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for your cabin. May I peep in?"
"Come in," replied Wade, rising. "You must excuse my manners. It's long
indeed since I had a lady caller."
She went in, and Wade, standing on the threshold, saw her survey the
room with a woman's sweeping glance.
"I told dad to put some--"
"Miss, your dad told me to go get them, an' I've not done it yet. But I
will presently."
"Very well. I'll leave these things and come back later," she replied,
depositing a bundle upon the floor. "You won't mind if I try to--to make
you a little comfortable. It's dreadful the way outdoor men live when
they do get indoors."
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"I reckon I'll be slow in lettin' you see what a good housekeeper I am,"
he replied. "Because then, maybe, I'll see more of you."
"Weren't you a sad flatterer in your day?" she queried, archly.
Her intonation, the tilt of her head, gave Wade such a pang that he
could not answer. And to hide his momentary restraint he turned back to
the hounds. Then she came out upon the porch.
"I love hounds," she said, patting Denver, which caress immediately made
Jim and Sampson jealous. "I've gotten on pretty well with these, but
that Kane won't make up. Isn't he splendid? But he's afraid--no, not
afraid of me, but he doesn't like me."
"It's mistrust. He's been hurt. I reckon he'll get over that after a
while."
"You don't beat dogs?" she asked, eagerly.
"No, miss. That's not the way to get on with hounds or horses."
Her glance was a blue flash of pleasure.
"How glad that makes me! Why, I quit coming here to see and feed the
dogs because somebody was always kicking them around."
Wade handed the rope to her. "You hold them, so when I come out with
some meat they won't pile over me." He went inside, took all that was
left of the deer haunch out of his pack, and, picking up his knife,
returned to the porch. The hounds saw the meat and yelped. They pulled
on the rope.
"You hounds behave," ordered Wade, as he sat down on the step and began
to cut the meat. "Jim, you're the oldest an' hungriest. Here.... Now
you, Sampson. Here!"... The big hound snapped at the meat. Whereupon
Wade slapped him. "Are you a pup or a wolf that you grab for it? Here."
Sampson was slower to act, but he snapped again. Whereupon Wade hit him
again, with open hand, not with violence or rancor, but a blow that
meant Sampson must obey.
Next time the hound did not snap. Denver had to be cuffed several times
before he showed deference to this new master. But the bloodhound Kane
refused to take any meat out of Wade's hand. He growled and showed his
teeth, and sniffed hungrily.
"Kane will have to be handled carefully," observed Wade. "He'd bite
pretty quick."
"But, he's so splendid," said the girl. "I don't like to think he's
mean. You'll be good to him--try to win him?"
"I'll do my best with him."
"Dad's full of glee that he has a real hunter at White Slides at last.
Now I'm glad, and sorry, too. I hate to think of little calves being
torn and killed by lions and wolves. And it's dreadful to know bears eat
grown-up cattle. But I love the mourn of a wolf and the yelp of a
coyote. I can't help hoping you don't kill them all--quite."
"It's not likely, miss," he replied. "I'll be pretty sure to clean out
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the lions an' drive off the bears. But the wolf family can't be
exterminated. No animal so cunnin' as a wolf!... I'll tell you.... Some
years ago I went to cook on a ranch north of Denver, on the edge of the
plains. An' right off I began to hear stories about a big lobo--a wolf
that was an old residenter. He'd been known for long, an' he got meaner
an' wiser as he was hunted. His specialty got to be yearlings, an' the
ranchers all over rose up in arms against him. They hired all the old
hunters an' trappers in the country to kill him. No good! Old Lobo went
right on pullin' down yearlings. Every night he'd get one or more. An'
he was so cute an' so swift that he'd work on different ranches on
different nights. Finally he killed eleven yearlings for my boss on one
night. Eleven! Think of that. An' then I said to my boss, 'I reckon
you'd better let me go kill that gray butcher.' An' my boss laughed at
me. But he let me go. He'd have tried anythin'. I took a hunk of meat, a
blanket, my gun, an' a pair of snow-shoes, an' I set out on old Lobo's
tracks.... An', Miss Columbine, I _walked_ old Lobo to death in
the snow!"
"Why, how wonderful!" exclaimed the girl, breathless and glowing with
interest. "Oh, it seems a pity such a splendid brute should be killed.
Wild animals are cruel. I wish it were different."
"Life is cruel, miss, an' I echo your wish," replied Wade, sadly.
"You have had great experiences. Dad said to me, 'Collie, here at last
is a man who can tell you enough stories!'... But I don't believe you
ever could."
"You like stories?" asked Wade, curiously.
"Love them. All kinds, but I like adventure best. _I_ should have been a
boy. Isn't it strange, I can't hurt anything myself or bear to see even
a steer slaughtered? But you can't tell too bloody and terrible stories
for me. Except I hate Indian stories. The very thought of Indians makes
me shudder.... Some day I'll tell you a story."
Wade could not find his tongue readily.
"I must go now," she continued, and moved off the porch. Then she
hesitated, and turned with a smile that was wistful and impulsive. "I--I
believe we'll be good friends."
"Miss Columbine, we sure will, if I can live up to my part," replied
Wade.
Her smile deepened, even while her gaze grew unconsciously penetrating.
Wade felt how subtly they were drawn to each other. But she had no
inkling of that.
"It takes two to make a bargain," she replied, seriously. "I've my part.
Good-by."
Wade watched her lithe stride, and as she drew away the restraint he had
put upon himself loosened. When she disappeared his feeling burst all
bounds. Dragging the dogs inside, he closed the door. Then, like one
broken and spent, he fell face against the wall, with the hoarsely
whispered words, "I'm thankin' God!"
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CHAPTER VI
September's glory of gold and red and purple began to fade with the
autumnal equinox. It rained enough to soak the frost-bitten leaves, and
then the mountain winds sent them flying and fluttering and scurrying to
carpet the dells and spot the pools in the brooks and color the trails.
When the weather cleared and the sun rose bright again many of the aspen
thickets were leafless and bare, and the willows showed stark against [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]