INTO THE MOUNTAINS
Beth stood perfectly still beside the road, watching the auto round the
hill where it presently disappeared from view. The station owner
picked up a sliver of wood and began to whittle industriously. The
horseman remained with his bridle reins in hand, amusedly looking at
his captive. The maid sat down upon the suitcase, dropped her skirt in
a modest little manner, and cast her gaze upon the ground.
Beth was the first to speak.
"Well, Elsa, I hope you are comfortable."
"Yes, Miss, thank you," said the maid.
Thereupon Miss Kent turned to the horseman and laughed. Someway she
could not feel alarmed, in the presence of this man of the hills, in
whose eyes merry devils were dancing.
"Isn't this absurd?" she said.
"Searle must have been born absurd," replied the horseman, once more
removing his hat. He waved it towards the station host imperiously.
"Dave, present me to the lady." And as Dave floundered, hopelessly
puzzled, he added: "Give me a knock-down, man, don't you savvy?"
Dave dropped his sliver, snatched off his hat, and rid himself of a
quid of something strong--all in one convulsion of activity.
"'Scuse me," he apologized, approaching nearer. "Miss--Miss--Miss
Laffin' Water, this is Van. His whole name's----"
"That's enough," Van interrupted. "I'm gratified to meet you,
Señorita, I'm sure."
He extended his hand. Beth knew not what to do, wherefore she gave him
her own.
"How do you do, Mr. Van?" she answered tremulously, and she drew her
fingers back again at once. "If you don't mind," she added, "we really
must continue on to Goldite as soon as possible." A fleeting look of
doubt and alarm had swept all the mirth from her eyes. After all, even
with this "introduction" what were these men's intentions? It was a
grave affair to be halted thus--to be practically abducted--to be left
with no protection, in the hands of roadside strangers, one, at least,
of whom was certainly inclined to be lawless and outrageously bold.
The horseman regarded her seriously, as if with a certain divination of
her worry. Someway, from the look in his eyes her confidence returned,
she knew not why.
"Do you ride?" he asked her, "--you and your maid?"
"Why, yes--that is----" she addressed the maid on the suitcase. "Elsa,
can you ride--on a horse?"
Elsa said: "Yes, Miss, if it is part of my duty."
Beth's composure increased. After all, it was a glorious day, the
horseman was handsome, and she had wished for a little adventure--but
not too much!
"What does it mean?" she asked of Van more boldly. "We were perfectly
comfortable, riding in the car. If you really intend to permit us to
go, why couldn't we have gone on as we were?"
Dave started to answer.
"You see, Miss----"
Van cut in abruptly.
"Never mind, Dave; this isn't your pie." To Beth he added: "If you've
brought any particularly appropriate garments for riding, suppose you
retire for preparations. Dave will tote the bags inside the house."
"You bet I will!" said Dave, who, as Elsa rose, took suitcase and all
in one load.
Beth hesitated. The horseman had started already for the stable at the
rear. How superbly straight was his figure! What a confident,
impudent grace beset him as he moved! How could it be possible for
such a man to be other than a gentleman--no matter where he was found?
Some strange little thrill of excitement and love of adventure stirred
in the girl's full veins. Resistance was useless. Come what might,
she was helpless in the hands of this man--and he seemed a person to be
trusted.
"Come, Elsa," she said, bravely deciding to face whatsoever might
arise. "You may wear the second of my skirts."
Fifteen minutes later, therefore, she and her maid emerged from the
shack attired in brown cloth, and kahki, respectively, her own skirt
long and graceful, while Elsa's was shorter and divided. Aside or
cross-saddle Beth was equally at home upon a horse--or always had been,
in the parks.
Van and Dave now returned, leading two extra ponies from the stable.
One was a bay, accoutered with a man's deep Mexican saddle, whereon was
secured a coiled lasso; the other was a wiry little roan mare, with a
somewhat decrepit but otherwise sound side-saddle tightly cinched upon
her back.
"Our stable chamberlain has slipped a cog on the outfits for ladies
recently," said Van apologetically, "but I reckon these will have to
do."
Beth looked the two mounts over uncritically. They seemed to be
equally matched, as to general characteristics, since neither appeared
either strong or plump. She said:
"Shall we ride very far?"
"No, just a pleasant little jog," replied the horseman. "They call it
forty miles to Goldite by the ridge, but it isn't an inch over thirty."
Thirty miles!--over the mountains!--with an unknown man and her maid!
Beth suppressed a gasp of despair and astonishment, not to mention
trepidation, by making an effort that verged upon the heroic.
"But we--we can never arrive in Goldite tonight!" she said. "We can't
expect to, can we?"
"It takes more than that to kill these bronchos," Van cheerfully
assured her. "I can only guarantee that the horses will make it--by
sunset."
Beth flushed. He evidently entertained a very poor notion of her
horsemanship. Her pride was aroused. She would show him something--at
least that no horse could make this journey without her!
"Thank you," she said, and advancing to the roan she addressed herself
to Dave. "Will you please help me up. Mr. Van may assist my maid."
Dave grinned and performed his offices as best he could, which was
strongly, if not with grace. Van shook a threatening fist, behind his
captive's back. He had meant to take this honor to himself.
Fairly tossing the greatly delighted little Elsa to the seat on the
bay, he mounted his own sturdy animal and immediately started for the
canyon below, leaving Beth and her maid to trail behind.
The girl's heart all but failed her. Whither were they going?--and
towards what Fate? What could be the outcome of a journey like this,
undertaken so blindly, with no chance for resistance? The horseman had
stubbornly refused a reply to her question; he was calmly riding off
before them now with the utmost indifference to her comfort. There was
nothing to do but to follow, and resign herself to--the Lord alone knew
what. The little roan mare, indeed, required no urging; she was
tugging at the bit to be off. With one last look of helplessness at
the station and Dave--who someway bore the hint of a fatherly air upon
him--she charged her nerves with all possible resolution and rode on
after her leader.
Elsa permitted her broncho to trudge at the tail of the column. She
dared to cast one shy, disconcerting little glance at Dave--and he
suddenly felt he would burst into flame and consume himself utterly to
ashes.
The great canyon yawned prodigiously where its rock gates stood open to
grant the party admission to the sanctum of the hills. Sheer granite
walls, austere and frowning, rose in sculptured immensity on either
side, but the trail under foot was scored between some scattered
wild-peach shrubs, interspersed with occasional bright-green clumps of
manzanita. The air was redolent of warmth and fragrance that might
with fitness have advertised the presence in the hills of some
glorified goddess of love--some lofty, invisible goddess, guarded by
her mountain snows, yet still too languorous and voluptuous to pass
without at least trailing on the summery air the breath that exhaled
from her being. It was all a delight, despite vague alarms, and the
promise ahead was inviting.
Van continued straight onward, with never so much as a turn of his
head, to the horses in the rear. He seemed to have quite forgotten the
two half-frightened women in his wake. Beth had ample opportunity for
observing again the look of strength and grace upon him. However, she
found her attention very much divided between tumultuous joyance in the
mountain grandeur, bathed in the marvelously life-exciting air, and
concern for the outcome of the day. If a faint suggestion of pique at
the manner in which the horseman ignored her presence crept
subconsciously into all her meditations, she did not confess it to
herself.
Elsa's horrid little habit of accepting anything and everything with
the most irresponsible complacency rendered the situation aggravating.
It was so utterly impossible to discuss with such a being even such of
the morning's developments as the relationship of mistress and maid
might otherwise have permitted.
A mile beyond the mouth of the canyon the slight ascent was ended, the
chasm widened, rough slopes succeeded the granite walls, and a charming
little valley, emerald green and dotted with groups of quaking aspen
trees, stretched far towards the wooded mountain barriers, looming
hugely ahead. It was like a dainty lake of grass, abundantly supplied
with little islands.
The sheer enchantment of it, bathed as it was in sun-gold, and
sheltered by prodigious, snow-capped summits, so intensely white
against the intensity of azure, aroused some mad new ecstacy in all
Beth's being. She could almost have done something wild--she knew not
what; and all the alarm subsided from her thoughts. As if in answer to
her tumult of joy, Van spurred his pinto to a gallop. Instantly
responding to her lift of the reins, Beth's roan went romping easily
forward. The bay at the rear, with Elsa, followed rhythmically,
pounding out a measure on the turf.
A comparatively short session of this more rapid locomotion sufficed
for the transit of the cove--that is, of the wide-open portion. The
trail then dived out of sight in a copse where pine trees were
neighbors of the aspens. Van disappeared, though hardly more than
fifty feet ahead. Through low-hanging boughs, that she needs must push
aside, Beth followed blindly, now decidedly piqued by the wholly
ungallant indifference to her fate of the horseman leading the way.
She caught but a glimpse of him, now and again, in the density of the
growth. How strange it was to be following thus, meekly, helplessly,
perforce with some sort of confidence, in the charge of this unknown
mountain man, to--whatsoever he might elect! The utterly absurd part
of it all was that it was pleasant!
At length they emerged from the shady halls of trees, to find
themselves confronted by the wall of mountains. Already Van was riding
up the slope, where larger pines, tall thickets of green chincopin, and
ledges of rock compelled the trail to many devious windings. Once more
the horseman was whistling his Toreador refrain. He did not look back
at his charges. That he was watching them both, from the tail of his
eye, was a fact that Beth felt--and resented.
The steepness of the trail increased. At times the meager pathway
disappeared entirely. It lay upon rocks that gave no sign of the hoofs
that had previously rung metallic clinks upon the granite. How the man
in the lead discerned it here was a matter Beth could not comprehend.
Some half-confessed meed of admiration, already astir in her nature for
the horseman and his way, increased as he breasted the ascent. How
thoroughly at home--how much a part of it all he appeared, as he rode
upon his pony!
Two hours of steady climbing, with her mare oblique beneath her weight,
and Beth felt an awe in her being. It was wonderful; it was almost
terrible, the fathomless silence, the altitudes, this heretofore
unexperienced intimacy with the mountains' very nakedness! It was
strange altogether, and impressive, the vast unfolding of the world
below, the frequency with which the pathway skirted some dark
precipice--and the apparent unconcern of the man ahead, now so
absolutely master. And still that soul-inviting exhilaration of the
air aroused those ecstacies within her spirit that she had not known
were there.
They were nearing the summit of the pass. It was still a thousand feet
below the snow. To the left a mighty chasm trenched the adamant, its
bottom lowered away to depths of mysterious blue. Its side, above
which the three stout ponies picked their way, was a jagged set of
terraces, over the brink of which the descents were perpendicular.
Rising as if to bar the way, the crowning terrace apparently ended the
trail against all further advance. Here Van finally halted,
dismounted, and waited for the advent of his charges.
Beth rode up uncertainly, her brown eyes closely scrutinizing his face.
It appeared as if they had come to the end of everything--the place for
leaping off into downward space.
"Let me see if the cinches are tight," said the horseman quietly, and
he looked to the girth of her saddle.
It was found to be in a satisfactory condition. The girth on the bay
he tightened, carelessly pushing Elsa's foot and the stirrup aside for
the purpose.
His own horse now showed unmistakable signs of weariness. He had
traveled some twenty odd miles to arrive at Dave's before undertaking
this present bit of hardship. Since then Van had pushed him to the
limit of his strength and speed, in the effort to reach Goldite with
the smallest possible delay.
If a sober expression of sympathy came for a second in the horseman's
steady eyes, as he glanced where his pony was standing, it quickly gave
way to something more inscrutable as he looked up at Beth, in advancing
once more to the fore.
"Both of you give them the reins," he instructed quietly. "Just drop
them down. Let the bronchos pick the trail." He paused, then added,
as if on second thought, "Shut your eyes if you find you're getting
dizzy--don't look down."
Beth turned slightly pale, in anticipation of some ordeal, undoubtedly
imminent, but the light in her eyes was one of splendid courage. She
might feel they were all at the gate of something awful, but her nature
rose to meet it. She said nothing; she simply obeyed directions and
looked with new emotions on the somewhat drooping mare to whom her own
safety was entrusted.
Van was once more in his saddle. He started, and the ponies behind
resumed their faithful plodding at his heels.
A few rods ahead they encountered a change, and Beth could scarcely
repress a gasp of surprise and apprehension. The trail was laid upon
the merest granite shelf, above that terrible chasm. She was
terrified, frankly. The man and pony in the lead were cut with
startling sharpness against the gray of the rock--the calico coloring,
the muscular intensity, the bending of the man to every motion--as they
balanced with terrifying slenderness above the pit of death.
For a moment the girl thought nothing of herself and of how she too
must pass that awful brink, for all her concern was focused on the man.
Then she realized what she must do--was doing--as her roan mare
followed on. She was almost upon it herself!
Her hand flew down to the reins to halt the pony, involuntarily. A
wild thought of turning and fleeing away from this shelf of destruction
launched itself upon her mind. It was folly--a thing impossible.
There was nothing to do but go on. Shutting her eyes and holding her
breath she felt the mare beneath her tremulously moving forward,
smelling out the places of security whereon to rest her weight.
Elsa, sublimely unresponsive, alike to the grandeur or the danger of
the place, rode as placidly here as in the valley.
They passed the first of the shelf-like brinks, traversed a safer
contour of the wall, and were presently isolated upon the second bridge
of granite, which was also the last, much longer than the first, but
perhaps not so narrow or winding.
Van had perspired in nervous tension, as the two women rode above the
chasm. Men had gone down here to oblivion. He was easier now, more
careless of himself and horse, less alert for a looseness in the
granite mass, as he turned in his saddle to look backward.
Suddenly, with a horrible sensation in his vitals, he felt his pony
crumpling beneath him, even as he heard Beth sound a cry.
A second later he was going, helplessly, with the air-rush in his ears
and the pony's quiver shivering up his spine. All bottomless space
seemed to open where they dropped. He kicked loose the stirrups, even
as the pony struck upon the first narrow terrace, ten feet down, and
felt the helpless animal turned hoofs and belly upward by the blow.
He had thrust himself free--apart from the horse--but could not cling
to the rotten ledge for more than half a second. Then down once more
he was falling, as before, only a heart-beat later than the pinto.
Out of the lip of the next shelf below the pony's weight tore a jagged
fragment. The animal's neck was broken, and he and the stone-mass
plunged on downward together.
Van half way fell through a stubborn bush--that clung with the
mysterious persistency of life to a handful of soil in a crevice--and
his strong hands closed upon its branches.
He was halted with a jolt. The pony hurtled loosely, grotesquely down
the abyss, bounding from impacts with the terraces, and was presently
lost to mortal sight in the dust and debris he carried below for a
shroud. Sounds of his striking--dull, leaden sounds, tremendous in the
all-pervading silence--came clearly up to the top. Then Van found his
feet could be rested on the shelf, and he let himself relax to ease his
arms.