At the end of the small open glade the pack-horses dragged about their
ropes. A short distance in front, the thick timber stopped and a
mountain spur went up to the dim white peaks. The sun had gone and the
sky was calm and green. One heard a river brawl and a faint wind in the
trees. Deering lay in the pine needles and rubbed his neck.
"The mosquitoes are fierce. Throw some green stuff on the fire and make
a smoke," he said. "I don't want to get up."
Jimmy, sitting on a log, pushed green branches into the flames, and then
turned his head and looked about. Two Indians were cutting poles and
putting up a tent. In the gaps between the trunks the gloom got deep,
and although the sharp top of the spur was distinct, Jimmy only saw a
few small pines and junipers. Stannard and Okanagan Bob, who had gone up
in the afternoon to look for a line to the high rocks, were not coming
yet. The horses could not go farther and in the morning the hunting
party would leave them behind.
"They recently let me join a highbrow mountain club; but when I start
for the rocks I hesitate," Deering resumed. "To boost two hundred pounds
up crags and glaciers is a strenuous job, and I allow I'd sooner
Stannard had brought the hotel guides. When I camp I like two blankets
and a square meal. A good guide can carry a lot of useful truck."
"Their charges are high and Okanagan claims he knows the big-horn's
haunts."
"Somehow I reckon Bob knows too much," Deering rejoined. "Well, I allow
to let you break your neck wouldn't pay Stannard."
"In one sense, it wouldn't cost him much," said Jimmy, with a laugh.
"You see, I insured my life in his favor some time since."
"Ah," said Deering, thoughtfully. "That was when he took you down to
Vancouver?"
"I went down. The plan was mine. After I fell into the gully, I saw
Stannard ran some risk."
Deering grinned. "I like you, Jimmy! You're sure an honest kid." Then
his glance got keen and he resumed: "Say, are you going to marry Laura?"
"Miss Stannard refused to marry me," Jimmy replied in a quiet voice.
"But we were talking about the insurance. I rather urged Stannard--"
"Exactly! Stannard's a highbrow Englishman," said Deering, but somehow
Jimmy thought his remark ironical. "Well, you urged, and since Stannard
is not rich, he agreed? Perhaps the strange thing is, he was able to
lend you a pretty good sum. Do you know where he gets the money?"
"I don't know. It's not important."
"Oh, well! You have insured your life and Miss Laura has refused you!
She's a charming girl, but since I don't see her helping you run a bush
ranch, perhaps her refusal was justified. However, I think somebody's
coming down the ridge."
Not long afterwards Stannard and Bob reached the camp and Stannard said,
"We have found a line and we'll start at daybreak. Bob now declares he
expects a reward for each good head we get."
"You can promise him his bonus. If we shoot a big-horn, we're lucky; the
tourist sports have scared them back to the North," Deering remarked.
They got supper and went to bed. The spruce twigs were soft and the
Hudson's Bay blankets were warm, but for a time Jimmy did not sleep. The
tent door was hooked back and the night was not dark. He saw the smoke
go up and the mist creep about the trunks. Sometimes a horse broke a
branch and sometimes the river's turmoil got louder, but this was all
and Jimmy missed the cow-bells that chimed at Kelshope ranch.
Perhaps it was strange, but Laura's refusal had not hurt him very much.
In fact, he began to feel that so long as she did not marry Dillon he
would be resigned. Now Jimmy came to think about it, Deering's hint that
she attracted Frank to some extent accounted for his resolve to marry
Laura. Anyhow, Laura was his friend, and Stannard had used tact. He was
quietly sympathetic and soon banished Jimmy's embarrassment. Then the
noise of the river got indistinct and Jimmy thought he heard cow-bells
ring. Branches cracked and somebody called, "Oh, Buck! Oh, Bright!"
At daybreak Bob sent off two Indians to wait for the party at another
spot. He and an Indian carried heavy loads, but all carried as much as
possible, because Bob declared the party was rather large for good
hunting and refused to take another man. When they stopped at noon
Deering's face was very red and Jimmy was satisfied to lie in the stones
while Bob brewed some tea.
After lunch they pushed through a belt of timber. The trees were small,
but some had fallen and blocked the way. Others, broken by the wind, had
not reached the ground and the locked branches held up the slanted
trunks. Where the underbrush below was thick, one must crawl along the
logs.
On the other side of the timber an avalanche had swept the slope,
carrying down soil and stones, and the party was forced to cross steep
rock slabs. Jimmy carried a rifle, a blanket, and a small bag of flour
and admitted that he had got enough. To pitch camp at sunset behind a
few half-dead spruce was a keen relief.
They had not a tent and the cold was keen, but where one can find wood
one can build a shelter. Supper was soon cooked and when they had
satisfied their appetite all were glad to lie about the fire. Some
distance above them, untrodden snow, touched with faint pink by the
sunset, glimmered against the green sky. Below, rocks and gravel went
down to the forest, across which blue mist rolled. Sometimes a belt of
vapor melted and one saw a vast dim gulf and a winding line that was a
river. The austere landscape rather braced than daunted Jimmy. He knew
the Swiss rocks and the high snows called.
Two days afterwards Jimmy, one afternoon, got his first shot at a
mountain-sheep. Until the big-horn moved, it looked like a small gray
stone, but it did move and when it vanished they studied the ground.
There was no use in trying a direct approach, but the rocky slope was
broken and Bob imagined they could climb a gully and come down near the
animal farther on. They must, however, take their loads, because he had
not yet found a spot to pitch camp.
To climb the gully, embarrassed by a heavy pack, and a rifle, was hard,
and for some time afterwards they crawled across the top of a big
buttress. When they reached another gully the sun was gone, but Bob
thought they would find the sheep not far from the bottom. He said two
might go, and when they had spun a coin Stannard and Jimmy took off
their packs.
The gully was very steep and they used some caution. Near the bottom
Jimmy slipped and might have gone down had not Stannard steadied him.
Bob, carrying the glasses, went a short distance in front. At the bottom
he got behind a stone and presently waved his hand.
When Jimmy reached the spot he saw a horseshoe slope of rock and gravel
that fell sharply for five or six hundred feet and then stopped, as if
at the edge of a precipice. He thought if the big-horn went down there,
they must let it go. Then Bob touched his arm and indicated a spot level
with them, but some distance off. Something moved and Jimmy, taking the
glasses, saw it was a sheep.
"Your shot. Use a full sight; it's farther than you think," said
Stannard in a low voice, and when Jimmy had pulled up the slide he
rested the rifle barrel on the rock.
His arm was on the stone; he knew he ought to hold straight, but the
shot was long and the hole in the telescopic sight was small. Perhaps he
was too keen, for although Stannard had got a noble head, he himself had
not yet fired a shot, but when he began to pull the trigger his hand
shook. He stopped and drew his breath, and the sheep moved.
"He's going," said Bob, and Jimmy crooked his finger.
The rifle jerked. In the distance, a small shower of dust leaped up and
the sheep jumped on a stone. In a moment it would vanish and Jimmy
savagely snapped out the cartridge. Then he saw a pale flash and knew
the report of Stannard's English rifle. The sheep plunged from the
stone, struck the ground, and began to roll down the incline. Its speed
got faster and Jimmy thought it went down like a ball. In a few moments
it would reach the top of the precipice, and if it plunged across they
would not find its broken body. Then it struck a rock and stopped, so
far as one could see, a few yards from the edge. Stannard gave Bob his
rifle and picked up the glasses.
"A fine head! Call Deering, Jimmy. I think we can get down."
Jimmy thought not, but he shouted and Deering arrived and studied the
ground.
"Looks awkward, but perhaps we can make it."
"You have got to make it! You don't want to leave a sheep like that
about," said Bob.
Stannard gave him a keen glance, but Deering said, "Let's try; I've
brought the rope. If you'll lead, Stannard, I'll tie on at the top.
We'll leave Jimmy."
"Since I missed my shot, I ought to go," Jimmy objected.
"My weight's a useful anchor and you're not up to Stannard's form,"
Deering rejoined and they put on the rope.
They started and Jimmy lighted his pipe. He had wanted the noble head
and Stannard had got another, but Jimmy was not jealous. Although
Stannard had hardly had a moment before the sheep went off, he had
seized the moment to shoot and hit. In the meantime, however, the others
were getting down the slope and Jimmy used the glasses.
The job was awkward. Sometimes the stones ran down and Stannard
hesitated; Deering stopped and braced himself, ready to hold up his
companions. Bob was at the middle of the rope and, so far as one could
see, was satisfied to follow Stannard. They reached the sheep, and Bob
got on his knees by the animal. His knife shone and after a few minutes
he gave Stannard the head.
Then it looked as if they disputed, but Bob got up and began to drag the
sheep to the edge. Jimmy was puzzled, for stones were plunging down and
it was plain the fellow ran some risk. One could not see his object for
resolving to get rid of the headless body. After a minute or two he
pushed the sheep over the edge and the party began to climb the slope.
They got to the top, and going up the gully, after a time found a corner
in the rocks and pitched camp. Bob and the Indian had carried up a small
quantity of wood and when they cooked supper Stannard remarked: "I
expect you're satisfied nobody in the valley could see our fire?"
"Nobody's in the valley, anyhow," said Bob.
"Then, my seeing smoke was strange," Stannard rejoined.
"But suppose somebody had camped in the trees? Why shouldn't the fellow
see our fire?" Jimmy inquired.
"Perhaps Bob will enlighten you," said Stannard coolly.
"Ah," said Deering, "he didn't mean to leave the sheep around, and
although I didn't get his object for pushing the body off the rocks, I
reckon it went down a thousand feet into the timber--" He stopped and
looking hard at Bob resumed: "What was your object?"
Bob's dark face was inscrutable.
"I saw smoke. When we got busy, I calculated the game-warden had located
at the other end of the range."
"You greedy swine!" said Stannard, and Deering began to laugh.
"Jimmy doesn't get it! Well, Bob meant to earn his bonus, and since he
took us shooting on a government game reserve, I admit his nerve is
pretty good. Anyhow, I won't grumble because I haven't killed a
big-horn. Stannard's may cost him two or three hundred dollars."
"Why did you play us this shabby trick, Bob?" Jimmy asked in a stern
voice.
Bob gave him a rather strange look.
"I sure wanted the bonus and the reserve is new. I allowed I'd beat the
warden and you wouldn't know. He got after me another time and I had to
quit and leave a pile of skins."
"You wanted to get even?" Deering remarked and turned to Stannard. "What
are you going to do about it? In a way, the thing's a joke, but our
duty's obvious. We ought to give up the heads and take Bob along to the
police."
Stannard said nothing, but Jimmy imagined he did not mean to give up the
heads. Bob's calm was not at all disturbed.
"Shucks!" he said. "You're pretty big, Mr. Deering, but I reckon the
city man who could take me where I didn't want to go isn't born. Why,
you can't get off the mountains unless I help you fix camp and pack
your truck!"
"I don't like packing a heavy load," Deering admitted. "We'll talk about
it again, and in the meantime you had better take the frying-pan from
the fire. I hate my bannocks burned."