Wayland, for his part, was not deceived by Siona Moore. He knew her kind,
and understood her method of attack. He liked her pert ways, for they
brought back his days at college, when dozens of just such misses lent
grace and humor and romance to the tennis court and to the football
field. She carried with her the aroma of care-free, athletic girlhood.
Flirtation was in her as charming and almost as meaningless as the
preening of birds on the bank of a pool in the meadow.
Speaking aloud, he said: "Miss Moore travels the trail with all known
accessories, and I've no doubt she thinks she is a grand campaigner; but
I am wondering how she would stand such a trip as that you took last
night. I don't believe she could have done as well as I. She's the
imitation--you're the real thing."
The praise involved in this speech brought back a little of Berrie's
humor. "I reckon those brown boots of hers would have melted," she said,
with quaint smile.
He became very grave. "If it had not been for you, dear girl, I would be
lying up there in the forest this minute. Nothing but your indomitable
spirit kept me moving. I shall be deeply hurt if any harm comes to you on
account of me."
"If it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have started on that trip last
night. It was perfectly useless. It would have been better for us both if
we had stayed in camp, for we wouldn't have met these people."
"That's true," he replied; "but we didn't know that at the time. We acted
for the best, and we must not blame ourselves, no matter what comes of
it."
They fell silent at this point, for each was again conscious of their new
relationship. She, vaguely suffering, waited for him to resume the
lover's tone, while he, oppressed by the sense of his own shortcomings
and weakness, was planning an escape. "It's all nonsense, my remaining in
the forest. I'm not fitted for it. It's too severe. I'll tell McFarlane
so and get out."
Perceiving his returning weakness and depression, Berea insisted on his
lying down again while she set to work preparing dinner. "There is no
telling when father will get here," she said. "And Tony will be hungry
when he comes. Lie down and rest."
He obeyed her silently, and, going to the bunk, at once fell asleep. How
long he slept he could not tell, but he was awakened by the voice of the
ranger, who was standing in the doorway and regarding Berrie with a
round-eyed stare.
He was a tall, awkward fellow of about thirty-five, plainly of the
frontier type; but a man of intelligence. At the end of a brief
explanation Berrie said, with an air of authority: "Now you'd better ride
up the trail and bring our camp outfit down. We can't go back that way,
anyhow."
The ranger glanced toward Wayland. "All right, Miss Berrie, but perhaps
your tenderfoot needs a doctor."
Wayland rose painfully but resolutely. "Oh no, I am not sick. I'm a
little lame, that's all. I'll go along with you."
"No," said Berrie, decisively. "You're not well enough for that. Get up
your horses, Tony, and by that time I'll have some dinner ready."
"All right, Miss Berrie," replied the man, and turned away.
Hardly had he crossed the bridge on his way to the pasture, when Berrie
cried out: "There comes daddy."
Wayland joined her at the door, and stood beside her watching the
Supervisor, as he came zigzagging down the steep hill to the east, with
all his horses trailing behind him roped together head-to-tail.
"He's had to come round by Lost Lake," she exclaimed. "He'll be tired
out, and absolutely starved. Wahoo!" she shouted in greeting, and the
Supervisor waved his hand.
There was something superb in the calm seat of the veteran as he slid
down the slope. He kept his place in the saddle with the air of the rider
to whom hunger, fatigue, windfalls, and snowslides were all a part of the
day's work; and when he reined in before the door and dropped from his
horse, he put his arm about his daughter's neck with quiet word: "I
thought I'd find you here. How is everything?"
"All right, daddy; but what about you? Where have you been?"
"Clean back to Mill Park. The blamed cayuses kept just ahead of me all
the way."
"Poor old dad! And on top of that came the snow."
"Yes, and a whole hatful. I couldn't get back over the high pass. Had to
go round by Lost Lake, and to cap all, Old Baldy took a notion not to
lead. Oh, I've had a peach of a time; but here I am. Have you seen Moore
and his party?"
"Yes, they're in camp up the trail. He and Alec Belden and two women. Are
you hungry?"
He turned a comical glance upon her. "Am I hungry? Sister, I am a wolf.
Norcross, take my horses down to the pasture."
She hastened to interpose. "Let me do that, daddy, Mr. Norcross is badly
used up. You see, we started down here late yesterday afternoon. It was
raining and horribly muddy, and I took the wrong trail. The darkness
caught us and we didn't reach the station till nearly midnight."
Wayland acknowledged his weakness. "I guess I made a mistake, Supervisor;
I'm not fitted for this strenuous life."
McFarlane was quick to understand. "I didn't intend to pitchfork you into
the forest life quite so suddenly," he said. "Don't give up yet awhile.
You'll harden to it."
"Here comes Tony," said Berrie. "He'll look after the ponies."
Nevertheless Wayland went out, believing that Berrie wished to be alone
with her father for a short time.
As he took his seat McFarlane said: "You stayed in camp till yesterday
afternoon, did you?"
"Yes, we were expecting you every moment."