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diff --git a/3457.txt b/3457.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94e3593 --- /dev/null +++ b/3457.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15253 @@ +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 + +Posting Date: February 12, 2009 [EBook #3457] +Release Date: February, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN OF THE FOREST *** + + + + +Produced by Richard Fane + + + + + +THE MAN OF THE FOREST + +by Zane Grey + + +Harper and Brothers + +New York + +1920 + +Published: 1919 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Wal, Beasley, are you here?" queried a loud voice. + +There was no reply. The man below growled under his breath, and again +the spurs jingled. + +"Fellars, Beasley ain't here yet," he called. "Put the hosses under the +shed. We'll wait." + +"Wait, huh!" came a harsh reply. "Mebbe all night--an' we got nuthin' to +eat." + +"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." + +Low, muttered curses, then mingled with dull thuds of hoofs and strain +of leather and heaves of tired horses. + +Another shuffling, clinking footstep entered the cabin. + +"Snake, it'd been sense to fetch a pack along," drawled this newcomer. + +"Reckon so, Jim. But we didn't, an' what's the use hollerin'? Beasley +won't keep us waitin' long." + +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. + +Other men entered the cabin. + +"It ain't a-goin' to rain much," said one. Then came a crash of wood +thrown to the ground. + +"Jim, hyar's a chunk of pine log, dry as punk," said another. + +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. + +"Snake, lemme your pipe, an' I'll hev a fire in a jiffy." + +"Wal, I want my terbacco an' I ain't carin' about no fire," replied +Snake. + +"Reckon you're the meanest cuss in these woods," drawled Jim. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"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. + +Moze shuffled out with alacrity. + +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. + +"Snake, what's this here deal with Beasley?" inquired Jim. + +"Reckon you'll l'arn when I do," replied the leader. He appeared tired +and thoughtful. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south," replied +Snake, gruffly. + +At the juncture Moze returned. + +"Boss, I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail," he said. + +Snake rose and stood at the door, listening. Outside the wind moaned +fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon the cabin. + +"A-huh!" exclaimed Snake, in relief. + +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. + +The trotting horse had halted out there somewhere. + +"Ho there, inside!" called a voice from the darkness. + +"Ho yourself!" replied Anson. + +"That you, Snake?" quickly followed the query. + +"Reckon so," returned Anson, showing himself. + +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. + +"Hullo, Snake! Hullo, Wilson!" he said. "I've backed out on the other +deal. Sent for you on--on another little matter... particular private." + +Here he indicated with a significant gesture that Snake's men were to +leave the cabin. + +"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." + +The three members of the gang filed out, all glancing keenly at the +stranger, who had moved back into the shadow. + +"All right now, Beasley," said Anson, low-voiced. "What's your game? +Jim, here, is in on my deals." + +Then Beasley came forward to the fire, stretching his hands to the +blaze. + +"Nothin' to do with sheep," replied he. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +"A-huh!" grunted Anson as Beasley halted again. "An' what of all thet?" + +"She mustn't never get as far as Snowdrop!" + +"You want me to hold up the stage--an' get the girl?" + +"Exactly." + +"Wal--an' what then?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Auchincloss is a dyin' man," declared Beasley, with such positiveness +that it could not be doubted. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +Jim Wilson whistled low. + +"An' leave for new territory?" repeated Snake Anson, under his breath. + +"You've said it." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Jim, what do you make of him?" queried Snake Anson. + +"Pard, he's got us beat two ways for Sunday," replied Wilson. + +"A-huh!... Wal, let's get back to camp." And he led the way out. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II + +Milt Dale quietly sat up to gaze, with thoughtful eyes, into the gloom. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +Discovery of the plot meant to Dale that he must hurry down to Pine. + +"A girl--Helen Rayner--twenty years old," he mused. "Beasley wants her +made off with.... That means--worse than killed!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +Presently he rose and, climbing to the loft, he stretched himself out, +and soon fell asleep. + + +When the gray dawn broke he was on his way, 'cross-country, to the +village of Pine. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why, land's sakes, if it ain't Milt Dale!" she exclaimed, in welcome. + +"Reckon it's me, Mrs. Cass," he replied. "An' I've brought you a +turkey." + +"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." + +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. + +"Men have been lost in the forest an' yet come back," replied Dale, as +he had said to her many a time. + +"Come right in. You air hungry, I know. Now, son, when last did you eat +a fresh egg or a flapjack?" + +"You should remember," he answered, laughing, as he followed her into a +small, clean kitchen. + +"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." + +"You always tell me that." + +"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." + +"What's the news, Auntie?" he asked. + +"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?" + +"My horses are up in the woods, Auntie; safe, I reckon, from +horse-thieves." + +"Well, that's a blessin'. We've had some stock stole this summer, Milt, +an' no mistake." + +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. + +"How's old Al Auchincloss?" presently inquired Dale. + +"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." + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Dale, to encourage the excited old woman. + +"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!" + +"No chance for me, Auntie," replied Dale, smiling. + +The old woman snorted. "Much you know! Any girl would have you, Milt +Dale, if you'd only throw a kerchief." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Then maybe she'd not be such a catch, after all," replied Dale. + +"Wal, you've no cause to love them, that's sure. But, Milt, the +Auchincloss women are always good wives." + +"Dear Auntie, you're dreamin'," said Dale, soberly. "I want no wife. I'm +happy in the woods." + +"Air you goin' to live like an Injun all your days, Milt Dale?" she +queried, sharply. + +"I hope so." + +"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." + +"Auntie, supposin' she did change me. She'd never change old Al. He +hates me, you know." + +"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." + +"Auntie, I don't believe Tom ever killed Al's sheep," declared Dale, +positively. + +"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." + +"They only saw a cougar. An' they were so scared they ran." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"An' what's all that, Auntie?" + +"They say he's wild when out of your sight. An' thet he'd trail an' kill +anythin' you put him after." + +"I trained him to be just that way." + +"Wal, leave Tom to home up in the woods--when you visit us." + +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. + +"Now, Milt, you'll come soon again, won't you--jest to see Al's +niece--who'll be here in a week?" + +"I reckon I'll drop in some day.... Auntie, have you seen my friends, +the Mormon boys?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"They're workin' for Beasley now." + +"Is that so?" rejoined Dale, with a sudden start. "An' what doin'?" + +"Beasley is gettin' so rich he's buildin' a fence, an' didn't have +enough help, so I hear." + +"Beasley gettin' rich!" repeated Dale, thoughtfully. "More sheep an' +horses an' cattle than ever, I reckon?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I'll be doggoned if it ain't Milt Dale!" exclaimed one. + +"Howdy, Milt, old buckskin! Right down glad to see you," greeted +another. + +"Hello, Dale! You air shore good for sore eyes," drawled still another. + +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. + +"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." + +"No one like Milt!" responded the other woman, heartily. + +"Good day there--you Milt Dale!" called the first speaker. "When you git +away from these lazy men come over." + +Dale never refused a service, and that was why his infrequent visits to +Pine were wont to be prolonged beyond his own pleasure. + +Presently Beasley strode down the street, and when about to enter the +store he espied Dale. + +"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. + +Dale shook hands with him. + +"How are you, Beasley?" + +"Ain't complainin', Milt, though I got more work than I can rustle. +Reckon you wouldn't take a job bossin' my sheep-herders?" + +"Reckon I wouldn't," replied Dale. "Thanks all the same." + +"What's goin' on up in the woods?" + +"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." + +"Good! An' where 're you headin' from?" + +"'Cross-country from my camp," replied Dale, rather evasively. + +"Your camp! Nobody ever found that yet," declared Beasley, gruffly. + +"It's up there," said Dale. + +"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. + +"Tom ain't chained. An' I haven't no cabin, Beasley." + +"You mean to tell me that big brute stays in your camp without bein' +hog-tied or corralled!" demanded Beasley. + +"Sure he does." + +"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?" + +"Yes, I'll hang around some." + +"Come over to the ranch. Glad to see you any time. Some old huntin' +pards of yours are workin' for me." + +"Thanks, Beasley. I reckon I'll come over." + +Beasley turned away and took a step, and then, as if with an +after-thought, he wheeled again. + +"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. + +"Widow Cass was tellin' me all the news. Too bad about old Al," replied +Dale. + +"Sure is. He's done for. An' I'm sorry--though Al's never been square--" + +"Beasley," interrupted Dale, quickly, "you can't say that to me. Al +Auchincloss always was the whitest an' squarest man in this sheep +country." + +Beasley gave Dale a fleeting, dark glance. + +"Dale, what you think ain't goin' to influence feelin' on this range," +returned Beasley, deliberately. "You live in the woods an'--" + +"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. + +"About what--now?" he asked, bluntly. + +"Why, about what's goin' on in Pine," replied Dale. + +Some of the men laughed. + +"Shore lots goin' on--an' no mistake," put in Lem Harden. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, I reckon I am." + +"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. + +"Milt, thet's bad--makin' Beasley sore at you," said Lem Harden. "He's +on the way to boss this outfit." + +"He's sure goin' to step into Al's boots," said another. + +"Thet was white of Milt to stick up fer poor old Al," declared Lem's +brother. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III + +In the afternoon, Dale, having accomplished some tasks imposed upon him +by his old friends at Pine, directed slow steps toward the Auchincloss +ranch. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Howdy, Al! How are you?" greeted Dale, easily, as he leaned his rifle +against the log wall. + +Auchincloss did not rise, but he offered his hand. + +"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. + +"I take it you mean you ain't very well," replied Dale. "I'm sorry, Al." + +"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." + +"Yes, I'm feelin' fine, an' time never bothers me." + +"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." + +"Al, I have all I want an' need." + +"Wal, then, you don't support anybody; you don't do any good in the +world." + +"We don't agree, Al," replied Dale, with his slow smile. + +"Reckon we never did.... An' you jest come over to pay your respects to +me, eh?" + +"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." + +"You will! An' how'd you go about that?" + +"Wasn't very many sheep, was there? + +"A matter of fifty head." + +"So many! Al, do you still think old Tom killed them sheep?" + +"Humph! Milt, I know damn well he did." + +"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--" + +"Milt Dale, you'll come down here an' work out that fifty head of +sheep!" ejaculated the old rancher, incredulously. + +"Sure." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +Dale felt his face grow red. Indeed, this was strange conversation for +him. + +"Honest, Al--" he began. + +"Son, don't lie to an old man." + +"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." + +"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." + +"What was it, then?" queried Dale, much interested. + +"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!" + +The old rancher expected to be laughed at. But Dale was grave. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There's somethin' else, Al, I wanted to say," began Dale, with +hesitation. "An' it's about Beasley." + +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. + +"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!" + +"But, Al--be reasonable," remonstrated Dale. "It's necessary thet I +speak of--of Beasley." + +"It ain't. Not to me. I won't listen." + +"Reckon you'll have to, Al," returned Dale. "Beasley's after your +property. He's made a deal--" + +"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." + +"But Al--there's worse," went on Dale, hurriedly. "Worse! Your life's +threatened--an' your niece, Helen--she's to be--" + +"Shut up--an' clear out!" roared Auchincloss, waving his huge fists. + +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. + +"But, Al--I'm your friend--" began Dale, appealingly. + +"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!" + +With that he lurched, half falling, into the house, and slammed the +door. + +Dale stood there for a blank moment, and then, taking up his rifle, he +strode away. + +Toward sunset Dale located the camp of his four Mormon friends, and +reached it in time for supper. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"An' so you're working for Beasley?" he queried, by way of starting +conversation. + +"We was," drawled John. "But to-day, bein' the end of our month, we got +our pay an' quit. Beasley sure was sore." + +"Why'd you knock off?" + +John essayed no reply, and his brothers all had that quiet, suppressed +look of knowledge under restraint. + +"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. + +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. + +"Now, Milt, why'd you tell us thet?" he asked, guardedly. + +"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." + +"Beasley's strong around Pine, an' old Al's weakenin'. Beasley will git +the property, girl or no girl," said John. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"An' we're goin' with you," he said, in a strong and rolling voice. + +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. + +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. + +"Then, Milt, will we go after Beasley?" queried Roy Beeman, +significantly. + +Dale was silent and thoughtful. + +"Sufficient unto the day!" said John. "An' fellars, let's go to bed." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Helen Rayner had been on the westbound overland train fully twenty-four +hours before she made an alarming discovery. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +Early the next morning, while the girls were again delving into their +apparently bottomless basket, the train stopped at Las Vegas. + +"Look! Look!" cried Bo, in thrilling voice. "Cowboys! Oh, Nell, look!" + +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. + +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. + +"Good mawnin'," drawled the cowboy, with slow, good-humored smile. "Now +where might you-all be travelin'?" + +The sound of his voice, the clean-cut and droll geniality; seemed new +and delightful to Helen. + +"We go to Magdalena--then take stage for the White Mountains," replied +Helen. + +The cowboy's still, intent eyes showed surprise. + +"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?" + +"No. We're nieces of Al Auchincloss," rejoined Helen. + +"Wal, you don't say! I've been down Magdalena way an' heerd of Al.... +Reckon you're goin' a-visitin'?" + +"It's to be home for us." + +"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?" + +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. + +"My uncle once said in a letter that he never had enough men to run his +ranch," replied Helen, smiling. + +"Shore I'll go. I reckon I'd jest naturally drift that way--now." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Good-by--Sweetheart!" he called. + +He halted--was lost to view. + +"Well!" ejaculated Helen, contritely, half sorry, half amused. "What a +sudden young gentleman!" + +Bo had blushed beautifully. + +"Nell, wasn't he glorious!" she burst out, with eyes shining. + +"I'd hardly call him that, but he was--nice," replied Helen, much +relieved that Bo had apparently not taken offense at her. + +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. + +"Do you think he--he'll come to Uncle Al's?" asked Bo. + +"Child, he was only in fun." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"But these Indians are peaceful!" she exclaimed once, regretfully. + +"Gracious, child! You don't want to see hostile Indians, do you?" +queried Helen. + +"I do, you bet," was the frank rejoinder. + +"Well, I'LL bet that I'll be sorry I didn't leave you with mother." + +"Nell--you never will!" + + +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. + +"Albuquerque's a hard place," confided the trainman. "Better stay in the +car--and don't hang out the windows.... Good luck to you!" + +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. + +"Nell! I saw that man Riggs!" she whispered. "He's going to get on this +train." + +"Bo, I saw him yesterday," replied Helen, soberly. + +"He's followed you--the--the--" + +"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." + +"Oh! Then you won't speak--have anything to do with him?" + +"I won't if I can help it." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hello, Nell!" he said. "Surprised to see me?" + +"No," she replied, coldly. + +"I'll gamble you are." + +"Harve Riggs, I told you the day before I left home that nothing you +could do or say mattered to me." + +"Reckon that ain't so, Nell. Any woman I keep track of has reason to +think. An' you know it." + +"Then you followed me--out here?" demanded Helen, and her voice, despite +her control, quivered with anger. + +"I sure did," he replied, and there was as much thought of himself in +the act as there was of her. + +"Why? Why? It's useless--hopeless." + +"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." + +"You're not going to--all the way--to Pine?" faltered Helen, momentarily +weakening. + +"Nell, I'll camp on your trail from now on," he declared. + +Then Bo sat bolt-upright, with pale face and flashing eyes. + +"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." + +"Hello, Pepper!" replied Riggs, coolly. "I see your manners haven't +improved an' you're still wild about cowboys." + +"People don't have good manners with--with--" + +"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. + +Whereupon Bo turned her back to Riggs and looked out of the window. The +man laughed. Then he stood up and leaned over Helen. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Your red-faced cowboy! Why, Bo, you were scared stiff. And now you +claim him!" + +"I certainly could love that fellow," replied Bo, dreamily. + +"Child, you've been saying that about fellows for a long time. And +you've never looked twice at any of them yet." + +"He was different.... Nell, I'll bet he comes to Pine." + +"I hope he does. I wish he was on this train. I liked his looks, Bo." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, Nell!" cried Bo, with delight. "We're nearly there! Next station, +the conductor said." + +"I wonder if the stage travels at night," said Helen, thoughtfully. + +"Sure it does!" replied the irrepressible Bo. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER V + +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. + +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: + +"Girls, we're here--sure out in the wild an' woolly West!" + +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. + +"Mr. Riggs, I'll carry my bag," she said. + +"Let me lug this. You help Bo with hers," he replied, familiarly. + +"But I want it," she rejoined, quietly, with sharp determination. No +little force was needed to pull the bag away from Riggs. + +"See here, Helen, you ain't goin' any farther with that joke, are you?" +he queried, deprecatingly, and he still spoke quite loud. + +"It's no joke to me," replied Helen. "I told you I didn't want your +attention." + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you Helen Rayner?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"My name's Dale. I've come to meet you." + +"Ah! My uncle sent you?" added Helen, in quick relief. + +"No; I can't say Al sent me," began the man, "but I reckon--" + +He was interrupted by Riggs, who, grasping Helen by the arm, pulled her +back a step. + +"Say, mister, did Auchincloss send you to meet my young friends here?" +he demanded, arrogantly. + +Dale's glance turned from Helen to Riggs. She could not read this quiet +gray gaze, but it thrilled her. + +"No. I come on my own hook," he answered. + +"You'll understand, then--they're in my charge," added Riggs. + +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. + +"Helen, I reckon you said you didn't want this fellow's attention." + +"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. + +Riggs swaggered closer to Dale. + +"Say, Buckskin, I hail from Texas--" + +"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." + +"What!" shouted Riggs, hotly. He dropped his right hand significantly to +his hip. + +"Don't throw your gun. It might go off," said Dale. + +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. + +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. + +"You'll hurt yourself some day," said Dale. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell! what 'd I tell you?" whispered Bo. "Oh, you're all atremble!" + +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. + +"Milt, wasn't you held up?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Joe, climb up," he said. + +"Wal, Milt," drawled the driver, "let's ooze along." + +Dale hesitated, with his hand on the door. He glanced at the crowd, now +edging close again, and then at Helen. + +"I reckon I ought to tell you," he said, and indecision appeared to +concern him. + +"What?" exclaimed Helen. + +"Bad news. But talkin' takes time. An' we mustn't lose any." + +"There's need of hurry?" queried Helen, sitting up sharply. + +"I reckon." + +"Is this the stage to Snowdrop? + +"No. That leaves in the mornin'. We rustled this old trap to get a start +to-night." + +"The sooner the better. But I--I don't understand," said Helen, +bewildered. + +"It'll not be safe for you to ride on the mornin' stage," returned Dale. + +"Safe! Oh, what do you mean?" exclaimed Helen. Apprehensively she gazed +at him and then back at Bo. + +"Explainin' will take time. An' facts may change your mind. But if you +can't trust me--" + +"Trust you!" interposed Helen, blankly. "You mean to take us to +Snowdrop?" + +"I reckon we'd better go roundabout an' not hit Snowdrop," he replied, +shortly. + +"Then to Pine--to my uncle--Al Auchincloss? + +"Yes, I'm goin' to try hard." + +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. + +"Yes, I'll trust you," she said. "Get in, and let us hurry. Then you can +explain." + +"All ready, Bill. Send 'em along," called Dale. + +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. + +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. + +"I'm glad you've got your sister," he said, presently. + +"How did you know she's my sister?" + +"I reckon she looks like you." + +"No one else ever thought so," replied Helen, trying to smile. + +Bo had no difficulty in smiling, as she said, "Wish I was half as pretty +as Nell." + +"Nell. Isn't your name Helen?" queried Dale. + +"Yes. But my--some few call me Nell." + +"I like Nell better than Helen. An' what's yours?" went on Dale, looking +at Bo. + +"Mine's Bo. Just plain B-o. Isn't it silly? But I wasn't asked when they +gave it to me," she replied. + +"Bo. It's nice an' short. Never heard it before. But I haven't met many +people for years." + +"Oh! we've left the town!" cried Bo. "Look, Nell! How bare! It's just +like desert." + +"It is desert. We've forty miles of that before we come to a hill or a +tree." + +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. + +"Did your uncle Al ever write anythin' about a man named Beasley?" asked +Dale. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Make off with me?" ejaculated Helen, bewildered. + +"Kidnap you! Which, in that gang, would be worse than killing you!" +declared Dale, grimly, and he closed a huge fist on his knee. + +Helen was utterly astounded. + +"How hor-rible!" she gasped out. "Make off with me!... What in Heaven's +name for?" + +Bo gave vent to a fierce little utterance. + +"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. + +"You're perfectly splendid!" cried Bo, ringingly. She was white; her +fingers were clenched; her eyes blazed. + +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. + +"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." + +Helen wrung her hands helplessly. + +"Oh, have I no courage?" she whispered. + +"Nell, I'm as scared as you are," said Bo, consolingly, embracing her +sister. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Never mind, Nell dear. Let's take what comes," murmured Bo. + +"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?" + +"Bo has been used to horses all her life and I ride fairly well," +responded Helen. The idea of riding quickened her spirit. + +"Good! We may have some hard ridin' before I get you up to Pine. Hello! +What's that?" + +Above the creaking, rattling, rolling roar of the stage Helen heard a +rapid beat of hoofs. A horse flashed by, galloping hard. + +Dale opened the door and peered out. The stage rolled to a halt. He +stepped down and gazed ahead. + +"Joe, who was that?" he queried. + +"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." + +Dale shook his head as if he did not like the circumstances. + +"Milt, he'll never get by Roy on this road," said Joe. + +"Maybe he'll get by before Roy strikes in on the road." + +"It ain't likely." + +Helen could not restrain her fears. "Mr. Dale, you think he was a +messenger--going ahead to post that--that Anson gang?" + +"He might be," replied Dale, simply. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"We have a basket half full yet," replied Helen. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Bo, you CAN'T EAT!" she exclaimed. + +"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--" + +"Hush, silly! Bo, tell me, aren't you SCARED?" + +"Scared! I'm scared stiff. But if Western girls stand such things, we +can. No Western girl is going to beat ME!" + +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. + +"Bo, thank Heaven I brought you with me!" exclaimed Helen, fervently. +"I'll eat if it chokes me." + +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. + +"I heard some animal yelp," said Bo, suddenly, and she listened with +head poised. + +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. + +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. + +"This beats me!" she said once, after an interval. "Where are we, Nell? +Those men up there are Mormons. Maybe they are abducting us!" + +"Mr. Dale isn't a Mormon," replied Helen. + +"How do you know?" + +"I could tell by the way he spoke of his friends." + +"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." + +After an interval of silence Bo whispered, startlingly, "Wonder if Harve +Riggs is following us now?" + +"Of course he is," replied Helen, hopelessly. + +"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." + +"Savvied! What do you mean, Bo?" + +"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." + +"Riggs will turn up at Uncle Al's, sure as I'm born," said Helen. + +"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." + +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. + +But Helen could not have fallen asleep if she had wanted to. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Where am I?" asked Bo, dazedly. + +"Bo, you're having your heart's desire, but I can't tell you where you +are," replied Helen. + +Bo awakened thoroughly, which fact was now no wonder, considering the +jostling of the old stage. + +"Hold on to me, Nell!... Is it a runaway?" + +"We've come about a thousand miles like this, I think," replied Helen. +"I've not a whole bone in my body." + +Bo peered out of the window. + +"Oh, how dark and lonesome! But it'd be nice if it wasn't so cold. I'm +freezing." + +"I thought you loved cold air," taunted Helen. + +"Say, Nell, you begin to talk like yourself," responded Bo. + +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. + +"Oooooo!" she moaned. "Nell Rayner, I'll never forgive you for fetching +me on this awful trip." + +"Just think of your handsome Las Vegas cowboy," replied Helen. + +Either this remark subdued Bo or the suggestion sufficed to reconcile +her to the hardships of the ride. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the darkness ahead. + +"Thet's Roy," said Joe Beeman, in a low voice. + +"I reckon. An' meetin' us so quick looks bad," replied Dale. "Drive on, +Bill." + +"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'." + +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. + +Then once more they were at a standstill. Helen heard the thud of boots +striking the ground, and the snorts of horses. + +"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!" + +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. + +Dale loomed up, and met the stranger in the road. + +"Howdy, Milt? You got the girl sure, or you wouldn't be here," said a +low voice. + +"Roy, I've got two girls--sisters," replied Dale. + +The man Roy whistled softly under his breath. Then another lean, rangy +form strode out of the darkness, and was met by Dale. + +"Now, boys--how about Anson's gang?" queried Dale. + +"At Snowdrop, drinkin' an' quarrelin'. Reckon they'll leave there about +daybreak," replied Roy. + +"How long have you been here?" + +"Mebbe a couple of hours." + +"Any horse go by?" + +"No." + +"Roy, a strange rider passed us before dark. He was hittin' the road. +An' he's got by here before you came." + +"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?" + +"Snake Anson shore can foller hoss tracks," replied the third man. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Wal, I reckon so--an' take it easy at thet," replied Bill. + +"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." + +"Thet's shore agreeable to me," drawled John. + +"I'd like to be on it, too," said Roy, grimly. + +"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?" + +"Shore did. If the young ladies ain't powerful particular you can feed +them well for a couple of months." + +Dale wheeled and, striding to the stage, he opened the door. + +"Girls, you're not asleep? Come," he called. + +Bo stepped down first. + +"I was asleep till this--this vehicle fell off the road back a ways," +she replied. + +Roy Beeman's low laugh was significant. He took off his sombrero and +stood silent. The old driver smothered a loud guffaw. + +"Veehicle! Wal, I'll be doggoned! Joe, did you hear thet? All the spunky +gurls ain't born out West." + +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. + +Dale reached into the stage and hauled out baskets and bags. These he +set down on the ground. + +"Turn around, Bill, an' go along with you. John an' Hal will follow +presently," ordered Dale. + +"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--" + +"Shut up, you old grizzly!" broke in Dale, sharply. + +"Haw! Haw! Good-by, gurls, an' good luck!" ended Bill, as he began to +whip the reins. + +Bo said good-by quite distinctly, but Helen could only murmur hers. The +old driver seemed a friend. + +Then the horses wheeled and stamped, the stage careened and creaked, +presently to roll out of sight in the gloom. + +"You're shiverin'," said Dale, suddenly, looking down upon Helen. She +felt his big, hard hand clasp hers. "Cold as ice!" + +"I am c-cold," replied Helen. "I guess we're not warmly dressed." + +"Nell, we roasted all day, and now we're freezing," declared Bo. "I +didn't know it was winter at night out here." + +"Miss, haven't you some warm gloves an' a coat?" asked Roy, anxiously. +"It 'ain't begun to get cold yet." + +"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. + +"Yes, so we have. But a lot of good they'll do us, to-night," returned +Helen. + +"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." + +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! + +"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." + +Bo followed him, and Helen found herself mechanically at their heels. +Dale led them a few paces off the road behind some low bushes. + +"Hurry an' change here," he said. "We'll make a pack of your outfit an' +leave room for this bag." + +Then he stalked away and in a few strides disappeared. + +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. + +"Nell, those fellows are n-nice," said Bo, reflectively. "Aren't you +c-cold? Say, he said hurry!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"There! But what an awful mess!" exclaimed Helen. "Oh, Bo, our pretty +traveling-dresses!" + +"We'll press them t-to-morrow--on a l-log," replied Bo, and she giggled. + +They started for the road. Bo, strange to note, did not carry her share +of the burden, and she seemed unsteady on her feet. + +The men were waiting beside a group of horses, one of which carried a +pack. + +"Nothin' slow about you," said Dale, relieving Helen of the grip. "Roy, +put them up while I sling on this bag." + +Roy led out two of the horses. + +"Get up," he said, indicating Bo. "The stirrups are short on this +saddle." + +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. + +"Haw 're the stirrups?" asked Roy. "Stand in them. Guess they're about +right.... Careful now! Thet hoss is skittish. Hold him in." + +Bo was not living up to the reputation with which Helen had credited +her. + +"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. + +Roy was at the stirrups with swift hands. + +"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." + +"Bo, do you hear that?" called Helen. + +But Bo did not answer. She was leaning rather unnaturally in her saddle. +Helen became anxious. Just then Dale strode back to them. + +"All cinched up, Roy?" + +"Jest ready," replied Roy. + +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. + +"His name's Ranger an' he's the fastest an' finest horse in this +country." + +"I reckon he shore is--along with my bay," corroborated Roy. + +"Roy, if you rode Ranger he'd beat your pet," said Dale. "We can start +now. Roy, you drive the pack-horses." + +He took another look at Helen's saddle and then moved to do likewise +with Bo's. + +"Are you--all right?" he asked, quickly. + +Bo reeled in her seat. + +"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. + +"Oh, Bo!" she called, in distress. + +"Nell, don't you worry, now." + +"Let me carry you," suggested Dale. + +"No. I'll s-s-stick on this horse or d-die," fiercely retorted Bo. + +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. + +"Keep close to me," he said. + +Bo fell in line and Helen brought up the rear. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is it?" whispered Helen. + +"Reckon I heard a wolf," replied Dale. + +"Was that cry a wolf's?" asked Bo. "I heard. It was wild." + +"We're gettin' up close to the foot-hills," said Dale. "Feel how much +colder the air is." + +"I'm warm now," replied Bo. "I guess being near froze was what ailed +me.... Nell, how 're you?" + +"I'm warm, too, but--" Helen answered. + +"If you had your choice of being here or back home, snug in bed--which +would you take?" asked Bo. + +"Bo!" exclaimed Helen, aghast. + +"Well, I'd choose to be right here on this horse," rejoined Bo. + +Dale heard her, for he turned an instant, then slapped his horse and +started on. + +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. + +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. + +"Reckon we'd better catch up with Roy," said Dale, and he spurred his +horse. + +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. + +"Oh, Nell, I don't care--what becomes of--me!" exclaimed Bo, +breathlessly. + +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. + +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. + +"They grow on the north slopes, where the snow stays longest," said +Dale. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, beautiful!" cried Bo. "But they ought to be called Black +Mountains." + +"Old Baldy, there, is white half the year," replied Dale. + +"Look back an' see what you say," suggested Roy. + +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. + +"See thet little green spot," said Roy, pointing. "Thet's Snowdrop. An' +the other one--'way to the right--thet's Show Down." + +"Where is Pine?" queried Helen, eagerly. + +"Farther still, up over the foot-hills at the edge of the woods." + +"Then we're riding away from it." + +"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." + +"Mr. Dale, do you think you'll get us there safely--and soon?" asked +Helen, wistfully. + +"I won't promise soon, but I promise safe. An' I don't like bein' called +Mister," he replied. + +"Are we ever going to eat?" inquired Bo, demurely. + +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. + +"We shore are," he replied. "Soon as we reach the timber. Thet won't be +long." + +"Reckon we can rustle some an' then take a good rest," said Dale, and he +urged his horse into a jog-trot. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"We'll hang up awhile," he said. "Reckon you're tired?" + +"I'm hungry, but not tired yet," replied Bo. + +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. + +Then Roy got down. Helen was surprised to find him lame. He caught her +quick glance. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Rest or walk," he advised the girls. "We've got forty miles to ride +before dark." + +Helen preferred to rest, but Bo walked about, petting the horses and +prying into the packs. She was curious and eager. + +Dale and Roy talked in low tones while they cleaned up the utensils and +packed them away in a heavy canvas bag. + +"You really expect Anson 'll strike my trail this mornin'?" Dale was +asking. + +"I shore do," replied Roy. + +"An' how do you figure that so soon?" + +"How'd you figure it--if you was Snake Anson?" queried Roy, in reply. + +"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." + +"Milt, listen. I told you Snake met us boys face to face day before +yesterday in Show Down. An' he was plumb curious." + +"But he missed seein' or hearin' about me," replied Dale. + +"Mebbe he did an' mebbe he didn't. Anyway, what's the difference whether +he finds out this mornin' or this evenin'?" + +"Then you ain't expectin' a fight if Anson holds up the stage?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Nell, look at that for a wild pony!" exclaimed Bo. + +Helen busied herself getting well out of the way of the infuriated +mustang. Roy dragged him to a cedar near by. + +"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. + +"Thet's a hackamore," he said, indicating the knot. "He's never had a +bridle, an' never will have one, I reckon." + +"You don't ride him?" queried Helen. + +"Sometimes I do," replied Roy, with a smile. "Would you girls like to +try him?" + +"Excuse me," answered Helen. + +"Gee!" ejaculated Bo. "He looks like a devil. But I'd tackle him--if you +think I could." + +The wild leaven of the West had found quick root in Bo Rayner. + +"Wal, I'm sorry, but I reckon I'll not let you--for a spell," replied +Roy, dryly. + +"He pitches somethin' powerful bad." + +"Pitches. You mean bucks?" + +"I reckon." + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +They rode into the forest. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Big Spring," announced Dale. "We camp here. You girls have done well." + +Another glance proved to Helen that all those little streams poured from +under this gray bluff. + +"I'm dying for a drink," cried Bo with her customary hyperbole. + +"I reckon you'll never forget your first drink here," remarked Dale. + +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. + +"What's wrong with me, anyhow?" she demanded, in great amaze. + +"Just stiff, I reckon," replied Dale, as he led her a few awkward steps. + +"Bo, have you any hurts?" queried Helen, who still sat her horse, loath +to try dismounting, yet wanting to beyond all words. + +Bo gave her an eloquent glance. + +"Nell, did you have one in your side, like a wicked, long +darning-needle, punching deep when you weren't ready?" + +"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. + +Presently the girls went toward the spring. + +"Drink slow," called out Dale. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell--drink!" panted Bo. "Think of our--old spring--in the +orchard--full of pollywogs!" + +And then Helen drank thirstily, with closed eyes, while a memory of home +stirred from Bo's gift of poignant speech. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +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. + +"You girls rest," he said, briefly. + +"Can't we help?" asked Helen, though she could scarcely stand. + +"You'll be welcome to do all you like after you're broke in." + +"Broke in!" ejaculated Bo, with a little laugh. "I'm all broke UP now." + +"Bo, it looks as if Mr. Dale expects us to have quite a stay with him in +the woods." + +"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?" + +Dale was throwing the packs off the other horses. + +Helen lay down beside Bo, and then for once in her life she experienced +the sweetness of rest. + +"Well, sister, what do you intend to call him?" queried Helen, +curiously. + +"Milt, of course," replied Bo. + +Helen had to laugh despite her weariness and aches. + +"I suppose, then, when your Las Vegas cowboy comes along you will call +him what he called you." + +Bo blushed, which was a rather unusual thing for her. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, I've spoken to you three times," protested Bo, petulantly. "What +'re you mooning over?" + +"I'm pretty tired--and far away, Bo," replied Helen. "What did you say?" + +"I said I had an e-normous appetite." + +"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?" + +"Second night before we left home," declared Bo. + +"Four nights! Oh, we've slept some." + +"I'll bet I make mine up in this woods. Do you suppose we'll sleep right +here--under this tree--with no covering?" + +"It looks so," replied Helen, dubiously. + +"How perfectly lovely!" exclaimed Bo, in delight. "We'll see the stars +through the pines." + +"Seems to be clouding over. Wouldn't it be awful if we had a storm?" + +"Why, I don't know," answered Bo, thoughtfully. "It must storm out +West." + +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. + +Helen saw Dale stand erect once more and gaze into the forest. + +"Reckon Roy ain't comin'," he soliloquized. "An' that's good." Then he +turned to the girls. "Supper's ready." + +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. + +"To-morrow night we'll have meat," he said. + +"What kind?" asked Bo. + +"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." + +"Uummm!" murmured Bo, greedily. "I've heard of wild turkey." + +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. + +"Nell, I'll keel over in a minute," said Bo. "And I oughtn't--right on +such a big supper." + +"I don't see how I can sleep, and I know I can't stay awake," rejoined +Helen. + +Dale lifted his head alertly. + +"Listen." + +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. + +"Bunch of coyotes comin'," he explained. + +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. + +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. + +"Ah! Listen to that fellow," spoke up Dale. His voice was thrilling. + +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. + +"Oh! What's that?" whispered Bo. + +"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." + +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. + +"You love him?" she murmured involuntarily, quite without understanding +the motive of her query. + +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. + +"I reckon so," he replied, presently. + +"But wolves kill deer, and little fawns, and everything helpless in the +forest," expostulated Bo. + +The hunter nodded his head. + +"Why, then, can you love him?" repeated Helen. + +"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." + +"Kills clean. What do you mean by that?" + +"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." + +"What are a cougar and a silvertip?" + +"Cougar means mountain-lion or panther, an' a silvertip is a grizzly +bear." + +"Oh, they're all cruel!" exclaimed Helen, shrinking. + +"I reckon. Often I've shot wolves for relayin' a deer." + +"What's that?" + +"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." + +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. + +Dale rose to his feet and, turning his ear to the north, listened once +more. + +"Are you expecting Roy still?" inquired Helen. + +"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. + +"I reckon he's stood there some five hundred years an' will stand +through to-night," muttered Dale. + +This pine was the monarch of that wide-spread group. + +"Listen again," said Dale. + +Bo was asleep. And Helen, listening, at once caught low, distant roar. + +"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." + +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. + +"When it rains you'll wake, an' then just pull the tarp up over you," he +said. + +"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. + +"I'll be close by an' keep the fire goin' all night," he said. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +"Bad mornin' for ducks, but good for us," he called. + +"Howdy, Roy!" greeted Dale, and his gladness was unmistakable. "I was +lookin' for you." + +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. + +"Must have rode hard," observed Dale. + +"I shore did," replied Roy. Then he espied Helen, who had sat up, with +hands to her hair, and eyes staring at him. + +"Mornin', miss. It's good news." + +"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." + +Whereupon Bo sat up, disheveled and sleepy-eyed. + +"Oh-h, but I ache!" she moaned. But her eyes took in the camp scene to +the effect that she added, "Is breakfast ready?" + +"Almost. An' flapjacks this mornin'," replied Dale. + +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. + +"How long are you goin' to hang around camp before tellin' me?" inquired +Dale. + +"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." + +"So far so good," declared Dale. + +"Shore. There's rough country south of Baldy an' along the two or three +trails Anson an' his outfit will camp, you bet." + +"It ain't to be thought of," muttered Dale, at some idea that had struck +him. + +"What ain't?" + +"Goin' round the north side of Baldy." + +"It shore ain't," rejoined Roy, bluntly. + +"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." + +"Milt, you're talkin' the wisdom of the prophets." + +"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. + +"No. But, you see, he's figgerin' to cross your trail." + +"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. + +"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." + +"But supposin' Anson circles an' hits this camp? He'll track me easy out +to that sheep trail. What then?" + +"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." + +"All right. We'll rustle." + +Then he called the girls to hurry. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +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. + +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. + +"Reckon I'll have to slit these," Dale had said, whipping out a huge +knife. + +"What for?" had been Bo's feeble protest. + +"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." + +"Go ahead," had been Helen's reluctant permission. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Let him come!" yelled Dale. "Stick on now!... Ranger!" + +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. + +Roy reached up to help her off. + +"Thirty miles, Miss Helen," he said, and the way he spoke was a +compliment. + +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. + +"Nell--you swore--you loved me!" was Bo's mournful greeting. The girl +was pale, drawn, blue-lipped, and she could not stand up. + +"Bo, I never did--or I'd never have brought you to this--wretch that I +am!" cried Helen. "Oh, what a horrible ride!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, I never knew before how good a fire could feel," declared Bo. + +And therein lay more food for Helen's reflection. + +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. + +Dale took a long pole and raked out a pile of red embers upon which the +coffee-pot and oven soon began to steam. + +"Roy, I promised the girls turkey to-night," said the hunter. + +"Mebbe to-morrow, if the wind shifts. This 's turkey country." + +"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." + +Dale glanced up quickly. + +"Lass, it's worth learnin'," he said. + +Helen's thought was too deep for words. In such brief space had she been +transformed from misery to comfort! + +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. + +"Fetch the saddle-blanket an' set with your backs to the fire," said +Roy. + + +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. + +Presently the hunter and his friend returned from hobbling the horses, +and beside the fire they conversed in low tones. + +"Wal, thet trail we made to-day will be hid, I reckon," said Roy, with +satisfaction. + +"What wasn't sheeped over would be washed out. We've had luck. An' now I +ain't worryin'," returned Dale. + +"Worryin'? Then it's the first I ever knowed you to do." + +"Man, I never had a job like this," protested the hunter. + +"Wal, thet's so." + +"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." + +"Do you reckon folks will side with him against Beasley?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"No one but you an' your brothers ever seen my senaca. But it could be +found easy enough." + +"Anson might blunder on it. But thet ain't likely." + +"Why ain't it?" + +"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." + +"Good!" declared Dale. "I was calculatin' you'd go down to Pine, sooner +or later." + +"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." + +"One way or another, then, there's bound to be blood spilled over this." + +"Shore! An' high time. I jest hope I get a look down my old 'forty-four' +at thet Beasley." + +"In that case I hope you hold straighter than times I've seen you." + +"Milt Dale, I'm a good shot," declared Roy, stoutly. + +"You're no good on movin' targets." + +"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." + +"Roy, can we make my camp by to-morrow night?" queried Dale, more +seriously. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"I'd like to have a wife like that Bo," declared Roy, fervidly. + +There ensued a moment's silence. + +"Roy, you're a Mormon an' you already got a wife," was Dale's reply. + +"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. + +"I never could stomach what I did hear pertainin' to more than one wife +for a man." + +"Wal, my friend, you go an' get yourself ONE. An' see then if you +wouldn't like to have TWO." + +"I reckon one 'd be more than enough for Milt Dale." + +"Milt, old man, let me tell you thet I always envied you your freedom," +said Roy, earnestly. "But it ain't life." + +"You mean life is love of a woman?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Exactly... An', Roy, I envy you what you ve got, because it's out of +all bounds for Milt Dale." + +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. + + +A voice pierced Helen's deep dreams and, awaking, she found Bo shaking +and calling her. + +"Are you dead?" came the gay voice. + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +Bo laughed wickedly. Her hair was tousled, her eyes dancing, her cheeks +red. + +"Be game!" she said. "Stand up like a real Western girl and PULL your +boot on." + +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. + +"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." + +"But the sun's going to shine?" implored Bo. + +"Wal, you bet," rejoined Roy, as he strode off. + +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. + +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. + +Dale looked Ranger over, and tried the cinches of Bo's horse. + +"What's your choice--a long ride behind the packs with me--or a short +cut over the hills with Roy?" he asked. + +"I choose the lesser of two rides," replied Helen, smiling. + +"Reckon that 'll be easier, but you'll know you've had a ride," said +Dale, significantly. + +"What was that we had yesterday?" asked Bo, archly. + +"Only thirty miles, but cold an' wet. To-day will be fine for ridin'." + +"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." + +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. + +Dale reined in and peered down at the pine-mat. + +"Fresh deer sign all along here," he said, pointing. + +"Wal, I seen thet long ago," rejoined Roy. + +Helen's scrutiny was rewarded by descrying several tiny depressions in +the pine-needles, dark in color and sharply defined. + +"We may never get a better chance," said Dale. "Those deer are workin' +up our way. Get your rifle out." + +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. + +"Buck an' two does," he said, low-voiced. "An' they've winded us, but +don't see us yet.... Girls, ride up closer." + +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. + +"It's downhill," whispered Dale. "An' you're goin' to overshoot." + +Then Helen saw that Roy had his rifle leveled. + +"Oh, don't!" she cried. + +Dale's remark evidently nettled Roy. He lowered the rifle. + +"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." + +"Roy, you didn't allow for downhill... Hurry. He sees us now." + +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. + +"Told you! I seen where your bullet hit thet pine--half a foot over his +shoulder. Try again an' aim at his legs." + +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. + +"Doggone the luck!" ejaculated Roy, red in the face, as he worked the +lever of his rifle. "Never could shoot downhill, nohow!" + +His rueful apology to the girls for missing brought a merry laugh from +Bo. + +"Not for worlds would I have had you kill that beautiful deer!" she +exclaimed. + +"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'." + +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. + +"Here's where we part," said Dale. "You'll beat me into my camp, but +I'll get there sometime after dark." + +"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?" + +"You won't see Tom till I get home," replied Dale. + +"Ain't he corralled or tied up?" + +"No. He has the run of the place." + +"Wal, good-by, then, an' rustle along." + +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. + +Roy stepped off his horse with that single action which appeared such a +feat to Helen. + +"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." + +"Who's old Tom?" queried Bo, curiously. + +"Why, he's Milt's pet cougar." + +"Cougar? That's a panther--a mountain-lion, didn't he say?" + +"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." + +Bo was all eyes. + +"Dale has other pets, too?" she questioned, eagerly. + +"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." + +"What's a senaca?" asked Helen, as she shifted her foot to let him +tighten the cinches on her saddle. + +"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." + +He slapped the horse affectionately, and, turning to his own, he stepped +and swung his long length up. + +"It ain't deep crossin' here. Come on," he called, and spurred his bay. + +The stream here was wide and it looked deep, but turned out to be +deceptive. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Roy reined in so sharply that he pulled the bay up short. + +"Look!" he called, sharply. + +Bo screamed. + +"Not thet way! Here! Aw, he's gone!" + +"Nell! It was a bear! I saw it! Oh! not like circus bears at all!" cried +Bo. + +Helen had missed her opportunity. + +"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." + +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. + +"I see turkeys 'way down there," said Roy, backing away. "We'll go down +and around an' mebbe I'll get a shot." + +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. + +"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." + +The ride was resumed. Helen never would have tired riding through those +oak groves, brown and sear and yellow, with leaves and acorns falling. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Roy sat his saddle and reached up to touch fresh marks on the tree. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, Nell! Isn't--this--great?" panted Bo, from somewhere ahead. + +"Bo--your--mind's--gone," panted Helen, in reply. + +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: + +"Bad place! Keep on the up side of the hosses!" + +This appeared easier said than done. Helen could not watch Bo, because +Ranger would not wait. He pulled at the bridle and snorted. + +"Faster you come the better," called Roy. + +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. + +"Lookout down there," yelled Roy, in warning. "Get on the up side!" + +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. + +"Let go!" yelled Roy. + +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. + +"Bad cave-in, thet," was Roy's comment, when at last she joined him and +Bo at the top. + +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. + +Presently he stopped. + +"Wal, I'm shore turned round," he said. + +"You're not lost?" cried Bo. + +"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." + +Helen gazed at him in consternation. + +"Lost!" she echoed. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +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. + +"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." + +"Oh!... I was lost when I was little," said Bo. + +"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." + +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. + +"Not so far off the track," said Roy, as he wheeled his horse. "We'll +make camp in Milt's senaca to-night." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Smell the smoke," said Roy. "By Solomon! if Milt ain't here ahead of +me!" + +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. + +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. + +Dale's tall form appeared. + +"Reckon you're late," he said, as with a comprehensive flash of eye he +took in the three. + +"Milt, I got lost," replied Roy. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Helen and Bo were made as easy as blankets and saddles could make them, +and the men went about their tasks. + +"Nell--isn't this--a dream?" murmured Bo. + +"No, child. It's real--terribly real," replied Helen. "Now that we're +here--with that awful ride over--we can think." + +"It's so pretty--here," yawned Bo. "I'd just as lief Uncle Al didn't +find us very soon." + +"Bo! He's a sick man. Think what the worry will be to him." + +"I'll bet if he knows Dale he won't be so worried." + +"Dale told us Uncle Al disliked him." + +"Pooh! What difference does that make?... Oh, I don't know which I +am--hungrier or tireder!" + +"I couldn't eat to-night," said Helen, wearily. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hello--Nell! do I have to--get up?" she asked, sleepily. + +"Can you?" queried Helen. + +"Can I what?" Bo was now thoroughly awake and lay there staring at her +sister. + +"Why--get up." + +"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!" + +"Well, if you're going to be a Western girl you'd better have spunk +enough to move." + +"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!" + +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. + +"That lean-to wasn't there last night?" inquired Bo. + +"I didn't see it. Lean-to? Where'd you get that name?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"You sure had a long sleep," was the hunter's greeting. "I reckon you +both look better." + +"Good morning. Or is it afternoon? We're just able to move about," said +Helen. + +"I could ride," declared Bo, stoutly. "Oh, Nell, look at the deer! It's +coming to me." + +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. + +"What frightened it?" asked Bo. + +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. + +"She's afraid of Tom," replied Dale. "Recognizes him as a hereditary +foe, I guess. I can't make friends of them." + +"Oh! So that's Tom--the pet lion!" exclaimed Bo. "Ugh! No wonder that +deer ran off!" + +"How long has he been up there?" queried Helen, gazing fascinated at +Dale's famous pet. + +"I couldn't say. Tom comes an' goes," replied Dale. "But I sent him up +there last night." + +"And he was there--perfectly free--right over us--while we slept!" burst +out Bo. + +"Yes. An' I reckon you slept the safer for that." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Is he perfectly tame--safe?" asked Helen, anxiously. + +"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." + +The beast raised his great catlike face, with its sleepy, half-shut +eyes, and looked down upon them. + +"Shall I call him down?" inquired Dale. + +For once Bo did not find her voice. + +"Let us--get a little more used to him--at a distance," replied Helen, +with a little laugh. + +"If he comes to you, just rub his head an' you'll see how tame he is," +said Dale. "Reckon you're both hungry?" + +"Not so very," returned Helen, aware of his penetrating gray gaze upon +her. + +"Well, I am," vouchsafed Bo. + +"Soon as the turkey's done we'll eat. My camp is round between the +rocks. I'll call you." + +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. + +"Nell, I don't know what you think, but _I_ call him handsome," declared +Bo. + +Helen had no idea what she thought. + +"Let's try to walk some," she suggested. + +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. + +"My! What a place!" exclaimed Bo, with eyes wide and round. + +"Oh, beautiful!" breathed Helen. + +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. + +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. + +"Paradise Park!" whispered Bo to herself. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Isn't he dear? Oh, I love him!" cried Bo. "Come back, Bud. Come, +Buddie." + +The cub, however, kept his distance, watching Dale with bright little +eyes. + +"Where's Mr. Roy?" asked Helen. + +"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." + +"What do you expect?" questioned Helen, gravely. + +"'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." + +"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." + +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! + +"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." + +"Pretty! Why, it's grand!" exclaimed Bo. "I've called it Paradise Park." + +"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." + +"Oh, that pleases me!" returned Bo, with shining eyes. + +"Eat now," said Dale. "An' I reckon you'll like that turkey." + +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. + +"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. + +Dale laughed. It was pleasant to hear him, for his laugh seemed unused +and deep, as if it came from tranquil depths. + +"Won't you eat with us?" asked Helen. + +"Reckon I will," he said, "it'll save time, an' hot grub tastes better." + +Quite an interval of silence ensued, which presently was broken by Dale. + +"Here comes Tom." + +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. + +"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. + +"He stole my turkey!" + +"Tom, come here," ordered Dale, sharply. The cougar glided round rather +sheepishly. "Now lie down an' behave." + +Tom crouched on all-fours, his head resting on his paws, with his +beautiful tawny eyes, light and piercing, fixed upon the hunter. + +"Don't grab," said Dale, holding out a piece of turkey. Whereupon Tom +took it less voraciously. + +As it happened, the little bear cub saw this transaction, and he plainly +indicated his opinion of the preference shown to Tom. + +"Oh, the dear!" exclaimed Bo. "He means it's not fair.... Come, +Bud--come on." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What can I do?" she asked Bo, almost helplessly. + +"Why, rest, you silly!" retorted Bo. "You walk like an old, crippled +woman with only one leg." + +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. + +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. + +Later, when they had put their coats on and made comfortable seats +beside the fire, Dale came over, apparently to visit them. + +"I reckon you can't sleep all the time," he said. "An' bein' city girls, +you'll get lonesome." + +"Lonesome!" echoed Helen. The idea of her being lonesome here had not +occurred to her. + +"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." + +"I'd never be lonesome here," replied Helen, with her direct force. + +Dale did not betray surprise, but he showed that his mistake was +something to ponder over. + +"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." + +"I won't get lonesome very soon," replied Bo. + +"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." + +Bo's eyes were full of flashing interest, and Helen asked him, "How?" + +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. + +"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." + +Helen realized then that whatever his calling, hunter or wanderer or +hermit, he was not uneducated, even if he appeared illiterate. + +"I'll be happy to learn from you," she said. + +"Me, too!" chimed in Bo. "You can't tell too much to any one from +Missouri." + +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. + +"I'll bet I can tell you more 'n you'll ever remember," he said. + +"What 'll you bet?" retorted Bo. + +"Well, more roast turkey against--say somethin' nice when you're safe +an' home to your uncle Al's, runnin' his ranch." + +"Agreed. Nell, you hear?" + +Helen nodded her head. + +"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." + +"But how about religion?" interrupted Helen, earnestly. + +"Nature has a religion, an' it's to live--to grow--to reproduce, each of +its kind." + +"But that is not God or the immortality of the soul," declared Helen. + +"Well, it's as close to God an' immortality as nature ever gets." + +"Oh, you would rob me of my religion!" + +"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." + +"Oh, what you say is wonderful, but it's terrible!" exclaimed Helen. He +had struck deep into her soul. + +"Terrible? I reckon," he replied, sadly. + +Then ensued a little interval of silence. + +"Milt Dale, I lose the bet," declared Bo, with earnestness behind her +frivolity. + +"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'." + +"I could listen to you all night," returned Bo, dreamily. + +"Do you read--do you have books?" inquired Helen, suddenly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Nell!" called Bo, shrilly. "I've called you three times. I want to go +to bed." + +"Oh! I--I was thinking," rejoined Helen, half embarrassed, half +wondering at herself. "I didn't hear you." + +"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? + +"Why--yes," said Helen, rather feebly. She did not at all, when Bo +talked like that. + +"You're going to fall in love with that wild hunter," declared Bo in a +voice that rang like a bell. + +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. + +"I can feel it in my bones." + +"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." + +Bo's eyes were bright, shrewd, affectionate, and laughing as she bent +their steady gaze upon Helen. + +"Nell, that's just it. There IS nothing else!" + + + +CHAPTER X + +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. + +"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!" + +"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. + +"Look! there's a big dog--a hound." + +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. + +"Hello, doggie! Come right in--we won't hurt you," called Bo, but +without enthusiasm. + +This made Helen laugh. "Bo, you're simply delicious," she said. "You're +afraid of that dog." + +"Sure. Wonder if he's Dale's. Of course he must be." + +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. + +"I sent Pedro over to wake you girls up," said Dale, after greeting +them. "Did he scare you?" + +"Pedro. So that's his name. No, he didn't exactly scare me. He did Nell, +though. She's an awful tenderfoot," replied Bo. + +"He's a splendid-looking dog," said Helen, ignoring her sister's sally. +"I love dogs. Will he make friends?" + +"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." + +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. + +"He looks intelligent," observed Helen, as she smoothed the long, dark +ears. + +"That hound is nigh human," responded Dale. "Come, an' while you eat +I'll tell you about Pedro." + +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. + +"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." + +"How perfectly wonderful!" exclaimed Bo. "Aren't animals great?... But I +love horses best." + +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. + +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. + +"Gee! I love the look of him," she said. "But when he's close he makes +my flesh creep." + +"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." + +"Where's Bud?" inquired Bo. + +"He's asleep or around somewhere. Now, soon as I get the work done, what +would you girls like to do?" + +"Ride!" declared Bo, eagerly. + +"Aren't you sore an' stiff?" + +"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." + +"Sure is, if you can stand it. An' what will your sister like to do?" +returned Dale, turning to Helen. + +"Oh, I'll rest, and watch you folks--and dream," replied Helen. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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'." + +"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." + +"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." + +"How strange!" murmured Helen. "But that could never bind ME. Why, I +must live and fulfil my mission, my work in the civilized world." + +It seemed to Helen that Dale almost imperceptibly shrank at her earnest +words. + +"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." + +This hunter's talk shocked Helen and yet stimulated her mind. + +"Me--a savage? Oh no!" she exclaimed. "But, if that were possible, what +would Nature's design be?" + +"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." + +"What of mental and spiritual development of man and woman?" asked +Helen. + +"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." + +"But the soul!" whispered Helen. + +"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." + +"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." + +Bo had been watching them with her keen blue eyes. + +"Nell, it'd take a thousand years to make a savage of you," she said. +"But a week will do for me." + +"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." + +"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." + +"That was only two years ago," expostulated Helen, in mild surprise. + +"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. + +Helen followed leisurely. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +When, a little later, Dale approached carrying some bridles, the hound +Pedro trotted at his heels. + +"I reckon you'd better ride the horse you had," he said to Bo. + +"Whatever you say. But I hope you let me ride them all, by and by." + +"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. + +"Come, Pedro. Stay with me," called Helen. + +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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Bo! What would mother say to such talk as that?" gasped Helen. + +"But, Nell, wouldn't it be great?" + +"It would be terrible." + +"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." + +"I'm practical and sensible, thank goodness!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +While they were talking Dale returned with the horses. + +"Can you bridle an' saddle your own horse?" he asked. + +"No. I'm ashamed to say I can't," replied Bo. + +"Time to learn then. Come on. Watch me first when I saddle mine." + +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. + +"Now you try," he said. + +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. + +"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." + +When Bo got into the saddle Dale continued: "You went up quick an' +light, but the wrong way. Watch me." + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"My, Nell, but you're growing romantic!" + +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. + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +"Why, Pedro! You have been fighting. Come here," she called. + +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. + +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?" + +"Once this country was under the sea," replied Dale. "I've found things +that 'd make you wonder." + +"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. + +"Look here," he said one day. "What do you make of that little bunch of +aspens?" + +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. + +"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." + +"It doesn't make you think of a fight?" + +"Fight? No, it certainly does not," replied Helen. + +"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." + +"Come on, Nell," cried Bo, with enthusiasm. "He'll open our eyes some +more." + +Nothing loath, Helen went with them to the little clump of aspens. + +"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." + +Dale led the girls around the little grove, illustrating his words by +action. He seemed deeply in earnest. + +"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." + +And next day Dale showed them an even more striking example of this +mystery of nature. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"I'll ride you if it breaks--my neck!" panted Bo, passionately, shaking +her gloved fist at the gray pony. + +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. + +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. + +Pony reared, snorting, tossing his head, and pawing with front feet. + +"Pull him down!" yelled Dale. + +Bo did not have much weight, but she had strength, an she hauled with +all her might, finally bringing him down. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, Bo! Are you hurt?" cried Helen. + +Evidently Bo's mouth was full of mud. + +"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." + +"Right. You sure rode him. An' he tripped an' slung you a mile," replied +Dale. "It's lucky you lit in that bog." + +"Lucky! With eyes and nose stopped up? Oooo! I'm full of mud. And my +nice--new riding-suit!" + +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. + +"Nell Rayner--are you--laughing--at me?" demanded Bo, in most righteous +amaze and anger. + +"Me laugh-ing? N-never, Bo," replied Helen. "Can't you see I'm +just--just--" + +"See? You idiot! my eyes are full of mud!" flashed Bo. "But I hear you. +I'll--I'll get even." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Ex-cuse me, Bo. I--Haw! haw! haw!" Then Dale lurched off, holding his +sides. + +Bo gazed after him and then back at Helen. + +"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." + + +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. + +"Pedro an' Tom were uneasy last night. I think there are lions workin' +over the ridge somewhere. I heard one scream." + +"Scream?" inquired Bo, with interest. + +"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?" + +"Sure," replied Bo, with her mouth full of biscuit. + +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. + +More than once Pedro had to be harshly called by Dale. The hound scented +game. + +"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. + +"What was it?" asked Bo. + +"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." + +Helen shuddered. She thought of the tame deer down at Dale's camp. How +beautiful and graceful, and responsive to kindness! + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Dale stooped now, studying the grass, and holding Pedro. Suddenly he +straightened up with a flash in his gray eyes. + +"Here's where he jumped." + +But Helen could not see any reason why Dale should say that. The man of +the forest took a long stride then another. + +"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. + +"Come on," called Dale, walking swiftly. "You're sure goin' to see +somethin' now.... Here's where the deer bounded, carryin' the lion." + +"What!" exclaimed Bo, incredulously. + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +A well-defined path showed across the swale. + +"Girls, you'll see that deer pretty quick," declared Dale, starting +forward. "This work has just been done. Only a few minutes ago." + +"How can you tell?" queried Bo. + +"Look! See that grass. It has been bent down by the deer bein' dragged +over it. Now it's springin' up." + +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. + +"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." + +"What murderous work, The sight sickens me!" exclaimed Helen. + +"It is nature," said Dale, simply. + +"Let's kill the lion," added Bo. + +For answer Dale took a quick turn at their saddle-girths, and then, +mounting, he called to the hound. "Hunt him up, Pedro." + +Like a shot the hound was off. + +"Ride in my tracks an' keep close to me," called Dale, as he wheeled his +horse. + +"We're off!" squealed Bo, in wild delight, and she made her mount +plunge. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, you did pretty good for a tenderfoot," was Bo's greeting. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Will the lion go back to his--his kill, I think you called it?" asked +Bo. + +"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." + +This last remark made Helen inquisitive. And as they slowly rode on the +back-trail Dale talked. + +"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." + +"How wonderfully you put it!" exclaimed Bo, with all her impulsiveness. +"Oh, I'm glad I didn't kill the lion." + +"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!" + +"But why?" asked Dale. "You love birds, an' birds are the greatest +killers in the forest." + +"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." + +"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!" + + +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. + +"Glorious!" was Bo's brief and eloquent reply. + +"Why?" asked. Dale, curiously. "You are a girl. You've been used to +home, people, love, comfort, safety, quiet." + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I don't agree with you," replied Helen, quickly. "I don't have to be an +Indian to be true to myself." + +"Why, yes you do," said Dale. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No. Not if I lived a hundred years in the West," asserted Helen. + +"But, child, do you know what you're talkin' about?" + +Here Bo let out a blissful peal of laughter. + +"Mr. Dale!" exclaimed Helen, almost affronted. She was stirred. "I know +MYSELF, at least." + +"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?" + +"Certainly, if I can. Some of your questions are hard to answer." + +"Have you ever been starved?" he asked. + +"No," replied Helen. + +"Have you ever been lost away from home?" + +"No." + +"Have you ever faced death--real stark an' naked death, close an' +terrible?" + +"No, indeed." + +"Have you ever wanted to kill any one with your bare hands?" + +"Oh, Mr. Dale, you--you amaze me. No!... No!" + +"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?" + +Bo fell off her seat with a high, trilling laugh. "Oh, you two are +great!" + +"Thank Heaven, I haven't been," replied Helen, shortly. + +"Then you don't know anythin' about life," declared Dale, with finality. + +Helen was not to be put down by that, dubious and troubled as it made +her. + +"Have you experienced all those things?" she queried, stubbornly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"I meant the big things of life," he said, patiently. + +"What things?" + +"I told you. By askin' what had never happened to you I learned what +will happen." + +"Those experiences to come to ME!" breathed Helen, incredulously. +"Never!" + +"Sister Nell, they sure will--particularly the last-named one--the mad +love," chimed in Bo, mischievously, yet believingly. + +Neither Dale nor Helen appeared to hear her interruption. + +"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." + +"Oh dear, will not education be of help to the Western woman?" queried +Helen, almost in despair. + +"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." + +"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?" + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Days passed. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Don't fool yourself," retorted Bo. + +"But I've seen you run from a mouse!" + +"Sister, couldn't I be afraid of a mouse and not a bear?" + +"I don't see how." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Some varmint's been chasin' the horses," he said, as he reached for his +saddle. "Did you hear them snortin' an' runnin' last night?" + +Neither of the girls had been awakened. + +"I missed one of the colts," went on Dale, "an' I'm goin' to ride across +the park." + +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. + +Bo watched him for a moment and then began to saddle the mustang. + +"You won't follow him?" asked Helen, quickly. + +"I sure will," replied Bo. "He didn't forbid it." + +"But he certainly did not want us." + +"He might not want you, but I'll bet he wouldn't object to me, +whatever's up," said Bo, shortly. + +"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. + +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. + +"Listen!" + +Helen heard a ringing, wild bay of the hound. + +"That's Pedro," she said, with a thrill. + +"Sure. He's running. We never heard him bay like that before." + +"Where's Dale?" + +"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." + +"But Dale will follow." + +"Sure. But he'd need wings to get near that hound now. Pedro couldn't +have gone across there with him... just listen." + +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. + +"There he is!" cried Bo, as the hound bayed ringingly, closer to them +this time, and she spurred away. + +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. + +"Look! Look!" Bo's scream made her mustang stand almost straight up. + +Helen gazed up to see a big brown bear with a frosted coat go lumbering +across an opening on the slope. + +"It's a grizzly! He'll kill Pedro! Oh, where is Dale!" cried Bo, with +intense excitement. + +"Bo! That bear is running down! We--we must get--out of his road," +panted Helen, in breathless alarm. + +"Dale hasn't had time to be close.... Oh, I wish he'd come! I don't know +what to do." + +"Ride back. At least wait for him." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Oh, that would be dreadful!" replied Helen, in distress. "But what on +earth can we do?" + +"HEL-LO, DALE!" called Bo, at the highest pitch of her piercing voice. + +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. + +"Nell, I'm going up," said Bo, deliberately. + +"No-no! Are you mad?" returned Helen. + +"The bear will kill Pedro." + +"He might kill you." + +"You ride that way and yell for Dale," rejoined Bo. + +"What will--you do?" gasped Helen. + +"I'll shoot at the bear--scare him off. If he chases me he can't catch +me coming downhill. Dale said that." + +"You're crazy!" cried Helen, as Bo looked up the slope, searching for +open ground. Then she pulled the rifle from its sheath. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You're white. Are you hurt?" he said. + +"No. I was scared." + +"But he threw you?" + +"Yes, he certainly threw me." + +"What happened?" + +"We heard the hound and we rode along the timber. Then we saw the +bear--a monster--white--coated--" + +"I know. It's a grizzly. He killed the colt--your pet. Hurry now. What +about Bo?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"She's after him!" declared Dale, grimly. + +"Bo's got your rifle," said Helen. "Oh, we must hurry." + +"You go back," ordered Dale, wheeling his horse. + +"No!" Helen felt that word leave her lips with the force of a bullet. + +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. + +"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." + +"Is Bo riding up there?" asked Helen, eying the steep ascent. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Ride hard now!" yelled Dale. "I see Bo, an' I'll have to ride to catch +her." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Dale gazed in admiring amazement at Helen. + +"Say, did you meet the bear again?" he queried, blankly. + +"No. Didn't--you--kill him?" panted Helen, slowly sagging in her saddle. + +"He got away in the rocks. Rough country down here." + +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. + +"Nell--Rayner!" gasped Bo. + +"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." + +"Girl, did you RIDE down this last slope?" queried Dale. + +"I sure did," replied Helen, smiling. + +"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." + +"We slid--yes. But I stayed on him." + +Bo's incredulity changed to wondering, speechless admiration. And Dale's +rare smile changed his gravity. + +"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?" + +She dropped her eyes, not caring to meet the questioning gaze upon her. + +"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. + +"The chase was great," she said. "I did not know myself. You were +right." + +"In how many ways did you find me right?" he asked. + +"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." + +Bo found her tongue. "The last thing was for you to fall wildly in love, +wasn't it?" + +"According to Dale, I must add that to my new experiences of +to-day--before I can know real life," replied Helen, demurely. + +The hunter turned away. "Let us go," he said, soberly. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +When Bo and Muss locked in an embrace and went down to roll over and +over, Dale called Helen's attention to the cougar. + +"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." + +Helen could not see anything wrong with Tom except that he did not look +playful. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Bo you girls want some more real excitement?" he asked. + +Helen smiled her acquiescence and Bo replied with one of her forceful +speeches. + +"Don't mind bein' good an' scared?" he went on. + +"You can't scare me," bantered Bo. But Helen looked doubtful. + +"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." + +"Are you going to take Tom?" asked Bo. + +"No. The bear might get his scent. An', besides, Tom ain't reliable on +bears. I'll leave Pedro home, too." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"You'll have to crawl," he whispered. + +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. + +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. + +"Come up beside me," he whispered. + +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. + +"Moon's comin' up. We're just in time. The old grizzly's not there yet, +but I see coyotes. Look." + +Dale pointed across the open neck of park to a dim blurred patch +standing apart some little distance from the black wall. + +"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?" + +Helen's excited ears, so full of throbs and imaginings, presently +registered low snaps and snarls. Bo gave her arm a squeeze. + +"I hear them. They're fighting. Oh, gee!" she panted, and drew a long, +full breath of unutterable excitement. + +"Keep quiet now an' watch an' listen," said the hunter. + +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. + +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. + +"Look! Look!" cried Bo, very low and fearfully, as she pointed. + +"Not so loud," whispered Dale. + +"But I see something!" + +"Keep quiet," he admonished. + +Helen, in the direction Bo pointed, could not see anything but +moon-blanched bare ground, rising close at hand to a little ridge. + +"Lie still," whispered Dale. "I'm goin' to crawl around to get a look +from another angle. I'll be right back." + +He moved noiselessly backward and disappeared. With him gone, Helen felt +a palpitating of her heart and a prickling of her skin. + +"Oh, my! Nell! Look!" whispered Bo, in fright. "I know I saw something." + +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. + +"That's a pesky porcupine," he whispered. "Almost crawled over you. He +sure would have stuck you full of quills." + +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. + +"Por--cu--pine!" whispered Bo, pantingly. "It might--as well--have +been--an elephant!" + +Helen uttered a long, eloquent sigh. She would not have cared to +describe her emotions at sight of a harmless hedgehog. + +"Listen!" warned Dale, very low. His big hand closed over Helen's +gauntleted one. "There you have--the real cry of the wild." + +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. + +The cry was not repeated. The coyotes were still. And silence fell, +absolutely unbroken. + +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. + +"A-huh!" muttered Dale, under his breath. + +Helen caught the relief and certainty in his exclamation, and she +divined, then, something of what the moment must have been to a hunter. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Look at that!" whispered Dale. "If he ain't strong!... Reckon I'll have +to stop him." + +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. + +"Jess was a mighty good horse," muttered Dale, grimly; "too good to make +a meal for a hog silvertip." + +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. + +"Girls, there's no tellin' what a grizzly will do. If I yell, you climb +up in this tree, an' do it quick." + +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. + +"Can't see the sights very well," he whispered, shaking his head. +"Remember, now--if I yell you climb!" + +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. + +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. + +"Sure he's mad," said Dale, rising to his feet. "An' I reckon hard hit. +But I won't follow him to-night." + +Both the girls got up, and Helen found she was shaky on her feet and +very cold. + +"Oh-h, wasn't--it--won-wonder-ful!" cried Bo. + +"Are you scared? Your teeth are chatterin'," queried Dale. + +"I'm--cold." + +"Well, it sure is cold, all right," he responded. "Now the fun's over, +you'll feel it.... Nell, you're froze, too?" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"I'm--numb," she said. "I'll fall off--sure." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell!--you're not hurt. You fell light, like a feather. All grass +here.... You can't be hurt!" said Dale, sharply. + +His anxious voice penetrated beyond her hearing, and his strong hands +went swiftly over her arms and shoulders, feeling for broken bones. + +"Just had the wind knocked out of you," went on Dale. "It feels awful, +but it's nothin'." + +Helen got a little air, that was like hot pin-points in her lungs, and +then a deeper breath, and then full, gasping respiration. + +"I guess--I'm not hurt--not a bit," she choked out. + +"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?" + +It was Bo who answered. "Oh, glorious!... But, gee! I was scared." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +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. + +And the echoes of a ringing cry were cracking back from the cliffs. That +had been Dale's voice. + +"Nell! Nell! Wake up!" called Bo, wildly. "Oh, some one's come! Horses +and men!" + +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. + +"That first one's Roy!" she exclaimed. "I'd never forget him on a +horse.... Bo, it must mean Uncle Al's come!" + +"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. + +Dale wheeled to see the girls peeping out. + +"It's time you're up!" he called. "Your uncle Al is here." + +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. + +"Hurry now, girls," called Dale. + +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. + +"Wal, wal! You favor the Rayners," he was saying, "I remember your dad, +an' a fine feller he was." + +Beside them stood Dale and Roy, and beyond was a group of horses and +riders. + +"Uncle, here comes Nell," said Bo, softly. + +"Aw!" The old cattle-man breathed hard as he turned. + +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. + +He held out his arms to receive her. + +"Nell Auchincloss all over again!" he exclaimed, in deep voice, as he +kissed her. "I'd have knowed you anywhere!" + +"Uncle Al!" murmured Helen. "I remember you--though I was only four." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"We sure did," replied Bo, archly. + +"Aw!" breathed Auchincloss, heavily. "Lemme set down." + +He drew the girls to the rustic seat Dale had built for them under the +big pine. + +"Oh, you must be tired! How--how are you?" asked Helen, anxiously. + +"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." + +"Uncle Al, you look strong and well to me," said Bo. "And young, too, +and--" + +"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--" + +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. + +"Wal, never mind him--now," he added, slowly, and the warmer light +returned to his face. "Dale--come here." + +The hunter stepped closer. + +"I reckon I owe you more 'n I can ever pay," said Auchincloss, with an +arm around each niece. + +"No, Al, you don't owe me anythin'," returned Dale, thoughtfully, as he +looked away. + +"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." + +"Thanks, Al," replied Dale, with his fleeting smile, and he met the +proffered hand. "Now, will you be makin' camp here?" + +"Wal, no. I'll rest a little, an' you can pack the girls' outfit--then +we'll go. Sure you're goin' with us?" + +"I'll call the girls to breakfast," replied Dale, and he moved away +without answering Auchincloss's query. + +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? + +"Come here, Jeff," called Al, to one of his men. + +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. + +"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." + +The introduction caused embarrassment to all three principals, +particularly to Jeff. + +"Jeff, throw the packs an' saddles fer a rest," was Al's order to his +foreman. + +"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!" + +"Uncle, I hope I'll never have to be their boss," replied Helen. + +"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." + +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?" + +Bo looked quite startled. + +"Carmichael! Why, Uncle, I never heard that name before," replied Bo, +bewilderedly. + +"A-huh! Reckoned the young rascal was lyin'," said Auchincloss. "But I +liked the fellar's looks an' so let him stay." + +Then the rancher turned to the group of lounging riders. + +"Las Vegas, come here," he ordered, in a loud voice. + +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! + +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. + +"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. + +"Shore, boss, I can't help thet," drawled the cowboy. "It's good old +Texas stock." + +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. + +"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. + +Carmichael maintained a discreet silence, and carefully avoided looking +at the girls. + +"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?" + +Whereupon Carmichael's easy manner vanished. + +"Now, boss, shore my memory's pore," he said. "I only says--" + +"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." + +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. + +"Well, didn't you?" demanded Al. + +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. + +"Yes, sir, I did," suddenly replied the cowboy. + +"A-huh! All right, here's my niece. Now see thet she speaks the good +word." + +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. + +Helen put a hand on the old rancher's arm. + +"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." + +"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." + +Bo did not grasp her uncle's bantering, because she was seriously gazing +at the cowboy. But she had grasped something. + +"He--he was the first person--out West--to speak kindly to us," she +said, facing her uncle. + +"Wal, thet's a pretty good word, but it ain't enough," responded Al. + +Subdued laughter came from the listening group. Carmichael shifted from +side to side. + +"He--he looks as if he might ride a horse well," ventured Bo. + +"Best hossman I ever seen," agreed Al, heartily. + +"And--and shoot?" added Bo, hopefully. + +"Bo, he packs thet gun low, like Jim Wilson an' all them Texas +gun-fighters. Reckon thet ain't no good word." + +"Then--I'll vouch for him," said Bo, with finality. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Miss--Miss Rayner--I shore--am obliged," he stammered, presently. + +"You're very welcome," she replied, softly. "I--I got on the next +train," he added. + +When he said that Bo was looking straight at him, but she seemed not to +have heard. + +"What's your name?" suddenly she asked. + +"Carmichael." + +"I heard that. But didn't uncle call you Las Vegas?" + +"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." + +"I simply could not call you--any name but Las Vegas," replied Bo, very +sweetly. + +"But--beggin' your pardon--I--I don't like thet," blustered Carmichael. + +"People often get called names--they don't like," she said, with deep +intent. + +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. + +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. + +"Dale, it's thet damn cougar!" he ejaculated. + +"Sure, that's Tom." + +"He ought to be corralled or chained. I've no use for cougars," +protested Al. + +"Tom is as tame an' safe as a kitten." + +"A-huh! Wal, you tell thet to the girls if you like. But not me! I'm an +old hoss, I am." + +"Uncle Al, Tom sleeps curled up at the foot of my bed," said Bo. + +"Aw--what?" + +"Honest Injun," she responded. "Well, isn't it so?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"Sometimes at night," replied Dale. + +"Wal, excuse me. Hope you don't fetch the yaller rascal down to Pine." + +"I won't." + +"What'll you do with this menagerie?" + +Dale regarded the rancher attentively. "Reckon, Al, I'll take care of +them." + +"But you're goin' down to my ranch." + +"What for?" + +Al scratched his head and gazed perplexedly at the hunter. "Wal, ain't +it customary to visit friends?" + +"Thanks, Al. Next time I ride down Pine way--in the spring, +perhaps--I'll run over an' see how you are." + +"Spring!" ejaculated Auchincloss. Then he shook his head sadly and a +far-away look filmed his eyes. "Reckon you'd call some late." + +"Al, you'll get well now. These, girls--now--they'll cure you. Reckon I +never saw you look so good." + +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. + +"I'm askin' you--will you come?" Auchincloss said, low and eagerly. + +"No. I wouldn't fit in down there," replied Dale. + +"Milt, talk sense. You can't go on forever huntin' bear an' tamin' +cats," protested the old rancher. + +"Why not?" asked the hunter, thoughtfully. + +Auchincloss stood up and, shaking himself as if to ward off his testy +temper, he put a hand on Dale's arm. + +"One reason is you're needed in Pine." + +"How? Who needs me?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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'--" + +Here Auchincloss hesitated, then spoke lower: + +"An' take your chance with the girl!... I'll be on your side." + +A slight vibrating start ran over Dale's stalwart form. + +"Al--you're plumb dotty!" he exclaimed. + +"Dotty! Me? Dotty!" ejaculated Auchincloss. Then he swore. "In a minit +I'll tell you what you are." + +"But, Al, that talk's so--so--like an old fool's." + +"Huh! An' why so?" + +"Because that--wonderful girl would never look at me," Dale replied, +simply. + +"I seen her lookin' already," declared Al, bluntly. + +Dale shook his head as if arguing with the old rancher was hopeless. + +"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?" + +"No," replied Dale. + +"Milt, I've no son--an' I'm--afraid of Beasley." This was uttered in an +agitated whisper. + +"Al, you make me ashamed," said Dale, hoarsely. "I can't come. I've no +nerve." + +"You've no what?" + +"Al, I don't know what's wrong with me. But I'm afraid I'd find out if I +came down there." + +"A-huh! It's the girl!" + +"I don't know, but I'm afraid so. An' I won't come." + +"Aw yes, you will--" + +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. + +Presently her uncle called her. + +"Nell, this here hunter wants to give you thet black hoss. An' I say you +take him." + +"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." + +Bo swept a saucy glance from Dale to her sister. + +"Sure she'll have Ranger. Just offer him to ME!" + +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. + +"Las Vegas, do you know anything about horses?" asked Bo. + +"Me! Wal, if you ever buy or trade a hoss you shore have me there," +replied Carmichael. + +"What do you think of Ranger?" went on Bo. + +"Shore I'd buy him sudden, if I could." + +"Mr. Las Vegas, you're too late," asserted Helen, as she advanced to lay +a hand on the horse. + +"Ranger is mine." + +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. + +"Thank you very much for him," said Helen, softly. + +"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." + +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. + +"But I can't thank you--I'll never be able to repay you--for your +service to me and my sister," said Helen. + +"I reckon you needn't try," Dale returned. "An' my service, as you call +it, has been good for me." + +"Are you going down to Pine with us?" + +"No." + +"But you will come soon?" + +"Not very soon, I reckon," he replied, and averted his gaze. + +"When?" + +"Hardly before spring." + +"Spring?... That is a long time. Won't you come to see me sooner than +that?" + +"If I can get down to Pine." + +"You're the first friend I've made in the West," said Helen, earnestly. + +"You'll make many more--an' I reckon soon forget him you called the man +of the forest." + +"I never forget any of my friends. And you've been the--the biggest +friend I ever had." + +"I'll be proud to remember." + +"But will you remember--will you promise to come to Pine?" + +"I reckon." + +"Thank you. All's well, then.... My friend, goodby." + +"Good-by," he said, clasping her hand. His glance was clear, warm, +beautiful, yet it was sad. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Shore Milt never knowed what it was to be lonesome," said Roy, as if +thinking aloud. "But he'll know now." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You all miss them--now--I reckon," said Dale. "Well, they're gone an' +you'll have to get along with me." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Up with the keen-edged, steely-bright dawn, he went at the his tasks +with the springy stride of the deer-stalker. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly, then, all his thought revolved around the girl, and, thrown +off his balance, he weltered in a wilderness of unfamiliar strange +ideas. + +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!" + +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. + +Nevertheless, her strange coming into his life had played havoc, the +extent of which he had only begun to realize. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +And Dale, like some men of lonely wilderness lives who did not +retrograde toward the savage, was a thinker. Love made him a sufferer. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Did uncle call?" asked Helen, with a start out of her reverie. + +"I didn't hear him," replied Bo. + +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. + +"Bo, the sun is bright," she said. "The days are growing longer. I'm so +glad." + +"Nell, you're always wishing time away. For me it passes quickly +enough," replied the sister. + +"But I love spring and summer and fall--and I guess I hate winter," +returned Helen, thoughtfully. + +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. + +"Nell, do you ever think of Dale?" she queried, suddenly. + +The question startled Helen. A slow blush suffused neck and cheek. + +"Of course," she replied, as if surprised that Bo should ask such a +thing. + +"I--I shouldn't have asked that," said Bo, softly, and then bent again +over her book. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh! It's only--YOU!" she uttered, in withering scorn, to the one who +knocked. + +Helen thought she could guess who that was. + +"How are you-all?" asked a drawling voice. + +"Well, Mister Carmichael, if that interests you--I'm quite ill," replied +Bo, freezingly. + +"Ill! Aw no, now?" + +"It's a fact. If I don't die right off I'll have to be taken back to +Missouri," said Bo, casually. + +"Are you goin' to ask me in?" queried Carmichael, bluntly. "It's +cold--an' I've got somethin' to say to--" + +"To ME? Well, you're not backward, I declare," retorted Bo. + +"Miss Rayner, I reckon it 'll be strange to you--findin' out I didn't +come to see you." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Bo turned pale, and her eyes fairly blazed, yet even in what must have +been her fury Helen saw amaze and pain. + +"OTHER lovers? I think the biggest delusion here is the way you flatter +yourself," replied Bo, stingingly. + +"Me flatter myself? Nope. You don't savvy me. I'm shore hatin' myself +these days." + +"Small wonder. I certainly hate you--with all my heart!" + +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. + +"Cheer up, Las Vegas," said Helen, smiling. "Bo's hot-tempered." + +"Miss Nell, I'm just like a dog. The meaner she treats me the more I +love her," he replied, dejectedly. + +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. + +"How in the world did you offend her so?" asked Helen. "Bo is furious. I +never saw her so angry as that." + +"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." + +"Bo told me about one quarrel," said Helen. "It was--because you +drank--that time." + +"Shore it was. She took one of her cold spells an' I jest got drunk." + +"But that was wrong," protested Helen. + +"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." + +"That is fine of you. But tell me, why is she angry now?" + +"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--" + +"Tell me. What did she do?" demanded Helen, anxiously. "I'm responsible +for her. I've got to see that she behaves." + +"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." + +"My dear boy, is Bo engaged to you?" + +"Lord--if she only was!" he sighed. + +"Then how can you say she wasn't true to you? Be reasonable." + +"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." + +"You mean she has flirted?" + +"I reckon." + +"Las Vegas, I'm afraid you're right," said Helen, with growing +apprehension. "Go on. Tell me what's happened." + +"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?'" + +He concluded with a gulp, and looked at Helen with woe in his eyes. + +"Oh! What did Bo do?" breathlessly queried Helen. + +"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." + +"I think you made a great mistake," said Helen, gravely. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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. + +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. + +"Yes, I am," Helen replied, earnestly. And she offered her hand. + +"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." + +He had lowered his voice. "Is Al asleep?" he whispered. + +"Yes," replied Helen. "He was a little while ago." + +"Reckon I'd better shut his door." + +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. + +"Shore I'm the one thet fetches all the bad news to you," he said, +regretfully. + +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. + +"Your uncle Al makes a heap of this here Jeff Mulvey," asserted +Carmichael. + +"Yes, indeed. Uncle absolutely relies on Jeff," replied Helen. + +"Wal, I hate to tell you, Miss Nell," said the cowboy, bitterly, "thet +Mulvey ain't the man he seems." + +"Oh, what do you mean?" + +"When your uncle dies Mulvey is goin' over to Beasley an' he's goin' to +take all the fellars who'll stick to him." + +"Could Jeff be so faithless--after so many years my uncle's foreman? Oh, +how do you know?" + +"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." + +"Why--why will these men leave me when--when--Oh, poor uncle! They +bargain on his death. But why--tell me why?" + +"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." + +"I--I believe you--but I can't believe such--such robbery possible," +gasped Helen. + +"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?" + +"But, surely, some of the men will stay with me?" + +"I reckon. But not enough." + +"Then I can hire more. The Beeman boys. And Dale would come to help me." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"How?" queried Helen, eagerly. + +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. + +"I seen Beasley go in the saloon as I rode past. Suppose I go down +there, pick a quarrel with him--an' kill him?" + +Helen sat bolt-upright with a cold shock. + +"Carmichael! you're not serious?" she exclaimed. + +"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." + +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. + +"You'd--kill Beasley--just because there are rumors of his--treachery?" +gasped Helen. + +"Shore. It'll have to be done, anyhow," replied the cowboy. + +"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." + +"Reckon I ain't doin' it calmly. I'm as mad as hell," said Carmichael, +with a reckless smile. + +"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." + +"Wal, supposin' Beasley does put you off--an' takes possession. What 're +you goin' to say then?" demanded the cowboy, in slow, cool deliberation. + +"I'd say the same then as now," she replied. + +He bent his head thoughtfully while his red hands smoothed his sombrero. + +"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." + +"West or no West, I won't have fights deliberately picked, and men shot, +even if they do threaten me," declared Helen, positively. + +"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." + +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. + +"Reckon you might save us all some trouble--now if you'd--just get +mad--an' let me go after thet greaser." + +"Greaser! Do you mean Beasley?" + +"Shore. He's a half-breed. He was born in Magdalena, where I heard folks +say nary one of his parents was no good." + +"That doesn't matter. I'm thinking of humanity of law and order. Of what +is right." + +"Wal, Miss Nell, I'll wait till you get real mad--or till Beasley--" + +"But, my friend, I'll not get mad," interrupted Helen. "I'll keep my +temper." + +"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?" + +He was smiling, yet he meant every word. Helen felt the truth as +something she feared. + +"Las Vegas, I won't bet. But you--you will always come to me--first--if +there's trouble." + +"I promise," he replied, soberly, and then went out. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Is that--cowboy gone?" she asked. + +"Yes. He left quite some time ago," replied Helen. + +"I wondered if he made your eyes shine--your color burn so. Nell, you're +just beautiful." + +"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." + +"Jealous! Me? Of that wild-eyed, soft-voiced, two-faced cow-puncher? I +guess not, Nell Rayner. What 'd he say about me?" + +"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?" + +"No! When I see him--which hasn't been often lately--he--I--Well, we +fight. Nell, has he helped you?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Nell!" burst out Bo, in amaze and pain. She flew to Helen and seized +her hands. "What 're you saying?" + +"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. + +"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?" + +"My dear, I never get any encouragement to tell you my troubles." + +"But I've--I've nursed uncle--sat up with him--just the same as you," +said Bo, with quivering lips. + +"Yes, you've been good to him." + +"We've no other troubles, have we, Nell?" + +"You haven't, but I have," responded Helen, reproachfully. + +"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." + +"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-- + +But at this juncture Bo buried her face in Helen's breast and began to +cry wildly. + +"I--I--don't want--to hear--any more," she sobbed. + +"Well, you've got to hear it," replied Helen, inexorably "I want you to +know how he's stood by me." + +"But I hate him." + +"Bo, I suspect that's not true." + +"I do--I do." + +"Well, you act and talk very strangely then." + +"Nell Rayner--are--you--you sticking up for that--that devil?" + +"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--" + +"I'll bet--he's made love--to you, too," replied Bo, woefully. + +"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." + +Bo raised her face, flushed in part and also pale, with tear-wet cheeks +and the telltale blaze in the blue eyes. + +"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." + +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. + +Bo fell over with a gasp and clung to Helen. + +"Oh--Nell! Oh, now I love him more than--ever," she cried, in mingled +rage and despair. + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Nonsense, Bo. You can't hate any one while you love him," protested +Helen. + +"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?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"Do you have any idea how strong a cowboy is--how his hands and arms are +like iron?" + +"Yes, I'm sure I know that, too." + +"And how savage he is?" + +"Yes." + +"And how he goes at anything he wants to do?" + +"I must admit cowboys are abrupt," responded Helen, with a smile. + +"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?" + +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. + +"There! I see you never had that done to you," resumed Bo, with +satisfaction. "So don't ever talk to me." + +"I've heard his side of the story," said Helen, constrainedly. + +With a start Bo sat up straighter, as if better to defend herself. + +"Oh! So you have? And I suppose you'll take his part--even about +that--that bearish trick." + +"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?" + +Bo hid her face. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, did you give me away to that cowboy?" she demanded. + +"Give you away!" exclaimed Helen, blankly. + +"Yes. You know I told you--awhile back--that I was wildly in love with +him. Did you give me away--tell on me?" + +She might have been furious, but she certainly was not confused. + +"Why, Bo! How could you? No. I did not," replied Helen. + +"Never gave him a hint?" + +"Not even a hint. You have my word for that. Why? What's happened?" + +"He makes me sick." + +Bo would not say any more, owing to the near approach of the cowboy. + +"Mawnin', Miss Nell," he drawled. "I was just tellin' this here Miss +Bo-Peep Rayner--" + +"Don't call me that!" broke in Bo, with fire in her voice. + +"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'--" + +"You're not my boss," retorted Bo. + +"Indeed, sister, I agree with him. You won't obey me." + +"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?" + +It was a treat for Helen to see Bo look at the cowboy. + +"Mis-ter Carmichael, may I ask how you are going to prevent me from +riding where I like?" + +"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!" + +His dry humor was gone and manifestly he meant what he said. + +"Wal," she drawled it very softly and sweetly, but venomously, +"if--you--ever--touch--me again!" + +At this he flushed, then made a quick, passionate gesture with his hand, +expressive of heat and shame. + +"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." + +The intelligence apparently had not the slightest effect on Bo. But +Helen was astonished and alarmed. + +"Riggs! Oh, Bo, I've seen him myself--riding around. He does not mean +well. You must be careful." + +"If I ketch him again," went on Carmichael, with his mouth lining hard, +"I'm goin' after him." + +He gave her a cool, intent, piercing look, then he dropped his head and +turned away, to stride back toward the corrals. + +Helen could make little of the manner in which her sister watched the +cowboy pass out of sight. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +Bo bit out the last words passionately and jealously, then she lifted +her bridle to the spirited mustang. + +"Nell, don't you fear for me," she said. "I can take care of myself." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Las Vegas says we're shore in for it now." + +"Roy, what do you think?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"So my old dad says," replied Roy. "But what's right don't always +prevail in these parts." + +"Roy, you're the keenest man I've met since I came West. Tell me what +you think will happen." + +Beeman appeared flattered, but he hesitated to reply. Helen had long +been aware of the reticence of these outdoor men. + +"I reckon you mean cause an' effect, as Milt Dale would say," responded +Roy, thoughtfully. + +"Yes. If Beasley attempts to force me off my ranch what will happen?" + +Roy looked up and met her gaze. Helen remembered that singular +stillness, intentness of his face. + +"Wal, if Dale an' John get here in time I reckon we can bluff thet +Beasley outfit." + +"You mean my friends--my men would confront Beasley--refuse his +demands--and if necessary fight him off?" + +"I shore do," replied Roy. + +"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?" + +"Then it 'd only be a matter of how soon Dale or Carmichael--or I--got +to Beasley." + +"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--" + +Helen choked in her agitation. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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! + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Did you find her?" queried Helen, hurriedly. + +"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." + +Carmichael appeared swinging into the lane. He was mounted on Helen's +big black Ranger, and he made the dust fly. + +"Wal, he's seen her, thet's shore," vouchsafed Roy, with relief, as +Carmichael rode up. + +"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!" + +"Oh, what?" exclaimed Helen. + +"Now, Las Vegas, talk sense," expostulated Roy. "Miss Helen is shore +nervous to-day. Has anythin' happened?" + +"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." + +"Wal, I hear her comin' now," said Roy. "An'--if you asked me I'd say +she WAS ridin' some fast." + +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. + +"Las Vegas, do you see any Apaches?" asked Roy, quizzingly. + +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. + +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. + +Roy sprang to help her off, and when she was down it developed that she +was lame. + +"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. + +"Tell him--to come in," she whispered. + +"Hey, there, Las Vegas!" called Roy. "Rustle hyar, will you?" + +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. + +"Girl, you--ain't hurt?" he asked, huskily. + +"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." + +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. + +"Dear, tell us--are you badly hurt?" queried Helen, with hurried +gentleness. + +"Not much. I've had a spill," replied Bo. "But oh! I'm mad--I'm +boiling!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Wal, the fact of you bein' here, safe an' sound, sorta makes no +difference who thet son-of-a-gun was," he said. + +"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. + +"You sure can ride,' he said. + +"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." + +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. + +"Wal, I'll be doggoned!" ejaculated Roy, feelingly. + +Helen laughed. + +"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!" + +Carmichael suddenly broke his silence. + +"Bo, did you see the other men?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +Carmichael's answer was to stalk out of the room. + +"Call him back!" cried Helen, apprehensively. + +"Hold on, boy!" called Roy, sharply. + +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. + +"Carmichael! Stay!" cried Helen. + +The cowboy spurred the black, and the stones rang under iron-shod hoofs. + +"Bo! Call him back! Please call him back!" importuned Helen, in +distress. + +"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. + +"No use," said Roy, quietly. "An' I reckon I'd better trail him up." + +He, too, strode out and, mounting his horse, galloped swiftly away. + + +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. + +"Go to bed? Not much," she said. "I want to know what he does to Riggs." + +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. + +"Dear Bo," appealed Helen, "you don't want--Oh! you do want Carmichael +to--to kill Riggs?" + +"No, I don't, but I wouldn't care if he did," replied Bo, bluntly. + +"Do you think--he will?" + +"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." + +"And what's--that?" faltered Helen. + +"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!" + +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. + +"How are you-all this evenin'?" he drawled, as he came in. + +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. + +"What 'd he do?" she asked, with all her amazing force. + +"Wal, now, ain't you goin' to tell me how you are?" + +"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." + +"Wal, I shore can ease your mind on thet," replied Roy. "He never drank +a drop." + +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. + +"Where IS he?" asked Bo. + +"Who? Riggs? Wal, I don't know. But I reckon he's somewhere out in the +woods nursin' himself." + +"Not Riggs. First tell me where HE is." + +"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!'" + +Bo actually clapped her hands, notwithstanding that one of them was +bandaged. + +"Call him Tom? I should smile I will," she declared, in delight. "Hurry +now--what 'd--" + +"It's shore powerful strange how he hates thet handle Las Vegas," went +on Roy, imperturbably. + +"Roy, tell me what he did--what TOM did--or I'll scream," cried Bo. + +"Miss Helen, did you ever see the likes of thet girl?" asked Roy, +appealing to Helen. + +"No, Roy, I never did," agreed Helen. "But please--please tell us what +has happened." + +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. + +Roy leaned his lithe, tall form against the stone mantelpiece and faced +the girls. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"'What 'd you call me?' he asked, his jaw shakin'. + +"'I 'ain't called you yet,' answered Las Vegas. 'I just whooped.' + +"'What d'ye want?' + +"'You scared my girl.' + +"'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. + +"'You know. An' you threatened her an' her sister. Go for your gun,' +called Las Vegas, low an' sharp. + +"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. + +"'Hyar, you're off--some mistake--I 'ain't seen no gurls--I--' + +"'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. + +"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. + +"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!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +After Roy had departed Bo said to Helen: "Confound that fellow! He sees +right through me." + +"My dear, you're rather transparent these days," murmured Helen. + +"You needn't talk. He gave you a dig," retorted Bo. "He just knows +you're dying to see the snow melt." + +"Gracious! I hope I'm not so bad as that. Of course I want the snow +melted and spring to come, and flowers--" + +"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." + +Helen gazed out of the window at the white stars. + +"Nell, have you seen him--since I was hurt?" continued Bo, with an +effort. + +"Him? Who?" + +"Oh, whom do you suppose? I mean Tom!" she responded, and the last word +came with a burst. + +"Tom? Who's he? Ah, you mean Las Vegas. Yes, I've seen him." + +"Well, did he ask a-about me?" + +"I believe he did ask how you were--something like that." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Evenin', Miss Helen," he said, as he stalked in. "Evenin', Miss Bo. How +are you-all?" + +Helen returned his greeting with a welcoming smile. + +"Good evening--TOM," said Bo, demurely. + +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. + +"How are you feelin'?" he asked. + +"I'm better to-day," she replied, with downcast eyes. "But I'm lame +yet." + +"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'." + +"Oh, I'll be well soon. How's Sam? I hope he wasn't crippled." + +"Thet Sam--why, he's so tough he never knowed he had a fall." + +"Tom--I--I want to thank you for giving Riggs what he deserved." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Helen did not yet know the cowboy, any more than did Bo. + +"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." + +Bo stared at him, and then, giving a little gasp, she drooped. + +"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." + +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. + +The instant he had departed Bo's transformation was tragic. + +"Flo! He meant Flo Stubbs--that ugly, cross-eyed, bold, little frump!" + +"Bo!" expostulated Helen. "The young lady is not beautiful, I grant, but +she's very nice and pleasant. I liked her." + +"Nell Rayner, men are no good! And cowboys are the worst!" declared Bo, +terribly. + +"Why didn't you appreciate Tom when you had him?" asked Helen. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Afternoon, Miss Rayner," said Beasley, doffing his sombrero. "I've +called on a little business deal. Will you see me?" + +Helen acknowledged his greeting while she thought rapidly. She might +just as well see him and have that inevitable interview done with. + +"Come in," she said, and when he had entered she closed the door. "My +sister, Mr. Beasley." + +"How d' you do, Miss?" said the rancher, in bluff, loud voice. + +Bo acknowledged the introduction with a frigid little bow. + +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. + +"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. + +"Yes?" queried Helen, interrogatively. + +"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." + +Beasley spoke in an ordinary, matter-of-fact tone that certainly seemed +sincere, and his manner was blunt, but perfectly natural. + +"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." + +"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'." + +Helen could only stare her surprise and doubt at this statement. + +"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." + +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. + +"Thank you, Mr. Beasley, but I can't accept your offer," she replied. + +"Would you take time an' consider?" he asked, spreading wide his huge +gloved hands. + +"Absolutely no." + +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. + +"Thet means I'll force you to pay me the eighty thousand or put you +off," he said. + +"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." + +"An' why can't I?" he demanded, with lowering, dark gaze. + +"Because your claim is dishonest. And I can prove it," declared Helen, +forcibly. + +"Who 're you goin' to prove it to--thet I'm dishonest?" + +"To my men--to your men--to the people of Pine--to everybody. There's +not a person who won't believe me." + +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. + +"An' how 're you goin' to prove all thet?" he growled. + +"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. + +The dark olive of Beasley's bold face shaded to a dirty white. + +"Wha-at?" he jerked out, hoarsely. + +"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." + +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. + + +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. + +"Oh, what's happened?" cried Helen. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Yes, shot," replied Carmichael, fiercely. + +"An', whatever he says, I reckon he won't pull through." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Why not?" + +"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." + +Then Helen hurriedly related the event of Beasley's call on her that +afternoon and all that had occurred. + +"Wal, the half-breed son-of-a-greaser!" ejaculated Carmichael, in utter +confoundment. "He wanted you to marry him!" + +"He certainly did. I must say it was a--a rather abrupt proposal." + +Carmichael appeared to be laboring with speech that had to be smothered +behind his teeth. At last he let out an explosive breath. + +"Miss Nell, I've shore felt in my bones thet I'm the boy slated to brand +thet big bull." + +"Oh, he must have shot Roy. He left here in a rage." + +"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--" + +"Riggs!" interrupted Helen. + +"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--" + +"Tom, why must you always be reckoning to kill somebody?" demanded +Helen, angrily. + +"'Cause somebody's got to be killed 'round here. Thet's why!" he snapped +back. + +"Even so--should you risk leaving Bo and me without a friend?" asked +Helen, reproachfully. + +At that Carmichael wavered and lost something of his sullen deadliness. + +"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." + +"Let's hope and pray," said Helen, earnestly. "You spoke of my coaxing +Roy to tell who shot him. When can I see him?" + +"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?" + +"Indeed I'd feel safer," she replied. "There are rooms. Please come." + +"Allright. An' now I'll be goin' to fetch Hal. Shore wish I hadn't made +you pale an' scared like this." + + +About ten o'clock next morning Carmichael drove Helen and Bo into Pine, +and tied up the team before Widow Cass's cottage. + +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. + +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. + +Widow Cass appeared on the little porch, a gray, bent, worn, but +cheerful old woman whom Helen had come to know as her friend. + +"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." + +"Good morning, Mrs. Cass. How--how is Roy?" replied Helen, anxiously +scanning the wrinkled face. + +"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." + +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. + +"Mornin'--girls," he drawled. "Shore is good of you, now, comin' down." + +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. + +"Wal, what's ailin' you this nice mornin'?" asked Roy, eyes on the +cowboy. + +"Huh! Would you expect me to be wearin' the smile of a fellar goin' to +be married?" retorted Carmichael. + +"Shore you haven't made up with Bo yet," returned Roy. + +Bo blushed rosy red, and the cowboy's face lost something of its somber +hue. + +"I allow it's none of your d--darn bizness if SHE ain't made up with +me," he said. + +"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." + +"I'm no Mormon, by golly! Come, Ma Cass, let's get out of here, so they +can talk." + +"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. + +Roy looked up at Helen with his keen eyes, more kindly piercing than +ever. + +"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." + +Helen's eyes asked what her lips refused to utter. + +"He's goin' after Dale. I sent him. I reckoned we-all sorta needed sight +of thet doggone hunter." + +Roy had averted his gaze quickly to Bo. + +"Don't you agree with me, lass?" + +"I sure do," replied Bo, heartily. + +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. + +"Can John--fetch Dale out--when the snow's so deep?" she asked, +unsteadily. + +"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." + +"Then--when may I--we expect to see Dale?" + +"Three or four days, I reckon. I wish he was here now.... Miss Helen, +there's trouble afoot." + +"I realize that. I'm ready. Did Las Vegas tell you about Beasley's visit +to me?" + +"No. You tell me," replied Roy. + +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. + +"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." + +"For what? Roy, what did you do?" + +"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." + +"Roy! Oh, the way you boys court danger!" + +"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!" + +"Roy, then he shot you!" exclaimed Helen, passionately. + +"Now, Miss Helen, I didn't say who done it," replied Roy, with his +engaging smile. + +"Tell me, then--who did?" + +"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." + +"Roy, I promise you I will not tell Las Vegas," replied Helen, +earnestly. + +"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." + +"Oh, coward! the despicable coward!" cried Helen. + +"No wonder Tom wants to find out!" exclaimed Bo, low and deep. "I'll bet +he suspects Riggs." + +"Shore he does, but I wouldn't give him no satisfaction." + +"Roy, you know that Riggs can't last out here." + +"Wal, I hope he lasts till I get on my feet again." + +"There you go! Hopeless, all you boys! You must spill blood!" murmured +Helen, shudderingly. + +"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." + +"Roy, I'm only a woman--I fear, faint-hearted and unequal to this West." + +"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!" + +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. + +"My friend, anythin' can happen," he said. "But let's hope it won't be +the worst." + +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. + +"Wal, Cheer up, you old Mormon!" he called. + +"Cheer up yourself, you cross old bachelor!" retorted Roy, quite +unnecessarily loud. "Can't you raise enough nerve to make up with Bo?" + +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. + +"Did you find out who shot Roy?" he asked, abruptly, of Helen. + +"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. + +"Was it thet--Riggs?" + +"Las Vegas, don't ask me. I will not break my promise." + +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. + +"Bo, will you listen to me--if I swear to speak the truth--as I know +it?" + +"Why, certainly," replied Bo, with the color coming swiftly to her face. + +"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." + +"But, Tom--I oughtn't," replied Bo, haltingly. + +"Did you promise Roy not to tell?" + +"No." + +"Or your sister?" + +"No. I didn't promise either." + +"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--" + +"Oh--Tom!" faltered Bo. + +"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?" + +"Yes, I will," replied Bo, with the blaze leaping to her eyes. + +"Oh, Bo--please don't--please don't. Wait!" implored Helen. + +"Bo--it's between you an' me," said Carmichael. + +"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!" + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +This visitor resembled one of the Beemans, judging from the way he sat +his horse, and presently Dale recognized him to be John. + +At this juncture the jaded horse was spurred into a trot, soon reaching +the pines and the camp. + +"Howdy, there, you ole b'ar-hunter!" called John, waving his hand. + +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. + +"Howdy, John?" replied Dale. + +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. + +"Milt--what 'n hell's wrong?" he queried. + +"Why?" + +"Bust me if you ain't changed so I hardly knowed you. You've been +sick--all alone here!" + +"Do I look sick?" + +"Wal, I should smile. Thin an' pale an' down in the mouth! Milt, what +ails you?" + +"I've gone to seed." + +"You've gone off your head, jest as Roy said, livin' alone here. You +overdid it, Milt. An' you look sick." + +"John, my sickness is here," replied Dale, soberly, as he laid a hand on +his heart. + +"Lung trouble!" ejaculated John. "With thet chest, an' up in this +air?... Get out!" + +"No--not lung trouble," said Dale. + +"I savvy. Had a hunch from Roy, anyhow." + +"What kind of a hunch?" + +"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." + +"You're welcome as the flowers in May. John, what month is it?" + +"By spades! are you as bad as thet?... Let's see. It's the twenty-third +of March." + +"March! Well, I'm beat. I've lost my reckonin'--an' a lot more, maybe." + +"Thar!" declared John, slapping the mustang. "You can jest hang up here +till my next trip. Milt, how 're your hosses?" + +"Wintered fine." + +"Wal, thet's good. We'll need two big, strong hosses right off." + +"What for?" queried Dale, sharply. He dropped a stick of wood and +straightened up from the camp-fire. + +"You're goin' to ride down to Pine with me--thet's what for." + +Familiarly then came back to Dale the quiet, intent suggestiveness of +the Beemans in moments foreboding trial. + +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. + +"Tell what you got to tell!" he broke out. + +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." + +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. + +"Then old Al's dead?" he asked. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Wal, we-all have our idees. I say she will. My father says so. +Carmichael says so." + +"Who's he?" + +"Reckon you remember thet cow-puncher who came up with Roy an' +Auchincloss after the girls--last fall?" + +"Yes. They called him Las--Las Vegas. I liked his looks." + +"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?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +Dale awoke with a thundering curse. + +"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!" + +"I reckon," replied Dale, as he swallowed hard. "Now, just what was +Roy's message to me?" + +"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!'" + +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. + +"Roy's--crazy!" panted Dale. + +"Wal, now, Milt--thet's downright surprisin' of you. Roy's the +level-headest of any fellars I know." + +"Man! if he MADE me believe him--an' it turned out untrue--I'd--I'd kill +him," replied Dale. + +"Untrue! Do you think Roy Beeman would lie?" + +"But, John--you fellows can't see my case. Nell Rayner wants me--needs +me!... It can't be true!" + +"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." + +"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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You reckoned to make Pine by nightfall. How far is it--the way you'll +go?" + +"Fifty mile or thereabouts," replied Dale. + +"Wal, we can't ride it on them critters." + +"John, we'd do more than that if we had to." + +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. + +"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." + +"Sic him onto Beasley's gang," replied John. "Some men are powerful +scared of cougars. But I never was." + +"Nor me. Though I've had cougars give me a darn uncanny feelin'." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I smell smoke," said Dale, suddenly, as he reined in, and turned for +corroboration from his companion. + +John sniffed the warm air. + +"Wal, you're more of an Injun than me," he replied, shaking his head. + +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. + +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. + +"Look there," said Dale, pointing. + +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. + +"Thet's your smoke, shore enough," replied John, thoughtfully. "Now, I +jest wonder who's campin' there. No water near or grass for hosses." + +"John, that point's been used for smoke signals many a time." + +"Was jest thinkin' of thet same. Shall we ride around there an' take a +peek?" + +"No. But we'll remember that. If Beasley's got his deep scheme goin', +he'll have Snake Anson's gang somewhere close." + +"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." + +The big cougar was lying down, panting, and his half-shut eyes were on +Dale. + +"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." + + +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. + +"Wal, what 'd you make of these here tracks?" asked that worthy. + +"Some horses an' a pony went along here yesterday, an' to-day a single +horse made, that fresh track." + +"Wal, Milt, for a hunter you ain't so bad at hoss tracks," observed +John, "But how many hosses went yesterday?" + +"I couldn't make out--several--maybe four or five." + +"Six hosses an' a colt or little mustang, unshod, to be strict-correct. +Wal, supposin' they did. What 's it mean to us?" + +"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." + +"Wish Roy was here," replied John, scratching his head. "Milt, I've a +hunch, if he was, he'd foller them tracks." + +"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." + +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. + +"Milt, it ain't a colt's--thet little track," avowed John. + +"Why not--an' what if it isn't?" queried Dale. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Wal, now--" he began, hoarsely, and left off. + +"How's Roy?" queried Dale. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"Ride up to see her--an' waste no more time here." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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'!" + +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. + +"Oh! my friend--you've come!" she whispered. + +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. + +"Oh, thank God! I knew you would come!" she said, and her head sank to +his shoulder. + +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. + +"It's--Bo," he said, unsteadily. + +"She went riding yesterday--and--never--came--back!" replied Helen, +brokenly. + +"I've seen her trail. She's been taken into the woods. I'll find her. +I'll fetch her back," he replied, rapidly. + +With a shock she seemed to absorb his meaning. With another shock she +raised her face--leaned back a little to look at him. + +"You'll find her--fetch her back?" + +"Yes," he answered, instantly. + +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. + +"I'm almost--out of my head," she faltered. + +"No wonder. I saw that.... But now you must get clear-headed. I've no +time to lose." + +He led her to the door. + +"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." + +Without a word John leaped bareback on one of the horses he had just +unsaddled and spurred him across the courtyard. + +Then the big cougar, seeing Helen, got up from where he lay on the porch +and came to her. + +"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--" + +"Where's Carmichael?" interrupted Dale. "Out huntin' Bo?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Bo rode Sam. He's a little bronc, very strong and fast." + +"I come across his tracks. How'd Carmichael miss them?" + +"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." + +"Were there any other tracks along with hers?" + +"No." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"My friend! You will save her!" + +"I'll fetch her back, alive or dead." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Suppose Beasley comes--here!" exclaimed Helen, and again her hand went +out toward him. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"I'll do thet, Milt," responded John. + +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. + +"Come on there, you Tom," he called to the cougar. "Reckon on this track +you'll pay me for all my trainin' of you." + +"Oh, my friend!" came Helen's sad voice, almost a whisper to his +throbbing ears. "Heaven help you--to save her! I--" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But Dale lay awake for long. + +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. + +He grew sleepy, and gradually his mind stilled, with his last conscious +thought a portent that he would awaken to accomplish his desperate task. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"You pack that gun-sheath wrong end out. What have you got the gun for, +anyhow?" she added, tauntingly. + +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. + +"You'd better shut up," said Riggs, darkly. + +"I will not shut up," declared Bo. + +"Then I'll gag you," he threatened. + +"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." + +Riggs advanced toward her with his hands clutching, as if eager to +throttle her. The girl leaned forward, her face reddening, her eyes +fierce. + +"You damned little cat!" muttered Riggs, thickly. "I'll gag you--if you +don't stop squallin'." + +"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." + +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. + +Bo's head jerked back with the force of the blow, but she uttered no +cry. + +"Are you goin' to keep your jaw shut?" he demanded, stridently, and a +dark tide of blood surged up into his neck. + +"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!" + +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. + +Riggs swung his arm more violently at the girl. But she dodged. + +"You dog!" she hissed. "Oh, if I only had a gun!" + +Her face then, with its dead whiteness and the eyes of flame, held a +tragic, impelling beauty that stung Anson into remonstrance. + +"Aw, Riggs, don't beat up the kid," he protested. "Thet won't do any +good. Let her alone." + +"But she's got to shut up," replied Riggs. + +"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?" + +Anson gnawed his drooping mustache as he eyed Bo. + +"Have I made any kick to you or your men yet?" she queried. + +"It strikes me you 'ain't," replied Anson. + +"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." + +"Girl, your hunch 's correct," said Anson. + +"Well, do you know I'm the wrong girl?" + +"What's thet? I reckon you're Nell Rayner, who got left all old +Auchincloss's property." + +"No. I'm Bo Rayner. Nell is my sister. She owns the ranch. Beasley +wanted her." + +Anson cursed deep and low. Under his sharp, bristling eyebrows he bent +cunning green eyes upon Riggs. + +"Say, you! Is what this kid says so?" + +"Yes. She's Nell Rayner's sister," replied Riggs, doggedly. + +"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?" + +"Guess I must have," replied Riggs, sullenly. + +"But you knowed her from her sister afore you come to my camp?" + +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. + +"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." + +Snake Anson turned to look at Wilson. + +"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?" + +"Wal, pard Anson, if this heah gurl ain't handsome my eyes have gone +pore," drawled Wilson. + +"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?" + +"Wal, I ain't tellin' you what I think yet. But I know thet kid ain't +Nell Rayner. For I've seen her." + +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. + +"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?" + +"He chased me--caught me. Then he saw some one after us and he hurried +to your camp. He was afraid--the cur!" + +Riggs heard her reply, for he turned a malignant glance upon her. + +"Anson, I fetched her because I know Nell Rayner will give up anythin' +on earth for her," he said, in loud voice. + +Anson pondered this statement with an air of considering its apparent +sincerity. + +"Don't you believe him," declared Bo Rayner, bluntly. "He's a liar. He's +double-crossing Beasley and all of you." + +Riggs raised a shaking hand to clench it at her. "Keep still or it 'll +be the worse for you." + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"Hold on there!" yelled Riggs, in alarm. + +"Damme, Jim, if she didn't mean bizness!" exclaimed the outlaw. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Shore you can handle a gun?" + +She nodded her answer while her eyes flashed hate and her resolute lips +twitched. + +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: + +"Drop thet gun, you little devil!" + +Riggs turned ghastly as the big blue gun lined on him. He also yelled, +but that yell was different from Anson's. + +"Run or dance!" cried the girl. + +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. + +"Plug him! Shoot off a leg!" yelled Snake Anson, whooping and stamping, +as Riggs got out of sight. + +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. + +"Hyar, Jim, she might have held up the whole gang with thet gun," he +protested. + +"I reckon she 'ain't nothin' ag'in' us," replied Wilson. + +"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?" + +The query seemed important and amazing. Wilson pondered. + +"Shore I'd stood there--stock-still--an' never moved an eye-winker." + +"An' let her shoot!" ejaculated Anson, nodding his long head. "Me, too!" + +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. + +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. + +"Miss, it shore was grand--thet performance of Mister Gunman Riggs," +remarked Jim Wilson, attentively studying the girl. + +"Much obliged to you for lending me your gun," she replied. "I--I hope I +hit him--a little." + +"Wal, if you didn't sting him, then Jim Wilson knows nothin' about +lead." + +"Jim Wilson? Are you the man--the outlaw my uncle Al knew?" + +"Reckon I am, miss. Fer I knowed Al shore enough. What 'd he say aboot +me?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +Swift as a flash she looked at him. + +"What do you mean?" + +"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." + +She understood him and paid him the compliment not to voice her sudden +upflashing hope that he might be one to betray his leader. + +"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." + +"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." + +Then he turned his back and walked over to where Riggs sat nursing a +bullet-burn on his leg. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Riggs went on to the promontory to look for himself. + +"Where's the girl?" demanded Anson, in surprise, when he got back to the +camp. + +"Wal, she's walkin' 'round between heah an' Pine," drawled Wilson. + +"Jim, you let her loose?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Wal, if I am it 'll shore turn out bad fer somebody." + +Anson gave him a surprised stare and suddenly lost the bantering tone. + +"A-huh! So thet's how it's workin'," he replied, and flung himself down +in the shade. + +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. + +"Whar's the gurl?" he queried. + +"Jim let her go out fer a stroll," replied Anson. + +"I seen Jim was gittin' softy over her. Haw! Haw! Haw!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Cheer up, Shady. We'll be rustlin' back in the mountains before +sundown," said Anson. + +"Hang me if that ain't the cheerfulest news I've hed in some days. Hey, +Moze?" + +The black-faced Moze nodded his shaggy head. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Burt, you ain't insinuatin' thet I made promises?" inquired Anson, +ominously. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Howdy, Beasley?" was Anson's greeting. + +"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'?" + +Snake Anson beckoned to Bo. + +"Come out of the shade. Let him look you over." + +The girl walked out from under the spreading cedar that had hidden her +from sight. + +Beasley stared aghast--his jaw dropped. + +"Thet's the kid sister of the woman I wanted!" he ejaculated. + +"So we've jest been told." + +Astonishment still held Beasley. + +"Told?" he echoed. Suddenly his big body leaped with a start. "Who got +her? Who fetched her?" + +"Why, Mister Gunman Riggs hyar," replied Anson, with a subtle scorn. + +"Riggs, you got the wrong girl," shouted Beasley. "You made thet mistake +once before. What're you up to?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Beasley, he was giving you the double-cross," cut in Bo Rayner's cool +voice. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"What for did you fetch the sister, then?" demanded Beasley, his big jaw +bulging. + +"Because I've a plan to--" + +"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. + +"Beasley, tell them to get my horse. I want to go home," said Bo Rayner. + +Slowly Beasley turned. Her words enjoined a silence. What to do with her +now appeared a problem. + +"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. + +Then the girl's face flashed white again and her eyes changed to fire. + +"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!" + +"I'll cut out your tongue!" hissed Beasley. + +"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?" + +"He'll not do much," growled Beasley. But the thick purplish blood was +receding from his face. "Your cowpuncher--" + +"Bah!" she interrupted, and she snapped her fingers in his face. "He's +from Texas! He's from TEXAS!" + +"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." + +He pointed toward Wilson, who shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The +girl's flaming glance followed his hand. + +"Are you from Texas?" she asked. + +"Yes, Miss, I am--an' I reckon I don't deserve it," replied Wilson. It +was certain that a vague shame attended his confession. + +"Oh! I believed even a bandit from Texas would fight for a helpless +girl!" she replied, in withering scorn of disappointment. + +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. + +"Beasley, you're courtin' death," he broke in. + +"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." + +Beasley mounted his horse. Sullen, livid, furious, he sat shaking in the +saddle, to glare down at the outlaw leader. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Do I owe you any money--accordin' to the deal?" demanded Beasley. + +"No, you don't," responded Anson, sharply. + +"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." + +With that Beasley spurred his horse, wheeled and rode away. The outlaws +gazed after him until he disappeared in the cedars. + +"What'd you expect from a greaser?" queried Shady Jones. + +"Anson, didn't I say so?" added Burt. + +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. + +"Anson, stake me to some of your outfit an' I'll ride off with the +girl," he said, eagerly. + +"Where'd you go now?" queried Anson, curiously. + +Riggs appeared at a loss for a quick answer; his wits were no more equal +to this predicament than his nerve. + +"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." + +The listening girl suddenly appealed to Wilson. + +"Don't let him take me off--alone--in the woods!" she faltered. That was +the first indication of her weakening. + +Jim Wilson broke into gruff reply. "I'm not bossin' this gang." + +"But you're a man!" she importuned. + +"Riggs, you fetch along your precious firebrand an' come with us," said +Anson, craftily. "I'm particular curious to see her brand you." + +"Snake, lemme take the girl back to Pine," said Jim Wilson. + +Anson swore his amaze. + +"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." + +"But mebbe there's somethin' in it for us. Her sister 'd pay to git her +back." + +"Wal, I shore hope you'll recollect I offered--thet's all," concluded +Wilson. + +"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. + +The long Texan veered around full faced. What subtle transformation in +him! + +"Like hell we would!" he said. + +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. + +"Break camp," he ordered. + +Riggs had probably not heard that last exchange between Anson and +Wilson, for he had walked a few rods aside to get his horse. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Keep your paws to yourself," she said. No evidence of exhaustion was +there in her spirit. + +Wilson had observed this by-play, but Anson had not. + +"What come off?" he asked. + +"Wal, the Honorable Gunman Riggs jest got caressed by the lady--as he +was doin' the elegant," replied Moze, who stood nearest. + +"Jim, was you watchin'?" queried Anson. His curiosity had held through +the afternoon. + +"He tried to yank her off an' she biffed him," replied Wilson. + +"That Riggs is jest daffy or plain locoed," said Snake, in an aside to +Moze. + +"Boss, you mean plain cussed. Mark my words, he'll hoodoo this outfit. +Jim was figgerin' correct." + +"Hoodoo--" cursed Anson, under his breath. + +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. + +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: + +"When you're ready, slip in there. An' don't lose no sleep by worryin', +fer I'll be layin' right here." + +He made a motion to indicate his length across the front of the narrow +aperture. + +"Oh, thank you! Maybe you really are a Texan," she whispered back. + +"Mebbe," was his gloomy reply. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +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. + +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. + +Snake Anson and Jim Wilson were left brooding in silence beside the +dying camp-fire. + +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. + +By and by those men who had rolled in their blankets were breathing deep +and slow in heavy slumber. + +"Jim, I take it this hyar Riggs has queered our deal," said Snake Anson, +in low voice. + +"I reckon," replied Wilson. + +"An' I'm feared he's queered this hyar White Mountain country fer us." + +"Shore I 'ain't got so far as thet. What d' ye mean, Snake?" + +"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?" + +"I've a hunch he ain't half as strong as he bluffs." + +"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." + +"Shore. He was from Texas, she said." + +"Jim, I savvied your feelin's was hurt--by thet talk about Texas--an' +when she up an' asked you." + +Wilson had no rejoinder for this remark. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Wal, we'd cash in--quick," replied Anson, gruffly. + +"Then why didn't you let me take the gurl back home?" + +"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." + +"Snake, you're no fool. How 'll you do thet same an' do it quick?" + +"'Ain't reckoned it out yet." + +"Wal, you got aboot to-morrer an' thet's all," returned Wilson, +gloomily. + +"Jim, what's ailin' you?" + +"I'll let you figger thet out." + +"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!" + +"Wal, what is, then?" queried Wilson. + +"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." + +"Snake, did I ever fail you?" + +"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." + +"It mightn't have been too late yesterday." + +"Mebbe not. But it is now, an' I'll hang on to the girl or git her worth +in gold," declared the outlaw, grimly. + +"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." + +"A-huh' Then if we ran up ag'in' Carmichael or some such fellar--would +you be suckin' your finger like a baby?" + +"Wal, I wasn't takin' count of myself. I was takin' generalities." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +"Is she dead?" growled Anson. + +"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." + +"A-huh! So would all of this hyar outfit," was Anson's response. + +"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. + +Anson did not address the Texas member of his party again. + +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. + +"Nix. I footed them hills all I'm a-goin' to," he said. "An' from now on +I rustle my own hoss." + +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. + +"Jim, you're the best tracker in this outfit. Suppose you go," suggested +Anson. "You allus used to be the first one off." + +"Times has changed, Snake," was the imperturbable reply. + +"Wal, won't you go?" demanded the leader, impatiently. + +"I shore won't." + +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. + +"Boss, ain't it funny how a pretty wench--?" began Shady Jones, +sarcastically. + +"Shut up, you fool!" broke in Anson. "Come on, I'll help rustle them +hosses." + +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. + +Upon her return to the camp-fire she looked very different with her hair +arranged and the red stains in her cheeks. + +"Miss, air you hungry?" asked Wilson. + +"Yes, I am," she replied. + +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. + +"Where are they all?" she asked. + +"Rustlin' the hosses." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"No," she cried, stepping back. + +"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!" + +He laid hold of two saddles, one with each hand. The moment had reddened +his face, brightened his eyes, made his action strong. + +"I'm safer--here with this outlaw gang," she replied. + +"You won't come!" His color began to lighten then, and his face to +distort. He dropped his hold on the saddles. + +"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. + +"I'll drag you!" + +He seized her, but could not hold her. Breaking away, she screamed. + +"Help!" + +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. + +"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. + +The girl's eyes dilated. They looked beyond him. Her lips opened. + +"Scream again an' I'll kill you!" he cried, hoarsely and swiftly. The +very opening of her lips had terrified Riggs. + +"Reckon one scream was enough," spoke a voice, slow, but without the +drawl, easy and cool, yet incalculable in some terrible sense. + +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. + +"Girl, what made thet blood on your mouth?" + +"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. + +"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. + +Riggs could not draw nor move nor speak. He seemed turned to stone, +except his jaw, which slowly fell. + +"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!" + +Wilson deliberately leveled the gun on a line with Riggs's starting +eyes. + +"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!" + +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. + +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"! + +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. + +Snake Anson as he dismounted espied the dead man. + +"Jim--I thought I heard a shot." + +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. + +That emotion was only momentary. + +"Shot his lamp out!" ejaculated Moze. + +"Wonder how Gunman Riggs liked thet plumb center peg!" exclaimed Shady +Jones, with a hard laugh. + +"Back of his head all gone!" gasped young Burt. Not improbably he had +not seen a great many bullet-marked men. + +"Jim!--the long-haired fool didn't try to draw on you!" exclaimed Snake +Anson, astounded. + +Wilson neither spoke nor ceased his pacing. + +"What was it over?" added Anson, curiously. + +"He hit the gurl," replied Wilson. + +Then there were long-drawn exclamations all around, and glance met +glance. + +"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?" + +"Shore, an' you can have my share." + +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. + +"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. + +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." + +"Howdy, kid! Thet's good news," replied Anson. His spirits were rising. +"He must hev wanted you to slope with him?" + +"Yes. I wouldn't go." + +"An' then he hit you?" + +"Yes." + +"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." + +The girl withdrew her white face. + +"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." + + +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. + +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. + +"Sure spooky I say," observed Shady, sentiently. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The horses had not strayed out of this basin during the night, a +circumstance that Anson was not slow to appreciate. + +"It ain't no cheerful camp, but I never seen a safer place to hole up +in," he remarked to Wilson. + +"Wal, yes--if any place is safe," replied that ally, dubiously. + +"We can watch our back tracks. There ain't any other way to git in hyar +thet I see." + +"Snake, we was tolerable fair sheep-rustlers, but we're no good +woodsmen." + +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. + +"Jim, them hosses are strayin' off," he observed. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"Howdy, Dale," drawled Wilson. "Reckon you're a little previous on me." + +"Sssssh! Not so loud," said the hunter, in low voice. "You're Jim +Wilson?" + +"Shore am. Say, Dale, you showed up soon. Or did you jest happen to run +acrost us?" + +"I've trailed you. Wilson, I'm after the girl." + +"I knowed thet when I seen you!" + +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. + +"Wilson, I've heard you spoken of as a white outlaw," said Dale. + +"Mebbe I am. But shore I'll be a scared one in a minit. Dale, he's goin' +to jump me!" + +"The cougar won't jump you unless I make him. Wilson, if I let you go +will you get the girl for me?" + +"Wal, lemme see. Supposin' I refuse?" queried Wilson, shrewdly. + +"Then, one way or another, it's all up with you." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Shore. It's your game. Anson dealt himself this hand.... Between you +an' me, Dale, I never liked the deal." + +"Who shot Riggs?... I found his body." + +"Wal, yours truly was around when thet come off," replied Wilson, with +an involuntary little shudder. Some thought made him sick. + +"The girl? Is she safe--unharmed?" queried Dale, hurriedly. + +"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." + +"But how?" demanded Dale. + +"Lemme see.... Wal, I've got to sneak her out of camp an' meet you. +Thet's all." + +"It must be done quick." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I'll guarantee to scare Anson out of ten years' growth," replied Dale. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"Hosses all thar, Jim?" asked Anson, as he picked up, his cards. + +"Shore. They act awful queer, them hosses," replied. Wilson. "They're +afraid of somethin'." + +"A-huh! Silvertip mebbe," muttered Anson. "Jim, You jest keep watch of +them hosses. We'd be done if some tarnal varmint stampeded them." + +"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?" + +"No one I ever seen can do them camp tricks any better 'n Jim Wilson," +replied Anson. + +"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. + +The outlaws guffawed. + +"Git out, Jim, you're breakin' up the game," said Moze, who appeared +loser. + +"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." + +The outlaws heard, for they guffawed again. "Haw! Haw! if Jim ain't +funny!" exclaimed Anson. + +The girl looked up amazed. Wilson was winking at her, and when he got +near he began to speak rapidly and low. + +"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." + +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. + +"Yes, I understand. I'll do it!" she whispered. + +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. + +The gambling outlaws, however, did not at once see the girl preening +herself and smoothing her long hair in a way calculated to startle. + +"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!" + +"Sartin you're hoodooed," said Shady Jones, in scorn. "Is thet jest +dawnin' on you?" + +"Boss, you play like a cow stuck in the mud," remarked Moze, +laconically. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +Anson started. He grew utterly astounded. His amaze was ludicrous. And +the other two men looked to stare, to equal their leader's bewilderment. + +"What 'n hell's come over her?" asked Anson, dubiously. "Must hev perked +up.... But she ain't feelin' thet gay!" + +Wilson tapped his forehead with a significant finger. + +"Shore I was scared of her this mawnin'," he whispered. + +"Naw!" exclaimed Anson, incredulously. + +"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. + +Moze looked beyond words, and quite alarmed. + +"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." + +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. + +"Hey thar--kid!" called Anson, hoarsely. + +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. + +"Hey thar--you Rayner girl!" added Anson, lamely. "What's ailin' you?" + +"My lord! did you address me?" she asked, loftily. + +Shady Jones got over his consternation and evidently extracted some +humor from the situation, as his dark face began to break its strain. + +"Aww!" breathed Anson, heavily. + +"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. + +Shady Jones exploded in convulsed laughter. But his merriment was not +shared. And suddenly it brought disaster upon him. The girl flew at him. + +"Why do you croak, you toad? I will have you whipped and put in irons, +you scullion!" she cried, passionately. + +Shady underwent a remarkable change, and stumbled in his backward +retreat. Then she snapped her fingers in Moze's face. + +"You black devil! Get hence! Avaunt!" + +Anson plucked up courage enough to touch her. + +"Aww! Now, Ophelyar--" + +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. + +"You! You!" she pointed her finger at the outlaw leader. "You brute to +women! You ran off from your wife!" + +Anson turned plum-color and then slowly white. The girl must have sent a +random shot home. + +"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." + +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. + +"Aww! What a shame!" burst out Anson. "Thet fine, healthy, nervy kid! +Clean gone! Daffy! Crazy 'n a bedbug!" + +"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." + +"No luck 'll ever come our way ag'in," predicted Shady, mournfully. + +"It beats me, boss, it beats me," muttered Moze. + +"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. + +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. + +"Crazy or not, I'll git gold out of thet kid!" he roared. + +"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. + +"Why can't I?" + +"'Cause we're tracked. We can't make no dickers. Why, in another day or +so we'll be dodgin' lead." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"Then you'll shore hev to knock Jim Wilson on the haid first," he said, +in voice as strange as his action. + +"Jim! You wouldn't go back on me!" implored Anson, with uplifted hands, +in a dignity of pathos. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Moze corroborated this statement by gloomy nods. + +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. + +"Snake, hadn't I ought to take a bite of grub over to the gurl?" asked +Wilson. + +"Do you hev to ask me thet?" snapped Anson. "She's gotta be fed, if we +hev to stuff it down her throat." + +"Wal, I ain't stuck on the job," replied Wilson. "But I'll tackle it, +seein' you-all got cold feet." + +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. + +"Jim, was I pretty good?" she whispered. + +"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." + +"Oh, I'm on fire to get away," she exclaimed. "Jim Wilson, I'll never +forget you as long as I live!" + +He seemed greatly embarrassed. + +"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." + +Withdrawing his head, he got up and returned to the camp-fire, where +Anson was waiting curiously. + +"I left the grub. But she didn't touch it. Seems sort of sick to me, +like she was poisoned." + +"Jim, didn't I hear you talkin'?" asked Anson. + +"Shore. I was coaxin' her. Reckon she ain't so ranty as she was. But she +shore is doubled-up, an' sickish." + +"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." + +"Either thet or he's run into somethin'," replied Wilson, thoughtfully. + +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. + +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. + +"No sign of Burt?" he asked. + +Wilson expressed a mild surprise. "Wal, Snake, you ain't expectin' Burt +now?" + +"I am, course I am. Why not?" demanded Anson. "Any other time we'd look +fer him, wouldn't we?" + +"Any other time ain't now.... Burt won't ever come back!" Wilson spoke +it with a positive finality. + +"A-huh! Some more of them queer feelin's of yourn--operatin' again, hey? +Them onnatural kind thet you can't explain, hey?" + +Anson's queries were bitter and rancorous. + +"Yes. An', Snake, I tax you with this heah. Ain't any of them queer +feelin's operatin' in you?" + +"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. + +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. + +Then they waited as men who knew not what they waited for, yet hated and +dreaded it. + +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. + +Suddenly a snorting and stamping of the horses startled the men. + +"Somethin' scared the hosses," said Anson, rising. "Come on." + +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. + +The camp-fire light showed Anson's face dark and serious. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Gone! Our horses are gone! Did you hear 'em?" he exclaimed, blankly. + +"Shore. They're a cut-up an' crippled bunch by now," replied Wilson. + +"Boss, we'll never git 'ern back, not 'n a hundred years," declared +Moze. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And it was Anson who caught the first intimation of an impending doom. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"Listen!" + +Anson whispered tensely. His poise was motionless, his eyes roved +everywhere. He held up a shaking, bludgy finger, to command silence. + +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. + +"If thet's some varmint he's close," whispered Anson. + +"But shore, it's far off," said Wilson. + +Shady Jones and Moze divided their opinions in the same way. + +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. + +Then, at an unusually quiet lull the strange sound gradually arose to a +wailing whine. + +"It's thet crazy wench cryin'," declared the outlaw leader. + +Apparently his allies accepted that statement with as much relief as +they had expressed for the termination of the sound. + +"Shore, thet must be it," agreed Jim Wilson, gravely. + +"We'll git a lot of sleep with thet gurl whinin' all night," growled +Shady Jones. + +"She gives me the creeps," said Moze. + +Wilson got up to resume his pondering walk, head bent, hands behind his +back, a grim, realistic figure of perturbation. + +"Jim--set down. You make me nervous," said Anson, irritably. + +Wilson actually laughed, but low, as if to keep his strange mirth well +confined. + +"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." + +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. + +"Jim Wilson, are you showin' yellow?" queried Anson, hoarsely. + +"Mebbe. The Lord only knows. But listen heah.... Snake, you've seen an' +heard people croak?" + +"You mean cash in--die?" + +"Shore." + +"Wal, yes--a couple or so," replied Anson, grimly. + +"But you never seen no one die of shock--of an orful scare?" + +"No, I reckon I never did." + +"I have. An' thet's what's ailin' Jim Wilson," and he resumed his dogged +steps. + +Anson and his two comrades exchanged bewildered glances with one +another. + +"A-huh! Say, what's thet got to do with us hyar? asked Anson, presently. + +"Thet gurl is dyin'!" retorted Wilson, in a voice cracking like a whip. + +The three outlaws stiffened in their seats, incredulous, yet +irresistibly swayed by emotions that stirred to this dark, lonely, +ill-omened hour. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Snake, thet's gospel you're spoutin'," remarked Shady Jones, morosely. + +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. + +At last it ceased abruptly. + +Wilson again left the group to be swallowed up by the night. His absence +was longer than usual, but he returned hurriedly. + +"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." + +"What's eatin' you?" demanded the leader, angrily. "Her blood ain't on +my hands." + +"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." + +"Aw! She's jest gone to sleep," declared Anson, shaking his long frame +as he rose. "Gimme a light." + +"Boss, you're plumb off to go near a dead gurl thet's jest died crazy," +protested Shady Jones. + +"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. + +"SHE'S GONE!" he yelled, in harsh, shaken accents. + +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. + +"Did--ye--see er hear--anythin'?" he panted, peering back, then all +around, and at last at his man. + +"No. An' I shore was lookin' an' listenin'," replied Wilson. + +"Boss, there wasn't nothin'," declared Moze. + +"I ain't so sartin," said Shady Jones, with doubtful, staring eyes. "I +believe I heerd a rustlin'." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"THAR!" cried Anson, whirling, with his gun leaping out. + +Something huge, shadowy, gray against the black rushed behind the men +and trees; and following it came a perceptible acceleration of the air. + +"Shore, Snake, there wasn't nothin'," said Wilson, "presently." + +"I heerd," whispered Shady Jones. + +"It was only a breeze blowin' thet smoke," rejoined Moze. + +"I'd bet my soul somethin' went back of me," declared Anson, glaring +into the void. + +"Listen an' let's make shore," suggested Wilson. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly the silent, oppressive, surcharged air split to a short, +piercing scream. + +Anson's big horse stood up straight, pawing the air, and came down with +a crash. The other horses shook with terror. + +"Wasn't--thet--a cougar?" whispered Anson, thickly. + +"Thet was a woman's scream," replied Wilson, and he appeared to be +shaking like a leaf in the wind. + +"Then--I figgered right--the kid's alive--wonderin' around--an' she let +out thet orful scream," said Anson. + +"Wonderin' 'round, yes--but she's daid!" + +"My Gawd! it ain't possible!" + +"Wal, if she ain't wonderin' round daid she's almost daid," replied +Wilson. And he began to whisper to himself. + +"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--" + +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. + +From another point in the pitch-black glen rose the wailing, terrible +cry of a woman in agony. Wild, haunting, mournful wail! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"If it was a cougar--thet 'd scare him off," said Anson. + +"Shore, but it ain't a cougar," replied Wilson. "Wait an' see!" + +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. + +"Boss, let's shake this spooky hole," whispered Moze. + +The suggestion attracted Anson, and he pondered it while slowly shaking +his head. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Anson, I'm keen fer thet myself," declared Shady Jones. + +"Jim, what d'ye say to thet?" queried Anson. "Rustlin' out of this black +hole?" + +"Shore it's a grand idee," agreed Wilson. + +"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." + +"Snake, shore you seen a woman heah lately?" deliberately asked Wilson. + +"Reckon I did. Thet kid," replied Anson, dubiously. + +"Wal, you seen her go crazy, didn't you?" + +"Yes." + +"'An' she wasn't heah when you went huntin' fer her?" + +"Correct." + +"Wal, if thet's so, what do you want to blab about cougars for?" + +Wilson's argument seemed incontestable. Shady and Moze nodded gloomily +and shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Anson dropped his head. + +"No matter--if we only don't hear--" he began, suddenly to grow mute. + +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. + +"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. + +"Shore I'm scared he's hurt," said Wilson. + +"Hoss rolled right on top of him. An' thet hoss's heavy," declared Moze. + +They got down and knelt beside their leader. In the darkness his face +looked dull gray. His breathing was not right. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me where you're hurt?" asked Wilson. + +"He--smashed--my chest," said Anson, in a broken, strangled whisper. + +Wilson's deft hands opened the outlaw's shirt and felt of his chest. + +"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! + +"Pard, you busted a rib or two," said Wilson. + +"Aw, Jim--it must be--wuss 'n thet!" he whispered. "I'm--in orful--pain. +An' I can't--git any--breath." + +"Mebbe you'll be better," said Wilson, with a cheerfulness his face +belied. + +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. + +"Shady, he's goin' to cash. Let's clear out of this." + +"I'm yours pertickler previous," replied Jones. + +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. + +"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. + +"Fellars--you ain't--slopin'?" he whispered, in husky amaze. + +"Boss, we air thet same. We can't do you no good an' this hole ain't +healthy," replied Moze. + +Shady Jones swung himself astride his horse, all about him sharp, eager, +strung. + +"Moze, I'll tote the grub an' you lead out of hyar, till we git past the +wust timber," he said. + +"Aw, Moze--you wouldn't leave--Jim hyar--alone," implored Anson. + +"Jim can stay till he rots," retorted Moze. "I've hed enough of this +hole." + +"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." + +"Snake, you're goin' to cash," sardonically returned Moze. + +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. + +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. + +"Jim--did you--git him?" whispered Anson. + +"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. + +"Jim--my feet--air orful cold," whispered Anson. + +"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." + +"A-huh! But not so I'd care--much--if I hed--no wuss hurt." + +"You lay still now. Reckon Shady's hoss stopped out heah a ways. An' +I'll see." + +"Jim--I 'ain't heerd--thet scream fer--a little." + +"Shore it's gone.... Reckon now thet was a cougar." + +"I knowed it!" + +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. + +"Miss, are you there--all right?" he called, softly. + +"Yes, but I'm scared to death," she whispered in reply. + +"Shore it wound up sudden. Come now. I reckon your trouble's over." + +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. + +"Dale's heah," he said. "An' don't you keel over now--after all the +nerve you hed." + +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. + +"Wilson!" came Dale's subdued voice. + +"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. + +"Bo! Bo! You're all right?" Dale's deep voice was tremulous. + +She roused up to seize him and to utter little cries of joy + +"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." + +"Bo, I--we'll all thank him--all our lives," replied Dale. "Wilson, +you're a man!... If you'll shake that gang--" + +"Dale, shore there ain't much of a gang left, onless you let Burt git +away," replied Wilson. + +"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?" + +"Tolerable." + +"Oh, Dale, it was terrible! I saw it all. I--" + +"Wal, Miss, you can tell him after I go.... I'm wishin' you good luck." + +His voice was a cool, easy drawl, slightly tremulous. + +The girl's face flashed white in the gloom. She pressed against the +outlaw--wrung his hands. + +"Heaven help you, Jim Wilson! You ARE from Texas!... I'll remember +you--pray for you all my life!" + +Wilson moved away, out toward the pale glow of light under the black +pines. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +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. + +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! + +"If I do--I won't be two-faced about it," she soliloquized, and a hot +blush flamed her cheeks. + +She watched Dale until he rode out of sight. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"No hurt, Senora," he said, and pointed--making motions she must go. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Four greasers--packed me down--the hill--threw me off my ranch--into +the road!" panted Helen. + +She seemed to tell this also to her own consciousness and to realize the +mighty wave of danger that shook her whole body. + +"If I'd known--I would have killed them!" + +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. + +"Oh, Miss Helen, you looked so turrible, I made sure you was hurted," +the old woman was saying. + +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. + +"My body's--not hurt," she whispered. + +Roy had lost some of his whiteness, and where his eyes had been fierce +they were now kind. + +"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!" + +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. + +"For the land's sakes, tell us all about it," importuned Mrs. Cass. + +Whereupon Helen shut her eyes and told the brief narrative of her +expulsion from her home. + +"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." + +"But, Roy, I won't let Beasley stay there," cried Helen. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"I reckon you'll jest hev to be patient fer a few days," said Roy, +calmly. "It'll all come right in the end." + +"Roy! You've had this deal, as you call it, all worked out in mind for a +long time!" exclaimed Helen. + +"Shore, an' I 'ain't missed a reckonin' yet." + +"Then what will happen--in a few days?" + +"Nell Rayner, are you goin' to hev some spunk an' not lose your nerve +again or go wild out of your head?" + +"I'll try to be brave, but--but I must be prepared," she replied, +tremulously. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"Oh, if Dale brings Bo back to me--what will I care for my ranch?" +murmured Helen. + +"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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +This significant speech thrilled Helen with its assurance of hope, and +made her blood curdle at the implied peril awaiting the hunter. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +Roy led them all indoors. + +"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?" + +"I sent him home," replied Date. + +"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." + +"Mother, I reckon the girl an' I are nearer starved than anybody you +know," replied Dale, with a grim laugh. + +"Fer the land's sake! I'll be fixin' supper this minit." + +"Nell, why are you here?" asked Bo, suspiciously. + +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. + +"He's done it!" she cried, hotly. + +"Dearest--thank God. I've got you--back again!" murmured Helen, finding +her voice. "Nothing else matters!... I've prayed only for that!" + +"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?" + +"Bo, not a word has been heard of him for five days. He's searching for +you, of course." + +"And you've been--been put off the ranch?" + +"Well, rather," replied Helen, and in a few trembling words she told the +story of her eviction. + +Bo uttered a wild word that had more force than elegance, but it became +her passionate resentment of this outrage done her sister. + +"Oh!... Does Tom Carmichael know this?" she added, breathlessly. + +"How could he?" + +"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!" + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Dale, come out!" called Roy, sharply. + +The hunter moved with his swift, noiseless agility. Helen and Bo +followed, halting in the door. + +"Thet's Las Vegas," whispered Dale. + +To Helen it seemed that the cowboy's name changed the very atmosphere. + +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. + +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. + +"Boys--I jest rode in. An' they said you'd found her!" + +"Shore, Las Vegas. Dale fetched her home safe an' sound.... There she +is." + +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. + +"Bo!" he yelled, like a savage, yet he did not in the least resemble +one. + +"Oh--Tom!" cried Bo, falteringly. She half held out her arms. + +"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. + +"Aw!" The exclamation was a tremendous sigh. "I shore am glad!" + +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. + +"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. + +"Wilson killed him," replied Dale. + +"Jim Wilson--that old Texas Ranger!... Reckon he lent you a hand?" + +"My friend, he saved Bo," replied Dale, with emotion. "My old cougar an' +me--we just hung 'round." + +"You made Wilson help you?" cut in the hard voice. + +"Yes. But he killed Riggs before I come up an' I reckon he'd done well +by Bo if I'd never got there." + +"How about the gang?" + +"All snuffed out, I reckon, except Wilson." + +"Somebody told me Beasley hed ran Miss Helen off the ranch. Thet so?" + +"Yes. Four of his greasers packed her down the hill--most tore her +clothes off, so Roy tells me." + +"Four greasers!... Shore it was Beasley's deal clean through?" + +"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." + +Abruptly Carmichael stalked off down the darkening path, his silver +heel-plates ringing, his spurs jingling. + +"Hold on, Carmichael," called Dale, taking a step. + +"Oh, Tom!" cried Bo. + +"Shore folks callin' won't be no use, if anythin would be," said Roy. +"Las Vegas has hed a look at red liquor." + +"He's been drinking! Oh, that accounts!... he never--never even touched +me!" + +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. + +"Dale--oh--please stop!" she called, very low. + +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. + +"I--I haven't thanked you--yet--for bringing Bo home," she whispered. + +"Nell, never mind that," he said, in surprise. "If you must--why, wait. +I've got to catch up with that cowboy." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Nell, I'm your friend," he replied, hurriedly. "Don't talk of repayin' +me. Let me go now--after Las Vegas." + +"What for?" she queried, suddenly. + +"I mean to line up beside him--at the bar--or wherever he goes," +returned Dale. + +"Don't tell me that. _I_ know. You're going straight to meet Beasley." + +"Nell, if you hold me up any longer I reckon I'll have to run--or never +get to Beasley before that cowboy." + +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. + +"I'll not let you go," she said. + +He laughed, and put his great hands over hers. "What 're you sayin', +girl? You can't stop me." + +"Yes, I can. Dale, I don't want you to risk your life." + +He stared at her, and made as if to tear her hands from their hold. + +"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." + +"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. + +Helen, with a move as swift, put her arms round his neck and clasped her +hands tight. + +"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." + +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. + +"Nell, just now--when you're overcome--rash with feelin's--don't say to +me--a word--a--" + +He broke down huskily. + +"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. + +"Oh, don't you?" she cried, in low, smothered voice, as his silence +drove her farther on this mad, yet glorious purpose. + +"If you need to be told--yes--I reckon I do love you, Nell Rayner," he +replied. + +It seemed to Helen that he spoke from far off. She lifted her face, her +heart on her lips. + +"If you kill Beasley I'll never marry you," she said. + +"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--" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +He put her down--released her. + +"Nothin' could have made me so happy as what you said." He finished with +a strong sigh of unutterable, wondering joy. + +"Then you will not go to--to meet--" + +Helen's happy query froze on her lips. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At the door of the saloon she caught up with Dale. + +"Milt--oh--wait!'--wait!" she panted. + +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. + +"You go back!" ordered Dale, sternly. His face was pale, his eyes were +gleaming. + +"No! Not till--you take me--or carry me!" she replied, resolutely, with +all a woman's positive and inevitable assurance. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Heah's to thet--half-breed Beasley an' his outfit!" + +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. + +Helen felt herself slipping. All seemed to darken around her. She could +not see Dale, though she knew he held her. Then she fainted. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Las Vegas Carmichael was a product of his day. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Reckon he's home," replied Mulvey. + +"Home? What's he call home now?" + +"He's hangin' out hyar at Auchincloss's," replied Mulvey. His voice was +not strong, but his eyes were steady, watchful. + +Las Vegas quivered all over as if stung. A flame that seemed white and +red gave his face a singular hue. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Pedro, you're one of Beasley's old hands," said Las Vegas, accusingly. +"An'--you was one of them four greasers thet--" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Las Vegas began to curse, and, striding to Dale, he pushed him out of +the saloon. + +"--! 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!" + +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. + +"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'." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Turner, I reckon I'll bore you next time I run in heah," he said, and +stalked out. + +He had the stores, the road, the village, to himself; and he patrolled a +beat like a sentry watching for an Indian attack. + +Toward noon a single man ventured out into the road to accost the +cowboy. + +"Las Vegas, I'm tellin' you--all the greasers air leavin' the range," he +said. + +"Howdy, Abe!" replied Las Vegas. "What 'n hell you talkin' about?" + +The man repeated his information. And Las Vegas spat out frightful +curses. + +"Abe--you heah what Beasley's doin'?" + +"Yes. He's with his men--up at the ranch. Reckon he can't put off ridin' +down much longer." + +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. + +"Abe, if thet--greaser don't rustle down heah I'm goin' after him." + +"Sure. But don't be in no hurry," replied Abe. + +"I'm waltzin' to slow music.... Gimme a smoke." + +With fingers that slightly trembled Abe rolled a cigarette, lit it from +his own, and handed it to the cowboy. + +"Las Vegas, I reckon I hear hosses," he said, suddenly. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Who's in the outfit? How many?" he had questioned, quickly. + +"It's a one-man outfit, boss," replied Weaver. + +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. + +"One man!" he ejaculated. + +"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--" + +"Why didn't you bore him?" roared Beasley. + +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." + +"Dale! Did he come?" queried Beasley. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Of all these sudden-uprising perplexities this latest was the most +astounding. Beasley cursed with his questioning wonder. + +"Boss, they was sure scared of thet gun-slingin' cowboy from Texas," +replied Weaver, imperturbably. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Then a slight rustle--a clink of spur--startled him. He twisted his +head. + +"Howdy, Beasley!" said Las Vegas, who had appeared as if by magic. + +Beasley's frame seemed to swell as if a flood had been loosed in his +veins. Sweat-drops stood out on his pallid face. + +"What--you--want?" he asked, huskily. + +"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. + +Beasley's reply was loud, incoherent, hoarse. + +Las Vegas seated himself across from Beasley. + +"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. + +"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!--" + +"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--" + +"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. + +"I'll--double--it!" panted Beasley. "I'll--make over--half the +ranch--all the stock--" + +"Swaller thet!" yelled Las Vegas, with terrible strident ferocity. + +"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. + +Las Vegas's left fist pounded hard on the table. + +"GREASER, COME ON!" he thundered. + +Then Beasley, with desperate, frantic action, jerked for his gun. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +For Helen Rayner that brief, dark period of expulsion from her home had +become a thing of the past, almost forgotten. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"If Tom doesn't come back pretty soon I'll marry Milt Dale," retorted +Bo, tauntingly. + +This fired Helen's cheeks with red. + +"But, child," she protested, half angry, half grave. "Milt and I are +engaged." + +"Sure. Only you're so slow. There's many a slip--you know." + +"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." + +"Oh! WAS he?" + +"Very much more than you deserved, Bo Rayner." + +Then occurred one of Bo's sweet, bewildering, unexpected +transformations. Her defiance, resentment, rebelliousness, vanished from +a softly agitated face. + +"Oh, Nell, I know that.... You just watch me if I ever get another +chance at him!... Then--maybe he'd never drink again!" + +"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." + +Bo recovered her equanimity quickly enough. + +"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!" + +Bo was not to be consoled or changed. Helen could only sigh and pray +that her convictions would be verified. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I--I was just looking away yonder," he said, smiling. She thrilled at +the clear, wonderful light of his eyes. + +"So was I--a moment ago," she replied, wistfully. "Do you miss the +forest--very much?" + +"Nell, I miss nothing. But I'd like to ride with you under the pines +once more." + +"We'll go," she cried. + +"When?" he asked, eagerly. + +"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. + +As she entered the lane leading to the house she encountered one of the +new stable-boys driving a pack-mule. + +"Jim, whose pack is that?" she asked. + +"Ma'am, I dunno, but I heard him tell Roy he reckoned his name was mud," +replied the boy, smiling. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Tom!" she exclaimed, and offered her hands. + +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. + +"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. + +"Bo? Oh, she's well--fine. I--I rather think she'll be glad to see you," +replied Helen, warmly. + +"An' how's thet big Indian, Dale?" he drawled. + +"Well, too--I'm sure." + +"Reckon I got back heah in time to see you-all married?" + +"I--I assure you I--no one around here has been married yet," replied +Helen, with a blush. + +"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." + +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. + +"Well, I'm jealous," declared Helen, archly. "I never did see such a +pony." + +"I reckoned you'd never ride any hoss but Ranger," said Las Vegas. + +"No, I never will. But I can be jealous, anyhow, can't I?" + +"Shore. An I reckon if you say you're goin' to have him--wal, Bo 'd be +funny," he drawled. + +"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. + +Then the door of the living-room opened, and a sweet, high voice pealed +out: + +"Roy! Oh, what a mustang! Whose is he?" + +"Wal, Bo, if all I hear is so he belongs to you," replied Roy with a +huge grin. + +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. + +"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. + +"Tom, I'm glad to see you," she replied. + +They shook hands as old friends. + +"You're lookin' right fine," he said. + +"Oh, I'm well.... And how have you been these six months?" she queried. + +"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." + +"Heart trouble?" she echoed, dubiously. + +"Shore.... I ate too much over heah in New Mexico." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"What's his name?" she asked. + +"Blue somethin' or other," replied Roy. + +"Tom, has my new mustang a name?" asked Bo, turning to the cowboy. + +"Shore." + +"What then?" + +"Wal, I named him Blue-Bo," answered Las Vegas, with a smile. + +"Blue-Boy?" + +"Nope. He's named after you. An' I chased him, roped him, broke him all +myself." + +"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." + +"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." + +"What!" exclaimed Bo, who was startled by his slow, cool, meaning tone, +of voice. + +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. + +"Bo Rayner," drawled Las Vegas, "thet blue mustang will be yours, an' +you can ride him--when you're MRS. TOM CARMICHAEL!" + +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. + +"Do you mean that?" she cried. + +"Shore do." + +"Bah! It's only a magnificent bluff," she retorted. "You're only in fun. +It's your--your darned nerve!" + +"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." + +All the same, signs were not wanting in his mobile face that he was +almost unable to restrain his mirth. + +Helen realized then that Bo saw through the cowboy--that the ultimatum +was only one of his tricks. + +"It IS a bluff and I CALL you!" declared Bo, ringingly. + +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. + +"I'll ride Blue-Bo this afternoon," deliberately stated the girl. + +Las Vegas had wit enough to grasp her meaning, and he seemed about to +collapse. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +"No, Tom, you're just happy," said Helen. + +Between her and Roy the cowboy was at length persuaded to accept the +situation and to see his wonderful opportunity. + +"Now--now, Miss Helen--what'd Bo mean by pre--presentable bridegroom?... +Presents? Lord, I'm clean busted flat!" + +"She meant you must dress up in your best, of course," replied Helen. + +"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." + +"Wal, old man, if you'll brace up I'll marry you to Bo," said Roy, with +his glad grin. + +"Aw!" gasped Las Vegas, as if at the coming of a sudden beautiful hope. + +"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." + +Las Vegas reached for his friend as a drowning man might have reached +for solid rock. + +"Roy, can you really marry them--with my Bible--and the service of my +church?" asked Helen, a happy hope flushing her face. + +"Wal, indeed I can. I've married more 'n one couple whose religion +wasn't mine." + +"B-b-before--d-d-din-ner!" burst out Las Vegas, like a stuttering idiot. + +"I reckon. Come on, now, an' make yourself pre-senttible," said Roy. +"Miss Helen, you tell Bo thet it's all settled." + +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. + +"Bring Dale," called Helen, softly after them. + + +So it came about as naturally as it was wonderful that Bo rode the blue +mustang before the afternoon ended. + +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. + +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. + +"And take Bo--and Tom? Oh, of all things I'd like to'" she replied. + +"Yes--an' Roy, too," added Dale, significantly. + +"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?" + +"It was Tom who got me to ask you," replied Dale. "John an' Hal can look +after the men while we're gone." + +"Oh--so Tom put it in your head? I guess--maybe--I won't go." + +"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." + +"Ah! Did Las Vegas Tom Carmichael say that, too?" inquired Helen, +softly. + +"Nell, do you want to know what Las Vegas said?" + +"By all means." + +"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." + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, come on," said Dale, as he led on. "It's better to look up." + + +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. + +"Come, Helen an' Dale," he said. + +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. + +"Let us pray," said Roy, as he closed the Bible, and knelt with them. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Then he kissed her. Bo came next with her warm and loving felicitations, +and the cowboy, with characteristic action, also made at Helen. + +"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--!" + +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. + +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. + +"Roy, please stay," implored Helen. "The day's almost ended. You're +tired." + +"Nope. I'll never be no third party when there's only two." + +"But there are four of us." + +"Didn't I just make you an' Dale one?... An', Mrs. Dale, you forget I've +been married more 'n once." + +Helen found herself confronted by an unanswerable side of the argument. +Las Vegas rolled on the grass in his mirth. Dale looked strange. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Bo's blue eyes expressed an eloquent doubt as to this extraordinary +claim. + +"Good-by, friends," said Roy, and rode away to disappear in the spruces. + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, do you miss anythin'?" asked Dale. + +"No. Nothing in all the world," she murmured. "I am happier than I ever +dared pray to be." + +"I don't mean people or things. I mean my pets." + +"Ah! I had forgotten.... Milt, where are they?" + +"Gone back to the wild," he said. "They had to live in my absence. An' +I've been away long." + +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. + +"That's Tom!" exclaimed Dale. + +"Oh--I was so--so frightened!" whispered Helen. + +Bo came running, with Las Vegas at her heels. + +"Milt, that was your tame cougar," cried Bo, excitedly. "Oh, I'll never +forget him! I'll hear those cries in my dreams!" + +"Yes, it was Tom," said Dale, thoughtfully. "But I never heard him cry +just like that." + +"Oh, call him in!" + +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. + +"He scented us. He remembers. But he'll never come back," said Dale. + + +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. + +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. + +"Nell, I'll homestead this park," said Dale. "Then it'll always be +ours." + +"Homestead! What's that?" murmured Helen, dreamily. The word sounded +sweet. + +"The government will give land to men who locate an' build," replied +Dale. "We'll run up a log cabin." + +"And come here often.... Paradise Park!" whispered Helen. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + + +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.txt or 3457.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 + +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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