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

I wish it wasn't so dark. I'm not afraid of men in daylight.... Nell, did you ever see such a wonderful looking fellow? What'd they call him? Milt—Milt Dale. He said he lived in the woods. If I hadn't fallen in love with that cowboy who called me—well, I'd be a goner now.”

After an interval of silence Bo whispered, startlingly, “Wonder if Harve Riggs is following us now?”

“Of course he is,” replied Helen, hopelessly.

“He'd better look out. Why, Nell, he never saw—he never—what did Uncle Al used to call it?—sav—savvied—that's it. Riggs never savvied that hunter. But I did, you bet.”

“Savvied! What do you mean, Bo?”

“I mean that long-haired galoot never saw his real danger. But I felt it. Something went light inside me. Dale never took him seriously at all.”

“Riggs will turn up at Uncle Al's, sure as I'm born,” said Helen.

“Let him turn,” replied Bo, contemptuously. “Nell, don't you ever bother your head again about him. I'll bet they're all men out here. And I wouldn't be in Harve Riggs's boots for a lot.”

After that Bo talked of her uncle and his fatal illness, and from that she drifted back to the loved ones at home, now seemingly at the other side of the world, and then she broke down and cried, after which she fell asleep on Helen's shoulder.

But Helen could not have fallen asleep if she had wanted to.

She had always, since she could remember, longed for a moving, active life; and for want of a better idea she had chosen to dream of gipsies. And now it struck her grimly that, if these first few hours of her advent in the West were forecasts of the future, she was destined to have her longings more than fulfilled.

Presently the stage rolled slower and slower, until it came to a halt. Then the horses heaved, the harnesses clinked, the men whispered. Otherwise there was an intense quiet. She looked out, expecting to find it pitch-dark. It was black, yet a transparent blackness. To her surprise she could see a long way. A shooting-star electrified her. The men were listening. She listened, too, but beyond the slight sounds about the stage she heard nothing. Presently the driver clucked to his horses, and travel was resumed.

For a while the stage rolled on rapidly, evidently downhill, swaying from side to side, and rattling as if about to fall to pieces. Then it slowed on a level, and again it halted for a few moments, and once more in motion it began a laborsome climb. Helen imagined miles had been covered. The desert appeared to heave into billows, growing rougher, and dark, round bushes dimly stood out. The road grew uneven and rocky, and when the stage began another descent its violent rocking jolted Bo out of her sleep and in fact almost out of Helen's arms.

“Where am I?” asked Bo, dazedly.

“Bo, you're having your heart's desire, but I can't tell you where you are,” replied Helen.

Bo awakened thoroughly, which fact was now no wonder, considering the jostling of the old stage.

“Hold on to me, Nell!... Is it a runaway?”

“We've come about a thousand miles like this, I think,” replied Helen. “I've not a whole bone in my body.”

Bo peered out of the window.

“Oh, how dark and lonesome! But it'd be nice if it wasn't so cold. I'm freezing.”

“I thought you loved cold air,” taunted Helen.

“Say, Nell, you begin to talk like yourself,” responded Bo.

It was difficult to hold on to the stage and each other and the cloak all at once, but they succeeded, except in the roughest places, when from time to time they were bounced around. Bo sustained a sharp rap on the head.

“Oooooo!” she moaned. “Nell Rayner, I'll never forgive you for fetching me on this awful trip.”

“Just think of your handsome Las Vegas cowboy,” replied Helen.

Either this remark subdued Bo or the suggestion sufficed to reconcile her to the hardships of the ride.

Meanwhile, as they talked and maintained silence and tried to sleep, the driver of the stage kept at his task after the manner of Western men who knew how to get the best out of horses and bad roads and distance.

By and by the stage halted again and remained at a standstill for so long, with the men whispering on top, that Helen and Bo were roused to apprehension.

Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the darkness ahead.

“Thet's Roy,” said Joe Beeman, in a low voice.

“I reckon. An' meetin' us so quick looks bad,” replied Dale. “Drive on, Bill.”

“Mebbe it seems quick to you,” muttered the driver, “but if we hain't come thirty mile, an' if thet ridge thar hain't your turnin'-off place, why, I don't know nothin'.”

The stage rolled on a little farther, while Helen and Bo sat clasping each other tight, wondering with bated breath what was to be the next thing to happen.

Then once more they were at a standstill. Helen heard the thud of boots striking the ground, and the snorts of horses.

“Nell, I see horses,” whispered Bo, excitedly. “There, to the side of the road... and here comes a man.... Oh, if he shouldn't be the one they're expecting!”

Helen peered out to see a tall, dark form, moving silently, and beyond it a vague outline of horses, and then pale gleams of what must have been pack-loads.

Dale loomed up, and met the stranger in the road.

“Howdy, Milt? You got the girl sure, or you wouldn't be here,” said a low voice.

“Roy, I've got two girls—sisters,” replied Dale.

The man Roy whistled softly under his breath. Then another lean, rangy form strode out of the darkness, and was met by Dale.

“Now, boys—how about Anson's gang?” queried Dale.

“At Snowdrop, drinkin' an' quarrelin'. Reckon they'll leave there about daybreak,” replied Roy.

“How long have you been here?”

“Mebbe a couple of hours.”

“Any horse go by?”

“No.”

“Roy, a strange rider passed us before dark. He was hittin' the road. An' he's got by here before you came.”

“I don't like thet news,” replied Roy, tersely. “Let's rustle. With girls on hossback you'll need all the start you can get. Hey, John?”

“Snake Anson shore can foller hoss tracks,” replied