diff --git "a/data/test/26239.txt" "b/data/test/26239.txt" --- "a/data/test/26239.txt" +++ "b/data/test/26239.txt" @@ -1,7365 +1,7365 @@ - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - -[Illustration: HER FACE SHONE AS SHE CALLED OUT: "WELL, HOW DO YOU -STACK UP THIS MORNING?" (See page 31)] - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - -THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER - -A Romance of the Bear-Tooth Range - -By -HAMLIN GARLAND - -Author of -"The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop" -"Main-Travelled Roads" Etc. - -Illustrated - -HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS -New York and London -MCMXIV - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - -COPYRIGHT. 1914. BY HAMLIN GARLAND - -Printed in the United States of America -Published February, 1914 -A-O - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - I The Happy Girl 1 - II A Ride In The Rain 19 - III Wayland Receives a Warning 46 - IV The Supervisor of the Forest 68 - V The Golden Pathway 82 - VI Storm-Bound 110 - VII The Walk in the Rain 123 - VIII The Other Girl 142 - IX Further Perplexities 159 - X The Camp on the Pass 173 - XI The Death-Grapple 195 - XII Berrie's Vigil 204 - XIII The Gossips Awake 223 - XIV The Summons 247 - XV A Matter of Millinery 260 - XVI The Private Car 274 - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - PAGE - -HER FACE SHONE AS SHE CALLED OUT: "WELL, HOW DO YOU -STACK UP THIS MORNING?" Frontispiece - -THE GIRL BEHIND HIM WAS A WONDROUS PART OF THIS WILD -AND UNACCOUNTABLE COUNTRY 6 - -SHE FOUND HERSELF CONFRONTED BY AN ENDLESS MAZE -OF BLACKENED TREE-TRUNKS 140 - -THE SLENDER YOUTH WENT DOWN BEFORE THE BIG RANCHER -AS THOUGH STRUCK BY A CATAPULT 195 - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - -AUTHOR'S FOREWORD - -This little story is the outcome of two trips (neither of which was in -the Bear Tooth Forest) during the years 1909 and 1910. Its main claim on -the reader's interest will lie, no doubt, in the character of Berea -McFarlane; but I find myself re-living with keen pleasure the splendid -drama of wind and cloud and swaying forest which made the expeditions -memorable. - -The golden trail is an actuality for me. The camp on the lake was mine. -The rain, the snow I met. The prying camp-robbers, the grouse, the -muskrats, the beaver were my companions. But Berrie was with me only in -imagination. She is a fiction, born of a momentary, powerful hand-clasp -of a Western rancher's daughter. The story of Wayland Norcross is fiction -also. But the McFarlane ranch, the mill, and the lonely ranger-stations -are closely drawn pictures of realities. Although the stage of my comedy -is Colorado, I have not held to any one locality. The scene is -composite. - -It was my intention, originally, to write a much longer and more -important book concerning Supervisor McFarlane, but Berrie took the story -into her own strong hands and made of it something so intimate and so -idyllic that I could not bring the more prosaic element into it. It -remained personal and youthful in spite of my plans, a divergence for -which, perhaps, most of my readers will be grateful. - -As for its title, I had little to do with its selection. My daughter, -Mary Isabel, aged ten, selected it from among a half-dozen others, and -for luck I let it stand, although it sounds somewhat like that of a -paper-bound German romance. For the sub-title my publishers are -responsible. - -Finally, I warn the reader that this is merely the very slender story of -a young Western girl who, being desired of three strong men, bestows her -love on a "tourist" whose weakness is at once her allurement and her -care. The administration problem, the sociologic theme, which was to have -made the novel worth while, got lost in some way on the low trail and -never caught up with the lovers. I'm sorry--but so it was! - -Chicago, January, 1914. - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - -THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER - ----------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER - -I - -THE HAPPY GIRL - - -The stage line which ran from Williams to Bear Tooth (one of the most -authentic then to be found in all the West) possessed at least one -genuine Concord coach, so faded, so saddened, so cracked, and so -splintered that its passengers entered it under protest, and alighted -from it with thanksgiving, and yet it must have been built by honorable -men, for in 190- it still made the run of one hundred and twenty miles -twice each week without loss of wheel or even so much as moulting a scrap -of paint. - -And yet, whatever it may have been in its youth, it was in its age no -longer a gay dash of color in the landscape. On the contrary, it fitted -into the dust-brown and sage-green plain as defensively as a beetle in a -dusty path. Nevertheless, it was an indispensable part of a very moving -picture as it crept, creaking and groaning (or it may be it was the -suffering passenger creaking and groaning), along the hillside. - -After leaving the Grande River the road winds up a pretty high divide -before plunging down into Ute Park, as they call all that region lying -between the Continental Range on the east and the Bear Tooth plateau on -the west. It was a big spread of land, and very far from an Eastern man's -conception of a park. From Dome Peak it seems a plain; but, in fact, when -clouds shut off the high summits to the west, this "valley" becomes a -veritable mountain land, a tumbled, lonely country, over which an -occasional horseman crawls, a minute but persistent insect. It is, to be -exact, a succession of ridges and ravines, sculptured (in some far-off, -post-glacial time) by floods of water, covered now, rather sparsely, with -pinons, cedars, and aspens, a dry, forbidding, but majestic landscape. - -In late August the hills become iridescent, opaline with the translucent -yellow of the aspen, the coral and crimson of the fire-weed, the -blood-red of huckleberry beds, and the royal purple of the asters, while -flowing round all, as solvent and neutral setting, lies the gray-green of -the ever-present and ever-enduring sage-brush. On the loftier heights -these colors are arranged in most intricate and cunning patterns, with -nothing hard, nothing flaring in the prospect. All is harmonious and -restful. It is, moreover, silent, silent as a dream world, and so flooded -with light that the senses ache with the stress of it. - -Through this gorgeous land of mist, of stillness, and of death, a few -years ago a pale young man (seated beside the driver) rode one summer day -in a voiceless rapture which made Bill McCoy weary. - -"If you'd had as much of this as I have you'd talk of something else," he -growled, after a half dozen attempts at conversation. Bill wasn't much to -look at, but he was a good driver and the stranger respected him for it. - -Eventually this simple-minded horseman became curious about the slim -young fellow sitting beside him. - -"What you doing out here, anyhow--fishing or just rebuilding a lung?" - -"Rebuilding two lungs," answered the tourist. - -"Well, this climate will just about put lungs into a coffee-can," -retorted Bill, with official loyalty to his country. - -To his discerning eye "the tourist" now became "a lunger." "Where do you -live when you're to home?" - -"Connecticut." - -"I knew it." - -"How did you know it?" The youth seemed really interested to know. - -"I drove another fellow up here last fall that dealt out the same kind of -brogue you do." - -This amused the tourist. "You think I have a 'brogue,' do you?" - -"I don't think it--I know it!" Bill replied, shortly. - -He was prevented at the moment from pursuing this line of inquiry by the -discovery of a couple of horsemen racing from a distant ranch toward the -road. It was plain, even to the stranger, that they intended to intercept -the stage, and Bill plied the lash with sudden vigor. - -"I'll give 'em a chase," said he, grimly. - -The other appeared a little alarmed, "What are they--bandits?" - -"Bandits!" sneered Bill. "Your eyesight is piercing. Them's _girls_." - -The traveler apologized. "My eyes aren't very good," he said, hurriedly. - -He was, however, quite justified in his mistake, for both riders wore -wide-rimmed sombreros and rode astride at a furious pace, bandanas -fluttering, skirts streaming, and one was calling in shrill command, "OH, -BILL!" - -As they neared the gate the driver drew up with a word of surprise. "Why, -howdy, girls, howdy!" he said, with an assumption of innocence. "Were you -wishin' fer to speak to me?" - -"Oh, shut up!" commanded one of the girls, a round-faced, freckled romp. -"You know perfectly well that Berrie is going home to-day--we told you -all about it yesterday." - -"Sure thing!" exclaimed Bill. "I'd forgot all about it." - -"Like nothin'!" exclaimed the maid. "You've been countin' the hours till -you got here--I know you." - -Meanwhile her companion had slipped from her horse. "Well, good-by, -Molly, wish I could stay longer." - -"Good-by. Run down again." - -"I will. You come up." - -The young passenger sprang to the ground and politely said: "May I help -you in?" - -Bill stared, the girl smiled, and her companion called: "Be careful, -Berrie, don't hurt yourself, the wagon might pitch." - -The youth, perceiving that he had made another mistake, stammered an -apology. - -The girl perceived his embarrassment and sweetly accepted his hand. "I am -much obliged, all the same." - -Bill shook with malicious laughter. "Out in this country girls are -warranted to jump clean over a measly little hack like this," he -explained. - -The girl took a seat in the back corner of the dusty vehicle, and Bill -opened conversation with her by asking what kind of a time she had been -having "in the East." - -"Fine," said she. - -"Did ye get as far back as my old town?" - -"What town is that, Bill?" - -"Oh, come off! You know I'm from Omaha." - -"No, I only got as far as South Bend." - -The picture which the girl had made as she dashed up to the pasture gate -(her hat-rim blown away from her brown face and sparkling eyes), united -with the kindliness in her voice as she accepted his gallant aid, entered -a deep impression on the tourist's mind; but he did not turn his head to -look at her--perhaps he feared Bill's elbow quite as much as his -guffaw--but he listened closely, and by listening learned that she had -been "East" for several weeks, and also that she was known, and favorably -known, all along the line, for whenever they met a team or passed a ranch -some one called out, "Hello, Berrie!" in cordial salute, and the men, old -and young, were especially pleased to see her. - -[Illustration: THE GIRL BEHIND HIM WAS A WONDROUS PART OF THIS WILD -AND UNACCOUNTABLE COUNTRY] - -Meanwhile the stage rose and fell over the gigantic swells like a tiny -boat on a monster sea, while the sun blazed ever more fervently from the -splendid sky, and the hills glowed with ever-increasing tumult of color. -Through this land of color, of repose, of romance, the young traveler -rode, drinking deep of the germless air, feeling that the girl behind him -was a wondrous part of this wild and unaccountable country. - -He had no chance to study her face again till the coach rolled down the -hill to "Yancy's," where they were to take dinner and change horses. - -Yancy's ranch-house stood on the bank of a fine stream which purled--in -keen defiance of the hot sun--over a gravel bed, so near to the mountain -snows that their coolness still lingered in the ripples. The house, a -long, low, log hut, was fenced with antlers of the elk, adorned with -morning-glory vines, and shaded by lofty cottonwood-trees, and its green -grass-plat--after the sun-smit hills of the long morning's ride--was very -grateful to the Eastern man's eyes. - -With intent to show Bill that he did not greatly fear his smiles, the -youth sprang down and offered a hand to assist his charming -fellow-passenger to alight; and she, with kindly understanding, again -accepted his aid--to Bill's chagrin--and they walked up the path side by -side. - -"This is all very new and wonderful to me," the young man said in -explanation; "but I suppose it's quite commonplace to you--and Bill." - -"Oh no--it's home!" - -"You were born here?" - -"No, I was born in the East; but I've lived here ever since I was three -years old." - -"By East you mean Kansas?" - -"No, Missouri," she laughed back at him. - -She was taller than most women, and gave out an air of fine unconscious -health which made her good to see, although her face was too broad to be -pretty. She smiled easily, and her teeth were white and even. Her hand he -noticed was as strong as steel and brown as leather. Her neck rose from -her shoulders like that of an acrobat, and she walked with the sense of -security which comes from self-reliant strength. - -She was met at the door by old lady Yancy, who pumped her hand up and -down, exclaiming: "My stars, I'm glad to see ye back! 'Pears like the -country is just naturally goin' to the dogs without you. The dance last -Saturday was a frost, so I hear, no snap to the fiddlin', no gimp to the -jiggin'. It shorely was pitiful." - -Yancy himself, tall, grizzled, succinct, shook her hand in his turn. -"Ma's right, girl, the country needs ye. I'm scared every time ye go away -fer fear some feller will snap ye up." - -She laughed. "No danger. Well, how are ye all, anyway?" she asked. - -"All well, 'ceptin' me," said the little old woman. "I'm just about able -to pick at my vittles." - -"She does her share o' the work, and half the cook's besides," -volunteered Yancy. - -"I know her," retorted Berrie, as she laid off her hat. "It's me for a -dip. Gee, but it's dusty on the road!" - -The young tourist--he signed W. W. Norcross in Yancy's register--watched -her closely and listened to every word she spoke with an intensity of -interest which led Mrs. Yancy to say, privately: - -"'Pears like that young 'lunger' ain't goin' to forgit you if he can help -it." - -"What makes you think he's a 'lunger'?" - -"Don't haf to think. One look at him is enough." - -Thereafter a softer light--the light of pity--shone in the eyes of the -girl. "Poor fellow, he does look kind o' peaked; but this climate will -bring him up to the scratch," she added, with optimistic faith in her -beloved hills. - -A moment later the down-coming stage pulled in, loaded to the side-lines, -and everybody on it seemed to know Berea McFarlane. It was hello here and -hello there, and how are ye between, with smacks from the women and open -cries of "pass it around" on the part of the men, till Norcross marveled -at the display. - -"She seems a great favorite," he observed to Yancy. - -"Who--Berrie? She's the whole works up at Bear Tooth. Good thing she -don't want to go to Congress--she'd lay Jim Worthy on the shelf." - -Berea's popularity was not so remarkable as her manner of receiving it. -She took it all as a sort of joke--a good, kindly joke. She shook hands -with her male admirers, and smacked the cheeks of her female friends with -an air of modest deprecation. "Oh, you don't mean it," was one of her -phrases. She enjoyed this display of affection, but it seemed not to -touch her deeply, and her impartial, humorous acceptance of the courtship -of the men was equally charming, though this was due, according to -remark, to the claims of some rancher up the line. - -She continued to be the theme of conversation at the dinner-table and yet -remained unembarrassed, and gave back quite as good as she received. - -"If I was Cliff," declared one lanky admirer, "I'd be shot if I let you -out of my sight. It ain't safe." - -She smiled broadly. "I don't feel scared." - -"Oh, _you're_ all right! It's the other feller--like me--that gets -hurt." - -"Don't worry, you're old enough and tough enough to turn a steel-jacketed -bullet." - -This raised a laugh, and Mrs. Yancy, who was waiting on the table, put in -a word: "I'll board ye free, Berrie, if you'll jest naturally turn up -here regular at meal-time. You do take the fellers' appetites. It's the -only time I make a cent." - -To the Eastern man this was all very unrestrained and deeply diverting. -The people seemed to know all about one another notwithstanding the fact -that they came from ranches scattered up and down the stage line twenty, -thirty miles apart--to be neighbors in this country means to be anywhere -within a sixty-mile ride--and they gossiped of the countryside as -minutely as the residents of a village in Wisconsin discuss their kind. -News was scarce. - -The north-bound coach got away first, and as the girl came out to take -her place, Norcross said: "Won't you have my seat with the driver?" - -She dropped her voice humorously. "No, thank you, I can't stand for -Bill's clack." - -Norcross understood. She didn't relish the notion of being so close to -the frankly amorous driver, who neglected no opportunity to be personal; -therefore, he helped her to her seat inside and resumed his place in -front. - -Bill, now broadly communicative, minutely detailed his tastes in food, -horses, liquors, and saddles in a long monologue which would have been -tiresome to any one but an imaginative young Eastern student. Bill had a -vast knowledge of the West, but a distressing habit of repetition. He was -self-conscious, too, for the reason that he was really talking for the -benefit of the girl sitting in critical silence behind him, who, though -he frequently turned to her for confirmation of some of the more -startling of his statements, refused to be drawn into controversy. - -In this informing way some ten miles were traversed, the road climbing -ever higher, and the mountains to right and left increasing in grandeur -each hour, till of a sudden and in a deep valley on the bank of another -swift stream, they came upon a squalid saloon and a minute post-office. -This was the town of Moskow. - -Bill, lumbering down over the wheel, took a bag of mail from the boot and -dragged it into the cabin. The girl rose, stretched herself, and said: -"This stagin' is slow business. I'm cramped. I'm going to walk on -ahead." - -"May I go with you?" asked Norcross. - -"Sure thing! Come along." - -As they crossed the little pole bridge which spanned the flood, the -tourist exclaimed: "What exquisite water! It's like melted opals." - -"Comes right down from the snow," she answered, impressed by the poetry -of his simile. - -He would gladly have lingered, listening to the song of the water, but as -she passed on, he followed. The opposite hill was sharp and the road -stony, but as they reached the top the young Easterner called out, "See -the savins!" - -Before them stood a grove of cedars, old, gray, and drear, as weirdly -impressive as the cacti in a Mexican desert. Torn by winds, scarred by -lightnings, deeply rooted, tenacious as tradition, unlovely as Egyptian -mummies, fantastic, dwarfed and blackened, these unaccountable creatures -clung to the ledges. The dead mingled horribly with the living, and when -the wind arose--the wind that was robustly cheerful on the high -hills--these hags cried out with low moans of infinite despair. It was as -if they pleaded for water or for deliverance from a life that was a kind -of death. - -The pale young man shuddered. "What a ghostly place!" he exclaimed, in a -low voice. "It seems the burial-place of a vanished race." - -Something in his face, some note in his voice profoundly moved the girl. -For the first time her face showed something other than childish good -nature and a sense of humor. "I don't like these trees myself," she -answered. "They look too much like poor old squaws." - -For a few moments the man and the maid studied the forest of immemorial, -gaunt, and withered trees--bright, impermanent youth confronting -time-defaced and wind-torn age. Then the girl spoke: "Let's get out of -here. I shall cry if we don't." - -In a few moments the dolorous voices were left behind, and the cheerful -light of the plain reasserted itself. Norcross, looking back down upon -the cedars, which at a distance resembled a tufted, bronze-green carpet, -musingly asked: "What do you suppose planted those trees there?" - -The girl was deeply impressed by the novelty of this query. "I never -thought to ask. I reckon they just grew." - -"No, there's a reason for all these plantings," he insisted. - -"We don't worry ourselves much about such things out here," she replied, -with charming humor. "We don't even worry about the weather. We just take -things as they come." - -They walked on talking with new intimacy. "Where is your home?" he -asked. - -"A few miles out of Bear Tooth. You're from the East, Bill says--'the far -East,' we call it." - -"From New Haven. I've just finished at Yale. Have you ever been to New -York?" - -"Oh, good Lord, no!" she answered, as though he had named the ends of the -earth. "My mother came from the South--she was born in Kentucky--that -accounts for my name, and my father is a Missourian. Let's see, Yale is -in the state of Connecticut, isn't it?" - -"Connecticut is no longer a state; it is only a suburb of New York -City." - -"Is that so? My geography calls it 'The Nutmeg State.'" - -"Your geography is behind the times. New York has absorbed all of -Connecticut and part of Jersey." - -"Well, it's all the same to us out here. Your whole country looks like -the small end of a slice of pie to us." - -"Have you ever been in a city?" - -"Oh yes, I go to Denver once in a while, and I saw St. Louis once; but I -was only a yearling, and don't remember much about it. What are you doing -out here, if it's a fair question?" - -He looked away at the mountains. "I got rather used up last spring, and -my doctor said I'd better come out here for a while and build up. I'm -going up to Meeker's Mill. Do you know where that is?" - -"I know every stove-pipe in this park," she answered. "Joe Meeker is kind -o' related to me--uncle by marriage. He lives about fifteen miles over -the hill from Bear Tooth." - -This fact seemed to bring them still closer together. "I'm glad of that," -he said, pointedly. "Perhaps I shall be permitted to see you now and -again? I'm going to be lonesome for a while, I'm afraid." - -"Don't you believe it! Joe Meeker's boys will keep you interested," she -assured him. - -The stage overtook them at this point, and Bill surlily remarked: "If -you'd been alone, young feller, I'd 'a' give you a chase." His resentment -of the outsider's growing favor with the girl was ludicrously evident. - -As they rose into the higher levels the aspen shook its yellowish leaves -in the breeze, and the purple foot-hills gained in majesty. Great new -peaks came into view on the right, and the lofty cliffs of the Bear Tooth -range loomed in naked grandeur high above the blue-green of the pines -which clothed their sloping eastern sides. - -At intervals the road passed small log ranches crouching low on the banks -of creeks; but aside from these--and the sparse animal life around -them--no sign of settlement could be seen. The valley lay as it had lain -for thousands of years, repeating its forests as the meadows of the lower -levels send forth their annual grasses. Norcross said to himself: "I have -circled the track of progress and have re-entered the border America, -where the stage-coach is still the one stirring thing beneath the sun." - -At last the driver, with a note of exultation, called out: "Grab a root, -everybody, it's all the way down-hill and time to feed." - -And so, as the dusk came over the mighty spread of the hills to the east, -and the peaks to the west darkened from violet to purple-black, the stage -rumbled and rattled and rushed down the winding road through thickening -signs of civilization, and just at nightfall rolled into the little town -of Bear Tooth, which is the eastern gateway of the Ute Plateau. - -Norcross had given a great deal of thought to the young girl behind him, -and thought had deepened her charm. Her frankness, her humor, her superb -physical strength and her calm self-reliance appealed to him, and the -more dangerously, because he was so well aware of his own weakness and -loneliness, and as the stage drew up before the hotel, he fervently said: -"I hope I shall see you again?" - -Before she could reply a man's voice called: "Hello, there!" and a tall -fellow stepped up to her with confident mien. - -Norcross awkwardly shrank away. This was her cowboy lover, of course. It -was impossible that so attractive a girl should be unattached, and the -knowledge produced in him a faint but very definite pang of envy and -regret. - -The happy girl, even in the excitement of meeting her lover, did not -forget the stranger. She gave him her hand in parting, and again he -thrilled to its amazing power. It was small, but it was like a steel -clamp. "Stop in on your way to Meeker's," she said, as a kindly man would -have done. "You pass our gate. My father is Joseph McFarlane, the Forest -Supervisor. Good night." - -"Good night," he returned, with sincere liking. - -"Who is that?" Norcross heard her companion ask. - -She replied in a low voice, but he overheard her answer, "A poor -'lunger,' bound for Meeker's--and Kingdom Come, I'm afraid. He seems a -nice young feller, too." - -"They always wait till the last minute," remarked the rancher, with -indifferent tone. - - - - -II - -A RIDE IN THE RAIN - - -There are two Colorados within the boundaries of the state of that name, -distinct, almost irreconcilable. One is a plain (smooth, dry, -monotonous), gently declining to the east, a land of sage-brush, -wheat-fields, and alfalfa meadows--a rather commonplace region now, given -over to humdrum folk intent on digging a living from the soil; but the -other is an army of peaks, a region of storms, a spread of dark and -tangled forests. In the one, shallow rivers trickle on their sandy way to -the Gulf of Mexico; from the other, the waters rush, uniting to make the -mighty stream whose silt-laden floods are slowly filling the Gulf of -California. - -If you stand on one of the great naked crests which form the dividing -wall, the rampart of the plains, you can see the Colorado of tradition to -the west, still rolling in wave after wave of stupendous altitudes, each -range cutting into the sky with a purple saw-tooth edge. The landscape -seems to contain nothing but rocks and towering crags, a treasure-house -for those who mine. But this is illusive. Between these purple heights -charming valleys wind and meadows lie in which rich grasses grow and -cattle feed. - -On certain s--where the devastating miners have not yet played their -relentless game--dark forests rise to the high, bold summits of the -chiefest mountains, and it is to guard these timbered tracts, growing -each year more valuable, that the government has established its Forest -Service to protect and develop the wealth-producing power of the -watersheds. - -Chief among the wooded areas of this mighty inland empire of crag and -stream is the Bear Tooth Forest, containing nearly eight hundred thousand -acres of rock and trees, whose seat of administration is Bear Tooth -Springs, the small town in which our young traveler found himself. - -He carefully explained to the landlord of the Cottage Hotel that he had -never been in this valley before, and that he was filled with -astonishment and delight of the scenery. - -"Scenery! Yes, too much scenery. What we want is settlers," retorted the -landlord, who was shabby and sour and rather contemptuous, for the reason -that he considered Norcross a poor consumptive, and a fool to boot--"one -of those chaps who wait till they are nearly dead, then come out here -expecting to live on climate." - -The hotel was hardly larger than the log shanty of a railway-grading -camp; but the meat was edible, and just outside the door roared Bear -Creek, which came down directly from Dome Mountain, and the young -Easterner went to sleep beneath its singing that night. He should have -dreamed of the happy mountain girl, but he did not; on the contrary, he -imagined himself back at college in the midst of innumerable freshmen, -yelling, "Bill McCoy, Bill McCoy!" - -He woke a little bewildered by his strange surroundings, and when he -became aware of the cheap bed, the flimsy wash-stand, the ugly wallpaper, -and thought how far he was from home and friends, he not only sighed, he -shivered. The room was chill, the pitcher of water cold almost to the -freezing-point, and his joints were stiff and painful from his ride. What -folly to come so far into the wilderness at this time. - -As he crawled from his bed and looked from the window he was still -further disheartened. In the foreground stood a half dozen frame -buildings, graceless and cheap, without tree or shrub to give shadow or -charm of line--all was bare, bleak, sere; but under his window the stream -was singing its glorious mountain song, and away to the west rose the -aspiring peaks from which it came. Romance brooded in that shadow, and on -the lower foot-hills the frost-touched foliage glowed like a mosaic of -jewels. - -Dressing hurriedly he went down to the small bar-room, whose litter of -duffle-bags, guns, saddles, and camp utensils gave evidence of the -presence of many hunters and fishermen. The slovenly landlord was poring -over a newspaper, while a discouraged half-grown youth was sludging the -floor with a mop; but a cheerful clamor from an open door at the back of -the hall told that breakfast was on. - -Venturing over the threshold, Norcross found himself seated at table with -some five or six men in corduroy jackets and laced boots, who were, in -fact, merchants and professional men from Denver and Pueblo out for fish -and such game as the law allowed, and all in holiday mood. They joked the -waiter-girls, and joshed one another in noisy good-fellowship, ignoring -the slim youth in English riding-suit, who came in with an air of mingled -melancholy and timidity and took a seat at the lower corner of the long -table. - -The landlady, tall, thin, worried, and inquisitive, was New -England--Norcross recognized her type even before she came to him with a -question on her lips. "So you're from the East, are you?" - -"I've been at school there." - -"Well, I'm glad to see you. My folks came from York State. I don't often -get any one from the _real_ East. Come out to fish, I s'pose?" - -"Yes," he replied, thinking this the easiest way out. - -"Well, they's plenty of fishing--and they's plenty of air, not much of -anything else." - -As he looked about the room, the tourist's eye was attracted by four -young fellows seated at a small table to his right. They wore rough -shirts of an olive-green shade, and their faces were wind-scorched; but -their voices held a pleasant tone, and something in the manner of the -landlady toward them made them noticeable. Norcross asked her who they -were. - -"They're forestry boys." - -"Forestry boys?" - -"Yes; the Supervisor's office is here, and these are his help." - -This information added to Norcross's interest and cheered him a little. -He knew something of the Forest Service, and had been told that many of -the rangers were college men. He resolved to make their acquaintance. "If -I'm to stay here they will help me endure the exile," he said. - -After breakfast he went forth to find the post-office, expecting a letter -of instructions from Meeker. He found nothing of the sort, and this quite -disconcerted him. - -"The stage is gone," the postmistress told him, "and you can't get up -till day after to-morrow. You might reach Meeker by using the government -'phone, however." - -"Where will I find the government 'phone?" - -"Down in the Supervisor's office. They're very accommodating; they'll let -you use it, if you tell them who you want to reach." - -It was impossible to miss the forestry building for the reason that a -handsome flag fluttered above it. The door being open, Norcross perceived -from the threshold a young clerk at work on a typewriter, while in a -corner close by the window another and older man was working intently on -a map. - -"Is this the office of the Forest Supervisor?" asked the youth. - -The man at the machine looked up, and pleasantly answered: "It is, but -the Supervisor is not in yet. Is there anything I can do for you?" - -"It may be you can. I am on my way to Meeker's Mill for a little outing. -Perhaps you could tell me where Meeker's Mill is, and how I can best get -there." - -The man at the map meditated. "It's not far, some eighteen or twenty -miles; but it's over a pretty rough trail." - -"What kind of a place is it?" - -"Very charming. You'll like it. Real mountain country." - -This officer was a plain-featured man of about thirty-five, with keen and -clear eyes. His voice, though strongly nasal, possessed a note of manly -sincerity. As he studied his visitor, he smiled. - -"You look brand-new--haven't had time to season-check, have you?" - -"No; I'm a stranger in a strange land." - -"Out for your health?" - -"Yes. My name is Norcross. I'm just getting over a severe illness, and -I'm up here to lay around and fish and recuperate--if I can." - -"You can--you will. You can't help it," the other assured him. "Join one -of our surveying crews for a week and I'll mellow that suit of yours and -make a real mountaineer of you. I see you wear a _Sigma Chi_ pin. What -was your school?" - -"I am a 'Son of Eli.' Last year's class." - -The other man displayed his fob. "I'm ten classes ahead of you. My name -is Nash. I'm what they call an 'expert.' I'm up here doing some -estimating and surveying for a big ditch they're putting in. I was rather -in hopes you had come to join our ranks. We sons of Eli are holding the -conservation fort these days, and we need help." - -"My knowledge of your work is rather vague," admitted Norcross. "My -father is in the lumber business; but his point of view isn't exactly -yours." - -"He slays 'em, does he?" - -"He did. He helped devastate Michigan." - -"After me the deluge! I know the kind. Why not make yourself a sort of -vicarious atonement?" - -Norcross smiled. "I had not thought of that. It would help some, wouldn't -it?" - -"It certainly would. There's no great money in the work; but it's about -the most enlightened of all the governmental bureaus." - -Norcross was strongly drawn to this forester, whose tone was that of a -highly trained specialist. "I rode up on the stage yesterday with Miss -Berrie McFarlane." - -"The Supervisor's daughter?" - -"She seemed a fine Western type." - -"She's not a type; she's an individual. She hasn't her like anywhere I've -gone. She cuts a wide swath up here. Being an only child she's both son -and daughter to McFarlane. She knows more about forestry than her father. -In fact, half the time he depends on her judgment." - -Norcross was interested, but did not want to take up valuable time. He -said: "Will you let me use your telephone to Meeker's?" - -"Very sorry, but our line is out of order. You'll have to wait a day or -so--or use the mails. You're too late for to-day's stage, but it's only a -short ride across. Come outside and I'll show you." - -Norcross followed him to the walk, and stood in silence while his guide -indicated the pass over the range. It all looked very formidable to the -Eastern youth. Thunderous clouds hung low upon the peaks, and the great -crags to left and right of the notch were stern and barren. "I think I'll -wait for the stage," he said, with candid weakness. "I couldn't make that -trip alone." - -"You'll have to take many such a ride over that range in the _night_--if -you join the service," Nash warningly replied. - -As they were standing there a girl came galloping up to the hitching-post -and slid from her horse. It was Berea McFarlane. "Good morning, Emery," -she called to the surveyor. "Good morning," she nodded at Norcross. "How -do you find yourself this morning?" - -"Homesick," he replied, smilingly. - -"Why so?" - -"I'm disappointed in the town." - -"What's the matter with the town?" - -"It's so commonplace. I expected it to be--well, different. It's just -like any other plains town." - -Berrie looked round at the forlorn shops, the irregular sidewalks, the -grassless yards. "It isn't very pretty, that's a fact; but you can always -forget it by just looking up at the high country. When you going up to -the mill?" - -"I don't know. I haven't had any word from Meeker, and I can't reach him -by telephone." - -"I know, the line is short-circuited somewhere; but they've sent a man -out. He may close it any minute." - -"Where's the Supervisor?" asked Nash. - -"He's gone over to Moore's cutting. How are you getting on with those -plats?" - -"Very well. I'll have 'em all in shape by Saturday." - -"Come in and make yourself at home," said the girl to Norcross. "You'll -find the papers two or three days old," she smiled. "We never know about -anything here till other people have forgotten it." - -Norcross followed her into the office, curious to know more about her. -She was so changed from his previous conception of her that he was -puzzled. She had the directness and the brevity of phrase of a business -man, as she opened letters and discussed their contents with the men. - -"Truly she _is_ different," thought Norcross, and yet she lost something -by reason of the display of her proficiency as a clerk. "I wish she would -leave business to some one else," he inwardly grumbled as he rose to go. - -She looked up from her desk. "Come in again later. We may be able to -reach the mill." - -He thanked her and went back to his hotel, where he overhauled his outfit -and wrote some letters. His disgust of the town was lessened by the -presence of that handsome girl, and the hope that he might see her at -luncheon made him impatient of the clock. - -She did not appear in the dining-room, and when Norcross inquired of Nash -whether she took her meals at the hotel or not, the expert replied: "No, -she goes home. The ranch is only a few miles down the valley. -Occasionally we invite her, but she don't think much of the cooking." - -One of the young surveyors put in a word: "I shouldn't think she would. -I'd ride ten miles any time to eat one of Mrs. McFarlane's dinners." - -"Yes," agreed Nash with a reflective look in his eyes. "She's a mighty -fine girl, and I join the boys in wishing her better luck than marrying -Cliff Belden." - -"Is it settled that way?" asked Norcross. - -"Yes; the Supervisor warned us all, but even he never has any good words -for Belden. He's a surly cuss, and violently opposed to the service. His -brother is one of the proprietors of the Meeker mill, and they have all -tried to bulldoze Landon, our ranger over there. By the way, you'll like -Landon. He's a Harvard man, and a good ranger. His shack is only a -half-mile from Meeker's house. It's a pretty well-known fact that Alec -Belden is part proprietor of a saloon over there that worries the -Supervisor worse than anything. Cliff swears he's not connected with it; -but he's more or less sympathetic with the crowd." - -Norcross, already deeply interested in the present and future of a girl -whom he had met for the first time only the day before, was quite ready -to give up his trip to Meeker. After the men went back to work he -wandered about the town for an hour or two, and then dropped in at the -office to inquire if the telephone line had been repaired. - -"No, it's still dead." - -"Did Miss McFarlane return?" - -"No. She said she had work to do at home. This is ironing-day, I -believe." - -"She plays all the parts, don't she?" - -"She sure does; and she plays one part as well as another. She can rope -and tie a steer or bake a cake as well as play the piano." - -"Don't tell me she plays the piano!" - -Nash laughed. "She does; but it's one of those you operate with your -feet." - -"I'm relieved to hear that. She seems almost weirdly gifted as it is." -After a moment he broke in with: "What can a man do in this town?" - -"Work, nothing else." - -"What do you do for amusement?" - -"Once in a while there is a dance in the hall over the drug-store, and on -Sunday you can listen to a wretched sermon in the log church. The rest of -the time you work or loaf in the saloons--or read. Old Nature has done -her part here. But man--! Ever been in the Tyrol?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, some day the people of the plains will have sense enough to use -these mountains, these streams, the way they do over there." - -It required only a few hours for Norcross to size up the valley and its -people. Aside from Nash and his associates, and one or two families -connected with the mill to the north, the villagers were poor, -thriftless, and uninteresting. They were lacking in the picturesque -quality of ranchers and miners, and had not yet the grace of -town-dwellers. They were, indeed, depressingly nondescript. - -Early on the second morning he went to the post-office--which was also -the telephone station--to get a letter or message from Meeker. He found -neither; but as he was standing in the door undecided about taking the -stage, Berea came into town riding a fine bay pony, and leading a -blaze-face buckskin behind her. - -Her face shone cordially, as she called out: "Well, how do you stack up -this morning?" - -"Tip-top," he answered, in an attempt to match her cheery greeting. - -"Do you like our town better?" - -"Not a bit! But the hills are magnificent." - -"Anybody turned up from the mill?" - -"No, I haven't heard a word from there. The telephone is still out of -commission." - -"They can't locate the break. Uncle Joe sent word by the stage-driver -asking us to keep an eye out for you and send you over. I've come to take -you over myself." - -"That's mighty good of you; but it's a good deal to ask." - -"I want to see Uncle Joe on business, anyhow, and you'll like the ride -better than the journey by stage." - -Leaving the horses standing with their bridle-reins hanging on the -ground, she led the way to the office. - -"When father comes in, tell him where I've gone, and send Mr. Norcross's -packs by the first wagon. Is your outfit ready?" she asked. - -"Not quite. I can get it ready soon." - -He hurried away in pleasant excitement, and in twenty minutes was at the -door ready to ride. - -"You'd better take my bay," said Berea. "Old Paint-face there is a little -notional." - -Norcross approached his mount with a caution which indicated that he had -at least been instructed in range-horse psychology, and as he gathered -his reins together to mount, Berrie remarked: - -"I hope you're saddle-wise." - -"I had a few lessons in a riding-school," he replied, modestly. - -Young Downing approached the girl with a low-voiced protest: "You -oughtn't to ride old Paint. He nearly pitched the Supervisor the other -day." - -"I'm not worried," she said, and swung to her saddle. - -The ugly beast made off in a tearing sidewise rush, but she smilingly -called back: "All set." And Norcross followed her in high admiration. - -Eventually she brought her bronco to subjection, and they trotted off -together along the wagon-road quite comfortably. By this time the youth -had forgotten his depression, his homesickness of the morning. The valley -was again enchanted ground. Its vistas led to lofty heights. The air was -regenerative, and though a part of this elation was due, no doubt, to the -power of his singularly attractive guide, he laid it discreetly to the -climate. - -After shacking along between some rather sorry fields of grain for a mile -or two, Berea swung into a side-trail. "I want you to meet my mother," -she said. - -The grassy road led to a long, one-story, half-log, half-slab house, -which stood on the bank of a small, swift, willow-bordered stream. - -"This is our ranch," she explained. "All the meadow in sight belongs to -us." - -The young Easterner looked about in astonishment. Not a tree bigger than -his thumb gave shade. The gate of the cattle corral stood but a few feet -from the kitchen door, and rusty beef-bones, bleaching skulls, and scraps -of sun-dried hides littered the ground or hung upon the fence. Exteriorly -the low cabin made a drab, depressing picture; but as he alighted--upon -Berea's invitation--and entered the house, he was met by a sweet-faced, -brown-haired little woman in a neat gown, whose bearing was not in the -least awkward or embarrassed. - -"This is Mr. Norcross, the tourist I told you about," explained Berrie. - -Mrs. McFarlane extended her small hand with friendly impulse. "I'm very -glad to meet you, sir. Are you going to spend some time at the Mill?" - -"I don't know. I have a letter to Mr. Meeker from a friend of mine who -hunted with him last year--a Mr. Sutler." - -"Mr. Sutler! Oh, we know him very well. Won't you sit down?" - -The interior of the house was not only well kept, but presented many -evidences of refinement. A mechanical piano stood against the log wall, -and books and magazines, dog-eared with use, littered the table; and -Norcross, feeling the force of Nash's half-expressed criticism of his -"superior," listened intently to Mrs. McFarlane's apologies for the -condition of the farmyard. - -"Well," said Berea, sharply, "if we're to reach Uncle Joe's for dinner -we'd better be scratching the hills." And to her mother she added: "I'll -pull in about dark." - -The mother offered no objection to her daughter's plan, and the young -people rode off together directly toward the high peaks to the east. - -"I'm going by way of the cut-off," Berrie explained; and Norcross, -content and unafraid, nodded in acquiescence. "Here is the line," she -called a few minutes later, pointing at a sign nailed to a tree at the -foot of the first wooded hill. - -The notice, printed in black ink on a white square of cloth, proclaimed -this to be the boundary of the Bear Tooth National Forest, and pleaded -with all men to be watchful of fires. Its tone was not at all that of a -strong government; it was deprecatory. - -The trail, hardly more than a wood road, grew wilder and lonelier as they -climbed. Cattle fed on the hillsides in scattered bands like elk. Here -and there a small cabin stood on the bank of a stream; but, for the most -part, the trail mounted the high s in perfect solitude. - -The girl talked easily and leisurely, reading the brands of the ranchers, -revealing the number of cattle they owned, quite as a young farmer would -have done. She seemed not to be embarrassed in the slightest degree by -the fact that she was guiding a strange man over a lonely road, and gave -no outward sign of special interest in him till she suddenly turned to -ask: "What kind of a slicker--I mean a raincoat--did you bring?" - -He looked blank. "I don't believe I brought any. I've a leather -shooting-jacket, however." - -She shrugged her shoulders and looked up at the sky. "We're in for a -storm. You'd ought 'o have a slicker, no fancy 'raincoat,' but a real -old-fashioned cow-puncher's oilskin. They make a business of shedding -rain. Leather's no good, neither is canvas; I've tried 'em all." - -She rode on for a few minutes in silence, as if disgusted with his folly, -but she was really worrying about him. "Poor chap," she said to herself. -"He can't stand a chill. I ought to have thought of his slicker myself. -He's helpless as a baby." - -They were climbing fast now, winding upward along the bank of a stream, -and the sky had grown suddenly gray, and the woodland path was dark and -chill. The mountains were not less beautiful; but they were decidedly -less amiable, and the youth shivered, casting an apprehensive eye at the -thickening clouds. - -Berea perceived something of his dismay, and, drawing rein, dismounted. -Behind her saddle was a tightly rolled bundle which, being untied and -shaken out, proved to be a horseman's rainproof oilskin coat. "Put this -on!" she commanded. - -"Oh no," he protested, "I can't take your coat." - -"Yes you can! You must! Don't you worry about me, I'm used to weather. -Put this on over your jacket and all. You'll need it. Rain won't hurt -_me_; but it will just about finish you." - -The worst of this lay in its truth, and Norcross lost all his pride of -sex for the moment. A wetting would not dim this girl's splendid color, -nor reduce her vitality one degree, while to him it might be a -death-warrant. "You could throw me over my own horse," he admitted, in a -kind of bitter admiration, and slipped the coat on, shivering with cold -as he did so. - -"You think me a poor excuse of a trailer, don't you?" he said, ruefully, -as the thunder began to roll. - -"You've got to be all made over new," she replied, tolerantly. "Stay here -a year and you'll be able to stand anything." - -Remounting, she again led the way with cheery cry. The rain came dashing -down in fitful, misty streams; but she merely pulled the rim of her -sombrero closer over her eyes, and rode steadily on, while he followed, -plunged in gloom as cold and gray as the storm. The splitting crashes of -thunder echoed from the high peaks like the voices of siege-guns, and the -lightning stabbed here and there as though blindly seeking some hidden -foe. Long veils of falling water twisted and trailed through the valleys -with swishing roar. - -"These mountain showers don't last long," the girl called back, her face -shining like a rose. "We'll get the sun in a few minutes." - -And so it turned out. In less than an hour they rode into the warm light -again, and in spite of himself Norcross returned her smile, though he -said: "I feel like a selfish fool. You are soaked." - -"Hardly wet through," she reassured him. "My jacket and skirt turn water -pretty well. I'll be dry in a jiffy. It does a body good to be wet once -in a while." - -The shame of his action remained; but a closer friendship was -established, and as he took off the coat and handed it back to her, he -again apologized. "I feel like a pig. I don't see how I came to do it. -The thunder and the chill scared me, that's the truth of it. You -hypnotized me into taking it. How wet you _are_!" he exclaimed, -remorsefully. "You'll surely take cold." - -"I never take cold," she returned. "I'm used to all kinds of weather. -Don't you bother about me." - -Topping a low divide the youth caught a glimpse of the range to the -southeast, which took his breath. "Isn't that superb!" he exclaimed. -"It's like the shining roof of the world!" - -"Yes, that's the Continental Divide," she confirmed, casually; but the -lyrical note which he struck again reached her heart. The men she knew -had so few words for the beautiful in life. She wondered whether this -man's illness had given him this refinement or whether it was native to -his kind. "I'm glad he took my coat," was her thought. - -She pushed on down the , riding hard, but it was nearly two o'clock -when they drew up at Meeker's house, which was a long, low, stone -structure built along the north side of the road. The place was -distinguished not merely by its masonry, but also by its picket fence, -which had once been whitewashed. Farm-wagons of various degrees of decay -stood by the gate, and in the barn-yard plows and harrows--deeply buried -by the weeds--were rusting forlornly away. A little farther up the stream -the tall pipe of a sawmill rose above the firs. - -A pack of dogs of all sizes and signs came clamoring to the fence, -followed by a big, slovenly dressed, red-bearded man of sixty or -thereabouts. - -"Hello, Uncle Joe," called the girl, in offhand boyish fashion. "How are -you _to-day_?" - -"Howdy, girl," answered Meeker, gravely. "What brings you up here this -time?" - -She laughed. "Here's a boarder who wants to learn how to raise cattle." - -Meeker's face lightened. "I reckon you're Mr. Norcross? I'm glad to see -ye. Light off and make yourself to home. Turn your horses into the -corral, the boys will feed 'em." - -"Am I in America?" Norcross asked himself, as he followed the slouchy old -rancher into the unkempt yard. "This certainly is a long way from New -Haven." - -Without ceremony Meeker led his guests directly into the dining-room, a -long and rather narrow room, wherein a woman and six or seven roughly -dressed young men were sitting at a rudely appointed table. - -"Earth and seas!" exclaimed Mrs. Meeker. "Here's Berrie, and I'll bet -that's Sutler's friend, our boarder." - -"That's what, mother," admitted her husband. "Berrie brought him up." - -"You'd ought 'o gone for him yourself, you big lump," she retorted. - -Mrs. Meeker, who was as big as her husband, greeted Norcross warmly, and -made a place for him beside her own chair. - -"Highst along there, boys, and give the company a chance," she commanded, -sharply. "Our dinner's turrible late to-day." - -The boys--they were in reality full-grown cubs of eighteen or twenty--did -as they were bid with much noise, chaffing Berrie with blunt humor. The -table was covered with a red oil-cloth, and set with heavy blue-and-white -china. The forks were two-tined, steel-pronged, and not very polished, -and the food was of the simplest sort; but the girl seemed at home -there--as she did everywhere--and was soon deep in a discussion of the -price of beef, and whether it was advisable to ship now or wait a month. - -Meeker read Sutler's letter, which Norcross had handed him, and, after -deliberation, remarked: "All right, we'll do the best we can for you, Mr. -Norcross; but we haven't any fancy accommodations." - -"He don't expect any," replied Berrie. "What he needs is a little -roughing it." - -"There's plinty of that to be had," said one of the herders, who sat -below the salt. "'is the soft life I'm nadin'." - -"Pat's strong on soft jobs," said another; and Berea joined the laugh -which followed this pointless joke. She appeared to be one of them, and -it troubled Norcross a little. She had so little the sex feeling and -demanded so few of the rights and privileges of a girl. The men all -admired her, that was evident, almost too evident, and one or two of the -older men felt the charm of her young womanhood too deeply even to meet -her eyes; but of this Norcross was happily ignorant. Already in these two -days he had acquired a distinct sense of proprietorship in her, a feeling -which made him jealous of her good name. - -Meeker, it turned out, was an Englishman by way of Canada, and this was -his second American wife. His first had been a sister to Mrs. McFarlane. -He was a man of much reading--of the periodical sort--and the big -sitting-room was littered with magazines both English and American, and -his talk abounded in radical and rather foolish utterances. Norcross -considered it the most disorderly home he had ever seen, and yet it was -not without a certain dignity. The rooms were large and amply provided -with furniture of a very mixed and gaudy sort, and the table was spread -with abundance. - -One of the lads, Frank Meeker, a dark, intense youth of about twenty, was -Berea's full cousin. The others were merely hired hands, but they all -eyed the new-comer with disfavor. The fact that Berrie had brought him -and that she seemed interested in him added to the effect of the smart -riding-suit which he wore. "I'd like to roll him in the creek," muttered -one of them to his neighbor. - -This dislike Berrie perceived--in some degree--and to Frank she privately -said: "Now you fellows have got to treat Mr. Norcross right. He's been -very sick." - -Frank maliciously grinned. "Oh, we'll treat him _right_. We won't do a -thing to him!" - -"Now, Frank," she warned, "if you try any of your tricks on him you'll -hear from me." - -"Why all this worry on your part?" he asked, keenly. "How long since you -found him?" - -"We rode up on the stage day before yesterday, and he seemed so kind o' -blue and lonesome I couldn't help trying to chirk him up." - -"How will Cliff take all this chirking business?" - -"Cliff ain't my guardian--yet," she laughingly responded. "Mr. Norcross -is a college man, and not used to our ways--" - -"_Mister_ Norcross--what's his front name?" - -"Wayland." - -He snorted. "Wayland! If he gets past us without being called 'pasty' -he's in luck. He's a 'lunger' if there ever was one." - -The girl was shrewd enough to see that the more she sought to soften the -wind to her Eastern tenderfoot the more surely he was to be shorn, so she -gave over her effort in that direction, and turned to the old folks. To -Mrs. Meeker she privately said: "Mr. Norcross ain't used to rough ways, -and he's not very rugged, you ought 'o kind o' favor him for a while." - -The girl herself did not understand the vital and almost painful interest -which this young man had roused in her. He was both child and poet to -her, and as she watched him trying to make friends with the men, her -indignation rose against their clownish offishness. She understood fully -that his neat speech, his Eastern accent, together with his tailor-cut -clothing and the delicacy of his table manners, would surely mark him for -slaughter among the cow-hands, and the wish to shield him made her face -graver than anybody had ever seen it. - -"I don't feel right in leaving you here," she said, at last; "but I must -be ridin'." And while Meeker ordered her horse brought out, she walked to -the gate with Norcross at her side. - -"I'm tremendously obliged to you," he said, and his voice was vibrant. -"You have been most kind. How can I repay you?" - -"Oh, that's all right," she replied, in true Western fashion. "I wanted -to see the folks up here, anyhow. This is no jaunt at all for me." And, -looking at her powerful figure, and feeling the trap-like grip of her -cinch hand, he knew she spoke the truth. - -Frank had saddled his own horse, and was planning to ride over the hill -with her; but to this she objected. "I'm going to leave Pete here for Mr. -Norcross to ride," she said, "and there's no need of your going." - -Frank's face soured, and with instant perception of the effect her -refusal might have on the fortunes of the stranger, she reconsidered. - -"Oh, come along! I reckon you want to get shut of some mean job." - -And so she rode away, leaving her ward to adjust himself to his new and -strange surroundings as best he could, and with her going the whole -valley darkened for the convalescent. - - - - -III - -WAYLAND RECEIVES A WARNING - - -Distance is no barrier to gossip. It amazed young Norcross to observe how -minutely the ranchers of the valley followed one another's most intimate -domestic affairs. Not merely was each man in full possession of the color -and number of every calf in his neighbor's herd, it seemed that nothing -could happen in the most remote cabin and remain concealed. Any event -which broke the monotony of their life loomed large, and in all matters -of courtship curiosity was something more than keen, it was remorseless. - -Living miles apart, and riding the roads but seldom, these lonely gossips -tore to tatters every scrap of rumor. No citizen came or went without -being studied, characterized, accounted for, and every woman was -scrutinized as closely as a stray horse, and if there was within her, the -slightest wayward impulse some lawless centaur came to know it, to exult -over it, to make test of it. Her every word, her minutest expression of a -natural coquetry was enlarged upon as a sign of weakness, of yielding. -Every personable female was the focus of a natural desire, intensified by -lonely brooding on the part of the men. - -It was soon apparent to the Eastern observer that the entire male -population for thirty miles around not only knew McFarlane's girl; but -that every unmarried man--and some who were both husbands and -fathers--kept a deeply interested eye upon her daily motion, and certain -shameless ones openly boasted among their fellows of their intention to -win her favor, while the shy ones reveled in secret exultation over every -chance meeting with her. She was the topic of every lumber-camp, and the -shining lure of every dance to which the ranch hands often rode over long -and lonely trails. - -Part of this intense interest was due, naturally, to the scarcity of -desirable women, but a larger part was called out by Berea's frank -freedom of manner. Her ready camaraderie was taken for carelessness, and -the candid grip of her hand was often misunderstood; and yet most of the -men respected her, and some feared her. After her avowed choice of -Clifford Belden they all kept aloof, for he was hot-tempered and -formidably swift to avenge an insult. - -At the end of a week Norcross found himself restless and discontented -with the Meekers. He was tired of fishing, tired of the old man's endless -arguments, and tired of the obscene cow-hands. The men around the mill -did not interest him, and their Saturday night spree at the saloon -disgusted him. The one person who piqued his curiosity was Landon, the -ranger who was stationed not far away, and who could be seen occasionally -riding by on a handsome black horse. There was something in his bearing, -in his neat and serviceable drab uniform, which attracted the -convalescent, and on Sunday morning he decided to venture a call, -although Frank Meeker had said the ranger was a "grouch." - -His cabin, a neat log structure, stood just above the road on a huge -natural terrace of grassy boulders, and the flag which fluttered from a -tall staff before it could be seen for several miles--the bright sign of -federal control, the symbol of law and order, just as the saloon and the -mill were signs of lawless vice and destructive greed. Around the door -flowers bloomed and kittens played; while at the door of the dive broken -bottles, swarms of flies, and heaps of refuse menaced every corner, and -the mill immured itself in its own debris like a foul beast. - -It was strangely moving to come upon this flower-like place and this -garden in the wilderness. A spring, which crept from the high wall back -of "the station" (as these ranger headquarters are called), gave its -delicious water into several winding ditches, trickled musically down the -other side of the terrace in little life-giving cascades, and so finally, -reunited in a single current, fell away into the creek. It was plain that -loving care, and much of it, had been given to this tiny system of -irrigation. - -The cabin's interior pleased Wayland almost as much as the garden. It was -built of pine logs neatly matched and hewed on one side. There were but -two rooms--one which served as sleeping-chamber and office, and one which -was at once kitchen and dining-room. In the larger room a quaint -fireplace with a flat arch, a bunk, a table supporting a typewriter, and -several shelves full of books made up the furnishing. On the walls hung a -rifle, a revolver in its belt, a couple of uniforms, and a yellow oilskin -raincoat. - -The ranger, spurred and belted, with his cuffs turned back, was pounding -the typewriter when Wayland appeared at the open door; but he rose with -grave courtesy. "Come in," he said, and his voice had a pleasant -inflection. - -"I'm interrupting." - -"Nothing serious, just a letter. There's no hurry. I'm always glad of an -excuse to rest from this job." He was at once keenly interested in his -visitor, for he perceived in him the gentleman and, of course, the -alien. - -Wayland, with something of the feeling of a civilian reporting to an -officer, explained his presence in the neighborhood. - -"I've heard of you," responded the ranger, "and I've been hoping you'd -look in on me. The Supervisor's daughter has just written me to look -after you. She said you were not very well." - -Again Wayland protested that he was not a consumptive, only a student who -needed mountain air; but he added: "It is very kind of Miss McFarlane to -think of me." - -"Oh, she thinks of everybody," the young fellow declared. "She's one of -the most unselfish creatures in the world." - -Something in the music of this speech, and something in the look of the -ranger's eyes, caused Wayland to wonder if here were not still another of -Berrie's subjects. He became certain of it as the young officer went on, -with pleasing frankness, and it was not long before he had conveyed to -Wayland his cause for sadness. "She's engaged to a man that is not her -equal. In a certain sense no man is her equal; but Belden is a pretty -hard type, and I believe, although I can't prove it, that he is part -owner of the saloon over there." - -"How does that saloon happen to be here?" - -"It's on patented land--a so-called 'placer claim'--experts have reported -against it. McFarlane has protested against it, but nothing is done. The -mill is also on deeded land, and together they are a plague spot. I'm -their enemy, and they know it; and they've threatened to burn me out. Of -course they won't do that, but they're ready to play any kind of trick on -me." - -"I can well believe that, for I am getting my share of practical jokes at -Meeker's." - -"They're not a bad lot over there--only just rowdy. I suppose they're -initiating you," said Landon. - -"I didn't come out here to be a cowboy," responded Norcross. "But Frank -Meeker seems to be anxious to show me all the good old cowboy courtesies. -On Monday he slipped a burr under my horse's saddle, and I came near to -having my neck broken. Then he or some one else concealed a frog in my -bed, and fouled my hair-brushes. In fact, I go to sleep each night in -expectation of some new attack; but the air and the riding are doing me a -great deal of good, and so I stay." - -"Come and bunk with me," urged Landon. "I'll be glad to have you. I get -terribly lonesome here sometimes, although I'm supposed to have the best -station in the forest. Bring your outfit and stay as long as you like." - -This offer touched Norcross deeply. "That's very kind of you; but I guess -I'll stick it out. I hate to let those hoodlums drive me out." - -"All right, but come and see me often. I get so blue some days I wonder -what's the use of it all. There's one fatal condition about this ranger -business--it's a solitary job, it cuts out marriage for most of us. Many -of the stations are fifteen or twenty miles from a post-office; then, -too, the lines of promotion are few. I guess I'll have to get out, -although I like the work. Come in any time and take a snack with me." - -Thereafter Wayland spent nearly every day with the ranger, either in his -cabin or riding the trail, and during these hours confidence grew until -at last Landon confessed that his unrest arose from his rejection by -Berrie. - -"She was not to blame. She's so kind and free with every one, I thought I -had a chance. I was conceited enough to feel sorry for the other fellows, -and now I can't even feel sorry for myself. I'm just dazed and hanging to -the ropes. She was mighty gentle about it--you know how sunny her face -is--well, she just got grave and kind o' faint-voiced, and said--Oh, you -know what she said! She let me know there was another man. I didn't ask -her who, and when I found out, I lost my grip entirely. At first I -thought I'd resign and get out of the country; but I couldn't do it--I -can't yet. The chance of seeing her--of hearing from her once in a -while--she never writes except on business for her father; but--you'll -laugh--I can't see her signature without a tremor." He smiled, but his -eyes were desperately sad. "I ought to resign, because I can't do my work -as well as I ought to. As I ride the trail I'm thinking of her. I sit -here half the night writing imaginary letters to her. And when I see her, -and she takes my hand in hers--you know what a hand she has--my mind goes -blank. Oh, I'm crazy! I admit it. I didn't know such a thing could happen -to me; but it has." - -"I suppose it's being alone so much," Wayland started to argue, but the -other would not have it so. - -"No, it's the girl herself. She's not only beautiful in body, she's all -sweetness and sincerity in mind. There isn't a petty thing about her. And -her happy smile--do you know, I have times when I resent that smile? How -can she be so happy without me? That's crazy, too, but I think it, -sometimes. Then I think of the time when she will not smile--when that -brute Belden will begin to treat her as he does his sisters--then I get -murderous." - -As Wayland listened to this outpouring he wondered at the intensity of -the forester's passion. He marveled, too, at Berrie's choice, for there -was something fine and high in Landon's worship. A college man with a -mining engineer's training, he should go high in the service. "He made -the mistake of being too precipitate as a lover," concluded Wayland. "His -forthright courtship repelled her." - -Meanwhile his own troubles increased. Frank's dislike had grown to an -impish vindictiveness, and if the old man Meeker had any knowledge of his -son's deviltries, he gave no sign. Mrs. Meeker, however, openly reproved -the scamp. - -"You ought to be ashamed of worrying a sick man," she protested, -indignantly. - -"He ain't so sick as all that; and, besides, he needs the starch taken -out of him," was the boy's pitiless answer. - -"I don't know why I stay," Wayland wrote to Berea. "I'm disgusted with -the men up here--they're all tiresome except Landon--but I hate to slink -away, and besides, the country is glorious. I'd like to come down and see -you this week. May I do so? Please send word that I may." - -She did not reply, and wondering whether she had received his letter or -not, he mounted his horse one beautiful morning and rode away up the -trail with a sense of elation, of eager joy, with intent to call upon her -at the ranch as he went by. - -Hardly had he vanished among the pines when Clifford Belden rode in from -his ranch on Hat Creek, and called at Meeker's for his mail. - -Frank Meeker was in the office, and as he both feared and disliked this -big contemptuous young cattleman, he set to work to make him jealous. - -"You want to watch this one-lung boarder of ours," he warned, with a -grin. "He's been writing to Berrie, and he's just gone down to see her. -His highfalutin ways, and his fine white hands, have put her on the -slant." - -Belden fixed a pair of cold, gray-blue eyes on his tormentor, and said: -"You be careful of your tongue or I'll put _you_ on the slant." - -"I'm her own cousin," retorted Frank. "I reckon I can say what I please -about her. I don't want that dude Easterner to cut you out. She guided -him over here, and gave him her slicker to keep him dry, and I can see -she's terribly taken with him. She's headstrong as a mule, once she gets -started, and if she takes a notion to Norcross it's all up with you." - -"I'm not worrying," retorted Belden. - -"You'd better be. I was down there the other day, and it 'peared like she -couldn't talk of anything else but Mister Norcross, Mister Norcross, till -I was sick of his name." - -An hour later Belden left the mill and set off up the trail behind -Norcross, his face fallen into stern lines. Frank writhed in delight. -"There goes Cliff, hot under the collar, chasing Norcross. If he finds -out that Berrie is interested in him, he'll just about wring that dude's -neck." - -Meanwhile Wayland was riding through the pass with lightening heart, his -thought dwelling on the girl at the end of his journey. Aside from Landon -and Nash, she was the one soul in all this mountain world in whom he took -the slightest interest. Her pity still hurt him, but he hoped to show her -such change of color, such gain in horsemanship, that she could no longer -consider him an invalid. His mind kept so closely to these interior -matters that he hardly saw the path, but his horse led him safely back -with precise knowledge and eager haste. - -As he reached the McFarlane ranch it seemed deserted of men, but a faint -column of smoke rising from the roof of the kitchen gave evidence of a -cook, and at his knock Berrie came to the door with a boyish word of -frank surprise and pleasure. She was dressed in a blue-and-white calico -gown with the collar turned in and the sleeves rolled up; but she seemed -quite unembarrassed, and her pleasure in his coming quite repaid him for -his long and tiresome ride. - -"I've been wondering about you," she said. "I'm mighty glad to see you. -How do you stand it?" - -"You got my letter?" - -"I did--and I was going to write and tell you to come down, but I've had -some special work to do at the office." - -She took the horse's rein from him, and together they started toward -the stables. As she stepped over and around the old hoofs and -meat-bones--which littered the way--without comment, Wayland again -wondered at her apparent failure to realize the disgusting disorder of -the yard. "Why don't she urge the men to clean it up?" he thought. - -This action of stabling the horses--a perfectly innocent and natural one -for her--led one of the hands, a coarse-minded sneak, to watch them from -a corral. "I wonder how Cliff would like that?" he evilly remarked. - -Berea was frankly pleased to see Wayland, and spoke of the improvement -which had taken place in him. "You're looking fine," she said, as they -were returning to the house. "But how do you get on with the boys?" - -"Not very well," he admitted. "They seem to have it in for me. It's a -constant fight." - -"How about Frank?" - -"He's the worst of them all. He never speaks to me that he doesn't insult -me. I don't know why. I've tried my best to get into his good graces, but -I can't. Your uncle I like, and Mrs. Meeker is very kind; but all the -others seem to be sworn enemies. I don't think I could stand it if it -weren't for Landon. I spend a good deal of time with him." - -Her face grew grave. "I reckon you got started wrong," she said at last. -"They'll like you better when you get browned up, and your clothes get -dirty--you're a little too fancy for them just now." - -"But you see," he said, "I'm not trying for their admiration. I haven't -the slightest ambition to shine as a cow-puncher, and if those fellows -are fair samples I don't want anybody to mistake me for one." - -"Don't let that get around," she smilingly replied. "They'd run you out -if they knew you despised them." - -"I've come down here to confer with you," he declared, as they reached -the door. "I don't believe I want any more of their company. What's the -use? As you say, I've started wrong with them, and I don't see any -prospect of getting right; and, besides, I like the rangers better. -Landon thinks I might work into the service. I wonder if I could? It -would give me something to do." - -She considered a moment. "We'll think about that. Come into the kitchen. -I'm cook to-day, mother's gone to town." - -The kitchen was clean and ample, and the delicious odor of new-made bread -filled it with cheer. As the girl resumed her apron, Wayland settled into -a chair with a sigh of content. "I like this," he said aloud. "There's -nothing cowgirl about you now, you're the Anglo-Saxon housewife. You -might be a Michigan or Connecticut girl at this moment." - -Her cheeks were ruddy with the heat, and her eyes intent on her work; but -she caught enough of his meaning to be pleased with it. "Oh, I have to -take a hand at the pots and pans now and then. I can't give all my time -to the service; but I'd like to." - -He boldly announced his errand. "I wish you'd take me to board? I'm sure -your cooking would build up my shattered system a good deal quicker than -your aunt's." - -She laughed, but shook her head. "You ought to be on the hills riding -hard every day. What you need is the high country and the air of the -pines." - -"I'm not feeling any lack of scenery or pine-tree air," he retorted. "I'm -perfectly satisfied right here. Civilized bread and the sight of you will -do me more good than boiled beans and camp bread. I hate to say it, but -the Meeker menu runs largely to beef. Moreover, just seeing you would -help my recovery." - -She became self-conscious at this, and he hastened to add: - -"Not that I'm really sick. Mrs. Meeker, like yourself, persists in -treating me as if I were. I'm feeling fine--perfectly well, only I'm not -as rugged as I want to be." - -She had read that victims of the white plague always talk in this -cheerful way about themselves, and she worked on without replying, and -this gave him an excellent opportunity to study her closely. She was -taller than most women and lithely powerful. There was nothing delicate -about her--nothing spirituelle--on the contrary, she was markedly -full-veined, cheerful and humorous, and yet she had responded several -times to an allusive phrase with surprising quickness. She did so now as -he remarked: "Somebody, I think it was Lowell, has said 'Nature is all -very well for a vacation, but a poor substitute for the society of good -men and women.' It's beautiful up at the mill, but I want some one to -enjoy it with, and there is no one to turn to, except Landon, and he's -rather sad and self-absorbed--you know why. If I were here--in the -valley--you and I could ride together now and then, and you could show me -all the trails. Why not let me come here and board? I'm going to ask your -mother, if I may not do so?" - -Quite naturally he grew more and more personal. He told her of his -father, the busy director of a lumber company, and of his mother, sickly -and inert. - -"She ought never to have married," he said, with darkened brow. "Not one -of her children has even a decent constitution. I'm the most robust of -them all, and I must seem a pretty poor lot to you. However, I wasn't -always like this, and if that young devil, Frank Meeker, hadn't tormented -me out of my sleep, I would have shown you still greater improvement. -Don't you see that it is your duty to let me stay here where I can build -up on your cooking?" - -She turned this aside. "Mother don't think much of my cooking. She says I -can handle a brandin'-iron a heap better than I can a rollin'-pin." - -"You certainly can ride," he replied, with admiring accent. "I shall -never forget the picture you made that first time I saw you racing to -intercept the stage. Do you _know_ how fine you are physically? You're a -wonder." She uttered some protest, but he went on: "When I think of my -mother and sisters in comparison with you, they seem like caricatures of -women. I know I oughtn't to say such things of my mother--she really is -an exceptional person--but a woman should be something more than mind. My -sisters could no more do what you do than a lame duck can lead a ballet. -I suppose it is because I have had to live with a lot of ailing women all -my life that I feel as I do toward you. I worship your health and -strength. I really do. Your care of me on that trip was very sweet--and -yet it stung." - -"I didn't mean to hurt you." - -"I know you didn't, and I'm not complaining. I'm only wishing I could -come here and be 'bossed' by you until I could hold my own against any -weather. You make me feel just as I used to do when I went to a circus -and watched the athletes, men and women, file past me in the sawdust. -They seemed like demigods. As I sit here now I have a fierce desire to be -as well, as strong, as full of life as you are. I hate being thin and -timid. You have the physical perfection that queens ought to have." - -Her face was flushed with inward heat as she listened to his strange -words, which sprang, she feared, from the heart of a man hopelessly ill; -but she again protested. "It's all right to be able to throw a rope and -ride a mean horse, but you have got something else--something I can never -get. Learning is a thousand times finer than muscle." - -"Learning does not compensate for nine-inch shoulders and spindle legs," -he answered. "But I'm going to get well. Knowing you has given me renewed -desire to be a man. I'm going to ride and rough it, and sleep out of -doors till I can follow you anywhere. You'll be proud of me before the -month is out. But I'm going to cut the Meeker outfit. I won't subject -myself to their vulgarities another day. Why should I? It's false pride -in me to hang on up there any longer." - -"Of course you can come here," she said. "Mother will be glad to have -you, although our ranch isn't a bit pretty. Perhaps father will send you -out with one of the rangers as a fire-guard. I'll ask him to-night." - -"I wish you would. I like these foresters. What I've seen of them. I -wouldn't mind serving under a man like Landon. He's fine." - -Upon this pleasant conference Cliff Belden unexpectedly burst. Pushing -the door open with a slam, he confronted Berrie with dark and angry -face. - -"Why, Cliff, where did you come from?" she asked, rising in some -confusion. "I didn't hear you ride up." - -"Apparently not," he sneeringly answered. "I reckon you were too much -occupied." - -She tried to laugh away his black mood. "That's right, I was. I'm chief -cook to-day. Come in and sit down. Mother's gone to town, and I'm playing -her part," she explained, ignoring his sullen displeasure. "Cliff, this -is Mr. Norcross, who is visiting Uncle Joe. Mr. Norcross, shake hands -with Mr. Belden." She made this introduction with some awkwardness, for -her lover's failure to even say, "Howdy," informed her that his jealous -heart was aflame, and she went on, quickly: "Mr. Norcross dropped in on -his way to the post-office, and I'm collecting a snack for him." - -Recognizing Belden's claims upon the girl, Wayland rose. "I must be -going. It's a long ride over the hill." - -"Come again soon," urged Berrie; "father wants to see you." - -"Thank you. I will look in very shortly," he replied, and went out with -such dignity as he could command, feeling, however, very much like a dog -that has been kicked over the threshold. - -Closing the door behind him, Belden turned upon the girl. "What's that -consumptive 'dogie' doing here? He 'peared to be very much at home with -you--too dern much at home!" - -She was prepared for his displeasure, but not for words like these. She -answered, quietly: "He just dropped in on his way to town, and he's not a -dogie!" She resented his tone as well as his words. - -"I've heard about you taking him over to Meeker's and lending him your -only slicker," he went on; "but I didn't expect to find him sittin' here -like he owned you and the place. You're taking altogether too much pains -with him. Can't he put his own horse out? Do you have to go to the stable -with him? You never did have any sense about your actions with men. -You've all along been too free of your reputation, and now I'm going to -take care of it for you. I won't have you nursin' this runt any longer!" - -She perceived now the full measure of his base rage, and her face grew -pale and set. "You're making a perfect fool of yourself, Cliff," she -said, with portentous calmness. - -"Am I?" he asked. - -"You sure are, and you'll see it yourself by and by. You've no call to -get wire-edged about Mr. Norcross. He's not very strong. He's just -getting well of a long sickness. I knew a chill would finish him, that's -why I gave him my slicker. It didn't hurt me, and maybe it saved his -life. I'd do it again if necessary." - -"Since when did you start a hospital for Eastern tenderfeet?" he sneered; -then his tone changed to one of downright command. "You want to cut this -all out, I tell you! I won't have any more of it! The boys up at the mill -are all talkin' about your interest in this little whelp, and I'm getting -the branding-iron from every one I meet. Sam saw you go into the barn -with that dude, and _that_ would have been all over the country -to-morrow, if I hadn't told him I'd sew his mouth up if he said a word -about it. Of course, I don't think you mean anything by this coddlin'." - -"Oh, thank you," she interrupted, with flaming, quick, indignant fury. -"That's mighty nice of you. I went to the barn to show Mr. Norcross where -to stall his horse. I didn't know Sam was here." - -He sneered: "No, I bet you didn't." - -She fired at this. "Come now! Spit it out! Something nasty is in your -mind. Go on! What have I done? What makes you so hot?" - -He began to weaken. "I don't accuse you of anything. I--but I--" - -"Yes you do--in your heart you distrust me--you just as much as said -so!" - -He was losing his high air of command. "Never mind what I said, Berrie, -I--" - -She was blazing now. "But I _do_ mind--I mind a whole lot--I didn't think -it of you," she added, as she realized his cheapness, his coarseness. "I -didn't suppose you could even _think_ such things of me. I don't like -it," she repeated, and her tone hardened, "and I guess you'd better pull -out of here--for good. If you've no more faith in me than that, I want -you to go and never come back." - -"You don't mean that!" - -"Yes, I do! You've shown this yellow streak before, and I'm tired of it. -This is the limit. I'm done with you." - -She stood between tears and benumbing anger now, and he was scared. -"Don't say that, Berrie!" he pleaded, trying to put his arm about her. - -"Keep away from me!" She dashed his hands aside. "I hate you. I never -want to see you again!" She ran into her own room and slammed the door -behind her. - -Belden stood for a long time with his back against the wall, the heat of -his resentment utterly gone, an empty, aching place in his heart. He -called her twice, but she made no answer, and so, at last, he mounted his -horse and rode away. - - - - -IV - -THE SUPERVISOR OF THE FOREST - - -Young Norcross, much as he admired Berrie, was not seeking to exchange -her favor for her lover's enmity, and he rode away with an uneasy feeling -of having innocently made trouble for himself, as well as for a fine, -true-hearted girl. "What a good friendly talk we were having," he said, -regretfully, "and to think she is to marry that big, scowling brute. How -could she turn Landon down for a savage like that?" - -He was just leaving the outer gate when Belden came clattering up and -reined his horse across the path and called out: "See here, you young -skunk, you're a poor, white-livered tenderfoot, and I can't bust you as I -would a full-grown man, but I reckon you better not ride this trail any -more." - -"Why not?" inquired Wayland. - -Belden glared. "Because I tell you so. Your sympathy-hunting game has -just about run into the ground. You've worked this baby dodge about long -enough. You're not so almighty sick as you put up to be, and you'd better -hunt some other cure for lonesomeness, or I'll just about cave your chest -in." - -All this was shockingly plain talk for a slender young scholar to listen -to, but Norcross remained calm. "I think you're unnecessarily excited," -he remarked. "I have no desire to make trouble. I'm considering Miss -Berea, who is too fine to be worried by us." - -His tone was conciliating, and the cowman, in spite of himself, responded -to it. "That's why I advise you to go. She was all right till you came. -Colorado's a big place, and there are plenty other fine ranges for men of -your complaint--why not try Routt County? This is certain, you can't stay -in the same valley with my girl. I serve notice of that." - -"You're making a prodigious ass of yourself," observed Wayland, with calm -contempt. - -"You think so--do you? Well, I'll make a jack-rabbit out of you if I find -you on this ranch again. You've worked on my girl in some way till she's -jest about quit me. I don't see how you did it, you measly little pup, -but you surely have turned her against me!" His rage burst into flame as -he thought of her last words. "If you were so much as half a man I'd -break you in two pieces right now; but you're not, you're nothing but a -dead-on-the-hoof lunger, and there's nothing to do but run you out. So -take this as your final notice. You straddle a horse and head east and -keep a-ridin', and if I catch you with my girl again, I'll deal you a -whole hatful of misery--now that's right!" - -Thereupon, with a final glance of hate in his face, he whirled his horse -and galloped away, leaving Norcross dumb with resentment, intermingled -with wonder. - -"Truly the West is a dramatic country! Here I am, involved in a lover's -wrath, and under sentence of banishment, all within a month! Well, I -suppose there's nothing to do but carry out Belden's orders. He's the -boss," he said as he rode on. "I wonder just what happened after I left? -Something stormy, evidently. She must have given him a sharp rebuff, or -he wouldn't have been so furious with me. Perhaps she even broke her -engagement with him. I sincerely hope she did. She's too good for him. -That's the truth." - -And so, from point to point, he progressed till with fine indignation he -reached a resolution to stay and meet whatever came. "I certainly would -be a timorous animal if I let myself be scared into flight by that big -bonehead," he said at last. "I have as much right here as he has, and the -law must protect me. It can't be that this country is entirely -barbaric." - -Nevertheless, he felt very weak and very much depressed as he rode up the -street of the little town and dismounted at the hotel. The sidewalks were -littered with loafing cowboys and lumber-jacks, and some of them quite -openly ridiculed his riding-breeches and his thin legs. Others merely -grinned, but in their grins lay something more insulting than words. "To -them I am a poor thing," he admitted; but as he lifted his eyes to the -mighty semicircular wall of the Bear Tooth Range, over which the daily -storm was playing, he forgot his small worries. What gorgeous pageantry! -What life-giving air! "If only civilized men and women possessed this -glorious valley, what a place it would be!" he exclaimed, and in the heat -of his indignant contempt he would have swept the valley clean. - -As his eyes caught the flutter of the flag on its staff above the Forest -Service building, his heart went out to the men who unselfishly wrought -beneath that symbol of federal unity for the good of the future. "That is -civilized," he said; "that is prophetic," and alighted at the door in a -glow of confidence. - -Nash, who was alone in the office, looked up from his work. "Come in," he -called, heartily. "Come in and report." - -"Thank you. I'd like to do so; and may I use your desk? I have a letter -to write." - -"Make yourself at home. Take any desk you like. The men are all out on -duty." - -"You're very kind," replied Wayland, gratefully. There was something -reassuring in this greeting, and in the many signs of skill and -scientific reading which the place displayed. It was like a bit of -Washington in the midst of a careless, slovenly, lawless mountain town, -and Norcross took his seat and wrote his letter with a sense of -proprietorship. - -"I'm getting up an enthusiasm for the Service just from hearing Alec -Belden rave against it," he said a few minutes later, as he looked up -from his letter. - -Nash grinned. "How did you like Meeker?" - -"He's a good man, but he has his peculiarities. Belden is your real -enemy. He is blue with malignity--so are most of the cowmen I met up -there. I wish I could do something for the Service. I'm a thoroughly -up-to-date analytical chemist and a passable mining engineer, and my -doctor says that for a year at least I must work in the open air. _Is_ -there anything in this Forest Service for a weakling like me?" - -Nash considered. "The Supervisor might put you on as a temporary guard. -I'll speak to him if you like?" - -"I wish you would. Tell him to forget the pay. I'm not in need of money, -but I do require some incentive--something to do--something to give me -direction. It bores me stiff to fish, and I'm sick of loafing. If -McFarlane can employ me I shall be happy. The country is glorious, but I -can't live on scenery." - -"I think we can employ you, but you'll have to go on as fire-guard or -something like that for the first year. You see, the work is getting to -be more and more technical each year. As a matter of fact"--here he -lowered his voice a little--"McFarlane is one of the old guard, and will -have to give way. He don't know a thing about forestry, and is too old to -learn. His girl knows more about it than he does. She helps him out on -office work, too." - -Wayland wondered a little at the freedom of expression on the part of -Nash; but said: "If he runs his office as he runs his ranch he surely is -condemned to go." - -"There's where the girl comes in. She keeps the boys in the office lined -up and maintains things in pretty fair shape. She knows the old man is in -danger of losing his job, and she's doing her best to hold him to it. -She's like a son to him and he relies on her judgment when a close -decision comes up. But it's only a matter of time when he and all he -represents must drift by. This is a big movement we're mixed with." - -"I begin to feel that that's why I'd like to take it up. It's the only -thing out here that interests me--and I've got to do something. I can't -loaf." - -"Well, you get Berrie to take up your case and you're all right. She has -the say about who goes on the force in this forest." - -It was late in the afternoon before Wayland started back to Meeker's with -intent to repack his belongings and leave the ranch for good. He had -decided not to call at McFarlane's, a decision which came not so much -from fear of Clifford Belden as from a desire to shield Berea from -further trouble, but as he was passing the gate, the girl rose from -behind a clump of willows and called to him: "Oh, Mr. Norcross! Wait a -moment." - -He drew rein, and, slipping from his horse, approached her. "What is it, -Miss Berrie?" he asked, with wondering politeness. - -She confronted him with gravity. "It's too late for you to cross the -ridge. It'll be dark long before you reach the cut-off. You'd better not -try to make it." - -"I think I can find my way," he answered, touched by her consideration. -"I'm not so helpless as I was when I came." - -"Just the same you mustn't go on," she insisted. "Father told me to ask -you to come in and stay all night. He wants to meet you. I was afraid you -might ride by after what happened to-day, and so I came up here to head -you off." She took his horse by the rein, and flashed a smiling glance up -at him. "Come now, do as the Supervisor tells you." - -"Wait a moment," he pleaded. "On second thought, I don't believe it's a -good thing for me to go home with you. It will only make further trouble -for--for us both." - -She was almost as direct as Belden had been. "I know what you mean. I saw -Cliff follow you. He jumped you, didn't he?" - -"He overtook me--yes." - -"What did he say?" - -He hesitated. "He was pretty hot, and said things he'll be sorry for when -he cools off." - -"He told you not to come here any more--advised you to hit the out-going -trail--didn't he?" - -He flushed with returning shame of it all, but quietly answered: "Yes, he -said something about riding east." - -"Are you going to do it?" - -"Not to-day; but I guess I'd better keep away from here." - -She looked at him steadily. "Why?" - -"Because you've been very kind to me, and I wouldn't for the world do -anything to hurt or embarrass you." - -"Don't you mind about me," she responded, bluntly. "What happened this -morning wasn't your fault nor mine. Cliff made a mighty coarse play, -something he'll have to pay for. He knows that right now. He'll be back -in a day or two begging my pardon, and he won't get it. Don't you worry -about me, not for a minute--I can take care of myself--I grew up that -way, and don't you be chased out of the country by anybody. Come, father -will be looking for you." - -With a feeling that he was involving both the girl and himself in still -darker storms, the young fellow yielded to her command, and together they -walked along the weed-bordered path, while she continued: - -"This isn't the first time Cliff has started in to discipline me; but -it's obliged to be the last. He's the kind that think they own a girl -just as soon as they get her to wear an engagement ring; but Cliff don't -own me. I told him I wouldn't stand for his coarse ways, and I won't!" - -Wayland tried to bring her back to humor. "You're a kind of 'new -woman.'" - -She turned a stern look on him. "You bet I am! I was raised a free -citizen. No man can make a slave of me. I thought he understood that; but -it seems he didn't. He's all right in many ways--one of the best riders -in the country--but he's pretty tolerable domineering--I've always known -that--still, I never expected him to talk to me like he did to-day. It -certainly was raw." She broke off abruptly. "You mustn't let Frank Meeker -get the best of you, either," she advised. "He's a mean little weasel if -he gets started. I'll bet he put Cliff up to this business." - -"Do you think so?" - -"Yes, he just as good as told me he'd do it. I know Frank, he's my own -cousin, and someways I like him; but he's the limit when he gets going. -You see, he wanted to get even with Cliff and took that way of doing it. -I'll ride up there and give him a little good advice some Saturday." - -He was no longer amused by her blunt speech, and her dark look saddened -him. She seemed so unlike the happy girl he met that first day, and the -change in her subtended a big, rough, and pitiless world of men against -which she was forced to contend all her life. - -Mrs. McFarlane greeted Norcross with cordial word and earnest hand-clasp. -"I'm glad to see you looking so well," she said, with charming -sincerity. - -"I'm browner, anyway," he answered, and turned to meet McFarlane, a -short, black-bearded man, with fine dark eyes and shapely hands--hands -that had never done anything more toilsome than to lift a bridle rein or -to clutch the handle of a gun. He was the horseman in all his training, -and though he owned hundreds of acres of land, he had never so much as -held a plow or plied a spade. His manner was that of the cow-boss, the -lord of great herds, the claimant of empires of government grass-land. -Poor as his house looked, he was in reality rich. Narrow-minded in -respect to his own interests, he was well in advance of his neighbors on -matters relating to the general welfare, a curious mixture of greed and -generosity, as most men are, and though he had been made Supervisor at a -time when political pull still crippled the Service, he was loyal to the -flag. "I'm mighty glad to see you," he heartily began. "We don't often -get a man from the sea-level, and when we do we squeeze him dry." - -His voice, low, languid, and soft, was most insinuating, and for hours he -kept his guest talking of the East and its industries and prejudices; and -Berrie and her mother listened with deep admiration, for the youngster -had seen a good deal of the old world, and was unusually well read on -historical lines of inquiry. He talked well, too, inspired by his -attentive audience. - -Berrie's eyes, wide and eager, were fixed upon him unwaveringly. He felt -her wonder, her admiration, and was inspired to do his best. Something in -her absorbed attention led him to speak of things so personal that he -wondered at himself for uttering them. - -"I've been dilettante all my life," was one of his confessions. "I've -traveled; I've studied in a tepid sort of fashion; I went through college -without any idea of doing anything with what I got; I had a sort of pride -in keeping up with my fellows; and I had no idea of preparing for any -work in the world. Then came my breakdown, and my doctor ordered me out -here. I came intending to fish and loaf around, but I can't do that. I've -got to do something or go back home. I expected to have a chum of mine -with me, but his father was injured in an automobile accident, so he went -into the office to help out." - -As he talked the girl discovered new graces, new allurements in him. His -smile, so subtly self-derisive, and his voice so flexible and so quietly -eloquent, completed her subjugation. She had no further care concerning -Clifford--indeed, she had forgotten him--for the time at least. The other -part of her--the highly civilized latent power drawn from her mother--was -in action. She lost her air of command, her sense of chieftainship, and -sat humbly at the feet of this shining visitor from the East. - -At last Mrs. McFarlane rose, and Berea, reluctantly, like a child loath -to miss a fairy story, held out her hand to say good night, and the young -man saw on her face that look of adoration which marks the birth of -sudden love; but his voice was frank and his glance kindly as he said: - -"Here I've done all the talking when I wanted you to tell _me_ all sorts -of things." - -"I can't tell you anything." - -"Oh yes, you can; and, besides, I want you to intercede for me with your -father and get me into the Service. But we'll talk about that to-morrow. -Good night." - -After the women left the room Norcross said: - -"I really am in earnest about entering the Forest Service. Landon filled -me with enthusiasm about it. Never mind the pay. I'm not in immediate -need of money; but I do need an interest in life." - -McFarlane stared at him with kindly perplexity. "I don't know exactly -what you can do, but I'll work you in somehow. You ought to work under a -man like Settle, one that could put you through a training in the -rudiments of the game. I'll see what can be done." - -"Thank you for that half promise," said Wayland, and he went to his bed -happier than at any moment since leaving home. - -Berrie, on her part, did not analyze her feeling for Wayland, she only -knew that he was as different from the men she knew as a hawk from a -sage-hen, and that he appealed to her in a higher way than any other had -done. His talk filled her with visions of great cities, and with thoughts -of books, for though she was profoundly loyal to her mountain valley, she -held other, more secret admirations. She was, in fact, compounded of two -opposing tendencies. Her quiet little mother longing--in secret--for the -placid, refined life of her native Kentucky town, had dowered her -daughter with some part of her desire. She had always hated the slovenly, -wasteful, and purposeless life of the cattle-rancher, and though she -still patiently bore with her husband's shortcomings, she covertly hoped -that Berea might find some other and more civilized lover than Clifford -Belden. She understood her daughter too well to attempt to dictate her -action; she merely said to her, as they were alone for a few moments: "I -don't wonder your father is interested in Mr. Norcross, he's very -intelligent--and very considerate." - -"Too considerate," said Berrie, shortly; "he makes other men seem like -bears or pigs." - -Mrs. McFarlane said no more, but she knew that Cliff was, for the time, -among the bears. - - - - -V - -THE GOLDEN PATHWAY - - -Young Norcross soon became vitally engaged with the problems which -confronted McFarlane, and his possible enrolment as a guard filled him -with a sense of proprietorship in the forest, which made him quite -content with Bear Tooth. He set to work at once to acquire a better -knowledge of the extent and boundaries of the reservation. It was, -indeed, a noble possession. Containing nearly eight hundred thousand -acres of woodland, and reaching to the summits of the snow-lined peaks to -the east, south, and west, it appealed to him with silent majesty. It -drew upon his patriotism. Remembering how the timber of his own state had -been slashed and burned, he began to feel a sense of personal -responsibility. He had but to ride into it a few miles in order to -appreciate in some degree its grandeur, considered merely as the source -of a hundred swift streams, whose waters enriched the valleys lying -below. - -He bought a horse of his own--although Berrie insisted upon his retaining -Pete--and sent for a saddle of the army type, and from sheer desire to -keep entirely clear of the cowboy equipment procured puttees like those -worn by cavalry officers, and when he presented himself completely -uniformed, he looked not unlike a slender, young lieutenant of the -cavalry on field duty, and in Berrie's eyes was wondrous alluring. - -He took quarters at the hotel, but spent a larger part of each day in -Berrie's company--a fact which was duly reported to Clifford Belden. -Hardly a day passed without his taking at least one meal at the -Supervisor's home. - -As he met the rangers one by one, he perceived by their outfits, as well -as by their speech, that they were sharply divided upon old lines and -new. The experts, the men of college training, were quite ready to be -known as Uncle Sam's men. They held a pride in their duties, a respect -for their superiors, and an understanding of the governmental policy -which gave them dignity and a quiet authority. They were less policemen -than trusted agents of a federal department. Nevertheless, there was much -to admire in the older men, who possessed a self-reliance, a knowledge of -nature, and a certain rough grace which made them interesting companions, -and rendered them effective teachers of camping and trailing, and while -they were secretly a little contemptuous of the "schoolboys"; they were -all quite ready to ask for expert aid when knotty problems arose. It was -no longer a question of grazing, it was a question of lumbering and -reforestration. - -Nash, who took an almost brotherly interest in his apprentice, -warningly said: "You want to go well clothed and well shod. You'll have -to meet all kinds of weather. Every man in the service, I don't care -what his technical job is, should be schooled in taking care of himself -in the forest and on the trail. I often meet surveyors and civil -engineers--experts--who are helpless as children in camp, and when I -want them to go into the hills and do field work, they are almost -useless. The old-style ranger has his virtues. Settle is just the kind -of instructor you young fellows need." - -Berrie also had keen eyes for his outfit and his training, and under her -direction he learned to pack a horse, set a tent, build a fire in the -rain, and other duties. - -"You want to remember that you carry your bed and board with you," she -said, "and you must be prepared to camp anywhere and at any time." - -The girl's skill in these particulars was marvelous to him, and added to -the admiration he already felt for her. Her hand was as deft, as sure, as -the best of them, and her knowledge of cayuse psychology more profound -than any of the men excepting her father. - -One day, toward the end of his second week in the village, the Supervisor -said: "Well, now, if you're ready to experiment I'll send you over to -Settle, the ranger, on the Horseshoe. He's a little lame on his pen-hand -side, and you may be able to help him out. Maybe I'll ride over there -with you. I want to line out some timber sales on the west side of -Ptarmigan." - -This commission delighted Norcross greatly. "I'm ready, sir, this -moment," he answered, saluting soldier-wise. - -That night, as he sat in the saddle-littered, boot-haunted front room of -Nash's little shack, his host said, quaintly: "Don't think you are -inheriting a soft snap, son. The ranger's job was a man's job in the old -days when it was a mere matter of patrolling; but it's worse and more of -it to-day. A ranger must be ready and willing to build bridges, fight -fire, scale logs, chop a hole through a windfall, use a pick in a ditch, -build his own house, cook, launder, and do any other old trick that comes -along. But you'll know more about all this at the end of ten days than I -can tell you in a year." - -"I'm eager for duty," replied Wayland. - -The next morning, as he rode down to the office to meet the Supervisor, -he was surprised and delighted to find Berea there. "I'm riding, too," -she announced, delightedly. "I've never been over that new trail, and -father has agreed to let me go along." Then she added, earnestly: "I -think it's fine you're going in for the Service; but it's hard work, and -you must be careful till you're hardened to it. It's a long way to a -doctor from Settle's station." - -He was annoyed as well as touched by her warning, for it proclaimed that -he was still far from looking the brave forester he felt himself to be. -He replied: "I'm not going to try anything wild, but I do intend to -master the trailer's craft." - -"I'll teach you how to camp, if you'll let me," she continued. "I've been -on lots of surveys with father, and I always take my share of the work. I -threw that hitch alone." She nodded toward the pack-horse, whose neat -load gave evidence of her skill. "I told father this was to be a real -camping expedition, and as the grouse season is on we'll live on the -country. Can you fish?" - -"Just about that," he laughed. "Good thing you didn't ask me if I could -_catch_ fish?" He was recovering his spirits. "It will be great fun to -have you as instructor in camp science. I seem to be in for all kinds of -good luck." - -They both grew uneasy as time passed, for fear something or some one -would intervene to prevent this trip, which grew in interest each moment; -but at last the Supervisor came out and mounted his horse, the -pack-ponies fell in behind, Berrie followed, and the student of woodcraft -brought up to rear. - -"I hope it won't rain," the girl called back at him, "at least not till -we get over the divide. It's a fine ride up the hill, and the foliage is -at its best." - -It seemed to him the most glorious morning of his life. A few large white -clouds were drifting like snow-laden war-vessels from west to east, -silent and solemn, and on the highest peaks a gray vapor was lightly -clinging. The near-by hills, still transcendently beautiful with the -flaming gold of the aspen, burned against the dark green of the farther -forest, and far beyond the deep purple of the shadowed s rose to -smoky blue and tawny yellow. It was a season, an hour, to create raptures -in a poet, so radiant, so wide-reaching, so tumultuous was the landscape. -Nothing sad, nothing discouraging, showed itself. The wind was brisk, the -air cool and clear, and jewel-like small, frost-painted vines and ripened -shrubberies blazed upward from the ground. As he rode the youth silently -repeated: "Beautiful! Beautiful!" - -For several miles they rode upward through golden forests of aspens. On -either hand rose thick walls of snow-white boles, and in the mystic glow -of their gilded leaves the face of the girl shone with unearthly beauty. -It was as if the very air had become auriferous. Magic coins dangled from -the branches. Filmy shadows fell over her hair and down her strong young -arms like priceless lace. Gold, gold! Everywhere gold, gold and fire! - -Twice she stopped to gaze into Wayland's face to say, with hushed -intensity: "Isn't it wonderful! Don't you wish it would last forever?" - -Her words were poor, ineffectual; but her look, her breathless voice made -up for their lack of originality. Once she said: "I never saw it so -lovely before; it is an enchanted land!" with no suspicion that the -larger part of her ecstasy arose from the presence of her young and -sympathetic companion. He, too, responded to the beauty of the day, of -the golden forest as one who had taken new hold on life after long -illness. - -Meanwhile the Supervisor was calmly leading the way upward, vaguely -conscious of the magical air and mystic landscape in which his young folk -floated as if on wings, thinking busily of the improvements which were -still necessary in the trail, and weighing with care the clouds which -still lingered upon the tallest summits, as if debating whether to go or -to stay. He had never been an imaginative soul, and now that age had -somewhat dimmed his eyes and blunted his senses he was placidly content -with his path. The rapture of the lover, the song of the poet, had long -since abandoned his heart. And yet he was not completely oblivious. To -him it was a nice day, but a "weather breeder." - -"I wonder if I shall ever ride through this mountain world as unmoved as -he seems to be?" Norcross asked himself, after some jarring prosaic -remark from his chief. "I am glad Berrie responds to it." - -At last they left these lower, wondrous forest aisles and entered the -unbroken cloak of firs whose dark and silent deeps had a stern beauty all -their own; but the young people looked back upon the glowing world below -with wistful hearts. Back and forth across a long, down-sweeping ridge -they wove their toilsome way toward the clouds, which grew each hour more -formidable, awesome with their weight, ponderous as continents in their -majesty of movement. The horses began to labor with roaring breath, and -Wayland, dismounting to lighten his pony's burden, was dismayed to -discover how thin the air had become. Even to walk unburdened gave him a -smothering pain in his breast. - -"Better stay on," called the girl. "My rule is to ride the hill going up -and walk it going down. Down hill is harder on a horse than going up." - -Nevertheless he persisted in clambering up some of the steepest parts of -the trail, and was increasingly dismayed by the endless upward reaches of -the foot-hills. A dozen times he thought, "We must be nearly at the top," -and then other and far higher ridges suddenly developed. Occasionally the -Supervisor was forced to unsling an ax and chop his way through a fallen -tree, and each time the student hurried to the spot, ready to aid, but -was quite useless. He admired the ease and skill with which the older man -put his shining blade through the largest bole, and wondered if he could -ever learn to do as well. - -"One of the first essentials of a ranger's training is to learn to swing -an ax," remarked McFarlane, "and you never want to be without a real -tool. _I_ won't stand for a hatchet ranger." - -Berrie called attention to the marks on the trees. "This is the -government sign--a long blaze with two notches above it. You can trust -these trails; they lead somewhere." - -"As you ride a trail study how to improve it," added the Supervisor, -sheathing his ax. "They can all be improved." - -Wayland was sure of this a few steps farther on, when the Supervisor's -horse went down in a small bog-hole, and Berrie's pony escaped only by -the most desperate plunging. The girl laughed, but Wayland was appalled -and stood transfixed watching McFarlane as he calmly extricated himself -from the saddle of the fallen horse and chirped for him to rise. - -"You act as if this were a regular part of the journey," Wayland said to -Berrie. - -"It's all in the day's work," she replied; "but I despise a bog worse -than anything else on the trail. I'll show you how to go round this one." -Thereupon she slid from her horse and came tiptoeing back along the edge -of the mud-hole. - -McFarlane cut a stake and plunged it vertically in the mud. "That means -'no bottom,'" he explained. "We must cut a new trail." - -Wayland was dismounting when Berrie said: "Stay on. Now put your horse -right through where those rocks are. It's hard bottom there." - -He felt like a child; but he did as she bid, and so came safely through, -while McFarlane set to work to blaze a new route which should avoid the -slough which was already a bottomless horror to the city man. - -This mishap delayed them nearly half an hour, and the air grew dark and -chill as they stood there, and the amateur ranger began to understand how -serious a lone night journey might sometimes be. "What would I do if when -riding in the dark my horse should go down like that and pin me in the -mud?" he asked himself. "Eternal watchfulness is certainly one of the -forester's first principles." - -The sky was overshadowed now, and a thin drizzle of rain filled the air. -The novice hastened to throw his raincoat over his shoulders; but -McFarlane rode steadily on, clad only in his shirtsleeves, unmindful of -the wet. Berrie, however, approved Wayland's caution. "That's right; keep -dry," she called back. "Don't pay attention to father, he'd rather get -soaked any day than unroll his slicker. You mustn't take him for model -yet awhile." - -He no longer resented her sweet solicitude, although he considered -himself unentitled to it, and he rejoiced under the shelter of his fine -new coat. He began to perceive that one could be defended against a -storm. - -After passing two depressing marshes, they came to a hillside so steep, -so slippery, so dark, so forbidding, that one of the pack-horses balked, -shook his head, and reared furiously, as if to say "I can't do it, and I -won't try." And Wayland sympathized with him. The forest was gloomy and -cold, and apparently endless. - -After coaxing him for a time with admirable gentleness, the Supervisor, -at Berrie's suggestion, shifted part of the load to her own saddle-horse, -and they went on. - -Wayland, though incapable of comment--so great was the demand upon his -lungs--was not too tired to admire the power and resolution of the girl, -who seemed not to suffer any special inconvenience from the rarefied air. -The dryness of his open mouth, the throbbing of his troubled pulse, the -roaring of his breath, brought to him with increasing dismay the fact -that he had overlooked another phase of the ranger's job. "I couldn't -chop a hole through one of these windfalls in a week," he admitted, as -McFarlane's blade again liberated them from a fallen tree. "To do office -work at six thousand feet is quite different from swinging an ax up here -at timber-line," he said to the girl. "I guess my chest is too narrow for -high altitudes." - -"Oh, you'll get used to it," she replied, cheerily. "I always feel it a -little at first; but I really think it's good for a body, kind o' -stretches the lungs." Nevertheless, she eyed him with furtive anxiety. - -He was beginning to be hungry also--he had eaten a very early -breakfast--and he fell to wondering just where and when they were to -camp; but he endured in silence. "So long as Berrie makes no complaint my -mouth is shut," he told himself. "Surely I can stand it if she can." And -so struggled on. - -Up and up the pathway looped, crossing minute little boggy meadows, on -whose bottomless ooze the grass shook like a blanket, descending steep -ravines and climbing back to dark and muddy s. The forest was -dripping, green, and silent now, a mysterious menacing jungle. All the -warmth and magic of the golden forest below was lost as though it -belonged to another and sunnier world. Nothing could be seen of the high, -snow-flecked peaks which had allured them from the valley. All about them -drifted the clouds, and yet through the mist the flushed face of the girl -glowed like a dew-wet rose, and the imperturbable Supervisor jogged his -remorseless, unhesitating way toward the dense, ascending night. - -"I'm glad I'm not riding this pass alone," Wayland said, as they paused -again for breath. - -"So am I," she answered; but her thought was not his. She was happy at -the prospect of teaching him how to camp. - -At last they reached the ragged edge of timber-line, and there, rolling -away under the mist, lay the bare, grassy, upward-climbing, naked neck of -the great peak. The wind had grown keener moment by moment, and when they -left the storm-twisted pines below, its breath had a wintry nip. The rain -had ceased to fall, but the clouds still hung densely to the loftiest -summits. It was a sinister yet beautiful world--a world as silent as a -dream, and through the short, thick grass the slender trail ran like a -timid serpent. The hour seemed to have neither daytime nor season. All -was obscure, mysterious, engulfing, and hostile. Had he been alone the -youth would have been appalled by the prospect. - -"Now we're on the divide," called Berea; and as she spoke they seemed to -enter upon a boundless Alpine plain of velvet-russet grass. "This is the -Bear Tooth plateau." Low monuments of loose rock stood on small ledges, -as though to mark the course, and in the hollows dark ponds of icy water -lay, half surrounded by masses of compact snow. - -"This is a stormy place in winter," McFarlane explained. "These piles of -stone are mighty valuable in a blizzard. I've crossed this divide in -August in snow so thick I could not see a rod." - -Half an hour later they began to descend. Wind-twisted, storm-bleached -dwarf pines were first to show, then the firs, then the blue-green -spruces, and then the sheltering deeps of the undespoiled forest opened, -and the roar of a splendid stream was heard; but still the Supervisor -kept his resolute way, making no promises as to dinner, though his -daughter called: "We'd better go into camp at Beaver Lake. I hope you're -not starved," she called to Wayland. - -"But I am," he replied, so frankly that she never knew how faint he -really was. His knees were trembling with weakness, and he stumbled -dangerously as he trod the loose rocks in the path. - -They were all afoot now descending swiftly, and the horses ramped down -the trail with expectant haste, so that in less than an hour from -timber-line they were back into the sunshine of the lower valley, and at -three o'clock or thereabouts they came out upon the bank of an exquisite -lake, and with a cheery shout McFarlane called out: "Here we are, out of -the wilderness!" Then to Wayland: "Well, boy, how did you stand it?" - -"Just middling," replied Wayland, reticent from weariness and with joy of -their camping-place. The lake, dark as topaz and smooth as steel, lay in -a frame of golden willows--as a jewel is filigreed with gold--and above -it the cliffs rose three thousand feet in sheer majesty, their upper -s glowing with autumnal grasses. A swift stream roared down a low -ledge and fell into the pond near their feet. Grassy, pine-shadowed -knolls afforded pasture for the horses, and two giant firs, at the edge -of a little glade, made a natural shelter for their tent. - -With businesslike certitude Berrie unsaddled her horse, turned him loose, -and lent a skilful hand at removing the panniers from the pack-animals, -while Wayland, willing but a little uncertain, stood awkwardly about. -Under her instruction he collected dead branches of a standing fir, and -from these and a few cones kindled a blaze, while the Supervisor hobbled -the horses and set the tent. - -"If the work of a forester were all like this it wouldn't be so bad," he -remarked, wanly. "I think I know several fellows who would be glad to do -it without a cent of pay." - -"Wait till you get to heaving a pick," she retorted, "or scaling lumber -in a rain, or building a corduroy bridge." - -"I don't want to think of anything so dreadful. I want to enjoy this -moment. I never was hungrier or happier in my life." - -"Do ye good," interjected McFarlane, who had paused to straighten up the -coffee-pot. "Most people don't know what hunger means. There's nothing -finer in the world than good old-fashioned hunger, provided you've got -something to throw into yourself when you come into camp. This is a great -place for fish. I think I'll see if I can't jerk a few out." - -"Better wait till night," said his daughter. "Mr. Norcross is starving, -and so am I. Plain bacon will do me." - -The coffee came to a boil, the skillet gave off a wondrous savor, and -when the corn and beans began to sizzle, the trailers sat down to their -feast in hearty content, with one of the panniers for a table, and the -fir-tree for roof. "This is one of the most perfectly appointed -dining-rooms in the world," exclaimed the alien. - -The girl met his look with a tender smile. "I'm glad you like it, for -perhaps we'll stay a week." - -"It looks stormy," the Supervisor announced, after a glance at the -crests. "I'd like to see a soaking rain--it would end all our worry about -fires. The country's very dry on this side the range, and your duty for -the present will be to help Tony patrol." - -While he talked on, telling the youth how to beat out a small blaze and -how to head off a large one, Wayland listened, but heard his instructions -only as he sensed the brook, as an accompaniment to Berea's voice, for as -she busied herself clearing away the dishes and putting the camp to -rights, she sang. - -"You're to have the tent," said her father, "and we two huskies will -sleep under the shade of this big fir. If you're ever caught out," he -remarked to Wayland, "hunt for one of these balsam firs; there's always a -dry spot under them. See here!" And he showed him the sheltered circle -beneath the tree. "You can always get twigs for kindling from their inner -branches," he added, "or you can hew into one of these dead trees and get -some pitchy splinters. There's material for everything you want if you -know where to find it. Shelter, food, fire are all here for us as they -were for the Indians. A ranger who needs a roof all the time is not worth -his bacon." - -So, one by one, the principles of camping were taught by the kindly old -rancher; but the hints which the girl gave were quite as valuable, for -Wayland was eager to show her that he could be, and intended to be, a -forester of the first class or perish in the attempt. - -McFarlane went farther and talked freely of the forest and what it meant -to the government. "We're all green at the work," he said, "and we old -chaps are only holding the fort against the thieves till you youngsters -learn how to make the best use of the domain." - -"I can see that it takes more than technical training to enable a man to -be Supervisor of a forest," conceded Wayland. - -McFarlane was pleased with this remark. "That's true, too. It's a big -responsibility. When I first came on, it was mainly patrolling; but now, -with a half dozen sawmills, and these 'June Eleventh Homesteads,' and the -new ways of marking timber, and the grazing and free-use permits, the -office work has doubled. And this is only the beginning. Wait till -Colorado has two millions of people, and all these lower valleys are -clamoring for water. Then you'll see a new party spring up--right here in -our state." - -Berrie was glowing with happiness. "Let's stay here till the end of the -week," she suggested. "I've always wanted to camp on this lake, and now -I'm here I want time to enjoy it." - -"We'll stay a day or two," said her father; "but I must get over to that -ditch survey which is being made at the head of Poplar, and then Moore is -coming over to look at some timber on Porcupine." - -The young people cut willow rods and went angling at the outlet of the -lake with prodigious success. The water rippled with trout, and in half -an hour they had all they could use for supper and breakfast, and, -behold, even as they were returning with their spoil they met a covey of -grouse strolling leisurely down to the lake's edge. "Isn't it a wonderful -place!" exclaimed the happy girl. "I wish we could stay a month." - -"It's like being on the Swiss Family Robinson's Island. I never was more -content," he said, fervently. "I wouldn't mind staying here all winter." - -"I would!" she laughed. "The snow falls four feet deep up here. It's -likely there's snow on the divide this minute, and camping in the snow -isn't so funny. Some people got snowed in over at Deep Lake last year and -nearly all their horses starved before they could get them out. This is a -fierce old place in winter-time." - -"I can't imagine it," he said, indicating the glowing amphitheater which -inclosed the lake. "See how warmly the sun falls into that high basin! -It's all as beautiful as the Tyrol." - -The air at the moment was golden October, and the dark clouds which lay -to the east seemed the wings of a departing rather than an approaching -storm; and even as they looked, a rainbow sprang into being, arching the -lake as if in assurance of peace and plenty, and the young people, as -they turned to face it, stood so close together that each felt the glow -of the other's shoulder. The beauty of the scene seemed to bring them -together in body as in spirit, and they fell silent. - -McFarlane seemed quite unconscious of any necromancy at work upon his -daughter. He smoked his pipe, made notes in his field-book, directing an -occasional remark toward his apprentice, enjoying in his tranquil, -middle-age way the beauty and serenity of the hour. - -"This is the kind of thing that makes up for a hard day's ride," he said, -jocosely. - -As the sunset came on, the young people again loitered down to the -water's edge, and there, seated side by side, on a rocky knoll, watched -the phantom gold lift from the willows and climb slowly to the cliffs -above, while the water deepened in shadow, and busy muskrats marked its -glossy surface with long silvery lines. Mischievous camp-birds peered at -the couple from the branches of the pines uttering satirical comment, -while squirrels, frankly insolent, dropped cones upon their heads and -barked in saucy glee. - -Wayland forgot all the outside world, forgot that he was studying to be a -forest ranger, and was alive only to the fact that in this most -bewitching place, in this most entrancing hour, he had the companionship -of a girl whose eyes sought his with every new phase of the silent and -wonderful scene which shifted swiftly before their eyes like a noiseless -yet prodigious drama. The blood in his thin body warmed. He forgot his -fatigue, his weakness. He was the poet and the forest lover, and this the -heart of the range. - -Lightly the golden glory rose till only the highest peaks retained its -flame; then it leapt to the clouds behind the peaks, and gorgeously lit -their somber sulphurous masses. The edges of the pool grew black as -night; the voice of the stream grew stern; and a cold wind began to fall -from the heights, sliding like an invisible but palpable icy cataract. - -At last the girl rose. "It is getting dark. I must go back and get -supper." - -"We don't need any supper," he protested. - -"Father does, and you'll be hungry before morning," she retorted, with -sure knowledge of men. - -He turned from the scene reluctantly; but once at the camp-fire -cheerfully gave his best efforts to the work in hand, seconding Berrie's -skill as best he could. - -The trout, deliciously crisp, and some potatoes and batter-cakes made a -meal that tempted even his faint appetite, and when the dishes were -washed and the towels hung out to dry, deep night possessed even the high -summit of stately Ptarmigan. - -McFarlane then said: "I'll just take a little turn to see that the horses -are all right, and then I think we'd better close in for the night." - -When they were alone in the light of the fire, Wayland turned to Berrie: -"I'm glad you're here. It must be awesome to camp alone in a wilderness; -and yet, I suppose, I must learn to do it." - -"Yes, the ranger often has to camp alone, ride alone, and work alone for -weeks at a time," she assured him. "A good trailer don't mind a night -trip any more than he does a day trip, or if he does he never admits it. -Rain, snow, darkness, is all the same to him. Most of the boys are -fifteen to forty miles from the post-office." - -He smiled ruefully. "I begin to have new doubts about this ranger -business. It's a little more vigorous than I thought it was. Suppose a -fellow breaks a leg on one of those high trails?" - -"He mustn't!" she hastened to say. "He can't afford really to take -reckless chances; but then father won't expect as much of you as he does -of the old-stagers. You'll have plenty of time to get used to it." - -"I may be like the old man's cow and the green shavings, just as I'm -getting used to it I'll die." - -She didn't laugh at this. "You mustn't be rash; don't jump into any hard -jobs for the present; let the other fellow do it." - -"But that's not very manly. If I go into the work I ought to be able to -take my share of any task that turns up." - -"You'd better go slow," she argued. "Wait till you get hardened to it. -You need something over your shoulders now," she added; and rose and laid -a blanket over him. "You're tired; you'll take a chill if you're not -careful." - -"You're very considerate," he said, looking up at her gratefully. "But it -makes me feel like a child to think I need such care. If honestly trying, -if going up against these hills and winds with Spartan courage will do me -good, I'm for it. I'm resolved to show to you and your good father that I -can learn to ride and pack and cut trail, and do all the rest of -it--there's some honor in qualifying as a forester, and I'm going to do -it." - -"Of course there isn't much in it for you. The pay, even of a full -ranger, isn't much, after you count out his outlay for horses and saddles -and their feed, and his own feed. It don't leave so very much of his -ninety dollars a month." - -"I'm not thinking of that," he retorted. "If you had once seen a doctor -shake his head over you, as I have, you'd think just being here in this -glorious spot, as I am to-night, would be compensation enough. It's a joy -to be in the world, and a delight to have you for my teacher." - -She was silent under the pleasure of his praise, and he went on: "I -_know_ I'm better, and, I'm perfectly certain I can regain my strength. -The very odor of these pines and the power of these winds will bring it -back to me. See me now, and think how I looked when I came here six weeks -ago." - -She looked at him with fond agreement. "You _are_ better. When I saw you -first I surely thought you were--" - -"I know what you thought--and forget it, _please_! Think of me as one who -has touched mother earth again and is on the way to being made a giant. -You can't imagine how marvelous, how life-giving all this is to me. It is -poetry, it is prophecy, it is fulfilment. I am fully alive again." - -McFarlane, upon his return, gave some advice relating to the care of -horses. "All this stock which is accustomed to a barn or a pasture will -quit you," he warned. "Watch your broncos. Put them on the outward side -of your camp when you bed down, and pitch your tent near the trail, then -you will hear the brutes if they start back. Some men tie their stock all -up; but I usually picket my saddle-horse and hobble the rest." - -It was a delightful hour for schooling, and Wayland would have been -content to sit there till morning listening; but the air bit, and at last -the Supervisor asked: "Have you made your bed? If you have, turn in. I -shall get you out early to-morrow." As he saw the bed, he added: "I see -you've laid out a bed of boughs. That shows how Eastern you are. We don't -do that out here. It's too cold in this climate, and it's too much work. -You want to hug the ground--if it's dry." - -The weary youth went to his couch with a sense of timorous elation, for -he had never before slept beneath the open sky. Over him the giant -fir--tall as a steeple--dropped protecting shadow, and looking up he -could see the firelight flickering on the wide-spread branches. His bed -seemed to promise all the dreams and restful drowse which the books on -outdoor life had described, and close by in her tiny little canvas house -he could hear the girl in low-voiced conversation with her sire. All -conditions seemed right for slumber, and yet slumber refused to come! - -After the Supervisor had rolled himself in the blanket, long after all -sounds had ceased in the tent, there still remained for the youth a score -of manifold excitations to wakefulness. Down on the lake the muskrats and -beavers were at their work. Nocturnal birds uttered uncanny, disturbing -cries. Some animal with stealthy crackling tread was ranging the -hillside, and the roar of the little fall, so far from lulling him to -sleep--as he had imagined it would--stimulated his imagination till he -could discern in it the beat of scurrying wings and the patter of -pernicious padded feet. "If I am appalled by the wilderness now, what -would it seem to me were I alone!" he whispered. - -Then, too, his bed of boughs discovered unforeseen humps and knobs, and -by the time he had adjusted himself to their discomfort, it became -evident that his blankets were both too thin and too short. And the gelid -air sweeping down from the high places submerged him as if with a flood -of icy water. In vain he turned and twisted within his robes. No sooner -were his shoulders covered and comfortable than his hip-bones began to -ache. Later on the blood of his feet congealed, and in the effort to wrap -them more closely, he uncovered his neck and shoulders. The frost became -a wolf, the night an oppressor. "I must have a different outfit," he -decided. And then thinking that this was but early autumn, he added: -"What will it be a month later?" He began to doubt his ability to measure -up to the heroic standard of a forest patrol. - -The firelight flickered low, and a prowling animal daringly sniffed about -the camp, pawing at the castaway fragments of the evening meal. The youth -was rigid with fear. "Is it a bear? Shall I call the Supervisor?" he -asked himself. - -He felt sadly unprotected, and wished McFarlane nearer at hand. "It may -be a lion, but probably it is only a coyote, or a porcupine," he -concluded, and lay still for what seemed like hours waiting for the beast -to gorge himself and go away. - -He longed for morning with intense desire, and watched an amazingly -luminous star which hung above the eastern cliff, hoping to see it pale -and die in dawn light, but it did not; and the wind bit even sharper. His -legs ached almost to the cramping-point, and his hip-bones protruded like -knots on a log. "I didn't know I had door-knobs on my hips," he remarked, -with painful humor, and, looking down at his feet, he saw that a thick -rime was gathering on his blanket. "This sleeping out at night isn't what -the books crack it up to be," he groaned again, drawing his feet up to -the middle of his bed to warm them. "Shall I resign to-morrow? No, I'll -stay with it; but I'll have more clothing. I'll have blankets six inches -thick. Heaps of blankets--the fleecy kind--I'll have an air-mattress." -His mind luxuriated in these details till he fell into an uneasy drowse. - - - - -VI - -STORM-BOUND - - -Wayland was awakened by the mellow voice of his chief calling: "_All out! -All out! Daylight down the creek!_" Breathing a prayer of thankfulness, -the boy sat up and looked about him. "The long night is over at last, and -I am alive!" he said, and congratulated himself. - -He drew on his shoes and, stiff and shivering, stood about in helpless -misery, while McFarlane kicked the scattered, charred logs together, and -fanned the embers into a blaze with his hat. It was heartening to see the -flames leap up, flinging wide their gorgeous banners of heat and light, -and in their glow the tenderfoot ranger rapidly recovered his courage, -though his teeth still chattered and the forest was dark. - -"How did you sleep?" asked the Supervisor. - -"First rate--at least during the latter part of the night," Wayland -briskly lied. - -"That's good. I was afraid that Adirondack bed of yours might let the -white wolf in." - -"My blankets did seem a trifle thin," confessed Norcross. - -"It don't pay to sleep cold," the Supervisor went on. "A man wants to -wake up refreshed, not tired out with fighting the night wind and frost. -I always carry a good bed." - -It was instructive to see how quietly and methodically the old -mountaineer went about his task of getting the breakfast. First he cut -and laid a couple of eight-inch logs on either side of the fire, so that -the wind drew through them properly, then placing his dutch-oven cover on -the fire, he laid the bottom part where the flames touched it. Next he -filled his coffee-pot with water, and set it on the coals. From his -pannier he took his dishes and the flour and salt and pepper, arranging -them all within reach, and at last laid some slices of bacon in the -skillet. - -At this stage of the work a smothered cry, half yawn, half complaint, -came from the tent. "Oh, hum! Is it morning?" inquired Berrie. - -"Morning!" replied her father. "It's going toward noon. You get up or -you'll have no breakfast." - -Thereupon Wayland called: "Can I get you anything, Miss Berrie? Would you -like some warm water?" - -"What for?" interposed McFarlane, before the girl could reply. - -"To bathe in," replied the youth. - -"To bathe in! If a daughter of mine should ask for warm water to wash -with I'd throw her in the creek." - -Berrie chuckled. "Sometimes I think daddy has no feeling for me. I reckon -he thinks I'm a boy." - -"Hot water is debilitating, and very bad for the complexion," retorted -her father. "Ice-cold water is what you need. And if you don't get out o' -there in five minutes I'll dowse you with a dipperful." - -This reminded Wayland that he had not yet made his own toilet, and, -seizing soap, towel, and brushes, he hurried away down to the beach where -he came face to face with the dawn. The splendor of it smote him full in -the eyes. From the waveless surface of the water a spectral mist was -rising, a light veil, through which the stupendous cliffs loomed three -thousand feet in height, darkly shadowed, dim and far. The willows along -the western marge burned as if dipped in liquid gold, and on the lofty -crags the sun's coming created keen-edged shadows, violet as ink. Truly -this forestry business was not so bad after all. It had its -compensations. - -Back at the camp-fire he found Berrie at work, glowing, vigorous, -laughing. Her comradeship with her father was very charming, and at the -moment she was rallying him on his method of bread-mixing. "You should -rub the lard into the flour," she said. "Don't be afraid to get your -hands into it--after they are clean. You can't mix bread with a spoon." - -"Sis, I made camp bread for twenty years afore you were born." - -"It's a wonder you lived to tell of it," she retorted, and took the pan -away from him. "That's another thing _you_ must learn," she said to -Wayland. "You must know how to make bread. You can't expect to find -bake-shops or ranchers along the way." - -In the heat of the fire, in the charm of the girl's presence, the young -man forgot the discomforts of the night, and as they sat at breakfast, -and the sun rising over the high summits flooded them with warmth and -good cheer, and the frost melted like magic from the tent, the experience -had all the satisfying elements of a picnic. It seemed that nothing -remained to do; but McFarlane said: "Well, now, you youngsters wash up -and pack whilst I reconnoiter the stock." And with his saddle and bridle -on his shoulder he went away down the trail. - -Under Berrie's direction Wayland worked busily putting the camp equipment -in proper parcels, taking no special thought of time till the tent was -down and folded, the panniers filled and closed, and the fire carefully -covered. Then the girl said: "I hope the horses haven't been stampeded. -There are bears in this valley, and horses are afraid of bears. Father -ought to have been back before this. I hope they haven't quit us." - -"Shall I go and see?" - -"No, he'll bring 'em--if they're in the land of the living. He picketed -his saddle-horse, so he's not afoot. Nobody can teach him anything about -trailing horses, and, besides, you might get lost. You'd better keep -close to camp." - -Thereupon Wayland put aside all responsibility. "Let's see if we can -catch some more fish," he urged. - -To this she agreed, and together they went again to the outlet of the -lake--where the trout could be seen darting to and fro on the clear, dark -flood--and there cast their flies till they had secured ten good-sized -fish. - -"We'll stop now," declared the girl. "I don't believe in being -wasteful." - -Once more at the camp they prepared the fish for the pan. The sun -suddenly burned hot and the lake was still as brass, but great, splendid, -leisurely, gleaming clouds were sailing in from the west, all centering -about Chief Audobon, and the experienced girl looked often at the sky. "I -don't like the feel of the air. See that gray cloud spreading out over -the summits of the range, that means something more than a shower. I do -hope daddy will overtake the horses before they cross the divide. It's -going to pour up there." - -"What can I do?" - -"Nothing. We'll stay right here and get dinner for him. He'll be hungry -when he gets back." - -As they were unpacking the panniers and getting out the dishes, thunder -broke from the high crags above the lake, and the girl called out: - -"Quick! It's going to rain! We must reset the tent and get things under -cover." - -Once more he was put to shame by the decision, the skill, and the -strength with which she went about re-establishing the camp. She led, he -followed in every action. In ten minutes the canvas was up, the beds -rolled, the panniers protected, the food stored safely; but they were -none too soon, for the thick gray veil of rain, which had clothed the -loftiest crags for half an hour, swung out over the water--leaden-gray -under its folds--and with a roar which began in the tall pines--a roar -which deepened, hushed only when the thunder crashed resoundingly from -crag to crest--the tempest fell upon the camp and the world of sun and -odorous pine vanished almost instantly, and a dark, threatening, and -forbidding world took its place. - -But the young people--huddled close together beneath the tent--would have -enjoyed the change had it not been for the thought of the Supervisor. "I -hope he took his slicker," the girl said, between the tearing, ripping -flashes of the lightning. "It's raining hard up there." - -"How quickly it came. Who would have thought it could rain like this -after so beautiful a morning?" - -"It storms when it storms--in the mountains," she responded, with the -sententious air of her father. "You never can tell what the sky is going -to do up here. It is probably snowing on the high divide. Looks now as -though those cayuses pulled out sometime in the night and have hit the -trail for home. That's the trouble with stall-fed stock. They'll quit you -any time they feel cold and hungry. Here comes the hail!" she shouted, as -a sharper, more spiteful roar sounded far away and approaching. "Now keep -from under!" - -"What will your father do?" he called. - -"Don't worry about him. He's at home any place there's a tree. He's -probably under a balsam somewhere, waiting for this ice to spill out. The -only point is, they may get over the divide, and if they do it will be -slippery coming back." - -For the first time the thought that the Supervisor might not be able to -return entered Wayland's mind; but he said nothing of his fear. - -The hail soon changed to snow, great, clinging, drowsy, soft, slow-moving -flakes, and with their coming the roar died away and the forest became as -silent as a grave of bronze. Nothing moved, save the thick-falling, -feathery, frozen vapor, and the world was again very beautiful and very -mysterious. - -"We must keep the fire going," warned the girl. "It will be hard to start -after this soaking." - -He threw upon the fire all of the wood which lay near, and Berrie, taking -the ax, went to the big fir and began to chop off the dry branches which -hung beneath, working almost as effectively as a man. Wayland insisted on -taking a turn with the tool; but his efforts were so awkward that she -laughed and took it away again. "You'll have to take lessons in swinging -an ax," she said. "That's part of the job." - -Gradually the storm lightened, the snow changed back into rain, and -finally to mist; but up on the heights the clouds still rolled wildly, -and through their openings the white drifts bleakly shone. - -"It's all in the trip," said Berrie. "You have to take the weather as it -comes on the trail." As the storm lessened she resumed the business of -cooking the midday meal, and at two o'clock they were able to eat in -comparative comfort, though the unmelted snow still covered the trees, -and water dripped from the branches. - -"Isn't it beautiful!" exclaimed Wayland, with glowing boyish face. "The -landscape is like a Christmas card. In its way it's quite as beautiful as -that golden forest we rode through." - -"It wouldn't be so beautiful if you had to wallow through ten miles of -it," she sagely responded. "Daddy will be wet to the skin, for I found he -didn't take his slicker. However, the sun may be out before night. That's -the way the thing goes in the hills." - -To the youth, though the peaks were storm-hid, the afternoon was joyous. -Berrie was a sweet companion. Under her supervision he practised at -chopping wood and took a hand at cooking. At her suggestion he stripped -the tarpaulin from her father's bed and stretched it over a rope before -the tent, thus providing a commodious kitchen and dining-room. Under this -roof they sat and talked of everything except what they should do if the -father did not return, and as they talked they grew to even closer -understanding. - -Though quite unlearned of books, she had something which was much more -piquant than anything which theaters and novels could give--she possessed -a marvelous understanding of the natural world in which she lived. As the -companion of her father on many of his trips, she had absorbed from him, -as well as from the forest, a thousand observations of plant and animal -life. Seemingly she had nothing of the woman's fear of the wilderness, -she scarcely acknowledged any awe of it. Of the bears, and other -predatory beasts, she spoke carelessly. - -"Bears are harmless if you let 'em alone," she said, "and the -mountain-lion is a great big bluff. He won't fight, you can't make him -fight; but the mother lion will. She's dangerous when she has cubs--most -animals are. I was out hunting grouse one day with a little twenty-two -rifle, when all at once, as I looked up along a rocky point I was -crossing, I saw a mountain-lion looking at me. First I thought I'd let -drive at him; but the chances were against my getting him from there, so -I climbed up above him--or where I thought he was--and while I was -looking for him I happened to glance to my right, and there he was about -fifty feet away looking at me pleasant as you please. Didn't seem to be -mad at all--'peared like he was just wondering what I'd do next. I jerked -my gun into place, but he faded away. I crawled around to get behind him, -and just when I reached the ledge on which he had been standing a few -minutes before, I saw him just where I'd been. He had traded places with -me. I began to have that creepy feeling. He was so silent and so kind of -pleasant-looking I got leery of him. It just seemed like as though I'd -dreamed him. He didn't seem real." - -Wayland shuddered. "You foolish girl! Why didn't you run?" - -"I did. I began to figure then that this was a mother lion, and that her -cubs were close by, and that she could just as well sneak up and drop on -me from above as not. So I got down and left her alone. It was her -popping up now here and now there like a ghost that locoed me. I was sure -scared." - -Wayland did not enjoy this tale. "I never heard of such folly. Did your -father learn of that adventure?" - -"Yes, I told him." - -"Didn't he forbid your hunting any more?" - -"No, indeed! Why should he? He just said it probably was a lioness, and -that it was just as well to let her alone. He knows I'm no chicken." - -"How about your mother--does she approve of such expeditions?" - -"No, mother worries more or less when I'm away; but then she knows it -don't do any good. I'm taking all kinds of chances every day, anyhow." - -He had to admit that she was better able to care for herself in the -wilderness than most men--even Western men--and though he had not yet -witnessed a display of her skill with a rifle, he was ready to believe -that she could shoot as well as her sire. Nevertheless, he liked her -better when engaged in purely feminine duties, and he led the talk back -to subjects concerning which her speech was less blunt and manlike. - -He liked her when she was joking, for delicious little curves of laughter -played about her lips. She became very amusing, as she told of her -"visits East," and of her embarrassments in the homes of city friends. "I -just have to own up that about all the schooling I've got is from the -magazines. Sometimes I wish I had pulled out for town when I was about -fourteen; but, you see, I didn't feel like leaving mother, and she didn't -feel like letting me go--and so I just got what I could at Bear Tooth." -She sprang up. "There's a patch of blue sky. Let's go see if we can't get -a grouse." - -The snow had nearly all sunk into the ground on their level; but it still -lay deep on the heights above, and the torn masses of vapor still clouded -the range. "Father has surely had to go over the divide," she said, as -they walked down the path along the lake shore. "He'll be late getting -back, and a plate of hot chicken will seem good to him." - -Together they strolled along the edge of the willows. "The grouse come -down to feed about this time," she said. "We'll put up a covey soon." - -It seemed to him as though he were re-living the experiences of his -ancestors--the pioneers of Michigan--as he walked this wilderness with -this intrepid huntress whose alert eyes took note of every moving thing. -She was delightfully unconscious of self, of sex, of any doubt or fear. A -lovely Diana--strong and true and sweet. - -Within a quarter of a mile they found their birds, and she killed four -with five shots. "This is all we need," she said, "and I don't believe in -killing for the sake of killing. Rangers should set good examples in way -of game preservation. They are deputy game-wardens in most states, and -good ones, too." - -They stopped for a time on a high bank above the lake, while the sunset -turned the storm-clouds into mountains of brass and iron, with sulphurous -caves and molten glowing ledges. This grandiose picture lasted but a few -minutes, and then the Western gates closed and all was again gray and -forbidding. "Open and shut is a sign of wet," quoted Berrie, cheerily. - -The night rose formidably from the valley while they ate their supper; -but Berrie remained tranquil. "Those horses probably went clean back to -the ranch. If they did, daddy can't possibly get back before eight -o'clock, and he may not get back till to-morrow." - - - - -VII - -THE WALK IN THE RAIN - - -Norcross, with his city training, was acutely conscious of the delicacy -of the situation. In his sister's circle a girl left alone in this way -with a man would have been very seriously embarrassed; but it was evident -that Berrie took it all joyously, innocently. Their being together was -something which had happened in the natural course of weather, a -condition for which they were in no way responsible. Therefore she -permitted herself to be frankly happy in the charm of their enforced -intimacy. - -She had never known a youth of his quality. He was so considerate, so -refined, so quick of understanding, and so swift to serve. He filled her -mind to the exclusion of unimportant matters like the snow, which was -beginning again; indeed, her only anxiety concerned his health, and as he -toiled amid the falling flakes, intent upon heaping up wood enough to -last out the night, she became solicitous. - -"You will be soaked," she warningly cried. "Don't stay out any more. Come -to the fire. I'll bring in the wood." - -Something primeval, some strength he did not know he possessed sustained -him, and he toiled on. "Suppose this snow keeps falling?" he retorted. -"The Supervisor will not be able to get back to-night--perhaps not for a -couple of nights. We will need a lot of fuel." - -He did not voice the fear of the storm which filled his thought; but the -girl understood it. "It won't be very cold," she calmly replied. "It -never is during these early blizzards; and, besides, all we need to do is -to drop down the trail ten miles and we'll be entirely out of it." - -"I'll feel safer with plenty of wood," he argued; but soon found it -necessary to rest from his labors. Coming in to camp, he seated himself -beside her on a roll of blankets, and so together they tended the fire -and watched the darkness roll over the lake till the shining crystals -seemed to drop from a measureless black arch, soundless and oppressive. -The wind died away, and the trees stood as if turned into bronze, -moveless, save when a small branch gave way and dropped its rimy burden, -or a squirrel leaped from one top to another. Even the voice of the -waterfall seemed muffled and remote. - -"I'm a long way from home and mother," Wayland said, with a smile; -"but--I like it." - -"Isn't it fun?" she responded. "In a way it's nicer on account of the -storm. But you are not dressed right; you should have waterproof boots. -You never can tell when you may be set afoot. You should always go -prepared for rain and snow, and, above all, have an extra pair of thick -stockings. Your feet are soaked now, aren't they?" - -"They are; but your father told me to always dry my boots on my feet, -otherwise they'd shrink out of shape." - -"That's right, too; but you'd better take 'em off and wring out your -socks or else put on dry ones." - -"You insist on my playing the invalid," he complained, "and that makes me -angry. When I've been over here a month you'll find me a glutton for -hardship. I shall be a bear, a grizzly, fearful to contemplate. My roar -will affright you." - -She laughed like a child at his ferocity. "You'll have to change a whole -lot," she said, and drew the blanket closer about his shoulders. "Just -now your job is to keep warm and dry. I hope you won't get lonesome over -here." - -"I'm not going to open a book or read a newspaper. I'm not going to write -to a single soul except you. I'll be obliged to report to you, won't I?" - -"I'm not the Supervisor." - -"You're the next thing to it," he quickly retorted. "You've been my board -of health from the very first. I should have fled for home long ago had -it not been for you." - -Her eyes fell under his glance. "You'll get pretty tired of things over -here. It's one of the lonesomest stations in the forest." - -"I'll get lonesome for you; but not for the East." This remark, or rather -the tone in which it was uttered, brought another flush of consciousness -to the girl's face. - -"What time is it now?" she asked, abruptly. - -He looked at his watch. "Half after eight." - -"If father isn't on this side of the divide now he won't try to cross. If -he's coming down the he'll be here in an hour, although that trail -is a tolerably tough proposition this minute. A patch of dead timber on a -dark night is sure a nuisance, even to a good man. He may not make it." - -"Shall I fire my gun?" - -"What for?" - -"As a signal to him." - -This amused her. "Daddy don't need any hint about direction--what he -needs is a light to see the twist of the trail through those fallen -logs." - -"Couldn't I rig up a torch and go to meet him?" - -She put her hand on his arm. "You stay right here!" she commanded. "You -couldn't follow that trail five minutes." - -"You have a very poor opinion of my skill." - -"No, I haven't; but I know how hard it is to keep direction on a night -like this and I don't want you wandering around in the timber. Father can -take care of himself. He's probably sitting under a big tree smoking his -pipe before his fire--or else he's at home. He knows we're all right, and -we are. We have wood and grub, and plenty of blankets, and a roof over -us. You can make your bed under this fly," she said, looking up at the -canvas. "It beats the old balsam as a roof. You mustn't sleep cold -again." - -"I think I'd better sit up and keep the fire going," he replied, -heroically. "There's a big log out there that I'm going to bring in to -roll up on the windward side." - -"It'll be cold and wet early in the morning, and I don't like to hunt -kindling in the snow," she said. "I always get everything ready the night -before. I wish you had a better bed. It seems selfish of me to have the -tent while you are cold." - -One by one--under her supervision--he made preparations for morning. He -cut some shavings from a dead, dry branch of fir and put them under the -fly, and brought a bucket of water from the creek, and then together they -dragged up the dead tree. - -Had the young man been other than he was, the girl's purity, candor, and -self-reliance would have conquered him, and when she withdrew to the -little tent and let fall the frail barrier between them, she was as safe -from intrusion as if she had taken refuge behind gates of triple brass. -Nothing in all his life had moved him so deeply as her solicitude, her -sweet trust in his honor, and he sat long in profound meditation. Any man -would be rich in the ownership of her love, he admitted. That he -possessed her pity and her friendship he knew, and he began to wonder if -he had made a deeper appeal to her than this. - -"Can it be that I am really a man to her," he thought, "I who am only a -poor weakling whom the rain and snow can appall?" - -Then he thought of the effect of this night upon her life. What would -Clifford Belden do now? To what deeps would his rage descend if he should -come to know of it? - -Berrie was serene. Twice she spoke from her couch to say: "You'd better -go to bed. Daddy can't get here till to-morrow now." - -"I'll stay up awhile yet. My boots aren't entirely dried out." - -As the flame sank low the cold bit, and he built up the half-burned logs -so that they blazed again. He worked as silently as he could; but the -girl again spoke, with sweet authority: "Haven't you gone to bed yet?" - -"Oh yes, I've been asleep. I only got up to rebuild the fire." - -"I'm afraid you're cold." - -"I'm as comfortable as I deserve; it's all schooling, you know. Please go -to sleep again." His teeth were chattering as he spoke, but he added: -"I'm all right." - -After a silence she said: "You must not get chilled. Bring your bed into -the tent. There is room for you." - -"Oh no, that isn't necessary. I'm standing it very well." - -"You'll be sick!" she urged, in a voice of alarm. "Please drag your bed -inside the door. What would I do if you should have pneumonia to-morrow? -You must not take any risk of a fever." - -The thought of a sheltered spot, of something to break the remorseless -wind, overcame his scruples, and he drew his bed inside the tent and -rearranged it there. - -"You're half frozen," she said. "Your teeth are chattering." - -"It isn't so much the cold," he stammered. "I'm tired." - -"You poor boy!" she exclaimed, and rose in her bed. "I'll get up and heat -some water for you." - -"I'll be all right, in a few moments," he said. "Please go to sleep. I -shall be snug as a bug in a moment." - -She watched his shadowy motions from her bed, and when at last he had -nestled into his blankets, she said: "If you don't lose your chill I'll -heat a rock and put at your feet." - -He was ready to cry out in shame of his weakness; but he lay silent till -he could command his voice, then he said: "That would drive me from the -country in disgrace. Think of what the fellows down below will say when -they know of my cold feet." - -"They won't hear of it; and, besides, it is better to carry a hot-water -bag than to be laid up with a fever." - -Her anxiety lessened as his voice resumed its pleasant tenor flow. "Dear -girl," he said, "no one could have been sweeter--more like a guardian -angel to me. Don't place me under any greater obligation. Go to sleep. I -am better--much better now." - -She did not speak for a few moments, then in a voice that conveyed to him -a knowledge that his words of endearment had deeply moved her, she softly -said: "Good night." - -He heard her sigh drowsily thereafter once or twice, and then she slept, -and her slumber redoubled in him his sense of guardianship, of -responsibility. Lying there in the shelter of her tent, the whole -situation seemed simple, innocent, and poetic; but looked at from the -standpoint of Clifford Belden it held an accusation. - -"It cannot be helped," he said. "The only thing we can do is to conceal -the fact that we spent the night beneath this tent alone." - -In the belief that the way would clear with the dawn, he, too, fell -asleep, while the fire sputtered and smudged in the fitful mountain -wind. - -The second dawn came slowly, as though crippled by the storm and walled -back by the clouds. Gradually, austerely, the bleak, white peaks began to -define themselves above the firs. The camp-birds called cheerily from the -wet branches which overhung the smoldering embers of the fire, and so at -last day was abroad in the sky. - -With a dull ache in his bones, Wayland crept out to the fire and set to -work fanning the coals with his hat, as he had seen the Supervisor do. He -worked desperately till one of the embers began to angrily sparkle and to -smoke. Then slipping away out of earshot he broke an armful of dry fir -branches to heap above the wet, charred logs. Soon these twigs broke into -flame, and Berrie, awakened by the crackle of the pine branches, called -out: "Is it daylight?" - -"Yes, but it's a very _dark_ daylight. Don't leave your warm bed for the -dampness and cold out here; stay where you are; I'll get breakfast." - -"How are you this morning? Did you sleep?" - -"Fine!" - -"I'm afraid you had a bad night," she insisted, in a tone which indicated -her knowledge of his suffering. - -"Camp life has its disadvantages," he admitted, as he put the coffee-pot -on the fire. "But I'm feeling better now. I never fried a bird in my -life, but I'm going to try it this morning. I have some water heating for -your bath." He put the soap, towel, and basin of hot water just inside -the tent flap. "Here it is. I'm going to bathe in the lake. I must show -my hardihood." - -He heard her protesting as he went off down the bank, but his heart was -resolute. "I'm not dead yet," he said, grimly. "An invalid who can spend -two such nights as these, and still face a cold wind, has some vitality -in his bones after all." - -When he returned he found the girl full dressed, alert, and glowing; but -she greeted him with a touch of shyness and self-consciousness new to -her, and her eyes veiled themselves before his glance. - -"_Now_, where do you suppose the Supervisor is?" he asked. - -"I hope he's at home," she replied, quite seriously. "I'd hate to think -of him camped in the high country without bedding or tent." - -"Oughtn't I to take a turn up the trail and see? I feel guilty somehow--I -must do something!" - -"You can't help matters any by hoofing about in the mud. No, we'll just -hold the fort till he comes, that's what he'll expect us to do." - -He submitted once more to the force of her argument, and they ate -breakfast in such intimacy and good cheer that the night's discomforts -and anxieties counted for little. As the sun broke through the clouds -Berrie hung out the bedding in order that its dampness might be warmed -away. - -"We may have to camp here again to-night," she explained, demurely. - -"Worse things could happen than that," he gallantly answered. "I wouldn't -mind a month of it, only I shouldn't want it to rain or snow all the -time." - -"Poor boy! You did suffer, didn't you? I was afraid you would. Did you -sleep at all?" she asked, tenderly. - -"Oh yes, after I came inside; but, of course, I was more or less restless -expecting your father to ride up, and then it's all rather exciting -business to a novice. I could hear all sorts of birds and beasts stepping -and fluttering about. I was scared in spite of my best resolution." - -"That's funny; I never feel that way. I slept like a log after I knew you -were comfortable. You must have a better bed and more blankets. It's -always cold up here." - -The sunlight was short-lived. The clouds settled over the peaks, and -ragged wisps of gray vapor dropped down the timbered s of the -prodigious amphitheater in which the lake lay. Again Berrie made -everything snug while her young woodsman toiled at bringing logs for the -fire. - -In truth, he was more elated than he had been since leaving school, for -he was not only doing a man's work in the world, he was serving a woman -in the immemorial way of the hewer of wood and the carrier of water. His -fatigue and the chill of the morning wore away, and he took vast pride in -dragging long poles down the hillside, forcing Berrie to acknowledge that -he was astonishingly strong. "But don't overdo it," she warned. - -At last fully provided for, they sat contentedly side by side under the -awning and watched the falling rain as it splashed and sizzled on the -sturdy fire. "It's a little like being shipwrecked on a desert island, -isn't it?" he said. "As if our boats had drifted away." - -At noon she again prepared an elaborate meal. She served potatoes and -grouse, hot biscuit with sugar syrup, and canned peaches, and coffee done -to just the right color and aroma. He declared it wonderful, and they ate -with repeated wishes that the Supervisor might turn up in time to share -their feast; but he did not. Then Berrie said, firmly: "Now you must take -a snooze, you look tired." - -He was, in truth, not only drowsy but lame and tired. Therefore, he -yielded to her suggestion. - -She covered him with blankets and put him away like a child. "Now you -have a good sleep," she said, tenderly. "I'll call you when daddy -comes." - -With a delicious sense of her protecting care he lay for a few moments -listening to the drip of the water on the tent, then drifted away into -peace and silence. - -When he woke the ground was again covered with snow, and the girl was -feeding the fire with wood which her own hands had supplied. - -Hearing him stir, she turned and fixed her eyes upon him with clear, soft -gaze. "How do you feel by now?" she asked. - -"Quite made over," he replied, rising alertly. - -His cheer, however, was only pretense. He was greatly worried. "Something -has happened to your father," he said. "His horse has thrown him, or he -has slipped and fallen." His peace and exultation were gone. "How far is -it down to the ranger station?" - -"About twelve miles." - -"Don't you think we'd better close camp and go down there? It is now -three o'clock; we can walk it in five hours." - -She shook her head. "No, I think we'd better stay right here. It's a -long, hard walk, and the trail is muddy." - -"But, dear girl," he began, desperately, "it won't do for us to camp -here--alone--in this way another night. What will Cliff say?" - -She flamed red, then whitened. "I don't care what Cliff thinks--I'm done -with him--and no one that I really care about would blame us." She was -fully aware of his anxiety now. "It isn't our fault." - -"It will be _my_ fault if I keep you here longer!" he answered. "We must -reach a telephone and send word out. Something may have happened to your -father." - -"I'm not worried a bit about him. It may be that there's been a big -snowfall up above us--or else a windstorm. The trail may be blocked; but -don't worry. He may have to go round by Lost Lake pass." She pondered a -moment. "I reckon you're right. We'd better pack up and rack down the -trail to the ranger's cabin. Not on my account, but on yours. I'm afraid -you've taken cold." - -"I'm all right, except I'm very lame; but I am anxious to go on. By the -way, is this ranger Settle married?" - -"No, his station is one of the lonesomest cabins on the forest. No woman -will stay there." - -This made Wayland ponder. "Nevertheless," he decided, "we'll go. After -all, the man is a forest officer, and you are the Supervisor's -daughter." - -She made no further protest, but busied herself closing the panniers and -putting away the camp utensils. She seemed to recognize that his judgment -was sound. - -It was after three when they left the tent and started down the trail, -carrying nothing but a few toilet articles. - -He stopped at the edge of the clearing. "Should we have left a note for -the Supervisor?" - -She pointed to their footprints. "There's all the writing he needs," she -assured him, leading the way at a pace which made him ache. She plashed -plumply into the first puddle in the path. "No use dodging 'em," she -called over her shoulder, and he soon saw that she was right. - -The trees were dripping, the willows heavy with water, and the mud -ankle-deep--in places--but she pushed on steadily, and he, following in -her tracks, could only marvel at her strength and sturdy self-reliance. -The swing of her shoulders, the poise of her head, and the lithe movement -of her waist, made his own body seem a poor thing. - -For two hours they zigzagged down a narrow canyon heavily timbered with -fir and spruce--a dark, stern avenue, crossed by roaring streams, and -filled with frequent boggy meadows whereon the water lay mid-leg deep. - -"We'll get out of this very soon," she called, cheerily. - -By degrees the gorge widened, grew more open, more genial. Aspen thickets -of pale-gold flashed upon their eyes like sunlight, and grassy bunches -afforded firmer footing, but on the s their feet slipped and slid -painfully. Still Berea kept her stride. "We must get to the middle fork -before dark," she stopped to explain, "for I don't know the trail down -there, and there's a lot of down timber just above the station. Now that -we're cut loose from our camp I feel nervous. As long as I have a tent I -am all right; but now we are in the open I worry. How are you standing -it?" She studied him with keen and anxious glance, her hand upon his -arm. - -"Fine as a fiddle," he replied, assuming a spirit he did not possess, -"but you are marvelous. I thought cowgirls couldn't walk?" - -"I can do anything when I have to," she replied. "We've got three hours -more of it." And she warningly exclaimed: "Look back there!" - -They had reached a point from which the range could be seen, and behold -it was covered deep with a seamless robe of new snow. - -"That's why dad didn't get back last night. He's probably wallowing along -up there this minute." And she set off again with resolute stride. -Wayland's pale face and labored breath alarmed her. She was filled with -love and pity, but she pressed forward desperately. - -As he grew tired, Wayland's boots, loaded with mud, became fetters, and -every greasy with mire seemed an almost insurmountable barricade. -He fell several times, but made no outcry. "I will not add to her -anxiety," he said to himself. - -At last they came to the valley floor, over which a devastating fire had -run some years before, and which was still covered with fallen trees in -desolate confusion. Here the girl made her first mistake. She kept on -toward the river, although Wayland called attention to a trail leading to -the right up over the low grassy hills. For a mile the path was clear, -but she soon found herself confronted by an endless maze of blackened -tree-trunks, and at last the path ended abruptly. - -Dismayed and halting, she said: "We've got to go back to that trail which -branched off to the right. I reckon that was the highland trail which -Settle made to keep out of the swamp. I thought it was a trail from -Cameron Peak, but it wasn't. Back we go." - -She was suffering keenly now, not on her own account, but on his, for she -could see that he was very tired, and to climb up that hill again was -like punishing him a second time. - -When she picked up the blazed trail it was so dark that she could -scarcely follow it; but she felt her way onward, turning often to be sure -that he was following. Once she saw him fall, and cried out: "It's a -shame to make you climb this hill again. It's all my fault. I ought to -have known that that lower road led down into the timber." - -Standing close beside him in the darkness, knowing that he was weary, -wet, and ill, she permitted herself the expression of her love and pity. -Putting her arm about him, she drew his cheek against her own, saying: -"Poor boy, your hands are cold as ice." She took them in her own warm -clasp. "Oh, I wish we had never left the camp! What does it matter what -people say?" Then she broke down and wailed. "I shall never forgive -myself if you--" Her voice failed her. - -[Illustration: SHE FOUND HERSELF CONFRONTED BY AN ENDLESS MAZE -OF BLACKENED TREE-TRUNKS] - -He bravely reassured her: "I'm not defeated, I'm just tired. That's all. -I can go on." - -"But you are shaking." - -"That is merely a nervous chill. I'm good for another hour. It's better -to keep moving, anyhow." - -She thrust her hand under his coat and laid it over his heart. "You are -tired out," she said, and there was anguish in her voice. "Your heart is -pounding terribly. You mustn't do any more climbing. And, hark, there's a -wolf!" - -He listened. "I hear him; but we are both armed. There's no danger from -wild animals." - -"Come!" she said, instantly recovering her natural resolution. "We can't -stand here. The station can't be far away. We must go on." - - - - -VIII - -THE OTHER GIRL - - -The girl's voice stirred the benumbed youth into action again, and he -followed her mechanically. His slender stock of physical strength was -almost gone, but his will remained unbroken. At every rough place she -came back to him to support him, to hearten him, and so he crept on -through the darkness, falling often, stumbling against the trees, -slipping and sliding, till at last his guide, pitching down a sharp -, came directly upon a wire fence. - -"Glory be!" she called. "Here is a fence, and the cabin should be near, -although I see no light. Hello! Tony!" - -No voice replied, and, keeping Wayland's hand, she felt her way along the -fence till it revealed a gate; then she turned toward the roaring of the -stream, which grew louder as they advanced. "The cabin is near the falls, -that much I know," she assured him. Then a moment later she joyfully -cried out: "Here it is!" - -Out of the darkness a blacker, sharper shadow rose. Again she called, but -no one answered. "The ranger is away," she exclaimed, in a voice of -indignant alarm. "I do hope he left the door unlocked." - -Too numb with fatigue, and too dazed by the darkness to offer any aid, -Wayland waited--swaying unsteadily on his feet--while she tried the door. -It was bolted, and with but a moment's hesitation, she said: "It looks -like a case of breaking and entering. I'll try a window." The windows, -too, were securely fastened. After trying them all, she came back to -where Wayland stood. "Tony didn't intend to have anybody pushing in," she -decided. "But if the windows will not raise they will smash." - -A crash of glass followed, and with a feeling that it was all part of a -dream, Wayland waited while the girl made way through the broken sash -into the dark interior. Her next utterance was a cry of joy: "Oh, but -it's nice and warm in here! I can't open the door. You'll have to come in -the same way I did." - -He was too weak and too irresolute to respond immediately, and, reaching -out, she took him by the arms and dragged him across the sill. Her -strength seemed prodigious. A delicious warmth, a grateful dryness, a -sense of shelter enfolded him like a garment. The place smelled -deliciously of food, of fire, of tobacco. - -Leading him toward the middle of the room, Berrie said: "Stand here till -I strike a light." - -As her match flamed up Norcross found himself in a rough-walled cabin, in -which stood a square cook-stove, a rude table littered with dishes, and -three stools made of slabs. It was all very rude; but it had all the -value of a palace at the moment. - -The girl's quick eye saw much else. She located an oil-lamp, some -pine-wood, and a corner cupboard. In a few moments the lamp was lit, the -stove refilled with fuel, and she was stripping Wayland's wet coat from -his back, cheerily discoursing as she did so. "Here's one of Tony's old -jackets, put that on while I see if I can't find some dry stockings for -you. Sit right down here by the stove; put your feet in the oven. I'll -have a fire in a jiffy. There, that's right. Now I'll start the -coffee-pot." She soon found the coffee, but it was unground. "Wonder, -where he keeps his coffee-mill." She rummaged about for a few minutes, -then gave up the search. "Well, no matter, here's the coffee, and here's -a hammer. One of the laws of the trail is this: If you can't do a thing -one way, do it another." - -She poured the coffee beans into an empty tomato-can and began to pound -them with the end of the hammer handle, laughing at Wayland's look of -wonder and admiration. "Necessity sure is the mother of invention out -here. How do you feel by now? Isn't it nice to own a roof and four walls? -I'm going to close up that window as soon as I get the coffee started. -Are you warming up?" - -"Oh yes, I'm all right now," he replied; but he didn't look it, and her -own cheer was rather forced. He was in the grasp of a nervous chill, and -she was deeply apprehensive of what the result of his exposure might be. -It seemed as if the coffee would never come to a boil. - -"I depend on that to brace you up," she said. - -After hanging a blanket over the broken window, she set out some cold -meat and a half dozen baking-powder biscuits, which she found in the -cupboard, and as soon as the coffee was ready she poured it for him; but -she would not let him leave the fire. She brought his supper to him and -sat beside him while he ate and drank. - -"You must go right to bed," she urged, as she studied his weary eyes. -"You ought to sleep for twenty-four hours." - -The hot, strong coffee revived him physically and brought back a little -of his courage, and he said: "I'm ashamed to be such a weakling." - -"Now hush," she commanded. "It's not your fault that you are weak. Now, -while I am eating my supper you slip off your wet clothes and creep into -Tony's bunk, and I'll fill one of these syrup-cans with hot water to put -at your feet." - -It was of no use for him to protest against her further care. She -insisted, and while she ate he meekly carried out her instructions, and -from the delicious warmth and security of his bed watched her moving -about the stove till the shadows of the room became one with the dusky -figures of his sleep. - -A moment later something falling on the floor woke him with a start, and, -looking up, he found the sun shining, and Berrie confronting him with -anxious face. "Did I waken you?" she asked. "I'm awfully sorry. I'm -trying to be extra quiet. I dropped a pan. How do you feel this -_morning_?" - -He pondered this question a moment. "Is it to-morrow or the next week?" - -She laughed happily. "It's only the next day. Just keep where you are -till the sun gets a little higher." She drew near and put a hand on his -brow. "You don't feel feverish. Oh, I hope this trip hasn't set you -back." - -He laid his hands together, and then felt of his pulse. "I don't seem to -have a temperature. I just feel lazy, limp and lazy; but I'm going to get -up, if you'll just leave the room for a moment--" - -"Don't try it now. Wait till you have had your breakfast. You'll feel -stronger then." - -He yielded again to the force of her will, and fell back into a luxurious -drowse hearing the stove roar and the bacon sizzle in the pan. There was -something primitive and broadly poetic in the girl's actions. Through the -haze of the kitchen smoke she enlarged till she became the typical -frontier wife, the goddess of the skillet and the coffee-pot, the consort -of the pioneer, equally skilled with the rifle and the rolling-pin. How -many millions of times had this scene been enacted on the long march of -the borderman from the Susquehanna to the Bear Tooth Range? - -Into his epic vision the pitiful absurdity of his own part in the play -broke like a sad discord. "Of course, it is not my fault that I am a -weakling," he argued. "Only it was foolish for me to thrust myself into -this stern world. If I come safely out of this adventure I will go back -to the sheltered places where I belong." - -At this point came again the disturbing realization that this night of -struggle, and the ministrations of his brave companion had involved him -deeper in a mesh from which honorable escape was almost impossible. The -ranger's cabin, so far from being an end of their compromising intimacy, -had added and was still adding to the weight of evidence against them -both. The presence of the ranger or the Supervisor himself could not now -save Berea from the gossips. - -She brought his breakfast to him, and sat beside him while he ate, -chatting the while of their good fortune. "It is glorious outside, and I -am sure daddy will get across to-day, and Tony is certain to turn up -before noon. He probably went down to Coal City to get his mail." - -"I must get up at once," he said, in a panic of fear and shame. "The -Supervisor must not find me laid out on my back. Please leave me alone -for a moment." - -She went out, closing the door behind her, and as he crawled from his bed -every muscle in his body seemed to cry out against being moved. -Nevertheless, he persisted, and at last succeeded in putting on his -clothes, even his shoes--though he found tying the laces the hardest task -of all--and he was at the wash-basin bathing his face and hands when -Berrie hurriedly re-entered. "Some tourists are coming," she announced, -in an excited tone. "A party of five or six people, a woman among them, -is just coming down the . Now, who do you suppose it can be? It -would be just our luck if it should turn out to be some one from the -Mill." - -He divined at once the reason for her dismay. The visit of a woman at -this moment would not merely embarrass them both, it would torture -Berrie. "What is to be done?" he asked, roused to alertness. - -"Nothing; all we can do is to stand pat and act as if we belonged here." - -"Very well," he replied, moving stiffly toward the door. "Here's where I -can be of some service. I am an excellent white liar." - -As our hero crawled out into the brilliant sunshine some part of his -courage came back to him. Though lame in every muscle, he was not ill. -That was the surprising thing. His head was clear, and his breath full -and deep. "My lungs are all right," he said to himself. "I'm not going to -collapse." And he looked round him with a new-born admiration of the -wooded hills which rose in somber majesty on either side the roaring -stream. "How different it all looks this morning," he said, remembering -the deep blackness of the night. - -The beat of hoofs upon the bridge drew his attention to the cavalcade, -which the keen eyes of the girl had detected as it came over the ridge to -the east. The party consisted of two men and two women and three -pack-horses completely outfitted for the trail. - -One of the women, spurring her horse to the front, rode serenely up to -where Wayland stood, and called out: "Good morning. Are you the ranger?" - -"No, I'm only the guard. The ranger has gone down the trail." - -He perceived at once that the speaker was an alien like himself, for she -wore tan- riding-boots, a divided skirt of expensive cloth, and a -jaunty, wide-rimmed sombrero. She looked, indeed, precisely like the -heroine of the prevalent Western drama. Her sleeves, rolled to the elbow, -disclosed shapely brown arms, and her neck, bare to her bosom, was -equally sun-smit; but she was so round-cheeked, so childishly charming, -that the most critical observer could find no fault with her make-up. - -One of the men rode up. "Hello, Norcross. What are you doing over here?" - -The youth smiled blandly. "Good morning, Mr. Belden. I'm serving my -apprenticeship. I'm in the service now." - -"The mischief you are!" exclaimed the other. "Where's Tony?" - -"Gone for his mail. He'll return soon. What are _you_ doing over here, -may I ask?" - -"I'm here as guide to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore, this is Norcross, one of -McFarlane's men. Mr. Moore is connected with the tie-camp operations of -the railway." - -Moore was a tall, thin man with a gray beard and keen blue eyes. "Where's -McFarlane? We were to meet him here. Didn't he come over with you?" - -"We started together, but the horses got away, and he was obliged to go -back after them. He also is likely to turn up soon." - -"I am frightfully hungry," interrupted the girl. "Can't you hand me out a -hunk of bread and meat? We've been riding since daylight." - -Berrie suddenly appeared at the door. "Sure thing," she called out. -"Slide down and come in." - -Moore removed his hat and bowed. "Good morning, Miss McFarlane, I didn't -know you were here. You know my daughter Siona?" - -Berrie nodded coldly. "I've met her." - -He indicated the other woman. "And Mrs. Belden, of course, you know." - -Mrs. Belden, the fourth member of the party, a middle-aged, rather flabby -person, just being eased down from her horse, turned on Berrie with a -battery of questions. "Good Lord! Berrie McFarlane, what are you doing -over in this forsaken hole? Where's your dad? And where is Tony? If Cliff -had known you was over here he'd have come, too." - -Berrie retained her self-possession. "Come in and get some coffee, and -we'll straighten things out." - -Apparently Mrs. Belden did not know that Cliff and Berrie had quarreled, -for she treated the girl with maternal familiarity. She was a -good-natured, well-intentioned old sloven, but a most renowned tattler, -and the girl feared her more than she feared any other woman in the -valley. She had always avoided her, but she showed nothing of this -dislike at the moment. - -Wayland drew the younger woman's attention by saying: "It's plain that -you, like myself, do not belong to these parts, Miss Moore." - -"What makes you think so?" she brightly queried. - -"Your costume is too appropriate. Haven't you noticed that the women who -live out here carefully avoid convenient and artistic dress? Now your -outfit is precisely what they should wear and don't." - -This amused her. "I know, but they all say they have to wear out their -Sunday go-to-meeting clothes, whereas I can 'rag out proper.' I'm glad -you like my 'rig.'" - -"When I look at you," he said, "I'm back on old Broadway at the Herald -Square Theater. The play is 'Little Blossom, or the Cowgirl's Revenge.' -The heroine has just come into the miner's cabin--" - -"Oh, go 'long," she replied, seizing her cue and speaking in character, -"you're stringin' me." - -"Not on your life! Your outfit is a peacherino," he declared. "I am glad -you rode by." - -At the moment he was bent on drawing the girl's attention from Berrie, -but as she went on he came to like her. She said: "No, I don't belong -here; but I come out every year during vacation with my father. I love -this country. It's so big and wide and wild. Father has built a little -bungalow down at the lower mill, and we enjoy every day of our stay." - -"You're a Smith girl," he abruptly asserted. - -"What makes you think so?" - -"Oh, there's something about you Smith girls that gives you dead away." - -"Gives us away! I like that!" - -"My phrase was unfortunate. I like Smith girls," he hastened to say; and -in five minutes they were on the friendliest terms--talking of mutual -acquaintances--a fact which both puzzled and hurt Berea. Their laughter -angered her, and whenever she glanced at them and detected Siona looking -into Wayland's face with coquettish simper, she was embittered. She was -glad when Moore came in and interrupted the dialogue. - -Norcross did not relax, though he considered the dangers of -cross-examination almost entirely passed. In this he was mistaken, for no -sooner was the keen edge of Mrs. Belden's hunger dulled than her -curiosity sharpened. - -"Where did you say the Supervisor was?" she repeated. - -"The horses got away, and he had to go back after them," again responded -Berrie, who found the scrutiny of the other girl deeply disconcerting. - -"When do you expect him back?" - -"Any minute now," she replied, and in this she was not deceiving them, -although she did not intend to volunteer any information which might -embarrass either Wayland or herself. - -Norcross tried to create a diversion. "Isn't this a charming valley?" - -Siona took up the cue. "Isn't it! It's romantic enough to be the -back-drop in a Bret Harte play. I love it!" - -Moore turned to Wayland. "I know a Norcross, a Michigan lumberman, -Vice-President of the Association. Is he, by any chance, a relative?" - -"Only a father," retorted Wayland, with a smile. "But don't hold me -responsible for anything he has done. We seldom agree." - -Moore's manner changed abruptly. "Indeed! And what is the son of W. W. -Norcross doing out here in the Forest Service?" - -The change in her father's tone was not lost upon Siona, who ceased her -banter and studied the young man with deeper interest, while Mrs. Belden, -detecting some restraint in Berrie's tone, renewed her questioning: -"Where did you camp last night?" - -"Right here." - -"I don't see how the horses got away. There's a pasture here, for we rode -right through it." - -Berrie was aware that each moment of delay in explaining the situation -looked like evasion, and deepened the significance of her predicament, -and yet she could not bring herself to the task of minutely accounting -for her time during the last two days. - -Belden came to her relief. "Well, well! We'll have to be moving on. We're -going into camp at the mouth of the West Fork," he said, as he rose. -"Tell Tony and the Supervisor that we want to line out that timber at the -earliest possible moment." - -Siona, who was now distinctly coquetting with Wayland, held out her hand. -"I hope you'll find time to come up and see us. I know we have other -mutual friends, if we had time to get at them." - -His answer was humorous. "I am a soldier. I am on duty. I'm not at all -sure that I shall have a moment's leave; but I will call if I can -possibly do so." - -They started off at last without having learned in detail anything of the -intimate relationship into which the Supervisor's daughter and young -Norcross had been thrown, and Mrs. Belden was still so much in the dark -that she called to Berrie: "I'm going to send word to Cliff that you are -over here. He'll be crazy to come the minute he finds it out." - -"Don't do that!" protested Berrie. - -Wayland turned to Berrie. "That would be pleasant," he said, smilingly. - -But she did not return his smile. On the contrary, she remained very -grave. "I wish that old tale-bearer had kept away. She's going to make -trouble for us all. And that girl, isn't she a spectacle? I never could -bear her." - -"Why, what's wrong with her? She seems a very nice, sprightly person." - -"She's a regular play actor. I don't like made-up people. Why does she go -around with her sleeves rolled up that way, and--and her dress open at -the throat?" - -"Oh, those are the affectations of the moment. She wants to look tough -and boisterous. That's the fad with all the girls, just now. It's only a -harmless piece of foolishness." - -She could not tell him how deeply she resented his ready tone of -camaraderie with the other girl; but she was secretly suffering. It hurt -her to think that he could forget his aches and be so free and easy with -a stranger at a moment's notice. Under the influence of that girl's smile -he seemed to have quite forgotten his exhaustion and his pain. It was -wonderful how cheerful he had been while she was in sight. - -In all this Berrie did him an injustice. He had been keenly conscious, -during every moment of the time, not only of his bodily ills, but of -Berrie, and he had kept a brave face in order that he might prevent -further questioning on the part of a malicious girl. It was his only way -of being heroic. Now that the crisis was passed he was quite as much of a -wreck as ever. - -A new anxiety beset her. "I hope they won't happen to meet father on the -trail." - -"Perhaps I should go with them and warn him." - -"Oh, it doesn't matter," she wearily answered. "Old Mrs. Belden will -never rest till she finds out just where we've been, and just what we've -done. She's that kind. She knows everything that goes on." - -He understood her fear, and yet he was unable to comfort her in the only -way she could be comforted. That brief encounter with Siona Moore--a girl -of his own world--had made all thought of marriage with Berea suddenly -absurd. Without losing in any degree the sense of gratitude he felt for -her protecting care, and with full acknowledgment of her heroic support -of his faltering feet, he revolted from putting into words a proposal of -marriage. "I love her," he confessed to himself, "and she is a dear, -brave girl; but I do not love her as a man should love the woman he is to -marry." - -A gray shadow had plainly fallen between them. Berea sensed the change in -his attitude, and traced it to the influence of the coquette whose -smiling eyes and bared arms had openly challenged admiration. It saddened -her to think that one so fine as he had seemed could yield even momentary -tribute to an open and silly coquette. - - - - -IX - -FURTHER PERPLEXITIES - - -Wayland, for his part, was not deceived by Siona Moore. He knew her kind, -and understood her method of attack. He liked her pert ways, for they -brought back his days at college, when dozens of just such misses lent -grace and humor and romance to the tennis court and to the football -field. She carried with her the aroma of care-free, athletic girlhood. -Flirtation was in her as charming and almost as meaningless as the -preening of birds on the bank of a pool in the meadow. - -Speaking aloud, he said: "Miss Moore travels the trail with all known -accessories, and I've no doubt she thinks she is a grand campaigner; but -I am wondering how she would stand such a trip as that you took last -night. I don't believe she could have done as well as I. She's the -imitation--you're the real thing." - -The praise involved in this speech brought back a little of Berrie's -humor. "I reckon those brown boots of hers would have melted," she said, -with quaint smile. - -He became very grave. "If it had not been for you, dear girl, I would be -lying up there in the forest this minute. Nothing but your indomitable -spirit kept me moving. I shall be deeply hurt if any harm comes to you on -account of me." - -"If it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have started on that trip last -night. It was perfectly useless. It would have been better for us both if -we had stayed in camp, for we wouldn't have met these people." - -"That's true," he replied; "but we didn't know that at the time. We acted -for the best, and we must not blame ourselves, no matter what comes of -it." - -They fell silent at this point, for each was again conscious of their new -relationship. She, vaguely suffering, waited for him to resume the -lover's tone, while he, oppressed by the sense of his own shortcomings -and weakness, was planning an escape. "It's all nonsense, my remaining in -the forest. I'm not fitted for it. It's too severe. I'll tell McFarlane -so and get out." - -Perceiving his returning weakness and depression, Berea insisted on his -lying down again while she set to work preparing dinner. "There is no -telling when father will get here," she said. "And Tony will be hungry -when he comes. Lie down and rest." - -He obeyed her silently, and, going to the bunk, at once fell asleep. How -long he slept he could not tell, but he was awakened by the voice of the -ranger, who was standing in the doorway and regarding Berrie with a -round-eyed stare. - -He was a tall, awkward fellow of about thirty-five, plainly of the -frontier type; but a man of intelligence. At the end of a brief -explanation Berrie said, with an air of authority: "Now you'd better ride -up the trail and bring our camp outfit down. We can't go back that way, -anyhow." - -The ranger glanced toward Wayland. "All right, Miss Berrie, but perhaps -your tenderfoot needs a doctor." - -Wayland rose painfully but resolutely. "Oh no, I am not sick. I'm a -little lame, that's all. I'll go along with you." - -"No," said Berrie, decisively. "You're not well enough for that. Get up -your horses, Tony, and by that time I'll have some dinner ready." - -"All right, Miss Berrie," replied the man, and turned away. - -Hardly had he crossed the bridge on his way to the pasture, when Berrie -cried out: "There comes daddy." - -Wayland joined her at the door, and stood beside her watching the -Supervisor, as he came zigzagging down the steep hill to the east, with -all his horses trailing behind him roped together head-to-tail. - -"He's had to come round by Lost Lake," she exclaimed. "He'll be tired -out, and absolutely starved. Wahoo!" she shouted in greeting, and the -Supervisor waved his hand. - -There was something superb in the calm seat of the veteran as he slid -down the . He kept his place in the saddle with the air of the rider -to whom hunger, fatigue, windfalls, and snowslides were all a part of the -day's work; and when he reined in before the door and dropped from his -horse, he put his arm about his daughter's neck with quiet word: "I -thought I'd find you here. How is everything?" - -"All right, daddy; but what about you? Where have you been?" - -"Clean back to Mill Park. The blamed cayuses kept just ahead of me all -the way." - -"Poor old dad! And on top of that came the snow." - -"Yes, and a whole hatful. I couldn't get back over the high pass. Had to -go round by Lost Lake, and to cap all, Old Baldy took a notion not to -lead. Oh, I've had a peach of a time; but here I am. Have you seen Moore -and his party?" - -"Yes, they're in camp up the trail. He and Alec Belden and two women. Are -you hungry?" - -He turned a comical glance upon her. "Am I hungry? Sister, I am a wolf. -Norcross, take my horses down to the pasture." - -She hastened to interpose. "Let me do that, daddy, Mr. Norcross is badly -used up. You see, we started down here late yesterday afternoon. It was -raining and horribly muddy, and I took the wrong trail. The darkness -caught us and we didn't reach the station till nearly midnight." - -Wayland acknowledged his weakness. "I guess I made a mistake, Supervisor; -I'm not fitted for this strenuous life." - -McFarlane was quick to understand. "I didn't intend to pitchfork you into -the forest life quite so suddenly," he said. "Don't give up yet awhile. -You'll harden to it." - -"Here comes Tony," said Berrie. "He'll look after the ponies." - -Nevertheless Wayland went out, believing that Berrie wished to be alone -with her father for a short time. - -As he took his seat McFarlane said: "You stayed in camp till yesterday -afternoon, did you?" - -"Yes, we were expecting you every moment." - -He saw nothing in this to remark upon. "Did it snow at the lake?" - -"Yes, a little; it mostly rained." - -"It stormed up on the divide like a January blizzard. When did Moore and -his party arrive?" - -"About ten o'clock this morning." - -"I'll ride right up and see them. What about the outfit? That's at the -lake, I reckon?" - -"Yes, I was just sending Tony after it. But, father, if you go up to -Moore's camp, don't say too much about what has happened. Don't tell them -just when you took the back-trail, and just how long Wayland and I were -in camp." - -"Why not?" - -She reddened with confusion. "Because--You know what an old gossip Mrs. -Belden is. I don't want her to know. She's an awful talker, and our being -together up there all that time will give her a chance." - -A light broke in on the Supervisor's brain. In the midst of his -preoccupation as a forester he suddenly became the father. His eyes -narrowed and his face darkened. "That's so. The old rip could make a -whole lot of capital out of your being left in camp that way. At the same -time I don't believe in dodging. The worst thing we could do would be to -try to blind the trail. Was Tony here last night when you came?" - -"No, he was down the valley after his mail." - -His face darkened again. "That's another piece of bad luck, too. How much -does the old woman know at present?" - -"Nothing at all." - -"Didn't she cross-examine you?" - -"Sure she did; but Wayland side-tracked her. Of course it only delays -things. She'll know all about it sooner or later. She's great at putting -two and two together. Two and two with her always make five." - -McFarlane mused. "Cliff will be plumb crazy if she gets his ear first." - -"I don't care anything about Cliff, daddy. I don't care what he thinks or -does, if he will only let Wayland alone." - -"See here, daughter, you do seem to be terribly interested in this -tourist." - -"He's the finest man I ever knew, father." - -He looked at her with tender, trusting glance. "He isn't your kind, -daughter. He's a nice clean boy, but he's different. He don't belong in -our world. He's only just stopping here. Don't forget that." - -"I'm not forgetting that, daddy. I know he's different, that's why I like -him." After a pause she added: "Nobody could have been nicer all through -these days than he has been. He was like a brother." - -McFarlane fixed a keen glance upon her. "Has he said anything to you? Did -you come to an understanding?" - -Her eyes fell. "Not the way you mean, daddy; but I think he--likes me. -But do you know who he is? He's the son of W. W. Norcross, that big -Michigan lumberman." - -McFarlane started. "How do you know that?" - -"Mr. Moore asked him if he was any relation to W.W. Norcross, and he -said, 'Yes, a son.' You should have seen how that Moore girl changed her -tune the moment he admitted that. She'd been very free with him up to -that time; but when she found out he was a rich man's son she became as -quiet and innocent as a kitten. I hate her; she's a deceitful snip." - -"Well, now, daughter, that being the case, it's all the more certain that -he don't belong to our world, and you mustn't fix your mind on keeping -him here." - -"A girl can't help fixing her mind, daddy." - -"Or changing it." He smiled a little. "You used to like Cliff. You liked -him well enough to promise to marry him." - -"I know I did; but I despise him now." - -"Poor Cliff! He isn't so much to blame after all. Any man is likely to -flare out when he finds another fellow cutting in ahead of him. Why, here -you are wanting to kill Siona Moore just for making up to your young -tourist." - -"But that's different." - -He laughed. "Of course it is. But the thing we've got to guard against is -old lady Belden's tongue. She and that Belden gang have it in for me, and -all that has kept them from open war has been Cliff's relationship to -you. They'll take a keen delight in making the worst of all this camping -business." McFarlane was now very grave. "I wish your mother was here -this minute. I guess we had better cut out this timber cruise and go -right back." - -"No, you mustn't do that; that would only make more talk. Go on with your -plans. I'll stay here with you. It won't take you but a couple of days to -do the work, and Wayland needs the rest." - -"But suppose Cliff hears of this business between you and Norcross and -comes galloping over the ridge?" - -"Well, let him, he has no claim on me." - -He rose uneasily. "It's all mighty risky business, and it's my fault. I -should never have permitted you to start on this trip." - -"Don't you worry about me, daddy, I'll pull through somehow. Anybody that -knows me will understand how little there is in--in old lady Belden's -gab. I've had a beautiful trip, and I won't let her nor anybody else -spoil it for me." - -McFarlane was not merely troubled. He was distracted. He was afraid to -meet the Beldens. He dreaded their questions, their innuendoes. He had -perfect faith in his daughter's purity and honesty, and he liked and -trusted Norcross, and yet he knew that should Belden find it to his -advantage to slander these young people, and to read into their action -the lawlessness of his own youth, Berea's reputation, high as it was, -would suffer, and her mother's heart be rent with anxiety. In his growing -pain and perplexity he decided to speak frankly to young Norcross -himself. "He's a gentleman, and knows the way of the world. Perhaps he'll -have some suggestion to offer." In his heart he hoped to learn that -Wayland loved his daughter and wished to marry her. - -Wayland was down on the bridge leaning over the rail, listening to the -song of the water. - -McFarlane approached gravely, but when he spoke it was in his usual soft -monotone. "Mr. Norcross," he began, with candid inflection, "I am very -sorry to say it; but I wish you and my daughter had never started on this -trip." - -"I know what you mean, Supervisor, and I feel as you do about it. Of -course, none of us foresaw any such complication as this, but now that we -are snarled up in it we'll have to make the best of it. No one of us is -to blame. It was all accidental." - -The youth's frank words and his sympathetic voice disarmed McFarlane -completely. Even the slight resentment he felt melted away. "It's no use -saying _if_," he remarked, at length. "What we've got to meet is Seth -Belden's report--Berrie has cut loose from Cliff, and he's red-headed -already. When he drops onto this story, when he learns that I had to -chase back after the horses, and that you and Berrie were alone together -for three days, he'll have a fine club to swing, and he'll swing it; and -Alec will help him. They're all waiting a chance to get me, and they're -mean enough to get me through my girl." - -"What can I do?" asked Wayland. - -McFarlane pondered. "I'll try to head off Marm Belden, and I'll have a -talk with Moore. He's a pretty reasonable chap." - -"But you forget there's another tale-bearer. Moore's daughter is with -them." - -"That's so. I'd forgotten her. Good Lord! we are in for it. There's no -use trying to cover anything up." - -Here was the place for Norcross to speak up and say: "Never mind, I'm -going to ask Berrie to be my wife." But he couldn't do it. Something rose -in his throat which prevented speech. A strange repugnance, a kind of -sullen resentment at being forced into a declaration, kept him silent, -and McFarlane, disappointed, wondering and hurt, kept silence also. - -Norcross was the first to speak. "Of course those who know your daughter -will not listen for an instant to the story of an unclean old thing like -Mrs. Belden." - -"I'm not so sure about that," replied the father, gloomily. "People -always listen to such stories, and a girl always gets the worst of a -situation like this. Berrie's been brought up to take care of herself, -and she's kept clear of criticism so far; but with Cliff on edge and this -old rip snooping around--" His mind suddenly changed. "Your being the son -of a rich man won't help any. Why didn't you tell me who you were?" - -"I didn't think it necessary. What difference does it make? I have -nothing to do with my father's business. His notions of forest -speculation are not mine." - -"It would have made a difference with me, and it might have made a -difference with Berrie. She mightn't have been so free with you at the -start, if she'd known who you were. You looked sick and kind of lonesome, -and that worked on her sympathy." - -"I _was_ sick and I was lonesome, and she has been very sweet and lovely -to me, and it breaks my heart to think that her kindness and your -friendship should bring all this trouble and suspicion upon her. Let's go -up to the Moore camp and have it out with them. I'll make any statement -you think best." - -"I reckon the less said about it the better," responded the older man. -"I'm going up to the camp, but not to talk about my daughter." - -"How can you help it? They'll force the topic." - -"If they do, I'll force them to let it alone," retorted McFarlane; but he -went away disappointed and sorrowful. The young man's evident avoidance -of the subject of marriage hurt him. He did not perceive, as Norcross -did, that to make an announcement of his daughter's engagement at this -moment would be taken as a confession of shameful need. It is probable -that Berrie herself would not have seen this further complication. - -Each hour added to Wayland's sense of helplessness and bitterness. "I am -in a trap. I can neither help Berrie nor help myself. Nothing remains for -me but flight, and flight will also be a confession of guilt." - -Once again, and in far more definite terms, he perceived the injustice of -the world toward women. Here with Berrie, as in ages upon ages of other -times, the maiden must bear the burden of reproach. "In me it will be -considered a joke, a romantic episode, in her a degrading misdemeanor. -And yet what can I do?" - -When he re-entered the cabin the Supervisor had returned from the camp, -and something in his manner, as well as in Berrie's, revealed the fact -that the situation had not improved. - -"They forced me into a corner," McFarlane said to Wayland, peevishly. "I -lied out of one night; but they know that you were here last night. Of -course, they were respectful enough so long as I had an eye on them, but -their tongues are wagging now." - -The rest of the evening was spent in talk on the forest, and in going -over the ranger's books, for the Supervisor continued to plan for -Wayland's stay at this station, and the young fellow thought it best not -to refuse at the moment. - -As bedtime drew near Settle took a blanket and went to the corral, and -Berrie insisted that her father and Wayland occupy the bunk. - -Norcross protested; but the Supervisor said: "Let her alone. She's better -able to sleep on the floor than either of us." - -This was perfectly true; but, in spite of his bruised and aching body, -the youth would gladly have taken her place beside the stove. It seemed -pitifully unjust that she should have this physical hardship in addition -to her uneasiness of mind. - - - - -X - -THE CAMP ON THE PASS - - -Berea suffered a restless night, the most painful and broken she had -known in all her life. She acknowledged that Siona Moore was prettier, -and that she stood more nearly on Wayland's plane than herself; but the -realization of this fact did not bring surrender--she was not of that -temper. All her life she had been called upon to combat the elements, to -hold her own amidst rude men and inconsiderate women, and she had no -intention of yielding her place to a pert coquette, no matter what the -gossips might say. She had seen this girl many times, but had refused to -visit her house. She had held her in contempt, now she quite cordially -hated her. - -"She shall not have her way with Wayland," she decided. "I know what she -wants--she wants him at her side to-morrow; but I will not have it so. -She is trying to get him away from me." - -The more she dwelt on this the hotter her jealous fever burned. The floor -on which she lay was full of knots. She could not lose herself in sleep, -tired as she was. The planks no longer turned their soft spots to her -flesh, and she rolled from side to side in torment. She would have arisen -and dressed only she did not care to disturb the men. The night seemed -interminable. - -Her plan of action was simple. "I shall go home the morrow and take -Wayland with me. I will not have him going with that girl--that's -settled!" The very thought of his taking Siona's hand in greeting angered -her beyond reason. - -She had put Cliff Belden completely out of her mind, and this was -characteristic of her. She had no divided interests, no subtleties, no -subterfuges. Forthright, hot-blooded, frank and simple, she had centered -all her care, all her desires, on this pale youth whose appeal was at -once mystic and maternal; but her pity was changing to something deeper, -for she was convinced that he was gaining in strength, that he was in no -danger of relapse. The hard trip of the day before had seemingly done him -no permanent injury; on the contrary, a few hours' rest had almost -restored him to his normal self. "To-morrow he will be able to ride -again." And this thought reconciled her to her hard bed. She did not look -beyond the long, delicious day which they must spend in returning to the -Springs. - -She fell asleep at last, and was awakened only by her father tinkering -about the stove. - -She rose alertly, signing to the Supervisor not to disturb her patient. - -However, Norcross also heard the rattle of the poker, opened his eyes and -regarded Berrie with sleepy smile. "Good morning, if it _is_ morning," he -said, slowly. - -She laughed back at him. "It's almost sunup." - -"You don't tell me! How could I have overslept like this? Makes me think -of the Irishman who, upon being awakened to an early breakfast like this, -ate it, then said to his employer, an extra thrifty farmer, 'Two suppers -in wan night--and hurrah for bed again.'" - -This amused her greatly. "It's too bad. I hope you got some sleep?" - -"All there was time for." His voice changed. "I feel like a hound-pup, to -be snoring on a downy couch like this while you were roughing it on the -floor. How did I come to do it? It's shameful!" - -"Don't worry about me. How are you feeling this morning?" - -He stretched and yawned. "Fine! That is, I'm sore here and there, but I'm -feeling wonderfully well. Do you know, I begin to hope that I can finally -dominate the wilderness. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I got so I could -ride and walk as you do, for instance? The fact that I'm not dead this -morning is encouraging." He drew on his shoes as he talked, while she -went about her toilet, which was quite as simple as his own. She had -spent two nights in her day dress with almost no bathing facilities; but -that didn't trouble her. It was a part of the game. She washed her face -and hands in Settle's tin basin, but drew the line at his rubber comb. - -There was a distinct charm in seeing her thus adapting herself to the -cabin, a charm quite as powerful as that which emanated from Siona -Moore's dainty and theatrical personality. What it was he could not -define, but the forester's daughter had something primeval about her, -something close to the soil, something which aureoles the old Saxon -words--_wife_ and _home_ and _fireplace_. Seeing her through the savory -steam of the bacon she was frying, he forgot her marvelous skill as -horsewoman and pathfinder, and thought of her only as the housewife. She -belonged here, in this cabin. She was fitted to this landscape, whereas -the other woman was alien and dissonant. - -He moved his arms about and shook his legs with comical effect of trying -to see if they were still properly hinged. "It's miraculous! I'm not lame -at all. No one can accuse me of being a 'lunger' now. Last night's sleep -has made a new man of me. I've met the forest and it is mine." - -She beamed upon him with happy pride. "I'm mighty glad to hear you say -that. I was terribly afraid that long, hard walk in the rain had been too -much for you. I reckon you're all right for the work now." - -He recalled, as she spoke, her anguish of pity while they stood in the -darkness of the trail, and it seemed that he could go no farther, and he -said, soberly: "It must have seemed to you one while as if I were all in. -I felt that way myself. I was numb from head to heel. I couldn't have -gone another mile." - -Her face clouded with retrospective pain. "You mustn't try any more such -stunts--not for a few weeks, anyway. But get ready for breakfast." - -He went out into the morning exultantly, and ran down to the river to -bathe his face and hands, allured by its splendid voice. The world seemed -very bright and beautiful and health-giving once more. - -As soon as she was alone with her father, Berrie said: "I'm going home -to-day, dad." - -"Going home! What for?" - -"I've had enough of it." - -He glanced at her bed on the floor. "I can't say I blame you any. This -has been a rough trip; but we'll go up and bring down the outfit, and -then we men can sleep in the tent and let you have the bunk--you'll be -comfortable to-night." - -"Oh, I don't mind sleeping on the floor," she replied; "but I want to get -back. I don't want to meet those women. Another thing, you'd better use -Mr. Norcross at the Springs instead of leaving him here with Tony." - -"Why so?" - -"Well, he isn't quite well enough to run the risk. It's a long way from -here to a doctor." - -"He 'pears to be on deck this morning. Besides, I haven't anything in the -office to offer him." - -"Then send him up to Meeker. Landon needs help, and he's a better -forester than Tony, anyway." - -"How about Cliff? He may make trouble." - -Her face darkened. "Cliff will reach him if he wants to--no matter where -he is. And then, too, Landon likes Mr. Norcross and will see that he is -not abused." - -McFarlane ruminated over her suggestion, well knowing that she was -planning this change in order that she might have Norcross a little -nearer, a little more accessible. - -"I don't know but you're right. Landon is almost as good a hustler as -Tony, and a much better forester. I thought of sending Norcross up there -at first, but he told me that Frank and his gang had it in for him. Of -course, he's only nominally in the service; but I want him to begin -right." - -Berrie went further. "I want him to ride back with me to-day." - -He looked at her with grave inquiry. "Do you think that a wise thing to -do? Won't that make more talk?" - -"We'll start early and ride straight through." - -"You'll have to go by Lost Lake, and that means a long, hard hike. Can he -stand it?" - -"Oh yes. He rides well. It's the walking at a high altitude that does him -up. Furthermore, Cliff may turn up here, and I don't want another -mix-up." - -McFarlane was troubled. "I ought to go back with you; but Moore is over -here to line out a cutting, and I must stay on for a couple of days. -Suppose I send Tony along?" - -"No, Tony would be a nuisance and would do no good. Another day on the -trail won't add to Mrs. Belden's story. If she wants to be mean she's got -all the material for it already." - -In the end she had her way. McFarlane, perceiving that she had set her -heart on this ride, and having perfect faith in her skill and judgment on -the trail, finally said: "Well, if you do so, the quicker you start the -better. With the best of luck you can't pull in before eight o'clock, and -you'll have to ride hard to do that." - -"If I find we can't make it I'll pull into a ranch. But I'm sure we -can." - -When Wayland came in the Supervisor inquired: "Do you feel able to ride -back over the hill to-day?" - -"Entirely so. It isn't the riding that uses me up; it is the walking; -and, besides, as candidate for promotion I must obey orders--especially -orders to march." - -They breakfasted hurriedly, and while McFarlane and Tony were bringing in -the horses Wayland and Berrie set the cabin to rights. Working thus side -by side, she recovered her dominion over him, and at the same time -regained her own cheerful self-confidence. - -"You're a wonder!" he exclaimed, as he watched her deft adjustment of the -dishes and furniture. "You're ambidextrous." - -"I have to be to hold my job," she laughingly replied. "A feller must -play all the parts when he's up here." - -It was still early morning as they mounted and set off up the trail; but -Moore's camp was astir, and as McFarlane turned in--much against Berrie's -will--the lumberman and his daughter both came out to meet them. "Come in -and have some breakfast," said Siona, with cordial inclusiveness, while -her eyes met Wayland's glance with mocking glee. - -"Thank you," said McFarlane, "we can't stop. I'm going to set my daughter -over the divide. She has had enough camping, and Norcross is pretty well -battered up, so I'm going to help them across. I'll be back to-night, and -we'll take our turn up the valley to-morrow. Nash will be here then." - -Berrie did not mind her father's explanation; on the contrary, she took a -distinct pleasure in letting the other girl know of the long and intimate -day she was about to spend with her young lover. - -Siona, too adroit to display her disappointment, expressed polite regret. -"I hope you won't get storm-bound," she said, showing her white teeth in -a meaning smile. - -"If there is any sign of a storm we won't cross," declared McFarlane. -"We're going round by the lower pass, anyhow. If I'm not here by dark, -you may know I've stayed to set 'em down at the Mill." - -There was charm in Siona's alert poise, and in the neatness of her camp -dress. Her dainty tent, with its stools and rugs, made the wilderness -seem but a park. She reminded Norcross of the troops of tourists of the -Tyrol, and her tent was of a kind to harmonize with the tea-houses on the -path to the summit of the Matterhorn. Then, too, something triumphantly -feminine shone in her bright eyes and glowed in her softly rounded -cheeks. Her hand was little and pointed, not fitted like Berrie's for -tightening a cinch or wielding an ax, and as he said "Good-by," he added: -"I hope I shall see you again soon," and at the moment he meant it. - -"We'll return to the Springs in a few days," she replied. "Come and see -us. Our bungalow is on the other side of the river--and you, too," she -addressed Berrie; but her tone was so conventionally polite that the -ranch-girl, burning with jealous heat, made no reply. - -McFarlane led the way to the lake rapidly and in silence. The splendors -of the foliage, subdued by the rains, the grandeur of the peaks, the song -of the glorious stream--all were lost on Berrie, for she now felt herself -to be nothing but a big, clumsy, coarse-handed tomboy. Her worn gloves, -her faded skirt, and her man's shoes had been made hateful to her by that -smug, graceful, play-acting tourist with the cool, keen eyes and smirking -lips. "She pretends to be a kitten; but she isn't; she's a sly grown-up -cat," she bitterly accused, but she could not deny the charm of her -personality. - -Wayland was forced to acknowledge that Berrie in this dark mood was not -the delightful companion she had hitherto been. Something sweet and -confiding had gone out of their relationship, and he was too keen-witted -not to know what it was. He estimated precisely the value of the -malicious parting words of Siona Moore. "She's a natural tease, the kind -of woman who loves to torment other and less fortunate women. She cares -nothing for me, of course, it's just her way of paying off old scores. It -would seem that Berrie has not encouraged her advances in times past." - -That Berrie was suffering, and that her jealousy touchingly proved the -depth of her love for him, brought no elation, only perplexity. He was -not seeking such devotion. As a companion on the trail she had been a -joy--as a jealous sweetheart she was less admirable. He realized -perfectly that this return journey was of her arrangement, not -McFarlane's, and while he was not resentful of her care, he was in doubt -of the outcome. It hurried him into a further intimacy which might prove -embarrassing. - -At the camp by the lake the Supervisor became sharply commanding. "Now -let's throw these packs on lively. It will be slippery on the high trail, -and you'll just naturally have to hit leather hard and keep jouncing if -you reach the wagon-road before dark. But you'll make it." - -"Make it!" said Berrie. "Of course we'll make it. Don't you worry about -that for a minute. Once I get out of the green timber the dark won't -worry me. We'll push right through." - -In packing the camp stuff on the saddles, Berrie, almost as swift and -powerful as her father, acted with perfect understanding of every task, -and Wayland's admiration of her skill increased mightily. - -She insisted on her father's turning back. "We don't need you," she said. -"I can find the pass." - -McFarlane's faith in his daughter had been tested many times, and yet he -was a little loath to have her start off on a trail new to her. He argued -against it briefly, but she laughed at his fears. "I can go anywhere you -can," she said. "Stand clear!" With final admonition he stood clear. - -"You'll have to keep off the boggy meadows," he warned; "these rains will -have softened all those muck-holes on the other side; they'll be -bottomless pits; watch out for 'em. Good-by! If you meet Nash hurry him -along. Moore is anxious to run those lines. Keep in touch with Landon, -and if anybody turns up from the district office say I'll be back on -Friday. Good luck." - -"Same to you. So long." - -Berea led the way, and Norcross fell in behind the pack-horses, feeling -as unimportant as a small boy at the heels of a circus parade. His girl -captain was so competent, so self-reliant, and so sure that nothing he -could say or do assisted in the slightest degree. Her leadership was a -curiously close reproduction of her father's unhurried and graceful -action. Her seat in the saddle was as easy as Landon's, and her eyes were -alert to every rock and stream in the road. She was at home here, where -the other girl would have been a bewildered child, and his words of -praise lifted the shadow from her face. - -The sky was cloudy, and a delicious feeling of autumn was in the -air--autumn that might turn to winter with a passing cloud, and the -forest was dankly gloomy and grimly silent, save from the roaring stream -which ran at times foam-white with speed. The high peaks, gray and -streaked with new-fallen snow, shone grandly, bleakly through the firs. -The radiant beauty of the road from the Springs, the golden glow of four -days before was utterly gone, and yet there was exultation in this ride. -A distinct pleasure, a delight of another sort, lay in thus daring the -majesty of an unknown wind-swept pass. - -Wayland called out: "The air feels like Thanksgiving morning, doesn't -it?" - -"It _is_ Thanksgiving for me, and I'm going to get a grouse for dinner," -she replied; and in less than an hour the snap of her rifle made good her -promise. - -After leaving the upper lake she turned to the right and followed the -course of a swift and splendid stream, which came churning through a -cheerless, mossy swamp of spruce-trees. Inexperienced as he was, Wayland -knew that this was not a well-marked trail; but his confidence in his -guide was too great to permit of any worry over the pass, and he amused -himself by watching the water-robins as they flitted from stone to stone -in the torrent, and in calculating just where he would drop a line for -trout if he had time to do so, and in recovered serenity enjoyed his -ride. Gradually he put aside his perplexities concerning the future, -permitting his mind to prefigure nothing but his duties with Landon at -Meeker's Mill. - -He was rather glad of the decision to send him there, for it promised -absorbing sport. "I shall see how Landon and Belden work out their -problem," he said. He had no fear of Frank Meeker now. "As a forest guard -with official duties to perform I can meet that young savage on other and -more nearly equal terms," he assured himself. - -The trail grew slippery and in places ran full of water. "But there's a -bottom, somewhere," Berrie confidently declared, and pushed ahead with -resolute mien. It was noon when they rose above timber and entered upon -the wide, smooth s of the pass. Snow filled the grass here, and the -wind, keen, cutting, unhindered, came out of the desolate west with -savage fury; but the sun occasionally shone through the clouds with vivid -splendor. "It is December now," shouted Wayland, as he put on his slicker -and cowered low to his saddle. "It will be January soon." - -"We will make it Christmas dinner," she laughed, and her glowing good -humor warmed his heart. She was entirely her cheerful self again. - -As they rose, the view became magnificent, wintry, sparkling. The great -clouds, drifting like ancient warships heavy with armament, sent down -chill showers of hail over the frosted gold of the grassy s; but -when the shadows passed the sunlight descended in silent cataracts -deliriously spring-like. The conies squeaked from the rocky ridges, and a -brace of eagles circling about a lone crag, as if exulting in their -sovereign mastery of the air, screamed in shrill ecstatic duo. The sheer -cliffs, on their shadowed sides, were violently purple. Everywhere the -landscape exhibited crashing contrasts of primary pigments which bit into -consciousness like the flare of a martial band. - -The youth would have lingered in spite of the cold; but the girl kept -steadily on, knowing well that the hardest part of their journey was -still before them, and he, though longing to ride by her side, and to -enjoy the views with her, was forced to remain in the rear in order to -hurry the reluctant pack-animals forward. They had now reached a point -twelve thousand feet above the sea, and range beyond range, to the west -and south, rose into sight like stupendous waves of a purple-green sea. -To the east the park lay level as a floor and carpeted in tawny velvet. - -It was nearly two o'clock when they began to drop down behind the rocky -ridges of the eastern , and soon, in the bottom of a warm and -sheltered hollow just at timber-line, Berrie drew her horse to a stand -and slipped from the saddle. "We'll rest here an hour," she said, "and -cook our grouse; or are you too hungry to wait?" - -"I can wait," he answered, dramatically. "But it seems as if I had never -eaten." - -"Well, then, we'll save the grouse till to-morrow; but I'll make some -coffee. You bring some water while I start a fire." - -And so, while the tired horses cropped the russet grass, she boiled some -coffee and laid out some bread and meat, while he sat by watching her and -absorbing the beauty of the scene, the charm of the hour. "It is exactly -like a warm afternoon in April," he said, "and here are some of the -spring flowers." - -"There now, sit by and eat," she said, with humor; and in perfectly -restored tranquillity they ate and drank, with no thought of critics or -of rivals. They were alone, and content to be so. - -It was deliciously sweet and restful there in that sunny hollow on the -breast of the mountain. The wind swept through the worn branches of the -dwarfed spruce with immemorial wistfulness; but these young souls heard -it only as a far-off song. Side by side on the soft Alpine clover they -rested and talked, looking away at the shining peaks, and down over the -dark-green billows of fir beneath them. Half the forest was under their -eyes at the moment, and the man said: "Is it not magnificent! It makes me -proud of my country. Just think, all this glorious spread of hill and -valley is under your father's direction. I may say under _your_ -direction, for I notice he does just about what you tell him to do." - -"You've noticed that?" she laughed. "If I were a man I'd rather be -Supervisor of this forest than Congressman." - -"So would I," he agreed. "Nash says you _are_ the Supervisor. I wonder if -your father realizes how efficient you are? Does he ever sorrow over your -not being a boy?" - -Her eyes shone with mirth. "Not that I can notice. He 'pears contented." - -"You're a good deal like a son to him, I imagine. You can do about all -that a boy can do, anyhow--more than I could ever do. Does he realize how -much you have to do with the management of his forest? I've never seen -your like. I really believe you _could_ carry on the work as well as -he." - -She flushed with pleasure. "You seem to think I'm a district forester in -disguise." - -"I have eyes, Miss Supervisor, and also ears--which leads me to ask: Why -don't you clean out that saloon gang? Landon is sure there's crooked work -going on at that mill--certainly that open bar is a disgraceful and -corrupting thing." - -Her face clouded. "We've tried to cut out that saloon, but it can't be -done. You see, it's on a patented claim--the claim was bogus, of course, -and we've made complaint, but the matter is hung up, and that gives 'em a -chance to go on." - -"Well, let's not talk of that. It's too delicious an hour for any -question of business. It is a moment for poetry. I wish I could write -what I feel this moment. Why don't we camp here and watch the sun go down -and the moon rise? From our lofty vantage-ground the coming of dawn would -be an epic." - -"We mustn't think of that," she protested. "We must be going." - -"Not yet. The hour is too perfect. It may never come again. The wind in -the pines, the sunshine, the conies crying from their rocks, the -butterflies on the clover--my heart aches with the beauty of it. It's -been a wonderful trip. Even that staggering walk in the rain had its -splendid quality. I couldn't see the poetry in it then; but I do now. -These few days have made us comrades, haven't they--comrades of the -trail? You have been very considerate of me." He took her hand. "I've -never seen such hands. They are like steel, and yet they are feminine." - -She drew her hands away. "I'm ashamed of my hands--they are so big and -rough and dingy." - -"They're brown, of course, and calloused--a little--but they are not big, -and they are beautifully modeled." He looked at her speculatively. "I am -wondering how you would look in conventional dress." - -"Do you mean--" She hesitated. "I'd look like a gawk in one of those -low-necked outfits. I'd never dare--and those tight skirts would sure - me." - -"Oh no, they wouldn't. You'd have to modify your stride a little; but -you'd negotiate it. You're equal to anything." - -"You're making fun of me!" - -"No, I'm not. I'm in earnest. You're the kind of American girl that can -go anywhere and do anything. My sisters would mortgage their share of the -golden streets for your abounding health--and so would I." - -"You are all right now," she smiled. "You don't look or talk as you -did." - -"It's this sunlight." He lifted a spread hand as if to clutch and hold -something. "I feel it soaking into me like some magical oil. No more -moping and whining for me. I've proved that hardship is good for me." - -"Don't crow till you're out of the woods. It's a long ride down the hill, -and going down is harder on the tenderfoot than going up." - -"I'm no longer a tenderfoot. All I need is another trip like this with -you and I shall be a master trailer." - -All this was very sweet to her, and though she knew they should be going, -she lingered. Childishly reckless of the sinking sun, she played with the -wild flowers at her side and listened to his voice in complete content. -He was right. The hour was too beautiful to be shortened, although she -saw no reason why others equally delightful might not come to them both. -He was more of the lover than he had ever been before, that she knew, and -in the light of his eyes all that was not girlish and charming melted -away. She forgot her heavy shoes, her rough hands and sun-tanned face, -and listened with wondering joy and pride to his words, which were of a -fineness such as she had never heard spoken--only books contained such -unusual and exquisite phrases. - -A cloud passing across the sun flung down a shadow of portentous chill -and darkness. She started to her feet with startled recollection of the -place and the hour. - -"We _must_ be going--at once!" she commanded. - -"Not yet," he pleaded. "It's only a cloud. The sun is coming out again. I -have perfect confidence in your woodcraft. Why not spend another night on -the trail? It may be our last trip together." - -He tempted her strongly, so frank and boyish and lovable were his glances -and his words. But she was vaguely afraid of herself, and though the long -ride at the moment seemed hard and dull, the thought of her mother -waiting decided her action. - -"No, no!" she responded, firmly. "We've wasted too much time already. We -must ride." - -He looked up at her with challenging glance. "Suppose I refuse--suppose I -decide to stay here?" - -Upon her, as he talked, a sweet hesitation fell, a dream which held more -of happiness than she had ever known. "It is a long, hard ride," she -thought, "and another night on the trail will not matter." And so the -moments passed on velvet feet, and still she lingered, reluctant to break -the spell. - -Suddenly, into their idyllic drowse of content, so sweet, so youthful, -and so pure of heart, broke the sound of a horse's hurrying, clashing, -steel-shod feet, and looking up Berrie saw a mounted man coming down the -mountainside with furious, reckless haste. - -"It is Cliff!" she cried out. "He's on our trail!" And into her face came -a look of alarm. Her lips paled, her eyes widened. "He's mad--he's -dangerous! Leave him to me," she added, in a low, tense voice. - - - - -XI - -THE DEATH-GRAPPLE - - -There was something so sinister in the rider's disregard of stone and -tree and pace, something so menacing in the forward thrust of his body, -that Berrie was able to divine his wrath, and was smitten into -irresolution--all her hardy, boyish self-reliance swallowed up in the -weakness of the woman. She forgot the pistol at her belt, and awaited the -assault with rigid pose. - -As Belden neared them Norcross also perceived that the rider's face was -distorted with passion, and that his glance was not directed upon Berrie, -but upon himself, and he braced himself for the attack. - -Leaving his saddle with one flying leap, which the cowboy practises at -play, Belden hurled himself upon his rival with the fury of a panther. - -The slender youth went down before the big rancher as though struck by a -catapult; and the force of his fall against the stony earth stunned him -so that he lay beneath his enemy as helpless as a child. - -[Illustration: THE SLENDER YOUTH WENT DOWN BEFORE THE BIG RANCHER -AS THOUGH STRUCK BY A CATAPULT] - -Belden snarled between his teeth: "I told you I'd kill you, and I will." - -But this was not to be. Berea suddenly recovered her native force. With a -cry of pain, of anger, she flung herself on the maddened man's back. Her -hands encircled his neck like a collar of bronze. Hardened by incessant -use of the cinch and the rope, her fingers sank into the sinews of his -great throat, shutting off both blood and breath. - -"Let go!" she commanded, with deadly intensity. "Let go, or I'll choke -the life out of you! Let go, I say!" - -He raised a hand to beat her off, but she was too strong, too desperate -to be driven away. She was as blind to pain as a mother eagle, and bent -above him so closely that he could not bring the full weight of his fist -to bear. With one determined hand still clutching his throat, she ran the -fingers of her other hand into his hair and twisted his head upward with -a power which he could not resist. And so, looking into his upturned, -ferocious eyes, she repeated with remorseless fury: "_Let go_, I say!" - -His swollen face grew rigid, his mouth gaped, his tongue protruded, and -at last, releasing his hold on his victim, he rose, flinging Berrie off -with a final desperate effort. "I'll kill you, too!" he gasped. - -Up to this moment the girl had felt no fear of herself; but now she -resorted to other weapons. Snatching her pistol from its holster, she -leveled it at his forehead. "Stop!" she said; and something in her voice -froze him into calm. He was not a fiend; he was not a deliberate -assassin; he was only a jealous, despairing, insane lover, and as he -looked into the face he knew so well, and realized that nothing but hate -and deadly resolution lit the eyes he had so often kissed, his heart gave -way, and, dropping his head, he said: "Kill me if you want to. I've -nothing left to live for." - -There was something unreal, appalling in this sudden reversion to -weakness, and Berrie could not credit his remorse. "Give me your gun," -she said. - -He surrendered it to her and she threw it aside; then turned to Wayland, -who was lying white and still with face upturned to the sky. With a moan -of anguish she bent above him and called upon his name. He did not stir, -and when she lifted his head to her lap his hair, streaming with blood, -stained her dress. She kissed him and called again to him, then turned -with accusing frenzy to Belden: "You've killed him! Do you hear? You've -killed him!" - -The agony, the fury of hate in her voice reached the heart of the -conquered man. He raised his head and stared at her with mingled fear and -remorse. And so across that limp body these two souls, so lately lovers, -looked into each other's eyes as though nothing but words of hate and -loathing had ever passed between them. The girl saw in him only a savage, -vengeful, bloodthirsty beast; the man confronted in her an accusing -angel. - -"I didn't mean to kill him," he muttered. - -"Yes, you did! You meant it. You crushed his life out with your big -hands--and now I'm going to kill you for it!" - -A fierce calm had come upon her. Some far-off ancestral deep of passion -called for blood revenge. She lifted the weapon with steady hand and -pointed it at his heart. - -His fear passed as his wrath had passed. His head drooped, his glance -wavered. "Shoot!" he commanded, sullenly. "I'd sooner die than -live--now." - -His words, his tone, brought back to her a vision of the man he had -seemed when she first met and admired him. Her hand fell, the woman in -her reasserted itself. A wave of weakness, of indecision, of passionate -grief overwhelmed her. "Oh, Cliff!" she moaned. "Why did you do it? He -was so gentle and sweet." - -He did not answer. His glance wandered to his horse, serenely cropping -the grass in utter disregard of this tumultuous human drama; but the -wind, less insensate than the brute, swept through the grove of dwarfed, -distorted pines with a desolate, sympathetic moan which filled the man's -heart with a new and exalted sorrow. "You're right," he said. "I was -crazy. I deserve killing." - -But Berrie was now too deep in her own desolation to care what he said or -did. She kissed the cold lips of the still youth, murmuring passionately: -"I don't care to live without you--I shall go with you!" - -Belden's hand was on her wrist before she could raise her weapon. "Don't, -for God's sake, don't do that! He may not be dead." - -She responded but dully to the suggestion. "No, no. He's gone. His breath -is gone." - -"Maybe not. Let me see." - -Again she bent to the quiet face on which the sunlight fell with mocking -splendor. It seemed all a dream till she felt once more the stain of his -blood upon her hands. It was all so incredibly sudden. Only just now he -was exulting over the warmth and beauty of the day--and now-- - -How beautiful he was. He seemed asleep. The conies crying from their -runways suddenly took on poignant pathos. They appeared to be grieving -with her; but the eagles spoke of revenge. - -A sharp cry, a note of joy sprang from her lips. "He _is_ alive! I saw -his eyelids quiver--quick! Bring some water." - -The man leaped to his feet, and, running down to the pool, filled his -sombrero with icy water. He was as eager now to save his rival as he had -been mad to destroy him. "Let me help," he pleaded. But she would not -permit him to touch the body. - -Again, while splashing the water upon his face, the girl called upon her -love to return. "He hears me!" she exulted to her enemy. "He is breathing -now. He is opening his eyes." - -The wounded man did, indeed, open his eyes, but his look was a blank, -uncomprehending stare, which plunged her back into despair. "He don't -know me!" she said, with piteous accent. She now perceived the source of -the blood upon her arm. It came from a wound in the boy's head which had -been dashed upon a stone. - -The sight of this wound brought back the blaze of accusing anger to her -eyes. "See what you did!" she said, with cold malignity. Then by sudden -shift she bent to the sweet face in her arms and kissed it passionately. -"Open your eyes, darling. You must not die! I won't let you die! Can't -you hear me? Don't you know where you are?" - -He opened his eyes once more, quietly, and looked up into her face with a -faint, drowsy smile. He could not yet locate himself in space and time, -but he knew her and was comforted. He wondered why he should be looking -up into a sunny sky. He heard the wind and the sound of a horse cropping -grass, and the voice of the girl penetratingly sweet as that of a young -mother calling her baby back to life, and slowly his benumbed brain began -to resolve the mystery. - -Belden, forgotten, ignored as completely as the conies, sat with choking -throat and smarting eyes. For him the world was only dust and ashes--a -ruin which his own barbaric spirit had brought upon itself. - -Slowly the youth's eyes took on expression. "Are we still on the hill?" -he asked. - -"Yes, dearest," she assured him. Then to Belden, "He knows where he is!" - -Wayland again struggled with reality. "What has happened to me?" - -"You fell and hurt your head." - -He turned slightly and observed the other man looking down at her with -dark and tragic glance. "Hello, Belden," he said, feebly. "How came you -here?" Then noting Berrie's look, he added: "I remember. He tried to kill -me." He again searched his antagonist's face. "Why didn't you finish the -job?" - -The girl tried to turn his thought aside. "It's all right now, darling. -He won't make any more trouble. Don't mind him. I don't care for anybody -now you are coming back to me." - -Wayland wonderingly regarded the face of the girl. "And you--are you -hurt?" - -"No, I'm not hurt. I am perfectly happy now." She turned to Belden with -quick, authoritative command. "Unsaddle the horses and set up the tent. -We won't be able to leave here to-night." - -He rose with instant obedience, glad of a chance to serve her, and soon -had the tent pegged to its place and the bedding unrolled. Together they -lifted the wounded youth and laid him upon his blankets beneath the low -canvas roof which seemed heavenly helpful to Berea. - -"There!" she said, caressingly. "Now you are safe, no matter whether it -rains or not." - -He smiled. "It seems I'm to have my way after all. I hope I shall be able -to see the sun rise. I've sort of lost my interest in the sunset." - -"Now, Cliff," she said, as soon as the camp was in order and a fire -started, "I reckon you'd better ride on. I haven't any further use for -you." - -"Don't say that, Berrie," he pleaded. "I can't leave you here alone with -a sick man. Let me stay and help." - -She looked at him for a long time before she replied. "I shall never be -able to look at you again without hating you," she said. "I shall always -remember you as you looked when you were killing that boy. So you'd -better ride on and keep a-riding. I'm going to forget all this just as -soon as I can, and it don't help me any to have you around. I never want -to see you or hear your name again." - -"You don't mean that, Berrie!" - -"Yes, I do," she asserted, bitterly. "I mean just that. So saddle up and -pull out. All I ask of you is to say nothing about what has happened -here. You'd better leave the state. If Wayland should get worse it might -go hard with you." - -He accepted his banishment. "All right. If you feel that way I'll ride. -But I'd like to do something for you before I go. I'll pile up some -wood--" - -"No. I'll take care of that." And without another word of farewell she -turned away and re-entered the tent. - -Mounting his horse with painful slowness, as though suddenly grown old, -the reprieved assassin rode away up the mountain, his head low, his eyes -upon the ground. - - - - -XII - -BERRIE'S VIGIL - - -The situation in which Berea now found herself would have disheartened -most women of mature age, but she remained not only composed, she was -filled with an irrational delight. The nurse that is in every woman was -aroused in her, and she looked forward with joy to a night of vigil, -confident that Wayland was not seriously injured and that he would soon -be able to ride. She had no fear of the forest or of the night. Nature -held no menace now that her tent was set and her fire alight. - -Wayland, without really knowing anything about it, suspected that he owed -his life to her intervention, and this belief deepened the feeling of -admiration which he had hitherto felt toward her. He listened to her at -work around the fire with a deepening sense of his indebtedness to her, -and when she looked in to ask if she could do anything for him, his -throat filled with an emotion which rendered his answer difficult. - -As his mind cleared he became very curious to know precisely what had -taken place, but he did not feel free to ask her. "She will tell me if -she wishes me to know." That she had vanquished Belden and sent him on -his way was evident, although he had not been able to hear what she had -said to him at the last. What lay between the enemy's furious onslaught -and the aid he lent in making the camp could only be surmised. "I wonder -if she used her pistol?" Wayland asked himself. "Something like death -must have stared him in the face." - -"Strange how everything seems to throw me ever deeper into her debt," he -thought, a little later. But he did not quite dare put into words the -resentment which mingled with his gratitude. He hated to be put so -constantly into the position of the one protected, defended. And yet it -was his own fault. He had put himself among people and conditions where -she was the stronger. Having ventured out of his world into hers he must -take the consequences. - -That she loved him with the complete passion of her powerful and simple -nature he knew, for her voice had reached through the daze of his -semi-unconsciousness with thrilling power. The touch of her lips to his, -the close clasp of her strong arms were of ever greater convincing -quality. And yet he wished the revelation had come in some other way. His -pride was abraded. His manhood seemed somehow lessened. It was a -disconcerting reversal of the ordinary relations between hero and -heroine, and he saw no way of re-establishing the normal attitude of the -male. - -Entirely unaware of what was passing in the mind of her patient, Berrie -went about her duties with a cheerfulness which astonished the sufferer -in the tent. She seemed about to hum a song as she set the skillet on the -fire, but a moment later she called out, in a tone of irritation: "Here -comes Nash!" - -"I'm glad of that," answered Wayland, although he perceived something of -her displeasure. - -Nash, on his way to join the Supervisor, raised a friendly greeting as he -saw the girl, and drew rein. "I expected to meet you farther down the -hill," he said. "Tony 'phoned that you had started. Where did you leave -the Supervisor?" - -"Over at the station waiting for you. Where's your outfit?" - -"Camped down the trail a mile or so. I thought I'd better push through -to-night. What about Norcross? Isn't he with you?" - -She hesitated an instant. "He's in the tent. He fell and struck his head -on a rock, and I had to go into camp here." - -Nash was deeply concerned. "Is that so? Well, that's hard luck. Is he -badly hurt?" - -"Well, he had a terrible fall. But he's easier now. I think he's -asleep." - -"May I look in on him?" - -"I don't think you'd better take the time. It's a long, hard ride from -here to the station. It will be deep night before you can make it--" - -"Don't you think the Supervisor would want me to camp here to-night and -do what I could for you? If Norcross is badly injured you will need me." - -She liked Nash, and she knew he was right, and yet she was reluctant to -give up the pleasure of her lone vigil. "He's not in any danger, and -we'll be able to ride on in the morning." - -Nash, thinking of her as Clifford Belden's promised wife, had no -suspicion of her feeling toward Norcross. Therefore he gently urged that -to go on was quite out of order. "I _can't_ think of leaving you here -alone--certainly not till I see Norcross and find out how badly he is -hurt." - -She yielded. "I reckon you're right," she said. "I'll go see if he is -awake." - -He followed her to the door of the tent, apprehending something new and -inexplicable in her attitude. In the music of her voice as she spoke to -the sick man was the love-note of the mate. "You may come in," she called -back, and Nash, stooping, entered the small tent. - -"Hello, old man, what you been doing with yourself? Hitting the high -spots?" - -Norcross smiled feebly. "No, the hill flew up and bumped _me_." - -"How did it all happen?" - -"I don't exactly know. It all came of a sudden. I had no share in it--I -didn't go for to do it." - -"Whether you did or not, you seem to have made a good job of it." - -Nash examined the wounded man carefully, and his skill and strength in -handling Norcross pleased Berrie, though she was jealous of the warm -friendship which seemed to exist between the men. - -She had always liked Nash, but she resented him now, especially as he -insisted on taking charge of the case; but she gave way finally, and went -back to her pots and pans with pensive countenance. - -A little later, when Nash came out to make report, she was not very -gracious in her manner. "He's pretty badly hurt," he said. "There's an -ugly gash in his scalp, and the shock has produced a good deal of pain -and confusion in his head; but he's going to be all right in a day or -two. For a man seeking rest and recuperation he certainly has had a tough -run of weather." - -Though a serious-minded, honorable forester, determined to keep sternly -in mind that he was in the presence of the daughter of his chief, and -that she was engaged to marry another, Nash was, after all, a man, and -the witchery of the hour, the charm of the girl's graceful figure, -asserted their power over him. His eyes grew tender, and his voice -eloquent in spite of himself. His words he could guard, but it was hard -to keep from his speech the song of the lover. The thought that he was to -camp in her company, to help her about the fire, to see her from moment -to moment, with full liberty to speak to her, to meet her glance, pleased -him. It was the most romantic and moving episode in his life, and though -of a rather dry and analytic temperament he had a sense of poesy. - -The night, black, oppressive, and silent, brought a closer bond of mutual -help and understanding between them. He built a fire of dry branches -close to the tent door, and there sat, side by side with the girl, in the -glow of embers, so close to the injured youth that they could talk -together, and as he spoke freely, yet modestly, of his experiences Berrie -found him more deeply interesting than she had hitherto believed him to -be. True, he saw things less poetically than Wayland, but he was finely -observant, and a man of studious and refined habits. - -She grew friendlier, and asked him about his work, and especially about -his ambitions and plans for the future. They discussed the forest and its -enemies, and he wondered at her freedom in speaking of the Mill and -saloon. He said: "Of course you know that Alec Belden is a partner in -that business, and I'm told--of course I don't know this--that Clifford -Belden is also interested." - -She offered no defense of young Belden, and this unconcern puzzled him. -He had expected indignant protest, but she merely replied: "I don't care -who owns it. It should be rooted out. I hate that kind of thing. It's -just another way of robbing those poor tie-jacks." - -"Clifford should get out of it. Can't you persuade him to do so?" - -"I don't think I can." - -"His relationship to you--" - -"He is not related to me." - -Her tone amazed him. "You know what I mean." - -"Of course I do, but you're mistaken. We're not related that way any -longer." - -This silenced him for a few moments, then he said: "I'm rather glad of -that. He isn't anything like the man you thought he was--I couldn't say -these things before--but he is as greedy as Alec, only not so open about -it." - -All this comment, which moved the forester so deeply to utter, seemed not -to interest Berea. She sat staring at the fire with the calm brow of an -Indian. Clifford Belden had passed out of her life as completely as he -had vanished out of the landscape. She felt an immense relief at being -rid of him, and resented his being brought back even as a subject of -conversation. - -Wayland, listening, fancied he understood her desire, and said nothing -that might arouse Nash's curiosity. - -Nash, on his part, knowing that she had broken with Belden, began to -understand the tenderness, the anxious care of her face and voice, as she -bent above young Norcross. As the night deepened and the cold air stung, -he asked: "Have you plenty of blankets for a bed?" - -"Oh yes," she answered, "but I don't intend to sleep." - -"Oh, you must!" he declared. "Go to bed. I will keep the fire going." - -At last she consented. "I will make my bed right here at the mouth of the -tent close to the fire," she said, "and you can call me if you need me." - -"Why not put your bed in the tent? It's going to be cold up here." - -"I am all right outside," she protested. - -"Put your bed inside, Miss Berrie. We can't let conventions count above -timber-line. I shall rest better if I know you are properly sheltered." - -And so it happened that for the third time she shared the same roof with -her lover; but the nurse was uppermost in her now. At eleven thousand -feet above the sea--with a cold drizzle of fine rain in the air--one does -not consider the course of gossip as carefully as in a village, and -Berrie slept unbrokenly till daylight. - -Nash was the first to arise in the dusk of dawn, and Berrie, awakened by -the crackle of his fire, soon joined him. There is no sweeter sound than -the voice of the flame at such a time, in such a place. It endows the -bleak mountainside with comfort, makes the ledge a hearthstone. It holds -the promise of savory meats and fragrant liquor, and robs the frosty air -of its terrors. - -Wayland, hearing their voices, called out, with feeble humor: "Will some -one please turn on the steam in my room?" - -Berrie uttered a happy word. "How do you feel this morning?" she asked. - -"Not precisely like a pugilist--well, yes, I believe I do--like the -fellow who got second money." - -"How is the bump?" inquired Nash, thrusting his head inside the door. - -"Reduced to the size of a golf-ball as near as I can judge of it. I doubt -if I can wear a hat; but I'm feeling fine. I'm going to get up." - -Berrie was greatly relieved. "I'm so glad! Do you feel like riding down -the hill?" - -"Sure thing! I'm hungry, and as soon as I am fed I'm ready to start." - -Berrie joined the surveyor at the fire. - -"If you'll round up our horses, Mr. Nash, I'll rustle breakfast and we'll -get going," she said. - -Nash, enthralled, lingered while she twisted her hair into place, then -went out to bring in the ponies. - -Wayland came out a little uncertainly, but looking very well. "I think I -shall discourage my friends from coming to this region for their health," -he said, ruefully. "If I were a novelist now all this would be grist for -my mill." - -Beneath his joking he was profoundly chagrined. He had hoped by this time -to be as sinewy, as alert as Nash, instead of which here he sat, -shivering over the fire like a sick girl, his head swollen, his blood -sluggish; but this discouragement only increased Berea's tenderness--a -tenderness which melted all his reserve. - -"I'm not worth all your care," he said to her, with poignant glance. - -The sun rose clear and warm, and the fire, the coffee, put new courage -into him as well as into the others, and while the morning was yet early -and the forest chill and damp with rain, the surveyor brought up the -horses and started packing the outfit. - -In this Berrie again took part, doing her half of the work quite as -dextrously as Nash himself. Indeed, the forester was noticeably confused -and not quite up to his usual level of adroit ease. - -At last both packs were on, and as they stood together for a moment, Nash -said: "This has been a great experience--one I shall remember as long as -I live." - -She stirred uneasily under his frank admiration. "I'm mightily obliged to -you," she replied, as heartily as she could command. - -"Don't thank me, I'm indebted to you. There is so little in my life of -such companionship as you and Norcross give me." - -"You'll find it lonesome over at the station, I'm afraid," said she. "But -Moore intends to put a crew of tie-cutters in over there--that will help -some." She smiled. - -"I'm not partial to the society of tie-jacks." - -"If you ride hard you may find that Moore girl in camp. She was there -when we left." There was a sparkle of mischief in her glance. - -"I'm not interested in the Moore girl," he retorted. - -"Do you know her?" - -"I've seen her at the post-office once or twice; _she_ is not my kind." - -She gave him her hand. "Well, good-by. I'm all right now that Wayland can -ride." - -He held her hand an instant. "I believe I'll ride back with you as far as -the camp." - -"You'd better go on. Father is waiting for you. I'll send the men along." -There was dismissal in her voice, and yet she recognized as never before -the fine qualities that were his. "Please don't say anything of this to -others, and tell my father not to worry about us. We'll pull in all -right." - -He helped Norcross mount his horse, and as he put the lead rope into -Berrie's hand, he said: with much feeling: "Good luck to you. I shall -remember this night all the rest of my life." - -"I hate to be going to the rear," called Wayland, whose bare, bandaged -head made him look like a wounded young officer. "But I guess it's better -for me to lay off for a week or two and recover my tone." - -And so they parted, the surveyor riding his determined way up the naked -mountainside toward the clouds, while Berrie and her ward plunged at once -into the dark and dripping forest below. "If you can stand the grief," -she said, "we'll go clear through." - -Wayland had his misgivings, but did not say so. His confidence in his -guide was complete. She would do her part, that was certain. Several -times she was forced to dismount and blaze out a new path in order to -avoid some bog; but she sternly refused his aid. "You must not get off," -she warned; "stay where you are. I can do this work better alone." - -They were again in that green, gloomy, and silent zone of the range, -where giant spruces grow, and springs, oozing from the rocks, trickle -over the trail. It was very beautiful, but menacing, by reason of its -apparently endless thickets cut by stony ridges. It was here she met the -two young men, Downing and Travis, bringing forward the surveying outfit, -but she paused only to say: "Push along steadily. You are needed on the -other side." - -After leaving the men, and with a knowledge that the remaining leagues of -the trail were solitary, Norcross grew fearful. "The fall of a horse, an -accident to that brave girl, and we would be helpless," he thought. "I -wish Nash had returned with us." Once his blood chilled with horror as he -watched his guide striking out across the marge of a grassy lake. This -meadow, as he divined, was really a carpet of sod floating above a -bottomless pool of muck, for it shook beneath her horse's feet. - -"Come on, it's all right," she called back, cheerily. "We'll soon pick up -the other trail." - -He wondered how she knew, for to him each hill was precisely like -another, each thicket a maze. - -Her caution was all for him. She tried each dangerous slough first, and -thus was able to advise him which way was safest. His head throbbed with -pain and his knees were weary, but he rode on, manifesting such cheer as -he could, resolving not to complain at any cost; but his self-respect -ebbed steadily, leaving him in bitter, silent dejection. - -At last they came into open ground on a high ridge, and were gladdened by -the valley outspread below them, for it was still radiant with color, -though not as brilliant as before the rain. It had been dimmed, but not -darkened. And yet it seemed that a month had passed since their ecstatic -ride upward through the golden forest, and Wayland said as much while -they stood for a moment surveying the majestic park with its wall of -guardian peaks. - -But Berrie replied: "It seems only a few hours to me." - -From this point the traveling was good, and they descended rapidly, -zigzagging from side to side of a long, sweeping ridge. By noon they were -once more down amid the aspens, basking in a world of sad gold leaves and -delicious September sunshine. - -At one o'clock, on the bank of a clear stream, the girl halted. "I reckon -we'd better camp awhile. You look tired, and I am hungry." - -He gratefully acquiesced in this stop, for his knees were trembling with -the strain of the stirrups; but he would not permit her to ease him down -from his saddle. Turning a wan glance upon her, he bitterly asked: "Must -I always play the weakling before you? I am ashamed of myself. Ride on -and leave me to rot here in the grass. I'm not worth keeping alive." - -"You must not talk like that," she gently admonished him. "You're not to -blame." - -"Yes, I am. I should never have ventured into this man's country." - -"I'm glad you did," she answered, as if she were comforting a child. "For -if you hadn't I should never have known you." - -"That would have been no loss--to you," he bitterly responded. - -She unsaddled one pack-animal and spread some blankets on the grass. "Lie -down and rest while I boil some coffee," she commanded; and he obeyed, -too tired to make pretension toward assisting. - -Lying so, feeling the magic of the sun, hearing the music of the water, -and watching the girl, he regained a serener mood, and when she came back -with his food he thanked her for it with a glance before which her eyes -fell. "I don't see why you are so kind to me, I really believe you _like_ -to do things for me." Her head drooped to hide her face, and he went on: -"Why do you care for me? Tell me!" - -"I don't know," she murmured. Then she added, with a flash of bravery: -"But I do." - -"What a mystery it all is! You turn from a splendid fellow like Landon to -a 'skate' like me. Landon worships you--you know that--don't you?" - -"I know--he--" she ended, vaguely distressed. - -"Did he ask you to marry him?" - -"Yes." - -"Why didn't you? He's just the mate for you. He's a man of high character -and education." She made no answer to this, and he went on: "Dear girl, -I'm not worth your care--truly I'm not. I resented your engagement to -Belden, for he was a brute; but Landon is different. He thinks the world -of you. He'll go high in the service. I've never done anything in the -world--I never shall. It will be better for you if I go--to-morrow." - -She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, then, putting her arm -about his neck, drew him to her bosom and kissed him passionately. "You -break my heart when you talk like that," she protested, with tears. "You -mustn't say such gloomy things--I won't let you give up. You shall come -right home with me, and I will nurse you till you are well. It was all my -fault. If we had only stayed in camp at the lake daddy would have joined -us that night, and if I had not loitered on the mountain yesterday Cliff -would not have overtaken us. It's all my fault." - -"I will not have it go that way," he said. "I've brought you only care -and unhappiness thus far. I'm an alien--my ways are not your ways." - -"I can change," she answered. "I hate my ways, and I like yours." - -As they argued she felt no shame, and he voiced no resentment. She knew -his mood. She understood his doubt, his depression. She pleaded as a man -might have done, ready to prove her love, eager to restore his -self-respect, while he remained both bitter and sadly contemptuous. - -A cow-hand riding up the trail greeted Berrie respectfully, but a cynical -smile broke out on his lips as he passed on. Another witness--another -gossip. - -She did not care. She had no further concern of the valley's comment. Her -life's happiness hung on the drooping eyelashes of this wounded boy, and -to win him back to cheerful acceptance of life was her only concern. - -"I've never had any motives," he confessed. "I've always done what -pleased me at the moment--or because it was easier to do as others were -doing. I went to college that way. Truth is, I never had any surplus -vitality, and my father never demanded anything of me. I haven't any -motives now. A few days ago I was interested in forestry. At this time it -all seems futile. What's the use of my trying to live?" - -Part of all this despairing cry arose from weariness, and part from a -luxurious desire to be comforted, for it was sweet to feel her sympathy. -He even took a morbid pleasure in the distress of her eyes and lips while -her rich voice murmured in soothing protest. - -She, on her part, was frightened for him, and as she thought of the long -ride still before them she wrung her hands. "Oh, what shall I do? What -shall I do?" she moaned. - -Instantly smitten into shame, into manlier mood, he said: "Don't worry -about me, please don't. I can ride. I'm feeling better. You must not -weaken. Please forgive my selfish complaints. I'm done! You'll never hear -it again. Come, let us go on. I can ride." - -"If we can reach Miller's ranch--" - -"I can ride to _your_ ranch," he declared, and rose with such new-found -resolution that she stared at him in wonder. - -He was able to smile. "I've had my little crying spell. I've relieved my -heart of its load. I didn't mean to agonize you. It was only a slump." He -put his hand to his head. "I must be a comical figure. Wonder what that -cowboy thought of me?" - -His sudden reversal to cheer was a little alarming to her, but at length -she perceived that he had in truth mastered his depression, and bringing -up the horses she saddled them, and helped him to mount. "If you get -tired or feel worse, tell me, and we'll go into camp," she urged as they -were about to start. - -"You keep going till I give the sign," he replied; and his voice was so -firm and clear that her own sunny smile came back. "I don't know what to -make of you," she said. "I reckon you must be a poet." - - - - -XIII - -THE GOSSIPS AWAKE - - -It was dark when they reached the village, but Wayland declared his -ability to go on, although his wounded head was throbbing with fever and -he was clinging to the pommel of his saddle; so Berrie rode on. - -Mrs. McFarlane, hearing the horses on the bridge, was at the door and -received her daughter with wondering question, while the stable-hands, -quick to detect an injured man, hurried to lift Norcross down from his -saddle. - -"What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. McFarlane. - -"He fell and struck his head on a stone," Berea hastily explained. "Take -the horses, boys, mother and I will look out for Mr. Norcross." - -The men obeyed her and fell back, but they were consumed with curiosity, -and their glances irritated the girl. "Slip the packs at once," she -insisted. - -With instant sympathy her mother came to her aid in supporting the -wounded, weary youth indoors, and as he stretched out on the couch in the -sitting-room, he remarked, with a faint, ironic smile: "This beats any -bed of balsam boughs." - -"Where's your father?" asked Mrs. McFarlane of her daughter. - -"He's over on the Ptarmigan. I've a powerful lot to tell you, mother; but -not now; we must look after Wayland. He's nearly done up, and so am I." - -Mrs. McFarlane winced a little at her daughter's use of Norcross's first -name, but she said nothing further at the moment, although she watched -Berrie closely while she took off Wayland's shoes and stockings and -rubbed his icy feet. "Get him something hot as quick as you can!" she -commanded; and Mrs. McFarlane obeyed without a word. - -Gradually the tremor passed out of his limbs and a delicious sense of -warmth, of safety, stole over him, and he closed his eyes in the comfort -of her presence and care. "Rigorous business this life of the pioneer," -he said, with mocking inflection. "I think I prefer a place in the lumber -trust." - -"Don't talk," she said. Then, with a rush of tender remorse: "Why didn't -you tell me to stop? I didn't realize that you were so tired. We could -have stopped at the Springs." - -"I didn't know how tired I was till I got here. Gee," he said, boyishly, -"that door-knob at the back of my head is red-hot! You're good to me," he -added, humbly. - -She hated to have him resume that tone of self-depreciation, and, -kneeling to him, she kissed his cheek, and laid her head beside his. -"You're splendid," she insisted. "Nobody could be braver; but you should -have told me you were exhausted. You fooled me with your cheerful -answers." - -He accepted her loving praise, her clasping arms, as a part of the rescue -from the darkness and pain of the long ride, careless of what it might -bring to him in the future. He ate his toast and drank his coffee, and -permitted the women to lead him to his room, and then being alone he -crept into his bed and fell instantly asleep. - -Berrie and her mother went back to the sitting-room, and Mrs. McFarlane -closed the door behind them. "Now tell me all about it," she said, in the -tone of one not to be denied. - -The story went along very smoothly till the girl came to the second night -in camp beside the lake; there her voice faltered, and the reflective -look in the mother's eyes deepened as she learned that her daughter had -shared her tent with the young man. "It was the only thing to do, -mother," Berrie bravely said. "It was cold and wet outside, and you know -he isn't very strong, and his teeth were chattering, he was so chilled. I -know it sounds strange down here; but up there in the woods in the storm -what I did seemed right and natural. You know what I mean, don't you?" - -"Yes, I understand. I don't blame you--only--if others should hear of -it--" - -"But they won't. No one knows of our being alone there except Tony and -father." - -"Are you sure? Doesn't Mrs. Belden know?" - -"I don't think so--not yet." - -Mrs. McFarlane's nervousness grew. "I wish you hadn't gone on this trip. -If the Beldens find out you were alone with Mr. Norcross they'll make -much of it. It will give them a chance at your father." Her mind turned -upon another point. "When did Mr. Norcross get his fall?" - -"On the way back." Here Berrie hesitated again. "I don't like to tell -you, mother, but he didn't fall, Cliff jumped him and tried to kill -him." - -The mother doubted her ears. "Cliff did? How did he happen to meet you?" - -Berrie was quick to answer. "I don't know how he found out we were on the -trail. I suppose the old lady 'phoned him. Anyhow, while we were camped -for noon yesterday"--her face flamed again at thought of that tender, -beautiful moment when they were resting on the grass--"while we were at -our lunch he came tearing down the hill on that big bay horse of his and -took a flying jump at Wayland. As Wayland went down he struck his head on -a stone. I thought he was dead, and I was paralyzed for a second. Then I -flew at Cliff and just about choked the life out of him. I'd have ended -him right there if he hadn't let go." - -Mrs. McFarlane, looking upon her daughter in amazement, saw on her face -the shadow of the deadly rage which had burned in her heart as she -clenched young Belden's throat. - -"What then? What happened then?" - -"He let go, you bet." Her smile came back. "And when he realized what -he'd done--_he_ thought Wayland was dead--he began to weaken. Then I took -my gun and was all for putting an end to him right there, when I saw -Wayland's eyelids move. After that I didn't care what became of Cliff. I -told him to ride on and keep a-ridin', and I reckon he's clear out of the -state by this time. If he ever shows up I'll put him where he'll have all -night to be sorry in." - -"When did this take place?" - -"Yesterday about two. Of course Wayland couldn't ride, he was so dizzy -and kind o' confused, and so I went into camp right there at timber-line. -Along about sunset Nash came riding up from this side, and insisted on -staying to help me--so I let him." - -Mrs. McFarlane's tense attitude relaxed. "Nash is not the kind that -tattles. I'm glad he turned up." - -"And this morning I saddled and came down." - -"Did Nash go on?" - -"Yes, daddy was waiting for him, so I sent him along." - -"It's all sad business," groaned Mrs. McFarlane, "and I can see you're -keeping something back. How did Cliff happen to know just where you were? -And what started you back without your father?" - -For the first time Berrie showed signs of weakness and distress. "Why, -you see, Alec Belden and Mr. Moore were over there to look at some -timber, and old Marm Belden and that Moore girl went along. I suppose -they sent word to Cliff, and I presume that Moore girl put him on our -trail. Leastwise that's the way I figure it out. That's the worst of the -whole business." She admitted this with darkened brow. "Mrs. Belden's -tongue is hung in the middle and loose at both ends--and that Moore girl -is spiteful mean." She could not keep the contempt out of her voice. "She -saw us start off, and she is sure to follow it up and find out what -happened on the way home; even if they don't see Cliff they'll _talk_." - -"Oh, I _wish_ you hadn't gone!" exclaimed the worried mother. - -"It can't be helped now, and it hasn't done me any real harm. It's all in -the day's work, anyhow. I've always gone with daddy before, and this trip -isn't going to spoil me. The boys all know me, and they will treat me -fair." - -"Yes, but Mr. Norcross is an outsider--a city man. They will all think -evil of him on that account." - -"I know; that's what troubles me. No one will know how fine and -considerate he was. Mother, I've never known any one like him. He's a -poet! He's taught me to see things I never saw before. Everything -interests him--the birds, the clouds, the voices in the fire. I never was -so happy in my life as I was during those first two days, and that night -in camp before he began to worry--it was just wonderful." Words failed -her, but her shining face and the forward straining pose of her body -enlightened the mother. "I don't care what people say of me if only they -will be just to him. They've _got_ to treat him right," she added, -firmly. - -"Did he speak to you--are you engaged?" - -Her head drooped. "Not really engaged, mother; but he told me how much he -liked me--and--it's all right, mother, I _know_ it is. I'm not fine -enough for him, but I'm going to try to change my ways so he won't be -ashamed of me." - -Mrs. McFarlane's face cleared. "He surely is a fine young fellow, and can -be trusted to do the right thing. Well, we might as well go to bed. We -can't settle anything till your father gets home," she said. - -Wayland rose next morning free from dizziness and almost free from pain, -and when he came out of his room his expression was cheerful. "I feel as -if I'd slept a week, and I'm hungry. I don't know why I should be, but I -am." - -Mrs. McFarlane met him with something very intimate, something almost -maternal in her look; but her words were as few and as restrained as -ever. He divined that she had been talking with Berrie, and that a fairly -clear understanding of the situation had been reached. That this -understanding involved him closely he was aware; but nothing in his -manner acknowledged it. - -She did not ask any questions, believing that sooner or later the whole -story must come out. The fact that Siona Moore and Mrs. Belden knew that -Berrie had started back on Thursday with young Norcross made it easy for -the villagers to discover that she had not reached the ranch till -Saturday. "What could Joe have been thinking of to allow them to go?" she -said. "Mr. Nash's presence in the camp must be made known; but then there -is Clifford's assault upon Mr. Norcross, can that be kept secret, too?" -And so while the young people chatted, the troubled mother waited in -fear, knowing that in a day or two the countryside would be aflame with -accusation. - -In a landscape like this, as she well knew, nothing moves unobserved. The -native--man or woman--is able to perceive and name objects scarcely -discernible to the eye of the alien. A minute speck is discovered on the -hillside. "Hello, there's Jim Sanders on his roan," says one, or "Here -comes Kit Jenkins with her flea-bit gray. I wonder who's on the bay -alongside of her," remarks another, and each of these observations is -taken quite as a matter of course. With a wide and empty field of vision, -and with trained, unspoiled optic nerves, the plainsman is marvelously -penetrating of glance. Hence, Mrs. McFarlane was perfectly certain that -not one but several of her neighbors had seen and recognized Berrie and -young Norcross as they came down the hill. In a day or two every man -would know just where they camped, and what had taken place in camp. Mrs. -Belden would not rest till she had ferreted out every crook and turn of -that trail, and her speech was quite as coarse as that of any of her male -associates. - -Easy-going with regard to many things, these citizens were abnormally -alive to all matters relating to courtship, and popular as she believed -Berrie to be, Mrs. McFarlane could not hope that her daughter would be -spared--especially by the Beldens, who would naturally feel that Clifford -had been cheated. She sighed deeply. "Well, nothing can be done till Joe -returns," she repeated. - -A long day's rest, a second night's sleep, set Wayland on his feet. He -came to breakfast quite gay. "Barring the hickory-nut on the back of my -head," he explained, "I'm feeling fine, almost ready for another -expedition. I may make a ranger yet." - -Berrie, though equally gay, was not so sure of his ability to return to -work. "I reckon you'd better go easy till daddy gets back; but if you -feel like it we'll ride up to the post-office this afternoon." - -"I want to start right in to learn to throw that hitch, and I'm going to -practise with an ax till I can strike twice in the same place. This trip -was an eye-opener. Great man I'd be in a windfall--wouldn't I?" - -He was persuaded to remain very quiet for another day, and part of it was -spent in conversation with Mrs. McFarlane--whom he liked very much--and -an hour or more in writing a long letter wherein he announced to his -father his intention of going into the Forest Service. "I've got to build -up a constitution," he said, "and I don't know of a better place to do it -in. Besides, I'm beginning to be interested in the scheme. I like the -Supervisor. I'm living in his house at the present time, and I'm feeling -contented and happy, so don't worry about me." - -He was indeed quite comfortable, save when he realized that Mrs. -McFarlane was taking altogether too much for granted in their -relationship. It was delightful to be so watched over, so waited upon, so -instructed. "But where is it all leading me?" he continued to ask -himself--and still that wall of reserve troubled and saddened Berrie. - -They expected McFarlane that night, and waited supper for him, but he did -not come, and so they ate without him, and afterward Wayland helped -Berrie do up the dishes while the mother bent above her sewing by the -kitchen lamp. - -There was something very sweet and gentle about Mrs. McFarlane, and the -exile took almost as much pleasure in talking with her as with her -daughter. He led her to tell of her early experiences in the valley, and -of the strange types of men and women with whom she had crossed the -range. - -"Some of them are here yet," she said. "In fact the most violent of all -the opponents to the Service are these old adventurers. I don't think -they deserve to be called pioneers. They never did any work in clearing -the land or in building homes. Some of them, who own big herds of cattle, -still live in dug-outs. They raged at Mr. McFarlane for going into the -Service--called him a traitor. Old Jake Proudfoot was especially -furious--" - -"You should see where old Jake lives," interrupted Berrie. "He sleeps on -the floor in one corner of his cabin, and never changes his shirt." - -"Hush!" warned Mrs. McFarlane. - -"That's what the men all say. Daddy declares if they were to scrape Jake -they'd find at least five layers of shirts. His wife left him fifteen -years ago, couldn't stand his habits, and he's got worse ever since. -Naturally he is opposed to the Service." - -"Of course," her mother explained, "those who oppose the Supervisor -aren't all like Jake; but it makes me angry to have the papers all -quoting Jake as 'one of the leading ranchers of the valley.'" - -She could not bring herself to take up the most vital subject of all--the -question of her daughter's future. "I'll wait till father gets home," she -decided. - -On the fourth morning the 'phone rang, and the squawking voice of Mrs. -Belden came over the wire. "I wanted to know if Berrie and her feller got -home all right?" - -"Yes, they arrived safely." - -The old woman chuckled. "Last I see of Cliff he was hot on their -trail--looked like he expected to take a hand in that expedition. Did he -overtake 'em?" - -"I don't hear very well--where are you?" - -"I'm at the Scott ranch--we're coming round 'the horn' to-day." - -"Where is the Supervisor?" - -"He headed across yesterday. Say, Cliff was mad as a hornet when he -started. I'd like to know what happened--" - -Mrs. McFarlane hung up the receiver. The old woman's nasty chuckle was -intolerable; but in silencing the 'phone Mrs. McFarlane was perfectly -aware that she was not silencing the gossip; on the contrary, she was -certain that the Beldens would leave a trail of poisonous comment from -the Ptarmigan to Bear Tooth. It was all sweet material for them. - -Berrie wanted to know who was speaking, and Mrs. McFarlane replied: "Mrs. -Belden wanted to know if you got through all right." - -"She said something else, something to heat you up," persisted the girl, -who perceived her mother's agitation. "What did she say--something about -me--and Cliff?" - -The mother did not answer, for Wayland entered the room at the moment; -but Berrie knew that traducers were already busy with her affairs. "I -don't care anything about old lady Belden," she said, later; "but I hate -to have that Moore girl telling lies about me." - -As for Wayland, the nights in the camp by the lake, and, indeed, all the -experiences of his trip in the high places were becoming each moment more -remote, more unreal. Camp life at timber-line did not seem to him subject -to ordinary conventional laws of human conduct, and the fact that he and -Berrie had shared the same tent under the stress of cold and snow, now -seemed so far away as to be only a complication in a splendid mountain -drama. Surely no blame could attach to the frank and generous girl, even -though the jealous assault of Cliff Belden should throw the valley into a -fever of chatter. "Furthermore, I don't believe he will be in haste to -speak of his share in the play," he added. "It was too nearly criminal." - -It was almost noon of the fourth day when the Supervisor called up to say -that he was at the office, and would reach the ranch at six o'clock. - -"I wish you would come home at once," his wife argued; and something in -her voice convinced him that he was more needed at home, than in the -town. - -"All right, mother. Hold the fort an hour and I'll be there." - -Mrs. McFarlane met him at the hitching-bar, and it required but a glance -for him to read in her face a troubled state of mind. - -"This has been a disastrous trip for Berrie," she said, after one of the -hands had relieved the Supervisor of his horse. - -"In what way?" - -She was a bit impatient. "Mrs. Belden is filling the valley with the -story of Berrie's stay in camp with Mr. Norcross." - -His face showed a graver line. "It couldn't be helped. The horses had to -be followed, and that youngster couldn't do it--and, besides, I expected -to get back that night. Nobody but an old snoop like Seth Belden would -think evil of our girl. And, besides, Norcross is a man to be trusted." - -"Of course he is, but the Beldens are ready to think evil of any one -connected with us. And Cliff's assault on Wayland--" - -He looked up quickly. "Assault? Did he make trouble?" - -"Yes, he overtook them on the trail, and would have killed Norcross if -Berrie hadn't interfered. He was crazy with jealousy." - -"Nash didn't say anything about any assault." - -"He didn't know it. Berrie told him that Norcross fell from his horse." - -McFarlane was deeply stirred. "I saw Cliff leave camp, but I didn't think -anything of it. Why should he jump Norcross?" - -"I suppose Mrs. Belden filled him with distrust of Berrie. He was already -jealous, and when he came up with them and found them lunching together, -he lost his head and rushed at Wayland like a wild beast. Of course he -couldn't stand against a big man like Cliff, and his head struck on a -stone; and if Berrie hadn't throttled the brute he would have murdered -the poor boy right there before her eyes." - -"Good God! I never suspected a word of this. I didn't think he'd do -that." - -The Supervisor was now very grave. These domestic matters at once threw -his work as forester into the region of vague and unimportant -abstractions. He began to understand the danger into which Berea had -fallen, and step by step he took up the trails which had brought them all -to this pass. - -He fixed another penetrating look upon her face, and his voice was vibrant -with anxiety as he said: "You don't think there's anything--wrong?" - -"No, nothing wrong; but she's profoundly in love with him. I never have -seen her so wrapped up in any one. She thinks of nothing else. It scares -me to see it, for I've studied him closely and I can't believe he feels -the same toward her. His world is so different from ours. I don't know -what to do or say. I fear she is in for a period of great unhappiness." - -She was at the beginning of tears, and he sought to comfort her. "Don't -worry, honey, she's got too much horse sense to do anything foolish. -She's grown up. I suppose it's his being so different from the other boys -that catches her. We've always been good chums--let me talk with her. She -mustn't make a mistake." - -The return of the crew from the corral cut short this conference, and -when McFarlane went in Berrie greeted him with such frank and joyous -expression that all his fears vanished. - -"Did you come over the high trail?" she asked. - -"No, I came your way. I didn't want to take any chances on getting mired. -It's still raining up there," he answered, then turned to Wayland: -"Here's your mail, Norcross, a whole hatful of it--and one telegram in -the bunch. Hope it isn't serious." - -Wayland took the bundle of letters and retired to his room, glad to -escape the persistent stare of the cow-hands. The despatch was from his -father, and was curt and specific as a command: "Shall be in Denver on -the 23d, meet me at the Palmer House. Am on my way to California. Come -prepared to join me on the trip." - -With the letters unopened in his lap he sat in silent thought, profoundly -troubled by the instant decision which this message demanded of him. At -first glance nothing was simpler than to pack up and go. He was only a -tourist in the valley with no intention of staying; but there was Berea! -To go meant a violent end of their pleasant romance. To think of flight -saddened him, and yet his better judgment was clearly on the side of -going. "Much as I like her, much as I admire her, I cannot marry her. The -simplest way is to frankly tell her so and go. It seems cowardly, but in -the end she will be happier." - -His letters carried him back into his own world. One was from Will -Halliday, who was going with Professor Holsman on an exploring trip up -the Nile. "You must join us. Holsman has promised to take you on." -Another classmate wrote to know if he did not want to go into a land deal -on the Gulf of Mexico. A girl asked: "Are you to be in New York this -winter? I am. I've decided to go into this Suffrage Movement." And so, -one by one, the threads which bound him to Eastern city life re-spun -their filaments. After all, this Colorado outing, even though it should -last two years, would only be a vacation--his real life was in the cities -of the East. Charming as Berea was, potent as she seemed, she was after -all a fixed part of the mountain land, and not to be taken from it. At -the moment marriage with her appeared absurd. - -A knock at his door and the Supervisor's voice gave him a keen shock. -"Come in," he called, springing to his feet with a thrill of dread, of -alarm. - -McFarlane entered slowly and shut the door behind him. His manner was -serious, and his voice gravely gentle as he said: "I hope that telegram -does not call you away?" - -"It is from my father, asking me to meet him in Denver," answered -Norcross, with faltering breath. "He's on his way to California. Won't -you sit down?" - -The older man took a seat with quiet dignity. "Seems like a mighty fine -chance, don't it? I've always wanted to see the Coast. When do you plan -for to pull out?" - -Wayland was not deceived by the Supervisor's casual tone; there was -something ominously calm in his manner, something which expressed an -almost dangerous interest in the subject. - -"I haven't decided to go at all. I'm still dazed by the suddenness of it. -I didn't know my father was planning this trip." - -"I see. Well, before you decide to go I'd like to have a little talk with -you. My daughter has told me part of what happened to you on the trail. I -want to know _all_ of it. You're young, but you've been out in the world, -and you know what people can say about you and my girl." His voice became -level and menacing, as he added: "And I don't intend to have her put in -wrong on account of you." - -Norcross was quick to reply. "Nobody will dare accuse her of wrongdoing. -She's a noble girl. No one will dare to criticize her for what she could -not prevent." - -"You don't know the Beldens. My girl's character will be on trial in -every house in the county to-morrow. The Belden side of it will appear in -the city papers. Sympathy will be with Clifford. Berrie will be made an -issue by my enemies. They'll get me through her." - -"Good Lord!" exclaimed Norcross, in sudden realization of the gravity of -the case. "What beasts they are!" - -"Moore's gang will seize upon it and work it hard," McFarlane went on, -with calm insistence. "They want to bring the district forester down on -me. This is a fine chance to badger me. They will make a great deal of my -putting you on the roll. Our little camping trip is likely to prove a -serious matter to us all." - -"Surely you don't consider me at fault?" - -Worried as he was, the father was just. "No, you're not to blame--no one -is to blame. It all dates back to the horses quitting camp; but you've -got to stand pat now--for Berrie's sake." - -"But what can I do? I'm at your service. What role shall I play? Tell me -what to do, and I will do it." - -McFarlane was staggered, but he answered: "You can at least stay on the -ground and help fight. This is no time to stampede." - -"You're right. I'll stay, and I'll make any statement you see fit. I'll -do anything that will protect Berrie." - -McFarlane again looked him squarely in the eyes. "Is there a--an -agreement between you?" - -"Nothing formal--that is--I mean I admire her, and I told her--" He -stopped, feeling himself on the verge of the irrevocable. "She's a -splendid girl," he went on. "I like her exceedingly, but I've known her -only a few weeks." - -McFarlane interrupted. "Girls are flighty critters," he said, sadly. "I -don't know why she's taken to you so terrible strong; but she has. She -don't seem to care what people say so long as they do not blame you; but -if you should pull out you might just as well cut her heart to pieces--" -His voice broke, and it was a long time before he could finish. "You're -not at fault, I know that, but if you _can_ stay on a little while and -make it an ounce or two easier for her and for her mother, I wish you'd -do it." - -Wayland extended his hand impulsively. "Of course I'll stay. I never -really thought of leaving." In the grip of McFarlane's hand was something -warm and tender. - -He rose. "I'm terribly obliged," he said; "but we mustn't let her suspect -for a minute that we've been discussing her. She hates being pitied or -helped." - -"She shall not experience a moment's uneasiness that I can prevent," -replied the youth; and at the moment he meant it. - -Berrie could not be entirely deceived. She read in her father's face a -subtle change of line which she related to something Wayland had said. -"Did he tell you what was in the telegram? Has he got to go away?" she -asked, anxiously. - -"Yes, he said it was from his father." - -"What does his father want of him?" - -"He's on his way to California and wants Wayland to go with him; but -Wayland says he's not going." - -A pang shot through Berrie's heart. "He mustn't go--he isn't able to go," -she exclaimed, and her pain, her fear, came out in her sharpened, -constricted tone. "I won't let him go--till he's well." - -Mrs. McFarlane gently interposed. "He'll have to go, honey, if his father -needs him." - -"Let his father come here." She rose, and, going to his door, decisively -knocked. "May I come in?" she demanded, rather than asked, before her -mother could protest. "I must see you." - -Wayland opened the door, and she entered, leaving her parents facing each -other in mute helplessness. - -Mrs. McFarlane turned toward her husband with a face of despair. "She's -ours no longer, Joe. Our time of bereavement has come." - -He took her in his arms. "There, there, mother. Don't cry. It can't be -helped. You cut loose from your parents and came to me in just the same -way. Our daughter's a grown woman, and must have her own life. All we can -do is to defend her against the coyotes who are busy with her name." - -"But what of _him_, Joe; he don't care for her as she does for him--can't -you see that?" - -"He'll do the right thing, mother; he told me he would. He knows how much -depends on his staying here now, and he intends to do it." - -"But in the end, Joe, after this scandal is lived down, can he--will -he--marry her? And if he marries her can they live together and be happy? -His way of life is so different. He can't content himself here, and she -can't fit in where he belongs. It all seems hopeless to me. Wouldn't it -be better for her to suffer for a little while now than to make a mistake -that may last a lifetime?" - -"Mebbe it would, mother, but the decision is not ours. She's too strong -for us to control. She's of age, and if she comes to a full understanding -of the situation, she can decide the question a whole lot better than -either of us." - -"That's true," she sighed. "In some ways she's bigger and stronger than -both of us. Sometimes I wish she were not so self-reliant." - -"Well, that's the way life is, sometimes, and I reckon there's nothin' -left for you an' me but to draw closer together and try to fill up the -empty place she's going to leave between us." - - - - -XIV - -THE SUMMONS - - -When Wayland caught the startled look on Berrie's face he knew that she -had learned from her father the contents of his telegram, and that she -would require an explanation. - -"Are you going away?" she asked. - -"Yes. At least, I must go down to Denver to see my father. I shall be -gone only over night." - -"And will you tell him about our trip?" she pursued, with unflinching -directness. "And about--me?" - -He gave her a chair, and took a seat himself before replying. "Yes, I -shall tell him all about it, and about you and your father and mother. He -shall know how kind you've all been to me." - -He said this bravely, and at the moment he meant it; but as his father's -big, impassive face and cold, keen eyes came back to him his courage -sank, and in spite of his firm resolution some part of his secret anxiety -communicated itself to the girl, who asked many questions, with intent to -find out more particularly what kind of man the elder Norcross was. - -Wayland's replies did not entirely reassure her. He admitted that his -father was harsh and domineering in character, and that he was ambitious -to have his son take up and carry forward his work. "He was willing -enough to have me go to college till he found I was specializing on wrong -lines. Then I had to fight in order to keep my place. He's glad I'm out -here, for he thinks I'm regaining my strength. But just as soon as I'm -well enough he expects me to go to Chicago and take charge of the Western -office. Of course, I don't want to do that. I'd rather work out some -problem in chemistry that interests me; but I may have to give in, for a -time at least." - -"Will your mother and sisters be with your father?" - -"No, indeed! You couldn't get any one of them west of the Hudson River -with a log-chain. My sisters were both born in Michigan, but they want to -forget it--they pretend they have forgotten it. They both have -New-Yorkitis. Nothing but the Plaza will do them now." - -"I suppose they think we're all 'Injuns' out here?" - -"Oh no, not so bad as that; but they wouldn't comprehend anything about -you except your muscle. That would catch 'em. They'd worship your -splendid health, just as I do. It's pitiful the way they both try to put -on weight. They're always testing some new food, some new tonic--they'll -do anything except exercise regularly and go to bed at ten o'clock." - -All that he said of his family deepened her dismay. Their interests were -so alien to her own. - -"I'm afraid to have you go even for a day," she admitted, with simple -honesty, which moved him deeply. "I don't know what I should do if you -went away. I think of nothing but you now." - -Her face was pitiful, and he put his arm about her neck as if she were a -child. "You mustn't do that. You must go on with your life just as if I'd -never been. Think of your father's job--of the forest and the ranch." - -"I can't do it. I've lost interest in the service. I never want to go -into the high country again, and I don't want you to go, either. It's too -savage and cruel." - -"That is only a mood," he said, confidently. "It is splendid up there. I -shall certainly go back some time." - -He could not divine, and she could not tell him, how poignantly she had -sensed the menace of the cold and darkness during his illness. For the -first time in her life she had realized to the full the unrelenting -enmity of the clouds, the wind, the night; and during that interminable -ride toward home, when she saw him bending lower and lower over his -saddle-bow, her allegiance to the trail, her devotion to the stirrup was -broken. His weariness and pain had changed the universe for her. Never -again would she look upon the range with the eyes of the care-free girl. -The other, the civilized, the domestic, side of her was now dominant. A -new desire, a bigger aspiration, had taken possession of her. - -Little by little he realized this change in her, and was touched with the -wonder of it. He had never had any great self-love either as man or -scholar, and the thought of this fine, self-sufficient womanly soul -centering all its interests on him was humbling. Each moment his -responsibility deepened, and he heard her voice but dimly as she went -on. - -"Of course we are not rich; but we are not poor, and my mother's family -is one of the oldest in Kentucky." She uttered this with a touch of her -mother's quiet dignity. "Your father need not despise us." - -"So far as my father is concerned, family don't count, and neither does -money. But he confidently expects me to take up his business in Chicago, -and I suppose it is my duty to do so. If he finds me looking fit he may -order me into the ranks at once." - -"I'll go there--I'll do anything you want me to do," she urged. "You can -tell your father that I'll help you in the office. I can learn. I'm ready -to use a typewriter--anything." - -He was silent in the face of her naive expression of self-sacrificing -love, and after a moment she added, hesitatingly: "I wish I could meet -your father. Perhaps he'd come up here if you asked him to do so?" - -He seized upon the suggestion. "By George! I believe he would. I don't -want to go to town. I just believe I'll wire him that I'm laid up here -and can't come." Then a shade of new trouble came over his face. How -would the stern, methodical old business man regard this slovenly ranch -and its primitive ways? She felt the question in his face. - -"You're afraid to have him come," she said, with the same disconcerting -penetration which had marked every moment of her interview thus far. -"You're afraid he wouldn't like me?" - -With almost equal frankness he replied: "No. I think he'd like _you_, but -this town and the people up here would gall him. Order is a religion with -him. Then he's got a vicious slant against all this conservation -business--calls it tommy-rot. He and your father might lock horns first -crack out of the box. But I'll risk it. I'll wire him at once." - -A knock at the door interrupted him, and Mrs. McFarlane's voice, filled -with new excitement, called out: "Berrie, the District office is on the -wire." - -Berrie opened the door and confronted her mother, who said: "Mr. Evingham -'phones that the afternoon papers contain an account of a fight at Coal -City between Settle and one of Alec Belden's men, and that the District -Forester is coming down to investigate it." - -"Let him come," answered Berrie, defiantly. "He can't do us any harm. -What was the row about?" - -"I didn't hear much of it. Your father was at the 'phone." - -McFarlane, with the receiver to his ear, was saying: "Don't know a thing -about it, Mr. Evingham. Settle was at the station when I left. I didn't -know he was going down to Coal City. No, that's a mistake. My daughter -was never engaged to Alec Belden. Alec Belden is the older of the -brothers, and is married. I can't go into that just now. If you come down -I'll explain fully." - -He hung up the receiver and slowly turned toward his wife and daughter. -"This sure is our day of trouble," he said, with dejected countenance. - -"What is it all about?" asked Berrie. - -"Why, it seems that after I left yesterday Settle rode down the valley -with Belden's outfit, and they all got to drinking, ending in a row, and -Tony beat one of Belden's men almost to death. The sheriff has gone over -to get Tony, and the Beldens declare they're going to railroad him. That -means we'll all be brought into it. Belden has seized the moment to -prefer charges against me for keeping Settle in the service and for -putting a non-resident on the roll as guard. The whelp will dig up -everything he can to queer me with the office. All that kept him from -doing it before was Cliff's interest in you." - -"He can't make any of his charges stick," declared Berrie. - -"Of course he can't. He knows that. But he can bring us all into court. -You and Mr. Norcross will both be called as witnesses, for it seems that -Tony was defending your name. The papers call it 'a fight for a girl.' -Oh, it's a sweet mess." - -For the first time Berrie betrayed alarm. "What shall we do? I can't go -on the stand! They can't make me do that, can they?" She turned to -Wayland. "Now you _must_ go away. It is a shame to have you mixed up in -such a trial." - -"I shall not run away and leave you and the Supervisor to bear all the -burden of this fight." - -He anticipated in imagination--as they all did--some of the consequences -of this trial. The entire story of the camping trip would be dragged in, -distorted into a scandal, and flashed over the country as a disgraceful -episode. The country would ring with laughter and coarse jest. Berrie's -testimony would be a feast for court-room loafers. - -"There's only one thing to do," said McFarlane, after a few moments of -thought. "You and Berrie and Mrs. McFarlane must get out of here before -you are subpoenaed." - -"And leave you to fight it out alone?" exclaimed his wife. "I shall do -nothing of the kind. Berrie and Mr. Norcross can go." - -"That won't do," retorted McFarlane, quickly. "That won't do at all. You -must go with them. I can take care of myself. I will not have you dragged -into this muck-hole. We've got to think quick and act quick. There won't -be any delay about their side of the game. I don't think they'll do -anything to-day; but you've got to fade out of the valley. You all get -ready and I'll have one of the boys hook up the surrey as if for a little -drive, and you can pull out over the old stage-road to Flume and catch -the narrow-gage morning train for Denver. You've been wanting for some -time to go down the line. Now here's a good time to start." - -Berrie now argued against running away. Her blood was up. She joined her -mother. "We won't leave you to inherit all this trouble. Who will look -after the ranch? Who will keep house for you?" - -McFarlane remained firm. "I'll manage. Don't worry about me. Just get out -of reach. The more I consider this thing, the more worrisome it gets. -Suppose Cliff should come back to testify?" - -"He won't. If he does I'll have him arrested for trying to kill Wayland," -retorted Berrie. - -"And make the whole thing worse! No. You are all going to cross the -range. You can start out as if for a little turn round the valley, and -just naturally keep going. It can't do any harm, and it may save a nasty -time in court." - -"One would think we were a lot of criminals," remarked Wayland. - -"That's the way you'll be treated," retorted McFarlane. "Belden has -retained old Whitby, the foulest old brute in the business, and he'll -bring you all into it if he can." - -"But running away from it will not prevent talk," argued his wife. - -"Not entirely; but talk and testimony are two different things. Suppose -they call daughter to the stand? Do you want her cross-examined as to -what basis there was for this gossip? They know something of Cliff's -being let out, and that will inflame them. He may be at the mill this -minute." - -"I guess you're right," said Norcross, sadly. "Our delightful excursion -into the forest has led us into a predicament from which there is only -one way of escape, and that is flight." - -Back of all this talk, this argument, there remained still unanswered the -most vital, most important question: "Shall I speak of marriage at this -time? Would it be a source of comfort to them as well as a joy to her?" -At the moment he was ready to speak, for he felt himself to be the direct -cause of all their embarrassment. But closer thought made it clear that a -hasty ceremony would only be considered a cloak to cover something -illicit. "I'll leave it to the future," he decided. - -McFarlane was again called to the telephone. Landon, with characteristic -brevity, conveyed to him the fact that Mrs. Belden was at home and busily -'phoning scandalous stories about the country. "If you don't stop her -she's going to poison every ear in the valley," ended the ranger. - -"You'd think they'd all know my daughter well enough not to believe -anything Mrs. Belden says," responded McFarlane, bitterly. - -"All the boys are ready to do what Tony did. But nobody can stop this old -fool's mouth but you. Cliff has disappeared, and that adds to the -excitement." - -"Thank the boys for me," said McFarlane, "and tell them not to fight. -Tell 'em to keep cool. It will all be cleared up soon." - -As McFarlane went out to order the horses hooked up, Wayland followed him -as far as the bars. "I'm conscience-smitten over this thing, Supervisor, -for I am aware that I am the cause of all your trouble." - -"Don't let that worry you," responded the older man. But he spoke with -effort. "It can't be helped. It was all unavoidable." - -"The most appalling thing to me is the fact that not even your daughter's -popularity can neutralize the gossip of a woman like Mrs. Belden. My -being an outsider counts against Berrie, and I'm ready to do -anything--anything," he repeated, earnestly. "I love your daughter, Mr. -McFarlane, and I'm ready to marry her at once if you think best. She's a -noble girl, and I cannot bear to be the cause of her calumniation." - -There was mist in the Supervisor's eyes as he turned them on the young -man. "I'm right glad to hear you say that, my boy." He reached out his -hand, and Wayland took it. "I knew you'd say the word when the time came. -I didn't know how strongly she felt toward you till to-day. I knew she -liked you, of course, for she said so, but I didn't know that she had -plum set her heart on you. I didn't expect her to marry a city man; -but--I like you and--well, she's the doctor! What suits her suits me. -Don't you be afraid of her not meeting all comers." He went on after a -pause, "She's never seen much of city life, but she'll hold her own -anywhere, you can gamble on that." - -"She has wonderful adaptability, I know," answered Wayland, slowly. "But -I don't like to take her away from here--from you." - -"If you hadn't come she would have married Cliff--and what kind of a life -would she have led with him?" demanded McFarlane. "I knew Cliff was -rough, but I couldn't convince her that he was cheap. I live only for her -happiness, my boy, and, though I know you will take her away from me, I -believe you can make her happy, and so--I give her over to you. As to -time and place, arrange that--with--her mother." He turned and walked -away, unable to utter another word. - -Wayland's throat was aching also, and he went back into the house with a -sense of responsibility which exalted him into sturdier manhood. - -Berea met him in a pretty gown, a dress he had never seen her wear, a -costume which transformed her into something entirely feminine. - -She seemed to have put away the self-reliant manner of the trail, and in -its stead presented the lambent gaze, the tremulous lips of the bride. As -he looked at her thus transfigured his heart cast out its hesitancy and -he entered upon his new adventure without further question or regret. - - - - -XV - -A MATTER OF MILLINERY - - -It was three o'clock of a fine, clear, golden afternoon as they said -good-by to McFarlane and started eastward, as if for a little drive. -Berrie held the reins in spite of Wayland's protestations. "These -bronchos are only about half busted," she said. "They need watching. I -know them better than you do." Therefore he submitted, well knowing that -she was entirely competent and fully informed. - -Mrs. McFarlane, while looking back at her husband, sadly exclaimed: "I -feel like a coward running away like this." - -"Forget it, mother," commanded her daughter, cheerily. "Just imagine -we're off for a short vacation. I'm for going clear through to Chicago. -So long as we _must_ go, let's go whooping. Father's better off without -us." - -Her voice was gay, her eyes shining, and Wayland saw her as she had been -that first day in the coach--the care-free, laughing girl. The trouble -they were fleeing from was less real to her than the happiness toward -which she rode. - -Her hand on the reins, her foot on the brake, brought back her -confidence; but Wayland did not feel so sure of his part in the -adventure. She seemed so unalterably a part of this life, so fitted to -this landscape, that the thought of transplanting her to the East brought -uneasiness and question. Could such a creature of the open air be content -with the walls of a city? - -For several miles the road ran over the level floor of the valley, and -she urged the team to full speed. "I don't want to meet anybody if I can -help it. Once we reach the old stage route the chances of being scouted -are few. Nobody uses that road since the broad-gauge reached Cragg's." - -Mrs. McFarlane could not rid herself of the resentment with which she -suffered this enforced departure; but she had small opportunity to -protest, for the wagon bumped and clattered over the stony stretches with -a motion which confused as well as silenced her. It was all so -humiliating, so unlike the position which she had imagined herself to -have attained in the eyes of her neighbors. Furthermore, she was going -away without a trunk, with only one small bag for herself and -Berrie--running away like a criminal from an intangible foe. However, she -was somewhat comforted by the gaiety of the young people before her. They -were indeed jocund as jaybirds. With the resiliency of youth they had -accepted the situation, and were making the best of it. - -"Here comes somebody," called Berrie, pulling her ponies to a walk. -"Throw a blanket over that valise." She was chuckling as if it were all a -good joke. "It's old Jake Proudfoot. I can smell him. Now hang on. I'm -going to pass him on the jump." - -Wayland, who was riding with his hat in his hand because he could not -make it cover his bump, held it up as if to keep the wind from his face, -and so defeated the round-eyed, owl-like stare of the inquisitive -rancher, who brought his team to a full stop in order to peer after them, -muttering in a stupor of resentment and surprise. - -"He'll worry himself sick over us," predicted Berrie. "He'll wonder where -we're going and what was under that blanket till the end of summer. He is -as curious as a fool hen." - -A few minutes more and they were at the fork in the way, and, leaving the -trail to Cragg's, the girl pulled into the grass-grown, less-traveled -trail to the south, which entered the timber at this point and began to -climb with steady grade. Letting the reins fall slack, she turned to her -mother with reassuring words. "There! Now we're safe. We won't meet -anybody on this road except possibly a mover's outfit. We're in the -forest again," she added. - -For two hours they crawled slowly upward, with a roaring stream on one -side and the pine-covered s on the other. Jays and camp-birds called -from the trees. Water-robins fluttered from rock to rock in the foaming -flood. Squirrels and minute chipmunks raced across the fallen tree-trunks -or clattered from great boulders, and in the peace and order and beauty -of the forest they all recovered a serener outlook on the noisome tumult -they were leaving behind them. Invisible as well as inaudible, the -serpent of slander lost its terror. - -Once, as they paused to rest the horses, Wayland said: "It is hard to -realize that down in that ethereal valley people like old Jake and Mrs. -Belden have their dwelling-place." - -This moved Mrs. McFarlane to admit that it might all turn out a blessing -in disguise. "Mr. McFarlane may resign and move to Denver, as I've long -wanted him to do." - -"I wish he would," exclaimed Berrie, fervently. "It's time you had a -rest. Daddy will hate to quit under fire, but he'd better do it." - -Peak by peak the Bear Tooth Range rose behind them, while before them the -smooth, grassy s of the pass told that they were nearing -timber-line. The air was chill, the sun was hidden by old Solidor, and -the stream had diminished to a silent rill winding among sear grass and -yellowed willows. The valley behind them was vague with mist. The -southern boundary of the forest was in sight. - -At last the topmost looming crags of the Continental Divide cut the -sky-line, and then in the smooth hollow between two rounded grassy -summits Berrie halted, and they all silently contemplated the two worlds. -To the west and north lay an endless spread of mountains, wave on wave, -snow-lined, savage, sullen in the dying light; while to the east and -southeast the foot-hills faded into the plain, whose dim cities, -insubstantial as flecks in a veil of violet mist, were hardly -distinguishable without the aid of glasses. - -To the girl there was something splendid, something heroical in that -majestic, menacing landscape to the west. In one of its folds she had -begun her life. In another she had grown to womanhood and self-confident -power. The rough men, the coarse, ungainly women of that land seemed less -hateful now that she was leaving them, perhaps forever, and a confused -memory of the many splendid dawns and purple sunsets she had loved filled -her thought. - -Wayland, divining some part of what was moving in her mind, cheerily -remarked, "Yes, it's a splendid place for a summer vacation, but a stern -place in winter-time, and for a lifelong residence it is not inspiring." - -Mrs. McFarlane agreed with him in this estimate. "It _is_ terribly -lonesome in there at times. I've had enough of it. I'm ready for the -comforts of civilization." - -Berrie turned in her seat, and was about to take up the reins when -Wayland asserted himself. "Wait a moment. Here's where my dominion -begins. Here's where you change seats with me. I am the driver now." - -She looked at him with questioning, smiling glance. "Can you drive? It's -all the way down-hill--and steep?" - -"If I can't I'll ask your aid. I'm old enough to remember the family -carriage. I've even driven a four-in-hand." - -She surrendered her seat doubtfully, and smiled to see him take up the -reins as if he were starting a four-horse coach. He proved adequate and -careful, and she was proud of him as, with foot on the brake and the -bronchos well in hand, he swung down the long looping road to the -railway. She was pleased, too, by his care of the weary animals, easing -them down the steepest s and sending them along on the comparatively -level spots. - -Their descent was rapid, but it was long after dark before they reached -Flume, which lay up the valley to the right. It was a poor little -decaying mining-town set against the hillside, and had but one hotel, a -sun-warped and sagging pine building just above the station. - -"Not much like the Profile House," said Wayland, as he drew up to the -porch. "But I see no choice." - -"There isn't any," Berrie assured him. - -"Well, now," he went on, "I am in command of this expedition. From this -on I lead this outfit. When it comes to hotels, railways, and the like o' -that, I'm head ranger." - -Mrs. McFarlane, tired, hungry, and a little dismayed, accepted his -control gladly; but Berrie could not at once slip aside her -responsibility. "Tell the hostler--" - -"Not a word!" commanded Norcross; and the girl with a smile submitted to -his guidance, and thereafter his efficiency, his self-possession, his -tact delighted her. He persuaded the sullen landlady to get them supper. -He secured the best rooms in the house, and arranged for the care of the -team, and when they were all seated around the dim, fly-specked oil-lamp -at the end of the crumby dining-room table he discovered such a gay and -confident mien that the women looked at each other in surprise. - -Berrie was correspondingly less masculine. In drawing off her buckskin -driving-gloves she had put away the cowgirl, and was silent, a little sad -even, in the midst of her enjoyment of his dictatorship. And when he -said, "If my father reaches Denver in time I want you to meet him," she -looked the dismay she felt. - -"I'll do it--but I'm scared of him." - -"You needn't be. I'll see him first and draw his fire." - -Mrs. McFarlane interposed. "We must do a little shopping first. We can't -meet your father as we are." - -"Very well. I'll go with you if you'll let me. I'm a great little -shopper. I have infallible taste, so my sisters say. If it's a case of -buying new hats, for instance, I'm the final authority with them." This -amused Berrie, but her mother took it seriously. - -"Of course, I'm anxious to have my daughter make the best possible -impression." - -"Very well. It is arranged. We get in, I find, about noon. We'll go -straight to the biggest shop in town. If we work with speed we'll be able -to lunch with my father. He'll be at the Palmer House at one." - -Berrie said nothing, either in acceptance or rejection of his plan. Her -mind was concerned with new conceptions, new relationships, and when in -the hall he took her face between his hands and said, "Cheer up! All is -not lost," she put her arms about his neck and laid her cheek against his -breast to hide her tears. "Oh, Wayland! I'm such an idiot in the city. -I'm afraid your father will despise me." - -What he said was not very cogent, and not in the least literary, but it -was reassuring and lover-like, and when he turned her over to her mother -she was composed, though unwontedly grave. - -She woke to a new life next morning--a life of compliance, of following, -of dependence upon the judgment of another. She stood in silence while -her lover paid the bills, bought the tickets, and telegraphed their -coming to his father. She acquiesced when he prevented her mother from -telephoning to the ranch. She complied when he countermanded her order to -have the team sent back at once. His judgment ruled, and she enjoyed her -sudden freedom from responsibility. It was novel, and it was very sweet -to think that she was being cared for as she had cared for and shielded -him in the world of the trail. - -In the little railway-coach, which held a score of passengers, she found -herself among some Eastern travelers who had taken the trip up the Valley -of the Flume in the full belief that they were piercing the heart of the -Rocky Mountains! It amused Wayland almost as much as it amused Berrie -when one man said to his wife: - -"Well, I'm glad we've seen the Rockies." - -"He really believes it!" exclaimed Norcross. - -After an hour's ride Wayland tactfully withdrew, leaving mother and -daughter to discuss clothes undisturbed by his presence. - -"We must look our best, honey," said Mrs. McFarlane. "We will go right to -Mme. Crosby at Battle's, and she'll fit us out. I wish we had more time; -but we haven't, so we must do the best we can." - -"I want Wayland to choose my hat and traveling-suit," replied Berrie. - -"Of course. But you've got to have a lot of other things besides." And -they bent to the joyous work of making out a list of goods to be -purchased as soon as they reached Chicago. - -Wayland came back with a Denver paper in his hand and a look of disgust -on his face. "It's all in here--at least, the outlines of it." - -Berrie took the journal, and there read the details of Settle's assault -upon the foreman. "The fight arose from a remark concerning the Forest -Supervisor's daughter. Ranger Settle resented the gossip, and fell upon -the other man, beating him with the butt of his revolver. Friends of the -foreman claim that the ranger is a drunken bully, and should have been -discharged long ago. The Supervisor for some mysterious reason retains -this man, although he is an incompetent. It is also claimed that -McFarlane put a man on the roll without examination." The Supervisor was -the protagonist of the play, which was plainly political. The attack upon -him was bitter and unjust, and Mrs. McFarlane again declared her -intention of returning to help him in his fight. However, Wayland again -proved to her that her presence would only embarrass the Supervisor. "You -would not aid him in the slightest degree. Nash and Landon are with him, -and will refute all these charges." - -This newspaper story took the light out of their day and the smile from -Berrie's lips, and the women entered the city silent and distressed in -spite of the efforts of their young guide. The nearer the girl came to -the ordeal of facing the elder Norcross, the more she feared the outcome; -but Wayland kept his air of easy confidence, and drove them directly to -the shopping center, believing that under the influence of hats and -gloves they would regain their customary cheer. - -In this he was largely justified. They had a delightful hour trying on -millinery and coats and gloves. The forewoman, who knew Mrs. McFarlane, -gladly accepted her commission, and, while suspecting the tender -relationship between the girl and the man, she was tactful enough to -conceal her suspicion. "The gentleman is right; you carry simple things -best," she remarked to Berrie, thus showing her own good judgment. -"Smartly tailored gray or blue suits are your style." - -Silent, blushing, tousled by the hands of her decorators, Berrie -permitted hats to be perched on her head and jackets buttoned and -unbuttoned about her shoulders till she felt like a worn clothes-horse. -Wayland beamed with delight, but she was far less satisfied than he; and -when at last selection was made, she still had her doubts, not of the -clothes, but of her ability to wear them. They seemed so alien to her, so -restrictive and enslaving. - -"You're an easy fitter," said the saleswoman. "But"--here she lowered her -voice--"you need a new corset. This old one is out of date. Nobody is -wearing hips now." - -Thereupon Berrie meekly permitted herself to be led away to a -torture-room. Wayland waited patiently, and when she reappeared all -traces of Bear Tooth Forest had vanished. In a neat tailored suit and a -very "chic" hat, with shoes, gloves, and stockings to match, she was so -transformed, so charmingly girlish in her self-conscious glory, that he -was tempted to embrace her in the presence of the saleswoman. But he -didn't. He merely said: "I see the governor's finish! Let's go to lunch. -You are stunning!" - -"I don't know myself," responded Berrie. "The only thing that feels -natural is my hand. They cinched me so tight I can't eat a thing, and my -shoes hurt." She laughed as she said this, for her use of the vernacular -was conscious. "I'm a fraud. Your father will spot my brand first shot. -Look at my face--red as a saddle!" - -"Don't let that trouble you. This is the time of year when tan is -fashionable. Don't you be afraid of the governor. Just smile at him, give -him your grip, and he'll melt." - -"I'm the one to melt. I'm beginning now." - -"I know how you feel, but you'll get used to the conventional -boiler-plate and all the rest of it. We all groan and growl when we come -back to it each autumn; but it's a part of being civilized, and we -submit." - -Notwithstanding his confident advice, Wayland led the two silent and -inwardly dismayed women into the showy cafe of the hotel with some degree -of personal apprehension concerning the approaching interview with his -father. Of course, he did not permit this to appear in the slightest -degree. On the contrary, he gaily ordered a choice lunch, and did his -best to keep his companions from sinking into deeper depression. - -It pleased him to observe the admiring glances which were turned upon -Berrie, whose hat became her mightily, and, leaning over, he said in a -low voice to Mrs. McFarlane: "Who is the lovely young lady opposite? -Won't you introduce me?" - -This rejoiced the mother almost as much as it pleased the daughter, and -she answered, "She looks like one of the Radburns of Lexington, but I -think she's from Louisville." - -This little play being over, he said, "Now, while our order is coming -I'll run out to the desk and see if the governor has come in or not." - - - - -XVI - -THE PRIVATE CAR - - -After he went away Berrie turned to her mother with a look in which humor -and awe were blent. "Am I dreaming, mother, or am I actually sitting here -in the city? My head is dizzy with it all." Then, without waiting for an -answer, she fervently added: "Isn't he fine! I'm the tenderfoot now. I -hope his father won't despise me." - -With justifiable pride in her child, the mother replied: "He can't help -liking you, honey. You look exactly like your grandmother at this moment. -Meet Mr. Norcross in her spirit." - -"I'll try; but I feel like a woodchuck out of his hole." - -Mrs. McFarlane continued: "I'm glad we were forced out of the valley. You -might have been shut in there all your life as I have been with your -father." - -"You don't blame father, do you?" - -"Not entirely. And yet he always was rather easy-going, and you know how -untidy the ranch is. He's always been kindness and sympathy itself; but -his lack of order is a cross. Perhaps now he will resign, rent the ranch, -and move over here. I should like to live in the city for a while, and -I'd like to travel a little." - -"Wouldn't it be fine if you could! You could live at this hotel if you -wanted to. Yes, you're right. You need a rest from the ranch and -dish-washing." - -Wayland returned with an increase of tension in his face. - -"He's here! I've sent word saying, 'I am lunching in the cafe with -ladies.' I think he'll come round. But don't be afraid of him. He's a -good deal rougher on the outside than he is at heart. Of course, he's a -bluff old business man, and not at all pretty, and he'll transfix you -with a kind of estimating glare as if you were a tree; but he's actually -very easy to manage if you know how to handle him. Now, I'm not going to -try to explain everything to him at the beginning. I'm going to introduce -him to you in a casual kind of way and give him time to take to you both. -He forms his likes and dislikes very quickly." - -"What if he don't like us?" inquired Berrie, with troubled brow. - -"He can't help it." His tone was so positive that her eyes misted with -happiness. "But here comes our food. I hope you aren't too nervous to -eat. Here is where I shine as provider. This is the kind of camp fare I -can recommend." - -Berrie's healthy appetite rose above her apprehension, and she ate with -the keen enjoyment of a child, and her mother said, "It surely is a treat -to get a chance at somebody else's cooking." - -"Don't you slander your home fare," warned Wayland. "It's as good as -this, only different." - -He sat where he could watch the door, and despite his jocund pose his -eyes expressed growing impatience and some anxiety. They were all well -into their dessert before he called out: "Here he is!" - -Mrs. McFarlane could not see the new-comer from where she sat, but Berrie -rose in great excitement as a heavy-set, full-faced man with short, gray -mustache and high, smooth brow entered the room. He did not smile as he -greeted his son, and his penetrating glance questioned even before he -spoke. He seemed to silently ask: "Well, what's all this? How do you -happen to be here? Who are these women?" - -Wayland said: "Mrs. McFarlane, this is my father. Father, this is Miss -Berea McFarlane, of Bear Tooth Springs." - -The elder Norcross shook hands with Mrs. McFarlane politely, coldly; but -he betrayed surprise as Berea took his fingers in her grip. At his son's -solicitation he accepted a seat opposite Berea, but refused dessert. - -Wayland explained: "Mrs. McFarlane and her daughter quite saved my life -over in the valley. Their ranch is the best health resort in Colorado." - -"Your complexion indicates that," his father responded, dryly. "You look -something the way a man of your age ought to look. I needn't ask how -you're feeling." - -"You needn't, but you may. I'm feeling like a new fiddle--barring a -bruise at the back of my head, which makes a 'hard hat' a burden. I may -as well tell you first off that Mrs. McFarlane is the wife of the Forest -Supervisor at Bear Tooth, and Miss Berea is the able assistant of her -father. We are all rank conservationists." - -Norcross, Senior, examined Berrie precisely as if his eyes were a couple -of X-ray tubes, and as she flushed under his slow scrutiny he said: "I -was not expecting to find the Forest Service in such hands." - -Wayland laughed. - -"I hope you didn't mash his fingers, Berrie." - -She smiled guiltily. "I'm afraid I did. I hope I didn't hurt -you--sometimes I forget." - -Norcross, Senior, was waking up. "You have a most extraordinary grip. -What did it? Piano practice?" - -Wayland grinned. "Piano! No--the cinch." - -"The what?" - -Wayland explained. "Miss McFarlane was brought up on a ranch. She can -rope and tie a steer, saddle her own horse, pack an outfit, and all the -rest of it." - -"Oh! Kind of cowgirl, eh?" - -Mrs. McFarlane, eager to put Berrie's better part forward, explained: -"She's our only child, Mr. Norcross, and as such has been a constant -companion to her father. She's not all cow-hand. She's been to school, -and she can cook and sew as well." - -He looked from one to the other. "Neither of you correspond exactly to my -notions of a forester's wife and daughter." - -"Mrs. McFarlane comes from an old Kentucky family, father. Her -grandfather helped to found a college down there." - -Wayland's anxious desire to create a favorable impression of the women -did not escape the lumberman, but his face remained quite expressionless -as he replied: - -"If the life of a cow-hand would give you the vigor this young lady -appears to possess, I'm not sure but you'd better stick to it." - -Wayland and the two women exchanged glances of relief. - -"Why not tell him now?" they seemed to ask. But he said: "There's a long -story to tell before we decide on my career. Let's finish our lunch. How -is mother, and how are the girls?" - -Once, in the midst of a lame pursuit of other topics, the elder Norcross -again fixed his eyes on Berea, saying: "I wish my girls had your weight -and color." He paused a moment, then resumed with weary infliction: "Mrs. -Norcross has always been delicate, and all her children--even her -son--take after her. I've maintained a private and very expensive -hospital for nearly thirty years." - -This regretful note in his father's voice gave Wayland confidence. His -spirits rose. - -"Come, let's adjourn to the parlor and talk things over at our ease." - -They all followed him, and after showing the mother and daughter to their -seats near a window he drew his father into a corner, and in rapid -undertone related the story of his first meeting with Berrie, of his -trouble with young Belden, of his camping trip, minutely describing the -encounter on the mountainside, and ended by saying, with manly -directness: "I would be up there in the mountains in a box if Berrie had -not intervened. She's a noble girl, father, and is foolish enough to like -me, and I'm going to marry her and try to make her happy." - -The old lumberman, who had listened intently all through this impassioned -story, displayed no sign of surprise at its closing declaration; but his -eyes explored his son's soul with calm abstraction. "Send her over to -me," he said, at last. "Marriage is a serious matter. I want to talk with -her--alone." - -Wayland went back to the women with an air of victory. "He wants to see -you, Berrie. He's mellowing. Don't be afraid of him." - -She might have resented the father's lack of gallantry; but she did not. -On the contrary, she rose and walked resolutely over to where he sat, -quite ready to defend herself. He did not rise to meet her, but she did -not count that against him, for there was nothing essentially rude in his -manner. He was merely her elder, and inert. - -"Sit down," he said, not unkindly. "I want to have _you_ tell me about my -son. He has been telling me all about you. Now let's have your side of -the story." - -She took a seat and faced him with eyes as steady as his own. "Where -shall I begin?" she bluntly challenged. - -"He wants to marry you. Now, it seems to me that seven weeks is very -short acquaintance for a decision like that. Are you sure you want him?" - -"Yes, sir; I am." Her answer was most decided. - -His voice was slightly cynical as he went on. "But you were tolerably -sure about that other fellow--that rancher with the fancy name--weren't -you?" She flushed at this, but waited for him to go on. "Don't you think -it possible that your fancy for Wayland is also temporary?" - -"No, sir!" she bravely declared. "I never felt toward any one the way I -do toward Wayland. He's different. I shall _never_ change toward him." - -Her tone, her expression of eyes stopped this line of inquiry. He took up -another. "Now, my dear young lady, I am a business man as well as a -father, and the marriage of my son is a weighty matter. He is my main -dependence. I am hoping to have him take up and carry on my business. To -be quite candid, I didn't expect him to select his wife from a Colorado -ranch. I considered him out of the danger-zone. I have always understood -that women were scarce in the mountains. Now don't misunderstand me. I'm -not one of those fools who are always trying to marry their sons and -daughters into the ranks of the idle rich. I don't care a hang about -social position, and I've got money enough for my son and my son's wife. -But he's all the boy I have, and I don't want him to make a mistake." - -"Neither do I," she answered, simply, her eyes suffused with tears. "If I -thought he would be sorry--" - -He interrupted again. "Oh, you can't tell that now. Any marriage is a -risk. I don't say he's making a mistake in selecting you. You may be just -the woman he needs. Only I want to be consulted. I want to know more -about you. He tells me you have taken an active part in the management of -the ranch and the forest. Is that true?" - -"I've always worked with my father--yes, sir." - -"You like that kind of life?" - -"I don't know much about any other kind. Yes, I like it. But I've had -enough of it. I'm willing to change." - -"Well, how about city life--housekeeping and all that?" - -"So long as I am with Wayland I sha'n't mind what I do or where I live." - -"At the same time you figure he's going to have a large income, I -suppose? He's told you of his rich father, hasn't he?" - -Berrie's tone was a shade resentful of his insinuation. "He has never -said much about his family one way or another. He only said you wanted -him to go into business in Chicago, and that he wanted to do something -else. Of course, I could see by his ways and the clothes he wore that -he'd been brought up in what we'd call luxury, but we never inquired into -his affairs." - -"And you didn't care?" - -"Well, not that, exactly. But money don't count for as much with us in -the valley as it does in the East. Wayland seemed so kind of sick and -lonesome, and I felt sorry for him the first time I saw him. I felt like -mothering him. And then his way of talking, of looking at things was so -new and beautiful to me I couldn't help caring for him. I had never met -any one like him. I thought he was a 'lunger'--" - -"A what?" - -"A consumptive; that is, I did at first. And it bothered me. It seemed -terrible that any one so fine should be condemned like that--and so--I -did all I could to help him, to make him happy. I thought he hadn't long -to live. Everything he said and did was wonderful to me, like poetry and -music. And then when he began to grow stronger and I saw that he was -going to get well, and Cliff went on the rampage and showed the yellow -streak, and I gave him back his ring--I didn't know even then how much -Wayland meant to me. But on our trip over the Range I understood. He -meant everything to me. He made Cliff seem like a savage, and I wanted -him to know it. I'm not ashamed of loving him. I want to make him happy, -and if he wishes me to be his wife I'll go anywhere he says--only I think -he should stay out here till he gets entirely well." - -The old man's eyes softened during her plea, and at its close a slight -smile moved the corners of his mouth. "You've thought it all out, I see. -Your mind is clear and your conscience easy. Well, I like your spirit. I -guess he's right. The decision is up to you. But if he takes you and -stays in Colorado he can't expect me to share the profits of my business -with him, can he? He'll have to make his own way." He rose and held out -his hand. "However, I'm persuaded he's in good hands." - -She took his hand, not knowing just what to reply. He examined her -fingers with intent gaze. - -"I didn't know any woman could have such a grip." He thoughtfully took -her biceps in his left hand. "You are magnificent." Then, in ironical -protest, he added: "Good God, no! I can't have you come into my family. -You'd make caricatures of my wife and daughters. Are all the girls out in -the valley like you?" - -She laughed. "No. Most of them pride themselves on _not_ being -horsewomen. Mighty few of 'em ever ride a horse. I'm a kind of a tomboy -to them." - -"I'm sorry to hear that. It's the same old story. I suppose they'd all -like to live in the city and wear low-necked gowns and high-heeled shoes. -No, I can't consent to your marriage with my son. I must save you from -corruption. Go back to the ranch. I can see already signs of your -deterioration. Except for your color and that grip you already look like -upper Broadway. The next thing will be a slit skirt and a diamond -garter." - -She flushed redly, conscious of her new corset, her silk stockings, and -her pinching shoes. "It's all on the outside," she declared. "Under this -toggery I'm the same old trailer. It don't take long to get rid of these -things. I'm just playing a part to-day--for you." - -He smiled and dropped her hand. "No, no. You've said good-by to the -cinch, I can see that. You're on the road to opera boxes and limousines. -What is your plan? What would you advise Wayland to do if you knew I was -hard against his marrying you? Come, now, I can see you're a -clear-sighted individual. What can he do to earn a living? How will you -live without my aid? Have you figured on these things?" - -"Yes; I'm going to ask my father to buy a ranch near here, where mother -can have more of the comforts of life, and where we can all live together -till Wayland is able to stand city life again. Then, if you want him to -go East, I will go with him." - -They had moved slowly back toward the others, and as Wayland came to meet -them Norcross said, with dry humor: "I admire your lady of the cinch -hand. She seems to be a person of singular good nature and most uncommon -shrewd--" - -Wayland, interrupting, caught at his father's hand and wrung it -frenziedly. "I'm glad--" - -"Here! Here!" A look of pain covered the father's face. "That's the fist -she put in the press." - -They all laughed at his joke, and then he gravely resumed. "I say I -admire her, but it's a shame to ask such a girl to marry an invalid like -you. Furthermore, I won't have her taken East. She'd bleach out and lose -that grip in a year. I won't have her contaminated by the city." He mused -deeply while looking at his son. "Would life on a wheat-ranch accessible -to this hotel by motor-car be endurable to you?" - -"You mean with Berea?" - -"If she'll go. Mind you, I don't advise her to do it!" he added, -interrupting his son's outcry. "I think she's taking all the chances." He -turned to Mrs. McFarlane. "I'm old-fashioned in my notions of marriage, -Mrs. McFarlane. I grew up when women were helpmates, such as, I judge, -you've been. Of course, it's all guesswork to me at the moment; but I -have an impression that my son has fallen into an unusual run of luck. As -I understand it, you're all out for a pleasure trip. Now, my private car -is over in the yards, and I suggest you all come along with me to -California--" - -"Governor, you're a wonder!" exclaimed Wayland. - -"That'll give us time to get better acquainted, and if we all like one -another just as well when we get back--well, we'll buy the best farm in -the North Platte and--" - -"It's a cinch we get that ranch," interrupted Wayland, with a triumphant -glance at Berea. - -"Don't be so sure of it!" replied the lumberman. "A private car, like a -yacht, is a terrible test of friendship." But his warning held no terrors -for the young lovers. They had entered upon certainties. - -THE END - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Forester's Daughter, by Hamlin Garland - + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: HER FACE SHONE AS SHE CALLED OUT: "WELL, HOW DO YOU +STACK UP THIS MORNING?" (See page 31)] + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + +THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER + +A Romance of the Bear-Tooth Range + +By +HAMLIN GARLAND + +Author of +"The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop" +"Main-Travelled Roads" Etc. + +Illustrated + +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS +New York and London +MCMXIV + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + +COPYRIGHT. 1914. BY HAMLIN GARLAND + +Printed in the United States of America +Published February, 1914 +A-O + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + I The Happy Girl 1 + II A Ride In The Rain 19 + III Wayland Receives a Warning 46 + IV The Supervisor of the Forest 68 + V The Golden Pathway 82 + VI Storm-Bound 110 + VII The Walk in the Rain 123 + VIII The Other Girl 142 + IX Further Perplexities 159 + X The Camp on the Pass 173 + XI The Death-Grapple 195 + XII Berrie's Vigil 204 + XIII The Gossips Awake 223 + XIV The Summons 247 + XV A Matter of Millinery 260 + XVI The Private Car 274 + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + +HER FACE SHONE AS SHE CALLED OUT: "WELL, HOW DO YOU +STACK UP THIS MORNING?" Frontispiece + +THE GIRL BEHIND HIM WAS A WONDROUS PART OF THIS WILD +AND UNACCOUNTABLE COUNTRY 6 + +SHE FOUND HERSELF CONFRONTED BY AN ENDLESS MAZE +OF BLACKENED TREE-TRUNKS 140 + +THE SLENDER YOUTH WENT DOWN BEFORE THE BIG RANCHER +AS THOUGH STRUCK BY A CATAPULT 195 + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + +AUTHOR'S FOREWORD + +This little story is the outcome of two trips (neither of which was in +the Bear Tooth Forest) during the years 1909 and 1910. Its main claim on +the reader's interest will lie, no doubt, in the character of Berea +McFarlane; but I find myself re-living with keen pleasure the splendid +drama of wind and cloud and swaying forest which made the expeditions +memorable. + +The golden trail is an actuality for me. The camp on the lake was mine. +The rain, the snow I met. The prying camp-robbers, the grouse, the +muskrats, the beaver were my companions. But Berrie was with me only in +imagination. She is a fiction, born of a momentary, powerful hand-clasp +of a Western rancher's daughter. The story of Wayland Norcross is fiction +also. But the McFarlane ranch, the mill, and the lonely ranger-stations +are closely drawn pictures of realities. Although the stage of my comedy +is Colorado, I have not held to any one locality. The scene is +composite. + +It was my intention, originally, to write a much longer and more +important book concerning Supervisor McFarlane, but Berrie took the story +into her own strong hands and made of it something so intimate and so +idyllic that I could not bring the more prosaic element into it. It +remained personal and youthful in spite of my plans, a divergence for +which, perhaps, most of my readers will be grateful. + +As for its title, I had little to do with its selection. My daughter, +Mary Isabel, aged ten, selected it from among a half-dozen others, and +for luck I let it stand, although it sounds somewhat like that of a +paper-bound German romance. For the sub-title my publishers are +responsible. + +Finally, I warn the reader that this is merely the very slender story of +a young Western girl who, being desired of three strong men, bestows her +love on a "tourist" whose weakness is at once her allurement and her +care. The administration problem, the sociologic theme, which was to have +made the novel worth while, got lost in some way on the low trail and +never caught up with the lovers. I'm sorry--but so it was! + +Chicago, January, 1914. + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + +THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER + +---------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +THE FORESTER'S DAUGHTER + +I + +THE HAPPY GIRL + + +The stage line which ran from Williams to Bear Tooth (one of the most +authentic then to be found in all the West) possessed at least one +genuine Concord coach, so faded, so saddened, so cracked, and so +splintered that its passengers entered it under protest, and alighted +from it with thanksgiving, and yet it must have been built by honorable +men, for in 190- it still made the run of one hundred and twenty miles +twice each week without loss of wheel or even so much as moulting a scrap +of paint. + +And yet, whatever it may have been in its youth, it was in its age no +longer a gay dash of color in the landscape. On the contrary, it fitted +into the dust-brown and sage-green plain as defensively as a beetle in a +dusty path. Nevertheless, it was an indispensable part of a very moving +picture as it crept, creaking and groaning (or it may be it was the +suffering passenger creaking and groaning), along the hillside. + +After leaving the Grande River the road winds up a pretty high divide +before plunging down into Ute Park, as they call all that region lying +between the Continental Range on the east and the Bear Tooth plateau on +the west. It was a big spread of land, and very far from an Eastern man's +conception of a park. From Dome Peak it seems a plain; but, in fact, when +clouds shut off the high summits to the west, this "valley" becomes a +veritable mountain land, a tumbled, lonely country, over which an +occasional horseman crawls, a minute but persistent insect. It is, to be +exact, a succession of ridges and ravines, sculptured (in some far-off, +post-glacial time) by floods of water, covered now, rather sparsely, with +pinons, cedars, and aspens, a dry, forbidding, but majestic landscape. + +In late August the hills become iridescent, opaline with the translucent +yellow of the aspen, the coral and crimson of the fire-weed, the +blood-red of huckleberry beds, and the royal purple of the asters, while +flowing round all, as solvent and neutral setting, lies the gray-green of +the ever-present and ever-enduring sage-brush. On the loftier heights +these colors are arranged in most intricate and cunning patterns, with +nothing hard, nothing flaring in the prospect. All is harmonious and +restful. It is, moreover, silent, silent as a dream world, and so flooded +with light that the senses ache with the stress of it. + +Through this gorgeous land of mist, of stillness, and of death, a few +years ago a pale young man (seated beside the driver) rode one summer day +in a voiceless rapture which made Bill McCoy weary. + +"If you'd had as much of this as I have you'd talk of something else," he +growled, after a half dozen attempts at conversation. Bill wasn't much to +look at, but he was a good driver and the stranger respected him for it. + +Eventually this simple-minded horseman became curious about the slim +young fellow sitting beside him. + +"What you doing out here, anyhow--fishing or just rebuilding a lung?" + +"Rebuilding two lungs," answered the tourist. + +"Well, this climate will just about put lungs into a coffee-can," +retorted Bill, with official loyalty to his country. + +To his discerning eye "the tourist" now became "a lunger." "Where do you +live when you're to home?" + +"Connecticut." + +"I knew it." + +"How did you know it?" The youth seemed really interested to know. + +"I drove another fellow up here last fall that dealt out the same kind of +brogue you do." + +This amused the tourist. "You think I have a 'brogue,' do you?" + +"I don't think it--I know it!" Bill replied, shortly. + +He was prevented at the moment from pursuing this line of inquiry by the +discovery of a couple of horsemen racing from a distant ranch toward the +road. It was plain, even to the stranger, that they intended to intercept +the stage, and Bill plied the lash with sudden vigor. + +"I'll give 'em a chase," said he, grimly. + +The other appeared a little alarmed, "What are they--bandits?" + +"Bandits!" sneered Bill. "Your eyesight is piercing. Them's _girls_." + +The traveler apologized. "My eyes aren't very good," he said, hurriedly. + +He was, however, quite justified in his mistake, for both riders wore +wide-rimmed sombreros and rode astride at a furious pace, bandanas +fluttering, skirts streaming, and one was calling in shrill command, "OH, +BILL!" + +As they neared the gate the driver drew up with a word of surprise. "Why, +howdy, girls, howdy!" he said, with an assumption of innocence. "Were you +wishin' fer to speak to me?" + +"Oh, shut up!" commanded one of the girls, a round-faced, freckled romp. +"You know perfectly well that Berrie is going home to-day--we told you +all about it yesterday." + +"Sure thing!" exclaimed Bill. "I'd forgot all about it." + +"Like nothin'!" exclaimed the maid. "You've been countin' the hours till +you got here--I know you." + +Meanwhile her companion had slipped from her horse. "Well, good-by, +Molly, wish I could stay longer." + +"Good-by. Run down again." + +"I will. You come up." + +The young passenger sprang to the ground and politely said: "May I help +you in?" + +Bill stared, the girl smiled, and her companion called: "Be careful, +Berrie, don't hurt yourself, the wagon might pitch." + +The youth, perceiving that he had made another mistake, stammered an +apology. + +The girl perceived his embarrassment and sweetly accepted his hand. "I am +much obliged, all the same." + +Bill shook with malicious laughter. "Out in this country girls are +warranted to jump clean over a measly little hack like this," he +explained. + +The girl took a seat in the back corner of the dusty vehicle, and Bill +opened conversation with her by asking what kind of a time she had been +having "in the East." + +"Fine," said she. + +"Did ye get as far back as my old town?" + +"What town is that, Bill?" + +"Oh, come off! You know I'm from Omaha." + +"No, I only got as far as South Bend." + +The picture which the girl had made as she dashed up to the pasture gate +(her hat-rim blown away from her brown face and sparkling eyes), united +with the kindliness in her voice as she accepted his gallant aid, entered +a deep impression on the tourist's mind; but he did not turn his head to +look at her--perhaps he feared Bill's elbow quite as much as his +guffaw--but he listened closely, and by listening learned that she had +been "East" for several weeks, and also that she was known, and favorably +known, all along the line, for whenever they met a team or passed a ranch +some one called out, "Hello, Berrie!" in cordial salute, and the men, old +and young, were especially pleased to see her. + +[Illustration: THE GIRL BEHIND HIM WAS A WONDROUS PART OF THIS WILD +AND UNACCOUNTABLE COUNTRY] + +Meanwhile the stage rose and fell over the gigantic swells like a tiny +boat on a monster sea, while the sun blazed ever more fervently from the +splendid sky, and the hills glowed with ever-increasing tumult of color. +Through this land of color, of repose, of romance, the young traveler +rode, drinking deep of the germless air, feeling that the girl behind him +was a wondrous part of this wild and unaccountable country. + +He had no chance to study her face again till the coach rolled down the +hill to "Yancy's," where they were to take dinner and change horses. + +Yancy's ranch-house stood on the bank of a fine stream which purled--in +keen defiance of the hot sun--over a gravel bed, so near to the mountain +snows that their coolness still lingered in the ripples. The house, a +long, low, log hut, was fenced with antlers of the elk, adorned with +morning-glory vines, and shaded by lofty cottonwood-trees, and its green +grass-plat--after the sun-smit hills of the long morning's ride--was very +grateful to the Eastern man's eyes. + +With intent to show Bill that he did not greatly fear his smiles, the +youth sprang down and offered a hand to assist his charming +fellow-passenger to alight; and she, with kindly understanding, again +accepted his aid--to Bill's chagrin--and they walked up the path side by +side. + +"This is all very new and wonderful to me," the young man said in +explanation; "but I suppose it's quite commonplace to you--and Bill." + +"Oh no--it's home!" + +"You were born here?" + +"No, I was born in the East; but I've lived here ever since I was three +years old." + +"By East you mean Kansas?" + +"No, Missouri," she laughed back at him. + +She was taller than most women, and gave out an air of fine unconscious +health which made her good to see, although her face was too broad to be +pretty. She smiled easily, and her teeth were white and even. Her hand he +noticed was as strong as steel and brown as leather. Her neck rose from +her shoulders like that of an acrobat, and she walked with the sense of +security which comes from self-reliant strength. + +She was met at the door by old lady Yancy, who pumped her hand up and +down, exclaiming: "My stars, I'm glad to see ye back! 'Pears like the +country is just naturally goin' to the dogs without you. The dance last +Saturday was a frost, so I hear, no snap to the fiddlin', no gimp to the +jiggin'. It shorely was pitiful." + +Yancy himself, tall, grizzled, succinct, shook her hand in his turn. +"Ma's right, girl, the country needs ye. I'm scared every time ye go away +fer fear some feller will snap ye up." + +She laughed. "No danger. Well, how are ye all, anyway?" she asked. + +"All well, 'ceptin' me," said the little old woman. "I'm just about able +to pick at my vittles." + +"She does her share o' the work, and half the cook's besides," +volunteered Yancy. + +"I know her," retorted Berrie, as she laid off her hat. "It's me for a +dip. Gee, but it's dusty on the road!" + +The young tourist--he signed W. W. Norcross in Yancy's register--watched +her closely and listened to every word she spoke with an intensity of +interest which led Mrs. Yancy to say, privately: + +"'Pears like that young 'lunger' ain't goin' to forgit you if he can help +it." + +"What makes you think he's a 'lunger'?" + +"Don't haf to think. One look at him is enough." + +Thereafter a softer light--the light of pity--shone in the eyes of the +girl. "Poor fellow, he does look kind o' peaked; but this climate will +bring him up to the scratch," she added, with optimistic faith in her +beloved hills. + +A moment later the down-coming stage pulled in, loaded to the side-lines, +and everybody on it seemed to know Berea McFarlane. It was hello here and +hello there, and how are ye between, with smacks from the women and open +cries of "pass it around" on the part of the men, till Norcross marveled +at the display. + +"She seems a great favorite," he observed to Yancy. + +"Who--Berrie? She's the whole works up at Bear Tooth. Good thing she +don't want to go to Congress--she'd lay Jim Worthy on the shelf." + +Berea's popularity was not so remarkable as her manner of receiving it. +She took it all as a sort of joke--a good, kindly joke. She shook hands +with her male admirers, and smacked the cheeks of her female friends with +an air of modest deprecation. "Oh, you don't mean it," was one of her +phrases. She enjoyed this display of affection, but it seemed not to +touch her deeply, and her impartial, humorous acceptance of the courtship +of the men was equally charming, though this was due, according to +remark, to the claims of some rancher up the line. + +She continued to be the theme of conversation at the dinner-table and yet +remained unembarrassed, and gave back quite as good as she received. + +"If I was Cliff," declared one lanky admirer, "I'd be shot if I let you +out of my sight. It ain't safe." + +She smiled broadly. "I don't feel scared." + +"Oh, _you're_ all right! It's the other feller--like me--that gets +hurt." + +"Don't worry, you're old enough and tough enough to turn a steel-jacketed +bullet." + +This raised a laugh, and Mrs. Yancy, who was waiting on the table, put in +a word: "I'll board ye free, Berrie, if you'll jest naturally turn up +here regular at meal-time. You do take the fellers' appetites. It's the +only time I make a cent." + +To the Eastern man this was all very unrestrained and deeply diverting. +The people seemed to know all about one another notwithstanding the fact +that they came from ranches scattered up and down the stage line twenty, +thirty miles apart--to be neighbors in this country means to be anywhere +within a sixty-mile ride--and they gossiped of the countryside as +minutely as the residents of a village in Wisconsin discuss their kind. +News was scarce. + +The north-bound coach got away first, and as the girl came out to take +her place, Norcross said: "Won't you have my seat with the driver?" + +She dropped her voice humorously. "No, thank you, I can't stand for +Bill's clack." + +Norcross understood. She didn't relish the notion of being so close to +the frankly amorous driver, who neglected no opportunity to be personal; +therefore, he helped her to her seat inside and resumed his place in +front. + +Bill, now broadly communicative, minutely detailed his tastes in food, +horses, liquors, and saddles in a long monologue which would have been +tiresome to any one but an imaginative young Eastern student. Bill had a +vast knowledge of the West, but a distressing habit of repetition. He was +self-conscious, too, for the reason that he was really talking for the +benefit of the girl sitting in critical silence behind him, who, though +he frequently turned to her for confirmation of some of the more +startling of his statements, refused to be drawn into controversy. + +In this informing way some ten miles were traversed, the road climbing +ever higher, and the mountains to right and left increasing in grandeur +each hour, till of a sudden and in a deep valley on the bank of another +swift stream, they came upon a squalid saloon and a minute post-office. +This was the town of Moskow. + +Bill, lumbering down over the wheel, took a bag of mail from the boot and +dragged it into the cabin. The girl rose, stretched herself, and said: +"This stagin' is slow business. I'm cramped. I'm going to walk on +ahead." + +"May I go with you?" asked Norcross. + +"Sure thing! Come along." + +As they crossed the little pole bridge which spanned the flood, the +tourist exclaimed: "What exquisite water! It's like melted opals." + +"Comes right down from the snow," she answered, impressed by the poetry +of his simile. + +He would gladly have lingered, listening to the song of the water, but as +she passed on, he followed. The opposite hill was sharp and the road +stony, but as they reached the top the young Easterner called out, "See +the savins!" + +Before them stood a grove of cedars, old, gray, and drear, as weirdly +impressive as the cacti in a Mexican desert. Torn by winds, scarred by +lightnings, deeply rooted, tenacious as tradition, unlovely as Egyptian +mummies, fantastic, dwarfed and blackened, these unaccountable creatures +clung to the ledges. The dead mingled horribly with the living, and when +the wind arose--the wind that was robustly cheerful on the high +hills--these hags cried out with low moans of infinite despair. It was as +if they pleaded for water or for deliverance from a life that was a kind +of death. + +The pale young man shuddered. "What a ghostly place!" he exclaimed, in a +low voice. "It seems the burial-place of a vanished race." + +Something in his face, some note in his voice profoundly moved the girl. +For the first time her face showed something other than childish good +nature and a sense of humor. "I don't like these trees myself," she +answered. "They look too much like poor old squaws." + +For a few moments the man and the maid studied the forest of immemorial, +gaunt, and withered trees--bright, impermanent youth confronting +time-defaced and wind-torn age. Then the girl spoke: "Let's get out of +here. I shall cry if we don't." + +In a few moments the dolorous voices were left behind, and the cheerful +light of the plain reasserted itself. Norcross, looking back down upon +the cedars, which at a distance resembled a tufted, bronze-green carpet, +musingly asked: "What do you suppose planted those trees there?" + +The girl was deeply impressed by the novelty of this query. "I never +thought to ask. I reckon they just grew." + +"No, there's a reason for all these plantings," he insisted. + +"We don't worry ourselves much about such things out here," she replied, +with charming humor. "We don't even worry about the weather. We just take +things as they come." + +They walked on talking with new intimacy. "Where is your home?" he +asked. + +"A few miles out of Bear Tooth. You're from the East, Bill says--'the far +East,' we call it." + +"From New Haven. I've just finished at Yale. Have you ever been to New +York?" + +"Oh, good Lord, no!" she answered, as though he had named the ends of the +earth. "My mother came from the South--she was born in Kentucky--that +accounts for my name, and my father is a Missourian. Let's see, Yale is +in the state of Connecticut, isn't it?" + +"Connecticut is no longer a state; it is only a suburb of New York +City." + +"Is that so? My geography calls it 'The Nutmeg State.'" + +"Your geography is behind the times. New York has absorbed all of +Connecticut and part of Jersey." + +"Well, it's all the same to us out here. Your whole country looks like +the small end of a slice of pie to us." + +"Have you ever been in a city?" + +"Oh yes, I go to Denver once in a while, and I saw St. Louis once; but I +was only a yearling, and don't remember much about it. What are you doing +out here, if it's a fair question?" + +He looked away at the mountains. "I got rather used up last spring, and +my doctor said I'd better come out here for a while and build up. I'm +going up to Meeker's Mill. Do you know where that is?" + +"I know every stove-pipe in this park," she answered. "Joe Meeker is kind +o' related to me--uncle by marriage. He lives about fifteen miles over +the hill from Bear Tooth." + +This fact seemed to bring them still closer together. "I'm glad of that," +he said, pointedly. "Perhaps I shall be permitted to see you now and +again? I'm going to be lonesome for a while, I'm afraid." + +"Don't you believe it! Joe Meeker's boys will keep you interested," she +assured him. + +The stage overtook them at this point, and Bill surlily remarked: "If +you'd been alone, young feller, I'd 'a' give you a chase." His resentment +of the outsider's growing favor with the girl was ludicrously evident. + +As they rose into the higher levels the aspen shook its yellowish leaves +in the breeze, and the purple foot-hills gained in majesty. Great new +peaks came into view on the right, and the lofty cliffs of the Bear Tooth +range loomed in naked grandeur high above the blue-green of the pines +which clothed their sloping eastern sides. + +At intervals the road passed small log ranches crouching low on the banks +of creeks; but aside from these--and the sparse animal life around +them--no sign of settlement could be seen. The valley lay as it had lain +for thousands of years, repeating its forests as the meadows of the lower +levels send forth their annual grasses. Norcross said to himself: "I have +circled the track of progress and have re-entered the border America, +where the stage-coach is still the one stirring thing beneath the sun." + +At last the driver, with a note of exultation, called out: "Grab a root, +everybody, it's all the way down-hill and time to feed." + +And so, as the dusk came over the mighty spread of the hills to the east, +and the peaks to the west darkened from violet to purple-black, the stage +rumbled and rattled and rushed down the winding road through thickening +signs of civilization, and just at nightfall rolled into the little town +of Bear Tooth, which is the eastern gateway of the Ute Plateau. + +Norcross had given a great deal of thought to the young girl behind him, +and thought had deepened her charm. Her frankness, her humor, her superb +physical strength and her calm self-reliance appealed to him, and the +more dangerously, because he was so well aware of his own weakness and +loneliness, and as the stage drew up before the hotel, he fervently said: +"I hope I shall see you again?" + +Before she could reply a man's voice called: "Hello, there!" and a tall +fellow stepped up to her with confident mien. + +Norcross awkwardly shrank away. This was her cowboy lover, of course. It +was impossible that so attractive a girl should be unattached, and the +knowledge produced in him a faint but very definite pang of envy and +regret. + +The happy girl, even in the excitement of meeting her lover, did not +forget the stranger. She gave him her hand in parting, and again he +thrilled to its amazing power. It was small, but it was like a steel +clamp. "Stop in on your way to Meeker's," she said, as a kindly man would +have done. "You pass our gate. My father is Joseph McFarlane, the Forest +Supervisor. Good night." + +"Good night," he returned, with sincere liking. + +"Who is that?" Norcross heard her companion ask. + +She replied in a low voice, but he overheard her answer, "A poor +'lunger,' bound for Meeker's--and Kingdom Come, I'm afraid. He seems a +nice young feller, too." + +"They always wait till the last minute," remarked the rancher, with +indifferent tone. + + + + +II + +A RIDE IN THE RAIN + + +There are two Colorados within the boundaries of the state of that name, +distinct, almost irreconcilable. One is a plain (smooth, dry, +monotonous), gently declining to the east, a land of sage-brush, +wheat-fields, and alfalfa meadows--a rather commonplace region now, given +over to humdrum folk intent on digging a living from the soil; but the +other is an army of peaks, a region of storms, a spread of dark and +tangled forests. In the one, shallow rivers trickle on their sandy way to +the Gulf of Mexico; from the other, the waters rush, uniting to make the +mighty stream whose silt-laden floods are slowly filling the Gulf of +California. + +If you stand on one of the great naked crests which form the dividing +wall, the rampart of the plains, you can see the Colorado of tradition to +the west, still rolling in wave after wave of stupendous altitudes, each +range cutting into the sky with a purple saw-tooth edge. The landscape +seems to contain nothing but rocks and towering crags, a treasure-house +for those who mine. But this is illusive. Between these purple heights +charming valleys wind and meadows lie in which rich grasses grow and +cattle feed. + +On certain s--where the devastating miners have not yet played their +relentless game--dark forests rise to the high, bold summits of the +chiefest mountains, and it is to guard these timbered tracts, growing +each year more valuable, that the government has established its Forest +Service to protect and develop the wealth-producing power of the +watersheds. + +Chief among the wooded areas of this mighty inland empire of crag and +stream is the Bear Tooth Forest, containing nearly eight hundred thousand +acres of rock and trees, whose seat of administration is Bear Tooth +Springs, the small town in which our young traveler found himself. + +He carefully explained to the landlord of the Cottage Hotel that he had +never been in this valley before, and that he was filled with +astonishment and delight of the scenery. + +"Scenery! Yes, too much scenery. What we want is settlers," retorted the +landlord, who was shabby and sour and rather contemptuous, for the reason +that he considered Norcross a poor consumptive, and a fool to boot--"one +of those chaps who wait till they are nearly dead, then come out here +expecting to live on climate." + +The hotel was hardly larger than the log shanty of a railway-grading +camp; but the meat was edible, and just outside the door roared Bear +Creek, which came down directly from Dome Mountain, and the young +Easterner went to sleep beneath its singing that night. He should have +dreamed of the happy mountain girl, but he did not; on the contrary, he +imagined himself back at college in the midst of innumerable freshmen, +yelling, "Bill McCoy, Bill McCoy!" + +He woke a little bewildered by his strange surroundings, and when he +became aware of the cheap bed, the flimsy wash-stand, the ugly wallpaper, +and thought how far he was from home and friends, he not only sighed, he +shivered. The room was chill, the pitcher of water cold almost to the +freezing-point, and his joints were stiff and painful from his ride. What +folly to come so far into the wilderness at this time. + +As he crawled from his bed and looked from the window he was still +further disheartened. In the foreground stood a half dozen frame +buildings, graceless and cheap, without tree or shrub to give shadow or +charm of line--all was bare, bleak, sere; but under his window the stream +was singing its glorious mountain song, and away to the west rose the +aspiring peaks from which it came. Romance brooded in that shadow, and on +the lower foot-hills the frost-touched foliage glowed like a mosaic of +jewels. + +Dressing hurriedly he went down to the small bar-room, whose litter of +duffle-bags, guns, saddles, and camp utensils gave evidence of the +presence of many hunters and fishermen. The slovenly landlord was poring +over a newspaper, while a discouraged half-grown youth was sludging the +floor with a mop; but a cheerful clamor from an open door at the back of +the hall told that breakfast was on. + +Venturing over the threshold, Norcross found himself seated at table with +some five or six men in corduroy jackets and laced boots, who were, in +fact, merchants and professional men from Denver and Pueblo out for fish +and such game as the law allowed, and all in holiday mood. They joked the +waiter-girls, and joshed one another in noisy good-fellowship, ignoring +the slim youth in English riding-suit, who came in with an air of mingled +melancholy and timidity and took a seat at the lower corner of the long +table. + +The landlady, tall, thin, worried, and inquisitive, was New +England--Norcross recognized her type even before she came to him with a +question on her lips. "So you're from the East, are you?" + +"I've been at school there." + +"Well, I'm glad to see you. My folks came from York State. I don't often +get any one from the _real_ East. Come out to fish, I s'pose?" + +"Yes," he replied, thinking this the easiest way out. + +"Well, they's plenty of fishing--and they's plenty of air, not much of +anything else." + +As he looked about the room, the tourist's eye was attracted by four +young fellows seated at a small table to his right. They wore rough +shirts of an olive-green shade, and their faces were wind-scorched; but +their voices held a pleasant tone, and something in the manner of the +landlady toward them made them noticeable. Norcross asked her who they +were. + +"They're forestry boys." + +"Forestry boys?" + +"Yes; the Supervisor's office is here, and these are his help." + +This information added to Norcross's interest and cheered him a little. +He knew something of the Forest Service, and had been told that many of +the rangers were college men. He resolved to make their acquaintance. "If +I'm to stay here they will help me endure the exile," he said. + +After breakfast he went forth to find the post-office, expecting a letter +of instructions from Meeker. He found nothing of the sort, and this quite +disconcerted him. + +"The stage is gone," the postmistress told him, "and you can't get up +till day after to-morrow. You might reach Meeker by using the government +'phone, however." + +"Where will I find the government 'phone?" + +"Down in the Supervisor's office. They're very accommodating; they'll let +you use it, if you tell them who you want to reach." + +It was impossible to miss the forestry building for the reason that a +handsome flag fluttered above it. The door being open, Norcross perceived +from the threshold a young clerk at work on a typewriter, while in a +corner close by the window another and older man was working intently on +a map. + +"Is this the office of the Forest Supervisor?" asked the youth. + +The man at the machine looked up, and pleasantly answered: "It is, but +the Supervisor is not in yet. Is there anything I can do for you?" + +"It may be you can. I am on my way to Meeker's Mill for a little outing. +Perhaps you could tell me where Meeker's Mill is, and how I can best get +there." + +The man at the map meditated. "It's not far, some eighteen or twenty +miles; but it's over a pretty rough trail." + +"What kind of a place is it?" + +"Very charming. You'll like it. Real mountain country." + +This officer was a plain-featured man of about thirty-five, with keen and +clear eyes. His voice, though strongly nasal, possessed a note of manly +sincerity. As he studied his visitor, he smiled. + +"You look brand-new--haven't had time to season-check, have you?" + +"No; I'm a stranger in a strange land." + +"Out for your health?" + +"Yes. My name is Norcross. I'm just getting over a severe illness, and +I'm up here to lay around and fish and recuperate--if I can." + +"You can--you will. You can't help it," the other assured him. "Join one +of our surveying crews for a week and I'll mellow that suit of yours and +make a real mountaineer of you. I see you wear a _Sigma Chi_ pin. What +was your school?" + +"I am a 'Son of Eli.' Last year's class." + +The other man displayed his fob. "I'm ten classes ahead of you. My name +is Nash. I'm what they call an 'expert.' I'm up here doing some +estimating and surveying for a big ditch they're putting in. I was rather +in hopes you had come to join our ranks. We sons of Eli are holding the +conservation fort these days, and we need help." + +"My knowledge of your work is rather vague," admitted Norcross. "My +father is in the lumber business; but his point of view isn't exactly +yours." + +"He slays 'em, does he?" + +"He did. He helped devastate Michigan." + +"After me the deluge! I know the kind. Why not make yourself a sort of +vicarious atonement?" + +Norcross smiled. "I had not thought of that. It would help some, wouldn't +it?" + +"It certainly would. There's no great money in the work; but it's about +the most enlightened of all the governmental bureaus." + +Norcross was strongly drawn to this forester, whose tone was that of a +highly trained specialist. "I rode up on the stage yesterday with Miss +Berrie McFarlane." + +"The Supervisor's daughter?" + +"She seemed a fine Western type." + +"She's not a type; she's an individual. She hasn't her like anywhere I've +gone. She cuts a wide swath up here. Being an only child she's both son +and daughter to McFarlane. She knows more about forestry than her father. +In fact, half the time he depends on her judgment." + +Norcross was interested, but did not want to take up valuable time. He +said: "Will you let me use your telephone to Meeker's?" + +"Very sorry, but our line is out of order. You'll have to wait a day or +so--or use the mails. You're too late for to-day's stage, but it's only a +short ride across. Come outside and I'll show you." + +Norcross followed him to the walk, and stood in silence while his guide +indicated the pass over the range. It all looked very formidable to the +Eastern youth. Thunderous clouds hung low upon the peaks, and the great +crags to left and right of the notch were stern and barren. "I think I'll +wait for the stage," he said, with candid weakness. "I couldn't make that +trip alone." + +"You'll have to take many such a ride over that range in the _night_--if +you join the service," Nash warningly replied. + +As they were standing there a girl came galloping up to the hitching-post +and slid from her horse. It was Berea McFarlane. "Good morning, Emery," +she called to the surveyor. "Good morning," she nodded at Norcross. "How +do you find yourself this morning?" + +"Homesick," he replied, smilingly. + +"Why so?" + +"I'm disappointed in the town." + +"What's the matter with the town?" + +"It's so commonplace. I expected it to be--well, different. It's just +like any other plains town." + +Berrie looked round at the forlorn shops, the irregular sidewalks, the +grassless yards. "It isn't very pretty, that's a fact; but you can always +forget it by just looking up at the high country. When you going up to +the mill?" + +"I don't know. I haven't had any word from Meeker, and I can't reach him +by telephone." + +"I know, the line is short-circuited somewhere; but they've sent a man +out. He may close it any minute." + +"Where's the Supervisor?" asked Nash. + +"He's gone over to Moore's cutting. How are you getting on with those +plats?" + +"Very well. I'll have 'em all in shape by Saturday." + +"Come in and make yourself at home," said the girl to Norcross. "You'll +find the papers two or three days old," she smiled. "We never know about +anything here till other people have forgotten it." + +Norcross followed her into the office, curious to know more about her. +She was so changed from his previous conception of her that he was +puzzled. She had the directness and the brevity of phrase of a business +man, as she opened letters and discussed their contents with the men. + +"Truly she _is_ different," thought Norcross, and yet she lost something +by reason of the display of her proficiency as a clerk. "I wish she would +leave business to some one else," he inwardly grumbled as he rose to go. + +She looked up from her desk. "Come in again later. We may be able to +reach the mill." + +He thanked her and went back to his hotel, where he overhauled his outfit +and wrote some letters. His disgust of the town was lessened by the +presence of that handsome girl, and the hope that he might see her at +luncheon made him impatient of the clock. + +She did not appear in the dining-room, and when Norcross inquired of Nash +whether she took her meals at the hotel or not, the expert replied: "No, +she goes home. The ranch is only a few miles down the valley. +Occasionally we invite her, but she don't think much of the cooking." + +One of the young surveyors put in a word: "I shouldn't think she would. +I'd ride ten miles any time to eat one of Mrs. McFarlane's dinners." + +"Yes," agreed Nash with a reflective look in his eyes. "She's a mighty +fine girl, and I join the boys in wishing her better luck than marrying +Cliff Belden." + +"Is it settled that way?" asked Norcross. + +"Yes; the Supervisor warned us all, but even he never has any good words +for Belden. He's a surly cuss, and violently opposed to the service. His +brother is one of the proprietors of the Meeker mill, and they have all +tried to bulldoze Landon, our ranger over there. By the way, you'll like +Landon. He's a Harvard man, and a good ranger. His shack is only a +half-mile from Meeker's house. It's a pretty well-known fact that Alec +Belden is part proprietor of a saloon over there that worries the +Supervisor worse than anything. Cliff swears he's not connected with it; +but he's more or less sympathetic with the crowd." + +Norcross, already deeply interested in the present and future of a girl +whom he had met for the first time only the day before, was quite ready +to give up his trip to Meeker. After the men went back to work he +wandered about the town for an hour or two, and then dropped in at the +office to inquire if the telephone line had been repaired. + +"No, it's still dead." + +"Did Miss McFarlane return?" + +"No. She said she had work to do at home. This is ironing-day, I +believe." + +"She plays all the parts, don't she?" + +"She sure does; and she plays one part as well as another. She can rope +and tie a steer or bake a cake as well as play the piano." + +"Don't tell me she plays the piano!" + +Nash laughed. "She does; but it's one of those you operate with your +feet." + +"I'm relieved to hear that. She seems almost weirdly gifted as it is." +After a moment he broke in with: "What can a man do in this town?" + +"Work, nothing else." + +"What do you do for amusement?" + +"Once in a while there is a dance in the hall over the drug-store, and on +Sunday you can listen to a wretched sermon in the log church. The rest of +the time you work or loaf in the saloons--or read. Old Nature has done +her part here. But man--! Ever been in the Tyrol?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, some day the people of the plains will have sense enough to use +these mountains, these streams, the way they do over there." + +It required only a few hours for Norcross to size up the valley and its +people. Aside from Nash and his associates, and one or two families +connected with the mill to the north, the villagers were poor, +thriftless, and uninteresting. They were lacking in the picturesque +quality of ranchers and miners, and had not yet the grace of +town-dwellers. They were, indeed, depressingly nondescript. + +Early on the second morning he went to the post-office--which was also +the telephone station--to get a letter or message from Meeker. He found +neither; but as he was standing in the door undecided about taking the +stage, Berea came into town riding a fine bay pony, and leading a +blaze-face buckskin behind her. + +Her face shone cordially, as she called out: "Well, how do you stack up +this morning?" + +"Tip-top," he answered, in an attempt to match her cheery greeting. + +"Do you like our town better?" + +"Not a bit! But the hills are magnificent." + +"Anybody turned up from the mill?" + +"No, I haven't heard a word from there. The telephone is still out of +commission." + +"They can't locate the break. Uncle Joe sent word by the stage-driver +asking us to keep an eye out for you and send you over. I've come to take +you over myself." + +"That's mighty good of you; but it's a good deal to ask." + +"I want to see Uncle Joe on business, anyhow, and you'll like the ride +better than the journey by stage." + +Leaving the horses standing with their bridle-reins hanging on the +ground, she led the way to the office. + +"When father comes in, tell him where I've gone, and send Mr. Norcross's +packs by the first wagon. Is your outfit ready?" she asked. + +"Not quite. I can get it ready soon." + +He hurried away in pleasant excitement, and in twenty minutes was at the +door ready to ride. + +"You'd better take my bay," said Berea. "Old Paint-face there is a little +notional." + +Norcross approached his mount with a caution which indicated that he had +at least been instructed in range-horse psychology, and as he gathered +his reins together to mount, Berrie remarked: + +"I hope you're saddle-wise." + +"I had a few lessons in a riding-school," he replied, modestly. + +Young Downing approached the girl with a low-voiced protest: "You +oughtn't to ride old Paint. He nearly pitched the Supervisor the other +day." + +"I'm not worried," she said, and swung to her saddle. + +The ugly beast made off in a tearing sidewise rush, but she smilingly +called back: "All set." And Norcross followed her in high admiration. + +Eventually she brought her bronco to subjection, and they trotted off +together along the wagon-road quite comfortably. By this time the youth +had forgotten his depression, his homesickness of the morning. The valley +was again enchanted ground. Its vistas led to lofty heights. The air was +regenerative, and though a part of this elation was due, no doubt, to the +power of his singularly attractive guide, he laid it discreetly to the +climate. + +After shacking along between some rather sorry fields of grain for a mile +or two, Berea swung into a side-trail. "I want you to meet my mother," +she said. + +The grassy road led to a long, one-story, half-log, half-slab house, +which stood on the bank of a small, swift, willow-bordered stream. + +"This is our ranch," she explained. "All the meadow in sight belongs to +us." + +The young Easterner looked about in astonishment. Not a tree bigger than +his thumb gave shade. The gate of the cattle corral stood but a few feet +from the kitchen door, and rusty beef-bones, bleaching skulls, and scraps +of sun-dried hides littered the ground or hung upon the fence. Exteriorly +the low cabin made a drab, depressing picture; but as he alighted--upon +Berea's invitation--and entered the house, he was met by a sweet-faced, +brown-haired little woman in a neat gown, whose bearing was not in the +least awkward or embarrassed. + +"This is Mr. Norcross, the tourist I told you about," explained Berrie. + +Mrs. McFarlane extended her small hand with friendly impulse. "I'm very +glad to meet you, sir. Are you going to spend some time at the Mill?" + +"I don't know. I have a letter to Mr. Meeker from a friend of mine who +hunted with him last year--a Mr. Sutler." + +"Mr. Sutler! Oh, we know him very well. Won't you sit down?" + +The interior of the house was not only well kept, but presented many +evidences of refinement. A mechanical piano stood against the log wall, +and books and magazines, dog-eared with use, littered the table; and +Norcross, feeling the force of Nash's half-expressed criticism of his +"superior," listened intently to Mrs. McFarlane's apologies for the +condition of the farmyard. + +"Well," said Berea, sharply, "if we're to reach Uncle Joe's for dinner +we'd better be scratching the hills." And to her mother she added: "I'll +pull in about dark." + +The mother offered no objection to her daughter's plan, and the young +people rode off together directly toward the high peaks to the east. + +"I'm going by way of the cut-off," Berrie explained; and Norcross, +content and unafraid, nodded in acquiescence. "Here is the line," she +called a few minutes later, pointing at a sign nailed to a tree at the +foot of the first wooded hill. + +The notice, printed in black ink on a white square of cloth, proclaimed +this to be the boundary of the Bear Tooth National Forest, and pleaded +with all men to be watchful of fires. Its tone was not at all that of a +strong government; it was deprecatory. + +The trail, hardly more than a wood road, grew wilder and lonelier as they +climbed. Cattle fed on the hillsides in scattered bands like elk. Here +and there a small cabin stood on the bank of a stream; but, for the most +part, the trail mounted the high s in perfect solitude. + +The girl talked easily and leisurely, reading the brands of the ranchers, +revealing the number of cattle they owned, quite as a young farmer would +have done. She seemed not to be embarrassed in the slightest degree by +the fact that she was guiding a strange man over a lonely road, and gave +no outward sign of special interest in him till she suddenly turned to +ask: "What kind of a slicker--I mean a raincoat--did you bring?" + +He looked blank. "I don't believe I brought any. I've a leather +shooting-jacket, however." + +She shrugged her shoulders and looked up at the sky. "We're in for a +storm. You'd ought 'o have a slicker, no fancy 'raincoat,' but a real +old-fashioned cow-puncher's oilskin. They make a business of shedding +rain. Leather's no good, neither is canvas; I've tried 'em all." + +She rode on for a few minutes in silence, as if disgusted with his folly, +but she was really worrying about him. "Poor chap," she said to herself. +"He can't stand a chill. I ought to have thought of his slicker myself. +He's helpless as a baby." + +They were climbing fast now, winding upward along the bank of a stream, +and the sky had grown suddenly gray, and the woodland path was dark and +chill. The mountains were not less beautiful; but they were decidedly +less amiable, and the youth shivered, casting an apprehensive eye at the +thickening clouds. + +Berea perceived something of his dismay, and, drawing rein, dismounted. +Behind her saddle was a tightly rolled bundle which, being untied and +shaken out, proved to be a horseman's rainproof oilskin coat. "Put this +on!" she commanded. + +"Oh no," he protested, "I can't take your coat." + +"Yes you can! You must! Don't you worry about me, I'm used to weather. +Put this on over your jacket and all. You'll need it. Rain won't hurt +_me_; but it will just about finish you." + +The worst of this lay in its truth, and Norcross lost all his pride of +sex for the moment. A wetting would not dim this girl's splendid color, +nor reduce her vitality one degree, while to him it might be a +death-warrant. "You could throw me over my own horse," he admitted, in a +kind of bitter admiration, and slipped the coat on, shivering with cold +as he did so. + +"You think me a poor excuse of a trailer, don't you?" he said, ruefully, +as the thunder began to roll. + +"You've got to be all made over new," she replied, tolerantly. "Stay here +a year and you'll be able to stand anything." + +Remounting, she again led the way with cheery cry. The rain came dashing +down in fitful, misty streams; but she merely pulled the rim of her +sombrero closer over her eyes, and rode steadily on, while he followed, +plunged in gloom as cold and gray as the storm. The splitting crashes of +thunder echoed from the high peaks like the voices of siege-guns, and the +lightning stabbed here and there as though blindly seeking some hidden +foe. Long veils of falling water twisted and trailed through the valleys +with swishing roar. + +"These mountain showers don't last long," the girl called back, her face +shining like a rose. "We'll get the sun in a few minutes." + +And so it turned out. In less than an hour they rode into the warm light +again, and in spite of himself Norcross returned her smile, though he +said: "I feel like a selfish fool. You are soaked." + +"Hardly wet through," she reassured him. "My jacket and skirt turn water +pretty well. I'll be dry in a jiffy. It does a body good to be wet once +in a while." + +The shame of his action remained; but a closer friendship was +established, and as he took off the coat and handed it back to her, he +again apologized. "I feel like a pig. I don't see how I came to do it. +The thunder and the chill scared me, that's the truth of it. You +hypnotized me into taking it. How wet you _are_!" he exclaimed, +remorsefully. "You'll surely take cold." + +"I never take cold," she returned. "I'm used to all kinds of weather. +Don't you bother about me." + +Topping a low divide the youth caught a glimpse of the range to the +southeast, which took his breath. "Isn't that superb!" he exclaimed. +"It's like the shining roof of the world!" + +"Yes, that's the Continental Divide," she confirmed, casually; but the +lyrical note which he struck again reached her heart. The men she knew +had so few words for the beautiful in life. She wondered whether this +man's illness had given him this refinement or whether it was native to +his kind. "I'm glad he took my coat," was her thought. + +She pushed on down the , riding hard, but it was nearly two o'clock +when they drew up at Meeker's house, which was a long, low, stone +structure built along the north side of the road. The place was +distinguished not merely by its masonry, but also by its picket fence, +which had once been whitewashed. Farm-wagons of various degrees of decay +stood by the gate, and in the barn-yard plows and harrows--deeply buried +by the weeds--were rusting forlornly away. A little farther up the stream +the tall pipe of a sawmill rose above the firs. + +A pack of dogs of all sizes and signs came clamoring to the fence, +followed by a big, slovenly dressed, red-bearded man of sixty or +thereabouts. + +"Hello, Uncle Joe," called the girl, in offhand boyish fashion. "How are +you _to-day_?" + +"Howdy, girl," answered Meeker, gravely. "What brings you up here this +time?" + +She laughed. "Here's a boarder who wants to learn how to raise cattle." + +Meeker's face lightened. "I reckon you're Mr. Norcross? I'm glad to see +ye. Light off and make yourself to home. Turn your horses into the +corral, the boys will feed 'em." + +"Am I in America?" Norcross asked himself, as he followed the slouchy old +rancher into the unkempt yard. "This certainly is a long way from New +Haven." + +Without ceremony Meeker led his guests directly into the dining-room, a +long and rather narrow room, wherein a woman and six or seven roughly +dressed young men were sitting at a rudely appointed table. + +"Earth and seas!" exclaimed Mrs. Meeker. "Here's Berrie, and I'll bet +that's Sutler's friend, our boarder." + +"That's what, mother," admitted her husband. "Berrie brought him up." + +"You'd ought 'o gone for him yourself, you big lump," she retorted. + +Mrs. Meeker, who was as big as her husband, greeted Norcross warmly, and +made a place for him beside her own chair. + +"Highst along there, boys, and give the company a chance," she commanded, +sharply. "Our dinner's turrible late to-day." + +The boys--they were in reality full-grown cubs of eighteen or twenty--did +as they were bid with much noise, chaffing Berrie with blunt humor. The +table was covered with a red oil-cloth, and set with heavy blue-and-white +china. The forks were two-tined, steel-pronged, and not very polished, +and the food was of the simplest sort; but the girl seemed at home +there--as she did everywhere--and was soon deep in a discussion of the +price of beef, and whether it was advisable to ship now or wait a month. + +Meeker read Sutler's letter, which Norcross had handed him, and, after +deliberation, remarked: "All right, we'll do the best we can for you, Mr. +Norcross; but we haven't any fancy accommodations." + +"He don't expect any," replied Berrie. "What he needs is a little +roughing it." + +"There's plinty of that to be had," said one of the herders, who sat +below the salt. "'is the soft life I'm nadin'." + +"Pat's strong on soft jobs," said another; and Berea joined the laugh +which followed this pointless joke. She appeared to be one of them, and +it troubled Norcross a little. She had so little the sex feeling and +demanded so few of the rights and privileges of a girl. The men all +admired her, that was evident, almost too evident, and one or two of the +older men felt the charm of her young womanhood too deeply even to meet +her eyes; but of this Norcross was happily ignorant. Already in these two +days he had acquired a distinct sense of proprietorship in her, a feeling +which made him jealous of her good name. + +Meeker, it turned out, was an Englishman by way of Canada, and this was +his second American wife. His first had been a sister to Mrs. McFarlane. +He was a man of much reading--of the periodical sort--and the big +sitting-room was littered with magazines both English and American, and +his talk abounded in radical and rather foolish utterances. Norcross +considered it the most disorderly home he had ever seen, and yet it was +not without a certain dignity. The rooms were large and amply provided +with furniture of a very mixed and gaudy sort, and the table was spread +with abundance. + +One of the lads, Frank Meeker, a dark, intense youth of about twenty, was +Berea's full cousin. The others were merely hired hands, but they all +eyed the new-comer with disfavor. The fact that Berrie had brought him +and that she seemed interested in him added to the effect of the smart +riding-suit which he wore. "I'd like to roll him in the creek," muttered +one of them to his neighbor. + +This dislike Berrie perceived--in some degree--and to Frank she privately +said: "Now you fellows have got to treat Mr. Norcross right. He's been +very sick." + +Frank maliciously grinned. "Oh, we'll treat him _right_. We won't do a +thing to him!" + +"Now, Frank," she warned, "if you try any of your tricks on him you'll +hear from me." + +"Why all this worry on your part?" he asked, keenly. "How long since you +found him?" + +"We rode up on the stage day before yesterday, and he seemed so kind o' +blue and lonesome I couldn't help trying to chirk him up." + +"How will Cliff take all this chirking business?" + +"Cliff ain't my guardian--yet," she laughingly responded. "Mr. Norcross +is a college man, and not used to our ways--" + +"_Mister_ Norcross--what's his front name?" + +"Wayland." + +He snorted. "Wayland! If he gets past us without being called 'pasty' +he's in luck. He's a 'lunger' if there ever was one." + +The girl was shrewd enough to see that the more she sought to soften the +wind to her Eastern tenderfoot the more surely he was to be shorn, so she +gave over her effort in that direction, and turned to the old folks. To +Mrs. Meeker she privately said: "Mr. Norcross ain't used to rough ways, +and he's not very rugged, you ought 'o kind o' favor him for a while." + +The girl herself did not understand the vital and almost painful interest +which this young man had roused in her. He was both child and poet to +her, and as she watched him trying to make friends with the men, her +indignation rose against their clownish offishness. She understood fully +that his neat speech, his Eastern accent, together with his tailor-cut +clothing and the delicacy of his table manners, would surely mark him for +slaughter among the cow-hands, and the wish to shield him made her face +graver than anybody had ever seen it. + +"I don't feel right in leaving you here," she said, at last; "but I must +be ridin'." And while Meeker ordered her horse brought out, she walked to +the gate with Norcross at her side. + +"I'm tremendously obliged to you," he said, and his voice was vibrant. +"You have been most kind. How can I repay you?" + +"Oh, that's all right," she replied, in true Western fashion. "I wanted +to see the folks up here, anyhow. This is no jaunt at all for me." And, +looking at her powerful figure, and feeling the trap-like grip of her +cinch hand, he knew she spoke the truth. + +Frank had saddled his own horse, and was planning to ride over the hill +with her; but to this she objected. "I'm going to leave Pete here for Mr. +Norcross to ride," she said, "and there's no need of your going." + +Frank's face soured, and with instant perception of the effect her +refusal might have on the fortunes of the stranger, she reconsidered. + +"Oh, come along! I reckon you want to get shut of some mean job." + +And so she rode away, leaving her ward to adjust himself to his new and +strange surroundings as best he could, and with her going the whole +valley darkened for the convalescent. + + + + +III + +WAYLAND RECEIVES A WARNING + + +Distance is no barrier to gossip. It amazed young Norcross to observe how +minutely the ranchers of the valley followed one another's most intimate +domestic affairs. Not merely was each man in full possession of the color +and number of every calf in his neighbor's herd, it seemed that nothing +could happen in the most remote cabin and remain concealed. Any event +which broke the monotony of their life loomed large, and in all matters +of courtship curiosity was something more than keen, it was remorseless. + +Living miles apart, and riding the roads but seldom, these lonely gossips +tore to tatters every scrap of rumor. No citizen came or went without +being studied, characterized, accounted for, and every woman was +scrutinized as closely as a stray horse, and if there was within her, the +slightest wayward impulse some lawless centaur came to know it, to exult +over it, to make test of it. Her every word, her minutest expression of a +natural coquetry was enlarged upon as a sign of weakness, of yielding. +Every personable female was the focus of a natural desire, intensified by +lonely brooding on the part of the men. + +It was soon apparent to the Eastern observer that the entire male +population for thirty miles around not only knew McFarlane's girl; but +that every unmarried man--and some who were both husbands and +fathers--kept a deeply interested eye upon her daily motion, and certain +shameless ones openly boasted among their fellows of their intention to +win her favor, while the shy ones reveled in secret exultation over every +chance meeting with her. She was the topic of every lumber-camp, and the +shining lure of every dance to which the ranch hands often rode over long +and lonely trails. + +Part of this intense interest was due, naturally, to the scarcity of +desirable women, but a larger part was called out by Berea's frank +freedom of manner. Her ready camaraderie was taken for carelessness, and +the candid grip of her hand was often misunderstood; and yet most of the +men respected her, and some feared her. After her avowed choice of +Clifford Belden they all kept aloof, for he was hot-tempered and +formidably swift to avenge an insult. + +At the end of a week Norcross found himself restless and discontented +with the Meekers. He was tired of fishing, tired of the old man's endless +arguments, and tired of the obscene cow-hands. The men around the mill +did not interest him, and their Saturday night spree at the saloon +disgusted him. The one person who piqued his curiosity was Landon, the +ranger who was stationed not far away, and who could be seen occasionally +riding by on a handsome black horse. There was something in his bearing, +in his neat and serviceable drab uniform, which attracted the +convalescent, and on Sunday morning he decided to venture a call, +although Frank Meeker had said the ranger was a "grouch." + +His cabin, a neat log structure, stood just above the road on a huge +natural terrace of grassy boulders, and the flag which fluttered from a +tall staff before it could be seen for several miles--the bright sign of +federal control, the symbol of law and order, just as the saloon and the +mill were signs of lawless vice and destructive greed. Around the door +flowers bloomed and kittens played; while at the door of the dive broken +bottles, swarms of flies, and heaps of refuse menaced every corner, and +the mill immured itself in its own debris like a foul beast. + +It was strangely moving to come upon this flower-like place and this +garden in the wilderness. A spring, which crept from the high wall back +of "the station" (as these ranger headquarters are called), gave its +delicious water into several winding ditches, trickled musically down the +other side of the terrace in little life-giving cascades, and so finally, +reunited in a single current, fell away into the creek. It was plain that +loving care, and much of it, had been given to this tiny system of +irrigation. + +The cabin's interior pleased Wayland almost as much as the garden. It was +built of pine logs neatly matched and hewed on one side. There were but +two rooms--one which served as sleeping-chamber and office, and one which +was at once kitchen and dining-room. In the larger room a quaint +fireplace with a flat arch, a bunk, a table supporting a typewriter, and +several shelves full of books made up the furnishing. On the walls hung a +rifle, a revolver in its belt, a couple of uniforms, and a yellow oilskin +raincoat. + +The ranger, spurred and belted, with his cuffs turned back, was pounding +the typewriter when Wayland appeared at the open door; but he rose with +grave courtesy. "Come in," he said, and his voice had a pleasant +inflection. + +"I'm interrupting." + +"Nothing serious, just a letter. There's no hurry. I'm always glad of an +excuse to rest from this job." He was at once keenly interested in his +visitor, for he perceived in him the gentleman and, of course, the +alien. + +Wayland, with something of the feeling of a civilian reporting to an +officer, explained his presence in the neighborhood. + +"I've heard of you," responded the ranger, "and I've been hoping you'd +look in on me. The Supervisor's daughter has just written me to look +after you. She said you were not very well." + +Again Wayland protested that he was not a consumptive, only a student who +needed mountain air; but he added: "It is very kind of Miss McFarlane to +think of me." + +"Oh, she thinks of everybody," the young fellow declared. "She's one of +the most unselfish creatures in the world." + +Something in the music of this speech, and something in the look of the +ranger's eyes, caused Wayland to wonder if here were not still another of +Berrie's subjects. He became certain of it as the young officer went on, +with pleasing frankness, and it was not long before he had conveyed to +Wayland his cause for sadness. "She's engaged to a man that is not her +equal. In a certain sense no man is her equal; but Belden is a pretty +hard type, and I believe, although I can't prove it, that he is part +owner of the saloon over there." + +"How does that saloon happen to be here?" + +"It's on patented land--a so-called 'placer claim'--experts have reported +against it. McFarlane has protested against it, but nothing is done. The +mill is also on deeded land, and together they are a plague spot. I'm +their enemy, and they know it; and they've threatened to burn me out. Of +course they won't do that, but they're ready to play any kind of trick on +me." + +"I can well believe that, for I am getting my share of practical jokes at +Meeker's." + +"They're not a bad lot over there--only just rowdy. I suppose they're +initiating you," said Landon. + +"I didn't come out here to be a cowboy," responded Norcross. "But Frank +Meeker seems to be anxious to show me all the good old cowboy courtesies. +On Monday he slipped a burr under my horse's saddle, and I came near to +having my neck broken. Then he or some one else concealed a frog in my +bed, and fouled my hair-brushes. In fact, I go to sleep each night in +expectation of some new attack; but the air and the riding are doing me a +great deal of good, and so I stay." + +"Come and bunk with me," urged Landon. "I'll be glad to have you. I get +terribly lonesome here sometimes, although I'm supposed to have the best +station in the forest. Bring your outfit and stay as long as you like." + +This offer touched Norcross deeply. "That's very kind of you; but I guess +I'll stick it out. I hate to let those hoodlums drive me out." + +"All right, but come and see me often. I get so blue some days I wonder +what's the use of it all. There's one fatal condition about this ranger +business--it's a solitary job, it cuts out marriage for most of us. Many +of the stations are fifteen or twenty miles from a post-office; then, +too, the lines of promotion are few. I guess I'll have to get out, +although I like the work. Come in any time and take a snack with me." + +Thereafter Wayland spent nearly every day with the ranger, either in his +cabin or riding the trail, and during these hours confidence grew until +at last Landon confessed that his unrest arose from his rejection by +Berrie. + +"She was not to blame. She's so kind and free with every one, I thought I +had a chance. I was conceited enough to feel sorry for the other fellows, +and now I can't even feel sorry for myself. I'm just dazed and hanging to +the ropes. She was mighty gentle about it--you know how sunny her face +is--well, she just got grave and kind o' faint-voiced, and said--Oh, you +know what she said! She let me know there was another man. I didn't ask +her who, and when I found out, I lost my grip entirely. At first I +thought I'd resign and get out of the country; but I couldn't do it--I +can't yet. The chance of seeing her--of hearing from her once in a +while--she never writes except on business for her father; but--you'll +laugh--I can't see her signature without a tremor." He smiled, but his +eyes were desperately sad. "I ought to resign, because I can't do my work +as well as I ought to. As I ride the trail I'm thinking of her. I sit +here half the night writing imaginary letters to her. And when I see her, +and she takes my hand in hers--you know what a hand she has--my mind goes +blank. Oh, I'm crazy! I admit it. I didn't know such a thing could happen +to me; but it has." + +"I suppose it's being alone so much," Wayland started to argue, but the +other would not have it so. + +"No, it's the girl herself. She's not only beautiful in body, she's all +sweetness and sincerity in mind. There isn't a petty thing about her. And +her happy smile--do you know, I have times when I resent that smile? How +can she be so happy without me? That's crazy, too, but I think it, +sometimes. Then I think of the time when she will not smile--when that +brute Belden will begin to treat her as he does his sisters--then I get +murderous." + +As Wayland listened to this outpouring he wondered at the intensity of +the forester's passion. He marveled, too, at Berrie's choice, for there +was something fine and high in Landon's worship. A college man with a +mining engineer's training, he should go high in the service. "He made +the mistake of being too precipitate as a lover," concluded Wayland. "His +forthright courtship repelled her." + +Meanwhile his own troubles increased. Frank's dislike had grown to an +impish vindictiveness, and if the old man Meeker had any knowledge of his +son's deviltries, he gave no sign. Mrs. Meeker, however, openly reproved +the scamp. + +"You ought to be ashamed of worrying a sick man," she protested, +indignantly. + +"He ain't so sick as all that; and, besides, he needs the starch taken +out of him," was the boy's pitiless answer. + +"I don't know why I stay," Wayland wrote to Berea. "I'm disgusted with +the men up here--they're all tiresome except Landon--but I hate to slink +away, and besides, the country is glorious. I'd like to come down and see +you this week. May I do so? Please send word that I may." + +She did not reply, and wondering whether she had received his letter or +not, he mounted his horse one beautiful morning and rode away up the +trail with a sense of elation, of eager joy, with intent to call upon her +at the ranch as he went by. + +Hardly had he vanished among the pines when Clifford Belden rode in from +his ranch on Hat Creek, and called at Meeker's for his mail. + +Frank Meeker was in the office, and as he both feared and disliked this +big contemptuous young cattleman, he set to work to make him jealous. + +"You want to watch this one-lung boarder of ours," he warned, with a +grin. "He's been writing to Berrie, and he's just gone down to see her. +His highfalutin ways, and his fine white hands, have put her on the +slant." + +Belden fixed a pair of cold, gray-blue eyes on his tormentor, and said: +"You be careful of your tongue or I'll put _you_ on the slant." + +"I'm her own cousin," retorted Frank. "I reckon I can say what I please +about her. I don't want that dude Easterner to cut you out. She guided +him over here, and gave him her slicker to keep him dry, and I can see +she's terribly taken with him. She's headstrong as a mule, once she gets +started, and if she takes a notion to Norcross it's all up with you." + +"I'm not worrying," retorted Belden. + +"You'd better be. I was down there the other day, and it 'peared like she +couldn't talk of anything else but Mister Norcross, Mister Norcross, till +I was sick of his name." + +An hour later Belden left the mill and set off up the trail behind +Norcross, his face fallen into stern lines. Frank writhed in delight. +"There goes Cliff, hot under the collar, chasing Norcross. If he finds +out that Berrie is interested in him, he'll just about wring that dude's +neck." + +Meanwhile Wayland was riding through the pass with lightening heart, his +thought dwelling on the girl at the end of his journey. Aside from Landon +and Nash, she was the one soul in all this mountain world in whom he took +the slightest interest. Her pity still hurt him, but he hoped to show her +such change of color, such gain in horsemanship, that she could no longer +consider him an invalid. His mind kept so closely to these interior +matters that he hardly saw the path, but his horse led him safely back +with precise knowledge and eager haste. + +As he reached the McFarlane ranch it seemed deserted of men, but a faint +column of smoke rising from the roof of the kitchen gave evidence of a +cook, and at his knock Berrie came to the door with a boyish word of +frank surprise and pleasure. She was dressed in a blue-and-white calico +gown with the collar turned in and the sleeves rolled up; but she seemed +quite unembarrassed, and her pleasure in his coming quite repaid him for +his long and tiresome ride. + +"I've been wondering about you," she said. "I'm mighty glad to see you. +How do you stand it?" + +"You got my letter?" + +"I did--and I was going to write and tell you to come down, but I've had +some special work to do at the office." + +She took the horse's rein from him, and together they started toward +the stables. As she stepped over and around the old hoofs and +meat-bones--which littered the way--without comment, Wayland again +wondered at her apparent failure to realize the disgusting disorder of +the yard. "Why don't she urge the men to clean it up?" he thought. + +This action of stabling the horses--a perfectly innocent and natural one +for her--led one of the hands, a coarse-minded sneak, to watch them from +a corral. "I wonder how Cliff would like that?" he evilly remarked. + +Berea was frankly pleased to see Wayland, and spoke of the improvement +which had taken place in him. "You're looking fine," she said, as they +were returning to the house. "But how do you get on with the boys?" + +"Not very well," he admitted. "They seem to have it in for me. It's a +constant fight." + +"How about Frank?" + +"He's the worst of them all. He never speaks to me that he doesn't insult +me. I don't know why. I've tried my best to get into his good graces, but +I can't. Your uncle I like, and Mrs. Meeker is very kind; but all the +others seem to be sworn enemies. I don't think I could stand it if it +weren't for Landon. I spend a good deal of time with him." + +Her face grew grave. "I reckon you got started wrong," she said at last. +"They'll like you better when you get browned up, and your clothes get +dirty--you're a little too fancy for them just now." + +"But you see," he said, "I'm not trying for their admiration. I haven't +the slightest ambition to shine as a cow-puncher, and if those fellows +are fair samples I don't want anybody to mistake me for one." + +"Don't let that get around," she smilingly replied. "They'd run you out +if they knew you despised them." + +"I've come down here to confer with you," he declared, as they reached +the door. "I don't believe I want any more of their company. What's the +use? As you say, I've started wrong with them, and I don't see any +prospect of getting right; and, besides, I like the rangers better. +Landon thinks I might work into the service. I wonder if I could? It +would give me something to do." + +She considered a moment. "We'll think about that. Come into the kitchen. +I'm cook to-day, mother's gone to town." + +The kitchen was clean and ample, and the delicious odor of new-made bread +filled it with cheer. As the girl resumed her apron, Wayland settled into +a chair with a sigh of content. "I like this," he said aloud. "There's +nothing cowgirl about you now, you're the Anglo-Saxon housewife. You +might be a Michigan or Connecticut girl at this moment." + +Her cheeks were ruddy with the heat, and her eyes intent on her work; but +she caught enough of his meaning to be pleased with it. "Oh, I have to +take a hand at the pots and pans now and then. I can't give all my time +to the service; but I'd like to." + +He boldly announced his errand. "I wish you'd take me to board? I'm sure +your cooking would build up my shattered system a good deal quicker than +your aunt's." + +She laughed, but shook her head. "You ought to be on the hills riding +hard every day. What you need is the high country and the air of the +pines." + +"I'm not feeling any lack of scenery or pine-tree air," he retorted. "I'm +perfectly satisfied right here. Civilized bread and the sight of you will +do me more good than boiled beans and camp bread. I hate to say it, but +the Meeker menu runs largely to beef. Moreover, just seeing you would +help my recovery." + +She became self-conscious at this, and he hastened to add: + +"Not that I'm really sick. Mrs. Meeker, like yourself, persists in +treating me as if I were. I'm feeling fine--perfectly well, only I'm not +as rugged as I want to be." + +She had read that victims of the white plague always talk in this +cheerful way about themselves, and she worked on without replying, and +this gave him an excellent opportunity to study her closely. She was +taller than most women and lithely powerful. There was nothing delicate +about her--nothing spirituelle--on the contrary, she was markedly +full-veined, cheerful and humorous, and yet she had responded several +times to an allusive phrase with surprising quickness. She did so now as +he remarked: "Somebody, I think it was Lowell, has said 'Nature is all +very well for a vacation, but a poor substitute for the society of good +men and women.' It's beautiful up at the mill, but I want some one to +enjoy it with, and there is no one to turn to, except Landon, and he's +rather sad and self-absorbed--you know why. If I were here--in the +valley--you and I could ride together now and then, and you could show me +all the trails. Why not let me come here and board? I'm going to ask your +mother, if I may not do so?" + +Quite naturally he grew more and more personal. He told her of his +father, the busy director of a lumber company, and of his mother, sickly +and inert. + +"She ought never to have married," he said, with darkened brow. "Not one +of her children has even a decent constitution. I'm the most robust of +them all, and I must seem a pretty poor lot to you. However, I wasn't +always like this, and if that young devil, Frank Meeker, hadn't tormented +me out of my sleep, I would have shown you still greater improvement. +Don't you see that it is your duty to let me stay here where I can build +up on your cooking?" + +She turned this aside. "Mother don't think much of my cooking. She says I +can handle a brandin'-iron a heap better than I can a rollin'-pin." + +"You certainly can ride," he replied, with admiring accent. "I shall +never forget the picture you made that first time I saw you racing to +intercept the stage. Do you _know_ how fine you are physically? You're a +wonder." She uttered some protest, but he went on: "When I think of my +mother and sisters in comparison with you, they seem like caricatures of +women. I know I oughtn't to say such things of my mother--she really is +an exceptional person--but a woman should be something more than mind. My +sisters could no more do what you do than a lame duck can lead a ballet. +I suppose it is because I have had to live with a lot of ailing women all +my life that I feel as I do toward you. I worship your health and +strength. I really do. Your care of me on that trip was very sweet--and +yet it stung." + +"I didn't mean to hurt you." + +"I know you didn't, and I'm not complaining. I'm only wishing I could +come here and be 'bossed' by you until I could hold my own against any +weather. You make me feel just as I used to do when I went to a circus +and watched the athletes, men and women, file past me in the sawdust. +They seemed like demigods. As I sit here now I have a fierce desire to be +as well, as strong, as full of life as you are. I hate being thin and +timid. You have the physical perfection that queens ought to have." + +Her face was flushed with inward heat as she listened to his strange +words, which sprang, she feared, from the heart of a man hopelessly ill; +but she again protested. "It's all right to be able to throw a rope and +ride a mean horse, but you have got something else--something I can never +get. Learning is a thousand times finer than muscle." + +"Learning does not compensate for nine-inch shoulders and spindle legs," +he answered. "But I'm going to get well. Knowing you has given me renewed +desire to be a man. I'm going to ride and rough it, and sleep out of +doors till I can follow you anywhere. You'll be proud of me before the +month is out. But I'm going to cut the Meeker outfit. I won't subject +myself to their vulgarities another day. Why should I? It's false pride +in me to hang on up there any longer." + +"Of course you can come here," she said. "Mother will be glad to have +you, although our ranch isn't a bit pretty. Perhaps father will send you +out with one of the rangers as a fire-guard. I'll ask him to-night." + +"I wish you would. I like these foresters. What I've seen of them. I +wouldn't mind serving under a man like Landon. He's fine." + +Upon this pleasant conference Cliff Belden unexpectedly burst. Pushing +the door open with a slam, he confronted Berrie with dark and angry +face. + +"Why, Cliff, where did you come from?" she asked, rising in some +confusion. "I didn't hear you ride up." + +"Apparently not," he sneeringly answered. "I reckon you were too much +occupied." + +She tried to laugh away his black mood. "That's right, I was. I'm chief +cook to-day. Come in and sit down. Mother's gone to town, and I'm playing +her part," she explained, ignoring his sullen displeasure. "Cliff, this +is Mr. Norcross, who is visiting Uncle Joe. Mr. Norcross, shake hands +with Mr. Belden." She made this introduction with some awkwardness, for +her lover's failure to even say, "Howdy," informed her that his jealous +heart was aflame, and she went on, quickly: "Mr. Norcross dropped in on +his way to the post-office, and I'm collecting a snack for him." + +Recognizing Belden's claims upon the girl, Wayland rose. "I must be +going. It's a long ride over the hill." + +"Come again soon," urged Berrie; "father wants to see you." + +"Thank you. I will look in very shortly," he replied, and went out with +such dignity as he could command, feeling, however, very much like a dog +that has been kicked over the threshold. + +Closing the door behind him, Belden turned upon the girl. "What's that +consumptive 'dogie' doing here? He 'peared to be very much at home with +you--too dern much at home!" + +She was prepared for his displeasure, but not for words like these. She +answered, quietly: "He just dropped in on his way to town, and he's not a +dogie!" She resented his tone as well as his words. + +"I've heard about you taking him over to Meeker's and lending him your +only slicker," he went on; "but I didn't expect to find him sittin' here +like he owned you and the place. You're taking altogether too much pains +with him. Can't he put his own horse out? Do you have to go to the stable +with him? You never did have any sense about your actions with men. +You've all along been too free of your reputation, and now I'm going to +take care of it for you. I won't have you nursin' this runt any longer!" + +She perceived now the full measure of his base rage, and her face grew +pale and set. "You're making a perfect fool of yourself, Cliff," she +said, with portentous calmness. + +"Am I?" he asked. + +"You sure are, and you'll see it yourself by and by. You've no call to +get wire-edged about Mr. Norcross. He's not very strong. He's just +getting well of a long sickness. I knew a chill would finish him, that's +why I gave him my slicker. It didn't hurt me, and maybe it saved his +life. I'd do it again if necessary." + +"Since when did you start a hospital for Eastern tenderfeet?" he sneered; +then his tone changed to one of downright command. "You want to cut this +all out, I tell you! I won't have any more of it! The boys up at the mill +are all talkin' about your interest in this little whelp, and I'm getting +the branding-iron from every one I meet. Sam saw you go into the barn +with that dude, and _that_ would have been all over the country +to-morrow, if I hadn't told him I'd sew his mouth up if he said a word +about it. Of course, I don't think you mean anything by this coddlin'." + +"Oh, thank you," she interrupted, with flaming, quick, indignant fury. +"That's mighty nice of you. I went to the barn to show Mr. Norcross where +to stall his horse. I didn't know Sam was here." + +He sneered: "No, I bet you didn't." + +She fired at this. "Come now! Spit it out! Something nasty is in your +mind. Go on! What have I done? What makes you so hot?" + +He began to weaken. "I don't accuse you of anything. I--but I--" + +"Yes you do--in your heart you distrust me--you just as much as said +so!" + +He was losing his high air of command. "Never mind what I said, Berrie, +I--" + +She was blazing now. "But I _do_ mind--I mind a whole lot--I didn't think +it of you," she added, as she realized his cheapness, his coarseness. "I +didn't suppose you could even _think_ such things of me. I don't like +it," she repeated, and her tone hardened, "and I guess you'd better pull +out of here--for good. If you've no more faith in me than that, I want +you to go and never come back." + +"You don't mean that!" + +"Yes, I do! You've shown this yellow streak before, and I'm tired of it. +This is the limit. I'm done with you." + +She stood between tears and benumbing anger now, and he was scared. +"Don't say that, Berrie!" he pleaded, trying to put his arm about her. + +"Keep away from me!" She dashed his hands aside. "I hate you. I never +want to see you again!" She ran into her own room and slammed the door +behind her. + +Belden stood for a long time with his back against the wall, the heat of +his resentment utterly gone, an empty, aching place in his heart. He +called her twice, but she made no answer, and so, at last, he mounted his +horse and rode away. + + + + +IV + +THE SUPERVISOR OF THE FOREST + + +Young Norcross, much as he admired Berrie, was not seeking to exchange +her favor for her lover's enmity, and he rode away with an uneasy feeling +of having innocently made trouble for himself, as well as for a fine, +true-hearted girl. "What a good friendly talk we were having," he said, +regretfully, "and to think she is to marry that big, scowling brute. How +could she turn Landon down for a savage like that?" + +He was just leaving the outer gate when Belden came clattering up and +reined his horse across the path and called out: "See here, you young +skunk, you're a poor, white-livered tenderfoot, and I can't bust you as I +would a full-grown man, but I reckon you better not ride this trail any +more." + +"Why not?" inquired Wayland. + +Belden glared. "Because I tell you so. Your sympathy-hunting game has +just about run into the ground. You've worked this baby dodge about long +enough. You're not so almighty sick as you put up to be, and you'd better +hunt some other cure for lonesomeness, or I'll just about cave your chest +in." + +All this was shockingly plain talk for a slender young scholar to listen +to, but Norcross remained calm. "I think you're unnecessarily excited," +he remarked. "I have no desire to make trouble. I'm considering Miss +Berea, who is too fine to be worried by us." + +His tone was conciliating, and the cowman, in spite of himself, responded +to it. "That's why I advise you to go. She was all right till you came. +Colorado's a big place, and there are plenty other fine ranges for men of +your complaint--why not try Routt County? This is certain, you can't stay +in the same valley with my girl. I serve notice of that." + +"You're making a prodigious ass of yourself," observed Wayland, with calm +contempt. + +"You think so--do you? Well, I'll make a jack-rabbit out of you if I find +you on this ranch again. You've worked on my girl in some way till she's +jest about quit me. I don't see how you did it, you measly little pup, +but you surely have turned her against me!" His rage burst into flame as +he thought of her last words. "If you were so much as half a man I'd +break you in two pieces right now; but you're not, you're nothing but a +dead-on-the-hoof lunger, and there's nothing to do but run you out. So +take this as your final notice. You straddle a horse and head east and +keep a-ridin', and if I catch you with my girl again, I'll deal you a +whole hatful of misery--now that's right!" + +Thereupon, with a final glance of hate in his face, he whirled his horse +and galloped away, leaving Norcross dumb with resentment, intermingled +with wonder. + +"Truly the West is a dramatic country! Here I am, involved in a lover's +wrath, and under sentence of banishment, all within a month! Well, I +suppose there's nothing to do but carry out Belden's orders. He's the +boss," he said as he rode on. "I wonder just what happened after I left? +Something stormy, evidently. She must have given him a sharp rebuff, or +he wouldn't have been so furious with me. Perhaps she even broke her +engagement with him. I sincerely hope she did. She's too good for him. +That's the truth." + +And so, from point to point, he progressed till with fine indignation he +reached a resolution to stay and meet whatever came. "I certainly would +be a timorous animal if I let myself be scared into flight by that big +bonehead," he said at last. "I have as much right here as he has, and the +law must protect me. It can't be that this country is entirely +barbaric." + +Nevertheless, he felt very weak and very much depressed as he rode up the +street of the little town and dismounted at the hotel. The sidewalks were +littered with loafing cowboys and lumber-jacks, and some of them quite +openly ridiculed his riding-breeches and his thin legs. Others merely +grinned, but in their grins lay something more insulting than words. "To +them I am a poor thing," he admitted; but as he lifted his eyes to the +mighty semicircular wall of the Bear Tooth Range, over which the daily +storm was playing, he forgot his small worries. What gorgeous pageantry! +What life-giving air! "If only civilized men and women possessed this +glorious valley, what a place it would be!" he exclaimed, and in the heat +of his indignant contempt he would have swept the valley clean. + +As his eyes caught the flutter of the flag on its staff above the Forest +Service building, his heart went out to the men who unselfishly wrought +beneath that symbol of federal unity for the good of the future. "That is +civilized," he said; "that is prophetic," and alighted at the door in a +glow of confidence. + +Nash, who was alone in the office, looked up from his work. "Come in," he +called, heartily. "Come in and report." + +"Thank you. I'd like to do so; and may I use your desk? I have a letter +to write." + +"Make yourself at home. Take any desk you like. The men are all out on +duty." + +"You're very kind," replied Wayland, gratefully. There was something +reassuring in this greeting, and in the many signs of skill and +scientific reading which the place displayed. It was like a bit of +Washington in the midst of a careless, slovenly, lawless mountain town, +and Norcross took his seat and wrote his letter with a sense of +proprietorship. + +"I'm getting up an enthusiasm for the Service just from hearing Alec +Belden rave against it," he said a few minutes later, as he looked up +from his letter. + +Nash grinned. "How did you like Meeker?" + +"He's a good man, but he has his peculiarities. Belden is your real +enemy. He is blue with malignity--so are most of the cowmen I met up +there. I wish I could do something for the Service. I'm a thoroughly +up-to-date analytical chemist and a passable mining engineer, and my +doctor says that for a year at least I must work in the open air. _Is_ +there anything in this Forest Service for a weakling like me?" + +Nash considered. "The Supervisor might put you on as a temporary guard. +I'll speak to him if you like?" + +"I wish you would. Tell him to forget the pay. I'm not in need of money, +but I do require some incentive--something to do--something to give me +direction. It bores me stiff to fish, and I'm sick of loafing. If +McFarlane can employ me I shall be happy. The country is glorious, but I +can't live on scenery." + +"I think we can employ you, but you'll have to go on as fire-guard or +something like that for the first year. You see, the work is getting to +be more and more technical each year. As a matter of fact"--here he +lowered his voice a little--"McFarlane is one of the old guard, and will +have to give way. He don't know a thing about forestry, and is too old to +learn. His girl knows more about it than he does. She helps him out on +office work, too." + +Wayland wondered a little at the freedom of expression on the part of +Nash; but said: "If he runs his office as he runs his ranch he surely is +condemned to go." + +"There's where the girl comes in. She keeps the boys in the office lined +up and maintains things in pretty fair shape. She knows the old man is in +danger of losing his job, and she's doing her best to hold him to it. +She's like a son to him and he relies on her judgment when a close +decision comes up. But it's only a matter of time when he and all he +represents must drift by. This is a big movement we're mixed with." + +"I begin to feel that that's why I'd like to take it up. It's the only +thing out here that interests me--and I've got to do something. I can't +loaf." + +"Well, you get Berrie to take up your case and you're all right. She has +the say about who goes on the force in this forest." + +It was late in the afternoon before Wayland started back to Meeker's with +intent to repack his belongings and leave the ranch for good. He had +decided not to call at McFarlane's, a decision which came not so much +from fear of Clifford Belden as from a desire to shield Berea from +further trouble, but as he was passing the gate, the girl rose from +behind a clump of willows and called to him: "Oh, Mr. Norcross! Wait a +moment." + +He drew rein, and, slipping from his horse, approached her. "What is it, +Miss Berrie?" he asked, with wondering politeness. + +She confronted him with gravity. "It's too late for you to cross the +ridge. It'll be dark long before you reach the cut-off. You'd better not +try to make it." + +"I think I can find my way," he answered, touched by her consideration. +"I'm not so helpless as I was when I came." + +"Just the same you mustn't go on," she insisted. "Father told me to ask +you to come in and stay all night. He wants to meet you. I was afraid you +might ride by after what happened to-day, and so I came up here to head +you off." She took his horse by the rein, and flashed a smiling glance up +at him. "Come now, do as the Supervisor tells you." + +"Wait a moment," he pleaded. "On second thought, I don't believe it's a +good thing for me to go home with you. It will only make further trouble +for--for us both." + +She was almost as direct as Belden had been. "I know what you mean. I saw +Cliff follow you. He jumped you, didn't he?" + +"He overtook me--yes." + +"What did he say?" + +He hesitated. "He was pretty hot, and said things he'll be sorry for when +he cools off." + +"He told you not to come here any more--advised you to hit the out-going +trail--didn't he?" + +He flushed with returning shame of it all, but quietly answered: "Yes, he +said something about riding east." + +"Are you going to do it?" + +"Not to-day; but I guess I'd better keep away from here." + +She looked at him steadily. "Why?" + +"Because you've been very kind to me, and I wouldn't for the world do +anything to hurt or embarrass you." + +"Don't you mind about me," she responded, bluntly. "What happened this +morning wasn't your fault nor mine. Cliff made a mighty coarse play, +something he'll have to pay for. He knows that right now. He'll be back +in a day or two begging my pardon, and he won't get it. Don't you worry +about me, not for a minute--I can take care of myself--I grew up that +way, and don't you be chased out of the country by anybody. Come, father +will be looking for you." + +With a feeling that he was involving both the girl and himself in still +darker storms, the young fellow yielded to her command, and together they +walked along the weed-bordered path, while she continued: + +"This isn't the first time Cliff has started in to discipline me; but +it's obliged to be the last. He's the kind that think they own a girl +just as soon as they get her to wear an engagement ring; but Cliff don't +own me. I told him I wouldn't stand for his coarse ways, and I won't!" + +Wayland tried to bring her back to humor. "You're a kind of 'new +woman.'" + +She turned a stern look on him. "You bet I am! I was raised a free +citizen. No man can make a slave of me. I thought he understood that; but +it seems he didn't. He's all right in many ways--one of the best riders +in the country--but he's pretty tolerable domineering--I've always known +that--still, I never expected him to talk to me like he did to-day. It +certainly was raw." She broke off abruptly. "You mustn't let Frank Meeker +get the best of you, either," she advised. "He's a mean little weasel if +he gets started. I'll bet he put Cliff up to this business." + +"Do you think so?" + +"Yes, he just as good as told me he'd do it. I know Frank, he's my own +cousin, and someways I like him; but he's the limit when he gets going. +You see, he wanted to get even with Cliff and took that way of doing it. +I'll ride up there and give him a little good advice some Saturday." + +He was no longer amused by her blunt speech, and her dark look saddened +him. She seemed so unlike the happy girl he met that first day, and the +change in her subtended a big, rough, and pitiless world of men against +which she was forced to contend all her life. + +Mrs. McFarlane greeted Norcross with cordial word and earnest hand-clasp. +"I'm glad to see you looking so well," she said, with charming +sincerity. + +"I'm browner, anyway," he answered, and turned to meet McFarlane, a +short, black-bearded man, with fine dark eyes and shapely hands--hands +that had never done anything more toilsome than to lift a bridle rein or +to clutch the handle of a gun. He was the horseman in all his training, +and though he owned hundreds of acres of land, he had never so much as +held a plow or plied a spade. His manner was that of the cow-boss, the +lord of great herds, the claimant of empires of government grass-land. +Poor as his house looked, he was in reality rich. Narrow-minded in +respect to his own interests, he was well in advance of his neighbors on +matters relating to the general welfare, a curious mixture of greed and +generosity, as most men are, and though he had been made Supervisor at a +time when political pull still crippled the Service, he was loyal to the +flag. "I'm mighty glad to see you," he heartily began. "We don't often +get a man from the sea-level, and when we do we squeeze him dry." + +His voice, low, languid, and soft, was most insinuating, and for hours he +kept his guest talking of the East and its industries and prejudices; and +Berrie and her mother listened with deep admiration, for the youngster +had seen a good deal of the old world, and was unusually well read on +historical lines of inquiry. He talked well, too, inspired by his +attentive audience. + +Berrie's eyes, wide and eager, were fixed upon him unwaveringly. He felt +her wonder, her admiration, and was inspired to do his best. Something in +her absorbed attention led him to speak of things so personal that he +wondered at himself for uttering them. + +"I've been dilettante all my life," was one of his confessions. "I've +traveled; I've studied in a tepid sort of fashion; I went through college +without any idea of doing anything with what I got; I had a sort of pride +in keeping up with my fellows; and I had no idea of preparing for any +work in the world. Then came my breakdown, and my doctor ordered me out +here. I came intending to fish and loaf around, but I can't do that. I've +got to do something or go back home. I expected to have a chum of mine +with me, but his father was injured in an automobile accident, so he went +into the office to help out." + +As he talked the girl discovered new graces, new allurements in him. His +smile, so subtly self-derisive, and his voice so flexible and so quietly +eloquent, completed her subjugation. She had no further care concerning +Clifford--indeed, she had forgotten him--for the time at least. The other +part of her--the highly civilized latent power drawn from her mother--was +in action. She lost her air of command, her sense of chieftainship, and +sat humbly at the feet of this shining visitor from the East. + +At last Mrs. McFarlane rose, and Berea, reluctantly, like a child loath +to miss a fairy story, held out her hand to say good night, and the young +man saw on her face that look of adoration which marks the birth of +sudden love; but his voice was frank and his glance kindly as he said: + +"Here I've done all the talking when I wanted you to tell _me_ all sorts +of things." + +"I can't tell you anything." + +"Oh yes, you can; and, besides, I want you to intercede for me with your +father and get me into the Service. But we'll talk about that to-morrow. +Good night." + +After the women left the room Norcross said: + +"I really am in earnest about entering the Forest Service. Landon filled +me with enthusiasm about it. Never mind the pay. I'm not in immediate +need of money; but I do need an interest in life." + +McFarlane stared at him with kindly perplexity. "I don't know exactly +what you can do, but I'll work you in somehow. You ought to work under a +man like Settle, one that could put you through a training in the +rudiments of the game. I'll see what can be done." + +"Thank you for that half promise," said Wayland, and he went to his bed +happier than at any moment since leaving home. + +Berrie, on her part, did not analyze her feeling for Wayland, she only +knew that he was as different from the men she knew as a hawk from a +sage-hen, and that he appealed to her in a higher way than any other had +done. His talk filled her with visions of great cities, and with thoughts +of books, for though she was profoundly loyal to her mountain valley, she +held other, more secret admirations. She was, in fact, compounded of two +opposing tendencies. Her quiet little mother longing--in secret--for the +placid, refined life of her native Kentucky town, had dowered her +daughter with some part of her desire. She had always hated the slovenly, +wasteful, and purposeless life of the cattle-rancher, and though she +still patiently bore with her husband's shortcomings, she covertly hoped +that Berea might find some other and more civilized lover than Clifford +Belden. She understood her daughter too well to attempt to dictate her +action; she merely said to her, as they were alone for a few moments: "I +don't wonder your father is interested in Mr. Norcross, he's very +intelligent--and very considerate." + +"Too considerate," said Berrie, shortly; "he makes other men seem like +bears or pigs." + +Mrs. McFarlane said no more, but she knew that Cliff was, for the time, +among the bears. + + + + +V + +THE GOLDEN PATHWAY + + +Young Norcross soon became vitally engaged with the problems which +confronted McFarlane, and his possible enrolment as a guard filled him +with a sense of proprietorship in the forest, which made him quite +content with Bear Tooth. He set to work at once to acquire a better +knowledge of the extent and boundaries of the reservation. It was, +indeed, a noble possession. Containing nearly eight hundred thousand +acres of woodland, and reaching to the summits of the snow-lined peaks to +the east, south, and west, it appealed to him with silent majesty. It +drew upon his patriotism. Remembering how the timber of his own state had +been slashed and burned, he began to feel a sense of personal +responsibility. He had but to ride into it a few miles in order to +appreciate in some degree its grandeur, considered merely as the source +of a hundred swift streams, whose waters enriched the valleys lying +below. + +He bought a horse of his own--although Berrie insisted upon his retaining +Pete--and sent for a saddle of the army type, and from sheer desire to +keep entirely clear of the cowboy equipment procured puttees like those +worn by cavalry officers, and when he presented himself completely +uniformed, he looked not unlike a slender, young lieutenant of the +cavalry on field duty, and in Berrie's eyes was wondrous alluring. + +He took quarters at the hotel, but spent a larger part of each day in +Berrie's company--a fact which was duly reported to Clifford Belden. +Hardly a day passed without his taking at least one meal at the +Supervisor's home. + +As he met the rangers one by one, he perceived by their outfits, as well +as by their speech, that they were sharply divided upon old lines and +new. The experts, the men of college training, were quite ready to be +known as Uncle Sam's men. They held a pride in their duties, a respect +for their superiors, and an understanding of the governmental policy +which gave them dignity and a quiet authority. They were less policemen +than trusted agents of a federal department. Nevertheless, there was much +to admire in the older men, who possessed a self-reliance, a knowledge of +nature, and a certain rough grace which made them interesting companions, +and rendered them effective teachers of camping and trailing, and while +they were secretly a little contemptuous of the "schoolboys"; they were +all quite ready to ask for expert aid when knotty problems arose. It was +no longer a question of grazing, it was a question of lumbering and +reforestration. + +Nash, who took an almost brotherly interest in his apprentice, +warningly said: "You want to go well clothed and well shod. You'll have +to meet all kinds of weather. Every man in the service, I don't care +what his technical job is, should be schooled in taking care of himself +in the forest and on the trail. I often meet surveyors and civil +engineers--experts--who are helpless as children in camp, and when I +want them to go into the hills and do field work, they are almost +useless. The old-style ranger has his virtues. Settle is just the kind +of instructor you young fellows need." + +Berrie also had keen eyes for his outfit and his training, and under her +direction he learned to pack a horse, set a tent, build a fire in the +rain, and other duties. + +"You want to remember that you carry your bed and board with you," she +said, "and you must be prepared to camp anywhere and at any time." + +The girl's skill in these particulars was marvelous to him, and added to +the admiration he already felt for her. Her hand was as deft, as sure, as +the best of them, and her knowledge of cayuse psychology more profound +than any of the men excepting her father. + +One day, toward the end of his second week in the village, the Supervisor +said: "Well, now, if you're ready to experiment I'll send you over to +Settle, the ranger, on the Horseshoe. He's a little lame on his pen-hand +side, and you may be able to help him out. Maybe I'll ride over there +with you. I want to line out some timber sales on the west side of +Ptarmigan." + +This commission delighted Norcross greatly. "I'm ready, sir, this +moment," he answered, saluting soldier-wise. + +That night, as he sat in the saddle-littered, boot-haunted front room of +Nash's little shack, his host said, quaintly: "Don't think you are +inheriting a soft snap, son. The ranger's job was a man's job in the old +days when it was a mere matter of patrolling; but it's worse and more of +it to-day. A ranger must be ready and willing to build bridges, fight +fire, scale logs, chop a hole through a windfall, use a pick in a ditch, +build his own house, cook, launder, and do any other old trick that comes +along. But you'll know more about all this at the end of ten days than I +can tell you in a year." + +"I'm eager for duty," replied Wayland. + +The next morning, as he rode down to the office to meet the Supervisor, +he was surprised and delighted to find Berea there. "I'm riding, too," +she announced, delightedly. "I've never been over that new trail, and +father has agreed to let me go along." Then she added, earnestly: "I +think it's fine you're going in for the Service; but it's hard work, and +you must be careful till you're hardened to it. It's a long way to a +doctor from Settle's station." + +He was annoyed as well as touched by her warning, for it proclaimed that +he was still far from looking the brave forester he felt himself to be. +He replied: "I'm not going to try anything wild, but I do intend to +master the trailer's craft." + +"I'll teach you how to camp, if you'll let me," she continued. "I've been +on lots of surveys with father, and I always take my share of the work. I +threw that hitch alone." She nodded toward the pack-horse, whose neat +load gave evidence of her skill. "I told father this was to be a real +camping expedition, and as the grouse season is on we'll live on the +country. Can you fish?" + +"Just about that," he laughed. "Good thing you didn't ask me if I could +_catch_ fish?" He was recovering his spirits. "It will be great fun to +have you as instructor in camp science. I seem to be in for all kinds of +good luck." + +They both grew uneasy as time passed, for fear something or some one +would intervene to prevent this trip, which grew in interest each moment; +but at last the Supervisor came out and mounted his horse, the +pack-ponies fell in behind, Berrie followed, and the student of woodcraft +brought up to rear. + +"I hope it won't rain," the girl called back at him, "at least not till +we get over the divide. It's a fine ride up the hill, and the foliage is +at its best." + +It seemed to him the most glorious morning of his life. A few large white +clouds were drifting like snow-laden war-vessels from west to east, +silent and solemn, and on the highest peaks a gray vapor was lightly +clinging. The near-by hills, still transcendently beautiful with the +flaming gold of the aspen, burned against the dark green of the farther +forest, and far beyond the deep purple of the shadowed s rose to +smoky blue and tawny yellow. It was a season, an hour, to create raptures +in a poet, so radiant, so wide-reaching, so tumultuous was the landscape. +Nothing sad, nothing discouraging, showed itself. The wind was brisk, the +air cool and clear, and jewel-like small, frost-painted vines and ripened +shrubberies blazed upward from the ground. As he rode the youth silently +repeated: "Beautiful! Beautiful!" + +For several miles they rode upward through golden forests of aspens. On +either hand rose thick walls of snow-white boles, and in the mystic glow +of their gilded leaves the face of the girl shone with unearthly beauty. +It was as if the very air had become auriferous. Magic coins dangled from +the branches. Filmy shadows fell over her hair and down her strong young +arms like priceless lace. Gold, gold! Everywhere gold, gold and fire! + +Twice she stopped to gaze into Wayland's face to say, with hushed +intensity: "Isn't it wonderful! Don't you wish it would last forever?" + +Her words were poor, ineffectual; but her look, her breathless voice made +up for their lack of originality. Once she said: "I never saw it so +lovely before; it is an enchanted land!" with no suspicion that the +larger part of her ecstasy arose from the presence of her young and +sympathetic companion. He, too, responded to the beauty of the day, of +the golden forest as one who had taken new hold on life after long +illness. + +Meanwhile the Supervisor was calmly leading the way upward, vaguely +conscious of the magical air and mystic landscape in which his young folk +floated as if on wings, thinking busily of the improvements which were +still necessary in the trail, and weighing with care the clouds which +still lingered upon the tallest summits, as if debating whether to go or +to stay. He had never been an imaginative soul, and now that age had +somewhat dimmed his eyes and blunted his senses he was placidly content +with his path. The rapture of the lover, the song of the poet, had long +since abandoned his heart. And yet he was not completely oblivious. To +him it was a nice day, but a "weather breeder." + +"I wonder if I shall ever ride through this mountain world as unmoved as +he seems to be?" Norcross asked himself, after some jarring prosaic +remark from his chief. "I am glad Berrie responds to it." + +At last they left these lower, wondrous forest aisles and entered the +unbroken cloak of firs whose dark and silent deeps had a stern beauty all +their own; but the young people looked back upon the glowing world below +with wistful hearts. Back and forth across a long, down-sweeping ridge +they wove their toilsome way toward the clouds, which grew each hour more +formidable, awesome with their weight, ponderous as continents in their +majesty of movement. The horses began to labor with roaring breath, and +Wayland, dismounting to lighten his pony's burden, was dismayed to +discover how thin the air had become. Even to walk unburdened gave him a +smothering pain in his breast. + +"Better stay on," called the girl. "My rule is to ride the hill going up +and walk it going down. Down hill is harder on a horse than going up." + +Nevertheless he persisted in clambering up some of the steepest parts of +the trail, and was increasingly dismayed by the endless upward reaches of +the foot-hills. A dozen times he thought, "We must be nearly at the top," +and then other and far higher ridges suddenly developed. Occasionally the +Supervisor was forced to unsling an ax and chop his way through a fallen +tree, and each time the student hurried to the spot, ready to aid, but +was quite useless. He admired the ease and skill with which the older man +put his shining blade through the largest bole, and wondered if he could +ever learn to do as well. + +"One of the first essentials of a ranger's training is to learn to swing +an ax," remarked McFarlane, "and you never want to be without a real +tool. _I_ won't stand for a hatchet ranger." + +Berrie called attention to the marks on the trees. "This is the +government sign--a long blaze with two notches above it. You can trust +these trails; they lead somewhere." + +"As you ride a trail study how to improve it," added the Supervisor, +sheathing his ax. "They can all be improved." + +Wayland was sure of this a few steps farther on, when the Supervisor's +horse went down in a small bog-hole, and Berrie's pony escaped only by +the most desperate plunging. The girl laughed, but Wayland was appalled +and stood transfixed watching McFarlane as he calmly extricated himself +from the saddle of the fallen horse and chirped for him to rise. + +"You act as if this were a regular part of the journey," Wayland said to +Berrie. + +"It's all in the day's work," she replied; "but I despise a bog worse +than anything else on the trail. I'll show you how to go round this one." +Thereupon she slid from her horse and came tiptoeing back along the edge +of the mud-hole. + +McFarlane cut a stake and plunged it vertically in the mud. "That means +'no bottom,'" he explained. "We must cut a new trail." + +Wayland was dismounting when Berrie said: "Stay on. Now put your horse +right through where those rocks are. It's hard bottom there." + +He felt like a child; but he did as she bid, and so came safely through, +while McFarlane set to work to blaze a new route which should avoid the +slough which was already a bottomless horror to the city man. + +This mishap delayed them nearly half an hour, and the air grew dark and +chill as they stood there, and the amateur ranger began to understand how +serious a lone night journey might sometimes be. "What would I do if when +riding in the dark my horse should go down like that and pin me in the +mud?" he asked himself. "Eternal watchfulness is certainly one of the +forester's first principles." + +The sky was overshadowed now, and a thin drizzle of rain filled the air. +The novice hastened to throw his raincoat over his shoulders; but +McFarlane rode steadily on, clad only in his shirtsleeves, unmindful of +the wet. Berrie, however, approved Wayland's caution. "That's right; keep +dry," she called back. "Don't pay attention to father, he'd rather get +soaked any day than unroll his slicker. You mustn't take him for model +yet awhile." + +He no longer resented her sweet solicitude, although he considered +himself unentitled to it, and he rejoiced under the shelter of his fine +new coat. He began to perceive that one could be defended against a +storm. + +After passing two depressing marshes, they came to a hillside so steep, +so slippery, so dark, so forbidding, that one of the pack-horses balked, +shook his head, and reared furiously, as if to say "I can't do it, and I +won't try." And Wayland sympathized with him. The forest was gloomy and +cold, and apparently endless. + +After coaxing him for a time with admirable gentleness, the Supervisor, +at Berrie's suggestion, shifted part of the load to her own saddle-horse, +and they went on. + +Wayland, though incapable of comment--so great was the demand upon his +lungs--was not too tired to admire the power and resolution of the girl, +who seemed not to suffer any special inconvenience from the rarefied air. +The dryness of his open mouth, the throbbing of his troubled pulse, the +roaring of his breath, brought to him with increasing dismay the fact +that he had overlooked another phase of the ranger's job. "I couldn't +chop a hole through one of these windfalls in a week," he admitted, as +McFarlane's blade again liberated them from a fallen tree. "To do office +work at six thousand feet is quite different from swinging an ax up here +at timber-line," he said to the girl. "I guess my chest is too narrow for +high altitudes." + +"Oh, you'll get used to it," she replied, cheerily. "I always feel it a +little at first; but I really think it's good for a body, kind o' +stretches the lungs." Nevertheless, she eyed him with furtive anxiety. + +He was beginning to be hungry also--he had eaten a very early +breakfast--and he fell to wondering just where and when they were to +camp; but he endured in silence. "So long as Berrie makes no complaint my +mouth is shut," he told himself. "Surely I can stand it if she can." And +so struggled on. + +Up and up the pathway looped, crossing minute little boggy meadows, on +whose bottomless ooze the grass shook like a blanket, descending steep +ravines and climbing back to dark and muddy s. The forest was +dripping, green, and silent now, a mysterious menacing jungle. All the +warmth and magic of the golden forest below was lost as though it +belonged to another and sunnier world. Nothing could be seen of the high, +snow-flecked peaks which had allured them from the valley. All about them +drifted the clouds, and yet through the mist the flushed face of the girl +glowed like a dew-wet rose, and the imperturbable Supervisor jogged his +remorseless, unhesitating way toward the dense, ascending night. + +"I'm glad I'm not riding this pass alone," Wayland said, as they paused +again for breath. + +"So am I," she answered; but her thought was not his. She was happy at +the prospect of teaching him how to camp. + +At last they reached the ragged edge of timber-line, and there, rolling +away under the mist, lay the bare, grassy, upward-climbing, naked neck of +the great peak. The wind had grown keener moment by moment, and when they +left the storm-twisted pines below, its breath had a wintry nip. The rain +had ceased to fall, but the clouds still hung densely to the loftiest +summits. It was a sinister yet beautiful world--a world as silent as a +dream, and through the short, thick grass the slender trail ran like a +timid serpent. The hour seemed to have neither daytime nor season. All +was obscure, mysterious, engulfing, and hostile. Had he been alone the +youth would have been appalled by the prospect. + +"Now we're on the divide," called Berea; and as she spoke they seemed to +enter upon a boundless Alpine plain of velvet-russet grass. "This is the +Bear Tooth plateau." Low monuments of loose rock stood on small ledges, +as though to mark the course, and in the hollows dark ponds of icy water +lay, half surrounded by masses of compact snow. + +"This is a stormy place in winter," McFarlane explained. "These piles of +stone are mighty valuable in a blizzard. I've crossed this divide in +August in snow so thick I could not see a rod." + +Half an hour later they began to descend. Wind-twisted, storm-bleached +dwarf pines were first to show, then the firs, then the blue-green +spruces, and then the sheltering deeps of the undespoiled forest opened, +and the roar of a splendid stream was heard; but still the Supervisor +kept his resolute way, making no promises as to dinner, though his +daughter called: "We'd better go into camp at Beaver Lake. I hope you're +not starved," she called to Wayland. + +"But I am," he replied, so frankly that she never knew how faint he +really was. His knees were trembling with weakness, and he stumbled +dangerously as he trod the loose rocks in the path. + +They were all afoot now descending swiftly, and the horses ramped down +the trail with expectant haste, so that in less than an hour from +timber-line they were back into the sunshine of the lower valley, and at +three o'clock or thereabouts they came out upon the bank of an exquisite +lake, and with a cheery shout McFarlane called out: "Here we are, out of +the wilderness!" Then to Wayland: "Well, boy, how did you stand it?" + +"Just middling," replied Wayland, reticent from weariness and with joy of +their camping-place. The lake, dark as topaz and smooth as steel, lay in +a frame of golden willows--as a jewel is filigreed with gold--and above +it the cliffs rose three thousand feet in sheer majesty, their upper +s glowing with autumnal grasses. A swift stream roared down a low +ledge and fell into the pond near their feet. Grassy, pine-shadowed +knolls afforded pasture for the horses, and two giant firs, at the edge +of a little glade, made a natural shelter for their tent. + +With businesslike certitude Berrie unsaddled her horse, turned him loose, +and lent a skilful hand at removing the panniers from the pack-animals, +while Wayland, willing but a little uncertain, stood awkwardly about. +Under her instruction he collected dead branches of a standing fir, and +from these and a few cones kindled a blaze, while the Supervisor hobbled +the horses and set the tent. + +"If the work of a forester were all like this it wouldn't be so bad," he +remarked, wanly. "I think I know several fellows who would be glad to do +it without a cent of pay." + +"Wait till you get to heaving a pick," she retorted, "or scaling lumber +in a rain, or building a corduroy bridge." + +"I don't want to think of anything so dreadful. I want to enjoy this +moment. I never was hungrier or happier in my life." + +"Do ye good," interjected McFarlane, who had paused to straighten up the +coffee-pot. "Most people don't know what hunger means. There's nothing +finer in the world than good old-fashioned hunger, provided you've got +something to throw into yourself when you come into camp. This is a great +place for fish. I think I'll see if I can't jerk a few out." + +"Better wait till night," said his daughter. "Mr. Norcross is starving, +and so am I. Plain bacon will do me." + +The coffee came to a boil, the skillet gave off a wondrous savor, and +when the corn and beans began to sizzle, the trailers sat down to their +feast in hearty content, with one of the panniers for a table, and the +fir-tree for roof. "This is one of the most perfectly appointed +dining-rooms in the world," exclaimed the alien. + +The girl met his look with a tender smile. "I'm glad you like it, for +perhaps we'll stay a week." + +"It looks stormy," the Supervisor announced, after a glance at the +crests. "I'd like to see a soaking rain--it would end all our worry about +fires. The country's very dry on this side the range, and your duty for +the present will be to help Tony patrol." + +While he talked on, telling the youth how to beat out a small blaze and +how to head off a large one, Wayland listened, but heard his instructions +only as he sensed the brook, as an accompaniment to Berea's voice, for as +she busied herself clearing away the dishes and putting the camp to +rights, she sang. + +"You're to have the tent," said her father, "and we two huskies will +sleep under the shade of this big fir. If you're ever caught out," he +remarked to Wayland, "hunt for one of these balsam firs; there's always a +dry spot under them. See here!" And he showed him the sheltered circle +beneath the tree. "You can always get twigs for kindling from their inner +branches," he added, "or you can hew into one of these dead trees and get +some pitchy splinters. There's material for everything you want if you +know where to find it. Shelter, food, fire are all here for us as they +were for the Indians. A ranger who needs a roof all the time is not worth +his bacon." + +So, one by one, the principles of camping were taught by the kindly old +rancher; but the hints which the girl gave were quite as valuable, for +Wayland was eager to show her that he could be, and intended to be, a +forester of the first class or perish in the attempt. + +McFarlane went farther and talked freely of the forest and what it meant +to the government. "We're all green at the work," he said, "and we old +chaps are only holding the fort against the thieves till you youngsters +learn how to make the best use of the domain." + +"I can see that it takes more than technical training to enable a man to +be Supervisor of a forest," conceded Wayland. + +McFarlane was pleased with this remark. "That's true, too. It's a big +responsibility. When I first came on, it was mainly patrolling; but now, +with a half dozen sawmills, and these 'June Eleventh Homesteads,' and the +new ways of marking timber, and the grazing and free-use permits, the +office work has doubled. And this is only the beginning. Wait till +Colorado has two millions of people, and all these lower valleys are +clamoring for water. Then you'll see a new party spring up--right here in +our state." + +Berrie was glowing with happiness. "Let's stay here till the end of the +week," she suggested. "I've always wanted to camp on this lake, and now +I'm here I want time to enjoy it." + +"We'll stay a day or two," said her father; "but I must get over to that +ditch survey which is being made at the head of Poplar, and then Moore is +coming over to look at some timber on Porcupine." + +The young people cut willow rods and went angling at the outlet of the +lake with prodigious success. The water rippled with trout, and in half +an hour they had all they could use for supper and breakfast, and, +behold, even as they were returning with their spoil they met a covey of +grouse strolling leisurely down to the lake's edge. "Isn't it a wonderful +place!" exclaimed the happy girl. "I wish we could stay a month." + +"It's like being on the Swiss Family Robinson's Island. I never was more +content," he said, fervently. "I wouldn't mind staying here all winter." + +"I would!" she laughed. "The snow falls four feet deep up here. It's +likely there's snow on the divide this minute, and camping in the snow +isn't so funny. Some people got snowed in over at Deep Lake last year and +nearly all their horses starved before they could get them out. This is a +fierce old place in winter-time." + +"I can't imagine it," he said, indicating the glowing amphitheater which +inclosed the lake. "See how warmly the sun falls into that high basin! +It's all as beautiful as the Tyrol." + +The air at the moment was golden October, and the dark clouds which lay +to the east seemed the wings of a departing rather than an approaching +storm; and even as they looked, a rainbow sprang into being, arching the +lake as if in assurance of peace and plenty, and the young people, as +they turned to face it, stood so close together that each felt the glow +of the other's shoulder. The beauty of the scene seemed to bring them +together in body as in spirit, and they fell silent. + +McFarlane seemed quite unconscious of any necromancy at work upon his +daughter. He smoked his pipe, made notes in his field-book, directing an +occasional remark toward his apprentice, enjoying in his tranquil, +middle-age way the beauty and serenity of the hour. + +"This is the kind of thing that makes up for a hard day's ride," he said, +jocosely. + +As the sunset came on, the young people again loitered down to the +water's edge, and there, seated side by side, on a rocky knoll, watched +the phantom gold lift from the willows and climb slowly to the cliffs +above, while the water deepened in shadow, and busy muskrats marked its +glossy surface with long silvery lines. Mischievous camp-birds peered at +the couple from the branches of the pines uttering satirical comment, +while squirrels, frankly insolent, dropped cones upon their heads and +barked in saucy glee. + +Wayland forgot all the outside world, forgot that he was studying to be a +forest ranger, and was alive only to the fact that in this most +bewitching place, in this most entrancing hour, he had the companionship +of a girl whose eyes sought his with every new phase of the silent and +wonderful scene which shifted swiftly before their eyes like a noiseless +yet prodigious drama. The blood in his thin body warmed. He forgot his +fatigue, his weakness. He was the poet and the forest lover, and this the +heart of the range. + +Lightly the golden glory rose till only the highest peaks retained its +flame; then it leapt to the clouds behind the peaks, and gorgeously lit +their somber sulphurous masses. The edges of the pool grew black as +night; the voice of the stream grew stern; and a cold wind began to fall +from the heights, sliding like an invisible but palpable icy cataract. + +At last the girl rose. "It is getting dark. I must go back and get +supper." + +"We don't need any supper," he protested. + +"Father does, and you'll be hungry before morning," she retorted, with +sure knowledge of men. + +He turned from the scene reluctantly; but once at the camp-fire +cheerfully gave his best efforts to the work in hand, seconding Berrie's +skill as best he could. + +The trout, deliciously crisp, and some potatoes and batter-cakes made a +meal that tempted even his faint appetite, and when the dishes were +washed and the towels hung out to dry, deep night possessed even the high +summit of stately Ptarmigan. + +McFarlane then said: "I'll just take a little turn to see that the horses +are all right, and then I think we'd better close in for the night." + +When they were alone in the light of the fire, Wayland turned to Berrie: +"I'm glad you're here. It must be awesome to camp alone in a wilderness; +and yet, I suppose, I must learn to do it." + +"Yes, the ranger often has to camp alone, ride alone, and work alone for +weeks at a time," she assured him. "A good trailer don't mind a night +trip any more than he does a day trip, or if he does he never admits it. +Rain, snow, darkness, is all the same to him. Most of the boys are +fifteen to forty miles from the post-office." + +He smiled ruefully. "I begin to have new doubts about this ranger +business. It's a little more vigorous than I thought it was. Suppose a +fellow breaks a leg on one of those high trails?" + +"He mustn't!" she hastened to say. "He can't afford really to take +reckless chances; but then father won't expect as much of you as he does +of the old-stagers. You'll have plenty of time to get used to it." + +"I may be like the old man's cow and the green shavings, just as I'm +getting used to it I'll die." + +She didn't laugh at this. "You mustn't be rash; don't jump into any hard +jobs for the present; let the other fellow do it." + +"But that's not very manly. If I go into the work I ought to be able to +take my share of any task that turns up." + +"You'd better go slow," she argued. "Wait till you get hardened to it. +You need something over your shoulders now," she added; and rose and laid +a blanket over him. "You're tired; you'll take a chill if you're not +careful." + +"You're very considerate," he said, looking up at her gratefully. "But it +makes me feel like a child to think I need such care. If honestly trying, +if going up against these hills and winds with Spartan courage will do me +good, I'm for it. I'm resolved to show to you and your good father that I +can learn to ride and pack and cut trail, and do all the rest of +it--there's some honor in qualifying as a forester, and I'm going to do +it." + +"Of course there isn't much in it for you. The pay, even of a full +ranger, isn't much, after you count out his outlay for horses and saddles +and their feed, and his own feed. It don't leave so very much of his +ninety dollars a month." + +"I'm not thinking of that," he retorted. "If you had once seen a doctor +shake his head over you, as I have, you'd think just being here in this +glorious spot, as I am to-night, would be compensation enough. It's a joy +to be in the world, and a delight to have you for my teacher." + +She was silent under the pleasure of his praise, and he went on: "I +_know_ I'm better, and, I'm perfectly certain I can regain my strength. +The very odor of these pines and the power of these winds will bring it +back to me. See me now, and think how I looked when I came here six weeks +ago." + +She looked at him with fond agreement. "You _are_ better. When I saw you +first I surely thought you were--" + +"I know what you thought--and forget it, _please_! Think of me as one who +has touched mother earth again and is on the way to being made a giant. +You can't imagine how marvelous, how life-giving all this is to me. It is +poetry, it is prophecy, it is fulfilment. I am fully alive again." + +McFarlane, upon his return, gave some advice relating to the care of +horses. "All this stock which is accustomed to a barn or a pasture will +quit you," he warned. "Watch your broncos. Put them on the outward side +of your camp when you bed down, and pitch your tent near the trail, then +you will hear the brutes if they start back. Some men tie their stock all +up; but I usually picket my saddle-horse and hobble the rest." + +It was a delightful hour for schooling, and Wayland would have been +content to sit there till morning listening; but the air bit, and at last +the Supervisor asked: "Have you made your bed? If you have, turn in. I +shall get you out early to-morrow." As he saw the bed, he added: "I see +you've laid out a bed of boughs. That shows how Eastern you are. We don't +do that out here. It's too cold in this climate, and it's too much work. +You want to hug the ground--if it's dry." + +The weary youth went to his couch with a sense of timorous elation, for +he had never before slept beneath the open sky. Over him the giant +fir--tall as a steeple--dropped protecting shadow, and looking up he +could see the firelight flickering on the wide-spread branches. His bed +seemed to promise all the dreams and restful drowse which the books on +outdoor life had described, and close by in her tiny little canvas house +he could hear the girl in low-voiced conversation with her sire. All +conditions seemed right for slumber, and yet slumber refused to come! + +After the Supervisor had rolled himself in the blanket, long after all +sounds had ceased in the tent, there still remained for the youth a score +of manifold excitations to wakefulness. Down on the lake the muskrats and +beavers were at their work. Nocturnal birds uttered uncanny, disturbing +cries. Some animal with stealthy crackling tread was ranging the +hillside, and the roar of the little fall, so far from lulling him to +sleep--as he had imagined it would--stimulated his imagination till he +could discern in it the beat of scurrying wings and the patter of +pernicious padded feet. "If I am appalled by the wilderness now, what +would it seem to me were I alone!" he whispered. + +Then, too, his bed of boughs discovered unforeseen humps and knobs, and +by the time he had adjusted himself to their discomfort, it became +evident that his blankets were both too thin and too short. And the gelid +air sweeping down from the high places submerged him as if with a flood +of icy water. In vain he turned and twisted within his robes. No sooner +were his shoulders covered and comfortable than his hip-bones began to +ache. Later on the blood of his feet congealed, and in the effort to wrap +them more closely, he uncovered his neck and shoulders. The frost became +a wolf, the night an oppressor. "I must have a different outfit," he +decided. And then thinking that this was but early autumn, he added: +"What will it be a month later?" He began to doubt his ability to measure +up to the heroic standard of a forest patrol. + +The firelight flickered low, and a prowling animal daringly sniffed about +the camp, pawing at the castaway fragments of the evening meal. The youth +was rigid with fear. "Is it a bear? Shall I call the Supervisor?" he +asked himself. + +He felt sadly unprotected, and wished McFarlane nearer at hand. "It may +be a lion, but probably it is only a coyote, or a porcupine," he +concluded, and lay still for what seemed like hours waiting for the beast +to gorge himself and go away. + +He longed for morning with intense desire, and watched an amazingly +luminous star which hung above the eastern cliff, hoping to see it pale +and die in dawn light, but it did not; and the wind bit even sharper. His +legs ached almost to the cramping-point, and his hip-bones protruded like +knots on a log. "I didn't know I had door-knobs on my hips," he remarked, +with painful humor, and, looking down at his feet, he saw that a thick +rime was gathering on his blanket. "This sleeping out at night isn't what +the books crack it up to be," he groaned again, drawing his feet up to +the middle of his bed to warm them. "Shall I resign to-morrow? No, I'll +stay with it; but I'll have more clothing. I'll have blankets six inches +thick. Heaps of blankets--the fleecy kind--I'll have an air-mattress." +His mind luxuriated in these details till he fell into an uneasy drowse. + + + + +VI + +STORM-BOUND + + +Wayland was awakened by the mellow voice of his chief calling: "_All out! +All out! Daylight down the creek!_" Breathing a prayer of thankfulness, +the boy sat up and looked about him. "The long night is over at last, and +I am alive!" he said, and congratulated himself. + +He drew on his shoes and, stiff and shivering, stood about in helpless +misery, while McFarlane kicked the scattered, charred logs together, and +fanned the embers into a blaze with his hat. It was heartening to see the +flames leap up, flinging wide their gorgeous banners of heat and light, +and in their glow the tenderfoot ranger rapidly recovered his courage, +though his teeth still chattered and the forest was dark. + +"How did you sleep?" asked the Supervisor. + +"First rate--at least during the latter part of the night," Wayland +briskly lied. + +"That's good. I was afraid that Adirondack bed of yours might let the +white wolf in." + +"My blankets did seem a trifle thin," confessed Norcross. + +"It don't pay to sleep cold," the Supervisor went on. "A man wants to +wake up refreshed, not tired out with fighting the night wind and frost. +I always carry a good bed." + +It was instructive to see how quietly and methodically the old +mountaineer went about his task of getting the breakfast. First he cut +and laid a couple of eight-inch logs on either side of the fire, so that +the wind drew through them properly, then placing his dutch-oven cover on +the fire, he laid the bottom part where the flames touched it. Next he +filled his coffee-pot with water, and set it on the coals. From his +pannier he took his dishes and the flour and salt and pepper, arranging +them all within reach, and at last laid some slices of bacon in the +skillet. + +At this stage of the work a smothered cry, half yawn, half complaint, +came from the tent. "Oh, hum! Is it morning?" inquired Berrie. + +"Morning!" replied her father. "It's going toward noon. You get up or +you'll have no breakfast." + +Thereupon Wayland called: "Can I get you anything, Miss Berrie? Would you +like some warm water?" + +"What for?" interposed McFarlane, before the girl could reply. + +"To bathe in," replied the youth. + +"To bathe in! If a daughter of mine should ask for warm water to wash +with I'd throw her in the creek." + +Berrie chuckled. "Sometimes I think daddy has no feeling for me. I reckon +he thinks I'm a boy." + +"Hot water is debilitating, and very bad for the complexion," retorted +her father. "Ice-cold water is what you need. And if you don't get out o' +there in five minutes I'll dowse you with a dipperful." + +This reminded Wayland that he had not yet made his own toilet, and, +seizing soap, towel, and brushes, he hurried away down to the beach where +he came face to face with the dawn. The splendor of it smote him full in +the eyes. From the waveless surface of the water a spectral mist was +rising, a light veil, through which the stupendous cliffs loomed three +thousand feet in height, darkly shadowed, dim and far. The willows along +the western marge burned as if dipped in liquid gold, and on the lofty +crags the sun's coming created keen-edged shadows, violet as ink. Truly +this forestry business was not so bad after all. It had its +compensations. + +Back at the camp-fire he found Berrie at work, glowing, vigorous, +laughing. Her comradeship with her father was very charming, and at the +moment she was rallying him on his method of bread-mixing. "You should +rub the lard into the flour," she said. "Don't be afraid to get your +hands into it--after they are clean. You can't mix bread with a spoon." + +"Sis, I made camp bread for twenty years afore you were born." + +"It's a wonder you lived to tell of it," she retorted, and took the pan +away from him. "That's another thing _you_ must learn," she said to +Wayland. "You must know how to make bread. You can't expect to find +bake-shops or ranchers along the way." + +In the heat of the fire, in the charm of the girl's presence, the young +man forgot the discomforts of the night, and as they sat at breakfast, +and the sun rising over the high summits flooded them with warmth and +good cheer, and the frost melted like magic from the tent, the experience +had all the satisfying elements of a picnic. It seemed that nothing +remained to do; but McFarlane said: "Well, now, you youngsters wash up +and pack whilst I reconnoiter the stock." And with his saddle and bridle +on his shoulder he went away down the trail. + +Under Berrie's direction Wayland worked busily putting the camp equipment +in proper parcels, taking no special thought of time till the tent was +down and folded, the panniers filled and closed, and the fire carefully +covered. Then the girl said: "I hope the horses haven't been stampeded. +There are bears in this valley, and horses are afraid of bears. Father +ought to have been back before this. I hope they haven't quit us." + +"Shall I go and see?" + +"No, he'll bring 'em--if they're in the land of the living. He picketed +his saddle-horse, so he's not afoot. Nobody can teach him anything about +trailing horses, and, besides, you might get lost. You'd better keep +close to camp." + +Thereupon Wayland put aside all responsibility. "Let's see if we can +catch some more fish," he urged. + +To this she agreed, and together they went again to the outlet of the +lake--where the trout could be seen darting to and fro on the clear, dark +flood--and there cast their flies till they had secured ten good-sized +fish. + +"We'll stop now," declared the girl. "I don't believe in being +wasteful." + +Once more at the camp they prepared the fish for the pan. The sun +suddenly burned hot and the lake was still as brass, but great, splendid, +leisurely, gleaming clouds were sailing in from the west, all centering +about Chief Audobon, and the experienced girl looked often at the sky. "I +don't like the feel of the air. See that gray cloud spreading out over +the summits of the range, that means something more than a shower. I do +hope daddy will overtake the horses before they cross the divide. It's +going to pour up there." + +"What can I do?" + +"Nothing. We'll stay right here and get dinner for him. He'll be hungry +when he gets back." + +As they were unpacking the panniers and getting out the dishes, thunder +broke from the high crags above the lake, and the girl called out: + +"Quick! It's going to rain! We must reset the tent and get things under +cover." + +Once more he was put to shame by the decision, the skill, and the +strength with which she went about re-establishing the camp. She led, he +followed in every action. In ten minutes the canvas was up, the beds +rolled, the panniers protected, the food stored safely; but they were +none too soon, for the thick gray veil of rain, which had clothed the +loftiest crags for half an hour, swung out over the water--leaden-gray +under its folds--and with a roar which began in the tall pines--a roar +which deepened, hushed only when the thunder crashed resoundingly from +crag to crest--the tempest fell upon the camp and the world of sun and +odorous pine vanished almost instantly, and a dark, threatening, and +forbidding world took its place. + +But the young people--huddled close together beneath the tent--would have +enjoyed the change had it not been for the thought of the Supervisor. "I +hope he took his slicker," the girl said, between the tearing, ripping +flashes of the lightning. "It's raining hard up there." + +"How quickly it came. Who would have thought it could rain like this +after so beautiful a morning?" + +"It storms when it storms--in the mountains," she responded, with the +sententious air of her father. "You never can tell what the sky is going +to do up here. It is probably snowing on the high divide. Looks now as +though those cayuses pulled out sometime in the night and have hit the +trail for home. That's the trouble with stall-fed stock. They'll quit you +any time they feel cold and hungry. Here comes the hail!" she shouted, as +a sharper, more spiteful roar sounded far away and approaching. "Now keep +from under!" + +"What will your father do?" he called. + +"Don't worry about him. He's at home any place there's a tree. He's +probably under a balsam somewhere, waiting for this ice to spill out. The +only point is, they may get over the divide, and if they do it will be +slippery coming back." + +For the first time the thought that the Supervisor might not be able to +return entered Wayland's mind; but he said nothing of his fear. + +The hail soon changed to snow, great, clinging, drowsy, soft, slow-moving +flakes, and with their coming the roar died away and the forest became as +silent as a grave of bronze. Nothing moved, save the thick-falling, +feathery, frozen vapor, and the world was again very beautiful and very +mysterious. + +"We must keep the fire going," warned the girl. "It will be hard to start +after this soaking." + +He threw upon the fire all of the wood which lay near, and Berrie, taking +the ax, went to the big fir and began to chop off the dry branches which +hung beneath, working almost as effectively as a man. Wayland insisted on +taking a turn with the tool; but his efforts were so awkward that she +laughed and took it away again. "You'll have to take lessons in swinging +an ax," she said. "That's part of the job." + +Gradually the storm lightened, the snow changed back into rain, and +finally to mist; but up on the heights the clouds still rolled wildly, +and through their openings the white drifts bleakly shone. + +"It's all in the trip," said Berrie. "You have to take the weather as it +comes on the trail." As the storm lessened she resumed the business of +cooking the midday meal, and at two o'clock they were able to eat in +comparative comfort, though the unmelted snow still covered the trees, +and water dripped from the branches. + +"Isn't it beautiful!" exclaimed Wayland, with glowing boyish face. "The +landscape is like a Christmas card. In its way it's quite as beautiful as +that golden forest we rode through." + +"It wouldn't be so beautiful if you had to wallow through ten miles of +it," she sagely responded. "Daddy will be wet to the skin, for I found he +didn't take his slicker. However, the sun may be out before night. That's +the way the thing goes in the hills." + +To the youth, though the peaks were storm-hid, the afternoon was joyous. +Berrie was a sweet companion. Under her supervision he practised at +chopping wood and took a hand at cooking. At her suggestion he stripped +the tarpaulin from her father's bed and stretched it over a rope before +the tent, thus providing a commodious kitchen and dining-room. Under this +roof they sat and talked of everything except what they should do if the +father did not return, and as they talked they grew to even closer +understanding. + +Though quite unlearned of books, she had something which was much more +piquant than anything which theaters and novels could give--she possessed +a marvelous understanding of the natural world in which she lived. As the +companion of her father on many of his trips, she had absorbed from him, +as well as from the forest, a thousand observations of plant and animal +life. Seemingly she had nothing of the woman's fear of the wilderness, +she scarcely acknowledged any awe of it. Of the bears, and other +predatory beasts, she spoke carelessly. + +"Bears are harmless if you let 'em alone," she said, "and the +mountain-lion is a great big bluff. He won't fight, you can't make him +fight; but the mother lion will. She's dangerous when she has cubs--most +animals are. I was out hunting grouse one day with a little twenty-two +rifle, when all at once, as I looked up along a rocky point I was +crossing, I saw a mountain-lion looking at me. First I thought I'd let +drive at him; but the chances were against my getting him from there, so +I climbed up above him--or where I thought he was--and while I was +looking for him I happened to glance to my right, and there he was about +fifty feet away looking at me pleasant as you please. Didn't seem to be +mad at all--'peared like he was just wondering what I'd do next. I jerked +my gun into place, but he faded away. I crawled around to get behind him, +and just when I reached the ledge on which he had been standing a few +minutes before, I saw him just where I'd been. He had traded places with +me. I began to have that creepy feeling. He was so silent and so kind of +pleasant-looking I got leery of him. It just seemed like as though I'd +dreamed him. He didn't seem real." + +Wayland shuddered. "You foolish girl! Why didn't you run?" + +"I did. I began to figure then that this was a mother lion, and that her +cubs were close by, and that she could just as well sneak up and drop on +me from above as not. So I got down and left her alone. It was her +popping up now here and now there like a ghost that locoed me. I was sure +scared." + +Wayland did not enjoy this tale. "I never heard of such folly. Did your +father learn of that adventure?" + +"Yes, I told him." + +"Didn't he forbid your hunting any more?" + +"No, indeed! Why should he? He just said it probably was a lioness, and +that it was just as well to let her alone. He knows I'm no chicken." + +"How about your mother--does she approve of such expeditions?" + +"No, mother worries more or less when I'm away; but then she knows it +don't do any good. I'm taking all kinds of chances every day, anyhow." + +He had to admit that she was better able to care for herself in the +wilderness than most men--even Western men--and though he had not yet +witnessed a display of her skill with a rifle, he was ready to believe +that she could shoot as well as her sire. Nevertheless, he liked her +better when engaged in purely feminine duties, and he led the talk back +to subjects concerning which her speech was less blunt and manlike. + +He liked her when she was joking, for delicious little curves of laughter +played about her lips. She became very amusing, as she told of her +"visits East," and of her embarrassments in the homes of city friends. "I +just have to own up that about all the schooling I've got is from the +magazines. Sometimes I wish I had pulled out for town when I was about +fourteen; but, you see, I didn't feel like leaving mother, and she didn't +feel like letting me go--and so I just got what I could at Bear Tooth." +She sprang up. "There's a patch of blue sky. Let's go see if we can't get +a grouse." + +The snow had nearly all sunk into the ground on their level; but it still +lay deep on the heights above, and the torn masses of vapor still clouded +the range. "Father has surely had to go over the divide," she said, as +they walked down the path along the lake shore. "He'll be late getting +back, and a plate of hot chicken will seem good to him." + +Together they strolled along the edge of the willows. "The grouse come +down to feed about this time," she said. "We'll put up a covey soon." + +It seemed to him as though he were re-living the experiences of his +ancestors--the pioneers of Michigan--as he walked this wilderness with +this intrepid huntress whose alert eyes took note of every moving thing. +She was delightfully unconscious of self, of sex, of any doubt or fear. A +lovely Diana--strong and true and sweet. + +Within a quarter of a mile they found their birds, and she killed four +with five shots. "This is all we need," she said, "and I don't believe in +killing for the sake of killing. Rangers should set good examples in way +of game preservation. They are deputy game-wardens in most states, and +good ones, too." + +They stopped for a time on a high bank above the lake, while the sunset +turned the storm-clouds into mountains of brass and iron, with sulphurous +caves and molten glowing ledges. This grandiose picture lasted but a few +minutes, and then the Western gates closed and all was again gray and +forbidding. "Open and shut is a sign of wet," quoted Berrie, cheerily. + +The night rose formidably from the valley while they ate their supper; +but Berrie remained tranquil. "Those horses probably went clean back to +the ranch. If they did, daddy can't possibly get back before eight +o'clock, and he may not get back till to-morrow." + + + + +VII + +THE WALK IN THE RAIN + + +Norcross, with his city training, was acutely conscious of the delicacy +of the situation. In his sister's circle a girl left alone in this way +with a man would have been very seriously embarrassed; but it was evident +that Berrie took it all joyously, innocently. Their being together was +something which had happened in the natural course of weather, a +condition for which they were in no way responsible. Therefore she +permitted herself to be frankly happy in the charm of their enforced +intimacy. + +She had never known a youth of his quality. He was so considerate, so +refined, so quick of understanding, and so swift to serve. He filled her +mind to the exclusion of unimportant matters like the snow, which was +beginning again; indeed, her only anxiety concerned his health, and as he +toiled amid the falling flakes, intent upon heaping up wood enough to +last out the night, she became solicitous. + +"You will be soaked," she warningly cried. "Don't stay out any more. Come +to the fire. I'll bring in the wood." + +Something primeval, some strength he did not know he possessed sustained +him, and he toiled on. "Suppose this snow keeps falling?" he retorted. +"The Supervisor will not be able to get back to-night--perhaps not for a +couple of nights. We will need a lot of fuel." + +He did not voice the fear of the storm which filled his thought; but the +girl understood it. "It won't be very cold," she calmly replied. "It +never is during these early blizzards; and, besides, all we need to do is +to drop down the trail ten miles and we'll be entirely out of it." + +"I'll feel safer with plenty of wood," he argued; but soon found it +necessary to rest from his labors. Coming in to camp, he seated himself +beside her on a roll of blankets, and so together they tended the fire +and watched the darkness roll over the lake till the shining crystals +seemed to drop from a measureless black arch, soundless and oppressive. +The wind died away, and the trees stood as if turned into bronze, +moveless, save when a small branch gave way and dropped its rimy burden, +or a squirrel leaped from one top to another. Even the voice of the +waterfall seemed muffled and remote. + +"I'm a long way from home and mother," Wayland said, with a smile; +"but--I like it." + +"Isn't it fun?" she responded. "In a way it's nicer on account of the +storm. But you are not dressed right; you should have waterproof boots. +You never can tell when you may be set afoot. You should always go +prepared for rain and snow, and, above all, have an extra pair of thick +stockings. Your feet are soaked now, aren't they?" + +"They are; but your father told me to always dry my boots on my feet, +otherwise they'd shrink out of shape." + +"That's right, too; but you'd better take 'em off and wring out your +socks or else put on dry ones." + +"You insist on my playing the invalid," he complained, "and that makes me +angry. When I've been over here a month you'll find me a glutton for +hardship. I shall be a bear, a grizzly, fearful to contemplate. My roar +will affright you." + +She laughed like a child at his ferocity. "You'll have to change a whole +lot," she said, and drew the blanket closer about his shoulders. "Just +now your job is to keep warm and dry. I hope you won't get lonesome over +here." + +"I'm not going to open a book or read a newspaper. I'm not going to write +to a single soul except you. I'll be obliged to report to you, won't I?" + +"I'm not the Supervisor." + +"You're the next thing to it," he quickly retorted. "You've been my board +of health from the very first. I should have fled for home long ago had +it not been for you." + +Her eyes fell under his glance. "You'll get pretty tired of things over +here. It's one of the lonesomest stations in the forest." + +"I'll get lonesome for you; but not for the East." This remark, or rather +the tone in which it was uttered, brought another flush of consciousness +to the girl's face. + +"What time is it now?" she asked, abruptly. + +He looked at his watch. "Half after eight." + +"If father isn't on this side of the divide now he won't try to cross. If +he's coming down the he'll be here in an hour, although that trail +is a tolerably tough proposition this minute. A patch of dead timber on a +dark night is sure a nuisance, even to a good man. He may not make it." + +"Shall I fire my gun?" + +"What for?" + +"As a signal to him." + +This amused her. "Daddy don't need any hint about direction--what he +needs is a light to see the twist of the trail through those fallen +logs." + +"Couldn't I rig up a torch and go to meet him?" + +She put her hand on his arm. "You stay right here!" she commanded. "You +couldn't follow that trail five minutes." + +"You have a very poor opinion of my skill." + +"No, I haven't; but I know how hard it is to keep direction on a night +like this and I don't want you wandering around in the timber. Father can +take care of himself. He's probably sitting under a big tree smoking his +pipe before his fire--or else he's at home. He knows we're all right, and +we are. We have wood and grub, and plenty of blankets, and a roof over +us. You can make your bed under this fly," she said, looking up at the +canvas. "It beats the old balsam as a roof. You mustn't sleep cold +again." + +"I think I'd better sit up and keep the fire going," he replied, +heroically. "There's a big log out there that I'm going to bring in to +roll up on the windward side." + +"It'll be cold and wet early in the morning, and I don't like to hunt +kindling in the snow," she said. "I always get everything ready the night +before. I wish you had a better bed. It seems selfish of me to have the +tent while you are cold." + +One by one--under her supervision--he made preparations for morning. He +cut some shavings from a dead, dry branch of fir and put them under the +fly, and brought a bucket of water from the creek, and then together they +dragged up the dead tree. + +Had the young man been other than he was, the girl's purity, candor, and +self-reliance would have conquered him, and when she withdrew to the +little tent and let fall the frail barrier between them, she was as safe +from intrusion as if she had taken refuge behind gates of triple brass. +Nothing in all his life had moved him so deeply as her solicitude, her +sweet trust in his honor, and he sat long in profound meditation. Any man +would be rich in the ownership of her love, he admitted. That he +possessed her pity and her friendship he knew, and he began to wonder if +he had made a deeper appeal to her than this. + +"Can it be that I am really a man to her," he thought, "I who am only a +poor weakling whom the rain and snow can appall?" + +Then he thought of the effect of this night upon her life. What would +Clifford Belden do now? To what deeps would his rage descend if he should +come to know of it? + +Berrie was serene. Twice she spoke from her couch to say: "You'd better +go to bed. Daddy can't get here till to-morrow now." + +"I'll stay up awhile yet. My boots aren't entirely dried out." + +As the flame sank low the cold bit, and he built up the half-burned logs +so that they blazed again. He worked as silently as he could; but the +girl again spoke, with sweet authority: "Haven't you gone to bed yet?" + +"Oh yes, I've been asleep. I only got up to rebuild the fire." + +"I'm afraid you're cold." + +"I'm as comfortable as I deserve; it's all schooling, you know. Please go +to sleep again." His teeth were chattering as he spoke, but he added: +"I'm all right." + +After a silence she said: "You must not get chilled. Bring your bed into +the tent. There is room for you." + +"Oh no, that isn't necessary. I'm standing it very well." + +"You'll be sick!" she urged, in a voice of alarm. "Please drag your bed +inside the door. What would I do if you should have pneumonia to-morrow? +You must not take any risk of a fever." + +The thought of a sheltered spot, of something to break the remorseless +wind, overcame his scruples, and he drew his bed inside the tent and +rearranged it there. + +"You're half frozen," she said. "Your teeth are chattering." + +"It isn't so much the cold," he stammered. "I'm tired." + +"You poor boy!" she exclaimed, and rose in her bed. "I'll get up and heat +some water for you." + +"I'll be all right, in a few moments," he said. "Please go to sleep. I +shall be snug as a bug in a moment." + +She watched his shadowy motions from her bed, and when at last he had +nestled into his blankets, she said: "If you don't lose your chill I'll +heat a rock and put at your feet." + +He was ready to cry out in shame of his weakness; but he lay silent till +he could command his voice, then he said: "That would drive me from the +country in disgrace. Think of what the fellows down below will say when +they know of my cold feet." + +"They won't hear of it; and, besides, it is better to carry a hot-water +bag than to be laid up with a fever." + +Her anxiety lessened as his voice resumed its pleasant tenor flow. "Dear +girl," he said, "no one could have been sweeter--more like a guardian +angel to me. Don't place me under any greater obligation. Go to sleep. I +am better--much better now." + +She did not speak for a few moments, then in a voice that conveyed to him +a knowledge that his words of endearment had deeply moved her, she softly +said: "Good night." + +He heard her sigh drowsily thereafter once or twice, and then she slept, +and her slumber redoubled in him his sense of guardianship, of +responsibility. Lying there in the shelter of her tent, the whole +situation seemed simple, innocent, and poetic; but looked at from the +standpoint of Clifford Belden it held an accusation. + +"It cannot be helped," he said. "The only thing we can do is to conceal +the fact that we spent the night beneath this tent alone." + +In the belief that the way would clear with the dawn, he, too, fell +asleep, while the fire sputtered and smudged in the fitful mountain +wind. + +The second dawn came slowly, as though crippled by the storm and walled +back by the clouds. Gradually, austerely, the bleak, white peaks began to +define themselves above the firs. The camp-birds called cheerily from the +wet branches which overhung the smoldering embers of the fire, and so at +last day was abroad in the sky. + +With a dull ache in his bones, Wayland crept out to the fire and set to +work fanning the coals with his hat, as he had seen the Supervisor do. He +worked desperately till one of the embers began to angrily sparkle and to +smoke. Then slipping away out of earshot he broke an armful of dry fir +branches to heap above the wet, charred logs. Soon these twigs broke into +flame, and Berrie, awakened by the crackle of the pine branches, called +out: "Is it daylight?" + +"Yes, but it's a very _dark_ daylight. Don't leave your warm bed for the +dampness and cold out here; stay where you are; I'll get breakfast." + +"How are you this morning? Did you sleep?" + +"Fine!" + +"I'm afraid you had a bad night," she insisted, in a tone which indicated +her knowledge of his suffering. + +"Camp life has its disadvantages," he admitted, as he put the coffee-pot +on the fire. "But I'm feeling better now. I never fried a bird in my +life, but I'm going to try it this morning. I have some water heating for +your bath." He put the soap, towel, and basin of hot water just inside +the tent flap. "Here it is. I'm going to bathe in the lake. I must show +my hardihood." + +He heard her protesting as he went off down the bank, but his heart was +resolute. "I'm not dead yet," he said, grimly. "An invalid who can spend +two such nights as these, and still face a cold wind, has some vitality +in his bones after all." + +When he returned he found the girl full dressed, alert, and glowing; but +she greeted him with a touch of shyness and self-consciousness new to +her, and her eyes veiled themselves before his glance. + +"_Now_, where do you suppose the Supervisor is?" he asked. + +"I hope he's at home," she replied, quite seriously. "I'd hate to think +of him camped in the high country without bedding or tent." + +"Oughtn't I to take a turn up the trail and see? I feel guilty somehow--I +must do something!" + +"You can't help matters any by hoofing about in the mud. No, we'll just +hold the fort till he comes, that's what he'll expect us to do." + +He submitted once more to the force of her argument, and they ate +breakfast in such intimacy and good cheer that the night's discomforts +and anxieties counted for little. As the sun broke through the clouds +Berrie hung out the bedding in order that its dampness might be warmed +away. + +"We may have to camp here again to-night," she explained, demurely. + +"Worse things could happen than that," he gallantly answered. "I wouldn't +mind a month of it, only I shouldn't want it to rain or snow all the +time." + +"Poor boy! You did suffer, didn't you? I was afraid you would. Did you +sleep at all?" she asked, tenderly. + +"Oh yes, after I came inside; but, of course, I was more or less restless +expecting your father to ride up, and then it's all rather exciting +business to a novice. I could hear all sorts of birds and beasts stepping +and fluttering about. I was scared in spite of my best resolution." + +"That's funny; I never feel that way. I slept like a log after I knew you +were comfortable. You must have a better bed and more blankets. It's +always cold up here." + +The sunlight was short-lived. The clouds settled over the peaks, and +ragged wisps of gray vapor dropped down the timbered s of the +prodigious amphitheater in which the lake lay. Again Berrie made +everything snug while her young woodsman toiled at bringing logs for the +fire. + +In truth, he was more elated than he had been since leaving school, for +he was not only doing a man's work in the world, he was serving a woman +in the immemorial way of the hewer of wood and the carrier of water. His +fatigue and the chill of the morning wore away, and he took vast pride in +dragging long poles down the hillside, forcing Berrie to acknowledge that +he was astonishingly strong. "But don't overdo it," she warned. + +At last fully provided for, they sat contentedly side by side under the +awning and watched the falling rain as it splashed and sizzled on the +sturdy fire. "It's a little like being shipwrecked on a desert island, +isn't it?" he said. "As if our boats had drifted away." + +At noon she again prepared an elaborate meal. She served potatoes and +grouse, hot biscuit with sugar syrup, and canned peaches, and coffee done +to just the right color and aroma. He declared it wonderful, and they ate +with repeated wishes that the Supervisor might turn up in time to share +their feast; but he did not. Then Berrie said, firmly: "Now you must take +a snooze, you look tired." + +He was, in truth, not only drowsy but lame and tired. Therefore, he +yielded to her suggestion. + +She covered him with blankets and put him away like a child. "Now you +have a good sleep," she said, tenderly. "I'll call you when daddy +comes." + +With a delicious sense of her protecting care he lay for a few moments +listening to the drip of the water on the tent, then drifted away into +peace and silence. + +When he woke the ground was again covered with snow, and the girl was +feeding the fire with wood which her own hands had supplied. + +Hearing him stir, she turned and fixed her eyes upon him with clear, soft +gaze. "How do you feel by now?" she asked. + +"Quite made over," he replied, rising alertly. + +His cheer, however, was only pretense. He was greatly worried. "Something +has happened to your father," he said. "His horse has thrown him, or he +has slipped and fallen." His peace and exultation were gone. "How far is +it down to the ranger station?" + +"About twelve miles." + +"Don't you think we'd better close camp and go down there? It is now +three o'clock; we can walk it in five hours." + +She shook her head. "No, I think we'd better stay right here. It's a +long, hard walk, and the trail is muddy." + +"But, dear girl," he began, desperately, "it won't do for us to camp +here--alone--in this way another night. What will Cliff say?" + +She flamed red, then whitened. "I don't care what Cliff thinks--I'm done +with him--and no one that I really care about would blame us." She was +fully aware of his anxiety now. "It isn't our fault." + +"It will be _my_ fault if I keep you here longer!" he answered. "We must +reach a telephone and send word out. Something may have happened to your +father." + +"I'm not worried a bit about him. It may be that there's been a big +snowfall up above us--or else a windstorm. The trail may be blocked; but +don't worry. He may have to go round by Lost Lake pass." She pondered a +moment. "I reckon you're right. We'd better pack up and rack down the +trail to the ranger's cabin. Not on my account, but on yours. I'm afraid +you've taken cold." + +"I'm all right, except I'm very lame; but I am anxious to go on. By the +way, is this ranger Settle married?" + +"No, his station is one of the lonesomest cabins on the forest. No woman +will stay there." + +This made Wayland ponder. "Nevertheless," he decided, "we'll go. After +all, the man is a forest officer, and you are the Supervisor's +daughter." + +She made no further protest, but busied herself closing the panniers and +putting away the camp utensils. She seemed to recognize that his judgment +was sound. + +It was after three when they left the tent and started down the trail, +carrying nothing but a few toilet articles. + +He stopped at the edge of the clearing. "Should we have left a note for +the Supervisor?" + +She pointed to their footprints. "There's all the writing he needs," she +assured him, leading the way at a pace which made him ache. She plashed +plumply into the first puddle in the path. "No use dodging 'em," she +called over her shoulder, and he soon saw that she was right. + +The trees were dripping, the willows heavy with water, and the mud +ankle-deep--in places--but she pushed on steadily, and he, following in +her tracks, could only marvel at her strength and sturdy self-reliance. +The swing of her shoulders, the poise of her head, and the lithe movement +of her waist, made his own body seem a poor thing. + +For two hours they zigzagged down a narrow canyon heavily timbered with +fir and spruce--a dark, stern avenue, crossed by roaring streams, and +filled with frequent boggy meadows whereon the water lay mid-leg deep. + +"We'll get out of this very soon," she called, cheerily. + +By degrees the gorge widened, grew more open, more genial. Aspen thickets +of pale-gold flashed upon their eyes like sunlight, and grassy bunches +afforded firmer footing, but on the s their feet slipped and slid +painfully. Still Berea kept her stride. "We must get to the middle fork +before dark," she stopped to explain, "for I don't know the trail down +there, and there's a lot of down timber just above the station. Now that +we're cut loose from our camp I feel nervous. As long as I have a tent I +am all right; but now we are in the open I worry. How are you standing +it?" She studied him with keen and anxious glance, her hand upon his +arm. + +"Fine as a fiddle," he replied, assuming a spirit he did not possess, +"but you are marvelous. I thought cowgirls couldn't walk?" + +"I can do anything when I have to," she replied. "We've got three hours +more of it." And she warningly exclaimed: "Look back there!" + +They had reached a point from which the range could be seen, and behold +it was covered deep with a seamless robe of new snow. + +"That's why dad didn't get back last night. He's probably wallowing along +up there this minute." And she set off again with resolute stride. +Wayland's pale face and labored breath alarmed her. She was filled with +love and pity, but she pressed forward desperately. + +As he grew tired, Wayland's boots, loaded with mud, became fetters, and +every greasy with mire seemed an almost insurmountable barricade. +He fell several times, but made no outcry. "I will not add to her +anxiety," he said to himself. + +At last they came to the valley floor, over which a devastating fire had +run some years before, and which was still covered with fallen trees in +desolate confusion. Here the girl made her first mistake. She kept on +toward the river, although Wayland called attention to a trail leading to +the right up over the low grassy hills. For a mile the path was clear, +but she soon found herself confronted by an endless maze of blackened +tree-trunks, and at last the path ended abruptly. + +Dismayed and halting, she said: "We've got to go back to that trail which +branched off to the right. I reckon that was the highland trail which +Settle made to keep out of the swamp. I thought it was a trail from +Cameron Peak, but it wasn't. Back we go." + +She was suffering keenly now, not on her own account, but on his, for she +could see that he was very tired, and to climb up that hill again was +like punishing him a second time. + +When she picked up the blazed trail it was so dark that she could +scarcely follow it; but she felt her way onward, turning often to be sure +that he was following. Once she saw him fall, and cried out: "It's a +shame to make you climb this hill again. It's all my fault. I ought to +have known that that lower road led down into the timber." + +Standing close beside him in the darkness, knowing that he was weary, +wet, and ill, she permitted herself the expression of her love and pity. +Putting her arm about him, she drew his cheek against her own, saying: +"Poor boy, your hands are cold as ice." She took them in her own warm +clasp. "Oh, I wish we had never left the camp! What does it matter what +people say?" Then she broke down and wailed. "I shall never forgive +myself if you--" Her voice failed her. + +[Illustration: SHE FOUND HERSELF CONFRONTED BY AN ENDLESS MAZE +OF BLACKENED TREE-TRUNKS] + +He bravely reassured her: "I'm not defeated, I'm just tired. That's all. +I can go on." + +"But you are shaking." + +"That is merely a nervous chill. I'm good for another hour. It's better +to keep moving, anyhow." + +She thrust her hand under his coat and laid it over his heart. "You are +tired out," she said, and there was anguish in her voice. "Your heart is +pounding terribly. You mustn't do any more climbing. And, hark, there's a +wolf!" + +He listened. "I hear him; but we are both armed. There's no danger from +wild animals." + +"Come!" she said, instantly recovering her natural resolution. "We can't +stand here. The station can't be far away. We must go on." + + + + +VIII + +THE OTHER GIRL + + +The girl's voice stirred the benumbed youth into action again, and he +followed her mechanically. His slender stock of physical strength was +almost gone, but his will remained unbroken. At every rough place she +came back to him to support him, to hearten him, and so he crept on +through the darkness, falling often, stumbling against the trees, +slipping and sliding, till at last his guide, pitching down a sharp +, came directly upon a wire fence. + +"Glory be!" she called. "Here is a fence, and the cabin should be near, +although I see no light. Hello! Tony!" + +No voice replied, and, keeping Wayland's hand, she felt her way along the +fence till it revealed a gate; then she turned toward the roaring of the +stream, which grew louder as they advanced. "The cabin is near the falls, +that much I know," she assured him. Then a moment later she joyfully +cried out: "Here it is!" + +Out of the darkness a blacker, sharper shadow rose. Again she called, but +no one answered. "The ranger is away," she exclaimed, in a voice of +indignant alarm. "I do hope he left the door unlocked." + +Too numb with fatigue, and too dazed by the darkness to offer any aid, +Wayland waited--swaying unsteadily on his feet--while she tried the door. +It was bolted, and with but a moment's hesitation, she said: "It looks +like a case of breaking and entering. I'll try a window." The windows, +too, were securely fastened. After trying them all, she came back to +where Wayland stood. "Tony didn't intend to have anybody pushing in," she +decided. "But if the windows will not raise they will smash." + +A crash of glass followed, and with a feeling that it was all part of a +dream, Wayland waited while the girl made way through the broken sash +into the dark interior. Her next utterance was a cry of joy: "Oh, but +it's nice and warm in here! I can't open the door. You'll have to come in +the same way I did." + +He was too weak and too irresolute to respond immediately, and, reaching +out, she took him by the arms and dragged him across the sill. Her +strength seemed prodigious. A delicious warmth, a grateful dryness, a +sense of shelter enfolded him like a garment. The place smelled +deliciously of food, of fire, of tobacco. + +Leading him toward the middle of the room, Berrie said: "Stand here till +I strike a light." + +As her match flamed up Norcross found himself in a rough-walled cabin, in +which stood a square cook-stove, a rude table littered with dishes, and +three stools made of slabs. It was all very rude; but it had all the +value of a palace at the moment. + +The girl's quick eye saw much else. She located an oil-lamp, some +pine-wood, and a corner cupboard. In a few moments the lamp was lit, the +stove refilled with fuel, and she was stripping Wayland's wet coat from +his back, cheerily discoursing as she did so. "Here's one of Tony's old +jackets, put that on while I see if I can't find some dry stockings for +you. Sit right down here by the stove; put your feet in the oven. I'll +have a fire in a jiffy. There, that's right. Now I'll start the +coffee-pot." She soon found the coffee, but it was unground. "Wonder, +where he keeps his coffee-mill." She rummaged about for a few minutes, +then gave up the search. "Well, no matter, here's the coffee, and here's +a hammer. One of the laws of the trail is this: If you can't do a thing +one way, do it another." + +She poured the coffee beans into an empty tomato-can and began to pound +them with the end of the hammer handle, laughing at Wayland's look of +wonder and admiration. "Necessity sure is the mother of invention out +here. How do you feel by now? Isn't it nice to own a roof and four walls? +I'm going to close up that window as soon as I get the coffee started. +Are you warming up?" + +"Oh yes, I'm all right now," he replied; but he didn't look it, and her +own cheer was rather forced. He was in the grasp of a nervous chill, and +she was deeply apprehensive of what the result of his exposure might be. +It seemed as if the coffee would never come to a boil. + +"I depend on that to brace you up," she said. + +After hanging a blanket over the broken window, she set out some cold +meat and a half dozen baking-powder biscuits, which she found in the +cupboard, and as soon as the coffee was ready she poured it for him; but +she would not let him leave the fire. She brought his supper to him and +sat beside him while he ate and drank. + +"You must go right to bed," she urged, as she studied his weary eyes. +"You ought to sleep for twenty-four hours." + +The hot, strong coffee revived him physically and brought back a little +of his courage, and he said: "I'm ashamed to be such a weakling." + +"Now hush," she commanded. "It's not your fault that you are weak. Now, +while I am eating my supper you slip off your wet clothes and creep into +Tony's bunk, and I'll fill one of these syrup-cans with hot water to put +at your feet." + +It was of no use for him to protest against her further care. She +insisted, and while she ate he meekly carried out her instructions, and +from the delicious warmth and security of his bed watched her moving +about the stove till the shadows of the room became one with the dusky +figures of his sleep. + +A moment later something falling on the floor woke him with a start, and, +looking up, he found the sun shining, and Berrie confronting him with +anxious face. "Did I waken you?" she asked. "I'm awfully sorry. I'm +trying to be extra quiet. I dropped a pan. How do you feel this +_morning_?" + +He pondered this question a moment. "Is it to-morrow or the next week?" + +She laughed happily. "It's only the next day. Just keep where you are +till the sun gets a little higher." She drew near and put a hand on his +brow. "You don't feel feverish. Oh, I hope this trip hasn't set you +back." + +He laid his hands together, and then felt of his pulse. "I don't seem to +have a temperature. I just feel lazy, limp and lazy; but I'm going to get +up, if you'll just leave the room for a moment--" + +"Don't try it now. Wait till you have had your breakfast. You'll feel +stronger then." + +He yielded again to the force of her will, and fell back into a luxurious +drowse hearing the stove roar and the bacon sizzle in the pan. There was +something primitive and broadly poetic in the girl's actions. Through the +haze of the kitchen smoke she enlarged till she became the typical +frontier wife, the goddess of the skillet and the coffee-pot, the consort +of the pioneer, equally skilled with the rifle and the rolling-pin. How +many millions of times had this scene been enacted on the long march of +the borderman from the Susquehanna to the Bear Tooth Range? + +Into his epic vision the pitiful absurdity of his own part in the play +broke like a sad discord. "Of course, it is not my fault that I am a +weakling," he argued. "Only it was foolish for me to thrust myself into +this stern world. If I come safely out of this adventure I will go back +to the sheltered places where I belong." + +At this point came again the disturbing realization that this night of +struggle, and the ministrations of his brave companion had involved him +deeper in a mesh from which honorable escape was almost impossible. The +ranger's cabin, so far from being an end of their compromising intimacy, +had added and was still adding to the weight of evidence against them +both. The presence of the ranger or the Supervisor himself could not now +save Berea from the gossips. + +She brought his breakfast to him, and sat beside him while he ate, +chatting the while of their good fortune. "It is glorious outside, and I +am sure daddy will get across to-day, and Tony is certain to turn up +before noon. He probably went down to Coal City to get his mail." + +"I must get up at once," he said, in a panic of fear and shame. "The +Supervisor must not find me laid out on my back. Please leave me alone +for a moment." + +She went out, closing the door behind her, and as he crawled from his bed +every muscle in his body seemed to cry out against being moved. +Nevertheless, he persisted, and at last succeeded in putting on his +clothes, even his shoes--though he found tying the laces the hardest task +of all--and he was at the wash-basin bathing his face and hands when +Berrie hurriedly re-entered. "Some tourists are coming," she announced, +in an excited tone. "A party of five or six people, a woman among them, +is just coming down the . Now, who do you suppose it can be? It +would be just our luck if it should turn out to be some one from the +Mill." + +He divined at once the reason for her dismay. The visit of a woman at +this moment would not merely embarrass them both, it would torture +Berrie. "What is to be done?" he asked, roused to alertness. + +"Nothing; all we can do is to stand pat and act as if we belonged here." + +"Very well," he replied, moving stiffly toward the door. "Here's where I +can be of some service. I am an excellent white liar." + +As our hero crawled out into the brilliant sunshine some part of his +courage came back to him. Though lame in every muscle, he was not ill. +That was the surprising thing. His head was clear, and his breath full +and deep. "My lungs are all right," he said to himself. "I'm not going to +collapse." And he looked round him with a new-born admiration of the +wooded hills which rose in somber majesty on either side the roaring +stream. "How different it all looks this morning," he said, remembering +the deep blackness of the night. + +The beat of hoofs upon the bridge drew his attention to the cavalcade, +which the keen eyes of the girl had detected as it came over the ridge to +the east. The party consisted of two men and two women and three +pack-horses completely outfitted for the trail. + +One of the women, spurring her horse to the front, rode serenely up to +where Wayland stood, and called out: "Good morning. Are you the ranger?" + +"No, I'm only the guard. The ranger has gone down the trail." + +He perceived at once that the speaker was an alien like himself, for she +wore tan- riding-boots, a divided skirt of expensive cloth, and a +jaunty, wide-rimmed sombrero. She looked, indeed, precisely like the +heroine of the prevalent Western drama. Her sleeves, rolled to the elbow, +disclosed shapely brown arms, and her neck, bare to her bosom, was +equally sun-smit; but she was so round-cheeked, so childishly charming, +that the most critical observer could find no fault with her make-up. + +One of the men rode up. "Hello, Norcross. What are you doing over here?" + +The youth smiled blandly. "Good morning, Mr. Belden. I'm serving my +apprenticeship. I'm in the service now." + +"The mischief you are!" exclaimed the other. "Where's Tony?" + +"Gone for his mail. He'll return soon. What are _you_ doing over here, +may I ask?" + +"I'm here as guide to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore, this is Norcross, one of +McFarlane's men. Mr. Moore is connected with the tie-camp operations of +the railway." + +Moore was a tall, thin man with a gray beard and keen blue eyes. "Where's +McFarlane? We were to meet him here. Didn't he come over with you?" + +"We started together, but the horses got away, and he was obliged to go +back after them. He also is likely to turn up soon." + +"I am frightfully hungry," interrupted the girl. "Can't you hand me out a +hunk of bread and meat? We've been riding since daylight." + +Berrie suddenly appeared at the door. "Sure thing," she called out. +"Slide down and come in." + +Moore removed his hat and bowed. "Good morning, Miss McFarlane, I didn't +know you were here. You know my daughter Siona?" + +Berrie nodded coldly. "I've met her." + +He indicated the other woman. "And Mrs. Belden, of course, you know." + +Mrs. Belden, the fourth member of the party, a middle-aged, rather flabby +person, just being eased down from her horse, turned on Berrie with a +battery of questions. "Good Lord! Berrie McFarlane, what are you doing +over in this forsaken hole? Where's your dad? And where is Tony? If Cliff +had known you was over here he'd have come, too." + +Berrie retained her self-possession. "Come in and get some coffee, and +we'll straighten things out." + +Apparently Mrs. Belden did not know that Cliff and Berrie had quarreled, +for she treated the girl with maternal familiarity. She was a +good-natured, well-intentioned old sloven, but a most renowned tattler, +and the girl feared her more than she feared any other woman in the +valley. She had always avoided her, but she showed nothing of this +dislike at the moment. + +Wayland drew the younger woman's attention by saying: "It's plain that +you, like myself, do not belong to these parts, Miss Moore." + +"What makes you think so?" she brightly queried. + +"Your costume is too appropriate. Haven't you noticed that the women who +live out here carefully avoid convenient and artistic dress? Now your +outfit is precisely what they should wear and don't." + +This amused her. "I know, but they all say they have to wear out their +Sunday go-to-meeting clothes, whereas I can 'rag out proper.' I'm glad +you like my 'rig.'" + +"When I look at you," he said, "I'm back on old Broadway at the Herald +Square Theater. The play is 'Little Blossom, or the Cowgirl's Revenge.' +The heroine has just come into the miner's cabin--" + +"Oh, go 'long," she replied, seizing her cue and speaking in character, +"you're stringin' me." + +"Not on your life! Your outfit is a peacherino," he declared. "I am glad +you rode by." + +At the moment he was bent on drawing the girl's attention from Berrie, +but as she went on he came to like her. She said: "No, I don't belong +here; but I come out every year during vacation with my father. I love +this country. It's so big and wide and wild. Father has built a little +bungalow down at the lower mill, and we enjoy every day of our stay." + +"You're a Smith girl," he abruptly asserted. + +"What makes you think so?" + +"Oh, there's something about you Smith girls that gives you dead away." + +"Gives us away! I like that!" + +"My phrase was unfortunate. I like Smith girls," he hastened to say; and +in five minutes they were on the friendliest terms--talking of mutual +acquaintances--a fact which both puzzled and hurt Berea. Their laughter +angered her, and whenever she glanced at them and detected Siona looking +into Wayland's face with coquettish simper, she was embittered. She was +glad when Moore came in and interrupted the dialogue. + +Norcross did not relax, though he considered the dangers of +cross-examination almost entirely passed. In this he was mistaken, for no +sooner was the keen edge of Mrs. Belden's hunger dulled than her +curiosity sharpened. + +"Where did you say the Supervisor was?" she repeated. + +"The horses got away, and he had to go back after them," again responded +Berrie, who found the scrutiny of the other girl deeply disconcerting. + +"When do you expect him back?" + +"Any minute now," she replied, and in this she was not deceiving them, +although she did not intend to volunteer any information which might +embarrass either Wayland or herself. + +Norcross tried to create a diversion. "Isn't this a charming valley?" + +Siona took up the cue. "Isn't it! It's romantic enough to be the +back-drop in a Bret Harte play. I love it!" + +Moore turned to Wayland. "I know a Norcross, a Michigan lumberman, +Vice-President of the Association. Is he, by any chance, a relative?" + +"Only a father," retorted Wayland, with a smile. "But don't hold me +responsible for anything he has done. We seldom agree." + +Moore's manner changed abruptly. "Indeed! And what is the son of W. W. +Norcross doing out here in the Forest Service?" + +The change in her father's tone was not lost upon Siona, who ceased her +banter and studied the young man with deeper interest, while Mrs. Belden, +detecting some restraint in Berrie's tone, renewed her questioning: +"Where did you camp last night?" + +"Right here." + +"I don't see how the horses got away. There's a pasture here, for we rode +right through it." + +Berrie was aware that each moment of delay in explaining the situation +looked like evasion, and deepened the significance of her predicament, +and yet she could not bring herself to the task of minutely accounting +for her time during the last two days. + +Belden came to her relief. "Well, well! We'll have to be moving on. We're +going into camp at the mouth of the West Fork," he said, as he rose. +"Tell Tony and the Supervisor that we want to line out that timber at the +earliest possible moment." + +Siona, who was now distinctly coquetting with Wayland, held out her hand. +"I hope you'll find time to come up and see us. I know we have other +mutual friends, if we had time to get at them." + +His answer was humorous. "I am a soldier. I am on duty. I'm not at all +sure that I shall have a moment's leave; but I will call if I can +possibly do so." + +They started off at last without having learned in detail anything of the +intimate relationship into which the Supervisor's daughter and young +Norcross had been thrown, and Mrs. Belden was still so much in the dark +that she called to Berrie: "I'm going to send word to Cliff that you are +over here. He'll be crazy to come the minute he finds it out." + +"Don't do that!" protested Berrie. + +Wayland turned to Berrie. "That would be pleasant," he said, smilingly. + +But she did not return his smile. On the contrary, she remained very +grave. "I wish that old tale-bearer had kept away. She's going to make +trouble for us all. And that girl, isn't she a spectacle? I never could +bear her." + +"Why, what's wrong with her? She seems a very nice, sprightly person." + +"She's a regular play actor. I don't like made-up people. Why does she go +around with her sleeves rolled up that way, and--and her dress open at +the throat?" + +"Oh, those are the affectations of the moment. She wants to look tough +and boisterous. That's the fad with all the girls, just now. It's only a +harmless piece of foolishness." + +She could not tell him how deeply she resented his ready tone of +camaraderie with the other girl; but she was secretly suffering. It hurt +her to think that he could forget his aches and be so free and easy with +a stranger at a moment's notice. Under the influence of that girl's smile +he seemed to have quite forgotten his exhaustion and his pain. It was +wonderful how cheerful he had been while she was in sight. + +In all this Berrie did him an injustice. He had been keenly conscious, +during every moment of the time, not only of his bodily ills, but of +Berrie, and he had kept a brave face in order that he might prevent +further questioning on the part of a malicious girl. It was his only way +of being heroic. Now that the crisis was passed he was quite as much of a +wreck as ever. + +A new anxiety beset her. "I hope they won't happen to meet father on the +trail." + +"Perhaps I should go with them and warn him." + +"Oh, it doesn't matter," she wearily answered. "Old Mrs. Belden will +never rest till she finds out just where we've been, and just what we've +done. She's that kind. She knows everything that goes on." + +He understood her fear, and yet he was unable to comfort her in the only +way she could be comforted. That brief encounter with Siona Moore--a girl +of his own world--had made all thought of marriage with Berea suddenly +absurd. Without losing in any degree the sense of gratitude he felt for +her protecting care, and with full acknowledgment of her heroic support +of his faltering feet, he revolted from putting into words a proposal of +marriage. "I love her," he confessed to himself, "and she is a dear, +brave girl; but I do not love her as a man should love the woman he is to +marry." + +A gray shadow had plainly fallen between them. Berea sensed the change in +his attitude, and traced it to the influence of the coquette whose +smiling eyes and bared arms had openly challenged admiration. It saddened +her to think that one so fine as he had seemed could yield even momentary +tribute to an open and silly coquette. + + + + +IX + +FURTHER PERPLEXITIES + + +Wayland, for his part, was not deceived by Siona Moore. He knew her kind, +and understood her method of attack. He liked her pert ways, for they +brought back his days at college, when dozens of just such misses lent +grace and humor and romance to the tennis court and to the football +field. She carried with her the aroma of care-free, athletic girlhood. +Flirtation was in her as charming and almost as meaningless as the +preening of birds on the bank of a pool in the meadow. + +Speaking aloud, he said: "Miss Moore travels the trail with all known +accessories, and I've no doubt she thinks she is a grand campaigner; but +I am wondering how she would stand such a trip as that you took last +night. I don't believe she could have done as well as I. She's the +imitation--you're the real thing." + +The praise involved in this speech brought back a little of Berrie's +humor. "I reckon those brown boots of hers would have melted," she said, +with quaint smile. + +He became very grave. "If it had not been for you, dear girl, I would be +lying up there in the forest this minute. Nothing but your indomitable +spirit kept me moving. I shall be deeply hurt if any harm comes to you on +account of me." + +"If it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have started on that trip last +night. It was perfectly useless. It would have been better for us both if +we had stayed in camp, for we wouldn't have met these people." + +"That's true," he replied; "but we didn't know that at the time. We acted +for the best, and we must not blame ourselves, no matter what comes of +it." + +They fell silent at this point, for each was again conscious of their new +relationship. She, vaguely suffering, waited for him to resume the +lover's tone, while he, oppressed by the sense of his own shortcomings +and weakness, was planning an escape. "It's all nonsense, my remaining in +the forest. I'm not fitted for it. It's too severe. I'll tell McFarlane +so and get out." + +Perceiving his returning weakness and depression, Berea insisted on his +lying down again while she set to work preparing dinner. "There is no +telling when father will get here," she said. "And Tony will be hungry +when he comes. Lie down and rest." + +He obeyed her silently, and, going to the bunk, at once fell asleep. How +long he slept he could not tell, but he was awakened by the voice of the +ranger, who was standing in the doorway and regarding Berrie with a +round-eyed stare. + +He was a tall, awkward fellow of about thirty-five, plainly of the +frontier type; but a man of intelligence. At the end of a brief +explanation Berrie said, with an air of authority: "Now you'd better ride +up the trail and bring our camp outfit down. We can't go back that way, +anyhow." + +The ranger glanced toward Wayland. "All right, Miss Berrie, but perhaps +your tenderfoot needs a doctor." + +Wayland rose painfully but resolutely. "Oh no, I am not sick. I'm a +little lame, that's all. I'll go along with you." + +"No," said Berrie, decisively. "You're not well enough for that. Get up +your horses, Tony, and by that time I'll have some dinner ready." + +"All right, Miss Berrie," replied the man, and turned away. + +Hardly had he crossed the bridge on his way to the pasture, when Berrie +cried out: "There comes daddy." + +Wayland joined her at the door, and stood beside her watching the +Supervisor, as he came zigzagging down the steep hill to the east, with +all his horses trailing behind him roped together head-to-tail. + +"He's had to come round by Lost Lake," she exclaimed. "He'll be tired +out, and absolutely starved. Wahoo!" she shouted in greeting, and the +Supervisor waved his hand. + +There was something superb in the calm seat of the veteran as he slid +down the . He kept his place in the saddle with the air of the rider +to whom hunger, fatigue, windfalls, and snowslides were all a part of the +day's work; and when he reined in before the door and dropped from his +horse, he put his arm about his daughter's neck with quiet word: "I +thought I'd find you here. How is everything?" + +"All right, daddy; but what about you? Where have you been?" + +"Clean back to Mill Park. The blamed cayuses kept just ahead of me all +the way." + +"Poor old dad! And on top of that came the snow." + +"Yes, and a whole hatful. I couldn't get back over the high pass. Had to +go round by Lost Lake, and to cap all, Old Baldy took a notion not to +lead. Oh, I've had a peach of a time; but here I am. Have you seen Moore +and his party?" + +"Yes, they're in camp up the trail. He and Alec Belden and two women. Are +you hungry?" + +He turned a comical glance upon her. "Am I hungry? Sister, I am a wolf. +Norcross, take my horses down to the pasture." + +She hastened to interpose. "Let me do that, daddy, Mr. Norcross is badly +used up. You see, we started down here late yesterday afternoon. It was +raining and horribly muddy, and I took the wrong trail. The darkness +caught us and we didn't reach the station till nearly midnight." + +Wayland acknowledged his weakness. "I guess I made a mistake, Supervisor; +I'm not fitted for this strenuous life." + +McFarlane was quick to understand. "I didn't intend to pitchfork you into +the forest life quite so suddenly," he said. "Don't give up yet awhile. +You'll harden to it." + +"Here comes Tony," said Berrie. "He'll look after the ponies." + +Nevertheless Wayland went out, believing that Berrie wished to be alone +with her father for a short time. + +As he took his seat McFarlane said: "You stayed in camp till yesterday +afternoon, did you?" + +"Yes, we were expecting you every moment." + +He saw nothing in this to remark upon. "Did it snow at the lake?" + +"Yes, a little; it mostly rained." + +"It stormed up on the divide like a January blizzard. When did Moore and +his party arrive?" + +"About ten o'clock this morning." + +"I'll ride right up and see them. What about the outfit? That's at the +lake, I reckon?" + +"Yes, I was just sending Tony after it. But, father, if you go up to +Moore's camp, don't say too much about what has happened. Don't tell them +just when you took the back-trail, and just how long Wayland and I were +in camp." + +"Why not?" + +She reddened with confusion. "Because--You know what an old gossip Mrs. +Belden is. I don't want her to know. She's an awful talker, and our being +together up there all that time will give her a chance." + +A light broke in on the Supervisor's brain. In the midst of his +preoccupation as a forester he suddenly became the father. His eyes +narrowed and his face darkened. "That's so. The old rip could make a +whole lot of capital out of your being left in camp that way. At the same +time I don't believe in dodging. The worst thing we could do would be to +try to blind the trail. Was Tony here last night when you came?" + +"No, he was down the valley after his mail." + +His face darkened again. "That's another piece of bad luck, too. How much +does the old woman know at present?" + +"Nothing at all." + +"Didn't she cross-examine you?" + +"Sure she did; but Wayland side-tracked her. Of course it only delays +things. She'll know all about it sooner or later. She's great at putting +two and two together. Two and two with her always make five." + +McFarlane mused. "Cliff will be plumb crazy if she gets his ear first." + +"I don't care anything about Cliff, daddy. I don't care what he thinks or +does, if he will only let Wayland alone." + +"See here, daughter, you do seem to be terribly interested in this +tourist." + +"He's the finest man I ever knew, father." + +He looked at her with tender, trusting glance. "He isn't your kind, +daughter. He's a nice clean boy, but he's different. He don't belong in +our world. He's only just stopping here. Don't forget that." + +"I'm not forgetting that, daddy. I know he's different, that's why I like +him." After a pause she added: "Nobody could have been nicer all through +these days than he has been. He was like a brother." + +McFarlane fixed a keen glance upon her. "Has he said anything to you? Did +you come to an understanding?" + +Her eyes fell. "Not the way you mean, daddy; but I think he--likes me. +But do you know who he is? He's the son of W. W. Norcross, that big +Michigan lumberman." + +McFarlane started. "How do you know that?" + +"Mr. Moore asked him if he was any relation to W.W. Norcross, and he +said, 'Yes, a son.' You should have seen how that Moore girl changed her +tune the moment he admitted that. She'd been very free with him up to +that time; but when she found out he was a rich man's son she became as +quiet and innocent as a kitten. I hate her; she's a deceitful snip." + +"Well, now, daughter, that being the case, it's all the more certain that +he don't belong to our world, and you mustn't fix your mind on keeping +him here." + +"A girl can't help fixing her mind, daddy." + +"Or changing it." He smiled a little. "You used to like Cliff. You liked +him well enough to promise to marry him." + +"I know I did; but I despise him now." + +"Poor Cliff! He isn't so much to blame after all. Any man is likely to +flare out when he finds another fellow cutting in ahead of him. Why, here +you are wanting to kill Siona Moore just for making up to your young +tourist." + +"But that's different." + +He laughed. "Of course it is. But the thing we've got to guard against is +old lady Belden's tongue. She and that Belden gang have it in for me, and +all that has kept them from open war has been Cliff's relationship to +you. They'll take a keen delight in making the worst of all this camping +business." McFarlane was now very grave. "I wish your mother was here +this minute. I guess we had better cut out this timber cruise and go +right back." + +"No, you mustn't do that; that would only make more talk. Go on with your +plans. I'll stay here with you. It won't take you but a couple of days to +do the work, and Wayland needs the rest." + +"But suppose Cliff hears of this business between you and Norcross and +comes galloping over the ridge?" + +"Well, let him, he has no claim on me." + +He rose uneasily. "It's all mighty risky business, and it's my fault. I +should never have permitted you to start on this trip." + +"Don't you worry about me, daddy, I'll pull through somehow. Anybody that +knows me will understand how little there is in--in old lady Belden's +gab. I've had a beautiful trip, and I won't let her nor anybody else +spoil it for me." + +McFarlane was not merely troubled. He was distracted. He was afraid to +meet the Beldens. He dreaded their questions, their innuendoes. He had +perfect faith in his daughter's purity and honesty, and he liked and +trusted Norcross, and yet he knew that should Belden find it to his +advantage to slander these young people, and to read into their action +the lawlessness of his own youth, Berea's reputation, high as it was, +would suffer, and her mother's heart be rent with anxiety. In his growing +pain and perplexity he decided to speak frankly to young Norcross +himself. "He's a gentleman, and knows the way of the world. Perhaps he'll +have some suggestion to offer." In his heart he hoped to learn that +Wayland loved his daughter and wished to marry her. + +Wayland was down on the bridge leaning over the rail, listening to the +song of the water. + +McFarlane approached gravely, but when he spoke it was in his usual soft +monotone. "Mr. Norcross," he began, with candid inflection, "I am very +sorry to say it; but I wish you and my daughter had never started on this +trip." + +"I know what you mean, Supervisor, and I feel as you do about it. Of +course, none of us foresaw any such complication as this, but now that we +are snarled up in it we'll have to make the best of it. No one of us is +to blame. It was all accidental." + +The youth's frank words and his sympathetic voice disarmed McFarlane +completely. Even the slight resentment he felt melted away. "It's no use +saying _if_," he remarked, at length. "What we've got to meet is Seth +Belden's report--Berrie has cut loose from Cliff, and he's red-headed +already. When he drops onto this story, when he learns that I had to +chase back after the horses, and that you and Berrie were alone together +for three days, he'll have a fine club to swing, and he'll swing it; and +Alec will help him. They're all waiting a chance to get me, and they're +mean enough to get me through my girl." + +"What can I do?" asked Wayland. + +McFarlane pondered. "I'll try to head off Marm Belden, and I'll have a +talk with Moore. He's a pretty reasonable chap." + +"But you forget there's another tale-bearer. Moore's daughter is with +them." + +"That's so. I'd forgotten her. Good Lord! we are in for it. There's no +use trying to cover anything up." + +Here was the place for Norcross to speak up and say: "Never mind, I'm +going to ask Berrie to be my wife." But he couldn't do it. Something rose +in his throat which prevented speech. A strange repugnance, a kind of +sullen resentment at being forced into a declaration, kept him silent, +and McFarlane, disappointed, wondering and hurt, kept silence also. + +Norcross was the first to speak. "Of course those who know your daughter +will not listen for an instant to the story of an unclean old thing like +Mrs. Belden." + +"I'm not so sure about that," replied the father, gloomily. "People +always listen to such stories, and a girl always gets the worst of a +situation like this. Berrie's been brought up to take care of herself, +and she's kept clear of criticism so far; but with Cliff on edge and this +old rip snooping around--" His mind suddenly changed. "Your being the son +of a rich man won't help any. Why didn't you tell me who you were?" + +"I didn't think it necessary. What difference does it make? I have +nothing to do with my father's business. His notions of forest +speculation are not mine." + +"It would have made a difference with me, and it might have made a +difference with Berrie. She mightn't have been so free with you at the +start, if she'd known who you were. You looked sick and kind of lonesome, +and that worked on her sympathy." + +"I _was_ sick and I was lonesome, and she has been very sweet and lovely +to me, and it breaks my heart to think that her kindness and your +friendship should bring all this trouble and suspicion upon her. Let's go +up to the Moore camp and have it out with them. I'll make any statement +you think best." + +"I reckon the less said about it the better," responded the older man. +"I'm going up to the camp, but not to talk about my daughter." + +"How can you help it? They'll force the topic." + +"If they do, I'll force them to let it alone," retorted McFarlane; but he +went away disappointed and sorrowful. The young man's evident avoidance +of the subject of marriage hurt him. He did not perceive, as Norcross +did, that to make an announcement of his daughter's engagement at this +moment would be taken as a confession of shameful need. It is probable +that Berrie herself would not have seen this further complication. + +Each hour added to Wayland's sense of helplessness and bitterness. "I am +in a trap. I can neither help Berrie nor help myself. Nothing remains for +me but flight, and flight will also be a confession of guilt." + +Once again, and in far more definite terms, he perceived the injustice of +the world toward women. Here with Berrie, as in ages upon ages of other +times, the maiden must bear the burden of reproach. "In me it will be +considered a joke, a romantic episode, in her a degrading misdemeanor. +And yet what can I do?" + +When he re-entered the cabin the Supervisor had returned from the camp, +and something in his manner, as well as in Berrie's, revealed the fact +that the situation had not improved. + +"They forced me into a corner," McFarlane said to Wayland, peevishly. "I +lied out of one night; but they know that you were here last night. Of +course, they were respectful enough so long as I had an eye on them, but +their tongues are wagging now." + +The rest of the evening was spent in talk on the forest, and in going +over the ranger's books, for the Supervisor continued to plan for +Wayland's stay at this station, and the young fellow thought it best not +to refuse at the moment. + +As bedtime drew near Settle took a blanket and went to the corral, and +Berrie insisted that her father and Wayland occupy the bunk. + +Norcross protested; but the Supervisor said: "Let her alone. She's better +able to sleep on the floor than either of us." + +This was perfectly true; but, in spite of his bruised and aching body, +the youth would gladly have taken her place beside the stove. It seemed +pitifully unjust that she should have this physical hardship in addition +to her uneasiness of mind. + + + + +X + +THE CAMP ON THE PASS + + +Berea suffered a restless night, the most painful and broken she had +known in all her life. She acknowledged that Siona Moore was prettier, +and that she stood more nearly on Wayland's plane than herself; but the +realization of this fact did not bring surrender--she was not of that +temper. All her life she had been called upon to combat the elements, to +hold her own amidst rude men and inconsiderate women, and she had no +intention of yielding her place to a pert coquette, no matter what the +gossips might say. She had seen this girl many times, but had refused to +visit her house. She had held her in contempt, now she quite cordially +hated her. + +"She shall not have her way with Wayland," she decided. "I know what she +wants--she wants him at her side to-morrow; but I will not have it so. +She is trying to get him away from me." + +The more she dwelt on this the hotter her jealous fever burned. The floor +on which she lay was full of knots. She could not lose herself in sleep, +tired as she was. The planks no longer turned their soft spots to her +flesh, and she rolled from side to side in torment. She would have arisen +and dressed only she did not care to disturb the men. The night seemed +interminable. + +Her plan of action was simple. "I shall go home the morrow and take +Wayland with me. I will not have him going with that girl--that's +settled!" The very thought of his taking Siona's hand in greeting angered +her beyond reason. + +She had put Cliff Belden completely out of her mind, and this was +characteristic of her. She had no divided interests, no subtleties, no +subterfuges. Forthright, hot-blooded, frank and simple, she had centered +all her care, all her desires, on this pale youth whose appeal was at +once mystic and maternal; but her pity was changing to something deeper, +for she was convinced that he was gaining in strength, that he was in no +danger of relapse. The hard trip of the day before had seemingly done him +no permanent injury; on the contrary, a few hours' rest had almost +restored him to his normal self. "To-morrow he will be able to ride +again." And this thought reconciled her to her hard bed. She did not look +beyond the long, delicious day which they must spend in returning to the +Springs. + +She fell asleep at last, and was awakened only by her father tinkering +about the stove. + +She rose alertly, signing to the Supervisor not to disturb her patient. + +However, Norcross also heard the rattle of the poker, opened his eyes and +regarded Berrie with sleepy smile. "Good morning, if it _is_ morning," he +said, slowly. + +She laughed back at him. "It's almost sunup." + +"You don't tell me! How could I have overslept like this? Makes me think +of the Irishman who, upon being awakened to an early breakfast like this, +ate it, then said to his employer, an extra thrifty farmer, 'Two suppers +in wan night--and hurrah for bed again.'" + +This amused her greatly. "It's too bad. I hope you got some sleep?" + +"All there was time for." His voice changed. "I feel like a hound-pup, to +be snoring on a downy couch like this while you were roughing it on the +floor. How did I come to do it? It's shameful!" + +"Don't worry about me. How are you feeling this morning?" + +He stretched and yawned. "Fine! That is, I'm sore here and there, but I'm +feeling wonderfully well. Do you know, I begin to hope that I can finally +dominate the wilderness. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I got so I could +ride and walk as you do, for instance? The fact that I'm not dead this +morning is encouraging." He drew on his shoes as he talked, while she +went about her toilet, which was quite as simple as his own. She had +spent two nights in her day dress with almost no bathing facilities; but +that didn't trouble her. It was a part of the game. She washed her face +and hands in Settle's tin basin, but drew the line at his rubber comb. + +There was a distinct charm in seeing her thus adapting herself to the +cabin, a charm quite as powerful as that which emanated from Siona +Moore's dainty and theatrical personality. What it was he could not +define, but the forester's daughter had something primeval about her, +something close to the soil, something which aureoles the old Saxon +words--_wife_ and _home_ and _fireplace_. Seeing her through the savory +steam of the bacon she was frying, he forgot her marvelous skill as +horsewoman and pathfinder, and thought of her only as the housewife. She +belonged here, in this cabin. She was fitted to this landscape, whereas +the other woman was alien and dissonant. + +He moved his arms about and shook his legs with comical effect of trying +to see if they were still properly hinged. "It's miraculous! I'm not lame +at all. No one can accuse me of being a 'lunger' now. Last night's sleep +has made a new man of me. I've met the forest and it is mine." + +She beamed upon him with happy pride. "I'm mighty glad to hear you say +that. I was terribly afraid that long, hard walk in the rain had been too +much for you. I reckon you're all right for the work now." + +He recalled, as she spoke, her anguish of pity while they stood in the +darkness of the trail, and it seemed that he could go no farther, and he +said, soberly: "It must have seemed to you one while as if I were all in. +I felt that way myself. I was numb from head to heel. I couldn't have +gone another mile." + +Her face clouded with retrospective pain. "You mustn't try any more such +stunts--not for a few weeks, anyway. But get ready for breakfast." + +He went out into the morning exultantly, and ran down to the river to +bathe his face and hands, allured by its splendid voice. The world seemed +very bright and beautiful and health-giving once more. + +As soon as she was alone with her father, Berrie said: "I'm going home +to-day, dad." + +"Going home! What for?" + +"I've had enough of it." + +He glanced at her bed on the floor. "I can't say I blame you any. This +has been a rough trip; but we'll go up and bring down the outfit, and +then we men can sleep in the tent and let you have the bunk--you'll be +comfortable to-night." + +"Oh, I don't mind sleeping on the floor," she replied; "but I want to get +back. I don't want to meet those women. Another thing, you'd better use +Mr. Norcross at the Springs instead of leaving him here with Tony." + +"Why so?" + +"Well, he isn't quite well enough to run the risk. It's a long way from +here to a doctor." + +"He 'pears to be on deck this morning. Besides, I haven't anything in the +office to offer him." + +"Then send him up to Meeker. Landon needs help, and he's a better +forester than Tony, anyway." + +"How about Cliff? He may make trouble." + +Her face darkened. "Cliff will reach him if he wants to--no matter where +he is. And then, too, Landon likes Mr. Norcross and will see that he is +not abused." + +McFarlane ruminated over her suggestion, well knowing that she was +planning this change in order that she might have Norcross a little +nearer, a little more accessible. + +"I don't know but you're right. Landon is almost as good a hustler as +Tony, and a much better forester. I thought of sending Norcross up there +at first, but he told me that Frank and his gang had it in for him. Of +course, he's only nominally in the service; but I want him to begin +right." + +Berrie went further. "I want him to ride back with me to-day." + +He looked at her with grave inquiry. "Do you think that a wise thing to +do? Won't that make more talk?" + +"We'll start early and ride straight through." + +"You'll have to go by Lost Lake, and that means a long, hard hike. Can he +stand it?" + +"Oh yes. He rides well. It's the walking at a high altitude that does him +up. Furthermore, Cliff may turn up here, and I don't want another +mix-up." + +McFarlane was troubled. "I ought to go back with you; but Moore is over +here to line out a cutting, and I must stay on for a couple of days. +Suppose I send Tony along?" + +"No, Tony would be a nuisance and would do no good. Another day on the +trail won't add to Mrs. Belden's story. If she wants to be mean she's got +all the material for it already." + +In the end she had her way. McFarlane, perceiving that she had set her +heart on this ride, and having perfect faith in her skill and judgment on +the trail, finally said: "Well, if you do so, the quicker you start the +better. With the best of luck you can't pull in before eight o'clock, and +you'll have to ride hard to do that." + +"If I find we can't make it I'll pull into a ranch. But I'm sure we +can." + +When Wayland came in the Supervisor inquired: "Do you feel able to ride +back over the hill to-day?" + +"Entirely so. It isn't the riding that uses me up; it is the walking; +and, besides, as candidate for promotion I must obey orders--especially +orders to march." + +They breakfasted hurriedly, and while McFarlane and Tony were bringing in +the horses Wayland and Berrie set the cabin to rights. Working thus side +by side, she recovered her dominion over him, and at the same time +regained her own cheerful self-confidence. + +"You're a wonder!" he exclaimed, as he watched her deft adjustment of the +dishes and furniture. "You're ambidextrous." + +"I have to be to hold my job," she laughingly replied. "A feller must +play all the parts when he's up here." + +It was still early morning as they mounted and set off up the trail; but +Moore's camp was astir, and as McFarlane turned in--much against Berrie's +will--the lumberman and his daughter both came out to meet them. "Come in +and have some breakfast," said Siona, with cordial inclusiveness, while +her eyes met Wayland's glance with mocking glee. + +"Thank you," said McFarlane, "we can't stop. I'm going to set my daughter +over the divide. She has had enough camping, and Norcross is pretty well +battered up, so I'm going to help them across. I'll be back to-night, and +we'll take our turn up the valley to-morrow. Nash will be here then." + +Berrie did not mind her father's explanation; on the contrary, she took a +distinct pleasure in letting the other girl know of the long and intimate +day she was about to spend with her young lover. + +Siona, too adroit to display her disappointment, expressed polite regret. +"I hope you won't get storm-bound," she said, showing her white teeth in +a meaning smile. + +"If there is any sign of a storm we won't cross," declared McFarlane. +"We're going round by the lower pass, anyhow. If I'm not here by dark, +you may know I've stayed to set 'em down at the Mill." + +There was charm in Siona's alert poise, and in the neatness of her camp +dress. Her dainty tent, with its stools and rugs, made the wilderness +seem but a park. She reminded Norcross of the troops of tourists of the +Tyrol, and her tent was of a kind to harmonize with the tea-houses on the +path to the summit of the Matterhorn. Then, too, something triumphantly +feminine shone in her bright eyes and glowed in her softly rounded +cheeks. Her hand was little and pointed, not fitted like Berrie's for +tightening a cinch or wielding an ax, and as he said "Good-by," he added: +"I hope I shall see you again soon," and at the moment he meant it. + +"We'll return to the Springs in a few days," she replied. "Come and see +us. Our bungalow is on the other side of the river--and you, too," she +addressed Berrie; but her tone was so conventionally polite that the +ranch-girl, burning with jealous heat, made no reply. + +McFarlane led the way to the lake rapidly and in silence. The splendors +of the foliage, subdued by the rains, the grandeur of the peaks, the song +of the glorious stream--all were lost on Berrie, for she now felt herself +to be nothing but a big, clumsy, coarse-handed tomboy. Her worn gloves, +her faded skirt, and her man's shoes had been made hateful to her by that +smug, graceful, play-acting tourist with the cool, keen eyes and smirking +lips. "She pretends to be a kitten; but she isn't; she's a sly grown-up +cat," she bitterly accused, but she could not deny the charm of her +personality. + +Wayland was forced to acknowledge that Berrie in this dark mood was not +the delightful companion she had hitherto been. Something sweet and +confiding had gone out of their relationship, and he was too keen-witted +not to know what it was. He estimated precisely the value of the +malicious parting words of Siona Moore. "She's a natural tease, the kind +of woman who loves to torment other and less fortunate women. She cares +nothing for me, of course, it's just her way of paying off old scores. It +would seem that Berrie has not encouraged her advances in times past." + +That Berrie was suffering, and that her jealousy touchingly proved the +depth of her love for him, brought no elation, only perplexity. He was +not seeking such devotion. As a companion on the trail she had been a +joy--as a jealous sweetheart she was less admirable. He realized +perfectly that this return journey was of her arrangement, not +McFarlane's, and while he was not resentful of her care, he was in doubt +of the outcome. It hurried him into a further intimacy which might prove +embarrassing. + +At the camp by the lake the Supervisor became sharply commanding. "Now +let's throw these packs on lively. It will be slippery on the high trail, +and you'll just naturally have to hit leather hard and keep jouncing if +you reach the wagon-road before dark. But you'll make it." + +"Make it!" said Berrie. "Of course we'll make it. Don't you worry about +that for a minute. Once I get out of the green timber the dark won't +worry me. We'll push right through." + +In packing the camp stuff on the saddles, Berrie, almost as swift and +powerful as her father, acted with perfect understanding of every task, +and Wayland's admiration of her skill increased mightily. + +She insisted on her father's turning back. "We don't need you," she said. +"I can find the pass." + +McFarlane's faith in his daughter had been tested many times, and yet he +was a little loath to have her start off on a trail new to her. He argued +against it briefly, but she laughed at his fears. "I can go anywhere you +can," she said. "Stand clear!" With final admonition he stood clear. + +"You'll have to keep off the boggy meadows," he warned; "these rains will +have softened all those muck-holes on the other side; they'll be +bottomless pits; watch out for 'em. Good-by! If you meet Nash hurry him +along. Moore is anxious to run those lines. Keep in touch with Landon, +and if anybody turns up from the district office say I'll be back on +Friday. Good luck." + +"Same to you. So long." + +Berea led the way, and Norcross fell in behind the pack-horses, feeling +as unimportant as a small boy at the heels of a circus parade. His girl +captain was so competent, so self-reliant, and so sure that nothing he +could say or do assisted in the slightest degree. Her leadership was a +curiously close reproduction of her father's unhurried and graceful +action. Her seat in the saddle was as easy as Landon's, and her eyes were +alert to every rock and stream in the road. She was at home here, where +the other girl would have been a bewildered child, and his words of +praise lifted the shadow from her face. + +The sky was cloudy, and a delicious feeling of autumn was in the +air--autumn that might turn to winter with a passing cloud, and the +forest was dankly gloomy and grimly silent, save from the roaring stream +which ran at times foam-white with speed. The high peaks, gray and +streaked with new-fallen snow, shone grandly, bleakly through the firs. +The radiant beauty of the road from the Springs, the golden glow of four +days before was utterly gone, and yet there was exultation in this ride. +A distinct pleasure, a delight of another sort, lay in thus daring the +majesty of an unknown wind-swept pass. + +Wayland called out: "The air feels like Thanksgiving morning, doesn't +it?" + +"It _is_ Thanksgiving for me, and I'm going to get a grouse for dinner," +she replied; and in less than an hour the snap of her rifle made good her +promise. + +After leaving the upper lake she turned to the right and followed the +course of a swift and splendid stream, which came churning through a +cheerless, mossy swamp of spruce-trees. Inexperienced as he was, Wayland +knew that this was not a well-marked trail; but his confidence in his +guide was too great to permit of any worry over the pass, and he amused +himself by watching the water-robins as they flitted from stone to stone +in the torrent, and in calculating just where he would drop a line for +trout if he had time to do so, and in recovered serenity enjoyed his +ride. Gradually he put aside his perplexities concerning the future, +permitting his mind to prefigure nothing but his duties with Landon at +Meeker's Mill. + +He was rather glad of the decision to send him there, for it promised +absorbing sport. "I shall see how Landon and Belden work out their +problem," he said. He had no fear of Frank Meeker now. "As a forest guard +with official duties to perform I can meet that young savage on other and +more nearly equal terms," he assured himself. + +The trail grew slippery and in places ran full of water. "But there's a +bottom, somewhere," Berrie confidently declared, and pushed ahead with +resolute mien. It was noon when they rose above timber and entered upon +the wide, smooth s of the pass. Snow filled the grass here, and the +wind, keen, cutting, unhindered, came out of the desolate west with +savage fury; but the sun occasionally shone through the clouds with vivid +splendor. "It is December now," shouted Wayland, as he put on his slicker +and cowered low to his saddle. "It will be January soon." + +"We will make it Christmas dinner," she laughed, and her glowing good +humor warmed his heart. She was entirely her cheerful self again. + +As they rose, the view became magnificent, wintry, sparkling. The great +clouds, drifting like ancient warships heavy with armament, sent down +chill showers of hail over the frosted gold of the grassy s; but +when the shadows passed the sunlight descended in silent cataracts +deliriously spring-like. The conies squeaked from the rocky ridges, and a +brace of eagles circling about a lone crag, as if exulting in their +sovereign mastery of the air, screamed in shrill ecstatic duo. The sheer +cliffs, on their shadowed sides, were violently purple. Everywhere the +landscape exhibited crashing contrasts of primary pigments which bit into +consciousness like the flare of a martial band. + +The youth would have lingered in spite of the cold; but the girl kept +steadily on, knowing well that the hardest part of their journey was +still before them, and he, though longing to ride by her side, and to +enjoy the views with her, was forced to remain in the rear in order to +hurry the reluctant pack-animals forward. They had now reached a point +twelve thousand feet above the sea, and range beyond range, to the west +and south, rose into sight like stupendous waves of a purple-green sea. +To the east the park lay level as a floor and carpeted in tawny velvet. + +It was nearly two o'clock when they began to drop down behind the rocky +ridges of the eastern , and soon, in the bottom of a warm and +sheltered hollow just at timber-line, Berrie drew her horse to a stand +and slipped from the saddle. "We'll rest here an hour," she said, "and +cook our grouse; or are you too hungry to wait?" + +"I can wait," he answered, dramatically. "But it seems as if I had never +eaten." + +"Well, then, we'll save the grouse till to-morrow; but I'll make some +coffee. You bring some water while I start a fire." + +And so, while the tired horses cropped the russet grass, she boiled some +coffee and laid out some bread and meat, while he sat by watching her and +absorbing the beauty of the scene, the charm of the hour. "It is exactly +like a warm afternoon in April," he said, "and here are some of the +spring flowers." + +"There now, sit by and eat," she said, with humor; and in perfectly +restored tranquillity they ate and drank, with no thought of critics or +of rivals. They were alone, and content to be so. + +It was deliciously sweet and restful there in that sunny hollow on the +breast of the mountain. The wind swept through the worn branches of the +dwarfed spruce with immemorial wistfulness; but these young souls heard +it only as a far-off song. Side by side on the soft Alpine clover they +rested and talked, looking away at the shining peaks, and down over the +dark-green billows of fir beneath them. Half the forest was under their +eyes at the moment, and the man said: "Is it not magnificent! It makes me +proud of my country. Just think, all this glorious spread of hill and +valley is under your father's direction. I may say under _your_ +direction, for I notice he does just about what you tell him to do." + +"You've noticed that?" she laughed. "If I were a man I'd rather be +Supervisor of this forest than Congressman." + +"So would I," he agreed. "Nash says you _are_ the Supervisor. I wonder if +your father realizes how efficient you are? Does he ever sorrow over your +not being a boy?" + +Her eyes shone with mirth. "Not that I can notice. He 'pears contented." + +"You're a good deal like a son to him, I imagine. You can do about all +that a boy can do, anyhow--more than I could ever do. Does he realize how +much you have to do with the management of his forest? I've never seen +your like. I really believe you _could_ carry on the work as well as +he." + +She flushed with pleasure. "You seem to think I'm a district forester in +disguise." + +"I have eyes, Miss Supervisor, and also ears--which leads me to ask: Why +don't you clean out that saloon gang? Landon is sure there's crooked work +going on at that mill--certainly that open bar is a disgraceful and +corrupting thing." + +Her face clouded. "We've tried to cut out that saloon, but it can't be +done. You see, it's on a patented claim--the claim was bogus, of course, +and we've made complaint, but the matter is hung up, and that gives 'em a +chance to go on." + +"Well, let's not talk of that. It's too delicious an hour for any +question of business. It is a moment for poetry. I wish I could write +what I feel this moment. Why don't we camp here and watch the sun go down +and the moon rise? From our lofty vantage-ground the coming of dawn would +be an epic." + +"We mustn't think of that," she protested. "We must be going." + +"Not yet. The hour is too perfect. It may never come again. The wind in +the pines, the sunshine, the conies crying from their rocks, the +butterflies on the clover--my heart aches with the beauty of it. It's +been a wonderful trip. Even that staggering walk in the rain had its +splendid quality. I couldn't see the poetry in it then; but I do now. +These few days have made us comrades, haven't they--comrades of the +trail? You have been very considerate of me." He took her hand. "I've +never seen such hands. They are like steel, and yet they are feminine." + +She drew her hands away. "I'm ashamed of my hands--they are so big and +rough and dingy." + +"They're brown, of course, and calloused--a little--but they are not big, +and they are beautifully modeled." He looked at her speculatively. "I am +wondering how you would look in conventional dress." + +"Do you mean--" She hesitated. "I'd look like a gawk in one of those +low-necked outfits. I'd never dare--and those tight skirts would sure + me." + +"Oh no, they wouldn't. You'd have to modify your stride a little; but +you'd negotiate it. You're equal to anything." + +"You're making fun of me!" + +"No, I'm not. I'm in earnest. You're the kind of American girl that can +go anywhere and do anything. My sisters would mortgage their share of the +golden streets for your abounding health--and so would I." + +"You are all right now," she smiled. "You don't look or talk as you +did." + +"It's this sunlight." He lifted a spread hand as if to clutch and hold +something. "I feel it soaking into me like some magical oil. No more +moping and whining for me. I've proved that hardship is good for me." + +"Don't crow till you're out of the woods. It's a long ride down the hill, +and going down is harder on the tenderfoot than going up." + +"I'm no longer a tenderfoot. All I need is another trip like this with +you and I shall be a master trailer." + +All this was very sweet to her, and though she knew they should be going, +she lingered. Childishly reckless of the sinking sun, she played with the +wild flowers at her side and listened to his voice in complete content. +He was right. The hour was too beautiful to be shortened, although she +saw no reason why others equally delightful might not come to them both. +He was more of the lover than he had ever been before, that she knew, and +in the light of his eyes all that was not girlish and charming melted +away. She forgot her heavy shoes, her rough hands and sun-tanned face, +and listened with wondering joy and pride to his words, which were of a +fineness such as she had never heard spoken--only books contained such +unusual and exquisite phrases. + +A cloud passing across the sun flung down a shadow of portentous chill +and darkness. She started to her feet with startled recollection of the +place and the hour. + +"We _must_ be going--at once!" she commanded. + +"Not yet," he pleaded. "It's only a cloud. The sun is coming out again. I +have perfect confidence in your woodcraft. Why not spend another night on +the trail? It may be our last trip together." + +He tempted her strongly, so frank and boyish and lovable were his glances +and his words. But she was vaguely afraid of herself, and though the long +ride at the moment seemed hard and dull, the thought of her mother +waiting decided her action. + +"No, no!" she responded, firmly. "We've wasted too much time already. We +must ride." + +He looked up at her with challenging glance. "Suppose I refuse--suppose I +decide to stay here?" + +Upon her, as he talked, a sweet hesitation fell, a dream which held more +of happiness than she had ever known. "It is a long, hard ride," she +thought, "and another night on the trail will not matter." And so the +moments passed on velvet feet, and still she lingered, reluctant to break +the spell. + +Suddenly, into their idyllic drowse of content, so sweet, so youthful, +and so pure of heart, broke the sound of a horse's hurrying, clashing, +steel-shod feet, and looking up Berrie saw a mounted man coming down the +mountainside with furious, reckless haste. + +"It is Cliff!" she cried out. "He's on our trail!" And into her face came +a look of alarm. Her lips paled, her eyes widened. "He's mad--he's +dangerous! Leave him to me," she added, in a low, tense voice. + + + + +XI + +THE DEATH-GRAPPLE + + +There was something so sinister in the rider's disregard of stone and +tree and pace, something so menacing in the forward thrust of his body, +that Berrie was able to divine his wrath, and was smitten into +irresolution--all her hardy, boyish self-reliance swallowed up in the +weakness of the woman. She forgot the pistol at her belt, and awaited the +assault with rigid pose. + +As Belden neared them Norcross also perceived that the rider's face was +distorted with passion, and that his glance was not directed upon Berrie, +but upon himself, and he braced himself for the attack. + +Leaving his saddle with one flying leap, which the cowboy practises at +play, Belden hurled himself upon his rival with the fury of a panther. + +The slender youth went down before the big rancher as though struck by a +catapult; and the force of his fall against the stony earth stunned him +so that he lay beneath his enemy as helpless as a child. + +[Illustration: THE SLENDER YOUTH WENT DOWN BEFORE THE BIG RANCHER +AS THOUGH STRUCK BY A CATAPULT] + +Belden snarled between his teeth: "I told you I'd kill you, and I will." + +But this was not to be. Berea suddenly recovered her native force. With a +cry of pain, of anger, she flung herself on the maddened man's back. Her +hands encircled his neck like a collar of bronze. Hardened by incessant +use of the cinch and the rope, her fingers sank into the sinews of his +great throat, shutting off both blood and breath. + +"Let go!" she commanded, with deadly intensity. "Let go, or I'll choke +the life out of you! Let go, I say!" + +He raised a hand to beat her off, but she was too strong, too desperate +to be driven away. She was as blind to pain as a mother eagle, and bent +above him so closely that he could not bring the full weight of his fist +to bear. With one determined hand still clutching his throat, she ran the +fingers of her other hand into his hair and twisted his head upward with +a power which he could not resist. And so, looking into his upturned, +ferocious eyes, she repeated with remorseless fury: "_Let go_, I say!" + +His swollen face grew rigid, his mouth gaped, his tongue protruded, and +at last, releasing his hold on his victim, he rose, flinging Berrie off +with a final desperate effort. "I'll kill you, too!" he gasped. + +Up to this moment the girl had felt no fear of herself; but now she +resorted to other weapons. Snatching her pistol from its holster, she +leveled it at his forehead. "Stop!" she said; and something in her voice +froze him into calm. He was not a fiend; he was not a deliberate +assassin; he was only a jealous, despairing, insane lover, and as he +looked into the face he knew so well, and realized that nothing but hate +and deadly resolution lit the eyes he had so often kissed, his heart gave +way, and, dropping his head, he said: "Kill me if you want to. I've +nothing left to live for." + +There was something unreal, appalling in this sudden reversion to +weakness, and Berrie could not credit his remorse. "Give me your gun," +she said. + +He surrendered it to her and she threw it aside; then turned to Wayland, +who was lying white and still with face upturned to the sky. With a moan +of anguish she bent above him and called upon his name. He did not stir, +and when she lifted his head to her lap his hair, streaming with blood, +stained her dress. She kissed him and called again to him, then turned +with accusing frenzy to Belden: "You've killed him! Do you hear? You've +killed him!" + +The agony, the fury of hate in her voice reached the heart of the +conquered man. He raised his head and stared at her with mingled fear and +remorse. And so across that limp body these two souls, so lately lovers, +looked into each other's eyes as though nothing but words of hate and +loathing had ever passed between them. The girl saw in him only a savage, +vengeful, bloodthirsty beast; the man confronted in her an accusing +angel. + +"I didn't mean to kill him," he muttered. + +"Yes, you did! You meant it. You crushed his life out with your big +hands--and now I'm going to kill you for it!" + +A fierce calm had come upon her. Some far-off ancestral deep of passion +called for blood revenge. She lifted the weapon with steady hand and +pointed it at his heart. + +His fear passed as his wrath had passed. His head drooped, his glance +wavered. "Shoot!" he commanded, sullenly. "I'd sooner die than +live--now." + +His words, his tone, brought back to her a vision of the man he had +seemed when she first met and admired him. Her hand fell, the woman in +her reasserted itself. A wave of weakness, of indecision, of passionate +grief overwhelmed her. "Oh, Cliff!" she moaned. "Why did you do it? He +was so gentle and sweet." + +He did not answer. His glance wandered to his horse, serenely cropping +the grass in utter disregard of this tumultuous human drama; but the +wind, less insensate than the brute, swept through the grove of dwarfed, +distorted pines with a desolate, sympathetic moan which filled the man's +heart with a new and exalted sorrow. "You're right," he said. "I was +crazy. I deserve killing." + +But Berrie was now too deep in her own desolation to care what he said or +did. She kissed the cold lips of the still youth, murmuring passionately: +"I don't care to live without you--I shall go with you!" + +Belden's hand was on her wrist before she could raise her weapon. "Don't, +for God's sake, don't do that! He may not be dead." + +She responded but dully to the suggestion. "No, no. He's gone. His breath +is gone." + +"Maybe not. Let me see." + +Again she bent to the quiet face on which the sunlight fell with mocking +splendor. It seemed all a dream till she felt once more the stain of his +blood upon her hands. It was all so incredibly sudden. Only just now he +was exulting over the warmth and beauty of the day--and now-- + +How beautiful he was. He seemed asleep. The conies crying from their +runways suddenly took on poignant pathos. They appeared to be grieving +with her; but the eagles spoke of revenge. + +A sharp cry, a note of joy sprang from her lips. "He _is_ alive! I saw +his eyelids quiver--quick! Bring some water." + +The man leaped to his feet, and, running down to the pool, filled his +sombrero with icy water. He was as eager now to save his rival as he had +been mad to destroy him. "Let me help," he pleaded. But she would not +permit him to touch the body. + +Again, while splashing the water upon his face, the girl called upon her +love to return. "He hears me!" she exulted to her enemy. "He is breathing +now. He is opening his eyes." + +The wounded man did, indeed, open his eyes, but his look was a blank, +uncomprehending stare, which plunged her back into despair. "He don't +know me!" she said, with piteous accent. She now perceived the source of +the blood upon her arm. It came from a wound in the boy's head which had +been dashed upon a stone. + +The sight of this wound brought back the blaze of accusing anger to her +eyes. "See what you did!" she said, with cold malignity. Then by sudden +shift she bent to the sweet face in her arms and kissed it passionately. +"Open your eyes, darling. You must not die! I won't let you die! Can't +you hear me? Don't you know where you are?" + +He opened his eyes once more, quietly, and looked up into her face with a +faint, drowsy smile. He could not yet locate himself in space and time, +but he knew her and was comforted. He wondered why he should be looking +up into a sunny sky. He heard the wind and the sound of a horse cropping +grass, and the voice of the girl penetratingly sweet as that of a young +mother calling her baby back to life, and slowly his benumbed brain began +to resolve the mystery. + +Belden, forgotten, ignored as completely as the conies, sat with choking +throat and smarting eyes. For him the world was only dust and ashes--a +ruin which his own barbaric spirit had brought upon itself. + +Slowly the youth's eyes took on expression. "Are we still on the hill?" +he asked. + +"Yes, dearest," she assured him. Then to Belden, "He knows where he is!" + +Wayland again struggled with reality. "What has happened to me?" + +"You fell and hurt your head." + +He turned slightly and observed the other man looking down at her with +dark and tragic glance. "Hello, Belden," he said, feebly. "How came you +here?" Then noting Berrie's look, he added: "I remember. He tried to kill +me." He again searched his antagonist's face. "Why didn't you finish the +job?" + +The girl tried to turn his thought aside. "It's all right now, darling. +He won't make any more trouble. Don't mind him. I don't care for anybody +now you are coming back to me." + +Wayland wonderingly regarded the face of the girl. "And you--are you +hurt?" + +"No, I'm not hurt. I am perfectly happy now." She turned to Belden with +quick, authoritative command. "Unsaddle the horses and set up the tent. +We won't be able to leave here to-night." + +He rose with instant obedience, glad of a chance to serve her, and soon +had the tent pegged to its place and the bedding unrolled. Together they +lifted the wounded youth and laid him upon his blankets beneath the low +canvas roof which seemed heavenly helpful to Berea. + +"There!" she said, caressingly. "Now you are safe, no matter whether it +rains or not." + +He smiled. "It seems I'm to have my way after all. I hope I shall be able +to see the sun rise. I've sort of lost my interest in the sunset." + +"Now, Cliff," she said, as soon as the camp was in order and a fire +started, "I reckon you'd better ride on. I haven't any further use for +you." + +"Don't say that, Berrie," he pleaded. "I can't leave you here alone with +a sick man. Let me stay and help." + +She looked at him for a long time before she replied. "I shall never be +able to look at you again without hating you," she said. "I shall always +remember you as you looked when you were killing that boy. So you'd +better ride on and keep a-riding. I'm going to forget all this just as +soon as I can, and it don't help me any to have you around. I never want +to see you or hear your name again." + +"You don't mean that, Berrie!" + +"Yes, I do," she asserted, bitterly. "I mean just that. So saddle up and +pull out. All I ask of you is to say nothing about what has happened +here. You'd better leave the state. If Wayland should get worse it might +go hard with you." + +He accepted his banishment. "All right. If you feel that way I'll ride. +But I'd like to do something for you before I go. I'll pile up some +wood--" + +"No. I'll take care of that." And without another word of farewell she +turned away and re-entered the tent. + +Mounting his horse with painful slowness, as though suddenly grown old, +the reprieved assassin rode away up the mountain, his head low, his eyes +upon the ground. + + + + +XII + +BERRIE'S VIGIL + + +The situation in which Berea now found herself would have disheartened +most women of mature age, but she remained not only composed, she was +filled with an irrational delight. The nurse that is in every woman was +aroused in her, and she looked forward with joy to a night of vigil, +confident that Wayland was not seriously injured and that he would soon +be able to ride. She had no fear of the forest or of the night. Nature +held no menace now that her tent was set and her fire alight. + +Wayland, without really knowing anything about it, suspected that he owed +his life to her intervention, and this belief deepened the feeling of +admiration which he had hitherto felt toward her. He listened to her at +work around the fire with a deepening sense of his indebtedness to her, +and when she looked in to ask if she could do anything for him, his +throat filled with an emotion which rendered his answer difficult. + +As his mind cleared he became very curious to know precisely what had +taken place, but he did not feel free to ask her. "She will tell me if +she wishes me to know." That she had vanquished Belden and sent him on +his way was evident, although he had not been able to hear what she had +said to him at the last. What lay between the enemy's furious onslaught +and the aid he lent in making the camp could only be surmised. "I wonder +if she used her pistol?" Wayland asked himself. "Something like death +must have stared him in the face." + +"Strange how everything seems to throw me ever deeper into her debt," he +thought, a little later. But he did not quite dare put into words the +resentment which mingled with his gratitude. He hated to be put so +constantly into the position of the one protected, defended. And yet it +was his own fault. He had put himself among people and conditions where +she was the stronger. Having ventured out of his world into hers he must +take the consequences. + +That she loved him with the complete passion of her powerful and simple +nature he knew, for her voice had reached through the daze of his +semi-unconsciousness with thrilling power. The touch of her lips to his, +the close clasp of her strong arms were of ever greater convincing +quality. And yet he wished the revelation had come in some other way. His +pride was abraded. His manhood seemed somehow lessened. It was a +disconcerting reversal of the ordinary relations between hero and +heroine, and he saw no way of re-establishing the normal attitude of the +male. + +Entirely unaware of what was passing in the mind of her patient, Berrie +went about her duties with a cheerfulness which astonished the sufferer +in the tent. She seemed about to hum a song as she set the skillet on the +fire, but a moment later she called out, in a tone of irritation: "Here +comes Nash!" + +"I'm glad of that," answered Wayland, although he perceived something of +her displeasure. + +Nash, on his way to join the Supervisor, raised a friendly greeting as he +saw the girl, and drew rein. "I expected to meet you farther down the +hill," he said. "Tony 'phoned that you had started. Where did you leave +the Supervisor?" + +"Over at the station waiting for you. Where's your outfit?" + +"Camped down the trail a mile or so. I thought I'd better push through +to-night. What about Norcross? Isn't he with you?" + +She hesitated an instant. "He's in the tent. He fell and struck his head +on a rock, and I had to go into camp here." + +Nash was deeply concerned. "Is that so? Well, that's hard luck. Is he +badly hurt?" + +"Well, he had a terrible fall. But he's easier now. I think he's +asleep." + +"May I look in on him?" + +"I don't think you'd better take the time. It's a long, hard ride from +here to the station. It will be deep night before you can make it--" + +"Don't you think the Supervisor would want me to camp here to-night and +do what I could for you? If Norcross is badly injured you will need me." + +She liked Nash, and she knew he was right, and yet she was reluctant to +give up the pleasure of her lone vigil. "He's not in any danger, and +we'll be able to ride on in the morning." + +Nash, thinking of her as Clifford Belden's promised wife, had no +suspicion of her feeling toward Norcross. Therefore he gently urged that +to go on was quite out of order. "I _can't_ think of leaving you here +alone--certainly not till I see Norcross and find out how badly he is +hurt." + +She yielded. "I reckon you're right," she said. "I'll go see if he is +awake." + +He followed her to the door of the tent, apprehending something new and +inexplicable in her attitude. In the music of her voice as she spoke to +the sick man was the love-note of the mate. "You may come in," she called +back, and Nash, stooping, entered the small tent. + +"Hello, old man, what you been doing with yourself? Hitting the high +spots?" + +Norcross smiled feebly. "No, the hill flew up and bumped _me_." + +"How did it all happen?" + +"I don't exactly know. It all came of a sudden. I had no share in it--I +didn't go for to do it." + +"Whether you did or not, you seem to have made a good job of it." + +Nash examined the wounded man carefully, and his skill and strength in +handling Norcross pleased Berrie, though she was jealous of the warm +friendship which seemed to exist between the men. + +She had always liked Nash, but she resented him now, especially as he +insisted on taking charge of the case; but she gave way finally, and went +back to her pots and pans with pensive countenance. + +A little later, when Nash came out to make report, she was not very +gracious in her manner. "He's pretty badly hurt," he said. "There's an +ugly gash in his scalp, and the shock has produced a good deal of pain +and confusion in his head; but he's going to be all right in a day or +two. For a man seeking rest and recuperation he certainly has had a tough +run of weather." + +Though a serious-minded, honorable forester, determined to keep sternly +in mind that he was in the presence of the daughter of his chief, and +that she was engaged to marry another, Nash was, after all, a man, and +the witchery of the hour, the charm of the girl's graceful figure, +asserted their power over him. His eyes grew tender, and his voice +eloquent in spite of himself. His words he could guard, but it was hard +to keep from his speech the song of the lover. The thought that he was to +camp in her company, to help her about the fire, to see her from moment +to moment, with full liberty to speak to her, to meet her glance, pleased +him. It was the most romantic and moving episode in his life, and though +of a rather dry and analytic temperament he had a sense of poesy. + +The night, black, oppressive, and silent, brought a closer bond of mutual +help and understanding between them. He built a fire of dry branches +close to the tent door, and there sat, side by side with the girl, in the +glow of embers, so close to the injured youth that they could talk +together, and as he spoke freely, yet modestly, of his experiences Berrie +found him more deeply interesting than she had hitherto believed him to +be. True, he saw things less poetically than Wayland, but he was finely +observant, and a man of studious and refined habits. + +She grew friendlier, and asked him about his work, and especially about +his ambitions and plans for the future. They discussed the forest and its +enemies, and he wondered at her freedom in speaking of the Mill and +saloon. He said: "Of course you know that Alec Belden is a partner in +that business, and I'm told--of course I don't know this--that Clifford +Belden is also interested." + +She offered no defense of young Belden, and this unconcern puzzled him. +He had expected indignant protest, but she merely replied: "I don't care +who owns it. It should be rooted out. I hate that kind of thing. It's +just another way of robbing those poor tie-jacks." + +"Clifford should get out of it. Can't you persuade him to do so?" + +"I don't think I can." + +"His relationship to you--" + +"He is not related to me." + +Her tone amazed him. "You know what I mean." + +"Of course I do, but you're mistaken. We're not related that way any +longer." + +This silenced him for a few moments, then he said: "I'm rather glad of +that. He isn't anything like the man you thought he was--I couldn't say +these things before--but he is as greedy as Alec, only not so open about +it." + +All this comment, which moved the forester so deeply to utter, seemed not +to interest Berea. She sat staring at the fire with the calm brow of an +Indian. Clifford Belden had passed out of her life as completely as he +had vanished out of the landscape. She felt an immense relief at being +rid of him, and resented his being brought back even as a subject of +conversation. + +Wayland, listening, fancied he understood her desire, and said nothing +that might arouse Nash's curiosity. + +Nash, on his part, knowing that she had broken with Belden, began to +understand the tenderness, the anxious care of her face and voice, as she +bent above young Norcross. As the night deepened and the cold air stung, +he asked: "Have you plenty of blankets for a bed?" + +"Oh yes," she answered, "but I don't intend to sleep." + +"Oh, you must!" he declared. "Go to bed. I will keep the fire going." + +At last she consented. "I will make my bed right here at the mouth of the +tent close to the fire," she said, "and you can call me if you need me." + +"Why not put your bed in the tent? It's going to be cold up here." + +"I am all right outside," she protested. + +"Put your bed inside, Miss Berrie. We can't let conventions count above +timber-line. I shall rest better if I know you are properly sheltered." + +And so it happened that for the third time she shared the same roof with +her lover; but the nurse was uppermost in her now. At eleven thousand +feet above the sea--with a cold drizzle of fine rain in the air--one does +not consider the course of gossip as carefully as in a village, and +Berrie slept unbrokenly till daylight. + +Nash was the first to arise in the dusk of dawn, and Berrie, awakened by +the crackle of his fire, soon joined him. There is no sweeter sound than +the voice of the flame at such a time, in such a place. It endows the +bleak mountainside with comfort, makes the ledge a hearthstone. It holds +the promise of savory meats and fragrant liquor, and robs the frosty air +of its terrors. + +Wayland, hearing their voices, called out, with feeble humor: "Will some +one please turn on the steam in my room?" + +Berrie uttered a happy word. "How do you feel this morning?" she asked. + +"Not precisely like a pugilist--well, yes, I believe I do--like the +fellow who got second money." + +"How is the bump?" inquired Nash, thrusting his head inside the door. + +"Reduced to the size of a golf-ball as near as I can judge of it. I doubt +if I can wear a hat; but I'm feeling fine. I'm going to get up." + +Berrie was greatly relieved. "I'm so glad! Do you feel like riding down +the hill?" + +"Sure thing! I'm hungry, and as soon as I am fed I'm ready to start." + +Berrie joined the surveyor at the fire. + +"If you'll round up our horses, Mr. Nash, I'll rustle breakfast and we'll +get going," she said. + +Nash, enthralled, lingered while she twisted her hair into place, then +went out to bring in the ponies. + +Wayland came out a little uncertainly, but looking very well. "I think I +shall discourage my friends from coming to this region for their health," +he said, ruefully. "If I were a novelist now all this would be grist for +my mill." + +Beneath his joking he was profoundly chagrined. He had hoped by this time +to be as sinewy, as alert as Nash, instead of which here he sat, +shivering over the fire like a sick girl, his head swollen, his blood +sluggish; but this discouragement only increased Berea's tenderness--a +tenderness which melted all his reserve. + +"I'm not worth all your care," he said to her, with poignant glance. + +The sun rose clear and warm, and the fire, the coffee, put new courage +into him as well as into the others, and while the morning was yet early +and the forest chill and damp with rain, the surveyor brought up the +horses and started packing the outfit. + +In this Berrie again took part, doing her half of the work quite as +dextrously as Nash himself. Indeed, the forester was noticeably confused +and not quite up to his usual level of adroit ease. + +At last both packs were on, and as they stood together for a moment, Nash +said: "This has been a great experience--one I shall remember as long as +I live." + +She stirred uneasily under his frank admiration. "I'm mightily obliged to +you," she replied, as heartily as she could command. + +"Don't thank me, I'm indebted to you. There is so little in my life of +such companionship as you and Norcross give me." + +"You'll find it lonesome over at the station, I'm afraid," said she. "But +Moore intends to put a crew of tie-cutters in over there--that will help +some." She smiled. + +"I'm not partial to the society of tie-jacks." + +"If you ride hard you may find that Moore girl in camp. She was there +when we left." There was a sparkle of mischief in her glance. + +"I'm not interested in the Moore girl," he retorted. + +"Do you know her?" + +"I've seen her at the post-office once or twice; _she_ is not my kind." + +She gave him her hand. "Well, good-by. I'm all right now that Wayland can +ride." + +He held her hand an instant. "I believe I'll ride back with you as far as +the camp." + +"You'd better go on. Father is waiting for you. I'll send the men along." +There was dismissal in her voice, and yet she recognized as never before +the fine qualities that were his. "Please don't say anything of this to +others, and tell my father not to worry about us. We'll pull in all +right." + +He helped Norcross mount his horse, and as he put the lead rope into +Berrie's hand, he said: with much feeling: "Good luck to you. I shall +remember this night all the rest of my life." + +"I hate to be going to the rear," called Wayland, whose bare, bandaged +head made him look like a wounded young officer. "But I guess it's better +for me to lay off for a week or two and recover my tone." + +And so they parted, the surveyor riding his determined way up the naked +mountainside toward the clouds, while Berrie and her ward plunged at once +into the dark and dripping forest below. "If you can stand the grief," +she said, "we'll go clear through." + +Wayland had his misgivings, but did not say so. His confidence in his +guide was complete. She would do her part, that was certain. Several +times she was forced to dismount and blaze out a new path in order to +avoid some bog; but she sternly refused his aid. "You must not get off," +she warned; "stay where you are. I can do this work better alone." + +They were again in that green, gloomy, and silent zone of the range, +where giant spruces grow, and springs, oozing from the rocks, trickle +over the trail. It was very beautiful, but menacing, by reason of its +apparently endless thickets cut by stony ridges. It was here she met the +two young men, Downing and Travis, bringing forward the surveying outfit, +but she paused only to say: "Push along steadily. You are needed on the +other side." + +After leaving the men, and with a knowledge that the remaining leagues of +the trail were solitary, Norcross grew fearful. "The fall of a horse, an +accident to that brave girl, and we would be helpless," he thought. "I +wish Nash had returned with us." Once his blood chilled with horror as he +watched his guide striking out across the marge of a grassy lake. This +meadow, as he divined, was really a carpet of sod floating above a +bottomless pool of muck, for it shook beneath her horse's feet. + +"Come on, it's all right," she called back, cheerily. "We'll soon pick up +the other trail." + +He wondered how she knew, for to him each hill was precisely like +another, each thicket a maze. + +Her caution was all for him. She tried each dangerous slough first, and +thus was able to advise him which way was safest. His head throbbed with +pain and his knees were weary, but he rode on, manifesting such cheer as +he could, resolving not to complain at any cost; but his self-respect +ebbed steadily, leaving him in bitter, silent dejection. + +At last they came into open ground on a high ridge, and were gladdened by +the valley outspread below them, for it was still radiant with color, +though not as brilliant as before the rain. It had been dimmed, but not +darkened. And yet it seemed that a month had passed since their ecstatic +ride upward through the golden forest, and Wayland said as much while +they stood for a moment surveying the majestic park with its wall of +guardian peaks. + +But Berrie replied: "It seems only a few hours to me." + +From this point the traveling was good, and they descended rapidly, +zigzagging from side to side of a long, sweeping ridge. By noon they were +once more down amid the aspens, basking in a world of sad gold leaves and +delicious September sunshine. + +At one o'clock, on the bank of a clear stream, the girl halted. "I reckon +we'd better camp awhile. You look tired, and I am hungry." + +He gratefully acquiesced in this stop, for his knees were trembling with +the strain of the stirrups; but he would not permit her to ease him down +from his saddle. Turning a wan glance upon her, he bitterly asked: "Must +I always play the weakling before you? I am ashamed of myself. Ride on +and leave me to rot here in the grass. I'm not worth keeping alive." + +"You must not talk like that," she gently admonished him. "You're not to +blame." + +"Yes, I am. I should never have ventured into this man's country." + +"I'm glad you did," she answered, as if she were comforting a child. "For +if you hadn't I should never have known you." + +"That would have been no loss--to you," he bitterly responded. + +She unsaddled one pack-animal and spread some blankets on the grass. "Lie +down and rest while I boil some coffee," she commanded; and he obeyed, +too tired to make pretension toward assisting. + +Lying so, feeling the magic of the sun, hearing the music of the water, +and watching the girl, he regained a serener mood, and when she came back +with his food he thanked her for it with a glance before which her eyes +fell. "I don't see why you are so kind to me, I really believe you _like_ +to do things for me." Her head drooped to hide her face, and he went on: +"Why do you care for me? Tell me!" + +"I don't know," she murmured. Then she added, with a flash of bravery: +"But I do." + +"What a mystery it all is! You turn from a splendid fellow like Landon to +a 'skate' like me. Landon worships you--you know that--don't you?" + +"I know--he--" she ended, vaguely distressed. + +"Did he ask you to marry him?" + +"Yes." + +"Why didn't you? He's just the mate for you. He's a man of high character +and education." She made no answer to this, and he went on: "Dear girl, +I'm not worth your care--truly I'm not. I resented your engagement to +Belden, for he was a brute; but Landon is different. He thinks the world +of you. He'll go high in the service. I've never done anything in the +world--I never shall. It will be better for you if I go--to-morrow." + +She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, then, putting her arm +about his neck, drew him to her bosom and kissed him passionately. "You +break my heart when you talk like that," she protested, with tears. "You +mustn't say such gloomy things--I won't let you give up. You shall come +right home with me, and I will nurse you till you are well. It was all my +fault. If we had only stayed in camp at the lake daddy would have joined +us that night, and if I had not loitered on the mountain yesterday Cliff +would not have overtaken us. It's all my fault." + +"I will not have it go that way," he said. "I've brought you only care +and unhappiness thus far. I'm an alien--my ways are not your ways." + +"I can change," she answered. "I hate my ways, and I like yours." + +As they argued she felt no shame, and he voiced no resentment. She knew +his mood. She understood his doubt, his depression. She pleaded as a man +might have done, ready to prove her love, eager to restore his +self-respect, while he remained both bitter and sadly contemptuous. + +A cow-hand riding up the trail greeted Berrie respectfully, but a cynical +smile broke out on his lips as he passed on. Another witness--another +gossip. + +She did not care. She had no further concern of the valley's comment. Her +life's happiness hung on the drooping eyelashes of this wounded boy, and +to win him back to cheerful acceptance of life was her only concern. + +"I've never had any motives," he confessed. "I've always done what +pleased me at the moment--or because it was easier to do as others were +doing. I went to college that way. Truth is, I never had any surplus +vitality, and my father never demanded anything of me. I haven't any +motives now. A few days ago I was interested in forestry. At this time it +all seems futile. What's the use of my trying to live?" + +Part of all this despairing cry arose from weariness, and part from a +luxurious desire to be comforted, for it was sweet to feel her sympathy. +He even took a morbid pleasure in the distress of her eyes and lips while +her rich voice murmured in soothing protest. + +She, on her part, was frightened for him, and as she thought of the long +ride still before them she wrung her hands. "Oh, what shall I do? What +shall I do?" she moaned. + +Instantly smitten into shame, into manlier mood, he said: "Don't worry +about me, please don't. I can ride. I'm feeling better. You must not +weaken. Please forgive my selfish complaints. I'm done! You'll never hear +it again. Come, let us go on. I can ride." + +"If we can reach Miller's ranch--" + +"I can ride to _your_ ranch," he declared, and rose with such new-found +resolution that she stared at him in wonder. + +He was able to smile. "I've had my little crying spell. I've relieved my +heart of its load. I didn't mean to agonize you. It was only a slump." He +put his hand to his head. "I must be a comical figure. Wonder what that +cowboy thought of me?" + +His sudden reversal to cheer was a little alarming to her, but at length +she perceived that he had in truth mastered his depression, and bringing +up the horses she saddled them, and helped him to mount. "If you get +tired or feel worse, tell me, and we'll go into camp," she urged as they +were about to start. + +"You keep going till I give the sign," he replied; and his voice was so +firm and clear that her own sunny smile came back. "I don't know what to +make of you," she said. "I reckon you must be a poet." + + + + +XIII + +THE GOSSIPS AWAKE + + +It was dark when they reached the village, but Wayland declared his +ability to go on, although his wounded head was throbbing with fever and +he was clinging to the pommel of his saddle; so Berrie rode on. + +Mrs. McFarlane, hearing the horses on the bridge, was at the door and +received her daughter with wondering question, while the stable-hands, +quick to detect an injured man, hurried to lift Norcross down from his +saddle. + +"What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. McFarlane. + +"He fell and struck his head on a stone," Berea hastily explained. "Take +the horses, boys, mother and I will look out for Mr. Norcross." + +The men obeyed her and fell back, but they were consumed with curiosity, +and their glances irritated the girl. "Slip the packs at once," she +insisted. + +With instant sympathy her mother came to her aid in supporting the +wounded, weary youth indoors, and as he stretched out on the couch in the +sitting-room, he remarked, with a faint, ironic smile: "This beats any +bed of balsam boughs." + +"Where's your father?" asked Mrs. McFarlane of her daughter. + +"He's over on the Ptarmigan. I've a powerful lot to tell you, mother; but +not now; we must look after Wayland. He's nearly done up, and so am I." + +Mrs. McFarlane winced a little at her daughter's use of Norcross's first +name, but she said nothing further at the moment, although she watched +Berrie closely while she took off Wayland's shoes and stockings and +rubbed his icy feet. "Get him something hot as quick as you can!" she +commanded; and Mrs. McFarlane obeyed without a word. + +Gradually the tremor passed out of his limbs and a delicious sense of +warmth, of safety, stole over him, and he closed his eyes in the comfort +of her presence and care. "Rigorous business this life of the pioneer," +he said, with mocking inflection. "I think I prefer a place in the lumber +trust." + +"Don't talk," she said. Then, with a rush of tender remorse: "Why didn't +you tell me to stop? I didn't realize that you were so tired. We could +have stopped at the Springs." + +"I didn't know how tired I was till I got here. Gee," he said, boyishly, +"that door-knob at the back of my head is red-hot! You're good to me," he +added, humbly. + +She hated to have him resume that tone of self-depreciation, and, +kneeling to him, she kissed his cheek, and laid her head beside his. +"You're splendid," she insisted. "Nobody could be braver; but you should +have told me you were exhausted. You fooled me with your cheerful +answers." + +He accepted her loving praise, her clasping arms, as a part of the rescue +from the darkness and pain of the long ride, careless of what it might +bring to him in the future. He ate his toast and drank his coffee, and +permitted the women to lead him to his room, and then being alone he +crept into his bed and fell instantly asleep. + +Berrie and her mother went back to the sitting-room, and Mrs. McFarlane +closed the door behind them. "Now tell me all about it," she said, in the +tone of one not to be denied. + +The story went along very smoothly till the girl came to the second night +in camp beside the lake; there her voice faltered, and the reflective +look in the mother's eyes deepened as she learned that her daughter had +shared her tent with the young man. "It was the only thing to do, +mother," Berrie bravely said. "It was cold and wet outside, and you know +he isn't very strong, and his teeth were chattering, he was so chilled. I +know it sounds strange down here; but up there in the woods in the storm +what I did seemed right and natural. You know what I mean, don't you?" + +"Yes, I understand. I don't blame you--only--if others should hear of +it--" + +"But they won't. No one knows of our being alone there except Tony and +father." + +"Are you sure? Doesn't Mrs. Belden know?" + +"I don't think so--not yet." + +Mrs. McFarlane's nervousness grew. "I wish you hadn't gone on this trip. +If the Beldens find out you were alone with Mr. Norcross they'll make +much of it. It will give them a chance at your father." Her mind turned +upon another point. "When did Mr. Norcross get his fall?" + +"On the way back." Here Berrie hesitated again. "I don't like to tell +you, mother, but he didn't fall, Cliff jumped him and tried to kill +him." + +The mother doubted her ears. "Cliff did? How did he happen to meet you?" + +Berrie was quick to answer. "I don't know how he found out we were on the +trail. I suppose the old lady 'phoned him. Anyhow, while we were camped +for noon yesterday"--her face flamed again at thought of that tender, +beautiful moment when they were resting on the grass--"while we were at +our lunch he came tearing down the hill on that big bay horse of his and +took a flying jump at Wayland. As Wayland went down he struck his head on +a stone. I thought he was dead, and I was paralyzed for a second. Then I +flew at Cliff and just about choked the life out of him. I'd have ended +him right there if he hadn't let go." + +Mrs. McFarlane, looking upon her daughter in amazement, saw on her face +the shadow of the deadly rage which had burned in her heart as she +clenched young Belden's throat. + +"What then? What happened then?" + +"He let go, you bet." Her smile came back. "And when he realized what +he'd done--_he_ thought Wayland was dead--he began to weaken. Then I took +my gun and was all for putting an end to him right there, when I saw +Wayland's eyelids move. After that I didn't care what became of Cliff. I +told him to ride on and keep a-ridin', and I reckon he's clear out of the +state by this time. If he ever shows up I'll put him where he'll have all +night to be sorry in." + +"When did this take place?" + +"Yesterday about two. Of course Wayland couldn't ride, he was so dizzy +and kind o' confused, and so I went into camp right there at timber-line. +Along about sunset Nash came riding up from this side, and insisted on +staying to help me--so I let him." + +Mrs. McFarlane's tense attitude relaxed. "Nash is not the kind that +tattles. I'm glad he turned up." + +"And this morning I saddled and came down." + +"Did Nash go on?" + +"Yes, daddy was waiting for him, so I sent him along." + +"It's all sad business," groaned Mrs. McFarlane, "and I can see you're +keeping something back. How did Cliff happen to know just where you were? +And what started you back without your father?" + +For the first time Berrie showed signs of weakness and distress. "Why, +you see, Alec Belden and Mr. Moore were over there to look at some +timber, and old Marm Belden and that Moore girl went along. I suppose +they sent word to Cliff, and I presume that Moore girl put him on our +trail. Leastwise that's the way I figure it out. That's the worst of the +whole business." She admitted this with darkened brow. "Mrs. Belden's +tongue is hung in the middle and loose at both ends--and that Moore girl +is spiteful mean." She could not keep the contempt out of her voice. "She +saw us start off, and she is sure to follow it up and find out what +happened on the way home; even if they don't see Cliff they'll _talk_." + +"Oh, I _wish_ you hadn't gone!" exclaimed the worried mother. + +"It can't be helped now, and it hasn't done me any real harm. It's all in +the day's work, anyhow. I've always gone with daddy before, and this trip +isn't going to spoil me. The boys all know me, and they will treat me +fair." + +"Yes, but Mr. Norcross is an outsider--a city man. They will all think +evil of him on that account." + +"I know; that's what troubles me. No one will know how fine and +considerate he was. Mother, I've never known any one like him. He's a +poet! He's taught me to see things I never saw before. Everything +interests him--the birds, the clouds, the voices in the fire. I never was +so happy in my life as I was during those first two days, and that night +in camp before he began to worry--it was just wonderful." Words failed +her, but her shining face and the forward straining pose of her body +enlightened the mother. "I don't care what people say of me if only they +will be just to him. They've _got_ to treat him right," she added, +firmly. + +"Did he speak to you--are you engaged?" + +Her head drooped. "Not really engaged, mother; but he told me how much he +liked me--and--it's all right, mother, I _know_ it is. I'm not fine +enough for him, but I'm going to try to change my ways so he won't be +ashamed of me." + +Mrs. McFarlane's face cleared. "He surely is a fine young fellow, and can +be trusted to do the right thing. Well, we might as well go to bed. We +can't settle anything till your father gets home," she said. + +Wayland rose next morning free from dizziness and almost free from pain, +and when he came out of his room his expression was cheerful. "I feel as +if I'd slept a week, and I'm hungry. I don't know why I should be, but I +am." + +Mrs. McFarlane met him with something very intimate, something almost +maternal in her look; but her words were as few and as restrained as +ever. He divined that she had been talking with Berrie, and that a fairly +clear understanding of the situation had been reached. That this +understanding involved him closely he was aware; but nothing in his +manner acknowledged it. + +She did not ask any questions, believing that sooner or later the whole +story must come out. The fact that Siona Moore and Mrs. Belden knew that +Berrie had started back on Thursday with young Norcross made it easy for +the villagers to discover that she had not reached the ranch till +Saturday. "What could Joe have been thinking of to allow them to go?" she +said. "Mr. Nash's presence in the camp must be made known; but then there +is Clifford's assault upon Mr. Norcross, can that be kept secret, too?" +And so while the young people chatted, the troubled mother waited in +fear, knowing that in a day or two the countryside would be aflame with +accusation. + +In a landscape like this, as she well knew, nothing moves unobserved. The +native--man or woman--is able to perceive and name objects scarcely +discernible to the eye of the alien. A minute speck is discovered on the +hillside. "Hello, there's Jim Sanders on his roan," says one, or "Here +comes Kit Jenkins with her flea-bit gray. I wonder who's on the bay +alongside of her," remarks another, and each of these observations is +taken quite as a matter of course. With a wide and empty field of vision, +and with trained, unspoiled optic nerves, the plainsman is marvelously +penetrating of glance. Hence, Mrs. McFarlane was perfectly certain that +not one but several of her neighbors had seen and recognized Berrie and +young Norcross as they came down the hill. In a day or two every man +would know just where they camped, and what had taken place in camp. Mrs. +Belden would not rest till she had ferreted out every crook and turn of +that trail, and her speech was quite as coarse as that of any of her male +associates. + +Easy-going with regard to many things, these citizens were abnormally +alive to all matters relating to courtship, and popular as she believed +Berrie to be, Mrs. McFarlane could not hope that her daughter would be +spared--especially by the Beldens, who would naturally feel that Clifford +had been cheated. She sighed deeply. "Well, nothing can be done till Joe +returns," she repeated. + +A long day's rest, a second night's sleep, set Wayland on his feet. He +came to breakfast quite gay. "Barring the hickory-nut on the back of my +head," he explained, "I'm feeling fine, almost ready for another +expedition. I may make a ranger yet." + +Berrie, though equally gay, was not so sure of his ability to return to +work. "I reckon you'd better go easy till daddy gets back; but if you +feel like it we'll ride up to the post-office this afternoon." + +"I want to start right in to learn to throw that hitch, and I'm going to +practise with an ax till I can strike twice in the same place. This trip +was an eye-opener. Great man I'd be in a windfall--wouldn't I?" + +He was persuaded to remain very quiet for another day, and part of it was +spent in conversation with Mrs. McFarlane--whom he liked very much--and +an hour or more in writing a long letter wherein he announced to his +father his intention of going into the Forest Service. "I've got to build +up a constitution," he said, "and I don't know of a better place to do it +in. Besides, I'm beginning to be interested in the scheme. I like the +Supervisor. I'm living in his house at the present time, and I'm feeling +contented and happy, so don't worry about me." + +He was indeed quite comfortable, save when he realized that Mrs. +McFarlane was taking altogether too much for granted in their +relationship. It was delightful to be so watched over, so waited upon, so +instructed. "But where is it all leading me?" he continued to ask +himself--and still that wall of reserve troubled and saddened Berrie. + +They expected McFarlane that night, and waited supper for him, but he did +not come, and so they ate without him, and afterward Wayland helped +Berrie do up the dishes while the mother bent above her sewing by the +kitchen lamp. + +There was something very sweet and gentle about Mrs. McFarlane, and the +exile took almost as much pleasure in talking with her as with her +daughter. He led her to tell of her early experiences in the valley, and +of the strange types of men and women with whom she had crossed the +range. + +"Some of them are here yet," she said. "In fact the most violent of all +the opponents to the Service are these old adventurers. I don't think +they deserve to be called pioneers. They never did any work in clearing +the land or in building homes. Some of them, who own big herds of cattle, +still live in dug-outs. They raged at Mr. McFarlane for going into the +Service--called him a traitor. Old Jake Proudfoot was especially +furious--" + +"You should see where old Jake lives," interrupted Berrie. "He sleeps on +the floor in one corner of his cabin, and never changes his shirt." + +"Hush!" warned Mrs. McFarlane. + +"That's what the men all say. Daddy declares if they were to scrape Jake +they'd find at least five layers of shirts. His wife left him fifteen +years ago, couldn't stand his habits, and he's got worse ever since. +Naturally he is opposed to the Service." + +"Of course," her mother explained, "those who oppose the Supervisor +aren't all like Jake; but it makes me angry to have the papers all +quoting Jake as 'one of the leading ranchers of the valley.'" + +She could not bring herself to take up the most vital subject of all--the +question of her daughter's future. "I'll wait till father gets home," she +decided. + +On the fourth morning the 'phone rang, and the squawking voice of Mrs. +Belden came over the wire. "I wanted to know if Berrie and her feller got +home all right?" + +"Yes, they arrived safely." + +The old woman chuckled. "Last I see of Cliff he was hot on their +trail--looked like he expected to take a hand in that expedition. Did he +overtake 'em?" + +"I don't hear very well--where are you?" + +"I'm at the Scott ranch--we're coming round 'the horn' to-day." + +"Where is the Supervisor?" + +"He headed across yesterday. Say, Cliff was mad as a hornet when he +started. I'd like to know what happened--" + +Mrs. McFarlane hung up the receiver. The old woman's nasty chuckle was +intolerable; but in silencing the 'phone Mrs. McFarlane was perfectly +aware that she was not silencing the gossip; on the contrary, she was +certain that the Beldens would leave a trail of poisonous comment from +the Ptarmigan to Bear Tooth. It was all sweet material for them. + +Berrie wanted to know who was speaking, and Mrs. McFarlane replied: "Mrs. +Belden wanted to know if you got through all right." + +"She said something else, something to heat you up," persisted the girl, +who perceived her mother's agitation. "What did she say--something about +me--and Cliff?" + +The mother did not answer, for Wayland entered the room at the moment; +but Berrie knew that traducers were already busy with her affairs. "I +don't care anything about old lady Belden," she said, later; "but I hate +to have that Moore girl telling lies about me." + +As for Wayland, the nights in the camp by the lake, and, indeed, all the +experiences of his trip in the high places were becoming each moment more +remote, more unreal. Camp life at timber-line did not seem to him subject +to ordinary conventional laws of human conduct, and the fact that he and +Berrie had shared the same tent under the stress of cold and snow, now +seemed so far away as to be only a complication in a splendid mountain +drama. Surely no blame could attach to the frank and generous girl, even +though the jealous assault of Cliff Belden should throw the valley into a +fever of chatter. "Furthermore, I don't believe he will be in haste to +speak of his share in the play," he added. "It was too nearly criminal." + +It was almost noon of the fourth day when the Supervisor called up to say +that he was at the office, and would reach the ranch at six o'clock. + +"I wish you would come home at once," his wife argued; and something in +her voice convinced him that he was more needed at home, than in the +town. + +"All right, mother. Hold the fort an hour and I'll be there." + +Mrs. McFarlane met him at the hitching-bar, and it required but a glance +for him to read in her face a troubled state of mind. + +"This has been a disastrous trip for Berrie," she said, after one of the +hands had relieved the Supervisor of his horse. + +"In what way?" + +She was a bit impatient. "Mrs. Belden is filling the valley with the +story of Berrie's stay in camp with Mr. Norcross." + +His face showed a graver line. "It couldn't be helped. The horses had to +be followed, and that youngster couldn't do it--and, besides, I expected +to get back that night. Nobody but an old snoop like Seth Belden would +think evil of our girl. And, besides, Norcross is a man to be trusted." + +"Of course he is, but the Beldens are ready to think evil of any one +connected with us. And Cliff's assault on Wayland--" + +He looked up quickly. "Assault? Did he make trouble?" + +"Yes, he overtook them on the trail, and would have killed Norcross if +Berrie hadn't interfered. He was crazy with jealousy." + +"Nash didn't say anything about any assault." + +"He didn't know it. Berrie told him that Norcross fell from his horse." + +McFarlane was deeply stirred. "I saw Cliff leave camp, but I didn't think +anything of it. Why should he jump Norcross?" + +"I suppose Mrs. Belden filled him with distrust of Berrie. He was already +jealous, and when he came up with them and found them lunching together, +he lost his head and rushed at Wayland like a wild beast. Of course he +couldn't stand against a big man like Cliff, and his head struck on a +stone; and if Berrie hadn't throttled the brute he would have murdered +the poor boy right there before her eyes." + +"Good God! I never suspected a word of this. I didn't think he'd do +that." + +The Supervisor was now very grave. These domestic matters at once threw +his work as forester into the region of vague and unimportant +abstractions. He began to understand the danger into which Berea had +fallen, and step by step he took up the trails which had brought them all +to this pass. + +He fixed another penetrating look upon her face, and his voice was vibrant +with anxiety as he said: "You don't think there's anything--wrong?" + +"No, nothing wrong; but she's profoundly in love with him. I never have +seen her so wrapped up in any one. She thinks of nothing else. It scares +me to see it, for I've studied him closely and I can't believe he feels +the same toward her. His world is so different from ours. I don't know +what to do or say. I fear she is in for a period of great unhappiness." + +She was at the beginning of tears, and he sought to comfort her. "Don't +worry, honey, she's got too much horse sense to do anything foolish. +She's grown up. I suppose it's his being so different from the other boys +that catches her. We've always been good chums--let me talk with her. She +mustn't make a mistake." + +The return of the crew from the corral cut short this conference, and +when McFarlane went in Berrie greeted him with such frank and joyous +expression that all his fears vanished. + +"Did you come over the high trail?" she asked. + +"No, I came your way. I didn't want to take any chances on getting mired. +It's still raining up there," he answered, then turned to Wayland: +"Here's your mail, Norcross, a whole hatful of it--and one telegram in +the bunch. Hope it isn't serious." + +Wayland took the bundle of letters and retired to his room, glad to +escape the persistent stare of the cow-hands. The despatch was from his +father, and was curt and specific as a command: "Shall be in Denver on +the 23d, meet me at the Palmer House. Am on my way to California. Come +prepared to join me on the trip." + +With the letters unopened in his lap he sat in silent thought, profoundly +troubled by the instant decision which this message demanded of him. At +first glance nothing was simpler than to pack up and go. He was only a +tourist in the valley with no intention of staying; but there was Berea! +To go meant a violent end of their pleasant romance. To think of flight +saddened him, and yet his better judgment was clearly on the side of +going. "Much as I like her, much as I admire her, I cannot marry her. The +simplest way is to frankly tell her so and go. It seems cowardly, but in +the end she will be happier." + +His letters carried him back into his own world. One was from Will +Halliday, who was going with Professor Holsman on an exploring trip up +the Nile. "You must join us. Holsman has promised to take you on." +Another classmate wrote to know if he did not want to go into a land deal +on the Gulf of Mexico. A girl asked: "Are you to be in New York this +winter? I am. I've decided to go into this Suffrage Movement." And so, +one by one, the threads which bound him to Eastern city life re-spun +their filaments. After all, this Colorado outing, even though it should +last two years, would only be a vacation--his real life was in the cities +of the East. Charming as Berea was, potent as she seemed, she was after +all a fixed part of the mountain land, and not to be taken from it. At +the moment marriage with her appeared absurd. + +A knock at his door and the Supervisor's voice gave him a keen shock. +"Come in," he called, springing to his feet with a thrill of dread, of +alarm. + +McFarlane entered slowly and shut the door behind him. His manner was +serious, and his voice gravely gentle as he said: "I hope that telegram +does not call you away?" + +"It is from my father, asking me to meet him in Denver," answered +Norcross, with faltering breath. "He's on his way to California. Won't +you sit down?" + +The older man took a seat with quiet dignity. "Seems like a mighty fine +chance, don't it? I've always wanted to see the Coast. When do you plan +for to pull out?" + +Wayland was not deceived by the Supervisor's casual tone; there was +something ominously calm in his manner, something which expressed an +almost dangerous interest in the subject. + +"I haven't decided to go at all. I'm still dazed by the suddenness of it. +I didn't know my father was planning this trip." + +"I see. Well, before you decide to go I'd like to have a little talk with +you. My daughter has told me part of what happened to you on the trail. I +want to know _all_ of it. You're young, but you've been out in the world, +and you know what people can say about you and my girl." His voice became +level and menacing, as he added: "And I don't intend to have her put in +wrong on account of you." + +Norcross was quick to reply. "Nobody will dare accuse her of wrongdoing. +She's a noble girl. No one will dare to criticize her for what she could +not prevent." + +"You don't know the Beldens. My girl's character will be on trial in +every house in the county to-morrow. The Belden side of it will appear in +the city papers. Sympathy will be with Clifford. Berrie will be made an +issue by my enemies. They'll get me through her." + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Norcross, in sudden realization of the gravity of +the case. "What beasts they are!" + +"Moore's gang will seize upon it and work it hard," McFarlane went on, +with calm insistence. "They want to bring the district forester down on +me. This is a fine chance to badger me. They will make a great deal of my +putting you on the roll. Our little camping trip is likely to prove a +serious matter to us all." + +"Surely you don't consider me at fault?" + +Worried as he was, the father was just. "No, you're not to blame--no one +is to blame. It all dates back to the horses quitting camp; but you've +got to stand pat now--for Berrie's sake." + +"But what can I do? I'm at your service. What role shall I play? Tell me +what to do, and I will do it." + +McFarlane was staggered, but he answered: "You can at least stay on the +ground and help fight. This is no time to stampede." + +"You're right. I'll stay, and I'll make any statement you see fit. I'll +do anything that will protect Berrie." + +McFarlane again looked him squarely in the eyes. "Is there a--an +agreement between you?" + +"Nothing formal--that is--I mean I admire her, and I told her--" He +stopped, feeling himself on the verge of the irrevocable. "She's a +splendid girl," he went on. "I like her exceedingly, but I've known her +only a few weeks." + +McFarlane interrupted. "Girls are flighty critters," he said, sadly. "I +don't know why she's taken to you so terrible strong; but she has. She +don't seem to care what people say so long as they do not blame you; but +if you should pull out you might just as well cut her heart to pieces--" +His voice broke, and it was a long time before he could finish. "You're +not at fault, I know that, but if you _can_ stay on a little while and +make it an ounce or two easier for her and for her mother, I wish you'd +do it." + +Wayland extended his hand impulsively. "Of course I'll stay. I never +really thought of leaving." In the grip of McFarlane's hand was something +warm and tender. + +He rose. "I'm terribly obliged," he said; "but we mustn't let her suspect +for a minute that we've been discussing her. She hates being pitied or +helped." + +"She shall not experience a moment's uneasiness that I can prevent," +replied the youth; and at the moment he meant it. + +Berrie could not be entirely deceived. She read in her father's face a +subtle change of line which she related to something Wayland had said. +"Did he tell you what was in the telegram? Has he got to go away?" she +asked, anxiously. + +"Yes, he said it was from his father." + +"What does his father want of him?" + +"He's on his way to California and wants Wayland to go with him; but +Wayland says he's not going." + +A pang shot through Berrie's heart. "He mustn't go--he isn't able to go," +she exclaimed, and her pain, her fear, came out in her sharpened, +constricted tone. "I won't let him go--till he's well." + +Mrs. McFarlane gently interposed. "He'll have to go, honey, if his father +needs him." + +"Let his father come here." She rose, and, going to his door, decisively +knocked. "May I come in?" she demanded, rather than asked, before her +mother could protest. "I must see you." + +Wayland opened the door, and she entered, leaving her parents facing each +other in mute helplessness. + +Mrs. McFarlane turned toward her husband with a face of despair. "She's +ours no longer, Joe. Our time of bereavement has come." + +He took her in his arms. "There, there, mother. Don't cry. It can't be +helped. You cut loose from your parents and came to me in just the same +way. Our daughter's a grown woman, and must have her own life. All we can +do is to defend her against the coyotes who are busy with her name." + +"But what of _him_, Joe; he don't care for her as she does for him--can't +you see that?" + +"He'll do the right thing, mother; he told me he would. He knows how much +depends on his staying here now, and he intends to do it." + +"But in the end, Joe, after this scandal is lived down, can he--will +he--marry her? And if he marries her can they live together and be happy? +His way of life is so different. He can't content himself here, and she +can't fit in where he belongs. It all seems hopeless to me. Wouldn't it +be better for her to suffer for a little while now than to make a mistake +that may last a lifetime?" + +"Mebbe it would, mother, but the decision is not ours. She's too strong +for us to control. She's of age, and if she comes to a full understanding +of the situation, she can decide the question a whole lot better than +either of us." + +"That's true," she sighed. "In some ways she's bigger and stronger than +both of us. Sometimes I wish she were not so self-reliant." + +"Well, that's the way life is, sometimes, and I reckon there's nothin' +left for you an' me but to draw closer together and try to fill up the +empty place she's going to leave between us." + + + + +XIV + +THE SUMMONS + + +When Wayland caught the startled look on Berrie's face he knew that she +had learned from her father the contents of his telegram, and that she +would require an explanation. + +"Are you going away?" she asked. + +"Yes. At least, I must go down to Denver to see my father. I shall be +gone only over night." + +"And will you tell him about our trip?" she pursued, with unflinching +directness. "And about--me?" + +He gave her a chair, and took a seat himself before replying. "Yes, I +shall tell him all about it, and about you and your father and mother. He +shall know how kind you've all been to me." + +He said this bravely, and at the moment he meant it; but as his father's +big, impassive face and cold, keen eyes came back to him his courage +sank, and in spite of his firm resolution some part of his secret anxiety +communicated itself to the girl, who asked many questions, with intent to +find out more particularly what kind of man the elder Norcross was. + +Wayland's replies did not entirely reassure her. He admitted that his +father was harsh and domineering in character, and that he was ambitious +to have his son take up and carry forward his work. "He was willing +enough to have me go to college till he found I was specializing on wrong +lines. Then I had to fight in order to keep my place. He's glad I'm out +here, for he thinks I'm regaining my strength. But just as soon as I'm +well enough he expects me to go to Chicago and take charge of the Western +office. Of course, I don't want to do that. I'd rather work out some +problem in chemistry that interests me; but I may have to give in, for a +time at least." + +"Will your mother and sisters be with your father?" + +"No, indeed! You couldn't get any one of them west of the Hudson River +with a log-chain. My sisters were both born in Michigan, but they want to +forget it--they pretend they have forgotten it. They both have +New-Yorkitis. Nothing but the Plaza will do them now." + +"I suppose they think we're all 'Injuns' out here?" + +"Oh no, not so bad as that; but they wouldn't comprehend anything about +you except your muscle. That would catch 'em. They'd worship your +splendid health, just as I do. It's pitiful the way they both try to put +on weight. They're always testing some new food, some new tonic--they'll +do anything except exercise regularly and go to bed at ten o'clock." + +All that he said of his family deepened her dismay. Their interests were +so alien to her own. + +"I'm afraid to have you go even for a day," she admitted, with simple +honesty, which moved him deeply. "I don't know what I should do if you +went away. I think of nothing but you now." + +Her face was pitiful, and he put his arm about her neck as if she were a +child. "You mustn't do that. You must go on with your life just as if I'd +never been. Think of your father's job--of the forest and the ranch." + +"I can't do it. I've lost interest in the service. I never want to go +into the high country again, and I don't want you to go, either. It's too +savage and cruel." + +"That is only a mood," he said, confidently. "It is splendid up there. I +shall certainly go back some time." + +He could not divine, and she could not tell him, how poignantly she had +sensed the menace of the cold and darkness during his illness. For the +first time in her life she had realized to the full the unrelenting +enmity of the clouds, the wind, the night; and during that interminable +ride toward home, when she saw him bending lower and lower over his +saddle-bow, her allegiance to the trail, her devotion to the stirrup was +broken. His weariness and pain had changed the universe for her. Never +again would she look upon the range with the eyes of the care-free girl. +The other, the civilized, the domestic, side of her was now dominant. A +new desire, a bigger aspiration, had taken possession of her. + +Little by little he realized this change in her, and was touched with the +wonder of it. He had never had any great self-love either as man or +scholar, and the thought of this fine, self-sufficient womanly soul +centering all its interests on him was humbling. Each moment his +responsibility deepened, and he heard her voice but dimly as she went +on. + +"Of course we are not rich; but we are not poor, and my mother's family +is one of the oldest in Kentucky." She uttered this with a touch of her +mother's quiet dignity. "Your father need not despise us." + +"So far as my father is concerned, family don't count, and neither does +money. But he confidently expects me to take up his business in Chicago, +and I suppose it is my duty to do so. If he finds me looking fit he may +order me into the ranks at once." + +"I'll go there--I'll do anything you want me to do," she urged. "You can +tell your father that I'll help you in the office. I can learn. I'm ready +to use a typewriter--anything." + +He was silent in the face of her naive expression of self-sacrificing +love, and after a moment she added, hesitatingly: "I wish I could meet +your father. Perhaps he'd come up here if you asked him to do so?" + +He seized upon the suggestion. "By George! I believe he would. I don't +want to go to town. I just believe I'll wire him that I'm laid up here +and can't come." Then a shade of new trouble came over his face. How +would the stern, methodical old business man regard this slovenly ranch +and its primitive ways? She felt the question in his face. + +"You're afraid to have him come," she said, with the same disconcerting +penetration which had marked every moment of her interview thus far. +"You're afraid he wouldn't like me?" + +With almost equal frankness he replied: "No. I think he'd like _you_, but +this town and the people up here would gall him. Order is a religion with +him. Then he's got a vicious slant against all this conservation +business--calls it tommy-rot. He and your father might lock horns first +crack out of the box. But I'll risk it. I'll wire him at once." + +A knock at the door interrupted him, and Mrs. McFarlane's voice, filled +with new excitement, called out: "Berrie, the District office is on the +wire." + +Berrie opened the door and confronted her mother, who said: "Mr. Evingham +'phones that the afternoon papers contain an account of a fight at Coal +City between Settle and one of Alec Belden's men, and that the District +Forester is coming down to investigate it." + +"Let him come," answered Berrie, defiantly. "He can't do us any harm. +What was the row about?" + +"I didn't hear much of it. Your father was at the 'phone." + +McFarlane, with the receiver to his ear, was saying: "Don't know a thing +about it, Mr. Evingham. Settle was at the station when I left. I didn't +know he was going down to Coal City. No, that's a mistake. My daughter +was never engaged to Alec Belden. Alec Belden is the older of the +brothers, and is married. I can't go into that just now. If you come down +I'll explain fully." + +He hung up the receiver and slowly turned toward his wife and daughter. +"This sure is our day of trouble," he said, with dejected countenance. + +"What is it all about?" asked Berrie. + +"Why, it seems that after I left yesterday Settle rode down the valley +with Belden's outfit, and they all got to drinking, ending in a row, and +Tony beat one of Belden's men almost to death. The sheriff has gone over +to get Tony, and the Beldens declare they're going to railroad him. That +means we'll all be brought into it. Belden has seized the moment to +prefer charges against me for keeping Settle in the service and for +putting a non-resident on the roll as guard. The whelp will dig up +everything he can to queer me with the office. All that kept him from +doing it before was Cliff's interest in you." + +"He can't make any of his charges stick," declared Berrie. + +"Of course he can't. He knows that. But he can bring us all into court. +You and Mr. Norcross will both be called as witnesses, for it seems that +Tony was defending your name. The papers call it 'a fight for a girl.' +Oh, it's a sweet mess." + +For the first time Berrie betrayed alarm. "What shall we do? I can't go +on the stand! They can't make me do that, can they?" She turned to +Wayland. "Now you _must_ go away. It is a shame to have you mixed up in +such a trial." + +"I shall not run away and leave you and the Supervisor to bear all the +burden of this fight." + +He anticipated in imagination--as they all did--some of the consequences +of this trial. The entire story of the camping trip would be dragged in, +distorted into a scandal, and flashed over the country as a disgraceful +episode. The country would ring with laughter and coarse jest. Berrie's +testimony would be a feast for court-room loafers. + +"There's only one thing to do," said McFarlane, after a few moments of +thought. "You and Berrie and Mrs. McFarlane must get out of here before +you are subpoenaed." + +"And leave you to fight it out alone?" exclaimed his wife. "I shall do +nothing of the kind. Berrie and Mr. Norcross can go." + +"That won't do," retorted McFarlane, quickly. "That won't do at all. You +must go with them. I can take care of myself. I will not have you dragged +into this muck-hole. We've got to think quick and act quick. There won't +be any delay about their side of the game. I don't think they'll do +anything to-day; but you've got to fade out of the valley. You all get +ready and I'll have one of the boys hook up the surrey as if for a little +drive, and you can pull out over the old stage-road to Flume and catch +the narrow-gage morning train for Denver. You've been wanting for some +time to go down the line. Now here's a good time to start." + +Berrie now argued against running away. Her blood was up. She joined her +mother. "We won't leave you to inherit all this trouble. Who will look +after the ranch? Who will keep house for you?" + +McFarlane remained firm. "I'll manage. Don't worry about me. Just get out +of reach. The more I consider this thing, the more worrisome it gets. +Suppose Cliff should come back to testify?" + +"He won't. If he does I'll have him arrested for trying to kill Wayland," +retorted Berrie. + +"And make the whole thing worse! No. You are all going to cross the +range. You can start out as if for a little turn round the valley, and +just naturally keep going. It can't do any harm, and it may save a nasty +time in court." + +"One would think we were a lot of criminals," remarked Wayland. + +"That's the way you'll be treated," retorted McFarlane. "Belden has +retained old Whitby, the foulest old brute in the business, and he'll +bring you all into it if he can." + +"But running away from it will not prevent talk," argued his wife. + +"Not entirely; but talk and testimony are two different things. Suppose +they call daughter to the stand? Do you want her cross-examined as to +what basis there was for this gossip? They know something of Cliff's +being let out, and that will inflame them. He may be at the mill this +minute." + +"I guess you're right," said Norcross, sadly. "Our delightful excursion +into the forest has led us into a predicament from which there is only +one way of escape, and that is flight." + +Back of all this talk, this argument, there remained still unanswered the +most vital, most important question: "Shall I speak of marriage at this +time? Would it be a source of comfort to them as well as a joy to her?" +At the moment he was ready to speak, for he felt himself to be the direct +cause of all their embarrassment. But closer thought made it clear that a +hasty ceremony would only be considered a cloak to cover something +illicit. "I'll leave it to the future," he decided. + +McFarlane was again called to the telephone. Landon, with characteristic +brevity, conveyed to him the fact that Mrs. Belden was at home and busily +'phoning scandalous stories about the country. "If you don't stop her +she's going to poison every ear in the valley," ended the ranger. + +"You'd think they'd all know my daughter well enough not to believe +anything Mrs. Belden says," responded McFarlane, bitterly. + +"All the boys are ready to do what Tony did. But nobody can stop this old +fool's mouth but you. Cliff has disappeared, and that adds to the +excitement." + +"Thank the boys for me," said McFarlane, "and tell them not to fight. +Tell 'em to keep cool. It will all be cleared up soon." + +As McFarlane went out to order the horses hooked up, Wayland followed him +as far as the bars. "I'm conscience-smitten over this thing, Supervisor, +for I am aware that I am the cause of all your trouble." + +"Don't let that worry you," responded the older man. But he spoke with +effort. "It can't be helped. It was all unavoidable." + +"The most appalling thing to me is the fact that not even your daughter's +popularity can neutralize the gossip of a woman like Mrs. Belden. My +being an outsider counts against Berrie, and I'm ready to do +anything--anything," he repeated, earnestly. "I love your daughter, Mr. +McFarlane, and I'm ready to marry her at once if you think best. She's a +noble girl, and I cannot bear to be the cause of her calumniation." + +There was mist in the Supervisor's eyes as he turned them on the young +man. "I'm right glad to hear you say that, my boy." He reached out his +hand, and Wayland took it. "I knew you'd say the word when the time came. +I didn't know how strongly she felt toward you till to-day. I knew she +liked you, of course, for she said so, but I didn't know that she had +plum set her heart on you. I didn't expect her to marry a city man; +but--I like you and--well, she's the doctor! What suits her suits me. +Don't you be afraid of her not meeting all comers." He went on after a +pause, "She's never seen much of city life, but she'll hold her own +anywhere, you can gamble on that." + +"She has wonderful adaptability, I know," answered Wayland, slowly. "But +I don't like to take her away from here--from you." + +"If you hadn't come she would have married Cliff--and what kind of a life +would she have led with him?" demanded McFarlane. "I knew Cliff was +rough, but I couldn't convince her that he was cheap. I live only for her +happiness, my boy, and, though I know you will take her away from me, I +believe you can make her happy, and so--I give her over to you. As to +time and place, arrange that--with--her mother." He turned and walked +away, unable to utter another word. + +Wayland's throat was aching also, and he went back into the house with a +sense of responsibility which exalted him into sturdier manhood. + +Berea met him in a pretty gown, a dress he had never seen her wear, a +costume which transformed her into something entirely feminine. + +She seemed to have put away the self-reliant manner of the trail, and in +its stead presented the lambent gaze, the tremulous lips of the bride. As +he looked at her thus transfigured his heart cast out its hesitancy and +he entered upon his new adventure without further question or regret. + + + + +XV + +A MATTER OF MILLINERY + + +It was three o'clock of a fine, clear, golden afternoon as they said +good-by to McFarlane and started eastward, as if for a little drive. +Berrie held the reins in spite of Wayland's protestations. "These +bronchos are only about half busted," she said. "They need watching. I +know them better than you do." Therefore he submitted, well knowing that +she was entirely competent and fully informed. + +Mrs. McFarlane, while looking back at her husband, sadly exclaimed: "I +feel like a coward running away like this." + +"Forget it, mother," commanded her daughter, cheerily. "Just imagine +we're off for a short vacation. I'm for going clear through to Chicago. +So long as we _must_ go, let's go whooping. Father's better off without +us." + +Her voice was gay, her eyes shining, and Wayland saw her as she had been +that first day in the coach--the care-free, laughing girl. The trouble +they were fleeing from was less real to her than the happiness toward +which she rode. + +Her hand on the reins, her foot on the brake, brought back her +confidence; but Wayland did not feel so sure of his part in the +adventure. She seemed so unalterably a part of this life, so fitted to +this landscape, that the thought of transplanting her to the East brought +uneasiness and question. Could such a creature of the open air be content +with the walls of a city? + +For several miles the road ran over the level floor of the valley, and +she urged the team to full speed. "I don't want to meet anybody if I can +help it. Once we reach the old stage route the chances of being scouted +are few. Nobody uses that road since the broad-gauge reached Cragg's." + +Mrs. McFarlane could not rid herself of the resentment with which she +suffered this enforced departure; but she had small opportunity to +protest, for the wagon bumped and clattered over the stony stretches with +a motion which confused as well as silenced her. It was all so +humiliating, so unlike the position which she had imagined herself to +have attained in the eyes of her neighbors. Furthermore, she was going +away without a trunk, with only one small bag for herself and +Berrie--running away like a criminal from an intangible foe. However, she +was somewhat comforted by the gaiety of the young people before her. They +were indeed jocund as jaybirds. With the resiliency of youth they had +accepted the situation, and were making the best of it. + +"Here comes somebody," called Berrie, pulling her ponies to a walk. +"Throw a blanket over that valise." She was chuckling as if it were all a +good joke. "It's old Jake Proudfoot. I can smell him. Now hang on. I'm +going to pass him on the jump." + +Wayland, who was riding with his hat in his hand because he could not +make it cover his bump, held it up as if to keep the wind from his face, +and so defeated the round-eyed, owl-like stare of the inquisitive +rancher, who brought his team to a full stop in order to peer after them, +muttering in a stupor of resentment and surprise. + +"He'll worry himself sick over us," predicted Berrie. "He'll wonder where +we're going and what was under that blanket till the end of summer. He is +as curious as a fool hen." + +A few minutes more and they were at the fork in the way, and, leaving the +trail to Cragg's, the girl pulled into the grass-grown, less-traveled +trail to the south, which entered the timber at this point and began to +climb with steady grade. Letting the reins fall slack, she turned to her +mother with reassuring words. "There! Now we're safe. We won't meet +anybody on this road except possibly a mover's outfit. We're in the +forest again," she added. + +For two hours they crawled slowly upward, with a roaring stream on one +side and the pine-covered s on the other. Jays and camp-birds called +from the trees. Water-robins fluttered from rock to rock in the foaming +flood. Squirrels and minute chipmunks raced across the fallen tree-trunks +or clattered from great boulders, and in the peace and order and beauty +of the forest they all recovered a serener outlook on the noisome tumult +they were leaving behind them. Invisible as well as inaudible, the +serpent of slander lost its terror. + +Once, as they paused to rest the horses, Wayland said: "It is hard to +realize that down in that ethereal valley people like old Jake and Mrs. +Belden have their dwelling-place." + +This moved Mrs. McFarlane to admit that it might all turn out a blessing +in disguise. "Mr. McFarlane may resign and move to Denver, as I've long +wanted him to do." + +"I wish he would," exclaimed Berrie, fervently. "It's time you had a +rest. Daddy will hate to quit under fire, but he'd better do it." + +Peak by peak the Bear Tooth Range rose behind them, while before them the +smooth, grassy s of the pass told that they were nearing +timber-line. The air was chill, the sun was hidden by old Solidor, and +the stream had diminished to a silent rill winding among sear grass and +yellowed willows. The valley behind them was vague with mist. The +southern boundary of the forest was in sight. + +At last the topmost looming crags of the Continental Divide cut the +sky-line, and then in the smooth hollow between two rounded grassy +summits Berrie halted, and they all silently contemplated the two worlds. +To the west and north lay an endless spread of mountains, wave on wave, +snow-lined, savage, sullen in the dying light; while to the east and +southeast the foot-hills faded into the plain, whose dim cities, +insubstantial as flecks in a veil of violet mist, were hardly +distinguishable without the aid of glasses. + +To the girl there was something splendid, something heroical in that +majestic, menacing landscape to the west. In one of its folds she had +begun her life. In another she had grown to womanhood and self-confident +power. The rough men, the coarse, ungainly women of that land seemed less +hateful now that she was leaving them, perhaps forever, and a confused +memory of the many splendid dawns and purple sunsets she had loved filled +her thought. + +Wayland, divining some part of what was moving in her mind, cheerily +remarked, "Yes, it's a splendid place for a summer vacation, but a stern +place in winter-time, and for a lifelong residence it is not inspiring." + +Mrs. McFarlane agreed with him in this estimate. "It _is_ terribly +lonesome in there at times. I've had enough of it. I'm ready for the +comforts of civilization." + +Berrie turned in her seat, and was about to take up the reins when +Wayland asserted himself. "Wait a moment. Here's where my dominion +begins. Here's where you change seats with me. I am the driver now." + +She looked at him with questioning, smiling glance. "Can you drive? It's +all the way down-hill--and steep?" + +"If I can't I'll ask your aid. I'm old enough to remember the family +carriage. I've even driven a four-in-hand." + +She surrendered her seat doubtfully, and smiled to see him take up the +reins as if he were starting a four-horse coach. He proved adequate and +careful, and she was proud of him as, with foot on the brake and the +bronchos well in hand, he swung down the long looping road to the +railway. She was pleased, too, by his care of the weary animals, easing +them down the steepest s and sending them along on the comparatively +level spots. + +Their descent was rapid, but it was long after dark before they reached +Flume, which lay up the valley to the right. It was a poor little +decaying mining-town set against the hillside, and had but one hotel, a +sun-warped and sagging pine building just above the station. + +"Not much like the Profile House," said Wayland, as he drew up to the +porch. "But I see no choice." + +"There isn't any," Berrie assured him. + +"Well, now," he went on, "I am in command of this expedition. From this +on I lead this outfit. When it comes to hotels, railways, and the like o' +that, I'm head ranger." + +Mrs. McFarlane, tired, hungry, and a little dismayed, accepted his +control gladly; but Berrie could not at once slip aside her +responsibility. "Tell the hostler--" + +"Not a word!" commanded Norcross; and the girl with a smile submitted to +his guidance, and thereafter his efficiency, his self-possession, his +tact delighted her. He persuaded the sullen landlady to get them supper. +He secured the best rooms in the house, and arranged for the care of the +team, and when they were all seated around the dim, fly-specked oil-lamp +at the end of the crumby dining-room table he discovered such a gay and +confident mien that the women looked at each other in surprise. + +Berrie was correspondingly less masculine. In drawing off her buckskin +driving-gloves she had put away the cowgirl, and was silent, a little sad +even, in the midst of her enjoyment of his dictatorship. And when he +said, "If my father reaches Denver in time I want you to meet him," she +looked the dismay she felt. + +"I'll do it--but I'm scared of him." + +"You needn't be. I'll see him first and draw his fire." + +Mrs. McFarlane interposed. "We must do a little shopping first. We can't +meet your father as we are." + +"Very well. I'll go with you if you'll let me. I'm a great little +shopper. I have infallible taste, so my sisters say. If it's a case of +buying new hats, for instance, I'm the final authority with them." This +amused Berrie, but her mother took it seriously. + +"Of course, I'm anxious to have my daughter make the best possible +impression." + +"Very well. It is arranged. We get in, I find, about noon. We'll go +straight to the biggest shop in town. If we work with speed we'll be able +to lunch with my father. He'll be at the Palmer House at one." + +Berrie said nothing, either in acceptance or rejection of his plan. Her +mind was concerned with new conceptions, new relationships, and when in +the hall he took her face between his hands and said, "Cheer up! All is +not lost," she put her arms about his neck and laid her cheek against his +breast to hide her tears. "Oh, Wayland! I'm such an idiot in the city. +I'm afraid your father will despise me." + +What he said was not very cogent, and not in the least literary, but it +was reassuring and lover-like, and when he turned her over to her mother +she was composed, though unwontedly grave. + +She woke to a new life next morning--a life of compliance, of following, +of dependence upon the judgment of another. She stood in silence while +her lover paid the bills, bought the tickets, and telegraphed their +coming to his father. She acquiesced when he prevented her mother from +telephoning to the ranch. She complied when he countermanded her order to +have the team sent back at once. His judgment ruled, and she enjoyed her +sudden freedom from responsibility. It was novel, and it was very sweet +to think that she was being cared for as she had cared for and shielded +him in the world of the trail. + +In the little railway-coach, which held a score of passengers, she found +herself among some Eastern travelers who had taken the trip up the Valley +of the Flume in the full belief that they were piercing the heart of the +Rocky Mountains! It amused Wayland almost as much as it amused Berrie +when one man said to his wife: + +"Well, I'm glad we've seen the Rockies." + +"He really believes it!" exclaimed Norcross. + +After an hour's ride Wayland tactfully withdrew, leaving mother and +daughter to discuss clothes undisturbed by his presence. + +"We must look our best, honey," said Mrs. McFarlane. "We will go right to +Mme. Crosby at Battle's, and she'll fit us out. I wish we had more time; +but we haven't, so we must do the best we can." + +"I want Wayland to choose my hat and traveling-suit," replied Berrie. + +"Of course. But you've got to have a lot of other things besides." And +they bent to the joyous work of making out a list of goods to be +purchased as soon as they reached Chicago. + +Wayland came back with a Denver paper in his hand and a look of disgust +on his face. "It's all in here--at least, the outlines of it." + +Berrie took the journal, and there read the details of Settle's assault +upon the foreman. "The fight arose from a remark concerning the Forest +Supervisor's daughter. Ranger Settle resented the gossip, and fell upon +the other man, beating him with the butt of his revolver. Friends of the +foreman claim that the ranger is a drunken bully, and should have been +discharged long ago. The Supervisor for some mysterious reason retains +this man, although he is an incompetent. It is also claimed that +McFarlane put a man on the roll without examination." The Supervisor was +the protagonist of the play, which was plainly political. The attack upon +him was bitter and unjust, and Mrs. McFarlane again declared her +intention of returning to help him in his fight. However, Wayland again +proved to her that her presence would only embarrass the Supervisor. "You +would not aid him in the slightest degree. Nash and Landon are with him, +and will refute all these charges." + +This newspaper story took the light out of their day and the smile from +Berrie's lips, and the women entered the city silent and distressed in +spite of the efforts of their young guide. The nearer the girl came to +the ordeal of facing the elder Norcross, the more she feared the outcome; +but Wayland kept his air of easy confidence, and drove them directly to +the shopping center, believing that under the influence of hats and +gloves they would regain their customary cheer. + +In this he was largely justified. They had a delightful hour trying on +millinery and coats and gloves. The forewoman, who knew Mrs. McFarlane, +gladly accepted her commission, and, while suspecting the tender +relationship between the girl and the man, she was tactful enough to +conceal her suspicion. "The gentleman is right; you carry simple things +best," she remarked to Berrie, thus showing her own good judgment. +"Smartly tailored gray or blue suits are your style." + +Silent, blushing, tousled by the hands of her decorators, Berrie +permitted hats to be perched on her head and jackets buttoned and +unbuttoned about her shoulders till she felt like a worn clothes-horse. +Wayland beamed with delight, but she was far less satisfied than he; and +when at last selection was made, she still had her doubts, not of the +clothes, but of her ability to wear them. They seemed so alien to her, so +restrictive and enslaving. + +"You're an easy fitter," said the saleswoman. "But"--here she lowered her +voice--"you need a new corset. This old one is out of date. Nobody is +wearing hips now." + +Thereupon Berrie meekly permitted herself to be led away to a +torture-room. Wayland waited patiently, and when she reappeared all +traces of Bear Tooth Forest had vanished. In a neat tailored suit and a +very "chic" hat, with shoes, gloves, and stockings to match, she was so +transformed, so charmingly girlish in her self-conscious glory, that he +was tempted to embrace her in the presence of the saleswoman. But he +didn't. He merely said: "I see the governor's finish! Let's go to lunch. +You are stunning!" + +"I don't know myself," responded Berrie. "The only thing that feels +natural is my hand. They cinched me so tight I can't eat a thing, and my +shoes hurt." She laughed as she said this, for her use of the vernacular +was conscious. "I'm a fraud. Your father will spot my brand first shot. +Look at my face--red as a saddle!" + +"Don't let that trouble you. This is the time of year when tan is +fashionable. Don't you be afraid of the governor. Just smile at him, give +him your grip, and he'll melt." + +"I'm the one to melt. I'm beginning now." + +"I know how you feel, but you'll get used to the conventional +boiler-plate and all the rest of it. We all groan and growl when we come +back to it each autumn; but it's a part of being civilized, and we +submit." + +Notwithstanding his confident advice, Wayland led the two silent and +inwardly dismayed women into the showy cafe of the hotel with some degree +of personal apprehension concerning the approaching interview with his +father. Of course, he did not permit this to appear in the slightest +degree. On the contrary, he gaily ordered a choice lunch, and did his +best to keep his companions from sinking into deeper depression. + +It pleased him to observe the admiring glances which were turned upon +Berrie, whose hat became her mightily, and, leaning over, he said in a +low voice to Mrs. McFarlane: "Who is the lovely young lady opposite? +Won't you introduce me?" + +This rejoiced the mother almost as much as it pleased the daughter, and +she answered, "She looks like one of the Radburns of Lexington, but I +think she's from Louisville." + +This little play being over, he said, "Now, while our order is coming +I'll run out to the desk and see if the governor has come in or not." + + + + +XVI + +THE PRIVATE CAR + + +After he went away Berrie turned to her mother with a look in which humor +and awe were blent. "Am I dreaming, mother, or am I actually sitting here +in the city? My head is dizzy with it all." Then, without waiting for an +answer, she fervently added: "Isn't he fine! I'm the tenderfoot now. I +hope his father won't despise me." + +With justifiable pride in her child, the mother replied: "He can't help +liking you, honey. You look exactly like your grandmother at this moment. +Meet Mr. Norcross in her spirit." + +"I'll try; but I feel like a woodchuck out of his hole." + +Mrs. McFarlane continued: "I'm glad we were forced out of the valley. You +might have been shut in there all your life as I have been with your +father." + +"You don't blame father, do you?" + +"Not entirely. And yet he always was rather easy-going, and you know how +untidy the ranch is. He's always been kindness and sympathy itself; but +his lack of order is a cross. Perhaps now he will resign, rent the ranch, +and move over here. I should like to live in the city for a while, and +I'd like to travel a little." + +"Wouldn't it be fine if you could! You could live at this hotel if you +wanted to. Yes, you're right. You need a rest from the ranch and +dish-washing." + +Wayland returned with an increase of tension in his face. + +"He's here! I've sent word saying, 'I am lunching in the cafe with +ladies.' I think he'll come round. But don't be afraid of him. He's a +good deal rougher on the outside than he is at heart. Of course, he's a +bluff old business man, and not at all pretty, and he'll transfix you +with a kind of estimating glare as if you were a tree; but he's actually +very easy to manage if you know how to handle him. Now, I'm not going to +try to explain everything to him at the beginning. I'm going to introduce +him to you in a casual kind of way and give him time to take to you both. +He forms his likes and dislikes very quickly." + +"What if he don't like us?" inquired Berrie, with troubled brow. + +"He can't help it." His tone was so positive that her eyes misted with +happiness. "But here comes our food. I hope you aren't too nervous to +eat. Here is where I shine as provider. This is the kind of camp fare I +can recommend." + +Berrie's healthy appetite rose above her apprehension, and she ate with +the keen enjoyment of a child, and her mother said, "It surely is a treat +to get a chance at somebody else's cooking." + +"Don't you slander your home fare," warned Wayland. "It's as good as +this, only different." + +He sat where he could watch the door, and despite his jocund pose his +eyes expressed growing impatience and some anxiety. They were all well +into their dessert before he called out: "Here he is!" + +Mrs. McFarlane could not see the new-comer from where she sat, but Berrie +rose in great excitement as a heavy-set, full-faced man with short, gray +mustache and high, smooth brow entered the room. He did not smile as he +greeted his son, and his penetrating glance questioned even before he +spoke. He seemed to silently ask: "Well, what's all this? How do you +happen to be here? Who are these women?" + +Wayland said: "Mrs. McFarlane, this is my father. Father, this is Miss +Berea McFarlane, of Bear Tooth Springs." + +The elder Norcross shook hands with Mrs. McFarlane politely, coldly; but +he betrayed surprise as Berea took his fingers in her grip. At his son's +solicitation he accepted a seat opposite Berea, but refused dessert. + +Wayland explained: "Mrs. McFarlane and her daughter quite saved my life +over in the valley. Their ranch is the best health resort in Colorado." + +"Your complexion indicates that," his father responded, dryly. "You look +something the way a man of your age ought to look. I needn't ask how +you're feeling." + +"You needn't, but you may. I'm feeling like a new fiddle--barring a +bruise at the back of my head, which makes a 'hard hat' a burden. I may +as well tell you first off that Mrs. McFarlane is the wife of the Forest +Supervisor at Bear Tooth, and Miss Berea is the able assistant of her +father. We are all rank conservationists." + +Norcross, Senior, examined Berrie precisely as if his eyes were a couple +of X-ray tubes, and as she flushed under his slow scrutiny he said: "I +was not expecting to find the Forest Service in such hands." + +Wayland laughed. + +"I hope you didn't mash his fingers, Berrie." + +She smiled guiltily. "I'm afraid I did. I hope I didn't hurt +you--sometimes I forget." + +Norcross, Senior, was waking up. "You have a most extraordinary grip. +What did it? Piano practice?" + +Wayland grinned. "Piano! No--the cinch." + +"The what?" + +Wayland explained. "Miss McFarlane was brought up on a ranch. She can +rope and tie a steer, saddle her own horse, pack an outfit, and all the +rest of it." + +"Oh! Kind of cowgirl, eh?" + +Mrs. McFarlane, eager to put Berrie's better part forward, explained: +"She's our only child, Mr. Norcross, and as such has been a constant +companion to her father. She's not all cow-hand. She's been to school, +and she can cook and sew as well." + +He looked from one to the other. "Neither of you correspond exactly to my +notions of a forester's wife and daughter." + +"Mrs. McFarlane comes from an old Kentucky family, father. Her +grandfather helped to found a college down there." + +Wayland's anxious desire to create a favorable impression of the women +did not escape the lumberman, but his face remained quite expressionless +as he replied: + +"If the life of a cow-hand would give you the vigor this young lady +appears to possess, I'm not sure but you'd better stick to it." + +Wayland and the two women exchanged glances of relief. + +"Why not tell him now?" they seemed to ask. But he said: "There's a long +story to tell before we decide on my career. Let's finish our lunch. How +is mother, and how are the girls?" + +Once, in the midst of a lame pursuit of other topics, the elder Norcross +again fixed his eyes on Berea, saying: "I wish my girls had your weight +and color." He paused a moment, then resumed with weary infliction: "Mrs. +Norcross has always been delicate, and all her children--even her +son--take after her. I've maintained a private and very expensive +hospital for nearly thirty years." + +This regretful note in his father's voice gave Wayland confidence. His +spirits rose. + +"Come, let's adjourn to the parlor and talk things over at our ease." + +They all followed him, and after showing the mother and daughter to their +seats near a window he drew his father into a corner, and in rapid +undertone related the story of his first meeting with Berrie, of his +trouble with young Belden, of his camping trip, minutely describing the +encounter on the mountainside, and ended by saying, with manly +directness: "I would be up there in the mountains in a box if Berrie had +not intervened. She's a noble girl, father, and is foolish enough to like +me, and I'm going to marry her and try to make her happy." + +The old lumberman, who had listened intently all through this impassioned +story, displayed no sign of surprise at its closing declaration; but his +eyes explored his son's soul with calm abstraction. "Send her over to +me," he said, at last. "Marriage is a serious matter. I want to talk with +her--alone." + +Wayland went back to the women with an air of victory. "He wants to see +you, Berrie. He's mellowing. Don't be afraid of him." + +She might have resented the father's lack of gallantry; but she did not. +On the contrary, she rose and walked resolutely over to where he sat, +quite ready to defend herself. He did not rise to meet her, but she did +not count that against him, for there was nothing essentially rude in his +manner. He was merely her elder, and inert. + +"Sit down," he said, not unkindly. "I want to have _you_ tell me about my +son. He has been telling me all about you. Now let's have your side of +the story." + +She took a seat and faced him with eyes as steady as his own. "Where +shall I begin?" she bluntly challenged. + +"He wants to marry you. Now, it seems to me that seven weeks is very +short acquaintance for a decision like that. Are you sure you want him?" + +"Yes, sir; I am." Her answer was most decided. + +His voice was slightly cynical as he went on. "But you were tolerably +sure about that other fellow--that rancher with the fancy name--weren't +you?" She flushed at this, but waited for him to go on. "Don't you think +it possible that your fancy for Wayland is also temporary?" + +"No, sir!" she bravely declared. "I never felt toward any one the way I +do toward Wayland. He's different. I shall _never_ change toward him." + +Her tone, her expression of eyes stopped this line of inquiry. He took up +another. "Now, my dear young lady, I am a business man as well as a +father, and the marriage of my son is a weighty matter. He is my main +dependence. I am hoping to have him take up and carry on my business. To +be quite candid, I didn't expect him to select his wife from a Colorado +ranch. I considered him out of the danger-zone. I have always understood +that women were scarce in the mountains. Now don't misunderstand me. I'm +not one of those fools who are always trying to marry their sons and +daughters into the ranks of the idle rich. I don't care a hang about +social position, and I've got money enough for my son and my son's wife. +But he's all the boy I have, and I don't want him to make a mistake." + +"Neither do I," she answered, simply, her eyes suffused with tears. "If I +thought he would be sorry--" + +He interrupted again. "Oh, you can't tell that now. Any marriage is a +risk. I don't say he's making a mistake in selecting you. You may be just +the woman he needs. Only I want to be consulted. I want to know more +about you. He tells me you have taken an active part in the management of +the ranch and the forest. Is that true?" + +"I've always worked with my father--yes, sir." + +"You like that kind of life?" + +"I don't know much about any other kind. Yes, I like it. But I've had +enough of it. I'm willing to change." + +"Well, how about city life--housekeeping and all that?" + +"So long as I am with Wayland I sha'n't mind what I do or where I live." + +"At the same time you figure he's going to have a large income, I +suppose? He's told you of his rich father, hasn't he?" + +Berrie's tone was a shade resentful of his insinuation. "He has never +said much about his family one way or another. He only said you wanted +him to go into business in Chicago, and that he wanted to do something +else. Of course, I could see by his ways and the clothes he wore that +he'd been brought up in what we'd call luxury, but we never inquired into +his affairs." + +"And you didn't care?" + +"Well, not that, exactly. But money don't count for as much with us in +the valley as it does in the East. Wayland seemed so kind of sick and +lonesome, and I felt sorry for him the first time I saw him. I felt like +mothering him. And then his way of talking, of looking at things was so +new and beautiful to me I couldn't help caring for him. I had never met +any one like him. I thought he was a 'lunger'--" + +"A what?" + +"A consumptive; that is, I did at first. And it bothered me. It seemed +terrible that any one so fine should be condemned like that--and so--I +did all I could to help him, to make him happy. I thought he hadn't long +to live. Everything he said and did was wonderful to me, like poetry and +music. And then when he began to grow stronger and I saw that he was +going to get well, and Cliff went on the rampage and showed the yellow +streak, and I gave him back his ring--I didn't know even then how much +Wayland meant to me. But on our trip over the Range I understood. He +meant everything to me. He made Cliff seem like a savage, and I wanted +him to know it. I'm not ashamed of loving him. I want to make him happy, +and if he wishes me to be his wife I'll go anywhere he says--only I think +he should stay out here till he gets entirely well." + +The old man's eyes softened during her plea, and at its close a slight +smile moved the corners of his mouth. "You've thought it all out, I see. +Your mind is clear and your conscience easy. Well, I like your spirit. I +guess he's right. The decision is up to you. But if he takes you and +stays in Colorado he can't expect me to share the profits of my business +with him, can he? He'll have to make his own way." He rose and held out +his hand. "However, I'm persuaded he's in good hands." + +She took his hand, not knowing just what to reply. He examined her +fingers with intent gaze. + +"I didn't know any woman could have such a grip." He thoughtfully took +her biceps in his left hand. "You are magnificent." Then, in ironical +protest, he added: "Good God, no! I can't have you come into my family. +You'd make caricatures of my wife and daughters. Are all the girls out in +the valley like you?" + +She laughed. "No. Most of them pride themselves on _not_ being +horsewomen. Mighty few of 'em ever ride a horse. I'm a kind of a tomboy +to them." + +"I'm sorry to hear that. It's the same old story. I suppose they'd all +like to live in the city and wear low-necked gowns and high-heeled shoes. +No, I can't consent to your marriage with my son. I must save you from +corruption. Go back to the ranch. I can see already signs of your +deterioration. Except for your color and that grip you already look like +upper Broadway. The next thing will be a slit skirt and a diamond +garter." + +She flushed redly, conscious of her new corset, her silk stockings, and +her pinching shoes. "It's all on the outside," she declared. "Under this +toggery I'm the same old trailer. It don't take long to get rid of these +things. I'm just playing a part to-day--for you." + +He smiled and dropped her hand. "No, no. You've said good-by to the +cinch, I can see that. You're on the road to opera boxes and limousines. +What is your plan? What would you advise Wayland to do if you knew I was +hard against his marrying you? Come, now, I can see you're a +clear-sighted individual. What can he do to earn a living? How will you +live without my aid? Have you figured on these things?" + +"Yes; I'm going to ask my father to buy a ranch near here, where mother +can have more of the comforts of life, and where we can all live together +till Wayland is able to stand city life again. Then, if you want him to +go East, I will go with him." + +They had moved slowly back toward the others, and as Wayland came to meet +them Norcross said, with dry humor: "I admire your lady of the cinch +hand. She seems to be a person of singular good nature and most uncommon +shrewd--" + +Wayland, interrupting, caught at his father's hand and wrung it +frenziedly. "I'm glad--" + +"Here! Here!" A look of pain covered the father's face. "That's the fist +she put in the press." + +They all laughed at his joke, and then he gravely resumed. "I say I +admire her, but it's a shame to ask such a girl to marry an invalid like +you. Furthermore, I won't have her taken East. She'd bleach out and lose +that grip in a year. I won't have her contaminated by the city." He mused +deeply while looking at his son. "Would life on a wheat-ranch accessible +to this hotel by motor-car be endurable to you?" + +"You mean with Berea?" + +"If she'll go. Mind you, I don't advise her to do it!" he added, +interrupting his son's outcry. "I think she's taking all the chances." He +turned to Mrs. McFarlane. "I'm old-fashioned in my notions of marriage, +Mrs. McFarlane. I grew up when women were helpmates, such as, I judge, +you've been. Of course, it's all guesswork to me at the moment; but I +have an impression that my son has fallen into an unusual run of luck. As +I understand it, you're all out for a pleasure trip. Now, my private car +is over in the yards, and I suggest you all come along with me to +California--" + +"Governor, you're a wonder!" exclaimed Wayland. + +"That'll give us time to get better acquainted, and if we all like one +another just as well when we get back--well, we'll buy the best farm in +the North Platte and--" + +"It's a cinch we get that ranch," interrupted Wayland, with a triumphant +glance at Berea. + +"Don't be so sure of it!" replied the lumberman. "A private car, like a +yacht, is a terrible test of friendship." But his warning held no terrors +for the young lovers. They had entered upon certainties. + +THE END + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Forester's Daughter, by Hamlin Garland + *** \ No newline at end of file