The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1922-12-22

empty. The jerked venison was al
most gone; only little flour and a
few canned things remained. She had
space for only small supplies on the
horses back, and there would be no
luxuries among them. Their fare mad
been plain up to this time; but from
now on it was to consist of only such
things as were absolutely necessary to
sustain life.
She rode unarmed. Without inform
ing him of the fact, the rifle had been
left for Bruce. She did not expect
for herself a rifle shot from ambush
for the simple reason that Simon had
hidden otherwise Bruce might be
attacked at any moment.
She was dreaming dreams, that day.
The talk with Bruce had given her
fresh heart, and as she rode down the
sunlit trail the future opened up en-
trancing vistas to her. Perhaps they
yet could conquer, and that would
mean re-establishment on the far-f1ung
lands OF her father. Matthew Folger
had possessed fertile farm also, and
its green pastures might still be util-
lied. 1t suddenly occurred to her that
1t would be of interest to turn off
the main trail, take little dim path
up the ridge that she had discovered
years before, and look over these lands.
The hour was early; besides, Bruce
would find her report of the greatest
interest.
She logged slowly along In the west
ern fashion-which means something
quite different from army fashion or
sportsman fashion. Western riders do
not post. Riding Is not exercise to
them; it is rest. They hang limp in
the saddle, and all jar is taken up, as
If by spring, somewhere in the region
Of the floating ribs that only physi-
clan can correctly designate. They
never sit firm, these western riders,
and as q rule their riding is not par
ticularly graceful thing to watch. But
they do not care greatly about grace
as long as they may encompass their
fifty miles a day and still be fresh
enough for country dance at night.
There are many other differences in
western and eastern riding, one of
them being the way in which the
horse is mounted. Another difference
is the riding habit. Linda had no trim
riding trousers, with tall, glossy boots,
red coat and stock. 1t was rather
doubtful whether she knew such things
existed. She did, however, wear a
trim riding skirt of khaki and middle
blouse washed spotlessly clean by her
own hands; and no one would have
missed the other things 1t is an in
diSputable fact that she made a rather
alluring picture-eyes bright and hair
dark and strong arms bare to the ell
bow-as she came riding down the
pine-needle trail.
She came to the opening of the dim
mer trail and turned down it. She
entered still glen. and the color in
her cheeks and the soft brown of her
arms blended well with the new tints
Of the autumn leaves. Then she turned
up long ridge.
The trail led through an old burn
bleak, eerie place where the fire had
swept down the forest, leaving only
strange, black palings here and there
and she stopped in the middle of It
to look down. The mountain world
was laid out below her as clearly as
in relief map. Her eyes lighted as
it's beauty and its fearsomeness went
home to her, and her keen eyes slowly
swept over the surrounding hill tops.
Then for long moment she sat very
still in the saddle.
A thousand feet distant, on the same
ridge on which she rode, she caught
sight of another horse. 1t held her
gaze, and in an instant she discerned
the rather startling fact that it was
saddled, bridled, and apparently tied
TO tree. Momentarily she thought
that Its rider was probably one Of the
Turner'S who was at present at work
on the old Folger farm; yet she knew
at once the titled lands were still too
far distant for that. She studied close
ly the maze of light and shadow of the
underbrush and in moment more dis
tinguished the figure of the horseman.
1t was one of the Turners-but he
was Woodworking in the fields. He was
standing near the animals head, back
to her, and his rifle lay in his arms
And then Linda understood.
He was simply guarding the trail
down to Martins store. Except for the
fact that she had turned off the main
trail by no possibility could she have
seen him and escaped whatever fate
he had for her.
She held hard on her faculties and
tried to puzzle 1t out. She understood
now why the Turner's had not as yet
made an attack upon them at their
home. 1t wasn't the Turner way to
wage open warfare. They were the
wolves that struck from ambush. the
rattlesnakes that lunged with poisoned
fangs from beneath the rocks. There
was some security for her in the Folger
home, but none whatever here. There
she had a strong man to fight for her,
a loaded rifle, and under ordinary con-
ditions the Turner's could not hope to
batter down the oaken door and over
whelm them without at least some loss
of life. For all they knew, Bruce had
large stock of rifles and ammunition
and the Turner's did not look for
ward with pleasure to casualties in
their ranks. The much simpler way
was to watch the trail.
They had known that sooner or
later one of them would attempt to
ride down after either supplies or aid
Linda was a mountain girl and she
knew the mountain methods of proce-
dure; and she knew quite well what
she would have had to expect II she