The Man of the Forest

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER IX

  A silence ensued, fraught with poignant fear for Helen, as she gazedinto Bo's whitening face. She read her sister's mind. Bo was rememberingtales of lost people who never were found.

  "Me an' Milt get lost every day," said Roy. "You don't suppose any mancan know all this big country. It's nothin' for us to be lost."

  "Oh!... I was lost when I was little," said Bo.

  "Wal, I reckon it'd been better not to tell you so offhand like,"replied Roy, contritely. "Don't feel bad, now. All I need is a peek atOld Baldy. Then I'll have my bearin'. Come on."

  Helen's confidence returned as Roy led off at a fast trot. He rodetoward the westering sun, keeping to the ridge they had ascended, untilonce more he came out upon a promontory. Old Baldy loomed there, blackerand higher and closer. The dark forest showed round, yellow, bare spotslike parks.

  "Not so far off the track," said Roy, as he wheeled his horse. "We'llmake camp in Milt's senaca to-night."

  He led down off the ridge into a valley and then up to higher altitude,where the character of the forest changed. The trees were no longerpines, but firs and spruce, growing thin and exceedingly tall, withfew branches below the topmost foliage. So dense was this forest thattwilight seemed to have come.

  Travel was arduous. Everywhere were windfalls that had to be avoided,and not a rod was there without a fallen tree. The horses, laboringslowly, sometimes sank knee-deep into the brown duff. Gray mossfestooned the tree-trunks and an amber-green moss grew thick on therotting logs.

  Helen loved this forest primeval. It was so still, so dark, so gloomy,so full of shadows and shade, and a dank smell of rotting wood, andsweet fragrance of spruce. The great windfalls, where trees were jammedtogether in dozens, showed the savagery of the storms. Wherever a singlemonarch lay uprooted there had sprung up a number of ambitious sons,jealous of one another, fighting for place. Even the trees fought oneanother! The forest was a place of mystery, but its strife could be readby any eye. The lightnings had split firs clear to the roots, and othersit had circled with ripping tear from top to trunk.

  Time came, however, when the exceeding wildness of the forest, indensity and fallen timber, made it imperative for Helen to put all herattention on the ground and trees in her immediate vicinity. So thepleasure of gazing ahead at the beautiful wilderness was denied her.Thereafter travel became toil and the hours endless.

  Roy led on, and Ranger followed, while the shadows darkened under thetrees. She was reeling in her saddle, half blind and sick, when Roycalled out cheerily that they were almost there.

  Whatever his idea was, to Helen it seemed many miles that she followedhim farther, out of the heavy-timbered forest down upon slopes of lowspruce, like evergreen, which descended sharply to another level, wheredark, shallow streams flowed gently and the solemn stillness held a lowmurmur of falling water, and at last the wood ended upon a wonderfulpark full of a thick, rich, golden light of fast-fading sunset.

  "Smell the smoke," said Roy. "By Solomon! if Milt ain't here ahead ofme!"

  He rode on. Helen's weary gaze took in the round senaca, the circlingblack slopes, leading up to craggy rims all gold and red in thelast flare of the sun; then all the spirit left in her flashed up inthrilling wonder at this exquisite, wild, and colorful spot.

  Horses were grazing out in the long grass and there were deer grazingwith them. Roy led round a corner of the fringed, bordering woodland,and there, under lofty trees, shone a camp-fire. Huge gray rocks loomedbeyond, and then cliffs rose step by step to a notch in the mountainwall, over which poured a thin, lacy waterfall. As Helen gazed inrapture the sunset gold faded to white and all the western slope of theamphitheater darkened.

  Dale's tall form appeared.

  "Reckon you're late," he said, as with a comprehensive flash of eye hetook in the three.

  "Milt, I got lost," replied Roy.

  "I feared as much.... You girls look like you'd done better to ride withme," went on Dale, as he offered a hand to help Bo off. She took it,tried to get her foot out of the stirrups, and then she slid from thesaddle into Dale's arms. He placed her on her feet and, supporting her,said, solicitously: "A hundred-mile ride in three days for a tenderfootis somethin' your uncle Al won't believe.... Come, walk if it killsyou!"

  Whereupon he led Bo, very much as if he were teaching a child to walk.The fact that the voluble Bo had nothing to say was significant toHelen, who was following, with the assistance of Roy.

  One of the huge rocks resembled a sea-shell in that it contained ahollow over which the wide-spreading shelf flared out. It reached towardbranches of great pines. A spring burst from a crack in the solid rock.The campfire blazed under a pine, and the blue column of smoke rose justin front of the shelving rock. Packs were lying on the grass and someof them were open. There were no signs here of a permanent habitation ofthe hunter. But farther on were other huge rocks, leaning, cracked, andforming caverns, some of which perhaps he utilized.

  "My camp is just back," said Dale, as if he had read Helen's mind."To-morrow we'll fix up comfortable-like round here for you girls."

  Helen and Bo were made as easy as blankets and saddles could make them,and the men went about their tasks.

  "Nell--isn't this--a dream?" murmured Bo.

  "No, child. It's real--terribly real," replied Helen. "Now that we'rehere--with that awful ride over--we can think."

  "It's so pretty--here," yawned Bo. "I'd just as lief Uncle Al didn'tfind us very soon."

  "Bo! He's a sick man. Think what the worry will be to him."

  "I'll bet if he knows Dale he won't be so worried."

  "Dale told us Uncle Al disliked him."

  "Pooh! What difference does that make?... Oh, I don't know which Iam--hungrier or tireder!"

  "I couldn't eat to-night," said Helen, wearily.

  When she stretched out she had a vague, delicious sensation that thatwas the end of Helen Rayner, and she was glad. Above her, through thelacy, fernlike pine-needles, she saw blue sky and a pale star justshowing. Twilight was stealing down swiftly. The silence was beautiful,seemingly undisturbed by the soft, silky, dreamy fall of water. Helenclosed her eyes, ready for sleep, with the physical commotion within herbody gradually yielding. In some places her bones felt as if they hadcome out through her flesh; in others throbbed deep-seated aches; hermuscles appeared slowly to subside, to relax, with the quivering twingesceasing one by one; through muscle and bone, through all her body,pulsed a burning current.

  Bo's head dropped on Helen's shoulder. Sense became vague to Helen. Shelost the low murmur of the waterfall, and then the sound or feeling ofsome one at the campfire. And her last conscious thought was that shetried to open her eyes and could not.

  When she awoke all was bright. The sun shone almost directly overhead.Helen was astounded. Bo lay wrapped in deep sleep, her face flushed,with beads of perspiration on her brow and the chestnut curls damp.Helen threw down the blankets, and then, gathering courage--for she feltas if her back was broken--she endeavored to sit up. In vain! Her spiritwas willing, but her muscles refused to act. It must take a violentspasmodic effort. She tried it with shut eyes, and, succeeding, satthere trembling. The commotion she had made in the blankets awoke Bo,and she blinked her surprised blue eyes in the sunlight.

  "Hello--Nell! do I have to--get up?" she asked, sleepily.

  "Can you?" queried Helen.

  "Can I what?" Bo was now thoroughly awake and lay there staring at hersister.

  "Why--get up."

  "I'd like to know why not," retorted Bo, as she made the effort. She gotone arm and shoulder up, only to flop back like a crippled thing. Andshe uttered the most piteous little moan. "I'm dead! I know--I am!"

  "Well, if you're going to be a Western girl you'd better have spunkenough to move."

  "A-huh!" ejaculated Bo. Then she rolled over, not without groans, and,once upon her face, she raised herself on her hands and turned to asitting posture. "Where's everybody?... Oh, Nell, it's perfectly lovelyhere. Paradise!
"

  Helen looked around. A fire was smoldering. No one was in sight.Wonderful distant colors seemed to strike her glance as she tried to fixit upon near-by objects. A beautiful little green tent or shack had beenerected out of spruce boughs. It had a slanting roof that sloped all theway from a ridge-pole to the ground; half of the opening in front wasclosed, as were the sides. The spruce boughs appeared all to be laid inthe same direction, giving it a smooth, compact appearance, actually asif it had grown there.

  "That lean-to wasn't there last night?" inquired Bo.

  "I didn't see it. Lean-to? Where'd you get that name?"

  "It's Western, my dear. I'll bet they put it up for us.... Sure, I seeour bags inside. Let's get up. It must be late."

  The girls had considerable fun as well as pain in getting up and keepingeach other erect until their limbs would hold them firmly. They weredelighted with the spruce lean-to. It faced the open and stood justunder the wide-spreading shelf of rock. The tiny outlet from the springflowed beside it and spilled its clear water over a stone, to fall intoa little pool. The floor of this woodland habitation consisted of tipsof spruce boughs to about a foot in depth, all laid one way, smooth andspringy, and so sweetly odorous that the air seemed intoxicating. Helenand Bo opened their baggage, and what with use of the cold water, brushand comb, and clean blouses, they made themselves feel as comfortable aspossible, considering the excruciating aches. Then they went out to thecampfire.

  Helen's eye was attracted by moving objects near at hand. Thensimultaneously with Bo's cry of delight Helen saw a beautiful doeapproaching under the trees. Dale walked beside it.

  "You sure had a long sleep," was the hunter's greeting. "I reckon youboth look better."

  "Good morning. Or is it afternoon? We're just able to move about," saidHelen.

  "I could ride," declared Bo, stoutly. "Oh, Nell, look at the deer! It'scoming to me."

  The doe had hung back a little as Dale reached the camp-fire. It was agray, slender creature, smooth as silk, with great dark eyes. It stood amoment, long ears erect, and then with a graceful little trot came upto Bo and reached a slim nose for her outstretched hand. All about it,except the beautiful soft eyes, seemed wild, and yet it was as tame asa kitten. Then, suddenly, as Bo fondled the long ears, it gave a startand, breaking away, ran back out of sight under the pines.

  "What frightened it?" asked Bo.

  Dale pointed up at the wall under the shelving roof of rock. There,twenty feet from the ground, curled up on a ledge, lay a huge tawnyanimal with a face like that of a cat.

  "She's afraid of Tom," replied Dale. "Recognizes him as a hereditaryfoe, I guess. I can't make friends of them."

  "Oh! So that's Tom--the pet lion!" exclaimed Bo. "Ugh! No wonder thatdeer ran off!"

  "How long has he been up there?" queried Helen, gazing fascinated atDale's famous pet.

  "I couldn't say. Tom comes an' goes," replied Dale. "But I sent him upthere last night."

  "And he was there--perfectly free--right over us--while we slept!" burstout Bo.

  "Yes. An' I reckon you slept the safer for that."

  "Of all things! Nell, isn't he a monster? But he doesn't look like alion--an African lion. He's a panther. I saw his like at the circusonce."

  "He's a cougar," said Dale. "The panther is long and slim. Tom is notonly long, but thick an' round. I've had him four years. An' he was akitten no bigger 'n my fist when I got him."

  "Is he perfectly tame--safe?" asked Helen, anxiously.

  "I've never told anybody that Tom was safe, but he is," replied Dale."You can absolutely believe it. A wild cougar wouldn't attack a manunless cornered or starved. An' Tom is like a big kitten."

  The beast raised his great catlike face, with its sleepy, half-shuteyes, and looked down upon them.

  "Shall I call him down?" inquired Dale.

  For once Bo did not find her voice.

  "Let us--get a little more used to him--at a distance," replied Helen,with a little laugh.

  "If he comes to you, just rub his head an' you'll see how tame he is,"said Dale. "Reckon you're both hungry?"

  "Not so very," returned Helen, aware of his penetrating gray gaze uponher.

  "Well, I am," vouchsafed Bo.

  "Soon as the turkey's done we'll eat. My camp is round between therocks. I'll call you."

  Not until his broad back was turned did Helen notice that the hunterlooked different. Then she saw he wore a lighter, cleaner suit ofbuckskin, with no coat, and instead of the high-heeled horseman's bootshe wore moccasins and leggings. The change made him appear more lithe.

  "Nell, I don't know what you think, but _I_ call him handsome," declaredBo.

  Helen had no idea what she thought.

  "Let's try to walk some," she suggested.

  So they essayed that painful task and got as far as a pine log some fewrods from their camp. This point was close to the edge of the park, fromwhich there was an unobstructed view.

  "My! What a place!" exclaimed Bo, with eyes wide and round.

  "Oh, beautiful!" breathed Helen.

  An unexpected blaze of color drew her gaze first. Out of the blackspruce slopes shone patches of aspens, gloriously red and gold, and lowdown along the edge of timber troops of aspens ran out into the park,not yet so blazing as those above, but purple and yellow and white inthe sunshine. Masses of silver spruce, like trees in moonlight, borderedthe park, sending out here and there an isolated tree, sharp as aspear, with under-branches close to the ground. Long golden-green grass,resembling half-ripe wheat, covered the entire floor of the park, gentlywaving to the wind. Above sheered the black, gold-patched slopes, steepand unscalable, rising to buttresses of dark, iron-hued rock. And tothe east circled the rows of cliff-bench, gray and old and fringed,splitting at the top in the notch where the lacy, slumberous waterfall,like white smoke, fell and vanished, to reappear in wider sheet of lace,only to fall and vanish again in the green depths.

  It was a verdant valley, deep-set in the mountain walls, wild and sadand lonesome. The waterfall dominated the spirit of the place, dreamyand sleepy and tranquil; it murmured sweetly on one breath of wind, andlulled with another, and sometimes died out altogether, only to comeagain in soft, strange roar.

  "Paradise Park!" whispered Bo to herself.

  A call from Dale disturbed their raptures. Turning, they hobbled witheager but painful steps in the direction of a larger camp-fire, situatedto the right of the great rock that sheltered their lean-to. No hut orhouse showed there and none was needed. Hiding-places and homes for ahundred hunters were there in the sections of caverned cliffs, split offin bygone ages from the mountain wall above. A few stately pines stoodout from the rocks, and a clump of silver spruce ran down to a brownbrook. This camp was only a step from the lean-to, round the corner ofa huge rock, yet it had been out of sight. Here indeed was evidence ofa hunter's home--pelts and skins and antlers, a neat pile of splitfire-wood, a long ledge of rock, well sheltered, and loaded withbags like a huge pantry-shelf, packs and ropes and saddles, tools andweapons, and a platform of dry brush as shelter for a fire around whichhung on poles a various assortment of utensils for camp.

  "Hyar--you git!" shouted Dale, and he threw a stick at something. A bearcub scampered away in haste. He was small and woolly and brown, and hegrunted as he ran. Soon he halted.

  "That's Bud," said Dale, as the girls came up. "Guess he near starved inmy absence. An' now he wants everythin', especially the sugar. We don'thave sugar often up here."

  "Isn't he dear? Oh, I love him!" cried Bo. "Come back, Bud. Come,Buddie."

  The cub, however, kept his distance, watching Dale with bright littleeyes.

  "Where's Mr. Roy?" asked Helen.

  "Roy's gone. He was sorry not to say good-by. But it's important he getsdown in the pines on Anson's trail. He'll hang to Anson, an' in casethey get near Pine he'll ride in to see where your uncle is."

  "What do you expect?" questioned Helen, gravely.

  "'Most anythin'," he replied. "Al, I
reckon, knows now. Maybe he'srustlin' into the mountains by this time. If he meets up with Anson,well an' good, for Roy won't be far off. An' sure if he runs across Roy,why they'll soon be here. But if I were you I wouldn't count on seein'your uncle very soon. I'm sorry. I've done my best. It sure is a baddeal."

  "Don't think me ungracious," replied Helen, hastily. How plainly hehad intimated that it must be privation and annoyance for her to becompelled to accept his hospitality! "You are good--kind. I owe youmuch. I'll be eternally grateful."

  Dale straightened as he looked at her. His glance was intent, piercing.He seemed to be receiving a strange or unusual portent. No need for himto say he had never before been spoken to like that!

  "You may have to stay here with me--for weeks--maybe months--if we'vethe bad luck to get snowed in," he said, slowly, as if startled at thisdeduction. "You're safe here. No sheep-thief could ever find this camp.I'll take risks to get you safe into Al's hands. But I'm goin' to bepretty sure about what I'm doin'.... So--there's plenty to eat an' it'sa pretty place."

  "Pretty! Why, it's grand!" exclaimed Bo. "I've called it Paradise Park."

  "Paradise Park," he repeated, weighing the words. "You've named it an'also the creek. Paradise Creek! I've been here twelve years with no fitname for my home till you said that."

  "Oh, that pleases me!" returned Bo, with shining eyes.

  "Eat now," said Dale. "An' I reckon you'll like that turkey."

  There was a clean tarpaulin upon which were spread steaming, fragrantpans--roast turkey, hot biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes as white asif prepared at home, stewed dried apples, and butter and coffee. Thisbounteous repast surprised and delighted the girls; when they had oncetasted the roast wild turkey, then Milt Dale had occasion to blush attheir encomiums.

  "I hope--Uncle Al--doesn't come for a month," declared Bo, as she triedto get her breath. There was a brown spot on her nose and one on eachcheek, suspiciously close to her mouth.

  Dale laughed. It was pleasant to hear him, for his laugh seemed unusedand deep, as if it came from tranquil depths.

  "Won't you eat with us?" asked Helen.

  "Reckon I will," he said, "it'll save time, an' hot grub tastes better."

  Quite an interval of silence ensued, which presently was broken by Dale.

  "Here comes Tom."

  Helen observed with a thrill that the cougar was magnificent, seen erecton all-fours, approaching with slow, sinuous grace. His color was tawny,with spots of whitish gray. He had bow-legs, big and round and furry,and a huge head with great tawny eyes. No matter how tame he was saidto be, he looked wild. Like a dog he walked right up, and it so happenedthat he was directly behind Bo, within reach of her when she turned.

  "Oh, Lord!" cried Bo, and up went both of her hands, in one of whichwas a huge piece of turkey. Tom took it, not viciously, but neverthelesswith a snap that made Helen jump. As if by magic the turkey vanished.And Tom took a closer step toward Bo. Her expression of fright changedto consternation.

  "He stole my turkey!"

  "Tom, come here," ordered Dale, sharply. The cougar glided round rathersheepishly. "Now lie down an' behave."

  Tom crouched on all-fours, his head resting on his paws, with hisbeautiful tawny eyes, light and piercing, fixed upon the hunter.

  "Don't grab," said Dale, holding out a piece of turkey. Whereupon Tomtook it less voraciously.

  As it happened, the little bear cub saw this transaction, and he plainlyindicated his opinion of the preference shown to Tom.

  "Oh, the dear!" exclaimed Bo. "He means it's not fair.... Come,Bud--come on."

  But Bud would not approach the group until called by Dale. Then hescrambled to them with every manifestation of delight. Bo almost forgother own needs in feeding him and getting acquainted with him. Tomplainly showed his jealousy of Bud, and Bud likewise showed his fear ofthe great cat.

  Helen could not believe the evidence of her eyes--that she was in thewoods calmly and hungrily partaking of sweet, wild-flavored meat--thata full-grown mountain lion lay on one side of her and a baby brown bearsat on the other--that a strange hunter, a man of the forest, there inhis lonely and isolated fastness, appealed to the romance in her andinterested her as no one else she had ever met.

  When the wonderful meal was at last finished Bo enticed the bear cubaround to the camp of the girls, and there soon became great comradeswith him. Helen, watching Bo play, was inclined to envy her. No matterwhere Bo was placed, she always got something out of it. She adaptedherself. She, who could have a good time with almost any one oranything, would find the hours sweet and fleeting in this beautiful parkof wild wonders.

  But merely objective actions--merely physical movements, had never yetcontented Helen. She could run and climb and ride and play with heartyand healthy abandon, but those things would not suffice long for her,and her mind needed food. Helen was a thinker. One reason she haddesired to make her home in the West was that by taking up a life of theopen, of action, she might think and dream and brood less. And here shewas in the wild West, after the three most strenuously active days ofher career, and still the same old giant revolved her mind and turned itupon herself and upon all she saw.

  "What can I do?" she asked Bo, almost helplessly.

  "Why, rest, you silly!" retorted Bo. "You walk like an old, crippledwoman with only one leg."

  Helen hoped the comparison was undeserved, but the advice was sound.The blankets spread out on the grass looked inviting and they feltcomfortably warm in the sunshine. The breeze was slow, languorous,fragrant, and it brought the low hum of the murmuring waterfall, likea melody of bees. Helen made a pillow and lay down to rest. The greenpine-needles, so thin and fine in their crisscross network, showedclearly against the blue sky. She looked in vain for birds. Thenher gaze went wonderingly to the lofty fringed rim of the greatamphitheater, and as she studied it she began to grasp its remoteness,how far away it was in the rarefied atmosphere. A black eagle, sweepingalong, looked of tiny size, and yet he was far under the heights above.How pleasant she fancied it to be up there! And drowsy fancy lulled herto sleep.

  Helen slept all afternoon, and upon awakening, toward sunset, found Bocurled beside her. Dale had thoughtfully covered them with a blanket;also he had built a camp-fire. The air was growing keen and cold.

  Later, when they had put their coats on and made comfortable seatsbeside the fire, Dale came over, apparently to visit them.

  "I reckon you can't sleep all the time," he said. "An' bein' city girls,you'll get lonesome."

  "Lonesome!" echoed Helen. The idea of her being lonesome here had notoccurred to her.

  "I've thought that all out," went on Dale, as he sat down, Indianfashion, before the blaze. "It's natural you'd find time drag up here,bein' used to lots of people an' goin's-on, an' work, an' all girlslike."

  "I'd never be lonesome here," replied Helen, with her direct force.

  Dale did not betray surprise, but he showed that his mistake wassomething to ponder over.

  "Excuse me," he said, presently, as his gray eyes held hers. "That'show I had it. As I remember girls--an' it doesn't seem long since I lefthome--most of them would die of lonesomeness up here." Then he addressedhimself to Bo. "How about you? You see, I figured you'd be the one thatliked it, an' your sister the one who wouldn't."

  "I won't get lonesome very soon," replied Bo.

  "I'm glad. It worried me some--not ever havin' girls as company before.An' in a day or so, when you're rested, I'll help you pass the time."

  Bo's eyes were full of flashing interest, and Helen asked him, "How?"

  It was a sincere expression of her curiosity and not doubtful orironic challenge of an educated woman to a man of the forest. But as achallenge he took it.

  "How!" he repeated, and a strange smile flitted across his face. "Why,by givin' you rides an' climbs to beautiful places. An' then, if you'reinterested,' to show you how little so-called civilized people know ofnature."

  Helen realized then that whatever his calli
ng, hunter or wanderer orhermit, he was not uneducated, even if he appeared illiterate.

  "I'll be happy to learn from you," she said.

  "Me, too!" chimed in Bo. "You can't tell too much to any one fromMissouri."

  He smiled, and that warmed Helen to him, for then he seemed less removedfrom other people. About this hunter there began to be something of thevery nature of which he spoke--a stillness, aloofness, an unbreakabletranquillity, a cold, clear spirit like that in the mountain air, aphysical something not unlike the tamed wildness of his pets or thestrength of the pines.

  "I'll bet I can tell you more 'n you'll ever remember," he said.

  "What 'll you bet?" retorted Bo.

  "Well, more roast turkey against--say somethin' nice when you're safean' home to your uncle Al's, runnin' his ranch."

  "Agreed. Nell, you hear?"

  Helen nodded her head.

  "All right. We'll leave it to Nell," began Dale, half seriously. "NowI'll tell you, first, for the fun of passin' time we'll ride an' racemy horses out in the park. An' we'll fish in the brooks an' hunt in thewoods. There's an old silvertip around that you can see me kill. An'we'll climb to the peaks an' see wonderful sights.... So much forthat. Now, if you really want to learn--or if you only want me to tellyou--well, that's no matter. Only I'll win the bet!... You'll seehow this park lies in the crater of a volcano an' was once full ofwater--an' how the snow blows in on one side in winter, a hundred feetdeep, when there's none on the other. An' the trees--how they grow an'live an' fight one another an' depend on one another, an' protectthe forest from storm-winds. An' how they hold the water that is thefountains of the great rivers. An' how the creatures an' things thatlive in them or on them are good for them, an' neither could livewithout the other. An' then I'll show you my pets tame an' untamed, an'tell you how it's man that makes any creature wild--how easy they areto tame--an' how they learn to love you. An' there's the life of theforest, the strife of it--how the bear lives, an' the cats, an' thewolves, an' the deer. You'll see how cruel nature is how savage an'wild the wolf or cougar tears down the deer--how a wolf loves fresh, hotblood, an' how a cougar unrolls the skin of a deer back from his neck.An' you'll see that this cruelty of nature--this work of the wolf an'cougar--is what makes the deer so beautiful an' healthy an' swift an'sensitive. Without his deadly foes the deer would deteriorate an' dieout. An' you'll see how this principle works out among all creatures ofthe forest. Strife! It's the meanin' of all creation, an' the salvation.If you're quick to see, you'll learn that the nature here in the wildsis the same as that of men--only men are no longer cannibals. Treesfight to live--birds fight--animals fight--men fight. They all liveoff one another. An' it's this fightin' that brings them all closer an'closer to bein' perfect. But nothin' will ever be perfect."

  "But how about religion?" interrupted Helen, earnestly.

  "Nature has a religion, an' it's to live--to grow--to reproduce, each ofits kind."

  "But that is not God or the immortality of the soul," declared Helen.

  "Well, it's as close to God an' immortality as nature ever gets."

  "Oh, you would rob me of my religion!"

  "No, I just talk as I see life," replied Dale, reflectively, as he pokeda stick into the red embers of the fire. "Maybe I have a religion. Idon't know. But it's not the kind you have--not the Bible kind. Thatkind doesn't keep the men in Pine an' Snowdrop an' all over--sheepmenan' ranchers an' farmers an' travelers, such as I've known--the religionthey profess doesn't keep them from lyin', cheatin', stealin', an'killin'. I reckon no man who lives as I do--which perhaps is myreligion--will lie or cheat or steal or kill, unless it's to kill inself-defense or like I'd do if Snake Anson would ride up here now.My religion, maybe, is love of life--wild life as it was in thebeginnin'--an' the wind that blows secrets from everywhere, an' thewater that sings all day an' night, an' the stars that shine constant,an' the trees that speak somehow, an' the rocks that aren't dead. I'mnever alone here or on the trails. There's somethin' unseen, but alwayswith me. An' that's It! Call it God if you like. But what stalls meis--where was that Spirit when this earth was a ball of fiery gas? Wherewill that Spirit be when all life is frozen out or burned out on thisglobe an' it hangs dead in space like the moon? That time will come.There's no waste in nature. Not the littlest atom is destroyed. Itchanges, that's all, as you see this pine wood go up in smoke an' feelsomethin' that's heat come out of it. Where does that go? It's not lost.Nothin' is lost. So, the beautiful an' savin' thought is, maybe allrock an' wood, water an' blood an' flesh, are resolved back into theelements, to come to life somewhere again sometime."

  "Oh, what you say is wonderful, but it's terrible!" exclaimed Helen. Hehad struck deep into her soul.

  "Terrible? I reckon," he replied, sadly.

  Then ensued a little interval of silence.

  "Milt Dale, I lose the bet," declared Bo, with earnestness behind herfrivolity.

  "I'd forgotten that. Reckon I talked a lot," he said, apologetically."You see, I don't get much chance to talk, except to myself or Tom.Years ago, when I found the habit of silence settlin' down on me, I tookto thinkin' out loud an' talkin' to anythin'."

  "I could listen to you all night," returned Bo, dreamily.

  "Do you read--do you have books?" inquired Helen, suddenly.

  "Yes, I read tolerable well; a good deal better than I talk or write,"he replied. "I went to school till I was fifteen. Always hated study,but liked to read. Years ago an old friend of mine down here atPine--Widow Cass--she gave me a lot of old books. An' I packed them uphere. Winter's the time I read."

  Conversation lagged after that, except for desultory remarks, andpresently Dale bade the girls good night and left them. Helen watchedhis tall form vanish in the gloom under the pines, and after he haddisappeared she still stared.

  "Nell!" called Bo, shrilly. "I've called you three times. I want to goto bed."

  "Oh! I--I was thinking," rejoined Helen, half embarrassed, halfwondering at herself. "I didn't hear you."

  "I should smile you didn't," retorted Bo. "Wish you could just have seenyour eyes. Nell, do you want me to tell you something?

  "Why--yes," said Helen, rather feebly. She did not at all, when Botalked like that.

  "You're going to fall in love with that wild hunter," declared Bo in avoice that rang like a bell.

  Helen was not only amazed, but enraged. She caught her breathpreparatory to giving this incorrigible sister a piece of her mind. Bowent calmly on.

  "I can feel it in my bones."

  "Bo, you're a little fool--a sentimental, romancing, gushy little fool!"retorted Helen. "All you seem to hold in your head is some rot aboutlove. To hear you talk one would think there's nothing else in the worldbut love."

  Bo's eyes were bright, shrewd, affectionate, and laughing as she benttheir steady gaze upon Helen.

  "Nell, that's just it. There IS nothing else!"