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

In the afternoon, Dale, having accomplished some tasks imposed upon him by his old friends at Pine, directed slow steps toward the Auchincloss ranch.

The flat, square stone and log cabin of unusually large size stood upon a little hill half a mile out of the village. A home as well as a fort, it had been the first structure erected in that region, and the process of building had more than once been interrupted by Indian attacks. The Apaches had for some time, however, confined their fierce raids to points south of the White Mountain range. Auchincloss's house looked down upon barns and sheds and corrals of all sizes and shapes, and hundreds of acres of well-cultivated soil. Fields of oats waved gray and yellow in the afternoon sun; an immense green pasture was divided by a willow-bordered brook, and here were droves of horses, and out on the rolling bare flats were straggling herds of cattle.

The whole ranch showed many years of toil and the perseverance of man. The brook irrigated the verdant valley between the ranch and the village. Water for the house, however, came down from the high, wooded slope of the mountain, and had been brought there by a simple expedient. Pine logs of uniform size had been laid end to end, with a deep trough cut in them, and they made a shining line down the slope, across the valley, and up the little hill to the Auchincloss home. Near the house the hollowed halves of logs had been bound together, making a crude pipe. Water ran uphill in this case, one of the facts that made the ranch famous, as it had always been a wonder and delight to the small boys of Pine. The two good women who managed Auchincloss's large household were often shocked by the strange things that floated into their kitchen with the ever-flowing stream of clear, cold mountain water.

As it happened this day Dale encountered Al Auchincloss sitting in the shade of a porch, talking to some of his sheep-herders and stockmen. Auchincloss was a short man of extremely powerful build and great width of shoulder. He had no gray hairs, and he did not look old, yet there was in his face a certain weariness, something that resembled sloping lines of distress, dim and pale, that told of age and the ebb-tide of vitality. His features, cast in large mold, were clean-cut and comely, and he had frank blue eyes, somewhat sad, yet still full of spirit.

Dale had no idea how his visit would be taken, and he certainly would not have been surprised to be ordered off the place. He had not set foot there for years. Therefore it was with surprise that he saw Auchincloss wave away the herders and take his entrance without any particular expression.

“Howdy, Al! How are you?” greeted Dale, easily, as he leaned his rifle against the log wall.

Auchincloss did not rise, but he offered his hand.

“Wal, Milt Dale, I reckon this is the first time I ever seen you that I couldn't lay you flat on your back,” replied the rancher. His tone was both testy and full of pathos.

“I take it you mean you ain't very well,” replied Dale. “I'm sorry, Al.”

“No, it ain't thet. Never was sick in my life. I'm just played out, like a hoss thet had been strong an' willin', an' did too much.... Wal, you don't look a day older, Milt. Livin' in the woods rolls over a man's head.”

“Yes, I'm feelin' fine, an' time never bothers me.”

“Wal, mebbe you ain't such a fool, after all. I've wondered lately—since I had time to think.... But, Milt, you don't git no richer.”

“Al, I have all I want an' need.”

“Wal, then, you don't support anybody; you don't do any good in the world.”

“We don't agree, Al,” replied Dale, with his slow smile.

“Reckon we never did.... An' you jest come over to pay your respects to me, eh?”

“Not altogether,” answered Dale, ponderingly. “First off, I'd like to say I'll pay back them sheep you always claimed my tame cougar killed.”

“You will! An' how'd you go about that?”

“Wasn't very many sheep, was there?

“A matter of fifty head.”

“So many! Al, do you still think old Tom killed them sheep?”

“Humph! Milt, I know damn well he did.”

“Al, now how could you know somethin' I don't? Be reasonable, now. Let's don't fall out about this again. I'll pay back the sheep. Work it out—”

“Milt Dale, you'll come down here an' work out that fifty head of sheep!” ejaculated the old rancher, incredulously.

“Sure.”

“Wal, I'll be damned!” He sat back and gazed with shrewd eyes at Dale. “What's got into you, Milt? Hev you heard about my niece thet's comin', an' think you'll shine up to her?”

“Yes, Al, her comin' has a good deal to do with my deal,” replied Dale, soberly. “But I never thought to shine up to her, as you hint.”

“Haw! Haw! You're just like all the other colts hereabouts. Reckon it's a good sign, too. It'll take a woman to fetch you out of the woods. But, boy, this niece of mine, Helen Rayner, will stand you on your head. I never seen her. They say