The Man of the Forest by Zane Grey (fb2 epub reader .txt) 📕

Aw, he’s gone!”

 

“Nell! It was a bear! I saw it! Oh! not like circus bears at

all!” cried Bo.

 

Helen had missed her opportunity.

 

“Reckon he was a grizzly, an’ I’m jest as well pleased thet

he loped off,” said Roy. Altering his course somewhat, he

led to an old rotten log that the bear had been digging in.

“After grubs. There, see his track. He was a whopper shore

enough.”

 

They rode on, out to a high point that overlooked canuon and

range, gorge and ridge, green and black as far as Helen

could see. The ranges were bold and long, climbing to the

central uplift, where a number of fringed peaks raised their

heads to the vast bare dome of Old Baldy. Far as vision

could see, to the right lay one rolling forest of pine,

beautiful and serene. Somewhere down beyond must have lain

the desert, but it was not in sight.

 

“I see turkeys ‘way down there,” said Roy, backing away.

“We’ll go down and around an’ mebbe I’ll get a shot.”

 

Descent beyond a rocky point was made through thick brush.

This slope consisted of wide benches covered with copses and

scattered pines and many oaks. Helen was delighted to see

the familiar trees, although these were different from

Missouri oaks. Rugged and gnarled, but not tall, these trees

spread wide branches, the leaves of which were yellowing.

Roy led into a grassy glade, and, leaping off his horse,

rifle in hand, he prepared to shoot at something. Again Bo

cried out, but this time it was in delight. Then Helen saw

an immense flock of turkeys, apparently like the turkeys she

knew at home, but these had bronze and checks of white, and

they looked wild. There must have been a hundred in the

flock, most of them hens. A few gobblers on the far side

began the flight, running swiftly off. Helen plainly heard

the thud of their feet. Roy shot once — twice — three

times. Then rose a great commotion and thumping, and a loud

roar of many wings. Dust and leaves whirling in the air were

left where the turkeys had been.

 

“Wal, I got two,” said Roy, and he strode forward to pick up

his game. Returning, he tied two shiny, plump gobblers back

of his saddle and remounted his horse. “We’ll have turkey

to-night, if Milt gets to camp in time.”

 

The ride was resumed. Helen never would have tired riding

through those oak groves, brown and sear and yellow, with

leaves and acorns falling.

 

“Bears have been workin’ in here already,” said Roy. “I see

tracks all over. They eat acorns in the fall. An’ mebbe

we’ll run into one yet.”

 

The farther down he led the wilder and thicker grew the

trees, so that dodging branches was no light task. Ranger

did not seem to care how close he passed a tree or under a

limb, so that he missed them himself; but Helen thereby got

some additional bruises. Particularly hard was it, when

passing a tree, to get her knee out of the way in time.

 

Roy halted next at what appeared a large green pond full of

vegetation and in places covered with a thick scum. But it

had a current and an outlet, proving it to be a huge,

spring. Roy pointed down at a muddy place.

 

“Bear-wallow. He heard us comin’. Look at thet little track.

Cub track. An’ look at these scratches on this tree, higher

‘n my head. An old she-bear stood up, an’ scratched them.”

 

Roy sat his saddle and reached up to touch fresh marks on

the tree.

 

“Woods’s full of big bears,” he said, grinning. “An’ I take

it particular kind of this old she rustlin’ off with her

cub. She-bears with cubs are dangerous.”

 

The next place to stir Helen to enthusiasm was the glen at

the bottom of this canuon. Beech-trees, maples, aspens,

overtopped by lofty pines, made dense shade over a brook

where trout splashed on the brown, swirling current, and

leaves drifted down, and stray flecks of golden sunlight

lightened the gloom. Here was hard riding to and fro across

the brook, between huge mossy boulders, and between aspens

so close together that Helen could scarce squeeze her knees

through.

 

Once more Roy climbed out of that canuon, over a ridge into

another, down long wooded slopes and through scrub-oak

thickets, on and on till the sun stood straight overhead.

Then he halted for a short rest, unsaddled the horses to let

them roll, and gave the girls some cold lunch that he had

packed. He strolled off with his gun, and, upon returning,

resaddled and gave the word to start.

 

That was the last of rest and easy traveling for the girls.

The forest that he struck into seemed ribbed like a

washboard with deep ravines so steep of slope as to make

precarious travel. Mostly he kept to the bottom where dry

washes afforded a kind of trail. But it was necessary to

cross these ravines when they were too long to be headed,

and this crossing was work.

 

The locust thickets characteristic of these slopes were

thorny and close knit. They tore and scratched and stung

both horses and riders. Ranger appeared to be the most

intelligent of the horses and suffered less. Bo’s white

mustang dragged her through more than one brambly place. On

the other hand, some of these steep slopes, were

comparatively free of underbrush. Great firs and pines

loomed up on all sides. The earth was soft and the hoofs

sank deep. Toward the bottom of a descent Ranger would brace

his front feet and then slide down on his haunches. This

mode facilitated travel, but it frightened Helen. The climb

out then on the other side had to be done on foot.

 

After half a dozen slopes surmounted in this way Helen’s

strength was spent and her breath was gone. She felt

light-headed. She could not get enough air. Her feet felt

like lead, and her riding-coat was a burden. A hundred

times, hot and wet and throbbing, she was compelled to stop.

Always she had been a splendid walker and climber. And here,

to break up the long ride, she was glad to be on her feet.

But she could only drag one foot up after the other. Then,

when her nose began to bleed, she realized that it was the

elevation which was causing all the trouble. Her heart,

however, did not hurt her, though she was conscious of an

oppression on her breast.

 

At last Roy led into a ravine so deep and wide and full of

forest verdure that it appeared impossible to cross.

Nevertheless, he started down, dismounting after a little

way. Helen found that leading Ranger down was worse than

riding him. He came fast and he would step right in her

tracks. She was not quick enough to get away from him.

Twice he stepped on her foot, and again his broad chest hit

her shoulder and threw her flat. When he began to slide,

near the bottom, Helen had to run for her life.

 

“Oh, Nell! Isn’t — this — great?” panted Bo, from

somewhere ahead.

 

“Bo — your — mind’s — gone,” panted Helen, in reply.

 

Roy tried several places to climb out, and failed in each.

Leading down the ravine for a hundred yards or more, he

essayed another attempt. Here there had been a slide, and in

part the earth was bare. When he had worked up this, he

halted above, and called:

 

“Bad place! Keep on the up side of the hosses!”

 

This appeared easier said than done. Helen could not watch

Bo, because Ranger would not wait. He pulled at the bridle

and snorted.

 

“Faster you come the better,” called Roy.

 

Helen could not see the sense of that, but she tried. Roy

and Bo had dug a deep trail zigzag up that treacherous

slide. Helen made the mistake of starting to follow in their

tracks, and when she realized this Ranger was climbing fast,

almost dragging her, and it was too late to get above. Helen

began to labor. She slid down right in front of Ranger. The

intelligent animal, with a snort, plunged out of the trail

to keep from stepping on her. Then he was above her.

 

“Lookout down there,” yelled Roy, in warning. “Get on the up

side!”

 

But that did not appear possible. The earth began to slide

under Ranger, and that impeded Helen’s progress. He got in

advance of her, straining on the bridle.

 

“Let go!” yelled Roy.

 

Helen dropped the bridle just as a heavy slide began to move

with Ranger. He snorted fiercely, and, rearing high, in a

mighty plunge he gained solid ground. Helen was buried to

her knees, but, extricating herself, she crawled to a safe

point and rested before climbing farther.

 

“Bad cave-in, thet,” was Roy’s comment, when at last she

joined him and Bo at the top.

 

Roy appeared at a loss as to which way to go. He rode to

high ground and looked in all directions. To Helen, one way

appeared as wild and rough as another, and all was yellow,

green, and black under the westering sun. Roy rode a short

distance in one direction, then changed for another.

 

Presently he stopped.

 

“Wal, I’m shore turned round,” he said.

 

“You’re not lost?” cried Bo.

 

“Reckon I’ve been thet for a couple of hours,” he replied,

cheerfully. “Never did ride across here I had the direction,

but I’m blamed now if I can tell which way thet was.”

 

Helen gazed at him in consternation.

 

“Lost!” she echoed.