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

gobbler! First one I've seen this fall. My man Tom used to fetch home gobblers like that.... An' mebbe he'll come home again sometime.”

Her husband, Tom Cass, had gone into the forest years before and had never returned. But the old woman always looked for him and never gave up hope.

“Men have been lost in the forest an' yet come back,” replied Dale, as he had said to her many a time.

“Come right in. You air hungry, I know. Now, son, when last did you eat a fresh egg or a flapjack?”

“You should remember,” he answered, laughing, as he followed her into a small, clean kitchen.

“Laws-a'-me! An' thet's months ago,” she replied, shaking her gray head. “Milt, you should give up that wild life—an' marry—an' have a home.”

“You always tell me that.”

“Yes, an' I'll see you do it yet.... Now you set there, an' pretty soon I'll give you thet to eat which 'll make your mouth water.”

“What's the news, Auntie?” he asked.

“Nary news in this dead place. Why, nobody's been to Snowdrop in two weeks!... Sary Jones died, poor old soul—she's better off—an' one of my cows run away. Milt, she's wild when she gits loose in the woods. An' you'll have to track her, 'cause nobody else can. An' John Dakker's heifer was killed by a lion, an' Lem Harden's fast hoss—you know his favorite—was stole by hoss-thieves. Lem is jest crazy. An' that reminds me, Milt, where's your big ranger, thet you'd never sell or lend?”

“My horses are up in the woods, Auntie; safe, I reckon, from horse-thieves.”

“Well, that's a blessin'. We've had some stock stole this summer, Milt, an' no mistake.”

Thus, while preparing a meal for Dale, the old woman went on recounting all that had happened in the little village since his last visit. Dale enjoyed her gossip and quaint philosophy, and it was exceedingly good to sit at her table. In his opinion, nowhere else could there have been such butter and cream, such ham and eggs. Besides, she always had apple pie, it seemed, at any time he happened in; and apple pie was one of Dale's few regrets while up in the lonely forest.

“How's old Al Auchincloss?” presently inquired Dale.

“Poorly—poorly,” sighed Mrs. Cass. “But he tramps an' rides around same as ever. Al's not long for this world.... An', Milt, that reminds me—there's the biggest news you ever heard.”

“You don't say so!” exclaimed Dale, to encourage the excited old woman.

“Al has sent back to Saint Joe for his niece, Helen Rayner. She's to inherit all his property. We've heard much of her—a purty lass, they say.... Now, Milt Dale, here's your chance. Stay out of the woods an' go to work.... You can marry that girl!”

“No chance for me, Auntie,” replied Dale, smiling.

The old woman snorted. “Much you know! Any girl would have you, Milt Dale, if you'd only throw a kerchief.”

“Me!... An' why, Auntie?” he queried, half amused, half thoughtful. When he got back to civilization he always had to adjust his thoughts to the ideas of people.

“Why? I declare, Milt, you live so in the woods you're like a boy of ten—an' then sometimes as old as the hills.... There's no young man to compare with you, hereabouts. An' this girl—she'll have all the spunk of the Auchinclosses.”

“Then maybe she'd not be such a catch, after all,” replied Dale.

“Wal, you've no cause to love them, that's sure. But, Milt, the Auchincloss women are always good wives.”

“Dear Auntie, you're dreamin',” said Dale, soberly. “I want no wife. I'm happy in the woods.”

“Air you goin' to live like an Injun all your days, Milt Dale?” she queried, sharply.

“I hope so.”

“You ought to be ashamed. But some lass will change you, boy, an' mebbe it'll be this Helen Rayner. I hope an' pray so to thet.”

“Auntie, supposin' she did change me. She'd never change old Al. He hates me, you know.”

“Wal, I ain't so sure, Milt. I met Al the other day. He inquired for you, an' said you was wild, but he reckoned men like you was good for pioneer settlements. Lord knows the good turns you've done this village! Milt, old Al doesn't approve of your wild life, but he never had no hard feelin's till thet tame lion of yours killed so many of his sheep.”

“Auntie, I don't believe Tom ever killed Al's sheep,” declared Dale, positively.

“Wal, Al thinks so, an' many other people,” replied Mrs. Cass, shaking her gray head doubtfully. “You never swore he didn't. An' there was them two sheep-herders who did swear they seen him.”

“They only saw a cougar. An' they were so scared they ran.”

“Who wouldn't? Thet big beast is enough to scare any one. For land's sakes, don't ever fetch him down here again! I'll never forgit the time you did. All the folks an' children an' hosses in Pine broke an' run thet day.”

“Yes; but Tom wasn't to blame. Auntie, he's the tamest of my pets. Didn't he try to put his head on your lap an' lick your hand?”

“Wal, Milt, I ain't gainsayin' your cougar pet didn't act better 'n a lot of people I know. Fer he did. But the looks of him an' what's been said was enough for me.”

“An' what's all that, Auntie?”

“They say he's wild when out of your sight. An' thet he'd trail an' kill anythin' you put him after.”

“I trained him to be just that way.”

“Wal, leave Tom to home up in the woods—when you visit us.”

Dale finished his hearty meal, and listened awhile longer to the old woman's talk; then, taking his rifle and the other turkey, he bade her good-by. She followed him out.

“Now, Milt, you'll come soon again, won't you—jest to see Al's niece—who'll be here in a week?”

“I reckon I'll drop in some day.... Auntie, have you seen my friends, the Mormon boys?”

“No, I 'ain't seen them an' don't want to,” she retorted. “Milt Dale, if any one ever corrals you it'll be Mormons.”

“Don't worry, Auntie. I like those boys. They often see me up in the woods an' ask me to help them track a hoss or help kill some fresh meat.”

“They're workin' for Beasley now.”

“Is that so?” rejoined Dale, with a sudden start. “An' what doin'?”