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

Dale glanced up quickly.

“Lass, it's worth learnin',” he said.

Helen's thought was too deep for words. In such brief space had she been transformed from misery to comfort!

The rain kept on falling, though it appeared to grow softer as night settled down black. The wind died away and the forest was still, except for the steady roar of the stream. A folded tarpaulin was laid between the pine and the fire, well in the light and warmth, and upon it the men set steaming pots and plates and cups, the fragrance from which was strong and inviting.

“Fetch the saddle-blanket an' set with your backs to the fire,” said Roy.

Later, when the girls were tucked away snugly in their blankets and sheltered from the rain, Helen remained awake after Bo had fallen asleep. The big blaze made the improvised tent as bright as day. She could see the smoke, the trunk of the big pine towering aloft, and a blank space of sky. The stream hummed a song, seemingly musical at times, and then discordant and dull, now low, now roaring, and always rushing, gurgling, babbling, flowing, chafing in its hurry.

Presently the hunter and his friend returned from hobbling the horses, and beside the fire they conversed in low tones.

“Wal, thet trail we made to-day will be hid, I reckon,” said Roy, with satisfaction.

“What wasn't sheeped over would be washed out. We've had luck. An' now I ain't worryin',” returned Dale.

“Worryin'? Then it's the first I ever knowed you to do.”

“Man, I never had a job like this,” protested the hunter.

“Wal, thet's so.”

“Now, Roy, when old Al Auchincloss finds out about this deal, as he's bound to when you or the boys get back to Pine, he's goin' to roar.”

“Do you reckon folks will side with him against Beasley?”

“Some of them. But Al, like as not, will tell folks to go where it's hot. He'll bunch his men an' strike for the mountains to find his nieces.”

“Wal, all you've got to do is to keep the girls hid till I can guide him up to your camp. Or, failin' thet, till you can slip the girls down to Pine.”

“No one but you an' your brothers ever seen my senaca. But it could be found easy enough.”

“Anson might blunder on it. But thet ain't likely.”

“Why ain't it?”

“Because I'll stick to thet sheep-thief's tracks like a wolf after a bleedin' deer. An' if he ever gets near your camp I'll ride in ahead of him.”

“Good!” declared Dale. “I was calculatin' you'd go down to Pine, sooner or later.”

“Not unless Anson goes. I told John thet in case there was no fight on the stage to make a bee-line back to Pine. He was to tell Al an' offer his services along with Joe an' Hal.”

“One way or another, then, there's bound to be blood spilled over this.”

“Shore! An' high time. I jest hope I get a look down my old 'forty-four' at thet Beasley.”

“In that case I hope you hold straighter than times I've seen you.”

“Milt Dale, I'm a good shot,” declared Roy, stoutly.

“You're no good on movin' targets.”

“Wal, mebbe so. But I'm not lookin' for a movin' target when I meet up with Beasley. I'm a hossman, not a hunter. You're used to shootin' flies off deer's horns, jest for practice.”

“Roy, can we make my camp by to-morrow night?” queried Dale, more seriously.

“We will, if each of us has to carry one of the girls. But they'll do it or die. Dale, did you ever see a gamer girl than thet kid Bo?”

“Me! Where'd I ever see any girls?” ejaculated Dale. “I remember some when I was a boy, but I was only fourteen then. Never had much use for girls.”

“I'd like to have a wife like that Bo,” declared Roy, fervidly.

There ensued a moment's silence.

“Roy, you're a Mormon an' you already got a wife,” was Dale's reply.

“Now, Milt, have you lived so long in the woods thet you never heard of a Mormon with two wives?” returned Roy, and then he laughed heartily.

“I never could stomach what I did hear pertainin' to more than one wife for a man.”

“Wal, my friend, you go an' get yourself ONE. An' see then if you wouldn't like to have TWO.”

“I reckon one 'd be more than enough for Milt Dale.”

“Milt, old man, let me tell you thet I always envied you your freedom,” said Roy, earnestly. “But it ain't life.”

“You mean life is love of a woman?”

“No. Thet's only part. I mean a son—a boy thet's like you—thet you feel will go on with your life after you're gone.”

“I've thought of that—thought it all out, watchin' the birds an' animals mate in the woods.... If I have no son I'll never live hereafter.”

“Wal,” replied Roy, hesitatingly, “I don't go in so deep as thet. I mean a son goes on with your blood an' your work.”

“Exactly... An', Roy, I envy you what you've got, because it's out of all bounds for Milt Dale.”

Those words, sad and deep, ended the conversation. Again the rumbling, rushing stream dominated the forest. An owl hooted dismally. A horse trod thuddingly near by and from that direction came a cutting tear of teeth on grass.

A voice pierced Helen's deep dreams and, awaking, she found Bo shaking and calling her.

“Are you dead?” came the gay voice.

“Almost. Oh, my back's broken,” replied Helen. The desire to move seemed clamped in a vise, and even if that came she believed the effort would be impossible.

“Roy called us,” said Bo. “He said hurry. I thought I'd die just sitting up, and I'd give you a million dollars to lace my boots. Wait, sister, till you try to pull on one of those stiff boots!”

With heroic and violent spirit Helen sat up to find that in the act her aches and pains appeared beyond number. Reaching for her boots, she found them cold and stiff. Helen unlaced one and, opening it wide, essayed to get her sore foot down into it. But her foot appeared swollen and the boot appeared shrunken. She could not get it half on, though she expended what little