"I did. I began to figure then that this was a mother lion, and that her
cubs were close by, and that she could just as well sneak up and drop on
me from above as not. So I got down and left her alone. It was her
popping up now here and now there like a ghost that locoed me. I was sure
scared."
Wayland did not enjoy this tale. "I never heard of such folly. Did your
father learn of that adventure?"
"Yes, I told him."
"Didn't he forbid your hunting any more?"
"No, indeed! Why should he? He just said it probably was a lioness, and
that it was just as well to let her alone. He knows I'm no chicken."
"How about your mother--does she approve of such expeditions?"
"No, mother worries more or less when I'm away; but then she knows it
don't do any good. I'm taking all kinds of chances every day, anyhow."
He had to admit that she was better able to care for herself in the
wilderness than most men--even Western men--and though he had not yet
witnessed a display of her skill with a rifle, he was ready to believe
that she could shoot as well as her sire. Nevertheless, he liked her
better when engaged in purely feminine duties, and he led the talk back
to subjects concerning which her speech was less blunt and manlike.
He liked her when she was joking, for delicious little curves of laughter
played about her lips. She became very amusing, as she told of her
"visits East," and of her embarrassments in the homes of city friends. "I
just have to own up that about all the schooling I've got is from the
magazines. Sometimes I wish I had pulled out for town when I was about
fourteen; but, you see, I didn't feel like leaving mother, and she didn't
feel like letting me go--and so I just got what I could at Bear Tooth."
She sprang up. "There's a patch of blue sky. Let's go see if we can't get
a grouse."
The snow had nearly all sunk into the ground on their level; but it still
lay deep on the heights above, and the torn masses of vapor still clouded
the range. "Father has surely had to go over the divide," she said, as
they walked down the path along the lake shore. "He'll be late getting
back, and a plate of hot chicken will seem good to him."
Together they strolled along the edge of the willows. "The grouse come
down to feed about this time," she said. "We'll put up a covey soon."
It seemed to him as though he were re-living the experiences of his
ancestors--the pioneers of Michigan--as he walked this wilderness with
this intrepid huntress whose alert eyes took note of every moving thing.
She was delightfully unconscious of self, of sex, of any doubt or fear. A
lovely Diana--strong and true and sweet.
Within a quarter of a mile they found their birds, and she killed four
with five shots. "This is all we need," she said, "and I don't believe in
killing for the sake of killing. Rangers should set good examples in way
of game preservation. They are deputy game-wardens in most states, and
good ones, too."
They stopped for a time on a high bank above the lake, while the sunset
turned the storm-clouds into mountains of brass and iron, with sulphurous
caves and molten glowing ledges. This grandiose picture lasted but a few
minutes, and then the Western gates closed and all was again gray and
forbidding. "Open and shut is a sign of wet," quoted Berrie, cheerily.
The night rose formidably from the valley while they ate their supper;
but Berrie remained tranquil. "Those horses probably went clean back to
the ranch. If they did, daddy can't possibly get back before eight
o'clock, and he may not get back till to-morrow."