X
THE CAMP ON THE PASS
Berea suffered a restless night, the most painful and broken she hadknown in all her life. She acknowledged that Siona Moore was prettier,and that she stood more nearly on Wayland's plane than herself; but therealization of this fact did not bring surrender--she was not of thattemper. All her life she had been called upon to combat the elements, tohold her own amidst rude men and inconsiderate women, and she had nointention of yielding her place to a pert coquette, no matter what thegossips might say. She had seen this girl many times, but had refused tovisit her house. She had held her in contempt, now she quite cordiallyhated her.
"She shall not have her way with Wayland," she decided. "I know what shewants--she wants him at her side to-morrow; but I will not have it so.She is trying to get him away from me."
The more she dwelt on this the hotter her jealous fever burned. The flooron which she lay was full of knots. She could not lose herself in sleep,tired as she was. The planks no longer turned their soft spots to herflesh, and she rolled from side to side in torment. She would have arisenand dressed only she did not care to disturb the men. The night seemedinterminable.
Her plan of action was simple. "I shall go home the morrow and takeWayland with me. I will not have him going with that girl--that'ssettled!" The very thought of his taking Siona's hand in greeting angeredher beyond reason.
She had put Cliff Belden completely out of her mind, and this wascharacteristic of her. She had no divided interests, no subtleties, nosubterfuges. Forthright, hot-blooded, frank and simple, she had centeredall her care, all her desires, on this pale youth whose appeal was atonce mystic and maternal; but her pity was changing to something deeper,for she was convinced that he was gaining in strength, that he was in nodanger of relapse. The hard trip of the day before had seemingly done himno permanent injury; on the contrary, a few hours' rest had almostrestored him to his normal self. "To-morrow he will be able to rideagain." And this thought reconciled her to her hard bed. She did not lookbeyond the long, delicious day which they must spend in returning to theSprings.
She fell asleep at last, and was awakened only by her father tinkeringabout the stove.
She rose alertly, signing to the Supervisor not to disturb her patient.
However, Norcross also heard the rattle of the poker, opened his eyes andregarded Berrie with sleepy smile. "Good morning, if it _is_ morning," hesaid, slowly.
She laughed back at him. "It's almost sunup."
"You don't tell me! How could I have overslept like this? Makes me thinkof the Irishman who, upon being awakened to an early breakfast like this,ate it, then said to his employer, an extra thrifty farmer, 'Two suppersin wan night--and hurrah for bed again.'"
This amused her greatly. "It's too bad. I hope you got some sleep?"
"All there was time for." His voice changed. "I feel like a hound-pup, tobe snoring on a downy couch like this while you were roughing it on thefloor. How did I come to do it? It's shameful!"
"Don't worry about me. How are you feeling this morning?"
He stretched and yawned. "Fine! That is, I'm sore here and there, but I'mfeeling wonderfully well. Do you know, I begin to hope that I can finallydominate the wilderness. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I got so I couldride and walk as you do, for instance? The fact that I'm not dead thismorning is encouraging." He drew on his shoes as he talked, while shewent about her toilet, which was quite as simple as his own. She hadspent two nights in her day dress with almost no bathing facilities; butthat didn't trouble her. It was a part of the game. She washed her faceand hands in Settle's tin basin, but drew the line at his rubber comb.
There was a distinct charm in seeing her thus adapting herself to thecabin, a charm quite as powerful as that which emanated from SionaMoore's dainty and theatrical personality. What it was he could notdefine, but the forester's daughter had something primeval about her,something close to the soil, something which aureoles the old Saxonwords--_wife_ and _home_ and _fireplace_. Seeing her through the savorysteam of the bacon she was frying, he forgot her marvelous skill ashorsewoman and pathfinder, and thought of her only as the housewife. Shebelonged here, in this cabin. She was fitted to this landscape, whereasthe other woman was alien and dissonant.
He moved his arms about and shook his legs with comical effect of tryingto see if they were still properly hinged. "It's miraculous! I'm not lameat all. No one can accuse me of being a 'lunger' now. Last night's sleephas made a new man of me. I've met the forest and it is mine."
She beamed upon him with happy pride. "I'm mighty glad to hear you saythat. I was terribly afraid that long, hard walk in the rain had been toomuch for you. I reckon you're all right for the work now."
He recalled, as she spoke, her anguish of pity while they stood in thedarkness of the trail, and it seemed that he could go no farther, and hesaid, soberly: "It must have seemed to you one while as if I were all in.I felt that way myself. I was numb from head to heel. I couldn't havegone another mile."
Her face clouded with retrospective pain. "You mustn't try any more suchstunts--not for a few weeks, anyway. But get ready for breakfast."
He went out into the morning exultantly, and ran down to the river tobathe his face and hands, allured by its splendid voice. The world seemedvery bright and beautiful and health-giving once more.
As soon as she was alone with her father, Berrie said: "I'm going hometo-day, dad."
"Going home! What for?"
"I've had enough of it."
He glanced at her bed on the floor. "I can't say I blame you any. Thishas been a rough trip; but we'll go up and bring down the outfit, andthen we men can sleep in the tent and let you have the bunk--you'll becomfortable to-night."
"Oh, I don't mind sleeping on the floor," she replied; "but I want to getback. I don't want to meet those women. Another thing, you'd better useMr. Norcross at the Springs instead of leaving him here with Tony."
"Why so?"
"Well, he isn't quite well enough to run the risk. It's a long way fromhere to a doctor."
"He 'pears to be on deck this morning. Besides, I haven't anything in theoffice to offer him."
"Then send him up to Meeker. Landon needs help, and he's a betterforester than Tony, anyway."
"How about Cliff? He may make trouble."
Her face darkened. "Cliff will reach him if he wants to--no matter wherehe is. And then, too, Landon likes Mr. Norcross and will see that he isnot abused."
McFarlane ruminated over her suggestion, well knowing that she wasplanning this change in order that she might have Norcross a littlenearer, a little more accessible.
"I don't know but you're right. Landon is almost as good a hustler asTony, and a much better forester. I thought of sending Norcross up thereat first, but he told me that Frank and his gang had it in for him. Ofcourse, he's only nominally in the service; but I want him to beginright."
Berrie went further. "I want him to ride back with me to-day."
He looked at her with grave inquiry. "Do you think that a wise thing todo? Won't that make more talk?"
"We'll start early and ride straight through."
"You'll have to go by Lost Lake, and that means a long, hard hike. Can hestand it?"
"Oh yes. He rides well. It's the walking at a high altitude that does himup. Furthermore, Cliff may turn up here, and I don't want anothermix-up."
McFarlane was troubled. "I ought to go back with you; but Moore is overhere to line out a cutting, and I must stay on for a couple of days.Suppose I send Tony along?"
"No, Tony would be a nuisance and would do no good. Another day on thetrail won't add to Mrs. Belden's story. If she wants to be mean she's gotall the material for it already."
In the end she had her way. McFarlane, perceiving that she had set herheart on this ride, and having perfect faith in her skill and judgment onthe trail, finally said: "Well, if you do so, the quicker you start thebetter. With the best of luck you can't pull in before eight o'clock, andyou'll have
to ride hard to do that."
"If I find we can't make it I'll pull into a ranch. But I'm sure wecan."
When Wayland came in the Supervisor inquired: "Do you feel able to rideback over the hill to-day?"
"Entirely so. It isn't the riding that uses me up; it is the walking;and, besides, as candidate for promotion I must obey orders--especiallyorders to march."
They breakfasted hurriedly, and while McFarlane and Tony were bringing inthe horses Wayland and Berrie set the cabin to rights. Working thus sideby side, she recovered her dominion over him, and at the same timeregained her own cheerful self-confidence.
"You're a wonder!" he exclaimed, as he watched her deft adjustment of thedishes and furniture. "You're ambidextrous."
"I have to be to hold my job," she laughingly replied. "A feller mustplay all the parts when he's up here."
It was still early morning as they mounted and set off up the trail; butMoore's camp was astir, and as McFarlane turned in--much against Berrie'swill--the lumberman and his daughter both came out to meet them. "Come inand have some breakfast," said Siona, with cordial inclusiveness, whileher eyes met Wayland's glance with mocking glee.
"Thank you," said McFarlane, "we can't stop. I'm going to set my daughterover the divide. She has had enough camping, and Norcross is pretty wellbattered up, so I'm going to help them across. I'll be back to-night, andwe'll take our turn up the valley to-morrow. Nash will be here then."
Berrie did not mind her father's explanation; on the contrary, she took adistinct pleasure in letting the other girl know of the long and intimateday she was about to spend with her young lover.
Siona, too adroit to display her disappointment, expressed polite regret."I hope you won't get storm-bound," she said, showing her white teeth ina meaning smile.
"If there is any sign of a storm we won't cross," declared McFarlane."We're going round by the lower pass, anyhow. If I'm not here by dark,you may know I've stayed to set 'em down at the Mill."
There was charm in Siona's alert poise, and in the neatness of her campdress. Her dainty tent, with its stools and rugs, made the wildernessseem but a park. She reminded Norcross of the troops of tourists of theTyrol, and her tent was of a kind to harmonize with the tea-houses on thepath to the summit of the Matterhorn. Then, too, something triumphantlyfeminine shone in her bright eyes and glowed in her softly roundedcheeks. Her hand was little and pointed, not fitted like Berrie's fortightening a cinch or wielding an ax, and as he said "Good-by," he added:"I hope I shall see you again soon," and at the moment he meant it.
"We'll return to the Springs in a few days," she replied. "Come and seeus. Our bungalow is on the other side of the river--and you, too," sheaddressed Berrie; but her tone was so conventionally polite that theranch-girl, burning with jealous heat, made no reply.
McFarlane led the way to the lake rapidly and in silence. The splendorsof the foliage, subdued by the rains, the grandeur of the peaks, the songof the glorious stream--all were lost on Berrie, for she now felt herselfto be nothing but a big, clumsy, coarse-handed tomboy. Her worn gloves,her faded skirt, and her man's shoes had been made hateful to her by thatsmug, graceful, play-acting tourist with the cool, keen eyes and smirkinglips. "She pretends to be a kitten; but she isn't; she's a sly grown-upcat," she bitterly accused, but she could not deny the charm of herpersonality.
Wayland was forced to acknowledge that Berrie in this dark mood was notthe delightful companion she had hitherto been. Something sweet andconfiding had gone out of their relationship, and he was too keen-wittednot to know what it was. He estimated precisely the value of themalicious parting words of Siona Moore. "She's a natural tease, the kindof woman who loves to torment other and less fortunate women. She caresnothing for me, of course, it's just her way of paying off old scores. Itwould seem that Berrie has not encouraged her advances in times past."
That Berrie was suffering, and that her jealousy touchingly proved thedepth of her love for him, brought no elation, only perplexity. He wasnot seeking such devotion. As a companion on the trail she had been ajoy--as a jealous sweetheart she was less admirable. He realizedperfectly that this return journey was of her arrangement, notMcFarlane's, and while he was not resentful of her care, he was in doubtof the outcome. It hurried him into a further intimacy which might proveembarrassing.
At the camp by the lake the Supervisor became sharply commanding. "Nowlet's throw these packs on lively. It will be slippery on the high trail,and you'll just naturally have to hit leather hard and keep jouncing ifyou reach the wagon-road before dark. But you'll make it."
"Make it!" said Berrie. "Of course we'll make it. Don't you worry aboutthat for a minute. Once I get out of the green timber the dark won'tworry me. We'll push right through."
In packing the camp stuff on the saddles, Berrie, almost as swift andpowerful as her father, acted with perfect understanding of every task,and Wayland's admiration of her skill increased mightily.
She insisted on her father's turning back. "We don't need you," she said."I can find the pass."
McFarlane's faith in his daughter had been tested many times, and yet hewas a little loath to have her start off on a trail new to her. He arguedagainst it briefly, but she laughed at his fears. "I can go anywhere youcan," she said. "Stand clear!" With final admonition he stood clear.
"You'll have to keep off the boggy meadows," he warned; "these rains willhave softened all those muck-holes on the other side; they'll bebottomless pits; watch out for 'em. Good-by! If you meet Nash hurry himalong. Moore is anxious to run those lines. Keep in touch with Landon,and if anybody turns up from the district office say I'll be back onFriday. Good luck."
"Same to you. So long."
Berea led the way, and Norcross fell in behind the pack-horses, feelingas unimportant as a small boy at the heels of a circus parade. His girlcaptain was so competent, so self-reliant, and so sure that nothing hecould say or do assisted in the slightest degree. Her leadership was acuriously close reproduction of her father's unhurried and gracefulaction. Her seat in the saddle was as easy as Landon's, and her eyes werealert to every rock and stream in the road. She was at home here, wherethe other girl would have been a bewildered child, and his words ofpraise lifted the shadow from her face.
The sky was cloudy, and a delicious feeling of autumn was in theair--autumn that might turn to winter with a passing cloud, and theforest was dankly gloomy and grimly silent, save from the roaring streamwhich ran at times foam-white with speed. The high peaks, gray andstreaked with new-fallen snow, shone grandly, bleakly through the firs.The radiant beauty of the road from the Springs, the golden glow of fourdays before was utterly gone, and yet there was exultation in this ride.A distinct pleasure, a delight of another sort, lay in thus daring themajesty of an unknown wind-swept pass.
Wayland called out: "The air feels like Thanksgiving morning, doesn'tit?"
"It _is_ Thanksgiving for me, and I'm going to get a grouse for dinner,"she replied; and in less than an hour the snap of her rifle made good herpromise.
After leaving the upper lake she turned to the right and followed thecourse of a swift and splendid stream, which came churning through acheerless, mossy swamp of spruce-trees. Inexperienced as he was, Waylandknew that this was not a well-marked trail; but his confidence in hisguide was too great to permit of any worry over the pass, and he amusedhimself by watching the water-robins as they flitted from stone to stonein the torrent, and in calculating just where he would drop a line fortrout if he had time to do so, and in recovered serenity enjoyed hisride. Gradually he put aside his perplexities concerning the future,permitting his mind to prefigure nothing but his duties with Landon atMeeker's Mill.
He was rather glad of the decision to send him there, for it promisedabsorbing sport. "I shall see how Landon and Belden work out theirproblem," he said. He had no fear of Frank Meeker now. "As a forest guardwith official duties to perform I can meet that young savage on other andmore nearly equal terms," he assured himself.
The
trail grew slippery and in places ran full of water. "But there's abottom, somewhere," Berrie confidently declared, and pushed ahead withresolute mien. It was noon when they rose above timber and entered uponthe wide, smooth slopes of the pass. Snow filled the grass here, and thewind, keen, cutting, unhindered, came out of the desolate west withsavage fury; but the sun occasionally shone through the clouds with vividsplendor. "It is December now," shouted Wayland, as he put on his slickerand cowered low to his saddle. "It will be January soon."
"We will make it Christmas dinner," she laughed, and her glowing goodhumor warmed his heart. She was entirely her cheerful self again.
As they rose, the view became magnificent, wintry, sparkling. The greatclouds, drifting like ancient warships heavy with armament, sent downchill showers of hail over the frosted gold of the grassy slopes; butwhen the shadows passed the sunlight descended in silent cataractsdeliriously spring-like. The conies squeaked from the rocky ridges, and abrace of eagles circling about a lone crag, as if exulting in theirsovereign mastery of the air, screamed in shrill ecstatic duo. The sheercliffs, on their shadowed sides, were violently purple. Everywhere thelandscape exhibited crashing contrasts of primary pigments which bit intoconsciousness like the flare of a martial band.
The youth would have lingered in spite of the cold; but the girl keptsteadily on, knowing well that the hardest part of their journey wasstill before them, and he, though longing to ride by her side, and toenjoy the views with her, was forced to remain in the rear in order tohurry the reluctant pack-animals forward. They had now reached a pointtwelve thousand feet above the sea, and range beyond range, to the westand south, rose into sight like stupendous waves of a purple-green sea.To the east the park lay level as a floor and carpeted in tawny velvet.
It was nearly two o'clock when they began to drop down behind the rockyridges of the eastern slope, and soon, in the bottom of a warm andsheltered hollow just at timber-line, Berrie drew her horse to a standand slipped from the saddle. "We'll rest here an hour," she said, "andcook our grouse; or are you too hungry to wait?"
"I can wait," he answered, dramatically. "But it seems as if I had nevereaten."
"Well, then, we'll save the grouse till to-morrow; but I'll make somecoffee. You bring some water while I start a fire."
And so, while the tired horses cropped the russet grass, she boiled somecoffee and laid out some bread and meat, while he sat by watching her andabsorbing the beauty of the scene, the charm of the hour. "It is exactlylike a warm afternoon in April," he said, "and here are some of thespring flowers."
"There now, sit by and eat," she said, with humor; and in perfectlyrestored tranquillity they ate and drank, with no thought of critics orof rivals. They were alone, and content to be so.
It was deliciously sweet and restful there in that sunny hollow on thebreast of the mountain. The wind swept through the worn branches of thedwarfed spruce with immemorial wistfulness; but these young souls heardit only as a far-off song. Side by side on the soft Alpine clover theyrested and talked, looking away at the shining peaks, and down over thedark-green billows of fir beneath them. Half the forest was under theireyes at the moment, and the man said: "Is it not magnificent! It makes meproud of my country. Just think, all this glorious spread of hill andvalley is under your father's direction. I may say under _your_direction, for I notice he does just about what you tell him to do."
"You've noticed that?" she laughed. "If I were a man I'd rather beSupervisor of this forest than Congressman."
"So would I," he agreed. "Nash says you _are_ the Supervisor. I wonder ifyour father realizes how efficient you are? Does he ever sorrow over yournot being a boy?"
Her eyes shone with mirth. "Not that I can notice. He 'pears contented."
"You're a good deal like a son to him, I imagine. You can do about allthat a boy can do, anyhow--more than I could ever do. Does he realize howmuch you have to do with the management of his forest? I've never seenyour like. I really believe you _could_ carry on the work as well ashe."
She flushed with pleasure. "You seem to think I'm a district forester indisguise."
"I have eyes, Miss Supervisor, and also ears--which leads me to ask: Whydon't you clean out that saloon gang? Landon is sure there's crooked workgoing on at that mill--certainly that open bar is a disgraceful andcorrupting thing."
Her face clouded. "We've tried to cut out that saloon, but it can't bedone. You see, it's on a patented claim--the claim was bogus, of course,and we've made complaint, but the matter is hung up, and that gives 'em achance to go on."
"Well, let's not talk of that. It's too delicious an hour for anyquestion of business. It is a moment for poetry. I wish I could writewhat I feel this moment. Why don't we camp here and watch the sun go downand the moon rise? From our lofty vantage-ground the coming of dawn wouldbe an epic."
"We mustn't think of that," she protested. "We must be going."
"Not yet. The hour is too perfect. It may never come again. The wind inthe pines, the sunshine, the conies crying from their rocks, thebutterflies on the clover--my heart aches with the beauty of it. It'sbeen a wonderful trip. Even that staggering walk in the rain had itssplendid quality. I couldn't see the poetry in it then; but I do now.These few days have made us comrades, haven't they--comrades of thetrail? You have been very considerate of me." He took her hand. "I'venever seen such hands. They are like steel, and yet they are feminine."
She drew her hands away. "I'm ashamed of my hands--they are so big andrough and dingy."
"They're brown, of course, and calloused--a little--but they are not big,and they are beautifully modeled." He looked at her speculatively. "I amwondering how you would look in conventional dress."
"Do you mean--" She hesitated. "I'd look like a gawk in one of thoselow-necked outfits. I'd never dare--and those tight skirts would surecripple me."
"Oh no, they wouldn't. You'd have to modify your stride a little; butyou'd negotiate it. You're equal to anything."
"You're making fun of me!"
"No, I'm not. I'm in earnest. You're the kind of American girl that cango anywhere and do anything. My sisters would mortgage their share of thegolden streets for your abounding health--and so would I."
"You are all right now," she smiled. "You don't look or talk as youdid."
"It's this sunlight." He lifted a spread hand as if to clutch and holdsomething. "I feel it soaking into me like some magical oil. No moremoping and whining for me. I've proved that hardship is good for me."
"Don't crow till you're out of the woods. It's a long ride down the hill,and going down is harder on the tenderfoot than going up."
"I'm no longer a tenderfoot. All I need is another trip like this withyou and I shall be a master trailer."
All this was very sweet to her, and though she knew they should be going,she lingered. Childishly reckless of the sinking sun, she played with thewild flowers at her side and listened to his voice in complete content.He was right. The hour was too beautiful to be shortened, although shesaw no reason why others equally delightful might not come to them both.He was more of the lover than he had ever been before, that she knew, andin the light of his eyes all that was not girlish and charming meltedaway. She forgot her heavy shoes, her rough hands and sun-tanned face,and listened with wondering joy and pride to his words, which were of afineness such as she had never heard spoken--only books contained suchunusual and exquisite phrases.
A cloud passing across the sun flung down a shadow of portentous chilland darkness. She started to her feet with startled recollection of theplace and the hour.
"We _must_ be going--at once!" she commanded.
"Not yet," he pleaded. "It's only a cloud. The sun is coming out again. Ihave perfect confidence in your woodcraft. Why not spend another night onthe trail? It may be our last trip together."
He tempted her strongly, so frank and boyish and lovable were his glancesand his words. But she was vaguely afraid of herself, and though the longride at the moment seemed hard and dull
, the thought of her motherwaiting decided her action.
"No, no!" she responded, firmly. "We've wasted too much time already. Wemust ride."
He looked up at her with challenging glance. "Suppose I refuse--suppose Idecide to stay here?"
Upon her, as he talked, a sweet hesitation fell, a dream which held moreof happiness than she had ever known. "It is a long, hard ride," shethought, "and another night on the trail will not matter." And so themoments passed on velvet feet, and still she lingered, reluctant to breakthe spell.
Suddenly, into their idyllic drowse of content, so sweet, so youthful,and so pure of heart, broke the sound of a horse's hurrying, clashing,steel-shod feet, and looking up Berrie saw a mounted man coming down themountainside with furious, reckless haste.
"It is Cliff!" she cried out. "He's on our trail!" And into her face camea look of alarm. Her lips paled, her eyes widened. "He's mad--he'sdangerous! Leave him to me," she added, in a low, tense voice.