The Man of the Forest by Zane Grey (fb2 epub reader .txt) π
"Old Al won't listen to me," pondered Dale. "An' even if he did, he wouldn't believe me. Maybe nobody will. . . . All the same, Snake Anson won't get that girl."
With these last words Dale satisfied himself of his own position, and his pondering ceased. Taking his rifle, he descended from the loft and peered out of the door. The night had grown darker, windier, cooler; broken clouds were scudding across the sky; only a few stars showed; fine rain was blowing from the northwest; and the forest seemed full of a low, dull roar.
"Reckon I'd better hang up here," he said, and turned to the fire. The coals were red now. From the depths of his hunting-coat he procured a little bag of salt and some strips of dried meat. These strips he laid for a moment on the hot embers, until they began to sizzle and curl; then with a sharpened stick he removed them and ate like a hungry hunter grateful for little
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stone that an avalanche of a million years past had flung
from the rampart above to serve as camp-table and bench for
lovers in the wilderness; the sweet scent of spruce mingled
with the fragrance of wood-smoke blown in their faces. How
white the stars, and calm and true! How they blazed their
single task! A coyote yelped off on the south slope, dark
now as midnight. A bit of weathered rock rolled and tapped
from shelf to shelf. And the wind moaned. Helen felt all the
sadness and mystery and nobility of this lonely fastness,
and full on her heart rested the supreme consciousness that
all would some day be well with the troubled world beyond.
βNell, Iβll homestead this park,β said Dale. βThen itβll
always be ours.β
βHomestead! Whatβs that?β murmured Helen, dreamily. The word
sounded sweet.
βThe government will give land to men who locate anβ build,β
replied Dale. βWeβll run up a log cabin.β
βAnd come here oftenβ¦ . Paradise Park!β whispered Helen.
Daleβs first kisses were on her lips then, hard and cool and
clean, like the life of the man, singularly exalting to her,
completing her womanβs strange and unutterable joy of the
hour, and rendering her mute.
Boβs melodious laugh, and her voice with its old mockery of
torment, drifted softly on the night breeze. And the
cowboyβs βAw, Bo,β drawling his reproach and longing, was
all that the tranquil, waiting silence needed.
Paradise Park was living again one of its romances. Love was
no stranger to that lonely fastness. Helen heard in the
whisper of the wind through the pine the old-earth story,
beautiful, ever new, and yet eternal. She thrilled to her
depths. The spar-pointed spruces stood up black and clear
against the noble stars. All that vast solitude breathed and
waited, charged full with its secret, ready to reveal itself
to her tremulous soul.
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