The Man of the Forest

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER VIII

  Once astride the horse again, Helen had to congratulate herself upon notbeing so crippled as she had imagined. Indeed, Bo made all the audiblecomplaints.

  Both girls had long water-proof coats, brand-new, and of which they wereconsiderably proud. New clothes had not been a common event in theirlives.

  "Reckon I'll have to slit these," Dale had said, whipping out a hugeknife.

  "What for?" had been Bo's feeble protest.

  "They wasn't made for ridin'. An' you'll get wet enough even if I do cutthem. 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 ofthe case was manifest to Helen, when she saw how they came down over thecantles of the saddles and to their boot-tops.

  The morning was gray and cold. A fine, misty rain fell and the treesdripped steadily. Helen was surprised to see the open country again andthat apparently they were to leave the forest behind for a while. Thecountry was wide and flat on the right, and to the left it rolled andheaved along a black, scalloped timber-line. Above this bordering ofthe forest low, drifting clouds obscured the mountains. The wind was atHelen'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, butit gave Helen an inkling of what she must endure if they kept that upall day. She began to welcome the places where the horses walked, butshe disliked the levels. As for the descents, she hated those. Rangerwould not go down slowly and the shake-up she received was unpleasant.Moreover, the spirited black horse insisted on jumping the ditches andwashes. He sailed over them like a bird. Helen could not acquire theknack of sitting the saddle properly, and so, not only was her personbruised on these occasions, but her feelings were hurt. Helen hadnever before been conscious of vanity. Still, she had never rejoicedin looking at a disadvantage, and her exhibitions here must have beenfrightful. Bo always would forge to the front, and she seldom lookedback, for which Helen was grateful.

  Before long they struck into a broad, muddy belt, full of innumerablesmall hoof tracks. This, then, was the sheep trail Roy had advisedfollowing. 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 theair was full of bleats and baas as well as the odor of sheep, and alow, soft roar of pattering hoofs. The flock held a compact formation,covering several acres, and grazed along rapidly. There were threeherders on horses and several pack-burros. Dale engaged one of theMexicans in conversation, and passed something to him, then pointednorthward and down along the trail. The Mexican grinned from ear to ear,and Helen caught the quick "SI, SENOR! GRACIAS, SENOR!" It was a prettysight, that flock of sheep, as it rolled along like a rounded woollystream of grays and browns and here and there a black. They were keepingto 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 streakof sunshine. But the augury was without warrant. The wind increased. Ahuge black pall bore down from the mountains and it brought rain thatcould be seen falling in sheets from above and approaching like aswiftly moving wall. Soon it enveloped the fugitives.

  With head bowed, Helen rode along for what seemed ages in a cold, grayrain that blew almost on a level. Finally the heavy downpour passed,leaving a fine mist. The clouds scurried low and dark, hiding themountains 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. Andthey were cold. Her gloves, too, had not been intended for rain, andthey were wet through. The cold bit at her fingers so that she had tobeat her hands together. Ranger misunderstood this to mean that he wasto trot faster, which event was worse for Helen than freezing.

  She saw another black, scudding mass of clouds bearing down with itstrailing sheets of rain, and this one appeared streaked with white.Snow! The wind was now piercingly cold. Helen's body kept warm, buther extremities and ears began to suffer exceedingly. She gazed aheadgrimly. There was no help; she had to go on. Dale and Roy were huncheddown in their saddles, probably wet through, for they wore no rain-proofcoats. Bo kept close behind them, and plain it was that she felt thecold.

  This second storm was not so bad as the first, because there was lessrain. Still, the icy keenness of the wind bit into the marrow. It lastedfor an hour, during which the horses trotted on, trotted on. Again thegray torrent roared away, the fine mist blew, the clouds lifted andseparated, and, closing again, darkened for another onslaught. This onebrought sleet. The driving pellets stung Helen's neck and cheeks, andfor a while they fell so thick and so hard upon her back that she wasafraid she could not hold up under them. The bare places on the groundshowed a sparkling coverlet of marbles of ice.

  Thus, storm after storm rolled over Helen's head. Her feet grew numband ceased to hurt. But her fingers, because of her ceaseless effortsto keep up the circulation, retained the stinging pain. And now the windpierced right through her. She marveled at her endurance, and there weremany times that she believed she could not ride farther. Yet she kepton. All the winters she had ever lived had not brought such a day asthis. Hard and cold, wet and windy, at an increasing elevation--that wasthe explanation. The air did not have sufficient oxygen for her blood.

  Still, during all those interminable hours, Helen watched where she wastraveling, and if she ever returned over that trail she would recognizeit. The afternoon appeared far advanced when Dale and Roy led down intoan immense basin where a reedy lake spread over the flats. They rodealong its margin, splashing up to the knees of the horses. Cranes andherons flew on with lumbering motion; flocks of ducks winged swiftflight from one side to the other. Beyond this depression the landsloped rather abruptly; outcroppings of rock circled along the edge ofthe highest ground, and again a dark fringe of trees appeared.

  How many miles! wondered Helen. They seemed as many and as long asthe hours. But at last, just as another hard rain came, the pineswere reached. They proved to be widely scattered and afforded littleprotection from the storm.

  Helen sat her saddle, a dead weight. Whenever Ranger quickened his gaitor crossed a ditch she held on to the pommel to keep from fallingoff. Her mind harbored only sensations of misery, and a persistentthought--why did she ever leave home for the West? Her solicitude for Bohad been forgotten. Nevertheless, any marked change in the topographyof the country was registered, perhaps photographed on her memory by thetorturing vividness of her experience.

  The forest grew more level and denser. Shadows of twilight or gloom layunder the trees. Presently Dale and Roy, disappeared, going downhill,and likewise Bo. Then Helen's ears suddenly filled with a roar of rapidwater. Ranger trotted faster. Soon Helen came to the edge of a greatvalley, black and gray, so full of obscurity that she could not seeacross or down into it. But she knew there was a rushing river atthe 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 respondedexcruciatingly to concussions, jars, wrenches, and all the otherhorrible 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, throughwhich 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 wateras if she had been used to it all her days. A slip, a fall, would havemeant that Bo must drown in that mountain torrent.

  Ranger trotted straight to the edge, and there, obedient to Helen'sclutch on the bridle, he halted. The stream was fifty feet wide, shallowon the near side, deep on the opposite, with fast current and big waves.Helen was simply too frightened to follow.
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  "Let him come!" yelled Dale. "Stick on now!... Ranger!"

  The big black plunged in, making the water fly. That stream was nothingfor him, though it seemed impassable to Helen. She had not the strengthleft to lift her stirrups and the water surged over them. Ranger, in twomore plunges, surmounted the bank, and then, trotting across the greento where the other horses stood steaming under some pines, he gave agreat heave and halted.

  Roy reached up to help her off.

  "Thirty miles, Miss Helen," he said, and the way he spoke was acompliment.

  He had to lift her off and help her to the tree where Bo leaned. Dalehad ripped off a saddle and was spreading saddle-blankets on the groundunder the pine.

  "Nell--you swore--you loved me!" was Bo's mournful greeting. The girlwas 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 Iam!" cried Helen. "Oh, what a horrible ride!"

  Rain was falling, the trees were dripping, the sky was lowering. All theground was soaking wet, with pools and puddles everywhere. Helen couldimagine nothing but a heartless, dreary, cold prospect. Just then homewas vivid and poignant in her thoughts. Indeed, so utterly miserablewas she that the exquisite relief of sitting down, of a cessation ofmovement, of a release from that infernal perpetual-trotting horse,seemed only a mockery. It could not be true that the time had come forrest.

  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 logand brought it down hard upon the ground, splitting off pieces. Severaltimes he did this. It was amazing to see his strength, his facility, ashe 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 smokedrifted up over Dale's shoulder as he leaned, bareheaded, sheltering thesplinters with his hat. A blaze leaped up. Roy came with an armful ofstrips all white and dry, out of the inside of a log. Crosswise thesewere laid over the blaze, and it began to roar. Then piece by piece themen built up a frame upon which they added heavier woods, branchesand stumps and logs, erecting a pyramid through which flames and smokeroared upward. It had not taken two minutes. Already Helen felt thewarmth 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 tarrybeside the fire. They relieved the horses. A lasso went up between twopines, and a tarpaulin over it, V-shaped and pegged down at the fourends. The packs containing the baggage of the girls and the supplies andbedding were placed under this shelter.

  Helen thought this might have taken five minutes more. In this shortspace 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 roaringblaze, ten feet high, no water fell. It evaporated. The ground began tosteam and to dry. Helen suffered at first while the heat was driving outthe 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 thedreary, sodden forest, but that great camp-fire made it a differentworld from the one Helen had anticipated. It blazed and roared, crackedlike a pistol, hissed and sputtered, shot sparks everywhere, and sentaloft a dense, yellow, whirling column of smoke. It began to have aheart of gold.

  Dale took a long pole and raked out a pile of red embers upon which thecoffee-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 forcake and pie! I never appreciated good things to eat. And I've been alittle pig, always. I never--never knew what it was to be hungry--untilnow."

  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 beentransformed from misery to comfort!

  The rain kept on falling, though it appeared to grow softer as nightsettled down black. The wind died away and the forest was still, exceptfor the steady roar of the stream. A folded tarpaulin was laid betweenthe pine and the fire, well in the light and warmth, and upon it themen set steaming pots and plates and cups, the fragrance from which wasstrong and inviting.

  "Fetch the saddle-blanket an' set with your backs to the fire," saidRoy.

  Later, when the girls were tucked away snugly in their blankets andsheltered from the rain, Helen remained awake after Bo had fallenasleep. The big blaze made the improvised tent as bright as day. Shecould see the smoke, the trunk of the big pine towering aloft, anda blank space of sky. The stream hummed a song, seemingly musical attimes, and then discordant and dull, now low, now roaring, and alwaysrushing, 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, withsatisfaction.

  "What wasn't sheeped over would be washed out. We've had luck. An' now Iain'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'sbound 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'shot. He'll bunch his men an' strike for the mountains to find hisnieces."

  "Wal, all you've got to do is to keep the girls hid till I can guide himup to your camp. Or, failin' thet, till you can slip the girls down toPine."

  "No one but you an' your brothers ever seen my senaca. But it could befound 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 ableedin' deer. An' if he ever gets near your camp I'll ride in ahead ofhim."

  "Good!" declared Dale. "I was calculatin' you'd go down to Pine, sooneror later."

  "Not unless Anson goes. I told John thet in case there was no fight onthe stage to make a bee-line back to Pine. He was to tell Al an' offerhis 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 upwith Beasley. I'm a hossman, not a hunter. You're used to shootin' fliesoff deer's horns, jest for practice."

  "Roy, can we make my camp by to-morrow night?" queried Dale, moreseriously.

  "We will, if each of us has to carry one of the girls. But they'll do itor 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 somewhen I was a boy, but I was only fourteen then. Never had much use forgirls."

  "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 ofa Mormon with two wives?" returned Roy, and then he laughed heartily.

  "I never could stomach what I did hear pertainin' to more than one wifefor a man."

  "Wal, my friend, you go an' get yourself ONE. A
n' see then if youwouldn'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 youfeel 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 livehereafter."

  "Wal," replied Roy, hesitatingly, "I don't go in so deep as thet. I meana son goes on with your blood an' your work."

  "Exactly... An', Roy, I envy you what you ve got, because it's out ofall 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 horsetrod thuddingly near by and from that direction came a cutting tear ofteeth on grass.

  A voice pierced Helen's deep dreams and, awaking, she found Bo shakingand calling her.

  "Are you dead?" came the gay voice.

  "Almost. Oh, my back's broken," replied Helen. The desire to move seemedclamped in a vise, and even if that came she believed the effort wouldbe impossible.

  "Roy called us," said Bo. "He said hurry. I thought I'd die just sittingup, 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 acther 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 swollenand the boot appeared shrunken. She could not get it half on, thoughshe expended what little strength seemed left in her aching arms. Shegroaned.

  Bo laughed wickedly. Her hair was tousled, her eyes dancing, her cheeksred.

  "Be game!" she said. "Stand up like a real Western girl and PULL yourboot on."

  Whether Bo's scorn or advice made the task easier did not occur toHelen, but the fact was that she got into her boots. Walking andmoving a little appeared to loosen the stiff joints and ease that tiredfeeling. The water of the stream where the girls washed was colder thanany 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 ableto 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. Miltain'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 perhapshalf an hour; then the horses came thudding down, with Dale and Royriding bareback.

  By the time all was in readiness to start the sun was up, melting thefrost and ice, so that a dazzling, bright mist, full of rainbows, shoneunder 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 shortcut 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," saidDale, 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 usto-night," said Roy. "An' I reckon we'll split up here where I'll haveto strike out on thet short cut."

  Bo mounted without a helping hand, but Helen's limbs were so stiff thatshe could not get astride the high Ranger without assistance. The hunterheaded 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 slopewas surmounted Helen's aches were not so bad. The saddle appeared tofit her better, and the gait of the horse was not so unfamiliar. Shereflected, however, that she always had done pretty well uphill. Here itwas beautiful forest-land, uneven and wilder. They rode for a time alongthe rim, with the white rushing stream in plain sight far below, withits 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 inthe 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 abunch. 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. Daledismounted, without drawing his rifle from its saddle-sheath, andapproached Roy.

  "Buck an' two does," he said, low-voiced. "An' they've winded us, butdon't see us yet.... Girls, ride up closer."

  Following the directions indicated by Dale's long arm, Helen looked downthe slope. It was open, with tall pines here and there, and clumps ofsilver spruce, and aspens shining like gold in the morning sunlight.Presently Bo exclaimed: "Oh, look! I see! I see!" Then Helen's rovingglance passed something different from green and gold and brown.Shifting back to it she saw a magnificent stag, with noble spreadingantlers, standing like a statue, his head up in alert and wild posture.His color was gray. Beside him grazed two deer of slighter and moregraceful 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' tellme 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 buckstood 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 hisshoulder. Try again an' aim at his legs."

  Roy now took a quicker aim and pulled trigger. A puff of dust right atthe feet of the buck showed where Roy's lead had struck this time. Witha single bound, wonderful to see, the big deer was out of sight behindtrees and brush. The does leaped after him.

  "Doggone the luck!" ejaculated Roy, red in the face, as he worked thelever of his rifle. "Never could shoot downhill, nohow!"

  His rueful apology to the girls for missing brought a merry laugh fromBo.

  "Not for worlds would I have had you kill that beautiful deer!" sheexclaimed.

  "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 edgeof the intersecting canuon. At length they rode down to the bottom,where a tiny brook babbled through willows, and they followed this fora mile or so down to where it flowed into the larger stream. A dim trailovergrown with grass showed at this point.

  "Here's where we part," said Dale. "You'll beat me into my camp, butI'll get there sometime after dark."

  "Hey, Milt, I forgot about thet darned pet cougar of yours an' the restof your menagerie. Reckon they won't scare the girls? Especially oldTom?"

  "You won't see To
m 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 thepack-train before him up the open space between the stream and thewooded slope.

  Roy stepped off his horse with that single action which appeared such afeat to Helen.

  "Guess I'd better cinch up," he said, as he threw a stirrup up over thepommel 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 loveyou, 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 darntame, Milt says. But I can't figger thet. You girls will never want toleave thet senaca of his."

  "What's a senaca?" asked Helen, as she shifted her foot to let himtighten the cinches on her saddle.

  "Thet's Mexican for park, I guess," he replied. "These mountains arefull of parks; an', say, I don't ever want to see no prettier place tillI get to heaven.... There, Ranger, old boy, thet's tight."

  He slapped the horse affectionately, and, turning to his own, he steppedand 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 bedeceptive.

  "Wal, girls, here beginneth the second lesson," he drawled, cheerily."Ride one behind the other--stick close to me--do what I do--an' hollerwhen 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, andthe result was that a low-sweeping branch of a tree knocked her hardon the head. It hurt and startled her, and roused her mettle. Roy waskeeping to the easy trot that covered ground so well, and he led upa slope to the open pine forest. Here the ride for several miles wasstraight, level, and open. Helen liked the forest to-day. It was brownand green, with patches of gold where the sun struck. She saw her firstbird--big blue grouse that whirred up from under her horse, and littlecheckered gray quail that appeared awkward on the wing. Several timesRoy pointed out deer flashing gray across some forest aisle, and oftenwhen he pointed Helen was not quick enough to see.

  Helen realized that this ride would make up for the hideous one ofyesterday. So far she had been only barely conscious of sore placesand aching bones. These she would bear with. She loved the wild and thebeautiful, both of which increased manifestly with every mile. The sunwas warm, the air fragrant and cool, the sky blue as azure and so deepthat 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!" criedBo.

  Helen had missed her opportunity.

  "Reckon he was a grizzly, an' I'm jest as well pleased thet he lopedoff," said Roy. Altering his course somewhat, he led to an old rottenlog that the bear had been digging in. "After grubs. There, see histrack. 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 rangeswere bold and long, climbing to the central uplift, where a number offringed 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 downand around an' mebbe I'll get a shot."

  Descent beyond a rocky point was made through thick brush. This slopeconsisted of wide benches covered with copses and scattered pines andmany oaks. Helen was delighted to see the familiar trees, although thesewere 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 itwas in delight. Then Helen saw an immense flock of turkeys, apparentlylike the turkeys she knew at home, but these had bronze and checksof white, and they looked wild. There must have been a hundred in theflock, most of them hens. A few gobblers on the far side began theflight, running swiftly off. Helen plainly heard the thud of theirfeet. Roy shot once--twice--three times. Then rose a great commotion andthumping, and a loud roar of many wings. Dust and leaves whirling in theair 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 andremounted his horse. "We'll have turkey to-night, if Milt gets to campin time."

  The ride was resumed. Helen never would have tired riding through thoseoak groves, brown and sear and yellow, with leaves and acorns falling.

  "Bears have been workin' in here already," said Roy. "I see tracks allover. 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 thatdodging branches was no light task. Ranger did not seem to care howclose 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 vegetationand in places covered with a thick scum. But it had a current and anoutlet, proving it to be a huge, spring. Roy pointed down at a muddyplace.

  "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 oldshe-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 itparticular kind of this old she rustlin' off with her cub. She-bearswith cubs are dangerous."

  The next place to stir Helen to enthusiasm was the glen at the bottomof this canuon. Beech-trees, maples, aspens, overtopped by loftypines, made dense shade over a brook where trout splashed on the brown,swirling current, and leaves drifted down, and stray flecks of goldensunlight lightened the gloom. Here was hard riding to and fro across thebrook, between huge mossy boulders, and between aspens so close togetherthat 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 ontill the sun stood straight overhead. Then he halted for a short rest,unsaddled the horses to let them roll, and gave the girls some coldlunch that he had packed. He strolled off with his gun, and, uponreturning, resaddled and gave the word to start.

  That was the last of rest and easy traveling for the girls. The forestthat he struck into seemed ribbed like a washboard with deep ravinesso steep of slope as to make precarious travel. Mostly he kept to thebottom where dry washes afforded a kind of trail. But it was necessaryto cross these ravines when they were too long to be headed, and thiscrossing was work.

  The locust thickets characteristic of these slopes were thorny and closeknit. They tore and scratched and stung both horses and riders. Rangerappeared to be the most intelligent of the horses and suffered less.Bo's white mustang dragged her through more than one brambly place. Onthe other hand, some of these steep slopes, were comparatively free ofunderbrush. Great firs and pines loomed up on all sides. The earth wassoft and the hoofs sank dee
p. Toward the bottom of a descent Rangerwould brace his front feet and then slide down on his haunches. Thismode facilitated travel, but it frightened Helen. The climb out then onthe other side had to be done on foot.

  After half a dozen slopes surmounted in this way Helen's strength wasspent and her breath was gone. She felt light-headed. She could not getenough 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 upthe long ride, she was glad to be on her feet. But she could only dragone foot up after the other. Then, when her nose began to bleed, sherealized that it was the elevation which was causing all the trouble.Her heart, however, did not hurt her, though she was conscious of anoppression on her breast.

  At last Roy led into a ravine so deep and wide and full of forestverdure that it appeared impossible to cross. Nevertheless, he starteddown, dismounting after a little way. Helen found that leading Rangerdown was worse than riding him. He came fast and he would step rightin her tracks. She was not quick enough to get away from him. Twicehe stepped on her foot, and again his broad chest hit her shoulder andthrew her flat. When he began to slide, near the bottom, Helen had torun 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 downthe 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 hadworked 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, becauseRanger 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 duga deep trail zigzag up that treacherous slide. Helen made the mistakeof starting to follow in their tracks, and when she realized this Rangerwas climbing fast, almost dragging her, and it was too late to getabove. Helen began to labor. She slid down right in front of Ranger. Theintelligent animal, with a snort, plunged out of the trail to keep fromstepping 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, strainingon the bridle.

  "Let go!" yelled Roy.

  Helen dropped the bridle just as a heavy slide began to move withRanger. He snorted fiercely, and, rearing high, in a mighty plunge hegained solid ground. Helen was buried to her knees, but, extricatingherself, 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 andBo at the top.

  Roy appeared at a loss as to which way to go. He rode to high ground andlooked in all directions. To Helen, one way appeared as wild and roughas another, and all was yellow, green, and black under the westeringsun. Roy rode a short distance in one direction, then changed foranother.

  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 Ican tell which way thet was."

  Helen gazed at him in consternation.

  "Lost!" she echoed.