The Man of the Forest by Zane Grey (read me like a book txt) 📗

then,” resumed Dale, with a heavy breath of relief. “No wonder you're upset. I've a blunt way of talkin'.... Now we've thirty miles to ride on this Snowdrop road before we can turn off. To-day sometime the rest of the boys—Roy, John, an' Hal—were to leave Show Down, which's a town farther on from Snowdrop. They have my horses an' packs besides their own. Somewhere on the road we'll meet them—to-night, maybe—or tomorrow. I hope not to-night, because that 'd mean Anson's gang was ridin' in to Magdalena.”

Helen wrung her hands helplessly.

“Oh, have I no courage?” she whispered.

“Nell, I'm as scared as you are,” said Bo, consolingly, embracing her sister.

“I reckon that's natural,” said Dale, as if excusing them. “But, scared or not, you both brace up. It's a bad job. But I've done my best. An' you'll be safer with me an' the Beeman boys than you'd be in Magdalena, or anywhere else, except your uncle's.”

“Mr.—Mr. Dale,” faltered Helen, with her tears falling, “don't think me a coward—or—or ungrateful. I'm neither. It's only I'm so—so shocked. After all we hoped and expected—this—this—is such a—a terrible surprise.”

“Never mind, Nell dear. Let's take what comes,” murmured Bo.

“That's the talk,” said Dale. “You see, I've come right out with the worst. Maybe we'll get through easy. When we meet the boys we'll take to the horses an' the trails. Can you ride?”

“Bo has been used to horses all her life and I ride fairly well,” responded Helen. The idea of riding quickened her spirit.

“Good! We may have some hard ridin' before I get you up to Pine. Hello! What's that?”

Above the creaking, rattling, rolling roar of the stage Helen heard a rapid beat of hoofs. A horse flashed by, galloping hard.

Dale opened the door and peered out. The stage rolled to a halt. He stepped down and gazed ahead.

“Joe, who was that?” he queried.

“Nary me. An' Bill didn't know him, either,” replied Joe. “I seen him 'way back. He was ridin' some. An' he slowed up goin' past us. Now he's runnin' again.”

Dale shook his head as if he did not like the circumstances.

“Milt, he'll never get by Roy on this road,” said Joe.

“Maybe he'll get by before Roy strikes in on the road.”

“It ain't likely.”

Helen could not restrain her fears. “Mr. Dale, you think he was a messenger—going ahead to post that—that Anson gang?”

“He might be,” replied Dale, simply.

Then the young man called Joe leaned out from the seat above and called: “Miss Helen, don't you worry. Thet fellar is more liable to stop lead than anythin' else.”

His words, meant to be kind and reassuring, were almost as sinister to Helen as the menace to her own life. Long had she known how cheap life was held in the West, but she had only known it abstractly, and she had never let the fact remain before her consciousness. This cheerful young man spoke calmly of spilling blood in her behalf. The thought it roused was tragic—for bloodshed was insupportable to her—and then the thrills which followed were so new, strange, bold, and tingling that they were revolting. Helen grew conscious of unplumbed depths, of instincts at which she was amazed and ashamed.

“Joe, hand down that basket of grub—the small one with the canteen,” said Dale, reaching out a long arm. Presently he placed a cloth-covered basket inside the stage. “Girls, eat all you want an' then some.”

“We have a basket half full yet,” replied Helen.

“You'll need it all before we get to Pine.... Now, I'll ride up on top with the boys an' eat my supper. It'll be dark, presently, an' we'll stop often to listen. But don't be scared.”

With that he took his rifle and, closing the door, clambered up to the driver's seat. Then the stage lurched again and began to roll along.

Not the least thing to wonder at of this eventful evening was the way Bo reached for the basket of food. Helen simply stared at her.

“Bo, you CAN'T EAT!” she exclaimed.

“I should smile I can,” replied that practical young lady. “And you're going to if I have to stuff things in your mouth. Where's your wits, Nell? He said we must eat. That means our strength is going to have some pretty severe trials.... Gee! it's all great—just like a story! The unexpected—why, he looks like a prince turned hunter!—long, dark, stage journey—held up—fight—escape—wild ride on horses—woods and camps and wild places—pursued—hidden in the forest—more hard rides—then safe at the ranch. And of course he falls madly in love with me—no, you, for I'll be true to my Las Vegas lover—”

“Hush, silly! Bo, tell me, aren't you SCARED?”

“Scared! I'm scared stiff. But if Western girls stand such things, we can. No Western girl is going to beat ME!”

That brought Helen to a realization of the brave place she had given herself in dreams, and she was at once ashamed of herself and wildly proud of this little sister.

“Bo, thank Heaven I brought you with me!” exclaimed Helen, fervently. “I'll eat if it chokes me.”

Whereupon she found herself actually hungry, and while she ate she glanced out of the stage, first from one side and then from the other. These windows had no glass and they let the cool night air blow in. The sun had long since sunk. Out to the west, where a bold, black horizon-line swept away endlessly, the sky was clear gold, shading to yellow and blue above. Stars were out, pale and wan, but growing brighter. The earth appeared bare and heaving, like a calm sea. The wind bore a fragrance new to Helen, acridly sweet and clean, and it was so cold it made her fingers numb.

“I heard some animal yelp,” said Bo, suddenly, and she listened with head poised.

But Helen heard nothing save the steady clip-clop of hoofs, the clink of chains, the creak and rattle of the old stage, and occasionally the low voices of the men above.

When the girls had satisfied hunger and thirst, night had settled down black. They pulled the cloaks up over them, and close together leaned back in a corner of the seat and talked in whispers. Helen did not have much to say, but Bo was talkative.

“This beats me!” she said once, after an interval. “Where are we, Nell? Those men up there are Mormons. Maybe they are abducting us!”

“Mr. Dale isn't a Mormon,” replied Helen.

“How do you know?”

“I could tell by the way he spoke of his friends.”

“Well,