Berrie was quick to answer. "I don't know how he found out we were on the
trail. I suppose the old lady 'phoned him. Anyhow, while we were camped
for noon yesterday"--her face flamed again at thought of that tender,
beautiful moment when they were resting on the grass--"while we were at
our lunch he came tearing down the hill on that big bay horse of his and
took a flying jump at Wayland. As Wayland went down he struck his head on
a stone. I thought he was dead, and I was paralyzed for a second. Then I
flew at Cliff and just about choked the life out of him. I'd have ended
him right there if he hadn't let go."
Mrs. McFarlane, looking upon her daughter in amazement, saw on her face
the shadow of the deadly rage which had burned in her heart as she
clenched young Belden's throat.
"What then? What happened then?"
"He let go, you bet." Her smile came back. "And when he realized what
he'd done--_he_ thought Wayland was dead--he began to weaken. Then I took
my gun and was all for putting an end to him right there, when I saw
Wayland's eyelids move. After that I didn't care what became of Cliff. I
told him to ride on and keep a-ridin', and I reckon he's clear out of the
state by this time. If he ever shows up I'll put him where he'll have all
night to be sorry in."
"When did this take place?"
"Yesterday about two. Of course Wayland couldn't ride, he was so dizzy
and kind o' confused, and so I went into camp right there at timber-line.
Along about sunset Nash came riding up from this side, and insisted on
staying to help me--so I let him."
Mrs. McFarlane's tense attitude relaxed. "Nash is not the kind that
tattles. I'm glad he turned up."
"And this morning I saddled and came down."
"Did Nash go on?"
"Yes, daddy was waiting for him, so I sent him along."
"It's all sad business," groaned Mrs. McFarlane, "and I can see you're
keeping something back. How did Cliff happen to know just where you were?
And what started you back without your father?"
For the first time Berrie showed signs of weakness and distress. "Why,
you see, Alec Belden and Mr. Moore were over there to look at some
timber, and old Marm Belden and that Moore girl went along. I suppose
they sent word to Cliff, and I presume that Moore girl put him on our
trail. Leastwise that's the way I figure it out. That's the worst of the
whole business." She admitted this with darkened brow. "Mrs. Belden's
tongue is hung in the middle and loose at both ends--and that Moore girl
is spiteful mean." She could not keep the contempt out of her voice. "She
saw us start off, and she is sure to follow it up and find out what
happened on the way home; even if they don't see Cliff they'll _talk_."
"Oh, I _wish_ you hadn't gone!" exclaimed the worried mother.
"It can't be helped now, and it hasn't done me any real harm. It's all in
the day's work, anyhow. I've always gone with daddy before, and this trip
isn't going to spoil me. The boys all know me, and they will treat me
fair."
"Yes, but Mr. Norcross is an outsider--a city man. They will all think
evil of him on that account."
"I know; that's what troubles me. No one will know how fine and
considerate he was. Mother, I've never known any one like him. He's a
poet! He's taught me to see things I never saw before. Everything
interests him--the birds, the clouds, the voices in the fire. I never was
so happy in my life as I was during those first two days, and that night
in camp before he began to worry--it was just wonderful." Words failed
her, but her shining face and the forward straining pose of her body
enlightened the mother. "I don't care what people say of me if only they
will be just to him. They've _got_ to treat him right," she added,
firmly.
"Did he speak to you--are you engaged?"
Her head drooped. "Not really engaged, mother; but he told me how much he
liked me--and--it's all right, mother, I _know_ it is. I'm not fine
enough for him, but I'm going to try to change my ways so he won't be
ashamed of me."
Mrs. McFarlane's face cleared. "He surely is a fine young fellow, and can
be trusted to do the right thing. Well, we might as well go to bed. We
can't settle anything till your father gets home," she said.
Wayland rose next morning free from dizziness and almost free from pain,
and when he came out of his room his expression was cheerful. "I feel as
if I'd slept a week, and I'm hungry. I don't know why I should be, but I
am."
Mrs. McFarlane met him with something very intimate, something almost
maternal in her look; but her words were as few and as restrained as
ever. He divined that she had been talking with Berrie, and that a fairly
clear understanding of the situation had been reached. That this
understanding involved him closely he was aware; but nothing in his
manner acknowledged it.
She did not ask any questions, believing that sooner or later the whole
story must come out. The fact that Siona Moore and Mrs. Belden knew that
Berrie had started back on Thursday with young Norcross made it easy for
the villagers to discover that she had not reached the ranch till
Saturday. "What could Joe have been thinking of to allow them to go?" she
said. "Mr. Nash's presence in the camp must be made known; but then there
is Clifford's assault upon Mr. Norcross, can that be kept secret, too?"
And so while the young people chatted, the troubled mother waited in
fear, knowing that in a day or two the countryside would be aflame with
accusation.
In a landscape like this, as she well knew, nothing moves unobserved. The
native--man or woman--is able to perceive and name objects scarcely
discernible to the eye of the alien. A minute speck is discovered on the
hillside. "Hello, there's Jim Sanders on his roan," says one, or "Here
comes Kit Jenkins with her flea-bit gray. I wonder who's on the bay
alongside of her," remarks another, and each of these observations is
taken quite as a matter of course. With a wide and empty field of vision,
and with trained, unspoiled optic nerves, the plainsman is marvelously
penetrating of glance. Hence, Mrs. McFarlane was perfectly certain that
not one but several of her neighbors had seen and recognized Berrie and
young Norcross as they came down the hill. In a day or two every man
would know just where they camped, and what had taken place in camp. Mrs.
Belden would not rest till she had ferreted out every crook and turn of
that trail, and her speech was quite as coarse as that of any of her male
associates.
Easy-going with regard to many things, these citizens were abnormally
alive to all matters relating to courtship, and popular as she believed
Berrie to be, Mrs. McFarlane could not hope that her daughter would be
spared--especially by the Beldens, who would naturally feel that Clifford
had been cheated. She sighed deeply. "Well, nothing can be done till Joe
returns," she repeated.
A long day's rest, a second night's sleep, set Wayland on his feet. He
came to breakfast quite gay. "Barring the hickory-nut on the back of my
head," he explained, "I'm feeling fine, almost ready for another
expedition. I may make a ranger yet."
Berrie, though equally gay, was not so sure of his ability to return to
work. "I reckon you'd better go easy till daddy gets back; but if you
feel like it we'll ride up to the post-office this afternoon."
"I want to start right in to learn to throw that hitch, and I'm going to
practise with an ax till I can strike twice in the same place. This trip
was an eye-opener. Great man I'd be in a windfall--wouldn't I?"
He was persuaded to remain very quiet for another day, and part of it was
spent in conversation with Mrs. McFarlane--whom he liked very much--and
an hour or more in writing a long letter wherein he announced to his
father his intention of going into the Forest Service. "I've got to build
up a constitution," he said, "and I don't know of a better place to do it
in. Besides, I'm beginning to be interested in the scheme. I like the
Supervisor. I'm living in his house at the present time, and I'm feeling
contented and happy, so don't worry about me."
He was indeed quite comfortable, save when he realized that Mrs.
McFarlane was taking altogether too much for granted in their
relationship. It was delightful to be so watched over, so waited upon, so
instructed. "But where is it all leading me?" he continued to ask
himself--and still that wall of reserve troubled and saddened Berrie.
They expected McFarlane that night, and waited supper for him, but he did
not come, and so they ate without him, and afterward Wayland helped
Berrie do up the dishes while the mother bent above her sewing by the
kitchen lamp.
There was something very sweet and gentle about Mrs. McFarlane, and the
exile took almost as much pleasure in talking with her as with her
daughter. He led her to tell of her early experiences in the valley, and
of the strange types of men and women with whom she had crossed the
range.
"Some of them are here yet," she said. "In fact the most violent of all
the opponents to the Service are these old adventurers. I don't think
they deserve to be called pioneers. They never did any work in clearing
the land or in building homes. Some of them, who own big herds of cattle,
still live in dug-outs. They raged at Mr. McFarlane for going into the
Service--called him a traitor. Old Jake Proudfoot was especially
furious--"
"You should see where old Jake lives," interrupted Berrie. "He sleeps on
the floor in one corner of his cabin, and never changes his shirt."
"Hush!" warned Mrs. McFarlane.
"That's what the men all say. Daddy declares if they were to scrape Jake
they'd find at least five layers of shirts. His wife left him fifteen
years ago, couldn't stand his habits, and he's got worse ever since.
Naturally he is opposed to the Service."
"Of course," her mother explained, "those who oppose the Supervisor
aren't all like Jake; but it makes me angry to have the papers all
quoting Jake as 'one of the leading ranchers of the valley.'"
She could not bring herself to take up the most vital subject of all--the
question of her daughter's future. "I'll wait till father gets home," she
decided.
On the fourth morning the 'phone rang, and the squawking voice of Mrs.
Belden came over the wire. "I wanted to know if Berrie and her feller got
home all right?"
"Yes, they arrived safely."
The old woman chuckled. "Last I see of Cliff he was hot on their
trail--looked like he expected to take a hand in that expedition. Did he
overtake 'em?"
"I don't hear very well--where are you?"
"I'm at the Scott ranch--we're coming round 'the horn' to-day."
"Where is the Supervisor?"
"He headed across yesterday. Say, Cliff was mad as a hornet when he
started. I'd like to know what happened--"
Mrs. McFarlane hung up the receiver. The old woman's nasty chuckle was
intolerable; but in silencing the 'phone Mrs. McFarlane was perfectly
aware that she was not silencing the gossip; on the contrary, she was
certain that the Beldens would leave a trail of poisonous comment from
the Ptarmigan to Bear Tooth. It was all sweet material for them.
Berrie wanted to know who was speaking, and Mrs. McFarlane replied: "Mrs.
Belden wanted to know if you got through all right."
"She said something else, something to heat you up," persisted the girl,
who perceived her mother's agitation. "What did she say--something about
me--and Cliff?"
The mother did not answer, for Wayland entered the room at the moment;
but Berrie knew that traducers were already busy with her affairs. "I
don't care anything about old lady Belden," she said, later; "but I hate
to have that Moore girl telling lies about me."
As for Wayland, the nights in the camp by the lake, and, indeed, all the
experiences of his trip in the high places were becoming each moment more
remote, more unreal. Camp life at timber-line did not seem to him subject
to ordinary conventional laws of human conduct, and the fact that he and
Berrie had shared the same tent under the stress of cold and snow, now
seemed so far away as to be only a complication in a splendid mountain
drama. Surely no blame could attach to the frank and generous girl, even
though the jealous assault of Cliff Belden should throw the valley into a
fever of chatter. "Furthermore, I don't believe he will be in haste to
speak of his share in the play," he added. "It was too nearly criminal."
It was almost noon of the fourth day when the Supervisor called up to say
that he was at the office, and would reach the ranch at six o'clock.
"I wish you would come home at once," his wife argued; and something in
her voice convinced him that he was more needed at home, than in the
town.
"All right, mother. Hold the fort an hour and I'll be there."
Mrs. McFarlane met him at the hitching-bar, and it required but a glance
for him to read in her face a troubled state of mind.
"This has been a disastrous trip for Berrie," she said, after one of the
hands had relieved the Supervisor of his horse.
"In what way?"
She was a bit impatient. "Mrs. Belden is filling the valley with the
story of Berrie's stay in camp with Mr. Norcross."
His face showed a graver line. "It couldn't be helped. The horses had to
be followed, and that youngster couldn't do it--and, besides, I expected
to get back that night. Nobody but an old snoop like Seth Belden would
think evil of our girl. And, besides, Norcross is a man to be trusted."
"Of course he is, but the Beldens are ready to think evil of any one
connected with us. And Cliff's assault on Wayland--"