by Grey, Zane
"Boys, you carry fodder while I milk," said Lucinda, taking the buckets.
"Listen, Maw," spoke up Abe, tensely.
"What do you hear, Abe?" she asked, quickly, suddenly fearful.
"Sounds like Mr. Holbert's hounds bellarin'. Paw says thet's the way wolves howl," replied the lad, his wondering eyes shining as he pointed down the moon-blanched canyon. "They're way down."
"Heavens, I hope your father is safe," exclaimed Lucinda, anxiously turning her face in order to listen.
"Aw, he's safe, you bet. Paw can lick all the lofers in Arizona."
"Abe--I hear them!" cried Lucinda, with a cold chill knifing her. The sounds were indeed like the baying of hounds, but deeper, wilder, more prolonged and blood-curdling. Then they ceased, to her immense relief.
She admonished the boys to hurry with the fodder and she hastened to her task of milking. She tried desperately not to listen while she milked, attempted also to entertain Abe's opinion of his father's prowess. When she had filled one bucket and had begun the other, Abe, white-faced, came running into the shed.
"Maw, come! Them wolves--all around!" he shrieked fearfully, tugging at her.
"Oh, my God--no I Abe, you're..." She was stricken mute by the sound of a rush of swiftly pattering feet outside the shed. Leaping to her feet, she seized a pitchfork and, with one hand grasping Abe, ran for the corral.
The calves and heifers began to bawl and thud about against the fence.
She heard George screeching with terror. At that instant, she became a lioness.
"Where are you?" she screamed wildly.
"George's up there," yelled Abe.
Lucinda saw the boy then, straddling the high pole fence, his chubby face grey with horror. She reached the open gate a moment before the rush of soft-thudding feet rounded the corral. Abe darted inside, Lucinda after him. Frantically she shoved the gate. It swung--scraped in the snow--caught, leaving an aperture a foot wide. At that instant grey, furry beasts padded up, swiftly scattering the snow. They resembled dirty white dogs, bounding, leaping, like silent ghosts.
"Shut it, Abe!... Shove!"
A gaunt beast with green-fire eyes leaped at the opening, breaking half-way through before Lucinda thrust the pitchfork into him. With a vicious snarl and a grind of teeth on the implement he fell backwards.
The shock of his onslaught almost upset Lucinda, but she righted and braced herself when another beast leaped. She gave this one a powerful stab which caused him to let out a mad howl. But Abe was not strong enough to close the gate. Lucinda, leaned her shoulder against it, still holding the pitchfork low, and shoved with all her might. The gate jarred shut except for the handle of the pitchfork. Then a bigger brute, furry grey with a black collar, leaped up, snapping at George. The boy screamed and fell off into the corral. At that moment Lucinda withdrew her weapon and barred the gate.
On the instant, as she sagged there, she panted audibly: "Thank God--Logan built--this fence!"
Grey forms sped to and fro, bounding with incredible agility, circled the corral, but farther away, and presently thronged into a pack to run up the canyon.
"Maw, they're gone," cried Abe. "You sure stuck a couple of 'em."
"Oh!--are you--sure?" gasped Lucinda, ready to collapse if the peril was over.
Abe peeped between the poles. "Maw!--they're across the brook!... Runnin' round the cabin." The lad must have had eyes as sharp as the wolves'.
"Shore Grant left the door open!"
"Oh, my God!... Grant! Barbara!" screamed Lucinda, dragging the gate open.
"Wait, Maw--they're runnin' by--up the hill... Up that break where Paw slides down our wood."
"George, are you hurt?" queried Lucinda, relaxing for an instant, as the other boy came to her.
"I dunno. I felt his teeth--on my foot."
"Listen, Maw," called Abe, shrilly.
From the black-and-silver ridge floated down the wild, mournful bay of a hungry wolf. It was answered by a deeper one, prolonged, haunting--a weird beast-sound that fitted the wilderness canyon.
"They might come back," said Lucinda, fearfully. "Boys, let's run for the cabin. Hurry!"
They dashed ahead of her, without looking back. Thought of Grant and Barbara lent wings to Lucinda's feet. She ran as never before. To her horror the cabin door stood wide open; the bright fire blazed in the fireplace. Lucinda staggered transfixed in the doorway with Abe and George clinging to her skirt. Playthings were scattered before the hearth. A chair lay overturned. Dirty wet tracks on the floor! With awful suspension of heart, Lucinda's terrible glance swept the cabin. Empty!
Those grey demons had carried the children away!
"Hey, Maw," piped up Grant's treble voice, from the loft, "Barb'ra an' me run back an' clumb up here!"
Chapter NINE.
One warm, sunny day afterwards, when the snow was melting swiftly, Logan was nailing the grey wolf hide up on the wall of the cabin.
George was not interested. He had had enough of wolves. But Abe stood by with shining eyes.
"Paw, where'd you hit him?" asked the lad, sticking his finger in a hole in the raw skin.
"Not there, son. That's where your mother stuck him with the pitchfork.
Here's where I hit him, Abe."
"Plumb centre," marvelled Abe. He never forgot any words his father used pertaining to guns, animals, and the forest.
"Sure, son. But it wasn't a running shot, and your mother had crippled him. So I don't deserve a lot of credit... Now we'll rub some salt on... Luce, fetch me a cup full of salt."
Lucinda came out, followed by the younger children. "Wife, you broke my only pitchfork on this hombre," complained Logan.
"Did I?" shuddered Lucinda. She had only begun to recover from the devastating horror of the wolves' attack.
"Look ahere, Paw," spoke up Abe, who always took his mother's side. "Maw kept two of 'em from gettin' in the corral. They'd et all your calves."
"I reckon, son. And chewed you up besides. That bunch was starved all right... Luce, this hide, will make a fine rug. We'll have to get use out of it. Old Gray cost us dearly. He and his pack cleaned out our herd, except the bull, and our young stock in the corrals."
"Oh, Logan! That is a terrible misfortune. I'm afraid we can never start a herd in this wild canyon."
"Yes, we can--and we will," he replied grimly, then..."Youngsters, I'm sorry to say Coyote went off with the pack."
They were grieved and amazed. Abe said: "What'd she do thet for, Paw?"
"Well, she's half-wolf anyway. I always distrusted her, but I took her with me three mornings before daylight. I hid in the pines and watched.
About daylight this morning I heard them. They'd killed something. They came out of a side canyon--must have got Coyote's scent Anyway, they stopped to nose around... Then's when I shot old Gray. I crippled another before the rest got out of sight. There were only six left. I reckon we've seen the last of them... Coyote double-crossed you, youngsters. She ran out to where old Gray lay, and then she went kind of wild, and let out the queerest yelps. She trailed the pack, looked back at me. I yelled. But she went on... And that's the end of your pet."
Barbara wept. Abe tried to console her by averring he would catch her another pet.
"It's too bad," said Lucinda, with a sigh. "I always felt easier when Coyote was with the children."
"Things happen. We've got to make the best of it," said Logan imperturbably. "I'll get another dog... And some more cattle."
"Where and how, Logan?" asked Lucinda.
"Ha!--We'll see."
In a few more days the snow was gone. The brook again ran bank full, and Logan was forced to fell another tree to make a higher bridge. Spring was at hand, with its manifold tasks.' The wild turkeys began to gobble from the ridges. Logan took Abe, and with his rifle climbed the slope. When they returned, Abe packed a turkey larger than himself, holding its feet over his shoulder and dragging it behind, head and wings on the ground.
Barbara
had an eye for the beautiful bronze-and-black feathers. Grant remembered turkey from the preceding fall, and whooped: "Maw, can I have the drum-stick?"
Another day Logan trudged down the hill with a little bear cub under each arm. Then there was pandemonium in Sycamore Canyon. The children went wild with delight.
"Doggone!" ejaculated Logan. "I didn't know they loved pets so well.
That's one thing I can get them."
"Such dear little black shiny things! Not at all afraid!" exclaimed Lucinda. "They can't be very old."
"I should smile not. You'll have to feed them with a bottle."
"And their mother?" asked Lucinda, with a ghost of that old shock which would not wholly vanish.
"She's up on the hill. I'll go back up there, skin out some meat, and pack it down. Hide's not so good."
Not long after that Lucinda at her work heard the children talking about their kittens. At first she thought Barbara and Grant meant the little bears. But she soon ascertained that they did not. When Logan came in from the fields she told him. It was noonday, and the two youngsters were not in sight...
"Little imps! They're up to something... Abe, what about these kittens?
Your mother heard Grant and Barbara talking."
"I know, Paw. But I'm not gonna tell," replied Abe.
"Well! I'll be damned," ejaculated the nonplussed father. Whereupon he set off up the canyon in search of the two youngsters.
Lucinda observed that Abe watched with great interest, and this stimulated her own. "They're comin', Maw," he said, intensely. "An' Paw's got 'em."
It developed that Abe did not mean Barbara and Grant. They came ahead, running, babbling, too excited to be coherent. Logan followed carrying two furry tan-coloured little cats.
"For heaven's sake, what now?" ejaculated Lucinda mildly.
"Cougar kittens, Luce!--The-kids are making friends with my bitterest enemies," replied Logan, in grim humour. "Barbara said Abe found them in a cave. He took her and Grant up there. They've been playing with these kittens every day. While the old cougar mother sat up on the ledge above and watched them. I saw her tracks."
"Why, Logan! I think that's wonderful. She wouldn't harm our children because they didn't harm hers."
"Yeah. It's wonderful how quick they'll grow up and eat my calves. I'll have to kill their maw. But we'll keep the kittens for a while... Never heard of cougar pets."
He built a pen for the little cats. These pets, added to bear cubs, interfered with work and lessons, but Lucinda had not the heart to refuse the children. What else had they to play with? A few primitive bits of stone, some pine cones, and queer knots.
Logan must have reacted in the same way, to Barbara's and Grant's rapture, for from that day onwards he kept bringing home pets from the woods. Lucinda suspected that he went purposely to hunt for wild creatures, taking Abe with him. Before hot weather set in two baby chipmunks, a black squirrel, a white-spotted fawn, and a blinking little grey owl had been added to the menagerie.
Having but little stock to tend, Logan put most of his labours into the fields, cultivating more land. This season he tried alfalfa. It seemed to Lucinda that her husband worked harder than ever, if such a thing was possible, but without the old cheer and all-satisfying hope for the future. Without cattle his precious ambition languished. He deferred the trip to town until fall. Holbert drove back with him, and it took little perspicuity for Lucinda to see that the rancher was interested in Sycamore Canyon. He appeared friendly as usual, but he bluntly told Huett that in the spring he would require the amount of money he held as a mortgage or he would be compelled to take over the property.
"Luce, the alfalfa crop is what fetched him," said Logan, after the neighbour had gone. "He sees the possibilities in this ranch. And he'd like to get it... I'd just about croak to lose this place. And I can't see how in hell I can save it."
"Well, I can," returned Lucinda, vigorously. "There was a time when I'd have been glad to lose it. But not any more. It's home. The children love it. They will grow up somehow all the more wonderful for this lonely place... Don't worry, Logan."
Logan shook his head grimly. "I owe Holbert three hundred dollars. He's been decent about it, although when I took the cattle I had an idea he'd give me all the time I needed to pay."
"He was amazed at your alfalfa and potato crops," said Lucinda, thoughtfully. "What did Babbitt say?"
"Humph! A lot. He'd take a hundred tons of alfalfa and all the potatoes I could raise. Big talk. But he might as well ask me to cut and haul the lumber off my range."
"Nevertheless we do have an asset here."
"We do. I always saw it. We can live off the land. We can make money on our farm products. We can raise and run thirty thousand head of stock here."
"But, Logan, admitting this may be true, we are farther away from that than when we started."
"So far as cattle are concerned. Why, if I ever get a wedge in here, my herd will double--quadruple--multiply beyond calculation."
"You have convinced me," said Lucinda. "But without capital and help you have undertaken the impossible... Logan, we must approach the problem from another angle."
"Angle? Wife, what do you mean?" he asked, with dubious interest.
"I don't know that I can answer yet. But my mind is working. The facts are simple. We have the land and water and grass. We will not starve. Our boys are growing like weeds.... It's something like a problem I used to give my school class."
"Luce, I never was any good at arithmetic."
"You let me do the figuring," she suggested.
Lucinda pondered over their situation for days. Holbert's wanting their ranch inspired her as it had alarmed Logan. One night, after the tired children had gone to bed, and she and Logan were sitting out on the porch in the soft simmer night, Lucinda broached the subject that had become so important to her.
"Logan, I've worked it out."
"What?" he queried.
"Our problem. But let me ask a question or so before I tell you. How long can you keep alfalfa?"
"I reckon as long as I could keep it dry."
"How much can you raise a summer?"
"I don't know. Two cuttings, sure. I'm beginning to see that alfalfa does amazing good here, same as your potatoes."
"We can't haul alfalfa to town, not in quantity to pay us. But we can haul enough potatoes to trade for the flour, sugar, dried fruit--all that we need to live on. Our wants will grow as the children grow. We must have clothes, and shoes, books, and many things."
"Luce, don't forget guns, ponies, and saddles. We've got to have them soon."
"Oh, I never thought of them. Indeed the boys are growing up... But is there immediate need for those things?"
"No. Only the sooner the better. Abe can ride bareback like an Indian now. And George's not so bad."
"Perhaps an open winter, such as you've been hoping for, will give you good luck with the beaver hides."
"It would help out wonderful."
"Let's hope for that. Now here's my plan. You've got ten acres of alfalfa in, almost ready to cut. And room in the cowsheds to store it. Build a large shed--just a peaked roof on posts. Something you can store tons and tons of alfalfa in."
"Wife, that's a great idea," replied Logan, enthusiastically. "With George and Abe, and a little help from you, I can throw that up in a week... Well, go on."
"Run a high pole fence out from that deep break in the wall below the road, just two lines of fence meeting across the brook. That will enclose four or five acres of pasture."
"I can do that before the snow flies. But what for? I don't need it."
"You will need it. Let us begin to raise our calves to save them. Let's keep them penned in till they are grown. Feed alfalfa as well as fodder in the winter. In summer have the boys graze them like Indian boys do flocks of sheep. All to start a herd while you're killing off these cougars and wolves. In a few years we can turn them loose in the canyon."
"Wife, that's anoth
er good idea," declared Logan, thoughtfully. "But so much work--so slow in results!"
"Logan, you're in too much of a hurry. Remember the fable of the hare and the tortoise. We really don't need a big herd of cattle until the boys are old enough to ride with you."
"That's so. Never occurred to me... If I had five thousand head, say in ten years, when George is eighteen, why in five years more I'd have my thirty thousand head."
"Yes. Meanwhile we'd be living. By then the children will have as good an education as I can give them. They'd be growing up with our herd... It all means prodigious labour, much poverty, perhaps some hard setbacks, but in the end success... Logan, that is absolutely the only way we can attain it here in Sycamore."
"Years--years--years!" ejaculated Logan, hollowly, shaking his shaggy head.
"We can count on them. The rest depends upon our preparation and our unremitting toil... Now as to Holbert's lien on our property. I have the money to pay that off."
"Lucinda!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. By that she saw how this debt had dogged him.
"Yes. It'll take almost all of the money I saved out of my wedding-gift.
We'll get rid of it all in one swoop... I'll go to town with you this fall, taking the children. We'll pay Holbert on the way. Then buy things for the children and myself--we're sadly in need, and so are you, for that matter. Come home and never go in debt again!"
"Lucinda, you're a pioneer wife!" he burst out huskily, as if that was the greatest compliment he could pay her, and with this rare exhibition of feeling, he left her. Lucinda made a mental note of the fact that he had not promised never to go in debt again.
She sat there in the darkness, listening to the babble of the brook, the chirp of crickets, the weird cries of the nighthawks--sounds that seemed to have become a part of her. The stars burned white in the velvety-dark sky. All around, the black fringe of pines on the rims loomed protestingly. The white Sycamore that had given the canyon its name gleamed like wan marble in the starlight. From the great forest breathed down the leagues on leagues of pine and spruce--the warm, sweet, dry tang of the evergreens. How strange for Lucinda to realize that her horror of the wilderness had vanished! Only one dread, one threatening, haunting drawback to this pioneer life remained to vex her, and that was winter--the storm-demon who roared in the pines and brought the terror of a white change to the wilderness, the drifting palls of snow, the cold, ghastly windrows down the canyon.
