They of the High Trails

by Garland, Hamlin

  Rawlins rose. "Well, I'll go see her, anyway. I'm for letting her help out if she's able and feels like it."

  Throop followed him out and down the walk. "That girl's getting terribly interested in Hans—and she has a right to be. No man could have put in better work for a woman than he did for her. She says it's all her fault—and so it is, in a way." He chuckled. "Rather dashes him to find out she's a moneyed person, don't it? But what's the odds? He needn't complain, if she don't."

  Helen's deepening interest in the forester expressed itself in the pleasure she took in discussing with Rawlins the means of setting him free.

  "All you have to do," the supervisor explained, "is to appear before the judge, deposit a certified check, and sign the paper which the law demands."

  "Let us go at once," she said. "My father is sleeping now and the housekeeper will sit with him. I can slip away for an hour."

  "The sooner the quicker," agreed Rawlins.

  While she was gone on a cautious inspection of the sick-room a messenger-boy came to the door with a telegram. "Gee! but the company is doing business to-day!" he remarked to Rawlins, with a grin. "Here's another fat one."

  Rawlins gently pushed him into the hall. "That'll do for you, son," he said. "Fat or thin, you deliver your goods and keep still."

  The message was indeed a "fat one," and came, Helen said, from a sister in Chicago, and expressed great anxiety to know exactly what conditions were. "Do you need me?" the writer demanded. "If you do, I will start at once. Let us hear from you. We are all very anxious."

  Though visibly affected by this appeal, Helen's reply was brief. "No need of you. I am well and returning East soon. Have all I need."

  This she handed in to the operator herself as she and Rawlins were on the way to Judge Brinkley's office; and then with the thought of possibly getting away in a day or two she asked of Rawlins: "When will Mr. Hanscom's trial come off?"

  "Not for several weeks, I fear, unless we can do something to have it put forward. You see, they've all conspired to make it a case for the County Court, but the judge may be able to throw it back into the Justice Court, where it really belongs. At the worst, Hans should only be fined, but, of course, we can't say a word. We can only wait till the hearing."

  A few hours ago she would have been fiercely impatient at this prospect of delay, but now, most strangely, she found herself accepting, without protest, a further stay in the town, for it came as a part of her pledged service in the aid of an unselfish young man, and she was definitely, distinctly moved at the thought of helping him.

  "By the way, Mr. Rawlins, I notice you call Mr. Hanscom Hans. Is that his Christian name?"

  "Oh no, that's only his nickname. He signs his reports L. J. Hanscom. I think his real name is Lawrence. I don't know why everybody calls him 'Hans'—probably because he is so friendly and helpful. Everybody likes him except that Shellfish Valley crowd, and they feel, I suppose, that I put him down here to keep tab on them, which is the fact. They're a nest of bad ones—a lot of hold-overs from the past—and would have frozen him out long ago if they could."

  Knowing the ranger's first name seemed to bring him still nearer, and she began to feel a little uneasy about the way in which he might take her share in his liberation. "Suppose he should misread it!"

  On the street corner near the judge's office they encountered a dozen men, grouped around a small, dark, middle-aged citizen with very black hair, a long mustache, and a fumed-oak complexion, who seemed to be monologuing for the enlightenment of the crowd. He looked like a Mexican, or some exile from the south of Europe, and as Helen and Rawlins paused for a moment they heard him say in a voice of pathetic softness: "I blame nobody but heem, Hart Busby. He steal my girl away. I have no fight with any one else."

  This was the dreaded Cuneo, the father of Margarita, whose coming promised death to the ranger! The imaginary savage with ready knife, the infuriated giant with blazing eyes, gave place to the actuality of this gentle, stricken; melancholy little sheepherder, who had no insane desire to avenge himself on any one, much less on Hanscom. Helen's resolution to meet and placate the dreaded Basque gave place to pity and a sense of relief.

  Rawlins viewed the matter humorously and laughed softly. "Hans needn't worry about that little mongrel."

  "He has suffered—he is suffering now," Helen replied. "I wish he might have his girl and take her home."

  Judge Brinkley's chambers consisted of two large rooms stacked with law-books to the ceiling, and in the outer one a couple of rough-looking men and a discouraged-looking little woman were sitting, waiting for an interview. Ordinarily Helen would have passed the woman without a second thought; now she wondered what her legal troubles might be.

  The judge gave precedence to Helen and the supervisor and invited them to his private office at once. Although he had some inkling of the romantic attachment between the ranger and this fine young woman, he did not presume upon it in any way, even in his answer to her questions.

  "I hardly think a serious case can be made out against Hanscom," he said, "but you will soon know, for a preliminary hearing will be granted within a day or two. Meanwhile," he added, "I am very glad to issue an order for his liberation on bond."

  Helen thanked him most warmly, and, with the writ of release in hand, Rawlins asked if she would not like to present it to the sheriff himself. At first she declined, thinking of her own embarrassment, but as she recalled the unhesitating action with which Hanscom had always acted in her affairs, she changed her mind and consented, and with her consent came a strong desire to let him know that her gratitude had in it something personal. Secretly she acknowledged a wish to see his rugged, serious face light up with the relief which the release would bring. His mouth, she remembered, was singularly refined and his smile winning.

  On the way Rawlins spoke of Hanscom's resignation in terms of sincere regret. "If he will only stay in the service, I am sure he will be promoted; but I cannot blame him for feeling lonely."

  At the jail door Helen's self-consciousness increased mightily. Her resolution almost failed her.

  "What will he think of me coming to him in this way?" was the question which disturbed her, and she was deeply flushed and her pulse quickened as Rawlins, quite unconscious of her sudden panic, led the way into the sheriff's office and with eager haste presented her to Throop, who greeted her with the smile and gesture of an old acquaintance.

  The supervisor lost no time. "We've come on business," he said. "We want Hanscom, Mr. Sheriff. This young lady has gone on his bond in my stead, and here is an order for his release, signed by Judge Brinkley."

  Throop was genuinely pleased. "Hah! I'm glad of that," he said, as he took the paper. After a moment's glance at it he said: "All right, you can have the body. Go into the parlor and I'll send him in to you."

  Helen obeyed silently, knowing that Rawlins would remain in the office—which he did—leaving her to receive the ranger alone.

  He came in with eyes alight with worship. "I'm heartily obliged to you," he said, boyishly. "I thought I was in for a week or two of cell life and reflection."

  She met his gratitude with instant protest. "Please don't thank me; I am only repaying a little of our debt. Won't you be seated?" she added, acting the part of hostess in her embarrassment. "Of course I don't mean that. You must be anxious to leave this place."

  "I was, but I'm not so anxious now. How is Mr. Kauffman?"

  "Much easier. He was sleeping when I left."

  "I'm glad of that. He's had a hard week, and so have you, and yet"—he hesitated—"you are looking well in spite of it all."

  "That is the strange part of it," she admitted. "I am stronger and happier than I have been for two years. I have just heard from my family in the East."

  His eyes became grave. "Then you will go back to them?"

  "I think so, but not at once—not till after your trial—it would be grossly ungrateful for me to go now. I shall wait till you are free."

&n
bsp; His fine, clear, serious eyes were steadily fixed upon her face as she said this, and she knew that he was extracting from every word and tone their full meaning, and it frightened her a little.

  At last he said, in a voice which was tense with emotion, "Then I hope I shall never be free."

  She hastened to lessen this tension. "The judge has promised to grant you a hearing soon. Mr. Rawlins thinks it only a case for Justice Court, anyway." She rose. "But let me see Mrs. Throop for a few minutes and then we will go."

  "Wait a moment," he pleaded, but she would not stay her course—she dared not.

  They found Mrs. Throop in the hall, discussing the interesting situation with Rawlins, and when Helen extended her hand and began to thank her again for her kindness, the matron cut her short. "Never mind that now. I want you should all stay to supper."

  Helen expressed regret and explained that it was necessary to return to the bedside of her father, and so they managed to get away, although Mrs. Throop followed them to the door, inviting them both to come again. She saw no humor in this, though the men had their joke about it.

  Rawlins discreetly dropped back into the office, and the two young people passed on into the street.

  "You must let me watch with your father to-night," Hanscom said. "I've been a nurse—along with the rest of my experiences."

  "If I need you I shall certainly call upon you, and if you need money you must call upon me."

  There was something warmer than friendship in her voice, but the ranger was a timid man in any matter involving courtship, and he dared not presume on anything so vague as the change of a tone or the quality of a smile. Nevertheless he said:

  "I cannot imagine how it happens that you are here in this rough country, but I am glad you are. I shall be glad all my life—even if you go away and forget me."

  "I shall not forget you," she replied, "not for what you've done, but for what you are." And in this declaration lay a profound significance which the man seized and built upon.

  "I am not even a forest ranger now. I am nothing but a dub—and you—they say are rich—but some day I'm going to be something else. I haven't any right—to ask anything of you—not a thing, but I must—I can't think of you going entirely out of my life. I want you to let me write to you. May I do that?"

  Her answer was unexpected. "You once spoke of getting a transfer to a forest near Denver. If you should do that, you might see me occasionally—for I may make my home in Colorado Springs."

  He stopped and they faced each other. "Does that mean that you want me to stay in the service?"

  Her face was pale, but her eyes were glowing. "Yes."

  His glance penetrated deeper. "And you will wait for me?"

  "As long as you think it necessary," she answered, with a smile whose meaning did not at once make itself felt, but when it did he reached his hand as one man to another. She took it, smiling up at him in full understanding of the promise she had made.

  "Right here I make a new start," he said.

  "I shall begin a new life also," she replied, and they walked on in silence.

  * * *

  AFTERWORD

  Have you seen sunsets so beautiful that your heart ached to watch them fade? So my heart aches to see the trails fading from the earth.

  As I re-enter the mountain forest I am a reactionary. I would restore every hill-stream to its former beauty if I could. I would carry forward every sign, every symbol, of the border in order that the children of the future should not be deprived of any part of their nation's epic westward march.

  I here make acknowledgment to the trail and the trail-makers. They have taught me much. I have lifted the latch-string of the lonely shack, and broken bread with the red hunter. I know the varied voices of the coyote, wizard of the mesa. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a silken cord, opalescent dawns and ruby sunsets. My camping-places return in the music of gold and amber streams. The hunter, the miner, the prospector, have been my companions and my tutors—and what they have given me I hold with jealous hand.

  The high trail leads away to shadow-dappled pools. It enables me to overtake the things vanishing, to enter the deserted cabin, to bend to the rude fireplace and to blow again upon the embers, gray with ashes, till a flame leaps out and shadows of mournful beauty dance upon the wall.

  I am glad that I was born early enough to hear the songs of the trailers and to bask in the light of their fires.

  Transcriber's Note

  Typographical errors corrected in the text:

  Page 108 ranche changed to ranch

  Page 109 penon changed to piñon

  Page 171 to changed to do

  Page 314 worthy changed to worth

  Page 316 misnumbered section V changed to VI

  Page 329 misnumbered section VI changed to VII

  Page 331 jurisdication changed to jurisdiction

  Page 338 misnumbered section VII changed to VIII

  Page 358 misnumbered section VIII changed to IX

  Page 362 Kaufman changed to Kauffman

  * * *

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