DOROTHY’S COURAGE
Not a sound did the prowling animal make, but its very silence seemed
to add to the terrifying effect it had upon Dorothy Dale and her chum.
As the feeble flames rose and fell, so the reflected glare of the eyes
increased and decreased. The pitiless, unwinking orbs displayed the
savage intent of the beast.
For half a minute Dorothy was helpless, as was her chum. She had not
partaken of Tavia’s panic before; she had really scouted the idea that
savage animals roamed these woods. But she must believe now!
However, to faint--to give up hope of escape--to helplessly await the
closer approach of the beast whose eyes they saw, did not once enter
Dorothy Dale’s mind.
She threw off Tavia’s clutching hands quickly, reached for some fuel,
and threw it on the flickering campfire. Almost at once the flames
burst out and mounted higher. Their glare revealed the immediate
surroundings of the rude encampment, but nothing of the strange
marauder but the glittering eyes was visible to the girls.
Dorothy was quite sure that while the fire burned brightly no wild
animal would throw itself upon them. Wolves, she knew, were cowardly
alone; only in the pack were they courageous enough to attack man. As
for its being a bear--those eyes never belonged to Bruin. He would not
remain still so long.
The unwinking nature of their observation forced Dorothy to determine
that the eyes belonged to a member of the cat tribe. A panther? No more
terrible beast, she was sure, roamed the Colorado wilderness.
Somewhere, when she was much younger, Dorothy had seen a picture in
a book of African adventure, in which a huge lion was shown leaping
over a line of fires around a hunter’s camp to get at the cattle.
Ordinarily, she was sure, the cat tribe was much afraid of the flames,
but suppose this individual that was watching her and Tavia was
particularly hungry?
Would the miserable little blaze prevent the beast from leaping upon
them? The same thought seemed to unlock the chains of Tavia’s speech,
for she whispered:
“Throw on more wood, Dorothy. Make a big blaze.”
“But we haven’t so _much_ wood,” objected Dorothy.
“Oh, do! Perhaps a big fire will drive it off.”
Dorothy recklessly heaped on more fuel. The flames leaped and crackled.
But their light did not show the outlines of the enemy. It seemed to be
crouching in the deep shadow at the edge of the forest. Nothing showed
of the creature but those terrible eyes.
“If we only had a gun,” whispered Dorothy, with longing.
“We’d be afraid to shoot at it,” gasped Tavia.
“Not I! I’d try to make a bullseye.”
“Can’t we try to scare it off in some way?”
“Let’s scream--both together!” cried Dorothy Dale. “Now!”
If fear-inspired shrieks ever issued from feminine throats, the
abandoned yell of Tavia was a triumphant specimen. Nor was Dorothy far
behind in the piercing quality of her cry.
It is doubtful if any mountain lion in all the wild places of the West
could have equalled the quality of the girls’ yells. And----
“The nasty beast never so much as winked an eye!” Tavia gasped,
horrified.
Dorothy was fully as much amazed as her chum. There was something
uncanny about the twinkling, glistening spots. She had never heard of
any creature with such unwinking eyes--save a serpent. And surely
these eyes did not belong to any reptile.
She threw more fuel on the fire. Again the flames leaped up. The heap
of wood they had gathered was fast being diminished. Dorothy looked at
her watch. Only half-past ten! The beast had been watching them--she
was sure--for an hour.
Suppose it remained all night? They had not fuel enough to last until
midnight at the reckless rate they were using it.
When it was all gone, and the fire died down--what then? The thought
was really terrifying. If the blaze was what kept the beast at bay,
once the fire was dead, the girls would be at the animal’s mercy.
Dorothy Dale did not lose her head and become hysterical, like Tavia.
She knew something must be done. Tavia was absolutely helpless. After
they had so uselessly screamed, she just sat hiding her eyes, and
trembling.
Dorothy knew that if anything was to be done to scare away the beast,
it devolved upon her to do it. Now! should she try to gather more fuel,
or should she rise up and attack the watchful brute?
The latter was the more desperate expediency, yet the wiser. A quick
dash might drive the animal away.
Without a word to Tavia of her intention, Dorothy gathered her feet
under her, reached for a blazing branch on the fire, and suddenly
sprang erect.
With a scream she leaped past the fire and, holding the flaming branch
straight out before her, ran across the glade toward the staring eyes!
Had she stopped to contemplate the desperate venture, she never would
have started. Almost as she determined on making the attack, she had
sprung into action.
She was half way to the edge of the woods ere she realized that her
charge did not seem to startle the enemy at all. _The eyes did not even
blink._
If ever in her life, Dorothy Dale showed desperate courage at this
moment. She kept straight on--whirling the burning branch to make the
sparks fly--and dashed up to the bulky object which had so terrified
her and her chum.
It was a good sized boulder imbedded in the earth at the edge of the
forest. Its face was split and scarred; two bits of mica in its front
had caught and reflected the firelight, and so looked like a pair of
staring eyes. _This_ was the dreadful beast of prey that had held them
in durance for an hour and a half!
The reaction of her discovery deprived Dorothy Dale’s limbs of their
strength. She fell to the ground, and the flaming branch sputtered
before her and flickered out. Tavia screamed again, but Dorothy was
laughing weakly--almost hysterically.
“Oh, Tavia Travers! What a perfect pair of dunces we are,” gasped
Dorothy. “It’s nothing--nothing, I tell you! Just some bright specks in
a rock. If the boys ever hear of this they will tease us to death about
it.”
“Let them,” cried Tavia, with recovered bravado. “I shall tell. You’re
just the very bravest girl I ever saw, Dorothy Dale! You believed that
was an awful, ravenous beast when you started for it with the torch. I
consider that you have saved me from being devoured by the most savage
creature that ever happened!”
“What shall we name it?” giggled Dorothy, climbing slowly to her feet
and coming back with Tavia to the fire.
“Oh, a Bhronosaurus--or a Dynosaura--or--or something. Maybe a
Pteryodactyl. Didn’t they all live in the Stone Age?”
“And you just from the scholastic halls of old Glenwood!” cried
Dorothy. “I am astounded, Tavia Travers.”
“You needn’t be,” said her chum, coolly. “There are a whole lot of
things I had to learn that I hope I have already forgotten. I guess
the history of a million years, or so, ago, is fading fast from my
overburdened mind. And I’ll certainly feel better when it is _all_
wiped out.”
The incident served to bring Tavia to a better condition of mind. She
shook off her foolish fears, and even assisted Dorothy in gathering a
larger supply of firewood.
“For although those eyes were those of a bogey,” said Dorothy, wisely,
“there may be creatures who would trouble us before morning if we had
no fire.”
“Who’s going to keep awake to feed the fire?” yawned Tavia.
“I’ll keep first watch,” agreed Dorothy.
“All right. Ow--yow! I can’t keep my eyes open and my mouth shut. If
a whole herd of bears ringed us, I should just have to sleep! Call me
when it’s time for my watch, Doro. Ow-_yow_!”
And the next moment her breathing showed that she slumbered.
Dorothy fell asleep herself after a time, trusting to the chill of the
night air to awaken her when the fire died down.
But what really woke her up was a shrill cry that echoed through the
forest in a most weird way, and startled both girls into an upright
position before their eyes were even open.
Again the strange cry rang out. Tavia broke off in a mighty yawn and
seized Dorothy’s hand.
“More trouble!” she gasped.