"Don't make me feel you hold him in the light of a bribe. Understand,
it's just a favor to me. I think a good deal of my horse; it means a
lot to me to be able to leave him with some one I can trust."
Her lip trembled; she brushed her hand across her eyes. "You are the
best--the noblest man in the world," she said.
Eben called again and Forrest answered with a clear "Hello." He began
to walk back towards the windfall. Presently he stopped to pick up a
small, morocco-bound book which she had lost from her pocket in crossing
a boulder on the way out to the cliff. He slipped the volume into his
own pocket and turned to help her over the rock. "See here," he said, "I
want you to know that I'm glad to be that best friend, the one you
depend on. You needn't be afraid of me; you've given me a character
that I've got to live up to."
"You mean--" the light came back to her face--"you do mean you are not
going to let it make any difference between us."
"Of course. Why should it? Only--tell me this--" the rock was smooth
and difficult; he watched her footing--"is there some one else?"
"No, there is no one else--yet."
She paused on the word, for suddenly, lifting her glance beyond
Forrest's shoulder, she saw the stranger she had met at the creek on the
school trail. He stopped a few yards from the boulder, and,
dismounting, took the chestnut's halter, and, making it fast to a
sapling, stood waiting.
Forrest gave him a straight look and slight nod, and would have passed
directly on, but the man smiled and held out his hand. "I hope you have
not forgotten me," he said. "I am Stratton, lately of Victoria. I met
you with the Kingsleys, when you came over to see the new mills at
Seattle."
Forrest gave him another look from under slightly knotted brows. "I
remember. You were going on a cruise with the Captain in the _Phantom_.
I've heard, too, of you through my friend Bates, of the Customs
Service."
Stratton dropped his disregarded hand. A wave of color swept his face,
and the latent heat flared and died in his eyes. Then he said, evenly,
"I am out here on a little hunting trip, and, incidentally, to see what
can be picked up in the way of furs. I am interested in the trade, as
you probably know, and I find Laramie has been taking some prime
beaver." His glance had moved to Alice; apparently the explanation was
meant for her, and she looked at Forrest, waiting for the obvious
introduction.
It was withheld.
"But," Stratton went on after a moment, and he moved a few steps in the
direction of the gorge, "I was stopped just now at this windfall. Myers
told me the trail was impassable, and he spoke of a curious old tower
worth turning aside here to see."
"Yes," answered Forrest, "it's the most prominent landmark in these
hills." And he walked on towards his horse.
Alice went with him, and directly Stratton halted to send a look after
them. "So," he said softly, "so it is what you have heard, through
Bates, against the friend of a Kingsley. But you were rash to show your
hand, young fellow, you were rash." Then his glance rested on the girl
and he smiled. "I never yet wanted to know a pretty woman," he added,
"that I could not find a way."
He turned and walked out to the cliff. He stood for an interval under
the stunted fir, and scanned the gorge, bluff after bluff, down to the
tower; afterwards he went along the precipice a short distance and
climbed a bald knob of rock. He waited again, posed, with his head and
shoulders etched on the sky, while he searched the opposite heights, the
walls of the canyon; then, with a sweeping glance behind him, he looked
once more in the direction of the leaning bastion. Presently he drew a
handkerchief from his pocket and held it by one corner at arm's length
to the breeze. In a little while a thread of smoke rose from the rear
of the tower. He took out another handkerchief, a black one, and
repeated the signal, twice. Almost directly the smoke ceased. He left
the place then, and went back to his horse. Picking up the trail, he
rode along the front of the windfall, on over the shoulder of the hill
which he had lately climbed, and returned towards the settlement.
*CHAPTER III*
*THE CAMP AT THE HEADWATERS*
At last Forrest and Alice stopped before a huge fallen cedar; its
boughs, still green and fragrant, were under their feet. Some distance
beyond the settlers had paused to choose a way, and the horses, heated
and thirsty, stood in a small open between.
"I knew the trip would be rough," he said, "but I didn't expect this; we
should have turned back at the slide."
"Back? No, no." Her face was pink and moist and she spoke between
short, quick breaths. "You should know, Paul, when once I undertake a
thing, it's in me to carry it through."
"Come, then." He found footing on a higher bough, and leaping on the
log, turned to reach his hands down to her. "Come." And when she had
gained the place he was on the ground again, calling her attention to
the surest step. But she took it incautiously, missed, and fell.
He could only throw out his arms to break the fall, and for that instant
her head was on his breast. Their young eyes met; a mist was in hers
and the pink deepened in her face. "You do love me," he said. "Some
day you are going to tell me so."
Then he put her on the boughs at his feet, and turned and looked off
over the windfall. His lips were set and his brows contracted in a
deep, vertical line. But when Martha moved on with Ginger he went to
his horse and brought him back to the cedar. "I think we are through
the worst," he said quietly, "and if you are rested, you can ride now."
He stooped, offering his hand for her foot, and when she was up, he led
the horse, stopping to hold aside a trailing bough, breaking another
short off, making Colonel step the logs, or if that were impossible,
skirting and doubling to avoid the leap. But he had nothing more to
say, and he kept his eyes turned resolutely from her, with still
frowning brows.
The ascent became steeper. They emerged from the windfall and took
breath on a rocky shoulder. Over them rose the round crown of the great
hilltop, bald or tufted with heather. The settlers, picking up the
trail, pushed on. From time to time a stone gave under the reluctant
Ginger's hoofs and rattled down the incline. In places he stopped
morosely, setting his legs like posts. Then Martha tugged vehemently at
the halter, as though she hoped to uproot him bodily, while Eben, with
the judicious use of a hazel, admonished and urged from behind. When
these resources failed, Colonel charged the little cayuse, nipping him
smartly in the flank, and started him in a panic. But at last the final
stretch was finished and they were on the summit.
Alice dismounted and they walked a few yards to the eastern side, which
broke away in great, treeless steps. Far below, the forest stretched
like a smooth plain, through which the Nisqually trailed and doubled
like a changeable ribbon in the sun. But the girl's eager eyes turned
first northwestward, where, sixty miles distant, the Olympic Mountains
shone dimly through summer haze, a pastel of blue and white, and
enclosed in their hollow a turquoise sea. Was that bright moving speck
a bit of cloud or was it the _Phantom_ with the light on her sails? Her
glance came back and before her clear-cut, near, rose the bastioned
heights of the Cascade Range, and, over-topping icy minarets and domes,
vast, mighty, in Alpine splendor, loomed the triple crest of Mt.
Rainier.
"Well," said Forrest finally, "is it worth the effort?"
"Effort?" she repeated. "I could fight a hundred windfalls for this."
She paused, swaying in the hot gale that swept the hilltop. "But this
isn't enough, Paul; I must go there."
[Illustration: "She paused, swaying in the hot gale."]
"To Rainier?"
"Yes, if I were only a man I shouldn't wait a day; I'd push right on
to-morrow."
Forrest smiled, shaking his head. "The only two men who ever made that
summit," and he looked off again to the brilliant slopes, "nearly
perished. But Philip is talking of a trip to the mountain. He has
promised your sister that he will bring her out to the Nisqually to see
you before they go to Freeport, and he thinks he can go on, then, to
Rainier."
"Then he must take me." She lost her hold against the wind, and for a
moment it beat her back, struggling, laughing, from the bluff. "There
are Indian trails," she went on. "Though they are afraid of the
mountain, they go as far as the warm springs and hunt on the lower
slopes." She battled another interval and ended by staying herself with
her hand on Forrest's arm. The touch, her nearness, shook him more than
the gale. "But," she finished, "Phil Kingsley will find a way. He loves
an adventure; it's the one point where we ever agree; and if he goes to
Rainier, I know he will take me."
Forrest laughed, again shaking his head. He turned and looked back
along the face of the ridge. There was that landmark, the leaning
tower, holding the curve in the sister height, but the canyon had lost
those familiar lines he expected to see. From this view-point the
second sweep of the gorge, doubling the hill, seemed to terminate
abruptly. It was baffling, mysterious, altogether strange; yet,
somewhere, in that rough corner of the landscape, unrolled like a map at
his feet, he should be able to locate his lost prospect.
But it was impossible to linger on the hilltop. The heat was growing
intolerable, and not a fissure or depression in the rocky surface held
water; the flask, filled at the last stream, had long been empty. They
returned to the horses, and trailed down the southern slope, into a cool
glade which was carpeted with short, thick grass. It became a natural
park; trees of mighty girth, almost free of undergrowth, rose in
straight columns, one hundred and fifty feet to the lowest limbs. They
were ringed by centuries, yet were sound to the core.
Finally a moist breeze drew between the boles and brought the noise of
running water. Colonel pricked his ears sensitively. He swung, looking
towards a line of thicket that marked the watercourse, then he broke
into a trot. The sound became the thunder of a cataract. Alice leaned
low in her saddle; her wide eyes tried to penetrate the jungle ahead.
The black pushed on between boughs, snorting gently, tossing his mane.
There was a flash of foam through the foliage, then, clear, cold, fresh
from near snowfields, plunged the upper falls of the Des Chutes. Her
foot was out of the stirrup; she slipped to the ground, and reaching the
brink, threw herself full length, and stretching her palms down to the
torrent, and bringing them up, cuplike, drank. She laved her face, and
putting her hands together, dipped and drank from their hollow, again
and again.
There were two falls, and the ledge upon which she had thrown herself
projected over the second plunge. It was narrow and thin, and trembled
with the shock of the torrent and with her weight. When she lifted her
eyes the spray of the upper cataract was in her face; looking down, she
saw a great square room cut from solid basalt, which received the second
fall and poured it, seething, through a fissure, set doorlike in the
lower wall.
She shrank back to her knees, overcome with sudden dizziness. The next
instant she was drawn to her feet, then lifted off of them by a pair of
unsteady arms, and put down on firm earth. She looked up and laughed.
But Forrest's face was white and stern. "Why will you risk yourself
like this?" he said. "Why will you?"
Camp was made in a small open on the base of the slope. Dry branches
were gathered for the fire, a tent pitched for the women, and bedded
with boughs made springy by sharpening and planting the butts in the
earth. Then Martha set out her fine butter and light loaf, and lifted
the coffee-pot from the improvised tripod, and brought venison steaks,
broiled to perfection over the red coals.
"I dunno," said Eben, putting down his cup and smoothing his long black
whiskers, "I dunno's I ever hed your 'pinion 'bout that ther leanin'
tower. How do you 'count fur it?"
"Why," answered Forrest, "the blocks are of granite. There was probably
a formation of granite and limestone, and the softer rock crumbled
away."
There was a brief silence, during which the settler meditated
profoundly, then Martha spoke. "I 'low he's 'bout right, Eben. Ther
ain't never be'n no man 'round here could a hefted them stones, let
erlone piled 'em that erway, cantin' right over ther gorge. An' ef ther
was, an' he'd hed ther help an' tackle, what in all creation 'd he do it
fur?"
Another profound silence, then Myers said, "I 'lowed it might a be'n
done by my petrified man."
"Your petrified man?" repeated Forrest.
"Yes." The settler cast a sweeping glance behind him, as though he
feared the young man's incautious tone might have reached some
eavesdropper lurking in the thicket, and screening his mouth with his
hand, echoed softly, "My petrified man."
"It's true," said the teacher gravely; "he is excavating a petrified
man. I've seen it, or rather parts of it. He keeps it in a blue chest
with a padlock under my bed."
Martha rose with suppressed energy, and lifting a bough, laid it on the
fire. "He's be'n nigh onter all winter an' spring gettin' out ther legs
an' arms," she said, resuming her place, "but he calc'lates ef he kin
only find ther hull thing ther's folks 'ud pay consider'ble fur it."
"I 'lowed mebbe, fur instance," explained Myers, "that ther museum ter
Washington, what that Gov'ment man was talkin' 'bout last year when he
was stoppin' here, would give me er pretty good price. He says they buy
up old bones o' anything curious or over-sized."
"No doubt," said Forrest slowly, "no doubt. But I believe, Eben, the
time spent on your ranch would count for more. That's a fine meadow you
have, and a few additional acres cleared and seeded with alfalfa would
mean almost riches to you."
Myers struck a match and, screening it with his hand, lighted his pipe.
Martha watched him. Her lips twitched a little and an unspoken appeal
rose in her anxious eyes. She only said, presently, "Mebbe he's right,
Eben. That ther meadow's be'n a mighty good pasture. Before we hed it
you used to spend er sight o' time drivin' ther cattle over here to ther
south slope in ther cold spells. Onct," she paused, looking off through
the great natural park, "when Lem was a baby I kem over ther hills an'
toted him in my lap. It commenced ter snow an' I lost ther trail."
"An' it was yonder," said Eben, pointing riverward, "close onter that
ther black snag, I found her. She'd hitched ther cayuse an' took off
his pack, an' Lem, ther little bugger, was did up in er extry blanket,
peart as er chipmunk in er hole. She was settin' down by er good fire a
eatin' her supper."
Martha smiled, her shadowy, brief smile. "I counted on his lookin' fur
me," she said, "an' 'lowed he'd scent the bacon. His rations was erbout
give out."
The long Northern twilight deepened; the nearer trees stood out tall and
spectral against vague shadow; a bat with low swoops approached and was
lost in the gloom; a white owl settled, dazed, on a fir bough, and from
time to time mingled his hoot with the note of the cataract. Once the
sound of sliding rock came from some high shoulder and was followed by a
rush of earth lower on the slope.
Alice leaned back comfortably on an old cedar trunk with chairlike arms,
and lifted her face, listening. "How the hills answer each other," she
said; "every sound multiplies."
Forrest settled himself in one of his easy attitudes in front of the
fire. "It reminds me of a trip I made last year over the new railroad
in Oregon." He paused and his listeners waited, expectantly. He had a
deep, pleasing voice and the gift of the story teller. "They had taken
me aboard a construction train. There are points on the Columbia where
the slopes rise abruptly eight hundred feet, and the soil is loose with
a perilous mixture of boulders. They had scores of Chinamen at work to
bulkhead these places, and the big timbers up there looked like
scaffoldings of toothpicks. But a whole crew of track-walkers couldn't
keep the danger off, and we were speeding along when suddenly there was
a terrific sound. It was like musketry multiplied by echoes on echoes.
Then looking up we saw ahead an immense rock moving down the mountain.
The engineer reversed his lever and jumped. The next instant the
boulder struck the engine and hurled it into the river."