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

“Milt, say the word,” went on Roy, as he looked up at the stars. “Daylight not far away. Here's the forks of the road, an' your hosses, an' our outfit. You can be in the pines by sunup.”

In the silence that ensued Helen heard the throb of her heart and the panting little breaths of her sister. They both peered out, hands clenched together, watching and listening in strained attention.

“It's possible that rider last night wasn't a messenger to Anson,” said Dale. “In that case Anson won't make anythin' of our wheel tracks or horse tracks. He'll go right on to meet the regular stage. Bill, can you go back an' meet the stage comin' before Anson does?”

“Wal, I reckon so—an' take it easy at thet,” replied Bill.

“All right,” continued Dale, instantly. “John, you an' Joe an' Hal ride back to meet the regular stage. An' when you meet it get on an' be on it when Anson holds it up.”

“Thet's shore agreeable to me,” drawled John.

“I'd like to be on it, too,” said Roy, grimly.

“No. I'll need you till I'm safe in the woods. Bill, hand down the bags. An' you, Roy, help me pack them. Did you get all the supplies I wanted?”

“Shore did. If the young ladies ain't powerful particular you can feed them well for a couple of months.”

Dale wheeled and, striding to the stage, he opened the door.

“Girls, you're not asleep? Come,” he called.

Bo stepped down first.

“I was asleep till this—this vehicle fell off the road back a ways,” she replied.

Roy Beeman's low laugh was significant. He took off his sombrero and stood silent. The old driver smothered a loud guffaw.

“Veehicle! Wal, I'll be doggoned! Joe, did you hear thet? All the spunky gurls ain't born out West.”

As Helen followed with cloak and bag Roy assisted her, and she encountered keen eyes upon her face. He seemed both gentle and respectful, and she felt his solicitude. His heavy gun, swinging low, struck her as she stepped down.

Dale reached into the stage and hauled out baskets and bags. These he set down on the ground.

“Turn around, Bill, an' go along with you. John an' Hal will follow presently,” ordered Dale.

“Wal, gurls,” said Bill, looking down upon them, “I was shore powerful glad to meet you-all. An' I'm ashamed of my country—offerin' two sich purty gurls insults an' low-down tricks. But shore you'll go through safe now. You couldn't be in better company fer ridin' or huntin' or marryin' or gittin' religion—”

“Shut up, you old grizzly!” broke in Dale, sharply.

“Haw! Haw! Good-by, gurls, an' good luck!” ended Bill, as he began to whip the reins.

Bo said good-by quite distinctly, but Helen could only murmur hers. The old driver seemed a friend.

Then the horses wheeled and stamped, the stage careened and creaked, presently to roll out of sight in the gloom.

“You're shiverin',” said Dale, suddenly, looking down upon Helen. She felt his big, hard hand clasp hers. “Cold as ice!”

“I am c-cold,” replied Helen. “I guess we're not warmly dressed.”

“Nell, we roasted all day, and now we're freezing,” declared Bo. “I didn't know it was winter at night out here.”

“Miss, haven't you some warm gloves an' a coat?” asked Roy, anxiously. “It 'ain't begun to get cold yet.”

“Nell, we've heavy gloves, riding-suits and boots—all fine and new—in this black bag,” said Bo, enthusiastically kicking a bag at her feet.

“Yes, so we have. But a lot of good they'll do us, to-night,” returned Helen.

“Miss, you'd do well to change right here,” said Roy, earnestly. “It'll save time in the long run an' a lot of sufferin' before sunup.”

Helen stared at the young man, absolutely amazed with his simplicity. She was advised to change her traveling-dress for a riding-suit—out somewhere in a cold, windy desert—in the middle of the night—among strange young men!

“Bo, which bag is it?” asked Dale, as if she were his sister. And when she indicated the one, he picked it up. “Come off the road.”

Bo followed him, and Helen found herself mechanically at their heels. Dale led them a few paces off the road behind some low bushes.

“Hurry an' change here,” he said. “We'll make a pack of your outfit an' leave room for this bag.”

Then he stalked away and in a few strides disappeared.

Bo sat down to begin unlacing her shoes. Helen could just see her pale, pretty face and big, gleaming eyes by the light of the stars. It struck her then that Bo was going to make eminently more of a success of Western life than she was.

“Nell, those fellows are n-nice,” said Bo, reflectively. “Aren't you c-cold? Say, he said hurry!”

It was beyond Helen's comprehension how she ever began to disrobe out there in that open, windy desert, but after she had gotten launched on the task she found that it required more fortitude than courage. The cold wind pierced right through her. Almost she could have laughed at the way Bo made things fly.

“G-g-g-gee!” chattered Bo. “I n-never w-was so c-c-cold in all my life. Nell Rayner, m-may the g-good Lord forgive y-you!”

Helen was too intent on her own troubles to take breath to talk. She was a strong, healthy girl, swift and efficient with her hands, yet this, the hardest physical ordeal she had ever experienced, almost overcame her. Bo outdistanced her by moments, helped her with buttons, and laced one whole boot for her. Then, with hands that stung, Helen packed the traveling-suits in the bag.

“There! But what an awful mess!” exclaimed Helen. “Oh, Bo, our pretty traveling-dresses!”

“We'll press them t-to-morrow—on a l-log,” replied Bo, and she giggled.

They started for the road. Bo, strange to note, did not carry her share of the burden, and she seemed unsteady on her feet.

The men were waiting beside a group of horses, one of which carried a pack.

“Nothin' slow about you,” said Dale, relieving Helen of the grip. “Roy, put them up while I sling on this bag.”

Roy led out two of the horses.

“Get up,” he said, indicating Bo. “The stirrups are short on this saddle.”

Bo was an adept at mounting, but she made such awkward and slow work of it