Books: The Man of the Forest
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Zane Grey >> The Man of the Forest
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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, 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 man!
"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.
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