I'm only a cowboy an' never was + much good till I met her. Then I braced. I got to havin' hopes, studyin' + books, an' you know how I've been lookin' into this ranchin' game. I + stopped drinkin' an' saved my money. Wal, she knows all thet. Once she + said she was proud of me. But it didn't seem to count big with her. An' if + it can't count big I don't want it to count at all. I reckon the madder Bo + is at me the more chance I've got. She knows I love her—thet I'd die + for her—thet I'm a changed man. An' she knows I never before thought + of darin' to touch her hand. An' she knows she flirted with Turner.” + </p> + <p> + “She's only a child,” replied Helen. “And all this change—the West—the + wildness—and you boys making much of her—why, it's turned her + head. But Bo will come out of it true blue. She is good, loving. Her heart + is gold.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I know, an' my faith can't be shook,” rejoined Carmichael, + simply. “But she ought to believe thet she'll make bad blood out here. The + West is the West. Any kind of girls are scarce. An' one like Bo—Lord! + we cowboys never seen none to compare with her. She'll make bad blood an' + some of it will be spilled.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Al encourages her,” said Helen, apprehensively. “It tickles him to + hear how the boys are after her. Oh, she doesn't tell him. But he hears. + And I, who must stand in mother's place to her, what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nell, are you on my side?” asked the cowboy, wistfully. He was + strong and elemental, caught in the toils of some power beyond him. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday Helen might have hesitated at that question. But to-day + Carmichael brought some proven quality of loyalty, some strange depth of + rugged sincerity, as if she had learned his future worth. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am,” Helen replied, earnestly. And she offered her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, then it 'll shore turn out happy,” he said, squeezing her hand. His + smile was grateful, but there was nothing in it of the victory he hinted + at. Some of his ruddy color had gone. “An' now I want to tell you why I + come.” + </p> + <p> + He had lowered his voice. “Is Al asleep?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Helen. “He was a little while ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I'd better shut his door.” + </p> + <p> + Helen watched the cowboy glide across the room and carefully close the + door, then return to her with intent eyes. She sensed events in his look, + and she divined suddenly that he must feel as if he were her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'm the one thet fetches all the bad news to you,” he said, + regretfully. + </p> + <p> + Helen caught her breath. There had indeed been many little calamities to + mar her management of the ranch—loss of cattle, horses, sheep—the + desertion of herders to Beasley—failure of freighters to arrive when + most needed—fights among the cowboys—and disagreements over + long-arranged deals. + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle Al makes a heap of this here Jeff Mulvey,” asserted + Carmichael. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. Uncle absolutely relies on Jeff,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I hate to tell you, Miss Nell,” said the cowboy, bitterly, “thet + Mulvey ain't the man he seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “When your uncle dies Mulvey is goin' over to Beasley an' he's goin' to + take all the fellars who'll stick to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Could Jeff be so faithless—after so many years my uncle's foreman? + Oh, how do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I guessed long ago. But wasn't shore. Miss Nell, there's a lot in + the wind lately, as poor old Al grows weaker. Mulvey has been particular + friendly to me an' I've nursed him along, 'cept I wouldn't drink. An' his + pards have been particular friends with me, too, more an' more as I + loosened up. You see, they was shy of me when I first got here. To-day the + whole deal showed clear to me like a hoof track in soft ground. Bud Lewis, + who's bunked with me, come out an' tried to win me over to Beasley—soon + as Auchincloss dies. I palavered with Bud an' I wanted to know. But Bud + would only say he was goin' along with Jeff an' others of the outfit. I + told him I'd reckon over it an' let him know. He thinks I'll come round.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why will these men leave me when—when—Oh, poor + uncle! They bargain on his death. But why—tell me why?” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley has worked on them—won them over,” replied Carmichael, + grimly. “After Al dies the ranch will go to you. Beasley means to have it. + He an' Al was pards once, an' now Beasley has most folks here believin' he + got the short end of thet deal. He'll have papers—shore—an' + he'll have most of the men. So he'll just put you off an' take possession. + Thet's all, Miss Nell, an' you can rely on its bein' true.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I believe you—but I can't believe such—such robbery + possible,” gasped Helen. + </p> + <p> + “It's simple as two an' two. Possession is law out here. Once Beasley gets + on the ground it's settled. What could you do with no men to fight for + your property?” + </p> + <p> + “But, surely, some of the men will stay with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon. But not enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I can hire more. The Beeman boys. And Dale would come to help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dale would come. An' he'd help a heap. I wish he was here,” replied + Carmichael, soberly. “But there's no way to get him. He's snowed-up till + May.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not confide in uncle,” said Helen, with agitation. “The shock + might kill him. Then to tell him of the unfaithfulness of his old men—that + would be cruel.... Oh, it can't be so bad as you think.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it couldn't be no worse. An'—Miss Nell, there's only one + way to get out of it—an' thet's the way of the West.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” queried Helen, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Carmichael lunged himself erect and stood gazing down at her. He seemed + completely detached now from that frank, amiable cowboy of her first + impressions. The redness was totally gone from his face. Something strange + and cold and sure looked out of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I seen Beasley go in the saloon as I rode past. Suppose I go down there, + pick a quarrel with him—an' kill him?” + </p> + <p> + Helen sat bolt-upright with a cold shock. + </p> + <p> + “Carmichael! you're not serious?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Serious? I shore am. Thet's the only way, Miss Nell. An' I reckon it's + what Al would want. An' between you an' me—it would be easier than + ropin' a calf. These fellars round Pine don't savvy guns. Now, I come from + where guns mean somethin'. An' when I tell you I can throw a gun slick an' + fast, why I shore ain't braggin'. You needn't worry none about me, Miss + Nell.” + </p> + <p> + Helen grasped that he had taken the signs of her shocked sensibility to + mean she feared for his life. But what had sickened her was the mere idea + of bloodshed in her behalf. + </p> + <p> + “You'd—kill Beasley—just because there are rumors of his—treachery?” + gasped Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. It'll have to be done, anyhow,” replied the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “No! No! It's too dreadful to think of. Why, that would be murder. I—I + can't understand how you speak of it—so—so calmly.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I ain't doin' it calmly. I'm as mad as hell,” said Carmichael, + with a reckless smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you are serious then, I say no—no—no! I forbid you. I + don't believe I'll be robbed of my property.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, supposin' Beasley does put you off—an' takes possession. What + 're you goin' to say then?” demanded the cowboy, in slow, cool + deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “I'd say the same then as now,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He bent his head thoughtfully while his red hands smoothed his sombrero. + </p> + <p> + “Shore you girls haven't been West very long,” he muttered, as if + apologizing for them. “An' I reckon it takes time to learn the ways of a + country.” + </p> + <p> + “West or no West, I won't have fights deliberately picked, and men shot, + even if they do threaten me,” declared Helen, positively. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Miss Nell, shore I respect your wishes,” he returned. “But + I'll tell you this. If Beasley turns you an' Bo out of your home—wal, + I'll look him up on my own account.” + </p> + <p> + Helen could only gaze at him as he backed to the door, and she thrilled + and shuddered at what seemed his loyalty to her, his love for Bo, and that + which was inevitable in himself. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you might save us all some trouble—now if you'd—just + get mad—an' let me go after thet greaser.” + </p> + <p> + “Greaser! Do you mean Beasley?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. He's a half-breed. He was born in Magdalena, where I heard folks + say nary one of his parents was no good.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't matter. I'm thinking of humanity of law and order. Of what + is right.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Miss Nell, I'll wait till you get real mad—or till Beasley—” + </p> + <p> + “But, my friend, I'll not get mad,” interrupted Helen. “I'll keep my + temper.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet you don't,” he retorted. “Mebbe you think you've none of Bo in + you. But I'll bet you could get so mad—once you started—thet + you'd be turrible. What 've you got them eyes for, Miss Nell, if you ain't + an Auchincloss?” + </p> + <p> + He was smiling, yet he meant every word. Helen felt the truth as something + she feared. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, I won't bet. But you—you will always come to me—first—if + there's trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” he replied, soberly, and then went out. + </p> + <p> + Helen found that she was trembling, and that there was a commotion in her + breast. Carmichael had frightened her. No longer did she hold doubt of the + gravity of the situation. She had seen Beasley often, several times close + at hand, and once she had been forced to meet him. That time had convinced + her that he had evinced personal interest in her. And on this account, + coupled with the fact that Riggs appeared to have nothing else to do but + shadow her, she had been slow in developing her intention of organizing + and teaching a school for the children of Pine. Riggs had become rather a + doubtful celebrity in the settlements. Yet his bold, apparent badness had + made its impression. From all reports he spent his time gambling, + drinking, and bragging. It was no longer news in Pine what his intentions + were toward Helen Rayner. Twice he had ridden up to the ranch-house, upon + one occasion securing an interview with Helen. In spite of her contempt + and indifference, he was actually influencing her life there in Pine. And + it began to appear that the other man, Beasley, might soon direct stronger + significance upon the liberty of her actions. + </p> + <p> + The responsibility of the ranch had turned out to be a heavy burden. It + could not be managed, at least by her, in the way Auchincloss wanted it + done. He was old, irritable, irrational, and hard. Almost all the + neighbors were set against him, and naturally did not take kindly to + Helen. + </p> + <p> + She had not found the slightest evidence of unfair dealing on the part of + her uncle, but he had been a hard driver. Then his shrewd, far-seeing + judgment had made all his deals fortunate for him, which fact had not + brought a profit of friendship. + </p> + <p> + Of late, since Auchincloss had grown weaker and less dominating, Helen had + taken many decisions upon herself, with gratifying and hopeful results. + But the wonderful happiness that she had expected to find in the West + still held aloof. The memory of Paradise Park seemed only a dream, sweeter + and more intangible as time passed, and fuller of vague regrets. Bo was a + comfort, but also a very considerable source of anxiety. She might have + been a help to Helen if she had not assimilated Western ways so swiftly. + Helen wished to decide things in her own way, which was as yet quite far + from Western. So Helen had been thrown more and more upon her own + resources, with the cowboy Carmichael the only one who had come forward + voluntarily to her aid. + </p> + <p> + For an hour Helen sat alone in the room, looking out of the window, and + facing stern reality with a colder, graver, keener sense of intimacy than + ever before. To hold her property and to live her life in this community + according to her ideas of honesty, justice, and law might well be beyond + her powers. To-day she had been convinced that she could not do so without + fighting for them, and to fight she must have friends. That conviction + warmed her toward Carmichael, and a thoughtful consideration of all he had + done for her proved that she had not fully appreciated him. She would make + up for her oversight. + </p> + <p> + There were no Mormons in her employ, for the good reason that Auchincloss + would not hire them. But in one of his kindlier hours, growing rare now, + he had admitted that the Mormons were the best and the most sober, + faithful workers on the ranges, and that his sole objection to them was + just this fact of their superiority. Helen decided to hire the four + Beemans and any of their relatives or friends who would come; and to do + this, if possible, without letting her uncle know. His temper now, as well + as his judgment, was a hindrance to efficiency. This decision regarding + the Beemans; brought Helen back to Carmichael's fervent wish for Dale, and + then to her own. + </p> + <p> + Soon spring would be at hand, with its multiplicity of range tasks. Dale + had promised to come to Pine then, and Helen knew that promise would be + kept. Her heart beat a little faster, in spite of her business-centered + thoughts. Dale was there, over the black-sloped, snowy-tipped mountain, + shut away from the world. Helen almost envied him. No wonder he loved + loneliness, solitude, the sweet, wild silence and beauty of Paradise Park! + But he was selfish, and Helen meant to show him that. She needed his help. + When she recalled his physical prowess with animals, and imagined what it + must be in relation to men, she actually smiled at the thought of Beasley + forcing her off her property, if Dale were there. Beasley would only force + disaster upon himself. Then Helen experienced a quick shock. Would Dale + answer to this situation as Carmichael had answered? It afforded her + relief to assure herself to the contrary. The cowboy was one of a + blood-letting breed; the hunter was a man of thought, gentleness, + humanity. This situation was one of the kind that had made him despise the + littleness of men. Helen assured herself that he was different from her + uncle and from the cowboy, in all the relations of life which she had + observed while with him. But a doubt lingered in her mind. She remembered + his calm reference to Snake Anson, and that caused a recurrence of the + little shiver Carmichael had given her. When the doubt augmented to a + possibility that she might not be able to control Dale, then she tried not + to think of it any more. It confused and perplexed her that into her mind + should flash a thought that, though it would be dreadful for Carmichael to + kill Beasley, for Dale to do it would be a calamity—a terrible + thing. Helen did not analyze that strange thought. She was as afraid of it + as she was of the stir in her blood when she visualized Dale. + </p> + <p> + Her meditation was interrupted by Bo, who entered the room, + rebellious-eyed and very lofty. Her manner changed, which apparently owed + its cause to the fact that Helen was alone. + </p> + <p> + “Is that—cowboy gone?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He left quite some time ago,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I wondered if he made your eyes shine—your color burn so. Nell, + you're just beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Is my face burning?” asked Helen, with a little laugh. “So it is. Well, + Bo, you've no cause for jealousy. Las Vegas can't be blamed for my + blushes.” + </p> + <p> + “Jealous! Me? Of that wild-eyed, soft-voiced, two-faced cow-puncher? I + guess not, Nell Rayner. What 'd he say about me?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, he said a lot,” replied Helen, reflectively. “I'll tell you + presently. First I want to ask you—has Carmichael ever told you how + he's helped me?” + </p> + <p> + “No! When I see him—which hasn't been often lately—he—I—Well, + we fight. Nell, has he helped you?” + </p> + <p> + Helen smiled in faint amusement. She was going to be sincere, but she + meant to keep her word to the cowboy. The fact was that reflection had + acquainted her with her indebtedness to Carmichael. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, you've been so wild to ride half-broken mustangs—and carry on + with cowboys—and read—and sew—and keep your secrets that + you've had no time for your sister or her troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell!” burst out Bo, in amaze and pain. She flew to Helen and seized her + hands. “What 're you saying?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all true,” replied Helen, thrilling and softening. This sweet + sister, once aroused, would be hard to resist. Helen imagined she should + hold to her tone of reproach and severity. + </p> + <p> + “Sure it's true,” cried Bo, fiercely. “But what's my fooling got to do + with the—the rest you said? Nell, are you keeping things from me?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I never get any encouragement to tell you my troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “But I've—I've nursed uncle—sat up with him—just the + same as you,” said Bo, with quivering lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you've been good to him.” + </p> + <p> + “We've no other troubles, have we, Nell?” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't, but I have,” responded Helen, reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why didn't you tell me?” cried Bo, passionately. “What are + they? Tell me now. You must think me a—a selfish, hateful cat.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I've had much to worry me—and the worst is yet to come,” + replied Helen. Then she told Bo how complicated and bewildering was the + management of a big ranch—when the owner was ill, testy, defective + in memory, and hard as steel—when he had hoards of gold and notes, + but could not or would not remember his obligations—when the + neighbor ranchers had just claims—when cowboys and sheep-herders + were discontented, and wrangled among themselves—when great herds of + cattle and flocks of sheep had to be fed in winter—when supplies had + to be continually freighted across a muddy desert and lastly, when an + enemy rancher was slowly winning away the best hands with the end in view + of deliberately taking over the property when the owner died. Then Helen + told how she had only that day realized the extent of Carmichael's advice + and help and labor—how, indeed, he had been a brother to her—how— + </p> + <p> + But at this juncture Bo buried her face in Helen's breast and began to cry + wildly. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—don't want—to hear—any more,” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've got to hear it,” replied Helen, inexorably “I want you to + know how he's stood by me.” + </p> + <p> + “But I hate him.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I suspect that's not true.” + </p> + <p> + “I do—I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you act and talk very strangely then.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell Rayner—are—you—you sticking up for that—that + devil?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, yes, so far as it concerns my conscience,” rejoined Helen, + earnestly. “I never appreciated him as he deserved—not until now. + He's a man, Bo, every inch of him. I've seen him grow up to that in three + months. I'd never have gotten along without him. I think he's fine, manly, + big. I—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet—he's made love—to you, too,” replied Bo, woefully. + </p> + <p> + “Talk sense,” said Helen, sharply. “He has been a brother to me. But, Bo + Rayner, if he HAD made love to me I—I might have appreciated it more + than you.” + </p> + <p> + Bo raised her face, flushed in part and also pale, with tear-wet cheeks + and the telltale blaze in the blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I've been wild about that fellow. But I hate him, too,” she said, with + flashing spirit. “And I want to go on hating him. So don't tell me any + more.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Helen briefly and graphically related how Carmichael had offered + to kill Beasley, as the only way to save her property, and how, when she + refused, that he threatened he would do it anyhow. + </p> + <p> + Bo fell over with a gasp and clung to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—Nell! Oh, now I love him more than—ever,” she cried, in + mingled rage and despair. + </p> + <p> + Helen clasped her closely and tried to comfort her as in the old days, not + so very far back, when troubles were not so serious as now. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you love him,” she concluded. “I guessed that long ago. And I'm + glad. But you've been wilful—foolish. You wouldn't surrender to it. + You wanted your fling with the other boys. You're—Oh, Bo, I fear you + have been a sad little flirt.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I wasn't very bad till—till he got bossy. Why, Nell, he + acted—right off—just as if he OWNED me. But he didn't.... And + to show him—I—I really did flirt with that Turner fellow. Then + he—he insulted me.... Oh, I hate him!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Bo. You can't hate any one while you love him,” protested + Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Much you know about that,” flashed Bo. “You just can! Look here. Did you + ever see a cowboy rope and throw and tie up a mean horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you have any idea how strong a cowboy is—how his hands and arms + are like iron?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm sure I know that, too.” + </p> + <p> + “And how savage he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And how he goes at anything he wants to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I must admit cowboys are abrupt,” responded Helen, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Rayner, did you ever—when you were standing quiet like a + lady—did you ever have a cowboy dive at you with a terrible lunge—grab + you and hold you so you couldn't move or breathe or scream—hug you + till all your bones cracked—and kiss you so fierce and so hard that + you wanted to kill him and die?” + </p> + <p> + Helen had gradually drawn back from this blazing-eyed, eloquent sister, + and when the end of that remarkable question came it was impossible to + reply. + </p> + <p> + “There! I see you never had that done to you,” resumed Bo, with + satisfaction. “So don't ever talk to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard his side of the story,” said Helen, constrainedly. + </p> + <p> + With a start Bo sat up straighter, as if better to defend herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! So you have? And I suppose you'll take his part—even about that—that + bearish trick.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I think that rude and bold. But, Bo, I don't believe he meant to be + either rude or bold. From what he confessed to me I gather that he + believed he'd lose you outright or win you outright by that violence. It + seems girls can't play at love out here in this wild West. He said there + would be blood shed over you. I begin to realize what he meant. He's not + sorry for what he did. Think how strange that is. For he has the instincts + of a gentleman. He's kind, gentle, chivalrous. Evidently he had tried + every way to win your favor except any familiar advance. He did that as a + last resort. In my opinion his motives were to force you to accept or + refuse him, and in case you refused him he'd always have those forbidden + stolen kisses to assuage his self-respect—when he thought of Turner + or any one else daring to be familiar with you. Bo, I see through + Carmichael, even if I don't make him clear to you. You've got to be honest + with yourself. Did that act of his win or lose you? In other words, do you + love him or not?” + </p> + <p> + Bo hid her face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nell! it made me see how I loved him—and that made me so—so + sick I hated him.... But now—the hate is all gone.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + When spring came at last and the willows drooped green and fresh over the + brook and the range rang with bray of burro and whistle of stallion, old + Al Auchincloss had been a month in his grave. + </p> + <p> + To Helen it seemed longer. The month had been crowded with work, events, + and growing, more hopeful duties, so that it contained a world of living. + The uncle had not been forgotten, but the innumerable restrictions to + development and progress were no longer manifest. Beasley had not + presented himself or any claim upon Helen; and she, gathering confidence + day by day, began to believe all that purport of trouble had been + exaggerated. + </p> + <p> + In this time she had come to love her work and all that pertained to it. + The estate was large. She had no accurate knowledge of how many acres she + owned, but it was more than two thousand. The fine, old, rambling + ranch-house, set like a fort on the last of the foot-hills, corrals and + fields and barns and meadows, and the rolling green range beyond, and + innumerable sheep, horses, cattle—all these belonged to Helen, to + her ever-wondering realization and ever-growing joy. Still, she was afraid + to let herself go and be perfectly happy. Always there was the fear that + had been too deep and strong to forget so soon. + </p> + <p> + This bright, fresh morning, in March, Helen came out upon the porch to + revel a little in the warmth of sunshine and the crisp, pine-scented wind + that swept down from the mountains. There was never a morning that she did + not gaze mountainward, trying to see, with a folly she realized, if the + snow had melted more perceptibly away on the bold white ridge. For all she + could see it had not melted an inch, and she would not confess why she + sighed. The desert had become green and fresh, stretching away there far + below her range, growing dark and purple in the distance with vague buttes + rising. The air was full of sound—notes of blackbirds and the baas + of sheep, and blasts from the corrals, and the clatter of light hoofs on + the court below. + </p> + <p> + Bo was riding in from the stables. Helen loved to watch her on one of + those fiery little mustangs, but the sight was likewise given to rousing + apprehensions. This morning Bo appeared particularly bent on frightening + Helen. Down the lane Carmichael appeared, waving his arms, and Helen at + once connected him with Bo's manifest desire to fly away from that + particular place. Since that day, a month back, when Bo had confessed her + love for Carmichael, she and Helen had not spoken of it or of the cowboy. + The boy and girl were still at odds. But this did not worry Helen. Bo had + changed much for the better, especially in that she devoted herself to + Helen and to her work. Helen knew that all would turn out well in the end, + and so she had been careful of her rather precarious position between + these two young firebrands. + </p> + <p> + Bo reined in the mustang at the porch steps. She wore a buckskin + riding-suit which she had made herself, and its soft gray with the touches + of red beads was mightily becoming to her. Then she had grown considerably + during the winter and now looked too flashing and pretty to resemble a + boy, yet singularly healthy and strong and lithe. Red spots shone in her + cheeks and her eyes held that ever-dangerous blaze. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, did you give me away to that cowboy?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Give you away!” exclaimed Helen, blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You know I told you—awhile back—that I was wildly in + love with him. Did you give me away—tell on me?” + </p> + <p> + She might have been furious, but she certainly was not confused. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Bo! How could you? No. I did not,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Never gave him a hint?” + </p> + <p> + “Not even a hint. You have my word for that. Why? What's happened?” + </p> + <p> + “He makes me sick.” + </p> + <p> + Bo would not say any more, owing to the near approach of the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Mawnin', Miss Nell,” he drawled. “I was just tellin' this here Miss + Bo-Peep Rayner—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me that!” broke in Bo, with fire in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I was just tellin' her thet she wasn't goin' off on any more of them + long rides. Honest now, Miss Nell, it ain't safe, an'—” + </p> + <p> + “You're not my boss,” retorted Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sister, I agree with him. You won't obey me.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon some one's got to be your boss,” drawled Carmichael. “Shore I + ain't hankerin' for the job. You could ride to Kingdom Come or off among + the Apaches—or over here a ways”—at this he grinned knowingly—“or + anywheres, for all I cared. But I'm workin' for Miss Nell, an' she's boss. + An' if she says you're not to take them rides—you won't. Savvy that, + miss?” + </p> + <p> + It was a treat for Helen to see Bo look at the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Mis-ter Carmichael, may I ask how you are going to prevent me from riding + where I like?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if you're goin' worse locoed this way I'll keep you off'n a hoss if + I have to rope you an' tie you up. By golly, I will!” + </p> + <p> + His dry humor was gone and manifestly he meant what he said. + </p> + <p> + “Wal,” she drawled it very softly and sweetly, but venomously, “if—you—ever—touch—me + again!” + </p> + <p> + At this he flushed, then made a quick, passionate gesture with his hand, + expressive of heat and shame. + </p> + <p> + “You an' me will never get along,” he said, with a dignity full of pathos. + “I seen thet a month back when you changed sudden-like to me. But nothin' + I say to you has any reckonin' of mine. I'm talkin' for your sister. It's + for her sake. An' your own.... I never told her an' I never told you thet + I've seen Riggs sneakin' after you twice on them desert rides. Wal, I tell + you now.” + </p> + <p> + The intelligence apparently had not the slightest effect on Bo. But Helen + was astonished and alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Riggs! Oh, Bo, I've seen him myself—riding around. He does not mean + well. You must be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “If I ketch him again,” went on Carmichael, with his mouth lining hard, + “I'm goin' after him.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a cool, intent, piercing look, then he dropped his head and + turned away, to stride back toward the corrals. + </p> + <p> + Helen could make little of the manner in which her sister watched the + cowboy pass out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “A month back—when I changed sudden-like,” mused Bo. “I wonder what + he meant by that.... Nell, did I change—right after the talk you had + with me—about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you did, Bo,” replied Helen. “But it was for the better. Only he + can't see it. How proud and sensitive he is! You wouldn't guess it at + first. Bo, your reserve has wounded him more than your flirting. He thinks + it's indifference.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe that 'll be good for him,” declared Bo. “Does he expect me to fall + on his neck? He's that thick-headed! Why, he's the locoed one, not me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to ask you, Bo, if you've seen how he has changed?” queried + Helen, earnestly. “He's older. He's worried. Either his heart is breaking + for you or else he fears trouble for us. I fear it's both. How he watches + you! Bo, he knows all you do—where you go. That about Riggs sickens + me.” + </p> + <p> + “If Riggs follows me and tries any of his four-flush desperado games he'll + have his hands full,” said Bo, grimly. “And that without my cowboy + protector! But I just wish Riggs would do something. Then we'll see what + Las Vegas Tom Carmichael cares. Then we'll see!” + </p> + <p> + Bo bit out the last words passionately and jealously, then she lifted her + bridle to the spirited mustang. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, don't you fear for me,” she said. “I can take care of myself.” + </p> + <p> + Helen watched her ride away, all but willing to confess that there might + be truth in what Bo said. Then Helen went about her work, which consisted + of routine duties as well as an earnest study to familiarize herself with + continually new and complex conditions of ranch life. Every day brought + new problems. She made notes of all that she observed, and all that was + told her, which habit she had found, after a few weeks of trial, was going + to be exceedingly valuable to her. She did not intend always to be + dependent upon the knowledge of hired men, however faithful some of them + might be. + </p> + <p> + This morning on her rounds she had expected developments of some kind, + owing to the presence of Roy Beeman and two of his brothers, who had + arrived yesterday. And she was to discover that Jeff Mulvey, accompanied + by six of his co-workers and associates, had deserted her without a word + or even sending for their pay. Carmichael had predicted this. Helen had + half doubted. It was a relief now to be confronted with facts, however + disturbing. She had fortified herself to withstand a great deal more + trouble than had happened. At the gateway of the main corral, a huge + inclosure fenced high with peeled logs, she met Roy Beeman, lasso in hand, + the same tall, lean, limping figure she remembered so well. Sight of him + gave her an inexplicable thrill—a flashing memory of an + unforgettable night ride. Roy was to have charge of the horses on the + ranch, of which there were several hundred, not counting many lost on + range and mountain, or the unbranded colts. + </p> + <p> + Roy took off his sombrero and greeted her. This Mormon had a courtesy for + women that spoke well for him. Helen wished she had more employees like + him. + </p> + <p> + “It's jest as Las Vegas told us it 'd be,” he said, regretfully. “Mulvey + an' his pards lit out this mornin'. I'm sorry, Miss Helen. Reckon thet's + all because I come over.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard the news,” replied Helen. “You needn't be sorry, Roy, for I'm + not. I'm glad. I want to know whom I can trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas says we're shore in for it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon so. Still, Las Vegas is powerful cross these days an' always + lookin' on the dark side. With us boys, now, it's sufficient unto the day + is the evil thereof. But, Miss Helen, if Beasley forces the deal there + will be serious trouble. I've seen thet happen. Four or five years ago + Beasley rode some greasers off their farms an' no one ever knowed if he + had a just claim.” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley has no claim on my property. My uncle solemnly swore that on his + death-bed. And I find nothing in his books or papers of those years when + he employed Beasley. In fact, Beasley was never uncle's partner. The truth + is that my uncle took Beasley up when he was a poor, homeless boy.” + </p> + <p> + “So my old dad says,” replied Roy. “But what's right don't always prevail + in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, you're the keenest man I've met since I came West. Tell me what you + think will happen.” + </p> + <p> + Beeman appeared flattered, but he hesitated to reply. Helen had long been + aware of the reticence of these outdoor men. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you mean cause an' effect, as Milt Dale would say,” responded + Roy, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If Beasley attempts to force me off my ranch what will happen?” + </p> + <p> + Roy looked up and met her gaze. Helen remembered that singular stillness, + intentness of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if Dale an' John get here in time I reckon we can bluff thet Beasley + outfit.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean my friends—my men would confront Beasley—refuse his + demands—and if necessary fight him off?” + </p> + <p> + “I shore do,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + “But suppose you're not all here? Beasley would be smart enough to choose + an opportune time. Suppose he did put me off and take possession? What + then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then it 'd only be a matter of how soon Dale or Carmichael—or I—got + to Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy! I feared just that. It haunts me. Carmichael asked me to let him go + pick a fight with Beasley. Asked me, just as he would ask me about his + work! I was shocked. And now you say Dale—and you—” + </p> + <p> + Helen choked in her agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Helen, what else could you look for? Las Vegas is in love with Miss + Bo. Shore he told me so. An' Dale's in love with you!... Why, you couldn't + stop them any more 'n you could stop the wind from blowin' down a pine, + when it got ready.... Now, it's some different with me. I'm a Mormon an' + I'm married. But I'm Dale's pard, these many years. An' I care a powerful + sight for you an' Miss Bo. So I reckon I'd draw on Beasley the first + chance I got.” + </p> + <p> + Helen strove for utterance, but it was denied her. Roy's simple statement + of Dale's love had magnified her emotion by completely changing its + direction. She forgot what she had felt wretched about. She could not look + at Roy. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Helen, don't feel bad,” he said, kindly. “Shore you're not to blame. + Your comin' West hasn't made any difference in Beasley's fate, except + mebbe to hurry it a little. My dad is old, an' when he talks it's like + history. He looks back on happenin's. Wal, it's the nature of happenin's + that Beasley passes away before his prime. Them of his breed don't live + old in the West.... So I reckon you needn't feel bad or worry. You've got + friends.” + </p> + <p> + Helen incoherently thanked him, and, forgetting her usual round of corrals + and stables, she hurried back toward the house, deeply stirred, throbbing + and dim-eyed, with a feeling she could not control. Roy Beeman had made a + statement that had upset her equilibrium. It seemed simple and natural, + yet momentous and staggering. To hear that Dale loved her—to hear it + spoken frankly, earnestly, by Dale's best friend, was strange, sweet, + terrifying. But was it true? Her own consciousness had admitted it. Yet + that was vastly different from a man's open statement. No longer was it a + dear dream, a secret that seemed hers alone. How she had lived on that + secret hidden deep in her breast! + </p> + <p> + Something burned the dimness from her eyes as she looked toward the + mountains and her sight became clear, telescopic with its intensity. + Magnificently the mountains loomed. Black inroads and patches on the + slopes showed where a few days back all bad been white. The snow was + melting fast. Dale would soon be free to ride down to Pine. And that was + an event Helen prayed for, yet feared as she had never feared anything. + </p> + <p> + The noonday dinner-bell startled Helen from a reverie that was a pleasant + aftermath of her unrestraint. How the hours had flown! This morning at + least must be credited to indolence. + </p> + <p> + Bo was not in the dining-room, nor in her own room, nor was she in sight + from window or door. This absence had occurred before, but not + particularly to disturb Helen. In this instance, however, she grew + worried. Her nerves presaged strain. There was an overcharge of + sensibility in her feelings or a strange pressure in the very atmosphere. + She ate dinner alone, looking her apprehension, which was not mitigated by + the expressive fears of old Maria, the Mexican woman who served her. + </p> + <p> + After dinner she sent word to Roy and Carmichael that they had better ride + out to look for Bo. Then Helen applied herself resolutely to her books + until a rapid clatter of hoofs out in the court caused her to jump up and + hurry to the porch. Roy was riding in. + </p> + <p> + “Did you find her?” queried Helen, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't no track or sign of her up the north range,” replied Roy, as he + dismounted and threw his bridle. “An' I was ridin' back to take up her + tracks from the corral an' trail her. But I seen Las Vegas comin' an' he + waved his sombrero. He was comin' up from the south. There he is now.” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael appeared swinging into the lane. He was mounted on Helen's big + black Ranger, and he made the dust fly. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, he's seen her, thet's shore,” vouchsafed Roy, with relief, as + Carmichael rode up. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nell, she's comin',” said the cowboy, as he reined in and slid down + with his graceful single motion. Then in a violent action, characteristic + of him, he slammed his sombrero down on the porch and threw up both arms. + “I've a hunch it's come off!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what?” exclaimed Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Las Vegas, talk sense,” expostulated Roy. “Miss Helen is shore + nervous to-day. Has anythin' happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon, but I don't know what,” replied Carmichael, drawing a long + breath. “Folks, I must be gettin' old. For I shore felt orful queer till I + seen Bo. She was ridin' down the ridge across the valley. Ridin' some + fast, too, an' she'll be here right off, if she doesn't stop in the + village.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I hear her comin' now,” said Roy. “An'—if you asked me I'd say + she WAS ridin' some fast.” + </p> + <p> + Helen heard the light, swift, rhythmic beat of hoofs, and then out on the + curve of the road that led down to Pine she saw Bo's mustang, white with + lather, coming on a dead run. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, do you see any Apaches?” asked Roy, quizzingly. + </p> + <p> + The cowboy made no reply, but he strode out from the porch, directly in + front of the mustang. Bo was pulling hard on the bridle, and had him + slowing down, but not controlled. When he reached the house it could + easily be seen that Bo had pulled him to the limit of her strength, which + was not enough to halt him. Carmichael lunged for the bridle and, seizing + it, hauled him to a standstill. + </p> + <p> + At close sight of Bo Helen uttered a startled cry. Bo was white; her + sombrero was gone and her hair undone; there were blood and dirt on her + face, and her riding-suit was torn and muddy. She had evidently sustained + a fall. Roy gazed at her in admiring consternation, but Carmichael never + looked at her at all. Apparently he was examining the horse. “Well, help + me off—somebody,” cried Bo, peremptorily. Her voice was weak, but + not her spirit. + </p> + <p> + Roy sprang to help her off, and when she was down it developed that she + was lame. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bo! You've had a tumble,” exclaimed Helen, anxiously, and she ran to + assist Roy. They led her up the porch and to the door. There she turned to + look at Carmichael, who was still examining the spent mustang. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him—to come in,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, there, Las Vegas!” called Roy. “Rustle hyar, will you?” + </p> + <p> + When Bo had been led into the sitting-room and seated in a chair + Carmichael entered. His face was a study, as slowly he walked up to Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Girl, you—ain't hurt?” he asked, huskily. + </p> + <p> + “It's no fault of yours that I'm not crippled—or dead or worse,” + retorted Bo. “You said the south range was the only safe ride for me. And + there—I—it happened.” + </p> + <p> + She panted a little and her bosom heaved. One of her gauntlets was gone, + and the bare band, that was bruised and bloody, trembled as she held it + out. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, tell us—are you badly hurt?” queried Helen, with hurried + gentleness. + </p> + <p> + “Not much. I've had a spill,” replied Bo. “But oh! I'm mad—I'm + boiling!” + </p> + <p> + She looked as if she might have exaggerated her doubt of injuries, but + certainly she had not overestimated her state of mind. Any blaze Helen had + heretofore seen in those quick eyes was tame compared to this one. It + actually leaped. Bo was more than pretty then. Manifestly Roy was admiring + her looks, but Carmichael saw beyond her charm. And slowly he was growing + pale. + </p> + <p> + “I rode out the south range—as I was told,” began Bo, breathing hard + and trying to control her feelings. “That's the ride you usually take, + Nell, and you bet—if you'd taken it to-day—you'd not be here + now.... About three miles out I climbed off the range up that cedar slope. + I always keep to high ground. When I got up I saw two horsemen ride out of + some broken rocks off to the east. They rode as if to come between me and + home. I didn't like that. I circled south. About a mile farther on I spied + another horseman and he showed up directly in front of me and came along + slow. That I liked still less. It might have been accident, but it looked + to me as if those riders had some intent. All I could do was head off to + the southeast and ride. You bet I did ride. But I got into rough ground + where I'd never been before. It was slow going. At last I made the cedars + and here I cut loose, believing I could circle ahead of those strange + riders and come round through Pine. I had it wrong.” + </p> + <p> + Here she hesitated, perhaps for breath, for she had spoken rapidly, or + perhaps to get better hold on her subject. Not improbably the effect she + was creating on her listeners began to be significant. Roy sat absorbed, + perfectly motionless, eyes keen as steel, his mouth open. Carmichael was + gazing over Bo's head, out of the window, and it seemed that he must know + the rest of her narrative. Helen knew that her own wide-eyed attention + alone would have been all-compelling inspiration to Bo Rayner. + </p> + <p> + “Sure I had it wrong,” resumed Bo. “Pretty soon heard a horse behind. I + looked back. I saw a big bay riding down on me. Oh, but he was running! He + just tore through the cedars. ... I was scared half out of my senses. But + I spurred and beat my mustang. Then began a race! Rough going—thick + cedars—washes and gullies I had to make him run—to keep my + saddle—to pick my way. Oh-h-h! but it was glorious! To race for fun—that's + one thing; to race for your life is another! My heart was in my mouth—choking + me. I couldn't have yelled. I was as cold as ice—dizzy sometimes—blind + others—then my stomach turned—and I couldn't get my breath. + Yet the wild thrills I had!... But I stuck on and held my own for several + miles—to the edge of the cedars. There the big horse gained on me. + He came pounding closer—perhaps as close as a hundred yards—I + could hear him plain enough. Then I had my spill. Oh, my mustang tripped—threw + me 'way over his head. I hit light, but slid far—and that's what + scraped me so. I know my knee is raw.... When I got to my feet the big + horse dashed up, throwing gravel all over me—and his rider jumped + off.... Now who do you think he was?” + </p> + <p> + Helen knew, but she did not voice her conviction. Carmichael knew + positively, yet he kept silent. Roy was smiling, as if the narrative told + did not seem so alarming to him. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, the fact of you bein' here, safe an' sound, sorta makes no + difference who thet son-of-a-gun was,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Riggs! Harve Riggs!” blazed Bo. “The instant I recognized him I got over + my scare. And so mad I burned all through like fire. I don't know what I + said, but it was wild—and it was a whole lot, you bet. + </p> + <p> + “You sure can ride,' he said. + </p> + <p> + “I demanded why he had dared to chase me, and he said he had an important + message for Nell. This was it: 'Tell your sister that Beasley means to put + her off an' take the ranch. If she'll marry me I'll block his deal. If she + won't marry me, I'll go in with Beasley.' Then he told me to hurry home + and not to breathe a word to any one except Nell. Well, here I am—and + I seem to have been breathing rather fast.” + </p> + <p> + She looked from Helen to Roy and from Roy to Las Vegas. Her smile was for + the latter, and to any one not overexcited by her story that smile would + have told volumes. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'll be doggoned!” ejaculated Roy, feelingly. + </p> + <p> + Helen laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, the working of that man's mind is beyond me.... Marry him to save + my ranch? I wouldn't marry him to save my life!” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael suddenly broke his silence. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, did you see the other men?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I was coming to that,” she replied. “I caught a glimpse of them back + in the cedars. The three were together, or, at least, three horsemen were + there. They had halted behind some trees. Then on the way home I began to + think. Even in my fury I had received impressions. Riggs was SURPRISED + when I got up. I'll bet he had not expected me to be who I was. He thought + I was NELL!... I look bigger in this buckskin outfit. My hair was up till + I lost my hat, and that was when I had the tumble. He took me for Nell. + Another thing, I remember—he made some sign—some motion while + I was calling him names, and I believe that was to keep those other men + back.... I believe Riggs had a plan with those other men to waylay Nell + and make off with her. I absolutely know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, you're so—so—you jump at wild ideas so,” protested Helen, + trying to believe in her own assurance. But inwardly she was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Helen, that ain't a wild idee,” said Roy, seriously. “I reckon your + sister is pretty close on the trail. Las Vegas, don't you savvy it thet + way?” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael's answer was to stalk out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Call him back!” cried Helen, apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, boy!” called Roy, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Helen reached the door simultaneously with Roy. The cowboy picked up his + sombrero, jammed it on his head, gave his belt a vicious hitch that made + the gun-sheath jump, and then in one giant step he was astride Ranger. + </p> + <p> + “Carmichael! Stay!” cried Helen. + </p> + <p> + The cowboy spurred the black, and the stones rang under iron-shod hoofs. + </p> + <p> + “Bo! Call him back! Please call him back!” importuned Helen, in distress. + </p> + <p> + “I won't,” declared Bo Rayner. Her face shone whiter now and her eyes were + like fiery flint. That was her answer to a loving, gentle-hearted sister; + that was her answer to the call of the West. + </p> + <p> + “No use,” said Roy, quietly. “An' I reckon I'd better trail him up.” + </p> + <p> + He, too, strode out and, mounting his horse, galloped swiftly away. + </p> + <p> + It turned out that Bo, was more bruised and scraped and shaken than she + had imagined. One knee was rather badly cut, which injury alone would have + kept her from riding again very soon. Helen, who was somewhat skilled at + bandaging wounds, worried a great deal over these sundry blotches on Bo's + fair skin, and it took considerable time to wash and dress them. Long + after this was done, and during the early supper, and afterward, Bo's + excitement remained unabated. The whiteness stayed on her face and the + blaze in her eyes. Helen ordered and begged her to go to bed, for the fact + was Bo could not stand up and her hands shook. + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed? Not much,” she said. “I want to know what he does to Riggs.” + </p> + <p> + It was that possibility which had Helen in dreadful suspense. If + Carmichael killed Riggs, it seemed to Helen that the bottom would drop out + of this structure of Western life she had begun to build so earnestly and + fearfully. She did not believe that he would do so. But the uncertainty + was torturing. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Bo,” appealed Helen, “you don't want—Oh! you do want + Carmichael to—to kill Riggs?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't, but I wouldn't care if he did,” replied Bo, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think—he will?” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, if that cowboy really loves me he read my mind right here before he + left,” declared Bo. “And he knew what I thought he'd do.” + </p> + <p> + “And what's—that?” faltered Helen. + </p> + <p> + “I want him to round Riggs up down in the village—somewhere in a + crowd. I want Riggs shown up as the coward, braggart, four-flush that he + is. And insulted, slapped, kicked—driven out of Pine!” + </p> + <p> + Her passionate speech still rang throughout the room when there came + footsteps on the porch. Helen hurried to raise the bar from the door and + open it just as a tap sounded on the door-post. Roy's face stood white out + of the darkness. His eyes were bright. And his smile made Helen's fearful + query needless. + </p> + <p> + “How are you-all this evenin'?” he drawled, as he came in. + </p> + <p> + A fire blazed on the hearth and a lamp burned on the table. By their light + Bo looked white and eager-eyed as she reclined in the big arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + “What 'd he do?” she asked, with all her amazing force. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, now, ain't you goin' to tell me how you are?” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, I'm all bunged up. I ought to be in bed, but I just couldn't sleep + till I hear what Las Vegas did. I'd forgive anything except him getting + drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I shore can ease your mind on thet,” replied Roy. “He never drank a + drop.” + </p> + <p> + Roy was distractingly slow about beginning the tale any child could have + guessed he was eager to tell. For once the hard, intent quietness, the + soul of labor, pain, and endurance so plain in his face was softened by + pleasurable emotion. He poked at the burning logs with the toe of his + boot. Helen observed that he had changed his boots and now wore no spurs. + Then he had gone to his quarters after whatever had happened down in Pine. + </p> + <p> + “Where IS he?” asked Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Who? Riggs? Wal, I don't know. But I reckon he's somewhere out in the + woods nursin' himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Riggs. First tell me where HE is.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore, then, you must mean Las Vegas. I just left him down at the cabin. + He was gettin' ready for bed, early as it is. All tired out he was an' + thet white you wouldn't have knowed him. But he looked happy at thet, an' + the last words he said, more to himself than to me, I reckon, was, 'I'm + some locoed gent, but if she doesn't call me Tom now she's no good!'” + </p> + <p> + Bo actually clapped her hands, notwithstanding that one of them was + bandaged. + </p> + <p> + “Call him Tom? I should smile I will,” she declared, in delight. “Hurry + now—what 'd—” + </p> + <p> + “It's shore powerful strange how he hates thet handle Las Vegas,” went on + Roy, imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, tell me what he did—what TOM did—or I'll scream,” cried + Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Helen, did you ever see the likes of thet girl?” asked Roy, + appealing to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “No, Roy, I never did,” agreed Helen. “But please—please tell us + what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + Roy grinned and rubbed his hands together in a dark delight, almost + fiendish in its sudden revelation of a gulf of strange emotion deep within + him. Whatever had happened to Riggs had not been too much for Roy Beeman. + Helen remembered hearing her uncle say that a real Westerner hated nothing + so hard as the swaggering desperado, the make-believe gunman who pretended + to sail under the true, wild, and reckoning colors of the West. + </p> + <p> + Roy leaned his lithe, tall form against the stone mantelpiece and faced + the girls. + </p> + <p> + “When I rode out after Las Vegas I seen him 'way down the road,” began + Roy, rapidly. “An' I seen another man ridin' down into Pine from the other + side. Thet was Riggs, only I didn't know it then. Las Vegas rode up to the + store, where some fellars was hangin' round, an' he spoke to them. When I + come up they was all headin' for Turner's saloon. I seen a dozen hosses + hitched to the rails. Las Vegas rode on. But I got off at Turner's an' + went in with the bunch. Whatever it was Las Vegas said to them fellars, + shore they didn't give him away. Pretty soon more men strolled into + Turner's an' there got to be 'most twenty altogether, I reckon. Jeff + Mulvey was there with his pards. They had been drinkin' sorta free. An' I + didn't like the way Mulvey watched me. So I went out an' into the store, + but kept a-lookin' for Las Vegas. He wasn't in sight. But I seen Riggs + ridin' up. Now, Turner's is where Riggs hangs out an' does his braggin'. + He looked powerful deep an' thoughtful, dismounted slow without seein' the + unusual number of hosses there, an' then he slouches into Turner's. No + more 'n a minute after Las Vegas rode down there like a streak. An' just + as quick he was off an' through thet door.” + </p> + <p> + Roy paused as if to gain force or to choose his words. His tale now + appeared all directed to Bo, who gazed at him, spellbound, a fascinated + listener. + </p> + <p> + “Before I got to Turner's door—an' thet was only a little ways—I + heard Las Vegas yell. Did you ever hear him? Wal, he's got the wildest + yell of any cow-puncher I ever beard. Quicklike I opened the door an' + slipped in. There was Riggs an' Las Vegas alone in the center of the big + saloon, with the crowd edgin' to the walls an' slidin' back of the bar. + Riggs was whiter 'n a dead man. I didn't hear an' I don't know what Las + Vegas yelled at him. But Riggs knew an' so did the gang. All of a sudden + every man there shore seen in Las Vegas what Riggs had always bragged HE + was. Thet time comes to every man like Riggs. + </p> + <p> + “'What 'd you call me?' he asked, his jaw shakin'. + </p> + <p> + “'I 'ain't called you yet,' answered Las Vegas. 'I just whooped.' + </p> + <p> + “'What d'ye want?' + </p> + <p> + “'You scared my girl.' + </p> + <p> + “'The hell ye say! Who's she?' blustered Riggs, an' he began to take quick + looks 'round. But he never moved a hand. There was somethin' tight about + the way he stood. Las Vegas had both arms half out, stretched as if he + meant to leap. But he wasn't. I never seen Las Vegas do thet, but when I + seen him then I understood it. + </p> + <p> + “'You know. An' you threatened her an' her sister. Go for your gun,' + called Las Vegas, low an' sharp. + </p> + <p> + “Thet put the crowd right an' nobody moved. Riggs turned green then. I + almost felt sorry for him. He began to shake so he'd dropped a gun if he + had pulled one. + </p> + <p> + “'Hyar, you're off—some mistake—I 'ain't seen no gurls—I—' + </p> + <p> + “'Shut up an' draw!' yelled Las Vegas. His voice just pierced holes in the + roof, an' it might have been a bullet from the way Riggs collapsed. Every + man seen in a second more thet Riggs wouldn't an' couldn't draw. He was + afraid for his life. He was not what he had claimed to be. I don't know if + he had any friends there. But in the West good men an' bad men, all alike, + have no use for Riggs's kind. An' thet stony quiet broke with haw—haw. + It shore was as pitiful to see Riggs as it was fine to see Las Vegas. + </p> + <p> + “When he dropped his arms then I knowed there would be no gun-play. An' + then Las Vegas got red in the face. He slapped Riggs with one hand, then + with the other. An' he began to cuss him. I shore never knowed thet + nice-spoken Las Vegas Carmichael could use such language. It was a stream + of the baddest names known out here, an' lots I never heard of. Now an' + then I caught somethin' like low-down an' sneak an' four-flush an' + long-haired skunk, but for the most part they was just the cussedest kind + of names. An' Las Vegas spouted them till he was black in the face, an' + foamin' at the mouth, an' hoarser 'n a bawlin' cow. + </p> + <p> + “When he got out of breath from cussin' he punched Riggs all about the + saloon, threw him outdoors, knocked him down an' kicked him till he got + kickin' him down the road with the whole haw-hawed gang behind. An' he + drove him out of town!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + For two days Bo was confined to her bed, suffering considerable pain, and + subject to fever, during which she talked irrationally. Some of this talk + afforded Helen as vast an amusement as she was certain it would have + lifted Tom Carmichael to a seventh heaven. + </p> + <p> + The third day, however, Bo was better, and, refusing to remain in bed, she + hobbled to the sitting-room, where she divided her time between staring + out of the window toward the corrals and pestering Helen with questions + she tried to make appear casual. But Helen saw through her case and was in + a state of glee. What she hoped most for was that Carmichael would + suddenly develop a little less inclination for Bo. It was that kind of + treatment the young lady needed. And now was the great opportunity. Helen + almost felt tempted to give the cowboy a hint. + </p> + <p> + Neither this day, nor the next, however, did he put in an appearance at + the house, though Helen saw him twice on her rounds. He was busy, as + usual, and greeted her as if nothing particular had happened. + </p> + <p> + Roy called twice, once in the afternoon, and again during the evening. He + grew more likable upon longer acquaintance. This last visit he rendered Bo + speechless by teasing her about another girl Carmichael was going to take + to a dance. Bo's face showed that her vanity could not believe this + statement, but that her intelligence of young men credited it with being + possible. Roy evidently was as penetrating as he was kind. He made a dry, + casual little remark about the snow never melting on the mountains during + the latter part of March; and the look with which he accompanied this + remark brought a blush to Helen's cheek. + </p> + <p> + After Roy had departed Bo said to Helen: “Confound that fellow! He sees + right through me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you're rather transparent these days,” murmured Helen. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't talk. He gave you a dig,” retorted Bo. “He just knows you're + dying to see the snow melt.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious! I hope I'm not so bad as that. Of course I want the snow melted + and spring to come, and flowers—” + </p> + <p> + “Hal Ha! Ha!” taunted Bo. “Nell Rayner, do you see any green in my eyes? + Spring to come! Yes, the poet said in the spring a young man's fancy + lightly turns to thoughts of love. But that poet meant a young woman.” + </p> + <p> + Helen gazed out of the window at the white stars. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, have you seen him—since I was hurt?” continued Bo, with an + effort. + </p> + <p> + “Him? Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, whom do you suppose? I mean Tom!” she responded, and the last word + came with a burst. + </p> + <p> + “Tom? Who's he? Ah, you mean Las Vegas. Yes, I've seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did he ask a-about me?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he did ask how you were—something like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Nell, I don't always trust you.” After that she relapsed into + silence, read awhile, and dreamed awhile, looking into the fire, and then + she limped over to kiss Helen good night and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Next day she was rather quiet, seeming upon the verge of one of the + dispirited spells she got infrequently. Early in the evening, just after + the lights had been lit and she had joined Helen in the sitting-room, a + familiar step sounded on the loose boards of the porch. + </p> + <p> + Helen went to the door to admit Carmichael. He was clean-shaven, dressed + in his dark suit, which presented such marked contrast from his + riding-garb, and he wore a flower in his buttonhole. Nevertheless, despite + all this style, he seemed more than usually the cool, easy, careless + cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Evenin', Miss Helen,” he said, as he stalked in. “Evenin', Miss Bo. How + are you-all?” + </p> + <p> + Helen returned his greeting with a welcoming smile. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening—TOM,” said Bo, demurely. + </p> + <p> + That assuredly was the first time she had ever called him Tom. As she + spoke she looked distractingly pretty and tantalizing. But if she had + calculated to floor Carmichael with the initial, half-promising, wholly + mocking use of his name she had reckoned without cause. The cowboy + received that greeting as if he had heard her use it a thousand times or + had not heard it at all. Helen decided if he was acting a part he was + certainly a clever actor. He puzzled her somewhat, but she liked his look, + and his easy manner, and the something about him that must have been his + unconscious sense of pride. He had gone far enough, perhaps too far, in + his overtures to Bo. + </p> + <p> + “How are you feelin'?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I'm better to-day,” she replied, with downcast eyes. “But I'm lame yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon that bronc piled you up. Miss Helen said there shore wasn't any + joke about the cut on your knee. Now, a fellar's knee is a bad place to + hurt, if he has to keep on ridin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll be well soon. How's Sam? I hope he wasn't crippled.” + </p> + <p> + “Thet Sam—why, he's so tough he never knowed he had a fall.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom—I—I want to thank you for giving Riggs what he deserved.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke it earnestly, eloquently, and for once she had no sly little + intonation or pert allurement, such as was her wont to use on this + infatuated young man. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, you heard about that,” replied Carmichael, with a wave of his hand to + make light of it. “Nothin' much. It had to be done. An' shore I was afraid + of Roy. He'd been bad. An' so would any of the other boys. I'm sorta + lookin' out for all of them, you know, actin' as Miss Helen's foreman + now.” + </p> + <p> + Helen was unutterably tickled. The effect of his speech upon Bo was + stupendous. He had disarmed her. He had, with the finesse and tact and + suavity of a diplomat, removed himself from obligation, and the detachment + of self, the casual thing be apparently made out of his magnificent + championship, was bewildering and humiliating to Bo. She sat silent for a + moment or two while Helen tried to fit easily into the conversation. It + was not likely that Bo would long be at a loss for words, and also it was + immensely probable that with a flash of her wonderful spirit she would + turn the tables on her perverse lover in a twinkling. Anyway, plain it was + that a lesson had sunk deep. She looked startled, hurt, wistful, and + finally sweetly defiant. + </p> + <p> + “But—you told Riggs I was your girl!” Thus Bo unmasked her battery. + And Helen could not imagine how Carmichael would ever resist that and the + soft, arch glance which accompanied it. + </p> + <p> + Helen did not yet know the cowboy, any more than did Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. I had to say thet. I had to make it strong before thet gang. I + reckon it was presumin' of me, an' I shore apologize.” + </p> + <p> + Bo stared at him, and then, giving a little gasp, she drooped. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I just run in to say howdy an' to inquire after you-all,” said + Carmichael. “I'm goin' to the dance, an' as Flo lives out of town a ways + I'd shore better rustle.... Good night, Miss Bo; I hope you'll be ridin' + Sam soon. An' good night, Miss Helen.” + </p> + <p> + Bo roused to a very friendly and laconic little speech, much overdone. + Carmichael strode out, and Helen, bidding him good-by, closed the door + after him. + </p> + <p> + The instant he had departed Bo's transformation was tragic. + </p> + <p> + “Flo! He meant Flo Stubbs—that ugly, cross-eyed, bold, little + frump!” + </p> + <p> + “Bo!” expostulated Helen. “The young lady is not beautiful, I grant, but + she's very nice and pleasant. I liked her.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell Rayner, men are no good! And cowboys are the worst!” declared Bo, + terribly. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you appreciate Tom when you had him?” asked Helen. + </p> + <p> + Bo had been growing furious, but now the allusion, in past tense, to the + conquest she had suddenly and amazingly found dear quite broke her spirit. + It was a very pale, unsteady, and miserable girl who avoided Helen's gaze + and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Next day Bo was not approachable from any direction. Helen found her a + victim to a multiplicity of moods, ranging from woe to dire, dark + broodings, from them to' wistfulness, and at last to a pride that + sustained her. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon, at Helen's leisure hour, when she and Bo were in + the sitting-room, horses tramped into the court and footsteps mounted the + porch. Opening to a loud knock, Helen was surprised to see Beasley. And + out in the court were several mounted horsemen. Helen's heart sank. This + visit, indeed, had been foreshadowed. + </p> + <p> + “Afternoon, Miss Rayner,” said Beasley, doffing his sombrero. “I've called + on a little business deal. Will you see me?” + </p> + <p> + Helen acknowledged his greeting while she thought rapidly. She might just + as well see him and have that inevitable interview done with. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” she said, and when he had entered she closed the door. “My + sister, Mr. Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “How d' you do, Miss?” said the rancher, in bluff, loud voice. + </p> + <p> + Bo acknowledged the introduction with a frigid little bow. + </p> + <p> + At close range Beasley seemed a forceful personality as well as a rather + handsome man of perhaps thirty-five, heavy of build, swarthy of skin, and + sloe-black of eye, like that of the Mexicans whose blood was reported to + be in him. He looked crafty, confident, and self-centered. If Helen had + never heard of him before that visit she would have distrusted him. + </p> + <p> + “I'd called sooner, but I was waitin' for old Jose, the Mexican who herded + for me when I was pardner to your uncle,” said Beasley, and he sat down to + put his huge gloved hands on his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” queried Helen, interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “Jose rustled over from Magdalena, an' now I can back up my claim.... Miss + Rayner, this hyar ranch ought to be mine an' is mine. It wasn't so big or + so well stocked when Al Auchincloss beat me out of it. I reckon I'll allow + for thet. I've papers, an' old Jose for witness. An' I calculate you'll + pay me eighty thousand dollars, or else I'll take over the ranch.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley spoke in an ordinary, matter-of-fact tone that certainly seemed + sincere, and his manner was blunt, but perfectly natural. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beasley, your claim is no news to me,” responded Helen, quietly. + “I've heard about it. And I questioned my uncle. He swore on his death-bed + that he did not owe you a dollar. Indeed, he claimed the indebtedness was + yours to him. I could find nothing in his papers, so I must repudiate your + claim. I will not take it seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Rayner, I can't blame you for takin' Al's word against mine,” said + Beasley. “An' your stand is natural. But you're a stranger here an' you + know nothin' of stock deals in these ranges. It ain't fair to speak bad of + the dead, but the truth is thet Al Auchincloss got his start by stealin' + sheep an' unbranded cattle. Thet was the start of every rancher I know. It + was mine. An' we none of us ever thought of it as rustlin'.” + </p> + <p> + Helen could only stare her surprise and doubt at this statement. + </p> + <p> + “Talk's cheap anywhere, an' in the West talk ain't much at all,” continued + Beasley. “I'm no talker. I jest want to tell my case an' make a deal if + you'll have it. I can prove more in black an' white, an' with witness, + than you can. Thet's my case. The deal I'd make is this.... Let's marry + an' settle a bad deal thet way.” + </p> + <p> + The man's direct assumption, absolutely without a qualifying consideration + for her woman's attitude, was amazing, ignorant, and base; but Helen was + so well prepared for it that she hid her disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Beasley, but I can't accept your offer,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Would you take time an' consider?” he asked, spreading wide his huge + gloved hands. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely no.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley rose to his feet. He showed no disappointment or chagrin, but the + bold pleasantness left his face, and, slight as that change was, it + stripped him of the only redeeming quality he showed. + </p> + <p> + “Thet means I'll force you to pay me the eighty thousand or put you off,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beasley, even if I owed you that, how could I raise so enormous a + sum? I don't owe it. And I certainly won't be put off my property. You + can't put me off.” + </p> + <p> + “An' why can't I?” he demanded, with lowering, dark gaze. + </p> + <p> + “Because your claim is dishonest. And I can prove it,” declared Helen, + forcibly. + </p> + <p> + “Who 're you goin' to prove it to—thet I'm dishonest?” + </p> + <p> + “To my men—to your men—to the people of Pine—to + everybody. There's not a person who won't believe me.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed curious, discomfited, surlily annoyed, and yet fascinated by her + statement or else by the quality and appearance of her as she spiritedly + defended her cause. + </p> + <p> + “An' how 're you goin' to prove all thet?” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beasley, do you remember last fall when you met Snake Anson with his + gang up in the woods—and hired him to make off with me?” asked + Helen, in swift, ringing words. + </p> + <p> + The dark olive of Beasley's bold face shaded to a dirty white. + </p> + <p> + “Wha-at?” he jerked out, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I see you remember. Well, Milt Dale was hidden in the loft of that cabin + where you met Anson. He heard every word of your deal with the outlaw.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley swung his arm in sudden violence, so hard that he flung his glove + to the floor. As he stooped to snatch it up he uttered a sibilant hiss. + Then, stalking to the door, he jerked it open, and slammed it behind him. + His loud voice, hoarse with passion, preceded the scrape and crack of + hoofs. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after supper that day, when Helen was just recovering her + composure, Carmichael presented himself at the open door. Bo was not + there. In the dimming twilight Helen saw that the cowboy was pale, somber, + grim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what's happened?” cried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Roy's been shot. It come off in Turner's saloon But he ain't dead. We + packed him over to Widow Cass's. An' he said for me to tell you he'd pull + through.” + </p> + <p> + “Shot! Pull through!” repeated Helen, in slow, unrealizing exclamation. + She was conscious of a deep internal tumult and a cold checking of blood + in all her external body. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, shot,” replied Carmichael, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “An', whatever he says, I reckon he won't pull through.” + </p> + <p> + “O Heaven, how terrible!” burst out Helen. “He was so good—such a + man! What a pity! Oh, he must have met that in my behalf. Tell me, what + happened? Who shot him?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I don't know. An' thet's what's made me hoppin' mad. I wasn't there + when it come off. An' he won't tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know thet, either. I reckoned first it was because he wanted to + get even. But, after thinkin' it over, I guess he doesn't want me lookin' + up any one right now for fear I might get hurt. An' you're goin' to need + your friends. Thet's all I can make of Roy.” + </p> + <p> + Then Helen hurriedly related the event of Beasley's call on her that + afternoon and all that had occurred. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, the half-breed son-of-a-greaser!” ejaculated Carmichael, in utter + confoundment. “He wanted you to marry him!” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly did. I must say it was a—a rather abrupt proposal.” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael appeared to be laboring with speech that had to be smothered + behind his teeth. At last he let out an explosive breath. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nell, I've shore felt in my bones thet I'm the boy slated to brand + thet big bull.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he must have shot Roy. He left here in a rage.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you can coax it out of Roy. Fact is, all I could learn was thet + Roy come in the saloon alone. Beasley was there, an' Riggs—” + </p> + <p> + “Riggs!” interrupted Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, Riggs. He come back again. But he'd better keep out of my way.... + An' Jeff Mulvey with his outfit. Turner told me he heard an argument an' + then a shot. The gang cleared out, leavin' Roy on the floor. I come in a + little later. Roy was still layin' there. Nobody was doin' anythin' for + him. An' nobody had. I hold that against Turner. Wal, I got help an' + packed Roy over to Widow Cass's. Roy seemed all right. But he was too + bright an' talky to suit me. The bullet hit his lung, thet's shore. An' he + lost a sight of blood before we stopped it. Thet skunk Turner might have + lent a hand. An' if Roy croaks I reckon I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Tom, why must you always be reckoning to kill somebody?” demanded Helen, + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “'Cause somebody's got to be killed 'round here. Thet's why!” he snapped + back. + </p> + <p> + “Even so—should you risk leaving Bo and me without a friend?” asked + Helen, reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + At that Carmichael wavered and lost something of his sullen deadliness. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, Miss Nell, I'm only mad. If you'll just be patient with me—an' + mebbe coax me.... But I can't see no other way out.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's hope and pray,” said Helen, earnestly. “You spoke of my coaxing Roy + to tell who shot him. When can I see him?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, I reckon. I'll come for you. Fetch Bo along with you. We've + got to play safe from now on. An' what do you say to me an' Hal sleepin' + here at the ranch-house?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I'd feel safer,” she replied. “There are rooms. Please come.” + </p> + <p> + “Allright. An' now I'll be goin' to fetch Hal. Shore wish I hadn't made + you pale an' scared like this.” + </p> + <p> + About ten o'clock next morning Carmichael drove Helen and Bo into Pine, + and tied up the team before Widow Cass's cottage. + </p> + <p> + The peach and apple-trees were mingling blossoms of pink and white; a + drowsy hum of bees filled the fragrant air; rich, dark-green alfalfa + covered the small orchard flat; a wood fire sent up a lazy column of blue + smoke; and birds were singing sweetly. + </p> + <p> + Helen could scarcely believe that amid all this tranquillity a man lay + perhaps fatally injured. Assuredly Carmichael had been somber and reticent + enough to rouse the gravest fears. + </p> + <p> + Widow Cass appeared on the little porch, a gray, bent, worn, but cheerful + old woman whom Helen had come to know as her friend. + </p> + <p> + “My land! I'm thet glad to see you, Miss Helen,” she said. “An' you've + fetched the little lass as I've not got acquainted with yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mrs. Cass. How—how is Roy?” replied Helen, anxiously + scanning the wrinkled face. + </p> + <p> + “Roy? Now don't you look so scared. Roy's 'most ready to git on his hoss + an' ride home, if I let him. He knowed you was a-comin'. An' he made me + hold a lookin'-glass for him to shave. How's thet fer a man with a + bullet-hole through him! You can't kill them Mormons, nohow.” + </p> + <p> + She led them into a little sitting-room, where on a couch underneath a + window Roy Beeman lay. He was wide awake and smiling, but haggard. He lay + partly covered with a blanket. His gray shirt was open at the neck, + disclosing bandages. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin'—girls,” he drawled. “Shore is good of you, now, comin' + down.” + </p> + <p> + Helen stood beside him, bent over him, in her earnestness, as she greeted + him. She saw a shade of pain in his eyes and his immobility struck her, + but he did not seem badly off. Bo was pale, round-eyed, and apparently too + agitated to speak. Carmichael placed chairs beside the couch for the + girls. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, what's ailin' you this nice mornin'?” asked Roy, eyes on the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Would you expect me to be wearin' the smile of a fellar goin' to be + married?” retorted Carmichael. + </p> + <p> + “Shore you haven't made up with Bo yet,” returned Roy. + </p> + <p> + Bo blushed rosy red, and the cowboy's face lost something of its somber + hue. + </p> + <p> + “I allow it's none of your d—darn bizness if SHE ain't made up with + me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, you're a wonder with a hoss an' a rope, an' I reckon with a + gun, but when it comes to girls you shore ain't there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm no Mormon, by golly! Come, Ma Cass, let's get out of here, so they + can talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Folks, I was jest a-goin' to say thet Roy's got fever an' he oughtn't t' + talk too much,” said the old woman. Then she and Carmichael went into the + kitchen and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Roy looked up at Helen with his keen eyes, more kindly piercing than ever. + </p> + <p> + “My brother John was here. He'd just left when you come. He rode home to + tell my folks I'm not so bad hurt, an' then he's goin' to ride a bee-line + into the mountains.” + </p> + <p> + Helen's eyes asked what her lips refused to utter. + </p> + <p> + “He's goin' after Dale. I sent him. I reckoned we-all sorta needed sight + of thet doggone hunter.” + </p> + <p> + Roy had averted his gaze quickly to Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you agree with me, lass?” + </p> + <p> + “I sure do,” replied Bo, heartily. + </p> + <p> + All within Helen had been stilled for the moment of her realization; and + then came swell and beat of heart, and inconceivable chafing of a tide at + its restraint. + </p> + <p> + “Can John—fetch Dale out—when the snow's so deep?” she asked, + unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. He's takin' two hosses up to the snow-line. Then, if necessary, + he'll go over the pass on snow-shoes. But I bet him Dale would ride out. + Snow's about gone except on the north slopes an' on the peaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—when may I—we expect to see Dale?” + </p> + <p> + “Three or four days, I reckon. I wish he was here now.... Miss Helen, + there's trouble afoot.” + </p> + <p> + “I realize that. I'm ready. Did Las Vegas tell you about Beasley's visit + to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No. You tell me,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + Briefly Helen began to acquaint him with the circumstances of that visit, + and before she had finished she made sure Roy was swearing to himself. + </p> + <p> + “He asked you to marry him! Jerusalem!... Thet I'd never have reckoned. + The—low-down coyote of a greaser!... Wal, Miss Helen, when I met up + with Senor Beasley last night he was shore spoilin' from somethin'; now I + see what thet was. An' I reckon I picked out the bad time.” + </p> + <p> + “For what? Roy, what did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I'd made up my mind awhile back to talk to Beasley the first chance + I had. An' thet was it. I was in the store when I seen him go into + Turner's. So I followed. It was 'most dark. Beasley an' Riggs an' Mulvey + an' some more were drinkin' an' powwowin'. So I just braced him right + then.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy! Oh, the way you boys court danger!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Helen, thet's the only way. To be afraid MAKES more danger. + Beasley 'peared civil enough first off. Him an' me kept edgin' off, an' + his pards kept edgin' after us, till we got over in a corner of the + saloon. I don't know all I said to him. Shore I talked a heap. I told him + what my old man thought. An' Beasley knowed as well as I thet my old man's + not only the oldest inhabitant hereabouts, but he's the wisest, too. An' + he wouldn't tell a lie. Wal, I used all his sayin's in my argument to show + Beasley thet if he didn't haul up short he'd end almost as short. + Beasley's thick-headed, an' powerful conceited. Vain as a peacock! He + couldn't see, an' he got mad. I told him he was rich enough without + robbin' you of your ranch, an'—wal, I shore put up a big talk for + your side. By this time he an' his gang had me crowded in a corner, an' + from their looks I begun to get cold feet. But I was in it an' had to make + the best of it. The argument worked down to his pinnin' me to my word that + I'd fight for you when thet fight come off. An' I shore told him for my + own sake I wished it 'd come off quick.... Then—wal—then + somethin' did come off quick!” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, then he shot you!” exclaimed Helen, passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Miss Helen, I didn't say who done it,” replied Roy, with his + engaging smile. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, then—who did?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon I sha'n't tell you unless you promise not to tell Las + Vegas. Thet cowboy is plumb off his head. He thinks he knows who shot me + an' I've been lyin' somethin' scandalous. You see, if he learns—then + he'll go gunnin'. An', Miss Helen, thet Texan is bad. He might get plugged + as I did—an' there would be another man put off your side when the + big trouble comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, I promise you I will not tell Las Vegas,” replied Helen, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, then—it was Riggs!” Roy grew still paler as he confessed this + and his voice, almost a whisper, expressed shame and hate. “Thet + four-flush did it. Shot me from behind Beasley! I had no chance. I + couldn't even see him draw. But when I fell an' lay there an' the others + dropped back, then I seen the smokin' gun in his hand. He looked powerful + important. An' Beasley began to cuss him an' was cussin' him as they all + run out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, coward! the despicable coward!” cried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder Tom wants to find out!” exclaimed Bo, low and deep. “I'll bet + he suspects Riggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore he does, but I wouldn't give him no satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, you know that Riggs can't last out here.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I hope he lasts till I get on my feet again.” + </p> + <p> + “There you go! Hopeless, all you boys! You must spill blood!” murmured + Helen, shudderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Miss Helen, don't take on so. I'm like Dale—no man to hunt up + trouble. But out here there's a sort of unwritten law—an eye for an + eye—a tooth for a tooth. I believe in God Almighty, an' killin' is + against my religion, but Riggs shot me—the same as shootin' me in + the back.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy, I'm only a woman—I fear, faint-hearted and unequal to this + West.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till somethin' happens to you. 'Supposin' Beasley comes an' grabs + you with his own dirty big paws an', after maulin' you some, throws you + out of your home! Or supposin' Riggs chases you into a corner!” + </p> + <p> + Helen felt the start of all her physical being—a violent leap of + blood. But she could only judge of her looks from the grim smile of the + wounded man as he watched her with his keen, intent eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, anythin' can happen,” he said. “But let's hope it won't be the + worst.” + </p> + <p> + He had begun to show signs of weakness, and Helen, rising at once, said + that she and Bo had better leave him then, but would come to see him the + next day. At her call Carmichael entered again with Mrs. Cass, and after a + few remarks the visit was terminated. Carmichael lingered in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Cheer up, you old Mormon!” he called. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up yourself, you cross old bachelor!” retorted Roy, quite + unnecessarily loud. “Can't you raise enough nerve to make up with Bo?” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael evacuated the doorway as if he had been spurred. He was quite + red in the face while he unhitched the team, and silent during the ride up + to the ranch-house. There he got down and followed the girls into the + sitting room. He appeared still somber, though not sullen, and had fully + regained his composure. + </p> + <p> + “Did you find out who shot Roy?” he asked, abruptly, of Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I promised Roy I would not tell,” replied Helen, nervously. She + averted her eyes from his searching gaze, intuitively fearing his next + query. + </p> + <p> + “Was it thet—Riggs?” + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, don't ask me. I will not break my promise.” + </p> + <p> + He strode to the window and looked out a moment, and presently, when he + turned toward Bo, he seemed a stronger, loftier, more impelling man, with + all his emotions under control. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, will you listen to me—if I swear to speak the truth—as I + know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly,” replied Bo, with the color coming swiftly to her face. + </p> + <p> + “Roy doesn't want me to know because he wants to meet thet fellar himself. + An' I want to know because I want to stop him before he can do more dirt + to us or our friends. Thet's Roy's reason an' mine. An' I'm askin' YOU to + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Tom—I oughtn't,” replied Bo, haltingly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you promise Roy not to tell?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Or your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I didn't promise either.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, then you tell me. I want you to trust me in this here matter. But + not because I love you an' once had a wild dream you might care a little + for me—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—Tom!” faltered Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Listen. I want you to trust me because I'm the one who knows what's best. + I wouldn't lie an' I wouldn't say so if I didn't know shore. I swear Dale + will back me up. But he can't be here for some days. An' thet gang has got + to be bluffed. You ought to see this. I reckon you've been quick in + savvyin' Western ways. I couldn't pay you no higher compliment, Bo + Rayner.... Now will you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will,” replied Bo, with the blaze leaping to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bo—please don't—please don't. Wait!” implored Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Bo—it's between you an' me,” said Carmichael. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, I'll tell you,” whispered Bo. “It was a lowdown, cowardly trick.... + Roy was surrounded—and shot from behind Beasley—by that + four-flush Riggs!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + The memory of a woman had ruined Milt Dale's peace, had confounded his + philosophy of self-sufficient, lonely happiness in the solitude of the + wilds, had forced him to come face to face with his soul and the fatal + significance of life. + </p> + <p> + When he realized his defeat, that things were not as they seemed, that + there was no joy for him in the coming of spring, that he had been blind + in his free, sensorial, Indian relation to existence, he fell into an + inexplicably strange state, a despondency, a gloom as deep as the silence + of his home. Dale reflected that the stronger an animal, the keener its + nerves, the higher its intelligence, the greater must be its suffering + under restraint or injury. He thought of himself as a high order of animal + whose great physical need was action, and now the incentive to action + seemed dead. He grew lax. He did not want to move. He performed his + diminishing duties under compulsion. + </p> + <p> + He watched for spring as a liberation, but not that he could leave the + valley. He hated the cold, he grew weary of wind and snow; he imagined the + warm sun, the park once more green with grass and bright with daisies, the + return of birds and squirrels and deer to heir old haunts, would be the + means whereby he could break this spell upon him. Then he might gradually + return to past contentment, though it would never be the same. + </p> + <p> + But spring, coming early to Paradise Park, brought a fever to Dale's blood—a + fire of unutterable longing. It was good, perhaps, that this was so, + because he seemed driven to work, climb, tramp, and keep ceaselessly on + the move from dawn till dark. Action strengthened his lax muscles and kept + him from those motionless, senseless hours of brooding. He at least need + not be ashamed of longing for that which could never be his—the + sweetness of a woman—a home full of light, joy, hope, the meaning + and beauty of children. But those dark moods were sinkings into a pit of + hell. + </p> + <p> + Dale had not kept track of days and weeks. He did not know when the snow + melted off three slopes of Paradise Park. All he knew was that an age had + dragged over his head and that spring had come. During his restless waking + hours, and even when he was asleep, there seemed always in the back of his + mind a growing consciousness that soon he would emerge from this trial, a + changed man, ready to sacrifice his chosen lot, to give up his lonely life + of selfish indulgence in lazy affinity with nature, and to go wherever his + strong hands might perform some real service to people. Nevertheless, he + wanted to linger in this mountain fastness until his ordeal was over—until + he could meet her, and the world, knowing himself more of a man than ever + before. + </p> + <p> + One bright morning, while he was at his camp-fire, the tame cougar gave a + low, growling warning. Dale was startled. Tom did not act like that + because of a prowling grizzly or a straying stag. Presently Dale espied a + horseman riding slowly out of the straggling spruces. And with that sight + Dale's heart gave a leap, recalling to him a divination of his future + relation to his kind. Never had he been so glad to see a man! + </p> + <p> + This visitor resembled one of the Beemans, judging from the way he sat his + horse, and presently Dale recognized him to be John. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture the jaded horse was spurred into a trot, soon reaching + the pines and the camp. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, there, you ole b'ar-hunter!” called John, waving his hand. + </p> + <p> + For all his hearty greeting his appearance checked a like response from + Dale. The horse was mud to his flanks and John was mud to his knees, wet, + bedraggled, worn, and white. This hue of his face meant more than fatigue. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, John?” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + They shook hands. John wearily swung his leg over the pommel, but did not + at once dismount. His clear gray eyes were wonderingly riveted upon the + hunter. + </p> + <p> + “Milt—what 'n hell's wrong?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Bust me if you ain't changed so I hardly knowed you. You've been sick—all + alone here!” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I should smile. Thin an' pale an' down in the mouth! Milt, what ails + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I've gone to seed.” + </p> + <p> + “You've gone off your head, jest as Roy said, livin' alone here. You + overdid it, Milt. An' you look sick.” + </p> + <p> + “John, my sickness is here,” replied Dale, soberly, as he laid a hand on + his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Lung trouble!” ejaculated John. “With thet chest, an' up in this air?... + Get out!” + </p> + <p> + “No—not lung trouble,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + “I savvy. Had a hunch from Roy, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a hunch?” + </p> + <p> + “Easy now, Dale, ole man.... Don't you reckon I'm ridin' in on you pretty + early? Look at thet hoss!” John slid off and waved a hand at the drooping + beast, then began to unsaddle him. “Wal, he done great. We bogged some + comin' over. An' I climbed the pass at night on the frozen snow.” + </p> + <p> + “You're welcome as the flowers in May. John, what month is it?” + </p> + <p> + “By spades! are you as bad as thet?... Let's see. It's the twenty-third of + March.” + </p> + <p> + “March! Well, I'm beat. I've lost my reckonin'—an' a lot more, + maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “Thar!” declared John, slapping the mustang. “You can jest hang up here + till my next trip. Milt, how 're your hosses?” + </p> + <p> + “Wintered fine.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet's good. We'll need two big, strong hosses right off.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” queried Dale, sharply. He dropped a stick of wood and + straightened up from the camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + “You're goin' to ride down to Pine with me—thet's what for.” + </p> + <p> + Familiarly then came back to Dale the quiet, intent suggestiveness of the + Beemans in moments foreboding trial. + </p> + <p> + At this certain assurance of John's, too significant to be doubted, Dale's + thought of Pine gave slow birth to a strange sensation, as if he had been + dead and was vibrating back to life. + </p> + <p> + “Tell what you got to tell!” he broke out. + </p> + <p> + Quick as a flash the Mormon replied: “Roy's been shot. But he won't die. + He sent for you. Bad deal's afoot. Beasley means to force Helen Rayner out + an' steal her ranch.” + </p> + <p> + A tremor ran all through Dale. It seemed another painful yet thrilling + connection between his past and this vaguely calling future. His emotions + had been broodings dreams, longings. This thing his friend said had the + sting of real life. + </p> + <p> + “Then old Al's dead?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Long ago—I reckon around the middle of February. The property went + to Helen. She's been doin' fine. An' many folks say it's a pity she'll + lose it.” + </p> + <p> + “She won't lose it,” declared Dale. How strange his voice sounded to his + own ears! It was hoarse and unreal, as if from disuse. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, we-all have our idees. I say she will. My father says so. Carmichael + says so.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's he?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you remember thet cow-puncher who came up with Roy an' Auchincloss + after the girls—last fall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. They called him Las—Las Vegas. I liked his looks.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! You'll like him a heap when you know him. He's kept the ranch + goin' for Miss Helen all along. But the deal's comin' to a head. Beasley's + got thick with thet Riggs. You remember him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, he's been hangin' out at Pine all winter, watchin' for some chance + to get at Miss Helen or Bo. Everybody's seen thet. An' jest lately he + chased Bo on hossback—gave the kid a nasty fall. Roy says Riggs was + after Miss Helen. But I think one or t'other of the girls would do thet + varmint. Wal, thet sorta started goin's-on. Carmichael beat Riggs an' + drove him out of town. But he come back. Beasley called on Miss Helen an' + offered to marry her so's not to take the ranch from her, he said.” + </p> + <p> + Dale awoke with a thundering curse. + </p> + <p> + “Shore!” exclaimed John. “I'd say the same—only I'm religious. Don't + thet beady-eyed greaser's gall make you want to spit all over yourself? My + Gawd! but Roy was mad! Roy's powerful fond of Miss Helen an' Bo.... Wal, + then, Roy, first chance he got, braced Beasley an' give him some straight + talk. Beasley was foamin' at the mouth, Roy said. It was then Riggs shot + Roy. Shot him from behind Beasley when Roy wasn't lookin'! An' Riggs brags + of bein' a gun-fighter. Mebbe thet wasn't a bad shot for him!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” replied Dale, as he swallowed hard. “Now, just what was Roy's + message to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I can't remember all Roy said,” answered John, dubiously. “But Roy + shore was excited an' dead in earnest. He says: 'Tell Milt what's + happened. Tell him Helen Rayner's in more danger than she was last fall. + Tell him I've seen her look away acrost the mountains toward Paradise Park + with her heart in her eyes. Tell him she needs him most of all!'” + </p> + <p> + Dale shook all over as with an attack of ague. He was seized by a + whirlwind of passionate, terrible sweetness of sensation, when what he + wildly wanted was to curse Roy and John for their simple-minded + conclusions. + </p> + <p> + “Roy's—crazy!” panted Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, now, Milt—thet's downright surprisin' of you. Roy's the + level-headest of any fellars I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Man! if he MADE me believe him—an' it turned out untrue—I'd—I'd + kill him,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Untrue! Do you think Roy Beeman would lie?” + </p> + <p> + “But, John—you fellows can't see my case. Nell Rayner wants me—needs + me!... It can't be true!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, my love-sick pard—it jest IS true!” exclaimed John, feelingly. + “Thet's the hell of life—never knowin'. But here it's joy for you. + You can believe Roy Beeman about women as quick as you'd trust him to + track your lost hoss. Roy's married three girls. I reckon he'll marry some + more. Roy's only twenty-eight an' he has two big farms. He said he'd seen + Nell Rayner's heart in her eyes, lookin' for you—an' you can jest + bet your life thet's true. An' he said it because he means you to rustle + down there an' fight for thet girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll—go,” said Dale, in a shaky whisper, as he sat down on a pine + log near the fire. He stared unseeingly at the bluebells in the grass by + his feet while storm after storm possessed his breast. They were fierce + and brief because driven by his will. In those few moments of contending + strife Dale was immeasurably removed from that dark gulf of self which had + made his winter a nightmare. And when he stood erect again it seemed that + the old earth had a stirring, electrifying impetus for his feet. Something + black, bitter, melancholy, and morbid, always unreal to him, had passed + away forever. The great moment had been forced upon him. He did not + believe Roy Beeman's preposterous hint regarding Helen; but he had gone + back or soared onward, as if by magic, to his old true self. + </p> + <p> + Mounted on Dale's strongest horses, with only a light pack, an ax, and + their weapons, the two men had reached the snow-line on the pass by noon + that day. Tom, the tame cougar, trotted along in the rear. + </p> + <p> + The crust of the snow, now half thawed by the sun, would not hold the + weight of a horse, though it upheld the men on foot. They walked, leading + the horses. Travel was not difficult until the snow began to deepen; then + progress slackened materially. John had not been able to pick out the line + of the trail, so Dale did not follow his tracks. An old blaze on the trees + enabled Dale to keep fairly well to the trail; and at length the height of + the pass was reached, where the snow was deep. Here the horses labored, + plowing through foot by foot. When, finally, they sank to their flanks, + they had to be dragged and goaded on, and helped by thick flat bunches of + spruce boughs placed under their hoofs. It took three hours of breaking + toil to do the few hundred yards of deep snow on the height of the pass. + The cougar did not have great difficulty in following, though it was + evident he did not like such traveling. + </p> + <p> + That behind them, the horses gathered heart and worked on to the edge of + the steep descent, where they had all they could do to hold back from + sliding and rolling. Fast time was made on this slope, at the bottom of + which began a dense forest with snow still deep in places and windfalls + hard to locate. The men here performed Herculean labors, but they got + through to a park where the snow was gone. The ground, however, soft and + boggy, in places was more treacherous than the snow; and the travelers had + to skirt the edge of the park to a point opposite, and then go on through + the forest. When they reached bare and solid ground, just before dark that + night, it was high time, for the horses were ready to drop, and the men + likewise. + </p> + <p> + Camp was made in an open wood. Darkness fell and the men were resting on + bough beds, feet to the fire, with Tom curled up close by, and the horses + still drooping where they had been unsaddled. Morning, however, discovered + them grazing on the long, bleached grass. John shook his head when he + looked at them. + </p> + <p> + “You reckoned to make Pine by nightfall. How far is it—the way + you'll go?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty mile or thereabouts,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, we can't ride it on them critters.” + </p> + <p> + “John, we'd do more than that if we had to.” + </p> + <p> + They were saddled and on the move before sunrise, leaving snow and bog + behind. Level parks and level forests led one after another to long slopes + and steep descents, all growing sunnier and greener as the altitude + diminished. Squirrels and grouse, turkeys and deer, and less tame denizens + of the forest grew more abundant as the travel advanced. In this game + zone, however, Dale had trouble with Tom. The cougar had to be watched and + called often to keep him off of trails. + </p> + <p> + “Tom doesn't like a long trip,” said Dale. “But I'm goin' to take him. + Some way or other he may come in handy.” + </p> + <p> + “Sic him onto Beasley's gang,” replied John. “Some men are powerful scared + of cougars. But I never was.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor me. Though I've had cougars give me a darn uncanny feelin'.” + </p> + <p> + The men talked but little. Dale led the way, with Tom trotting noiselessly + beside his horse. John followed close behind. They loped the horses across + parks, trotted through the forests, walked slow up what few inclines they + met, and slid down the soft, wet, pine-matted descents. So they averaged + from six to eight miles an hour. The horses held up well under that steady + travel, and this without any rest at noon. + </p> + <p> + Dale seemed to feel himself in an emotional trance. Yet, despite this, the + same old sensorial perceptions crowded thick and fast upon him, strangely + sweet and vivid after the past dead months when neither sun nor wind nor + cloud nor scent of pine nor anything in nature could stir him. His mind, + his heart, his soul seemed steeped in an intoxicating wine of expectation, + while his eyes and ears and nose had never been keener to register the + facts of the forest-land. He saw the black thing far ahead that resembled + a burned stump, but he knew was a bear before it vanished; he saw gray + flash of deer and wolf and coyote, and the red of fox, and the small, wary + heads of old gobblers just sticking above the grass; and he saw deep + tracks of game as well as the slow-rising blades of bluebells where some + soft-footed beast had just trod. And he heard the melancholy notes of + birds, the twitter of grouse, the sough of the wind, the light dropping of + pine-cones, the near and distant bark of squirrels, the deep gobble of a + turkey close at hand and the challenge from a rival far away, the cracking + of twigs in the thickets, the murmur of running water, the scream of an + eagle and the shrill cry of a hawk, and always the soft, dull, steady pads + of the hoofs of the horses. + </p> + <p> + The smells, too, were the sweet, stinging ones of spring, warm and + pleasant—the odor of the clean, fresh earth cutting its way through + that thick, strong fragrance of pine, the smell of logs rotting in the + sun, and of fresh new grass and flowers along a brook of snow-water. + </p> + <p> + “I smell smoke,” said Dale, suddenly, as he reined in, and turned for + corroboration from his companion. + </p> + <p> + John sniffed the warm air. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you're more of an Injun than me,” he replied, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + They traveled on, and presently came out upon the rim of the last slope. A + long league of green slanted below them, breaking up into straggling lines + of trees and groves that joined the cedars, and these in turn stretched on + and down in gray-black patches to the desert, that glittering and bare, + with streaks of somber hue, faded in the obscurity of distance. + </p> + <p> + The village of Pine appeared to nestle in a curve of the edge of the great + forest, and the cabins looked like tiny white dots set in green. + </p> + <p> + “Look there,” said Dale, pointing. + </p> + <p> + Some miles to the right a gray escarpment of rock cropped out of the + slope, forming a promontory; and from it a thin, pale column of smoke + curled upward to be lost from sight as soon as it had no background of + green. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's your smoke, shore enough,” replied John, thoughtfully. “Now, I + jest wonder who's campin' there. No water near or grass for hosses.” + </p> + <p> + “John, that point's been used for smoke signals many a time.” + </p> + <p> + “Was jest thinkin' of thet same. Shall we ride around there an' take a + peek?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But we'll remember that. If Beasley's got his deep scheme goin', + he'll have Snake Anson's gang somewhere close.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy said thet same. Wal, it's some three hours till sundown. The hosses + keep up. I reckon I'm fooled, for we'll make Pine all right. But old Tom + there, he's tired or lazy.” + </p> + <p> + The big cougar was lying down, panting, and his half-shut eyes were on + Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Tom's only lazy an' fat. He could travel at this gait for a week. But + let's rest a half-hour an' watch that smoke before movin' on. We can make + Pine before sundown.” + </p> + <p> + When travel had been resumed, half-way down the slope Dale's sharp eyes + caught a broad track where shod horses had passed, climbing in a long + slant toward the promontory. He dismounted to examine it, and John, coming + up, proceeded with alacrity to get off and do likewise. Dale made his + deductions, after which he stood in a brown study beside his horse, + waiting for John. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, what 'd you make of these here tracks?” asked that worthy. + </p> + <p> + “Some horses an' a pony went along here yesterday, an' to-day a single + horse made, that fresh track.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Milt, for a hunter you ain't so bad at hoss tracks,” observed John, + “But how many hosses went yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't make out—several—maybe four or five.” + </p> + <p> + “Six hosses an' a colt or little mustang, unshod, to be strict-correct. + Wal, supposin' they did. What 's it mean to us?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know as I'd thought anythin' unusual, if it hadn't been for that + smoke we saw off the rim, an' then this here fresh track made along + to-day. Looks queer to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Wish Roy was here,” replied John, scratching his head. “Milt, I've a + hunch, if he was, he'd foller them tracks.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe. But we haven't time for that. We can backtrail them, though, if + they keep clear as they are here. An' we'll not lose any time, either.” + </p> + <p> + That broad track led straight toward Pine, down to the edge of the cedars, + where, amid some jagged rocks, evidences showed that men had camped there + for days. Here it ended as a broad trail. But from the north came the + single fresh track made that very day, and from the east, more in a line + with Pine, came two tracks made the day before. And these were imprints of + big and little hoofs. Manifestly these interested John more than they did + Dale, who had to wait for his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, it ain't a colt's—thet little track,” avowed John. + </p> + <p> + “Why not—an' what if it isn't?” queried Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it ain't, because a colt always straggles back, an' from one side to + t'other. This little track keeps close to the big one. An', by George! it + was made by a led mustang.” + </p> + <p> + John resembled Roy Beeman then with that leaping, intent fire in his gray + eyes. Dale's reply was to spur his horse into a trot and call sharply to + the lagging cougar. + </p> + <p> + When they turned into the broad, blossom-bordered road that was the only + thoroughfare of Pine the sun was setting red and gold behind the + mountains. The horses were too tired for any more than a walk. Natives of + the village, catching sight of Dale and Beeman, and the huge gray cat + following like a dog, called excitedly to one another. A group of men in + front of Turner's gazed intently down the road, and soon manifested signs + of excitement. Dale and his comrade dismounted in front of Widow Cass's + cottage. And Dale called as he strode up the little path. Mrs. Cass came + out. She was white and shaking, but appeared calm. At sight of her John + Beeman drew a sharp breath. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, now—” he began, hoarsely, and left off. + </p> + <p> + “How's Roy?” queried Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Lord knows I'm glad to see you, boys! Milt, you're thin an' + strange-lookin'. Roy's had a little setback. He got a shock to-day an' it + throwed him off. Fever—an' now he's out of his head. It won't do no + good for you to waste time seein' him. Take my word for it he's all right. + But there's others as—For the land's sakes, Milt Dale, you fetched + thet cougar back! Don't let him near me!” + </p> + <p> + “Tom won't hurt you, mother,” said Dale, as the cougar came padding up the + path. “You were sayin' somethin'—about others. Is Miss Helen safe? + Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “Ride up to see her—an' waste no more time here.” + </p> + <p> + Dale was quick in the saddle, followed by John, but the horses had to be + severely punished to force them even to a trot. And that was a lagging + trot, which now did not leave Torn behind. + </p> + <p> + The ride up to Auchincloss's ranch-house seemed endless to Dale. Natives + came out in the road to watch after he had passed. Stern as Dale was in + dominating his feelings, he could not wholly subordinate his mounting joy + to a waiting terrible anticipation of catastrophe. But no matter what + awaited—nor what fateful events might hinge upon this nameless + circumstance about to be disclosed, the wonderful and glorious fact of the + present was that in a moment he would see Helen Rayner. + </p> + <p> + There were saddled horses in the courtyard, but no riders. A Mexican boy + sat on the porch bench, in the seat where Dale remembered he had + encountered Al Auchincloss. The door of the big sitting-room was open. The + scent of flowers, the murmur of bees, the pounding of hoofs came vaguely + to Dale. His eyes dimmed, so that the ground, when he slid out of his + saddle, seemed far below him. He stepped upon the porch. His sight + suddenly cleared. A tight fullness at his throat made incoherent the words + he said to the Mexican boy. But they were understood, as the boy ran back + around the house. Dale knocked sharply and stepped over the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Outside, John, true to his habits, was thinking, even in that moment of + suspense, about the faithful, exhausted horses. As he unsaddled them he + talked: “Fer soft an' fat hosses, winterin' high up, wal, you've done + somethin'!” + </p> + <p> + Then Dale heard a voice in another room, a step, a creak of the door. It + opened. A woman in white appeared. He recognized Helen. But instead of the + rich brown bloom and dark-eyed beauty so hauntingly limned on his memory, + he saw a white, beautiful face, strained and quivering in anguish, and + eyes that pierced his heart. He could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my friend—you've come!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Dale put out a shaking hand. But she did not see it. She clutched his + shoulders, as if to feel whether or not he was real, and then her arms + went up round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank God! I knew you would come!” she said, and her head sank to his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Dale divined what he had suspected. Helen's sister had been carried off. + Yet, while his quick mind grasped Helen's broken spirit—the + unbalance that was reason for this marvelous and glorious act—he did + not take other meaning of the embrace to himself. He just stood there, + transported, charged like a tree struck by lightning, making sure with all + his keen senses, so that he could feel forever, how she was clinging round + his neck, her face over his bursting heart, her quivering form close + pressed to his. + </p> + <p> + “It's—Bo,” he said, unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “She went riding yesterday—and—never—came—back!” + replied Helen, brokenly. + </p> + <p> + “I've seen her trail. She's been taken into the woods. I'll find her. I'll + fetch her back,” he replied, rapidly. + </p> + <p> + With a shock she seemed to absorb his meaning. With another shock she + raised her face—leaned back a little to look at him. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find her—fetch her back?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, instantly. + </p> + <p> + With that ringing word it seemed to Dale she realized how she was + standing. He felt her shake as she dropped her arms and stepped back, + while the white anguish of her face was flooded out by a wave of scarlet. + But she was brave in her confusion. Her eyes never fell, though they + changed swiftly, darkening with shame, amaze, and with feelings he could + not read. + </p> + <p> + “I'm almost—out of my head,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder. I saw that.... But now you must get clear-headed. I've no time + to lose.” + </p> + <p> + He led her to the door. + </p> + <p> + “John, it's Bo that's gone,” he called. “Since yesterday.... Send the boy + to get me a bag of meat an' bread. You run to the corral an' get me a + fresh horse. My old horse Ranger if you can find him quick. An' rustle.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word John leaped bareback on one of the horses he had just + unsaddled and spurred him across the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + Then the big cougar, seeing Helen, got up from where he lay on the porch + and came to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's Tom!” cried Helen, and as he rubbed against her knees she patted + his head with trembling hand. “You big, beautiful pet! Oh, how I remember! + Oh, how Bo would love to—” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Carmichael?” interrupted Dale. “Out huntin' Bo?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It was he who missed her first. He rode everywhere yesterday. Last + night when he came back he was wild. I've not seen him to-day. He made all + the other men but Hal and Joe stay home on the ranch.” + </p> + <p> + “Right. An' John must stay, too,” declared Dale. “But it's strange. + Carmichael ought to have found the girl's tracks. She was ridin' a pony?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo rode Sam. He's a little bronc, very strong and fast.” + </p> + <p> + “I come across his tracks. How'd Carmichael miss them?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't. He found them—trailed them all along the north range. + That's where he forbade Bo to go. You see, they're in love with each + other. They've been at odds. Neither will give in. Bo disobeyed him. + There's hard ground off the north range, so he said. He was able to follow + her tracks only so far.” + </p> + <p> + “Were there any other tracks along with hers?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Helen, I found them 'way southeast of Pine up on the slope of the + mountain. There were seven other horses makin' that trail—when we + run across it. On the way down we found a camp where men had waited. An' + Bo's pony, led by a rider on a big horse, come into that camp from the + east—maybe north a little. An' that tells the story.” + </p> + <p> + “Riggs ran her down—made off with her!” cried Helen, passionately. + “Oh, the villain! He had men in waiting. That's Beasley's work. They were + after me.” + </p> + <p> + “It may not be just what you said, but that's close enough. An' Bo's in a + bad fix. You must face that an' try to bear up under—fears of the + worst.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend! You will save her!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fetch her back, alive or dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead! Oh, my God!” Helen cried, and closed her eyes an instant, to open + them burning black. “But Bo isn't dead. I know that—I feel it. + She'll not die very easy. She's a little savage. She has no fear. She'd + fight like a tigress for her life. She's strong. You remember how strong. + She can stand anything. Unless they murder her outright she'll live—a + long time—through any ordeal.... So I beg you, my friend, don't lose + an hour—don't ever give up!” + </p> + <p> + Dale trembled under the clasp of her hands. Loosing his own from her + clinging hold, he stepped out on the porch. At that moment John appeared + on Ranger, coming at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'll never come back without her,” said Dale. “I reckon you can + hope—only be prepared. That's all. It's hard. But these damned deals + are common out here in the West.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose Beasley comes—here!” exclaimed Helen, and again her hand + went out toward him. + </p> + <p> + “If he does, you refuse to get off,” replied Dale. “But don't let him or + his greasers put a dirty hand on you. Should he threaten force—why, + pack some clothes—an' your valuables—an' go down to Mrs. + Cass's. An' wait till I come back!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait—till you—come back!” she faltered, slowly turning white + again. Her dark eyes dilated. “Milt—you're like Las Vegas. You'll + kill Beasley!” + </p> + <p> + Dale heard his own laugh, very cold and strange, foreign to his ears. A + grim, deadly hate of Beasley vied with the tenderness and pity he felt for + this distressed girl. It was a sore trial to see her leaning there against + the door—to be compelled to leave her alone. Abruptly be stalked off + the porch. Tom followed him. The black horse whinnied his recognition of + Dale and snorted at sight of the cougar. Just then the Mexican boy + returned with a bag. Dale tied this, with the small pack, behind the + saddle. + </p> + <p> + “John, you stay here with Miss Helen,” said Dale. “An' if Carmichael comes + back, keep him, too! An' to-night, if any one rides into Pine from the way + we come, you be sure to spot him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do thet, Milt,” responded John. + </p> + <p> + Dale mounted, and, turning for a last word to Helen, he felt the words of + cheer halted on his lips as he saw her standing white and broken-hearted, + with her hands to her bosom. He could not look twice. + </p> + <p> + “Come on there, you Tom,” he called to the cougar. “Reckon on this track + you'll pay me for all my trainin' of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend!” came Helen's sad voice, almost a whisper to his throbbing + ears. “Heaven help you—to save her! I—” + </p> + <p> + Then Ranger started and Dale heard no more. He could not look back. His + eyes were full of tears and his breast ached. By a tremendous effort he + shifted that emotion—called on all the spiritual energy of his being + to the duty of this grim task before him. + </p> + <p> + He did not ride down through the village, but skirted the northern border, + and worked round to the south, where, coming to the trail he had made an + hour past, he headed on it, straight for the slope now darkening in the + twilight. The big cougar showed more willingness to return on this trail + than he had shown in the coming. Ranger was fresh and wanted to go, but + Dale held him in. + </p> + <p> + A cool wind blew down from the mountain with the coming of night. Against + the brightening stars Dale saw the promontory lift its bold outline. It + was miles away. It haunted him, strangely calling. A night, and perhaps a + day, separated him from the gang that held Bo Rayner prisoner. Dale had no + plan as yet. He had only a motive as great as the love he bore Helen + Rayner. + </p> + <p> + Beasley's evil genius had planned this abduction. Riggs was a tool, a + cowardly knave dominated by a stronger will. Snake Anson and his gang had + lain in wait at that cedar camp; had made that broad hoof track leading up + the mountain. Beasley had been there with them that very day. All this was + as assured to Dale as if he had seen the men. + </p> + <p> + But the matter of Dale's recovering the girl and doing it speedily strung + his mental strength to its highest pitch. Many outlines of action flashed + through his mind as he rode on, peering keenly through the night, + listening with practised ears. All were rejected. And at the outset of + every new branching of thought he would gaze down at the gray form of the + cougar, long, graceful, heavy, as he padded beside the horse. From the + first thought of returning to help Helen Rayner he had conceived an + undefined idea of possible value in the qualities of his pet. Tom had + performed wonderful feats of trailing, but he had never been tried on men. + Dale believed he could make him trail anything, yet he had no proof of + this. One fact stood out of all Dale's conjectures, and it was that he had + known men, and brave men, to fear cougars. + </p> + <p> + Far up on the slope, in a little hollow where water ran and there was a + little grass for Ranger to pick, Dale haltered him and made ready to spend + the night. He was sparing with his food, giving Tom more than he took + himself. Curled close up to Dale, the big cat went to sleep. + </p> + <p> + But Dale lay awake for long. + </p> + <p> + The night was still, with only a faint moan of wind on this sheltered + slope. Dale saw hope in the stars. He did not seem to have promised + himself or Helen that he could save her sister, and then her property. He + seemed to have stated something unconsciously settled, outside of his + thinking. Strange how this certainty was not vague, yet irreconcilable + with any plans he created! Behind it, somehow nameless with inconceivable + power, surged all his wonderful knowledge of forest, of trails, of scents, + of night, of the nature of men lying down to sleep in the dark, lonely + woods, of the nature of this great cat that lived its every action in + accordance with his will. + </p> + <p> + He grew sleepy, and gradually his mind stilled, with his last conscious + thought a portent that he would awaken to accomplish his desperate task. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Young Burt possessed the keenest eyes of any man in Snake Anson's gang, + for which reason he was given the post as lookout from the lofty + promontory. His instructions were to keep sharp watch over the open slopes + below and to report any sight of a horse. + </p> + <p> + A cedar fire with green boughs on top of dead wood sent up a long, pale + column of smoke. This signal-fire had been kept burning since sunrise. + </p> + <p> + The preceding night camp had been made on a level spot in the cedars back + of the promontory. But manifestly Anson did not expect to remain there + long. For, after breakfast, the packs had been made up and the horses + stood saddled and bridled. They were restless and uneasy, tossing bits and + fighting flies. The sun, now half-way to meridian, was hot and no breeze + blew in that sheltered spot. + </p> + <p> + Shady Jones had ridden off early to fill the water-bags, and had not yet + returned. Anson, thinner and scalier and more snakelike than ever, was + dealing a greasy, dirty deck of cards, his opponent being the + square-shaped, black-visaged Moze. In lieu of money the gamblers wagered + with cedar-berries, each of which berries represented a pipeful of + tobacco. Jim Wilson brooded under a cedar-tree, his unshaven face a dirty + dust-hue, a smoldering fire in his light eyes, a sullen set to his jaw. + Every little while he would raise his eyes to glance at Riggs, and it + seemed that a quick glance was enough. Riggs paced to and fro in the open, + coatless and hatless, his black-broadcloth trousers and embroidered vest + dusty and torn. An enormous gun bumped awkwardly in its sheath swinging + below his hip. Riggs looked perturbed. His face was sweating freely, yet + it was far from red in color. He did not appear to mind the sun or the + flies. His eyes were staring, dark, wild, shifting in gaze from everything + they encountered. But often that gaze shot back to the captive girl + sitting under a cedar some yards from the man. + </p> + <p> + Bo Rayner's little, booted feet were tied together with one end of a lasso + and the other end trailed off over the ground. Her hands were free. Her + riding-habit was dusty and disordered. Her eyes blazed defiantly out of a + small, pale face. + </p> + <p> + “Harve Riggs, I wouldn't be standing in those cheap boots of yours for a + million dollars,” she said, sarcastically. Riggs took no notice of her + words. + </p> + <p> + “You pack that gun-sheath wrong end out. What have you got the gun for, + anyhow?” she added, tauntingly. + </p> + <p> + Snake Anson let out a hoarse laugh and Moze's black visage opened in a + huge grin. Jim Wilson seemed to drink in the girl's words. Sullen and + somber, he bent his lean head, very still, as if listening. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better shut up,” said Riggs, darkly. + </p> + <p> + “I will not shut up,” declared Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll gag you,” he threatened. + </p> + <p> + “Gag me! Why, you dirty, low-down, two-bit of a bluff!” she exclaimed, + hotly, “I'd like to see you try it. I'll tear that long hair of yours + right off your head.” + </p> + <p> + Riggs advanced toward her with his hands clutching, as if eager to + throttle her. The girl leaned forward, her face reddening, her eyes + fierce. + </p> + <p> + “You damned little cat!” muttered Riggs, thickly. “I'll gag you—if + you don't stop squallin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on. I dare you to lay a hand on me.... Harve Riggs, I'm not the + least afraid of you. Can't you savvy that? You're a liar, a four-flush, a + sneak! Why, you're not fit to wipe the feet of any of these outlaws.” + </p> + <p> + Riggs took two long strides and bent over her, his teeth protruding in a + snarl, and he cuffed her hard on the side of the head. + </p> + <p> + Bo's head jerked back with the force of the blow, but she uttered no cry. + </p> + <p> + “Are you goin' to keep your jaw shut?” he demanded, stridently, and a dark + tide of blood surged up into his neck. + </p> + <p> + “I should smile I'm not,” retorted Bo, in cool, deliberate anger of + opposition. “You've roped me—and you've struck me! Now get a club—stand + off there—out of my reach—and beat me! Oh, if I only knew cuss + words fit for you—I'd call you them!” + </p> + <p> + Snake Anson had stopped playing cards, and was watching, listening, with + half-disgusted, half-amused expression on his serpent-like face. Jim + Wilson slowly rose to his feet. If any one had observed him it would have + been to note that he now seemed singularly fascinated by this scene, yet + all the while absorbed in himself. Once he loosened the neck-band of his + blouse. + </p> + <p> + Riggs swung his arm more violently at the girl. But she dodged. + </p> + <p> + “You dog!” she hissed. “Oh, if I only had a gun!” + </p> + <p> + Her face then, with its dead whiteness and the eyes of flame, held a + tragic, impelling beauty that stung Anson into remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, Riggs, don't beat up the kid,” he protested. “Thet won't do any good. + Let her alone.” + </p> + <p> + “But she's got to shut up,” replied Riggs. + </p> + <p> + “How 'n hell air you goin' to shet her up? Mebbe if you get out of her + sight she'll be quiet.... How about thet, girl?” + </p> + <p> + Anson gnawed his drooping mustache as he eyed Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Have I made any kick to you or your men yet?” she queried. + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me you 'ain't,” replied Anson. + </p> + <p> + “You won't hear me make any so long as I'm treated decent,” said Bo. “I + don't know what you've got to do with Riggs. He ran me down—roped me—dragged + me to your camp. Now I've a hunch you're waiting for Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “Girl, your hunch 's correct,” said Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you know I'm the wrong girl?” + </p> + <p> + “What's thet? I reckon you're Nell Rayner, who got left all old + Auchincloss's property.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm Bo Rayner. Nell is my sister. She owns the ranch. Beasley wanted + her.” + </p> + <p> + Anson cursed deep and low. Under his sharp, bristling eyebrows he bent + cunning green eyes upon Riggs. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you! Is what this kid says so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She's Nell Rayner's sister,” replied Riggs, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! Wal, why in the hell did you drag her into my camp an' off up here + to signal Beasley? He ain't wantin' her. He wants the girl who owns the + ranch. Did you take one fer the other—same as thet day we was with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess I must have,” replied Riggs, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “But you knowed her from her sister afore you come to my camp?” + </p> + <p> + Riggs shook his head. He was paler now and sweating more freely. The dank + hair hung wet over his forehead. His manner was that of a man suddenly + realizing he had gotten into a tight place. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's a liar!” exclaimed Bo, with contemptuous ring in her voice. “He + comes from my country. He has known Nell and me for years.” + </p> + <p> + Snake Anson turned to look at Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, now hyar's a queer deal this feller has rung in on us. I thought + thet kid was pretty young. Don't you remember Beasley told us Nell Rayner + was a handsome woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, pard Anson, if this heah gurl ain't handsome my eyes have gone + pore,” drawled Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! So your Texas chilvaree over the ladies is some operatin',” + retorted Anson, with fine sarcasm. “But thet ain't tellin' me what you + think?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I ain't tellin' you what I think yet. But I know thet kid ain't Nell + Rayner. For I've seen her.” + </p> + <p> + Anson studied his right-hand man for a moment, then, taking out his + tobacco-pouch, he sat himself down upon a stone and proceeded leisurely to + roll a cigarette. He put it between his thin lips and apparently forgot to + light it. For a few moments he gazed at the yellow ground and some scant + sage-brush. Riggs took to pacing up and down. Wilson leaned as before + against the cedar. The girl slowly recovered from her excess of anger. + </p> + <p> + “Kid, see hyar,” said Anson, addressing the girl; “if Riggs knowed you + wasn't Nell an' fetched you along anyhow—what 'd he do thet fur?” + </p> + <p> + “He chased me—caught me. Then he saw some one after us and he + hurried to your camp. He was afraid—the cur!” + </p> + <p> + Riggs heard her reply, for he turned a malignant glance upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Anson, I fetched her because I know Nell Rayner will give up anythin' on + earth for her,” he said, in loud voice. + </p> + <p> + Anson pondered this statement with an air of considering its apparent + sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you believe him,” declared Bo Rayner, bluntly. “He's a liar. He's + double-crossing Beasley and all of you.” + </p> + <p> + Riggs raised a shaking hand to clench it at her. “Keep still or it 'll be + the worse for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Riggs, shut up yourself,” put in Anson, as he leisurely rose. “Mebbe it + 'ain't occurred to you thet she might have some talk interestin' to me. + An' I'm runnin' this hyar camp. ... Now, kid, talk up an' say what you + like.” + </p> + <p> + “I said he was double-crossing you all,” replied the girl, instantly. + “Why, I'm surprised you'd be caught in his company! My uncle Al and my + sweetheart Carmichael and my friend Dale—they've all told me what + Western men are, even down to outlaws, robbers, cutthroat rascals like + you. And I know the West well enough now to be sure that four-flush + doesn't belong here and can't last here. He went to Dodge City once and + when he came back he made a bluff at being a bad man. He was a swaggering, + bragging, drinking gun-fighter. He talked of the men he'd shot, of the + fights he'd had. He dressed like some of those gun-throwing gamblers.... + He was in love with my sister Nell. She hated him. He followed us out West + and he has hung on our actions like a sneaking Indian. Why, Nell and I + couldn't even walk to the store in the village. He rode after me out on + the range—chased me.... For that Carmichael called Riggs's bluff + down in Turner's saloon. Dared him to draw! Cussed him every name on the + range! Slapped and beat and kicked him! Drove him out of Pine!... And now, + whatever he has said to Beasley or you, it's a dead sure bet he's playing + his own game. That's to get hold of Nell, and if not her—then me!... + Oh, I'm out of breath—and I'm out of names to call him. If I talked + forever—I'd never be—able to—do him justice. But lend me—a + gun—a minute!” + </p> + <p> + Jim Wilson's quiet form vibrated with a start. Anson with his admiring + smile pulled his gun and, taking a couple of steps forward, held it out + butt first. She stretched eagerly for it and he jerked it away. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on there!” yelled Riggs, in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Damme, Jim, if she didn't mean bizness!” exclaimed the outlaw. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, now—see heah, Miss. Would you bore him—if you hed a + gun?” inquired Wilson, with curious interest. There was more of respect in + his demeanor than admiration. + </p> + <p> + “No. I don't want his cowardly blood on my hands,” replied the girl. “But + I'd make him dance—I'd make him run.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore you can handle a gun?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded her answer while her eyes flashed hate and her resolute lips + twitched. + </p> + <p> + Then Wilson made a singularly swift motion and his gun was pitched butt + first to within a foot of her hand. She snatched it up, cocked it, aimed + it, all before Anson could move. But he yelled: + </p> + <p> + “Drop thet gun, you little devil!” + </p> + <p> + Riggs turned ghastly as the big blue gun lined on him. He also yelled, but + that yell was different from Anson's. + </p> + <p> + “Run or dance!” cried the girl. + </p> + <p> + The big gun boomed and leaped almost out of her hand. She took both hands, + and called derisively as she fired again. The second bullet hit at Riggs's + feet, scattering the dust and fragments of stone all over him. He bounded + here—there—then darted for the rocks. A third time the heavy + gun spoke and this bullet must have ticked Riggs, for he let out a hoarse + bawl and leaped sheer for the protection of a rock. + </p> + <p> + “Plug him! Shoot off a leg!” yelled Snake Anson, whooping and stamping, as + Riggs got out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Jim Wilson watched the whole performance with the same quietness that had + characterized his manner toward the girl. Then, as Riggs disappeared, + Wilson stepped forward and took the gun from the girl's trembling hands. + She was whiter than ever, but still resolute and defiant. Wilson took a + glance over in the direction Riggs had hidden and then proceeded to reload + the gun. Snake Anson's roar of laughter ceased rather suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Hyar, Jim, she might have held up the whole gang with thet gun,” he + protested. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon she 'ain't nothin' ag'in' us,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! You know a lot about wimmen now, don't you? But thet did my heart + good. Jim, what 'n earth would you have did if thet 'd been you instead of + Riggs?” + </p> + <p> + The query seemed important and amazing. Wilson pondered. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'd stood there—stock-still—an' never moved an + eye-winker.” + </p> + <p> + “An' let her shoot!” ejaculated Anson, nodding his long head. “Me, too!” + </p> + <p> + So these rough outlaws, inured to all the violence and baseness of their + dishonest calling, rose to the challenging courage of a slip of a girl. + She had the one thing they respected—nerve. + </p> + <p> + Just then a halloo, from the promontory brought Anson up with a start. + Muttering to himself, he strode out toward the jagged rocks that hid the + outlook. Moze shuffled his burly form after Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Miss, it shore was grand—thet performance of Mister Gunman Riggs,” + remarked Jim Wilson, attentively studying the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged to you for lending me your gun,” she replied. “I—I + hope I hit him—a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if you didn't sting him, then Jim Wilson knows nothin' about lead.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim Wilson? Are you the man—the outlaw my uncle Al knew?” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I am, miss. Fer I knowed Al shore enough. What 'd he say aboot + me?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember once he was telling me about Snake Anson's gang. He mentioned + you. Said you were a real gun-fighter. And what a shame it was you had to + be an outlaw.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal! An' so old Al spoke thet nice of me.... It's tolerable likely I'll + remember. An' now, miss, can I do anythin' for you?” + </p> + <p> + Swift as a flash she looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, shore I don't mean much, I'm sorry to say. Nothin' to make you look + like thet.... I hev to be an outlaw, shore as you're born. But—mebbe + there's a difference in outlaws.” + </p> + <p> + She understood him and paid him the compliment not to voice her sudden + upflashing hope that he might be one to betray his leader. + </p> + <p> + “Please take this rope off my feet. Let me walk a little. Let me have a—a + little privacy. That fool watched every move I made. I promise not to run + away. And, oh! I'm thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore you've got sense.” He freed her feet and helped her get up. + “There'll be some fresh water any minit now, if you'll wait.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned his back and walked over to where Riggs sat nursing a + bullet-burn on his leg. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Riggs, I'm takin' the responsibility of loosin' the girl for a + little spell. She can't get away. An' there ain't any sense in bein' + mean.” + </p> + <p> + Riggs made no reply, and went on rolling down his trousers leg, lapped a + fold over at the bottom and pulled on his boot. Then he strode out toward + the promontory. Half-way there he encountered Anson tramping back. + </p> + <p> + “Beasley's comin' one way an' Shady's comin' another. We'll be off this + hot point of rock by noon,” said the outlaw leader. + </p> + <p> + Riggs went on to the promontory to look for himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the girl?” demanded Anson, in surprise, when he got back to the + camp. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, she's walkin' 'round between heah an' Pine,” drawled Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, you let her loose?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore I did. She's been hawg-tied all the time. An' she said she'd not + run off. I'd take thet girl's word even to a sheep-thief.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh. So would I, for all of thet. But, Jim, somethin's workin' in you. + Ain't you sort of rememberin' a time when you was young—an' mebbe + knowed pretty kids like this one?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if I am it 'll shore turn out bad fer somebody.” + </p> + <p> + Anson gave him a surprised stare and suddenly lost the bantering tone. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! So thet's how it's workin',” he replied, and flung himself down in + the shade. + </p> + <p> + Young Burt made his appearance then, wiping his sallow face. His deep-set, + hungry eyes, upon which his comrades set such store, roved around the + camp. + </p> + <p> + “Whar's the gurl?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Jim let her go out fer a stroll,” replied Anson. + </p> + <p> + “I seen Jim was gittin' softy over her. Haw! Haw! Haw!” + </p> + <p> + But Snake Anson did not crack a smile. The atmosphere appeared not to be + congenial for jokes, a fact Burt rather suddenly divined. Riggs and Moze + returned from the promontory, the latter reporting that Shady Jones was + riding up close. Then the girl walked slowly into sight and approached to + find a seat within ten yards of the group. They waited in silence until + the expected horseman rode up with water-bottles slung on both sides of + his saddle. His advent was welcome. All the men were thirsty. Wilson took + water to the girl before drinking himself. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's an all-fired hot ride fer water,” declared the outlaw Shady, who + somehow fitted his name in color and impression. “An', boss, if it's the + same to you I won't take it ag'in.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up, Shady. We'll be rustlin' back in the mountains before sundown,” + said Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Hang me if that ain't the cheerfulest news I've hed in some days. Hey, + Moze?” + </p> + <p> + The black-faced Moze nodded his shaggy head. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sick an' sore of this deal,” broke out Burt, evidently encouraged by + his elders. “Ever since last fall we've been hangin' 'round—till + jest lately freezin' in camps—no money—no drink—no grub + wuth havin'. All on promises!” + </p> + <p> + Not improbably this young and reckless member of the gang had struck the + note of discord. Wilson seemed most detached from any sentiment prevailing + there. Some strong thoughts were revolving in his brain. + </p> + <p> + “Burt, you ain't insinuatin' thet I made promises?” inquired Anson, + ominously. + </p> + <p> + “No, boss, I ain't. You allus said we might hit it rich. But them promises + was made to you. An' it 'd be jest like thet greaser to go back on his + word now we got the gurl.” + </p> + <p> + “Son, it happens we got the wrong one. Our long-haired pard hyar—Mister + Riggs—him with the big gun—he waltzes up with this sassy kid + instead of the woman Beasley wanted.” + </p> + <p> + Burt snorted his disgust while Shady Jones, roundly swearing, pelted the + smoldering camp-fire with stones. Then they all lapsed into surly silence. + The object of their growing scorn, Riggs, sat a little way apart, facing + none of them, but maintaining as bold a front as apparently he could + muster. + </p> + <p> + Presently a horse shot up his ears, the first indication of scent or sound + imperceptible to the men. But with this cue they all, except Wilson, sat + up attentively. Soon the crack of iron-shod hoofs on stone broke the + silence. Riggs nervously rose to his feet. And the others, still excepting + Wilson, one by one followed suit. In another moment a rangy bay horse + trotted out of the cedars, up to the camp, and his rider jumped off nimbly + for so heavy a man. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Beasley?” was Anson's greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Snake, old man!” replied Beasley, as his bold, snapping black eyes + swept the group. He was dusty and hot, and wet with sweat, yet evidently + too excited to feel discomfort. “I seen your smoke signal first off an' + jumped my hoss quick. But I rode north of Pine before I headed 'round this + way. Did you corral the girl or did Riggs? Say!—you look queer!... + What's wrong here? You haven't signaled me for nothin'?” + </p> + <p> + Snake Anson beckoned to Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Come out of the shade. Let him look you over.” + </p> + <p> + The girl walked out from under the spreading cedar that had hidden her + from sight. + </p> + <p> + Beasley stared aghast—his jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's the kid sister of the woman I wanted!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “So we've jest been told.” + </p> + <p> + Astonishment still held Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “Told?” he echoed. Suddenly his big body leaped with a start. “Who got + her? Who fetched her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mister Gunman Riggs hyar,” replied Anson, with a subtle scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Riggs, you got the wrong girl,” shouted Beasley. “You made thet mistake + once before. What're you up to?” + </p> + <p> + “I chased her an' when I got her, seein' it wasn't Nell Rayner—why—I + kept her, anyhow,” replied Riggs. “An' I've got a word for your ear + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Man, you're crazy—queerin' my deal thet way!” roared Beasley. “You + heard my plans.... Riggs, this girl-stealin' can't be done twice. Was you + drinkin' or locoed or what?” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley, he was giving you the double-cross,” cut in Bo Rayner's cool + voice. + </p> + <p> + The rancher stared speechlessly at her, then at Anson, then at Wilson, and + last at Riggs, when his brown visage shaded dark with rush of purple + blood. With one lunge he knocked Riggs flat, then stood over him with a + convulsive hand at his gun. + </p> + <p> + “You white-livered card-sharp! I've a notion to bore you.... They told me + you had a deal of your own, an' now I believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I had,” replied Riggs, cautiously getting up. He was ghastly. + “But I wasn't double-crossin' you. Your deal was to get the girl away from + home so you could take possession of her property. An' I wanted her.” + </p> + <p> + “What for did you fetch the sister, then?” demanded Beasley, his big jaw + bulging. + </p> + <p> + “Because I've a plan to—” + </p> + <p> + “Plan hell! You've spoiled my plan an' I've seen about enough of you.” + Beasley breathed hard; his lowering gaze boded an uncertain will toward + the man who had crossed him; his hand still hung low and clutching. + </p> + <p> + “Beasley, tell them to get my horse. I want to go home,” said Bo Rayner. + </p> + <p> + Slowly Beasley turned. Her words enjoined a silence. What to do with her + now appeared a problem. + </p> + <p> + “I had nothin' to do with fetchin' you here an' I'll have nothin' to do + with sendin' you back or whatever's done with you,” declared Beasley. + </p> + <p> + Then the girl's face flashed white again and her eyes changed to fire. + </p> + <p> + “You're as big a liar as Riggs,” she cried, passionately. “And you're a + thief, a bully who picks on defenseless girls. Oh, we know your game! Milt + Dale heard your plot with this outlaw Anson to steal my sister. You ought + to be hanged—you half-breed greaser!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll cut out your tongue!” hissed Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll bet you would if you had me alone. But these outlaws—these + sheep-thieves—these tools you hire are better than you and Riggs.... + What do you suppose Carmichael will do to you? Carmichael! He's my + sweetheart—that cowboy. You know what he did to Riggs. Have you + brains enough to know what he'll do to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll not do much,” growled Beasley. But the thick purplish blood was + receding from his face. “Your cowpuncher—” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” she interrupted, and she snapped her fingers in his face. “He's + from Texas! He's from TEXAS!” + </p> + <p> + “Supposin' he is from Texas?” demanded Beasley, in angry irritation. + “What's thet? Texans are all over. There's Jim Wilson, Snake Anson's + right-hand man. He's from Texas. But thet ain't scarin' any one.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed toward Wilson, who shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The + girl's flaming glance followed his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Are you from Texas?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss, I am—an' I reckon I don't deserve it,” replied Wilson. + It was certain that a vague shame attended his confession. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I believed even a bandit from Texas would fight for a helpless girl!” + she replied, in withering scorn of disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Jim Wilson dropped his head. If any one there suspected a serious turn to + Wilson's attitude toward that situation it was the keen outlaw leader. + </p> + <p> + “Beasley, you're courtin' death,” he broke in. + </p> + <p> + “You bet you are!” added Bo, with a passion that made her listeners + quiver. “You've put me at the mercy of a gang of outlaws! You may force my + sister out of her home! But your day will come.' Tom Carmichael will KILL + you.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley mounted his horse. Sullen, livid, furious, he sat shaking in the + saddle, to glare down at the outlaw leader. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, thet's no fault of mine the deal's miscarried. I was square. I + made my offer for the workin' out of my plan. It 'ain't been done. Now + there's hell to pay an' I'm through.” + </p> + <p> + “Beasley, I reckon I couldn't hold you to anythin',” replied Anson, + slowly. “But if you was square you ain't square now. We've hung around an' + tried hard. My men are all sore. An' we're broke, with no outfit to speak + of. Me an' you never fell out before. But I reckon we might.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I owe you any money—accordin' to the deal?” demanded Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't,” responded Anson, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Then thet's square. I wash my hands of the whole deal. Make Riggs pay up. + He's got money an' he's got plans. Go in with him.” + </p> + <p> + With that Beasley spurred his horse, wheeled and rode away. The outlaws + gazed after him until he disappeared in the cedars. + </p> + <p> + “What'd you expect from a greaser?” queried Shady Jones. + </p> + <p> + “Anson, didn't I say so?” added Burt. + </p> + <p> + The black-visaged Moze rolled his eyes like a mad bull and Jim Wilson + studiously examined a stick he held in his hands. Riggs showed immense + relief. + </p> + <p> + “Anson, stake me to some of your outfit an' I'll ride off with the girl,” + he said, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Where'd you go now?” queried Anson, curiously. + </p> + <p> + Riggs appeared at a loss for a quick answer; his wits were no more equal + to this predicament than his nerve. + </p> + <p> + “You're no woodsman. An' onless you're plumb locoed you'd never risk goin' + near Pine or Show Down. There'll be real trackers huntin' your trail.” + </p> + <p> + The listening girl suddenly appealed to Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him take me off—alone—in the woods!” she faltered. + That was the first indication of her weakening. + </p> + <p> + Jim Wilson broke into gruff reply. “I'm not bossin' this gang.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're a man!” she importuned. + </p> + <p> + “Riggs, you fetch along your precious firebrand an' come with us,” said + Anson, craftily. “I'm particular curious to see her brand you.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, lemme take the girl back to Pine,” said Jim Wilson. + </p> + <p> + Anson swore his amaze. + </p> + <p> + “It's sense,” continued Wilson. “We've shore got our own troubles, an' + keepin' her 'll only add to them. I've a hunch. Now you know I ain't often + givin' to buckin' your say-so. But this deal ain't tastin' good to me. + Thet girl ought to be sent home.” + </p> + <p> + “But mebbe there's somethin' in it for us. Her sister 'd pay to git her + back.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I shore hope you'll recollect I offered—thet's all,” concluded + Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, if we wanted to git rid of her we'd let Riggs take her off,” + remonstrated the outlaw leader. He was perturbed and undecided. Wilson + worried him. + </p> + <p> + The long Texan veered around full faced. What subtle transformation in + him! + </p> + <p> + “Like hell we would!” he said. + </p> + <p> + It could not have been the tone that caused Anson to quail. He might have + been leader here, but he was not the greater man. His face clouded. + </p> + <p> + “Break camp,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Riggs had probably not heard that last exchange between Anson and Wilson, + for he had walked a few rods aside to get his horse. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments when they started off, Burt, Jones, and Moze were in the + lead driving the pack-horses, Anson rode next, the girl came between him + and Riggs, and significantly, it seemed, Jim Wilson brought up the rear. + </p> + <p> + This start was made a little after the noon hour. They zigzagged up the + slope, took to a deep ravine, and followed it up to where it headed in the + level forest. From there travel was rapid, the pack-horses being driven at + a jogtrot. Once when a troop of deer burst out of a thicket into a glade, + to stand with ears high, young Burt halted the cavalcade. His well-aimed + shot brought down a deer. Then the men rode on, leaving him behind to + dress and pack the meat. The only other halt made was at the crossing of + the first water, a clear, swift brook, where both horses and men drank + thirstily. Here Burt caught up with his comrades. + </p> + <p> + They traversed glade and park, and wended a crooked trail through the + deepening forest, and climbed, bench after bench, to higher ground, while + the sun sloped to the westward, lower and redder. Sunset had gone, and + twilight was momentarily brightening to the afterglow when Anson, breaking + his silence of the afternoon, ordered a halt. + </p> + <p> + The place was wild, dismal, a shallow vale between dark slopes of spruce. + Grass, fire-wood, and water were there in abundance. All the men were off, + throwing saddles and packs, before the tired girl made an effort to get + down. Riggs, observing her, made a not ungentle move to pull her off. She + gave him a sounding slap with her gloved hand. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your paws to yourself,” she said. No evidence of exhaustion was + there in her spirit. + </p> + <p> + Wilson had observed this by-play, but Anson had not. + </p> + <p> + “What come off?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, the Honorable Gunman Riggs jest got caressed by the lady—as he + was doin' the elegant,” replied Moze, who stood nearest. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, was you watchin'?” queried Anson. His curiosity had held through the + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “He tried to yank her off an' she biffed him,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “That Riggs is jest daffy or plain locoed,” said Snake, in an aside to + Moze. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, you mean plain cussed. Mark my words, he'll hoodoo this outfit. Jim + was figgerin' correct.” + </p> + <p> + “Hoodoo—” cursed Anson, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + Many hands made quick work. In a few moments a fire was burning brightly, + water was boiling, pots were steaming, the odor of venison permeated the + cool air. The girl had at last slipped off her saddle to the ground, where + she sat while Riggs led the horse away. She sat there apparently + forgotten, a pathetic droop to her head. + </p> + <p> + Wilson had taken an ax and was vigorously wielding it among the spruces. + One by one they fell with swish and soft crash. Then the sliding ring of + the ax told how he was slicing off the branches with long sweeps. + Presently he appeared in the semi-darkness, dragging half-trimmed spruces + behind him. He made several trips, the last of which was to stagger under + a huge burden of spruce boughs. These he spread under a low, projecting + branch of an aspen. Then he leaned the bushy spruces slantingly against + this branch on both sides, quickly improvising a V-shaped shelter with + narrow aperture in front. Next from one of the packs he took a blanket and + threw that inside the shelter. Then, touching the girl on the shoulder, he + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “When you're ready, slip in there. An' don't lose no sleep by worryin', + fer I'll be layin' right here.” + </p> + <p> + He made a motion to indicate his length across the front of the narrow + aperture. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you! Maybe you really are a Texan,” she whispered back. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe,” was his gloomy reply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + The girl refused to take food proffered her by Riggs, but she ate and + drank a little that Wilson brought her, then she disappeared in the spruce + lean-to. + </p> + <p> + Whatever loquacity and companionship had previously existed in Snake + Anson's gang were not manifest in this camp. Each man seemed preoccupied, + as if pondering the dawn in his mind of an ill omen not clear to him yet + and not yet dreamed of by his fellows. They all smoked. Then Moze and + Shady played cards awhile by the light of the fire, but it was a dull + game, in which either seldom spoke. Riggs sought his blanket first, and + the fact was significant that he lay down some distance from the spruce + shelter which contained Bo Rayner. Presently young Burt went off grumbling + to his bed. And not long afterward the card-players did likewise. + </p> + <p> + Snake Anson and Jim Wilson were left brooding in silence beside the dying + camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + The night was dark, with only a few stars showing. A fitful wind moaned + unearthly through the spruce. An occasional thump of hoof sounded from the + dark woods. No cry of wolf or coyote or cat gave reality to the wildness + of forest-land. + </p> + <p> + By and by those men who had rolled in their blankets were breathing deep + and slow in heavy slumber. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, I take it this hyar Riggs has queered our deal,” said Snake Anson, + in low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “An' I'm feared he's queered this hyar White Mountain country fer us.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore I 'ain't got so far as thet. What d' ye mean, Snake?” + </p> + <p> + “Damme if I savvy,” was the gloomy reply. “I only know what was bad looks + growin' wuss. Last fall—an' winter—an' now it's near April. + We've got no outfit to make a long stand in the woods.... Jim, jest how + strong is thet Beasley down in the settlements?” + </p> + <p> + “I've a hunch he ain't half as strong as he bluffs.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, too. I got thet idee yesterday. He was scared of the kid—when + she fired up an' sent thet hot-shot about her cowboy sweetheart killin' + him. He'll do it, Jim. I seen that Carmichael at Magdalena some years ago. + Then he was only a youngster. But, whew! Mebbe he wasn't bad after toyin' + with a little red liquor.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. He was from Texas, she said.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim, I savvied your feelin's was hurt—by thet talk about Texas—an' + when she up an' asked you.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson had no rejoinder for this remark. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Lord knows, I ain't wonderin'. You wasn't a hunted outlaw all your + life. An' neither was I.... Wilson, I never was keen on this girl deal—now, + was I?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it's honest to say no to thet,” replied Wilson. “But it's done. + Beasley 'll get plugged sooner or later. Thet won't help us any. Chasin' + sheep-herders out of the country an' stealin' sheep—thet ain't + stealin' gurls by a long sight. Beasley 'll blame that on us, an' be + greaser enough to send some of his men out to hunt us. For Pine an' Show + Down won't stand thet long. There's them Mormons. They'll be hell when + they wake up. Suppose Carmichael got thet hunter Dale an' them hawk-eyed + Beemans on our trail?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, we'd cash in—quick,” replied Anson, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn't you let me take the gurl back home?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, come to think of thet, Jim, I'm sore, an' I need money—an' I + knowed you'd never take a dollar from her sister. An' I've made up my mind + to git somethin' out of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, you're no fool. How 'll you do thet same an' do it quick?” + </p> + <p> + “'Ain't reckoned it out yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you got aboot to-morrer an' thet's all,” returned Wilson, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, what's ailin' you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll let you figger thet out.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, somethin' ails the whole gang,” declared Anson, savagely. “With them + it's nothin' to eat—no whisky—no money to bet with—no + tobacco!... But thet's not what's ailin' you, Jim Wilson, nor me!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, what is, then?” queried Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “With me it's a strange feelin' thet my day's over on these ranges. I + can't explain, but it jest feels so. Somethin' in the air. I don't like + them dark shadows out there under the spruces. Savvy?... An' as fer you, + Jim—wal, you allus was half decent, an' my gang's got too lowdown + fer you.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, did I ever fail you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you never did. You're the best pard I ever knowed. In the years we've + rustled together we never had a contrary word till I let Beasley fill my + ears with his promises. Thet's my fault. But, Jim, it's too late.” + </p> + <p> + “It mightn't have been too late yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe not. But it is now, an' I'll hang on to the girl or git her worth + in gold,” declared the outlaw, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, I've seen stronger gangs than yours come an' go. Them Big Bend + gangs in my country—them rustlers—they were all bad men. You + have no likes of them gangs out heah. If they didn't get wiped out by + Rangers or cowboys, why they jest naturally wiped out themselves. Thet's a + law I recognize in relation to gangs like them. An' as for yours—why, + Anson, it wouldn't hold water against one real gun-slinger.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh' Then if we ran up ag'in' Carmichael or some such fellar—would + you be suckin' your finger like a baby?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I wasn't takin' count of myself. I was takin' generalities.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, what 'n hell are them?” asked Anson, disgustedly. “Jim, I know as + well as you thet this hyar gang is hard put. We're goin' to be trailed an' + chased. We've got to hide—be on the go all the time—here an' + there—all over, in the roughest woods. An' wait our chance to work + south.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. But, Snake, you ain't takin' no count of the feelin's of the men—an' + of mine an' yours.... I'll bet you my hoss thet in a day or so this gang + will go to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm feared you spoke what's been crowdin' to git in my mind,” replied + Anson. Then he threw up his hands in a strange gesture of resignation. The + outlaw was brave, but all men of the wilds recognized a force stronger + than themselves. He sat there resembling a brooding snake with basilisk + eyes upon the fire. At length he arose, and without another word to his + comrade he walked wearily to where lay the dark, quiet forms of the + sleepers. + </p> + <p> + Jim Wilson remained beside the flickering fire. He was reading something + in the red embers, perhaps the past. Shadows were on his face, not all + from the fading flames or the towering spruces. Ever and anon he raised + his head to listen, not apparently that he expected any unusual sound, but + as if involuntarily. Indeed, as Anson had said, there was something + nameless in the air. The black forest breathed heavily, in fitful moans of + wind. It had its secrets. The glances Wilson threw on all sides betrayed + that any hunted man did not love the dark night, though it hid him. Wilson + seemed fascinated by the life inclosed there by the black circle of + spruce. He might have been reflecting on the strange reaction happening to + every man in that group, since a girl had been brought among them. Nothing + was clear, however; the forest kept its secret, as did the melancholy + wind; the outlaws were sleeping like tired beasts, with their dark secrets + locked in their hearts. + </p> + <p> + After a while Wilson put some sticks on the red embers, then pulled the + end of a log over them. A blaze sputtered up, changing the dark circle and + showing the sleepers with their set, shadowed faces upturned. Wilson gazed + on all of them, a sardonic smile on his lips, and then his look fixed upon + the sleeper apart from the others—Riggs. It might have been the + false light of flame and shadow that created Wilson's expression of dark + and terrible hate. Or it might have been the truth, expressed in that + lonely, unguarded hour, from the depths of a man born in the South—a + man who by his inheritance of race had reverence for all womanhood—by + whose strange, wild, outlawed bloody life of a gun-fighter he must hate + with the deadliest hate this type that aped and mocked his fame. + </p> + <p> + It was a long gaze Wilson rested upon Riggs—as strange and secretive + as the forest wind moaning down the great aisles—and when that dark + gaze was withdrawn Wilson stalked away to make his bed with the stride of + one ill whom spirit had liberated force. + </p> + <p> + He laid his saddle in front of the spruce shelter where the girl had + entered, and his tarpaulin and blankets likewise and then wearily + stretched his long length to rest. + </p> + <p> + The camp-fire blazed up, showing the exquisite green and brown-flecked + festooning of the spruce branches, symmetrical and perfect, yet so + irregular, and then it burned out and died down, leaving all in the dim + gray starlight. The horses were not moving around; the moan of night wind + had grown fainter; the low hum of insects was dying away; even the tinkle + of the brook had diminished. And that growth toward absolute silence + continued, yet absolute silence was never attained. Life abided in the + forest; only it had changed its form for the dark hours. + </p> + <p> + Anson's gang did not bestir themselves at the usual early sunrise hour + common to all woodsmen, hunters, or outlaws, to whom the break of day was + welcome. These companions—Anson and Riggs included—might have + hated to see the dawn come. It meant only another meager meal, then the + weary packing and the long, long ride to nowhere in particular, and + another meager meal—all toiled for without even the necessities of + satisfactory living, and assuredly without the thrilling hopes that made + their life significant, and certainly with a growing sense of approaching + calamity. + </p> + <p> + The outlaw leader rose surly and cross-grained. He had to boot Burt to + drive him out for the horses. Riggs followed him. Shady Jones did nothing + except grumble. Wilson, by common consent, always made the sour-dough + bread, and he was slow about it this morning. Anson and Moze did the rest + of the work, without alacrity. The girl did not appear. + </p> + <p> + “Is she dead?” growled Anson. + </p> + <p> + “No, she ain't,” replied Wilson, looking up. “She's sleepin'. Let her + sleep. She'd shore be a sight better off if she was daid.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! So would all of this hyar outfit,” was Anson's response. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Sna-ake, I shore reckon we'll all be thet there soon,” drawled + Wilson, in his familiar cool and irritating tone that said so much more + than the content of the words. + </p> + <p> + Anson did not address the Texas member of his party again. + </p> + <p> + Burt rode bareback into camp, driving half the number of the horses; Riggs + followed shortly with several more. But three were missed, one of them + being Anson's favorite. He would not have budged without that horse. + During breakfast he growled about his lazy men, and after the meal tried + to urge them off. Riggs went unwillingly. Burt refused to go at all. + </p> + <p> + “Nix. I footed them hills all I'm a-goin' to,” he said. “An' from now on I + rustle my own hoss.” + </p> + <p> + The leader glared his reception of this opposition. Perhaps his sense of + fairness actuated him once more, for he ordered Shady and Moze out to do + their share. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, you're the best tracker in this outfit. Suppose you go,” suggested + Anson. “You allus used to be the first one off.” + </p> + <p> + “Times has changed, Snake,” was the imperturbable reply. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, won't you go?” demanded the leader, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I shore won't.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson did not look or intimate in any way that he would not leave the + girl in camp with one or any or all of Anson's gang, but the truth was as + significant as if he had shouted it. The slow-thinking Moze gave Wilson a + sinister look. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, ain't it funny how a pretty wench—?” began Shady Jones, + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, you fool!” broke in Anson. “Come on, I'll help rustle them + hosses.” + </p> + <p> + After they had gone Burt took his rifle and strolled off into the forest. + Then the girl appeared. Her hair was down, her face pale, with dark + shadows. She asked for water to wash her face. Wilson pointed to the + brook, and as she walked slowly toward it he took a comb and a clean scarf + from his pack and carried them to her. + </p> + <p> + Upon her return to the camp-fire she looked very different with her hair + arranged and the red stains in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Miss, air you hungry?” asked Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He helped her to portions of bread, venison and gravy, and a cup of + coffee. Evidently she relished the meat, but she had to force down the + rest. + </p> + <p> + “Where are they all?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Rustlin' the hosses.” + </p> + <p> + Probably she divined that he did not want to talk, for the fleeting glance + she gave him attested to a thought that his voice or demeanor had changed. + Presently she sought a seat under the aspen-tree, out of the sun, and the + smoke continually blowing in her face; and there she stayed, a forlorn + little figure, for all the resolute lips and defiant eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Texan paced to and fro beside the camp-fire with bent head, and hands + locked behind him. But for the swinging gun he would have resembled a + lanky farmer, coatless and hatless, with his brown vest open, his trousers + stuck in the top of the high boots. + </p> + <p> + And neither he nor the girl changed their positions relatively for a long + time. At length, however, after peering into the woods, and listening, he + remarked to the girl that he would be back in a moment, and then walked + off around the spruces. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had he disappeared—in fact, so quickly after-ward that it + presupposed design instead of accident—than Riggs came running from + the opposite side of the glade. He ran straight to the girl, who sprang to + her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I hid—two of the—horses,” he panted, husky with excitement. + “I'll take—two saddles. You grab some grub. We'll run for it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she cried, stepping back. + </p> + <p> + “But it's not safe—for us—here,” he said, hurriedly, glancing + all around. “I'll take you—home. I swear.... Not safe—I tell + you—this gang's after me. Hurry!” + </p> + <p> + He laid hold of two saddles, one with each hand. The moment had reddened + his face, brightened his eyes, made his action strong. + </p> + <p> + “I'm safer—here with this outlaw gang,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “You won't come!” His color began to lighten then, and his face to + distort. He dropped his hold on the saddles. + </p> + <p> + “Harve Riggs, I'd rather become a toy and a rag for these ruffians than + spend an hour alone with you,” she flashed at him, in unquenchable hate. + </p> + <p> + “I'll drag you!” + </p> + <p> + He seized her, but could not hold her. Breaking away, she screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Help!” + </p> + <p> + That whitened his face, drove him to frenzy. Leaping forward, he struck + her a hard blow across the mouth. It staggered her, and, tripping on a + saddle, she fell. His hands flew to her throat, ready to choke her. But + she lay still and held her tongue. Then he dragged her to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry now—grab that pack—an' follow me.” Again Riggs laid + hold of the two saddles. A desperate gleam, baleful and vainglorious, + flashed over his face. He was living his one great adventure. + </p> + <p> + The girl's eyes dilated. They looked beyond him. Her lips opened. + </p> + <p> + “Scream again an' I'll kill you!” he cried, hoarsely and swiftly. The very + opening of her lips had terrified Riggs. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon one scream was enough,” spoke a voice, slow, but without the + drawl, easy and cool, yet incalculable in some terrible sense. + </p> + <p> + Riggs wheeled with inarticulate cry. Wilson stood a few paces off, with + his gun half leveled, low down. His face seemed as usual, only his eyes + held a quivering, light intensity, like boiling molten silver. + </p> + <p> + “Girl, what made thet blood on your mouth?” + </p> + <p> + “Riggs hit me!” she whispered. Then at something she feared or saw or + divined she shrank back, dropped on her knees, and crawled into the spruce + shelter. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Riggs, I'd invite you to draw if thet 'd be any use,” said Wilson. + This speech was reflective, yet it hurried a little. + </p> + <p> + Riggs could not draw nor move nor speak. He seemed turned to stone, except + his jaw, which slowly fell. + </p> + <p> + “Harve Riggs, gunman from down Missouri way,” continued the voice of + incalculable intent, “reckon you've looked into a heap of gun-barrels in + your day. Shore! Wal, look in this heah one!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson deliberately leveled the gun on a line with Riggs's starting eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't you heard to brag in Turner's saloon—thet you could see lead + comin'—an' dodge it? Shore you must be swift!... DODGE THIS HEAH + BULLET!” + </p> + <p> + The gun spouted flame and boomed. One of Riggs's starting, popping eyes—the + right one—went out, like a lamp. The other rolled horribly, then set + in blank dead fixedness. Riggs swayed in slow motion until a lost balance + felled him heavily, an inert mass. + </p> + <p> + Wilson bent over the prostrate form. Strange, violent contrast to the cool + scorn of the preceding moment! Hissing, spitting, as if poisoned by + passion, he burst with the hate that his character had forbidden him to + express on a living counterfeit. Wilson was shaken, as if by a palsy. He + choked over passionate, incoherent invective. It was class hate first, + then the hate of real manhood for a craven, then the hate of disgrace for + a murder. No man so fair as a gun-fighter in the Western creed of an “even + break”! + </p> + <p> + Wilson's terrible cataclysm of passion passed. Straightening up, he + sheathed his weapon and began a slow pace before the fire. Not many + moments afterward he jerked his head high and listened. Horses were softly + thudding through the forest. Soon Anson rode into sight with his men and + one of the strayed horses. It chanced, too, that young Burt appeared on + the other side of the glade. He walked quickly, as one who anticipated + news. + </p> + <p> + Snake Anson as he dismounted espied the dead man. + </p> + <p> + “Jim—I thought I heard a shot.” + </p> + <p> + The others exclaimed and leaped off their horses to view the prostrate + form with that curiosity and strange fear common to all men confronted by + sight of sudden death. + </p> + <p> + That emotion was only momentary. + </p> + <p> + “Shot his lamp out!” ejaculated Moze. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder how Gunman Riggs liked thet plumb center peg!” exclaimed Shady + Jones, with a hard laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Back of his head all gone!” gasped young Burt. Not improbably he had not + seen a great many bullet-marked men. + </p> + <p> + “Jim!—the long-haired fool didn't try to draw on you!” exclaimed + Snake Anson, astounded. + </p> + <p> + Wilson neither spoke nor ceased his pacing. + </p> + <p> + “What was it over?” added Anson, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “He hit the gurl,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + Then there were long-drawn exclamations all around, and glance met glance. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, you saved me the job,” continued the outlaw leader. “An' I'm much + obliged.... Fellars, search Riggs an' we'll divvy.... Thet all right, + Jim?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore, an' you can have my share.” + </p> + <p> + They found bank-notes in the man's pocket and considerable gold worn in a + money-belt around his waist. Shady Jones appropriated his boots, and Moze + his gun. Then they left him as he had fallen. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, you'll have to track them lost hosses. Two still missin' an' one of + them's mine,” called Anson as Wilson paced to the end of his beat. + </p> + <p> + The girl heard Anson, for she put her head out of the spruce shelter and + called: “Riggs said he'd hid two of the horses. They must be close. He + came that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, kid! Thet's good news,” replied Anson. His spirits were rising. + “He must hev wanted you to slope with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I wouldn't go.” + </p> + <p> + “An' then he hit you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, recallin' your talk of yestiddy, I can't see as Mister Riggs lasted + much longer hyar than he'd hev lasted in Texas. We've some of thet great + country right in our outfit.” + </p> + <p> + The girl withdrew her white face. + </p> + <p> + “It's break camp, boys,” was the leader's order. “A couple of you look up + them hosses. They'll be hid in some thick spruces. The rest of us 'll + pack.” + </p> + <p> + Soon the gang was on the move, heading toward the height of land, and + swerving from it only to find soft and grassy ground that would not leave + any tracks. + </p> + <p> + They did not travel more than a dozen miles during the afternoon, but they + climbed bench after bench until they reached the timbered plateau that + stretched in sheer black slope up to the peaks. Here rose the great and + gloomy forest of firs and pines, with the spruce overshadowed and thinned + out. The last hour of travel was tedious and toilsome, a zigzag, winding, + breaking, climbing hunt for the kind of camp-site suited to Anson's fancy. + He seemed to be growing strangely irrational about selecting places to + camp. At last, for no reason that could have been manifest to a good + woodsman, he chose a gloomy bowl in the center of the densest forest that + had been traversed. The opening, if such it could have been called, was + not a park or even a glade. A dark cliff, with strange holes, rose to one + side, but not so high as the lofty pines that brushed it. Along its base + babbled a brook, running over such formation of rock that from different + points near at hand it gave forth different sounds, some singing, others + melodious, and one at least of a hollow, weird, deep sound, not loud, but + strangely penetrating. + </p> + <p> + “Sure spooky I say,” observed Shady, sentiently. + </p> + <p> + The little uplift of mood, coincident with the rifling of Riggs's person, + had not worn over to this evening camp. What talk the outlaws indulged in + was necessary and conducted in low tones. The place enjoined silence. + </p> + <p> + Wilson performed for the girl very much the same service as he had the + night before. Only he advised her not to starve herself; she must eat to + keep up her strength. She complied at the expense of considerable effort. + </p> + <p> + As it had been a back-breaking day, in which all of them, except the girl, + had climbed miles on foot, they did not linger awake long enough after + supper to learn what a wild, weird, and pitch-black spot the outlaw leader + had chosen. The little spaces of open ground between the huge-trunked + pine-trees had no counterpart up in the lofty spreading foliage. Not a + star could blink a wan ray of light into that Stygian pit. The wind, + cutting down over abrupt heights farther up, sang in the pine-needles as + if they were strings vibrant with chords. Dismal creaks were audible. They + were the forest sounds of branch or tree rubbing one another, but which + needed the corrective medium of daylight to convince any human that they + were other than ghostly. Then, despite the wind and despite the changing + murmur of the brook, there seemed to be a silence insulating them, as deep + and impenetrable as the darkness. + </p> + <p> + But the outlaws, who were fugitives now, slept the sleep of the weary, and + heard nothing. They awoke with the sun, when the forest seemed smoky in a + golden gloom, when light and bird and squirrel proclaimed the day. + </p> + <p> + The horses had not strayed out of this basin during the night, a + circumstance that Anson was not slow to appreciate. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't no cheerful camp, but I never seen a safer place to hole up in,” + he remarked to Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, yes—if any place is safe,” replied that ally, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “We can watch our back tracks. There ain't any other way to git in hyar + thet I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, we was tolerable fair sheep-rustlers, but we're no good woodsmen.” + </p> + <p> + Anson grumbled his disdain of this comrade who had once been his mainstay. + Then he sent Burt out to hunt fresh meat and engaged his other men at + cards. As they now had the means to gamble, they at once became absorbed. + Wilson smoked and divided his thoughtful gaze between the gamblers and the + drooping figure of the girl. The morning air was keen, and she, evidently + not caring to be near her captors beside the camp-fire, had sought the + only sunny spot in this gloomy dell. A couple of hours passed; the sun + climbed high; the air grew warmer. Once the outlaw leader raised his head + to scan the heavy-timbered slopes that inclosed the camp. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, them hosses are strayin' off,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + Wilson leisurely rose and stalked off across the small, open patches, in + the direction of the horses. They had grazed around from the right toward + the outlet of the brook. Here headed a ravine, dense and green. Two of the + horses had gone down. Wilson evidently heard them, though they were not in + sight, and he circled somewhat so as to get ahead of them and drive them + back. The invisible brook ran down over the rocks with murmur and babble. + He halted with instinctive action. He listened. Forest sounds, soft, + lulling, came on the warm, pine-scented breeze. It would have taken no + keen ear to hear soft and rapid padded footfalls. He moved on cautiously + and turned into a little open, mossy spot, brown-matted and odorous, full + of ferns and bluebells. In the middle of this, deep in the moss, he espied + a huge round track of a cougar. He bent over it. Suddenly he stiffened, + then straightened guardedly. At that instant he received a hard prod in + the back. Throwing up his hands, he stood still, then slowly turned. A + tall hunter in gray buckskin, gray-eyed and square-jawed, had him covered + with a cocked rifle. And beside this hunter stood a monster cougar, + snarling and blinking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + “Howdy, Dale,” drawled Wilson. “Reckon you're a little previous on me.” + </h3> + <p> + “Sssssh! Not so loud,” said the hunter, in low voice. “You're Jim Wilson?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore am. Say, Dale, you showed up soon. Or did you jest happen to run + acrost us?” + </p> + <p> + “I've trailed you. Wilson, I'm after the girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I knowed thet when I seen you!” + </p> + <p> + The cougar seemed actuated by the threatening position of his master, and + he opened his mouth, showing great yellow fangs, and spat at Wilson. The + outlaw apparently had no fear of Dale or the cocked rifle, but that huge, + snarling cat occasioned him uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Wilson, I've heard you spoken of as a white outlaw,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe I am. But shore I'll be a scared one in a minit. Dale, he's goin' + to jump me!” + </p> + <p> + “The cougar won't jump you unless I make him. Wilson, if I let you go will + you get the girl for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, lemme see. Supposin' I refuse?” queried Wilson, shrewdly. + </p> + <p> + “Then, one way or another, it's all up with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I 'ain't got much choice. Yes, I'll do it. But, Dale, are you + goin' to take my word for thet an' let me go back to Anson?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am. You're no fool. An' I believe you're square. I've got Anson + and his gang corralled. You can't slip me—not in these woods. I + could run off your horses—pick you off one by one—or turn the + cougar loose on you at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. It's your game. Anson dealt himself this hand.... Between you an' + me, Dale, I never liked the deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Who shot Riggs?... I found his body.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, yours truly was around when thet come off,” replied Wilson, with an + involuntary little shudder. Some thought made him sick. + </p> + <p> + “The girl? Is she safe—unharmed?” queried Dale, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “She's shore jest as safe an' sound as when she was home. Dale, she's the + gamest kid thet ever breathed! Why, no one could hev ever made me believe + a girl, a kid like her, could hev the nerve she's got. Nothin's happened + to her 'cept Riggs hit her in the mouth.... I killed him for thet.... An', + so help me, God, I believe it's been workin' in me to save her somehow! + Now it'll not be so hard.” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” demanded Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Lemme see.... Wal, I've got to sneak her out of camp an' meet you. Thet's + all.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be done quick.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Dale, listen,” remonstrated Wilson, earnestly. “Too quick 'll be as + bad as too slow. Snake is sore these days, gittin' sorer all the time. He + might savvy somethin', if I ain't careful, an' kill the girl or do her + harm. I know these fellars. They're all ready to go to pieces. An' shore I + must play safe. Shore it'd be safer to have a plan.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson's shrewd, light eyes gleamed with an idea. He was about to lower + one of his upraised hands, evidently to point to the cougar, when he + thought better of that. + </p> + <p> + “Anson's scared of cougars. Mebbe we can scare him an' the gang so it 'd + be easy to sneak the girl off. Can you make thet big brute do tricks? Rush + the camp at night an' squall an' chase off the horses?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll guarantee to scare Anson out of ten years' growth,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Shore it's a go, then,” resumed Wilson, as if glad. “I'll post the girl—give + her a hunch to do her part. You sneak up to-night jest before dark. I'll + hev the gang worked up. An' then you put the cougar to his tricks, + whatever you want. When the gang gits wild I'll grab the girl an' pack her + off down heah or somewheres aboot an' whistle fer you.... But mebbe thet + ain't so good. If thet cougar comes pilin' into camp he might jump me + instead of one of the gang. An' another hunch. He might slope up on me in + the dark when I was tryin' to find you. Shore thet ain't appealin' to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilson, this cougar is a pet,” replied Dale. “You think he's dangerous, + but he's not. No more than a kitten. He only looks fierce. He has never + been hurt by a person an' he's never fought anythin' himself but deer an' + bear. I can make him trail any scent. But the truth is I couldn't make him + hurt you or anybody. All the same, he can be made to scare the hair off + any one who doesn't know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore thet settles me. I'll be havin' a grand joke while them fellars is + scared to death.... Dale, you can depend on me. An' I'm beholdin' to you + fer what 'll square me some with myself.... To-night, an' if it won't work + then, to-morrer night shore!” + </p> + <p> + Dale lowered the rifle. The big cougar spat again. Wilson dropped his + hands and, stepping forward, split the green wall of intersecting spruce + branches. Then he turned up the ravine toward the glen. Once there, in + sight of his comrades, his action and expression changed. + </p> + <p> + “Hosses all thar, Jim?” asked Anson, as he picked up, his cards. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. They act awful queer, them hosses,” replied. Wilson. “They're + afraid of somethin'.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! Silvertip mebbe,” muttered Anson. “Jim, You jest keep watch of + them hosses. We'd be done if some tarnal varmint stampeded them.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I'm elected to do all the work now,” complained Wilson, “while you + card-sharps cheat each other. Rustle the hosses—an' water an' + fire-wood. Cook an' wash. Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “No one I ever seen can do them camp tricks any better 'n Jim Wilson,” + replied Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, you're a lady's man an' thar's our pretty hoodoo over thar to feed + an' amoose,” remarked Shady Jones, with a smile that disarmed his speech. + </p> + <p> + The outlaws guffawed. + </p> + <p> + “Git out, Jim, you're breakin' up the game,” said Moze, who appeared + loser. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, thet gurl would starve if it wasn't fer me,” replied Wilson, + genially, and he walked over toward her, beginning to address her, quite + loudly, as he approached. “Wal, miss, I'm elected cook an' I'd shore like + to heah what you fancy fer dinner.” + </p> + <p> + The outlaws heard, for they guffawed again. “Haw! Haw! if Jim ain't + funny!” exclaimed Anson. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked up amazed. Wilson was winking at her, and when he got near + he began to speak rapidly and low. + </p> + <p> + “I jest met Dale down in the woods with his pet cougar. He's after you. + I'm goin' to help him git you safe away. Now you do your part. I want you + to pretend you've gone crazy. Savvy? Act out of your head! Shore I don't + care what you do or say, only act crazy. An' don't be scared. We're goin' + to scare the gang so I'll hev a chance to sneak you away. To-night or + to-morrow—shore.” + </p> + <p> + Before he began to speak she was pale, sad, dull of eye. Swiftly, with his + words, she was transformed, and when he had ended she did not appear the + same girl. She gave him one blazing flash of comprehension and nodded her + head rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand. I'll do it!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + The outlaw turned slowly away with the most abstract air, confounded amid + his shrewd acting, and he did not collect himself until half-way back to + his comrades. Then, beginning to hum an old darky tune, he stirred up and + replenished the fire, and set about preparation for the midday meal. But + he did not miss anything going on around him. He saw the girl go into her + shelter and come out with her hair all down over her face. Wilson, back to + his comrades, grinned his glee, and he wagged his head as if he thought + the situation was developing. + </p> + <p> + The gambling outlaws, however, did not at once see the girl preening + herself and smoothing her long hair in a way calculated to startle. + </p> + <p> + “Busted!” ejaculated Anson, with a curse, as he slammed down his cards. + “If I ain't hoodooed I'm a two-bit of a gambler!” + </p> + <p> + “Sartin you're hoodooed,” said Shady Jones, in scorn. “Is thet jest + dawnin' on you?” + </p> + <p> + “Boss, you play like a cow stuck in the mud,” remarked Moze, laconically. + </p> + <p> + “Fellars, it ain't funny,” declared Anson, with pathetic gravity. “I'm + jest gittin' on to myself. Somethin's wrong. Since 'way last fall no luck—nothin' + but the wust end of everythin'. I ain't blamin' anybody. I'm the boss. + It's me thet's off.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, shore it was the gurl deal you made,” rejoined Wilson, who had + listened. “I told you. Our troubles hev only begun. An' I can see the + wind-up. Look!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson pointed to where the girl stood, her hair flying wildly all over + her face and shoulders. She was making most elaborate bows to an old + stump, sweeping the ground with her tresses in her obeisance. + </p> + <p> + Anson started. He grew utterly astounded. His amaze was ludicrous. And the + other two men looked to stare, to equal their leader's bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “What 'n hell's come over her?” asked Anson, dubiously. “Must hev perked + up.... But she ain't feelin' thet gay!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson tapped his forehead with a significant finger. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I was scared of her this mawnin',” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Naw!” exclaimed Anson, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “If she hain't queer I never seen no queer wimmin,” vouchsafed Shady + Jones, and it would have been judged, by the way he wagged his head, that + he had been all his days familiar with women. + </p> + <p> + Moze looked beyond words, and quite alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “I seen it comin',” declared Wilson, very much excited. “But I was scared + to say so. You-all made fun of me aboot her. Now I shore wish I had spoken + up.” + </p> + <p> + Anson nodded solemnly. He did not believe the evidence of his sight, but + the facts seemed stunning. As if the girl were a dangerous and + incomprehensible thing, he approached her step by step. Wilson followed, + and the others appeared drawn irresistibly. + </p> + <p> + “Hey thar—kid!” called Anson, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + The girl drew her slight form up haughtily. Through her spreading tresses + her eyes gleamed unnaturally upon the outlaw leader. But she deigned not + to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Hey thar—you Rayner girl!” added Anson, lamely. “What's ailin' + you?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord! did you address me?” she asked, loftily. + </p> + <p> + Shady Jones got over his consternation and evidently extracted some humor + from the situation, as his dark face began to break its strain. + </p> + <p> + “Aww!” breathed Anson, heavily. + </p> + <p> + “Ophelia awaits your command, my lord. I've been gathering flowers,” she + said, sweetly, holding up her empty hands as if they contained a bouquet. + </p> + <p> + Shady Jones exploded in convulsed laughter. But his merriment was not + shared. And suddenly it brought disaster upon him. The girl flew at him. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you croak, you toad? I will have you whipped and put in irons, you + scullion!” she cried, passionately. + </p> + <p> + Shady underwent a remarkable change, and stumbled in his backward retreat. + Then she snapped her fingers in Moze's face. + </p> + <p> + “You black devil! Get hence! Avaunt!” + </p> + <p> + Anson plucked up courage enough to touch her. + </p> + <p> + “Aww! Now, Ophelyar—” + </p> + <p> + Probably he meant to try to humor her, but she screamed, and he jumped + back as if she might burn him. She screamed shrilly, in wild, staccato + notes. + </p> + <p> + “You! You!” she pointed her finger at the outlaw leader. “You brute to + women! You ran off from your wife!” + </p> + <p> + Anson turned plum-color and then slowly white. The girl must have sent a + random shot home. + </p> + <p> + “And now the devil's turned you into a snake. A long, scaly snake with + green eyes! Uugh! You'll crawl on your belly soon—when my cowboy + finds you. And he'll tramp you in the dust.” + </p> + <p> + She floated away from them and began to whirl gracefully, arms spread and + hair flying; and then, apparently oblivious of the staring men, she broke + into a low, sweet song. Next she danced around a pine, then danced into + her little green inclosure. From which presently she sent out the most + doleful moans. + </p> + <p> + “Aww! What a shame!” burst out Anson. “Thet fine, healthy, nervy kid! + Clean gone! Daffy! Crazy 'n a bedbug!” + </p> + <p> + “Shore it's a shame,” protested Wilson. “But it's wuss for us. Lord! if we + was hoodooed before, what will we be now? Didn't I tell you, Snake Anson? + You was warned. Ask Shady an' Moze—they see what's up.” + </p> + <p> + “No luck 'll ever come our way ag'in,” predicted Shady, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “It beats me, boss, it beats me,” muttered Moze. + </p> + <p> + “A crazy woman on my hands! If thet ain't the last straw!” broke out + Anson, tragically, as he turned away. Ignorant, superstitious, worked upon + by things as they seemed, the outlaw imagined himself at last beset by + malign forces. When he flung himself down upon one of the packs his big + red-haired hands shook. Shady and Moze resembled two other men at the end + of their ropes. + </p> + <p> + Wilson's tense face twitched, and he averted it, as apparently he fought + off a paroxysm of some nature. Just then Anson swore a thundering oath. + </p> + <p> + “Crazy or not, I'll git gold out of thet kid!” he roared. + </p> + <p> + “But, man, talk sense. Are you gittin' daffy, too? I declare this outfit's + been eatin' loco. You can't git gold fer her!” said Wilson, deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't I?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cause we're tracked. We can't make no dickers. Why, in another day or so + we'll be dodgin' lead.” + </p> + <p> + “Tracked! Whar 'd you git thet idee? As soon as this?” queried Anson, + lifting his head like a striking snake. His men, likewise, betrayed sudden + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Shore it's no idee. I 'ain't seen any one. But I feel it in my senses. I + hear somebody comin'—a step on our trail—all the time—night + in particular. Reckon there's a big posse after us.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if I see or hear anythin' I'll knock the girl on the head an' we'll + dig out of hyar,” replied Anson, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + Wilson executed a swift forward motion, violent and passionate, so utterly + unlike what might have been looked for from him, that the three outlaws + gaped. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll shore hev to knock Jim Wilson on the haid first,” he said, in + voice as strange as his action. + </p> + <p> + “Jim! You wouldn't go back on me!” implored Anson, with uplifted hands, in + a dignity of pathos. + </p> + <p> + “I'm losin' my haid, too, an' you shore might as well knock it in, an' + you'll hev to before I'll stand you murderin' thet pore little gurl you've + drove crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim, I was only mad,” replied Anson. “Fer thet matter, I'm growin' daffy + myself. Aw! we all need a good stiff drink of whisky.” + </p> + <p> + So he tried to throw off gloom and apprehension, but he failed. His + comrades did not rally to his help. Wilson walked away, nodding his head. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, let Jim alone,” whispered Shady. “It's orful the way you buck + ag'in' him—when you seen he's stirred up. Jim's true blue. But you + gotta be careful.” + </p> + <p> + Moze corroborated this statement by gloomy nods. + </p> + <p> + When the card-playing was resumed, Anson did not join the game, and both + Moze and Shady evinced little of that whole-hearted obsession which + usually attended their gambling. Anson lay at length, his head in a + saddle, scowling at the little shelter where the captive girl kept herself + out of sight. At times a faint song or laugh, very unnatural, was wafted + across the space. Wilson plodded at the cooking and apparently heard no + sounds. Presently he called the men to eat, which office they surlily and + silently performed, as if it was a favor bestowed upon the cook. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, hadn't I ought to take a bite of grub over to the gurl?” asked + Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hev to ask me thet?” snapped Anson. “She's gotta be fed, if we hev + to stuff it down her throat.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I ain't stuck on the job,” replied Wilson. “But I'll tackle it, + seein' you-all got cold feet.” + </p> + <p> + With plate and cup be reluctantly approached the little lean-to, and, + kneeling, he put his head inside. The girl, quick-eyed and alert, had + evidently seen him coming. At any rate, she greeted him with a cautious + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, was I pretty good?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Miss, you was shore the finest aktress I ever seen,” he responded, in a + low voice. “But you dam near overdid it. I'm goin' to tell Anson you're + sick now—poisoned or somethin' awful. Then we'll wait till night. + Dale shore will help us out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm on fire to get away,” she exclaimed. “Jim Wilson, I'll never + forget you as long as I live!” + </p> + <p> + He seemed greatly embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “Wal—miss—I—I'll do my best licks. But I ain't gamblin' + none on results. Be patient. Keep your nerve. Don't get scared. I reckon + between me an' Dale you'll git away from heah.” + </p> + <p> + Withdrawing his head, he got up and returned to the camp-fire, where Anson + was waiting curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I left the grub. But she didn't touch it. Seems sort of sick to me, like + she was poisoned.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim, didn't I hear you talkin'?” asked Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. I was coaxin' her. Reckon she ain't so ranty as she was. But she + shore is doubled-up, an' sickish.” + </p> + <p> + “Wuss an' wuss all the time,” said Anson, between his teeth. “An' where's + Burt? Hyar it's noon an' he left early. He never was no woodsman. He's got + lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Either thet or he's run into somethin',” replied Wilson, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Anson doubled a huge fist and cursed deep under his breath—the + reaction of a man whose accomplices and partners and tools, whose luck, + whose faith in himself had failed him. He flung himself down under a tree, + and after a while, when his rigidity relaxed, he probably fell asleep. + Moze and Shady kept at their game. Wilson paced to and fro, sat down, and + then got up to bunch the horses again, walked around the dell and back to + camp. The afternoon hours were long. And they were waiting hours. The act + of waiting appeared on the surface of all these outlaws did. + </p> + <p> + At sunset the golden gloom of the glen changed to a vague, thick twilight. + Anson rolled over, yawned, and sat up. As he glanced around, evidently + seeking Burt, his face clouded. + </p> + <p> + “No sign of Burt?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Wilson expressed a mild surprise. “Wal, Snake, you ain't expectin' Burt + now?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, course I am. Why not?” demanded Anson. “Any other time we'd look + fer him, wouldn't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Any other time ain't now.... Burt won't ever come back!” Wilson spoke it + with a positive finality. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! Some more of them queer feelin's of yourn—operatin' again, + hey? Them onnatural kind thet you can't explain, hey?” + </p> + <p> + Anson's queries were bitter and rancorous. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. An', Snake, I tax you with this heah. Ain't any of them queer + feelin's operatin' in you?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” rolled out the leader, savagely. But his passionate denial was a + proof that he lied. From the moment of this outburst, which was a fierce + clinging to the old, brave instincts of his character, unless a sudden + change marked the nature of his fortunes, he would rapidly deteriorate to + the breaking-point. And in such brutal, unrestrained natures as his this + breaking-point meant a desperate stand, a desperate forcing of events, a + desperate accumulation of passions that stalked out to deal and to meet + disaster and blood and death. + </p> + <p> + Wilson put a little wood on the fire and he munched a biscuit. No one + asked him to cook. No one made any effort to do so. One by one each man + went to the pack to get some bread and meat. + </p> + <p> + Then they waited as men who knew not what they waited for, yet hated and + dreaded it. + </p> + <p> + Twilight in that glen was naturally a strange, veiled condition of the + atmosphere. It was a merging of shade and light, which two seemed to make + gray, creeping shadows. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a snorting and stamping of the horses startled the men. + </p> + <p> + “Somethin' scared the hosses,” said Anson, rising. “Come on.” + </p> + <p> + Moze accompanied him, and they disappeared in the gloom. More trampling of + hoofs was heard, then a cracking of brush, and the deep voices of men. At + length the two outlaws returned, leading three of the horses, which they + haltered in the open glen. + </p> + <p> + The camp-fire light showed Anson's face dark and serious. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, them hosses are wilder 'n deer,” he said. “I ketched mine, an' Moze + got two. But the rest worked away whenever we come close. Some varmint has + scared them bad. We all gotta rustle out thar quick.” + </p> + <p> + Wilson rose, shaking his head doubtfully. And at that moment the quiet air + split to a piercing, horrid neigh of a terrified horse. Prolonged to a + screech, it broke and ended. Then followed snorts of fright, pound and + crack and thud of hoofs, and crash of brush; then a gathering thumping, + crashing roar, split by piercing sounds. + </p> + <p> + “Stampede!” yelled Anson, and he ran to hold his own horse, which he had + haltered right in camp. It was big and wild-looking, and now reared and + plunged to break away. Anson just got there in time, and then it took all + his weight to pull the horse down. Not until the crashing, snorting, + pounding melee had subsided and died away over the rim of the glen did + Anson dare leave his frightened favorite. + </p> + <p> + “Gone! Our horses are gone! Did you hear 'em?” he exclaimed, blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Shore. They're a cut-up an' crippled bunch by now,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, we'll never git 'ern back, not 'n a hundred years,” declared Moze. + </p> + <p> + “Thet settles us, Snake Anson,” stridently added Shady Jones. “Them hosses + are gone! You can kiss your hand to them.... They wasn't hobbled. They hed + an orful scare. They split on thet stampede an' they'll never git + together. ... See what you've fetched us to!” + </p> + <p> + Under the force of this triple arraignment the outlaw leader dropped to + his seat, staggered and silenced. In fact, silence fell upon all the men + and likewise enfolded the glen. + </p> + <p> + Night set in jet-black, dismal, lonely, without a star. Faintly the wind + moaned. Weirdly the brook babbled through its strange chords to end in the + sound that was hollow. It was never the same—a rumble, as if faint, + distant thunder—a deep gurgle, as of water drawn into a vortex—a + rolling, as of a stone in swift current. The black cliff was invisible, + yet seemed to have many weird faces; the giant pines loomed spectral; the + shadows were thick, moving, changing. Flickering lights from the camp-fire + circled the huge trunks and played fantastically over the brooding men. + This camp-fire did not burn or blaze cheerily; it had no glow, no sputter, + no white heart, no red, living embers. One by one the outlaws, as if with + common consent, tried their hands at making the fire burn aright. What + little wood had been collected was old; it would burn up with false flare, + only to die quickly. + </p> + <p> + After a while not one of the outlaws spoke or stirred. Not one smoked. + Their gloomy eyes were fixed on the fire. Each one was concerned with his + own thoughts, his own lonely soul unconsciously full of a doubt of the + future. That brooding hour severed him from comrade. + </p> + <p> + At night nothing seemed the same as it was by day. With success and + plenty, with full-blooded action past and more in store, these outlaws + were as different from their present state as this black night was + different from the bright day they waited for. Wilson, though he played a + deep game of deceit for the sake of the helpless girl—and thus did + not have haunting and superstitious fears on her account—was + probably more conscious of impending catastrophe than any of them. + </p> + <p> + The evil they had done spoke in the voice of nature, out of the darkness, + and was interpreted by each according to his hopes and fears. Fear was + their predominating sense. For years they had lived with some species of + fear—of honest men or vengeance, of pursuit, of starvation, of lack + of drink or gold, of blood and death, of stronger men, of luck, of chance, + of fate, of mysterious nameless force. Wilson was the type of fearless + spirit, but he endured the most gnawing and implacable fear of all—that + of himself—that he must inevitably fall to deeds beneath his + manhood. + </p> + <p> + So they hunched around the camp-fire, brooding because hope was at lowest + ebb; listening because the weird, black silence, with its moan of wind and + hollow laugh of brook, compelled them to hear; waiting for sleep, for the + hours to pass, for whatever was to come. + </p> + <p> + And it was Anson who caught the first intimation of an impending doom. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + “Listen!” + </h3> + <p> + Anson whispered tensely. His poise was motionless, his eyes roved + everywhere. He held up a shaking, bludgy finger, to command silence. + </p> + <p> + A third and stranger sound accompanied the low, weird moan of the wind, + and the hollow mockery of the brook—and it seemed a barely + perceptible, exquisitely delicate wail or whine. It filled in the lulls + between the other sounds. + </p> + <p> + “If thet's some varmint he's close,” whispered Anson. + </p> + <p> + “But shore, it's far off,” said Wilson. + </p> + <p> + Shady Jones and Moze divided their opinions in the same way. + </p> + <p> + All breathed freer when the wail ceased, relaxing to their former lounging + positions around the fire. An impenetrable wall of blackness circled the + pale space lighted by the camp-fire; and this circle contained the dark, + somber group of men in the center, the dying camp-fire, and a few spectral + trunks of pines and the tethered horses on the outer edge. The horses + scarcely moved from their tracks, and their erect, alert heads attested to + their sensitiveness to the peculiarities of the night. + </p> + <p> + Then, at an unusually quiet lull the strange sound gradually arose to a + wailing whine. + </p> + <p> + “It's thet crazy wench cryin',” declared the outlaw leader. + </p> + <p> + Apparently his allies accepted that statement with as much relief as they + had expressed for the termination of the sound. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, thet must be it,” agreed Jim Wilson, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “We'll git a lot of sleep with thet gurl whinin' all night,” growled Shady + Jones. + </p> + <p> + “She gives me the creeps,” said Moze. + </p> + <p> + Wilson got up to resume his pondering walk, head bent, hands behind his + back, a grim, realistic figure of perturbation. + </p> + <p> + “Jim—set down. You make me nervous,” said Anson, irritably. + </p> + <p> + Wilson actually laughed, but low, as if to keep his strange mirth well + confined. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, I'll bet you my hoss an' my gun ag'in' a biscuit thet in aboot six + seconds more or less I'll be stampedin like them hosses.” + </p> + <p> + Anson's lean jaw dropped. The other two outlaws stared with round eyes. + Wilson was not drunk, they evidently knew; but what he really was appeared + a mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Jim Wilson, are you showin' yellow?” queried Anson, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe. The Lord only knows. But listen heah.... Snake, you've seen an' + heard people croak?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean cash in—die?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, yes—a couple or so,” replied Anson, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “But you never seen no one die of shock—of an orful scare?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I reckon I never did.” + </p> + <p> + “I have. An' thet's what's ailin' Jim Wilson,” and he resumed his dogged + steps. + </p> + <p> + Anson and his two comrades exchanged bewildered glances with one another. + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! Say, what's thet got to do with us hyar? asked Anson, presently. + </p> + <p> + “Thet gurl is dyin'!” retorted Wilson, in a voice cracking like a whip. + </p> + <p> + The three outlaws stiffened in their seats, incredulous, yet irresistibly + swayed by emotions that stirred to this dark, lonely, ill-omened hour. + </p> + <p> + Wilson trudged to the edge of the lighted circle, muttering to himself, + and came back again; then he trudged farther, this time almost out of + sight, but only to return; the third time he vanished in the impenetrable + wall of light. The three men scarcely moved a muscle as they watched the + place where he had disappeared. In a few moments he came stumbling back. + </p> + <p> + “Shore she's almost gone,” he said, dismally. “It took my nerve, but I + felt of her face.... Thet orful wail is her breath chokin' in her + throat.... Like a death-rattle, only long instead of short.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if she's gotta croak it's good she gits it over quick,” replied + Anson. “I 'ain't hed sleep fer three nights. ... An' what I need is + whisky.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, thet's gospel you're spoutin',” remarked Shady Jones, morosely. + </p> + <p> + The direction of sound in the glen was difficult to be assured of, but any + man not stirred to a high pitch of excitement could have told that the + difference in volume of this strange wail must have been caused by + different distances and positions. Also, when it was loudest, it was most + like a whine. But these outlaws heard with their consciences. + </p> + <p> + At last it ceased abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Wilson again left the group to be swallowed up by the night. His absence + was longer than usual, but he returned hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “She's daid!” he exclaimed, solemnly. “Thet innocent kid—who never + harmed no one—an' who'd make any man better fer seein' her—she's + daid!... Anson, you've shore a heap to answer fer when your time comes.” + </p> + <p> + “What's eatin' you?” demanded the leader, angrily. “Her blood ain't on my + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “It shore is,” shouted Wilson, shaking his hand at Anson. “An' you'll hev + to take your medicine. I felt thet comin' all along. An' I feel some + more.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw! She's jest gone to sleep,” declared Anson, shaking his long frame as + he rose. “Gimme a light.” + </p> + <p> + “Boss, you're plumb off to go near a dead gurl thet's jest died crazy,” + protested Shady Jones. + </p> + <p> + “Off! Haw! Haw! Who ain't off in this outfit, I'd like to know?” Anson + possessed himself of a stick blazing at one and, and with this he stalked + off toward the lean-to where the girl was supposed to be dead. His gaunt + figure, lighted by the torch, certainly fitted the weird, black + surroundings. And it was seen that once near the girl's shelter he + proceeded more slowly, until he halted. He bent to peer inside. + </p> + <p> + “SHE'S GONE!” he yelled, in harsh, shaken accents. + </p> + <p> + Than the torch burned out, leaving only a red glow. He whirled it about, + but the blaze did not rekindle. His comrades, peering intently, lost sight + of his tall form and the end of the red-ended stick. Darkness like pitch + swallowed him. For a moment no sound intervened. Again the moan of wind, + the strange little mocking hollow roar, dominated the place. Then there + came a rush of something, perhaps of air, like the soft swishing of spruce + branches swinging aside. Dull, thudding footsteps followed it. Anson came + running back to the fire. His aspect was wild, his face pale, his eyes + were fierce and starting from their sockets. He had drawn his gun. + </p> + <p> + “Did—ye—see er hear—anythin'?” he panted, peering back, + then all around, and at last at his man. + </p> + <p> + “No. An' I shore was lookin' an' listenin',” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, there wasn't nothin',” declared Moze. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't so sartin,” said Shady Jones, with doubtful, staring eyes. “I + believe I heerd a rustlin'.” + </p> + <p> + “She wasn't there!” ejaculated Anson, in wondering awe. “She's gone!... My + torch went out. I couldn't see. An' jest then I felt somethin' was + passin'. Fast! I jerked 'round. All was black, an' yet if I didn't see a + big gray streak I'm crazier 'n thet gurl. But I couldn't swear to anythin' + but a rushin' of wind. I felt thet.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” exclaimed Wilson, in great alarm. “Fellars, if thet's so, then + mebbe she wasn't daid an' she wandered off. ... But she was daid! Her + heart hed quit beatin'. I'll swear to thet.” + </p> + <p> + “I move to break camp,” said Shady Jones, gruffly, and he stood up. Moze + seconded that move by an expressive flash of his black visage. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, if she's dead—an' gone—what 'n hell's come off?” huskily + asked Anson. “It, only seems thet way. We're all worked up.... Let's talk + sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Anson, shore there's a heap you an' me don't know,” replied Wilson. “The + world come to an end once. Wal, it can come to another end.... I tell you + I ain't surprised—” + </p> + <p> + “THAR!” cried Anson, whirling, with his gun leaping out. + </p> + <p> + Something huge, shadowy, gray against the black rushed behind the men and + trees; and following it came a perceptible acceleration of the air. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, Snake, there wasn't nothin',” said Wilson, “presently.” + </p> + <p> + “I heerd,” whispered Shady Jones. + </p> + <p> + “It was only a breeze blowin' thet smoke,” rejoined Moze. + </p> + <p> + “I'd bet my soul somethin' went back of me,” declared Anson, glaring into + the void. + </p> + <p> + “Listen an' let's make shore,” suggested Wilson. + </p> + <p> + The guilty, agitated faces of the outlaws showed plain enough in the + flickering light for each to see a convicting dread in his fellow. Like + statues they stood, watching and listening. + </p> + <p> + Few sounds stirred in the strange silence. Now and then the horses heaved + heavily, but stood still; a dismal, dreary note of the wind in the pines + vied with a hollow laugh of the brook. And these low sounds only fastened + attention upon the quality of the silence. A breathing, lonely spirit of + solitude permeated the black dell. Like a pit of unplumbed depths the dark + night yawned. An evil conscience, listening there, could have heard the + most peaceful, beautiful, and mournful sounds of nature only as strains of + a calling hell. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the silent, oppressive, surcharged air split to a short, piercing + scream. + </p> + <p> + Anson's big horse stood up straight, pawing the air, and came down with a + crash. The other horses shook with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't—thet—a cougar?” whispered Anson, thickly. + </p> + <p> + “Thet was a woman's scream,” replied Wilson, and he appeared to be shaking + like a leaf in the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Then—I figgered right—the kid's alive—wonderin' around—an' + she let out thet orful scream,” said Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderin' 'round, yes—but she's daid!” + </p> + <p> + “My Gawd! it ain't possible!” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if she ain't wonderin' round daid she's almost daid,” replied + Wilson. And he began to whisper to himself. + </p> + <p> + “If I'd only knowed what thet deal meant I'd hev plugged Beasley instead + of listenin'.... An' I ought to hev knocked thet kid on the head an' made + sartin she'd croaked. If she goes screamin' 'round thet way—” + </p> + <p> + His voice failed as there rose a thin, splitting, high-pointed shriek, + somewhat resembling the first scream, only less wild. It came apparently + from the cliff. + </p> + <p> + From another point in the pitch-black glen rose the wailing, terrible cry + of a woman in agony. Wild, haunting, mournful wail! + </p> + <p> + Anson's horse, loosing the halter, plunged back, almost falling over a + slight depression in the rocky ground. The outlaw caught him and dragged + him nearer the fire. The other horses stood shaking and straining. Moze + ran between them and held them. Shady Jones threw green brush on the fire. + With sputter and crackle a blaze started, showing Wilson standing + tragically, his arms out, facing the black shadows. + </p> + <p> + The strange, live shriek was not repeated. But the cry, like that of a + woman in her death-throes, pierced the silence again. It left a quivering + ring that softly died away. Then the stillness clamped down once more and + the darkness seemed to thicken. The men waited, and when they had begun to + relax the cry burst out appallingly close, right behind the trees. It was + human—the personification of pain and terror—the tremendous + struggle of precious life against horrible death. So pure, so exquisite, + so wonderful was the cry that the listeners writhed as if they saw an + innocent, tender, beautiful girl torn frightfully before their eyes. It + was full of suspense; it thrilled for death; its marvelous potency was the + wild note—that beautiful and ghastly note of self-preservation. + </p> + <p> + In sheer desperation the outlaw leader fired his gun at the black wall + whence the cry came. Then he had to fight his horse to keep him from + plunging away. Following the shot was an interval of silence; the horses + became tractable; the men gathered closer to the fire, with the halters + still held firmly. + </p> + <p> + “If it was a cougar—thet 'd scare him off,” said Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, but it ain't a cougar,” replied Wilson. “Wait an' see!” + </p> + <p> + They all waited, listening with ears turned to different points, eyes + roving everywhere, afraid of their very shadows. Once more the moan of + wind, the mockery of brook, deep gurgle, laugh and babble, dominated the + silence of the glen. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, let's shake this spooky hole,” whispered Moze. + </p> + <p> + The suggestion attracted Anson, and he pondered it while slowly shaking + his head. + </p> + <p> + “We've only three hosses. An' mine 'll take ridin'—after them + squalls,” replied the leader. “We've got packs, too. An' hell 'ain't + nothin' on this place fer bein' dark.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. Let's go. I'll walk an' lead the way,” said Moze, eagerly. “I + got sharp eyes. You fellars can ride an' carry a pack. We'll git out of + here an' come back in daylight fer the rest of the outfit.” + </p> + <p> + “Anson, I'm keen fer thet myself,” declared Shady Jones. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, what d'ye say to thet?” queried Anson. “Rustlin' out of this black + hole?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore it's a grand idee,” agreed Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Thet was a cougar,” avowed Anson, gathering courage as the silence + remained unbroken. “But jest the same it was as tough on me as if it hed + been a woman screamin' over a blade twistin' in her gizzards.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, shore you seen a woman heah lately?” deliberately asked Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I did. Thet kid,” replied Anson, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, you seen her go crazy, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “'An' she wasn't heah when you went huntin' fer her?” + </p> + <p> + “Correct.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if thet's so, what do you want to blab about cougars for?” + </p> + <p> + Wilson's argument seemed incontestable. Shady and Moze nodded gloomily and + shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Anson dropped his head. + </p> + <p> + “No matter—if we only don't hear—” he began, suddenly to grow + mute. + </p> + <p> + Right upon them, from some place, just out the circle of light, rose a + scream, by reason of its proximity the most piercing and agonizing yet + heard, simply petrifying the group until the peal passed. Anson's huge + horse reared, and with a snort of terror lunged in tremendous leap, + straight out. He struck Anson with thudding impact, knocking him over the + rocks into the depression back of the camp-fire, and plunging after him. + Wilson had made a flying leap just in time to avoid being struck, and he + turned to see Anson go down. There came a crash, a groan, and then the + strike and pound of hoofs as the horse struggled up. Apparently he had + rolled over his master. + </p> + <p> + “Help, fellars!” yelled Wilson, quick to leap down over the little bank, + and in the dim light to grasp the halter. The three men dragged the horse + out and securely tied him close to a tree. That done, they peered down + into the depression. Anson's form could just barely be distinguished in + the gloom. He lay stretched out. Another groan escaped him. + </p> + <p> + “Shore I'm scared he's hurt,” said Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Hoss rolled right on top of him. An' thet hoss's heavy,” declared Moze. + </p> + <p> + They got down and knelt beside their leader. In the darkness his face + looked dull gray. His breathing was not right. + </p> + <p> + “Snake, old man, you ain't—hurt?” asked Wilson, with a tremor in his + voice. Receiving no reply, he said to his comrades, “Lay hold an' we'll + heft him up where we can see.” + </p> + <p> + The three men carefully lifted Anson up on the bank and laid him near the + fire in the light. Anson was conscious. His face was ghastly. Blood showed + on his lips. + </p> + <p> + Wilson knelt beside him. The other outlaws stood up, and with one dark + gaze at one another damned Anson's chance of life. And on the instant rose + that terrible distressing scream of acute agony—like that of a woman + being dismembered. Shady Jones whispered something to Moze. Then they + stood up, gazing down at their fallen leader. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where you're hurt?” asked Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “He—smashed—my chest,” said Anson, in a broken, strangled + whisper. + </p> + <p> + Wilson's deft hands opened the outlaw's shirt and felt of his chest. + </p> + <p> + “No. Shore your breast-bone ain't smashed,” replied Wilson, hopefully. And + he began to run his hand around one side of Anson's body and then the + other. Abruptly he stopped, averted his gaze, then slowly ran the hand all + along that side. Anson's ribs had been broken and crushed in by the weight + of the horse. He was bleeding at the mouth, and his slow, painful + expulsions of breath brought a bloody froth, which showed that the broken + bones had penetrated the lungs. An injury sooner or later fatal! + </p> + <p> + “Pard, you busted a rib or two,” said Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, Jim—it must be—wuss 'n thet!” he whispered. “I'm—in + orful—pain. An' I can't—git any—breath.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe you'll be better,” said Wilson, with a cheerfulness his face + belied. + </p> + <p> + Moze bent close over Anson, took a short scrutiny of that ghastly face, at + the blood-stained lips, and the lean hands plucking at nothing. Then he + jerked erect. + </p> + <p> + “Shady, he's goin' to cash. Let's clear out of this.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm yours pertickler previous,” replied Jones. + </p> + <p> + Both turned away. They untied the two horses and led them up to where the + saddles lay. Swiftly the blankets went on, swiftly the saddles swung up, + swiftly the cinches snapped. Anson lay gazing up at Wilson, comprehending + this move. And Wilson stood strangely grim and silent, somehow detached + coldly from that self of the past few hours. + </p> + <p> + “Shady, you grab some bread an' I'll pack a bunk of meat,” said Moze. Both + men came near the fire, into the light, within ten feet of where the + leader lay. + </p> + <p> + “Fellars—you ain't—slopin'?” he whispered, in husky amaze. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, we air thet same. We can't do you no good an' this hole ain't + healthy,” replied Moze. + </p> + <p> + Shady Jones swung himself astride his horse, all about him sharp, eager, + strung. + </p> + <p> + “Moze, I'll tote the grub an' you lead out of hyar, till we git past the + wust timber,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, Moze—you wouldn't leave—Jim hyar—alone,” implored + Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Jim can stay till he rots,” retorted Moze. “I've hed enough of this + hole.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Moze—it ain't square—” panted Anson. “Jim wouldn't—leave + me. I'd stick—by you.... I'll make it—all up to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Snake, you're goin' to cash,” sardonically returned Moze. + </p> + <p> + A current leaped all through Anson's stretched frame. His ghastly face + blazed. That was the great and the terrible moment which for long had been + in abeyance. Wilson had known grimly that it would come, by one means or + another. Anson had doggedly and faithfully struggled against the tide of + fatal issues. Moze and Shady Jones, deep locked in their self-centered + motives, had not realized the inevitable trend of their dark lives. + </p> + <p> + Anson, prostrate as he was, swiftly drew his gun and shot Moze. Without + sound or movement of hand Moze fell. Then the plunge of Shady's horse + caused Anson's second shot to miss. A quick third shot brought no apparent + result but Shady's cursing resort to his own weapon. He tried to aim from + his plunging horse. His bullets spattered dust and gravel over Anson. Then + Wilson's long arm stretched and his heavy gun banged. Shady collapsed in + the saddle, and the frightened horse, throwing him, plunged out of the + circle of light. Thudding hoofs, crashings of brush, quickly ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Jim—did you—git him?” whispered Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Shore did, Snake,” was the slow, halting response. Jim Wilson must have + sustained a sick shudder as he replied. Sheathing his gun, he folded a + blanket and put it under Anson's head. + </p> + <p> + “Jim—my feet—air orful cold,” whispered Anson. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, it's gittin' chilly,” replied Wilson, and, taking a second blanket, + he laid that over Anson's limbs. “Snake, I'm feared Shady hit you once.” + </p> + <p> + “A-huh! But not so I'd care—much—if I hed—no wuss hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “You lay still now. Reckon Shady's hoss stopped out heah a ways. An' I'll + see.” + </p> + <p> + “Jim—I 'ain't heerd—thet scream fer—a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Shore it's gone.... Reckon now thet was a cougar.” + </p> + <p> + “I knowed it!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson stalked away into the darkness. That inky wall did not seem so + impenetrable and black after he had gotten out of the circle of light. He + proceeded carefully and did not make any missteps. He groped from tree to + tree toward the cliff and presently brought up against a huge flat rock as + high as his head. Here the darkness was blackest, yet he was able to see a + light form on the rock. + </p> + <p> + “Miss, are you there—all right?” he called, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I'm scared to death,” she whispered in reply. + </p> + <p> + “Shore it wound up sudden. Come now. I reckon your trouble's over.” + </p> + <p> + He helped her off the rock, and, finding her unsteady on her feet, he + supported her with one arm and held the other out in front of him to feel + for objects. Foot by foot they worked out from under the dense shadow of + the cliff, following the course of the little brook. It babbled and + gurgled, and almost drowned the low whistle Wilson sent out. The girl + dragged heavily upon him now, evidently weakening. At length he reached + the little open patch at the head of the ravine. Halting here, he + whistled. An answer came from somewhere behind him and to the right. + Wilson waited, with the girl hanging on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Dale's heah,” he said. “An' don't you keel over now—after all the + nerve you hed.” + </p> + <p> + A swishing of brush, a step, a soft, padded footfall; a looming, dark + figure, and a long, low gray shape, stealthily moving—it was the + last of these that made Wilson jump. + </p> + <p> + “Wilson!” came Dale's subdued voice. + </p> + <p> + “Heah. I've got her, Dale. Safe an sound,” replied Wilson, stepping toward + the tall form. And he put the drooping girl into Dale's arms. + </p> + <p> + “Bo! Bo! You're all right?” Dale's deep voice was tremulous. + </p> + <p> + She roused up to seize him and to utter little cries of joy + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dale!... Oh, thank Heaven! I'm ready to drop now.... Hasn't it been a + night—an adventure?... I'm well—safe—sound.... Dale, we + owe it to this Jim Wilson.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I—we'll all thank him—all our lives,” replied Dale. + “Wilson, you're a man!... If you'll shake that gang—” + </p> + <p> + “Dale, shore there ain't much of a gang left, onless you let Burt git + away,” replied Wilson. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't kill him—or hurt him. But I scared him so I'll bet he's + runnin' yet.... Wilson, did all the shootin' mean a fight?” + </p> + <p> + “Tolerable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dale, it was terrible! I saw it all. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Miss, you can tell him after I go.... I'm wishin' you good luck.” + </p> + <p> + His voice was a cool, easy drawl, slightly tremulous. + </p> + <p> + The girl's face flashed white in the gloom. She pressed against the outlaw—wrung + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven help you, Jim Wilson! You ARE from Texas!... I'll remember you—pray + for you all my life!” + </p> + <p> + Wilson moved away, out toward the pale glow of light under the black + pines. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + As Helen Rayner watched Dale ride away on a quest perilous to him, and + which meant almost life or death for her, it was surpassing strange that + she could think of nothing except the thrilling, tumultuous moment when + she had put her arms round his neck. + </p> + <p> + It did not matter that Dale—splendid fellow that he was—had + made the ensuing moment free of shame by taking her action as he had taken + it—the fact that she had actually done it was enough. How utterly + impossible for her to anticipate her impulses or to understand them, once + they were acted upon! Confounding realization then was that when Dale + returned with her sister, Helen knew she would do the same thing over + again! + </p> + <p> + “If I do—I won't be two-faced about it,” she soliloquized, and a hot + blush flamed her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + She watched Dale until he rode out of sight. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, worry and dread replaced this other confusing emotion. + She turned to the business of meeting events. Before supper she packed her + valuables and books, papers, and clothes, together with Bo's, and had them + in readiness so if she was forced to vacate the premises she would have + her personal possessions. + </p> + <p> + The Mormon boys and several other of her trusted men slept in their + tarpaulin beds on the porch of the ranch-house that night, so that Helen + at least would not be surprised. But the day came, with its manifold + duties undisturbed by any event. And it passed slowly with the leaden feet + of listening, watching vigilance. + </p> + <p> + Carmichael did not come back, nor was there news of him to be had. The + last known of him had been late the afternoon of the preceding day, when a + sheep-herder had seen him far out on the north range, headed for the + hills. The Beemans reported that Roy's condition had improved, and also + that there was a subdued excitement of suspense down in the village. + </p> + <p> + This second lonely night was almost unendurable for Helen. When she slept + it was to dream horrible dreams; when she lay awake it was to have her + heart leap to her throat at a rustle of leaves near the window, and to be + in torture of imagination as to poor Bo's plight. A thousand times Helen + said to herself that Beasley could have had the ranch and welcome, if only + Bo had been spared. Helen absolutely connected her enemy with her sister's + disappearance. Riggs might have been a means to it. + </p> + <p> + Daylight was not attended by so many fears; there were things to do that + demanded attention. And thus it was that the next morning, shortly before + noon, she was recalled to her perplexities by a shouting out at the + corrals and a galloping of horses somewhere near. From the window she saw + a big smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Fire! That must be one of the barns—the old one, farthest out,” she + said, gazing out of the window. “Some careless Mexican with his + everlasting cigarette!” + </p> + <p> + Helen resisted an impulse to go out and see what had happened. She had + decided to stay in the house. But when footsteps sounded on the porch and + a rap on the door, she unhesitatingly opened it. Four Mexicans stood + close. One of them, quick as thought, flashed a hand in to grasp her, and + in a single motion pulled her across the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “No hurt, Senora,” he said, and pointed—making motions she must go. + </p> + <p> + Helen did not need to be told what this visit meant. Many as her + conjectures had been, however, she had not thought of Beasley subjecting + her to this outrage. And her blood boiled. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you!” she said, trembling in her effort to control her temper. + But class, authority, voice availed nothing with these swarthy Mexicans. + They grinned. Another laid hold of Helen with dirty, brown hand. She + shrank from the contact. + </p> + <p> + “Let go!” she burst out, furiously. And instinctively she began to + struggle to free herself. Then they all took hold of her. Helen's dignity + might never have been! A burning, choking rush of blood was her first + acquaintance with the terrible passion of anger that was her inheritance + from the Auchinclosses. She who had resolved never to lay herself open to + indignity now fought like a tigress. The Mexicans, jabbering in their + excitement, had all they could do, until they lifted her bodily from the + porch. They handled her as if she had been a half-empty sack of corn. One + holding each hand and foot they packed her, with dress disarranged and + half torn off, down the path to the lane and down the lane to the road. + There they stood upright and pushed her off her property. + </p> + <p> + Through half-blind eyes Helen saw them guarding the gateway, ready to + prevent her entrance. She staggered down the road to the village. It + seemed she made her way through a red dimness—that there was a + congestion in her brain—that the distance to Mrs. Cass's cottage was + insurmountable. But she got there, to stagger up the path, to hear the old + woman's cry. Dizzy, faint, sick, with a blackness enveloping all she + looked at, Helen felt herself led into the sitting-room and placed in the + big chair. + </p> + <p> + Presently sight and clearness of mind returned to her. She saw Roy, white + as a sheet, questioning her with terrible eyes. The old woman hung + murmuring over her, trying to comfort her as well as fasten the disordered + dress. + </p> + <p> + “Four greasers—packed me down—the hill—threw me off my + ranch—into the road!” panted Helen. + </p> + <p> + She seemed to tell this also to her own consciousness and to realize the + mighty wave of danger that shook her whole body. + </p> + <p> + “If I'd known—I would have killed them!” + </p> + <p> + She exclaimed that, full-voiced and hard, with dry, hot eyes on her + friends. Roy reached out to take her hand, speaking huskily. Helen did not + distinguish what he said. The frightened old woman knelt, with unsteady + fingers fumbling over the rents in Helen's dress. The moment came when + Helen's quivering began to subside, when her blood quieted to let her + reason sway, when she began to do battle with her rage, and slowly to take + fearful stock of this consuming peril that had been a sleeping tigress in + her veins. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Helen, you looked so turrible, I made sure you was hurted,” the + old woman was saying. + </p> + <p> + Helen gazed strangely at her bruised wrists, at the one stocking that hung + down over her shoe-top, at the rent which had bared her shoulder to the + profane gaze of those grinning, beady-eyed Mexicans. + </p> + <p> + “My body's—not hurt,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Roy had lost some of his whiteness, and where his eyes had been fierce + they were now kind. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Miss Nell, it's lucky no harm's done.... Now if you'll only see this + whole deal clear!... Not let it spoil your sweet way of lookin' an' + hopin'! If you can only see what's raw in this West—an' love it jest + the same!” + </p> + <p> + Helen only half divined his meaning, but that was enough for a future + reflection. The West was beautiful, but hard. In the faces of these + friends she began to see the meaning of the keen, sloping lines, and + shadows of pain, of a lean, naked truth, cut as from marble. + </p> + <p> + “For the land's sakes, tell us all about it,” importuned Mrs. Cass. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Helen shut her eyes and told the brief narrative of her + expulsion from her home. + </p> + <p> + “Shore we-all expected thet,” said Roy. “An' it's jest as well you're here + with a whole skin. Beasley's in possession now an' I reckon we'd all + sooner hev you away from thet ranch.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Roy, I won't let Beasley stay there,” cried Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Nell, shore by the time this here Pine has growed big enough fer law + you'll hev gray in thet pretty hair. You can't put Beasley off with your + honest an' rightful claim. Al Auchincloss was a hard driver. He made + enemies an' he made some he didn't kill. The evil men do lives after them. + An' you've got to suffer fer Al's sins, though Al was as good as any man + who ever prospered in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what can I do? I won't give up. I've been robbed. Can't the people + help me? Must I meekly sit with my hands crossed while that half-breed + thief—Oh, it's unbelievable!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'll jest hev to be patient fer a few days,” said Roy, calmly. + “It'll all come right in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Roy! You've had this deal, as you call it, all worked out in mind for a + long time!” exclaimed Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Shore, an' I 'ain't missed a reckonin' yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what will happen—in a few days?” + </p> + <p> + “Nell Rayner, are you goin' to hev some spunk an' not lose your nerve + again or go wild out of your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try to be brave, but—but I must be prepared,” she replied, + tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, there's Dale an' Las Vegas an' me fer Beasley to reckon with. An', + Miss Nell, his chances fer long life are as pore as his chances fer + heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Roy, I don't believe in deliberate taking of life,” replied Helen, + shuddering. “That's against my religion. I won't allow it.... And—then—think, + Dale, all of you—in danger!” + </p> + <p> + “Girl, how 're you ever goin' to help yourself? Shore you might hold Dale + back, if you love him, an' swear you won't give yourself to him.... An' I + reckon I'd respect your religion, if you was goin' to suffer through + me.... But not Dale nor you—nor Bo—nor love or heaven or hell + can ever stop thet cowboy Las Vegas!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if Dale brings Bo back to me—what will I care for my ranch?” + murmured Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you'll only begin to care when thet happens. Your big hunter has + got to be put to work,” replied Roy, with his keen smile. + </p> + <p> + Before noon that day the baggage Helen had packed at home was left on the + porch of Widow Cass's cottage, and Helen's anxious need of the hour was + satisfied. She was made comfortable in the old woman's one spare room, and + she set herself the task of fortitude and endurance. + </p> + <p> + To her surprise, many of Mrs. Cass's neighbors came unobtrusively to the + back door of the little cottage and made sympathetic inquiries. They + appeared a subdued and apprehensive group, and whispered to one another as + they left. Helen gathered from their visits a conviction that the wives of + the men dominated by Beasley believed no good could come of this + high-handed taking over of the ranch. Indeed, Helen found at the end of + the day that a strength had been borne of her misfortune. + </p> + <p> + The next day Roy informed her that his brother John had come down the + preceding night with the news of Beasley's descent upon the ranch. Not a + shot had been fired, and the only damage done was that of the burning of a + hay-filled barn. This had been set on fire to attract Helen's men to one + spot, where Beasley had ridden down upon them with three times their + number. He had boldly ordered them off the land, unless they wanted to + acknowledge him boss and remain there in his service. The three Beemans + had stayed, having planned that just in this event they might be valuable + to Helen's interests. Beasley had ridden down into Pine the same as upon + any other day. Roy reported also news which had come in that morning, how + Beasley's crowd had celebrated late the night before. + </p> + <p> + The second and third and fourth days endlessly wore away, and Helen + believed they had made her old. At night she lay awake most of the time, + thinking and praying, but during the afternoon she got some sleep. She + could think of nothing and talk of nothing except her sister, and Dale's + chances of saving her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, shore you pay Dale a pore compliment,” finally protested the + patient Roy. “I tell you—Milt Dale can do anythin' he wants to do in + the woods. You can believe thet. ... But I reckon he'll run chances after + he comes back.” + </p> + <p> + This significant speech thrilled Helen with its assurance of hope, and + made her blood curdle at the implied peril awaiting the hunter. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of the fifth day Helen was abruptly awakened from her + nap. The sun had almost set. She heard voices—the shrill, cackling + notes of old Mrs. Cass, high in excitement, a deep voice that made Helen + tingle all over, a girl's laugh, broken but happy. There were footsteps + and stamping of hoofs. Dale had brought Bo back! Helen knew it. She grew + very weak, and had to force herself to stand erect. Her heart began to + pound in her very ears. A sweet and perfect joy suddenly flooded her soul. + She thanked God her prayers had been answered. Then suddenly alive with + sheer mad physical gladness, she rushed out. + </p> + <p> + She was just in time to see Roy Beeman stalk out as if he had never been + shot, and with a yell greet a big, gray-clad, gray-faced man—Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Roy! Glad to see you up,” said Dale. How the quiet voice steadied + Helen! She beheld Bo. Bo, looking the same, except a little pale and + disheveled! Then Bo saw her and leaped at her, into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Nell! I'm here! Safe—all right! Never was so happy in my life.... + Oh-h! talk about your adventures! Nell, you dear old mother to me—I've + had e-enough forever!” + </p> + <p> + Bo was wild with joy, and by turns she laughed and cried. But Helen could + not voice her feelings. Her eyes were so dim that she could scarcely see + Dale when he loomed over her as she held Bo. But he found the hand she put + shakily out. + </p> + <p> + “Nell!... Reckon it's been harder—on you.” His voice was earnest and + halting. She felt his searching gaze upon her face. “Mrs. Cass said you + were here. An' I know why.” + </p> + <p> + Roy led them all indoors. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, one of the neighbor boys will take care of thet hoss,” he said, as + Dale turned toward the dusty and weary Ranger. “Where'd you leave the + cougar?” + </p> + <p> + “I sent him home,” replied Date. + </p> + <p> + “Laws now, Milt, if this ain't grand!” cackled Mrs. Cass. “We've worried + some here. An' Miss Helen near starved a-hopin' fer you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I reckon the girl an' I are nearer starved than anybody you + know,” replied Dale, with a grim laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Fer the land's sake! I'll be fixin' supper this minit.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, why are you here?” asked Bo, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + For answer Helen led her sister into the spare room and closed the door. + Bo saw the baggage. Her expression changed. The old blaze leaped to the + telltale eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He's done it!” she cried, hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest—thank God. I've got you—back again!” murmured Helen, + finding her voice. “Nothing else matters!... I've prayed only for that!” + </p> + <p> + “Good old Nell!” whispered Bo, and she kissed and embraced Helen. “You + really mean that, I know. But nix for yours truly! I'm back alive and + kicking, you bet.... Where's my—where's Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, not a word has been heard of him for five days. He's searching for + you, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've been—been put off the ranch?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, rather,” replied Helen, and in a few trembling words she told the + story of her eviction. + </p> + <p> + Bo uttered a wild word that had more force than elegance, but it became + her passionate resentment of this outrage done her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!... Does Tom Carmichael know this?” she added, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “How could he?” + </p> + <p> + “When he finds out, then—Oh, won't there be hell? I'm glad I got + here first.... Nell, my boots haven't been off the whole blessed time. + Help me. And oh, for some soap and hot water and some clean clothes! Nell, + old girl, I wasn't raised right for these Western deals. Too luxurious!” + </p> + <p> + And then Helen had her ears filled with a rapid-fire account of running + horses and Riggs and outlaws and Beasley called boldly to his teeth, and a + long ride and an outlaw who was a hero—a fight with Riggs—blood + and death—another long ride—a wild camp in black woods—night—lonely, + ghostly sounds—and day again—plot—a great actress lost + to the world—Ophelia—Snakes and Ansons—hoodooed outlaws—mournful + moans and terrible cries—cougar—stampede—fight and + shots, more blood and death—Wilson hero—another Tom Carmichael—fallen + in love with outlaw gun-fighter if—black night and Dale and horse + and rides and starved and, “Oh, Nell, he WAS from Texas!” + </p> + <p> + Helen gathered that wonderful and dreadful events had hung over the bright + head of this beloved little sister, but the bewilderment occasioned by + Bo's fluent and remarkable utterance left only that last sentence clear. + </p> + <p> + Presently Helen got a word in to inform Bo that Mrs. Cass had knocked + twice for supper, and that welcome news checked Bo's flow of speech when + nothing else seemed adequate. + </p> + <p> + It was obvious to Helen that Roy and Dale had exchanged stories. Roy + celebrated this reunion by sitting at table the first time since he had + been shot; and despite Helen's misfortune and the suspended waiting + balance in the air the occasion was joyous. Old Mrs. Cass was in the + height of her glory. She sensed a romance here, and, true to her sex, she + radiated to it. + </p> + <p> + Daylight was still lingering when Roy got up and went out on the porch. + His keen ears had heard something. Helen fancied she herself had heard + rapid hoof-beats. + </p> + <p> + “Dale, come out!” called Roy, sharply. + </p> + <p> + The hunter moved with his swift, noiseless agility. Helen and Bo followed, + halting in the door. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's Las Vegas,” whispered Dale. + </p> + <p> + To Helen it seemed that the cowboy's name changed the very atmosphere. + </p> + <p> + Voices were heard at the gate; one that, harsh and quick, sounded like + Carmichael's. And a spirited horse was pounding and scattering gravel. + Then a lithe figure appeared, striding up the path. It was Carmichael—yet + not the Carmichael Helen knew. She heard Bo's strange little cry, a + corroboration of her own impression. + </p> + <p> + Roy might never have been shot, judging from the way he stepped out, and + Dale was almost as quick. Carmichael reached them—grasped them with + swift, hard hands. + </p> + <p> + “Boys—I jest rode in. An' they said you'd found her!” + </p> + <p> + “Shore, Las Vegas. Dale fetched her home safe an' sound.... There she is.” + </p> + <p> + The cowboy thrust aside the two men, and with a long stride he faced the + porch, his piercing eyes on the door. All that Helen could think of his + look was that it seemed terrible. Bo stepped outside in front of Helen. + Probably she would have run straight into Carmichael's arms if some + strange instinct had not withheld her. Helen judged it to be fear; she + found her heart lifting painfully. + </p> + <p> + “Bo!” he yelled, like a savage, yet he did not in the least resemble one. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—Tom!” cried Bo, falteringly. She half held out her arms. + </p> + <p> + “You, girl?” That seemed to be his piercing query, like the quivering + blade in his eyes. Two more long strides carried him close up to her, and + his look chased the red out of Bo's cheek. Then it was beautiful to see + his face marvelously change until it was that of the well remembered Las + Vegas magnified in all his old spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Aw!” The exclamation was a tremendous sigh. “I shore am glad!” + </p> + <p> + That beautiful flash left his face as he wheeled to the men. He wrung + Dale's hand long and hard, and his gaze confused the older man. + </p> + <p> + “RIGGS!” he said, and in the jerk of his frame as he whipped out the word + disappeared the strange, fleeting signs of his kindlier emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Wilson killed him,” replied Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Jim Wilson—that old Texas Ranger!... Reckon he lent you a hand?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend, he saved Bo,” replied Dale, with emotion. “My old cougar an' + me—we just hung 'round.” + </p> + <p> + “You made Wilson help you?” cut in the hard voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But he killed Riggs before I come up an' I reckon he'd done well by + Bo if I'd never got there.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the gang?” + </p> + <p> + “All snuffed out, I reckon, except Wilson.” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody told me Beasley hed ran Miss Helen off the ranch. Thet so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Four of his greasers packed her down the hill—most tore her + clothes off, so Roy tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Four greasers!... Shore it was Beasley's deal clean through?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Riggs was led. He had an itch for a bad name, you know. But Beasley + made the plan. It was Nell they wanted instead of Bo.” + </p> + <p> + Abruptly Carmichael stalked off down the darkening path, his silver + heel-plates ringing, his spurs jingling. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Carmichael,” called Dale, taking a step. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tom!” cried Bo. + </p> + <p> + “Shore folks callin' won't be no use, if anythin would be,” said Roy. “Las + Vegas has hed a look at red liquor.” + </p> + <p> + “He's been drinking! Oh, that accounts!... he never—never even + touched me!” + </p> + <p> + For once Helen was not ready to comfort Bo. A mighty tug at her heart had + sent her with flying, uneven steps toward Dale. He took another stride + down the path, and another. + </p> + <p> + “Dale—oh—please stop!” she called, very low. + </p> + <p> + He halted as if he had run sharply into a bar across the path. When he + turned Helen had come close. Twilight was deep there in the shade of the + peach-trees, but she could see his face, the hungry, flaring eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I—I haven't thanked you—yet—for bringing Bo home,” she + whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, never mind that,” he said, in surprise. “If you must—why, + wait. I've got to catch up with that cowboy.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Let me thank you now,” she whispered, and, stepping closer, she put + her arms up, meaning to put them round his neck. That action must be her + self-punishment for the other time she had done it. Yet it might also + serve to thank him. But, strangely, her hands got no farther than his + breast, and fluttered there to catch hold of the fringe of his buckskin + jacket. She felt a heave of his deep chest. + </p> + <p> + “I—I do thank you—with all my heart,” she said, softly. “I owe + you now—for myself and her—more than I can ever repay.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'm your friend,” he replied, hurriedly. “Don't talk of repayin' + me. Let me go now—after Las Vegas.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” she queried, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to line up beside him—at the bar—or wherever he goes,” + returned Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me that. <i>I</i> know. You're going straight to meet + Beasley.” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, if you hold me up any longer I reckon I'll have to run—or + never get to Beasley before that cowboy.” + </p> + <p> + Helen locked her fingers in the fringe of his jacket—leaned closer + to him, all her being responsive to a bursting gust of blood over her. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not let you go,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He laughed, and put his great hands over hers. “What 're you sayin', girl? + You can't stop me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can. Dale, I don't want you to risk your life.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her, and made as if to tear her hands from their hold. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—please—oh—please!” she implored. “If you go + deliberately to kill Beasley—and do it—that will be murder.... + It's against my religion.... I would be unhappy all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “But, child, you'll be ruined all your life if Beasley is not dealt with—as + men of his breed are always dealt with in the West,” he remonstrated, and + in one quick move he had freed himself from her clutching fingers. + </p> + <p> + Helen, with a move as swift, put her arms round his neck and clasped her + hands tight. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, I'm finding myself,” she said. “The other day, when I did—this—you + made an excuse for me.... I'm not two-faced now.” + </p> + <p> + She meant to keep him from killing Beasley if she sacrificed every last + shred of her pride. And she stamped the look of his face on her heart of + hearts to treasure always. The thrill, the beat of her pulses, almost + obstructed her thought of purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, just now—when you're overcome—rash with feelin's—don't + say to me—a word—a—” + </p> + <p> + He broke down huskily. + </p> + <p> + “My first friend—my—Oh Dale, I KNOW you love me! she + whispered. And she hid her face on his breast, there to feel a tremendous + tumult. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't you?” she cried, in low, smothered voice, as his silence drove + her farther on this mad, yet glorious purpose. + </p> + <p> + “If you need to be told—yes—I reckon I do love you, Nell + Rayner,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Helen that he spoke from far off. She lifted her face, her + heart on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “If you kill Beasley I'll never marry you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Who's expectin' you to?” he asked, with low, hoarse laugh. “Do you think + you have to marry me to square accounts? This's the only time you ever + hurt me, Nell Rayner.... I'm 'shamed you could think I'd expect you—out + of gratitude—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—you—you are as dense as the forest where you live,” she + cried. And then she shut her eyes again, the better to remember that + transfiguration of his face, the better to betray herself. + </p> + <p> + “Man—I love you!” Full and deep, yet tremulous, the words burst from + her heart that had been burdened with them for many a day. + </p> + <p> + Then it seemed, in the throbbing riot of her senses, that she was lifted + and swung into his arms, and handled with a great and terrible tenderness, + and hugged and kissed with the hunger and awkwardness of a bear, and held + with her feet off the ground, and rendered blind, dizzy, rapturous, and + frightened, and utterly torn asunder from her old calm, thinking self. + </p> + <p> + He put her down—released her. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' could have made me so happy as what you said.” He finished with a + strong sigh of unutterable, wondering joy. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not go to—to meet—” + </p> + <p> + Helen's happy query froze on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to go!” he rejoined, with his old, quiet voice. “Hurry in to + Bo.... An' don't worry. Try to think of things as I taught you up in the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + Helen heard his soft, padded footfalls swiftly pass away. She was left + there, alone in the darkening twilight, suddenly cold and stricken, as if + turned to stone. + </p> + <p> + Thus she stood an age-long moment until the upflashing truth galvanized + her into action. Then she flew in pursuit of Dale. The truth was that, in + spite of Dale's' early training in the East and the long years of solitude + which had made him wonderful in thought and feeling, he had also become a + part of this raw, bold, and violent West. + </p> + <p> + It was quite dark now and she had run quite some distance before she saw + Dale's tall, dark form against the yellow light of Turner's saloon. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, in that poignant moment, when her flying feet kept pace with her + heart, Helen felt in herself a force opposing itself against this raw, + primitive justice of the West. She was one of the first influences + emanating from civilized life, from law and order. In that flash of truth + she saw the West as it would be some future time, when through women and + children these wild frontier days would be gone forever. Also, just as + clearly she saw the present need of men like Roy Beeman and Dale and the + fire-blooded Carmichael. Beasley and his kind must be killed. But Helen + did not want her lover, her future husband, and the probable father of her + children to commit what she held to be murder. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the saloon she caught up with Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Milt—oh—wait!'—wait!” she panted. + </p> + <p> + She heard him curse under his breath as he turned. They were alone in the + yellow flare of light. Horses were champing bits and drooping before the + rails. + </p> + <p> + “You go back!” ordered Dale, sternly. His face was pale, his eyes were + gleaming. + </p> + <p> + “No! Not till—you take me—or carry me!” she replied, + resolutely, with all a woman's positive and inevitable assurance. + </p> + <p> + Then he laid hold of her with ungentle hands. His violence, especially the + look on his face, terrified Helen, rendered her weak. But nothing could + have shaken her resolve. She felt victory. Her sex, her love, and her + presence would be too much for Dale. + </p> + <p> + As he swung Helen around, the low hum of voices inside the saloon suddenly + rose to sharp, hoarse roars, accompanied by a scuffling of feet and + crashing of violently sliding chairs or tables. Dale let go of Helen and + leaped toward the door. But a silence inside, quicker and stranger than + the roar, halted him. Helen's heart contracted, then seemed to cease + beating. There was absolutely not a perceptible sound. Even the horses + appeared, like Dale, to have turned to statues. + </p> + <p> + Two thundering shots annihilated this silence. Then quickly came a lighter + shot—the smash of glass. Dale ran into the saloon. The horses began + to snort, to rear, to pound. A low, muffled murmur terrified Helen even as + it drew her. Dashing at the door, she swung it in and entered. + </p> + <p> + The place was dim, blue-hazed, smelling of smoke. Dale stood just inside + the door. On the floor lay two men. Chairs and tables were overturned. A + motley, dark, shirt-sleeved, booted, and belted crowd of men appeared + hunched against the opposite wall, with pale, set faces, turned to the + bar. Turner, the proprietor, stood at one end, his face livid, his hands + aloft and shaking. Carmichael leaned against the middle of the bar. He + held a gun low down. It was smoking. + </p> + <p> + With a gasp Helen flashed her eyes back to Dale. He had seen her—was + reaching an arm toward her. Then she saw the man lying almost at her feet. + Jeff Mulvey—her uncle's old foreman! His face was awful to behold. A + smoking gun lay near his inert hand. The other man had fallen on his face. + His garb proclaimed him a Mexican. He was not yet dead. Then Helen, as she + felt Dale's arm encircle her, looked farther, because she could not + prevent it—looked on at that strange figure against the bar—this + boy who had been such a friend in her hour of need—this naive and + frank sweetheart of her sister's. + </p> + <p> + She saw a man now—wild, white, intense as fire, with some terrible + cool kind of deadliness in his mien. His left elbow rested upon the bar, + and his hand held a glass of red liquor. The big gun, low down in his + other hand, seemed as steady as if it were a fixture. + </p> + <p> + “Heah's to thet—half-breed Beasley an' his outfit!” + </p> + <p> + Carmichael drank, while his flaming eyes held the crowd; then with savage + action of terrible passion he flung the glass at the quivering form of the + still living Mexican on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Helen felt herself slipping. All seemed to darken around her. She could + not see Dale, though she knew he held her. Then she fainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <h3> + Las Vegas Carmichael was a product of his day. + </h3> + <p> + The Pan Handle of Texas, the old Chisholm Trail along which were driven + the great cattle herds northward, Fort Dodge, where the cowboys conflicted + with the card-sharps—these hard places had left their marks on + Carmichael. To come from Texas was to come from fighting stock. And a + cowboy's life was strenuous, wild, violent, and generally brief. The + exceptions were the fortunate and the swiftest men with guns; and they + drifted from south to north and west, taking with them the reckless, + chivalrous, vitriolic spirit peculiar to their breed. + </p> + <p> + The pioneers and ranchers of the frontier would never have made the West + habitable had it not been for these wild cowboys, these hard-drinking, + hard-riding, hard-living rangers of the barrens, these easy, cool, + laconic, simple young men whose blood was tinged with fire and who + possessed a magnificent and terrible effrontery toward danger and death. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas ran his horse from Widow Cass's cottage to Turner's saloon, and + the hoofs of the goaded steed crashed in the door. Las Vegas's entrance + was a leap. Then he stood still with the door ajar and the horse pounding + and snorting back. All the men in that saloon who saw the entrance of Las + Vegas knew what it portended. No thunderbolt could have more quickly + checked the drinking, gambling, talking crowd. They recognized with + kindred senses the nature of the man and his arrival. For a second the + blue-hazed room was perfectly quiet, then men breathed, moved, rose, and + suddenly caused a quick, sliding crash of chairs and tables. + </p> + <p> + The cowboy's glittering eyes flashed to and fro, and then fixed on Mulvey + and his Mexican companion. That glance singled out these two, and the + sudden rush of nervous men proved it. Mulvey and the sheep-herder were + left alone in the center of the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Jeff! Where's your boss?” asked Las Vegas. His voice was cool, + friendly; his manner was easy, natural; but the look of him was what made + Mulvey pale and the Mexican livid. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon he's home,” replied Mulvey. + </p> + <p> + “Home? What's he call home now?” + </p> + <p> + “He's hangin' out hyar at Auchincloss's,” replied Mulvey. His voice was + not strong, but his eyes were steady, watchful. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas quivered all over as if stung. A flame that seemed white and red + gave his face a singular hue. + </p> + <p> + “Jeff, you worked for old Al a long time, an' I've heard of your + differences,” said Las Vegas. “Thet ain't no mix of mine.... But you + double-crossed Miss Helen!” + </p> + <p> + Mulvey made no attempt to deny this. He gulped slowly. His hands appeared + less steady, and he grew paler. Again Las Vegas's words signified less + than his look. And that look now included the Mexican. + </p> + <p> + “Pedro, you're one of Beasley's old hands,” said Las Vegas, accusingly. + “An'—you was one of them four greasers thet—” + </p> + <p> + Here the cowboy choked and bit over his words as if they were a material + poison. The Mexican showed his guilt and cowardice. He began to jabber. + </p> + <p> + “Shet up!” hissed Las Vegas, with a savage and significant jerk of his + arm, as if about to strike. But that action was read for its true meaning. + Pell-mell the crowd split to rush each way and leave an open space behind + the three. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas waited. But Mulvey seemed obstructed. The Mexican looked + dangerous through his fear. His fingers twitched as if the tendons running + up into his arms were being pulled. + </p> + <p> + An instant of suspense—more than long enough for Mulvey to be tried + and found wanting—and Las Vegas, with laugh and sneer, turned his + back upon the pair and stepped to the bar. His call for a bottle made + Turner jump and hold it out with shaking hands. Las Vegas poured out a + drink, while his gaze was intent on the scarred old mirror hanging behind + the bar. + </p> + <p> + This turning his back upon men he had just dared to draw showed what kind + of a school Las Vegas had been trained in. If those men had been worthy + antagonists of his class he would never have scorned them. As it was, when + Mulvey and the Mexican jerked at their guns, Las Vegas swiftly wheeled and + shot twice. Mulvey's gun went off as he fell, and the Mexican doubled up + in a heap on the floor. Then Las Vegas reached around with his left hand + for the drink he had poured out. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture Dale burst into the saloon, suddenly to check his + impetus, to swerve aside toward the bar and halt. The door had not ceased + swinging when again it was propelled inward, this time to admit Helen + Rayner, white and wide-eyed. + </p> + <p> + In another moment then Las Vegas had spoken his deadly toast to Beasley's + gang and had fiercely flung the glass at the writhing Mexican on the + floor. Also Dale had gravitated toward the reeling Helen to catch her when + she fainted. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas began to curse, and, striding to Dale, he pushed him out of the + saloon. + </p> + <p> + “—! What 're you doin' heah?” he yelled, stridently. “Hevn't you got + thet girl to think of? Then do it, you big Indian! Lettin' her run after + you heah—riskin' herself thet way! You take care of her an' Bo an' + leave this deal to me!” + </p> + <p> + The cowboy, furious as he was at Dale, yet had keen, swift eyes for the + horses near at hand, and the men out in the dim light. Dale lifted the + girl into his arms, and, turning without a word, stalked away to disappear + in the darkness. Las Vegas, holding his gun low, returned to the bar-room. + If there had been any change in the crowd it was slight. The tension had + relaxed. Turner no longer stood with hands up. + </p> + <p> + “You-all go on with your fun,” called the cowboy, with a sweep of his gun. + “But it'd be risky fer any one to start leavin'.” + </p> + <p> + With that he backed against the bar, near where the black bottle stood. + Turner walked out to begin righting tables and chairs, and presently the + crowd, with some caution and suspense, resumed their games and drinking. + It was significant that a wide berth lay between them and the door. From + time to time Turner served liquor to men who called for it. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas leaned with back against the bar. After a while he sheathed his + gun and reached around for the bottle. He drank with his piercing eyes + upon the door. No one entered and no one went out. The games of chance + there and the drinking were not enjoyed. It was a hard scene—that + smoky, long, ill-smelling room, with its dim, yellow lights, and dark, + evil faces, with the stealthy-stepping Turner passing to and fro, and the + dead Mulvey staring in horrible fixidity at the ceiling, and the Mexican + quivering more and more until he shook violently, then lay still, and with + the drinking, somber, waiting cowboy, more fiery and more flaming with + every drink, listening for a step that did not come. + </p> + <p> + Time passed, and what little change it wrought was in the cowboy. Drink + affected him, but he did not become drunk. It seemed that the liquor he + drank was consumed by a mounting fire. It was fuel to a driving passion. + He grew more sullen, somber, brooding, redder of eye and face, more + crouching and restless. At last, when the hour was so late that there was + no probability of Beasley appearing, Las Vegas flung himself out of the + saloon. + </p> + <p> + All lights of the village had now been extinguished. The tired horses + drooped in the darkness. Las Vegas found his horse and led him away down + the road and out a lane to a field where a barn stood dim and dark in the + starlight. Morning was not far off. He unsaddled the horse and, turning + him loose, went into the barn. Here he seemed familiar with his + surroundings, for he found a ladder and climbed to a loft, where he threw + himself on the hay. + </p> + <p> + He rested, but did not sleep. At daylight he went down and brought his + horse into the barn. Sunrise found Las Vegas pacing to and fro the short + length of the interior, and peering out through wide cracks between the + boards. Then during the succeeding couple of hours he watched the + occasional horseman and wagon and herder that passed on into the village. + </p> + <p> + About the breakfast hour Las Vegas saddled his horse and rode back the way + he had come the night before. At Turner's he called for something to eat + as well as for whisky. After that he became a listening, watching machine. + He drank freely for an hour; then he stopped. He seemed to be drunk, but + with a different kind of drunkenness from that usual in drinking men. + Savage, fierce, sullen, he was one to avoid. Turner waited on him in + evident fear. + </p> + <p> + At length Las Vegas's condition became such that action was involuntary. + He could not stand still nor sit down. Stalking out, he passed the store, + where men slouched back to avoid him, and he went down the road, wary and + alert, as if he expected a rifle-shot from some hidden enemy. Upon his + return down that main thoroughfare of the village not a person was to be + seen. He went in to Turner's. The proprietor was there at his post, + nervous and pale. Las Vegas did not order any more liquor. + </p> + <p> + “Turner, I reckon I'll bore you next time I run in heah,” he said, and + stalked out. + </p> + <p> + He had the stores, the road, the village, to himself; and he patrolled a + beat like a sentry watching for an Indian attack. + </p> + <p> + Toward noon a single man ventured out into the road to accost the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, I'm tellin' you—all the greasers air leavin' the range,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Abe!” replied Las Vegas. “What 'n hell you talkin' about?” + </p> + <p> + The man repeated his information. And Las Vegas spat out frightful curses. + </p> + <p> + “Abe—you heah what Beasley's doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He's with his men—up at the ranch. Reckon he can't put off + ridin' down much longer.” + </p> + <p> + That was where the West spoke. Beasley would be forced to meet the enemy + who had come out single-handed against him. Long before this hour a braver + man would have come to face Las Vegas. Beasley could not hire any gang to + bear the brunt of this situation. This was the test by which even his own + men must judge him. All of which was to say that as the wildness of the + West had made possible his crimes, so it now held him responsible for + them. + </p> + <p> + “Abe, if thet—greaser don't rustle down heah I'm goin' after him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But don't be in no hurry,” replied Abe. + </p> + <p> + “I'm waltzin' to slow music.... Gimme a smoke.” + </p> + <p> + With fingers that slightly trembled Abe rolled a cigarette, lit it from + his own, and handed it to the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, I reckon I hear hosses,” he said, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Me, too,” replied Las Vegas, with his head high like that of a listening + deer. Apparently he forgot the cigarette and also his friend. Abe hurried + back to the store, where he disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas began his stalking up and down, and his action now was an + exaggeration of all his former movements. A rational, ordinary mortal from + some Eastern community, happening to meet this red-faced cowboy, would + have considered him drunk or crazy. Probably Las Vegas looked both. But + all the same he was a marvelously keen and strung and efficient instrument + to meet the portending issue. How many thousands of times, on the trails, + and in the wide-streeted little towns all over the West, had this stalk of + the cowboy's been perpetrated! Violent, bloody, tragic as it was, it had + an importance in that pioneer day equal to the use of a horse or the need + of a plow. + </p> + <p> + At length Pine was apparently a deserted village, except for Las Vegas, + who patrolled his long beat in many ways—he lounged while he + watched; he stalked like a mountaineer; he stole along Indian fashion, + stealthily, from tree to tree, from corner to corner; he disappeared in + the saloon to reappear at the back; he slipped round behind the barns to + come out again in the main road; and time after time he approached his + horse as if deciding to mount. + </p> + <p> + The last visit he made into Turner's saloon he found no one there. + Savagely he pounded on the bar with his gun. He got no response. Then the + long-pent-up rage burst. With wild whoops he pulled another gun and shot + at the mirror, the lamps. He shot the neck off a bottle and drank till he + choked, his neck corded, bulging, and purple. His only slow and deliberate + action was the reloading of his gun. Then he crashed through the doors, + and with a wild yell leaped sheer into the saddle, hauling his horse up + high and goading him to plunge away. + </p> + <p> + Men running to the door and windows of the store saw a streak of dust + flying down the road. And then they trooped out to see it disappear. The + hour of suspense ended for them. Las Vegas had lived up to the code of the + West, had dared his man out, had waited far longer than needful to prove + that man a coward. Whatever the issue now, Beasley was branded forever. + That moment saw the decline of whatever power he had wielded. He and his + men might kill the cowboy who had ridden out alone to face him, but that + would not change the brand. + </p> + <p> + The preceding night Beasley bad been finishing a late supper at his newly + acquired ranch, when Buck Weaver, one of his men, burst in upon him with + news of the death of Mulvey and Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “Who's in the outfit? How many?” he had questioned, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “It's a one-man outfit, boss,” replied Weaver. + </p> + <p> + Beasley appeared astounded. He and his men had prepared to meet the + friends of the girl whose property he had taken over, and because of the + superiority of his own force he had anticipated no bloody or extended + feud. This amazing circumstance put the case in very much more difficult + form. + </p> + <p> + “One man!” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Yep. Thet cowboy Las Vegas. An', boss, he turns out to be a gun-slinger + from Texas. I was in Turner's. Hed jest happened to step in the other room + when Las Vegas come bustin' in on his hoss an' jumped off.... Fust thing + he called Jeff an' Pedro. They both showed yaller. An' then, damn if thet + cowboy didn't turn his back on them an' went to the bar fer a drink. But + he was lookin' in the mirror an' when Jeff an' Pedro went fer their guns + why he whirled quick as lightnin' an' bored them both.... I sneaked out an—” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you bore him?” roared Beasley. + </p> + <p> + Buck Weaver steadily eyed his boss before he replied. “I ain't takin' + shots at any fellar from behind doors. An' as fer meetin' Las Vegas—excoose + me, boss! I've still a hankerin' fer sunshine an' red liquor. Besides, I + 'ain't got nothin' ag'in' Las Vegas. If he's rustled over here at the head + of a crowd to put us off I'd fight, jest as we'd all fight. But you see we + figgered wrong. It's between you an' Las Vegas!... You oughter seen him + throw thet hunter Dale out of Turner's.” + </p> + <p> + “Dale! Did he come?” queried Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “He got there just after the cowboy plugged Jeff. An' thet big-eyed girl, + she came runnin' in, too. An' she keeled over in Dale's arms. Las Vegas + shoved him out—cussed him so hard we all heerd.... So, Beasley, + there ain't no fight comin' off as we figgered on.” + </p> + <p> + Beasley thus heard the West speak out of the mouth of his own man. And + grim, sardonic, almost scornful, indeed, were the words of Buck Weaver. + This rider had once worked for Al Auchincloss and had deserted to Beasley + under Mulvey's leadership. Mulvey was dead and the situation was vastly + changed. + </p> + <p> + Beasley gave Weaver a dark, lowering glance, and waved him away. From the + door Weaver sent back a doubtful, scrutinizing gaze, then slouched out. + That gaze Beasley had not encountered before. + </p> + <p> + It meant, as Weaver's cronies meant, as Beasley's long-faithful riders, + and the people of the range, and as the spirit of the West meant, that + Beasley was expected to march down into the village to face his single + foe. + </p> + <p> + But Beasley did not go. Instead he paced to and fro the length of Helen + Rayner's long sitting-room with the nervous energy of a man who could not + rest. Many times he hesitated, and at others he made sudden movements + toward the door, only to halt. Long after midnight he went to bed, but not + to sleep. He tossed and rolled all night, and at dawn arose, gloomy and + irritable. + </p> + <p> + He cursed the Mexican serving-women who showed their displeasure at his + authority. And to his amaze and rage not one of his men came to the house. + He waited and waited. Then he stalked off to the corrals and stables + carrying a rifle with him. The men were there, in a group that dispersed + somewhat at his advent. Not a Mexican was in sight. + </p> + <p> + Beasley ordered the horses to be saddled and all hands to go down into the + village with him. That order was disobeyed. Beasley stormed and raged. His + riders sat or lounged, with lowered faces. An unspoken hostility seemed + present. Those who had been longest with him were least distant and + strange, but still they did not obey. At length Beasley roared for his + Mexicans. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, we gotta tell you thet every greaser on the ranch hes sloped—gone + these two hours—on the way to Magdalena,” said Buck Weaver. + </p> + <p> + Of all these sudden-uprising perplexities this latest was the most + astounding. Beasley cursed with his questioning wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Boss, they was sure scared of thet gun-slingin' cowboy from Texas,” + replied Weaver, imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + Beasley's dark, swarthy face changed its hue. What of the subtle + reflection in Weaver's slow speech! One of the men came out of a corral + leading Beasley's saddled and bridled horse. This fellow dropped the + bridle and sat down among his comrades without a word. No one spoke. The + presence of the horse was significant. With a snarling, muttered curse, + Beasley took up his rifle and strode back to the ranch-house. + </p> + <p> + In his rage and passion he did not realize what his men had known for + hours—that if he had stood any chance at all for their respect as + well as for his life the hour was long past. + </p> + <p> + Beasley avoided the open paths to the house, and when he got there he + nervously poured out a drink. Evidently something in the fiery liquor + frightened him, for he threw the bottle aside. It was as if that bottle + contained a courage which was false. + </p> + <p> + Again he paced the long sitting-room, growing more and more wrought-up as + evidently he grew familiar with the singular state of affairs. Twice the + pale serving-woman called him to dinner. + </p> + <p> + The dining-room was light and pleasant, and the meal, fragrant and + steaming, was ready for him. But the women had disappeared. Beasley seated + himself—spread out his big hands on the table. + </p> + <p> + Then a slight rustle—a clink of spur—startled him. He twisted + his head. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Beasley!” said Las Vegas, who had appeared as if by magic. + </p> + <p> + Beasley's frame seemed to swell as if a flood had been loosed in his + veins. Sweat-drops stood out on his pallid face. + </p> + <p> + “What—you—want?” he asked, huskily. + </p> + <p> + “Wal now, my boss, Miss Helen, says, seein' I am foreman heah, thet it'd + be nice an' proper fer me to drop in an' eat with you—THE LAST + TIME!” replied the cowboy. His drawl was slow and cool, his tone was + friendly and pleasant. But his look was that of a falcon ready to drive + deep its beak. + </p> + <p> + Beasley's reply was loud, incoherent, hoarse. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas seated himself across from Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “Eat or not, it's shore all the same to me,” said Las Vegas, and he began + to load his plate with his left hand. His right hand rested very lightly, + with just the tips of his vibrating fingers on the edge of the table; and + he never for the slightest fraction of a second took his piercing eyes off + Beasley. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, my half-breed greaser guest, it shore roils up my blood to see you + sittin' there—thinkin' you've put my boss, Miss Helen, off this + ranch,” began Las Vegas, softly. And then he helped himself leisurely to + food and drink. “In my day I've shore stacked up against a lot of outlaws, + thieves, rustlers, an' sich like, but fer an out an' out dirty low-down + skunk, you shore take the dough!... I'm goin, to kill you in a minit or + so, jest as soon as you move one of them dirty paws of yourn. But I hope + you'll be polite an' let me say a few words. I'll never be happy again if + you don't.... Of all the—yaller greaser dogs I ever seen, you're the + worst!... I was thinkin' last night mebbe you'd come down an' meet me like + a man, so 's I could wash my hands ever afterward without gettin' sick to + my stummick. But you didn't come.... Beasley, I'm so ashamed of myself + thet I gotta call you—when I ought to bore you, thet—I ain't + even second cousin to my old self when I rode fer Chisholm. It don't mean + nuthin' to you to call you liar! robber! blackleg! a sneakin' coyote! an' + a cheat thet hires others to do his dirty work!... By Gawd!—” + </p> + <p> + “Carmichael, gimme a word in,” hoarsely broke out Beasley. “You're right, + it won't do no good to call me.... But let's talk.... I'll buy you off. + Ten thousand dollars—” + </p> + <p> + “Haw! Haw! Haw!” roared Las Vegas. He was as tense as a strung cord and + his face possessed a singular pale radiance. His right hand began to + quiver more and more. + </p> + <p> + “I'll—double—it!” panted Beasley. “I'll—make over—half + the ranch—all the stock—” + </p> + <p> + “Swaller thet!” yelled Las Vegas, with terrible strident ferocity. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—man!... I take—it back!... I'll give up—Auchincloss's + ranch!” Beasley was now a shaking, whispering, frenzied man, ghastly + white, with rolling eyes. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas's left fist pounded hard on the table. + </p> + <p> + “GREASER, COME ON!” he thundered. + </p> + <p> + Then Beasley, with desperate, frantic action, jerked for his gun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + For Helen Rayner that brief, dark period of expulsion from her home had + become a thing of the past, almost forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Two months had flown by on the wings of love and work and the joy of + finding her place there in the West. All her old men had been only too + glad of the opportunity to come back to her, and under Dale and Roy Beeman + a different and prosperous order marked the life of the ranch. + </p> + <p> + Helen had made changes in the house by altering the arrangement of rooms + and adding a new section. Only once had she ventured into the old + dining-room where Las Vegas Carmichael had sat down to that fatal dinner + for Beasley. She made a store-room of it, and a place she would never + again enter. + </p> + <p> + Helen was happy, almost too happy, she thought, and therefore made more + than needful of the several bitter drops in her sweet cup of life. + Carmichael had ridden out of Pine, ostensibly on the trail of the Mexicans + who had executed Beasley's commands. The last seen of him had been + reported from Show Down, where he had appeared red-eyed and dangerous, + like a hound on a scent. Then two months had flown by without a word. + </p> + <p> + Dale had shaken his head doubtfully when interrogated about the cowboy's + absence. It would be just like Las Vegas never to be heard of again. Also + it would be more like him to remain away until all trace of his drunken, + savage spell had departed from him and had been forgotten by his friends. + Bo took his disappearance apparently less to heart than Helen. But Bo grew + more restless, wilder, and more wilful than ever. Helen thought she + guessed Bo's secret; and once she ventured a hint concerning Carmichael's + return. + </p> + <p> + “If Tom doesn't come back pretty soon I'll marry Milt Dale,” retorted Bo, + tauntingly. + </p> + <p> + This fired Helen's cheeks with red. + </p> + <p> + “But, child,” she protested, half angry, half grave. “Milt and I are + engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Only you're so slow. There's many a slip—you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I tell you Tom will come back,” replied Helen, earnestly. “I feel it. + There was something fine in that cowboy. He understood me better than you + or Milt, either.... And he was perfectly wild in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! WAS he?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much more than you deserved, Bo Rayner.” + </p> + <p> + Then occurred one of Bo's sweet, bewildering, unexpected transformations. + Her defiance, resentment, rebelliousness, vanished from a softly agitated + face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Nell, I know that.... You just watch me if I ever get another chance + at him!... Then—maybe he'd never drink again!” + </p> + <p> + “Bo, be happy—and be good. Don't ride off any more—don't tease + the boys. It'll all come right in the end.” + </p> + <p> + Bo recovered her equanimity quickly enough. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! You can afford to be cheerful. You've got a man who can't live + when you're out of his sight. He's like a fish on dry land.... And you—why, + once you were an old pessimist!” + </p> + <p> + Bo was not to be consoled or changed. Helen could only sigh and pray that + her convictions would be verified. + </p> + <p> + The first day of July brought an early thunder-storm, just at sunrise. It + roared and flared and rolled away, leaving a gorgeous golden cloud pageant + in the sky and a fresh, sweetly smelling, glistening green range that + delighted Helen's eye. + </p> + <p> + Birds were twittering in the arbors and bees were humming in the flowers. + From the fields down along the brook came a blended song of + swamp-blackbird and meadow-lark. A clarion-voiced burro split the air with + his coarse and homely bray. The sheep were bleating, and a soft baa of + little lambs came sweetly to Helen's ears. She went her usual rounds with + more than usual zest and thrill. Everywhere was color, activity, life. The + wind swept warm and pine-scented down from the mountain heights, now black + and bold, and the great green slopes seemed to call to her. + </p> + <p> + At that very moment she came suddenly upon Dale, in his shirt-sleeves, + dusty and hot, standing motionless, gazing at the distant mountains. + Helen's greeting startled him. + </p> + <p> + “I—I was just looking away yonder,” he said, smiling. She thrilled + at the clear, wonderful light of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “So was I—a moment ago,” she replied, wistfully. “Do you miss the + forest—very much?” + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I miss nothing. But I'd like to ride with you under the pines once + more.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll go,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “When?” he asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—soon!” And then with flushed face and downcast eyes she passed + on. For long Helen had cherished a fond hope that she might be married in + Paradise Park, where she had fallen in love with Dale and had realized + herself. But she had kept that hope secret. Dale's eager tone, his + flashing eyes, had made her feel that her secret was there in her telltale + face. + </p> + <p> + As she entered the lane leading to the house she encountered one of the + new stable-boys driving a pack-mule. + </p> + <p> + “Jim, whose pack is that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am, I dunno, but I heard him tell Roy he reckoned his name was mud,” + replied the boy, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Helen's heart gave a quick throb. That sounded like Las Vegas. She hurried + on, and upon entering the courtyard she espied Roy Beeman holding the + halter of a beautiful, wild-looking mustang. There was another horse with + another man, who was in the act of dismounting on the far side. When he + stepped into better view Helen recognized Las Vegas. And he saw her at the + same instant. + </p> + <p> + Helen did not look up again until she was near the porch. She had dreaded + this meeting, yet she was so glad that she could have cried aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Helen, I shore am glad to see you,” he said, standing bareheaded + before her, the same young, frank-faced cowboy she had seen first from the + train. + </p> + <p> + “Tom!” she exclaimed, and offered her hands. + </p> + <p> + He wrung them hard while he looked at her. The swift woman's glance Helen + gave in return seemed to drive something dark and doubtful out of her + heart. This was the same boy she had known—whom she had liked so + well—who had won her sister's love. Helen imagined facing him thus + was like awakening from a vague nightmare of doubt. Carmichael's face was + clean, fresh, young, with its healthy tan; it wore the old glad smile, + cool, easy, and natural; his eyes were like Dale's—penetrating, + clear as crystal, without a shadow. What had evil, drink, blood, to do + with the real inherent nobility of this splendid specimen of Western + hardihood? Wherever he had been, whatever he had done during that long + absence, he had returned long separated from that wild and savage + character she could now forget. Perhaps there would never again be call + for it. + </p> + <p> + “How's my girl?” he asked, just as naturally as if he had been gone a few + days on some errand of his employer's. + </p> + <p> + “Bo? Oh, she's well—fine. I—I rather think she'll be glad to + see you,” replied Helen, warmly. + </p> + <p> + “An' how's thet big Indian, Dale?” he drawled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, too—I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I got back heah in time to see you-all married?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I assure you I—no one around here has been married yet,” + replied Helen, with a blush. + </p> + <p> + “Thet shore is fine. Was some worried,” he said, lazily. “I've been + chasin' wild hosses over in New Mexico, an' I got after this heah blue + roan. He kept me chasin' him fer a spell. I've fetched him back for Bo.” + </p> + <p> + Helen looked at the mustang Roy was holding, to be instantly delighted. He + was a roan almost blue in color, neither large nor heavy, but powerfully + built, clean-limbed, and racy, with a long mane and tail, black as coal, + and a beautiful head that made Helen love him at once. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm jealous,” declared Helen, archly. “I never did see such a + pony.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned you'd never ride any hoss but Ranger,” said Las Vegas. + </p> + <p> + “No, I never will. But I can be jealous, anyhow, can't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Shore. An I reckon if you say you're goin' to have him—wal, Bo 'd + be funny,” he drawled. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon she would be funny,” retorted Helen. She was so happy that she + imitated his speech. She wanted to hug him. It was too good to be true—the + return of this cowboy. He understood her. He had come back with nothing + that could alienate her. He had apparently forgotten the terrible role he + had accepted and the doom he had meted out to her enemies. That moment was + wonderful for Helen in its revelation of the strange significance of the + West as embodied in this cowboy. He was great. But he did not know that. + </p> + <p> + Then the door of the living-room opened, and a sweet, high voice pealed + out: + </p> + <p> + “Roy! Oh, what a mustang! Whose is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Bo, if all I hear is so he belongs to you,” replied Roy with a huge + grin. + </p> + <p> + Bo appeared in the door. She stepped out upon the porch. She saw the + cowboy. The excited flash of her pretty face vanished as she paled. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, I shore am glad to see you,” drawled Las Vegas, as he stepped + forward, sombrero in hand. Helen could not see any sign of confusion in + him. But, indeed, she saw gladness. Then she expected to behold Bo run + right into the cowboys's arms. It appeared, however, that she was doomed + to disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, I'm glad to see you,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + They shook hands as old friends. + </p> + <p> + “You're lookin' right fine,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm well.... And how have you been these six months?” she queried. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I though it was longer,” he drawled. “Wal, I'm pretty tip-top now, + but I was laid up with heart trouble for a spell.” + </p> + <p> + “Heart trouble?” she echoed, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Shore.... I ate too much over heah in New Mexico.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no news to me—where your heart's located,” laughed Bo. Then + she ran off the porch to see the blue mustang. She walked round and round + him, clasping her hands in sheer delight. + </p> + <p> + “Bo, he's a plumb dandy,” said Roy. “Never seen a prettier hoss. He'll run + like a streak. An' he's got good eyes. He'll be a pet some day. But I + reckon he'll always be spunky.” + </p> + <p> + “Bo ventured to step closer, and at last got a hand on the mustang, and + then another. She smoothed his quivering neck and called softly to him, + until he submitted to her hold. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Blue somethin' or other,” replied Roy. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, has my new mustang a name?” asked Bo, turning to the cowboy. + </p> + <p> + “Shore.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I named him Blue-Bo,” answered Las Vegas, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Blue-Boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. He's named after you. An' I chased him, roped him, broke him all + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Blue-Bo he is, then.... And he's a wonderful darling horse. + Oh, Nell, just look at him.... Tom, I can't thank you enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon I don't want any thanks,” drawled the cowboy. “But see heah, Bo, + you shore got to live up to conditions before you ride him.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Bo, who was startled by his slow, cool, meaning tone, of + voice. + </p> + <p> + Helen delighted in looking at Las Vegas then. He had never appeared to + better advantage. So cool, careless, and assured! He seemed master of a + situation in which his terms must be accepted. Yet he might have been + actuated by a cowboy motive beyond the power of Helen to divine. + </p> + <p> + “Bo Rayner,” drawled Las Vegas, “thet blue mustang will be yours, an' you + can ride him—when you're MRS. TOM CARMICHAEL!” + </p> + <p> + Never had he spoken a softer, more drawling speech, nor gazed at Bo more + mildly. Roy seemed thunderstruck. Helen endeavored heroically to restrain + her delicious, bursting glee. Bo's wide eyes stared at her lover—darkened—dilated. + Suddenly she left the mustang to confront the cowboy where he lounged on + the porch steps. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Shore do.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! It's only a magnificent bluff,” she retorted. “You're only in fun. + It's your—your darned nerve!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Bo,” began Las Vegas, reproachfully. “You shore know I'm not the + four-flusher kind. Never got away with a bluff in my life! An' I'm jest in + daid earnest aboot this heah.” + </p> + <p> + All the same, signs were not wanting in his mobile face that he was almost + unable to restrain his mirth. + </p> + <p> + Helen realized then that Bo saw through the cowboy—that the + ultimatum was only one of his tricks. + </p> + <p> + “It IS a bluff and I CALL you!” declared Bo, ringingly. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas suddenly awoke to consequences. He essayed to speak, but she was + so wonderful then, so white and blazing-eyed, that he was stricken mute. + </p> + <p> + “I'll ride Blue-Bo this afternoon,” deliberately stated the girl. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas had wit enough to grasp her meaning, and he seemed about to + collapse. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, you can make me Mrs. Tom Carmichael to-day—this morning—just + before dinner.... Go get a preacher to marry us—and make yourself + look a more presentable bridegroom—UNLESS IT WAS ONLY A BLUFF!” + </p> + <p> + Her imperiousness changed as the tremendous portent of her words seemed to + make Las Vegas a blank, stone image of a man. With a wild-rose color + suffusing her face, she swiftly bent over him, kissed him, and flashed + away into the house. Her laugh pealed back, and it thrilled Helen, so deep + and strange was it for the wilful sister, so wild and merry and full of + joy. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Roy Beeman recovered from his paralysis, to let out such + a roar of mirth as to frighten the horses. Helen was laughing, and crying, + too, but laughing mostly. Las Vegas Carmichael was a sight for the gods to + behold. Bo's kiss had unclamped what had bound him. The sudden truth, + undeniable, insupportable, glorious, made him a madman. + </p> + <p> + “Bluff—she called me—ride Blue-Bo saf'ternoon!” he raved, + reaching wildly for Helen. “Mrs.—Tom—Carmichael—before + dinner—preacher—presentable bridegroom!... Aw! I'm drunk + again! I—who swore off forever!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Tom, you're just happy,” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + Between her and Roy the cowboy was at length persuaded to accept the + situation and to see his wonderful opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “Now—now, Miss Helen—what'd Bo mean by pre—presentable + bridegroom?... Presents? Lord, I'm clean busted flat!” + </p> + <p> + “She meant you must dress up in your best, of course,” replied Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Where 'n earth will I get a preacher?... Show Down's forty miles.... + Can't ride there in time.... Roy, I've gotta have a preacher.... Life or + death deal fer me.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, old man, if you'll brace up I'll marry you to Bo,” said Roy, with + his glad grin. + </p> + <p> + “Aw!” gasped Las Vegas, as if at the coming of a sudden beautiful hope. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, I'm a preacher,” replied Roy, now earnestly. “You didn't know thet, + but I am. An' I can marry you an' Bo as good as any one, an' tighter 'n + most.” + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas reached for his friend as a drowning man might have reached for + solid rock. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, can you really marry them—with my Bible—and the service + of my church?” asked Helen, a happy hope flushing her face. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, indeed I can. I've married more 'n one couple whose religion wasn't + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “B-b-before—d-d-din-ner!” burst out Las Vegas, like a stuttering + idiot. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon. Come on, now, an' make yourself pre-senttible,” said Roy. “Miss + Helen, you tell Bo thet it's all settled.” + </p> + <p> + He picked up the halter on the blue mustang and turned away toward the + corrals. Las Vegas put the bridle of his horse over his arm, and seemed to + be following in a trance, with his dazed, rapt face held high. + </p> + <p> + “Bring Dale,” called Helen, softly after them. + </p> + <p> + So it came about as naturally as it was wonderful that Bo rode the blue + mustang before the afternoon ended. + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas disobeyed his first orders from Mrs. Tom Carmichael and rode out + after her toward the green-rising range. Helen seemed impelled to follow. + She did not need to ask Dale the second time. They rode swiftly, but never + caught up with Bo and Las Vegas, whose riding resembled their happiness. + </p> + <p> + Dale read Helen's mind, or else his own thoughts were in harmony with + hers, for he always seemed to speak what she was thinking. And as they + rode homeward he asked her in his quiet way if they could not spare a few + days to visit his old camp. + </p> + <p> + “And take Bo—and Tom? Oh, of all things I'd like to'” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—an' Roy, too,” added Dale, significantly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Helen, lightly, as if she had not caught his meaning. + But she turned her eyes away, while her heart thumped disgracefully and + all her body was aglow. “Will Tom and Bo go?” + </p> + <p> + “It was Tom who got me to ask you,” replied Dale. “John an' Hal can look + after the men while we're gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—so Tom put it in your head? I guess—maybe—I won't + go.” + </p> + <p> + “It is always in my mind, Nell,” he said, with his slow seriousness. “I'm + goin' to work all my life for you. But I'll want to an' need to go back to + the woods often.... An' if you ever stoop to marry me—an' make me + the richest of men—you'll have to marry me up there where I fell in + love with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Did Las Vegas Tom Carmichael say that, too?” inquired Helen, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, do you want to know what Las Vegas said?” + </p> + <p> + “By all means.” + </p> + <p> + “He said this—an' not an hour ago. 'Milt, old hoss, let me give you + a hunch. I'm a man of family now—an' I've been a devil with the + wimmen in my day. I can see through 'em. Don't marry Nell Rayner in or + near the house where I killed Beasley. She'd remember. An' don't let her + remember thet day. Go off into the woods. Paradise Park! Bo an' me will go + with you.” + </p> + <p> + Helen gave him her hand, while they walked the horses homeward in the long + sunset shadows. In the fullness of that happy hour she had time for a + grateful wonder at the keen penetration of the cowboy Carmichael. Dale had + saved her life, but it was Las Vegas who had saved her happiness. + </p> + <p> + Not many days later, when again the afternoon shadows were slanting low, + Helen rode out upon the promontory where the dim trail zigzagged far above + Paradise Park. + </p> + <p> + Roy was singing as he drove the pack-burros down the slope; Bo and Las + Vegas were trying to ride the trail two abreast, so they could hold hands; + Dale had dismounted to stand beside Helen's horse, as she gazed down the + shaggy black slopes to the beautiful wild park with its gray meadows and + shining ribbons of brooks. + </p> + <p> + It was July, and there were no golden-red glorious flames and blazes of + color such as lingered in Helen's memory. Black spruce slopes and green + pines and white streaks of aspens and lacy waterfall of foam and dark + outcroppings of rock—these colors and forms greeted her gaze with + all the old enchantment. Wildness, beauty, and loneliness were there, the + same as ever, immutable, like the spirit of those heights. + </p> + <p> + Helen would fain have lingered longer, but the others called, and Ranger + impatiently snorted his sense of the grass and water far below. And she + knew that when she climbed there again to the wide outlook she would be + another woman. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, come on,” said Dale, as he led on. “It's better to look up.” + </p> + <p> + The sun had just sunk behind the ragged fringe of mountain-rim when those + three strong and efficient men of the open had pitched camp and had + prepared a bountiful supper. Then Roy Beeman took out the little worn + Bible which Helen had given him to use when he married Bo, and as he + opened it a light changed his dark face. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Helen an' Dale,” he said. + </p> + <p> + They arose to stand before him. And he married them there under the great, + stately pines, with the fragrant blue smoke curling upward, and the wind + singing through the branches, while the waterfall murmured its low, soft, + dreamy music, and from the dark slope came the wild, lonely cry of a wolf, + full of the hunger for life and a mate. + </p> + <p> + “Let us pray,” said Roy, as he closed the Bible, and knelt with them. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one God, an' Him I beseech in my humble office for the + woman an' man I have just wedded in holy bonds. Bless them an' watch them + an' keep them through all the comin' years. Bless the sons of this strong + man of the woods an' make them like him, with love an' understandin' of + the source from which life comes. Bless the daughters of this woman an' + send with them more of her love an' soul, which must be the softenin' an' + the salvation of the hard West. O Lord, blaze the dim, dark trail for them + through the unknown forest of life! O Lord, lead the way across the naked + range of the future no mortal knows! We ask in Thy name! Amen.” + </p> + <p> + When the preacher stood up again and raised the couple from their kneeling + posture, it seemed that a grave and solemn personage had left him. This + young man was again the dark-faced, clear-eyed Roy, droll and dry, with + the enigmatic smile on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dale,” he said, taking her hands, “I wish you joy.... An' now, after + this here, my crownin' service in your behalf—I reckon I'll claim a + reward.” + </p> + <p> + Then he kissed her. Bo came next with her warm and loving felicitations, + and the cowboy, with characteristic action, also made at Helen. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, shore it's the only chance I'll ever have to kiss you,” he drawled. + “Because when this heah big Indian once finds out what kissin' is—!” + </p> + <p> + Las Vegas then proved how swift and hearty he could be upon occasions. All + this left Helen red and confused and unutterably happy. She appreciated + Dale's state. His eyes reflected the precious treasure which manifestly he + saw, but realization of ownership had not yet become demonstrable. + </p> + <p> + Then with gay speech and happy laugh and silent look these five partook of + the supper. When it was finished Roy made known his intention to leave. + They all protested and coaxed, but to no avail. He only laughed and went + on saddling his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, please stay,” implored Helen. “The day's almost ended. You're + tired.” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. I'll never be no third party when there's only two.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are four of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I just make you an' Dale one?... An', Mrs. Dale, you forget I've + been married more 'n once.” + </p> + <p> + Helen found herself confronted by an unanswerable side of the argument. + Las Vegas rolled on the grass in his mirth. Dale looked strange. + </p> + <p> + “Roy, then that's why you're so nice,” said Bo, with a little devil in her + eyes. “Do you know I had my mind made up if Tom hadn't come around I was + going to make up to you, Roy.... I sure was. What number wife would I have + been?” + </p> + <p> + It always took Bo to turn the tables on anybody. Roy looked mightily + embarrassed. And the laugh was on him. He did not face them again until he + had mounted. + </p> + <p> + “Las Vegas, I've done my best for you—hitched you to thet blue-eyed + girl the best I know how,” he declared. “But I shore ain't guaranteein' + nothin'. You'd better build a corral for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Roy, you shore don't savvy the way to break these wild ones,” + drawled Las Vegas. “Bo will be eatin' out of my hand in about a week.” + </p> + <p> + Bo's blue eyes expressed an eloquent doubt as to this extraordinary claim. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, friends,” said Roy, and rode away to disappear in the spruces. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Bo and Las Vegas forgot Roy, and Dale and Helen, the camp chores + to be done, and everything else except themselves. Helen's first wifely + duty was to insist that she should and could and would help her husband + with the work of cleaning up after the sumptuous supper. Before they had + finished a sound startled them. It came from Roy, evidently high on the + darkening slope, and was a long, mellow pealing halloo, that rang on the + cool air, burst the dreamy silence, and rapped across from slope to slope + and cliff to cliff, to lose its power and die away hauntingly in the + distant recesses. + </p> + <p> + Dale shook his head as if he did not care to attempt a reply to that + beautiful call. Silence once again enfolded the park, and twilight seemed + to be born of the air, drifting downward. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, do you miss anythin'?” asked Dale. + </p> + <p> + “No. Nothing in all the world,” she murmured. “I am happier than I ever + dared pray to be.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean people or things. I mean my pets.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I had forgotten.... Milt, where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone back to the wild,” he said. “They had to live in my absence. An' + I've been away long.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the brooding silence, with its soft murmur of falling water and + faint sigh of wind in the pines, was broken by a piercing scream, high, + quivering, like that of a woman in exquisite agony. + </p> + <p> + “That's Tom!” exclaimed Dale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—I was so—so frightened!” whispered Helen. + </p> + <p> + Bo came running, with Las Vegas at her heels. + </p> + <p> + “Milt, that was your tame cougar,” cried Bo, excitedly. “Oh, I'll never + forget him! I'll hear those cries in my dreams!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was Tom,” said Dale, thoughtfully. “But I never heard him cry + just like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, call him in!” + </p> + <p> + Dale whistled and called, but Tom did not come. Then the hunter stalked + off in the gloom to call from different points under the slope. After a + while he returned without the cougar. And at that moment, from far up the + dark ravine, drifted down the same wild cry, only changed by distance, + strange and tragic in its meaning. + </p> + <p> + “He scented us. He remembers. But he'll never come back,” said Dale. + </p> + <p> + Helen felt stirred anew with the convictions of Dale's deep knowledge of + life and nature. And her imagination seemed to have wings. How full and + perfect her trust, her happiness in the realization that her love and her + future, her children, and perhaps grandchildren, would come under the + guidance of such a man! Only a little had she begun to comprehend the + secrets of good and ill in their relation to the laws of nature. Ages + before men had lived on the earth there had been the creatures of the + wilderness, and the holes of the rocks, and the nests of the trees, and + rain, frost, heat, dew, sunlight and night, storm and calm, the honey of + the wildflower and the instinct of the bee—all the beautiful and + multiple forms of life with their inscrutable design. To know something of + them and to love them was to be close to the kingdom of earth—perhaps + to the greater kingdom of heaven. For whatever breathed and moved was a + part of that creation. The coo of the dove, the lichen on the mossy rock, + the mourn of a hunting wolf, and the murmur of the waterfall, the + ever-green and growing tips of the spruces, and the thunderbolts along the + battlements of the heights—these one and all must be actuated by the + great spirit—that incalculable thing in the universe which had + produced man and soul. + </p> + <p> + And there in the starlight, under the wide-gnarled pines, sighing low with + the wind, Helen sat with Dale on the old stone that an avalanche of a + million years past had flung from the rampart above to serve as camp-table + and bench for lovers in the wilderness; the sweet scent of spruce mingled + with the fragrance of wood-smoke blown in their faces. How white the + stars, and calm and true! How they blazed their single task! A coyote + yelped off on the south slope, dark now as midnight. A bit of weathered + rock rolled and tapped from shelf to shelf. And the wind moaned. Helen + felt all the sadness and mystery and nobility of this lonely fastness, and + full on her heart rested the supreme consciousness that all would some day + be well with the troubled world beyond. + </p> + <p> + “Nell, I'll homestead this park,” said Dale. “Then it'll always be ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Homestead! What's that?” murmured Helen, dreamily. The word sounded + sweet. + </p> + <p> + “The government will give land to men who locate an' build,” replied Dale. + “We'll run up a log cabin.” + </p> + <p> + “And come here often.... Paradise Park!” whispered Helen. + </p> + <p> + Dale's first kisses were on her lips then, hard and cool and clean, like + the life of the man, singularly exalting to her, completing her woman's + strange and unutterable joy of the hour, and rendering her mute. + </p> + <p> + Bo's melodious laugh, and her voice with its old mockery of torment, + drifted softly on the night breeze. And the cowboy's “Aw, Bo,” drawling + his reproach and longing, was all that the tranquil, waiting silence + needed. + </p> + <p> + Paradise Park was living again one of its romances. Love was no stranger + to that lonely fastness. Helen heard in the whisper of the wind through + the pine the old-earth story, beautiful, ever new, and yet eternal. She + thrilled to her depths. The spar-pointed spruces stood up black and clear + against the noble stars. All that vast solitude breathed and waited, + charged full with its secret, ready to reveal itself to her tremulous + soul. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man of the Forest, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN OF THE FOREST *** + +***** This file should be named 3457-h.htm or 3457-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/5/3457/ + +Produced by Richard Fane, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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