CHAPTER II.
AS THE SUN ROSE.
Do you know the region of the Kootenai that lies in the northwest cornerof a most northwestern state--where the "bunch-grass" of the grazinglevels bends even now under a chance wild stallion and his harem ofsilken-coated mates; where fair upland "parks" spread back from the coolrush of the rivers; where the glittering peaks of the mountains glow atthe rise and fall of night like the lances of a guard invincible, thatlift their grand silence as a barrier against the puny strife of theoutside world?
Do you know what it is to absorb the elastic breath of the mountains atthe awakening of day? To stand far above the levels and watch the faintamethystine peaks catch one by one their cap of gold flung to them froman invisible sun? To feel the blood thrill with the fever of an infinitepossession as the eyes look out alone over a seemingly creaturelessscene of vastness, of indefiniteness of all vague promise, in thegrowing light of day? To feel the cool crispness of the heights,tempered by the soft "Chinook" winds? To feel the fresh wet dews of themorning on your hands and on your face, and to know them in a dim wayodorous--odorous with the virginity of the hills--of the day dawn, withall the sweet things of form or feeling that the new day brings into newlife?
A girl on Scot's Mountain seemed to breathe in all that intoxication ofthe hill country, as she stood on a little level, far above the smoke ofthe camp-fire, and watched the glowing, growing lights on the far peaks.A long time she had stood there, her riding-dress gathered up above thedamp grass, her cap in her hand, and her brown hair tossing in a bath ofthe winds. Twice a shrill whistle had called her to the camp hidden bythe spruce boughs, but she had only glanced down toward the valley,shook her head mutinously, and returned to the study of her panorama;for it seemed so entirely her own--displaying its beauties for her solesurprisal--that it seemed discourteous to ignore it or descend to lowerlevels during that changing carnival of color. So she just nodded anegative to her unseen whistler below, determined not to leave, even atthe risk of getting the leavings of the breakfast--not a small item to ayoung woman with a healthy, twenty-year-old appetite.
Something at last distracted that wrapt attention. What was it? Sheheard no sound, had noticed no movement but the stir of the wind in theleaves and the grasses, yet she shrugged her shoulders with a twitchymovement of being disturbed and not knowing by what. Then she gatheredher skirts a little closer in her hand and took a step or so backward inan uncertain way, and a moment later clapped the cap on her tumbledhair, and turned around, looking squarely into the face of a strangernot a dozen steps from her, who was watching her with rather sombre,curious eyes. Their steady gaze accounted for the mesmeric disturbance,but her quick turn gave her revenge, for he flushed to the roots of hisdark hair as she caught him watching her like that, and he did not speakjust at first. He lifted his wide-brimmed hat, evidently with theintention of greeting her, but his tongue was a little unruly, and heonly looked at her, and she at him.
They stood so in reality only a flash of seconds, though it seemed acontinuous stare of minutes to both; then the humorous side of thesituation appealed to the girl, and her lips twitched ever so slightlyas she recovered her speech first and said demurely:
"Good morning, sir."
"How are you?" he returned; and having regained the use of his tongue,he added, in an easier way: "You'll excuse me, lady, if I sort of scaredyou?"
"Oh, no, I was not at all startled," she answered hastily, "only alittle surprised."
"Yes," he agreed, "so was I. That's why I stood there a-staring atyou--couldn't just make out if you were real or a ghost, though I neverbefore saw even the ghost of a white woman in this region."
"And you were watching to see if I would vanish into thin air like aMacbeth witch, were you?" she asked quizzically.
He might be on his native heath and she an interloper, but she was muchthe most at her ease--evidently a young lady of adaptability andconsiderable self-possession. His eyes had grown wavering and uncertainin their glances, and that flush made him still look awkward, and shewondered if Macbeth's witches were not unheard-of individuals to him,and she noticed with those direct, comprehensive eyes that a suit ofbuckskin can be wonderfully becoming to tall, lazy-looking men, and thatwide, light sombreros have quite an artistic effect as a frame for darkhair and eyes; and through that decision she heard him say:
"No. I wasn't watching you for anything special, only if you were a realwoman, I reckoned you were prospecting around looking for the trail,and--and so I just waited to see, knowing you were a stranger."
"And is that all you know about me?" she asked mischievously. "I knowmuch more than that about you."
"How much?"
"Oh, I know you're just coming from Davy MacDougall's, and you are goingto Hardy's camp to act as commander-in-chief of the eastern tramps init, and your name is Mr. Jack Genesee--and--and--that is all."
"Yes, I reckon it is," he agreed, looking at her in astonishment. "It'sa good deal, considering you never saw me before, and I don't know--"
"And you don't know who I am," she rejoined easily. "Well, I can tellyou that, too. I'm a wanderer from Kentucky, prospecting, as you wouldcall it, for something new in this Kootenai country of yours, and myname is Rachel Hardy."
"That's a good, square statement," he smiled, put at his ease by thegirl's frankness. "So you're one of the party I'm to look after on thiscultus corrie?"
"Yes, I'm one of them--Cousin Hardy says the most troublesome of thelot, because I always want to be doing just the things I've no businessto"; then she looked at him and laughed a little. "I tell you this atonce," she added, "so you will know what a task you have undertaken, andif you're timid, you might back out before it's too late--are youtimid?"
"Do I look it?"
"N--no"; but she didn't give him the scrutiny she had at first--only aswift glance and a little hurry to her next question: "What was thatqueer term you used when speaking of our trip--cul--cultus?"
"Oh, cultus corrie! That's Chinook for pleasure ride."
"Is it? What queer words they have. Cousin Harry was telling me it was amongrel language, made up of Indian, French, English, and any straywords from other tongues that were adjustable to it. Is it hard tolearn?"
"I think not--I learned it."
"What becoming modesty in that statement!" she laughed quizzically."Come, Mr. Jack Genesee, suppose we begin our cultus corrie by eatingbreakfast together; they've been calling me for the past half-hour."
He whistled for Mowitza, and Miss Rachel Hardy recognized at once theexcellence of this silken-coated favorite.
"Mowitza; what a musical name!" she remarked as she followed the newguide to the trail leading down the mountain. "It sounds Russian--isit?"
"No; another Chinook word--look out there; these stones are bad ones tobalance on, they're too round, and that gully is too deep below to makeit safe."
"I'm all right," she announced in answer to the warning as she amusedherself by hopping bird-like from one round, insecure bowlder toanother, and sending several bounding and crashing into the gully thatcut deep into the heart of the mountain. "I can manage to keep my feeton your hills, even if I can't speak their language. By the way, Isuppose you don't care to add Professor of Languages to your othertitles, do you, Mr. Jack Genesee?"
"I reckon I'm in the dark now, Miss, sort of blind-fold--can't catchonto what you mean."
"Oh, I was just thinking I might take up the study of Chinook while outhere, and go back home overwhelming the natives by my novelaccomplishment." And she laughed so merrily at the idea, and looked soquizzically at Genesee Jack's dark, serious face, that he smiled insympathy.
They had only covered half the trail leading down to the camp, butalready, through the slightly strange and altogether unconventionalmeeting, she found herself making remarks to him with the freedom of along-known chum, and rather enjoying the curious, puzzled look withwhich he regarded her when she was quick enough to catch him looking ather at all.
"Sto
p a moment," she said, just as the trail plunged from the open faceof the mountain into the shadow of spruce and cedar. "You see this everymorning, I suppose, but it is a grand treat to me. See how the light hascrept clear down to the level land now. I came up here long before therewas a sign of the sun, for I knew the picture would be worth it. Isn'tit beautiful?"
Her eyes, alight with youth and enthusiasm, were turned for a last lookat the sun-kissed country below, to which she directed his attentionwith one bare, outstretched hand.
"Yes, it is," he agreed; but his eyes were not on the valley of theKootenai, but on the girl's face.
Told in the Hills: A Novel Page 3