The Man of the Forest by Zane Grey (readera ebook reader txt) đź“•
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- Author: Zane Grey
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Anson, prostrate as he was, swiftly drew his gun and shot Moze. Without sound or movement of hand Moze fell. Then the plunge of Shady's horse caused Anson's second shot to miss. A quick third shot brought no apparent result but Shady's cursing resort to his own weapon. He tried to aim from his plunging horse. His bullets spattered dust and gravel over Anson. Then Wilson's long arm stretched and his heavy gun banged. Shady collapsed in the saddle, and the frightened horse, throwing him, plunged out of the circle of light. Thudding hoofs, crashings of brush, quickly ceased.
“Jim—did you—git him?” whispered Anson.
“Shore did, Snake,” was the slow, halting response. Jim Wilson must have sustained a sick shudder as he replied. Sheathing his gun, he folded a blanket and put it under Anson's head.
“Jim—my feet—air orful cold,” whispered Anson.
“Wal, it's gittin' chilly,” replied Wilson, and, taking a second blanket, he laid that over Anson's limbs. “Snake, I'm feared Shady hit you once.”
“A-huh! But not so I'd care—much—if I hed—no wuss hurt.”
“You lay still now. Reckon Shady's hoss stopped out heah a ways. An' I'll see.”
“Jim—I 'ain't heerd—thet scream fer—a little.”
“Shore it's gone.... Reckon now thet was a cougar.”
“I knowed it!”
Wilson stalked away into the darkness. That inky wall did not seem so impenetrable and black after he had gotten out of the circle of light. He proceeded carefully and did not make any missteps. He groped from tree to tree toward the cliff and presently brought up against a huge flat rock as high as his head. Here the darkness was blackest, yet he was able to see a light form on the rock.
“Miss, are you there—all right?” he called, softly.
“Yes, but I'm scared to death,” she whispered in reply.
“Shore it wound up sudden. Come now. I reckon your trouble's over.”
He helped her off the rock, and, finding her unsteady on her feet, he supported her with one arm and held the other out in front of him to feel for objects. Foot by foot they worked out from under the dense shadow of the cliff, following the course of the little brook. It babbled and gurgled, and almost drowned the low whistle Wilson sent out. The girl dragged heavily upon him now, evidently weakening. At length he reached the little open patch at the head of the ravine. Halting here, he whistled. An answer came from somewhere behind him and to the right. Wilson waited, with the girl hanging on his arm.
“Dale's heah,” he said. “An' don't you keel over now—after all the nerve you hed.”
A swishing of brush, a step, a soft, padded footfall; a looming, dark figure, and a long, low gray shape, stealthily moving—it was the last of these that made Wilson jump.
“Wilson!” came Dale's subdued voice.
“Heah. I've got her, Dale. Safe an sound,” replied Wilson, stepping toward the tall form. And he put the drooping girl into Dale's arms.
“Bo! Bo! You're all right?” Dale's deep voice was tremulous.
She roused up to seize him and to utter little cries of joy
“Oh, Dale!... Oh, thank Heaven! I'm ready to drop now.... Hasn't it been a night—an adventure?... I'm well—safe—sound.... Dale, we owe it to this Jim Wilson.”
“Bo, I—we'll all thank him—all our lives,” replied Dale. “Wilson, you're a man!... If you'll shake that gang—”
“Dale, shore there ain't much of a gang left, onless you let Burt git away,” replied Wilson.
“I didn't kill him—or hurt him. But I scared him so I'll bet he's runnin' yet.... Wilson, did all the shootin' mean a fight?”
“Tolerable.”
“Oh, Dale, it was terrible! I saw it all. I—”
“Wal, Miss, you can tell him after I go.... I'm wishin' you good luck.”
His voice was a cool, easy drawl, slightly tremulous.
The girl's face flashed white in the gloom. She pressed against the outlaw—wrung his hands.
“Heaven help you, Jim Wilson! You ARE from Texas!... I'll remember you—pray for you all my life!”
Wilson moved away, out toward the pale glow of light under the black pines.
CHAPTER XXIV
As Helen Rayner watched Dale ride away on a quest perilous to him, and which meant almost life or death for her, it was surpassing strange that she could think of nothing except the thrilling, tumultuous moment when she had put her arms round his neck.
It did not matter that Dale—splendid fellow that he was—had made the ensuing moment free of shame by taking her action as he had taken it—the fact that she had actually done it was enough. How utterly impossible for her to anticipate her impulses or to understand them, once they were acted upon! Confounding realization then was that when Dale returned with her sister, Helen knew she would do the same thing over again!
“If I do—I won't be two-faced about it,” she soliloquized, and a hot blush flamed her cheeks.
She watched Dale until he rode out of sight.
When he had gone, worry and dread replaced this other confusing emotion. She turned to the business of meeting events. Before supper she packed her valuables and books, papers, and clothes, together with Bo's, and had them in readiness so if she was forced to vacate the premises she would have her personal possessions.
The Mormon boys and several other of her trusted men slept in their tarpaulin beds on the porch of the ranch-house that night, so that Helen at least would not be surprised. But the day came, with its manifold duties undisturbed by any event. And it passed slowly with the leaden feet of listening, watching vigilance.
Carmichael did not come back, nor was there news of him to be had. The last known of him had been late the afternoon of the preceding day, when a sheep-herder had seen him far out on the north range, headed for the hills. The Beemans reported that Roy's condition had improved, and also that there was a subdued excitement of suspense down in the village.
This second lonely night was almost unendurable for Helen. When she slept it was to dream horrible dreams; when she lay awake it was to have her heart leap
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