The Man of the Forest

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER VI

  The horses trotted. And the exercise soon warmed Helen, until she wasfairly comfortable except in her fingers. In mind, however, she grewmore miserable as she more fully realized her situation. The night nowbecame so dark that, although the head of her horse was alongside theflank of Bo's, she could scarcely see Bo. From time to time Helen'sanxious query brought from her sister the answer that she was all right.

  Helen had not ridden a horse for more than a year, and for severalyears she had not ridden with any regularity. Despite her thrillsupon mounting, she had entertained misgivings. But she was agreeablysurprised, for the horse, Ranger, had an easy gait, and she found shehad not forgotten how to ride. Bo, having been used to riding on a farmnear home, might be expected to acquit herself admirably. It occurredto Helen what a plight they would have been in but for the thick,comfortable riding outfits.

  Dark as the night was, Helen could dimly make out the road underneath.It was rocky, and apparently little used. When Dale turned off the roadinto the low brush or sage of what seemed a level plain, the travelingwas harder, rougher, and yet no slower. The horses kept to the gait ofthe leaders. Helen, discovering it unnecessary, ceased attempting toguide Ranger. There were dim shapes in the gloom ahead, and always theygave Helen uneasiness, until closer approach proved them to be rocksor low, scrubby trees. These increased in both size and number as thehorses progressed. Often Helen looked back into the gloom behind.This act was involuntary and occasioned her sensations of dread. Daleexpected to be pursued. And Helen experienced, along with the dread,flashes of unfamiliar resentment. Not only was there an attempt afootto rob her of her heritage, but even her personal liberty. Then sheshuddered at the significance of Dale's words regarding her possibleabduction by this hired gang. It seemed monstrous, impossible. Yet,manifestly it was true enough to Dale and his allies. The West, then, inreality was raw, hard, inevitable.

  Suddenly her horse stopped. He had come up alongside Bo's horse. Dalehad halted ahead, and apparently was listening. Roy and the pack-trainwere out of sight in the gloom.

  "What is it?" whispered Helen.

  "Reckon I heard a wolf," replied Dale.

  "Was that cry a wolf's?" asked Bo. "I heard. It was wild."

  "We're gettin' up close to the foot-hills," said Dale. "Feel how muchcolder the air is."

  "I'm warm now," replied Bo. "I guess being near froze was what ailedme.... Nell, how 're you?"

  "I'm warm, too, but--" Helen answered.

  "If you had your choice of being here or back home, snug in bed--whichwould you take?" asked Bo.

  "Bo!" exclaimed Helen, aghast.

  "Well, I'd choose to be right here on this horse," rejoined Bo.

  Dale heard her, for he turned an instant, then slapped his horse andstarted on.

  Helen now rode beside Bo, and for a long time they climbed steadily insilence. Helen knew when that dark hour before dawn had passed, and shewelcomed an almost imperceptible lightening in the east. Then the starspaled. Gradually a grayness absorbed all but the larger stars. Thegreat white morning star, wonderful as Helen had never seen it, lost itsbrilliance and life and seemed to retreat into the dimming blue.

  Daylight came gradually, so that the gray desert became distinguishableby degrees. Rolling bare hills, half obscured by the gray lifting mantleof night, rose in the foreground, and behind was gray space, slowlytaking form and substance. In the east there was a kindling of palerose and silver that lengthened and brightened along a horizon growingvisibly rugged.

  "Reckon we'd better catch up with Roy," said Dale, and he spurred hishorse.

  Ranger and Bo's mount needed no other urging, and they swung into acanter. Far ahead the pack-animals showed with Roy driving them. Thecold wind was so keen in Helen's face that tears blurred her eyes andfroze her cheeks. And riding Ranger at that pace was like riding ina rocking-chair. That ride, invigorating and exciting, seemed all tooshort.

  "Oh, Nell, I don't care--what becomes of--me!" exclaimed Bo,breathlessly.

  Her face was white and red, fresh as a rose, her eyes glanced darklyblue, her hair blew out in bright, unruly strands. Helen knew she feltsome of the physical stimulation that had so roused Bo, and seemed soirresistible, but somber thought was not deflected thereby.

  It was clear daylight when Roy led off round a knoll from which patchesof scrubby trees--cedars, Dale called them--straggled up on the side ofthe foot-hills.

  "They grow on the north slopes, where the snow stays longest," saidDale.

  They descended into a valley that looked shallow, but proved to be deepand wide, and then began to climb another foot-hill. Upon surmounting itHelen saw the rising sun, and so glorious a view confronted her that shewas unable to answer Bo's wild exclamations.

  Bare, yellow, cedar-dotted slopes, apparently level, so gradual was theascent, stretched away to a dense ragged line of forest that roseblack over range after range, at last to fail near the bare summit of amagnificent mountain, sunrise-flushed against the blue sky.

  "Oh, beautiful!" cried Bo. "But they ought to be called BlackMountains."

  "Old Baldy, there, is white half the year," replied Dale.

  "Look back an' see what you say," suggested Roy.

  The girls turned to gaze silently. Helen imagined she looked down uponthe whole wide world. How vastly different was the desert! Verily ityawned away from her, red and gold near at hand, growing softly flushedwith purple far away, a barren void, borderless and immense, wheredark-green patches and black lines and upheaved ridges only served toemphasize distance and space.

  "See thet little green spot," said Roy, pointing. "Thet's Snowdrop. An'the other one--'way to the right--thet's Show Down."

  "Where is Pine?" queried Helen, eagerly.

  "Farther still, up over the foot-hills at the edge of the woods."

  "Then we're riding away from it."

  "Yes. If we'd gone straight for Pine thet gang could overtake us. Pineis four days' ride. An' by takin' to the mountains Milt can hide histracks. An' when he's thrown Anson off the scent, then he'll circle downto Pine."

  "Mr. Dale, do you think you'll get us there safely--and soon?" askedHelen, wistfully.

  "I won't promise soon, but I promise safe. An' I don't like bein' calledMister," he replied.

  "Are we ever going to eat?" inquired Bo, demurely.

  At this query Roy Beeman turned with a laugh to look at Bo. Helen sawhis face fully in the light, and it was thin and hard, darkly bronzed,with eyes like those of a hawk, and with square chin and lean jawsshowing scant, light beard.

  "We shore are," he replied. "Soon as we reach the timber. Thet won't belong."

  "Reckon we can rustle some an' then take a good rest," said Dale, and heurged his horse into a jog-trot.

  During a steady trot for a long hour, Helen's roving eyes wereeverywhere, taking note of the things from near to far--the scant sagethat soon gave place to as scanty a grass, and the dark blots thatproved to be dwarf cedars, and the ravines opening out as if by magicfrom what had appeared level ground, to wind away widening between graystone walls, and farther on, patches of lonely pine-trees, two and threetogether, and then a straggling clump of yellow aspens, and up beyondthe fringed border of forest, growing nearer all the while, the blacksweeping benches rising to the noble dome of the dominant mountain ofthe range.

  No birds or animals were seen in that long ride up toward the timber,which fact seemed strange to Helen. The air lost something of its cold,cutting edge as the sun rose higher, and it gained sweeter tang offorest-land. The first faint suggestion of that fragrance was utterlynew to Helen, yet it brought a vague sensation of familiarity andwith it an emotion as strange. It was as if she had smelled that keen,pungent tang long ago, and her physical sense caught it before hermemory.

  The yellow plain had only appeared to be level. Roy led down into ashallow ravine, where a tiny stream meandered, and he followed thisaround to the left, coming at length to a point where cedars anddwarf pines formed a little
grove. Here, as the others rode up, he satcross-legged in his saddle, and waited.

  "We'll hang up awhile," he said. "Reckon you're tired?"

  "I'm hungry, but not tired yet," replied Bo.

  Helen dismounted, to find that walking was something she had apparentlylost the power to do. Bo laughed at her, but she, too, was awkward whenonce more upon the ground.

  Then Roy got down. Helen was surprised to find him lame. He caught herquick glance.

  "A hoss threw me once an' rolled on me. Only broke my collar-bone, fiveribs, one arm, an' my bow-legs in two places!"

  Notwithstanding this evidence that he was a cripple, as he stood theretall and lithe in his homespun, ragged garments, he looked singularlypowerful and capable.

  "Reckon walkin' around would be good for you girls," advised Dale. "Ifyou ain't stiff yet, you'll be soon. An' walkin' will help. Don't gofar. I'll call when breakfast's ready."

  A little while later the girls were whistled in from their walk andfound camp-fire and meal awaiting them. Roy was sitting cross-legged,like an Indian, in front of a tarpaulin, upon which was spread a homelybut substantial fare. Helen's quick eye detected a cleanliness andthoroughness she had scarcely expected to find in the camp cooking ofmen of the wilds. Moreover, the fare was good. She ate heartily, andas for Bo's appetite, she was inclined to be as much ashamed of that asamused at it. The young men were all eyes, assiduous in their serviceto the girls, but speaking seldom. It was not lost upon Helen howDale's gray gaze went often down across the open country. She divinedapprehension from it rather than saw much expression in it.

  "I--declare," burst out Bo, when she could not eat any more, "thisisn't believable. I'm dreaming.... Nell, the black horse you rode is theprettiest I ever saw."

  Ranger, with the other animals, was grazing along the little brook.Packs and saddles had been removed. The men ate leisurely. Therewas little evidence of hurried flight. Yet Helen could not cast offuneasiness. Roy might have been deep, and careless, with a motive tospare the girls' anxiety, but Dale seemed incapable of anything he didnot absolutely mean.

  "Rest or walk," he advised the girls. "We've got forty miles to ridebefore dark."

  Helen preferred to rest, but Bo walked about, petting the horses andprying into the packs. She was curious and eager.

  Dale and Roy talked in low tones while they cleaned up the utensils andpacked them away in a heavy canvas bag.

  "You really expect Anson 'll strike my trail this mornin'?" Dale wasasking.

  "I shore do," replied Roy.

  "An' how do you figure that so soon?"

  "How'd you figure it--if you was Snake Anson?" queried Roy, in reply.

  "Depends on that rider from Magdalena," Said Dale, soberly. "Althoughit's likely I'd seen them wheel tracks an' hoss tracks made where weturned off. But supposin' he does."

  "Milt, listen. I told you Snake met us boys face to face day beforeyesterday in Show Down. An' he was plumb curious."

  "But he missed seein' or hearin' about me," replied Dale.

  "Mebbe he did an' mebbe he didn't. Anyway, what's the difference whetherhe finds out this mornin' or this evenin'?"

  "Then you ain't expectin' a fight if Anson holds up the stage?"

  "Wal, he'd have to shoot first, which ain't likely. John an' Hal, sincethet shootin'-scrape a year ago, have been sort of gun-shy. Joe mightget riled. But I reckon the best we can be shore of is a delay. An' it'dbe sense not to count on thet."

  "Then you hang up here an' keep watch for Anson's gang--say long enoughso's to be sure they'd be in sight if they find our tracks this mornin'.Makin' sure one way or another, you ride 'cross-country to Big Spring,where I'll camp to-night."

  Roy nodded approval of that suggestion. Then without more words both menpicked up ropes and went after the horses. Helen was watching Dale, sothat when Bo cried out in great excitement Helen turned to see a savageyellow little mustang standing straight up on his hind legs and pawingthe air. Roy had roped him and was now dragging him into camp.

  "Nell, look at that for a wild pony!" exclaimed Bo.

  Helen busied herself getting well out of the way of the infuriatedmustang. Roy dragged him to a cedar near by.

  "Come now, Buckskin," said Roy, soothingly, and he slowly approached thequivering animal. He went closer, hand over hand, on the lasso. Buckskinshowed the whites of his eyes and also his white teeth. But he stoodwhile Roy loosened the loop and, slipping it down over his head,fastened it in a complicated knot round his nose.

  "Thet's a hackamore," he said, indicating the knot. "He's never had abridle, an' never will have one, I reckon."

  "You don't ride him?" queried Helen.

  "Sometimes I do," replied Roy, with a smile. "Would you girls like totry him?"

  "Excuse me," answered Helen.

  "Gee!" ejaculated Bo. "He looks like a devil. But I'd tackle him--if youthink I could."

  The wild leaven of the West had found quick root in Bo Rayner.

  "Wal, I'm sorry, but I reckon I'll not let you--for a spell," repliedRoy, dryly.

  "He pitches somethin' powerful bad."

  "Pitches. You mean bucks?"

  "I reckon."

  In the next half-hour Helen saw more and learned more about how horsesof the open range were handled than she had ever heard of. ExceptingRanger, and Roy's bay, and the white pony Bo rode, the rest of thehorses had actually to be roped and hauled into camp to be saddled andpacked. It was a job for fearless, strong men, and one that called forpatience as well as arms of iron. So that for Helen Rayner the thingsucceeding the confidence she had placed in these men was respect. To anobserving woman that half-hour told much.

  When all was in readiness for a start Dale mounted, and said,significantly: "Roy, I'll look for you about sundown. I hope no sooner."

  "Wal, it'd be bad if I had to rustle along soon with bad news. Let'shope for the best. We've been shore lucky so far. Now you take to thepine-mats in the woods an' hide your trail."

  Dale turned away. Then the girls bade Roy good-by, and followed. SoonRoy and his buckskin-colored mustang were lost to sight round a clump oftrees.

  The unhampered horses led the way; the pack-animals trotted after them;the riders were close behind. All traveled at a jog-trot. And this gaitmade the packs bob up and down and from side to side. The sun feltwarm at Helen's back and the wind lost its frosty coldness, that almostappeared damp, for a dry, sweet fragrance. Dale drove up the shallowvalley that showed timber on the levels above and a black border oftimber some few miles ahead. It did not take long to reach the edge ofthe forest.

  Helen wondered why the big pines grew so far on that plain and nofarther. Probably the growth had to do with snow, but, as the groundwas level, she could not see why the edge of the woods should come justthere.

  They rode into the forest.

  To Helen it seemed a strange, critical entrance into another world,which she was destined to know and to love. The pines were big,brown-barked, seamed, and knotted, with no typical conformation excepta majesty and beauty. They grew far apart. Few small pines and littleunderbrush flourished beneath them. The floor of this forest appearedremarkable in that it consisted of patches of high silvery grass andwide brown areas of pine-needles. These manifestly were what Royhad meant by pine-mats. Here and there a fallen monarch lay riven orrotting. Helen was presently struck with the silence of the forest andthe strange fact that the horses seldom made any sound at all, and whenthey did it was a cracking of dead twig or thud of hoof on log. Likewiseshe became aware of a springy nature of the ground. And then she sawthat the pine-mats gave like rubber cushions under the hoofs of thehorses, and after they had passed sprang back to place again, leaving notrack. Helen could not see a sign of a trail they left behind. Indeed,it would take a sharp eye to follow Dale through that forest. Thisknowledge was infinitely comforting to Helen, and for the first timesince the flight had begun she felt a lessening of the weight upon mindand heart. It left her free for some of the appreciation she might havehad in
this wonderful ride under happier circumstances.

  Bo, however, seemed too young, too wild, too intense to mind what thecircumstances were. She responded to reality. Helen began to suspectthat the girl would welcome any adventure, and Helen knew surely nowthat Bo was a true Auchincloss. For three long days Helen had felt aconstraint with which heretofore she had been unfamiliar; for the lasthours it had been submerged under dread. But it must be, she concluded,blood like her sister's, pounding at her veins to be set free to raceand to burn.

  Bo loved action. She had an eye for beauty, but she was notcontemplative. She was now helping Dale drive the horses and hold themin rather close formation. She rode well, and as yet showed no symptomsof fatigue or pain. Helen began to be aware of both, but not enough yetto limit her interest.

  A wonderful forest without birds did not seem real to her. Of all livingcreatures in nature Helen liked birds best, and she knew many and couldimitate the songs of a few. But here under the stately pines there wereno birds. Squirrels, however, began to be seen here and there, and inthe course of an hour's travel became abundant. The only one with whichshe was familiar was the chipmunk. All the others, from the slim brightblacks to the striped russets and the white-tailed grays, were totallynew to her. They appeared tame and curious. The reds barked and scoldedat the passing cavalcade; the blacks glided to some safe branch, thereto watch; the grays paid no especial heed to this invasion of theirdomain.

  Once Dale, halting his horse, pointed with long arm, and Helen,following the direction, descried several gray deer standing in a glade,motionless, with long ears up. They made a wild and beautiful picture.Suddenly they bounded away with remarkable springy strides.

  The forest on the whole held to the level, open character, but therewere swales and stream-beds breaking up its regular conformity. Towardnoon, however, it gradually changed, a fact that Helen believed shemight have observed sooner had she been more keen. The general lay ofthe land began to ascend, and the trees to grow denser.

  She made another discovery. Ever since she had entered the forest shehad become aware of a fullness in her head and a something affectingher nostrils. She imagined, with regret, that she had taken cold. Butpresently her head cleared somewhat and she realized that the thick pineodor of the forest had clogged her nostrils as if with a sweet pitch.The smell was overpowering and disagreeable because of its strength.Also her throat and lungs seemed to burn.

  When she began to lose interest in the forest and her surroundingsit was because of aches and pains which would no longer be deniedrecognition. Thereafter she was not permitted to forget them and theygrew worse. One, especially, was a pain beyond all her experience.It lay in the muscles of her side, above her hip, and it grew to be atreacherous thing, for it was not persistent. It came and went. After itdid come, with a terrible flash, it could be borne by shifting or easingthe body. But it gave no warning. When she expected it she was mistaken;when she dared to breathe again, then, with piercing swiftness,it returned like a blade in her side. This, then, was one of theriding-pains that made a victim of a tenderfoot on a long ride. Itwas almost too much to be borne. The beauty of the forest, the livingcreatures to be seen scurrying away, the time, distance--everythingfaded before that stablike pain. To her infinite relief she found thatit was the trot that caused this torture. When Ranger walked she did nothave to suffer it. Therefore she held him to a walk as long as she daredor until Dale and Bo were almost out of sight; then she loped him aheaduntil he had caught up.

  So the hours passed, the sun got around low, sending golden shaftsunder the trees, and the forest gradually changed to a brighter, but athicker, color. This slowly darkened. Sunset was not far away.

  She heard the horses splashing in water, and soon she rode up to see thetiny streams of crystal water running swiftly over beds of green moss.She crossed a number of these and followed along the last one into amore open place in the forest where the pines were huge, towering,and far apart. A low, gray bluff of stone rose to the right, perhapsone-third as high as the trees. From somewhere came the rushing sound ofrunning water.

  "Big Spring," announced Dale. "We camp here. You girls have done well."

  Another glance proved to Helen that all those little streams poured fromunder this gray bluff.

  "I'm dying for a drink," cried Bo with her customary hyperbole.

  "I reckon you'll never forget your first drink here," remarked Dale.

  Bo essayed to dismount, and finally fell off, and when she did get tothe ground her legs appeared to refuse their natural function, and shefell flat. Dale helped her up.

  "What's wrong with me, anyhow?" she demanded, in great amaze.

  "Just stiff, I reckon," replied Dale, as he led her a few awkward steps.

  "Bo, have you any hurts?" queried Helen, who still sat her horse, loathto try dismounting, yet wanting to beyond all words.

  Bo gave her an eloquent glance.

  "Nell, did you have one in your side, like a wicked, longdarning-needle, punching deep when you weren't ready?"

  "That one I'll never get over!" exclaimed Helen, softly. Then, profitingby Bo's experience, she dismounted cautiously, and managed to keepupright. Her legs felt like wooden things.

  Presently the girls went toward the spring.

  "Drink slow," called out Dale.

  Big Spring had its source somewhere deep under the gray, weatheredbluff, from which came a hollow subterranean gurgle and roar of water.Its fountainhead must have been a great well rushing up through the coldstone.

  Helen and Bo lay flat on a mossy bank, seeing their faces as they bentover, and they sipped a mouthful, by Dale's advice, and because theywere so hot and parched and burning they wanted to tarry a moment with aprecious opportunity.

  The water was so cold that it sent a shock over Helen, made her teethache, and a singular, revivifying current steal all through her,wonderful in its cool absorption of that dry heat of flesh, irresistiblein its appeal to thirst. Helen raised her head to look at this water. Itwas colorless as she had found it tasteless.

  "Nell--drink!" panted Bo. "Think of our--old spring--in theorchard--full of pollywogs!"

  And then Helen drank thirstily, with closed eyes, while a memory of homestirred from Bo's gift of poignant speech.