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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35378-8.txt b/35378-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..123e8da --- /dev/null +++ b/35378-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8578 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Strength of the Pines, by Edison +Marshall, Illustrated by W. Herbert Dunton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Strength of the Pines + + +Author: Edison Marshall + + + +Release Date: February 23, 2011 [eBook #35378] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES*** + + +E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Michael, Mary Meehan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 35378-h.htm or 35378-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35378/35378-h/35378-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35378/35378-h.zip) + + + + + +THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES + +by + +EDISON MARSHALL + +With Frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton + + + + + + + +Boston +Little, Brown, and Company +1921 + +Copyright, 1921, +By Little, Brown, and Company. + +All rights reserved + +Published February, 1921 + +The Colonial Press +C. H. Simonds Co., Boston, U. S. A. + + + + + TO + LILLE BARTOO MARSHALL + DEAR COMRADE AND GUIDE + WHO GAVE ME LIFE + + +[Illustration: He marked the little space of gray squarely between the +two reddening eyes.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK ONE THE CALL OF THE BLOOD + +BOOK TWO THE BLOOD ATONEMENT + +BOOK THREE THE COMING OF THE STRENGTH + + + + +THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES + + + + +BOOK ONE + +THE CALL OF THE BLOOD + + + + +I + + +Bruce was wakened by the sharp ring of his telephone bell. He heard its +first note; and its jingle seemed to continue endlessly. There was no +period of drowsiness between sleep and wakefulness; instantly he was +fully aroused, in complete control of all his faculties. And this is not +especially common to men bred in the security of civilization. Rather it +is a trait of the wild creatures; a little matter that is quite +necessary if they care at all about living. A deer, for instance, that +cannot leap out of a mid-afternoon nap, soar a fair ten feet in the air, +and come down with legs in the right position for running comes to a sad +end, rather soon, in a puma's claws. Frontiersmen learn the trait too; +but as Bruce was a dweller of cities it seemed somewhat strange in him. +The trim, hard muscles were all cocked and primed for anything they +should be told to do. + +Then he grunted rebelliously and glanced at his watch beneath the +pillow. He had gone to bed early; it was just before midnight now. "I +wish they'd leave me alone at night, anyway," he muttered, as he slipped +on his dressing gown. + +He had no doubts whatever concerning the nature of this call. There had +been one hundred like it during the previous month. His foster father +had recently died, his estate was being settled up, and Bruce had been +having a somewhat strenuous time with his creditors. He understood the +man's real financial situation at last; at his death the whole business +structure collapsed like the eggshell it was. Bruce had supposed that +most of the debts had been paid by now; he wondered, as he fumbled into +his bedroom slippers, whether the thousand or so dollars that were left +would cover the claim of the man who was now calling him to the +telephone. The fact that he was, at last, the penniless "beggar" that +Duncan had called him at their first meeting didn't matter one way or +another. For some years he had not hoped for help from his foster +parent. The collapse of the latter's business had put Bruce out of work, +but that was just a detail too. All he wanted now was to get things +straightened up and go away--where, he did not know or care. + +"This is Mr. Duncan," he said coldly into the transmitter. + +When he heard a voice come scratching over the wires, he felt sure that +he had guessed right. Quite often his foster father's creditors talked +in that same excited, hurried way. It was rather necessary to be hurried +and excited if a claim were to be met before the dwindling financial +resources were exhausted. But the words themselves, however--as soon as +they gave their interpretation in his brain--threw a different light on +the matter. + +"How do you do, Mr. Duncan," the voice answered. "Pardon me if I got you +up. I want to talk to your son, Bruce." + +Bruce emitted a little gasp of amazement. Whoever talked at the end of +the line obviously didn't know that the elder Duncan was dead. Bruce had +a moment of grim humor in which he mused that this voice would have done +rather well if it could arouse his foster father to answer it. "The +elder Mr. Duncan died last month," he answered simply. There was not the +slightest trace of emotion in his tone. No wayfarer on the street could +have been, as far as facts went, more of a stranger to him; there was no +sense of loss at his death and no cause for pretense now. "This is Bruce +speaking." + +He heard the other gasp. "Old man, I'm sorry," his contrite voice came. +"I didn't know of your loss. This is Barney--Barney Wegan--and I just +got in from the West. Haven't had a bit of news for months. Accept my +earnest sympathies--" + +"Barney! Of course." The delight grew on Bruce's face; for Barney Wegan, +a man whom he had met and learned to know on the gym floor of his club, +was quite near to being a real friend. "And what's up, Barney?" + +The man's voice changed at once--went back to its same urgent, but +rather embarrassed tone. "You won't believe me if I tell you, so I won't +try to tell you over the 'phone. But I must come up--right away. May I?" + +"Of course--" + +"I'll jump in my car and be there in a minute." + +Bruce hung up, slowly descended to his library, and flashed on the +lights. + +For the first time he was revealed plainly. His was a familiar type; but +at the same time the best type too. He had the face and the body of an +athlete, a man who keeps himself fit; and there was nothing mawkish or +effeminate about him. His dark hair was clipped close about his temples, +and even two hours in bed had not disarranged its careful part. It is +true that men did look twice at Bruce's eyes, set in a brown, clean-cut +face, never knowing exactly why they did so. They had startling +potentialities. They were quite clear now, wide-awake and cool, yet they +had a strange depth of expression and shadow that might mean, somewhere +beneath the bland and cool exterior, a capacity for great emotions and +passions. + +He had only a few minutes to wait; then Barney Wegan tapped at his door. +This man was bronzed by the sun, never more fit, never straighter and +taller and more lithe. He had just come from the far places. The +embarrassment that Bruce had detected in his voice was in his face and +manner too. + +"You'll think I'm crazy, for routing you out at this time of night, +Bruce," he began. "And I'm going to get this matter off my chest as +soon as possible and let you go to bed. It's all batty, anyway. But I +was cautioned by all the devils of the deep to see you--the moment I +came here." + +"Cigarettes on the smoking-stand," Bruce said steadily. "And tell away." + +"But tell me something first. Was Duncan your real father? If he was, +I'll know I'm up a wrong tree. I don't mean to be personal--" + +"He wasn't. I thought you knew it. My real father is something like +you--something of a mystery." + +"I won't be a mystery long. He's not, eh--that's what the old hag said. +Excuse me, old man, for saying 'hag.' But she was one, if there is any +such. Lord knows who she is, or whether or not she's a relation of +yours. But I'll begin at the beginning. You know I was way back on the +Oregon frontier--back in the Cascades?" + +"I didn't know," Bruce replied. "I knew you were somewhere in the wilds. +You always are. Go on." + +"I was back there fishing for steelhead in a river they call the Rogue. +My boy, a steelhead is--but you don't want to hear that. You want to get +the story. But a steelhead, you ought to know, is a trout--a fish--and +the noblest fish that ever was! Oh, Heavens above! how they can strike! +But while way up on the upper waters I heard of a place called Trail's +End--a place where wise men do not go." + +"And of course you went." + +"Of course. The name sounds silly now, but it won't if you ever go +there. There are only a few families, Bruce, miles and miles apart, in +the whole region. And it's enormous--no one knows how big. Just ridge on +ridge. And I went back to kill a bear." + +"But stop!" Bruce commanded. He lighted a cigarette. "I thought you were +against killing bears--any except the big boys up North." + +"That's just it. I am against killing the little black fellows--they are +the only folk with any brains in the woods. But this, Bruce, was a real +bear,--a left-over from fifty years ago. There used to be grizzlies +through that country, you see, but everybody supposed that the last of +them had been shot. But evidently there was one family that still +remained--in the farthest recesses of Trail's End--and all at once the +biggest, meanest grizzly ever remembered showed up on the cattle ranges +of the plateau. With some others, I went to get him. 'The Killer', they +call him--and he certainly is death on live stock. I didn't get the +bear, but one day my guide stopped at a broken-down old cabin on the +hillside for a drink of water. I was four miles away in camp. The guide +came back and asked me if I was from this very city. + +"I told him yes, and asked him why he wanted to know. He said that this +old woman sent word, secretly, to every stranger that ever came to fish +or hunt in the region of Trail's End, wanting to know if they came from +here. I was the first one that answered 'yes.' And the guide said that +she wanted me to come to her cabin and see her. + +"I went--and I won't describe to you how she looked. I'll let you see +for yourself, if you care to follow out her instructions. And now the +strange part comes in. The old witch raised her arm, pointed her cane at +me, and asked me if I knew Newton Duncan. + +"I told her there might be several Newton Duncans in a city this size. +You should have seen the pain grow on her face. 'After so long, after so +long!' she cried, in the queerest, sobbing way. She seemed to have +waited years to find some one from here, and when I came I didn't know +what she wanted. Then she took heart and began again. + +"'This Newton Duncan had a son--a foster-son--named Bruce,' she told me. +And then I said I knew you. + +"You can't imagine the change that came over her. I thought she'd die of +heart failure. The whole thing, Bruce--if you must know--gave me the +creeps. 'Tell him to come here,' she begged me. 'Don't lose a moment. As +soon as you get home, tell him to come here.' + +"Of course I asked other questions, but I couldn't get much out of her. +One of 'em was why she hadn't written to Duncan. The answer was simple +enough--that she didn't know how to write. Those in the mountains that +could write wouldn't, or couldn't--she was a trifle vague on that +point--dispatch a letter. Something is up." + + + + +II + + +Before the gray of dawn came over the land Bruce Duncan had started +westward. He had no self-amazement at the lightning decision. He was +only strangely and deeply exultant. + +The reasons why went too deep within him to be easily seen. In the first +place, it was adventure--and Bruce's life had not been very adventurous +heretofore. It was true that he had known triumphs on the athletic +fields, and his first days at a great University had been novel and +entertaining. But now he was going to the West, to a land he had dreamed +about, the land of wide spaces and great opportunities. It was not his +first western journey. Often he had gone there as a child--had engaged +in furious battles with outlaws and Indians; but those had been +adventures of imagination only. This was reality at last. The clicking +rails beneath the speeding train left no chance for doubt. + +Then there was a sense of immeasurable relief at his sudden and +unexpected freedom from the financial problems his father had left. He +would have no more consultations with impatient creditors, no more would +he strive to gather together the ruins of the business, and attempt to +salvage the small remaining fragments of his father's fortune. He was +free of it all, at last. He had never known a darker hour--and none of +them that this quiet, lonely-spirited man had known had been very +bright--than the one he had spent just before going to bed earlier that +evening. He had no plans, he didn't know which way to turn. All at once, +through the message that Barney had brought him, he had seen a clear +trail ahead. It was something to do, something at last that mattered. + +Finally there remained the eminent fact that this was an answer to his +dream. He was going toward Linda, at last. The girl had been the one +living creature in his memory that he had cared for and who cared for +him--the one person whose interest in him was real. Men are a gregarious +species. The trails are bewildering and steep to one who travels them +alone. Linda, the little "spitfire" of his boyhood, had suddenly become +the one reality in his world, and as he thought of her, his memory +reviewed the few impressions he had retained of his childhood. + +First was the Square House--the orphanage--where the Woman had turned +him over to the nurse in charge. Sometimes, when tobacco smoke was heavy +upon him, Bruce could catch very dim and fleeting glimpses of the +Woman's face. He would bend his mind to it, he would probe and probe, +with little, reaching filaments of thought, into the dead years--and +then, all at once, the filaments would rush together, catch hold of a +fragment of her picture, and like a chain-gang of ants carrying a straw, +come lugging it up for him to see. It was only a fleeting glimpse, only +the faintest blur in half-tone, and then quite gone. Yet he never gave +up trying. He never quit longing for just one second of vivid +remembrance. It was one of the few and really great desires that Bruce +had in life. + +The few times that her memory-picture did come to him, it brought a +number of things with it. One of them was a great and overwhelming +realization of some terrible tragedy and terror the nature of which he +could not even guess. There had been terrible and tragic events--where +and how he could not guess--lost in those forgotten days of his +babyhood. + +"She's been through fire," the nurse told the doctor when he came in and +the door had closed behind the Woman. Bruce _did_ remember these words, +because many years elapsed before he completely puzzled them out. The +nurse hadn't meant such fires as swept through the far-spread evergreen +forests of the Northwest. It was some other, dread fire that seared the +spirit and burned the bloom out of the face and all the gentle lights +out of the eyes. It did, however, leave certain lights, but they were +such that their remembrance brought no pleasure to Bruce. They were just +a wild glare, a fixed, strange brightness as of great fear or insanity. + +The Woman had kissed him and gone quickly; and he had been too young to +remember if she had carried any sort of bundle close to her breast. Yet, +the man considered, there must have been such a bundle--otherwise he +couldn't possibly account for Linda. And there were no doubts about +her, at all. Her picture was always on the first page of the photograph +album of his memory; he had only to turn over one little sheet of years +to find her. + +Of course he had no memories of her that first day, nor for the first +years. But all later memories of the Square House always included her. +She must have been nearly four years younger than himself; thus when he +was taken to the house she was only an infant. But thereafter, the +nurses put them together often; and when Linda was able to talk, she +called him something that sounded like Bwovaboo. She called him that so +often that for a long time he couldn't be sure that wasn't his real +name. Now, in manhood, he interpreted. + +"Brother Bruce, of course. Linda was of course a sister." + +Linda had been homely; even a small boy could notice that. Besides, +Linda was nearly six when Bruce had left for good; and he was then at an +age in which impressions begin to be lasting. Her hair was quite blond +then, and her features rather irregular. But there had been a light in +her eyes! By his word, there had been! + +She had been angry at him times in plenty--over some childish game--and +he remembered how that light had grown and brightened. She had flung at +him too, like a lynx springing from a tree. Bruce paused in his +reflections to wonder at himself over the simile--for lynx were no +especial acquaintances of his. He knew them only through books, as he +knew many other things that stirred his imagination. But he laughed at +the memory of her sudden, explosive ferocity,--the way her hands had +smacked against his cheeks, and her sharp little nails had scratched +him. Curiously, he had never fought back as is the usual thing between +small boys and small girls. And it wasn't exactly chivalry either, +rather just an inability to feel resentment. Besides, there were always +tears and repentance afterward, and certain pettings that he openly +scorned and secretly loved. + +"I must have been a strange kid!" Bruce thought. + +It was true he had; and nothing was stranger than this attitude toward +Baby Sister. He was always so gentle with her, but at the same time he +contemplated her with a sort of amused tolerance that is to be expected +in strong men rather than solemn little boys. "Little Spitfire" he +sometimes called her; but no one else could call her anything but Linda. +For Bruce had been an able little fighter, even in those days. + +There was other evidence of strangeness. He was fond of drawing +pictures. This was nothing in itself; many little boys are fond of +drawing pictures. Nor were his unusually good. Their strangeness lay in +his subjects. He liked to draw animals in particular,--the animals he +read about in school and in such books as were brought to him. And +sometimes he drew Indians and cowboys. And one day--when he wasn't half +watching what he was doing--he drew something quite different. + +Perhaps he wouldn't have looked at it twice, if the teacher hadn't +stepped up behind him and taken it out of his hands. It was "geography" +then, not "drawing", and he should have been "paying attention." And he +had every reason to think that the teacher would crumple up his picture +and send him to the cloak-room for punishment. + +But she did no such thing. It was true that she seized the paper, and +her fingers were all set to crumple it. But when her eyes glanced down, +her fingers slowly straightened. Then she looked again--carefully. + +"What is this, Bruce?" she asked. "What have you been drawing?" + +Curiously, she had quite forgotten to scold him for not paying +attention. And Bruce, who had drawn the picture with his thoughts far +away from his pencil, had to look and see himself. Then he couldn't be +sure. + +"I--I don't know," the child answered. But the picture was even better +than his more conscious drawings, and it did look like something. He +looked again, and for an instant let his thoughts go wandering here and +there. "Those are trees," he said. A word caught at his throat and he +blurted it out. "Pines! Pine trees, growing on a mountain." + +Once translated, the picture could hardly be mistaken. There was a range +of mountains in the background, and a distinct sky line plumed with +pines,--those tall, dark trees that symbolize, above all other trees, +the wilderness. + +"Not bad for a six-year-old boy," the teacher commented. "But where, +Bruce, have you ever seen or heard of such pines?" But Bruce did not +know. + +Another puzzling adventure that stuck in Bruce's memory had happened +only a few months after his arrival at the Square House when a man had +taken him home on trial with the idea of adoption. Adoption, little +Bruce had gathered, was something like heaven,--a glorious and happy end +of all trouble and unpleasantness. Such was the idea he got from the +talk of the other Orphans, and even from the grown-ups who conducted the +establishment. + +All the incidents and details of the excursion with this prospective +parent were extremely dim and vague. He did not know to what city he +went, nor had he any recollection whatever of the people he met there. +But he did remember, with remarkable clearness, the perplexing talk that +the man and the superintendent of the Square House had together on his +return. + +"He won't do," the stranger had said. "I tried him out and he won't fill +in in my family. And I've fetched him back." + +The superintendent must have looked at the little curly-haired boy with +considerable wonder; but he didn't ask questions. There was no +particular need of them. The man was quite ready to talk, and the fact +that a round-eyed child was listening to him with both ears open, did +not deter him a particle. + +"I believe in being frank," the man said, "and I tell you there's +something vicious in that boy's nature. It came out the very first +moment he was in the house, when the Missus was introducing him to my +eight-year-old son. 'This is little Turner,' she said--and this boy +sprang right at him. I'd never let little Turner learn to fight, and +this boy was on top of him and was pounding him with his fists before we +could pull him off. Just like a wildcat--screaming and sobbing and +trying to get at him again. I didn't understand it at all." + +Nor did the superintendent understand; nor--in these later years--Bruce +either. + +He was quite a big boy, nearly ten, when he finally left the Square +House. And there was nothing flickering or dim about the memory of this +occasion. + +A tall, exceedingly slender man sat beside the window,--a man well +dressed but with hard lines about his mouth and hard eyes. Yet the +superintendent seemed particularly anxious to please him. "You will like +this sturdy fellow," he said, as Bruce was ushered in. + +The man's eyes traveled slowly from the child's curly head to his +rapidly growing feet; but no gleam of interest came into the thin face. +"I suppose he'll do--as good as any. It was the wife's idea, anyway, you +know. What about parentage? Anything decent at all?" + +The superintendent seemed to wait a long time before answering. Little +Bruce, already full of secret conjectures as to his own parentage, +thought that some key might be given him at last. "There is nothing that +we can tell you, Mr. Duncan," he said at last. "A woman brought him +here--with an infant girl--when he was about four. I suppose she was +his mother--and she didn't wait to talk to me. The nurse said that she +wore outlandish clothes and had plainly had a hard time." + +"But she didn't wait--?" + +"She dropped her children and fled." + +A cold little smile flickered at the man's lips. + +"It looks rather damnable," he said significantly. "But I'll take the +little beggar--anyway." + +And thus Bruce went to the cold fireside of the Duncans--a house in a +great and distant city where, in the years that had passed, many things +scarcely worth remembering had transpired. It was a gentleman's +house--as far as the meaning of the word usually goes--and Bruce had +been afforded a gentleman's education. There was also, for a while, a +certain amount of rather doubtful prosperity, a woman who died after a +few months of casual interest in him, and many, many hours of almost +overwhelming loneliness. Also there were many thoughts such as are not +especially good for the spirits of growing boys. + +There is a certain code in all worlds that most men, sooner or later, +find it wisest to adopt. It is simply the code of forgetfulness. The +Square House from whence Bruce had come had been a good place to learn +this code; and Bruce--child though he was--had carried it with him to +the Duncans'. But there were two things he had been unable to forget. +One was the words his foster father had spoken on accepting him,--words +that at last he had come to understand. + +A normal child, adopted into a good home, would not have likely given a +second thought to a dim and problematical disgrace in his unknown and +departed family. He would have found his pride in the achievements and +standing of his foster parents. But the trouble was that little Bruce +had not been adopted into any sort of home, good or bad. The place where +the Duncans lived was a house, but under no liberal interpretation of +the word could it be called a home. There was nothing homelike in it to +little Bruce. It wasn't that there was actual cruelty to contend with. +Bruce had never known that. But there was utter indifference which +perhaps is worse. And as always, the child filled up the empty space +with dreams. He gave all the love and worship that was in him to his own +family that he had pictured in imagination. Thus any disgrace that had +come upon them went home to him very straight indeed. + +The other lasting memory was of Linda. She represented the one living +creature in all his assemblage of phantoms--the one person with whom he +could claim real kinship. Never a wind blew, never the sun shone but +that he missed her, with a terrible, aching longing for which no one has +ever been able to find words. He had done a bold thing, after his first +few years with the Duncans. He planned it long and carried it out with +infinite care as to details. He wrote to Linda, in care of the +superintendent of the orphanage. + +The answer only deepened the mystery. Linda was missing. Whether she had +run away, or whether some one had come by in a closed car and carried +her off as she played on the lawns, the superintendent could not tell. +They had never been able to trace her. He had been fifteen then, a tall +boy with rather unusual muscular development, and the girl was eleven. +And in the year nineteen hundred and twenty, ten years after the reply +to his letter, Bruce had heard no word from her. A man grown, and his +boyish dreams pushed back into the furthest deep recesses of his mind, +where they could no longer turn his eyes away from facts, he had given +up all hope of ever hearing from her again. "My little sister," he said +softly to a memory. Then bitterness--a whole black flood of it--would +come upon him. "Good Lord, I don't even know that she _was_ my sister." +But now he was going to find her and his heart was full of joy and eager +anticipation. + + + + +III + + +There had not been time to make inquiry as to the land Bruce was going +to. He only knew one thing,--that it was the wilderness. Whether it was +a wilderness of desert or of great forest, he did not know. Nor had he +the least idea what manner of adventure would be his after he reached +the old woman's cabin; and he didn't care. The fact that he had no +business plans for the future and no financial resources except a few +hundred dollars that he carried in his pocket did not matter one way or +another. He was willing to spend all the money he had; after it was +gone, he would take up some work in life anew. + +He had a moment's wonder at the effect his departure would have upon the +financial problem that had been his father's sole legacy to him. He +laughed a little as he thought of it. Perhaps a stronger man could have +taken hold, could have erected some sort of a structure upon the ruins, +and remained to conquer after all. But Bruce had never been particularly +adept at business. His temperament did not seem suited to it. But the +idea that others also--having no business relations with his +father--might be interested in this western journey of his did not even +occur to him. He would not be missed at his athletic club. He had +scarcely any real friends, and none of his acquaintances kept +particularly close track of him. + +But the paths men take, seemingly with wholly different aims, crisscross +and become intertwined much more than Bruce knew. Even as he lay in his +berth, the first sweet drifting of sleep upon him, he was the subject of +a discussion in a far-distant mountain home; and sleep would not have +fallen so easily and sweetly if he had heard it. + + * * * * * + +It might have been a different world. Only a glimpse of it, illumined by +the moon, could be seen through the soiled and besmirched window pane; +but that was enough to tell the story. There were no tall buildings, +lighted by a thousand electric lights, such as Bruce could see through +the windows of his bedroom at night. The lights that could be discerned +in this strange, dark sky were largely unfamiliar to Bruce, because of +the smoke-clouds that had always hung above the city where he lived. +There were just stars, but there were so many of them that the mind was +unable to comprehend their number. + +There is a perplexing variation in the appearance of these twinkling +spheres. No man who has traveled widely can escape this fact. Likely +enough they are the same stars, but they put on different faces. They +seem almost insignificant at times,--dull and dim and unreal. It is not +this way with the stars that peer down through these high forests. Men +cannot walk beneath them and be unaware of them. They are incredibly +large and bright and near, and the eyes naturally lift to them. There +are nights in plenty, in the wild places, where they seem much more real +than the dim, moonlit ridge or even the spark of a trapper's campfire, +far away. They grow to be companions, too, in time. Perhaps after many, +many years in the wild a man even attains some understanding of them, +learning their infinite beneficence, and finding in them rare comrades +in loneliness, and beacons on the dim and intertwining trails. + +There was also a moon that cast a little square of light, like a fairy +tapestry, on the floor. It was not such a moon as leers down red and +strange through the smoke of cities. It was vivid and quite white,--the +wilderness moon that times the hunting hours of the forest creatures. +But the patch that it cast on the floor was obscured in a moment because +the man who had been musing in the big chair beside the empty fireplace +had risen and lighted a kerosene lamp. + +The light prevented any further scrutiny of the moon and stars. And what +remained to look at was not nearly so pleasing to the spirit. It was a +great, white-walled room that would have been beautiful had it not been +for certain unfortunate attempts to beautify it. The walls, that should +have been sweeping and clean, were adorned with gaudily framed pictures +which in themselves were dim and drab from many summers' accumulation of +dust. There was a stone fireplace, and certain massive, dust-covered +chairs grouped about it. But the eyes never would have got to these. +They would have been held and fascinated by the face and the form of +the man who had just lighted the lamp. + +No one could look twice at that massive physique and question its might. +He seemed almost gigantic in the yellow lamplight. In reality he stood +six feet and almost three inches, and his frame was perfectly in +proportion. He moved slowly, lazily, and the thought flashed to some +great monster of the forest that could uproot a tree with a blow. The +huge muscles rippled and moved under the flannel shirt. The vast hand +looked as if it could seize the glass bowl of the lamp and crush it like +an eggshell. + +The face was huge, big and gaunt of bone; and particularly one would +notice the mouth. It would be noticed even before the dark, deep-sunken +eyes. It was a bloodhound mouth, the mouth of a man of great and +terrible passions, and there was an unmistakable measure of cruelty and +savagely about it. But there was strength, too. No eye could doubt that. +The jaw muscles looked as powerful as those of a beast of prey. But it +was not an ugly face, for all the brutality of the features. It was even +handsome in the hard, mountain way. One would notice straight, black +hair--the man's age was about thirty-nine--long over rather dark ears, +and a great, gnarled throat. The words when he spoke seemed to come from +deep within it. + +"Come in, Dave," he said. + +In this little remark lay something of the man's power. The visitor had +come unannounced. His visit had been unexpected. His host had not yet +seen his face. Yet the man knew, before the door was opened, who it was +that had come. + +The reason went back to a certain quickening of the senses that is the +peculiar right and property of most men who are really residents of the +wilderness. And resident, in this case, does not mean merely one who +builds his cabin on the slopes and lives there until he dies. It means a +true relationship with the wild, an actual understanding. This man was +the son of the wild as much as the wolves that ran in the packs. The +wilderness is a fecund parent, producing an astounding variety of types. +Some are beautiful, many stronger than iron, but her parentage was never +more evident than in the case of this bronze-skinned giant that called +out through the open doorway. Among certain other things he had acquired +an ability to name and interpret quickly the little sounds of the +wilderness night. Soft though it was, he had heard the sound of +approaching feet in the pine needles. As surely as he would have +recognized the dark face of the man in the doorway, he recognized the +sound as Dave's step. + +The man came in, and at once an observer would have detected an air of +deference in his attitude. Very plainly he had come to see his chief. He +was a year or two older than his host, less powerful of physique, and +his eyes did not hold quite so straight. There was less savagery but +more cunning in his sharp features. + +He blurted out his news at once. "Old Elmira has got word down to the +settlements at last," he said. + +There was no muscular response in the larger man. Dave was plainly +disappointed. He wanted his news to cause a stir. It was true, however, +that his host slowly raised his eyes. Dave glanced away. + +"What do you mean?" the man demanded. + +"Mean--I mean just what I said. We should have watched closer. +Bill--Young Bill, I mean--saw a city chap just in the act of going in to +see her. He had come on to the plateaus with his guide--Wegan was the +man's name--and Bill said he stayed a lot longer than he would have if +he hadn't taken a message from her. Then Young Bill made some +inquiries--innocent as you please--and he found out for sure that this +Wegan was from--just the place we don't want him to be from. And he'll +carry word sure." + +"How long ago was this?" + +"Week ago Tuesday." + +"And why have you been so long in telling me?" + +When Dave's chief asked questions in this tone, answers always came +quickly. They rolled so fast from the mouth that they blurred and ran +together. "Why, Simon--you ain't been where I could see you. Anyway, +there was nothin' we could have done." + +"There wasn't, eh? I don't suppose you ever thought that there's yet two +months before we can clinch this thing for good, and young Folger +might--I say might--have kicking about somewhere in his belongings the +very document we've all of us been worrying about for twenty years." +Simon cursed--a single, fiery oath. "I don't suppose you could have +arranged for this Wegan to have had a hunting accident, could you? Who +in the devil would have thought that yelping old hen could have ever +done it--would have ever kept at it long enough to reach anybody to +carry her message! But as usual, we are yelling before we're hurt. It +isn't worth a cussword. Like as not, this Wegan will never take the +trouble to hunt him up. And if he does--well, it's nothing to worry +about, either. There is one back door that has been opened many times to +let his people go through, and it may easily be opened again." + +Dave's eyes filled with admiration. Then he turned and gazed out through +the window. Against the eastern sky, already wan and pale from the +encroaching dawn, the long ridge of a mountain stood in vivid and +startling silhouette. The edge of it was curiously jagged with many +little upright points. + +There was only one person who would have been greatly amazed by that +outline of the ridge; and the years and distance had obscured her long +ago. This was a teacher at an orphanage in a distant city, who once had +taken a crude drawing from the hands of a child. Here was the original +at last. It was the same ridge, covered with pines, that little Bruce +had drawn. + + + + +IV + + +The train came to a sliding halt at Deer Creek, paused an infinitesimal +fraction of a second, and roared on in its ceaseless journey. That +infinitesimal fraction was long enough for Bruce, poised on the bottom +step of a sleeping car, to swing down on to the gravel right-of-way. His +bag, hurled by a sleepy porter, followed him. + +He turned first to watch the vanishing tail light, speeding so swiftly +into the darkness; and curiously all at once it blinked out. But it was +not that the switchmen were neglectful of their duties. In this certain +portion of the Cascades the railroad track is constructed something +after the manner of a giant screw, coiling like a great serpent up the +ridges, and the train had simply vanished around a curve. + +Duncan's next impression was one of infinite solitude. He hadn't read +any guidebooks about Deer Creek, and he had expected some sort of town. +A western mining camp, perhaps, where the windows of a dance hall would +gleam through the darkness; or one of those curious little +mushroom-growth cities that are to be found all over the West. But at +Deer Creek there was one little wooden structure with only three +sides,--the opening facing the track. It was evidently the waiting room +used by the mountain men as they waited for their local trains. + +There were no porters to carry his bag. There were no shouting +officials. His only companions were the stars and the moon and, farther +up the slope, certain tall trees that tapered to incredible points +almost in the region where the stars began. The noise of the train died +quickly. It vanished almost as soon as the dot of red that had been its +tail light. It was true that he heard a faint pulsing far below him, a +sound that was probably the chug of the steam, but it only made an +effective background for the silence. It was scarcely more to be heard +than the pulse of his own blood; and as he waited even this faded and +died away. + +The moon cast his shadow on the yellow grass beside the crude station, +and a curious flood of sensations--scarcely more tangible than its +silver light--came over him. The moment had a quality of enchantment; +and why he did not know. His throat suddenly filled, a curious weight +and pain came to his eyelids, a quiver stole over his nerves. He stood +silent with lifted face,--a strange figure in that mystery of moonlight. + +The whole scene, for causes deeper than any words may ever seek and +reveal, moved him past any experience in his life. It was wholly new. +When he had gone to sleep in his berth, earlier that same night, the +train had been passing through a level, fertile valley that might have +been one of the river bottoms beyond the Mississippi. When darkness had +come down he had been in a great city in the northern part of the +State,--a noisy, busy place that was not greatly different from the city +whence he had come. But now he seemed in a different world. + +Possibly, in the long journey to the West, he had passed through forest +before. But some way their appeal had not got to him. He was behind +closed windows, his thoughts had been busy with reading and other +occupations of travel. There had been no shading off, no gradations; he +had come straight from a great seat of civilization to the heart of the +wilderness. + +He turned about until the wind was in his face. It was full of +fragrances,--strange, indescribable smells that seemed to call up a +forgotten world. They carried a message to him, but as yet he hadn't +made out its meaning. He only knew it was something mysterious and +profound: great truths that flickered, like dim lights, in his +consciousness, but whose outline he could not quite discern. They went +straight home to him, those night smells from the forest. One of them +was a balsam: a fragrance that once experienced lingers ever in the +memory and calls men back to it in the end. Those who die in its +fragrance, just as those who go to sleep, feel sure of having pleasant +dreams. There were other smells too--delicate perfumes from mountain +flowers that were deep-hidden in the grass--and many others, the nature +of which he could not even guess. + +Perhaps there were sounds, but they only seemed part of the silence. The +faintest rustle in the world reached him from the forests above of many +little winds playing a running game between the trunks, and the stir of +the Little People, moving in their midnight occupations. Each of these +sounds had its message for Bruce. They all seemed to be trying to tell +him something, to make clear some great truth that was dawning in his +consciousness. + +He was not in the least afraid. He felt at peace as never before. He +picked up his bag, and with stealing steps approached the long slope +behind. The moon showed him a fallen log, and he found a comfortable +seat on the ground beside it, his back against its bark. Then he waited +for the dawn to come out. + +Not even Bruce knew or understood all the thoughts that came over him in +that lonely wait. But he did have a peculiar sense of expectation, a +realization that the coming of the dawn would bring him a message +clearer than all these messages of fragrance and sound. The moon made +wide silver patches between the distant trees; but as yet the forest had +not opened its secrets to him. As yet it was but a mystery, a profundity +of shadows and enchantment that he did not understand. + +The night hours passed. The sense of peace seemed to deepen on the man. +He sat relaxed, his brown face grave, his eyes lifted. The stars began +to dim and draw back farther into the recesses of the sky. The round +outline of the moon seemed less pronounced. And a faint ribbon of light +began to grow in the east. + +It widened. The light grew. The night wind played one more little game +between the tree trunks and slipped away to the Home of Winds that lies +somewhere above the mountains. The little night sounds were slowly +stilled. + +Bruce closed his eyes, not knowing why. His blood was leaping in his +veins. An unfamiliar excitement, almost an exultation, had come upon +him. He lowered his head nearly to his hands that rested in his lap, +then waited a full five minutes more. + +Then he opened his eyes. The light had grown around him. His hands were +quite plain. Slowly, as a man raises his eyes to a miracle, he lifted +his face. + +The forest was no longer obscured in darkness. The great trees had +emerged, and only the dusk as of twilight was left between. He saw them +plainly,--their symmetrical forms, their declining limbs, their tall +tops piercing the sky. He saw them as they were,--those ancient, eternal +symbols and watchmen of the wilderness. And he knew them at last, +acquaintances long forgotten but remembered now. + +"The pines!" he cried. He leaped to his feet with flashing eyes. "I have +come back to the pines!" + + + + +V + + +The dawn revealed a narrow road along the bank of Deer Creek,--a brown +little wanderer which, winding here and there, did not seem to know +exactly where it wished to go. It seemed to follow the general direction +of the creek bed; it seemed to be a prying, restless little highway, +curious about things in general as the wild creatures that sometimes +made tracks in its dust, thrusting now into a heavy thicket, now +crossing the creek to examine a green and grassy bank on the opposite +side, now taking an adventurous tramp about the shoulder of a hill, +circling back for a drink in the creek and hurrying on again. It made +singular loops; it darted off at a right and left oblique; it made +sudden spurts and turns seemingly without reason or sense, and at last +it dimmed away into the fading mists of early morning. Bruce didn't know +which direction to take, whether up or down the creek. + +He gave the problem a moment's thought. "Take the road up the Divide," +Barney Wegan had said; and at once Bruce knew that the course lay up the +creek, rather than down. A divide means simply the high places between +one water-shed and another, and of course Trail's End lay somewhere +beyond the source of the stream. The creek itself was apparently a +sub-tributary of the Rogue, the great river to the south. + +There was something pleasing to his spirit in the sight of the little +stream, tumbling and rippling down its rocky bed. He had no vivid +memories of seeing many waterways. The river that flowed through the +city whence he had come had not been like this at all. It had been a +great, slow-moving sheet of water, the banks of which were lined with +factories and warehouses. The only lining of the banks of this little +stream were white-barked trees, lovely groves with leaves of glossy +green. It was a cheery, eager little waterway, and more than once--as he +went around a curve in the road--it afforded him glimpses of really +striking beauty. Sometimes it was just a shimmer of its waters beneath +low-hanging bushes, sometimes a distant cataract, and once or twice a +long, still place on which the shadows were still deep. + +These sloughs were obviously the result of dams, and at first he could +not understand what had been the purpose of dam-building in this lonely +region. There seemed to be no factories needing water power, no +slow-moving mill wheels. He left the road to investigate. And he +chuckled with delight when he knew the truth. + +These dams had not been the work of men at all. Rather they were +structures laid down by those curious little civil engineers, the +beavers. The cottonwood trees had been felled so that the thick branches +had lain across the waters, and in their own secret ways the limbs had +been matted and caked until no water could pass through. True, the +beavers themselves did not emerge for him to converse with. Perhaps +they were busy at their under-water occupations, and possibly the +trappers who sooner or later penetrate every wilderness had taken them +all away. He looked along the bank for further evidence of the beavers' +work. + +Wonderful as the dams were, he found plenty of evidence that the beavers +had not always used to advantage the crafty little brains that nature +has given them. They had made plenty of mistakes. But these very +blunders gave Bruce enough delight almost to pay for the extra work they +had occasioned. After all, he considered, human beings in their works +are often just as short-sighted. For instance, he found tall trees lying +rotting and out of reach, many feet back from the stream. The beavers +had evidently felled them in high water, forgetting that the stream +dwindled in summer and the trees would be of no use to them. They had +been an industrious colony! He found short poles of cottonwood sharpened +at the end, as if the little fur bearers had intended them for braces, +but which--through some wilderness tragedy--had never been utilized. + +But Bruce was in a mood to be delighted, these early morning hours. He +was on the way to Linda; a dream was about to come true. The whole +adventure was of the most thrilling and joyous anticipations. He did not +feel the load of his heavy suitcase. It was nothing to his magnificent +young strength. And all at once he beheld an amazing change in the +appearance of the stream. + +It had abruptly changed to a stream of melted, shimmering silver. The +waters broke on the rocks with opalescent spray; the whole coloring was +suggestive of the vivid tints of a Turner landscape. The waters gleamed; +they danced and sparkled as they sped about the boulders of the river +bed; the leaves shimmered above them. And it was all because the sun had +risen at last above the mountain range and was shining down. + +At first Bruce could hardly believe that just sunlight could effect such +a transformation. For no other reason than that he couldn't resist doing +so, he left his bag on the road and crept down to the water's edge. + +He stood very still. It seemed to him that some one had told him, far +away and long ago, that if he wished to see miracles he had only to +stand very still. Not to move a muscle, so that his vivid shadow would +not even waver. It is a trait possessed by all men of the wilderness, +but it takes time for city men to learn it. He waited a long time. And +all at once the shining surface of a deep pool below him broke with a +fountain of glittering spray. + +Something that was like light itself flung into the air and down again +with a splash. Bruce shouted then. He simply couldn't help it. And all +the time there was a strange straining and travail in his brain, as if +it were trying to give birth to a memory from long ago. He knew now what +had made that glittering arc. Such a common thing,--it was singular that +it should yield him such delight. It was a trout, leaping for an insect +that had fallen on the waters. + +It was strange that he had such a sense of familiarity with trout. True, +he had heard Barney Wegan tell of them. He had listened to many tales of +the way they seized a fly, how the reel would spin, and how they would +fight to absolute exhaustion before they would yield to the landing net. +"The King among fish," Barney had called them. Yet the tales seemingly +had meant little to him then. His interest in them had been superficial +only; and they had seemed as distant and remote as the marsupials of +Australia. But it wasn't this way now. He had a sense of long and close +acquaintance, of an interest such as men have in their own townsmen. + +He went on, and the forest world opened before him. Once a flock of +grouse--a hen and a dozen half-grown chickens--scurried away through the +underbrush at the sound of his step. One instant, and he had a clear +view of the entire covey. The next, and they had vanished like so many +puffs of smoke. He had a delicious game of hide-and-seek with them +through the coverts, but he was out-classed in every particular. He knew +that the birds were all within forty feet of him, each of them pressed +flat to the brown earth, but in this maze of light and shadow he could +not detect their outline. Nature has been kind to the grouse family in +the way of protective coloration. He had to give up the search and +continue up the creek for further adventure. + +Once a pair of mallards winged by on a straight course above his head. +Their sudden appearance rather surprised him. These beautiful game +birds are usually habitants of the lower lakes and marshes, not +rippling mountain streams. He didn't know that a certain number of these +winged people nested every year along the Rogue River, far below, and +made rapturous excursions up and down its tributaries. Mallards do not +have to have aëroplanes to cover distance quickly. They are the very +masters of the aërial lanes, and in all probability this pair had come +forty miles already that morning. Where they would be at dark no man +could guess. Their wings whistled down to him, and it seemed to him that +the drake stretched down his bright green head for a better look. Then +he spurted ahead, faster than ever. + +Once, at a distance, Bruce caught a glimpse of a pair of peculiar, +little, sawed-off, plump-breasted ducks that wagged their tails, as if +in signals, in a still place above a dam. He made a wide circle, +intending to wheel back to the creekside for a closer inspection of the +singular flirtation of those bobbing, fan-like tails. He rather thought +he could outwit these little people, at least. But when he turned back +to the water's edge they were nowhere to be seen. + +If he had had more experience with the creatures of the wild he could +have explained this mysterious disappearance. These little +ducks--"ruddies" the sportsmen call them--have advantages other than an +extra joint in their tails. One of them seems to be a total and +unprincipled indifference to the available supply of oxygen. When they +wish to go out of sight they simply duck beneath the water and stay +apparently as long as they desire. Of course they have to come up some +time--but usually it is just the tip of a bill--like the top of a +river-bottom weed, thrust above the surface. Bruce gaped in amazement, +but he chuckled again when he discovered his birds farther up the creek, +just as far distant from him as ever. + +The sun rose higher, and he began to feel its power. But it was a kindly +heat. The temperature was much higher than was commonly met in the +summers of the city, but there was little moisture in the air to make it +oppressive. The sweat came out on his bronze face, but he never felt +better in his life. There was but one great need, and that was +breakfast. + +A man of his physique feels hunger quickly. The sensation increased in +intensity, and the suitcase grew correspondingly heavy. And all at once +he stopped short in the road. The impulse along his nerves to his leg +muscles was checked, like an electric current at the closing of a +switch, and an instinct of unknown origin struggled for expression +within him. + +In an instant he had it. He didn't know whence it came. It was nothing +he had read or that any one had told him. It seemed to be rather the +result of some experience in his own immediate life, an occurrence of so +long ago that he had forgotten it. He suddenly knew where he could find +his breakfast. There was no need of toiling farther on an empty stomach +in this verdant season of the year. He set his suitcase down, and with +the confidence of a man who hears the dinner call in his own home, he +struck off into the thickets beside the creek bed. Instinct--and really, +after all, instinct is nothing but memory--led his steps true. + +He glanced here and there, not even wondering at the singular fact that +he did not know exactly what manner of food he was seeking. In a moment +he came to a growth of thorn-covered bushes, a thicket that only the +she-bear knew how to penetrate. But it was enough for Bruce just to +stand at its edges. The bushes were bent down with a load of delicious +berries. + +He wasn't in the least surprised. He had known that he would find them. +Always, at this season of the year, the woods were rich with them; one +only had to slip quickly through the back door--while the mother's eye +was elsewhere--to find enough of them not only to pack the stomach full +but to stain and discolor most of the face. It seemed a familiar thing +to be plucking the juicy berries and cramming them into his mouth, +impervious as the old she-bear to the remonstrance of the thorns. But it +seemed to him that he reached them easier than he expected. Either the +bushes were not so tall as he remembered them, or--since his first +knowledge of them--his own stature had increased. + +When he had eaten the last berry he could possibly hold, he went to the +creek to drink. He lay down beside a still pool, and the water was cold +to his lips. Then he rose at the sound of an approaching motor car +behind him. + +The driver--evidently a cattleman--stopped his car and looked at Bruce +with some curiosity. He marked the perfectly fitting suit of dark +flannel, the trim, expensive shoes that were already dust-stained, the +silken shirt on which a juicy berry had been crushed. "Howdy," the man +said after the western fashion. He was evidently simply feeling +companionable and was looking for a moment's chat. It is a desire that +often becomes very urgent and most real after enough lonely days in the +wilderness. + +"How do you do," Bruce replied. "How far to Martin's store?" + +The man filled his pipe with great care before he answered. "Jump in the +car," he replied at last, "and I'll show you. I'm going up that way +myself." + + + + +VI + + +Martin's was a typical little mountain store, containing a small sample +of almost everything under the sun and built at the forks in the road. +The ranchman let Bruce off at the store; then turned up the right-hand +road that led to certain bunch-grass lands to the east. Bruce entered +slowly, and the little group of loungers gazed at him with frank +curiosity. + +Only one of them was of a type sufficiently distinguished so that +Bruce's own curiosity was aroused. This was a huge, dark man who stood +alone almost at the rear of the building,--a veritable giant with +savage, bloodhound lips and deep-sunken eyes. There was a quality in his +posture that attracted Bruce's attention at once. No one could look at +him and doubt that he was a power in these mountain realms. He seemed +perfectly secure in his great strength and wholly cognizant of the hate +and fear, and at the same time, the strange sort of admiration with +which the others regarded him. + +He was dressed much as the other mountain men who had assembled in the +store. He wore a flannel shirt over his gorilla chest, and corduroy +trousers stuffed into high, many-seamed riding boots. A dark felt hat +was crushed on to his huge head. But there was an aloofness about the +man; and Bruce realized at once he had taken no part in the friendly +gossip that had been interrupted by his entrance. + +The dark eyes were full upon Bruce's face. He felt them--just as if they +had the power of actual physical impact--the instant that he was inside +the door. Nor was it the ordinary look of careless speculation or +friendly interest. Mountain men have not been taught it is not good +manners to stare, but no traveler who falls swiftly into the spirit of +the forest ordinarily resents their open inspection. But this look was +different. It was such that no man, to whom self-respect is dear, could +possibly disregard. It spoke clearly as words. + +Bruce flushed, and his blood made a curious little leap. He slowly +turned. His gaze moved until it rested full upon the man's eyes. It +seemed to Bruce that the room grew instantly quiet. The merchant no +longer tied up his bundles at the counter. The watching mountain men +that he beheld out of the corners of his eyes all seemed to be standing +in peculiar fixed attitudes, waiting for some sort of explosion. It took +all of Bruce's strength to hold that gaze. The moment was charged with a +mysterious suspense. + +The stranger's face changed too. He did not flush, however. His lips +curled ever so slightly, revealing an instant's glimpse of strong, +rather well-kept teeth. His eyes were narrowing too; and they seemed to +come to life with singular sparkles and glowings between the lids. + +"Well?" he suddenly demanded. Every man in the room--except +one--started. The one exception was Bruce himself. He was holding hard +on his nerve control, and he only continued to stare coldly. + +"Are you the merchant?" Bruce asked. + +"No, I ain't," the other replied. "You usually look for the merchant +behind the counter." + +There was no smile on the faces of the waiting mountain men, usually to +be expected when one of their number achieves repartee on a tenderfoot. +Nevertheless, the tension was broken. Bruce turned to the merchant. + +"I would like to have you tell me," he said quite clearly, "the way to +Mrs. Ross's cabin." + +The merchant seemed to wait a long time before replying. His eye stole +to the giant's face, found the lips curled in a smile; then he flushed. +"Take the left-hand road," he said with a trace of defiance in his tone. +"It soon becomes a trail, but keep right on going up it. At the fork in +the trail you'll find her cabin." + +"How far is it, please?" + +"Two hours' walk; you can make it easy by four o'clock." + +"Thank you." His eyes glanced over the stock of goods and he selected a +few edibles to give him strength for the walk. "I'll leave my suitcase +here if I may," he said, "and will call for it later." He turned to go. + +"Wait just a minute," a voice spoke behind him. It was a commanding +tone--implying the expectation of obedience. Bruce half turned. "Simon +wants to talk to you," the merchant explained. + +"I'll walk with you a way and show you the road," Simon continued. The +room seemed deathly quiet as the two men went out together. + +They walked side by side until a turn of the road took them out of +eye-range of the store. "This is the road," Simon said. "All you have to +do is follow it. Cabins are not so many that you could mistake it. But +the main thing is--whether or not you want to go." + +Bruce had no misunderstanding about the man's meaning. It was simply a +threat, nothing more nor less. + +"I've come a long way to go to that cabin," he replied. "I'm not likely +to turn off now." + +"There's nothing worth seeing when you get there. Just an old hag--a +wrinkled old dame that looks like a witch." + +Bruce felt a deep and little understood resentment at the words. Yet +since he had as yet established no relations with the woman, he had no +grounds for silencing the man. "I'll have to decide that," he replied. +"I'm going to see some one else, too." + +"Some one named--Linda?" + +"Yes. You seem quite interested." + +They were standing face to face in the trail. For once Bruce was glad of +his unusual height. He did not have to raise his eyes greatly to look +squarely into Simon's. Both faces were flushed, both set; and the eyes +of the older man brightened slowly. + +"I am interested," Simon replied. "You're a tenderfoot. You're fresh +from cities. You're going up there to learn things that won't be any +pleasure to you. You're going into the real mountains--a man's land such +as never was a place for tenderfeet. A good many things can happen up +there. A good many things have happened up there. I warn you--go back!" + +Bruce smiled, just the faint flicker of a smile, but Simon's eyes +narrowed when he saw it. The dark face lost a little of its insolence. +He knew men, this huge son of the wilderness, and he knew that no coward +could smile in such a moment as this. He was accustomed to implicit +obedience and was not used to seeing men smile when he uttered a threat. +"I've come too far to go back," Bruce told him. "Nothing can turn me." + +"Men have been turned before, on trails like this," Simon told him. +"Don't misunderstand me. I advised you to go back before, and I usually +don't take time or trouble to advise any one. Now I _tell_ you to go +back. This is a man's land, and we don't want any tenderfeet here." + +"The trail is open," Bruce returned. It was not his usual manner to +speak in quite this way. He seemed at once to have fallen into the +vernacular of the wilderness of which symbolic reference has such a +part. Strange as the scene was to him, it was in some way familiar too. +It was as if this meeting had been ordained long ago; that it was part +of an inexorable destiny that the two should be talking together, face +to face, on this winding mountain road. Memories--all vague, all +unrecognized--thronged through him. + +Many times, during the past years, he had wakened from curious dreams +that in the light of day he had tried in vain to interpret. He was never +able to connect them with any remembered experience. Now it was as if +one of these dreams were coming true. There was the same silence about +him, the dark forests beyond, the ridges stretching ever. There was some +great foe that might any instant overwhelm him. + +"I guess you heard me," Simon said; "I told you to go back." + +"And I hope you heard me too. I'm going on. I haven't any more time to +give you." + +"And I'm not going to take any more, either. But let me make one thing +plain. No man, told to go back by me, ever has a chance to be told +again. This ain't your cities--up here. There ain't any policeman on +every corner. The woods are big, and all kinds of things can happen in +them--and be swallowed up--as I swallow these leaves in my hand." + +His great arm reached out with incredible power and seized a handful of +leaves off a near-by shrub. It seemed to Bruce that they crushed like +fruit and stained the dark skin. + +"What is done up here isn't put in the newspapers down below. We're +mountain men; we've lived up here as long as men have lived in the West. +We have our own way of doing things, and our own law. Think once more +about going back." + +"I've already decided. I'm going on." + +Once more they stood, eyes meeting eyes on the trail, and Simon's face +was darkening with passion. Bruce knew that his hands were clenching, +and his own muscles bunched and made ready to resist any kind of attack. + +But Simon didn't strike. He laughed instead,--a single deep note of +utter and depthless scorn. Then he drew back and let Bruce pass on up +the road. + + + + +VII + + +Bruce couldn't mistake the cabin. At the end of the trail he found +it,--a little shack of unpainted boards with a single door and a single +window. + +He stood a moment in the sunlight. His shadow was already long behind +him, and the mountains had that curious deep blue of late afternoon. The +pine needles were soft under his feet; the later-afternoon silence was +over the land. He could not guess what was his destiny behind that rude +door. It was a moment long waited; for one of the few times in his life +he was trembling with excitement. He felt as if a key, long lost, was +turning in the doorway of understanding. + +He walked nearer and tapped with his knuckles on the door. + +If the forests have one all-pervading quality it is silence. Of course +the most silent time is at night, but just before sunset, when most of +the forest creatures are in their mid-afternoon sleep, any noise is a +rare thing. What sound there is carries far and seems rather out of +place. Bruce could picture the whole of the little drama that followed +his knock by just the faint sounds--inaudible in a less silent +land--that reached him from behind the door. At first it was just a +start; then a short exclamation in the hollow, half-whispering voice of +old, old age. A moment more of silence--as if a slow-moving, aged brain +were trying to conjecture who stood outside--then the creaking of a +chair as some one rose. The last sounds were of a strange hobbling +toward him,--a rustle of shoes half dragged on the floor and the +intermittent tapping of a cane. + +The face that showed so dimly in the shadowed room looked just as Bruce +had expected,--wrinkled past belief, lean and hawk-nosed from age. The +hand that rested on the cane was like a bird's claw, the skin blue and +hard and dry. There were a few strands of hair drawn back over her lean +head, but all its color had faded out long ago. She stood bowed over her +cane. + +Yet in that first instant Bruce had an inexplicable impression of being +in the presence of a power. He did not have the wave of pity with which +one usually greets the decrepit. And at first he didn't know why. But +soon he grew accustomed to the shadows and he could see the woman's +eyes. Then he understood. + +They were set deep behind grizzled brows, but they glowed like coals. +There was no other word. They were not the eyes of one whom time is +about to conquer. Her bodily strength was gone; any personal beauty that +she might have had was ashes long and long ago, but some great fire +burned in her yet. As far as bodily appearance went the grave should +have claimed her long since; but a dauntless spirit had sustained her. +For, as all men know, the power of the spirit has never yet been +measured. + +She blinked in the light. "Who is it?" she croaked. + +Bruce did not answer. He had not prepared a reply for this question. But +it was not needed. The woman leaned forward, and a vivid light began to +dawn in her dark, furrowed face. + +Even to Bruce, already succumbed to this atmosphere of mystery into +which his adventure had led him, that dawning light was the single most +startling phenomenon he had ever beheld. It is very easy to imagine a +radiance upon the face. But in reality, most all facial expression is +simply a change in the contour of lines. But this was not a case of +imagination now. The witchlike face seemed to gleam with a white flame. +And Bruce knew that his coming was the answer to the prayer of a whole +lifetime. It was a thought to sober him. No small passion, no weak +desire, no prayer that time or despair could silence could effect such a +light as this. + +"Bruce," he said simply. It did not even occur to him to use the surname +of Duncan. It was a name of a time and sphere already forgotten. "I +don't know what my real last name is." + +"Bruce--Bruce," the woman whispered. She stretched a palsied hand to him +as if it would feel his flesh to reassure her of its reality. The wild +light in her eyes pierced him, burning like chemical rays, and a great +flood of feeling yet unknown and unrecognized swept over him. He saw her +snags of teeth as her dry lips half-opened. He saw the exultation in her +wrinkled, lifted face. "Oh, praises to His Everlasting Name!" she +cried. "Oh, Glory--Glory to on High!" + +And this was not blasphemy. The words came from the heart. No matter how +terrible the passion from which they sprang, whether it was such evil as +would cast her to hell, such a cry as this could not go unheard. The +strength seemed to go out of her as water flows. She rocked on her cane, +and Bruce, thinking she was about to fall, seized her shoulders. "At +last--at last," she cried. "You've come at last." + +She gripped herself, as if trying to find renewed strength. "Go at +once," she said, "to the end of the Pine-needle Trail. It leads from +behind the cabin." + +He tried to emerge from the dreamlike mists that had enveloped him. "How +far is it?" he asked her steadily. + +"To the end of Pine-needle Trail," she rocked again, clutched for one of +his brown hands, and pressed it between hers. + +Then she raised it to her dry lips. Bruce could not keep her from it. +And after an instant more he did not attempt to draw it from her +embrace. In the darkness of that mountain cabin, in the shadow of the +eternal pines, he knew that some great drama of human life and love and +hatred was behind the action; and he knew with a knowledge unimpeachable +that it would be only insolence for him to try further to resist it. Its +meaning went too deep for him to see; but it filled him with a great and +wondering awe. + +Then he turned away, up the Pine-needle Trail. Clear until the deeper +forest closed around him her voice still followed him,--a strange +croaking in the afternoon silence. "At last," he heard her crying. "At +last, at last." + + + + +VIII + + +In almost a moment, Duncan was out of the thickets and into the big +timber, for really the first time. In his journey up the mountain road +and on the trail that led to the old woman's cabin, he had been many +times in the shade of the tall evergreens, but always there had been +some little intrusion of civilization, some hint of the works of man +that had kept him from the full sense of the majesty of the wild. At +first it had been the gleaming railroad tracks, and then a road that had +been built with blasting and shovels. To get the full effect of the +forest one must be able to behold wide-stretching vistas, and that had +been impossible heretofore because of the brush thickets. But this was +the virgin forest. As far as he could see there was nothing but the +great pines climbing up the long slope of the ridge. He caught glimpses +of them in the vales at either side, and their dark tops made a curious +background at the very extremity of his vision. They stood straight and +aloof, and they were very old. + +He fell into their spirit at once. The half-understood emotions that had +flooded him in the cabin below died within him. The great calm that is, +after all, the all-pervading quality of the big pines came over him. It +is always this way. A man knows solitude, his thoughts come clear, +superficialities are left behind in the lands of men. Bruce was rather +tremulous and exultant as he crept softly up the trail. + +It was the last lap of his journey. At the end of the trail he would +find--Linda! And it seemed quite fitting that she would be waiting +there, where the trail began, in the wildest heart of the pine woods. He +was quite himself once more,--carefree, delighting in all the little +manifestations of the wild life that began to stir about him. + +No experience of his existence had ever yielded the same pleasure as +that long walk up the trail. Every curve about the shoulder of a hill, +every still glen into which he dipped, every ridge that he surmounted +wakened curious memories within him and stirred him in little secret +ways under the skin. His delight grew upon him. It was a dream coming +true. Always, it seemed to him, he had carried in his mind a picture of +this very land, a sort of dream place that was a reality at last. He had +known just how it would be. The wind made the same noise in the tree +tops that he expected. Yet it was such a little sound that it could +never be heard in a city at all. His senses had already been sharpened +by the silence and the calm. + +He had always known how the pine shadows would fall across the carpet of +needles. The trees themselves were the same grave companions that he had +expected, but his delight was all the more because of his expectations. + +He began to catch glimpses of the smaller forest creatures,--the Little +People that are such a delight to all real lovers of the wilderness. +Sometimes it was a chipmunk, trusting to his striped skin--blending +perfectly with the light and shadow--to keep him out of sight. These are +quivering, restless, ever-frightened little folk, and heaven alone knows +what damage they may do to the roots of a tree. But Bruce wasn't in the +mood to think of forest conservation to-day. He had left a number of his +notions in the city where he had acquired them,--and this little, +bright-eyed rodent in the tree roots had almost the same right to the +forests that he had himself. Before, he had a measure of the same +arrogance with which most men--realizing the dominance of their +breed--regard the lesser people of the wild; but something of a +disastrous nature had happened to it. He spoke gayly to the chipmunk and +passed on. + +As the trail climbed higher, the sense of wilderness became more +pronounced. Even the trees seemed larger and more majestic, and the +glimpses of the wild people were more frequent. The birds stopped their +rattle-brained conversation and stared at him with frank curiosity. The +grouse let him get closer before they took to cover. + +Of course the bird life was not nearly so varied as in the pretty groves +of the Middle West. Most birds are gentle people, requiring an easy and +pleasant environment, and these stern, stark mountains were no place for +them. Only the hardier creatures could flourish here. Their songs would +have been out of place in the great silences and solemnity of the +evergreen forest. This was no land for weaklings. Bruce knew that as +well as he knew that his legs were under him. The few birds he saw were +mostly of the hardier varieties,--hale-fellows-well-met and cheerful +members of the lower strata in bird society. "Good old roughnecks," he +said to them, with an intuitive understanding. + +That was just the name for them,--a word that is just beginning to +appear in dictionaries. They were rough in manner and rough in speech, +and they pretended to be rougher than they were. Yet Bruce liked them. +He exulted in the easy freedom of their ways. Creatures have to be rough +to exist in and love such wilderness as this. Life gets down to a matter +of cold metal,--some brass but mostly iron! He rather imagined that they +could be fairly capable thieves if occasion arose, making off with the +edibles he had bought without a twitch of a feather. They squawked and +scolded at him, after their curiosity was satisfied. They said the most +shocking things they could think of and seemed to rejoice in it. He +didn't know their breeds, yet he felt that they were old friends. They +were rather large birds, mostly of the families of jays and magpies. + +The hours passed. The trail grew dimmer. Now it was just a brown serpent +in the pine needles, coiling this way and that,--but he loved every foot +of it. It dipped down to a little stream, of which the blasting sun of +summer had made only a succession of shallow pools. Yet the water was +cold to his lips. And he knew that little brook trout--waiting until +the fall rains should make a torrent of their tiny stream and thus +deliver them--were gazing at him while he drank. + +The trail followed the creek a distance, and at last he found the spring +that was its source. It was only a small spring, lost in a bed of deep, +green ferns. He sat down to rest and to eat part of his lunch. The +little wind had died, leaving a profound silence. + +By a queer pounding of his blood Bruce knew that he was in the high +altitudes. He had already come six miles from the cabin. The hour was +about six-thirty; in two hours more it would be too dark to make his way +at all. + +He examined the mud about the spring, and there was plenty of evidence +that the forest creatures had passed that way. Here was a little +triangle where a buck had stepped, and farther away he found two pairs +of deer tracks,--evidently those of a doe with fawn. A wolf had stopped +to cool his heated tongue in the waters, possibly in the middle of some +terrible hunt in the twilight hours. + +There was a curious round track, as if of a giant cat, a little way +distant in the brown earth. It told a story plainly. A cougar--one of +those great felines that is perhaps better called puma--had had an +ambush there a few nights before. Bruce wondered what wilderness tragedy +had transpired when the deer came to drink. Then he found another huge +abrasion in the mud that puzzled him still more. + +At first he couldn't believe that it was a track. The reason was simply +that the size of the thing was incredible,--as if some one had laid a +flour sack in the mud and taken it up again. He did not think of any of +the modern-day forest creatures as being of such proportions. It was +very stale and had been almost obliterated by many days of sun. Perhaps +he had been mistaken in thinking it an imprint of a living creature. He +went to his knees to examine it. + +But in one instant he knew that he had not been mistaken. It was a track +not greatly different from that of an enormous human foot; and the +separate toes were entirely distinct. It was a bear track, of course, +but one of such size that the general run of little black bears that +inhabited the hills could almost use it for a den of hibernation! + +His thought went back to his talk with Barney Wegan; and he remembered +that the man had spoken of a great, last grizzly that the mountaineers +had named "The Killer." No other animal but the great grizzly bear +himself could have made such a track as this. Bruce wondered if the +beast had yet been killed. + +He got up and went on,--farther toward Trail's End. He walked more +swiftly now, for he hoped to reach the end of Pine-needle Trail before +nightfall, but he had no intention of halting in case night came upon +him before he reached it. He had waited too long already to find Linda. + +The land seemed ever more familiar. A high peak thrust a white head +above a distant ridge, and it appealed to him almost like the face of an +old friend. Sometime--long and long ago--he had gazed often at a white +peak of a mountain thrust above a pine-covered ridge. + +Another hour ended the day's sunlight. The shadows fell quickly, but it +was a long time yet until darkness. He yet might make the trail-end. He +gave no thought to fatigue. In the first place, he had stood up +remarkably well under the day's tramp for no other reason than that he +had always made a point of keeping in the best of physical condition. +Besides, there was something more potent than mere physical strength to +sustain him now. It was the realization of the nearing end of the +trail,--a knowledge of tremendous revelations that would come to him in +a few hours more. + +Already great truths were taking shape in his brain; he only needed a +single sentence of explanation to connect them all together. He began to +feel a growing excitement and impatience. + +For the first time he began to notice a strange breathlessness in the +air. He paused, just for an instant, his face lifted to the wind. He did +not realize that all his senses were at razor edge, trying to interpret +the messages that the wind brought. He felt that the forest was +wakening. A new stir and impulse had come in the growing shadows. All at +once he understood. It was the hunting hour. + +Yet even this seemed familiar. Always, it seemed to him, he had known +this same strange thrill at the fall of darkness, the same sense of +deepening mystery. The jays no longer gossiped in the shrubs. They had +been silenced by the same awe that had come over Bruce. And now the man +began to discern, here and there through the forest, queer rustlings of +the foliage that meant the passing through of some of the great beasts +of prey. + +Once two deer flashed by him,--just a streak that vanished quickly. The +dusk deepened. The further trees were dimming. The sky turned green, +then gray. The distant mountains were enfolded in gloom. Bruce headed +on--faster, up the trail. + +The heaviness in his limbs had changed to an actual ache, but he gave no +thought to it. He was enthralled by the change that was on the +forest,--a whipping-back of a thousand-thousand years to a young and +savage world. There was the sense of vast and tragic events all in +keeping with the gathering gloom of the forest. He was awed and +mystified as never before. + +It was quite dark now, and he could barely see the trail. For the first +time he began to despair, feeling that another night of overpowering +impatience must be spent before he could reach Trail's End. The stars +began to push through the darkening sky. Then, fainter than the gleam of +a firefly, he saw the faint light of a far distant camp fire. + +His heart bounded. He knew what was there. It was the end of the trail +at last. And it guided him the rest of the way. When he reached the top +of a little rise in the trail, the whole scene was laid out in mystery +below him. + +The fire had been built at the door of a mountain house,--a log +structure of perhaps four rooms. The firelight played in its open +doorway. Something beside it caught his attention, and instinctively he +followed it with his eyes until it ended in an incredible region of the +stars. It was a great pine tree, the largest he had ever +seen,--seemingly a great sentinel over all the land. + +But the sudden awe that came over him at the sight of it was cut short +by the sight of a girl's figure in the firelight. He had an instant's +sense that he had come to the wilderness's heart at last, that this tall +tree was its symbol, that if he could understand the eternal watch that +it kept over this mountain world, he would have an understanding of all +things,--but all these thoughts were submerged in the realization that +he had come back to Linda at last. + +He had known how the mountains would seem. All that he had beheld to-day +was just the recurrence of things beheld long ago. Nothing had seemed +different from what he had expected; rather he had a sense that a lost +world had been returned to him, and it was almost as if he had never +been away. But the girl in the firelight did not answer in the least +degree the picture he had carried of Linda. + +He remembered her as a blond-headed little girl with irregular features +and a rather unreasonable allowance of homeliness. All the way he had +thought of her as a baby sister,--not as a woman in her flower. For a +long second he gazed at her in speechless amazement. + +Her hair was no longer blond. Time, it had peculiar red lights when the +firelight shone through it; but he knew that by the light of day it +would be deep brown. He remembered her as an awkward little thing that +was hardly able to keep her feet under her. This tall girl had the +wilderness grace,--which is the grace of a deer and only blind eyes +cannot see it. He dimly knew that she wore a khaki-colored skirt and a +simple blouse of white tied with a blue scarf. Her arms were bare in the +fire's gleam. And there was a dark beauty about her face that simply +could not be denied. + +She came toward him, and her hands were open before her. And her lips +trembled. Bruce could see them in the firelight. + +It was a strange meeting. The firelight gave it a tone of unreality, and +the whole forest world seemed to pause in its whispered business as if +to watch. It was as if they had been brought face to face by the +mandates of an inexorable destiny. + +"So you've come," the girl said. The words were spoken unusually soft, +scarcely above a whisper; but they were inexpressibly vivid to Bruce. In +his lifetime he had heard many words that were just so many lifeless +selections from a dictionary,--flat utterances with no overtones to give +them vitality. He had heard voices in plenty that were merely the +mechanical result of the vibration of vocal cords. But these words--not +for their meaning but because of the quality of the voice that had +spoken them--really lived. They told first of a boundless relief and joy +at his coming. But more than that, in these deep vibrant tones was the +expression of an unquenchable life and spirit. Every fiber of her body +lived in the fullest sense; he knew this fact the instant that she +spoke. + +She smiled at him, ever so quietly. "Bwovaboo," she said, recalling the +name by which she called him in her babyhood, "you've come to Linda." + + + + +IX + + +As the fire burned down to coals and the stars wheeled through the sky, +Linda told her story. The two of them were seated in the soft grass in +front of the cabin, and the moonlight was on Linda's face as she talked. +She talked very low at first. Indeed there was no need for loud tones. +The whole wilderness world was heavy with silence, and a whisper carried +far. Besides, Bruce was just beside her, watching her with narrowed +eyes, forgetful of everything except her story. + +It was a perfect background for the savage tale that she had to tell. +The long shadow of the giant pine tree fell over them. The fire made a +little circle of red light, but the darkness ever encroached upon it. +Just beyond the moonlight showed them silver-white patches between the +trees, across which shadows sometimes wavered from the passing of the +wild creatures. + +"I've waited a long time to tell you this," she told him. "Of course, +when we were babies together in the orphanage, I didn't even know it. It +has taken me a long time since to learn all the details; most of them I +got from my aunt, old Elmira, whom you talked to on the way out. Part of +it I knew by intuition, and a little of it is still doubtful. + +"You ought to know first how hard I have tried to reach you. Of course, +I didn't try openly except at first--the first years after I came here, +and before I was old enough to understand." She spoke the last word with +a curious depth of feeling and a perceptible hardness about her lips and +eyes. "I remembered just two things. That the man who had adopted you +was Newton Duncan; one of the nurses at the asylum told me that. And I +remembered the name of the city where he had taken you. + +"You must understand the difficulties I worked under. There is no rural +free delivery up here, you know, Bruce. Our mail is sent from and +delivered to the little post-office at Martin's store--over fifteen +miles from here. And some one member of a certain family that lives near +here goes down every week to get the mail for the entire district. + +"At first--and that was before I really understood--I wrote you many +letters and gave them to one of this family to mail for me. I was just a +child then, you must know, and I lived in the same house with these +people. And queer letters they must have been." + +For an instant a smile lingered at her lips, but it seemed to come hard. +It was all too plain that she hadn't smiled many times in the past days. +But for some unaccountable reason Bruce's heart leaped when he saw it. +It had potentialities, that smile. It seemed to light her whole face. He +was suddenly exultant at the thought that once he understood everything, +he might bring about such changes that he could see it often. + +"They were just baby letters from--from Linda-Tinda to Bwovaboo--letters +about the deer and the berries and the squirrels--and all the wild +things that lived up here." + +"Berries!" Bruce cried. "I had some on the way up." His tone wavered, +and he seemed to be speaking far away. "I had some once--long ago." + +"Yes. You will understand, soon. I didn't understand why you didn't +answer my letters. I understand now, though. You never got them." + +"No. I never got them. But there are several Duncans in my city. They +might have gone astray." + +"They went astray--but it was before they ever reached the post-office. +They were never mailed, Bruce. I was to know why, later. Even then it +was part of the plan that I should never get in communication with you +again--that you would be lost to me forever. + +"When I got older, I tried other tacks. I wrote to the asylum, enclosing +a letter to you. But those letters were not mailed, either. + +"Now we can skip a long time. I grew up. I knew everything at last and +no longer lived with the family I mentioned before. I came here, to this +old house--and made it decent to live in. I cut my own wood for my fuel +except when one of the men tried to please me by cutting it for me. I +wouldn't use it at first. Oh, Bruce--I wouldn't touch it!" + +Her face was no longer lovely. It was drawn with terrible passions. But +she quieted at once. + +"At last I saw plainly that I was a little fool--that all they would do +for me, the better off I was. At first, I almost starved to death +because I wouldn't use the food that they sent me. I tried to grub it +out of the hills. But I came to it at last. But, Bruce, there were many +things I didn't come to. Since I learned the truth, I have never given +one of them a smile except in scorn, not a word that wasn't a word of +hate. + +"You are a city man, Bruce. You are what I read about as a gentleman. +You don't know what hate means. It doesn't live in the cities. But it +lives up here. Believe me if you ever believed anything--that it lives +up here. The most bitter and the blackest hate--from birth until death! +It burns out the heart, Bruce. But I don't know that I can make you +understand." + +She paused, and Bruce looked away into the pine forest. He believed the +girl. He knew that this grim land was the home of direct and primitive +emotions. Such things as mercy and remorse were out of place in the game +trails where the wolf pack hunted the deer. + +"When they knew how I hated them," she went on, "they began to watch me. +And once they knew that I fully understood the situation, I was no +longer allowed to leave this little valley. There are only two trails, +Bruce. One goes to Elmira's cabin on the way to the store. The other +encircles the mountain. With all their numbers, it was easy to keep +watch of those trails. And they told me what they would do if they found +me trying to go past." + +"You don't mean--they threatened you?" + +She threw back her head and laughed, but the sound had no joy in it. +"Threatened! If you think threats are common up here, you are a greener +tenderfoot than I ever took you for. Bruce, the law up here is the law +of force. The strongest wins. The weakest dies. Wait till you see Simon. +You'll understand then--and you'll shake in your shoes." + +The words grated upon him, yet he didn't resent them. "I've seen Simon," +he told her. + +She glanced toward him quickly, and it was entirely plain that the quiet +tone in his voice had surprised her. Perhaps the faintest flicker of +admiration came into her eyes. + +"He tried to stop you, did he? Of course he would. And you came anyway. +May Heaven bless you for it, Bruce!" She leaned toward him, appealing. +"And forgive me what I said." + +Bruce stared at her in amazement. He could hardly realize that this was +the same voice that had been so torn with passion a moment before. In an +instant all her hardness was gone, and the tenderness of a sweet and +wholesome nature had taken its place. He felt a curious warmth stealing +over him. + +"They meant what they said, Bruce. Believe me, if those men can do no +other thing, they can keep their word. They didn't just threaten death +to me. I could have run the risk of that. Badly as I wanted to make them +pay before I died, I would have gladly run that risk. + +"You are amazed at the free way I speak of death. The girls you know, in +the city, don't even know the word. They don't know what it means. They +don't understand the sudden end of the light--the darkness--the +cold--the awful fear that it is! It is no companion of theirs, down in +the city. Perhaps they see it once in a while--but it isn't in their +homes and in the air and on the trails, like it is here. It's a reality +here, something to fight against every hour of every day. There are just +three things to do in the mountains--to live and love and hate. There's +no softness. There's no middle ground." She smiled grimly. "Let them +live up here with me--those girls you know--and they'd understand what a +reality Death is. They'd know it was something to think about and fight +against. Self-preservation is an instinct that can be forgotten when you +have a policeman at every corner. But it is ever present here. + +"I've lived with death, and I've heard of it, and I've seen it all my +life. If there hadn't been any other way, I would have seen it in the +dramas of the wild creatures that go on around me all the time. You'll +get down to cases here, Bruce--or else you'll run away. These men said +they'd do worse things to me than kill me--and I didn't dare take the +risk. + +"But once or twice I was able to get word to old Elmira--the only ally I +had left. She was of the true breed, Bruce. You'll call her a hag, but +she's a woman to be reckoned with. She could hate too--worse than a +she-rattlesnake hates the man that killed her mate--and hating is all +that's kept her alive. You shrink when I say the word. Maybe you won't +shrink when I'm done. Hating is a thing that gentlefolk don't do--but +gentlefolk don't live up here. It isn't a land of gentleness. Up here +there are just men and women, just male and female. + +"This old woman tried to get in communication with every stranger that +visited the hills. You see, Bruce, she couldn't write herself. And the +one time I managed to get a written message down to her, telling her to +give it to the first stranger to mail--one of my enemies got it away +from her. I expected to die that night. I wasn't going to be alive when +the clan came. The only reason I didn't was because Simon--the greatest +of them all and the one I hate the most--kept his clan from coming. He +had his own reasons. + +"From then on she had to depend on word of mouth. Some of the men +promised to send letters to Newton Duncan--but there was more than one +Newton Duncan--as you say--and possibly if the letters were sent they +went astray. But at last--just a few weeks ago--she found a man that +knew you. And it is your story from now on." + +They were still a little while. Bruce arose and threw more wood on the +fire. + +"It's only the beginning," he said. + +"And you want me to tell you all?" she asked hesitantly. + +"Of course. Why did I come here?" + +"You won't believe me when I say that I'm almost sorry I sent for you." +She spoke almost breathlessly. "I didn't know that it would be like +this. That you would come with a smile on your face and a light in your +eyes, looking for happiness. And instead of happiness--to find _all +this_!" + +She stretched her arms to the forests. Bruce understood her perfectly. +She did not mean the woods in the literal sense. She meant the primal +emotions that were their spirit. + +She went on with lowered tones. "May Heaven forgive me if I have done +wrong to bring you here," she told him. "To show you--all that I have to +show--you who are a city man and a gentleman. But, Bruce, I couldn't +fight alone any more. I had to have help. + +"To know the rest, you've got to go back a whole generation. Bruce, have +you heard of the terrible blood-feuds that the mountain families +sometimes have?" + +"Of course. Many times." + +"These mountains of Trail's End have been the scene of as deadly a +blood-feud as was ever known in the West. And for once, the wrong was +all on one side. + +"A few miles from here there is a wonderful valley, where a stream +flows. There is not much tillable land in these mountains, Bruce, but +there, along that little stream, there are almost five sections--three +thousand acres--of as rich land as was ever plowed. And Bruce--the home +means something in the mountains. It isn't just a place to live in, a +place to leave with relief. I've tried to tell you that emotions are +simple and direct up here, and love of home is one of them. That tract +of land was acquired long ago by a family named Ross, and they got it +through some kind of grant. I can't be definite as to the legal aspects +of all this story. They don't matter anyway--only the results remain. + +"These Ross men were frontiersmen of the first order. They were virtuous +men too--trusting every one, and oh! what strength they had! With their +own hands they cleared away the forest and put the land into rich +pasture and hay and grain. They built a great house for the owner of the +land, and lesser houses for his kinsfolk that helped him work it on +shares. Then they raised cattle, letting them range on the hills and +feeding them in winter. You see, the snow is heavy in winter, and unless +the stock are fed many of them die. The Rosses raised great herds of +cattle and had flocks of sheep too. + +"It was then that dark days began to come. Another family--headed by the +father of the man I call Simon--migrated here from the mountain +districts of Oklahoma. But they were not so ignorant as many mountain +people, and they were _killers_. Perhaps that's a word you don't know. +Perhaps you didn't know it existed. A killer is a man that has killed +other men. It isn't a hard thing to do at all, Bruce, after you are used +to it. These people were used to it. And because they wanted these great +lands--my own father's home--they began to kill the Rosses. + +"At first they made no war on the Folgers. The Folgers, you must know, +were good people too, honest to the last penny. They were connected, by +marriage only, to the Ross family. They were on our side clear through. +At the beginning of the feud the head of the Folger family was just a +young man, newly married. And he had a son after a while. + +"The newcomers called it a feud. But it wasn't a feud--it was simply +murder. Oh, yes, we killed some of them. Folger and my father and all +his kin united against them, making a great clan--but they were nothing +in strength compared to the usurpers. Simon himself was just a boy when +it began. But he grew to be the greatest power, the leader of the enemy +clan before he was twenty-one. + +"You must know, Bruce, that my own father held the land. But he was so +generous that his brothers who helped him farm it hardly realized that +possession was in his name. And father was a dead shot. It took a long +time before they could kill him." + +The coldness that had come over her words did not in the least hide her +depth of feeling. She gazed moodily into the darkness and spoke almost +in a monotone. + +"But Simon--just a boy then--and Dave, his brother, and the others of +them kept after us like so many wolves. There was no escape. The only +thing we could do was to fight back--and that was the way we learned to +hate. A man can hate, Bruce, when he is fighting for his home. He can +learn it very well when he sees his brother fall dead, or his father--or +a stray bullet hit his wife. A woman can learn it too, as old Elmira +did, when she finds her son's body in the dead leaves. There was no law +here to stop it. The little semblance of law that was in the valleys +below regarded it as a blood-feud, and didn't bother itself about it. +Besides--at first we were too proud to call for help. And after our +numbers were few, the trails were watched--and those who tried to go +down into the valleys--never got there. + +"One after another the Rosses were killed, and I needn't make it any +worse for you than I can help--by telling of each killing. Enough to say +that at last no one was left except a few old men whose eyes were too +dim to shoot straight, and my own father. And I was a baby then--just +born. + +"Then one night my father--seeing the fate that was coming down upon +him--took the last course to defeat them. Matthew Folger--a connection +by marriage--was still alive. Simon's clan hadn't attacked him yet. He +had no share in the land, but instead lived in this house I live in now. +He had a few cattle and some pasture land farther down the Divide. There +had been no purpose in killing him. He hadn't been worth the extra +bullet. + +"One night my father left me asleep and stole through the forests to +talk to him. They made an agreement. I have pieced it out, a little at a +time. My father deeded all his land to Folger. + +"I can understand now. The enemy clan pretended it was a blood-feud +only--and that it was fair war to kill the Rosses. Although my father +knew their real aim was to obtain the land, he didn't think they would +dare kill Matthew Folger to get it. He knew that he himself would fall, +sooner or later, but he thought that to kill Folger would show their +cards--and that would be too much, even for Simon's people. But he +didn't know. He hadn't foreseen to what lengths they would go." + +Bruce leaned forward. "So they killed--Matthew Folger?" he asked. + +He didn't know that his face had gone suddenly stark white, and that a +curious glitter had come to his eyes. He spoke breathlessly. For the +name--Matthew Folger--called up vague memories that seemed to reveal +great truths to him. The girl smiled grimly. + +"Let me go on. My father deeded Folger the land. The deed was to go on +record so that all the world would know that Folger owned it, and if the +clan killed him it was plainly for the purposes of greed alone. But +there was also a secret agreement--drawn up in black and white and to be +kept hidden for twenty-one years. In this agreement, Folger promised to +return to me--the only living heir of the Rosses--the lands acquired by +the deed. In reality, he was only holding them in trust for me, and was +to return them when I was twenty-one. In case of my father's death, +Folger was to be my guardian until that time. + +"Folger knew the risk he ran, but he was a brave man and he did not +care. Besides, he was my father's friend--and friendship goes far in the +mountains. And my father was shot down before a week was past. + +"The clan had acted quick, you see. When Folger heard of it, before the +dawn, he came to my father's house and carried me away. Before another +night was done he was killed too." + +The perspiration leaped out on Bruce's forehead. The red glow of the +fire was in his eyes. + +"He fell almost where this fire is built, with a thirty-thirty bullet in +his brain. Which one of the clan killed him I do not know--but in all +probability it was Simon himself--at that time only eighteen years of +age. And Folger's little boy--something past four years old--wandered +out in the moonlight to find his father's body." + +The girl was speaking slowly now, evidently watching the effect of her +words on her listener. He was bent forward, and his breath came in +queer, whispering gusts. "Go on!" he ordered savagely. "Tell me the +rest. Why do you keep me waiting?" + +The girl smiled again,--like a sorceress. "Folger's wife was from the +plains' country," she told him slowly. "If she had been of the mountains +she might have remained to do some killing on her own account. Like old +Elmira herself remained to do--killing on her own account! But she was +from cities, just as you are, but she--unlike you--had no mountain blood +in her. She wasn't used to death, and perhaps she didn't know how to +hate. She only knew how to be afraid. + +"They say that she went almost insane at the sight of that strong, brave +man of hers lying still in the pine needles. She hadn't even known he +was out of the house. He had gone out on some secret business--late at +night. She had only one thing left--her baby boy and her little +foster-daughter--little Linda Ross who is before you now. Her only +thought was to get those children out of that dreadful land of bloodshed +and to hide them so that they could never come back. And she didn't even +want them to know their true parentage. She seemed to realize that if +they had known, both of them would return some time--to collect their +debts. Sooner or later, that boy with the Folger blood in him and that +girl with the Ross blood would return, to attempt to regain their +ancient holdings, and to make the clan pay! + +"All that was left were a few old women with hate in their hearts and a +strange tradition to take the place of hope. They said that sometime, if +death spared them, they would see Folger's son come back again, and +assert his rights. They said that a new champion would arise and right +their wrongs. But mostly death didn't spare them. Only old Elmira is +left. + +"What became of the secret agreement I do not know. I haven't any hope +that you do, either. The deed was carried down to the courts by Sharp, +one of the witnesses who managed to get past the guard, and put on file +soon after it was written. The rest is short. Simon and his clan took up +the land, swearing that Matthew Folger had deeded it to them the day he +had procured it. They had a deed to show for it--a forgery. And the one +thing that they feared, the one weak chain, was that this secret +agreement between Folger and my father would be found. + +"You see what that would mean. It would show that he had no right to +deed away the land, as he was simply holding it in trust for me. Old +Elmira explained the matter to me--if I get mixed up on the legal end +of it, excuse it. If that document could be found, their forged deed +would be obviously invalid. And it angered them that they could not find +it. + +"Of course they never filed their forged deed--afraid that the forgery +would be discovered--but they kept it to show to any one that was +interested. But they wanted to make themselves still safer. + +"There had been two witnesses to the agreement. One of them, a man named +Sharp, died--or was killed--shortly after. The other, an old trapper +named Hudson, was indifferent to the whole matter--he was just passing +through and was at Folger's house for dinner the night Ross came. He is +still living in these mountains, and he might be of value to us yet. + +"Of course the clan did not feel at all secure. They suspected the +secret agreement had been mailed to some one to take care of, and they +were afraid that it would be brought to light when the time was ripe. +They knew perfectly that their forged deed would never stand the test, +so one of the things to do was to prevent their claim ever being +contested. That meant to keep Folger's son in ignorance of the whole +matter. + +"I hope I can make that clear. The deed from my father to Folger was on +record, Folger was dead, and Folger's son would have every right and +opportunity to contest the clan's claim to the land. If he could get the +matter into court, he would surely win. + +"The second thing to do was to win me over. I was just a child, and it +looked the easiest course of all. That's why I was stolen from the +orphanage by one of Simon's brothers. The idea was simply that when the +time came I would marry one of the clan and establish their claim to the +land forever. + +"Up to a few weeks ago it seemed to me that sooner or later I would win +out. Bruce, you can't dream what it meant! I thought that some time I +could drive them out and make them pay, a little, for all they have +done. But they've tricked me, after all. I thought that I would get word +to Folger's son, who by inheritance would have a clear title to the +land, and he, with the aid of the courts, could drive these usurpers +out. But just recently I've found out that even this chance is all but +gone. + +"Within a few more weeks, they will have been in possession of the land +for a full twenty years. Through some legal twist I don't understand, if +a man pays taxes and has undisputed possession of land for that length +of time, his title is secure. They failed to win me over, but it looks +as if they had won, anyway. The only way that they can be defeated now +is for that secret agreement--between my father and Folger--to reappear. +And I've long ago given up all hope of that. + +"There is no court session between now and October thirtieth--when their +twenty years of undisputed possession is culminated. There seems to be +no chance to contest them--to make them bring that forged deed into the +light before that time. We've lost, after all. And only one thing +remains." + +He looked up to find her eyes full upon him. He had never seen such +eyes. They seemed to have sunk so deep into the flesh about them that +only lurid slits remained. It was not that her lids were partly down. +Rather it was because the flesh-sacks beneath them had become charged +with her pounding blood. The fire's glow was in them and cast a strange +glamour upon her face. It only added to the strangeness of the picture +that she sat almost limp, rather than leaning forward in appeal. Bruce +looked at her in growing awe. + +But as the second passed he seemed no longer able to see her plainly. +His eyes were misted and blurred, but they were empty of tears as +Linda's own. Rather the focal points of his brain had become seared by a +mounting flame within himself. The glow of the fire had seemingly spread +until it encompassed the whole wilderness world. + +"What is the one thing that remains?" he asked her, whispering. + +She answered with a strange, terrible coldness of tone. "The blood +atonement," she said between back-drawn lips. + + + + +X + +When the minute hand of the watch in his pocket had made one more +circuit, both Bruce and Linda found themselves upon their feet. The +tension had broken at last. Her emotion had been curbed too long. It +broke from her in a flood. + +She seized his hands, and he started at their touch. "Don't you +understand?" she cried. "You--you--you are Folger's son. You are the boy +that crept out--under this very tree--to find him dead. All my life +Elmira and I have prayed for you to come. And what are you going to do?" + +Her face was drawn in the white light of the moon. For an instant he +seemed dazed. + +"Do?" he repeated. "I don't know what I'm going to do." + +"You don't!" she cried, in infinite scorn. "Are you just clay? Aren't +you a man? Haven't you got arms to strike with and eyes to see along a +rifle barrel? Are you a coward--and a weakling; one of your mother's +blood to run away? Haven't you anything to avenge? I thought you were a +mountain man--that all your years in cities couldn't take that quality +away from you! Haven't you any answer?" + +He looked up, a strange light growing on his face. "You mean--killing?" + +"What else? To kill--never to stop killing--one after another until they +are gone! Till Simon Turner and the whole Turner clan have paid the +debts they owe." + +Bruce recoiled as if from a blow. "Turner? Did you say Turner?" he asked +hoarsely. + +"Yes. That's the clan's name. I thought you knew." + +There was an instant of strange truce. Both stood motionless. The scene +no longer seemed part of the world that men have come to know in these +latter years,--a land of cities and homes and peaceful twilights over +quiet countrysides. The moon was still strange and white in the sky; the +pines stood tall and dark and sad,--eternal emblems of the wilderness. +The fire had burned down to a few lurid coals glowing in the gray ashes. +No longer were these two children of civilization. Their passion had +swept them back into the immeasurable past; they were simply human +beings deep in the simplest of human passions. They trembled all over +with it. + +Bruce understood now his unprovoked attack on the little boy when he had +been taken from the orphanage on trial. The boy had been named Turner, +and the name had been enough to recall a great and terrible hatred that +he had learned in earliest babyhood. The name now recalled it again; the +truth stood clear at last. It was the key to all the mystery of his +life; it stirred him more than all of Linda's words. In an instant all +the tragedy of his babyhood was recalled,--the hushed talk between his +parents, the oaths, the flames in their eyes, and finally the body he +had found lying so still beneath the pines. It was always the Turners, +the dread name that had filled his baby days with horror. He hadn't +understood then. It had been blind hatred,--hatred without understanding +or self-analysis. + +As she watched, his mountain blood mounted to the ascendancy. A strange +transformation came over him. The gentleness that he had acquired in his +years of city life began to fall away from him. The mountains were +claiming him again. + +It was not a mental change alone. It was a thing to be seen with the +unaided eyes. His hand had swept through his hair, disturbing the part, +and now the black locks dropped down on his forehead, almost to his +eyes. The whole expression of his face seemed to change. His look of +culture dropped from him; his eyes narrowed; he looked grotesquely out +of place in his soft, well-tailored clothes. + +But he was quite cold now. His passion was submerged under a steel +exterior. His voice was cold and hard when he spoke. + +"Then you and I are no relation whatever?" + +"None." + +"But we fight the same fight now." + +"Yes. Until we both win--or both die." + +Before he could speak again, a strange answer came out of the darkness. +"Not two of you," a croaking old voice told them. It rose, shrill and +cracked, from the shadows beyond the fire. They turned, and the +moonlight showed a bent old figure hobbling toward them. + +It was old Elmira, her cane tapping along in front of her; and something +that caught the moonlight lay in the hollow of her left arm. Her eyes +still glowed under the grizzled brows. + +"Not two, but three," she corrected, in the hollow voice of uncounted +years. In the magic of the moonlight it seemed quite fitting to both of +them that she should have come. She was one of the triumvirate; they +wondered why they had not missed her before. It was farther than she had +walked in years, but her spirit had kept her up. + +She put the glittering object that she carried into Bruce's hands. It +was a rifle--a repeating breechloader of a famous make and a model of +thirty years before. It was such a rifle as lives in legend, with sights +as fine as a razor edge and an accuracy as great as light itself. Loving +hands had polished it and kept it in perfect condition. + +"Matthew Folger's rifle," the old woman explained, "for Matthew Folger's +son." + +And that is how Bruce Folger returned to the land of his birth--as most +men do, unless death cheats them first--and how he made a pact to pay +old debts of death. + + + + +BOOK TWO + +THE BLOOD ATONEMENT + + + + +XI + + +"Men own the day, but the night is ours," is an old saying among the +wild folk that inhabit the forests of Trail's End. And the saying has +really deep significances that can't be discerned at one hearing. +Perhaps human beings--their thoughts busy with other things--can never +really get them at all. But the mountain lion--purring a sort of queer, +singsong lullaby to her wicked-eyed little cubs in the lair--and the +gray wolf, running along the ridges in the mystery of the moon--and +those lesser hunters, starting with Tuft-ear the lynx and going all the +way down to that terrible, white-toothed cutthroat, Little Death the +mink--_they_ know exactly what the saying means, and they know that it +is true. The only one of the larger forest creatures that doesn't know +is old Ashur, the black bear (_Ashur_ means black in an ancient tongue, +just as _Brunn_ means brown, and the common Oregon bear is usually +decidedly black) and the fact that he doesn't is curious in itself. In +most ways Ashur has more intelligence than all the others put together; +but he is also the most indifferent. He is not a hunter; and he doesn't +care who owns anything as long as there are plenty of bee trees to mop +out with his clumsy paw, and plenty of grubs under the rotten logs. + +The saying originated long and long ago when the world was quite young. +Before that time, likely enough, the beasts owned both the day and the +night, and you can imagine them denying man's superiority just as long +as possible. But they came to it in the end, and perhaps now they are +beginning to be doubtful whether they still hold dominion over the night +hours. You can fancy the forest people whispering the saying back and +forth, using it as a password when they meet on the trails, and trying +their best to believe it. "Man owns the day but the night is ours," the +coyotes whisper between sobs. In a world where men have slowly, steadily +conquered all the wild creatures, killed them and driven them away, +their one consolation lies in the fact that when the dark comes down +their old preëminence returns to them. + +Of course the saying is ridiculous if applied to cities or perhaps even +to the level, cleared lands of the Middle West. The reason is simply +that the wild life is practically gone from these places. Perhaps a +lowly skunk steals along a hedge on the way to a chicken pen, but he +quivers and skulks with fear, and all the arrogance of hunting is as +dead in him as his last year's perfume. And perhaps even the little +bobwhites, nestling tail to tail, know that it is wholly possible that +the farmer's son has marked their roost and will come and pot them while +they sleep. But a few places remain in America where the reign of the +wild creatures, during the night hours at least, is still supreme. And +Trail's End is one of them. + +It doesn't lie in the Middle West. It is just about as far west as one +can conveniently go, unless he cares to trace the rivers down to their +mouths. Neither was it cleared land, nor had its soil ever been turned +by a plow. The few clearings that there were--such as the great five +sections of the Rosses--were so far apart that a wolf could run all +night (and the night-running of a wolf is something not to speak of +lightly) without passing one. There is nothing but forest,--forest that +stretches without boundaries, forest to which a great mountain is but a +single flower in a meadow, forest to make the brain of a timber cruiser +reel and stagger from sheer higher mathematics. Perhaps man owns these +timber stretches in the daytime. He can go out and cut down the trees, +and when they don't choose to fall over on top of him, return safely to +his cabin at night. He can venture forth with his rifle and kill Ashur +the black bear and Blacktail the deer, and even old Brother Bill, the +grand and exalted ruler of the elk lodge. The sound of his feet disturbs +the cathedral silence of the tree aisles, and his oaths--when the +treacherous trail gives way beneath his feet--carry far through the +coverts. But he behaves somewhat differently at night. He doesn't feel +nearly so sure of himself. The sound of a puma screaming a few dozen +feet away in the shadows is likely enough to cause an unpleasant +twitching of the skin of his back. And he feels considerably better if +there are four stout walls about him. At nighttime, the wild creatures +come into their own. + +Bruce sensed these things as he waited for the day to break. For all the +hard exertion of the previous day, he wakened early on the first morning +of his return to his father's home. Through the open window he watched +the dawn come out. And he fancied how a puma, still hungry, turned to +snarl at the spreading light as he crept to his lair. + +All over the forest the hunting creatures left their trails and crept +into the coverts. Their reign was done until darkness fell again. The +night life of the forest was slowly stilled. The daylight +creatures--such as the birds--began to waken. Probably they welcomed the +sight of day as much as Bruce himself. The man dressed slowly. He +wouldn't waken the two women that slept in the next room, he thought. He +crept slowly out into the gray dawn. + +He made straight for the great pine that stood a short distance from the +house. For reasons unknown to him, the pine had come often into his +dreams. He had thought that its limbs rubbed together and made +words,--but of the words themselves he had hardly caught the meaning. +There was some high message in them, however; and the dream had left him +with a vague curiosity, an unexplainable desire to see the forest +monarch in the daylight. + +As he waited, the mist blew off of the land; the gray of twilight was +whisked away to a twilightland that is hidden in the heart of the +forest. He found to his delight that the tree was even more impressive +in the vivid morning light than it had been at night. It was not that +the light actually got into it. Its branches were too thick and heavy +for that. It still retained its air of eternal secrecy, an impression +that it knew great mysteries that a thousand philosophers would give +their lives to learn. He was constantly awed by the size of it. He +guessed its circumference as about twenty-five feet. The great lower +limbs were themselves like massive tree trunks. Its top surpassed by +fifty feet any pine in the vicinity. + +As he watched, the sun came up, gleaming first on its tall spire. It +slowly overtook it. The dusk of its green lightened. Bruce was not a +particularly imaginative man; but the impression grew that this towering +tree had an answer for some great question in his own heart,--a question +that he had never been able to shape into words. He felt that it knew +the wholly profound secret of life. + +After all, it could not but have such knowledge. It was so incredibly +old; it had seen so much. His mind flew back to some of the dramas of +human life that had been enacted in its shade, and his imagination could +picture many more. His own father had lain here dead, shot down by a +murderer concealed in the distant thicket. It had beheld his own wonder +when he had found the still form lying in the moonlight; it had seen his +mother's grief and terror. Wilderness dramas uncounted had been enacted +beneath it. Many times the mountain lion had crept into its dark +branches. Many times the bear had grunted beneath it and reached up to +write a challenge with his claws in its bark. The eyes of Tuft-ear the +lynx had gleamed from its very top, and the old bull-elk had filed off +his velvet on the sharp edges of the bark. It had seen savage battles +between the denizens of the wood; the deer racing by with the wolf pack +in pursuit. For uncounted years it had stood aloft, above all the +madness and bloodshed and passion that are the eternal qualities of the +wilderness, somber, stately, unutterably aloof. + +It had known the snows. When the leaves fell and the wind came out of +the north, it would know them again. For the snow falls for a depth of +ten feet or more over most of Trail's End. For innumerable winters its +limbs had been heaped with the white load, the great branches bending +beneath it. The wind made faint sounds through its branches now, but +would be wholly silent when the winter snows weighted the limbs. He +could picture the great, white giant, silent as death, still keeping its +vigil over the snow-swept wilderness. + +Bruce felt a growing awe. The great tree seemed so wise, it gave him +such a sense of power. The winds had buffeted it in vain. It had endured +the terrible cold of winter. Generation after generation of the +creatures who moved on the face of the earth had lived their lives +beneath it; they had struggled and mated and fought their battles and +felt their passions, and finally they had died; and still it +endured,--silent, passionless, full of thoughts. Here was real +greatness. Not stirring, not struggling, not striving; only standing +firm and straight and impassive; not taking part, but only watching, +knowing no passion but only strength,--ineffably patient and calm. + +But it was sad too. Such knowledge always brings sadness. It had seen +too much to be otherwise. The pines are never cheerful trees, like the +apple that blossoms in spring, or the elm whose leaves shimmer in the +sunlight; and this great monarch of all the pines was sad as great +music. In this quality, as well as in its strength, it was the symbol of +the wilderness itself. But it was more than that. It was the Great +Sentinel, and in its unutterable impassiveness it was the emblem and +symbol of even mightier powers. Bruce's full wisdom had not yet come to +him, so he couldn't name these powers. He only knew that they lived far +and far above the world and, like the tree itself, held aloof from all +the passion of Eve and the blood-lust of Cain. Like the pine itself, +they were patient, impassive, and infinitely wise. + +He felt stilled and calmed himself. Such was its influence. And he +turned with a start when he saw Linda in the doorway. + +Her face was calm too in the morning light. Her dark eyes were lighted. +He felt a curious little glow of delight at the sight of her. + +"I've been talking to the pine--all the morning," he told her. + +"But it won't talk to you," she answered. "It talks only to the stars." + + + + +XII + + +Bruce and Linda had a long talk while the sun climbed up over the great +ridges to the east and old Elmira cooked their breakfast. There was no +passion in their words this morning. They had got down to a basis of +cold planning. + +"Let me refresh my memory about a few of those little things you told +me," Bruce requested. "First--on what date does the twenty-year +period--of Turners' possession of the land--expire?" + +"On the thirtieth of October, of this year." + +"Not very long, is it? Now you understand that on that date they will +have had twenty years of undisputed possession of the land; they will +have paid taxes on it that long; and unless their title is proven false +between now and that date, we can't ever drive them out." + +"That's just right." + +"And the fall term of court doesn't begin until the fifth of the +following month." + +"Yes, we're beaten. That's all there is to it. Simon told me so the last +time he talked to me." + +"It would be to his interest to have you think so. But Linda--we mustn't +give up yet. We must try as long as one day remains. The law is full of +twists; we might find a way to checkmate them, especially if that secret +agreement should show up. It isn't just enough--to have vengeance. That +wouldn't put the estate back in your hands; they would have won, after +all. It seems to me that the first thing to do is to find the trapper, +Hudson--the one witness that is still alive. You say he witnessed that +secret agreement between your father and mine." + +"Yes." + +"His testimony would be invaluable to us. He might be able to prove to +the court that as my father never owned the land in reality, he couldn't +possibly have deeded it to the Turners. Do you know where this Hudson +is?" + +"I asked old Elmira last night. She thinks she knows. A man told her he +had his trap line on the upper Umpqua, and his main headquarters--you +know that trappers have a string of camps--was at the mouth of Little +River, that flows into the Umpqua. But it is a long way from here." + +Bruce was still a moment. "How far?" he asked. + +"Two full days' tramp at the least--barring out accidents. But if you +think it is best--you can start out to-day." + +Bruce was a man who made decisions quickly. He had learned the wisdom of +it,--that after all the evidence is gathered on each side, a single +second is all the time that is needed for any kind of decision. Beyond +that point there is only vacillation. "Then I'll start--right away. Can +you tell me how to find the trail?" + +"I can only tell you to go straight north. Use your watch as a compass +in the daytime and the North Star at night." + +"I didn't suppose that it was wisdom to travel at night." + +She looked at him in sudden astonishment. "And where did you learn that +fact, Bruce?" + +The man tried hard to remember. "I don't know. I suppose it was +something I heard when I was a baby--in these mountains." + +"It is one of the first things a mountaineer has to know--to make camp +at nightfall. You would want to, anyway, Bruce. You've got enough real +knowledge of the wilderness in you--born in you--to want a camp and a +fire at night. Besides, the trails are treacherous." + +"Then the thing to do is to get ready at once. And then try to bring +Hudson back with me--down to the valley. After we get there we can see +what can be done." + +Linda smiled rather sadly. "I'm not very hopeful. But he's our last +chance--and we might as well make a try. There is no hope that the +secret agreement will show up in these few weeks that remain. We'll get +your things together at once." + +They breakfasted, and after the simple meal was finished, Bruce began to +pack for the journey. He was very thankful for the months he had spent +in an army camp. He took a few simple supplies of food: a piece of +bacon, a little sack of dried venison--that delicious fare that has held +so many men up on long journeys--and a compact little sack of prepared +flour. There was no space for delicacies in the little pack. Besides, a +man forgets about such things on the high trails. Butter, sugar, even +that ancient friend coffee had to be left behind. He took one little +utensil for cooking--a small skillet--and Linda furnished him with a +camp ax and a long-bladed hunting knife. These things (with the +exception of the knife and ax) he tied up in one heavy, all-wool +blanket, making a compact pack for carrying on his back. + +In his pocket he carried cartridges for the rifle, pipe, tobacco, and +matches. Linda took the hob-nails out of her own shoes and pounded them +into his. For there are certain trails in Trail's End that to the +unnailed shoe are quite like the treadmills of ancient days; the foot +slips back after every step. + +One thing more was needed: tough leggings. The soft flannel trousers had +not been tailored for wear in the brush coverts. And there is still +another reason why the mountain men want their ankles covered. In +portions of Trail's End there are certain rock ledges--gray, strange +stone heaps blasted by the summer sun--and some of the paths that Bruce +would take crossed over them. These ledges are the home of a certain +breed of forest creatures that Bruce did not in the least desire to +meet. Unlike many of the wild folk, they are not at all particular about +getting out of the way, and they are more than likely to lash up at a +traveler's instep. It isn't wise to try to jump out of the way. If a man +were practiced at dodging lightning bolts he might do it, but not an +ordinary mortal. For that lunging head is one of the swiftest things in +the whole swift-moving animal world. And it isn't entirely safe to rely +on a warning rattle. Sometimes the old king-snake forgets to give it. +These are the poison people--the gray rattlesnakes that gather in +mysterious, grim companies on the rocks--and the only safety from them +is thick covering to the knees that the fangs cannot penetrate. + +But the old woman solved this problem with a deer hide that had been +curing for some seasons on the wall behind the house. Her eyes were +dimmed with age, her fingers were stiff, but in an astonishingly short +period of time she improvised a pair of leathern puttees, fastening with +a strap, that answered the purpose beautifully. The two women walked +with him, out under the pine. + +Bruce shook old Elmira's scrawny hand; then she turned back at once into +the house. The man felt singularly grateful. He began to credit the old +woman with a great deal of intuition, or else memories from her own +girlhood of long and long ago. He _did_ want a word alone with this +strange girl of the pines. But when Elmira had gone in and the coast was +clear, it wouldn't come to his lips. + +He felt curious conjecturings and wonderment arising within him. He +couldn't have shaped them into words. It was just that the girl's face +intrigued him, mystified him, and perhaps moved him a little too. It was +a frank, clear, girlish face, wonderfully tender of feature, and at +first her eyes held him most of all. They gave an impression of +astounding depth. They were quite serious now; and they had a luster +such as can be seen on cold spring water over dark moss,--and few other +places on earth. + +"It seems strange," he said, "to come here only last night--and then to +be leaving again." + +It seemed to his astonished gaze that her lips trembled ever so +slightly. "We have been waiting for each other a long time, Bwovaboo," +she replied. She spoke rather low, not looking straight at him. "And I +hate to have you go again so soon." + +"But I'll be back--in a few days." + +"You don't know. No one ever knows when they start out in these +mountains. Promise me, Bruce--to keep watch every minute. Remember +there's nothing--_nothing_--that Simon won't stoop to do. He's like a +wolf. He has no rules of fighting. He'd just as soon strike from ambush. +How do I know that you'll ever come back again?" + +"But I will." He smiled at her, and his eyes dropped from hers to her +lips. His heart seemed to miss a beat. He hadn't noticed these lips in +particular before. The mouth was tender and girlish, its sensitiveness +scarcely seeming fitting in a child of these wild places. He reached out +and took her hand. + +"Good-by, Linda," he said, smiling. + +She smiled in reply, and her old cheer seemed to return to her. +"Good-by, Bwovaboo. Be careful." + +"I'll be careful. And this reminds me of something." + +"What?" + +"That for all the time I've been away--and for all the time I'm going to +be away now--I haven't done anything more--well, more intimate--than +shake your hand." + +Her answer was to pout out her lips in the most natural way in the +world. Bruce was usually deliberate in his motions; but all at once his +deliberation fell away from him. There seemed to be no interlude of time +between one position and another. His arms went about her, and he kissed +her gently on the lips. + +But it was not at all as they expected. Both had gone into it +lightly,--a boy-and-girl caress such as is usually not worth thinking +about twice. He had supposed it would be just like the other kisses he +had known in his growing-up days: a moment's soft pressure of the lips, +a moment's delight, and nothing either to regret or rejoice in. But it +was far more than this, after all. Perhaps because they had been too +long in one another's thoughts; perhaps--living in a land of hated +foes--because Linda had not known many kisses, this little caress +beneath the pine went very straight home indeed to them both. They fell +apart, both of them suddenly sobered. The girl's eyes were tender and +lustrous, but startled too. + +"Good-by, Linda," he told her. + +"Good-by--Bwovaboo," she answered. He turned up the trail past the pine. + +He did not know that she stood watching him a long time, her hands +clasped over her breast. + + + + +XIII + + +Miles farther than Linda's cabin, clear beyond the end of the trail that +Duncan took, past even the highest ridge of Trail's End and in the +region where the little rivers that run into the Umpqua have their +starting place, is a certain land of Used to Be. Such a name as that +doesn't make very good sense to a tenderfoot on the first hearing. +Perhaps he can never see the real intelligence of it as long as he +remains a tenderfoot. Such creatures cannot exist for long in the +silences and the endless ridges and the unbeaten trails of this land; +they either become woodsmen or have communication with the buzzards. + +It isn't a land of the Present Time at all. It is a place that has never +grown old. When a man passes the last outpost of civilization, and the +shadows of the unbroken woods drop over him, he is likely to forget that +the year is nineteen hundred and twenty, and that the day before +yesterday he had seen an aeroplane passing over his house. It is true +that in this place he sees winged creatures in the air, seeming masters +of the aërial tracts, but they are not aëroplanes. Instead they are the +buzzards, and they are keeping even a closer watch on him than he is on +them. They know that many things may happen whereby they can get +acquainted before the morning breaks. The world seems to have kicked off +its thousand-thousand years as a warm man at night kicks off covers; and +all things are just as they used to be. It is the Young World,--a world +of beasts rather than men, a world where the hand of man has not yet +been felt. + +Of course it won't be that way forever. Sometime the forests will fall. +What will become of the beasts that live in them there is no telling; +there are not many places left for them to go. But at present it is just +as savage, just as primitive and untamed as those ancient forests of the +Young World that a man recalls sometimes in dreams. + +On this particular early-September day, the age-old drama of the +wilderness was in progress. It was the same play that had been enacted +day after day, year upon year, until the centuries had become too many +to count, and as usual, there were no human observers. There were no +hunters armed with rifles waiting on the deer trails to kill some of the +players. There were no naturalists taking notes that no one will believe +in the coverts. It was the usual matinée performance; the long, hot day +was almost at a close. The play would get better later in the evening, +and really would not be at its best until the moon rose; but it was not +a comedy-drama even now. Rather it was a drama of untamed passions and +bloodshed, strife and carnage and lust and rapine; and it didn't, +unfortunately, have a particularly happy ending. Mother Nature herself, +sometimes kind but usually cruel, was the producer; she furnished the +theater, even the spotted costume by which the fawn remained invisible +in the patches of light and shadow; and she had certain great purposes +of her own that no man understands. As the play was usually complicated +with many fatalities, the buzzards were about the only ones to benefit. +They were the real heroes of the play after all. Everything always +turned out all right for them. They always triumphed in the end. + +The greatest difference between this wilderness drama and the dramas +that human beings see upon a stage is that one was reality and the other +is pretense. The players were beasts, not men. The only human being +anywhere in the near vicinity was the old trapper, Hudson, following +down his trap line on the creek margin on the way to his camp. It is +true that two other men, with a rather astounding similarity of purpose, +were at present coming down two of the long trails that led to the +region; but as yet the drama was hidden from their eyes. One of these +two was Bruce, coming from Linda's cabin. One was Dave Turner, +approaching from the direction of the Ross estates. Turner was much the +nearer. Curiously, both had business with the trapper Hudson. + +The action of the play was calm at first. Mostly the forest creatures +were still in their afternoon sleep. Brother Bill, the great stag elk, +had a bed in the very center of a thick wall of buckbush, and human +observers at first could not have explained how his great body, with his +vast spread of antlers, had been able to push through. But in reality +his antlers aided rather than hindered. Streaming almost straight back +they act something like a snow-plow, parting the heavy coverts. + +The bull elk is in some ways the master of the forest, and one would +wonder why he had gone to such an out-of-the-way place to sleep. Unless +he is attacked from ambush, he has little to fear even from the Tawny +One, the great cougar, and ordinarily the cougar waits until night to do +his hunting. The lynx is just a source of scorn to the great bull, and +even the timber wolf--except when he is combined with his relatives in +winter--is scarcely to be feared. Yet he had been careful to surround +himself with burglar alarms,--in other words, to go into the deep +thicket that no beast of prey could penetrate without warning him--by +the sound of breaking brush--of its approach. It would indicate that +there was at least one living creature in this region--a place where men +ordinarily did not come--that the bull elk feared. + +The does and their little spotted fawns were sleeping too; the blacktail +deer had not yet sought the feeding grounds on the ridges. The cougar +yawned in his lair, the wolf dozed in his covert, even the poison-people +lay like long shadows on the hot rocks. But these latter couldn't be +relied upon to sleep soundly. One of the many things they can do is to +jump straight out of a dream like a flicking whiplash, coil and hit a +mark that many a good pistol shot would miss. + +Yet there was no chance of the buzzards, at present spectators in the +clouds and waiting for the final act, to become bored. Particularly the +lesser animals of the forest--the Little People--were busy at their +occupations. A little brown-coated pine marten--who is really nothing +but an overgrown weasel famous for his particularly handsome coat--went +stealing through the branches of a pine as if he had rather questionable +business. Some one had told him, and he couldn't remember who, that a +magpie had her nest in that same tree, and Red Eye was going to look and +see. Of course he merely wanted to satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps he +would try to arrange to get a little sip of the mother's blood, just as +it passed through the big vein of the throat,--but of course that was +only incidental. He felt some curiosity about the magpie's eggs too, the +last brood of the year. It might be that there were some little magpies +all coiled up inside of them, that would be worth investigation by one +of his scientific turn of mind. Perhaps even the male bird, coming +frantically to look for his wife, might fly straight into the nest +without noticing his brown body curled about the limb. It offered all +kinds of pleasing prospects, this hunt through the branches. + +Of course it is doubtful if the buzzards could detect his serpent-like +form; yet it is a brave man who will say what a buzzard can and cannot +see. Anything that can remain in the air as they do, seemingly without +the flutter of a wing, has powers not to speak of lightly. But if they +could have seen him they would have been particularly interested. A +marten isn't a glutton in his feeding, and often is content with just a +sip of blood from the throat. That leaves something warm and still for +the buzzard's beak. + +A long, spotted gopher snake slipped through the dead grass on the +ground beneath. He didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. He +was just moseying--if there is such a word--along. Not a blade of grass +rustled. Of course there was a chipmunk, sitting at the door of his +house in the uplifted roots of a tree; but the snake--although he was +approaching in his general direction--didn't seem at all interested in +him. Were it not for two things, the serpent would have seemed to be +utterly bored and indifferent to life in general. One of these things +was its cold, glittering, reptile eyes. The other was its darting, +forked tongue. + +It may be, after all, that this little tongue was of really great +importance in the serpent's hunting. Many naturalists think that quite +often the little, rattle-brained birds and rodents that it hunts are so +interested in this darting tongue that they quite fail to see the slow +approach of the mottled body of the snake behind it. At least it was +perfectly evident that the chipmunk did not see Limber-spine at present. +Otherwise he wouldn't have been enjoying the scenery with quite the same +complacency. If all went well, there might be a considerable lump in the +snake's throat yet this afternoon. But it would be a quite different +kind of lump from the one the chipmunk's little mate, waiting in vain +for her lord to come to supper, would have in _her_ throat. + +An old raccoon wakened from his place on a high limb, stretched himself, +scratched at his fur, then began to steal down the limb. He had a long +way to go before dark. Hunting was getting poor in this part of the +woods. He believed he would wander down toward Hudson's camp and look +for crayfish in the water. A coyote is usually listed among the larger +forest creatures, but early though the hour was--early, that is, for +hunters to be out--he was stalking a fawn in a covert. The coyote has +not an especially high place among the forest creatures, and he has to +do his hunting early and late and any time that offers. Most of the +larger creatures pick on him, all the time detesting him for his +cunning. The timber wolf, a rather close relation whom he cordially +hates, is apt to take bites out of him if he meets him on the trail. The +old bull elk would like nothing better than to cut his hide into rag +patches with the sharp-edged front hoofs. Even the magpies in the tree +tops made up ribald verses about him. But nevertheless the spotted fawn +had cause to fear him. The coyote is an infamous coward; but even the +little cotton tail rabbit does not have to fear a fawn. + +All these hunts were progressing famously when there came a curious +interruption. It was just a sound at first. And strangely, not one of +the forest creatures that heard it had ears sharp enough to tell exactly +from what direction it had come. And that made it all the more +unpleasant to listen to. + +It was a peculiar growl, quite low at first. It lasted a long time, then +died away. There was no opposition to it. The forest creatures had +paused in their tracks at its first note, and now they stood as if the +winter had come down upon them suddenly and frozen them solid. All the +other sounds of the forest--the little whispering noises of gliding +bodies and fluttering feet, and perhaps a bird's call in a shrub--were +suddenly stilled. There was a moment of breathless suspense. Then the +sound commenced again. + +It was louder this time. It rose and gathered volume until it was almost +a roar. It carried through the silences in great waves of sound. And in +it was a sense of resistless power; no creature in the forest but what +knew this fact. + +"The Gray King," one could imagine them saying among themselves. The +effect was instantaneous. The little raccoon halted in his descent, then +crept out to the end of a limb. Perhaps he knew that the gray monarch +could not climb trees, but nevertheless he felt that he would be more +secure clear at the swaying limb-tip. The marten forgot his curiosity in +regard to the nest of the magpie. The gopher snake coiled, then slipped +away silently through the grass. + +The coyote, an instant before crawling with body close to the earth, +whipped about as if he had some strange kind of circular spring inside +of him. His nerves were always rather ragged, and the sound had +frightened out of him the rigid control of his muscles that was so +necessary if he were to make a successful stalk upon the fawn. The +spotted creature bleated in terror, then darted away; and the coyote +snarled once in the general direction of the Gray King. Then he lowered +his head and skulked off deeper into the coverts. + +The blacktail deer, the gray wolf, even the stately Tawny One, stretched +in grace in his lair, wakened from sleep. The languor died quickly in +the latter's eyes, leaving only fear. These were braver than the Little +People. They waited until the thick brush, not far distant from where +the bull elk slept, began to break down and part before an enormous, +gray body. + +No longer would an observer think of the elk as the forest monarch. He +was but a pretender, after all. The real king had just wakened from his +afternoon nap and was starting forth to hunt. + +Even his little cousins, the black bears (who, after all is said and +done, furnish most of the comedy of the deadly forest drama) did not +wait to make conversation. They tumbled awkwardly down the hill to get +out of his way. For the massive gray form--weighing over half a ton--was +none other than that of the last of the grizzly bears, that terrible +forest hunter and monarch, the Killer himself. + + + + +XIV + + +Long ago, when Oregon was a new land to white men, in the days of the +clipper ships and the Old Oregon Trail, the breed to which the Killer +belonged were really numerous through the little corner north of the +Siskiyous and west of the Cascades. The land was far different then. The +transcontinental lines had not yet been built; the only settlements were +small trading posts and mining camps, and people did not travel over +paved highways in automobiles. If they went at all it was in a +prairie-schooner or on horseback. And the old grizzly bears must have +found the region a veritable heaven. + +They were a worthy breed! It is doubtful if any other section of the +United States offered an environment so favorable to them. Game was in +abundance, they could venture down into the valleys at the approach of +winter and thus miss the rigors of the snow, and at first there were no +human enemies. Unfortunately, stories are likely to grow and become +sadly addled after many tellings; but if the words of certain old men +could be believed, the Southern Oregon grizzly occasionally, in the +bountiful fall days, attained a weight of two thousand pounds. No doubt +whatever remains that thousand-pound bears were fairly numerous. They +trailed up and down the brown hillsides; they hunted and honey-grubbed +and mated in the fall; they had their young and fought their battles and +died, and once in a long while the skeleton of a frontiersman would be +found with his skull battered perfectly flat where one of the great +beasts had taken a short-arm pat at him. + +But unlike the little black bears, the grizzlies developed displeasing +habits. They were much more carnivorous in character than the blacks, +and their great bodily strength and power enabled them to master all of +the myriad forms of game in the Oregon woods. By the same token, they +could take a full-grown steer and carry it off as a woman carries her +baby. + +It couldn't be endured. The cattlemen had begun to settle the valleys, +and it was either a case of killing the grizzlies or yielding the +valleys to them. In the relentless war that followed, the breed had been +practically wiped out. A few of them, perhaps, fled farther and farther +up the Cascades, finding refuges in the Canadian mountains. Others +traveled east, locating at last in the Rocky Mountains, and countless +numbers of them died. At last, as far as the frontiersmen knew, only one +great specimen remained. This was a famous bear that men called +Slewfoot,--a magnificent animal that ranged far and hunted relentlessly, +and no one ever knew just when they were going to run across him. It +made traveling in the mountains a rather ticklish business. He was apt +suddenly to loom up, like a gray cliff, at any turn in the trail, and +his disposition grew querulous with age. In fact, instead of fleeing as +most wild creatures have learned to do, he was rather likely to make +sudden and unexpected charges. + +He was killed at last; and seemingly the Southern Oregon grizzlies were +wiped out. But it is rather easy to believe that in some of his +wanderings he encountered--lost and far in the deepest heart of the land +called Trail's End--a female of his own breed. There must have been cubs +who, in their turn, mated and fought and died, and perhaps two +generations after them. And out of the last brood had emerged a single +great male, a worthy descendant of his famous ancestor. This was the +Killer, who in a few months since he had left his fastnesses, was +beginning to ruin the cattle business in Trail's End. + +As he came growling from his bed this September evening he was not a +creature to speak of lightly. He was down on all fours, his vast head +was lowered, his huge fangs gleamed in the dark red mouth. The eyes were +small, and curious little red lights glowed in each of them. The Killer +was cross; and he didn't care who knew it. He was hungry too; but hunger +is an emotion for the beasts of prey to keep carefully to themselves. He +walked slowly across the little glen, carelessly at first, for he was +too cross and out of temper to have the patience to stalk. He stopped, +turning his head this way and that, marking the flight of the wild +creatures. He saw a pair of blacktail bucks spring up from a covert and +dash away; but he only made one short, angry lunge toward them. He knew +that it would only cost him his dignity to try to chase them. A grizzly +bear can move astonishingly fast considering his weight--for a short +distance he can keep pace with a running horse--but a deer is light +itself. He uttered one short, low growl, then headed over toward a great +wall of buckbush at the base of the hill. + +But now his hunting cunning had begun to return to him. The sun was +setting, the pines were growing dusky, and he began to feel the first +excitement and fever that the fall of night always brings to the beasts +of prey. It is a feeling that his insignificant cousins, the black +bears, could not possibly have,--for the sole reason that they are +berry-eaters, not hunters. But the cougar, stealing down a deer trail on +the ridge above, and a lean old male wolf--stalking a herd of deer on +the other side of the thicket--understood it very well. His blood began +to roll faster through his great veins. The sullen glare grew in his +eyes. + +It was the beginning of the hunting hour of the larger creatures. All +the forest world knew it. The air seemed to throb and tingle, the +shadowing thickets began to pulse and stir with life. The Fear--the +age-old heritage of all the hunted creatures--returned to the deer. + +The Killer moved quite softly now. One would have marveled how silently +his great feet fell upon the dry earth and with what slight sound his +heavy form moved through the thickets. Once he halted, gazing with +reddening eyes. But the coyote--the gray figure that had broken a twig +on the trail beside him--slipped quickly away. + +He skirted the thicket, knowing that no successful stalk could be made +where he had to force his way through dry brush. He moved slowly, +cautiously--all the time mounting farther up the little hill that rose +from the banks of the stream. He came to an opening in the thicket, a +little brown pathway that vanished quickly into the shadows of the +coverts. + +The Killer slipped softly into the heavy brush just at its mouth. It was +his ambush. Soon, he knew, some of the creatures that had bowers in the +heart of the thicket would be coming along that trail toward the feeding +grounds on the ridge. He only had to wait. + +As the shadows grew and the twilight deepened, the undercurrent of +savagery that is the eternal quality of the wilderness grew ever more +pronounced. A thrill and fever came in the air, mystery in the deepening +shadows, and brighter lights into the eyes of the hunting folk. The dusk +deepened between the trees; the distant trunks dimmed and faded quite +away. The stars emerged. The nightwind, rising somewhere in the region +of the snow banks on the highest mountains, blew down into the Killer's +face and brought messages that no human being may ever receive. Then his +sharp ears heard the sound of brush cracked softly as some one of the +larger forest creatures came up the trail toward him. + +The steps drew nearer and the Killer recognized them. They were plainly +the soft footfall of some member of the deer tribe, yet they were too +pronounced to be the step of any of the lesser deer. The bull elk had +left his bed. The red eyes of the grizzly seemed to glow as he waited. +Great though the stag was, only one little blow of the massive forearm +would be needed. The huge fangs would have to close down but once. The +long, many-tined antlers, the sharp front hoofs would not avail him in a +surprise attack such as this would be. Best of all, he was not +suspecting danger. He was walking down wind, so that the pungent odor of +the bear was blown away from him. + +The bear did not move a single telltale muscle. He scarcely breathed. +And the one movement that there was was such that not even the keen ears +of an elk could discern, just a curious erection of the gray hairs on +his vast neck. + +The bull was almost within striking range now. The wicked red eyes could +already discern the dimmest shadow of his outline through the thickets. +But all at once he stopped, head lifting. + +Perhaps a grizzly bear does not have mental processes as human +beings know them. Perhaps all impulse is the result of instinct +alone,--instinct tuned and trained to a degree that human beings find +hard to imagine. But if the bear couldn't understand the sudden halt +just at the eve of his triumph, at least he felt growing anger. He knew +perfectly that the elk had neither detected his odor nor heard him, and +he had made no movements that the sharp eyes could detect. Just a +glimpse of gray in the heavy brush would not have been enough in itself +to arouse the stag's suspicions. For the lower creatures are rarely able +to interpret outline alone; there must be movement too. + +Yet the bull was evidently alarmed. He stood immobile, one foot lifted, +nostrils open, head raised. Then, the wind blowing true, the grizzly +understood. + +A pungent smell reached him from below,--evidently the smell of a living +creature that followed the trail along the stream that flowed through +the glen. He recognized it in an instant. He had detected it many times, +particularly when he went into the cleared lands to kill cattle. It was +man, an odor almost unknown in this lonely glen. Dave Turner, brother of +Simon, was walking down the stream toward Hudson's camp. + +The elk was widely traveled too, and he also realized the proximity of +man. But his reaction was entirely different. To the grizzly it was an +annoying interruption to his hunt; and a great flood of rage swept over +him. It seemed to him that these tall creatures were always crossing his +path, spoiling his hunting, even questioning his rule of the forests. +They did not seem to realize that he was the wilderness king, and that +he could break their slight forms in two with one blow of his paw. It +was true that their eyes had strange powers to disquiet him; but his +isolation in the fastnesses of Trail's End had kept him from any full +recognition of their real strength, and he was unfortunately lacking in +the awe with which most of the forest creatures regard them. But to the +elk this smell was Fear itself. He knew the ways of men only too well. +Too many times he had seen members of his herd fall stricken at a word +from the glittering sticks they carried in their hands. He uttered a +far-ringing snort. + +It was a distinctive sound, beginning rather high on the scale as a loud +whistle and descending into a deep bass bawl. And the Killer knew +perfectly what that sound meant. It was a simple way of saying that the +elk would progress no further down _that_ trail. The bear leaped in wild +fury. + +A growl that was more near a puma-like snarl came from between the bared +teeth, and the great body lunged out with incredible speed. Although the +distance was far, the charge was almost a success. If one second had +intervened before the elk saw the movement, if his muscles had not been +fitted out with invisible wings, he would have fought no more battles +with his herd brethren in the fall. The bull seemed to leap straight up. +His muscles had been set at his first alarm from Turner's smell on the +wind, and they drove forth the powerful limbs as if by a powder +explosion. He was full in the air when the forepaws battered down where +he had been. Then he darted away into the coverts. + +The grizzly knew better than to try to overtake him. Almost rabid with +wrath he turned back to his ambush. + + + + +XV + + +Simon Turner had given Dave very definite instructions concerning his +embassy to Hudson. They were given in the great house that Simon +occupied, in the same room, lighted by the fire's glow, from which +instructions had gone out to the clan so many times before. "The first +thing this Bruce will do," Simon had said, "is to hunt up Hudson--the +one living man that witnessed that agreement between Ross and old +Folger. One reason is that he'll want to verify Linda's story. The next +is to persuade the old man to go down to the courts with him as his +witness. And what you have to do is line him up on our side first." + +Dave had felt Simon's eyes upon him, so he didn't look straight up. "And +that's what the hundred is for?" he asked. + +"Of course. Get the old man's word that he'll tell Bruce he never +witnessed any such agreement. Maybe fifty dollars will do it; the old +trapper is pretty hard up, I reckon. He'd make us a lot of trouble if +Bruce got him as a witness." + +"You think--" Dave's eyes wandered about the room, "you think that's the +best way?" + +"I wouldn't be tellin' you to do it if I didn't think so." Simon +laughed,--a sudden, grim syllable. "Dave, you're a blood-thirsty devil. +I see what you're thinking of--of a safer way to keep him from telling. +But you know the word I sent out. 'Go easy!' That's the wisest course to +follow at present. The valley people pay more attention to such things +than they used to; the fewer the killings, the wiser we will be. If +he'll keep quiet for the hundred let him have it in peace." + +Dave hadn't forgotten. But his features were sharper and more ratlike +than ever when he came in sight of Hudson's camp, just after the fall of +darkness of the second day out. The trapper was cooking his simple +meal,--a blue grouse frying in his skillet, coffee boiling, and flapjack +batter ready for the moment the grouse was done. He was kneeling close +to the coals; the firelight cast a red glow over him, and the picture +started a train of rather pleasing conjectures in Dave's mind. + +He halted in the shadows and stood a moment watching. After all he +wasn't greatly different from the wolf that watched by the deer trail or +the Killer in his ambush, less than a mile distant in the glen. The same +strange, dark passion that was over them both was over him also. One +could see it in the almost imperceptible drawing back of his dark lips +over his teeth. There was just a hint of it in the lurid eyes. + +Dave's thought returned to the hundred dollars in his pocket,--a good +sum in the hills. A brass rifle cartridge, such as he could fire in the +thirty-thirty that he carried in the hollow of his arm, cost only about +six cents. The net gain would be--the figures flew quickly through his +mind--ninety-nine dollars and ninety-four cents; quite a good piece of +business for Dave. But the trouble was that Simon might find out. + +It was not, he remembered, that Simon was adverse to this sort of +operation when necessary. Perhaps the straight-out sport of the thing +meant more to him than to Dave; he was a braver man and more primitive +in impulse. There were certain memory pictures in Dave's mind of this +younger, more powerful brother of his; and he smiled grimly when he +recalled them. They had been wild, strange scenes of long ago, usually +in the pale light of the moon, and he could recall Simon's face with +singular clearness. There had always been the same drawing back of the +lips, the same gusty breathing, the same strange little flakes of fire +in the savage eyes. He had always trembled all over too, but not from +fear; and Dave remembered especially well the little drama outside +Matthew Folger's cabin in the darkness. He was no stranger to the blood +madness, this brother of his, and the clan had high hopes for him even +in his growing days. And he had fulfilled those hopes. Never could the +fact be doubted! He could still make a fresh notch in his rifle stock +with the same rapture. But the word had gone out, for the present at +least, to "go easy." Such little games as occurred to Dave now--as he +watched the trapper in the firelight with one hundred dollars of the +clan's money in his own pocket--had been prohibited until further +notice. + +The thing looked so simple that Dave squirmed all over with annoyance. +It hurt him to think that the hundred dollars that he carried was to be +passed over, without a wink of an eye, to this bearded trapper; and the +only return for it was to be a promise that Hudson would not testify in +Bruce's behalf. And a hundred dollars was real money! It was to be +thought of twice. On the other hand, it would be wholly impossible for +one that lies face half-buried in the pine needles beside a dead fire to +make any kind of testimony whatsoever. It would come to the same thing, +and the hundred dollars would still be in his pocket. Just a little +matter of a single glance down his rifle barrel at the figure in the +silhouette of the fire glow--and a half-ounce of pressure on the hair +trigger. Half jesting with himself, he dropped on one knee and raised +the weapon. The trapper did not guess his presence. The blood leaped in +Dave's veins. + +It would be so easy; the drawing back of the hammer would be only the +work of a second; and an instant's peering through the sights was all +that would be needed further. His body trembled as if with passion, as +he started to draw back the hammer. + +But he caught himself with a wrench. He had a single second of vivid +introspection; and what he saw filled his cunning eyes with wonder. +There would have been no holding back, once the rifle was cocked and he +saw the man through the sights. The blood madness would have been too +strong to resist. He felt as might one who, taking a few injections of +morphine on prescription, finds himself inadvertently with a loaded +needle in his hands. He knew a moment of remorse--so overwhelming that +it was almost terror--that the shedding of blood had become so easy to +him. He hadn't known how easy it had been to learn. He didn't know that +a vice is nothing but a lust that has been given free play so many times +that the will can no longer restrain it. + +But the sight of Hudson's form, sitting down now to his meal, dispelled +his remorse quickly. After all, his own course would have been the +simplest way to handle the matter. There would be no danger that Hudson +would double-cross them then. But he realized that Simon had spoken true +when he said that the old days were gone, that the arm of the law +reached farther than formerly, and it might even stretch to this far +place. He remembered Simon's instructions. "The quieter we can do these +things, the better," the clan leader had said. "If we can get through to +October thirtieth with no killings, the safer it is for us. We don't +know how the tenderfeet in the valley are going to act--there isn't the +same feeling about blood-feuds that there used to be. Go easy, Dave. +Sound this Hudson out. If he'll keep still for a hundred, let him have +it in peace." + +Dave slipped his rifle into the hollow of his arm and continued on down +the trail. He didn't try to stalk. In a moment Hudson heard his step and +looked up. They met in a circle of firelight. + +It is not the mountain way to fraternize quickly, nor are the mountain +men quick to show astonishment. Hudson had not seen another human being +since his last visit to the settlements. Yet his voice indicated no +surprise at this visitation. + +"Howdy," he grunted. + +"Howdy," Dave replied. "How about grub?" + +"Help yourself. Supper just ready." + +Dave helped himself to the food of the man that, a moment before, he +would have slain; and in the light of the high fire that followed the +meal, he got down to the real business of the visit. + +Dave knew that a fairly straight course was best. It was general +knowledge through the hills that the Turners had gouged the Rosses of +their lands and it was absurd to think that Hudson did not realize the +true state of affairs. "I suppose you've forgotten that little deed you +witnessed between old Mat Folger and Ross--twenty years ago," Dave began +easily, his pipe between his teeth. + +Hudson turned with a cunning glitter in his eyes. Dave saw it and grew +bolder. "Who wants me to forget it?" Hudson demanded. + +"I ain't said that anybody wants you to," Dave responded. "I asked if +you had." + +Hudson was still a moment, stroking absently his beard. "If you want to +know," he said, "I ain't forgotten. But there wasn't just a deed. There +was an agreement too." + +Dave nodded. Hudson's eyes traveled to his rifle,--for the simple reason +that he wanted to know just how many jumps he would be obliged to make +to reach it in case of emergencies. Such things are good to know in +meetings like this. + +"I know all about that agreement," Dave confessed. + +"You do, eh? So do I. I ain't likely to forget." + +Dave studied him closely. "What good is it going to do you to remember?" +he demanded. + +"I ain't saying that it's going to do me any good. At present I ain't +got nothing against the Turners. They've always been all right to me. +What's between them and the Rosses is past and done--although I know +just in what way Folger held that land and no transfer from him to you +was legal. But that's all part of the past. As long as the Turners +continue to be my friends I don't see why anything should be said about +it." + +Dave did not misunderstand him. He didn't in the least assume that these +friendly words meant that he could go back to the ranches with the +hundred dollars still in his pocket. It meant merely that Hudson was +open to reason and it wouldn't have to be a shooting affair. + +Dave speculated. It was wholly plain that the old man had not yet heard +of Bruce's return. There was no need to mention him. "We're glad you are +our friend," Dave went on. "But we don't expect no one to stay friends +with us unless they benefit to some small extent by it. How many furs do +you hope to take this year?" + +"Not enough to pay to pack out. Maybe two hundred dollars in bounties +before New Year--coyotes and wolves. Maybe a little better in the three +months following in furs." + +"Then maybe fifty or seventy-five dollars, without bothering to set the +traps, wouldn't come in so bad." + +"It wouldn't come in bad, but it doesn't buy much these days. A hundred +would do better." + +"A hundred it is," Dave told him with finality. + +The eyes above the dark beard shone in the firelight. "I'd forget I had +a mother for a hundred dollars," he said. He watched, greedily, as +Dave's gaunt hand went into his pocket. "I'm gettin' old, Dave. Every +dollar is harder for me to get. The wolves are gettin' wiser, the mink +are fewer. There ain't much that I wouldn't do for a hundred dollars +now. You know how it is." + +Yes, Dave knew. The money changed hands. The fire burned down. They sat +a long time, deep in their own thoughts. + +"All we ask," Dave said, "is that you don't take sides against us." + +"I'll remember. Of course you want me, in case I'm ever subpoenaed, to +recall signing the deed itself." + +"Yes, we'd want you to testify to that." + +"Of course. If there hadn't been any kind of a deed, Folger couldn't +have deeded the property to you. But how would it be, if any one asks me +about it, to swear that there _never was_ no secret agreement, but a +clear transfer; and to make it sound reasonable for me to say--to say +that Ross was forced to deed the land to Folger because he'd had +goings-on with Folger's wife, and Folger was about to kill him?" + +The only response, at first, was the slightest, almost imperceptible +narrowing of Dave's eyes. He had considerable native cunning, but such +an idea as this had never occurred to him. But he was crafty enough to +see its tremendous possibilities at once. All that either Simon or +himself had hoped for was that the old man would not testify in Bruce's +behalf. But he saw that such a story, coming from the apparently honest +old trapper, might have a profound effect upon Bruce. Dave understood +human nature well enough to know that he would probably lose faith in +the entire enterprise. To Bruce it had been nothing but an old woman's +story, after all; it was wholly possible that he would relinquish all +effort to return the lands to Linda Ross. Men always can believe +stranger things of sex than any other thing; Bruce would in all +probability find Hudson's story much more logical than the one Linda had +told him under the pine. It was worth one hundred dollars, after all. + +"I'll bet you could make him swallow it, hook, bait, and sinker," Dave +responded at last, flattering. They chuckled together in the darkness. +Then they turned to the blankets. + +"I'll show you another trail out to-morrow," Hudson told him. "It comes +into the glen that you passed to-night--the canyon that the Killer has +been using lately for a hunting ground." + + + + +XVI + + +The Killer had had an unsuccessful night. He had waited the long hours +through at the mouth of the trail, but only the Little People--such as +the rabbits and similar folk that hardly constituted a single bite in +his great jaws--had come his way. Now it was morning and it looked as if +he would have to go hungry. + +The thought didn't improve his already doubtful mood. He wanted to +growl. The only thing that kept him from it was the realization that it +would frighten away any living creature that might be approaching toward +him up the trail. He started to stretch his great muscles, intending to +leave his ambush. But all at once he froze again into a lifeless gray +patch in the thickets. + +There were light steps on the trail. Again they were the steps of +deer,--but not of the great, wary elk this time. Instead it was just a +fawn, or a yearling doe at least, such a creature as had not yet learned +to suspect every turn in the trail. The morning light was steadily +growing, the stars were all dimmed or else entirely faded in the sky, +and it would have been highly improbable that a full-grown buck in his +wisdom would draw within leaping range without detecting him. But he +hadn't the slightest doubt about the fawn. They were innocent +people,--and their flesh was very tender. The forest gods had been good +to him, after all. + +He peered through the thickets, and in a moment more he had a glimpse of +the spotted skin. It was almost too easy. The fawn was stealing toward +him with mincing steps--as graceful a creature as dwelt in all this +wilderness world of grace--and its eyes were soft and tender as a +girl's. It was evidently giving no thought to danger, only rejoicing +that the fearful hours of night were done. The mountain lion had already +sought its lair. The fawn didn't know that a worse terror still lingered +at the mouth of the trail. + +But even as the Killer watched, the prize was simply taken out of his +mouth. A gray wolf--a savage old male that also had just finished an +unsuccessful hunt--had been stealing through the thickets in search of a +lair, and he came out on the trail not fifty feet distant, halfway +between the bear and the fawn. The one was almost as surprised as the +other. The fawn turned with a frightened bleat and darted away; the wolf +swung into pursuit. + +The bear lunged forward with a howl of rage. He leaped into the trail +mouth, then ran as fast as he could in pursuit of the running wolf. He +was too enraged to stop to think that a grizzly bear has never yet been +able to overtake a wolf, once the trim legs got well into action. At +first he couldn't think about anything; he had been cheated too many +times. His first impulse was one of tremendous and overpowering +wrath,--a fury that meant death to the first living creature that he +met. + +But in a single second he realized that this wild chase was fairly good +tactics, after all. The chances for a meal were still rather good. The +fawn and the wolf were in the open now, and it was wholly evident that +the gray hunter would overtake the quarry in another moment. It was true +that the Killer would miss the pleasure of slaying his own game,--the +ecstatic blow to the shoulder and the bite to the throat that followed +it. In this case, the wolf would do that part of the work for him. It +was just a simple matter of driving the creature away from his dead. + +The fawn reached the stream bank, then went bounding down the margin. +The distance shortened between them. It was leaping wildly, already +almost exhausted; the wolf raced easily, body close to the ground, in +long, tireless strides. The grizzly bear sped behind him. + +But at that instant fate took a hand in this merry little chase. To the +fawn, it was nothing but a sharp clang of metal behind him and an +answering shriek of pain,--sounds that in its terror it heard but dimly. +But it was an unlooked-for and tragic reality to the wolf. His leap was +suddenly arrested in mid-air, and he was hurled to the ground with +stunning force. Cruel metal teeth had seized his leg, and a strong chain +held him when he tried to escape. He fought it with desperate savagery. +The fawn leaped on to safety. + +But there was no need of the grizzly continuing its pursuit. Everything +had turned out quite well for him, after all. A wolf is ever so much +more filling than any kind of seasonal fawn; and the old gray pack +leader was imprisoned and helpless in one of Hudson's traps. + + * * * * * + +In the first gray of morning, Dave Turner started back toward his home. +"I'll go with you to the forks in the trail," Hudson told him. "I want +to take a look at some of my traps, anyhow." + +Turner had completed his business none too soon. At the same hour--as +soon as it was light enough to see--Bruce was finishing his breakfast in +preparation for the last lap of his journey. He had passed the night by +a spring on a long ridge, almost in eye range of Hudson's camp. Now he +was preparing to dip down into the Killer's glen. + +Turner and Hudson followed up the little creek, walking almost in +silence. It is a habit all mountain men fall into, sooner or later,--not +to waste words. The great silences of the wild places seem to forbid it. +Hudson walked ahead, Turner possibly a dozen feet behind him. And +because of the carpet of pine needles, the forest creatures could hardly +hear them come. + +Occasionally they caught glimpses of the wild life that teemed about +them, but they experienced none of the delight that had made the two-day +tramp such a pleasure to Bruce. Hudson thought in terms of pelts only; +no creature that did not wear a marketable hide was worth a glance. +Turner did not feel even this interest. + +The first of Hudson's sets proved empty. The second was about a turn in +the creek, and a wall of brush made it impossible for him to tell at a +distance whether or not he had made a catch. But when still a quarter of +a mile distant, Hudson heard a sound that he thought he recognized. It +was a high, sharp, agonized bark that dimmed into a low whine. "I +believe I've got a coyote or a wolf up there," he said. They hastened +their steps. + +"And you use that little pea-gun for wolves?" Dave Turner asked. He +pointed to the short-barreled, twenty-two caliber rifle that was slung +on the trapper's back. "It doesn't look like it would kill a mosquito." + +"A killer gun," Hudson explained. "For polishin' 'em off when they are +alive in the traps. Of course, it wouldn't be no good more'n ten feet +away, and then you have to aim at a vital spot. But I've heard tell of +animals I wouldn't want to meet with that thirty-thirty of yours." + +This was true enough. Dave had heard of them also. A thirty-thirty is a +powerful weapon, but it isn't an elephant gun. They hurried on, Dave +very anxious to watch the execution that would shortly ensue if whatever +animal had cried from the trap was still alive. Such things were only +the day's work to Hudson, but Dave felt a little tingle of anticipation. +And the thought damned him beyond redemption. + +But instead of the joy of killing a cowering, terror-stricken animal, +helpless in the trap, the wilderness had made other plans for Hudson and +Dave. They hastened about the impenetrable wall of brush, and in one +glance they knew that more urgent business awaited them. + +The whole picture loomed suddenly before their eyes. There was no wolf +in the trap. The steel had sprung, certainly, but only a hideous +fragment of a foot remained between the jaws. The bone had been broken +sharply off, as a man might break a match in his fingers. There was no +living wolf for Hudson to execute with his killer gun. Life had gone out +of the gray body many minutes before. The two men saw all these things +as a background only,--dim details about the central figure. But the +thing that froze them in their tracks with terror was the great, gray +form of the Killer, not twenty feet distant, beside the mangled body of +the wolf. + +The events that followed thereafter came in such quick succession as to +seem simultaneous. For one fraction of an instant all three figures +stood motionless, the two men staring, the grizzly half-leaning over his +prey, his head turned, his little red eyes full of hatred. Too many +times this night he had missed his game. It was the same intrusion that +had angered him before,--slight figures to break to pieces with one +blow. Perhaps--for no man may trace fully the mental processes of +animals--his fury fully transcended the fear that he must have +instinctively felt; at least, he did not even attempt to flee. He +uttered one hoarse, savage note, a sound in which all his hatred and his +fury and his savage power were made manifest, whirled with incredible +speed, and charged. + +The lunge seemed only a swift passing of gray light. No eye could +believe that the vast form could move with such swiftness. There was +little impression of an actual leap. Rather it was just a blow; the +great form, huddled over the dead wolf, had simply reached the full +distance to Hudson. + +The man did not even have time to turn. There was no defense; his +killer-gun was strapped on his back, and even if it had been in his +hands, its little bullet would not have mattered the sting of a bee in +honey-robbing. The only possible chance of breaking that deadly charge +lay in the thirty-thirty deer rifle in Dave's arms; but the craven who +held it did not even fire. He was standing just below the outstretched +limb of a tree, and the weapon fell from his hands as he swung up into +the limb. The fact that Hudson stood weaponless, ten feet away in the +clearing, did not deter him in the least. + +No human flesh could stand against that charge. The vast paw fell with +resistless force; and no need arose for a second blow. The trapper's +body was struck down as if felled by a meteor, and the power of the +impact forced it deep into the carpet of pine needles. The savage +creature turned, the white fangs caught the light in the open mouth. The +head lunged toward the man's shoulder. + +No man may say what agony Hudson would have endured in the last few +seconds of his life if the Killer had been given time and opportunity. +His usual way was to linger long, sharp fangs closing again and again, +until all living likeness was destroyed. The blood-lust was upon him; +there would have been no mercy to the dying creature in the pine +needles. Yet it transpired that Hudson's flesh was not to know those +rending fangs a second time. Although it is an unfamiliar thing in the +wilderness, the end of Hudson's trail was peaceful, after all. + +On the hillside above, a stranger to this land had dropped to his knee +in the shrubbery, his rifle lifted to the level of his eyes. It was +Bruce, who had come in time to see the charge through a rift in the +trees. + + + + +XVII + + +There were deep significances in the fact that Bruce kept his head in +this moment of crisis. It meant nothing less than an iron self-control +such as only the strongest men possess, and it meant nerves steady as +steel bars. + +The bear was on Hudson, and the man had gone down, before Bruce even +interpreted him. Then it was just a gray patch, a full three hundred +yards away. His instinct was to throw the gun to his shoulder and fire +without aiming; yet he conquered it with an iron will. But he did move +quickly. He dropped to his knee the single second that the gun leaped to +his shoulder. He seemed to know that from a lower position the target +would be more clearly revealed. The finger pressed back against the +trigger. + +The distance was far; Bruce was not a practiced rifle shot, and it +bordered on the miraculous that his lead went anywhere near the bear's +body. And it was true that the bullet did not reach a vital place. It +stung like a wasp at the Killer's flank, however, cutting a shallow +flesh wound. But it was enough to take his dreadful attention from the +mortally wounded trapper in the pine needles. + +He whirled about, growling furiously and biting at the wound. Then he +stood still, turning his gaze first to the pale face of Dave Turner +thirty feet above him in the pine. The eyes glowed in fury and hatred. +He had found men out at last; they died even more easily than the fawn. +He started to turn back to the fallen, and the rifle spoke again. + +It was a complete miss, this time; yet the bear leaped in fear when the +bullet thwacked into the dust beside him. He did not wait for a third. +His caution suddenly returning to him, and perhaps his anger somewhat +satiated by the blow he had dealt Hudson, he crashed into the security +of the thicket. + +Bruce waited a single instant, hoping for another glimpse of the +creature; then ran down to aid Hudson. But in driving the bear from the +trapper's helpless body he had already given all the aid that he could. +Understanding came quickly. He had arrived only in time for the +Departure,--just a glimpse of a light as it faded. The blow had been +more than any human being could survive; even now Hudson was entering +upon that strange calm which often, so mercifully, immediately precedes +death. + +He opened his eyes and looked with some wonder into Bruce's face. The +light in them was dimming, fading like a twilight, yet there was +indication of neither confusion nor delirium. Hudson, in that last +moment of his life, was quite himself. + +There was, however, some indication of perplexity at the peculiar turn +affairs had taken. "You're not Dave Turner," he said wonderingly. + +Dim though the voice was, there was considerable emphasis in the tone. +Hudson seemed quite sure of this point, whether or not he knew anything +concerning the dark gates he was about to enter. He wouldn't have spoken +greatly different if he had been sitting in perfect health before his +own camp fire and the shadow was now already so deep his eyes could +scarcely penetrate it. + +"No," Bruce answered. "Dave Turner is up a tree. He didn't even wait to +shoot." + +"Of course he wouldn't." Hudson spoke with assurance. The words dimmed +at the end, and he half-closed his eyes as if he were too sleepy to stay +awake longer. Then Bruce saw a strange thing. He saw, unmistakable as +the sun in the sky, the signs of a curious struggle in the man's face. +There was a singular deepening of the lines, a twitching of the muscles, +a queer set to the lips and jaws. They were as much signs of battle as +the sound of firing a general hears from far away. + +The trapper--a moment before sinking into the calm of death--was +fighting desperately for a few moments of respite. There could be no +other explanation. And he won it at last,--an interlude of half a dozen +breaths. "Who are you?" he whispered. + +Bruce bowed his head until his ear was close to the lips. "Bruce +Folger," he answered,--for the first time in his knowledge speaking his +full name. "Son of Matthew Folger who lived at Trail's End long ago." + +The man still struggled. "I knew it," he said. "I saw it--in your face. +I see--everything now. Listen--can you hear me?" + +"Yes." + +"I just did a wrong--there's a hundred dollars in my pocket that I just +got for doing it. I made a promise--to lie to you. Take the money--it +ought to be yours, anyway--and hers; and use it toward fighting the +wrong. It will go a little way." + +"Yes," Bruce looked him full in the eyes. "No matter about the money. +What did you promise Turner?" + +"That I'd lie to you. Grip my arms with your hands--till it hurts. I've +only got one breath more. Your father held those lands only in +trust--the Turners' deed is forged. And the secret agreement that I +witnessed is hidden--" + +The breath seemed to go out of the man. Bruce shook him by the +shoulders. Dave, still in the tree, strained to hear the rest. +"Yes--where?" + +"It's hidden--just--out--" The words were no longer audible to Dave, and +what followed Bruce also strained to hear in vain. The lips ceased +moving. The shadow grew in the eyes, and the lids flickered down over +them. A traveler had gone. + +Bruce got up, a strange, cold light in his eyes. He glanced up. Dave +Turner was climbing slowly down the tree. Bruce made six strides and +seized his rifle. + +The effect on Dave was ludicrous. He clung fast to the tree limbs, as if +he thought a bullet--like a grizzly's claws--could not reach him there. +Bruce laid the gun behind him, then stood waiting with his own weapon +resting in his arms. + +"Come down, Dave," he commanded. "The bear is gone." + +Dave crept down the trunk and halted at its base. He studied the cold +face before him. "Better not try nothing," he advised hoarsely. + +"Why not?" Bruce asked. "Do you think I'm afraid of a coward?" The man +started at the words; his head bobbed backward as if Bruce had struck +him beneath the jaw with his fist. + +"People don't call the Turners cowards and walk off with it," the man +told him. + +"Oh, the lowest coward!" Bruce said between set teeth. "The yellowest, +mongrel coward! Your own confederate--and you had to drop your gun and +run up a tree. You might have stopped the bear's charge." + +Dave's face twisted in a scowl. "You're brave enough now. Wait to see +what happens later. Give me my gun. I'm going to go." + +"You can go, but you don't get your gun. I'll fill you full of lead if +you try to touch it." + +Dave looked up with some care. He wanted to know for certain if this +tenderfoot meant what he said. The man was blind in some things, his +vision was twisted and dark, but he made no mistake about the look on +the cold, set face before him. Bruce's finger was curled about the +trigger, and it looked to Dave as if it itched to exert further +pressure. + +"I don't see why I spare you, anyway," Bruce went on. His tone was +self-reproachful. "God knows I hadn't ought to--remembering who and what +you are. If you'd only give me one little bit of provocation--" + +Dave saw lurid lights growing in the man's eyes; and all at once a +conclusion came to him. He decided he'd make no further effort to regain +the gun. His life was rather precious to him, strangely, and it was +wholly plain that a dread and terrible passion was slowly creeping over +his enemy. He could see it in the darkening face, the tight grip of the +hands on the rifle stock. His own sharp features grew more cunning. "You +ought to be glad I didn't stop the bear with my rifle," he said +hurriedly. "I had Hudson bribed--you wouldn't have found out something +that you did find out if he hadn't lain here dying. You wouldn't have +learned--" + +But the sentence died in the middle. Bruce made answer to it. For once +in his life Dave's cunning had not availed him; he had said the last +thing in the world that he should have said, the one thing that was +needed to cause an explosion. He hadn't known that some men have +standards other than self gain. And some small measure of realization +came to him when he felt the dust his full length under him. + +Bruce's answer had been a straight-out blow with his fist, with all his +strength behind it, in the very center of his enemy's face. + + + + +XVIII + + +In his years of residence at Trail's End, Dave Turner had acquired a +thorough knowledge of all its paths. That knowledge stood him in good +stead now. He wished to cross the ridges to Simon's house at least an +hour before Bruce could return to Linda. + +He traveled hard and late, and he reached Simon's door just before +sundown of the second day. Bruce was still a full two hours distant. But +Dave did not stay to knock. It was chore-time, and he thought he would +find Simon in his barn, supervising the feeding and care of the +livestock. He had guessed right, and the two men had a moment's talk in +the dusky passage behind the stalls. + +"I've brought news," Dave said. + +Simon made no answer at first. The saddle pony in the stall immediately +in front of them, frightened at Dave's unfamiliar figure, had crowded, +trembling, against his manger. Simon's red eyes watched him; then he +uttered a short oath. He took two strides into the stall and seized the +halter rope in his huge, muscular hand. Three times he jerked it with a +peculiar, quartering pull, a curbing that might have been ineffective by +a man of ordinary strength, but with the incomprehensible might of the +great forearm behind it was really terrible punishment. Dave thought for +a moment his brother would break the animal's neck; the whites began to +show about the soft, dark pupils of its eyes. The strap over the head +broke with the fourth pull; then the horse recoiled, plunging and +terrified, into the opposite corner of the stall. + +Simon leaped with shattering power at the creature's shoulders, his huge +arms encircled its neck, his shoulders heaved, and he half-threw it to +the floor. Then, as it staggered to rise, his heavy fist flailed against +its neck. Again and again he struck, and in the half-darkness of the +stable it was a dreadful thing to behold. The man's fury, always quickly +aroused, was upon him; his brawny form moved with the agility of a +panther. Even Dave, whose shallow eyes were usually wont to feast on +cruelty, viewed the scene with some alarm. It wasn't that he was moved +by the agony of the horse. But he did remember that horses cost money, +and Simon seemed determined to kill the animal before his passion was +spent. + +The horse cowered, and in a moment more it was hard to remember he was a +member of a noble, high-spirited breed,--a swift runner, brainy as a +dog, a servant faithful and worthy. It was no longer easy to think of +him as a creature of beauty,--and there is no other word than beauty for +these long-maned, long-tailed, trim-lined animals. He stood quiet at +last, his head hanging low, knees bent, eyes curiously sorrowful and +dark. Simon fastened the broken strap about his neck, gave it one more +jerk that almost knocked the animal off his feet, then turned back to +Dave. Except for a higher color in his cheeks, darker lights in his +eyes, and an almost imperceptible quickening of his breathing, it did +not seem as if he had moved. + +"You're always bringing news," he said. + +Dave opened his eyes. He had forgotten his own words in the tumult of +the fight he had just watched, but plainly Simon hadn't forgotten. He +opened his mouth to speak. + +"Well, what is it? Out with it," his brother urged. "If it's as +important as some of the other news you've brought don't take my time." + +"All right," the other replied sullenly. "You don't have to hear it. But +I'm telling you it's of real importance this time--and sometime you'll +find out." He scowled into the dark face. "But suit yourself." + +He turned as if to go. He rather thought that Simon would call him back. +It would be, in a measure, a victory. But Simon went back to his +inspection of the stalls. + +Dave walked clear to the door, then turned. "Don't be a fool, Simon," he +urged. "Listen to what I have to tell you. Bruce Folger knows where that +secret agreement is." + +For once in his life Dave got a response of sufficient emphasis to +satisfy him. His brother whirled, his whole expression undergoing an +immediate and startling change. If there was one emotion that Dave had +never seen on Simon's face it was fear,--and he didn't know for certain +that he saw it now. But there was alarm--unmistakable--and surprise +too. + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. + +Dave exulted inwardly. His brother's response had almost made up for the +evil news that he brought. For Dave's fortunes, as well as Simon's, +depended on the vast fertile tract being kept in the clan's possession. +His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. For the first time in his life, as +far as Dave could remember, Simon had encountered a situation that he +had not immediately mastered. Perhaps it was the beginning of Simon's +downfall, which meant--by no great stretch of the imagination--the +advancement of Dave. But in another second of clear thinking Dave knew +that in his brother's strength lay his own; if this mighty force at the +head of the clan was weakening, no hope remained for any of them. His +own face grew anxious. + +"Out with it," Simon stormed. His tone was really urgent now, not +insolent as usual. "Good Lord, man, don't you know that if Bruce gets +that down to the settlements before the thirtieth of next month we're +lost--and nothing in this world can save us? We can't drive _him_ off, +like we drove the Rosses. There's too much law down in the valleys. If +he's got that paper, there's only one thing to do. Help me saddle a +horse." + +"Wait a minute. I didn't say he had it. I only said he knew where it +was. He's still an hour or two walk from here, toward Little River, and +if we have to wait for him on the trail, we've got plenty of time. And +of course I ain't quite sure he _does_ know where it is." + +Simon smiled mirthlessly. "The news is beginning to sound like the rest +of yours." + +"Old Hudson is dead," Dave went on. "And don't look at me--I didn't do +it. I wish I had, though, first off. For once my judgment was better +than yours. The Killer got him." + +"Yes. Go on." + +"I was with him when it happened. My gun got jammed so I couldn't +shoot." + +"Where is it now?" + +Dave scrambled in vain for a story to explain the loss of his weapon to +Bruce, and the one that came out at last didn't do him particular +credit. "I--I threw the damn thing away. Wish I hadn't now, but it made +me so mad by jamming--it was a fool trick. Maybe I can go back after it +and find it." + +Simon smiled again. "Very good so far," he commented. + +Dave flushed. "Bruce was there too--fact is, creased the bear--and the +last minute before he died Hudson told him where the agreement was +hidden. I couldn't hear all he said--I was too far away--but I heard +enough to think that he told Bruce the hiding, place. It was natural +Hudson would know it, and we were fools for not asking him about it long +ago." + +"And why didn't you get that information away from Bruce with your gun?" + +"Didn't I tell you the thing was jammed? If it hadn't of been for that, +I'd done something more than find out where it is. I'd stopped this +nonsense once and for all, and let a hole through that tenderfoot big +enough to see through. _Then_ there'd never be any more trouble. It's +the thing to do now." + +Simon looked at his brother's face with some wonder. More crafty and +cunning, Dave was like the coyote in that he didn't yield so quickly to +fury as that gray wolf, his brother. But when it did come, it seared +him. It had come now. Simon couldn't mistake the fact; he saw it plain +in the glowing eyes, the clenched hands, the drawn lips. Dave was +remembering the pain of the blow Bruce had given him, and the smart of +the words that had preceded it. + +"You and he must have had a little session down there by the creek," +Simon suggested slowly, "when your gun was jammed. Of course, he took +the gun. What's the use of trying to lie to me?" + +"He did. What could I do?" + +"And now you want him potted--from ambush." + +"What's the use of waiting? Who'd know?" The two men stood face to face +in the quiet and deepening dusk of the barn; and there was growing +determination on each face. "Every day our chance is less and less," +Dave went on. "We've been thinking we're safe, but if he knows where +that agreement is, we're not safe at all. How would you like to get +booted off these three thousand acres now, just after we've all got +attached to them? To start making our living as day laborers--and maybe +face a hangin' for some things of long ago? With this land behind him, +he'd be in a position to pay old debts, I'm telling you. We're not +secure, and you know it. The law doesn't forget, and it doesn't forgive. +We've been fooling away our time ever since we knew he was coming. We +should have met him on the trail and let the buzzards talk to him." + +"Yes," Simon echoed in a strange half-whisper. "Let the buzzards talk to +him." + +Dave took fresh heart at the sound of that voice. "No one would have +ever knowed it," he went on. "No one would ever know it now. They'd find +his bones, some time maybe, but there'd be no one to point to. They'd +never get any thing against us. Everybody except the mountain people +have forgotten about this affair. Those in the mountains are too +scattered and few to take any part in it. I tell you--it's all the way, +or no way at all. Tell me to wait for him on the trail." + +"Wait. Wait a minute. How long before he will come?" + +"Any time now. And don't postpone this matter any more. We're men, not +babies. He's not a fool or not a coward, either. He's got his old man's +blood in him--not his mother's to run away. As long as he ain't croaked, +all we've done so far is apt to come to nothing. And there's one thing +more. He's going to take the blood-feud up again." + +"Lots of good it would do him. One against a dozen." + +"But he's a shot--I saw that plain enough--and how'd you like to have +him shoot through _your_ windows some time? Old Elmira and Linda have +set him on, and he's hot for it." + +"I wish you'd got that old heifer when you got her son," Simon said. He +still spoke calmly; but it was plain enough that Dave's words were +having the desired effect. Dave could discern this fact by certain +lights and expressions about the pupils of his brother's eyes, signs +learned and remembered long ago. "So he's taken up the blood-feud, has +he? I thought I gave his father some lessons in that a long time since. +Well, I suppose we must let him have his way!" + +"And remember too," Dave urged, "what you told him when you met him in +the store. You said you wouldn't warn him twice." + +"I remember." The two men were silent, but Dave stood no longer +motionless. The motions that he made, however, were not discernible in +the growing gloom of the barn. He was shivering all over with malice and +fury. + +"Then you've given the word?" he asked. + +"I've given the word, but I'll do it my own way. Listen, Dave." Simon +stood, head bent, deep in thought. "Could you arrange to have Linda and +the old hag out of the house when Bruce gets back?" + +"Yes--" + +"We've got to work this thing right. We can't operate in the open like +we used to. This man has taken up the blood-feud--but the thing to +do--is to let him come to us." + +"But he won't do it. He'll go to the courts first." + +Simon's face grew stern. "I don't want any more interruptions, Dave. I +mean we will want to give the impression that he attacked us first--on +his own free will. What if he comes into our house-a man unknown in +these parts--and something happens to him there--in the dead of night? +It wouldn't look so bad then, would it? Besides--if we got him +here--before the clan, we might be able to find out where that document +is. At least we'll have him here where everything will be in our favor. +First, how can you tell when he's going to come?" + +"He ought to be here very soon. The moon's bright and I can get up on +the ridge and see his shadow through your field glasses when he crosses +the big south pasture. That will give me a full half-hour before he +comes." + +"It's enough. I'm ready to give you your orders now. They are--just to +use your head, and on some pretext get those two women out of the house +so that Bruce can't find them when he returns. Don't let them come back +for an hour, if you can help it. If it works--all right. If it doesn't, +we'll use more direct measures. I'll tend to the rest." + +He strode to the wall and took down a saddle from the hook. Quickly he +threw it over the back of one of the cow ponies, the animal that he had +punished. He put the bridle in Dave's hand. "Stop at the house for the +glasses, then ride to the ridge at once," he ordered. "Then keep +watch." + +Without words Dave led the horse through the door and swung on to its +back. In an instant the wild folk, in the fringe of forest beyond, +paused in their night occupations to listen to the sound of hoof beats +on the turf. Then Simon slowly saddled his own horse. + + + + +XIX + + +The day was quite dead when Dave Turner reached his post on top of the +ridge. The gray of twilight had passed, the forest was lost in darkness, +the stars were all out. The only vestige of daylight that remained was a +pale, red glow over the Western mountains,--and this was more like red +flowers that had been placed on its grave in remembrance. + +Fortunately, the moon rose early. Otherwise Dave's watch would have been +in vain. The soft light wrought strange miracles in the forest: bathing +the tree tops in silver, laying wonderful cobweb tapestries between the +trunks, upsetting the whole perspective as to distance and contour. Dave +didn't have long to wait. At the end of a half-hour he saw, through the +field glasses, the wavering of a strange black shadow on the distant +meadow. Only the vivid quality of the full moon enabled him to see it at +all. + +He tried to get a better focus. It might be just the shadow of deer, +come to browse on the parched grass. Dave felt a little tremor of +excitement at the thought that if it were not Bruce, it was more likely +the last of the grizzlies, the Killer. The previous night the gray +forest king had made an excursion into Simon's pastures and had killed a +yearling calf; in all probability he would return to-night to finish his +feast. In fact, this night would in all probability see the end of the +Killer. Some one of the Turners would wait for him, with a loaded rifle, +in a safe ambush. + +But it wasn't the Killer, after all. It was before his time; besides, +the shadow was too slender to be that of the huge bear. Dave Turner +watched a moment longer, so that there could be no possibility of a +mistake. Bruce was returning; he was little more than a half-hour's walk +from Linda's home. + +Turner swung on his horse, then lashed the animal into a gallop. Less +than five minutes later he drew up to a halt beneath the Sentinel Pine, +almost a mile distant. For the first time, Dave began to move +cautiously. + +It would complicate matters if the two women had already gone to bed. +The hour was early--not yet nine--but the fall of darkness is often the +going-to-bed time of the mountain people. It is warmer there and safer; +and the expense of candles is lessened. Incidentally, it is the natural +course for the human breed,--to bed at nightfall and up at dawn; and +only distortion of nature can change the habit. It is doubtful if even +the earliest men--those curious, long-armed, stiff-thumbed, heavy-jowled +forefathers far remote--were ever night hunters. Like the hawks and most +of the other birds of prey they were content to leave the game trails to +the beasts at night. As life in the mountains gets down to a primitive +basis, most of the hill people soon fall into this natural course. But +to-night Linda and old Elmira were sitting up, waiting for Bruce's +return. + +A candle flame flickered at the window. Dave went up to the door and +knocked. + +"Who's there?" Elmira called. It was a habit learned in the dreadful +days of twenty years ago, not to open a door without at least some +knowledge of who stood without. A lighted doorway sets off a target +almost as well as a field of white sets off a black bull's-eye. + +Dave knew that truth was the proper course. "Dave Turner," he replied. + +A long second of heavy, strange silence ensued. Then the woman spoke +again. There was a new note in her voice, a curious hoarseness, but at +the same time a sense of exultation and excitement. But Dave didn't +notice it. Perhaps the oaken door that the voice came through stripped +away all the overtones; possibly his own perceptions were too blunt to +receive it. He might, however, have been interested in the singular look +of wonder that flashed over Linda's face as she stared at her aged aunt. +Linda was not thinking of Dave. She had forgotten that he stood outside. +His visit was the last thing that either of them expected--except, +perhaps, on some such deadly business as the clan had come years +before--yet she found no space in her thought for him. Her whole +attention was seized and held by the unfamiliar note in her aunt's +voice, and a strange drawing of the woman's features that the closed +door prevented Dave from seeing. It was a look almost of rapture, hardly +to be expected in the presence of an enemy. The dim eyes seemed to glow +in the shadows. It was the look of one who had wandered steep and +unknown trails for uncounted years and sees the distant lights of his +home at last. + +She got up from her chair and moved over to the little pack she had +carried on her back when she had walked up from her cabin. Linda still +gazed at her in growing wonder. The long years seemed to have fallen +away from her; she slipped across the uncarpeted floor with the agility +and silence of a tiger. She always had given the impression of latent +power, but never so much as now. She took some little object from the +bag and slipped it next to her withered and scrawny breast. + +"What do you want?" she called out into the gloom. + +Dave had been getting a little restless in the silence; but the voice +reassured him. "I'll tell you when you open the door. It's something +about Bruce." + +Linda remembered him then. She leaped to the door and flung it wide. She +saw the stars without, the dark fringe of pines against the sky line +behind. She felt the wind and the cool breath of the darkness. But most +of all she saw the cunning, sharp-featured face of Dave Turner, with the +candlelight upon him. The yellow beams were in his eyes too. They seemed +full of guttering lights. + +The few times that Linda had talked to Dave she had always felt uneasy +beneath his speculative gaze. The same sensation swept over her now. She +knew perfectly what she would have had to expect, long since, from this +man, were it not that he had lived in fear of his brother Simon. The +mighty leader of the clan had set a barrier around her as far as +personal attentions went,--and his reasons were obvious. The mountain +girls do not usually attain her perfection of form and face; his desire +for her was as jealous as it was intense and real. This dark-hearted man +of great and terrible emotions did not only know how to hate. In his own +savage way he could love too. Linda hated and feared him, but the +emotion was wholly different from the dread and abhorrence with which +she regarded Dave. "What about Bruce?" she demanded. + +Dave leered. "Do you want to see him? He's lying--up here on the hill." + +The tone was knowing, edged with cruelty; and it had the desired effect. +The color swept from the girl's face. In a single fraction of an instant +it showed stark white in the candlelight. + +There was an instant's sensation of terrible cold. But her voice was +hard and lifeless when she spoke. + +"You mean you've killed him?" she asked simply. + +"We ain't killed him. We've just been teaching him a lesson," Dave +explained. "Simon warned him not to come up--and we've had to talk to +him a little--with fists and heels." + +Linda cried out then, one agonized syllable. She knew what fists and +heels could do in the fights between the mountain men. They are as much +weapons of torture as the claws and fangs of the Killer. She had an +instant's dread picture of this strong man of hers lying maimed and +broken, a battered, whimpering, ineffective thing in the moonlight of +some distant hillside. The vision brought knowledge to her. Even more +clearly than in the second of their kiss, before he had gone to see +Hudson, she realized what an immutable part of her he was. She gazed +with growing horror at Dave's leering face. "Where is he?" she asked. +She remembered, with singular steadfastness, the pistol she had +concealed in her own room. + +"I'll show you. If you want to get him in you'd better bring the old hag +with you. It'll take two of you to carry him." + +"I'll come," the old woman said from across the shadowed room. She spoke +with a curious breathlessness. "I'll go at once." + +The door closed behind the three of them, and they went out into the +moonlit forest. Dave walked first. There was an unlooked-for eagerness +in his motions, but Linda thought that she understood it. It was wholly +characteristic of him that he should find a degenerate rapture in +showing these two women the terrible handiwork of the Turners. He +rejoiced in just this sort of cruelty. She had no suspicion that this +excursion was only a pretext to get the two women away from the house, +and that his eagerness arose from deeper causes. It was true that Dave +exulted in the work, and strangely the fact that it was part of the plot +against Bruce had been almost forgotten in the face of a greater +emotion. He was alone in the darkness with Linda--except of course for a +helpless old woman--and the command of Simon in regard to his attitude +toward her seemed suddenly dim and far away. He led them over a hill, +into the deeper forest. + +He walked swiftly, eagerly; the two women could hardly keep pace with +him. He left the dim trail and skirted about the thickets. No cry for +help could carry from this lonely place. No watchman on a hill could see +what transpired in the heavy coverts. + +So intent was he that he quite failed to observe a singular little +signal between old Elmira and Linda. The woman half turned about, giving +the girl an instant's glimpse of something that she transferred from her +breast to her sleeve. It was slender and of steel, and it caught the +moonlight on its shining surface. + +The girl's eyes glittered when she beheld it. She nodded, scarcely +perceptibly, and the strange file plunged deeper into the shadows. + +Fifteen minutes later Dave drew up to a halt in a little patch of +moonlight, surrounded by a wall of low trees and brush. + +"There's more than one way to make a date for a walk with a pretty +girl," he said. + +The girl stared coldly into his eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +The man laughed harshly. "I mean that Bruce ain't got back yet--he's +still on the other side of Little River, for all I know--" + +"Then why did you bring us here?" + +"Just to be sociable," Dave returned. "I'll tell you, Linda. I wanted to +talk to you. I ain't been in favor of a lot of things Simon's been +doing--to you and your people. I thought maybe you and I would like to +be--friends." + +No one could mistake the emotion behind the strained tone, the peculiar +languor in the furtive eyes. The girl drew back, shuddering. "I'm going +back," she told him. + +"Wait. I'll take you back soon. Let's have a kiss and make friends. The +old lady won't look--" + +He laughed again, a hoarse sound that rang far through the silences. He +moved toward her, hands reaching. She backed away. Then she half-tripped +over an outstretched root. + +The next instant she was in his arms, struggling against their steel. +She didn't waste words in pleading. A sob caught at her throat, and she +fought with all her strength against the drawn, nearing face. She had +forgotten Elmira; in this dreadful moment of terror and danger the old +woman's broken strength seemed too little to be of aid. And Dave thought +her as helpless to oppose him as the tall pines that watched from above +them. + +His wild laughter obscured the single sound that she made, a strange cry +that seemed lacking in all human quality. Rather it was such a sound as +a puma utters as it leaps upon its prey. It was the articulation of a +whole life of hatred that had come to a crisis at last,--of deadly and +terrible triumph after a whole decade of waiting. If Dave had discerned +that cry in time he would have hurled Linda from his arms to leap into a +position of defense. The desire for women in men goes down to the roots +of the world, but self-preservation is a deeper instinct still. + +But he didn't hear it in time. Elmira had not struck with her knife. The +distance was too far for that. But she swung her cane with all her +force. The blow caught the man at the temple, his arms fell away from +the girl's body, he staggered grotesquely in the carpet of pine needles. +Then he fell face downward. + +"His belt, quick!" the woman cried. No longer was her voice that of +decrepit age. The girl struggled with herself, wrenched back her +self-control, and leaped to obey her aunt. They snatched the man's belt +from about his waist, and the women locked it swiftly about his ankles. +With strong, hard hands they drew his wrists back of him and tied them +tight with the long bandana handkerchief he wore about his neck. They +worked almost in silence, with incredible rapidity and deftness. + +The man was waking now, stirring in his unconsciousness, and swiftly the +old woman cut the buckskin thongs from his tall logging boots. These +also she twisted about the wrists, knotting them again and again, and +pulling them so tight they were almost buried in the lean flesh. Then +they turned him face upward to the moon. + +The two women stood an instant, breathing hard. "What now?" Linda asked. +And a shiver of awe went over her at the sight of the woman's face. + +"Nothing more, Linda," she answered, in a distant voice. "Leave Dave +Turner to me." + +It was a strange picture. Womanhood--the softness and tenderness which +men have learned to associate with the name--seemed fallen away from +Linda and Elmira. They were only avengers,--like the she-bear that +fights for her cubs or the she-wolf that guards the lair. There was no +more mercy in them than in the females of the lower species. The moon +flooded the place with silver, the pines were dark and impassive as ever +above them. + +Dave wakened. They saw him stir. They watched him try to draw his arms +from behind him. It was just a faint, little-understanding pull at +first. Then he wrenched and tugged with all his strength, flopping +strangely in the dirt. The effort increased until it was some way +suggestive of an animal in the death struggle,--a fur bearer dying in +the trap. + +Terror was upon him. It was in his wild eyes and his moonlit face; it +was in the desperation and frenzy of his struggles. And the two women +saw it and smiled into each other's eyes. + +Slowly his efforts ceased. He lay still in the pine needles. He turned +his head, first toward Linda, then to the inscrutable, dark face of the +old woman. As understanding came to him, the cold drops emerged upon his +swarthy skin. + +"Good God!" he asked. "What are you going to do?" + +"I'm going back," Linda answered. "You had some other purpose in +bringing me out here--or you wouldn't have brought Elmira, too. I'm +going back to wait for Bruce." + +"And you and I will linger here," Elmira told him. "We have many things +to say to each other. We have many things to do. About my Abner--there +are many things you'll want to hear of him." + +The last vestige of the man's spirit broke beneath the words. Abner had +been old Elmira's son,--a youth who had laughed often, and the one hope +of the old woman's declining years. And he had fallen before Dave's +ambush in a half-forgotten fight of long years before. + +The man shivered in his bonds. Linda turned to go. The silence of the +wilderness deepened about them. "Oh, Linda, Linda," the man called. +"Don't leave me. Don't leave me here with her!" he pleaded. +"Please--please don't leave me in this devil's power. Make her let me +go." + +But Linda didn't seem to hear. The brush crackled and rustled; and the +two--this dark-hearted man and the avenger--were left together. + + + + +XX + + +The homeward journey over the ridges had meant only pleasure to Bruce. +Every hour of it had brought a deeper and more intimate knowledge of the +wilderness. The days had been full of little, nerve-tingling adventures, +and the nights full of peace. And beyond all these, there was the hope +of seeing Linda again at the end of the trail. + +Thoughts of her hardly ever left him throughout the long tramp. She had +more than fulfilled every expectation. It was true that he had found no +one of his own kin, as he had hoped; but the fact opened up new +possibilities that would have been otherwise forbidden. + +It was strange how he remembered her kiss. He had known other kisses in +his days--being a purely rational and healthy young man--but there had +been nothing of immortality about them. Their warmth had died quickly, +and they had been forgotten. They were just delights of moonlight nights +and nothing more. But he would wake up from his dreams at night to feel +Linda's kiss still upon his lips. To recall it brought a strange +tenderness,--a softening of all the hard outlines of his picture of +life. It changed his viewpoint; it brought him a knowledge of a joy and +a gentleness that could exist even in this stern world of wilderness and +pines. With her face lingering before his eyes, the ridges themselves +seemed less stern and forbidding; there were softer messages in the +wind's breath; the drama of the wild that went on about him seemed less +remorseless and cruel. + +He remembered the touch of her hands. They had been so cool, so gentle. +He remembered the changing lights in her dark eyes. Life had opened up +new vistas to him. Instead of a stern battleground, he began to realize +that it had a softer, gentler, kinder side,--a place where there could +be love as well as hatred, peace as well as battle, cheery homes and +firesides and pleasant ways and laughter instead of cold ways and lonely +trails and empty hearts and grim thoughts. Perhaps, if all went well, +tranquillity might come to him after all. Perhaps he might even know the +tranquil spirit of the pines. + +These were mating days. It was true that the rutting season had not, in +reality, commenced. The wolf pack had not yet gathered, and would not +until after the heavy frosts. But the bucks had begun to rub the velvet +from their horns so that they would be hard and sharp for the fights to +come. And these would be savage battles--with death at the end of many +of them. But perhaps the joys that would follow--the roving, mating days +with the does--would more than make up for their pain. The trim females +were seen less often with their fawns; and they seemed strangely +restless and tremulous, perhaps wondering what fortune the fall would +have for them in the way of a mate. + +The thought gave Bruce pleasure. He could picture the deer herd in the +fall,--the proud buck in the lead, ready to fight all contenders, his +harem of does, and what fawns and young bucks he permitted to follow +him. They would make stealing journeys down to the foothills to avoid +the snow, and all manner of pleasures would be theirs in the gentler +temperatures of the lowlands. They would know crisp dawns and breathless +nights, long runnings into the valleys, and to the does the realization +of motherhood when the spring broke. + +But aside from his contemplations of Linda, the long tramp had many +delights for him. He rejoiced in every manifestation of the wild life +about him, whether it was a bushy-tailed old gray squirrel, watching him +from a tree limb, a magpie trying its best to insult him, or the +fleeting glimpse of a deer in the coverts. Once he saw the black form of +Ashur the bear, mumbling and grunting as he searched under rotten logs +for grubs. But he didn't see the Killer again. He didn't particularly +care to do so. + +He kept his rifle ready during the day for game, but he shot only what +he needed. He did not attempt to kill the deer. He knew that he would +have no opportunity to care for the meat. But he did, occasionally, +shoot the head off a cock-grouse at close range, and no chef of Paris +could offer a more tempting dish than its flesh, rolled in flour and +served up, fried brown, in bacon grease. It was mostly white meat, +exceedingly tender, yet with the zest of wild game. But he dined on +bacon exclusively one night because, after many misses at grouse, he +declined to take the life of a gray squirrel that had perched in an oak +tree above the trail. Someway, it seemed to be getting too much pleasure +out of life for him to blast it with a rifle shot. A squirrel has only a +few ounces of flesh, and the woods without them would be dull and inane +indeed. Besides, they were bright-eyed, companionable people--dwellers +of the wilderness even as Bruce--and their personality had already +endeared itself to him. + +Once he startled a fawn almost out of its wits when he came upon it +suddenly in a bend in the trail, and he shouted with delight as it +bounded awkwardly away. Once a porcupine rattled its quills at him and +tried to seem very ferocious. But it was all the most palpable of +bluffs, for Urson, while particularly adept at defense, has no powers of +offense whatever. He cannot move quickly. He can't shoot his spines, as +the story-books say. He can only sit on the ground and erect them into a +sort of suit of armor to repel attack. But Bruce knew enough not to +attempt to stroke the creature. If he had done so, he would have spent +the remainder of the season pulling out spines from the soft flesh of +his hand. + +Urson was a patient, stupid, guileless creature, and he and Bruce had a +strange communion together as they stood face to face on the trail. +"You've got the right idea," Bruce told him. "To erect a wall around you +and let 'em yell outside without giving them a thought. To stand firm, +not to take part. You're a true son of the pines, Urson. Now let me +past." + +But the idea was furthest from Urson's mind. He sat firm on the trail, +hunched into a spiny ball. Instead of killing him with his rifle butt, +as Dave would have done, Bruce laughed good-naturedly and went around +him. + +Both days of the journey home he wakened sharply at dawn. The cool, +morning hours were the best for travel. He would follow down the narrow, +brown trail,--now through a heavy covert that rustled as the wild +creatures sped from his path, now up a long ridge, now down into a +still, dark glen, and sometimes into a strange, bleak place where the +forest fire had swept. Every foot was a delight to him. + +He was of naturally strong physique, and although the days fatigued him +unmercifully, he always wakened refreshed in the dawn. At noon he would +stop to lunch, eating a few pieces of jerkey and frying a single +flapjack in his skillet. He learned how to effect it quickly, first +letting his fire burn down to coals. And usually, during the noon rest, +he would practice with his rifle. + +He knew that if he were to fight the Turners, skill with a rifle was an +absolute necessity; such skill as would have felled the grizzly with one +shot instead of administering merely a flesh wound, accuracy to take off +the head of a grouse at fifty yards; and at the same time, an ability to +swing and aim the weapon in the shortest possible space of time. The +only thing that retarded him was the realization that he must not waste +too many cartridges. Elmira had brought him only a small supply. + +He would walk all afternoon--going somewhat easier and resting more +often than in the morning; and these were the times that he appreciated +a fragment of jerked venison. He would halt just before nightfall and +make his camp. + +The first work was usually to strip a young fir tree of its young, +slender branches. These, according to Linda's instructions, were laid on +the ground, their stalks overlapping, and in a remarkably few minutes he +could construct a bed as comfortable as a hair mattress. It was true +that the work always came at an hour when most of all he wanted food and +rest, but he knew that a restless night means quick fatigue the next +day. Then he would clean his game and build his fire and cook his +evening meal. Simple food had never tasted so good to him before. Bacon +grease was his only flavor, but it had a zest that all the sauces and +dressings of France could not approach. The jerkey was crisp and nutty; +his flapjacks went directly to the spot where he desired them to go. + +But the best hour of all was after his meal, as he sat in the growing +shadows with his pipe. It was always an hour of calm. The little, +breathless noises of the wild people in the thickets; the gophers, to +whose half blind eyes--used to the darkness of their underground +passages--the firelight was almost blinding; the chipmunks, and even the +larger creatures came clearest to him then and told him more. But they +didn't frighten him. Ordinarily, he knew, the forest creatures of the +Southern Oregon mountains mean and do no harm to lonely campers. +Nevertheless, he kept fairly accurate track of his rifle. He had enough +memory of the charge of the Killer to wish to do that. And he thought +with some pleasure that he had a reserve arsenal,--Dave's thirty-thirty +with five shells in its magazine. + +At this hour he felt the spirit of the pines as never before. He knew +their great, brooding sorrow, their infinite wisdom, their inexpressible +aloofness with which they kept watch over the wilderness. The smoke +would drift about him in soothing clouds; the glow of the coals was red +and warm over him. He could think then. Life revealed some of its lesser +mysteries to him. And he began to glimpse the distant gleam of even +greater truths, and sometimes it seemed to him that he could almost +catch and hold them. Always it was some message that the pines were +trying to tell him,--partly in words they made when their limbs rubbed +together, partly in the nature of a great allegory of which their dark, +impassive forms were the symbols. If he could only see clearly! But it +seemed to him that passion blinded his eyes. + +"They talk only to the stars," Linda had said once of the pines. But he +had no illusions about this talk of theirs. It was greater, more fraught +with wisdom, than anything men might say together below them. He could +imagine them telling high secrets that he himself could discern but +dimly and could hardly understand. More and more he realized that the +pines, like the stars, were living symbols of great powers who lived +above the world, powers that would speak to men if they would but listen +long and patiently enough, and in whose creed lay happiness. + +When the pipe was out he would go to his fragrant bed. The night hours +would pass in a breath. And he would rise and go on in the crisp dawns. + +The last afternoon he traveled hard. He wanted to reach Linda's house +before nightfall. But the trail was too long for that. The twilight +fell, to find him still a weary two miles distant. And the way was quite +dark when he plunged into the south pasture of the Ross estates. + +Half an hour later he was beneath the Sentinel Pine. He wondered why +Linda was not waiting beneath it; in his fancy, he thought of it as +being the ordained place for her. But perhaps she had merely failed to +hear his footsteps. He called into the open door. + +"Linda," he said. "I've come back." + +No answer reached him. The words rang through the silent rooms and +echoed back to him. He walked over the threshold. + +A chair in the front room was turned over. His heart leaped at the sight +of it. "Linda," he called in alarm, "where are you? It's Bruce." + +He stood an instant listening, a great fear creeping over him. He called +once more, first to Linda and then to the old woman. Then he leaped +through the doorway. + +The kitchen was similarly deserted. From there he went to Linda's room. +Her coat and hat lay on the bed, but there was no Linda to stretch her +arms to him. He started to go out the way he had come, but went instead +to his own room. A sheet of note-paper lay on the bed. + +It had been scrawled hurriedly; but although he had never received a +written word from Linda he did not doubt but that it was her hand: + + The Turners are coming--I caught a glimpse of them on the + ridge. There is no use of my trying to resist, so I'll wait for + them in the front room and maybe they won't find this note. + They will take me to Simon's house, and I know from its + structure that they will lock me in an interior room in the + East wing. Use the window on that side nearest the North + corner. My one hope is that you will come at once to save me. + +Bruce's eyes leaped over the page; then thrust it into his pocket. He +slipped through the rear door of the house, into the shadows. + + + + +XXI + + +As Bruce hurried up the hill toward the Ross estates, he made a swift +calculation of the rifle shells in his pocket. The gun held six. He had +perhaps fifteen others in his pockets, and he hadn't stopped to +replenish them from the supply Elmira had brought. He hadn't brought +Dave's rifle with him, but had left it with the remainder of his pack. +He knew that the lighter he traveled the greater would be his chance of +success. + +The note had explained the situation perfectly. Obviously the girl had +written when the clan was closing about the house, and finding her in +the front room, there had been no occasion to search the other rooms and +thus discover it. The girl had kept her head even in that moment of +crisis. A wave of admiration for her passed over him. + +And the little action had set an example for him. He knew that only +rigid self-control and cool-headed strategy could achieve the thing he +had set out to do. There must be no false motions, no missteps. He must +put out of his mind all thought of what dreadful fate might have already +come upon the girl; such fancies would cost him his grip upon his own +faculties and lose him the power of clear thinking. His impulse was to +storm the door, to pour his lead through the lighted windows; but such +things could never take Linda out of Simon's hands. Only stealth and +caution, not blind courage and frenzy, could serve her now. Such blind +killing as his heart prompted had to wait for another time. + +Nevertheless, the stock of his rifle felt good in his hands. Perhaps +there would be a running fight after he got the girl out of the house, +and then his cartridges would be needed. There might even be a moment of +close work with what guards the Turners had set over her. But the heavy +stock, used like a club, would be most use to him then. + +He knew only the general direction of the Ross house where Simon lived. +Linda had told him it rested upon the crest of a small hill, beyond a +ridge of timber. The moonlight showed him a well-beaten trail, and he +strode swiftly along it. For once, he gave no heed to the stirring +forest life about him. When a dead log had fallen across his path, he +swung over it and hastened on. + +He had a vague sense of familiarity with this winding trail. Perhaps he +had toddled down it as a baby, perhaps his mother had carried him along +it on a neighborly visit to the Rosses. He went over the hill and pushed +his way to the edge of the timber. All at once the moon showed him the +house. + +He couldn't mistake it, even at this distance. And to Bruce it had a +singular effect of unreality. The mountain men did not ordinarily build +homes of such dimensions. They were usually merely log cabins of two or +three lower rooms and a garret to be reached with a ladder; or else, on +the rough mountain highways, crude dwellings of unpainted frame. The +ancestral home of the Rosses, however, had fully a dozen rooms, and it +loomed to an incredible size in the mystery of the moonlight. He saw +quaint gabled roofs and far-spreading wings. And it seemed more like a +house of enchantment, a structure raised by the rubbing of a magic lamp, +than the work of carpenters and masons. + +Probably its wild surroundings had a great deal to do with this effect. +There were no roads leading to Trail's End. Material could not be +carried over its winding trails except on pack animals. He had a +realization of tremendous difficulties that had been conquered by +tireless effort, of long months of unending toil, of exhaustless +patience, and at the end,--a dream come true. All of its lumber had to +be hewed from the forests about. Its stone had been quarried from the +rock cliffs and hauled with infinite labor over the steep trails. + +He understood now why the Turners had coveted it. It seemed the acme of +luxury to them. And more clearly than ever he understood why the Rosses +had died, sooner than relinquish it, and why its usurpation by the +Turners had left such a debt of hatred to Linda. It was such a house as +men dream about, a place to bequeath to their children and to perpetuate +their names. Built like a rock, it would stand through the decades, to +pass from one generation to another,--an enduring monument to the strong +thews of the men who had builded it. All men know that the love of home +is one of the few great impulses that has made toward civilization, but +by the same token it has been the cause of many wars. It was never an +instinct of a nomadic people, and possibly in these latter days--days +of apartments and flats and hotels--its hold is less. Perhaps the day is +coming when this love will die in the land, but with it will die the +strength to repel the heathen from our walls, and the land will not be +worth living in, anyway. But it was not dead to the mountain people. No +really primitive emotion ever is. + +Perhaps, after all, it is a question of the age-old longing for +immortality, and therefore it must have its seat in a place higher than +this world of death. Men know that when they walk no longer under the +sun and the moon it is good to have certain monuments to keep their name +alive, whether it be blocks of granite at the grave-head, or sons living +in an ancestral home. The Rosses had known this instinct very well. As +all men who are strong-thewed and of real natural virtue, they had known +pride of race and name, and it had been a task worth while to build this +stately house on their far-lying acres. They had given their fiber to it +freely; no man who beheld the structure could doubt that fact. They had +simply consecrated their lives to it; their one Work by which they could +show to all who came after that by their own hands they had earned their +right to live. + +They had been workers, these men; and there is no higher degree. But +their achievements had been stolen from their hands. Bruce felt the real +significance of his undertaking as never before. + +He saw the broad lands lying under the moon. There were hundreds of +acres in alfalfa and clover to furnish hay for the winter feeding. +There were wide, green pastures, ensilvered by the moon; and fields of +corn laid out in even rows. The old appeal of the soil, an instinct that +no person of Anglo-Saxon descent can ever completely escape, swept +through him. They were worth fighting for, these fertile acres. The wind +brought up the sweet breath of ripening hay. + +Not for nothing have a hundred generations of Anglo-Saxon people been +tillers of the soil. They had left a love of it to Bruce. In a single +flash of thought, even as he hastened toward the house where he supposed +Linda was held prisoner, the ancient joy returned to him. He knew what +it would be like to feel the earth's pulse through the handles of a +plow, to behold the first start of green things in the spring and the +golden ripening in fall; to watch the flocks through the breathless +nights and the herds feeding on the distant hills. + +Bruce looked over the ground. He knew enough not to continue the trail +farther. The space in front was bathed in moonlight, and he would make +the best kind of target to any rifle-man watching from the windows of +the house. He turned through the coverts, seeking the shadow of the +forests at one side. + +By going in a quartering direction he was able to approach within two +hundred yards of the house without emerging into the moonlight. At that +point the real difficulty of the stalk began. He hovered in the shadows, +then slipped one hundred feet farther to the trunk of a great oak tree. + +He could see the house much more plainly now. True, it had suffered +neglect in the past twenty years; it needed painting and many of its +windows were broken, but it was a magnificent old mansion even yet. It +stood lost in its dreams in the moonlight; and if, as old stories say, +houses have memories, this old structure was remembering certain tragic +dramas that had waged within and about it in a long-ago day. Bruce +rejoiced to see that there were no lights in the east wing of the house; +the window that Linda had indicated in the note was just a black square +on the moonlit wall. + +There was a neglected garden close to this wing of the house. Bruce +could make out rose bushes, grown to brambles, tall, rank weeds, and +heavy clumps of vines. If he could reach this spot in safety he could +approach within a few feet of the house and still remain in cover. He +went flat; then slowly crawled toward it. + +Once a light sprang up in a window near the front, and he pressed close +to the earth. But in a moment it went away. He crept on. He didn't know +when a watchman in one of the dark windows would discern his creeping +figure. But he did know perfectly just what manner of greeting he might +expect in this event. There would be a single little spurt of fire in +the darkness, so small that probably his eyes would quite fail to catch +it. If they did discern it, there would be no time for a message to be +recorded in his brain. It would mean a swift and certain end of all +messages. The Turners would lose no time in emptying their rifles at +him, and there wouldn't be the slightest doubt about their hitting the +mark. All the clan were expert shots and the range was close. + +The house was deeply silent. He felt a growing sense of awe. In a moment +more, he slipped into the shadows of the neglected rose gardens. + +He lay quiet an instant, resting. He didn't wish to risk the success of +his expedition by fatiguing himself now. He wanted his full strength and +breath for any crisis that he should meet in the room where Linda was +confined. + +Many times, he knew, skulking figures had been concealed in this garden. +Probably the Turners, in the days of the blood-feud, had often waited in +its shadows for a sight of some one of their enemies in a lighted +window. Old ghosts dwelt in it; he could see their shadows waver out of +the corner of his eyes. Or perhaps it was only the shadow of the +brambles, blown by the wind. + +Once his heart leaped into his throat at a sharp crack of brush beside +him; and he could scarcely restrain a muscular jerk that might have +revealed his position. But when he turned his head he could see nothing +but the coverts and the moon above them. A garden snake, or perhaps a +blind mole, had made the sound. + +Four minutes later he was within one dozen feet of the designated +window. There was a stretch of moonlight between, but he passed it +quickly. And now he stood in bold relief against the moonlit house-wall. + +He was in perfectly plain sight of any one on the hill behind. Possibly +his distant form might have been discerned from the window of one of the +lesser houses occupied by Simon's kin. But he was too close to the wall +to be visible from the windows of Simon's house, except by a deliberate +scrutiny. And the window slipped up noiselessly in his hands. + +He was considerably surprised. He had expected this window to be locked. +Some way, he felt less hopeful of success. He recalled in his mind the +directions that Linda had left, wondering if he had come to the wrong +window. But there was no chance of a mistake in this regard; it was the +northernmost window in the east wing. However, she had said that she +would be confined in an interior room, and possibly the Turners had seen +no need of barriers other than its locked door. Probably they had not +even anticipated that Bruce would attempt a rescue. + +He leaped lightly upward and slipped silently into the room. Except for +the moonlit square on the floor it was quite in darkness. It seemed to +him that even in the night hours over a camp fire he had never known +such silence as this that pressed about him now. + +He stood a moment, hardly breathing. But he decided it was not best to +strike a match. There were no enemies here, or they certainly would have +accosted him when he raised the window; and a match might reveal his +presence to some one in an adjoining room. He rested his hand against +the wall, then moved slowly around the room. He knew that by this +course he would soon encounter the door that led into the interior +rooms. + +In a moment he found it. He stood waiting. He turned the knob gently; +then softly pulled. But the door was locked. + +There was no sound now but the loud beating of his own heart. He could +no longer hear the voices of the wind outside the open window. He +wondered whether, should he hurl all his magnificent strength against +the panels, he could break the lock; and if he did so, whether he could +escape with the girl before he was shot down. But his hand, wandering +over the lock, encountered the key. + +It was easy, after all. He turned the key. The door opened beneath his +hand. + +If there had been a single ray of light under the door or through the +keyhole, his course would have been quite different. He would have +opened the door suddenly in that case, hoping to take by surprise +whosoever of the clan were guarding Linda. To open a door slowly into a +room full of enemies is only to give them plenty of time to cock their +rifles. But in this case the room was in darkness, and all that he need +fear was making a sudden sound. The opening slowly widened. Then he +slipped through and stood ten breathless seconds in silence. + +"Linda," he whispered. He waited a long time for an answer. Then he +stole farther into the room. + +"Linda," he said again. "It's Bruce. Are you here?" + +And in that unfathomable silence he heard a sound--a sound so dim and +small that it only reached the frontier of hearing. It was a strange, +whispering, eerie sound, and it filled the room like the faintest, +almost imperceptible gust of wind. But there was no doubting its +reality. And after one more instant in which his heart stood still, he +knew what it was: the sound of suppressed breathing. A living creature +occupied this place of darkness with him, and was either half-gagged by +a handkerchief over the face or was trying to conceal its presence by +muffling its breathing. "Linda," he said again. + +There was a strange response to the calling of that name. He heard no +whispered answer. Instead, the door he had just passed through shut +softly behind him. + +For a fleeting instant he hoped that the wind had blown it shut. For it +is always the way of youth to hope,--as long as any hope is left. His +heart leaped and he whirled to face it. Then he heard the unmistakable +sound of a bolt being slid into place. + +Some little space of time followed in silence. He struggled with growing +horror, and time seemed limitless. Then a strong man laughed grimly in +the darkness. + + + + +XXII + + +As Bruce waited, his eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness. He +began to see the dim outlines of his fellow occupants of the +room,--fully seven brawny men seated in chairs about the walls. "Let's +hear you drop your rifle," one of them said. + +Bruce recognized the grim voice as Simon's,--heard on one occasion +before. He let his rifle fall from his hands. He knew that only death +would be the answer to any resistance to these men. Then Simon scratched +a match, and without looking at him, bent to touch it to the wick of the +lamp. + +The tiny flame sputtered and flickered, filling the room with dancing +shadows. Bruce looked about him. It was the same long, white-walled room +that Dave and Simon had conversed in, after Elmira had first dispatched +her message by Barney Wegan. Bruce knew that he faced the Turner clan at +last. + +Simon sat beside the fireplace, the lamp at his elbow. As the wick +caught, the light brightened and steadied, and Bruce could see plainly. +On each side of him, in chairs about the walls, sat Simon's brothers and +his blood relations that shared the estate with him. They were huge, +gaunt men, most of them dark-bearded and sallow-skinned, and all of +them regarded him with the same gaze of speculative interest. + +Bruce did not flinch before their gaze. He stood erect as he could, +instinctively defiant. + +"Our guest is rather early," Simon began. "Dave hasn't come yet, and +Dave is the principal witness." + +A bearded man across the room answered him. "But I guess we ain't goin' +to let the prisoner go for lack of evidence." + +The circle laughed then,--a harsh sound that was not greatly different +from the laughter of the coyotes on the sagebrush hills. But they +sobered when they saw that Simon hadn't laughed. His dark eyes were +glowing. + +"You, by no chance, met him on the way home, did you?" he asked. + +"I wish I had," Bruce replied. "But I didn't." + +"I don't understand your eagerness. You didn't seem overly eager to meet +us." + +Bruce smiled wanly. These wilderness men regarded him with fresh +interest. Somehow, they hadn't counted on his smiling. It was almost as +if he were of the wilderness breed himself, instead of the son of +cities. "I'm here, am I not?" he said. "It isn't as if you came to my +house first." + +He regarded the clansmen again. He _had_ missed Dave's crafty face in +the circle. + +"Yes, you're here," Simon confirmed. "And I'm wondering if you remember +what I told you just as you left Martin's store that day--that I gave no +man two warnings." + +"I remember that," Bruce replied. "I saw no reason for listening to you. +I don't see any reason now, and I wouldn't if it wasn't for that row of +guns." + +Simon studied his pale face. "Perhaps you'll be sorry you didn't listen, +before this night is over. And there are many hours yet in it. +Bruce--you came up here to these mountains to open old wounds." + +"Simon, I came up here to right wrongs--and you know it. If old wounds +are opened, I can't help it." + +"And to-night," Simon went on as if he had not been answered, "you have +come unbidden into our house. It would be all the evidence the courts +would need, Bruce--that you crept into our house in the dead of night. +If anything happened to you here, no word could be raised against us. +You were a brave man, Bruce." + +"So I can suppose you left the note?" + +The circle laughed again, but Simon silenced them with a gesture. +"You're very keen," he said. + +"Then where is Linda?" Bruce's eyes hardened. "I am more interested in +her whereabouts than in this talk with you." + +"The last seen of her, she was going up a hill with Dave. When Dave +returns you can ask him." + +The bearded man opposite from Simon uttered a short syllable of a laugh. +"And it don't look like he's going to return," he said. The knowing +look on his face was deeply abhorrent to Bruce. Curiously, Simon's face +flushed, and he whirled in his chair. + +"Do you mean anything in particular, Old Bill?" he demanded. + +"It looks to me like maybe Dave's forgot a lot of things you told him, +and he and Linda are havin' a little sparkin' time together out in the +brush." + +The idea seemed to please the clan. But Simon's eyes glowed, and Bruce +himself felt the beginnings of a blind rage that might, unless he held +hard upon it, hurl him against their remorseless weapons. "I don't want +any more such talk out of you, Old Bill," Simon reproved him, "and we've +talked enough, anyway." His keen eyes studied Bruce's flushed face. "One +of you give our guest a chair and fix him up in it with a thong. We +don't want him flying off the coop and getting shot until we're done +talking to him." + +One of the clansmen pushed a chair forward with sudden force, striking +Bruce in the knees and almost knocking him over. The circle leered, and +he sat down in it with as much ease as possible. Then one of the men +looped his arms to the arms of the chair with thongs of buckskin. +Another thong was tied about his ankles. Then the clansmen went back to +their chairs. + +"I really don't see the use of all these dramatics," Bruce said coldly. +"And I don't particularly like veiled threats. At present I seem to be +in your hands." + +"You don't seem to be," Simon answered with reddening eyes. "You are." + +"I have no intention of saying I'm sorry I didn't heed the threats you +gave me before--and as to those I've heard to-night--they're not going +to do you any good, either. It is true that you found me in the house +you occupy in the dead of night--but it isn't your house to start with. +What a man seizes by murder isn't his." + +"What a man holds with a hard fist and his rifle--in these +mountains--_is_ his," Simon contradicted him. + +"Besides, you got me here with a trick," Bruce went on without heeding +him. "So don't pretend that any wickedness you do to-night was justified +by my coming. You'll have to answer for it just the same." + +Simon leaned forward in his chair. His dark eyes glowed in the +lamplight. "I've heard such talk as that before," he said. "I expect +your own father talked like that a few times himself." + +The words seemed to strike straight home to the gathered Turners. The +moment was breathless, weighted with suspense. All of them seemed +straining in their chairs. + +Bruce's head bowed, but the veins stood out beneath the short hair on +his temples, and his lips trembled when he answered. "That was a greater +wickedness than anything--_anything_ you can do to-night. And you'll +have to answer for it all the more." + +He spoke the last sentence with a calm assurance. Though spoken softly, +the words rang clear. But the answer of the evil-hearted man before him +was only a laugh. + +"And there's one thing more I want to make clear," Bruce went on in the +strong voice of a man who had conquered his terror. And it was not +because he did not realize his danger. He was in the hands of the +Turners, and he knew that Simon had spoken certain words that, if for no +other reason than his reputation with his followers, he would have to +make good. Bruce knew that no moment of his life was ever fraught with +greater peril. But the fact itself that there were no doors of escape +open to him, and he was face to face with his destiny, steadied him all +the more. + +The boy that had been wakened in his bed at home by the ring of the +'phone bell had wholly vanished now. A man of the wild places had come +instead, stern and courageous and unflinching. + +"Everything is tolerable clear to us already," Simon said, "except your +sentence." + +"I want you to know that I refuse to be impressed with this judicial +attitude of you and your blackguard followers," Bruce went on. "This +gathering of the group of you doesn't make any evil that you do any less +wrong, or the payment you'll have to make any less sure. It lies wholly +in your power to kill me while I'm sitting here, and I haven't much hope +but that you'll do it. But let me tell you this. A reign of bloodshed +and crime can go on only so long. You've been kings up here, and you +think the law can't reach you. But it will--believe me, it will." + +"And this was the man who was going to begin the blood-feud--already +hollering about the law," Simon said to his followers. He turned to +Bruce. "It's plain that Dave isn't going to come. I'll have to be the +chief witness myself, after all. However, Dave told me all that I needed +to know. The first question I have to ask of you, Folger, is the +whereabouts of that agreement between your late lamented father and the +late lamented Matthew Ross, according to what the trapper Hudson told +you a few days ago." + +Bruce was strong enough to laugh in his bonds. "Up to this time I have +given you and your murderous crowd credit for at least natural +intelligence," he replied, "but I see I was mistaken--or you wouldn't +expect an answer to that question." + +"Do you mean you don't know its whereabouts?" + +"I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing whether I know or not. I +just refuse to answer." + +"I trust the ropes are tight enough about your wrists." + +"Plenty tight, thank you. They are cutting the flesh so it bleeds." + +"How would you like them some tighter?" + +"Pull them till they cut my arms off, and you won't get a civil answer +out of me. In fact--" and the man's eyes blazed--"I'm tired of talking +to this outlaw crowd. And the sooner you do what you're going to do, the +better it will suit me." + +"We'll come to that shortly enough. Disregarding that for a moment--we +understand that you want to open up the blood-feud again. Is that true?" + +Bruce made no answer, only gazed without flinching into his questioner's +face. + +"That was what my brother Dave led me to understand," Simon went on, "so +we've decided to let you have your way. It's open--it's been open since +you came here. You disregarded the warning I gave--and men don't +disregard my warnings twice. You threatened Dave with your rifle. This +is a different land than you're used to, Bruce, and we do things our own +way. You've hunted for trouble and now you've found it. Your father +before you thought he could stand against us--but he's been lying still +a long time. The Rosses thought so too. And it is part of our code never +to take back a threat--but always to make it good." + +Bruce still sat with lowered head, seemingly not listening. The clansmen +gazed at him, and a new, more deadly spirit was in the room. None of +them smiled now; the whole circle of faces was dark and intent, their +eyes glittered through narrowed lids, their lips set. The air was +charged with suspense. The moment of crisis was near. + +Sometimes the men glanced at their leader's face, and what they saw +there filled them with a grim and terrible eagerness. Simon was +beginning to run true to form. His dark passions were slowly mastering +him. For a moment they all sat as if entranced in a communion of +cruelty, and to Bruce they seemed like a colony of spotted rattlesnakes +such as sometimes hold their communions of hatred on the sun-blasted +cliffs. + +All at once Simon laughed,--a sharp, hoarse sound that had, in its +overtones, a note of madness. Every man in the room started. They seemed +to have forgotten Bruce. They looked at their leader with a curious +expectancy. They seemed to know that that wild laugh betokened but one +thing--the impact of some terrible sort of inspiration. + +As they watched, they saw the idea take hold of him. The huge face +darkened. His eyes seemed to smolder as he studied his huge hands. They +understood, these wilderness men. They had seen their leader in such +sessions before. A strange and grim idea had come to him; already he was +feasting on its possibilities. It seemed to heat his blood and blur his +vision. + +"We've decided to be merciful, after all," he said slowly. But neither +Bruce nor the clansmen misunderstood him or were deceived. They only +knew that these words were simply part of a deadly jest that in a moment +all would understand. "Instead of filling you full of thirty-thirty +bullets, as better men than you have been filled and what we _ought_ to +do--we're just going to let you lay out all night--in the pasture--with +your feet tied and your hands behind your back." + +No one relaxed. They listened, staring, for what would follow. + +"You may get a bit cold before morning," Simon went on, "but you're +warmly dressed, and a little frost won't hurt you. And I've got the +place all picked out for you. And we're even going to move something +that's laying there so it will be more pleasant." + +Again he paused. Bruce looked up. + +"The thing that's lying there is a dead yearling calf, half ate up. It +was killed last night by the Killer--the old grizzly that maybe you've +heard of before. Some of the boys were going to wait in trees to-night +by the carcass and shoot the Killer when he comes back after another +meal--something that likely won't happen until about midnight if he runs +true to form. But it won't be necessary now. We're going to haul the +carcass away--down wind where he won't smell it. And we're going to +leave you there in its place to explain to him what became of it." + +Bruce felt their glowing eyes upon him. Exultation was creeping over the +clan; once more their leader had done himself proud. It was such +suggestions as this that kept them in awe of him. + +And they thought they understood. They supposed that the night would be +of the utter depths of terror to the tenderfoot from the cities, that +the bear would sniff and wander about him, and perchance the man's hair +would be turned quite white by morning. But being mountain men, they +thought that the actual danger of attack was not great. They supposed +that the inborn fear of men that all animals possess would keep him at a +distance. And, if by any unlikely chance the theft of the beef-carcass +should throw him into such a rage that he would charge Bruce, no harm +in particular would be done. The man was a Folger, an enemy of the clan, +and after once the telltale ropes were removed, no one would ask +questions about the mutilated, broken thing that would be found next +morning in the pasture. The story would carry down to the settlements +merely as a fresh atrocity of the Killer, the last and greatest of the +grizzlies. + +But they had no realization of the full dreadfulness of the plan. They +hadn't heard the more recent history of the Killer,--the facts that +Simon had just learned from Dave. Strange and dark conjecturing occupied +Simon's mind, and he knew--in a moment's thought--that something more +than terror and indignity might be Bruce's fate. But his passion was +ripe for what might come. The few significant facts that they did not +know were merely that the Killer had already found men out, that he had +learned in an instant's meeting with Hudson beside Little River that men +were no longer to be feared, and worse, that he was raving and deadly +from the pain of the wound that Bruce's bullet had inflicted. + +The circle of faces faded out for both of them as the eyes of Bruce and +Simon met and clashed and battled in the silent room. + + + + +XXIII + + +"If Simon Turner isn't a coward," Bruce said slowly to the clan, "he +will give me a chance to fight him now." + +The room was wholly silent, and the clan turned expectant eyes to their +leader. Simon scowled, but he knew he had to make answer. His eyes crept +over Bruce's powerful body. "There is no obligation on my part to answer +any challenges by you," he said. "You are a prisoner. But if you think +you can sleep better in the pasture because of it, I'll let you have +your chance. Take off his ropes." + +A knife slashed at his bonds. Simon stood up, and Bruce sprang from his +chair like a wild cat, aiming his hardened knuckles straight for the +leering lips. He made the attack with astonishing swiftness and power, +and his intention was to deliver at least one terrific blow before Simon +could get his arms up to defend himself. He had given the huge clan +leader credit for tremendous physical strength, but he didn't think that +the heavy body could move with real agility. But the great muscles +seemed to snap into tension, the head ducked to one side, and his own +huge fists struck out. + +If Bruce's blow had gone straight home where it had been aimed, Simon +would have had nothing more to say for a few moments at least. When man +was built of clay, Nature saw fit to leave him with certain +imperfections lest he should think himself a god, and a weak spot in the +region of the chin is one of them. The jaw bones carry the impact of a +hard blow to certain nerve centers near the temples, and restful sleep +comes quickly. There are never any ill effects, unless further damage is +inflicted while unconsciousness is upon him. In spite of the fact that +Simon got quickly into a position of defense, that first blow still had +a fair chance of bringing the fight to an abrupt end. But still another +consideration remained. + +Bruce's muscles had refused to respond. The leap had been powerful and +swift yet wholly inaccurate. And the reason was just that his wrists and +ankles had been numbed by the tight thongs by which they had been +confined. Simon met the leap with a short, powerful blow into Bruce's +face; and he reeled backward. The arms of the clansmen alone kept him +from falling. + +The blow seemed to daze Bruce; and at first his only realization was +that the room suddenly rang with harsh and grating laughter. Then +Simon's words broke through it. "Put back the thongs," he ordered, "and +go get your horses." + +Bruce was dimly aware of the falling of a silence, and then the arms of +strong men half carrying him to the door. But he couldn't see plainly at +first. The group stood in the shadow of the building; the moon was +behind. He knew that the clan had brought their horses and were waiting +for Simon's command. They loosened the ropes from about his ankles, and +two of the clansmen swung him on to the back of a horse. Then they +passed a rope under the horse's belly and tied his ankles anew. + +Simon gave a command, and the strange file started. The night air +dispelled the mists in Bruce's brain, and full realization of all things +came to him again. One of the men--he recognized him as Young Bill--led +the horse on which he rode. Two of the clansmen rode in front, grim, +silent, incredibly tall figures in the moonlight. The remainder rode +immediately behind. Simon himself, bowed in his saddle, kept a little to +one side. Their shadows were long and grotesque on the soft grass of the +meadows, and the only sound was the soft footfall of their mounts. + +A full mile distant across the lush fields the cavalcade halted about a +grotesque shadow in the grass. Bruce didn't have to look at it twice to +know what it was: the half-devoured body of the yearling calf that had +been the Killer's prey the night before. From thence on, their +operations became as outlandish occurrences in a dream. They seemed to +know just what to do. They took him from the saddle and bound his feet +again; then laid him in the fragrant grass. They searched his pockets, +taking the forged note that had led to his downfall. "It saves me a +trip," Simon commented. He saw two of them lift the torn body of the +animal on to the back of one of the horses, and he watched dully as the +horse plunged and wheeled under the unfamiliar weight. He thought for an +instant that it would step upon his own prone body, but he didn't +flinch. Simon spoke in the silence, but his words seemed to come from +far away. + +"Quiet that horse or kill him," he said softly. "You can't drag the +carcass with your rope--the Killer would trace it if you did and maybe +spoil the evening for Bruce." + +Strong arms sawed at the bits, and the horse quieted, trembling. For a +moment Bruce saw their white moonlit faces as they stared down at him. + +"What about a gag?" one of them asked. + +"No. Let him shout if he likes. There is no one to hear him here." + +Then the tall men swung on their horses and headed back across the +fields. Bruce watched them dully. Their forms grew constantly more dim, +the sense of utter isolation increased. Then he saw the file pause, and +it seemed to him that words, too faint for him to understand, reached +him across the moonlit spaces. Then one of the party turned off toward +the ridge. + +He guessed that it was Simon. He thought the man was riding toward +Linda's home. + +He watched until the shadows had hidden them all. Then, straining +upward, he tested his bonds. He tugged with the full strength of his +arms, but there was not the play of an inch between his wrists. The +Turners had done their work well. Not the slightest chance of escape lay +in this quarter. + +He wrenched himself to one side, then looked about him. The fields +stretched even and distant on one side, but he saw that the dark forest +was but fifty yards away on the other. He listened; and the little +night sounds reached him clearly. They had been sounds to rejoice in +before,--impulses to delightful fancies of a fawn stealing through the +thickets, or some of the Little People in their scurried, tremulous +business of the night hours. But lying helpless at the edge of the +forest, they were nothing to rejoice in now. He tried to shut his ears +to them. + +He rolled again to his back and tried to find peace for his spirit in +the stars. There were millions of them. They were larger and more bright +than any time he had ever seen them. They stood in their high places, +wholly indifferent and impassive to all the strife and confusion of the +world below them; and Bruce wished that he could partake of their spirit +enough so that he could rise above the fear and bitterness that had +begun to oppress him. But only the pines could talk to them. Only the +tall trees, stretching upward toward them, could reach into their +mysterious calm. + +His eyes discerned a thin filament of cloud that had swept up from +behind the ridges, and the sight recalled him to his own position with +added force. The moonlight, soft as it was, had been a tremendous relief +to him. At least, it would have enabled him to keep watch, and now he +dreaded the fall of utter darkness more than he had ever dreaded +anything in his life. It was an ancient instinct, coming straight from +the young days of the world when nightfall brought the hunting creatures +to the mouth of the cave, but he had never really experienced it before. +If the clouds spread, the moon that was his last remaining solace would +be obscured. + +He watched with growing horror the slow extension of the clouds. One by +one the stars slipped beneath them. They drew slowly up to the moon and +for a long minute seemed to hover. They were not heavy clouds, however, +and in their thinner patches the stars looked dimly through. Finally the +moon swept under them. + +The shadow fell around Bruce. For the first time he knew the age-old +terror of the darkness. Dreadful memories arose within him,--vague +things that had their font in the labyrinthal depths of the germ-plasm. +It is a knowledge that no man, with the weapons of the twentieth century +in his hands and in the glow of that great symbol of domain, the camp +fire, can really possess; but here, bound hand and foot in the darkness, +full understanding came to Bruce. He no longer knew himself as one of a +dominant breed, master of all the wild things in the world. He was +simply a living creature in a grim and unconquered world, alone and +helpless in the terror of the darkness. + +The moonlight alternately grew and died as the moon passed in and out of +the heavier cloud patches. Winds must have been blowing in the high +lanes of the air, but there was no breath of them where Bruce lay. The +forests were silent, and the little rustlings and stirrings that reached +him from time to time only seemed to accentuate the quiet. + +He speculated on how many hours had passed. He wondered if he could dare +to hope that midnight had already gone by and, through some divergence +from wilderness customs, the grizzly had failed to return to his feast. +It seemed endless hours since he had reëntered the empty rooms of +Linda's home. A wave of hope crept through the whole hydraulic system of +his veins. And then, as a sudden sound reached him from the forests at +one side, that bright wave of hope turned black, receded, and left only +despair. + +He heard the sound but dimly. In fact, except for his straining with +every nerve alert, he might not have heard it at all. Nevertheless, +distance alone had dimmed it; it had been a large sound to start with. +So far had it come that only a scratch on the eardrums was left of it; +but there was no chance to misunderstand it. It cracked out to him +through the unfathomable silence, and all the elements by which he might +recognize it were distinct. It was the noise of a heavy thicket being +broken down and parted before an enormous body. + +He waited, scarcely breathing, trying to tell himself he had been +mistaken. But a wiser, calmer self deep within him would not accept the +lie. He listened, straining. Then he heard the sound again. + +Whoever came toward him had passed the heavy brush by now. The sounds +that reached him were just faint and intermittent whispers,--first of a +twig cracking beneath a heavy foot, then the rattle of two pebbles +knocked together. Long moments of utter silence would ensue between, in +which he could hear the steady drum of his heart in his breast and the +long roll of his blood in his veins. The shadows grew and deepened and +faded and grew again, as the moon passed from cloud to cloud. + +The limbs of a young fir tree rustled and whispered as something brushed +against them. Leaves flicked together, and once a heavy limb popped like +a distant small-calibered rifle as a great weight broke it in two. Then, +as if the gods of the wilderness were using all their ingenuity to +torture him, the silence closed down deeper than ever before. + +It lasted so long that he began to hope again. Perhaps the sounds had +been made by a deer stealing on its way to feed in the pastures. Yet he +knew the step had been too heavy for anything but the largest deer, and +their way was to encircle a thicket rather than crash through it. The +deer make it their business always to go with silence in these hours +when the beasts of prey are abroad, and usually a beetle in the leaves +makes more noise than they. It might have been the step of one of the +small, black bears--a harmless and friendly wilderness dweller. Yet the +impression lingered and strengthened that only some great hunter, a +beast who feared neither other beasts nor men, had been steadily coming +toward him through the forest. In the long silence that ensued Bruce +began to hope that the animal had turned off. + +At that instant the moon slipped under a particularly heavy fragment of +cloud, and deep darkness settled over him. Even his white face was no +longer discernible in the dusk. He lay scarcely breathing, trying to +fight down his growing terror. + +This silence could mean but one of two things. One of them was that the +creature who had made the sounds had turned off on one of the many +intersecting game trails that wind through the forest. This was his +hope. The alternative was one of despair. It was simply that the +creature had detected his presence and was stalking him in silence +through the shadows. + +He thought that the light would never come. He strained again at his +ropes. The dark cloud swept on; and the moonlight, silver and bright, +broke over the scene. + +The forest stood once more in sharp silhouette against the sky. The moon +stood high above the tapering tops of the pines. He studied with +straining eyes the dark fringe of shadows one hundred feet distant. And +at first he could see only the irregularities cast by the young trees, +the firs between which lay the brush coverts. + +Then he detected a strange variation in the dark border of shadows. It +held his gaze, and its outlines slowly strengthened. So still it stood, +so seemingly a natural shadow that some irregularly shaped tree had +cast, that his eyes refused to recognize it. But in an instant more he +knew the truth. + +The shadow was that of a great beast that had stalked him clear to the +border of the moonlight. The Killer had come for his dead. + + + + +XXIV + + +When Linda returned home the events of the night partook even of a +greater mystery. The front door was open, and she found plenty of +evidence that Bruce had returned from his journey. In the center of the +room lay his pack, a rifle slanting across it. + +At first she did not notice the gun in particular. She supposed it was +Bruce's weapon and that he had come in, dropped his luggage, and was at +present somewhere in the house. It was true that one chair was upset, +but except for an instant's start she gave no thought to it. She thought +that he would probably go to the kitchen first for a bite to eat. He was +not in this room, however, nor had the lamp been lighted. + +Her next idea was that Bruce, tired out, had gone to bed. She went back +softly to the front room, intending not to disturb him. Once more she +noticed the upset chair. The longer she regarded it, the more of a +puzzle it became. She moved over toward the pack and looked casually at +the rifle. In an instant more it was in her hands. + +She saw at once that it was not Bruce's gun. The action, make, and +caliber were different. She was not a rifle-woman, and the little +shooting she had done had been with a pistol; but even a layman could +tell this much. Besides, it had certain peculiar notches on the stock +that the gun Elmira had furnished Bruce did not have. + +She stood a moment in thought. The problem offered no ray of light. She +considered what Bruce's first action would have been, on returning to +the house to find her absent. Possibly he had gone in search of her. She +turned and went to the door of his bedroom. + +She knocked on it softly. "Are you there, Bruce?" she called. + +No answer returned to her. The rooms, in fact, were deeply silent. She +tried the door and found it unlocked. The room had not been occupied. + +Thoroughly alarmed, she went back into the front room and tried to +decipher the mystery of the strange weapon. She couldn't conceive of any +possibility whereby Bruce would exchange his father's trusted gun for +this. Possibly it was an extra weapon that he had procured on his +journey. And since no possible gain would come of her going out into the +forests to seek him, she sat down to wait for his return. She knew that +if she did start out he might easily return in her absence and be +further alarmed. + +The moments dragged by and her apprehension grew. She took the rifle in +her hands and, slipping the lever part way back, looked to see if there +were a cartridge in the barrel. She saw a glitter of brass, and it gave +her a measure of assurance. She had a pistol in her own room--a weapon +that Elmira had procured, years before, from a passing sportsman--and +for a moment she considered getting it also. She understood its action +better and would probably be more efficient with it if the need arose, +but for certain never-to-be-forgotten reasons she wished to keep this +weapon until the moment of utmost need. + +Her whole stock of pistol cartridges consisted of six--completely +filling the magazine of the pistol. Closely watched by the Turners, she +had been unable to procure more. Many a dreadful night these six little +cylinders of brass had been a tremendous consolation to her. They had +been her sole defense, and she knew that in the final emergency she +could use them to deadly effect. + +Linda was a girl who had always looked her situations in the face. She +was not one to flinch from the truth and with false optimism disbelieve +it. She had the courage of many generations of frontiersmen and +woodsmen, and she had their vision too. She knew these mountain realms; +better still she understood the dark passions of Simon and his +followers, and this little half-pound of steel and wood with its brass +shells might mean, in the dreadful last moment of despair, deliverance +from them. It might mean escape for herself when all other ways were cut +off. In this wild land, far from the reaches of law and without allies +except for a decrepit old woman, the pistol and its deadly loads had +been her greatest solace. + +But she relied on the rifle now. And sitting in the shadow, she kept +watch over the moonlit ridge. + +The hours passed, and the clouds were starting up from the horizon when +she thought she saw Bruce returning. A tall form came swinging toward +her, over the little trail that led between the tree trunks. She peered +intently. And in one instant more she knew that the approaching figure +was not Bruce, but the man she most feared of anyone on earth, Simon +Turner. + +She knew him by his great form, his swinging stride. Her thoughts came +clear and true. It was obvious that his was no mission of stealth. He +was coming boldly, freely, not furtively; and he must have known that he +presented a perfect rifle target from the windows. Nevertheless, it is +well to be prepared for emergencies. If life in the mountains teaches +anything, it teaches that. She took the rifle and laid it behind a +little desk, out of sight. Then she went to the door. + +"I want to come in, Linda," Simon told her. + +"I told you long ago you couldn't come to this house," Linda answered +through the panels. "I want you to go away." + +Simon laughed softly. "You'd better let me in. I've brought word of the +child you took to raise. You know who I mean." + +Yes, Linda knew. "Do you mean Bruce?" she asked. "I let Dave in to-night +on the same pretext. Don't expect me to be caught twice by the same +lie." + +"Dave? Where is Dave?" The fact was that the whereabouts of his brother +had suddenly become considerable of a mystery to Simon. All the way +from the pasture where he had left his clan he had been having black +pictures of Dave. He had thought about him and Linda out in the darkness +together, and his heart had seemed to smolder and burn with jealousy in +his breast. It had been a great relief to him to find her in the house. + +"I wonder--where he is by now," Linda answered in a strange voice. "No +one in this world can answer that question, Simon. Tell me what you +want." + +She opened the door. She couldn't bear to show fear of this man. And she +knew that an appearance of courage, at least, was the wisest course. + +"No matter about him now. I want to talk to you on business. If I had +meant rough measures, I wouldn't have come alone." + +"No," Linda scorned. "You would have brought your whole murdering band +with you. The Turners believe in overwhelming numbers." + +The words stung him but he smiled grimly into her face. "I've come in +peace, Linda," he said, more gently. "I've come to give you a last +chance to make friends." + +He walked past her into the room. He straightened the chair that had +been upset, smiling strangely the while, and sat down in it. + +"Then tell me what you have to tell me," she said. "I'm in a hurry to go +to bed--and this really isn't the hour for calls." + +He looked a long time into her face. She found it hard to hold her own +gaze. Many things could be doubted about this man, but his power and +his courage were not among them. The smile died from his lips, the +lines deepened on his face. She realized as never before the tempestuous +passions and unfathomable intensity of his nature. + +"We've never been good friends," Simon went on slowly. + +"We never could be," the girl answered. "We've stood for different +things." + +"At first my efforts to make friends were just--to win you over to our +side. It didn't work--all it did was to waken other desires in +me--desires that perhaps have come to mean more than the possession of +the lands. You know what they are. You've always known--that any time +you wished--you could come and rule my house." + +She nodded. She knew that she had won, against her will, the strange, +somber love of this mighty man. She had known it for months. + +"As my wife--don't make any mistake about that. Linda, I'm a stern, hard +man. I've never known how to woo. I don't know that I want to know how, +the way it is done by weaker men. It has never been my way to ask for +what I wanted. But sometimes it seems to me that if I'd been a little +more gentle--not so masterful and so relentless--that I'd won you long +ago." + +Linda looked up bravely into his face. "No, Simon. You could have +never--never won me! Oh, can't you see--even in this awful place a woman +wants something more than just brute strength and determination. Every +woman prays to find strength in the man she loves--but it isn't the +kind that you have, the kind that makes your men grovel before you, and +makes me tremble when I'm talking to you. It's a big, calm +strength--and I can't tell you what it is. It's something the pines +have, maybe--strength not to yield to the passions, but to restrain, not +to be afraid of, but to cling to--to stand upright and honorable and +manly, and make a woman strong just to see it in the man she loves." + +He listened gravely. Her cheeks blazed. It was a strange scene--the +silent room, the implacable foes, the breathless suspense, the prophecy +and inspiration in her tones. + +"Perhaps I should have been more gentle," he admitted. "I might have +forgotten--for a little while--this surging, irresistible impulse in my +muscles--and tried just to woo you, gently and humbly. But it's too late +now. I'm not a fool. I can't expect you to begin at the beginning. I can +only go on in my own way--my hard, remorseless, ruthless way. + +"It isn't every man who is brave enough to see what he wants and knock +away all obstacles to get it," he went on. "Put that bravery to my +credit. To pay no attention to methods, only to look forward to the +result. That has been my creed. It is my creed now. Many less brave men +would fear your hatred--but I don't fear it as long as I possess what I +go after and a hope that I can get you over it. Many of my own brothers +hate me, but yet I don't care as long as they do my will. No matter how +much you scorn it, this bravery has always got me what I wanted, and it +will get me what I want now." + +The high color died in her face. She wondered if the final emergency had +come at last. + +"I've come to make a bargain. You can take it or you can refuse. On one +side is the end of all this conflict, to be my wife, to have what you +want--bought by the rich return from my thousands of acres. And I love +you, Linda. You know that." + +The man spoke the truth. His terrible, dark love was all over him--in +his glowing eyes, in his drawn, deeply-lined face. + +"In time, when you come around to my way of thinking, you'll love me. If +you refuse--this last time--I've got to take other ways. On that side is +defeat for you--as sure as day. The time is almost up when the title to +those lands is secure. Bruce is in our hands--" + +She got up, white-faced. "Bruce--?" + +He arose too. "Yes! Did you think he could stand against us? I'll show +him to you in the morning. To-night he's paying the price for ever +daring to oppose my will." + +She turned imploring eyes. He saw them, and perhaps--far distant--he saw +the light of triumph too. A grim smile came to his lips. + +"Simon," she cried. "Have mercy." + +The word surprised him. It was the first time she had ever asked this +man for mercy. "Then you surrender--?" + +"Simon, listen to me," she begged. "Let him go--and I won't even try to +fight you any more. I'll let you keep those lands and never try any more +to make you give them up. You and your brothers can keep them forever, +and we won't try to get revenge on you either. He and I will go away." + +He gazed at her in deepening wonderment. For the moment, his mind +refused to accept the truth. He only knew that since he had faced her +before, some new, great strength had come to her,--that a power was in +her life that would make her forego all the long dream of her days. + +He had known perfectly the call of the blood in her. He had understood +her hatred of the Turners, he could hate in the same way himself. He +realized her love for her father's home and how she had dreamed of +expelling its usurpers. Yet she was willing to renounce it all. The +power that had come to her was one that he, a man whose code of life was +no less cruel and remorseless than that of the Killer himself, could not +understand. + +"But why?" he demanded. "Why are you willing to do all this for him?" + +"Why?" she echoed. Once more the luster was in her dark eyes. "I suppose +it is because--I love him." + +He looked at her with slowly darkening face. Passion welled within him. +An oath dropped from his lips, blasphemous, more savage than any +wilderness voice. Then he raised his arm and struck her tender flesh. + +He struck her breast. The brutality of the man stood forth at last. No +picture that all the dreadful dramas of the wild could portray was more +terrible than this. The girl cried out, reeled and fell fainting from +the pain, and with smoldering eyes he gazed at her unmoved. Then he +turned out of the door. + +But the curtain of this drama in the mountain home had not yet rung +down. Half-unconscious, she listened to his steps. He was out in the +moonlight, vanishing among the trees. Strange fancies swept her, all in +the smallest fraction of an instant, and a voice spoke clearly. With all +the strength of her will she dispelled the mists of dawning +unconsciousness that the pain had wrought and crept swiftly to the +little desk placed against the wall. Her hand fumbled in the shadow +behind it and brought out a glittering rifle. Then she crept to the open +doorway. + +Lying on the floor, she raised the weapon to her shoulder. Her thumb +pressed back, strong and unfaltering, against the hammer; and she heard +it click as it sprung into place. Then she looked along the barrel until +she saw the swinging form of Simon through the sights. + +There was no remorse in that cold gaze of hers. The wings of death +hovered over the man, ready to swoop down. Her fingers curled tighter +about the trigger. One ounce more pressure, and Simon's trail of +wickedness and bloodshed would have come to an end at last. But at that +instant her eyes widened with the dawn of an idea. + +She knew this man. She knew the hatred that was upon him. And she +realized, as if by an inspiration from on High, that before he went to +his house and to sleep he would go once more into the presence of Bruce, +confined somewhere among these ridges and suffering the punishment of +having opposed his will. Simon would want one look to see how his plan +was getting on; perhaps he would want to utter one taunting word. And +Linda saw her chance. + +She started to creep out of the door. Then she turned back, crawled +until she was no longer revealed in the silhouette of the lighted +doorway, and got swiftly to her feet. She dropped the rifle and darted +into her own room. There she procured a weapon that she trusted more, +her little pistol, loaded with six cartridges. + +If she had understood the real nature of the danger that Bruce faced she +would have retained the rifle. It shot with many times the smashing +power of the little gun, and at long range was many times as accurate, +but even it would have seemed an ineffective defense against such an +enemy as was even now creeping toward Bruce's body. But she knew that in +a crisis, against such of the Turners as she thought she might have to +face, it would serve her much better than the more awkward, heavier +weapon. Besides, she knew how to wield it, and all her life she had kept +it for just such an emergency. + +The pain of the blow was quite gone now, except for a strange sickness +that had encompassed her. But she was never colder of nerve and surer +of muscle. Cunningly she lay down again before she crept through the +door, so that if Simon chanced to look about he would fail to see that +she followed him. She crept to the thickets, then stood up. Three +hundred yards down the slope she could see Simon's dimming figure in the +moonlight, and swiftly she sped after him. + + + + +XXV + + +The shadow that Bruce saw at the edge of the forest could not be +mistaken as to identity. The hopes that he had held before--that this +stalking figure might be that of a deer or an elk--could no longer be +entertained. Men as a rule do not love the wild and wailing sobs of a +coyote, as he looks down upon a camp fire from the ridge above. Sleep +does not come easily when a gaunt wolf walks in a slow, inquisitive +circle about the pallet, scarcely a leaf rustling beneath his feet. And +a few times, in the history of the frontier, men have had queer +tinglings and creepings in the scalp when they have happened to glance +over their shoulders and see the eyes of a great, tawny puma, glowing an +odd blue in the firelight. Yet Bruce would have had any one of these, or +all three together, in preference to the Killer. + +The reason was extremely simple. No words have ever been capable of +expressing the depths of cowardice of which a coyote is capable. He will +whine and weep about a camp, like a soul lost between two worlds, but if +he is in his right mind he would have each one of his gray hairs plucked +out, one by one, rather than attack a man. The cunning breed to which he +belongs has found out that it doesn't pay. The wolf is sometimes +disquietingly brave when he is fortified by his pack brethren in the +winter, but in such a season as this he is particularly careful to keep +out of the sight of man. And the Tawny One himself, white-fanged and +long-clawed and powerful as he is, never gets farther than certain +dreadful, speculative dreams. + +But none of these things was true of the Killer. He had already shown +his scorn of men. His very stride showed that he feared no living +creature that shared the forest with him. In fact, he considered himself +the forest master. The bear is never a particularly timid animal, and +whatever timidity the Killer possessed was as utterly gone as +yesterday's daylight. + +Bruce watched him with unwinking eyes. The shadow wavered ever so +slightly, as the Killer turned his head this way and that. But except to +follow it with his eyes, Bruce made no motion. The inner guardians of a +man's life--voices that are more to be relied upon than the promptings +of any conscious knowledge--had already told him what to do. These +monitors had the wisdom of the pines themselves, and they had revealed +to him his one hope. It was just to lie still, without a twitch of a +muscle. It might be that the Killer would fail to discern his outline. +Bruce had no conscious knowledge, as yet, that it is movement rather +than form to which the eyes of the wild creatures are most receptive. +But he acted upon that fact now as if by instinct. He was not lying in +quite the exact spot where the Killer had left his dead the preceding +night, and possibly his outline was not enough like it to attract the +grizzly's attention. Besides, in the intermittent light, it was wholly +possible that the grizzly would try to find the remains of his feast by +smell alone; and if this were lacking, and Bruce made no movements to +attract his attention, he might wander away in search of other game. + +For the first time in his life, Bruce knew Fear as it really was. It is +a knowledge that few dwellers in cities can possibly have; and so few +times has it really been experienced in these days of civilization that +men have mostly forgotten what it is like. If they experience it at all, +it is usually only in a dream that arises from the germ-plasm,--a +nightmare to paralyze the muscles and chill the heart and freeze a man +in his bed. The moon was strange and white as it slipped in and out of +the clouds, and the forest, mysterious as Death itself, lightened and +darkened alternately with a strange effect of unreality; but for all +that, Bruce could not make himself believe that this was just a dream. +The dreadful reality remained that the Killer, whose name and works he +knew, was even now investigating him from the shadows one hundred feet +away. + +The fear that came to him was that of the young world,--fear without +recompense, direct and primitive fear that grew on him like a sickness. +It was the fear that the deer knew as they crept down their dusky trails +at night; it was the fear of darkness and silence and pain and heaven +knows what cruelty that would be visited upon him by those terrible, +rending fangs and claws. It was the fear that can be heard in the pack +song in the dreadful winter season, and that can be felt in strange +overtones, in the sobbing wail of despair that the coyote utters in the +half-darkness. He had been afraid for his life every moment he was in +the hands of the Turners. He knew that if he survived this night, he +would have to face death again. He had no hopes of deliverance +altogether. But the Turners were men, and they worked with knife blade +and bullet, not rending fang and claw. He could face men bravely; but it +was hard to keep a strong heart in the face of this ancient fear of +beasts. + +The Killer seemed disturbed and moved slowly along the edge of the +moonlight. Bruce could trace his movements by the irregularity in the +line of shadows. He seemed to be moving more cautiously than ever, now. +Bruce could not hear the slightest sound. + +For an instant Bruce had an exultant hope that the bear would continue +on down the edge of the forest and leave him; and his heart stood still +as the great beast paused, sniffing. But some smell in the air seemed to +reach him, and he came stealing back. + +In reality, the Killer was puzzled. He had come to this place straight +through the forest with the expectation that food--flesh to tear with +his fangs--would be waiting for him. Perhaps he had no actual memory of +killing the calf the night before. Possibly it was only instinct, not +conscious intelligence, that brought him back to what was left of his +feast the preceding night. And now, as he waited at the border of the +darkness, he knew that a strange change had taken place. And the Killer +did not like strangeness. + +The smell that he had expected had dimmed to such an extent that it +promoted no muscular impulse. Perhaps it was only obliterated by a +stranger smell,--one that was vaguely familiar and wakened a slow, +brooding anger in his great beast's heart. + +He was not timid; yet he retained some of his natural caution and +remained in the gloom while he made his investigations. Probably it was +a hunting instinct alone. He crept slowly up and down the border of +moonlight, and his anger seemed to grow and deepen within him. He felt +dimly that he had been cheated out of his meal. And once before he had +been similarly cheated; but there had been singular triumph at the end +of that experience. + +All at once a movement, far across the pasture, caught his attention. +Remote as it was, he identified the tall form at once; it was just such +a creature as he had blasted with one blow a day or two before. But it +dimmed quickly in the darkness. It seemed only that some one had come, +taken one glance at the drama at the edge of the forest, and had +departed. Bruce himself had not seen the figure; and perhaps it was the +mercy of Fate--not usually merciful--that he did not. He might have been +caused to hope again, only to know a deeper despair when the man left +him without giving aid. For the tall form had been that of Simon coming, +as Linda had anticipated, for a moment's inspection of his handiwork. +And seeing that it was good, he had departed again. + +The grizzly watched him go, then turned back to his questioning regard +of the strange, dark figure that lay so prone in the grass in front. The +darkness dropped over him as the moon went behind a heavy patch of +cloud. + +And in that moment of darkness, the Killer understood. He remembered +now. Possibly the upright form of Simon had suggested it to him; +possibly the wind had only blown straighter and thus permitted him to +identify the troubling smells. All at once a memory flashed over +him,--of a scene in a distant glen, and similar tall figures that tried +to drive him from his food. He had charged then, struck once, and one of +the forms had lain very still. He remembered the pungent, maddening odor +that had reached him after his blow had gone home. Most clearly of all, +he remembered how his fangs had struck and sunk. + +He knew this strange shadow now. It was just another of that tall breed +he had learned to hate, and it was simply lying prone as his foe had +done after the charge beside Little River. In fact, the still-lying form +recalled the other occasion with particular vividness. The excitement +that he had felt before returned to him now; he remembered his +disappointment when the whistling bullets from the hillside above had +driven him from his dead. But there were no whistling bullets now. +Except for them, there would have been further rapture beside that +stream; but he might have it now. + +His fangs had sunk home just once, before, and his blood leaped as he +recalled the passion he had felt. The old hunting madness came back to +him. It was the fair game, this that lay so still in the grass, just as +the body of the calf had been and just as the warm body of Hudson in the +distant glen. + +The wound at his side gave him a twinge of pain. It served to make his +memories all the clearer. The lurid lights grew in his eyes. Rage swept +over him. + +But he didn't charge blindly. He retained enough of his hunting caution +to know that to stalk was the proper course. It was true that there was +no shrubbery to hide him, yet in his time he had made successful stalks +in the open, even upon deer. He moved farther out from the edge of the +forest. + +At that instant the moon came out and revealed him, all too vividly, to +Bruce. The Killer's great gray figure in the silver light was creeping +toward him across the silvered grass. + + * * * * * + +When Linda left her house, her first realization was the need of +caution. It would not do to let Simon see her. And she knew that only +her long training in the hills, her practice in climbing the winding +trails, would enable her to keep pace with the fast-walking man without +being seen. + +In her concern for Bruce, she had completely forgotten the events of the +earlier part of the evening. Wild and stirring though they were, they +now seemed to her as incidents of remote years, nothing to be +remembered in this hour of crisis. But she remembered them vividly when, +two hundred yards from the house, she saw two strange figures coming +toward her between the moonlit tree trunks. + +There was very little of reality about either. The foremost figure was +bent and strange, but she knew that it could be no one but Elmira. The +second, however--half-obscured behind her--offered no interpretation of +outline at all at first. But at the turn of the trail she saw both +figures in vivid profile. Elmira was coming homeward, bent over her +cane, and she led a saddled horse by its bridle rein. + +Still keeping Simon in sight, Linda ran swiftly toward her. She didn't +understand the deep awe that stole over her,--an emotion that even her +fear for Bruce could not transcend. There was a quality in Elmira's face +and posture that she had never seen before. It was as if she were +walking in her sleep, she came with such a strange heaviness and +languor, her cane creeping through the pine needles of the trail in +front. She did not seem to be aware of Linda's approach until the girl +was only ten feet distant. Then she looked up, and Linda saw the +moonlight on her face. + +She saw something else too, but she didn't know what it was. Her own +eyes widened. The thin lips were drooping, the eyes looked as if she +were asleep. The face was a strange net of wrinkles in the soft light. +Terrible emotions had but recently died and left their ashes upon it. +But Linda knew that this was no time to stop and wonder and ask +questions. + +"Give me the horse," she commanded. "I'm going to help Bruce." + +"You can have it," Elmira answered in an unfamiliar voice. "It's the +horse that--that Dave Turner rode here--and he won't want him any more." + +Linda took the rein, passed it over the horse's head, and started to +swing into the saddle. Then she turned with a gasp as the woman slipped +something into her hand. + +Linda looked down and saw it was the hilt of the knife that Elmira had +carried with her when the two women had gone with Dave into the woods. +The blade glittered; but Linda was afraid to look at it closely. "You +might need that, too," the old woman said. "It may be wet--I can't +remember. But take it, anyway." + +Linda hardly heard. She thrust the blade into the leather of the saddle, +then swung on her horse. Once more she sought Simon's figure. Far away +she saw it, just as it vanished into the heavy timber on top of the +hill. + +She rode swiftly until she began to fear that he might hear the hoof +beat of her mount; then she drew up to a walk. And when she had crested +the hill and had followed down its long slope into the glen, the moon +went under the clouds for the first time. + +She lost sight of Simon at once. Seemingly her effort to save Bruce had +come to nothing, after all. + +But she didn't turn back. There were light patches in the sky, and the +moon might shine forth again. + +She followed down the trail toward the cleared lands that the Turners +cultivated. She went to their very edge. It was a rather high point, so +she waited here for the moon to emerge again. Never, it seemed to her, +had it moved so slowly. But all at once its light flowed forth over the +land. + +Her eyes searched the distant spaces, but she could catch no glimpse of +Simon between the trees. Evidently he no longer walked in the direction +of the house. Then she looked out over the tilled lands. + +Almost a quarter of a mile away she saw the flicker of a miniature +shadow. Only the vivid quality of the moonlight, against which any +shadow was clear-cut and sharp, enabled her to discern it at all. It was +Simon, and evidently his business had taken him into the meadows. +Feeling that she was on the right track at last, she urged her horse +forward again, keeping to the shadow of the timber at first. + +Simon walked almost parallel to the dark fringe for nearly a mile; then +turned off into the tilled lands. She rode opposite him and reined in +the horse to watch. + +When the distance had almost obscured him, she saw him stop. He waited a +long time, then turned back. The moon went in and out of the clouds. +Then, trusting to the distance to conceal her, Linda rode slowly out +into the clearing. + +Simon reëntered the timber, his inspection seemingly done, and Linda +still rode in the general direction he had gone. The darkness fell +again, and for the space of perhaps five minutes all the surroundings +were obscured. A curious sense of impending events came over her as she +headed on toward the distant wall of forest beyond. + +Then, the clouds slowly dimming under the moon, the light grew with +almost imperceptible encroachments. At first it was only bright enough +to show her own dim shadow on the grass. The utter gloom that was over +the fields lessened and drew away like receding curtains; her vision +reached ever farther, the shadows grew more clearly outlined and +distinct. Then the moon rolled forth into a wholly open patch of sky--a +white sphere with a sprinkling of vivid stars around it--and the silver +radiance poured down. + +It was like the breaking of dawn. The fields stretched to incredible +distances about her. The forest beyond emerged in distinct outline; she +could see every irregularity in the plain. And in one instant's glance +she knew that she had found Bruce. + +His situation went home to her in one sweep of the eyes. Bruce was not +alone. Even now a great, towering figure was creeping toward him from +the forest. Linda cried out, and with the long strap of her rein lashed +her horse into the fastest pace it knew. + + * * * * * + +Bruce did not hear her come. He lay in the soft grass, waiting for +death. A great calm had come upon him; a strange, quiet strength that +the pines themselves might have lent to him; and he made no cry. In this +dreadful last moment of despair the worst of his terror had gone and +left his thoughts singularly clear. And but one desire was left to him: +that the Killer might be merciful and end his frail existence with one +blow. + +It was not a great deal to ask for; but he knew perfectly that only by +the mercy of the forest gods could it come to pass. They are usually not +so kind to the dying; and it is not the wild-animal way to take pains to +kill at the first blow. Yet his eyes held straight. The Killer crept +slowly toward him; more and more of his vast body was revealed above the +tall heads of the grass. And now all that Bruce knew was a great +wonder,--a strange expectancy and awe of what the opening gates of +darkness would reveal. + +The Killer moved with dreadful slowness and deliberation. He was no +longer afraid. It was just as it had been before,--a warm figure lying +still and helpless for his own terrible pleasure. A few more steps and +he would be near enough to see plainly; then--after the grizzly +habit--to fling into the charge. It was his own way of hunting,--to +stalk within a few score of feet, then to make a furious, resistless +rush. He paused, his muscles setting. And then the meadows suddenly rang +with the undulations of his snarl. + +Almost unconscious, Bruce did not understand what had caused this +utterance. But strangely, the bear had lifted his head and was staring +straight over him. For the first time Bruce heard the wild beat of +hoofs on the turf behind him. + +He didn't have time to turn and look. There was no opportunity even for +a flood of renewed hope. Events followed upon one another with startling +rapidity. The sharp, unmistakable crack of a pistol leaped through the +dusk, and a bullet sung over his body. And then a wild-riding figure +swept up to him. + +It was Linda, firing as she came. How she had been able to control her +horse and ride him into that scene of peril no words may reveal. +Perhaps, running wildly beneath the lash, his starting eyes did not +discern or interpret the gray figure scarcely a score of yards distant +from Bruce; and it is true the grizzly's pungent smell--a thing to +terrify much more and to be interpreted more clearly than any kind of +dim form in the moonlight--was blown in the opposite direction. Perhaps +the lashing strap recalled the terrible punishment the horse had +undergone earlier that evening at the hands of Simon and no room was +left for any lesser terror. But most likely of all, just as in the case +of brave soldiers riding their horses into battle, the girl's own +strength and courage went into him. Always it has been the same; the +steed partook of its rider's own spirit. + +The bear reared up, snarling with wrath, but for a moment it dared not +charge. The sudden appearance of the girl and the horse held him +momentarily at bay. The girl swung to the ground in one leap, fired +again, thrust her arm through the loop of the bridle rein, then knelt +at Bruce's side. The white blade that she carried in her left hand +slashed at his bonds. + +The horse, plunging, seemed to jerk her body back and forth, and endless +seconds seemed to go by before the last of the thongs was severed. In +reality the whole rescue was unbelievably swift. The man helped her all +he could. "Up--up into the saddle," she commanded. The grizzly growled +again, advancing remorselessly toward them, and twice more she fired. +Two of the bullets went home in his great body, but their weight and +shocking power were too slight to affect him. He went down once more on +all fours, preparing to charge. + +Bruce, in spite of the fact that his limbs had been nearly paralyzed by +the tight bonds, managed to grasp the saddlehorn. In the strength of +new-born hope he pulled himself half up on it, and he felt Linda's +strong arms behind him pushing up. The horse plunged in deadly fear; and +the Killer leaped toward them. Once more the pistol cracked. Then the +horse broke and ran in a frenzy of terror. + +Bruce was full in the saddle by then, and even at the first leap his arm +swept out to the girl on the ground beside him. He swung her towards +him, and at the same time her hands caught at the arching back of the +saddle. Never had her fine young strength been put to a greater test +than when she tried to pull herself up on the speeding animal's back. +For the first fifty feet she was half-dragged, but slowly--with Bruce's +help--she pulled herself up to a position of security. + +The Killer's charge had come a few seconds too late. For a moment he +raced behind them in insane fury, but only his savage growl leaped +through the darkness fast enough to catch up with them. And the distance +slowly widened. + +The Killer had been cheated again; and by the same token Simon's oath +had been proved untrue. For once the remorseless strength of which he +boasted had been worsted by a greater strength; and love, not hate, was +the power that gave it. For once a girl's courage--a courage greater +than that with which he obeyed the dictates of his cruel will--had cost +him his victory. The war that he and his outlaw band had begun so long +ago had not yet been won. + +Indeed, if Simon could have seen what the moon saw as it peered out from +behind the clouds, he would have known that one of the debts of blood +incurred so many years ago had even now been paid. Far away on a distant +hillside there was one who gave no heed to the fast hoof beats of the +speeding horse. It was Dave Turner, and his trail of lust and wickedness +was ended at last. He lay with lifted face, and there were curious dark +stains on the pine needles. + +It was the first blood since the reopening of the feud. And the pines, +those tall, dark sentinels of the wilderness, seemed to look down upon +him in passionless contemplation, as if they wondered at the stumbling +ways of men. Their branches rubbed together and made words as the wind +swept through them, but no man may say what those words were. + + + + +BOOK THREE + +THE COMING OF THE STRENGTH + + + + +XXVI + + +Fall was at hand at Trail's End. One night, and the summer was still a +joyous spirit in the land, birds nested, skies were blue, soft winds +wandered here and there through the forest. One morning, and a startling +change had come upon the wilderness world. The spirit of autumn had come +with golden wings. + +The wild creatures, up and about at their pursuits long before dawn, +were the first to see the change. A buck deer--a noble creature with six +points on his spreading horns--got the first inkling of it when he +stopped at a spring to drink. It was true that an hour before he had +noticed a curious crispness and a new stir in the air, but he had been +so busy keeping out of the ambushes of the Tawny One that he had not +noticed it. The air had been chill in his nostrils, but thanks to a +heavy growth of hair that--with mysterious foresight--had begun to come +upon his body, it gave him no discomfort. But it was a puzzling and +significant thing that the water he bent to drink had been transformed +to something hard and white and burning cold to the tip of his nose. + +It was the first real freeze. True, for the past few nights there had +been a measure of tinkling, cobweb frost on the ground in wet places, +but even the tender-skinned birds--always most watchful of signs of this +kind--had disregarded it. But there was no disregarding this half-inch +of blue ice that had covered the spring. The buck deer struck it angrily +with his front hoofs, broke through and drank; then went snorting up the +hill. + +His anger was in itself a significant thing. In the long, easy-going +summer days, Blacktail had almost forgotten what anger was like. He had +been content to roam over the ridges, cropping the leaves and grass, +avoiding danger and growing fat. But all at once this kind of existence +had palled on him. He felt that he wanted only one thing--not food or +drink or safety--but a good, slashing, hooking, hoof-carving battle with +another buck of his own species. An unwonted crossness had come upon +him, and his soft eyes burned with a blue fire. He remembered the does, +too--with a sudden leap of his blood--and wondered where they were +keeping themselves. Being only a beast he did not know that this new +belligerent spirit was just as much a sign of fall as the soft blush +that was coming on the leaves. The simple fact was that fall means the +beginning of the rut--the wild mating days when the bucks battle among +themselves and choose their harems of does. + +He had rather liked his appearance as he saw himself in the water of the +spring. The last of the velvet had been rubbed from his horns, and the +twelve tines (six on each horn) were as hard and almost as sharp as so +many bayonet points. As the morning dawned, the change in the face of +nature became ever more manifest. The leaves of the shrubbery began to +change in color. The wind out of the north had a keener, more biting +quality, and the birds were having some sort of exciting debate in the +tree tops. + +The birds are always a scurried, nervous, rather rattle-brained outfit, +and seem wholly incapable of making a decision about anything without +hours of argument and discussion. Their days are simply filled with one +excitement after another, and they tell more scandal in an hour than the +old ladies in a resort manage in the entire summer. This slow +transformation in the color of the leaves, not to mention the chill of +the frost through their scanty feathers, had created a sensation from +one end of birdland to another. And there was only one thing to do about +it. That was to wait until the darkness closed down again, then start +away toward the path of the sun in search of their winter resorts in the +south. + +The Little People in the forest of ferns beneath were not such gay +birds, and they did not have such high-flown ideas as these feathered +folk in the branches. They didn't talk such foolishness and small talk +from dawn to dark. They didn't wear gay clothes that weren't a particle +of good to them in cold weather. You can imagine them as being good, +substantial, middle-class people, much more sober-minded, tending +strictly to business and working hard, and among other things they saw +no need of flitting down to southern resorts for the cold season. These +people--being mostly ground squirrels and gophers and chipmunks and +rabbits--had not been fitted by nature for wide travel and had made all +arrangements for a pleasant winter at home. You could almost see a smile +on the fat face of a plump old gopher when he came out and found the +frost upon the ground; for he knew that for months past he had been +putting away stores for just this season. In the snows that would follow +he would simply retire into the farthest recesses of his burrow and let +the winds whistle vainly above him. + +The larger creatures, however, were less complacent. The wolves--if +animals have any powers of foresight whatever--knew that only hard days, +not luscious nuts and roots, were in store for them. There would be many +days of hunger once the snow came over the land. The black bear saw the +signs and began a desperate effort to lay up as many extra pounds of fat +as possible before the snows broke. Ashur's appetite was always as much +with him as his bobbed-off excuse for a tail, and as he was more or less +indifferent to a fair supply of dirt, he always managed to put away +considerable food in a rather astonishingly short period of time; and +now he tried to eat all the faster in view of the hungry days to come. +He would have need of the extra flesh. The time was coming when all +sources of food would be cut off by the snows, and he would have to seek +the security of hibernation. He had already chosen an underground abode +for himself and there he could doze away in the cold-trance through the +winter months, subsisting on the supplies of fat that he had stored next +to his furry hide. + +The greatest of all the bears, the Killer, knew that some such fate +awaited him also. But he looked forward to it with wretched spirit. He +was master of the forest, and perhaps he did not like to yield even to +the spirit of winter. His savagery grew upon him every day, and his +dislike for men had turned to a veritable hatred. But he had found them +out. When he crossed their trails again, he would not wait to stalk. +They were apt to slip away from him in this case and sting him +unmercifully with bullets. The thing to do was charge quickly and strike +with all his power. + +The three minor wounds he had received--two from pistol bullets and one +from Bruce's rifle--had not lessened his strength at all. They did, +however, serve to keep his blood-heat at the explosive stage most of the +day and night. + +The flowers and the grasses were dying; the moths that paid calls on the +flowers had laid their eggs and had perished, and winter lurked--ready +to pounce forth--just beyond the distant mountains. There is nothing so +thoroughly unreliable as the mountain autumn. It may linger in +entrancing golds and browns month after month, until it is almost time +for spring to come again; and again it may make one short bow and usher +in the winter. To Bruce and Linda, in the old Folger home in Trail's +End, these fall days offered the last hope of success in their war +against the Turners. + +The adventure in the pasture with the Killer had handicapped them to an +unlooked-for degree. Bruce's muscles had been severely strained by the +bonds; several days had elapsed before he regained their full use. Linda +was a mountain girl, hardy as a deer, yet her nerves had suffered a +greater shock by the experience than either of them had guessed. The +wild ride, the fear and the stress, and most of all the base blow that +Simon had dealt her had been too much even for her strong constitution; +and she had been obliged to go to bed for a few days of rest. Old Elmira +worked about the house the same as ever, but strange, new lights were in +her eyes. For reasons that went down to the roots of things, neither +Bruce nor Linda questioned her as to her scene with Dave Turner in the +coverts; and what thoughts dwelt in her aged mind neither of them could +guess. + +The truth was that in these short weeks of trial and danger whatever +dreadful events had come to pass in that meeting were worth neither +thought nor words. Both Bruce and Linda were down to essentials. It is a +descent that most human beings--some time in their lives--find they are +able to make; and there was no room for sentimentality or hysteria in +this grim household. The ideas, the softnesses, the laws of the valleys +were far away from them; they were face to face with realities. Their +code had become the basic code of life: to kill for self-protection +without mercy or remorse. + +They did not know when the Turners would attack. It was the dark of the +moon, and the men would be able to approach the house without presenting +themselves as targets for Bruce's rifle. The danger was not a thing on +which to conjecture and forget; it was an ever-present reality. Never +they stepped out of the door, never they crossed a lighted window, never +a pane rattled in the wind but that the wings of Death might have been +hovering over them. The days were passing, the date when the chance for +victory would utterly vanish was almost at hand, and they were haunted +by the ghastly fact that their whole defense lay in a single +thirty-thirty rifle and five cartridges. Bruce's own gun had been taken +from him in Simon's house; Linda had emptied her pistol at the Killer. + +"We've got to get more shells," Bruce told Linda. "The Turners won't be +such fools as to wait until we have the moon again to attack. I can't +understand why they haven't already come. Of course, they don't know the +condition of our ammunition supply, but it doesn't seem to me that that +alone would have held them off. They are sure to come soon, and you know +what we could do with five cartridges, don't you?" + +"I know." She looked up into his earnest face. "We could die--that's +all." + +"Yes--like rabbits. Without hurting them at all. I wouldn't mind dying +so much, if I did plenty of damage first. It's death for me, anyway, I +suppose--and no one but a fool can see it otherwise. There are simply +too many against us. But I do want to make some payment first." + +Her hand fumbled and groped for his. Her eyes pled to him,--more than +any words. "And you mean you've given up hope?" she asked. + +He smiled down at her,--a grave, strange little smile that moved her in +secret ways. "Not given up hope, Linda," he said gently. They were +standing at the door and the sunlight--coming low from the South--was on +his face. "I've never had any hope to give up--just realization of what +lay ahead of us. I'm looking it all in the face now, just as I did at +first." + +"And what you see--makes you afraid?" + +Yet she need not have asked that question. His face gave an unmistakable +answer: that this man had conquered fear in the terrible night with the +Killer. "Not afraid, Linda," he explained, "only seeing things as they +really are. There are too many against us. If we had that great estate +behind us, with all its wealth, we might have a chance; if we had an +arsenal of rifles with thousands of cartridges, we might make a stand +against them. But we are three--two women and one man--and one rifle +between us all. Five little shells to be expended in five seconds. They +are seven or eight, each man armed, each man a rifle-shot. They are +certain to attack within a day or two--before we have the moon again. In +less than two weeks we can no longer contest their title to the estate. +A little month or two more and we will be snowed in--with no chance to +get out at all." + +"Perhaps before that," she told him. + +"Yes. Perhaps before that." + +They found a confirmation of this prophecy in the signs of fall +without--the coloring leaves, the dying flowers, the new, cold breath of +the wind. Only the pines remained unchanged; they were the same grave +sentinels they always were. + +"And you can forgive me?" Linda asked humbly. + +"Forgive you?" The man turned to her in surprise. "What have you done +that needs to be forgiven?" + +"Oh, don't you see? To bring you here--out of your cities--to throw your +life away. To enlist you in a fight that you can't hope to win. I've +killed you, that's all I've done. Perhaps to-night--perhaps a few days +later." + +He nodded gravely. + +"And I've already killed your smile," she went on, looking down. "You +don't smile any more the way you used to. You're not the boy you were +when you came. Oh, to think of it--that it's all been my work. To kill +your youth, to lead you into this slaughter pen where nothing--nothing +lives but death--and hatred--and unhappiness." + +The tears leaped to her eyes. He caught her hands and pressed them +between his until pain came into her fingers. "Listen, Linda," he +commanded. She looked straight up at him. "Are you sorry I came?" + +"More than I can tell you--for your sake." + +"But when people look for the truth in this world, Linda, they don't +take any one's sake into consideration. They balance all things and give +them their true worth. Would you rather that you and I had never +met--that I had never received Elmira's message--that you should live +your life up here without ever hearing of me?" + +She dropped her eyes. "It isn't fair--to ask me that--" + +"Tell me the truth. Hasn't it been worth while? Even if we lose and die +before this night is done, hasn't it all been worth while? Are you sorry +you have seen me change? Isn't the change for the better--a man grown +instead of a boy? One who looks straight and sees clear?" + +He studied her face; and after a while he found his answer. It was not +in the form of words at first. As a man might watch a miracle he watched +a new light come into her dark eyes. All the gloom and sorrow of the +wilderness without could not affect its quality. It was a light of joy, +of exultation, of new-found strength. + +"You hadn't ought to ask me that, Bruce," she said with a rather +strained distinctness. "It has been like being born again. There aren't +any words to tell you what it has meant to me. And don't think I haven't +seen the change in you, too--the birth of a new strength that every day +is greater, higher--until it is--almost more than I can understand. The +old smiles are gone, but something else has taken their place--something +much more dear to me--but what it is I can hardly tell you. Maybe it's +something that the pines have." + +But he hadn't wholly forgotten how to smile. His face lighted as +remembrance came to him. "They are a different kind of smiles--that's +all," he explained. "Perhaps there will be many of them in the days to +come. Linda, I have no regrets. I've played the game. Whether it was +Destiny that brought me here, or only chance, or perhaps--if we take +just life and death into consideration--just misfortune, whatever it is +I feel no resentment toward it. It has been the worthwhile adventure. In +the first place, I love the woods. There's something else in them +besides death and hatred and unhappiness. Besides, it seems to me that I +can understand the whole world better than I used to. Maybe I can begin +to see a big purpose and theme running through it all--but it's not yet +clear enough to put into words. Certain things in this world are +essentials, certain other ones are froth. And I see which things belong +to one class and which to another so much more clearly than I did +before. One of the things that matters is throwing one's whole life into +whatever task he has set out to do--whether he fails or succeeds doesn't +seem greatly to matter. The main thing, it appears to me, is that he has +tried. To stand strong and kind of calm, and not be afraid--if I can +always do it, Linda, it is all I ask for myself. Not to flinch now. Not +to give up as long as I have the strength for another step. And to have +you with me--all the way." + +"Then you and I--take fresh heart?" + +"We've never lost heart, Linda." + +"Not to give up, but only be glad we've tried?" + +"Yes. And keep on trying." + +"With no regrets?" + +"None--and maybe to borrow a little strength from the pines!" + +This was their new pact. To stand firm and strong and unflinching, and +never to yield as long as an ounce of strength remained. As if to seal +it, her arms crept about his neck and her soft lips pressed his. + + + + +XXVII + + +Toward the end of the afternoon Linda saddled the horse and rode down +the trail toward Martin's store. She had considerable business to attend +to. Among other things, she was going to buy thirty-thirty +cartridges,--all that Martin had in stock. She had some hope of securing +an extra gun or two with shells to match. The additional space in her +pack was to be filled with provisions. + +For she was faced with the unpleasant fact that her larder was nearly +empty. The jerked venison was almost gone; only a little flour and a few +canned things remained. She had space for only small supplies on the +horse's back, and there would be no luxuries among them.--Their fare had +been plain up to this time; but from now on it was to consist of only +such things as were absolutely necessary to sustain life. + +She rode unarmed. Without informing him of the fact, the rifle had been +left for Bruce. She did not expect for herself a rifle shot from +ambush--for the simple reason that Simon had bidden otherwise--and Bruce +might be attacked at any moment. + +She was dreaming dreams, that day. The talk with Bruce had given her +fresh heart, and as she rode down the sunlit trail the future opened up +entrancing vistas to her. Perhaps they yet could conquer, and that would +mean reëstablishment on the far-flung lands of her father. Matthew +Folger had possessed a fertile farm also, and its green pastures might +still be utilized. It suddenly occurred to her that it would be of +interest to turn off the main trail, take a little dim path up the ridge +that she had discovered years before, and look over these lands. The +hour was early; besides, Bruce would find her report of the greatest +interest. + +She jogged slowly along in the Western fashion,--which means something +quite different from army fashion or sportsman fashion. Western riders +do not post. Riding is not exercise to them; it is rest. They hang limp +in the saddle, and all jar is taken up, as if by a spring, somewhere in +the region of the floating ribs that only a physician can correctly +designate. They never sit firm, these Western riders, and as a rule +their riding is not a particularly graceful thing to watch. But they do +not care greatly about grace as long as they may encompass their fifty +miles a day and still be fresh enough for a country dance at night. +There are many other differences in Western and Eastern riding, one of +them being the way in which the horse is mounted. Another difference is +the riding habit. Linda had no trim riding trousers, with tall glossy +boots, red coat, and stock. It was rather doubtful whether she knew such +things existed. She did, however, wear a trim riding skirt of khaki and +a middie blouse washed spotlessly clean by her own hands; and no one +would have missed the other things. It is an indisputable fact that she +made a rather alluring picture--eyes bright and hair dark and strong +arms bare to the elbow--as she came riding down the pine-needle trail. + +She came to the opening of the dimmer trail and turned down it. She did +not jog so easily now. The descent was more steep. She entered a still +glen, and the color in her cheeks and the soft brown of her arms blended +well with the new tints of the autumn leaves. Then she turned up a long +ridge. + +The 'trail led through an old burn--a bleak, eerie place where the fire +had swept down the forest, leaving only strange, black palings here and +there--and she stopped in the middle of it to look down. The mountain +world was laid out below her as clearly as in a relief map. Her eyes +lighted as its beauty and its fearsomeness went home to her, and her +keen eyes slowly swept over the surrounding hill tops. Then for a long +moment she sat very still in the saddle. + +A thousand feet distant, on the same ridge on which she rode, she caught +sight of another horse. It held her gaze, and in an instant she +discerned the rather startling fact that it was saddled, bridled, and +apparently tied to a tree. Momentarily she thought that its rider was +probably one of the Turners who was at present at work on the old Folger +farm; yet she knew at once the tilled lands were still too far distant +for that. She studied closely the maze of light and shadow of the +underbrush and in a moment more distinguished the figure of the +horseman. + +It was one of the Turners,--but he was not working in the fields. He was +standing near the animal's head, back to her, and his rifle lay in his +arms. And then Linda understood. + +He was simply guarding the trail down to Martin's store. Except for the +fact that she had turned off the main trail by no possibility could she +have seen him and escaped whatever fate he had for her. + +She held hard on her faculties and tried to puzzle it out. She +understood now why the Turners had not as yet made an attack upon them +at their home. It wasn't the Turner way to wage open warfare. They were +the wolves that struck from ambush, the rattlesnakes that lunged with +poisoned fangs from beneath the rocks. There was some security for her +in the Folger home, but none whatever here. There she had a strong man +to fight for her, a loaded rifle, and under ordinary conditions the +Turners could not hope to batter down the oaken door and overwhelm them +without at least some loss of life. For all they knew, Bruce had a large +stock of rifles and ammunition,--and the Turners did not look forward +with pleasure to casualties in their ranks. The much simpler way was to +watch the trail. + +They had known that sooner or later one of them would attempt to ride +down after either supplies or aid. Linda was a mountain girl and she +knew the mountain methods of procedure; and she knew quite well what she +would have had to expect if she had not discovered the ambush in time. +She didn't think that the sentry would actually fire on her; he would +merely shoot the horse from beneath her. It would be a simple feat by +the least of the Turners,--for these gaunt men were marksmen if nothing +else. It wouldn't be in accord with Simon's plan or desire to leave her +body lying still on the trail. But the horse killed, flight would be +impossible, and what would transpire thereafter she did not dare to +think. She had not forgotten Simon's threat in regard to any attempt to +go down into the settlements. She knew that it still held good. + +Of course, if Bruce made the excursion, the sentry's target would be +somewhat different. He would shoot him down as remorselessly as he would +shatter a lynx from a tree top. + +The truth was that Linda had guessed just right. "It's the easiest way," +Simon had said. "They'll be trying to get out in a very few days. If the +man--shoot straight and to kill! If Linda, plug the horse and bring her +here behind the saddle." + +Linda turned softly, then started back. She did not even give a second's +thought to the folly of trying to break through. She watched the +sentinel over her shoulder and saw him turn about. Far distant though he +was, she could tell by the movement he made that he had discovered her. + +She was almost four hundred yards away by then, and she lashed her horse +into a gallop. The man cried to her to halt, a sound that came dim and +strange through the burn, and then a bullet sent up a cloud of ashes a +few feet to one side. But the range was too far even for the Turners, +and she only urged her horse to a faster pace. + +She flew down the narrow trail, turned into the main trail, and galloped +wildly toward home. But the sentry did not follow her. He valued his +precious life too much for that. He had no intention of offering himself +as a target to Bruce's rifle as he neared the house. He headed back to +report to Simon. + +Young Bill--for such had been the identity of the sentry--found his +chief in the large field not far distant from where Bruce had been +confined. The man was supervising the harvest of the fall growth of +alfalfa. The two men walked slowly away from the workers, toward the +fringe of woods. + +"It looks as if we'll have to adopt rough measures, after all," Young +Bill began. + +Simon turned with flushing face. "Do you mean you let him get past +you--and missed him? Young Bill, if you've done that--" + +"Won't you wait till I've told you how it happened? It wasn't Bruce; it +was Linda. For some reason I can't dope out, she went up in the big burn +back of me and saw me--when I was too far off to shoot her horse. Then +she rode back like a witch. They'll not take that trail again." + +"It means one of two things," Simon said after a pause. "One of them is +to starve 'em out. It won't take long. Their supplies won't last +forever. The other is to call the clan and attack--to-night." + +"And that means loss of life." + +"Not necessarily. I don't know how many guns they've got. If any of you +were worth your salt, you'd find out those things. I wish Dave was +here." + +And Simon spoke the truth for once in his life: he did miss Dave. And it +was not that there had been any love lost between them. But the truth +was--although Simon never would have admitted it--the weaker man's +cunning had been of the greatest aid to his chief. Simon needed it +sorely now. + +"And we can't wait till to-morrow night--because we've got the moon +then," Young Bill added. "Just a new moon, but it will prevent a +surprise attack. I suppose you still have hopes of Dave coming back?" + +"I don't see why not. I'll venture to say now he's off on some good +piece of business--doing something none of the rest of you have thought +of. He'll come riding back one of these days with something actually +accomplished. I see no reason for thinking that he's dead. Bruce hasn't +had any chance at him that I know of. But if I thought he was--there'd +be no more waiting. We'd tear down that nest to-night." + +Simon spoke in his usual voice--with the same emphasis, the same +undertones of passion. But the last words ended with a queer inflection. +The truth was that he had slowly become aware that Young Bill was not +giving him his full attention, but rather was gazing off--unfamiliar +speculation in his eyes--toward the forests beyond. + +Simon's impulse was to follow the gaze; yet he would not yield to it. +"Well?" he demanded. "I'm not talking to amuse myself." + +The younger man seemed to start. His eyes were half-closed; and there +was a strange look of intentness about his facial lines when he turned +back to Simon. "You haven't missed any stock?" he asked abruptly. + +Simon's eyes widened. "No. Why?" + +"Look there--over the forest." Young Bill pointed. Simon shielded his +eyes from the sunset glare and studied the blue-green skyline above the +fringe of pines. There were many grotesque, black birds wheeling on slow +wings above the spot. Now and then they dropped down, out of sight +behind the trees. + +"Buzzards!" Simon exclaimed. + +"Yes," Young Bill answered quietly. "You see, it isn't much over a mile +from Folger's house--in the deep woods. There's something dead there, +Simon. And I think we'd better look to see what it is." + +"You think--" Then Simon hesitated and looked again with reddening eyes +toward the gliding buzzards. + +"I think--that maybe we're going to find Dave," Young Bill replied. + + + + +XXVIII + + +The darkness of this October night fell before its time. The twilight at +Trail's End is never long in duration, due to the simple fact that the +mountains cut off the flood of light from the west after the setting of +the sun, but to-night there seemed none at all. The reason was merely +that heavy banks of clouds swept up from the southeast just after +sunset. + +They came with rather startling rapidity and almost immediately +completely filled the sky. Young Bill had many things on his mind as he +rode beneath them, yet he found time to gaze at them with some +curiosity. They were of singular greenish hue, and they hung so low that +the tops of near-by mountains were obscured. + +The fact that there would be no moon to-night was no longer important. +The clouds would have cut off any telltale light that might illumine the +activities of the Turners. There would not be even the dim mist of +starlight. + +Young Bill rode from house to house through the estate,--the homes +occupied by Simon's brothers and cousins and their respective families. +He knocked on each door and he only gave one little message. "Simon +wants you at the house," he said, "and come heeled." + +He would turn to go, but always a singular quiet and breathlessness +remained in the homes after his departure. There would be a curious +exchange of glances and certain significant sounds. One of them was the +metallic click of cartridges being slipped into the magazine of a rifle. +Another was the buckling on of spurs, and perhaps the rattle of a pistol +in its holster. Before the night fell in reality, the clan came +riding--strange, tall figures in the half-darkness--straight for Simon's +house. + +His horse was saddled too, and he met them in front of his door. And in +a very few words he made all things plain to them. + +"We've found Dave," he told them simply. "Most of you already know it. +We've decided there isn't any use of waiting any more. We're going to +the Folger house to-night." + +The men stood silent, breathing hard. The clouds seemed to lower, +menacingly, toward them. Simon spoke very quietly, yet his voice carried +far. In their growing excitement they did not observe the reason, that a +puzzling, deep calm had come over the whole wilderness world. Even in +the quietest night there is usually a faint background of winds in the +mountain realms--troubled breaths that whisper in the thickets and +rustle the dead leaves--but to-night the heavy air had no breath of +life. + +"To-night Bruce Folger is going to pay the price, just as I said." He +spoke rather boastingly; perhaps more to impress his followers than from +impulse. Indeed, the passion that he felt left no room for his usual +arrogance. "Fire on sight. Bill and I will come from the rear, and we +will be ready to push through the back door the minute you break through +the front. The rest of you surround the house on three sides. And +remember--no man is to touch Linda." + +They nodded grimly; then the file of horsemen started toward the ridge. +Far distant they heard a sound such as had reached them often in summer +but was unfamiliar in fall. It was the faint rumble of distant thunder. + + * * * * * + +Bruce and Linda sat in the front room of the Folger house, quiet and +watchful and unafraid. It was not that they did not realize their +danger. They had simply taken all possible measures of defense; and they +were waiting for what the night would bring forth. + +"I know they'll come to-night," Linda had said. "To-morrow night there +will be a moon, and though it won't give much light, it will hurt their +chances of success. Besides--they've found that their other plot--to +kill you from ambush--isn't going to work." + +Bruce nodded and got up to examine the shutters. He wanted no ray of +light to steal out into the growing darkness and make a target. It was a +significant fact that the rifle did not occupy its usual place behind +the desk. Bruce kept it in his hands as he made the inspection. Linda +had her empty pistol, knowing that it might--in the mayhap of +circumstance--be of aid in frightening an assailant. Old Elmira sat +beside the fire, her stiff fingers busy at a piece of sewing. + +"You know--" Bruce said to her, "that we are expecting an attack +to-night?" + +The woman nodded, but didn't miss a stitch. No gleam of interest came +into her eyes. Bruce's gaze fell to her work basket, and something +glittered from its depth. Evidently Elmira had regained her knife. + +He went back to his chair beside Linda, and the two sat listening. They +had never known a more quiet night. They listened in vain for the little +night sounds that usually come stealing, so hushed and tremulous, from +the forest. The noises that always, like feeble ghosts, dwell in a house +at night--the little explosions of a scraping board or a banging shutter +or perhaps a mouse, scratching in the walls--were all lacking too. And +they both started, ever so slightly, when they heard a distant rumble of +thunder. + +"It's going to storm," Linda told him. + +"Yes. A thunderstorm--rather unusual in the fall, isn't it?" + +"Almost unknown. It's growing cold too." + +They waited a breathless minute, then the thunder spoke again. It was +immeasurably nearer. It was as if it had leaped toward them, through the +darkness, with incredible speed in the minute that had intervened. The +last echo of the sound was not dead when they heard it a third time. + +The storm swept toward them and increased in fury. On a distant hillside +the strange file that was the Turners halted, then gathered around +Simon. Already the lightning made vivid, white gashes in the sky and +illumined--for a breathless instant--the long sweep of the ridge above +them. "We'll make good targets in the lightning," Old Bill said. + +"Ride on," Simon ordered. "You know a man can't find a target in the +hundredth of a second of a lightning flash. We're not going to turn back +now." + +They rode on. Far away they heard the whine and roar of wind, and in a +moment it was upon them. The forest was no longer silent. The peal of +the thunder was almost continuous. + +The breaking of the storm seemed to rock the Folger house on its +foundation. Both Linda and Bruce leaped to their feet; but they felt a +little tingle of awe when they saw that old Elmira still sat sewing. It +was as if the calm that dwelt in the Sentinel Pine outside had come down +to abide in her. No force that the world possessed could ever take it +from her. + +They heard the rumble and creak of the trees as the wind smote them, and +the flame of the lamp danced wildly, filling the room with flickering +shadows. Bruce straightened, the lines of his face setting deep. He +glanced once more at the rifle in his hands. + +"Linda," he said, "put out that fire. If there's going to be an attack, +we'd have a better chance if the room were in darkness. We can shoot +through the door then." + +She obeyed at once, knocking the burning sticks apart and drenching them +with water. They hissed, and steamed, but the noise of the storm almost +effaced the sound. "Now the light?" Linda asked. + +"Yes. See where you are and have everything ready." + +She took off the glass shade of the lamp, and the little gusts of wind +that crept in the cracks of the windows immediately extinguished the +flame. The darkness dropped down. Then Bruce opened the door. + +The whole wilderness world struggled in the grasp of the storm. The +scene was such that no mortal memory could possibly forget. They saw it +in great, vivid glimpses in the intermittent flashes of the lightning, +and the world seemed no longer that which they had come to know. Chaos +was upon it. They saw young trees whipping in the wind, their slender +branches flailing the air. They saw the distant ridges in black and +startling contrast against the lighted sky. The tall tops of the trees +wagged back and forth in frenzied signals; their branches smote and +rubbed together. And just without their door the Sentinel Pine stood +with top lifted to the fury of the storm. + +A strange awe swept over Bruce. A moment later he was to behold a sight +that for the moment would make him completely forget the existence of +the great tree; but for an instant he poised at the brink of a profound +and far-reaching discovery. There was a great lesson for him in that +dark, towering figure that the lightning revealed. Even in the fury of +the storm it still stood infinitely calm, watchful, strong as the +mountains themselves. Its great limbs moved and spoke; its top swayed +back and forth, yet still it held its high place as Sentinel of the +Forest, passionless, patient, talking through the murk of clouds to the +stars that burned beyond. + +"See," Linda said. "The Turners are coming." + +It was true. Bruce dropped his eyes. Even now the clan had spread out in +a great wing and was bearing down upon the house. The lightning showed +them in strange, vivid flashes. Bruce nodded slowly. + +"I see," he answered. "I'm ready." + +"Then shoot them, quick--when the lightning shows them," she whispered +in his ear. "They're in range now." Her hand seized his arm. "What are +you waiting for?" + +He turned to her sternly. "Have you forgotten we only have five shells?" +he asked. "Go back to Elmira." + +Her eyes met his, and she tried to smile into them. "Forgive me, +Bruce--it's hard--to be calm." + +But at once she understood why he was waiting. The flashes of lightning +offered no opportunity for an accurate shot. Bruce meant to conserve his +little supply of shells until the moment of utmost need. The clan drew +nearer. They were riding slowly, with ready rifles. And ever the storm +increased in fury. The thunder was so close that it no longer gave the +impression of being merely sound. It was a veritable explosion just +above their heads. The flashes came so near together that for an +instant Bruce began to hope they would reveal the attackers clearly +enough to give him a chance for a well-aimed shot. The first drops of +rain fell one by one on the roof. + +His eyes sought for Simon's figure. To Simon he owed the greatest debt, +and to lay Simon low might mean to dishearten the whole clan. But +although the attackers were in fair range now, scarcely two hundred +yards away, he could not identify him. They drew closer. He raised his +gun, waiting for a chance to fire. And at that instant a resistless +force hurled him to the floor. + +There was the sense of vast catastrophe, a great rocking and shuddering +that was lost in billowing waves of sound; and then a frantic effort to +recall his wandering faculties. A blinding light cut the darkness in +twain; it smote his eyeballs as if with a physical blow; and summoning +all his powers of will he sprang to his feet. + +There was only darkness at first; and he did not understand. But it was +of scarcely less duration than the flash of lightning. A red flame +suddenly leaped into the air, roared and grew and spread as if scattered +by the wind itself. And Bruce's breath caught in a sob of wonder. + +The Sentinel Pine, that ancient friend and counselor that stood not over +one hundred feet from the house, had been struck by a lightning bolt, +its trunk had been cleft open as if by a giant's ax, and the flame was +already springing through its balsam-laden branches. + + + + +XXIX + + +Bruce stood as if entranced, gazing with awed face at the flaming tree. +There was little danger of the house itself catching fire. The wind blew +the flame in the opposite direction; besides, the rains were beating on +the roof. The fire in the great tree itself, however, was too well +started to be extinguished at once by any kind of rainfall; but it did +burn with less fierceness. + +Dimly he felt the girl's hand grasping at his arm. Her fingers pressed +until he felt pain. His eyes lowered to hers. The sight of that +passion-drawn face--recalling in an instant the scene beside the camp +fire his first night at Trail's End--called him to himself. "Shoot, you +fool!" she stormed at him. "The tree's lighted up the whole countryside, +and you can't miss. Shoot them before they run away." + +He glanced quickly out. The clan that had drawn within sixty yards of +the house at the time the lightning struck had been thrown into +confusion. Their horses had been knocked down by the force of the bolt +and were fleeing, riderless, away. The men followed them, shouting, +plainly revealed in the light from the burning tree. The great torch +beside the house had completely turned the tables. And Linda spoke true; +they offered the best of targets. + +Again the girl's eyes were lurid slits between the lids. Her lips were +drawn, and her breathing was strange. He looked at her calmly. + +"No, Linda. I can't--" + +"You can't," she cried. "You coward--you traitor! Kill--kill--kill them +while there's time." + +She saw the resolve in his face, and she snatched the rifle from his +hands. She hurled it to her shoulder and three times fired blindly +toward the retreating Turners. + +At that instant Bruce seemed to come to life. His thoughts had been +clear ever since the tree had been struck; his vision was straighter and +more far-reaching than ever in his life before, but now his muscles +wakened too. He sprang toward the girl and snatched the rifle from her +hand. She fought for it, and he held her with a strong arm. + +"Wait--wait, Linda," he said gently. "You've wasted three cartridges +now. There are only two left. And we may need them some other time." + +He held her from him with his arm; and it was as if his strength flowed +into her. Her blazing eyes sought his, and for a long second their wills +battled. And then a deep wonder seemed to come over her. + +"What is it?" she breathed. "What have you found out?" + +She spoke in a strange and distant voice. Slowly the fire died in her +eyes, the drawn features relaxed, her hands fell at her side. He drew +her away from he lighted doorway, out of the range of any of the +Turners that should turn to answer the rifle fire. The wind roared over +the house and swept by in clamoring fury, the electric storm dimmed and +lessened as it journeyed on. + +These two knew that if death spared them in all the long passage of +their years, they could never forget that moment. The girl watched him +breathlessly, oblivious to all things else. He seemed wholly unaware of +her now. There was something aloof, impassive, infinitely calm about +him, and a great, far-reaching understanding was in his eyes. Her own +eyes suddenly filled with tears. + +"Linda, there's something come to me--and I don't know that I can make +you understand. I can only call it strength--a new strength and a +greater strength than I ever had before. It's something that the +pine--that great tree that we just saw split open--has been trying to +tell me for a long time. Oh, can't you see, Linda? There it stood, +hundreds of years--so great, so tall, so wise--in a moment broken like a +reed. It takes away my arrogance, Linda. It makes me see myself as I +really am. And that means--_power_." + +His eyes blazed, and he caught her hands in his. + +"It was a symbol, Linda, not only of the wilderness, but of powers +higher and greater than the wilderness. Powers that can look down, and +not be swept away by passion, and not try to tear to pieces those who in +their folly harm them. There's no room for such things as vengeance in +this new strength. There's no room for murder, and malice, and hatred, +and bloodshed." + +Linda understood. She knew that this new-found strength did not mean +renunciation of her cause. It did not mean that he would give over his +attempt to reinstate her as the owner of her father's estates. It only +meant that the impulse of personal vengeance was dead within him. He +knew now--the same as ever--that the duty of the men that dwell upon the +earth is to do their allotted tasks, and without hatred and without +passion to overcome the difficulties that stand in the way. She realized +that if one of the Turners should leap through the door and attack her, +Bruce would kill him without mercy or regret. She knew that he would +make every effort to bring the offenders to the law. But the ability to +shoot a fleeing enemy in the back, because of wrongs done long ago, was +past. + +Bruce's vision had come to him. He knew that if vengeance had been the +creed of the powers that ruled the world, the sphere would have been +destroyed with fire long since. To stand firm and straight and +unflinching; not to judge, not to condemn, not to resent; this was true +strength. He began to see the whole race of men as so many leaves, +buffeted by the winds of chance and circumstance; and was it for the oak +leaf that the wind carried swift and high to hold in scorn the shrub +leaf that the storm had already hurled to the dust? + +"I know," the girl said, her thoughts wandering afar. "Perhaps the name +for it all is--tolerance." + +"Perhaps," he nodded. "And possibly it is only--worship!" + + * * * * * + +The Turners had gone. The dimming lightning revealed the entire +attacking party half a mile distant and out of rifle range on the ridge; +and Bruce and Linda stole together out into the storm. The green foliage +of the tree had already burned away, but some of the upper branches +still glowed against the dark sky. A fallen branch smoldered on the +ground, hissing in the rain, and it lighted their way. + +Awed and mystified, Bruce halted before the ruin of the great tree. He +had almost forgotten the stress of the moment just passed. It did not +even occur to him that some of his enemies, unseen before, might still +be lurking in the shadow, watching for a chance to harm. They stood a +moment in silence. Then Bruce uttered one little gasp and stretched his +arm into the hollow that the cleft in the trunk had revealed. + +The light from the burning branch behind him had shown him a small, dark +object that had evidently been inserted in the hollow tree trunk through +some little aperture that had either since been closed up or they had +never observed. It was a leathern wallet, and Bruce opened it under +Linda's startled gaze. He drew out a single white paper. + +He held it in the light, and his glance swept down its lines of faded +ink. Then he looked up with brightening eyes. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"The secret agreement between your father and mine," he told her simply. +"And we've won." + +He watched her eyes brighten. It seemed to him that nothing life had +ever offered had given him the same pleasure. It was a moment of +triumph. But before half of its long seconds were gone, it became a +moment of despair. + +A rifle spoke from the coverts beyond,--one sharp, angry note that rose +distinct and penetrating above the noise of the distant thunder. A +little tongue of fire darted, like a snake's head, in the darkness. And +the triumph on Bruce's face changed to a singular look of wonder. + + + + +XXX + + +To Simon, the night had seemingly ended in triumph after all. It had +looked dark for a while. The bolt of lightning, setting fire to the +pine, had deranged all of his plans. His men had been thrown from their +horses, the blazing pine tree had left them exposed to fire from the +house, and they had not yet caught their mounts and rallied. Young Bill +and himself, however, had tied their horses before the lightning had +struck and had lingered in the thickets in front of the house for just +such a chance as had been given them. + +He hadn't understood why Bruce had not opened fire on the fleeing +Turners. He wondered if his enemy were out of ammunition. The tragedy of +the Sentinel Pine had had no meaning for him; and he had held his rifle +cocked and ready for the instant that Bruce had shown himself. + +Young Bill had heard his little exultant gasp when Linda and Bruce had +come out into the firelight. Plainly they had kept track of all the +attacking party that had been visible, and supposed that all their +enemies had gone. He felt the movement of Simon's strong arms as he +raised the rifle. Those arms were never steadier. In the darkness the +younger man could not see his face, but his own fancy pictured it with +entire clearness. The eyes were narrowed and red, the lines cut deep +about the bloodhound lips, and mercy was as far from him as from the +Killer who hunted on the distant ridge. + +But Simon didn't fire at once. The two were coming steadily toward him, +and the nearer they were the better his chance of success in the +unsteady light. He sat as breathless, as wholly free from telltale +motion as a puma who waits in ambush for an approaching deer. He meant +to take careful aim. It was his big chance, and he intended to make the +most of it. + +The two had halted beside the ruined pine, but for a moment he held his +fire. They stood rather close together; he wanted to wait until Bruce +offered a clear target. And at that instant Bruce had drawn the leather +wallet from the tree. + +Curiosity alone stayed Simon's finger as Bruce had opened it. He saw the +gleam of the white paper in the dim light; and then he understood. + +Simon was a man of rigid, unwavering self-control; and his usual way was +to look a long time between the sights before he fired. Yet the sight of +that document--the missing Folger-Ross agreement on which had hung +victory or defeat--sent a violent impulse through all his nervous +system. For the first time in his memory his reflexes got away from him. + +It had meant too much; and his finger pressed back involuntarily against +the trigger. He hadn't taken his usual deliberate aim, although he had +seen Brace's figure clearly between the sights the instant before he had +fired. Simon was a rifle-man, bred in the bone, and he had no reason to +think that the hasty aim meant a complete miss. He did realize, however, +the difficulties of night shooting--a realization that all men who have +lingered after dusk in the duck blind experience sooner or later--and he +looked up over his sights to see the result of his shot. His +self-control had completely returned to him; and he was perfectly cold +about the whole matter. + +From the first second he knew he hadn't completely missed. He raised his +rifle to shoot again. + +But Bruce's body was no longer revealed. Linda stood in the way. It +looked as if she had deliberately thrown her own body as a shield +between. + +Simon spoke then,--a single, terrible oath of hatred and jealousy. But +in a second more he saw his triumph. Bruce swayed, reeled, and fell in +Linda's arms, and he saw her half-drag him into the house. + +He stood shivering, but not from the cold that the storm had brought. +"Come on," he ordered Young Bill. "I think we've downed him for good, +but we've got to get that paper." + + * * * * * + +But Simon did not see all things clearly. He had little real knowledge +of the little drama that had followed his shot from ambush. + +Human nature is full of odd quirks and twists, and among other things, +symptoms are misleading. There is an accepted way for men to act when +they are struck with a rifle bullet. They are expected to reel, to +throw their arms wide, and usually to cry out. The only trouble with +these actions, as most men who have been in French battle-fields know +very well, is that they do not usually happen in real life. + +Bruce, with Linda's eyes upon him, took one rather long, troubled +breath. And he did look somewhat puzzled. Then he looked down at his +shoulder. + +"I'm hit, Linda," he said in a quiet way. "I think just a scratch." + +The tremendous shock of any kind of wound from a thirty-forty caliber +bullet had not seemingly affected him outwardly at all. Linda's response +was rather curious. Some hours were to pass before he completely +understood. The truth was that the shock of that rifle bullet, +ordinarily striking a blow of a half-ton, had cost him for the moment an +ability to make any logical interpretation of events. The girl moved +swiftly, yet without giving an impression of leaping, and stood very +close and in front of him. In one lightning movement she had made of her +own body a shield for his, in case the assassin in the covert should +shoot again. + +She was trained to mountain ways, and instantly she regained a perfect +mastery of herself. Her arms went about and seized his shoulders. +"Stagger," she whispered quickly. "Pretend to fall. It's the one chance +to save you." + +He dispelled the mists in his own brain and obeyed her. He swayed, and +her arms went about him. Then he fell forward. + +Her strong arms encircled his waist and with all her magnificent young +strength she dragged him to the door. It was noticeable, however--to all +eyes except Bruce's--that she kept her own body as much as she could +between him and the ambush. In an instant they were in the darkened +room. Bruce stood up, once more wholly master of himself. + +"You're not hurt bad?" she asked quickly. + +"No. Just a deep scratch in the arm muscle near the shoulder. Bullet +just must have grazed me. But it's bleeding pretty bad." + +"Then there's no time to be lost." Her hands in her eagerness went again +to his shoulder. "Don't you see--he'll be here in a minute. We'll steal +out the back door and try to ride down to the courts before they can +overtake us--" + +In one instant he had grasped the idea; and he laughed softly in the +gloom. "I know. I'll snatch two blankets and the food. You get the +horse." + +She sprang out the kitchen door and he hurried into the bedrooms. He +snatched two of the warmest blankets from the beds and hurled them over +his shoulder. He hooked the camp ax on his belt, then hastened into the +little kitchen. He took up the little sack containing a few pounds of +jerked venison, spilled out a few pieces for Elmira, and carried +it--with a few pounds of flour--out to meet Linda. The horse still stood +saddled, and with deft hands they tied on their supplies and fastened +the blankets in a long roll in front of the saddle. + +"Get on," she whispered. "I'll get up behind you." + +She spoke in the utter darkness; he felt her breath against his cheek. +Then the lightning came dimly and showed him her face. + +"No, Linda," he replied quietly. "You are going alone--" + +She cut him off with a despairing cry. "Oh, please, Bruce--I won't. I'll +stay here then--" + +"Don't you see?" he demanded. "You can make it out without me. I'm +wounded and bleeding, and can't tell how long I can keep up. We've only +got one horse, and without me to weigh him down you can get down to the +courts--" + +"And leave you here to be murdered? Oh, don't waste the precious seconds +any more. I won't go without you. I mean it. If you stay here, I do too. +Believe me if you ever believed anything." + +Once more the lightning revealed her face, and on it was the +determination of a zealot. He knew that she spoke the truth. He climbed +with some difficulty into the saddle. A moment more and she swung up +behind him. + +The entire operation had taken an astonishingly short period of time. +Bruce had worked like mad, wholly disregarding his injured arm. The rain +had already changed to snow, and the wet flakes beat in his face, but he +did not heed them. Just beyond, Simon with ready rifle was creeping +toward the house. + +"Which way?" Bruce asked. + +"The out-trail--around the mountain," she whispered. "Simon will +overtake us on the other--he's got a magnificent horse. On the mountain +trail we'll have a better chance to keep out of his sight." + +She spoke hurriedly, yet conveyed her message with entire clearness. +They knew what they had to face, these two. Simon and whoever of the +clan was with him would lose no time in springing in pursuit. They each +had a strong horse, they knew the trails, they carried long-range rifles +and would open fire at the first glimpse of the fugitives. Bruce was +wounded; slight as the injury was it would seriously handicap them in +such a test as this. Their one chance was to keep to the remote trails, +to lurk unseen in the thickets, and try to break through to safety. And +they knew that only by the doubtful mercy of the forest gods could they +ever succeed. + +She took the reins and pulled out of the trail, then encircled a heavy +wall of brush. She didn't wish to take the risk of Simon seeing their +forms in the dimming lightning and opening fire so soon. Then she turned +back into the trail and headed into the storm. + + * * * * * + +Simon had clear enough memory of the rifle fire that Linda had opened +upon the clan to wish to approach the house with care. It would be +wholly typical of the girl to lay her lover on his bed, then go back to +the window to wait for a sight of his assassin. She could look straight +along a rifle barrel! A few moments were lost as Young Bill and himself +encircled the thickets, keeping out of the gleam of the smoldering tree. +Its light was almost gone; it hissed and glowed in the wet snow. + +They crept up from the shadow, and holding their rifles ready, opened +the door. They were somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. The truth +was it had been left thus by design; Linda did not wish them to encircle +the house to the rear door and discover Bruce and herself in the act of +departure. The room was in darkness, and the two intruders rather +expected to find Bruce's body on the threshold. + +These were mountain men; and they had been in rifle duels before. They +had the sure instincts of the beasts of prey in the hills without, and +among other things they knew it wasn't wise to stand long in an open +doorway with the firelight of the ruined pine behind them. They slipped +quickly into the darkness. + +Then they stopped and listened. The room was deeply silent. They +couldn't hear the sound that both of them had so confidently +expected,--the faint breathing of a dying man. Simon struck a match. The +room was quite deserted. + +"What's up?" Bill demanded. + +Simon turned toward him with a scowl, and the match flickered and burned +out in his fingers. "Keep your rifle ready. He may be hiding +somewhere--still able to shoot." + +They stole to the door of Linda's room and listened. Then they threw it +wide. + +One of their foes was in this room--an implacable foe whose eyes were +glittering and strange in the matchlight. But it was neither Bruce nor +Linda. It was old Elmira, cold and sinister as a rattler in its lair. +Simon cursed her and hurried on. + +At that instant both men began to move swiftly. Holding his rifle like a +club, Simon swung through into, Bruce's room, lighted another match, +then darted into the kitchen. In the dim matchlight the truth went home +to him. + +He turned, eyes glittering. "They've gone--on Dave's horse," he said. +"Thank God they've only got one horse between 'em and can't go fast. You +ride like hell up the trail toward the store--they might have gone that +way. Keep close watch and shoot when you can make 'em out." + +"You mean--" Bill's eyes widened. + +"Mean! I mean do as I say. Shoot by sound, if you can't see them, and +don't lose another second or I'll shoot you too. Aim for the man if a +chance offers--but shoot, anyway. Don't stop hunting till you find +them--they'll duck off in the brush sure. If they get through, +everything is lost. I'll take the trail around the mountain." + +They raced to their horses, untied them, and mounted swiftly. The +darkness swallowed them at once. + + + + +XXXI + + +In the depth of gloom even the wild folk--usually keeping so close a +watch on those that move on the shadowed trails--did not see Linda and +Bruce ride past. The darkness is usually their time of dominance, but +to-night most of them had yielded to the storm and the snow. They +hovered in their coverts. What movement there was among them was mostly +toward the foothills; for the message had gone forth over the wilderness +that the cold had come to stay. The little gnawing folk, emerging for +another night's work at filling their larders with food, crept down into +the scarcely less impenetrable darkness of their underground burrows. +Even the bears, whose furry coats were impervious to any ordinary cold, +felt the beginnings of the cold-trance creeping over them. They were +remembering the security and warmth of their last winter's dens, and +they began to long for them again. + +The horse walked slowly, head close to the ground. The girl made no +effort to guide him. The lightning had all but ceased; and in an instant +it had become apparent that only by trusting to the animal's instinct +could the trail be kept at all; almost at once all sense of direction +was lost to them. The snow and the darkness obscured the outline of the +ridges against the sky; the trail was wholly invisible beneath them. + +After the first hundred yards, they had no way of knowing that the horse +was actually on the trail. While animals in the light of day cannot see +nearly so far or interpret nearly so clearly as human beings, they +usually seem to make their way much better at night. Many a frontiersman +has been saved from death by realization of this fact; and, bewildered +by the ridges, has permitted his dog to lead him into camp. But nature +has never devised a creature that can see in the utter darkness, and the +gloom that enfolded them now seemed simply unfathomable. Bruce found it +increasingly hard to believe that the horse's eyes could make out any +kind of dim pathway in the pine needles. The feeling grew on him and on +Linda as well that they were lost and aimlessly wandering in the storm. + +Of all the sensations that the wilderness can afford, there are few more +dreadful to the spirit than this. It is never pleasant to lose one's +bearings,--and in the night and the cold and miles from any friendly +habitation it is particularly hard to bear. Bruce felt the age-old +menace of the wilderness as never before. It always seemed to be +crouching, waiting to take a man at a disadvantage; and like the gods +that first make mad those whom they would destroy, it doesn't quite play +fair. He understood now certain wilderness tragedies of which he had +heard: how tenderfeet--lost among the ridges--had broken into a wild run +that had ended nowhere except in exhaustion and death. + +Bruce himself felt a wild desire to lash his horse into a gallop, but +he forced it back with all his powers of will. His calmer, saner self +explained that folly with entire clearness. It would mean panic for the +horse, and then a quick and certain death either at the foot of a +precipice or from a blow from a low-hanging limb. The horse seemed to be +feeling its way, rather than seeing. + +They were strange, lonely figures in the darkness; and for a long time +they rode almost in silence. Then Bruce felt the girl's breath as she +whispered. + +"Bruce," she said. "Let's be brave and look this matter in the face. Do +you think we've got a chance?" + +He rode a long time before he answered. He groped desperately for a word +that might bring her cheer, but it was hard to find. The cold seemed to +deepen about them, the remorseless snow beat into his face. + +"Linda," he replied, "it is one of the mercies of this world for men +always to think that they've got a chance. Maybe it's only a cruelty in +our case." + +"I think I ought to tell you something else. I haven't the least way of +knowing whether we are on the right trail." + +"I knew that long ago. Whether we are on any trail at all." + +"I've just been thinking. I don't know how many forks it has. We might +have already got on a wrong one. Perhaps the horse is turned about and +is heading back home--toward Simon's stables." + +She spoke dully, and he thrust his arm back to her. "Linda, try to be +brave," he urged. "We can only take a chance." + +The horse plodded a few more steps. "Brave! To think that it is _you_ +that has to encourage _me_--instead of my trying to keep up your +spirits. I will try to be brave, Bruce. And if we don't live through the +night, my last remembrance will be of your bravery--how you, injured and +weak from loss of blood, still remembered to give a cheery word to me." + +"I'm not badly injured," he told her gently. "And there are certain +things that have come clear to me lately. One of them is that except for +you--throwing your own precious body between--I wouldn't be here at +all." + +The feeling that they had lost the trail grew upon them. More than once +the stirrup struck the bark of a tree and often the thickets gave way +beneath them. Once they halted to adjust the blankets on the saddle, and +they listened for any sounds that might indicate that Simon was +overtaking them. But all they heard was the soft rustle of the leaves +under the wind-blown snow. + +"Linda," he asked suddenly. "Does it seem to you to be awfully cold?" + +She waited a long time before she spoke. This was not the hour to make +quick answers. On any decision might rest their success or failure. + +"I believe I can stand it--awhile longer," she answered at last. + +"But I don't think we'd better try to. It's getting cold. Every hour +it's colder, and I seem to be getting weaker. It isn't a real wound, +Linda--but it seems to have knocked some of my vitality out of me, and +I'm dreadfully in need of rest. I think we'd better try to make a camp." + +"And go on by morning light?" + +"Yes." + +"But Simon might overtake us then." + +"We must stay out of sight of the trail. But somehow--I can't help but +hope he won't try to follow us on such a night as this." + +He drew up the horse, and they sat in the beat of the snow. "Don't make +any mistake about that, Bruce," she told him. "Remember, that unless he +overtakes us before we come into the protection of the courts, his whole +fight is lost. It doesn't alone mean loss of the estate--for which he +would risk his life just as he has a dozen times. It means defeat--a +thing that would come hard to Simon. Besides, he's got a fire within him +that will keep him warm." + +"You mean--hatred?" + +"Hatred. Nothing else." + +"But in spite of it we must make camp. We'll get off the trail--if we're +still on it--and try to slip through to-morrow. You see what's going to +happen if we keep on going this way?" + +"I know that I feel a queer dread--and hopelessness--" + +"And that dread and hopelessness are just as much danger signals as the +sound of Simon's horse behind us. It means that the cold and the snow +and the fear are getting the better of us. Linda, it's a race with +death. Don't misunderstand me or disbelieve me. It isn't Simon alone +now. It's the cold and the snow and the fear. The thing to do is to make +camp, keep as warm as we can in our blankets, and push on in the +morning. It's two full days' ride, going fast, the best we can go--and +God knows what will happen before the end." + +"Then turn off the trail, Bruce," the girl told him. + +"I don't know that we're even on the trail." + +"Turn off, anyway. As long as we stay together--it doesn't matter." + +She spoke very quietly. Then he felt a strange thing. A warmth which +even that growing, terrible cold could not transcend swept over him. For +her arms had crept out under his arms and encircled his great breast, +then pressed with all her gentle strength. + +No word of encouragement, no cheery expression of hope could have meant +so much. Not defeat, not even the long darkness of death itself could +appall him now. All that he had given and suffered and endured, all the +mighty effort that he had made had in an instant been shown in its true +light, a thing worth while, a sacrifice atoned for and redeemed. + +They headed off into the thickets, blindly, letting the horse choose the +way. They felt him turn to avoid some object in his path--evidently a +fallen tree--and they mounted a slight ridge or rise. Then they felt the +wet touch of fir branches against their cheeks. + +Bruce stopped the horse and both dismounted. Both of them knew that +under the drooping limbs of the tree they would find, at least until the +snows deepened, comparative shelter from the storm. Here, rolled in +their blankets, they might pass the remainder of the night hours. + +Bruce tied the horse, and the girl unrolled the blankets. But she did +not lay them together to make a rude bed,--and the dictates of +conventionality had nothing whatever to do with it. If one jot more +warmth could have been achieved by it, these two would have lain side by +side through the night hours between the same blankets. She knew, +however, that more warmth could be achieved if each of them took a +blanket and rolled up in it; thus they would get two thicknesses instead +of one and no openings to admit the freezing air. When this was done +they lay side by side, economizing the last atom of warmth. + +The night hours were dreary and long. The rain beat into the limbs above +them, and sometimes it sifted through. At the first gray of dawn Bruce +opened his eyes. + +His dreams had been troubled and strange, but the reality to which he +wakened gave him no sense of relief. The first knowledge that he had was +that the snow had continued to sift down throughout the night, that it +had already laid a white mantle over the wilderness, and the whirling +flakes still cut off all view of the familiar landmarks by which he +might get his bearings. + +He had this knowledge before he was actually cognizant of the cold. And +then its first realization came to him in a strange heaviness and +dullness in his body, and an almost irresistible desire to sleep. + +He fought a little battle, lying there under the snow-covered limbs of +the fir tree. Because it was one in which no blows were exchanged, no +shots fired, and no muscles called into action, it was no less a battle, +trying and stern. It was a fight waged in his own spirit, and it seemed +to rend him in twain. + +The whole issue was clear in his mind at once. The cold had deepened in +these hours of dawn, and he was slowly, steadily freezing to death. Even +now the blood flowed less swiftly in his veins. Death itself, in the +moment, had lost all horror for him; rather it was a thing of peace, of +ease. All he had to do was to lie still. Just close his eyes,--and soft +shadows would drop over him. + +They would drop over Linda too. She lay still beside him; perhaps they +had already fallen. The war he had waged so long and so relentlessly +would end in blissful calm. Outside there was only snow and cold and +wracking limbs and pain, only further conflict with tireless enemies, +only struggle to tear his agonized body to pieces; and the bitterness of +defeat in the end. He saw his chances plain as he lay beneath that gray +sky. Even now, perhaps, Simon was upon them. Only two little rifle +shells remained with which to combat him, and he doubted that his +wounded arm would hold the rifle steady. There were weary, innumerable +miles between them and any shelter, and only the terrible, trackless +forest lay between. + +Why not lie still and let the curtains fall? This was an easy, tranquil +passing, and heaven alone knew what dreadful mode of egress would be his +if he rose to battle further. All the argument seemed on one side. + +But high and bright above all this burned the indomitable flame of his +spirit. Even as the thoughts came to him it mounted higher, it propelled +its essence of strength through his veins, it brought new steel to his +muscles. To rise, to fight, to struggle on! Never to yield until the +Power above decreed! To stand firm, even as the pines themselves. The +dominant greatness that Linda had found in this man rose in him, and he +set his muscles like iron. + +He struggled to rise. He shook off the mists of the frost in his brain. +He seemed to come to life. Quickly he knelt by Linda and shook her +shoulders in his hands. She opened her eyes. + +"Get up, Linda," he said gently. "We have to go on." + +She started to object, but a message in his eyes kept her from it. His +own spirit went into her. He helped her to her feet. + +"Help me roll the blankets," he commanded, "and take out enough food for +breakfast. We can't stop to eat it here. I think we're in sight of the +main trail; whether we can find it--in the snow--I don't know." She +understood; usually the absence of vegetation on a well-worn trail makes +a shallow covering of snow appear more level and smooth and thus +possible to follow. + +"I'm afraid the snow's already too deep," he continued, "but we can go +on in a general direction for a while at least--unless the snow gets +worse so I can't even guess the position of the sun. We must get farther +into the thickets before we stop to eat." + +They were strange figures in the snow flurries as they went to work to +roll the blankets into a compact bundle. The food she had taken from +their stores for breakfast he thrust into the pocket of his coat; the +rest, with the blankets, she tied swiftly on the horse. They unfastened +the animal and for a moment she stood holding the reins while Bruce +crept back on the hillside to look for the trail. + +The snow swept round them, and they felt the lowering menace of the +cold. And at that instant those dread spirits that rule the wilderness, +jealous then and jealous still of the intrusion of man, dealt them a +final, deadly blow. + +Its weapon was just a sound--a loud crash in a distant thicket--and a +pungent message on the wind that their human senses were too blunt to +receive. Bruce saw the full dreadfulness of the blow and was powerless +to save. The horse suddenly snorted loudly, then reared up. He saw as in +a tragic, dream the girl struggle to hold him; he saw her pulled down +into the snow and the rein jerked from her hand. Then the animal +plunged, wheeled, and raced at top speed away into the snow flurries. +Some Terror that as yet they could not name had broken their control of +him and in an instant taken from them this one last hope of safety. + + + + +XXXII + + +Bruce walked over to Linda, waiting in the snow on her knees. It was not +an intentional posture. She had been jerked down by the plunging horse, +and she had not yet completely risen. But the sight of her slight +figure, her raised white face, her clasped hands, and the remorseless +snow of the wilderness about her moved Bruce to his depths. He saw her +but dimly in the snow flurries, and she looked as if she were in an +attitude of prayer. + +He came rather slowly, and he even smiled a little. And she gave him a +wan, strange, little smile in return. + +"We're down to cases at last," he said, with a rather startling +quietness of tone. "You see what it means?" + +She nodded, then got to her feet. + +"We can walk out, if we are let alone and given time; it isn't that we +are obliged to have the horse. But our blankets are on its back, and +this storm is steadily becoming a blizzard. And you see--_time_ is one +thing that we don't have. No human being can stand this cold for long +unprotected." + +"And we can't keep going--keep warm by walking?" + +His answer was to take out his knife and put the point of the steel to +his thumb nail. His eyes strained, then looked up. "A little way," he +answered, "but we can't keep our main directions. The sun doesn't even +cast a shadow on my nail to show us which is west. We could keep up a +while, perhaps, but there is no end to this wilderness and at noon or +to-night--the result would be the same." + +"And it means--the end?" + +"If I can't catch the horse. I'm going now. If we can regain the +blankets--by getting in rifle range of the horse--we might make some +sort of shelter in the snow and last out until we can see our way and +get our bearings. You don't know of any shelter--any cave or cabin where +we might build a fire?" + +"No. There are some in the hills, but we can't see our way to find +them." + +"I know. I should have thought of that. And you see, we can't build a +fire here--everything is wet, and the snow is beginning to whirl so we +couldn't keep it going. If we should stagger on all day in this storm +and this snow, we couldn't endure the night." He smiled again. "And I +want you to climb a tree--and stay there--until I come back." + +She looked at him dully. "What's the use, Bruce? You won't come back. +You'll chase the thing until you die--I know you. You don't know when to +give up. And if you want to come back--you couldn't find the way. I'm +going with you." + +"No." Once more she started to disobey, but the grave displeasure in +his eyes restrained her. "It's going to take all my strength to fight +through that snow--I must go fast--and maybe life and death will have to +depend on your strength at the end of the trail. You must save it--the +little you have left. I can find my way back to you by following my own +tracks--the snow won't fill them up so soon. And since I must take the +rifle--to shoot the horse if I can't catch him--you must climb a tree. +You know why." + +"Partly to hide from Simon if he comes this way. And partly--" + +"Because there's some danger in that thicket beyond!" he interrupted +her. "The horse's terror was real--besides, you heard the sound. It +might be only a puma. But it might be--the Killer. Swing your arms and +struggle all you can to keep the blood flowing. I won't be gone long." + +He started to go, and she ran after him with outstretched arms. "Oh, +Bruce," she cried, "come back soon--soon. Don't leave me to die alone. +I'm not strong enough for that--" + +He whirled, took two paces back, and his arms went about her. He had +forgotten his injury long since. He kissed her cool lips and smiled into +her eyes. Then at once the flurries hid him. + +The girl climbed up into the branches of a fir tree. In the thicket +beyond a great gray form tacked back and forth, trying to locate a scent +that a second before he had caught but dimly and had lost. It was the +Killer, and his temper was lost long ago in the whirling snow. His anger +was upon him, partly from the discomfort of the storm, partly from the +constant, gnawing pain of three bullet wounds in his powerful body. +Besides, he realized the presence of his old and greatest enemy,--those +tall, slight forms that had crossed him so many times, that had stung +him with their bullets, and whose weakness he had learned. + +The wind was variable, and all at once he caught the scent plain. He +lurched forward, crashed again through the brush, and walked out into +the snow-swept open. Linda saw his vague outline, and at first she hung +perfectly motionless, hoping to escape his gaze. She had been told many +times that grizzlies cannot climb, yet she had no desire to see him +raging below her, reaching, possibly trying to shake her from the limbs. +Her muscles were stiff and inactive from the cold, and she doubted her +ability to hold on. Besides, in that dread moment she found it hard to +believe that the Killer would not be able to swing into the lower limbs, +high enough to strike her down. + +He didn't seem to see her. His eyes were lowered; besides, it was never +the grizzly way to search the branches of a tree. The wind blew the +message that he might have read clearly in the opposite direction. She +saw him walk slowly across the snow, head lowered, a huge gray ghost in +the snow flurries not one hundred feet distant. Then she saw him pause, +with lowered head. + +In the little second before the truth came to her, the bear had already +turned. Bruce's tracks were somewhat dimmed by the snow, but the Killer +interpreted them truly. She saw too late that he had crossed them, read +their message, and now had turned into the clouds of snow to trace them +down. + +For an instant she gazed at him in speechless horror; and already the +flurries had almost obscured his gray figure. Desperately she tried to +call his attention from the tracks. She called, then she rustled the +branches as loudly as she could. But the noise of the wind obscured what +sound she made, and the bear was already too absorbed in the hunt to +turn and see her. As always, in the nearing presence of a foe, his rage +grew upon him. + +Sobbing, Linda swung down from the tree. She had no conscious plan of +aid to her lover. She only had a blind instinct to seek him, to try to +warn him of his danger, and at least to be with him at the death. The +great tracks of the Killer, seemingly almost as long as her own arm, +made a plain trail for her to follow. She too struck off into the +storm-swept canyon. + +And the forest gods who dwell somewhere in the region where the pine +tops taper into the sky, and who pull the strings that drop and raise +the curtain and work the puppets that are the players of the wilderness +dramas, saw a chance for a great and tragic jest in this strange chase +over the snow. The destinies of Bruce, Linda, and the Killer were +already converging on this trail that all three followed,--the path that +the runaway horse made in the snow. Only one of the great forces of the +war that had been waged at Trail's End was lacking, and now he came +also. + +Simon Turner had ridden late into the night and from before dawn; with +remorseless fury he had goaded on his exhausted horse, he had driven him +with unpitying strength through coverts, over great rocks, down into +rocky canyons in search of Bruce and Linda, and now, as the dawn broke, +he thought that he had found them. He had suddenly come upon the tracks +of Bruce's horse in the snow. + +If he had encountered them farther back, when the animal had been +running wildly, he might have guessed the truth and rejoiced. No man +would attempt to ride a horse at a gallop through that trailless +stretch. But at the point he found the tracks most of the horse's terror +had been spent, and it was walking leisurely, sometimes lowering its +head to crop the shrubbery. The trail was comparatively fresh too; or +else the fast-falling snow would have already obscured it. He thought +that his hour of triumph was near. + +But it had come none too soon. And Simon--out of passion-filled +eyes--looked and saw that it would likely bring death with it. + +He realized his position fully. The storm was steadily developing into +one of those terrible mountain blizzards in which, without shelter, no +human being might live. He was far from his home, he had no blankets, +and he could not find his way. Yet he would not have turned back if he +could. + +In all the manifold mysteries of the wilderness there was no stranger +thing than this: that in the face of his passion Simon had forgotten and +ignored even that deepest instinct, self-preservation. Nothing mattered +any more except his hatred. No desire was left except its expression. + +The securing of the document by which Bruce could take the great estates +from him was only a trifle now. He believed wholly within his own soul +that the wilderness--without his aid--would do his work of hatred for +him; and that by no conceivable circumstances could Bruce and Linda find +shelter from the blizzard and live through the day. He could find their +bodies in the spring if he by any chance escaped himself, and take the +Ross-Folger agreement from them. But it was not enough. He wanted also +to do the work of destruction. + +Even his own death--if it were only delayed until his vengeance was +wreaked--could not matter now. In all the ancient strife and fury and +ceaseless war of the wild through which he had come, there was no +passion to equal this. The Killer was content to let the wolf kill the +fawn for him. The cougar will turn from its warm, newly slain prey, in +which its white fangs have already dipped, at the sight of some great +danger in the thickets. But Simon could not turn. Death lowered its +wings upon him as well as upon his enemy, yet the fire in his heart and +the fury in his brain shut out all thought of it. + +He sprang off his horse better to examine the tracks, and then stood, +half bent over, in the snow. + + * * * * * + +Bruce Folger headed swiftly up the trail that his runaway horse had +made. It was, he thought, his last effort, and he gave his full strength +to it. Weakened as he was by the cold and the wound, he could not have +made headway at all except for the fact that the wind was behind him. + +The snow ever fell faster, in larger flakes, and the track dimmed before +his eyes. It was a losing game. Terrified not only by the beast that had +stirred in the thicket but by the ever-increasing wind as well, the +animal would not linger to be overtaken. Bruce had not ridden it enough +to have tamed it, and his plan was to attempt to shoot the creature on +sight, rather than try to catch it. They could not go forward, anyway, +as long as the blizzard lasted. Which way was east and which was west he +could no longer guess. And with the blankets they might make some sort +of shelter and keep life in their bodies until the snow ceased and they +could find their way. + +The cold was deepening, the storm was increasing in fury. Bruce's bones +ached, his wounded arm felt numb and strange, the frost was getting into +his lungs. The wind's breath was ever keener, its whistle was louder in +the pines. There was no hope of the storm decreasing, rather it was +steadily growing worse. And Bruce had some pre-knowledge--an +inheritance, perhaps, from frontier ancestors--of the real nature of the +mountain blizzard such as was descending on him now. It was a losing +fight. All the optimism of youth and the spirit of the angels could not +deny this fact. + +The tracks grew more dim, and he began to be afraid that the falling +flakes would obscure his own footprints so that he could not find his +way back to Linda. And he knew, beyond all other knowledge, that he +wanted her with him when the shadows dropped down for good and all. He +couldn't face them bravely alone. He wanted her arms about him; the +flight would be easier then. + +"Oh, what's the use?" he suddenly said to the wind. "Why not give up and +go back?" + +He halted in the trail and started to turn. But at that instant a banner +of wind swept down into his face, and the eddy of snow in front of him +was brushed from his gaze. Just for the space of a breath the canyon for +a hundred feet distant was partially cleared of the blinding streamers +of snow. And he uttered a long gasp when he saw, thirty yards distant +and at the farthest reaches of his sight, the figure of a saddled horse. + +His gun leaped to his shoulder, yet his eagerness did not cost him his +self-control. He gazed quietly along the sights until he saw the +animal's shoulder between them. His finger pressed back against the +trigger. + +The horse rocked down, seemingly instantly killed, and the snow swept in +between. Bruce cried out in triumph. Then he broke into a run and sped +through the flurries toward his dead. + +But it came about that there was other business for Bruce than the +recovery of his blankets that he had supposed would be tied to the +saddle. The snow was thick between, and he was within twenty feet of the +animal's body before he glimpsed it clearly again. And he felt the first +wave of wonder, the first promptings of the thought that the horse he +had shot down was not his, but one that he had never seen before. + +But there was no time for the thought to go fully home. Some one cried +out--a strange, half-snarl of hatred and triumph that was almost lacking +in all human quality--and a man's body leaped toward him from the +thicket before which the horse had fallen. It was Simon, and Bruce had +mistaken his horse for the one he had ridden. + + + + +XXXIII + + +Even in that instant crisis Bruce did not forget that he had as yet +neglected to expel the empty cartridge from the barrel of his rifle and +to throw in the other from the magazine. He tried to get the gun to his +shoulder, working the lever at the same time. But Simon's leap was too +fast for him. His strong hand seized the barrel of the gun and snatched +it from his hands. Then the assailant threw it back, over his shoulder, +and it fell softly in the snow. He waited, crouched. + +The two men stood face to face at last. All things else were forgotten. +The world they had known before--a world of sorrow and pleasures, of +mountains and woods and homes--faded out and left no realities except +each other's presence. All about them were the snow flurries that their +eyes could not penetrate, and it was as if they were two lone +contestants on an otherwise uninhabited sphere who had come to grips at +last. The falling snow gave the whole picture a curious tone of +unreality and dimness. + +Bruce straightened, and his face was of iron. "Well, Simon," he said. +"You've come." + +The man's eyes burned red through the snow. "Of course I would. Did you +think you could escape me?" + +"It didn't much matter whether I escaped you or not," Bruce answered +rather quietly. "Neither one of us is going to escape the storm and the +cold. I suppose you know that." + +"I know that _one_ of us is. Because one of us is going out--a more +direct way--first. Which one that is doesn't much matter." His great +hands clasped. "Bruce, when I snatched your gun right now I could have +done more. I could have sprung a few feet farther and had you around the +waist--taken by surprise. The fight would have been already over. I +think I could have done more than that even--with my own rifle as you +came up. It's laying there, just beside the horse." + +But Bruce didn't turn his eyes to look at it. He was waiting for the +attack. + +"I could have snatched your life just as well, but I wanted to wait," +Simon went on. "I wanted to say a few words first, and wanted to master +you--not by surprise--but by superior strength alone." + +It came into Brace's mind that he could tell Simon of the wound near his +shoulder, how because of it no fight between them would be a fair test +of superiority, yet the words didn't come to his lips. He could not ask +mercy of this man, either directly or indirectly, any more than the +pines asked mercy of the snows that covered them. + +"You were right when you said there is no escaping from this storm," +Simon went on. "But it doesn't much matter. It's the end of a long war, +and what happens to the victor is neither here nor there. It seems all +the more fitting that we should meet just as we have--at the very brink +of death--and Death should be waiting at the end for the one of us who +survives. It's so like this damned, terrible wilderness in which we +live." + +Bruce gazed in amazement. The dark and dreadful poetry of this man's +nature was coming to the fore. The wind made a strange echo to his +words,--a long, wild shriek as it swept over the heads of the pines. + +"Then why are you waiting?" Bruce asked. + +"So you can understand everything. But I guess that time is here. There +is to be no mercy at the end of this fight, Bruce; I ask none and will +give none. You have waged a war against me, you have escaped me many +times, you have won the love of the woman I love--and this is to be my +answer." His voice dropped a note and he spoke more quietly. "I'm going +to kill you, Bruce." + +"Then try it," Bruce answered steadily. "I'm in a hurry to go back to +Linda." + +Simon's smoldering wrath blazed up at the words. Both men seemed to +spring at the same time. Their arms flailed, then interlocked; and they +rocked a long time--back and forth in the snow. + +They fought in silence. The flurries dropped over them, and the wind +swept by in its frantic wandering. Bruce called upon his last ounce of +reserve strength,--that mysterious force that always sweeps to a man's +aid in a moment of crisis. + +For the first time he had full realization of Simon's mighty strength. +With all the power of his body he tried to wrench him off his feet, but +it was like trying to tear a tree from the ground. + +But surprise at the other's power was not confined to Bruce alone. Simon +knew that he had an opponent worthy of the iron of his own muscles, and +he put all his terrible might into the battle. He tried to reach Bruce's +throat, but the man's strong shoulder held the arm against his side. +Simon's great hand reached to pin Bruce's arm, and for the first time he +discovered the location of his weakness. + +He saw the color sweep from Bruce's face and water drops that were not +melted snow come upon it. It was all the advantage needed between such +evenly matched contestants. And Simon forgot his spoken word that he +wished this fight to be a test of superiority alone. His fury swept over +him like a flood and effaced all things else; and he centered his whole +attack upon Bruce's wound. + +In a moment he had him down, and he struck once into Bruce's white face +with his terrible knuckles. The blow sent a strange sickness through the +younger man's frame; and he tried vainly to struggle to his feet. +"Fight! Fight on!" was the message his mind dispatched along his nerves +to his tortured muscles, but for an instant they wholly refused to +respond. They had endured too much. Total unconsciousness hovered above +him, ready to descend. + +Strangely, he seemed to know that Simon had crept from his body and was +even now reaching some dreadful weapon that lay beside the dead form of +the horse. In an instant he had it, and Bruce's eyes opened in time to +see him swinging it aloft. It was his rifle, and Simon was aiming a +murderous blow at him with its stock. + +There was no chance to ward it off. No human skull could withstand its +shattering impact. Bruce saw the man's dark face with the murder madness +upon it, the blazing eyes, the lips drawn back. The muscles contracted +to deal the blow. + +But that war of life and death in the far reaches of Trail's End was not +to end so soon. At that instant there was an amazing intervention. + +A great gray form came lunging out of the snow flurries. Their vision +was limited to a few feet, and so fast the creature came, with such +incredible, smashing power, that he was upon them in a breath. It was +the Killer in the full glory of the charge; and he had caught up with +them at last. + +Bruce saw only his great figure looming just over him. Simon, with +amazing agility, leaped to one side just in time, then battered down the +rifle stock with all his strength. But the blow was not meant for Bruce. +It struck where aimed,--the great gray shoulder of the grizzly. + +Then, dimmed and half-obscured by the snow flurries, there began as +strange a battle as the great pines above them had ever beheld. The +Killer's rage was upon him, and the blow at the shoulder had arrested +his charge for a moment only. Then he wheeled, a snarling, fighting +monster with death for any living creature in the blow of his forearm, +and lunged toward Simon again. + +It was the Killer at his grandest. The little eyes blazed, the neck hair +bristled, he struck with forearms and jaws--lashing, lunging, +recoiling--all the terrible might and fury of the wilderness centered +and personified in his mighty form. Simon had no chance to shoot his +rifle. In the instant that he would raise it those great claws and fangs +would be upon him. He swung it as a club, striking again and again, +dodging the sledge-hammer blows and springing aside in the second of the +Killer's lunges. He was fighting for his life, and no eye could bemean +that effort. + +Simon himself seemed exalted, and for once it appeared that the grizzly +had found an opponent worthy of his might. It was all so fitting: that +these two mighty powers, typifying all that is remorseless and terrible +in the wild, should clash at last in the gathering fury of the storm. +They were of one kind, and they seemed to understand each other. The +lust and passion and fury of battle were upon them both. + +The scene harked back to the young days of the world, when man and beast +battled for dominance. Nothing had changed. The forest stood grave and +silent, just the same. The elements warred against them from the +clouds,--that ancient persecution of which the wolf pack sings on the +ridge at night, that endless strife that has made of existence a travail +and a scourge. Man and beast and storm--those three great foes were +arrayed the same as ever. Time swung backward a thousand-thousand +years. + +The storm gathered in force. The full strength of the blizzard was upon +them. The snow seemed to come from all directions in great clouds and +flurries and streamers, and time after time it wholly hid the +contestants from Bruce's eyes. At such times he could tell how the fight +was going by sound alone,--the snarls of the Killer, the wild oaths of +Simon, the impact of the descending rifle-butt. Bruce gave no thought to +taking part. Both were enemies; his own strength seemed gone. The cold +deepened; Bruce could feel it creeping into his blood, halting its flow, +threatening the spark of life within him. The full light of day had come +out upon the land. + +Bruce knew the wilderness now. All its primitive passions were in play, +all its mighty forces at grips. The storm seemed to be trying to +extinguish these mortal lives; jealous of their intrusion, longing for +the world it knew before living things came to dwell upon it, when its +winds swept endlessly over an uninhabited earth, and its winter snows +lay trackless and its rule was supreme. And beneath it, blind to the +knowledge that in union alone lay strength to oppose its might--to +oppose all those cruel forces that make a battleground of life--man and +beast fought their battle to the death. + +It seemed to go on forever. Linda came stealing out of the +snow--following the grizzly's trail--and crept beside Bruce. She +crouched beside him, and his arm went about her as if to shield her. +She had heard the sounds of the battle from afar; she had thought that +Bruce was the contestant, and her terror had left a deep pallor upon her +face; yet now she gazed upon that frightful conflict with a strange and +enduring calm. Both she and Bruce knew that there was but one sure +conqueror, and that was Death. If the Killer survived the fight and +through the mercy of the forest gods spared their lives, there remained +the blizzard. They could conceive of no circumstances whereby further +effort would be of the least avail. The horse on which was tied their +scanty blankets was miles away by now; its tracks were obscured in the +snow, and they could not find their way to any shelter that might be +concealed among the ridges. + +The scene grew in fury. The last burst of strength was upon Simon; in +another moment he would be exhausted. The bear had suffered terrible +punishment from the blows of the rifle stock. He recoiled once more, +then lunged with unbelievable speed. His huge paw, with all his might +behind it, struck the weapon from Simon's hand. + +It shot through the air seemingly almost as fast as the bullets it had +often propelled from its muzzle and struck the trunk of a tree. So hard +it came that the lock was shattered; they heard the ring of metal. The +bear rocked forward once more and struck again. And then all the sound +that was left was the eerie complaint of the wind. + +Simon lay still. The brave fight was over. His trial had ended +fittingly,--in the grip of such powers as were typical of himself. But +the bear did not leap upon him to tear his flesh. For an instant he +stood like a statue in gray stone, head lowered, as if in a strange +attitude of thought. The snow swept over him. + +Linda and Bruce gazed at him in silent awe. Some way, they felt no fear. +No room in their hearts was left for it after the tumult of that battle. +The great grizzly uttered one deep note and half-turned about. His eyes +rested upon the twain, but he did not seem to see them. + +The fury was dead within him; this much was plain. The hair began to lie +down at his shoulders. The terrible eyes lost their fire. Then he turned +again and headed off slowly, deliberately, directly into the face of the +storm. + + + + +XXXIV + + +The flurries almost immediately obscured the Killer's form, and Bruce +turned his attention back to Linda. "It's the end," he said quietly. +"Why not here--as well as anywhere else?" + +But before the question was finished, a strange note had come into his +voice. It was as if his attention had been called from his words by +something much more momentous. The truth was that it had been caught and +held by a curious expression on the girl's face. + +Some great idea, partaking of the nature of inspiration, had come to +her. He saw it in the growing light in her eyes, the deepening of the +soft lines of her face. All at once she sprang to her feet. + +"Bruce!" she cried. "Perhaps there's a way yet. A long, long chance, but +maybe a way yet. Get your rifle--Simon's is broken--and come with me." + +Without waiting for him to rise she struck off into the storm, following +the huge footprints of the bear. The man struggled with himself, +summoned all that was left of his reserve supply of strength, and leaped +up. He snatched his rifle from the ground where Simon had thrown it, and +in an instant was beside her. Her cheeks were blazing. + +"Maybe it just means further torture," she confessed to him, "but don't +you want to make every effort we can to save ourselves? Don't you want +to fight till the last breath?" + +She glanced up and saw her answer in the growing strength of his face. +Then his words spoke too. "As long as the slightest chance remains," he +replied. + +"And you'll forgive me if it comes to nothing?" + +He smiled, dimly. She took fresh heart when she saw he still had +strength enough to smile. "You don't have to ask me that." + +"A moment ago an idea came to me--it came so straight and sure it was as +if a voice told me," she explained hurriedly. She didn't look at him +again. She kept her eyes intent upon the great footprints in the snow. +To miss them for a second meant, in that world of whirling snow, to lose +them forever. "It was after the bear had killed Simon and had gone away. +He acted exactly as if he thought of something and went out to do +it--exactly as if he had a destination in view. Didn't you see--his +anger seemed to die in him and he started off in the _face of the +storm_. I've watched the ways of animals too long not to know that he +had something in view. It wasn't food; he would have attacked the body +of the horse, or even Simon's body. If he had just been running away or +wandering, he would have gone with the wind, not against it. He was +weakened from the fight, perhaps dying--and I think--" + +He finished the sentence for her, breathlessly. "That he's going toward +shelter." + +"Yes. You know, Bruce--the bears hibernate every year. They always seem +to have places all chosen--usually caverns in the hillsides or under +uprooted trees--and when the winter cuts off their supplies of food they +go straight toward them. That's my one hope now--that the Killer has +gone to some cave he knows about to hibernate until this storm is over. +I think from the way he started off, so sure and so straight, that it's +near. It would be dry and out of the storm, and if we could take it away +from him we could make a fire that the snow wouldn't put out. It would +mean life--and we could go on when the storm is over." + +"You remember--we have only one cartridge." + +"Yes, I know--I heard you fire. And it's only a thirty-thirty at that. +It's a risk--as terrible a risk as we've yet run. But it's a chance." + +They talked no more. Instead, they walked as fast as they could into the +face of the storm. It was a moment of respite. This new hope returned +some measure of their strength to them. They walked much more swiftly +than the bear, and they could tell by the appearance of the tracks that +they were but a few yards behind him. + +"He won't smell us, the wind blowing as it does," Linda encouraged. "And +he won't hear us either." + +Now the tracks were practically unspotted with the flakes. They strained +into the flurries. Now they walked almost in silence, their footfall +muffled in the snow. + +They soon became aware that they were mounting a low ridge. They left +the underbrush and emerged into the open timber. And all at once Bruce, +who now walked in front, paused with lifted hand, and pointed. Dim +through the flurries they made out the outline of the bear. And Linda's +inspiration had come true. + +There was a ledge of rocks just in front--a place such as the +rattlesnakes had loved in the blasting sun of summer--and a black hole +yawned in its side. The aperture had been almost covered with the snow, +and they saw that the great creature was scooping away the remainder of +the white drift with his paw. As they waited, the opening grew steadily +wider, revealing the mouth of a little cavern in the face of the rock. + +"Shoot!" Linda whispered. "If he gets inside we won't be able to get him +out." + +But Bruce shook his head, then stole nearer. She understood; he had only +one cartridge, and he must not take the risk of wounding the animal. The +fire had to be centered on a vital place. + +He walked steadily nearer until it seemed to Linda he would advance +straight into reach of the terrible claws. He held the rifle firmly; his +jaw was set, his face white, his eyes straight and strong with the +strength of the pines themselves. He went as softly as he could--nearer, +ever nearer--the rifle cocked and ready in his hands. + +The Killer turned his head and saw Bruce. Rage flamed again in his eyes. +He half-turned about; then poised to charge. + +The gun moved swiftly, easily, to the man's shoulder, his chin dropped +down, his straight eyes gazed along the barrel. In spite of his wound +never had human arms held more steady than his did then. And he marked +the little space of gray squarely between the two reddening eyes. + +The finger pressed back steadily against the trigger. The rifle cracked +in the silence. And then there was a curious effect of tableau, a long +second in which all three figures seemed to stand deathly still. + +The bear leaped forward, and it seemed wholly impossible to Linda that +Bruce could swerve aside in time to avoid the blow. She cried out in +horror as the great paws whipped down in the place where Bruce had +stood. But the man had been prepared for this very recoil, and he had +sprung aside just as the claws raked past. + +And the Killer would hunt no more in Trail's End. At the end of that +leap he fell, his great body quivering strangely in the snow. The lead +had gone straight home where it had been aimed, and the charge itself +had been mostly muscular reflex. He lay still at last, a gray, mammoth +figure that was majestic even in death. + +No more would the deer shudder with terror at the sound of his heavy +step in the thicket. No more would the herds fly into stampede at the +sight of his great shadow on the moonlit grass. The last of the Oregon +grizzlies had gone the way of all his breed. + + * * * * * + +To Bruce and Linda, standing breathless and awed in the snow-flurries, +his death imaged the passing of an old order--the last stand that the +forces of the wild had made against conquering man. But there was pathos +in it too. There was the symbol of mighty breeds humbled and destroyed. + +But the pines were left. Those eternal symbols of the wilderness--and of +powers beyond the wilderness--still stood straight and grand and +impassive above them. While these two lived, at least, they would still +keep their watch over the wilderness, they would still stand erect and +brave to the buffeting of the storm and snow, and in their shade dwelt +strength and peace. + +The cavern that was revealed to them had a rock floor and had been +hollowed out by running water in ages past. Bruce built a fire at its +mouth of some of the long tree roots that extended down into it, and the +life-giving warmth was a benediction. Already the drifting snow had +begun to cover the aperture. + +"We can wait here until the blizzard is done," Bruce told Linda, as she +sat beside him in the soft glow of the fire. "We have a little food, and +we can cut more from the body of the grizzly when we need it. There's +dead wood under the snow. And when the storm is over, we can get our +bearings and walk out." + +She sat a long time without answering. "And after that?" she asked. + +He smiled. "No one knows. It's ten days before the thirtieth--the +blizzards up here never last over three or four days. We've got plenty +of time to get the document down to the courts. The law will deal with +the rest of the Turners. We've won, Linda." + +His hands groped for hers, and he laid it against his lips. With her +other hand she stroked his snow-wet hair. Her eyes were lustrous in the +firelight. + +"And after that--after all that is settled? You will come back to the +mountains?" + +"Could I ever leave them!" he exclaimed. "Of course, Linda. But I don't +know what I can do up here--except maybe to establish my claim to my +father's old farm. There's a hundred or so acres. I believe I'd like to +feel the handles of a plow in my palms." + +"It was what you were made for, Bruce," she told him. "It's born in you. +There's a hundred acres there--and three thousand--somewhere else. +You've got new strength, Bruce. You could take hold and make them yield +up their hay--and their crops--and fill all these hills with the herds." +She stretched out her arms. Then all at once she dropped them almost as +if in supplication. But her voice had regained the old merry tone he had +learned to love when she spoke again. "Bruce, have I got to do all the +asking?" + +His answer was to stretch his great arms and draw her into them. His +laugh rang in the cavern. + +"Oh, my dearest!" he cried. The eyes lighted in his bronzed face. "I ask +for everything--everything--bold that I am! And what I want worst--this +minute--" + +"Yes?" + +"--Is just--a kiss." + +She gave it to him with all the tenderness of her soft lips. The snow +sifted down outside. Again the pines spoke to one another, but the +sadness seemed mostly gone from their soft voices. + +THE END + + + + +By EDISON MARSHALL + + +THE VOICE OF THE PACK + +With frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton + +_Love story, adventure story, nature story--all three qualities combine +in this tale of modern man and woman arrayed against the forces of +age-old savagery._ + +"'The Voice of the Pack' is clean, fine, raw, bold, primitive; and has a +wonderfully haunting quality in the repeated wolf-note"--_Zane Grey._ + +"Taken all around 'The Voice of the Pack' is the best of the stories +about wild life that has come out in many, many moons."--_The Chicago +Daily News._ + +"As a story that mingles Adventure, Nature Study and Romance, 'The Voice +of the Pack' is undeniably of the front rank. Mr. Marshall knows the +wild places and the ways of the wild creatures that range them--and he +knows how to write. The study of Dan Failing's development against a +background of the wild life of the mountains, is an exceedingly clever +piece of literary work."--_The Boston Herald._ + +"An unusually good tale of the West, evidently written by a man who +knows about the habits of the wolf-packs and cougars."--_The New York +Times._ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES*** + + +******* This file should be named 35378-8.txt or 35378-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/3/7/35378 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Herbert Dunton</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Strength of the Pines</p> +<p>Author: Edison Marshall</p> +<p>Release Date: February 23, 2011 [eBook #35378]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Michael, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES</h1> + +<h2>BY EDISON MARSHALL</h2> + + +<h3>WITH FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> +W. HERBERT DUNTON</h3> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>BOSTON<br /> +LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY<br /> +1921</h3> + +<h3><i>Copyright, 1921</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.</h3> + +<h3><i>All rights reserved</i></h3> + +<h3>Published February, 1921</h3> + +<h3>THE COLONIAL PRESS<br /> +C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>TO<br /> +LILLE BARTOO MARSHALL<br /> +DEAR COMRADE AND GUIDE<br /> +WHO GAVE ME LIFE</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/front.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>He marked the little space of gray squarely between the +two reddening eyes.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#BOOK_ONE">BOOK ONE <span class="smcap">The Call of the Blood</span> </a><br /><br /> +<a href="#I">I</a><br /> +<a href="#II">II</a><br /> +<a href="#III">III</a><br /> +<a href="#IV">IV</a><br /> +<a href="#V">V</a><br /> +<a href="#VI">VI</a><br /> +<a href="#VII">VII</a><br /> +<a href="#VIII">VIII</a><br /> +<a href="#IX">IX</a><br /> +<a href="#X">X</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_TWO">BOOK TWO <span class="smcap">The Blood Atonement</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#XI">XI</a><br /> +<a href="#XII">XII</a><br /> +<a href="#XIII">XIII</a><br /> +<a href="#XIV">XIV</a><br /> +<a href="#XV">XV</a><br /> +<a href="#XVI">XVI</a><br /> +<a href="#XVII">XVII</a><br /> +<a href="#XVIII">XVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#XIX">XIX</a><br /> +<a href="#XX">XX</a><br /> +<a href="#XXI">XXI</a><br /> +<a href="#XXII">XXII</a><br /> +<a href="#XXIII">XXIII</a><br /> +<a href="#XXIV">XXIV</a><br /> +<a href="#XXV">XXV</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_THREE">BOOK THREE <span class="smcap">The Coming of the Strength</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#XXVI">XXVI</a><br /> +<a href="#XXVII">XXVII</a><br /> +<a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII</a><br /> +<a href="#XXIX">XXIX</a><br /> +<a href="#XXX">XXX</a><br /> +<a href="#XXXI">XXXI</a><br /> +<a href="#XXXII">XXXII</a><br /> +<a href="#XXXIII">XXXIII</a><br /> +<a href="#XXXIV">XXXIV</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#By_EDISON_MARSHALL">By EDISON MARSHALL</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_ONE" id="BOOK_ONE"></a>BOOK ONE</h2> + +<h3>THE CALL OF THE BLOOD</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + + +<p>Bruce was wakened by the sharp ring of his telephone bell. He heard its +first note; and its jingle seemed to continue endlessly. There was no +period of drowsiness between sleep and wakefulness; instantly he was +fully aroused, in complete control of all his faculties. And this is not +especially common to men bred in the security of civilization. Rather it +is a trait of the wild creatures; a little matter that is quite +necessary if they care at all about living. A deer, for instance, that +cannot leap out of a mid-afternoon nap, soar a fair ten feet in the air, +and come down with legs in the right position for running comes to a sad +end, rather soon, in a puma's claws. Frontiersmen learn the trait too; +but as Bruce was a dweller of cities it seemed somewhat strange in him. +The trim, hard muscles were all cocked and primed for anything they +should be told to do.</p> + +<p>Then he grunted rebelliously and glanced at his watch beneath the +pillow. He had gone to bed early; it was just before midnight now. "I +wish they'd leave me alone at night, anyway," he muttered, as he slipped +on his dressing gown.</p> + +<p>He had no doubts whatever concerning the nature of this call. There had +been one hundred like it during the previous month. His foster father +had recently died, his estate was being settled up, and Bruce had been +having a somewhat strenuous time with his creditors. He understood the +man's real financial situation at last; at his death the whole business +structure collapsed like the eggshell it was. Bruce had supposed that +most of the debts had been paid by now; he wondered, as he fumbled into +his bedroom slippers, whether the thousand or so dollars that were left +would cover the claim of the man who was now calling him to the +telephone. The fact that he was, at last, the penniless "beggar" that +Duncan had called him at their first meeting didn't matter one way or +another. For some years he had not hoped for help from his foster +parent. The collapse of the latter's business had put Bruce out of work, +but that was just a detail too. All he wanted now was to get things +straightened up and go away—where, he did not know or care.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Duncan," he said coldly into the transmitter.</p> + +<p>When he heard a voice come scratching over the wires, he felt sure that +he had guessed right. Quite often his foster father's creditors talked +in that same excited, hurried way. It was rather necessary to be hurried +and excited if a claim were to be met before the dwindling financial +resources were exhausted. But the words themselves, however—as soon as +they gave their interpretation in his brain—threw a different light on +the matter.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Duncan," the voice answered. "Pardon me if I got you +up. I want to talk to your son, Bruce."</p> + +<p>Bruce emitted a little gasp of amazement. Whoever talked at the end of +the line obviously didn't know that the elder Duncan was dead. Bruce had +a moment of grim humor in which he mused that this voice would have done +rather well if it could arouse his foster father to answer it. "The +elder Mr. Duncan died last month," he answered simply. There was not the +slightest trace of emotion in his tone. No wayfarer on the street could +have been, as far as facts went, more of a stranger to him; there was no +sense of loss at his death and no cause for pretense now. "This is Bruce +speaking."</p> + +<p>He heard the other gasp. "Old man, I'm sorry," his contrite voice came. +"I didn't know of your loss. This is Barney—Barney Wegan—and I just +got in from the West. Haven't had a bit of news for months. Accept my +earnest sympathies—"</p> + +<p>"Barney! Of course." The delight grew on Bruce's face; for Barney Wegan, +a man whom he had met and learned to know on the gym floor of his club, +was quite near to being a real friend. "And what's up, Barney?"</p> + +<p>The man's voice changed at once—went back to its same urgent, but +rather embarrassed tone. "You won't believe me if I tell you, so I won't +try to tell you over the 'phone. But I must come up—right away. May I?"</p> + +<p>"Of course—"</p> + +<p>"I'll jump in my car and be there in a minute."</p> + +<p>Bruce hung up, slowly descended to his library, and flashed on the +lights.</p> + +<p>For the first time he was revealed plainly. His was a familiar type; but +at the same time the best type too. He had the face and the body of an +athlete, a man who keeps himself fit; and there was nothing mawkish or +effeminate about him. His dark hair was clipped close about his temples, +and even two hours in bed had not disarranged its careful part. It is +true that men did look twice at Bruce's eyes, set in a brown, clean-cut +face, never knowing exactly why they did so. They had startling +potentialities. They were quite clear now, wide-awake and cool, yet they +had a strange depth of expression and shadow that might mean, somewhere +beneath the bland and cool exterior, a capacity for great emotions and +passions.</p> + +<p>He had only a few minutes to wait; then Barney Wegan tapped at his door. +This man was bronzed by the sun, never more fit, never straighter and +taller and more lithe. He had just come from the far places. The +embarrassment that Bruce had detected in his voice was in his face and +manner too.</p> + +<p>"You'll think I'm crazy, for routing you out at this time of night, +Bruce," he began. "And I'm going to get this matter off my chest as +soon as possible and let you go to bed. It's all batty, anyway. But I +was cautioned by all the devils of the deep to see you—the moment I +came here."</p> + +<p>"Cigarettes on the smoking-stand," Bruce said steadily. "And tell away."</p> + +<p>"But tell me something first. Was Duncan your real father? If he was, +I'll know I'm up a wrong tree. I don't mean to be personal—"</p> + +<p>"He wasn't. I thought you knew it. My real father is something like +you—something of a mystery."</p> + +<p>"I won't be a mystery long. He's not, eh—that's what the old hag said. +Excuse me, old man, for saying 'hag.' But she was one, if there is any +such. Lord knows who she is, or whether or not she's a relation of +yours. But I'll begin at the beginning. You know I was way back on the +Oregon frontier—back in the Cascades?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," Bruce replied. "I knew you were somewhere in the wilds. +You always are. Go on."</p> + +<p>"I was back there fishing for steelhead in a river they call the Rogue. +My boy, a steelhead is—but you don't want to hear that. You want to get +the story. But a steelhead, you ought to know, is a trout—a fish—and +the noblest fish that ever was! Oh, Heavens above! how they can strike! +But while way up on the upper waters I heard of a place called Trail's +End—a place where wise men do not go."</p> + +<p>"And of course you went."</p> + +<p>"Of course. The name sounds silly now, but it won't if you ever go +there. There are only a few families, Bruce, miles and miles apart, in +the whole region. And it's enormous—no one knows how big. Just ridge on +ridge. And I went back to kill a bear."</p> + +<p>"But stop!" Bruce commanded. He lighted a cigarette. "I thought you were +against killing bears—any except the big boys up North."</p> + +<p>"That's just it. I am against killing the little black fellows—they are +the only folk with any brains in the woods. But this, Bruce, was a real +bear,—a left-over from fifty years ago. There used to be grizzlies +through that country, you see, but everybody supposed that the last of +them had been shot. But evidently there was one family that still +remained—in the farthest recesses of Trail's End—and all at once the +biggest, meanest grizzly ever remembered showed up on the cattle ranges +of the plateau. With some others, I went to get him. 'The Killer', they +call him—and he certainly is death on live stock. I didn't get the +bear, but one day my guide stopped at a broken-down old cabin on the +hillside for a drink of water. I was four miles away in camp. The guide +came back and asked me if I was from this very city.</p> + +<p>"I told him yes, and asked him why he wanted to know. He said that this +old woman sent word, secretly, to every stranger that ever came to fish +or hunt in the region of Trail's End, wanting to know if they came from +here. I was the first one that answered 'yes.' And the guide said that +she wanted me to come to her cabin and see her.</p> + +<p>"I went—and I won't describe to you how she looked. I'll let you see +for yourself, if you care to follow out her instructions. And now the +strange part comes in. The old witch raised her arm, pointed her cane at +me, and asked me if I knew Newton Duncan.</p> + +<p>"I told her there might be several Newton Duncans in a city this size. +You should have seen the pain grow on her face. 'After so long, after so +long!' she cried, in the queerest, sobbing way. She seemed to have +waited years to find some one from here, and when I came I didn't know +what she wanted. Then she took heart and began again.</p> + +<p>"'This Newton Duncan had a son—a foster-son—named Bruce,' she told me. +And then I said I knew you.</p> + +<p>"You can't imagine the change that came over her. I thought she'd die of +heart failure. The whole thing, Bruce—if you must know—gave me the +creeps. 'Tell him to come here,' she begged me. 'Don't lose a moment. As +soon as you get home, tell him to come here.'</p> + +<p>"Of course I asked other questions, but I couldn't get much out of her. +One of 'em was why she hadn't written to Duncan. The answer was simple +enough—that she didn't know how to write. Those in the mountains that +could write wouldn't, or couldn't—she was a trifle vague on that +point—dispatch a letter. Something is up."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + + +<p>Before the gray of dawn came over the land Bruce Duncan had started +westward. He had no self-amazement at the lightning decision. He was +only strangely and deeply exultant.</p> + +<p>The reasons why went too deep within him to be easily seen. In the first +place, it was adventure—and Bruce's life had not been very adventurous +heretofore. It was true that he had known triumphs on the athletic +fields, and his first days at a great University had been novel and +entertaining. But now he was going to the West, to a land he had dreamed +about, the land of wide spaces and great opportunities. It was not his +first western journey. Often he had gone there as a child—had engaged +in furious battles with outlaws and Indians; but those had been +adventures of imagination only. This was reality at last. The clicking +rails beneath the speeding train left no chance for doubt.</p> + +<p>Then there was a sense of immeasurable relief at his sudden and +unexpected freedom from the financial problems his father had left. He +would have no more consultations with impatient creditors, no more would +he strive to gather together the ruins of the business, and attempt to +salvage the small remaining fragments of his father's fortune. He was +free of it all, at last. He had never known a darker hour—and none of +them that this quiet, lonely-spirited man had known had been very +bright—than the one he had spent just before going to bed earlier that +evening. He had no plans, he didn't know which way to turn. All at once, +through the message that Barney had brought him, he had seen a clear +trail ahead. It was something to do, something at last that mattered.</p> + +<p>Finally there remained the eminent fact that this was an answer to his +dream. He was going toward Linda, at last. The girl had been the one +living creature in his memory that he had cared for and who cared for +him—the one person whose interest in him was real. Men are a gregarious +species. The trails are bewildering and steep to one who travels them +alone. Linda, the little "spitfire" of his boyhood, had suddenly become +the one reality in his world, and as he thought of her, his memory +reviewed the few impressions he had retained of his childhood.</p> + +<p>First was the Square House—the orphanage—where the Woman had turned +him over to the nurse in charge. Sometimes, when tobacco smoke was heavy +upon him, Bruce could catch very dim and fleeting glimpses of the +Woman's face. He would bend his mind to it, he would probe and probe, +with little, reaching filaments of thought, into the dead years—and +then, all at once, the filaments would rush together, catch hold of a +fragment of her picture, and like a chain-gang of ants carrying a straw, +come lugging it up for him to see. It was only a fleeting glimpse, only +the faintest blur in half-tone, and then quite gone. Yet he never gave +up trying. He never quit longing for just one second of vivid +remembrance. It was one of the few and really great desires that Bruce +had in life.</p> + +<p>The few times that her memory-picture did come to him, it brought a +number of things with it. One of them was a great and overwhelming +realization of some terrible tragedy and terror the nature of which he +could not even guess. There had been terrible and tragic events—where +and how he could not guess—lost in those forgotten days of his +babyhood.</p> + +<p>"She's been through fire," the nurse told the doctor when he came in and +the door had closed behind the Woman. Bruce <i>did</i> remember these words, +because many years elapsed before he completely puzzled them out. The +nurse hadn't meant such fires as swept through the far-spread evergreen +forests of the Northwest. It was some other, dread fire that seared the +spirit and burned the bloom out of the face and all the gentle lights +out of the eyes. It did, however, leave certain lights, but they were +such that their remembrance brought no pleasure to Bruce. They were just +a wild glare, a fixed, strange brightness as of great fear or insanity.</p> + +<p>The Woman had kissed him and gone quickly; and he had been too young to +remember if she had carried any sort of bundle close to her breast. Yet, +the man considered, there must have been such a bundle—otherwise he +couldn't possibly account for Linda. And there were no doubts about +her, at all. Her picture was always on the first page of the photograph +album of his memory; he had only to turn over one little sheet of years +to find her.</p> + +<p>Of course he had no memories of her that first day, nor for the first +years. But all later memories of the Square House always included her. +She must have been nearly four years younger than himself; thus when he +was taken to the house she was only an infant. But thereafter, the +nurses put them together often; and when Linda was able to talk, she +called him something that sounded like Bwovaboo. She called him that so +often that for a long time he couldn't be sure that wasn't his real +name. Now, in manhood, he interpreted.</p> + +<p>"Brother Bruce, of course. Linda was of course a sister."</p> + +<p>Linda had been homely; even a small boy could notice that. Besides, +Linda was nearly six when Bruce had left for good; and he was then at an +age in which impressions begin to be lasting. Her hair was quite blond +then, and her features rather irregular. But there had been a light in +her eyes! By his word, there had been!</p> + +<p>She had been angry at him times in plenty—over some childish game—and +he remembered how that light had grown and brightened. She had flung at +him too, like a lynx springing from a tree. Bruce paused in his +reflections to wonder at himself over the simile—for lynx were no +especial acquaintances of his. He knew them only through books, as he +knew many other things that stirred his imagination. But he laughed at +the memory of her sudden, explosive ferocity,—the way her hands had +smacked against his cheeks, and her sharp little nails had scratched +him. Curiously, he had never fought back as is the usual thing between +small boys and small girls. And it wasn't exactly chivalry either, +rather just an inability to feel resentment. Besides, there were always +tears and repentance afterward, and certain pettings that he openly +scorned and secretly loved.</p> + +<p>"I must have been a strange kid!" Bruce thought.</p> + +<p>It was true he had; and nothing was stranger than this attitude toward +Baby Sister. He was always so gentle with her, but at the same time he +contemplated her with a sort of amused tolerance that is to be expected +in strong men rather than solemn little boys. "Little Spitfire" he +sometimes called her; but no one else could call her anything but Linda. +For Bruce had been an able little fighter, even in those days.</p> + +<p>There was other evidence of strangeness. He was fond of drawing +pictures. This was nothing in itself; many little boys are fond of +drawing pictures. Nor were his unusually good. Their strangeness lay in +his subjects. He liked to draw animals in particular,—the animals he +read about in school and in such books as were brought to him. And +sometimes he drew Indians and cowboys. And one day—when he wasn't half +watching what he was doing—he drew something quite different.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he wouldn't have looked at it twice, if the teacher hadn't +stepped up behind him and taken it out of his hands. It was "geography" +then, not "drawing", and he should have been "paying attention." And he +had every reason to think that the teacher would crumple up his picture +and send him to the cloak-room for punishment.</p> + +<p>But she did no such thing. It was true that she seized the paper, and +her fingers were all set to crumple it. But when her eyes glanced down, +her fingers slowly straightened. Then she looked again—carefully.</p> + +<p>"What is this, Bruce?" she asked. "What have you been drawing?"</p> + +<p>Curiously, she had quite forgotten to scold him for not paying +attention. And Bruce, who had drawn the picture with his thoughts far +away from his pencil, had to look and see himself. Then he couldn't be +sure.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," the child answered. But the picture was even better +than his more conscious drawings, and it did look like something. He +looked again, and for an instant let his thoughts go wandering here and +there. "Those are trees," he said. A word caught at his throat and he +blurted it out. "Pines! Pine trees, growing on a mountain."</p> + +<p>Once translated, the picture could hardly be mistaken. There was a range +of mountains in the background, and a distinct sky line plumed with +pines,—those tall, dark trees that symbolize, above all other trees, +the wilderness.</p> + +<p>"Not bad for a six-year-old boy," the teacher commented. "But where, +Bruce, have you ever seen or heard of such pines?" But Bruce did not +know.</p> + +<p>Another puzzling adventure that stuck in Bruce's memory had happened +only a few months after his arrival at the Square House when a man had +taken him home on trial with the idea of adoption. Adoption, little +Bruce had gathered, was something like heaven,—a glorious and happy end +of all trouble and unpleasantness. Such was the idea he got from the +talk of the other Orphans, and even from the grown-ups who conducted the +establishment.</p> + +<p>All the incidents and details of the excursion with this prospective +parent were extremely dim and vague. He did not know to what city he +went, nor had he any recollection whatever of the people he met there. +But he did remember, with remarkable clearness, the perplexing talk that +the man and the superintendent of the Square House had together on his +return.</p> + +<p>"He won't do," the stranger had said. "I tried him out and he won't fill +in in my family. And I've fetched him back."</p> + +<p>The superintendent must have looked at the little curly-haired boy with +considerable wonder; but he didn't ask questions. There was no +particular need of them. The man was quite ready to talk, and the fact +that a round-eyed child was listening to him with both ears open, did +not deter him a particle.</p> + +<p>"I believe in being frank," the man said, "and I tell you there's +something vicious in that boy's nature. It came out the very first +moment he was in the house, when the Missus was introducing him to my +eight-year-old son. 'This is little Turner,' she said—and this boy +sprang right at him. I'd never let little Turner learn to fight, and +this boy was on top of him and was pounding him with his fists before we +could pull him off. Just like a wildcat—screaming and sobbing and +trying to get at him again. I didn't understand it at all."</p> + +<p>Nor did the superintendent understand; nor—in these later years—Bruce +either.</p> + +<p>He was quite a big boy, nearly ten, when he finally left the Square +House. And there was nothing flickering or dim about the memory of this +occasion.</p> + +<p>A tall, exceedingly slender man sat beside the window,—a man well +dressed but with hard lines about his mouth and hard eyes. Yet the +superintendent seemed particularly anxious to please him. "You will like +this sturdy fellow," he said, as Bruce was ushered in.</p> + +<p>The man's eyes traveled slowly from the child's curly head to his +rapidly growing feet; but no gleam of interest came into the thin face. +"I suppose he'll do—as good as any. It was the wife's idea, anyway, you +know. What about parentage? Anything decent at all?"</p> + +<p>The superintendent seemed to wait a long time before answering. Little +Bruce, already full of secret conjectures as to his own parentage, +thought that some key might be given him at last. "There is nothing that +we can tell you, Mr. Duncan," he said at last. "A woman brought him +here—with an infant girl—when he was about four. I suppose she was +his mother—and she didn't wait to talk to me. The nurse said that she +wore outlandish clothes and had plainly had a hard time."</p> + +<p>"But she didn't wait—?"</p> + +<p>"She dropped her children and fled."</p> + +<p>A cold little smile flickered at the man's lips.</p> + +<p>"It looks rather damnable," he said significantly. "But I'll take the +little beggar—anyway."</p> + +<p>And thus Bruce went to the cold fireside of the Duncans—a house in a +great and distant city where, in the years that had passed, many things +scarcely worth remembering had transpired. It was a gentleman's +house—as far as the meaning of the word usually goes—and Bruce had +been afforded a gentleman's education. There was also, for a while, a +certain amount of rather doubtful prosperity, a woman who died after a +few months of casual interest in him, and many, many hours of almost +overwhelming loneliness. Also there were many thoughts such as are not +especially good for the spirits of growing boys.</p> + +<p>There is a certain code in all worlds that most men, sooner or later, +find it wisest to adopt. It is simply the code of forgetfulness. The +Square House from whence Bruce had come had been a good place to learn +this code; and Bruce—child though he was—had carried it with him to +the Duncans'. But there were two things he had been unable to forget. +One was the words his foster father had spoken on accepting him,—words +that at last he had come to understand.</p> + +<p>A normal child, adopted into a good home, would not have likely given a +second thought to a dim and problematical disgrace in his unknown and +departed family. He would have found his pride in the achievements and +standing of his foster parents. But the trouble was that little Bruce +had not been adopted into any sort of home, good or bad. The place where +the Duncans lived was a house, but under no liberal interpretation of +the word could it be called a home. There was nothing homelike in it to +little Bruce. It wasn't that there was actual cruelty to contend with. +Bruce had never known that. But there was utter indifference which +perhaps is worse. And as always, the child filled up the empty space +with dreams. He gave all the love and worship that was in him to his own +family that he had pictured in imagination. Thus any disgrace that had +come upon them went home to him very straight indeed.</p> + +<p>The other lasting memory was of Linda. She represented the one living +creature in all his assemblage of phantoms—the one person with whom he +could claim real kinship. Never a wind blew, never the sun shone but +that he missed her, with a terrible, aching longing for which no one has +ever been able to find words. He had done a bold thing, after his first +few years with the Duncans. He planned it long and carried it out with +infinite care as to details. He wrote to Linda, in care of the +superintendent of the orphanage.</p> + +<p>The answer only deepened the mystery. Linda was missing. Whether she had +run away, or whether some one had come by in a closed car and carried +her off as she played on the lawns, the superintendent could not tell. +They had never been able to trace her. He had been fifteen then, a tall +boy with rather unusual muscular development, and the girl was eleven. +And in the year nineteen hundred and twenty, ten years after the reply +to his letter, Bruce had heard no word from her. A man grown, and his +boyish dreams pushed back into the furthest deep recesses of his mind, +where they could no longer turn his eyes away from facts, he had given +up all hope of ever hearing from her again. "My little sister," he said +softly to a memory. Then bitterness—a whole black flood of it—would +come upon him. "Good Lord, I don't even know that she <i>was</i> my sister." +But now he was going to find her and his heart was full of joy and eager +anticipation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + + +<p>There had not been time to make inquiry as to the land Bruce was going +to. He only knew one thing,—that it was the wilderness. Whether it was +a wilderness of desert or of great forest, he did not know. Nor had he +the least idea what manner of adventure would be his after he reached +the old woman's cabin; and he didn't care. The fact that he had no +business plans for the future and no financial resources except a few +hundred dollars that he carried in his pocket did not matter one way or +another. He was willing to spend all the money he had; after it was +gone, he would take up some work in life anew.</p> + +<p>He had a moment's wonder at the effect his departure would have upon the +financial problem that had been his father's sole legacy to him. He +laughed a little as he thought of it. Perhaps a stronger man could have +taken hold, could have erected some sort of a structure upon the ruins, +and remained to conquer after all. But Bruce had never been particularly +adept at business. His temperament did not seem suited to it. But the +idea that others also—having no business relations with his +father—might be interested in this western journey of his did not even +occur to him. He would not be missed at his athletic club. He had +scarcely any real friends, and none of his acquaintances kept +particularly close track of him.</p> + +<p>But the paths men take, seemingly with wholly different aims, crisscross +and become intertwined much more than Bruce knew. Even as he lay in his +berth, the first sweet drifting of sleep upon him, he was the subject of +a discussion in a far-distant mountain home; and sleep would not have +fallen so easily and sweetly if he had heard it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It might have been a different world. Only a glimpse of it, illumined by +the moon, could be seen through the soiled and besmirched window pane; +but that was enough to tell the story. There were no tall buildings, +lighted by a thousand electric lights, such as Bruce could see through +the windows of his bedroom at night. The lights that could be discerned +in this strange, dark sky were largely unfamiliar to Bruce, because of +the smoke-clouds that had always hung above the city where he lived. +There were just stars, but there were so many of them that the mind was +unable to comprehend their number.</p> + +<p>There is a perplexing variation in the appearance of these twinkling +spheres. No man who has traveled widely can escape this fact. Likely +enough they are the same stars, but they put on different faces. They +seem almost insignificant at times,—dull and dim and unreal. It is not +this way with the stars that peer down through these high forests. Men +cannot walk beneath them and be unaware of them. They are incredibly +large and bright and near, and the eyes naturally lift to them. There +are nights in plenty, in the wild places, where they seem much more real +than the dim, moonlit ridge or even the spark of a trapper's campfire, +far away. They grow to be companions, too, in time. Perhaps after many, +many years in the wild a man even attains some understanding of them, +learning their infinite beneficence, and finding in them rare comrades +in loneliness, and beacons on the dim and intertwining trails.</p> + +<p>There was also a moon that cast a little square of light, like a fairy +tapestry, on the floor. It was not such a moon as leers down red and +strange through the smoke of cities. It was vivid and quite white,—the +wilderness moon that times the hunting hours of the forest creatures. +But the patch that it cast on the floor was obscured in a moment because +the man who had been musing in the big chair beside the empty fireplace +had risen and lighted a kerosene lamp.</p> + +<p>The light prevented any further scrutiny of the moon and stars. And what +remained to look at was not nearly so pleasing to the spirit. It was a +great, white-walled room that would have been beautiful had it not been +for certain unfortunate attempts to beautify it. The walls, that should +have been sweeping and clean, were adorned with gaudily framed pictures +which in themselves were dim and drab from many summers' accumulation of +dust. There was a stone fireplace, and certain massive, dust-covered +chairs grouped about it. But the eyes never would have got to these. +They would have been held and fascinated by the face and the form of +the man who had just lighted the lamp.</p> + +<p>No one could look twice at that massive physique and question its might. +He seemed almost gigantic in the yellow lamplight. In reality he stood +six feet and almost three inches, and his frame was perfectly in +proportion. He moved slowly, lazily, and the thought flashed to some +great monster of the forest that could uproot a tree with a blow. The +huge muscles rippled and moved under the flannel shirt. The vast hand +looked as if it could seize the glass bowl of the lamp and crush it like +an eggshell.</p> + +<p>The face was huge, big and gaunt of bone; and particularly one would +notice the mouth. It would be noticed even before the dark, deep-sunken +eyes. It was a bloodhound mouth, the mouth of a man of great and +terrible passions, and there was an unmistakable measure of cruelty and +savagely about it. But there was strength, too. No eye could doubt that. +The jaw muscles looked as powerful as those of a beast of prey. But it +was not an ugly face, for all the brutality of the features. It was even +handsome in the hard, mountain way. One would notice straight, black +hair—the man's age was about thirty-nine—long over rather dark ears, +and a great, gnarled throat. The words when he spoke seemed to come from +deep within it.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Dave," he said.</p> + +<p>In this little remark lay something of the man's power. The visitor had +come unannounced. His visit had been unexpected. His host had not yet +seen his face. Yet the man knew, before the door was opened, who it was +that had come.</p> + +<p>The reason went back to a certain quickening of the senses that is the +peculiar right and property of most men who are really residents of the +wilderness. And resident, in this case, does not mean merely one who +builds his cabin on the slopes and lives there until he dies. It means a +true relationship with the wild, an actual understanding. This man was +the son of the wild as much as the wolves that ran in the packs. The +wilderness is a fecund parent, producing an astounding variety of types. +Some are beautiful, many stronger than iron, but her parentage was never +more evident than in the case of this bronze-skinned giant that called +out through the open doorway. Among certain other things he had acquired +an ability to name and interpret quickly the little sounds of the +wilderness night. Soft though it was, he had heard the sound of +approaching feet in the pine needles. As surely as he would have +recognized the dark face of the man in the doorway, he recognized the +sound as Dave's step.</p> + +<p>The man came in, and at once an observer would have detected an air of +deference in his attitude. Very plainly he had come to see his chief. He +was a year or two older than his host, less powerful of physique, and +his eyes did not hold quite so straight. There was less savagery but +more cunning in his sharp features.</p> + +<p>He blurted out his news at once. "Old Elmira has got word down to the +settlements at last," he said.</p> + +<p>There was no muscular response in the larger man. Dave was plainly +disappointed. He wanted his news to cause a stir. It was true, however, +that his host slowly raised his eyes. Dave glanced away.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" the man demanded.</p> + +<p>"Mean—I mean just what I said. We should have watched closer. +Bill—Young Bill, I mean—saw a city chap just in the act of going in to +see her. He had come on to the plateaus with his guide—Wegan was the +man's name—and Bill said he stayed a lot longer than he would have if +he hadn't taken a message from her. Then Young Bill made some +inquiries—innocent as you please—and he found out for sure that this +Wegan was from—just the place we don't want him to be from. And he'll +carry word sure."</p> + +<p>"How long ago was this?"</p> + +<p>"Week ago Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"And why have you been so long in telling me?"</p> + +<p>When Dave's chief asked questions in this tone, answers always came +quickly. They rolled so fast from the mouth that they blurred and ran +together. "Why, Simon—you ain't been where I could see you. Anyway, +there was nothin' we could have done."</p> + +<p>"There wasn't, eh? I don't suppose you ever thought that there's yet two +months before we can clinch this thing for good, and young Folger +might—I say might—have kicking about somewhere in his belongings the +very document we've all of us been worrying about for twenty years." +Simon cursed—a single, fiery oath. "I don't suppose you could have +arranged for this Wegan to have had a hunting accident, could you? Who +in the devil would have thought that yelping old hen could have ever +done it—would have ever kept at it long enough to reach anybody to +carry her message! But as usual, we are yelling before we're hurt. It +isn't worth a cussword. Like as not, this Wegan will never take the +trouble to hunt him up. And if he does—well, it's nothing to worry +about, either. There is one back door that has been opened many times to +let his people go through, and it may easily be opened again."</p> + +<p>Dave's eyes filled with admiration. Then he turned and gazed out through +the window. Against the eastern sky, already wan and pale from the +encroaching dawn, the long ridge of a mountain stood in vivid and +startling silhouette. The edge of it was curiously jagged with many +little upright points.</p> + +<p>There was only one person who would have been greatly amazed by that +outline of the ridge; and the years and distance had obscured her long +ago. This was a teacher at an orphanage in a distant city, who once had +taken a crude drawing from the hands of a child. Here was the original +at last. It was the same ridge, covered with pines, that little Bruce +had drawn.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + + +<p>The train came to a sliding halt at Deer Creek, paused an infinitesimal +fraction of a second, and roared on in its ceaseless journey. That +infinitesimal fraction was long enough for Bruce, poised on the bottom +step of a sleeping car, to swing down on to the gravel right-of-way. His +bag, hurled by a sleepy porter, followed him.</p> + +<p>He turned first to watch the vanishing tail light, speeding so swiftly +into the darkness; and curiously all at once it blinked out. But it was +not that the switchmen were neglectful of their duties. In this certain +portion of the Cascades the railroad track is constructed something +after the manner of a giant screw, coiling like a great serpent up the +ridges, and the train had simply vanished around a curve.</p> + +<p>Duncan's next impression was one of infinite solitude. He hadn't read +any guidebooks about Deer Creek, and he had expected some sort of town. +A western mining camp, perhaps, where the windows of a dance hall would +gleam through the darkness; or one of those curious little +mushroom-growth cities that are to be found all over the West. But at +Deer Creek there was one little wooden structure with only three +sides,—the opening facing the track. It was evidently the waiting room +used by the mountain men as they waited for their local trains.</p> + +<p>There were no porters to carry his bag. There were no shouting +officials. His only companions were the stars and the moon and, farther +up the slope, certain tall trees that tapered to incredible points +almost in the region where the stars began. The noise of the train died +quickly. It vanished almost as soon as the dot of red that had been its +tail light. It was true that he heard a faint pulsing far below him, a +sound that was probably the chug of the steam, but it only made an +effective background for the silence. It was scarcely more to be heard +than the pulse of his own blood; and as he waited even this faded and +died away.</p> + +<p>The moon cast his shadow on the yellow grass beside the crude station, +and a curious flood of sensations—scarcely more tangible than its +silver light—came over him. The moment had a quality of enchantment; +and why he did not know. His throat suddenly filled, a curious weight +and pain came to his eyelids, a quiver stole over his nerves. He stood +silent with lifted face,—a strange figure in that mystery of moonlight.</p> + +<p>The whole scene, for causes deeper than any words may ever seek and +reveal, moved him past any experience in his life. It was wholly new. +When he had gone to sleep in his berth, earlier that same night, the +train had been passing through a level, fertile valley that might have +been one of the river bottoms beyond the Mississippi. When darkness had +come down he had been in a great city in the northern part of the +State,—a noisy, busy place that was not greatly different from the city +whence he had come. But now he seemed in a different world.</p> + +<p>Possibly, in the long journey to the West, he had passed through forest +before. But some way their appeal had not got to him. He was behind +closed windows, his thoughts had been busy with reading and other +occupations of travel. There had been no shading off, no gradations; he +had come straight from a great seat of civilization to the heart of the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>He turned about until the wind was in his face. It was full of +fragrances,—strange, indescribable smells that seemed to call up a +forgotten world. They carried a message to him, but as yet he hadn't +made out its meaning. He only knew it was something mysterious and +profound: great truths that flickered, like dim lights, in his +consciousness, but whose outline he could not quite discern. They went +straight home to him, those night smells from the forest. One of them +was a balsam: a fragrance that once experienced lingers ever in the +memory and calls men back to it in the end. Those who die in its +fragrance, just as those who go to sleep, feel sure of having pleasant +dreams. There were other smells too—delicate perfumes from mountain +flowers that were deep-hidden in the grass—and many others, the nature +of which he could not even guess.</p> + +<p>Perhaps there were sounds, but they only seemed part of the silence. The +faintest rustle in the world reached him from the forests above of many +little winds playing a running game between the trunks, and the stir of +the Little People, moving in their midnight occupations. Each of these +sounds had its message for Bruce. They all seemed to be trying to tell +him something, to make clear some great truth that was dawning in his +consciousness.</p> + +<p>He was not in the least afraid. He felt at peace as never before. He +picked up his bag, and with stealing steps approached the long slope +behind. The moon showed him a fallen log, and he found a comfortable +seat on the ground beside it, his back against its bark. Then he waited +for the dawn to come out.</p> + +<p>Not even Bruce knew or understood all the thoughts that came over him in +that lonely wait. But he did have a peculiar sense of expectation, a +realization that the coming of the dawn would bring him a message +clearer than all these messages of fragrance and sound. The moon made +wide silver patches between the distant trees; but as yet the forest had +not opened its secrets to him. As yet it was but a mystery, a profundity +of shadows and enchantment that he did not understand.</p> + +<p>The night hours passed. The sense of peace seemed to deepen on the man. +He sat relaxed, his brown face grave, his eyes lifted. The stars began +to dim and draw back farther into the recesses of the sky. The round +outline of the moon seemed less pronounced. And a faint ribbon of light +began to grow in the east.</p> + +<p>It widened. The light grew. The night wind played one more little game +between the tree trunks and slipped away to the Home of Winds that lies +somewhere above the mountains. The little night sounds were slowly +stilled.</p> + +<p>Bruce closed his eyes, not knowing why. His blood was leaping in his +veins. An unfamiliar excitement, almost an exultation, had come upon +him. He lowered his head nearly to his hands that rested in his lap, +then waited a full five minutes more.</p> + +<p>Then he opened his eyes. The light had grown around him. His hands were +quite plain. Slowly, as a man raises his eyes to a miracle, he lifted +his face.</p> + +<p>The forest was no longer obscured in darkness. The great trees had +emerged, and only the dusk as of twilight was left between. He saw them +plainly,—their symmetrical forms, their declining limbs, their tall +tops piercing the sky. He saw them as they were,—those ancient, eternal +symbols and watchmen of the wilderness. And he knew them at last, +acquaintances long forgotten but remembered now.</p> + +<p>"The pines!" he cried. He leaped to his feet with flashing eyes. "I have +come back to the pines!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + + +<p>The dawn revealed a narrow road along the bank of Deer Creek,—a brown +little wanderer which, winding here and there, did not seem to know +exactly where it wished to go. It seemed to follow the general direction +of the creek bed; it seemed to be a prying, restless little highway, +curious about things in general as the wild creatures that sometimes +made tracks in its dust, thrusting now into a heavy thicket, now +crossing the creek to examine a green and grassy bank on the opposite +side, now taking an adventurous tramp about the shoulder of a hill, +circling back for a drink in the creek and hurrying on again. It made +singular loops; it darted off at a right and left oblique; it made +sudden spurts and turns seemingly without reason or sense, and at last +it dimmed away into the fading mists of early morning. Bruce didn't know +which direction to take, whether up or down the creek.</p> + +<p>He gave the problem a moment's thought. "Take the road up the Divide," +Barney Wegan had said; and at once Bruce knew that the course lay up the +creek, rather than down. A divide means simply the high places between +one water-shed and another, and of course Trail's End lay somewhere +beyond the source of the stream. The creek itself was apparently a +sub-tributary of the Rogue, the great river to the south.</p> + +<p>There was something pleasing to his spirit in the sight of the little +stream, tumbling and rippling down its rocky bed. He had no vivid +memories of seeing many waterways. The river that flowed through the +city whence he had come had not been like this at all. It had been a +great, slow-moving sheet of water, the banks of which were lined with +factories and warehouses. The only lining of the banks of this little +stream were white-barked trees, lovely groves with leaves of glossy +green. It was a cheery, eager little waterway, and more than once—as he +went around a curve in the road—it afforded him glimpses of really +striking beauty. Sometimes it was just a shimmer of its waters beneath +low-hanging bushes, sometimes a distant cataract, and once or twice a +long, still place on which the shadows were still deep.</p> + +<p>These sloughs were obviously the result of dams, and at first he could +not understand what had been the purpose of dam-building in this lonely +region. There seemed to be no factories needing water power, no +slow-moving mill wheels. He left the road to investigate. And he +chuckled with delight when he knew the truth.</p> + +<p>These dams had not been the work of men at all. Rather they were +structures laid down by those curious little civil engineers, the +beavers. The cottonwood trees had been felled so that the thick branches +had lain across the waters, and in their own secret ways the limbs had +been matted and caked until no water could pass through. True, the +beavers themselves did not emerge for him to converse with. Perhaps +they were busy at their under-water occupations, and possibly the +trappers who sooner or later penetrate every wilderness had taken them +all away. He looked along the bank for further evidence of the beavers' +work.</p> + +<p>Wonderful as the dams were, he found plenty of evidence that the beavers +had not always used to advantage the crafty little brains that nature +has given them. They had made plenty of mistakes. But these very +blunders gave Bruce enough delight almost to pay for the extra work they +had occasioned. After all, he considered, human beings in their works +are often just as short-sighted. For instance, he found tall trees lying +rotting and out of reach, many feet back from the stream. The beavers +had evidently felled them in high water, forgetting that the stream +dwindled in summer and the trees would be of no use to them. They had +been an industrious colony! He found short poles of cottonwood sharpened +at the end, as if the little fur bearers had intended them for braces, +but which—through some wilderness tragedy—had never been utilized.</p> + +<p>But Bruce was in a mood to be delighted, these early morning hours. He +was on the way to Linda; a dream was about to come true. The whole +adventure was of the most thrilling and joyous anticipations. He did not +feel the load of his heavy suitcase. It was nothing to his magnificent +young strength. And all at once he beheld an amazing change in the +appearance of the stream.</p> + +<p>It had abruptly changed to a stream of melted, shimmering silver. The +waters broke on the rocks with opalescent spray; the whole coloring was +suggestive of the vivid tints of a Turner landscape. The waters gleamed; +they danced and sparkled as they sped about the boulders of the river +bed; the leaves shimmered above them. And it was all because the sun had +risen at last above the mountain range and was shining down.</p> + +<p>At first Bruce could hardly believe that just sunlight could effect such +a transformation. For no other reason than that he couldn't resist doing +so, he left his bag on the road and crept down to the water's edge.</p> + +<p>He stood very still. It seemed to him that some one had told him, far +away and long ago, that if he wished to see miracles he had only to +stand very still. Not to move a muscle, so that his vivid shadow would +not even waver. It is a trait possessed by all men of the wilderness, +but it takes time for city men to learn it. He waited a long time. And +all at once the shining surface of a deep pool below him broke with a +fountain of glittering spray.</p> + +<p>Something that was like light itself flung into the air and down again +with a splash. Bruce shouted then. He simply couldn't help it. And all +the time there was a strange straining and travail in his brain, as if +it were trying to give birth to a memory from long ago. He knew now what +had made that glittering arc. Such a common thing,—it was singular that +it should yield him such delight. It was a trout, leaping for an insect +that had fallen on the waters.</p> + +<p>It was strange that he had such a sense of familiarity with trout. True, +he had heard Barney Wegan tell of them. He had listened to many tales of +the way they seized a fly, how the reel would spin, and how they would +fight to absolute exhaustion before they would yield to the landing net. +"The King among fish," Barney had called them. Yet the tales seemingly +had meant little to him then. His interest in them had been superficial +only; and they had seemed as distant and remote as the marsupials of +Australia. But it wasn't this way now. He had a sense of long and close +acquaintance, of an interest such as men have in their own townsmen.</p> + +<p>He went on, and the forest world opened before him. Once a flock of +grouse—a hen and a dozen half-grown chickens—scurried away through the +underbrush at the sound of his step. One instant, and he had a clear +view of the entire covey. The next, and they had vanished like so many +puffs of smoke. He had a delicious game of hide-and-seek with them +through the coverts, but he was out-classed in every particular. He knew +that the birds were all within forty feet of him, each of them pressed +flat to the brown earth, but in this maze of light and shadow he could +not detect their outline. Nature has been kind to the grouse family in +the way of protective coloration. He had to give up the search and +continue up the creek for further adventure.</p> + +<p>Once a pair of mallards winged by on a straight course above his head. +Their sudden appearance rather surprised him. These beautiful game +birds are usually habitants of the lower lakes and marshes, not +rippling mountain streams. He didn't know that a certain number of these +winged people nested every year along the Rogue River, far below, and +made rapturous excursions up and down its tributaries. Mallards do not +have to have aëroplanes to cover distance quickly. They are the very +masters of the aërial lanes, and in all probability this pair had come +forty miles already that morning. Where they would be at dark no man +could guess. Their wings whistled down to him, and it seemed to him that +the drake stretched down his bright green head for a better look. Then +he spurted ahead, faster than ever.</p> + +<p>Once, at a distance, Bruce caught a glimpse of a pair of peculiar, +little, sawed-off, plump-breasted ducks that wagged their tails, as if +in signals, in a still place above a dam. He made a wide circle, +intending to wheel back to the creekside for a closer inspection of the +singular flirtation of those bobbing, fan-like tails. He rather thought +he could outwit these little people, at least. But when he turned back +to the water's edge they were nowhere to be seen.</p> + +<p>If he had had more experience with the creatures of the wild he could +have explained this mysterious disappearance. These little +ducks—"ruddies" the sportsmen call them—have advantages other than an +extra joint in their tails. One of them seems to be a total and +unprincipled indifference to the available supply of oxygen. When they +wish to go out of sight they simply duck beneath the water and stay +apparently as long as they desire. Of course they have to come up some +time—but usually it is just the tip of a bill—like the top of a +river-bottom weed, thrust above the surface. Bruce gaped in amazement, +but he chuckled again when he discovered his birds farther up the creek, +just as far distant from him as ever.</p> + +<p>The sun rose higher, and he began to feel its power. But it was a kindly +heat. The temperature was much higher than was commonly met in the +summers of the city, but there was little moisture in the air to make it +oppressive. The sweat came out on his bronze face, but he never felt +better in his life. There was but one great need, and that was +breakfast.</p> + +<p>A man of his physique feels hunger quickly. The sensation increased in +intensity, and the suitcase grew correspondingly heavy. And all at once +he stopped short in the road. The impulse along his nerves to his leg +muscles was checked, like an electric current at the closing of a +switch, and an instinct of unknown origin struggled for expression +within him.</p> + +<p>In an instant he had it. He didn't know whence it came. It was nothing +he had read or that any one had told him. It seemed to be rather the +result of some experience in his own immediate life, an occurrence of so +long ago that he had forgotten it. He suddenly knew where he could find +his breakfast. There was no need of toiling farther on an empty stomach +in this verdant season of the year. He set his suitcase down, and with +the confidence of a man who hears the dinner call in his own home, he +struck off into the thickets beside the creek bed. Instinct—and really, +after all, instinct is nothing but memory—led his steps true.</p> + +<p>He glanced here and there, not even wondering at the singular fact that +he did not know exactly what manner of food he was seeking. In a moment +he came to a growth of thorn-covered bushes, a thicket that only the +she-bear knew how to penetrate. But it was enough for Bruce just to +stand at its edges. The bushes were bent down with a load of delicious +berries.</p> + +<p>He wasn't in the least surprised. He had known that he would find them. +Always, at this season of the year, the woods were rich with them; one +only had to slip quickly through the back door—while the mother's eye +was elsewhere—to find enough of them not only to pack the stomach full +but to stain and discolor most of the face. It seemed a familiar thing +to be plucking the juicy berries and cramming them into his mouth, +impervious as the old she-bear to the remonstrance of the thorns. But it +seemed to him that he reached them easier than he expected. Either the +bushes were not so tall as he remembered them, or—since his first +knowledge of them—his own stature had increased.</p> + +<p>When he had eaten the last berry he could possibly hold, he went to the +creek to drink. He lay down beside a still pool, and the water was cold +to his lips. Then he rose at the sound of an approaching motor car +behind him.</p> + +<p>The driver—evidently a cattleman—stopped his car and looked at Bruce +with some curiosity. He marked the perfectly fitting suit of dark +flannel, the trim, expensive shoes that were already dust-stained, the +silken shirt on which a juicy berry had been crushed. "Howdy," the man +said after the western fashion. He was evidently simply feeling +companionable and was looking for a moment's chat. It is a desire that +often becomes very urgent and most real after enough lonely days in the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>"How do you do," Bruce replied. "How far to Martin's store?"</p> + +<p>The man filled his pipe with great care before he answered. "Jump in the +car," he replied at last, "and I'll show you. I'm going up that way +myself."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + + +<p>Martin's was a typical little mountain store, containing a small sample +of almost everything under the sun and built at the forks in the road. +The ranchman let Bruce off at the store; then turned up the right-hand +road that led to certain bunch-grass lands to the east. Bruce entered +slowly, and the little group of loungers gazed at him with frank +curiosity.</p> + +<p>Only one of them was of a type sufficiently distinguished so that +Bruce's own curiosity was aroused. This was a huge, dark man who stood +alone almost at the rear of the building,—a veritable giant with +savage, bloodhound lips and deep-sunken eyes. There was a quality in his +posture that attracted Bruce's attention at once. No one could look at +him and doubt that he was a power in these mountain realms. He seemed +perfectly secure in his great strength and wholly cognizant of the hate +and fear, and at the same time, the strange sort of admiration with +which the others regarded him.</p> + +<p>He was dressed much as the other mountain men who had assembled in the +store. He wore a flannel shirt over his gorilla chest, and corduroy +trousers stuffed into high, many-seamed riding boots. A dark felt hat +was crushed on to his huge head. But there was an aloofness about the +man; and Bruce realized at once he had taken no part in the friendly +gossip that had been interrupted by his entrance.</p> + +<p>The dark eyes were full upon Bruce's face. He felt them—just as if they +had the power of actual physical impact—the instant that he was inside +the door. Nor was it the ordinary look of careless speculation or +friendly interest. Mountain men have not been taught it is not good +manners to stare, but no traveler who falls swiftly into the spirit of +the forest ordinarily resents their open inspection. But this look was +different. It was such that no man, to whom self-respect is dear, could +possibly disregard. It spoke clearly as words.</p> + +<p>Bruce flushed, and his blood made a curious little leap. He slowly +turned. His gaze moved until it rested full upon the man's eyes. It +seemed to Bruce that the room grew instantly quiet. The merchant no +longer tied up his bundles at the counter. The watching mountain men +that he beheld out of the corners of his eyes all seemed to be standing +in peculiar fixed attitudes, waiting for some sort of explosion. It took +all of Bruce's strength to hold that gaze. The moment was charged with a +mysterious suspense.</p> + +<p>The stranger's face changed too. He did not flush, however. His lips +curled ever so slightly, revealing an instant's glimpse of strong, +rather well-kept teeth. His eyes were narrowing too; and they seemed to +come to life with singular sparkles and glowings between the lids.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he suddenly demanded. Every man in the room—except +one—started. The one exception was Bruce himself. He was holding hard +on his nerve control, and he only continued to stare coldly.</p> + +<p>"Are you the merchant?" Bruce asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't," the other replied. "You usually look for the merchant +behind the counter."</p> + +<p>There was no smile on the faces of the waiting mountain men, usually to +be expected when one of their number achieves repartee on a tenderfoot. +Nevertheless, the tension was broken. Bruce turned to the merchant.</p> + +<p>"I would like to have you tell me," he said quite clearly, "the way to +Mrs. Ross's cabin."</p> + +<p>The merchant seemed to wait a long time before replying. His eye stole +to the giant's face, found the lips curled in a smile; then he flushed. +"Take the left-hand road," he said with a trace of defiance in his tone. +"It soon becomes a trail, but keep right on going up it. At the fork in +the trail you'll find her cabin."</p> + +<p>"How far is it, please?"</p> + +<p>"Two hours' walk; you can make it easy by four o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." His eyes glanced over the stock of goods and he selected a +few edibles to give him strength for the walk. "I'll leave my suitcase +here if I may," he said, "and will call for it later." He turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Wait just a minute," a voice spoke behind him. It was a commanding +tone—implying the expectation of obedience. Bruce half turned. "Simon +wants to talk to you," the merchant explained.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk with you a way and show you the road," Simon continued. The +room seemed deathly quiet as the two men went out together.</p> + +<p>They walked side by side until a turn of the road took them out of +eye-range of the store. "This is the road," Simon said. "All you have to +do is follow it. Cabins are not so many that you could mistake it. But +the main thing is—whether or not you want to go."</p> + +<p>Bruce had no misunderstanding about the man's meaning. It was simply a +threat, nothing more nor less.</p> + +<p>"I've come a long way to go to that cabin," he replied. "I'm not likely +to turn off now."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing worth seeing when you get there. Just an old hag—a +wrinkled old dame that looks like a witch."</p> + +<p>Bruce felt a deep and little understood resentment at the words. Yet +since he had as yet established no relations with the woman, he had no +grounds for silencing the man. "I'll have to decide that," he replied. +"I'm going to see some one else, too."</p> + +<p>"Some one named—Linda?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You seem quite interested."</p> + +<p>They were standing face to face in the trail. For once Bruce was glad of +his unusual height. He did not have to raise his eyes greatly to look +squarely into Simon's. Both faces were flushed, both set; and the eyes +of the older man brightened slowly.</p> + +<p>"I am interested," Simon replied. "You're a tenderfoot. You're fresh +from cities. You're going up there to learn things that won't be any +pleasure to you. You're going into the real mountains—a man's land such +as never was a place for tenderfeet. A good many things can happen up +there. A good many things have happened up there. I warn you—go back!"</p> + +<p>Bruce smiled, just the faint flicker of a smile, but Simon's eyes +narrowed when he saw it. The dark face lost a little of its insolence. +He knew men, this huge son of the wilderness, and he knew that no coward +could smile in such a moment as this. He was accustomed to implicit +obedience and was not used to seeing men smile when he uttered a threat. +"I've come too far to go back," Bruce told him. "Nothing can turn me."</p> + +<p>"Men have been turned before, on trails like this," Simon told him. +"Don't misunderstand me. I advised you to go back before, and I usually +don't take time or trouble to advise any one. Now I <i>tell</i> you to go +back. This is a man's land, and we don't want any tenderfeet here."</p> + +<p>"The trail is open," Bruce returned. It was not his usual manner to +speak in quite this way. He seemed at once to have fallen into the +vernacular of the wilderness of which symbolic reference has such a +part. Strange as the scene was to him, it was in some way familiar too. +It was as if this meeting had been ordained long ago; that it was part +of an inexorable destiny that the two should be talking together, face +to face, on this winding mountain road. Memories—all vague, all +unrecognized—thronged through him.</p> + +<p>Many times, during the past years, he had wakened from curious dreams +that in the light of day he had tried in vain to interpret. He was never +able to connect them with any remembered experience. Now it was as if +one of these dreams were coming true. There was the same silence about +him, the dark forests beyond, the ridges stretching ever. There was some +great foe that might any instant overwhelm him.</p> + +<p>"I guess you heard me," Simon said; "I told you to go back."</p> + +<p>"And I hope you heard me too. I'm going on. I haven't any more time to +give you."</p> + +<p>"And I'm not going to take any more, either. But let me make one thing +plain. No man, told to go back by me, ever has a chance to be told +again. This ain't your cities—up here. There ain't any policeman on +every corner. The woods are big, and all kinds of things can happen in +them—and be swallowed up—as I swallow these leaves in my hand."</p> + +<p>His great arm reached out with incredible power and seized a handful of +leaves off a near-by shrub. It seemed to Bruce that they crushed like +fruit and stained the dark skin.</p> + +<p>"What is done up here isn't put in the newspapers down below. We're +mountain men; we've lived up here as long as men have lived in the West. +We have our own way of doing things, and our own law. Think once more +about going back."</p> + +<p>"I've already decided. I'm going on."</p> + +<p>Once more they stood, eyes meeting eyes on the trail, and Simon's face +was darkening with passion. Bruce knew that his hands were clenching, +and his own muscles bunched and made ready to resist any kind of attack.</p> + +<p>But Simon didn't strike. He laughed instead,—a single deep note of +utter and depthless scorn. Then he drew back and let Bruce pass on up +the road.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + + +<p>Bruce couldn't mistake the cabin. At the end of the trail he found +it,—a little shack of unpainted boards with a single door and a single +window.</p> + +<p>He stood a moment in the sunlight. His shadow was already long behind +him, and the mountains had that curious deep blue of late afternoon. The +pine needles were soft under his feet; the later-afternoon silence was +over the land. He could not guess what was his destiny behind that rude +door. It was a moment long waited; for one of the few times in his life +he was trembling with excitement. He felt as if a key, long lost, was +turning in the doorway of understanding.</p> + +<p>He walked nearer and tapped with his knuckles on the door.</p> + +<p>If the forests have one all-pervading quality it is silence. Of course +the most silent time is at night, but just before sunset, when most of +the forest creatures are in their mid-afternoon sleep, any noise is a +rare thing. What sound there is carries far and seems rather out of +place. Bruce could picture the whole of the little drama that followed +his knock by just the faint sounds—inaudible in a less silent +land—that reached him from behind the door. At first it was just a +start; then a short exclamation in the hollow, half-whispering voice of +old, old age. A moment more of silence—as if a slow-moving, aged brain +were trying to conjecture who stood outside—then the creaking of a +chair as some one rose. The last sounds were of a strange hobbling +toward him,—a rustle of shoes half dragged on the floor and the +intermittent tapping of a cane.</p> + +<p>The face that showed so dimly in the shadowed room looked just as Bruce +had expected,—wrinkled past belief, lean and hawk-nosed from age. The +hand that rested on the cane was like a bird's claw, the skin blue and +hard and dry. There were a few strands of hair drawn back over her lean +head, but all its color had faded out long ago. She stood bowed over her +cane.</p> + +<p>Yet in that first instant Bruce had an inexplicable impression of being +in the presence of a power. He did not have the wave of pity with which +one usually greets the decrepit. And at first he didn't know why. But +soon he grew accustomed to the shadows and he could see the woman's +eyes. Then he understood.</p> + +<p>They were set deep behind grizzled brows, but they glowed like coals. +There was no other word. They were not the eyes of one whom time is +about to conquer. Her bodily strength was gone; any personal beauty that +she might have had was ashes long and long ago, but some great fire +burned in her yet. As far as bodily appearance went the grave should +have claimed her long since; but a dauntless spirit had sustained her. +For, as all men know, the power of the spirit has never yet been +measured.</p> + +<p>She blinked in the light. "Who is it?" she croaked.</p> + +<p>Bruce did not answer. He had not prepared a reply for this question. But +it was not needed. The woman leaned forward, and a vivid light began to +dawn in her dark, furrowed face.</p> + +<p>Even to Bruce, already succumbed to this atmosphere of mystery into +which his adventure had led him, that dawning light was the single most +startling phenomenon he had ever beheld. It is very easy to imagine a +radiance upon the face. But in reality, most all facial expression is +simply a change in the contour of lines. But this was not a case of +imagination now. The witchlike face seemed to gleam with a white flame. +And Bruce knew that his coming was the answer to the prayer of a whole +lifetime. It was a thought to sober him. No small passion, no weak +desire, no prayer that time or despair could silence could effect such a +light as this.</p> + +<p>"Bruce," he said simply. It did not even occur to him to use the surname +of Duncan. It was a name of a time and sphere already forgotten. "I +don't know what my real last name is."</p> + +<p>"Bruce—Bruce," the woman whispered. She stretched a palsied hand to him +as if it would feel his flesh to reassure her of its reality. The wild +light in her eyes pierced him, burning like chemical rays, and a great +flood of feeling yet unknown and unrecognized swept over him. He saw her +snags of teeth as her dry lips half-opened. He saw the exultation in her +wrinkled, lifted face. "Oh, praises to His Everlasting Name!" she +cried. "Oh, Glory—Glory to on High!"</p> + +<p>And this was not blasphemy. The words came from the heart. No matter how +terrible the passion from which they sprang, whether it was such evil as +would cast her to hell, such a cry as this could not go unheard. The +strength seemed to go out of her as water flows. She rocked on her cane, +and Bruce, thinking she was about to fall, seized her shoulders. "At +last—at last," she cried. "You've come at last."</p> + +<p>She gripped herself, as if trying to find renewed strength. "Go at +once," she said, "to the end of the Pine-needle Trail. It leads from +behind the cabin."</p> + +<p>He tried to emerge from the dreamlike mists that had enveloped him. "How +far is it?" he asked her steadily.</p> + +<p>"To the end of Pine-needle Trail," she rocked again, clutched for one of +his brown hands, and pressed it between hers.</p> + +<p>Then she raised it to her dry lips. Bruce could not keep her from it. +And after an instant more he did not attempt to draw it from her +embrace. In the darkness of that mountain cabin, in the shadow of the +eternal pines, he knew that some great drama of human life and love and +hatred was behind the action; and he knew with a knowledge unimpeachable +that it would be only insolence for him to try further to resist it. Its +meaning went too deep for him to see; but it filled him with a great and +wondering awe.</p> + +<p>Then he turned away, up the Pine-needle Trail. Clear until the deeper +forest closed around him her voice still followed him,—a strange +croaking in the afternoon silence. "At last," he heard her crying. "At +last, at last."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + + +<p>In almost a moment, Duncan was out of the thickets and into the big +timber, for really the first time. In his journey up the mountain road +and on the trail that led to the old woman's cabin, he had been many +times in the shade of the tall evergreens, but always there had been +some little intrusion of civilization, some hint of the works of man +that had kept him from the full sense of the majesty of the wild. At +first it had been the gleaming railroad tracks, and then a road that had +been built with blasting and shovels. To get the full effect of the +forest one must be able to behold wide-stretching vistas, and that had +been impossible heretofore because of the brush thickets. But this was +the virgin forest. As far as he could see there was nothing but the +great pines climbing up the long slope of the ridge. He caught glimpses +of them in the vales at either side, and their dark tops made a curious +background at the very extremity of his vision. They stood straight and +aloof, and they were very old.</p> + +<p>He fell into their spirit at once. The half-understood emotions that had +flooded him in the cabin below died within him. The great calm that is, +after all, the all-pervading quality of the big pines came over him. It +is always this way. A man knows solitude, his thoughts come clear, +superficialities are left behind in the lands of men. Bruce was rather +tremulous and exultant as he crept softly up the trail.</p> + +<p>It was the last lap of his journey. At the end of the trail he would +find—Linda! And it seemed quite fitting that she would be waiting +there, where the trail began, in the wildest heart of the pine woods. He +was quite himself once more,—carefree, delighting in all the little +manifestations of the wild life that began to stir about him.</p> + +<p>No experience of his existence had ever yielded the same pleasure as +that long walk up the trail. Every curve about the shoulder of a hill, +every still glen into which he dipped, every ridge that he surmounted +wakened curious memories within him and stirred him in little secret +ways under the skin. His delight grew upon him. It was a dream coming +true. Always, it seemed to him, he had carried in his mind a picture of +this very land, a sort of dream place that was a reality at last. He had +known just how it would be. The wind made the same noise in the tree +tops that he expected. Yet it was such a little sound that it could +never be heard in a city at all. His senses had already been sharpened +by the silence and the calm.</p> + +<p>He had always known how the pine shadows would fall across the carpet of +needles. The trees themselves were the same grave companions that he had +expected, but his delight was all the more because of his expectations.</p> + +<p>He began to catch glimpses of the smaller forest creatures,—the Little +People that are such a delight to all real lovers of the wilderness. +Sometimes it was a chipmunk, trusting to his striped skin—blending +perfectly with the light and shadow—to keep him out of sight. These are +quivering, restless, ever-frightened little folk, and heaven alone knows +what damage they may do to the roots of a tree. But Bruce wasn't in the +mood to think of forest conservation to-day. He had left a number of his +notions in the city where he had acquired them,—and this little, +bright-eyed rodent in the tree roots had almost the same right to the +forests that he had himself. Before, he had a measure of the same +arrogance with which most men—realizing the dominance of their +breed—regard the lesser people of the wild; but something of a +disastrous nature had happened to it. He spoke gayly to the chipmunk and +passed on.</p> + +<p>As the trail climbed higher, the sense of wilderness became more +pronounced. Even the trees seemed larger and more majestic, and the +glimpses of the wild people were more frequent. The birds stopped their +rattle-brained conversation and stared at him with frank curiosity. The +grouse let him get closer before they took to cover.</p> + +<p>Of course the bird life was not nearly so varied as in the pretty groves +of the Middle West. Most birds are gentle people, requiring an easy and +pleasant environment, and these stern, stark mountains were no place for +them. Only the hardier creatures could flourish here. Their songs would +have been out of place in the great silences and solemnity of the +evergreen forest. This was no land for weaklings. Bruce knew that as +well as he knew that his legs were under him. The few birds he saw were +mostly of the hardier varieties,—hale-fellows-well-met and cheerful +members of the lower strata in bird society. "Good old roughnecks," he +said to them, with an intuitive understanding.</p> + +<p>That was just the name for them,—a word that is just beginning to +appear in dictionaries. They were rough in manner and rough in speech, +and they pretended to be rougher than they were. Yet Bruce liked them. +He exulted in the easy freedom of their ways. Creatures have to be rough +to exist in and love such wilderness as this. Life gets down to a matter +of cold metal,—some brass but mostly iron! He rather imagined that they +could be fairly capable thieves if occasion arose, making off with the +edibles he had bought without a twitch of a feather. They squawked and +scolded at him, after their curiosity was satisfied. They said the most +shocking things they could think of and seemed to rejoice in it. He +didn't know their breeds, yet he felt that they were old friends. They +were rather large birds, mostly of the families of jays and magpies.</p> + +<p>The hours passed. The trail grew dimmer. Now it was just a brown serpent +in the pine needles, coiling this way and that,—but he loved every foot +of it. It dipped down to a little stream, of which the blasting sun of +summer had made only a succession of shallow pools. Yet the water was +cold to his lips. And he knew that little brook trout—waiting until +the fall rains should make a torrent of their tiny stream and thus +deliver them—were gazing at him while he drank.</p> + +<p>The trail followed the creek a distance, and at last he found the spring +that was its source. It was only a small spring, lost in a bed of deep, +green ferns. He sat down to rest and to eat part of his lunch. The +little wind had died, leaving a profound silence.</p> + +<p>By a queer pounding of his blood Bruce knew that he was in the high +altitudes. He had already come six miles from the cabin. The hour was +about six-thirty; in two hours more it would be too dark to make his way +at all.</p> + +<p>He examined the mud about the spring, and there was plenty of evidence +that the forest creatures had passed that way. Here was a little +triangle where a buck had stepped, and farther away he found two pairs +of deer tracks,—evidently those of a doe with fawn. A wolf had stopped +to cool his heated tongue in the waters, possibly in the middle of some +terrible hunt in the twilight hours.</p> + +<p>There was a curious round track, as if of a giant cat, a little way +distant in the brown earth. It told a story plainly. A cougar—one of +those great felines that is perhaps better called puma—had had an +ambush there a few nights before. Bruce wondered what wilderness tragedy +had transpired when the deer came to drink. Then he found another huge +abrasion in the mud that puzzled him still more.</p> + +<p>At first he couldn't believe that it was a track. The reason was simply +that the size of the thing was incredible,—as if some one had laid a +flour sack in the mud and taken it up again. He did not think of any of +the modern-day forest creatures as being of such proportions. It was +very stale and had been almost obliterated by many days of sun. Perhaps +he had been mistaken in thinking it an imprint of a living creature. He +went to his knees to examine it.</p> + +<p>But in one instant he knew that he had not been mistaken. It was a track +not greatly different from that of an enormous human foot; and the +separate toes were entirely distinct. It was a bear track, of course, +but one of such size that the general run of little black bears that +inhabited the hills could almost use it for a den of hibernation!</p> + +<p>His thought went back to his talk with Barney Wegan; and he remembered +that the man had spoken of a great, last grizzly that the mountaineers +had named "The Killer." No other animal but the great grizzly bear +himself could have made such a track as this. Bruce wondered if the +beast had yet been killed.</p> + +<p>He got up and went on,—farther toward Trail's End. He walked more +swiftly now, for he hoped to reach the end of Pine-needle Trail before +nightfall, but he had no intention of halting in case night came upon +him before he reached it. He had waited too long already to find Linda.</p> + +<p>The land seemed ever more familiar. A high peak thrust a white head +above a distant ridge, and it appealed to him almost like the face of an +old friend. Sometime—long and long ago—he had gazed often at a white +peak of a mountain thrust above a pine-covered ridge.</p> + +<p>Another hour ended the day's sunlight. The shadows fell quickly, but it +was a long time yet until darkness. He yet might make the trail-end. He +gave no thought to fatigue. In the first place, he had stood up +remarkably well under the day's tramp for no other reason than that he +had always made a point of keeping in the best of physical condition. +Besides, there was something more potent than mere physical strength to +sustain him now. It was the realization of the nearing end of the +trail,—a knowledge of tremendous revelations that would come to him in +a few hours more.</p> + +<p>Already great truths were taking shape in his brain; he only needed a +single sentence of explanation to connect them all together. He began to +feel a growing excitement and impatience.</p> + +<p>For the first time he began to notice a strange breathlessness in the +air. He paused, just for an instant, his face lifted to the wind. He did +not realize that all his senses were at razor edge, trying to interpret +the messages that the wind brought. He felt that the forest was +wakening. A new stir and impulse had come in the growing shadows. All at +once he understood. It was the hunting hour.</p> + +<p>Yet even this seemed familiar. Always, it seemed to him, he had known +this same strange thrill at the fall of darkness, the same sense of +deepening mystery. The jays no longer gossiped in the shrubs. They had +been silenced by the same awe that had come over Bruce. And now the man +began to discern, here and there through the forest, queer rustlings of +the foliage that meant the passing through of some of the great beasts +of prey.</p> + +<p>Once two deer flashed by him,—just a streak that vanished quickly. The +dusk deepened. The further trees were dimming. The sky turned green, +then gray. The distant mountains were enfolded in gloom. Bruce headed +on—faster, up the trail.</p> + +<p>The heaviness in his limbs had changed to an actual ache, but he gave no +thought to it. He was enthralled by the change that was on the +forest,—a whipping-back of a thousand-thousand years to a young and +savage world. There was the sense of vast and tragic events all in +keeping with the gathering gloom of the forest. He was awed and +mystified as never before.</p> + +<p>It was quite dark now, and he could barely see the trail. For the first +time he began to despair, feeling that another night of overpowering +impatience must be spent before he could reach Trail's End. The stars +began to push through the darkening sky. Then, fainter than the gleam of +a firefly, he saw the faint light of a far distant camp fire.</p> + +<p>His heart bounded. He knew what was there. It was the end of the trail +at last. And it guided him the rest of the way. When he reached the top +of a little rise in the trail, the whole scene was laid out in mystery +below him.</p> + +<p>The fire had been built at the door of a mountain house,—a log +structure of perhaps four rooms. The firelight played in its open +doorway. Something beside it caught his attention, and instinctively he +followed it with his eyes until it ended in an incredible region of the +stars. It was a great pine tree, the largest he had ever +seen,—seemingly a great sentinel over all the land.</p> + +<p>But the sudden awe that came over him at the sight of it was cut short +by the sight of a girl's figure in the firelight. He had an instant's +sense that he had come to the wilderness's heart at last, that this tall +tree was its symbol, that if he could understand the eternal watch that +it kept over this mountain world, he would have an understanding of all +things,—but all these thoughts were submerged in the realization that +he had come back to Linda at last.</p> + +<p>He had known how the mountains would seem. All that he had beheld to-day +was just the recurrence of things beheld long ago. Nothing had seemed +different from what he had expected; rather he had a sense that a lost +world had been returned to him, and it was almost as if he had never +been away. But the girl in the firelight did not answer in the least +degree the picture he had carried of Linda.</p> + +<p>He remembered her as a blond-headed little girl with irregular features +and a rather unreasonable allowance of homeliness. All the way he had +thought of her as a baby sister,—not as a woman in her flower. For a +long second he gazed at her in speechless amazement.</p> + +<p>Her hair was no longer blond. Time, it had peculiar red lights when the +firelight shone through it; but he knew that by the light of day it +would be deep brown. He remembered her as an awkward little thing that +was hardly able to keep her feet under her. This tall girl had the +wilderness grace,—which is the grace of a deer and only blind eyes +cannot see it. He dimly knew that she wore a khaki-colored skirt and a +simple blouse of white tied with a blue scarf. Her arms were bare in the +fire's gleam. And there was a dark beauty about her face that simply +could not be denied.</p> + +<p>She came toward him, and her hands were open before her. And her lips +trembled. Bruce could see them in the firelight.</p> + +<p>It was a strange meeting. The firelight gave it a tone of unreality, and +the whole forest world seemed to pause in its whispered business as if +to watch. It was as if they had been brought face to face by the +mandates of an inexorable destiny.</p> + +<p>"So you've come," the girl said. The words were spoken unusually soft, +scarcely above a whisper; but they were inexpressibly vivid to Bruce. In +his lifetime he had heard many words that were just so many lifeless +selections from a dictionary,—flat utterances with no overtones to give +them vitality. He had heard voices in plenty that were merely the +mechanical result of the vibration of vocal cords. But these words—not +for their meaning but because of the quality of the voice that had +spoken them—really lived. They told first of a boundless relief and joy +at his coming. But more than that, in these deep vibrant tones was the +expression of an unquenchable life and spirit. Every fiber of her body +lived in the fullest sense; he knew this fact the instant that she +spoke.</p> + +<p>She smiled at him, ever so quietly. "Bwovaboo," she said, recalling the +name by which she called him in her babyhood, "you've come to Linda."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + + +<p>As the fire burned down to coals and the stars wheeled through the sky, +Linda told her story. The two of them were seated in the soft grass in +front of the cabin, and the moonlight was on Linda's face as she talked. +She talked very low at first. Indeed there was no need for loud tones. +The whole wilderness world was heavy with silence, and a whisper carried +far. Besides, Bruce was just beside her, watching her with narrowed +eyes, forgetful of everything except her story.</p> + +<p>It was a perfect background for the savage tale that she had to tell. +The long shadow of the giant pine tree fell over them. The fire made a +little circle of red light, but the darkness ever encroached upon it. +Just beyond the moonlight showed them silver-white patches between the +trees, across which shadows sometimes wavered from the passing of the +wild creatures.</p> + +<p>"I've waited a long time to tell you this," she told him. "Of course, +when we were babies together in the orphanage, I didn't even know it. It +has taken me a long time since to learn all the details; most of them I +got from my aunt, old Elmira, whom you talked to on the way out. Part of +it I knew by intuition, and a little of it is still doubtful.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know first how hard I have tried to reach you. Of course, +I didn't try openly except at first—the first years after I came here, +and before I was old enough to understand." She spoke the last word with +a curious depth of feeling and a perceptible hardness about her lips and +eyes. "I remembered just two things. That the man who had adopted you +was Newton Duncan; one of the nurses at the asylum told me that. And I +remembered the name of the city where he had taken you.</p> + +<p>"You must understand the difficulties I worked under. There is no rural +free delivery up here, you know, Bruce. Our mail is sent from and +delivered to the little post-office at Martin's store—over fifteen +miles from here. And some one member of a certain family that lives near +here goes down every week to get the mail for the entire district.</p> + +<p>"At first—and that was before I really understood—I wrote you many +letters and gave them to one of this family to mail for me. I was just a +child then, you must know, and I lived in the same house with these +people. And queer letters they must have been."</p> + +<p>For an instant a smile lingered at her lips, but it seemed to come hard. +It was all too plain that she hadn't smiled many times in the past days. +But for some unaccountable reason Bruce's heart leaped when he saw it. +It had potentialities, that smile. It seemed to light her whole face. He +was suddenly exultant at the thought that once he understood everything, +he might bring about such changes that he could see it often.</p> + +<p>"They were just baby letters from—from Linda-Tinda to Bwovaboo—letters +about the deer and the berries and the squirrels—and all the wild +things that lived up here."</p> + +<p>"Berries!" Bruce cried. "I had some on the way up." His tone wavered, +and he seemed to be speaking far away. "I had some once—long ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes. You will understand, soon. I didn't understand why you didn't +answer my letters. I understand now, though. You never got them."</p> + +<p>"No. I never got them. But there are several Duncans in my city. They +might have gone astray."</p> + +<p>"They went astray—but it was before they ever reached the post-office. +They were never mailed, Bruce. I was to know why, later. Even then it +was part of the plan that I should never get in communication with you +again—that you would be lost to me forever.</p> + +<p>"When I got older, I tried other tacks. I wrote to the asylum, enclosing +a letter to you. But those letters were not mailed, either.</p> + +<p>"Now we can skip a long time. I grew up. I knew everything at last and +no longer lived with the family I mentioned before. I came here, to this +old house—and made it decent to live in. I cut my own wood for my fuel +except when one of the men tried to please me by cutting it for me. I +wouldn't use it at first. Oh, Bruce—I wouldn't touch it!"</p> + +<p>Her face was no longer lovely. It was drawn with terrible passions. But +she quieted at once.</p> + +<p>"At last I saw plainly that I was a little fool—that all they would do +for me, the better off I was. At first, I almost starved to death +because I wouldn't use the food that they sent me. I tried to grub it +out of the hills. But I came to it at last. But, Bruce, there were many +things I didn't come to. Since I learned the truth, I have never given +one of them a smile except in scorn, not a word that wasn't a word of +hate.</p> + +<p>"You are a city man, Bruce. You are what I read about as a gentleman. +You don't know what hate means. It doesn't live in the cities. But it +lives up here. Believe me if you ever believed anything—that it lives +up here. The most bitter and the blackest hate—from birth until death! +It burns out the heart, Bruce. But I don't know that I can make you +understand."</p> + +<p>She paused, and Bruce looked away into the pine forest. He believed the +girl. He knew that this grim land was the home of direct and primitive +emotions. Such things as mercy and remorse were out of place in the game +trails where the wolf pack hunted the deer.</p> + +<p>"When they knew how I hated them," she went on, "they began to watch me. +And once they knew that I fully understood the situation, I was no +longer allowed to leave this little valley. There are only two trails, +Bruce. One goes to Elmira's cabin on the way to the store. The other +encircles the mountain. With all their numbers, it was easy to keep +watch of those trails. And they told me what they would do if they found +me trying to go past."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean—they threatened you?"</p> + +<p>She threw back her head and laughed, but the sound had no joy in it. +"Threatened! If you think threats are common up here, you are a greener +tenderfoot than I ever took you for. Bruce, the law up here is the law +of force. The strongest wins. The weakest dies. Wait till you see Simon. +You'll understand then—and you'll shake in your shoes."</p> + +<p>The words grated upon him, yet he didn't resent them. "I've seen Simon," +he told her.</p> + +<p>She glanced toward him quickly, and it was entirely plain that the quiet +tone in his voice had surprised her. Perhaps the faintest flicker of +admiration came into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"He tried to stop you, did he? Of course he would. And you came anyway. +May Heaven bless you for it, Bruce!" She leaned toward him, appealing. +"And forgive me what I said."</p> + +<p>Bruce stared at her in amazement. He could hardly realize that this was +the same voice that had been so torn with passion a moment before. In an +instant all her hardness was gone, and the tenderness of a sweet and +wholesome nature had taken its place. He felt a curious warmth stealing +over him.</p> + +<p>"They meant what they said, Bruce. Believe me, if those men can do no +other thing, they can keep their word. They didn't just threaten death +to me. I could have run the risk of that. Badly as I wanted to make them +pay before I died, I would have gladly run that risk.</p> + +<p>"You are amazed at the free way I speak of death. The girls you know, in +the city, don't even know the word. They don't know what it means. They +don't understand the sudden end of the light—the darkness—the +cold—the awful fear that it is! It is no companion of theirs, down in +the city. Perhaps they see it once in a while—but it isn't in their +homes and in the air and on the trails, like it is here. It's a reality +here, something to fight against every hour of every day. There are just +three things to do in the mountains—to live and love and hate. There's +no softness. There's no middle ground." She smiled grimly. "Let them +live up here with me—those girls you know—and they'd understand what a +reality Death is. They'd know it was something to think about and fight +against. Self-preservation is an instinct that can be forgotten when you +have a policeman at every corner. But it is ever present here.</p> + +<p>"I've lived with death, and I've heard of it, and I've seen it all my +life. If there hadn't been any other way, I would have seen it in the +dramas of the wild creatures that go on around me all the time. You'll +get down to cases here, Bruce—or else you'll run away. These men said +they'd do worse things to me than kill me—and I didn't dare take the +risk.</p> + +<p>"But once or twice I was able to get word to old Elmira—the only ally I +had left. She was of the true breed, Bruce. You'll call her a hag, but +she's a woman to be reckoned with. She could hate too—worse than a +she-rattlesnake hates the man that killed her mate—and hating is all +that's kept her alive. You shrink when I say the word. Maybe you won't +shrink when I'm done. Hating is a thing that gentlefolk don't do—but +gentlefolk don't live up here. It isn't a land of gentleness. Up here +there are just men and women, just male and female.</p> + +<p>"This old woman tried to get in communication with every stranger that +visited the hills. You see, Bruce, she couldn't write herself. And the +one time I managed to get a written message down to her, telling her to +give it to the first stranger to mail—one of my enemies got it away +from her. I expected to die that night. I wasn't going to be alive when +the clan came. The only reason I didn't was because Simon—the greatest +of them all and the one I hate the most—kept his clan from coming. He +had his own reasons.</p> + +<p>"From then on she had to depend on word of mouth. Some of the men +promised to send letters to Newton Duncan—but there was more than one +Newton Duncan—as you say—and possibly if the letters were sent they +went astray. But at last—just a few weeks ago—she found a man that +knew you. And it is your story from now on."</p> + +<p>They were still a little while. Bruce arose and threw more wood on the +fire.</p> + +<p>"It's only the beginning," he said.</p> + +<p>"And you want me to tell you all?" she asked hesitantly.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Why did I come here?"</p> + +<p>"You won't believe me when I say that I'm almost sorry I sent for you." +She spoke almost breathlessly. "I didn't know that it would be like +this. That you would come with a smile on your face and a light in your +eyes, looking for happiness. And instead of happiness—to find <i>all +this</i>!"</p> + +<p>She stretched her arms to the forests. Bruce understood her perfectly. +She did not mean the woods in the literal sense. She meant the primal +emotions that were their spirit.</p> + +<p>She went on with lowered tones. "May Heaven forgive me if I have done +wrong to bring you here," she told him. "To show you—all that I have to +show—you who are a city man and a gentleman. But, Bruce, I couldn't +fight alone any more. I had to have help.</p> + +<p>"To know the rest, you've got to go back a whole generation. Bruce, have +you heard of the terrible blood-feuds that the mountain families +sometimes have?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Many times."</p> + +<p>"These mountains of Trail's End have been the scene of as deadly a +blood-feud as was ever known in the West. And for once, the wrong was +all on one side.</p> + +<p>"A few miles from here there is a wonderful valley, where a stream +flows. There is not much tillable land in these mountains, Bruce, but +there, along that little stream, there are almost five sections—three +thousand acres—of as rich land as was ever plowed. And Bruce—the home +means something in the mountains. It isn't just a place to live in, a +place to leave with relief. I've tried to tell you that emotions are +simple and direct up here, and love of home is one of them. That tract +of land was acquired long ago by a family named Ross, and they got it +through some kind of grant. I can't be definite as to the legal aspects +of all this story. They don't matter anyway—only the results remain.</p> + +<p>"These Ross men were frontiersmen of the first order. They were virtuous +men too—trusting every one, and oh! what strength they had! With their +own hands they cleared away the forest and put the land into rich +pasture and hay and grain. They built a great house for the owner of the +land, and lesser houses for his kinsfolk that helped him work it on +shares. Then they raised cattle, letting them range on the hills and +feeding them in winter. You see, the snow is heavy in winter, and unless +the stock are fed many of them die. The Rosses raised great herds of +cattle and had flocks of sheep too.</p> + +<p>"It was then that dark days began to come. Another family—headed by the +father of the man I call Simon—migrated here from the mountain +districts of Oklahoma. But they were not so ignorant as many mountain +people, and they were <i>killers</i>. Perhaps that's a word you don't know. +Perhaps you didn't know it existed. A killer is a man that has killed +other men. It isn't a hard thing to do at all, Bruce, after you are used +to it. These people were used to it. And because they wanted these great +lands—my own father's home—they began to kill the Rosses.</p> + +<p>"At first they made no war on the Folgers. The Folgers, you must know, +were good people too, honest to the last penny. They were connected, by +marriage only, to the Ross family. They were on our side clear through. +At the beginning of the feud the head of the Folger family was just a +young man, newly married. And he had a son after a while.</p> + +<p>"The newcomers called it a feud. But it wasn't a feud—it was simply +murder. Oh, yes, we killed some of them. Folger and my father and all +his kin united against them, making a great clan—but they were nothing +in strength compared to the usurpers. Simon himself was just a boy when +it began. But he grew to be the greatest power, the leader of the enemy +clan before he was twenty-one.</p> + +<p>"You must know, Bruce, that my own father held the land. But he was so +generous that his brothers who helped him farm it hardly realized that +possession was in his name. And father was a dead shot. It took a long +time before they could kill him."</p> + +<p>The coldness that had come over her words did not in the least hide her +depth of feeling. She gazed moodily into the darkness and spoke almost +in a monotone.</p> + +<p>"But Simon—just a boy then—and Dave, his brother, and the others of +them kept after us like so many wolves. There was no escape. The only +thing we could do was to fight back—and that was the way we learned to +hate. A man can hate, Bruce, when he is fighting for his home. He can +learn it very well when he sees his brother fall dead, or his father—or +a stray bullet hit his wife. A woman can learn it too, as old Elmira +did, when she finds her son's body in the dead leaves. There was no law +here to stop it. The little semblance of law that was in the valleys +below regarded it as a blood-feud, and didn't bother itself about it. +Besides—at first we were too proud to call for help. And after our +numbers were few, the trails were watched—and those who tried to go +down into the valleys—never got there.</p> + +<p>"One after another the Rosses were killed, and I needn't make it any +worse for you than I can help—by telling of each killing. Enough to say +that at last no one was left except a few old men whose eyes were too +dim to shoot straight, and my own father. And I was a baby then—just +born.</p> + +<p>"Then one night my father—seeing the fate that was coming down upon +him—took the last course to defeat them. Matthew Folger—a connection +by marriage—was still alive. Simon's clan hadn't attacked him yet. He +had no share in the land, but instead lived in this house I live in now. +He had a few cattle and some pasture land farther down the Divide. There +had been no purpose in killing him. He hadn't been worth the extra +bullet.</p> + +<p>"One night my father left me asleep and stole through the forests to +talk to him. They made an agreement. I have pieced it out, a little at a +time. My father deeded all his land to Folger.</p> + +<p>"I can understand now. The enemy clan pretended it was a blood-feud +only—and that it was fair war to kill the Rosses. Although my father +knew their real aim was to obtain the land, he didn't think they would +dare kill Matthew Folger to get it. He knew that he himself would fall, +sooner or later, but he thought that to kill Folger would show their +cards—and that would be too much, even for Simon's people. But he +didn't know. He hadn't foreseen to what lengths they would go."</p> + +<p>Bruce leaned forward. "So they killed—Matthew Folger?" he asked.</p> + +<p>He didn't know that his face had gone suddenly stark white, and that a +curious glitter had come to his eyes. He spoke breathlessly. For the +name—Matthew Folger—called up vague memories that seemed to reveal +great truths to him. The girl smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"Let me go on. My father deeded Folger the land. The deed was to go on +record so that all the world would know that Folger owned it, and if the +clan killed him it was plainly for the purposes of greed alone. But +there was also a secret agreement—drawn up in black and white and to be +kept hidden for twenty-one years. In this agreement, Folger promised to +return to me—the only living heir of the Rosses—the lands acquired by +the deed. In reality, he was only holding them in trust for me, and was +to return them when I was twenty-one. In case of my father's death, +Folger was to be my guardian until that time.</p> + +<p>"Folger knew the risk he ran, but he was a brave man and he did not +care. Besides, he was my father's friend—and friendship goes far in the +mountains. And my father was shot down before a week was past.</p> + +<p>"The clan had acted quick, you see. When Folger heard of it, before the +dawn, he came to my father's house and carried me away. Before another +night was done he was killed too."</p> + +<p>The perspiration leaped out on Bruce's forehead. The red glow of the +fire was in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"He fell almost where this fire is built, with a thirty-thirty bullet in +his brain. Which one of the clan killed him I do not know—but in all +probability it was Simon himself—at that time only eighteen years of +age. And Folger's little boy—something past four years old—wandered +out in the moonlight to find his father's body."</p> + +<p>The girl was speaking slowly now, evidently watching the effect of her +words on her listener. He was bent forward, and his breath came in +queer, whispering gusts. "Go on!" he ordered savagely. "Tell me the +rest. Why do you keep me waiting?"</p> + +<p>The girl smiled again,—like a sorceress. "Folger's wife was from the +plains' country," she told him slowly. "If she had been of the mountains +she might have remained to do some killing on her own account. Like old +Elmira herself remained to do—killing on her own account! But she was +from cities, just as you are, but she—unlike you—had no mountain blood +in her. She wasn't used to death, and perhaps she didn't know how to +hate. She only knew how to be afraid.</p> + +<p>"They say that she went almost insane at the sight of that strong, brave +man of hers lying still in the pine needles. She hadn't even known he +was out of the house. He had gone out on some secret business—late at +night. She had only one thing left—her baby boy and her little +foster-daughter—little Linda Ross who is before you now. Her only +thought was to get those children out of that dreadful land of bloodshed +and to hide them so that they could never come back. And she didn't even +want them to know their true parentage. She seemed to realize that if +they had known, both of them would return some time—to collect their +debts. Sooner or later, that boy with the Folger blood in him and that +girl with the Ross blood would return, to attempt to regain their +ancient holdings, and to make the clan pay!</p> + +<p>"All that was left were a few old women with hate in their hearts and a +strange tradition to take the place of hope. They said that sometime, if +death spared them, they would see Folger's son come back again, and +assert his rights. They said that a new champion would arise and right +their wrongs. But mostly death didn't spare them. Only old Elmira is +left.</p> + +<p>"What became of the secret agreement I do not know. I haven't any hope +that you do, either. The deed was carried down to the courts by Sharp, +one of the witnesses who managed to get past the guard, and put on file +soon after it was written. The rest is short. Simon and his clan took up +the land, swearing that Matthew Folger had deeded it to them the day he +had procured it. They had a deed to show for it—a forgery. And the one +thing that they feared, the one weak chain, was that this secret +agreement between Folger and my father would be found.</p> + +<p>"You see what that would mean. It would show that he had no right to +deed away the land, as he was simply holding it in trust for me. Old +Elmira explained the matter to me—if I get mixed up on the legal end +of it, excuse it. If that document could be found, their forged deed +would be obviously invalid. And it angered them that they could not find +it.</p> + +<p>"Of course they never filed their forged deed—afraid that the forgery +would be discovered—but they kept it to show to any one that was +interested. But they wanted to make themselves still safer.</p> + +<p>"There had been two witnesses to the agreement. One of them, a man named +Sharp, died—or was killed—shortly after. The other, an old trapper +named Hudson, was indifferent to the whole matter—he was just passing +through and was at Folger's house for dinner the night Ross came. He is +still living in these mountains, and he might be of value to us yet.</p> + +<p>"Of course the clan did not feel at all secure. They suspected the +secret agreement had been mailed to some one to take care of, and they +were afraid that it would be brought to light when the time was ripe. +They knew perfectly that their forged deed would never stand the test, +so one of the things to do was to prevent their claim ever being +contested. That meant to keep Folger's son in ignorance of the whole +matter.</p> + +<p>"I hope I can make that clear. The deed from my father to Folger was on +record, Folger was dead, and Folger's son would have every right and +opportunity to contest the clan's claim to the land. If he could get the +matter into court, he would surely win.</p> + +<p>"The second thing to do was to win me over. I was just a child, and it +looked the easiest course of all. That's why I was stolen from the +orphanage by one of Simon's brothers. The idea was simply that when the +time came I would marry one of the clan and establish their claim to the +land forever.</p> + +<p>"Up to a few weeks ago it seemed to me that sooner or later I would win +out. Bruce, you can't dream what it meant! I thought that some time I +could drive them out and make them pay, a little, for all they have +done. But they've tricked me, after all. I thought that I would get word +to Folger's son, who by inheritance would have a clear title to the +land, and he, with the aid of the courts, could drive these usurpers +out. But just recently I've found out that even this chance is all but +gone.</p> + +<p>"Within a few more weeks, they will have been in possession of the land +for a full twenty years. Through some legal twist I don't understand, if +a man pays taxes and has undisputed possession of land for that length +of time, his title is secure. They failed to win me over, but it looks +as if they had won, anyway. The only way that they can be defeated now +is for that secret agreement—between my father and Folger—to reappear. +And I've long ago given up all hope of that.</p> + +<p>"There is no court session between now and October thirtieth—when their +twenty years of undisputed possession is culminated. There seems to be +no chance to contest them—to make them bring that forged deed into the +light before that time. We've lost, after all. And only one thing +remains."</p> + +<p>He looked up to find her eyes full upon him. He had never seen such +eyes. They seemed to have sunk so deep into the flesh about them that +only lurid slits remained. It was not that her lids were partly down. +Rather it was because the flesh-sacks beneath them had become charged +with her pounding blood. The fire's glow was in them and cast a strange +glamour upon her face. It only added to the strangeness of the picture +that she sat almost limp, rather than leaning forward in appeal. Bruce +looked at her in growing awe.</p> + +<p>But as the second passed he seemed no longer able to see her plainly. +His eyes were misted and blurred, but they were empty of tears as +Linda's own. Rather the focal points of his brain had become seared by a +mounting flame within himself. The glow of the fire had seemingly spread +until it encompassed the whole wilderness world.</p> + +<p>"What is the one thing that remains?" he asked her, whispering.</p> + +<p>She answered with a strange, terrible coldness of tone. "The blood +atonement," she said between back-drawn lips.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<p>When the minute hand of the watch in his pocket had made one more +circuit, both Bruce and Linda found themselves upon their feet. The +tension had broken at last. Her emotion had been curbed too long. It +broke from her in a flood.</p> + +<p>She seized his hands, and he started at their touch. "Don't you +understand?" she cried. "You—you—you are Folger's son. You are the boy +that crept out—under this very tree—to find him dead. All my life +Elmira and I have prayed for you to come. And what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>Her face was drawn in the white light of the moon. For an instant he +seemed dazed.</p> + +<p>"Do?" he repeated. "I don't know what I'm going to do."</p> + +<p>"You don't!" she cried, in infinite scorn. "Are you just clay? Aren't +you a man? Haven't you got arms to strike with and eyes to see along a +rifle barrel? Are you a coward—and a weakling; one of your mother's +blood to run away? Haven't you anything to avenge? I thought you were a +mountain man—that all your years in cities couldn't take that quality +away from you! Haven't you any answer?"</p> + +<p>He looked up, a strange light growing on his face. "You mean—killing?"</p> + +<p>"What else? To kill—never to stop killing—one after another until they +are gone! Till Simon Turner and the whole Turner clan have paid the +debts they owe."</p> + +<p>Bruce recoiled as if from a blow. "Turner? Did you say Turner?" he asked +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That's the clan's name. I thought you knew."</p> + +<p>There was an instant of strange truce. Both stood motionless. The scene +no longer seemed part of the world that men have come to know in these +latter years,—a land of cities and homes and peaceful twilights over +quiet countrysides. The moon was still strange and white in the sky; the +pines stood tall and dark and sad,—eternal emblems of the wilderness. +The fire had burned down to a few lurid coals glowing in the gray ashes. +No longer were these two children of civilization. Their passion had +swept them back into the immeasurable past; they were simply human +beings deep in the simplest of human passions. They trembled all over +with it.</p> + +<p>Bruce understood now his unprovoked attack on the little boy when he had +been taken from the orphanage on trial. The boy had been named Turner, +and the name had been enough to recall a great and terrible hatred that +he had learned in earliest babyhood. The name now recalled it again; the +truth stood clear at last. It was the key to all the mystery of his +life; it stirred him more than all of Linda's words. In an instant all +the tragedy of his babyhood was recalled,—the hushed talk between his +parents, the oaths, the flames in their eyes, and finally the body he +had found lying so still beneath the pines. It was always the Turners, +the dread name that had filled his baby days with horror. He hadn't +understood then. It had been blind hatred,—hatred without understanding +or self-analysis.</p> + +<p>As she watched, his mountain blood mounted to the ascendancy. A strange +transformation came over him. The gentleness that he had acquired in his +years of city life began to fall away from him. The mountains were +claiming him again.</p> + +<p>It was not a mental change alone. It was a thing to be seen with the +unaided eyes. His hand had swept through his hair, disturbing the part, +and now the black locks dropped down on his forehead, almost to his +eyes. The whole expression of his face seemed to change. His look of +culture dropped from him; his eyes narrowed; he looked grotesquely out +of place in his soft, well-tailored clothes.</p> + +<p>But he was quite cold now. His passion was submerged under a steel +exterior. His voice was cold and hard when he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Then you and I are no relation whatever?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"But we fight the same fight now."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Until we both win—or both die."</p> + +<p>Before he could speak again, a strange answer came out of the darkness. +"Not two of you," a croaking old voice told them. It rose, shrill and +cracked, from the shadows beyond the fire. They turned, and the +moonlight showed a bent old figure hobbling toward them.</p> + +<p>It was old Elmira, her cane tapping along in front of her; and something +that caught the moonlight lay in the hollow of her left arm. Her eyes +still glowed under the grizzled brows.</p> + +<p>"Not two, but three," she corrected, in the hollow voice of uncounted +years. In the magic of the moonlight it seemed quite fitting to both of +them that she should have come. She was one of the triumvirate; they +wondered why they had not missed her before. It was farther than she had +walked in years, but her spirit had kept her up.</p> + +<p>She put the glittering object that she carried into Bruce's hands. It +was a rifle—a repeating breechloader of a famous make and a model of +thirty years before. It was such a rifle as lives in legend, with sights +as fine as a razor edge and an accuracy as great as light itself. Loving +hands had polished it and kept it in perfect condition.</p> + +<p>"Matthew Folger's rifle," the old woman explained, "for Matthew Folger's +son."</p> + +<p>And that is how Bruce Folger returned to the land of his birth—as most +men do, unless death cheats them first—and how he made a pact to pay +old debts of death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_TWO" id="BOOK_TWO"></a>BOOK TWO</h2> + +<h3>THE BLOOD ATONEMENT</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + + +<p>"Men own the day, but the night is ours," is an old saying among the +wild folk that inhabit the forests of Trail's End. And the saying has +really deep significances that can't be discerned at one hearing. +Perhaps human beings—their thoughts busy with other things—can never +really get them at all. But the mountain lion—purring a sort of queer, +singsong lullaby to her wicked-eyed little cubs in the lair—and the +gray wolf, running along the ridges in the mystery of the moon—and +those lesser hunters, starting with Tuft-ear the lynx and going all the +way down to that terrible, white-toothed cutthroat, Little Death the +mink—<i>they</i> know exactly what the saying means, and they know that it +is true. The only one of the larger forest creatures that doesn't know +is old Ashur, the black bear (<i>Ashur</i> means black in an ancient tongue, +just as <i>Brunn</i> means brown, and the common Oregon bear is usually +decidedly black) and the fact that he doesn't is curious in itself. In +most ways Ashur has more intelligence than all the others put together; +but he is also the most indifferent. He is not a hunter; and he doesn't +care who owns anything as long as there are plenty of bee trees to mop +out with his clumsy paw, and plenty of grubs under the rotten logs.</p> + +<p>The saying originated long and long ago when the world was quite young. +Before that time, likely enough, the beasts owned both the day and the +night, and you can imagine them denying man's superiority just as long +as possible. But they came to it in the end, and perhaps now they are +beginning to be doubtful whether they still hold dominion over the night +hours. You can fancy the forest people whispering the saying back and +forth, using it as a password when they meet on the trails, and trying +their best to believe it. "Man owns the day but the night is ours," the +coyotes whisper between sobs. In a world where men have slowly, steadily +conquered all the wild creatures, killed them and driven them away, +their one consolation lies in the fact that when the dark comes down +their old preëminence returns to them.</p> + +<p>Of course the saying is ridiculous if applied to cities or perhaps even +to the level, cleared lands of the Middle West. The reason is simply +that the wild life is practically gone from these places. Perhaps a +lowly skunk steals along a hedge on the way to a chicken pen, but he +quivers and skulks with fear, and all the arrogance of hunting is as +dead in him as his last year's perfume. And perhaps even the little +bobwhites, nestling tail to tail, know that it is wholly possible that +the farmer's son has marked their roost and will come and pot them while +they sleep. But a few places remain in America where the reign of the +wild creatures, during the night hours at least, is still supreme. And +Trail's End is one of them.</p> + +<p>It doesn't lie in the Middle West. It is just about as far west as one +can conveniently go, unless he cares to trace the rivers down to their +mouths. Neither was it cleared land, nor had its soil ever been turned +by a plow. The few clearings that there were—such as the great five +sections of the Rosses—were so far apart that a wolf could run all +night (and the night-running of a wolf is something not to speak of +lightly) without passing one. There is nothing but forest,—forest that +stretches without boundaries, forest to which a great mountain is but a +single flower in a meadow, forest to make the brain of a timber cruiser +reel and stagger from sheer higher mathematics. Perhaps man owns these +timber stretches in the daytime. He can go out and cut down the trees, +and when they don't choose to fall over on top of him, return safely to +his cabin at night. He can venture forth with his rifle and kill Ashur +the black bear and Blacktail the deer, and even old Brother Bill, the +grand and exalted ruler of the elk lodge. The sound of his feet disturbs +the cathedral silence of the tree aisles, and his oaths—when the +treacherous trail gives way beneath his feet—carry far through the +coverts. But he behaves somewhat differently at night. He doesn't feel +nearly so sure of himself. The sound of a puma screaming a few dozen +feet away in the shadows is likely enough to cause an unpleasant +twitching of the skin of his back. And he feels considerably better if +there are four stout walls about him. At nighttime, the wild creatures +come into their own.</p> + +<p>Bruce sensed these things as he waited for the day to break. For all the +hard exertion of the previous day, he wakened early on the first morning +of his return to his father's home. Through the open window he watched +the dawn come out. And he fancied how a puma, still hungry, turned to +snarl at the spreading light as he crept to his lair.</p> + +<p>All over the forest the hunting creatures left their trails and crept +into the coverts. Their reign was done until darkness fell again. The +night life of the forest was slowly stilled. The daylight +creatures—such as the birds—began to waken. Probably they welcomed the +sight of day as much as Bruce himself. The man dressed slowly. He +wouldn't waken the two women that slept in the next room, he thought. He +crept slowly out into the gray dawn.</p> + +<p>He made straight for the great pine that stood a short distance from the +house. For reasons unknown to him, the pine had come often into his +dreams. He had thought that its limbs rubbed together and made +words,—but of the words themselves he had hardly caught the meaning. +There was some high message in them, however; and the dream had left him +with a vague curiosity, an unexplainable desire to see the forest +monarch in the daylight.</p> + +<p>As he waited, the mist blew off of the land; the gray of twilight was +whisked away to a twilightland that is hidden in the heart of the +forest. He found to his delight that the tree was even more impressive +in the vivid morning light than it had been at night. It was not that +the light actually got into it. Its branches were too thick and heavy +for that. It still retained its air of eternal secrecy, an impression +that it knew great mysteries that a thousand philosophers would give +their lives to learn. He was constantly awed by the size of it. He +guessed its circumference as about twenty-five feet. The great lower +limbs were themselves like massive tree trunks. Its top surpassed by +fifty feet any pine in the vicinity.</p> + +<p>As he watched, the sun came up, gleaming first on its tall spire. It +slowly overtook it. The dusk of its green lightened. Bruce was not a +particularly imaginative man; but the impression grew that this towering +tree had an answer for some great question in his own heart,—a question +that he had never been able to shape into words. He felt that it knew +the wholly profound secret of life.</p> + +<p>After all, it could not but have such knowledge. It was so incredibly +old; it had seen so much. His mind flew back to some of the dramas of +human life that had been enacted in its shade, and his imagination could +picture many more. His own father had lain here dead, shot down by a +murderer concealed in the distant thicket. It had beheld his own wonder +when he had found the still form lying in the moonlight; it had seen his +mother's grief and terror. Wilderness dramas uncounted had been enacted +beneath it. Many times the mountain lion had crept into its dark +branches. Many times the bear had grunted beneath it and reached up to +write a challenge with his claws in its bark. The eyes of Tuft-ear the +lynx had gleamed from its very top, and the old bull-elk had filed off +his velvet on the sharp edges of the bark. It had seen savage battles +between the denizens of the wood; the deer racing by with the wolf pack +in pursuit. For uncounted years it had stood aloft, above all the +madness and bloodshed and passion that are the eternal qualities of the +wilderness, somber, stately, unutterably aloof.</p> + +<p>It had known the snows. When the leaves fell and the wind came out of +the north, it would know them again. For the snow falls for a depth of +ten feet or more over most of Trail's End. For innumerable winters its +limbs had been heaped with the white load, the great branches bending +beneath it. The wind made faint sounds through its branches now, but +would be wholly silent when the winter snows weighted the limbs. He +could picture the great, white giant, silent as death, still keeping its +vigil over the snow-swept wilderness.</p> + +<p>Bruce felt a growing awe. The great tree seemed so wise, it gave him +such a sense of power. The winds had buffeted it in vain. It had endured +the terrible cold of winter. Generation after generation of the +creatures who moved on the face of the earth had lived their lives +beneath it; they had struggled and mated and fought their battles and +felt their passions, and finally they had died; and still it +endured,—silent, passionless, full of thoughts. Here was real +greatness. Not stirring, not struggling, not striving; only standing +firm and straight and impassive; not taking part, but only watching, +knowing no passion but only strength,—ineffably patient and calm.</p> + +<p>But it was sad too. Such knowledge always brings sadness. It had seen +too much to be otherwise. The pines are never cheerful trees, like the +apple that blossoms in spring, or the elm whose leaves shimmer in the +sunlight; and this great monarch of all the pines was sad as great +music. In this quality, as well as in its strength, it was the symbol of +the wilderness itself. But it was more than that. It was the Great +Sentinel, and in its unutterable impassiveness it was the emblem and +symbol of even mightier powers. Bruce's full wisdom had not yet come to +him, so he couldn't name these powers. He only knew that they lived far +and far above the world and, like the tree itself, held aloof from all +the passion of Eve and the blood-lust of Cain. Like the pine itself, +they were patient, impassive, and infinitely wise.</p> + +<p>He felt stilled and calmed himself. Such was its influence. And he +turned with a start when he saw Linda in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Her face was calm too in the morning light. Her dark eyes were lighted. +He felt a curious little glow of delight at the sight of her.</p> + +<p>"I've been talking to the pine—all the morning," he told her.</p> + +<p>"But it won't talk to you," she answered. "It talks only to the stars."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + + +<p>Bruce and Linda had a long talk while the sun climbed up over the great +ridges to the east and old Elmira cooked their breakfast. There was no +passion in their words this morning. They had got down to a basis of +cold planning.</p> + +<p>"Let me refresh my memory about a few of those little things you told +me," Bruce requested. "First—on what date does the twenty-year +period—of Turners' possession of the land—expire?"</p> + +<p>"On the thirtieth of October, of this year."</p> + +<p>"Not very long, is it? Now you understand that on that date they will +have had twenty years of undisputed possession of the land; they will +have paid taxes on it that long; and unless their title is proven false +between now and that date, we can't ever drive them out."</p> + +<p>"That's just right."</p> + +<p>"And the fall term of court doesn't begin until the fifth of the +following month."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we're beaten. That's all there is to it. Simon told me so the last +time he talked to me."</p> + +<p>"It would be to his interest to have you think so. But Linda—we mustn't +give up yet. We must try as long as one day remains. The law is full of +twists; we might find a way to checkmate them, especially if that secret +agreement should show up. It isn't just enough—to have vengeance. That +wouldn't put the estate back in your hands; they would have won, after +all. It seems to me that the first thing to do is to find the trapper, +Hudson—the one witness that is still alive. You say he witnessed that +secret agreement between your father and mine."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"His testimony would be invaluable to us. He might be able to prove to +the court that as my father never owned the land in reality, he couldn't +possibly have deeded it to the Turners. Do you know where this Hudson +is?"</p> + +<p>"I asked old Elmira last night. She thinks she knows. A man told her he +had his trap line on the upper Umpqua, and his main headquarters—you +know that trappers have a string of camps—was at the mouth of Little +River, that flows into the Umpqua. But it is a long way from here."</p> + +<p>Bruce was still a moment. "How far?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Two full days' tramp at the least—barring out accidents. But if you +think it is best—you can start out to-day."</p> + +<p>Bruce was a man who made decisions quickly. He had learned the wisdom of +it,—that after all the evidence is gathered on each side, a single +second is all the time that is needed for any kind of decision. Beyond +that point there is only vacillation. "Then I'll start—right away. Can +you tell me how to find the trail?"</p> + +<p>"I can only tell you to go straight north. Use your watch as a compass +in the daytime and the North Star at night."</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose that it was wisdom to travel at night."</p> + +<p>She looked at him in sudden astonishment. "And where did you learn that +fact, Bruce?"</p> + +<p>The man tried hard to remember. "I don't know. I suppose it was +something I heard when I was a baby—in these mountains."</p> + +<p>"It is one of the first things a mountaineer has to know—to make camp +at nightfall. You would want to, anyway, Bruce. You've got enough real +knowledge of the wilderness in you—born in you—to want a camp and a +fire at night. Besides, the trails are treacherous."</p> + +<p>"Then the thing to do is to get ready at once. And then try to bring +Hudson back with me—down to the valley. After we get there we can see +what can be done."</p> + +<p>Linda smiled rather sadly. "I'm not very hopeful. But he's our last +chance—and we might as well make a try. There is no hope that the +secret agreement will show up in these few weeks that remain. We'll get +your things together at once."</p> + +<p>They breakfasted, and after the simple meal was finished, Bruce began to +pack for the journey. He was very thankful for the months he had spent +in an army camp. He took a few simple supplies of food: a piece of +bacon, a little sack of dried venison—that delicious fare that has held +so many men up on long journeys—and a compact little sack of prepared +flour. There was no space for delicacies in the little pack. Besides, a +man forgets about such things on the high trails. Butter, sugar, even +that ancient friend coffee had to be left behind. He took one little +utensil for cooking—a small skillet—and Linda furnished him with a +camp ax and a long-bladed hunting knife. These things (with the +exception of the knife and ax) he tied up in one heavy, all-wool +blanket, making a compact pack for carrying on his back.</p> + +<p>In his pocket he carried cartridges for the rifle, pipe, tobacco, and +matches. Linda took the hob-nails out of her own shoes and pounded them +into his. For there are certain trails in Trail's End that to the +unnailed shoe are quite like the treadmills of ancient days; the foot +slips back after every step.</p> + +<p>One thing more was needed: tough leggings. The soft flannel trousers had +not been tailored for wear in the brush coverts. And there is still +another reason why the mountain men want their ankles covered. In +portions of Trail's End there are certain rock ledges—gray, strange +stone heaps blasted by the summer sun—and some of the paths that Bruce +would take crossed over them. These ledges are the home of a certain +breed of forest creatures that Bruce did not in the least desire to +meet. Unlike many of the wild folk, they are not at all particular about +getting out of the way, and they are more than likely to lash up at a +traveler's instep. It isn't wise to try to jump out of the way. If a man +were practiced at dodging lightning bolts he might do it, but not an +ordinary mortal. For that lunging head is one of the swiftest things in +the whole swift-moving animal world. And it isn't entirely safe to rely +on a warning rattle. Sometimes the old king-snake forgets to give it. +These are the poison people—the gray rattlesnakes that gather in +mysterious, grim companies on the rocks—and the only safety from them +is thick covering to the knees that the fangs cannot penetrate.</p> + +<p>But the old woman solved this problem with a deer hide that had been +curing for some seasons on the wall behind the house. Her eyes were +dimmed with age, her fingers were stiff, but in an astonishingly short +period of time she improvised a pair of leathern puttees, fastening with +a strap, that answered the purpose beautifully. The two women walked +with him, out under the pine.</p> + +<p>Bruce shook old Elmira's scrawny hand; then she turned back at once into +the house. The man felt singularly grateful. He began to credit the old +woman with a great deal of intuition, or else memories from her own +girlhood of long and long ago. He <i>did</i> want a word alone with this +strange girl of the pines. But when Elmira had gone in and the coast was +clear, it wouldn't come to his lips.</p> + +<p>He felt curious conjecturings and wonderment arising within him. He +couldn't have shaped them into words. It was just that the girl's face +intrigued him, mystified him, and perhaps moved him a little too. It was +a frank, clear, girlish face, wonderfully tender of feature, and at +first her eyes held him most of all. They gave an impression of +astounding depth. They were quite serious now; and they had a luster +such as can be seen on cold spring water over dark moss,—and few other +places on earth.</p> + +<p>"It seems strange," he said, "to come here only last night—and then to +be leaving again."</p> + +<p>It seemed to his astonished gaze that her lips trembled ever so +slightly. "We have been waiting for each other a long time, Bwovaboo," +she replied. She spoke rather low, not looking straight at him. "And I +hate to have you go again so soon."</p> + +<p>"But I'll be back—in a few days."</p> + +<p>"You don't know. No one ever knows when they start out in these +mountains. Promise me, Bruce—to keep watch every minute. Remember +there's nothing—<i>nothing</i>—that Simon won't stoop to do. He's like a +wolf. He has no rules of fighting. He'd just as soon strike from ambush. +How do I know that you'll ever come back again?"</p> + +<p>"But I will." He smiled at her, and his eyes dropped from hers to her +lips. His heart seemed to miss a beat. He hadn't noticed these lips in +particular before. The mouth was tender and girlish, its sensitiveness +scarcely seeming fitting in a child of these wild places. He reached out +and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Linda," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>She smiled in reply, and her old cheer seemed to return to her. +"Good-by, Bwovaboo. Be careful."</p> + +<p>"I'll be careful. And this reminds me of something."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"That for all the time I've been away—and for all the time I'm going to +be away now—I haven't done anything more—well, more intimate—than +shake your hand."</p> + +<p>Her answer was to pout out her lips in the most natural way in the +world. Bruce was usually deliberate in his motions; but all at once his +deliberation fell away from him. There seemed to be no interlude of time +between one position and another. His arms went about her, and he kissed +her gently on the lips.</p> + +<p>But it was not at all as they expected. Both had gone into it +lightly,—a boy-and-girl caress such as is usually not worth thinking +about twice. He had supposed it would be just like the other kisses he +had known in his growing-up days: a moment's soft pressure of the lips, +a moment's delight, and nothing either to regret or rejoice in. But it +was far more than this, after all. Perhaps because they had been too +long in one another's thoughts; perhaps—living in a land of hated +foes—because Linda had not known many kisses, this little caress +beneath the pine went very straight home indeed to them both. They fell +apart, both of them suddenly sobered. The girl's eyes were tender and +lustrous, but startled too.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Linda," he told her.</p> + +<p>"Good-by—Bwovaboo," she answered. He turned up the trail past the pine.</p> + +<p>He did not know that she stood watching him a long time, her hands +clasped over her breast.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + + +<p>Miles farther than Linda's cabin, clear beyond the end of the trail that +Duncan took, past even the highest ridge of Trail's End and in the +region where the little rivers that run into the Umpqua have their +starting place, is a certain land of Used to Be. Such a name as that +doesn't make very good sense to a tenderfoot on the first hearing. +Perhaps he can never see the real intelligence of it as long as he +remains a tenderfoot. Such creatures cannot exist for long in the +silences and the endless ridges and the unbeaten trails of this land; +they either become woodsmen or have communication with the buzzards.</p> + +<p>It isn't a land of the Present Time at all. It is a place that has never +grown old. When a man passes the last outpost of civilization, and the +shadows of the unbroken woods drop over him, he is likely to forget that +the year is nineteen hundred and twenty, and that the day before +yesterday he had seen an aeroplane passing over his house. It is true +that in this place he sees winged creatures in the air, seeming masters +of the aërial tracts, but they are not aëroplanes. Instead they are the +buzzards, and they are keeping even a closer watch on him than he is on +them. They know that many things may happen whereby they can get +acquainted before the morning breaks. The world seems to have kicked off +its thousand-thousand years as a warm man at night kicks off covers; and +all things are just as they used to be. It is the Young World,—a world +of beasts rather than men, a world where the hand of man has not yet +been felt.</p> + +<p>Of course it won't be that way forever. Sometime the forests will fall. +What will become of the beasts that live in them there is no telling; +there are not many places left for them to go. But at present it is just +as savage, just as primitive and untamed as those ancient forests of the +Young World that a man recalls sometimes in dreams.</p> + +<p>On this particular early-September day, the age-old drama of the +wilderness was in progress. It was the same play that had been enacted +day after day, year upon year, until the centuries had become too many +to count, and as usual, there were no human observers. There were no +hunters armed with rifles waiting on the deer trails to kill some of the +players. There were no naturalists taking notes that no one will believe +in the coverts. It was the usual matinée performance; the long, hot day +was almost at a close. The play would get better later in the evening, +and really would not be at its best until the moon rose; but it was not +a comedy-drama even now. Rather it was a drama of untamed passions and +bloodshed, strife and carnage and lust and rapine; and it didn't, +unfortunately, have a particularly happy ending. Mother Nature herself, +sometimes kind but usually cruel, was the producer; she furnished the +theater, even the spotted costume by which the fawn remained invisible +in the patches of light and shadow; and she had certain great purposes +of her own that no man understands. As the play was usually complicated +with many fatalities, the buzzards were about the only ones to benefit. +They were the real heroes of the play after all. Everything always +turned out all right for them. They always triumphed in the end.</p> + +<p>The greatest difference between this wilderness drama and the dramas +that human beings see upon a stage is that one was reality and the other +is pretense. The players were beasts, not men. The only human being +anywhere in the near vicinity was the old trapper, Hudson, following +down his trap line on the creek margin on the way to his camp. It is +true that two other men, with a rather astounding similarity of purpose, +were at present coming down two of the long trails that led to the +region; but as yet the drama was hidden from their eyes. One of these +two was Bruce, coming from Linda's cabin. One was Dave Turner, +approaching from the direction of the Ross estates. Turner was much the +nearer. Curiously, both had business with the trapper Hudson.</p> + +<p>The action of the play was calm at first. Mostly the forest creatures +were still in their afternoon sleep. Brother Bill, the great stag elk, +had a bed in the very center of a thick wall of buckbush, and human +observers at first could not have explained how his great body, with his +vast spread of antlers, had been able to push through. But in reality +his antlers aided rather than hindered. Streaming almost straight back +they act something like a snow-plow, parting the heavy coverts.</p> + +<p>The bull elk is in some ways the master of the forest, and one would +wonder why he had gone to such an out-of-the-way place to sleep. Unless +he is attacked from ambush, he has little to fear even from the Tawny +One, the great cougar, and ordinarily the cougar waits until night to do +his hunting. The lynx is just a source of scorn to the great bull, and +even the timber wolf—except when he is combined with his relatives in +winter—is scarcely to be feared. Yet he had been careful to surround +himself with burglar alarms,—in other words, to go into the deep +thicket that no beast of prey could penetrate without warning him—by +the sound of breaking brush—of its approach. It would indicate that +there was at least one living creature in this region—a place where men +ordinarily did not come—that the bull elk feared.</p> + +<p>The does and their little spotted fawns were sleeping too; the blacktail +deer had not yet sought the feeding grounds on the ridges. The cougar +yawned in his lair, the wolf dozed in his covert, even the poison-people +lay like long shadows on the hot rocks. But these latter couldn't be +relied upon to sleep soundly. One of the many things they can do is to +jump straight out of a dream like a flicking whiplash, coil and hit a +mark that many a good pistol shot would miss.</p> + +<p>Yet there was no chance of the buzzards, at present spectators in the +clouds and waiting for the final act, to become bored. Particularly the +lesser animals of the forest—the Little People—were busy at their +occupations. A little brown-coated pine marten—who is really nothing +but an overgrown weasel famous for his particularly handsome coat—went +stealing through the branches of a pine as if he had rather questionable +business. Some one had told him, and he couldn't remember who, that a +magpie had her nest in that same tree, and Red Eye was going to look and +see. Of course he merely wanted to satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps he +would try to arrange to get a little sip of the mother's blood, just as +it passed through the big vein of the throat,—but of course that was +only incidental. He felt some curiosity about the magpie's eggs too, the +last brood of the year. It might be that there were some little magpies +all coiled up inside of them, that would be worth investigation by one +of his scientific turn of mind. Perhaps even the male bird, coming +frantically to look for his wife, might fly straight into the nest +without noticing his brown body curled about the limb. It offered all +kinds of pleasing prospects, this hunt through the branches.</p> + +<p>Of course it is doubtful if the buzzards could detect his serpent-like +form; yet it is a brave man who will say what a buzzard can and cannot +see. Anything that can remain in the air as they do, seemingly without +the flutter of a wing, has powers not to speak of lightly. But if they +could have seen him they would have been particularly interested. A +marten isn't a glutton in his feeding, and often is content with just a +sip of blood from the throat. That leaves something warm and still for +the buzzard's beak.</p> + +<p>A long, spotted gopher snake slipped through the dead grass on the +ground beneath. He didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. He +was just moseying—if there is such a word—along. Not a blade of grass +rustled. Of course there was a chipmunk, sitting at the door of his +house in the uplifted roots of a tree; but the snake—although he was +approaching in his general direction—didn't seem at all interested in +him. Were it not for two things, the serpent would have seemed to be +utterly bored and indifferent to life in general. One of these things +was its cold, glittering, reptile eyes. The other was its darting, +forked tongue.</p> + +<p>It may be, after all, that this little tongue was of really great +importance in the serpent's hunting. Many naturalists think that quite +often the little, rattle-brained birds and rodents that it hunts are so +interested in this darting tongue that they quite fail to see the slow +approach of the mottled body of the snake behind it. At least it was +perfectly evident that the chipmunk did not see Limber-spine at present. +Otherwise he wouldn't have been enjoying the scenery with quite the same +complacency. If all went well, there might be a considerable lump in the +snake's throat yet this afternoon. But it would be a quite different +kind of lump from the one the chipmunk's little mate, waiting in vain +for her lord to come to supper, would have in <i>her</i> throat.</p> + +<p>An old raccoon wakened from his place on a high limb, stretched himself, +scratched at his fur, then began to steal down the limb. He had a long +way to go before dark. Hunting was getting poor in this part of the +woods. He believed he would wander down toward Hudson's camp and look +for crayfish in the water. A coyote is usually listed among the larger +forest creatures, but early though the hour was—early, that is, for +hunters to be out—he was stalking a fawn in a covert. The coyote has +not an especially high place among the forest creatures, and he has to +do his hunting early and late and any time that offers. Most of the +larger creatures pick on him, all the time detesting him for his +cunning. The timber wolf, a rather close relation whom he cordially +hates, is apt to take bites out of him if he meets him on the trail. The +old bull elk would like nothing better than to cut his hide into rag +patches with the sharp-edged front hoofs. Even the magpies in the tree +tops made up ribald verses about him. But nevertheless the spotted fawn +had cause to fear him. The coyote is an infamous coward; but even the +little cotton tail rabbit does not have to fear a fawn.</p> + +<p>All these hunts were progressing famously when there came a curious +interruption. It was just a sound at first. And strangely, not one of +the forest creatures that heard it had ears sharp enough to tell exactly +from what direction it had come. And that made it all the more +unpleasant to listen to.</p> + +<p>It was a peculiar growl, quite low at first. It lasted a long time, then +died away. There was no opposition to it. The forest creatures had +paused in their tracks at its first note, and now they stood as if the +winter had come down upon them suddenly and frozen them solid. All the +other sounds of the forest—the little whispering noises of gliding +bodies and fluttering feet, and perhaps a bird's call in a shrub—were +suddenly stilled. There was a moment of breathless suspense. Then the +sound commenced again.</p> + +<p>It was louder this time. It rose and gathered volume until it was almost +a roar. It carried through the silences in great waves of sound. And in +it was a sense of resistless power; no creature in the forest but what +knew this fact.</p> + +<p>"The Gray King," one could imagine them saying among themselves. The +effect was instantaneous. The little raccoon halted in his descent, then +crept out to the end of a limb. Perhaps he knew that the gray monarch +could not climb trees, but nevertheless he felt that he would be more +secure clear at the swaying limb-tip. The marten forgot his curiosity in +regard to the nest of the magpie. The gopher snake coiled, then slipped +away silently through the grass.</p> + +<p>The coyote, an instant before crawling with body close to the earth, +whipped about as if he had some strange kind of circular spring inside +of him. His nerves were always rather ragged, and the sound had +frightened out of him the rigid control of his muscles that was so +necessary if he were to make a successful stalk upon the fawn. The +spotted creature bleated in terror, then darted away; and the coyote +snarled once in the general direction of the Gray King. Then he lowered +his head and skulked off deeper into the coverts.</p> + +<p>The blacktail deer, the gray wolf, even the stately Tawny One, stretched +in grace in his lair, wakened from sleep. The languor died quickly in +the latter's eyes, leaving only fear. These were braver than the Little +People. They waited until the thick brush, not far distant from where +the bull elk slept, began to break down and part before an enormous, +gray body.</p> + +<p>No longer would an observer think of the elk as the forest monarch. He +was but a pretender, after all. The real king had just wakened from his +afternoon nap and was starting forth to hunt.</p> + +<p>Even his little cousins, the black bears (who, after all is said and +done, furnish most of the comedy of the deadly forest drama) did not +wait to make conversation. They tumbled awkwardly down the hill to get +out of his way. For the massive gray form—weighing over half a ton—was +none other than that of the last of the grizzly bears, that terrible +forest hunter and monarch, the Killer himself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + + +<p>Long ago, when Oregon was a new land to white men, in the days of the +clipper ships and the Old Oregon Trail, the breed to which the Killer +belonged were really numerous through the little corner north of the +Siskiyous and west of the Cascades. The land was far different then. The +transcontinental lines had not yet been built; the only settlements were +small trading posts and mining camps, and people did not travel over +paved highways in automobiles. If they went at all it was in a +prairie-schooner or on horseback. And the old grizzly bears must have +found the region a veritable heaven.</p> + +<p>They were a worthy breed! It is doubtful if any other section of the +United States offered an environment so favorable to them. Game was in +abundance, they could venture down into the valleys at the approach of +winter and thus miss the rigors of the snow, and at first there were no +human enemies. Unfortunately, stories are likely to grow and become +sadly addled after many tellings; but if the words of certain old men +could be believed, the Southern Oregon grizzly occasionally, in the +bountiful fall days, attained a weight of two thousand pounds. No doubt +whatever remains that thousand-pound bears were fairly numerous. They +trailed up and down the brown hillsides; they hunted and honey-grubbed +and mated in the fall; they had their young and fought their battles and +died, and once in a long while the skeleton of a frontiersman would be +found with his skull battered perfectly flat where one of the great +beasts had taken a short-arm pat at him.</p> + +<p>But unlike the little black bears, the grizzlies developed displeasing +habits. They were much more carnivorous in character than the blacks, +and their great bodily strength and power enabled them to master all of +the myriad forms of game in the Oregon woods. By the same token, they +could take a full-grown steer and carry it off as a woman carries her +baby.</p> + +<p>It couldn't be endured. The cattlemen had begun to settle the valleys, +and it was either a case of killing the grizzlies or yielding the +valleys to them. In the relentless war that followed, the breed had been +practically wiped out. A few of them, perhaps, fled farther and farther +up the Cascades, finding refuges in the Canadian mountains. Others +traveled east, locating at last in the Rocky Mountains, and countless +numbers of them died. At last, as far as the frontiersmen knew, only one +great specimen remained. This was a famous bear that men called +Slewfoot,—a magnificent animal that ranged far and hunted relentlessly, +and no one ever knew just when they were going to run across him. It +made traveling in the mountains a rather ticklish business. He was apt +suddenly to loom up, like a gray cliff, at any turn in the trail, and +his disposition grew querulous with age. In fact, instead of fleeing as +most wild creatures have learned to do, he was rather likely to make +sudden and unexpected charges.</p> + +<p>He was killed at last; and seemingly the Southern Oregon grizzlies were +wiped out. But it is rather easy to believe that in some of his +wanderings he encountered—lost and far in the deepest heart of the land +called Trail's End—a female of his own breed. There must have been cubs +who, in their turn, mated and fought and died, and perhaps two +generations after them. And out of the last brood had emerged a single +great male, a worthy descendant of his famous ancestor. This was the +Killer, who in a few months since he had left his fastnesses, was +beginning to ruin the cattle business in Trail's End.</p> + +<p>As he came growling from his bed this September evening he was not a +creature to speak of lightly. He was down on all fours, his vast head +was lowered, his huge fangs gleamed in the dark red mouth. The eyes were +small, and curious little red lights glowed in each of them. The Killer +was cross; and he didn't care who knew it. He was hungry too; but hunger +is an emotion for the beasts of prey to keep carefully to themselves. He +walked slowly across the little glen, carelessly at first, for he was +too cross and out of temper to have the patience to stalk. He stopped, +turning his head this way and that, marking the flight of the wild +creatures. He saw a pair of blacktail bucks spring up from a covert and +dash away; but he only made one short, angry lunge toward them. He knew +that it would only cost him his dignity to try to chase them. A grizzly +bear can move astonishingly fast considering his weight—for a short +distance he can keep pace with a running horse—but a deer is light +itself. He uttered one short, low growl, then headed over toward a great +wall of buckbush at the base of the hill.</p> + +<p>But now his hunting cunning had begun to return to him. The sun was +setting, the pines were growing dusky, and he began to feel the first +excitement and fever that the fall of night always brings to the beasts +of prey. It is a feeling that his insignificant cousins, the black +bears, could not possibly have,—for the sole reason that they are +berry-eaters, not hunters. But the cougar, stealing down a deer trail on +the ridge above, and a lean old male wolf—stalking a herd of deer on +the other side of the thicket—understood it very well. His blood began +to roll faster through his great veins. The sullen glare grew in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>It was the beginning of the hunting hour of the larger creatures. All +the forest world knew it. The air seemed to throb and tingle, the +shadowing thickets began to pulse and stir with life. The Fear—the +age-old heritage of all the hunted creatures—returned to the deer.</p> + +<p>The Killer moved quite softly now. One would have marveled how silently +his great feet fell upon the dry earth and with what slight sound his +heavy form moved through the thickets. Once he halted, gazing with +reddening eyes. But the coyote—the gray figure that had broken a twig +on the trail beside him—slipped quickly away.</p> + +<p>He skirted the thicket, knowing that no successful stalk could be made +where he had to force his way through dry brush. He moved slowly, +cautiously—all the time mounting farther up the little hill that rose +from the banks of the stream. He came to an opening in the thicket, a +little brown pathway that vanished quickly into the shadows of the +coverts.</p> + +<p>The Killer slipped softly into the heavy brush just at its mouth. It was +his ambush. Soon, he knew, some of the creatures that had bowers in the +heart of the thicket would be coming along that trail toward the feeding +grounds on the ridge. He only had to wait.</p> + +<p>As the shadows grew and the twilight deepened, the undercurrent of +savagery that is the eternal quality of the wilderness grew ever more +pronounced. A thrill and fever came in the air, mystery in the deepening +shadows, and brighter lights into the eyes of the hunting folk. The dusk +deepened between the trees; the distant trunks dimmed and faded quite +away. The stars emerged. The nightwind, rising somewhere in the region +of the snow banks on the highest mountains, blew down into the Killer's +face and brought messages that no human being may ever receive. Then his +sharp ears heard the sound of brush cracked softly as some one of the +larger forest creatures came up the trail toward him.</p> + +<p>The steps drew nearer and the Killer recognized them. They were plainly +the soft footfall of some member of the deer tribe, yet they were too +pronounced to be the step of any of the lesser deer. The bull elk had +left his bed. The red eyes of the grizzly seemed to glow as he waited. +Great though the stag was, only one little blow of the massive forearm +would be needed. The huge fangs would have to close down but once. The +long, many-tined antlers, the sharp front hoofs would not avail him in a +surprise attack such as this would be. Best of all, he was not +suspecting danger. He was walking down wind, so that the pungent odor of +the bear was blown away from him.</p> + +<p>The bear did not move a single telltale muscle. He scarcely breathed. +And the one movement that there was was such that not even the keen ears +of an elk could discern, just a curious erection of the gray hairs on +his vast neck.</p> + +<p>The bull was almost within striking range now. The wicked red eyes could +already discern the dimmest shadow of his outline through the thickets. +But all at once he stopped, head lifting.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a grizzly bear does not have mental processes as human beings +know them. Perhaps all impulse is the result of instinct +alone,—instinct tuned and trained to a degree that human beings find +hard to imagine. But if the bear couldn't understand the sudden halt +just at the eve of his triumph, at least he felt growing anger. He knew +perfectly that the elk had neither detected his odor nor heard him, and +he had made no movements that the sharp eyes could detect. Just a +glimpse of gray in the heavy brush would not have been enough in itself +to arouse the stag's suspicions. For the lower creatures are rarely able +to interpret outline alone; there must be movement too.</p> + +<p>Yet the bull was evidently alarmed. He stood immobile, one foot lifted, +nostrils open, head raised. Then, the wind blowing true, the grizzly +understood.</p> + +<p>A pungent smell reached him from below,—evidently the smell of a living +creature that followed the trail along the stream that flowed through +the glen. He recognized it in an instant. He had detected it many times, +particularly when he went into the cleared lands to kill cattle. It was +man, an odor almost unknown in this lonely glen. Dave Turner, brother of +Simon, was walking down the stream toward Hudson's camp.</p> + +<p>The elk was widely traveled too, and he also realized the proximity of +man. But his reaction was entirely different. To the grizzly it was an +annoying interruption to his hunt; and a great flood of rage swept over +him. It seemed to him that these tall creatures were always crossing his +path, spoiling his hunting, even questioning his rule of the forests. +They did not seem to realize that he was the wilderness king, and that +he could break their slight forms in two with one blow of his paw. It +was true that their eyes had strange powers to disquiet him; but his +isolation in the fastnesses of Trail's End had kept him from any full +recognition of their real strength, and he was unfortunately lacking in +the awe with which most of the forest creatures regard them. But to the +elk this smell was Fear itself. He knew the ways of men only too well. +Too many times he had seen members of his herd fall stricken at a word +from the glittering sticks they carried in their hands. He uttered a +far-ringing snort.</p> + +<p>It was a distinctive sound, beginning rather high on the scale as a loud +whistle and descending into a deep bass bawl. And the Killer knew +perfectly what that sound meant. It was a simple way of saying that the +elk would progress no further down <i>that</i> trail. The bear leaped in wild +fury.</p> + +<p>A growl that was more near a puma-like snarl came from between the bared +teeth, and the great body lunged out with incredible speed. Although the +distance was far, the charge was almost a success. If one second had +intervened before the elk saw the movement, if his muscles had not been +fitted out with invisible wings, he would have fought no more battles +with his herd brethren in the fall. The bull seemed to leap straight up. +His muscles had been set at his first alarm from Turner's smell on the +wind, and they drove forth the powerful limbs as if by a powder +explosion. He was full in the air when the forepaws battered down where +he had been. Then he darted away into the coverts.</p> + +<p>The grizzly knew better than to try to overtake him. Almost rabid with +wrath he turned back to his ambush.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + + +<p>Simon Turner had given Dave very definite instructions concerning his +embassy to Hudson. They were given in the great house that Simon +occupied, in the same room, lighted by the fire's glow, from which +instructions had gone out to the clan so many times before. "The first +thing this Bruce will do," Simon had said, "is to hunt up Hudson—the +one living man that witnessed that agreement between Ross and old +Folger. One reason is that he'll want to verify Linda's story. The next +is to persuade the old man to go down to the courts with him as his +witness. And what you have to do is line him up on our side first."</p> + +<p>Dave had felt Simon's eyes upon him, so he didn't look straight up. "And +that's what the hundred is for?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Get the old man's word that he'll tell Bruce he never +witnessed any such agreement. Maybe fifty dollars will do it; the old +trapper is pretty hard up, I reckon. He'd make us a lot of trouble if +Bruce got him as a witness."</p> + +<p>"You think—" Dave's eyes wandered about the room, "you think that's the +best way?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be tellin' you to do it if I didn't think so." Simon +laughed,—a sudden, grim syllable. "Dave, you're a blood-thirsty devil. +I see what you're thinking of—of a safer way to keep him from telling. +But you know the word I sent out. 'Go easy!' That's the wisest course to +follow at present. The valley people pay more attention to such things +than they used to; the fewer the killings, the wiser we will be. If +he'll keep quiet for the hundred let him have it in peace."</p> + +<p>Dave hadn't forgotten. But his features were sharper and more ratlike +than ever when he came in sight of Hudson's camp, just after the fall of +darkness of the second day out. The trapper was cooking his simple +meal,—a blue grouse frying in his skillet, coffee boiling, and flapjack +batter ready for the moment the grouse was done. He was kneeling close +to the coals; the firelight cast a red glow over him, and the picture +started a train of rather pleasing conjectures in Dave's mind.</p> + +<p>He halted in the shadows and stood a moment watching. After all he +wasn't greatly different from the wolf that watched by the deer trail or +the Killer in his ambush, less than a mile distant in the glen. The same +strange, dark passion that was over them both was over him also. One +could see it in the almost imperceptible drawing back of his dark lips +over his teeth. There was just a hint of it in the lurid eyes.</p> + +<p>Dave's thought returned to the hundred dollars in his pocket,—a good +sum in the hills. A brass rifle cartridge, such as he could fire in the +thirty-thirty that he carried in the hollow of his arm, cost only about +six cents. The net gain would be—the figures flew quickly through his +mind—ninety-nine dollars and ninety-four cents; quite a good piece of +business for Dave. But the trouble was that Simon might find out.</p> + +<p>It was not, he remembered, that Simon was adverse to this sort of +operation when necessary. Perhaps the straight-out sport of the thing +meant more to him than to Dave; he was a braver man and more primitive +in impulse. There were certain memory pictures in Dave's mind of this +younger, more powerful brother of his; and he smiled grimly when he +recalled them. They had been wild, strange scenes of long ago, usually +in the pale light of the moon, and he could recall Simon's face with +singular clearness. There had always been the same drawing back of the +lips, the same gusty breathing, the same strange little flakes of fire +in the savage eyes. He had always trembled all over too, but not from +fear; and Dave remembered especially well the little drama outside +Matthew Folger's cabin in the darkness. He was no stranger to the blood +madness, this brother of his, and the clan had high hopes for him even +in his growing days. And he had fulfilled those hopes. Never could the +fact be doubted! He could still make a fresh notch in his rifle stock +with the same rapture. But the word had gone out, for the present at +least, to "go easy." Such little games as occurred to Dave now—as he +watched the trapper in the firelight with one hundred dollars of the +clan's money in his own pocket—had been prohibited until further +notice.</p> + +<p>The thing looked so simple that Dave squirmed all over with annoyance. +It hurt him to think that the hundred dollars that he carried was to be +passed over, without a wink of an eye, to this bearded trapper; and the +only return for it was to be a promise that Hudson would not testify in +Bruce's behalf. And a hundred dollars was real money! It was to be +thought of twice. On the other hand, it would be wholly impossible for +one that lies face half-buried in the pine needles beside a dead fire to +make any kind of testimony whatsoever. It would come to the same thing, +and the hundred dollars would still be in his pocket. Just a little +matter of a single glance down his rifle barrel at the figure in the +silhouette of the fire glow—and a half-ounce of pressure on the hair +trigger. Half jesting with himself, he dropped on one knee and raised +the weapon. The trapper did not guess his presence. The blood leaped in +Dave's veins.</p> + +<p>It would be so easy; the drawing back of the hammer would be only the +work of a second; and an instant's peering through the sights was all +that would be needed further. His body trembled as if with passion, as +he started to draw back the hammer.</p> + +<p>But he caught himself with a wrench. He had a single second of vivid +introspection; and what he saw filled his cunning eyes with wonder. +There would have been no holding back, once the rifle was cocked and he +saw the man through the sights. The blood madness would have been too +strong to resist. He felt as might one who, taking a few injections of +morphine on prescription, finds himself inadvertently with a loaded +needle in his hands. He knew a moment of remorse—so overwhelming that +it was almost terror—that the shedding of blood had become so easy to +him. He hadn't known how easy it had been to learn. He didn't know that +a vice is nothing but a lust that has been given free play so many times +that the will can no longer restrain it.</p> + +<p>But the sight of Hudson's form, sitting down now to his meal, dispelled +his remorse quickly. After all, his own course would have been the +simplest way to handle the matter. There would be no danger that Hudson +would double-cross them then. But he realized that Simon had spoken true +when he said that the old days were gone, that the arm of the law +reached farther than formerly, and it might even stretch to this far +place. He remembered Simon's instructions. "The quieter we can do these +things, the better," the clan leader had said. "If we can get through to +October thirtieth with no killings, the safer it is for us. We don't +know how the tenderfeet in the valley are going to act—there isn't the +same feeling about blood-feuds that there used to be. Go easy, Dave. +Sound this Hudson out. If he'll keep still for a hundred, let him have +it in peace."</p> + +<p>Dave slipped his rifle into the hollow of his arm and continued on down +the trail. He didn't try to stalk. In a moment Hudson heard his step and +looked up. They met in a circle of firelight.</p> + +<p>It is not the mountain way to fraternize quickly, nor are the mountain +men quick to show astonishment. Hudson had not seen another human being +since his last visit to the settlements. Yet his voice indicated no +surprise at this visitation.</p> + +<p>"Howdy," he grunted.</p> + +<p>"Howdy," Dave replied. "How about grub?"</p> + +<p>"Help yourself. Supper just ready."</p> + +<p>Dave helped himself to the food of the man that, a moment before, he +would have slain; and in the light of the high fire that followed the +meal, he got down to the real business of the visit.</p> + +<p>Dave knew that a fairly straight course was best. It was general +knowledge through the hills that the Turners had gouged the Rosses of +their lands and it was absurd to think that Hudson did not realize the +true state of affairs. "I suppose you've forgotten that little deed you +witnessed between old Mat Folger and Ross—twenty years ago," Dave began +easily, his pipe between his teeth.</p> + +<p>Hudson turned with a cunning glitter in his eyes. Dave saw it and grew +bolder. "Who wants me to forget it?" Hudson demanded.</p> + +<p>"I ain't said that anybody wants you to," Dave responded. "I asked if +you had."</p> + +<p>Hudson was still a moment, stroking absently his beard. "If you want to +know," he said, "I ain't forgotten. But there wasn't just a deed. There +was an agreement too."</p> + +<p>Dave nodded. Hudson's eyes traveled to his rifle,—for the simple reason +that he wanted to know just how many jumps he would be obliged to make +to reach it in case of emergencies. Such things are good to know in +meetings like this.</p> + +<p>"I know all about that agreement," Dave confessed.</p> + +<p>"You do, eh? So do I. I ain't likely to forget."</p> + +<p>Dave studied him closely. "What good is it going to do you to remember?" +he demanded.</p> + +<p>"I ain't saying that it's going to do me any good. At present I ain't +got nothing against the Turners. They've always been all right to me. +What's between them and the Rosses is past and done—although I know +just in what way Folger held that land and no transfer from him to you +was legal. But that's all part of the past. As long as the Turners +continue to be my friends I don't see why anything should be said about +it."</p> + +<p>Dave did not misunderstand him. He didn't in the least assume that these +friendly words meant that he could go back to the ranches with the +hundred dollars still in his pocket. It meant merely that Hudson was +open to reason and it wouldn't have to be a shooting affair.</p> + +<p>Dave speculated. It was wholly plain that the old man had not yet heard +of Bruce's return. There was no need to mention him. "We're glad you are +our friend," Dave went on. "But we don't expect no one to stay friends +with us unless they benefit to some small extent by it. How many furs do +you hope to take this year?"</p> + +<p>"Not enough to pay to pack out. Maybe two hundred dollars in bounties +before New Year—coyotes and wolves. Maybe a little better in the three +months following in furs."</p> + +<p>"Then maybe fifty or seventy-five dollars, without bothering to set the +traps, wouldn't come in so bad."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't come in bad, but it doesn't buy much these days. A hundred +would do better."</p> + +<p>"A hundred it is," Dave told him with finality.</p> + +<p>The eyes above the dark beard shone in the firelight. "I'd forget I had +a mother for a hundred dollars," he said. He watched, greedily, as +Dave's gaunt hand went into his pocket. "I'm gettin' old, Dave. Every +dollar is harder for me to get. The wolves are gettin' wiser, the mink +are fewer. There ain't much that I wouldn't do for a hundred dollars +now. You know how it is."</p> + +<p>Yes, Dave knew. The money changed hands. The fire burned down. They sat +a long time, deep in their own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"All we ask," Dave said, "is that you don't take sides against us."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember. Of course you want me, in case I'm ever subpoenaed, to +recall signing the deed itself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'd want you to testify to that."</p> + +<p>"Of course. If there hadn't been any kind of a deed, Folger couldn't +have deeded the property to you. But how would it be, if any one asks me +about it, to swear that there <i>never was</i> no secret agreement, but a +clear transfer; and to make it sound reasonable for me to say—to say +that Ross was forced to deed the land to Folger because he'd had +goings-on with Folger's wife, and Folger was about to kill him?"</p> + +<p>The only response, at first, was the slightest, almost imperceptible +narrowing of Dave's eyes. He had considerable native cunning, but such +an idea as this had never occurred to him. But he was crafty enough to +see its tremendous possibilities at once. All that either Simon or +himself had hoped for was that the old man would not testify in Bruce's +behalf. But he saw that such a story, coming from the apparently honest +old trapper, might have a profound effect upon Bruce. Dave understood +human nature well enough to know that he would probably lose faith in +the entire enterprise. To Bruce it had been nothing but an old woman's +story, after all; it was wholly possible that he would relinquish all +effort to return the lands to Linda Ross. Men always can believe +stranger things of sex than any other thing; Bruce would in all +probability find Hudson's story much more logical than the one Linda had +told him under the pine. It was worth one hundred dollars, after all.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you could make him swallow it, hook, bait, and sinker," Dave +responded at last, flattering. They chuckled together in the darkness. +Then they turned to the blankets.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you another trail out to-morrow," Hudson told him. "It comes +into the glen that you passed to-night—the canyon that the Killer has +been using lately for a hunting ground."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> + + +<p>The Killer had had an unsuccessful night. He had waited the long hours +through at the mouth of the trail, but only the Little People—such as +the rabbits and similar folk that hardly constituted a single bite in +his great jaws—had come his way. Now it was morning and it looked as if +he would have to go hungry.</p> + +<p>The thought didn't improve his already doubtful mood. He wanted to +growl. The only thing that kept him from it was the realization that it +would frighten away any living creature that might be approaching toward +him up the trail. He started to stretch his great muscles, intending to +leave his ambush. But all at once he froze again into a lifeless gray +patch in the thickets.</p> + +<p>There were light steps on the trail. Again they were the steps of +deer,—but not of the great, wary elk this time. Instead it was just a +fawn, or a yearling doe at least, such a creature as had not yet learned +to suspect every turn in the trail. The morning light was steadily +growing, the stars were all dimmed or else entirely faded in the sky, +and it would have been highly improbable that a full-grown buck in his +wisdom would draw within leaping range without detecting him. But he +hadn't the slightest doubt about the fawn. They were innocent +people,—and their flesh was very tender. The forest gods had been good +to him, after all.</p> + +<p>He peered through the thickets, and in a moment more he had a glimpse of +the spotted skin. It was almost too easy. The fawn was stealing toward +him with mincing steps—as graceful a creature as dwelt in all this +wilderness world of grace—and its eyes were soft and tender as a +girl's. It was evidently giving no thought to danger, only rejoicing +that the fearful hours of night were done. The mountain lion had already +sought its lair. The fawn didn't know that a worse terror still lingered +at the mouth of the trail.</p> + +<p>But even as the Killer watched, the prize was simply taken out of his +mouth. A gray wolf—a savage old male that also had just finished an +unsuccessful hunt—had been stealing through the thickets in search of a +lair, and he came out on the trail not fifty feet distant, halfway +between the bear and the fawn. The one was almost as surprised as the +other. The fawn turned with a frightened bleat and darted away; the wolf +swung into pursuit.</p> + +<p>The bear lunged forward with a howl of rage. He leaped into the trail +mouth, then ran as fast as he could in pursuit of the running wolf. He +was too enraged to stop to think that a grizzly bear has never yet been +able to overtake a wolf, once the trim legs got well into action. At +first he couldn't think about anything; he had been cheated too many +times. His first impulse was one of tremendous and overpowering +wrath,—a fury that meant death to the first living creature that he +met.</p> + +<p>But in a single second he realized that this wild chase was fairly good +tactics, after all. The chances for a meal were still rather good. The +fawn and the wolf were in the open now, and it was wholly evident that +the gray hunter would overtake the quarry in another moment. It was true +that the Killer would miss the pleasure of slaying his own game,—the +ecstatic blow to the shoulder and the bite to the throat that followed +it. In this case, the wolf would do that part of the work for him. It +was just a simple matter of driving the creature away from his dead.</p> + +<p>The fawn reached the stream bank, then went bounding down the margin. +The distance shortened between them. It was leaping wildly, already +almost exhausted; the wolf raced easily, body close to the ground, in +long, tireless strides. The grizzly bear sped behind him.</p> + +<p>But at that instant fate took a hand in this merry little chase. To the +fawn, it was nothing but a sharp clang of metal behind him and an +answering shriek of pain,—sounds that in its terror it heard but dimly. +But it was an unlooked-for and tragic reality to the wolf. His leap was +suddenly arrested in mid-air, and he was hurled to the ground with +stunning force. Cruel metal teeth had seized his leg, and a strong chain +held him when he tried to escape. He fought it with desperate savagery. +The fawn leaped on to safety.</p> + +<p>But there was no need of the grizzly continuing its pursuit. Everything +had turned out quite well for him, after all. A wolf is ever so much +more filling than any kind of seasonal fawn; and the old gray pack +leader was imprisoned and helpless in one of Hudson's traps.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the first gray of morning, Dave Turner started back toward his home. +"I'll go with you to the forks in the trail," Hudson told him. "I want +to take a look at some of my traps, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Turner had completed his business none too soon. At the same hour—as +soon as it was light enough to see—Bruce was finishing his breakfast in +preparation for the last lap of his journey. He had passed the night by +a spring on a long ridge, almost in eye range of Hudson's camp. Now he +was preparing to dip down into the Killer's glen.</p> + +<p>Turner and Hudson followed up the little creek, walking almost in +silence. It is a habit all mountain men fall into, sooner or later,—not +to waste words. The great silences of the wild places seem to forbid it. +Hudson walked ahead, Turner possibly a dozen feet behind him. And +because of the carpet of pine needles, the forest creatures could hardly +hear them come.</p> + +<p>Occasionally they caught glimpses of the wild life that teemed about +them, but they experienced none of the delight that had made the two-day +tramp such a pleasure to Bruce. Hudson thought in terms of pelts only; +no creature that did not wear a marketable hide was worth a glance. +Turner did not feel even this interest.</p> + +<p>The first of Hudson's sets proved empty. The second was about a turn in +the creek, and a wall of brush made it impossible for him to tell at a +distance whether or not he had made a catch. But when still a quarter of +a mile distant, Hudson heard a sound that he thought he recognized. It +was a high, sharp, agonized bark that dimmed into a low whine. "I +believe I've got a coyote or a wolf up there," he said. They hastened +their steps.</p> + +<p>"And you use that little pea-gun for wolves?" Dave Turner asked. He +pointed to the short-barreled, twenty-two caliber rifle that was slung +on the trapper's back. "It doesn't look like it would kill a mosquito."</p> + +<p>"A killer gun," Hudson explained. "For polishin' 'em off when they are +alive in the traps. Of course, it wouldn't be no good more'n ten feet +away, and then you have to aim at a vital spot. But I've heard tell of +animals I wouldn't want to meet with that thirty-thirty of yours."</p> + +<p>This was true enough. Dave had heard of them also. A thirty-thirty is a +powerful weapon, but it isn't an elephant gun. They hurried on, Dave +very anxious to watch the execution that would shortly ensue if whatever +animal had cried from the trap was still alive. Such things were only +the day's work to Hudson, but Dave felt a little tingle of anticipation. +And the thought damned him beyond redemption.</p> + +<p>But instead of the joy of killing a cowering, terror-stricken animal, +helpless in the trap, the wilderness had made other plans for Hudson and +Dave. They hastened about the impenetrable wall of brush, and in one +glance they knew that more urgent business awaited them.</p> + +<p>The whole picture loomed suddenly before their eyes. There was no wolf +in the trap. The steel had sprung, certainly, but only a hideous +fragment of a foot remained between the jaws. The bone had been broken +sharply off, as a man might break a match in his fingers. There was no +living wolf for Hudson to execute with his killer gun. Life had gone out +of the gray body many minutes before. The two men saw all these things +as a background only,—dim details about the central figure. But the +thing that froze them in their tracks with terror was the great, gray +form of the Killer, not twenty feet distant, beside the mangled body of +the wolf.</p> + +<p>The events that followed thereafter came in such quick succession as to +seem simultaneous. For one fraction of an instant all three figures +stood motionless, the two men staring, the grizzly half-leaning over his +prey, his head turned, his little red eyes full of hatred. Too many +times this night he had missed his game. It was the same intrusion that +had angered him before,—slight figures to break to pieces with one +blow. Perhaps—for no man may trace fully the mental processes of +animals—his fury fully transcended the fear that he must have +instinctively felt; at least, he did not even attempt to flee. He +uttered one hoarse, savage note, a sound in which all his hatred and his +fury and his savage power were made manifest, whirled with incredible +speed, and charged.</p> + +<p>The lunge seemed only a swift passing of gray light. No eye could +believe that the vast form could move with such swiftness. There was +little impression of an actual leap. Rather it was just a blow; the +great form, huddled over the dead wolf, had simply reached the full +distance to Hudson.</p> + +<p>The man did not even have time to turn. There was no defense; his +killer-gun was strapped on his back, and even if it had been in his +hands, its little bullet would not have mattered the sting of a bee in +honey-robbing. The only possible chance of breaking that deadly charge +lay in the thirty-thirty deer rifle in Dave's arms; but the craven who +held it did not even fire. He was standing just below the outstretched +limb of a tree, and the weapon fell from his hands as he swung up into +the limb. The fact that Hudson stood weaponless, ten feet away in the +clearing, did not deter him in the least.</p> + +<p>No human flesh could stand against that charge. The vast paw fell with +resistless force; and no need arose for a second blow. The trapper's +body was struck down as if felled by a meteor, and the power of the +impact forced it deep into the carpet of pine needles. The savage +creature turned, the white fangs caught the light in the open mouth. The +head lunged toward the man's shoulder.</p> + +<p>No man may say what agony Hudson would have endured in the last few +seconds of his life if the Killer had been given time and opportunity. +His usual way was to linger long, sharp fangs closing again and again, +until all living likeness was destroyed. The blood-lust was upon him; +there would have been no mercy to the dying creature in the pine +needles. Yet it transpired that Hudson's flesh was not to know those +rending fangs a second time. Although it is an unfamiliar thing in the +wilderness, the end of Hudson's trail was peaceful, after all.</p> + +<p>On the hillside above, a stranger to this land had dropped to his knee +in the shrubbery, his rifle lifted to the level of his eyes. It was +Bruce, who had come in time to see the charge through a rift in the +trees.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> + + +<p>There were deep significances in the fact that Bruce kept his head in +this moment of crisis. It meant nothing less than an iron self-control +such as only the strongest men possess, and it meant nerves steady as +steel bars.</p> + +<p>The bear was on Hudson, and the man had gone down, before Bruce even +interpreted him. Then it was just a gray patch, a full three hundred +yards away. His instinct was to throw the gun to his shoulder and fire +without aiming; yet he conquered it with an iron will. But he did move +quickly. He dropped to his knee the single second that the gun leaped to +his shoulder. He seemed to know that from a lower position the target +would be more clearly revealed. The finger pressed back against the +trigger.</p> + +<p>The distance was far; Bruce was not a practiced rifle shot, and it +bordered on the miraculous that his lead went anywhere near the bear's +body. And it was true that the bullet did not reach a vital place. It +stung like a wasp at the Killer's flank, however, cutting a shallow +flesh wound. But it was enough to take his dreadful attention from the +mortally wounded trapper in the pine needles.</p> + +<p>He whirled about, growling furiously and biting at the wound. Then he +stood still, turning his gaze first to the pale face of Dave Turner +thirty feet above him in the pine. The eyes glowed in fury and hatred. +He had found men out at last; they died even more easily than the fawn. +He started to turn back to the fallen, and the rifle spoke again.</p> + +<p>It was a complete miss, this time; yet the bear leaped in fear when the +bullet thwacked into the dust beside him. He did not wait for a third. +His caution suddenly returning to him, and perhaps his anger somewhat +satiated by the blow he had dealt Hudson, he crashed into the security +of the thicket.</p> + +<p>Bruce waited a single instant, hoping for another glimpse of the +creature; then ran down to aid Hudson. But in driving the bear from the +trapper's helpless body he had already given all the aid that he could. +Understanding came quickly. He had arrived only in time for the +Departure,—just a glimpse of a light as it faded. The blow had been +more than any human being could survive; even now Hudson was entering +upon that strange calm which often, so mercifully, immediately precedes +death.</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes and looked with some wonder into Bruce's face. The +light in them was dimming, fading like a twilight, yet there was +indication of neither confusion nor delirium. Hudson, in that last +moment of his life, was quite himself.</p> + +<p>There was, however, some indication of perplexity at the peculiar turn +affairs had taken. "You're not Dave Turner," he said wonderingly.</p> + +<p>Dim though the voice was, there was considerable emphasis in the tone. +Hudson seemed quite sure of this point, whether or not he knew anything +concerning the dark gates he was about to enter. He wouldn't have spoken +greatly different if he had been sitting in perfect health before his +own camp fire and the shadow was now already so deep his eyes could +scarcely penetrate it.</p> + +<p>"No," Bruce answered. "Dave Turner is up a tree. He didn't even wait to +shoot."</p> + +<p>"Of course he wouldn't." Hudson spoke with assurance. The words dimmed +at the end, and he half-closed his eyes as if he were too sleepy to stay +awake longer. Then Bruce saw a strange thing. He saw, unmistakable as +the sun in the sky, the signs of a curious struggle in the man's face. +There was a singular deepening of the lines, a twitching of the muscles, +a queer set to the lips and jaws. They were as much signs of battle as +the sound of firing a general hears from far away.</p> + +<p>The trapper—a moment before sinking into the calm of death—was +fighting desperately for a few moments of respite. There could be no +other explanation. And he won it at last,—an interlude of half a dozen +breaths. "Who are you?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>Bruce bowed his head until his ear was close to the lips. "Bruce +Folger," he answered,—for the first time in his knowledge speaking his +full name. "Son of Matthew Folger who lived at Trail's End long ago."</p> + +<p>The man still struggled. "I knew it," he said. "I saw it—in your face. +I see—everything now. Listen—can you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I just did a wrong—there's a hundred dollars in my pocket that I just +got for doing it. I made a promise—to lie to you. Take the money—it +ought to be yours, anyway—and hers; and use it toward fighting the +wrong. It will go a little way."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Bruce looked him full in the eyes. "No matter about the money. +What did you promise Turner?"</p> + +<p>"That I'd lie to you. Grip my arms with your hands—till it hurts. I've +only got one breath more. Your father held those lands only in +trust—the Turners' deed is forged. And the secret agreement that I +witnessed is hidden—"</p> + +<p>The breath seemed to go out of the man. Bruce shook him by the +shoulders. Dave, still in the tree, strained to hear the rest. +"Yes—where?"</p> + +<p>"It's hidden—just—out—" The words were no longer audible to Dave, and +what followed Bruce also strained to hear in vain. The lips ceased +moving. The shadow grew in the eyes, and the lids flickered down over +them. A traveler had gone.</p> + +<p>Bruce got up, a strange, cold light in his eyes. He glanced up. Dave +Turner was climbing slowly down the tree. Bruce made six strides and +seized his rifle.</p> + +<p>The effect on Dave was ludicrous. He clung fast to the tree limbs, as if +he thought a bullet—like a grizzly's claws—could not reach him there. +Bruce laid the gun behind him, then stood waiting with his own weapon +resting in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Come down, Dave," he commanded. "The bear is gone."</p> + +<p>Dave crept down the trunk and halted at its base. He studied the cold +face before him. "Better not try nothing," he advised hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Bruce asked. "Do you think I'm afraid of a coward?" The man +started at the words; his head bobbed backward as if Bruce had struck +him beneath the jaw with his fist.</p> + +<p>"People don't call the Turners cowards and walk off with it," the man +told him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the lowest coward!" Bruce said between set teeth. "The yellowest, +mongrel coward! Your own confederate—and you had to drop your gun and +run up a tree. You might have stopped the bear's charge."</p> + +<p>Dave's face twisted in a scowl. "You're brave enough now. Wait to see +what happens later. Give me my gun. I'm going to go."</p> + +<p>"You can go, but you don't get your gun. I'll fill you full of lead if +you try to touch it."</p> + +<p>Dave looked up with some care. He wanted to know for certain if this +tenderfoot meant what he said. The man was blind in some things, his +vision was twisted and dark, but he made no mistake about the look on +the cold, set face before him. Bruce's finger was curled about the +trigger, and it looked to Dave as if it itched to exert further +pressure.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why I spare you, anyway," Bruce went on. His tone was +self-reproachful. "God knows I hadn't ought to—remembering who and what +you are. If you'd only give me one little bit of provocation—"</p> + +<p>Dave saw lurid lights growing in the man's eyes; and all at once a +conclusion came to him. He decided he'd make no further effort to regain +the gun. His life was rather precious to him, strangely, and it was +wholly plain that a dread and terrible passion was slowly creeping over +his enemy. He could see it in the darkening face, the tight grip of the +hands on the rifle stock. His own sharp features grew more cunning. "You +ought to be glad I didn't stop the bear with my rifle," he said +hurriedly. "I had Hudson bribed—you wouldn't have found out something +that you did find out if he hadn't lain here dying. You wouldn't have +learned—"</p> + +<p>But the sentence died in the middle. Bruce made answer to it. For once +in his life Dave's cunning had not availed him; he had said the last +thing in the world that he should have said, the one thing that was +needed to cause an explosion. He hadn't known that some men have +standards other than self gain. And some small measure of realization +came to him when he felt the dust his full length under him.</p> + +<p>Bruce's answer had been a straight-out blow with his fist, with all his +strength behind it, in the very center of his enemy's face.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> + + +<p>In his years of residence at Trail's End, Dave Turner had acquired a +thorough knowledge of all its paths. That knowledge stood him in good +stead now. He wished to cross the ridges to Simon's house at least an +hour before Bruce could return to Linda.</p> + +<p>He traveled hard and late, and he reached Simon's door just before +sundown of the second day. Bruce was still a full two hours distant. But +Dave did not stay to knock. It was chore-time, and he thought he would +find Simon in his barn, supervising the feeding and care of the +livestock. He had guessed right, and the two men had a moment's talk in +the dusky passage behind the stalls.</p> + +<p>"I've brought news," Dave said.</p> + +<p>Simon made no answer at first. The saddle pony in the stall immediately +in front of them, frightened at Dave's unfamiliar figure, had crowded, +trembling, against his manger. Simon's red eyes watched him; then he +uttered a short oath. He took two strides into the stall and seized the +halter rope in his huge, muscular hand. Three times he jerked it with a +peculiar, quartering pull, a curbing that might have been ineffective by +a man of ordinary strength, but with the incomprehensible might of the +great forearm behind it was really terrible punishment. Dave thought for +a moment his brother would break the animal's neck; the whites began to +show about the soft, dark pupils of its eyes. The strap over the head +broke with the fourth pull; then the horse recoiled, plunging and +terrified, into the opposite corner of the stall.</p> + +<p>Simon leaped with shattering power at the creature's shoulders, his huge +arms encircled its neck, his shoulders heaved, and he half-threw it to +the floor. Then, as it staggered to rise, his heavy fist flailed against +its neck. Again and again he struck, and in the half-darkness of the +stable it was a dreadful thing to behold. The man's fury, always quickly +aroused, was upon him; his brawny form moved with the agility of a +panther. Even Dave, whose shallow eyes were usually wont to feast on +cruelty, viewed the scene with some alarm. It wasn't that he was moved +by the agony of the horse. But he did remember that horses cost money, +and Simon seemed determined to kill the animal before his passion was +spent.</p> + +<p>The horse cowered, and in a moment more it was hard to remember he was a +member of a noble, high-spirited breed,—a swift runner, brainy as a +dog, a servant faithful and worthy. It was no longer easy to think of +him as a creature of beauty,—and there is no other word than beauty for +these long-maned, long-tailed, trim-lined animals. He stood quiet at +last, his head hanging low, knees bent, eyes curiously sorrowful and +dark. Simon fastened the broken strap about his neck, gave it one more +jerk that almost knocked the animal off his feet, then turned back to +Dave. Except for a higher color in his cheeks, darker lights in his +eyes, and an almost imperceptible quickening of his breathing, it did +not seem as if he had moved.</p> + +<p>"You're always bringing news," he said.</p> + +<p>Dave opened his eyes. He had forgotten his own words in the tumult of +the fight he had just watched, but plainly Simon hadn't forgotten. He +opened his mouth to speak.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it? Out with it," his brother urged. "If it's as +important as some of the other news you've brought don't take my time."</p> + +<p>"All right," the other replied sullenly. "You don't have to hear it. But +I'm telling you it's of real importance this time—and sometime you'll +find out." He scowled into the dark face. "But suit yourself."</p> + +<p>He turned as if to go. He rather thought that Simon would call him back. +It would be, in a measure, a victory. But Simon went back to his +inspection of the stalls.</p> + +<p>Dave walked clear to the door, then turned. "Don't be a fool, Simon," he +urged. "Listen to what I have to tell you. Bruce Folger knows where that +secret agreement is."</p> + +<p>For once in his life Dave got a response of sufficient emphasis to +satisfy him. His brother whirled, his whole expression undergoing an +immediate and startling change. If there was one emotion that Dave had +never seen on Simon's face it was fear,—and he didn't know for certain +that he saw it now. But there was alarm—unmistakable—and surprise +too.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Dave exulted inwardly. His brother's response had almost made up for the +evil news that he brought. For Dave's fortunes, as well as Simon's, +depended on the vast fertile tract being kept in the clan's possession. +His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. For the first time in his life, as +far as Dave could remember, Simon had encountered a situation that he +had not immediately mastered. Perhaps it was the beginning of Simon's +downfall, which meant—by no great stretch of the imagination—the +advancement of Dave. But in another second of clear thinking Dave knew +that in his brother's strength lay his own; if this mighty force at the +head of the clan was weakening, no hope remained for any of them. His +own face grew anxious.</p> + +<p>"Out with it," Simon stormed. His tone was really urgent now, not +insolent as usual. "Good Lord, man, don't you know that if Bruce gets +that down to the settlements before the thirtieth of next month we're +lost—and nothing in this world can save us? We can't drive <i>him</i> off, +like we drove the Rosses. There's too much law down in the valleys. If +he's got that paper, there's only one thing to do. Help me saddle a +horse."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute. I didn't say he had it. I only said he knew where it +was. He's still an hour or two walk from here, toward Little River, and +if we have to wait for him on the trail, we've got plenty of time. And +of course I ain't quite sure he <i>does</i> know where it is."</p> + +<p>Simon smiled mirthlessly. "The news is beginning to sound like the rest +of yours."</p> + +<p>"Old Hudson is dead," Dave went on. "And don't look at me—I didn't do +it. I wish I had, though, first off. For once my judgment was better +than yours. The Killer got him."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Go on."</p> + +<p>"I was with him when it happened. My gun got jammed so I couldn't +shoot."</p> + +<p>"Where is it now?"</p> + +<p>Dave scrambled in vain for a story to explain the loss of his weapon to +Bruce, and the one that came out at last didn't do him particular +credit. "I—I threw the damn thing away. Wish I hadn't now, but it made +me so mad by jamming—it was a fool trick. Maybe I can go back after it +and find it."</p> + +<p>Simon smiled again. "Very good so far," he commented.</p> + +<p>Dave flushed. "Bruce was there too—fact is, creased the bear—and the +last minute before he died Hudson told him where the agreement was +hidden. I couldn't hear all he said—I was too far away—but I heard +enough to think that he told Bruce the hiding, place. It was natural +Hudson would know it, and we were fools for not asking him about it long +ago."</p> + +<p>"And why didn't you get that information away from Bruce with your gun?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you the thing was jammed? If it hadn't of been for that, +I'd done something more than find out where it is. I'd stopped this +nonsense once and for all, and let a hole through that tenderfoot big +enough to see through. <i>Then</i> there'd never be any more trouble. It's +the thing to do now."</p> + +<p>Simon looked at his brother's face with some wonder. More crafty and +cunning, Dave was like the coyote in that he didn't yield so quickly to +fury as that gray wolf, his brother. But when it did come, it seared +him. It had come now. Simon couldn't mistake the fact; he saw it plain +in the glowing eyes, the clenched hands, the drawn lips. Dave was +remembering the pain of the blow Bruce had given him, and the smart of +the words that had preceded it.</p> + +<p>"You and he must have had a little session down there by the creek," +Simon suggested slowly, "when your gun was jammed. Of course, he took +the gun. What's the use of trying to lie to me?"</p> + +<p>"He did. What could I do?"</p> + +<p>"And now you want him potted—from ambush."</p> + +<p>"What's the use of waiting? Who'd know?" The two men stood face to face +in the quiet and deepening dusk of the barn; and there was growing +determination on each face. "Every day our chance is less and less," +Dave went on. "We've been thinking we're safe, but if he knows where +that agreement is, we're not safe at all. How would you like to get +booted off these three thousand acres now, just after we've all got +attached to them? To start making our living as day laborers—and maybe +face a hangin' for some things of long ago? With this land behind him, +he'd be in a position to pay old debts, I'm telling you. We're not +secure, and you know it. The law doesn't forget, and it doesn't forgive. +We've been fooling away our time ever since we knew he was coming. We +should have met him on the trail and let the buzzards talk to him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Simon echoed in a strange half-whisper. "Let the buzzards talk to +him."</p> + +<p>Dave took fresh heart at the sound of that voice. "No one would have +ever knowed it," he went on. "No one would ever know it now. They'd find +his bones, some time maybe, but there'd be no one to point to. They'd +never get any thing against us. Everybody except the mountain people +have forgotten about this affair. Those in the mountains are too +scattered and few to take any part in it. I tell you—it's all the way, +or no way at all. Tell me to wait for him on the trail."</p> + +<p>"Wait. Wait a minute. How long before he will come?"</p> + +<p>"Any time now. And don't postpone this matter any more. We're men, not +babies. He's not a fool or not a coward, either. He's got his old man's +blood in him—not his mother's to run away. As long as he ain't croaked, +all we've done so far is apt to come to nothing. And there's one thing +more. He's going to take the blood-feud up again."</p> + +<p>"Lots of good it would do him. One against a dozen."</p> + +<p>"But he's a shot—I saw that plain enough—and how'd you like to have +him shoot through <i>your</i> windows some time? Old Elmira and Linda have +set him on, and he's hot for it."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd got that old heifer when you got her son," Simon said. He +still spoke calmly; but it was plain enough that Dave's words were +having the desired effect. Dave could discern this fact by certain +lights and expressions about the pupils of his brother's eyes, signs +learned and remembered long ago. "So he's taken up the blood-feud, has +he? I thought I gave his father some lessons in that a long time since. +Well, I suppose we must let him have his way!"</p> + +<p>"And remember too," Dave urged, "what you told him when you met him in +the store. You said you wouldn't warn him twice."</p> + +<p>"I remember." The two men were silent, but Dave stood no longer +motionless. The motions that he made, however, were not discernible in +the growing gloom of the barn. He was shivering all over with malice and +fury.</p> + +<p>"Then you've given the word?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I've given the word, but I'll do it my own way. Listen, Dave." Simon +stood, head bent, deep in thought. "Could you arrange to have Linda and +the old hag out of the house when Bruce gets back?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—"</p> + +<p>"We've got to work this thing right. We can't operate in the open like +we used to. This man has taken up the blood-feud—but the thing to +do—is to let him come to us."</p> + +<p>"But he won't do it. He'll go to the courts first."</p> + +<p>Simon's face grew stern. "I don't want any more interruptions, Dave. I +mean we will want to give the impression that he attacked us first—on +his own free will. What if he comes into our house-a man unknown in +these parts—and something happens to him there—in the dead of night? +It wouldn't look so bad then, would it? Besides—if we got him +here—before the clan, we might be able to find out where that document +is. At least we'll have him here where everything will be in our favor. +First, how can you tell when he's going to come?"</p> + +<p>"He ought to be here very soon. The moon's bright and I can get up on +the ridge and see his shadow through your field glasses when he crosses +the big south pasture. That will give me a full half-hour before he +comes."</p> + +<p>"It's enough. I'm ready to give you your orders now. They are—just to +use your head, and on some pretext get those two women out of the house +so that Bruce can't find them when he returns. Don't let them come back +for an hour, if you can help it. If it works—all right. If it doesn't, +we'll use more direct measures. I'll tend to the rest."</p> + +<p>He strode to the wall and took down a saddle from the hook. Quickly he +threw it over the back of one of the cow ponies, the animal that he had +punished. He put the bridle in Dave's hand. "Stop at the house for the +glasses, then ride to the ridge at once," he ordered. "Then keep +watch."</p> + +<p>Without words Dave led the horse through the door and swung on to its +back. In an instant the wild folk, in the fringe of forest beyond, +paused in their night occupations to listen to the sound of hoof beats +on the turf. Then Simon slowly saddled his own horse.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> + + +<p>The day was quite dead when Dave Turner reached his post on top of the +ridge. The gray of twilight had passed, the forest was lost in darkness, +the stars were all out. The only vestige of daylight that remained was a +pale, red glow over the Western mountains,—and this was more like red +flowers that had been placed on its grave in remembrance.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, the moon rose early. Otherwise Dave's watch would have been +in vain. The soft light wrought strange miracles in the forest: bathing +the tree tops in silver, laying wonderful cobweb tapestries between the +trunks, upsetting the whole perspective as to distance and contour. Dave +didn't have long to wait. At the end of a half-hour he saw, through the +field glasses, the wavering of a strange black shadow on the distant +meadow. Only the vivid quality of the full moon enabled him to see it at +all.</p> + +<p>He tried to get a better focus. It might be just the shadow of deer, +come to browse on the parched grass. Dave felt a little tremor of +excitement at the thought that if it were not Bruce, it was more likely +the last of the grizzlies, the Killer. The previous night the gray +forest king had made an excursion into Simon's pastures and had killed a +yearling calf; in all probability he would return to-night to finish his +feast. In fact, this night would in all probability see the end of the +Killer. Some one of the Turners would wait for him, with a loaded rifle, +in a safe ambush.</p> + +<p>But it wasn't the Killer, after all. It was before his time; besides, +the shadow was too slender to be that of the huge bear. Dave Turner +watched a moment longer, so that there could be no possibility of a +mistake. Bruce was returning; he was little more than a half-hour's walk +from Linda's home.</p> + +<p>Turner swung on his horse, then lashed the animal into a gallop. Less +than five minutes later he drew up to a halt beneath the Sentinel Pine, +almost a mile distant. For the first time, Dave began to move +cautiously.</p> + +<p>It would complicate matters if the two women had already gone to bed. +The hour was early—not yet nine—but the fall of darkness is often the +going-to-bed time of the mountain people. It is warmer there and safer; +and the expense of candles is lessened. Incidentally, it is the natural +course for the human breed,—to bed at nightfall and up at dawn; and +only distortion of nature can change the habit. It is doubtful if even +the earliest men—those curious, long-armed, stiff-thumbed, heavy-jowled +forefathers far remote—were ever night hunters. Like the hawks and most +of the other birds of prey they were content to leave the game trails to +the beasts at night. As life in the mountains gets down to a primitive +basis, most of the hill people soon fall into this natural course. But +to-night Linda and old Elmira were sitting up, waiting for Bruce's +return.</p> + +<p>A candle flame flickered at the window. Dave went up to the door and +knocked.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" Elmira called. It was a habit learned in the dreadful +days of twenty years ago, not to open a door without at least some +knowledge of who stood without. A lighted doorway sets off a target +almost as well as a field of white sets off a black bull's-eye.</p> + +<p>Dave knew that truth was the proper course. "Dave Turner," he replied.</p> + +<p>A long second of heavy, strange silence ensued. Then the woman spoke +again. There was a new note in her voice, a curious hoarseness, but at +the same time a sense of exultation and excitement. But Dave didn't +notice it. Perhaps the oaken door that the voice came through stripped +away all the overtones; possibly his own perceptions were too blunt to +receive it. He might, however, have been interested in the singular look +of wonder that flashed over Linda's face as she stared at her aged aunt. +Linda was not thinking of Dave. She had forgotten that he stood outside. +His visit was the last thing that either of them expected—except, +perhaps, on some such deadly business as the clan had come years +before—yet she found no space in her thought for him. Her whole +attention was seized and held by the unfamiliar note in her aunt's +voice, and a strange drawing of the woman's features that the closed +door prevented Dave from seeing. It was a look almost of rapture, hardly +to be expected in the presence of an enemy. The dim eyes seemed to glow +in the shadows. It was the look of one who had wandered steep and +unknown trails for uncounted years and sees the distant lights of his +home at last.</p> + +<p>She got up from her chair and moved over to the little pack she had +carried on her back when she had walked up from her cabin. Linda still +gazed at her in growing wonder. The long years seemed to have fallen +away from her; she slipped across the uncarpeted floor with the agility +and silence of a tiger. She always had given the impression of latent +power, but never so much as now. She took some little object from the +bag and slipped it next to her withered and scrawny breast.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she called out into the gloom.</p> + +<p>Dave had been getting a little restless in the silence; but the voice +reassured him. "I'll tell you when you open the door. It's something +about Bruce."</p> + +<p>Linda remembered him then. She leaped to the door and flung it wide. She +saw the stars without, the dark fringe of pines against the sky line +behind. She felt the wind and the cool breath of the darkness. But most +of all she saw the cunning, sharp-featured face of Dave Turner, with the +candlelight upon him. The yellow beams were in his eyes too. They seemed +full of guttering lights.</p> + +<p>The few times that Linda had talked to Dave she had always felt uneasy +beneath his speculative gaze. The same sensation swept over her now. She +knew perfectly what she would have had to expect, long since, from this +man, were it not that he had lived in fear of his brother Simon. The +mighty leader of the clan had set a barrier around her as far as +personal attentions went,—and his reasons were obvious. The mountain +girls do not usually attain her perfection of form and face; his desire +for her was as jealous as it was intense and real. This dark-hearted man +of great and terrible emotions did not only know how to hate. In his own +savage way he could love too. Linda hated and feared him, but the +emotion was wholly different from the dread and abhorrence with which +she regarded Dave. "What about Bruce?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>Dave leered. "Do you want to see him? He's lying—up here on the hill."</p> + +<p>The tone was knowing, edged with cruelty; and it had the desired effect. +The color swept from the girl's face. In a single fraction of an instant +it showed stark white in the candlelight.</p> + +<p>There was an instant's sensation of terrible cold. But her voice was +hard and lifeless when she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You mean you've killed him?" she asked simply.</p> + +<p>"We ain't killed him. We've just been teaching him a lesson," Dave +explained. "Simon warned him not to come up—and we've had to talk to +him a little—with fists and heels."</p> + +<p>Linda cried out then, one agonized syllable. She knew what fists and +heels could do in the fights between the mountain men. They are as much +weapons of torture as the claws and fangs of the Killer. She had an +instant's dread picture of this strong man of hers lying maimed and +broken, a battered, whimpering, ineffective thing in the moonlight of +some distant hillside. The vision brought knowledge to her. Even more +clearly than in the second of their kiss, before he had gone to see +Hudson, she realized what an immutable part of her he was. She gazed +with growing horror at Dave's leering face. "Where is he?" she asked. +She remembered, with singular steadfastness, the pistol she had +concealed in her own room.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you. If you want to get him in you'd better bring the old hag +with you. It'll take two of you to carry him."</p> + +<p>"I'll come," the old woman said from across the shadowed room. She spoke +with a curious breathlessness. "I'll go at once."</p> + +<p>The door closed behind the three of them, and they went out into the +moonlit forest. Dave walked first. There was an unlooked-for eagerness +in his motions, but Linda thought that she understood it. It was wholly +characteristic of him that he should find a degenerate rapture in +showing these two women the terrible handiwork of the Turners. He +rejoiced in just this sort of cruelty. She had no suspicion that this +excursion was only a pretext to get the two women away from the house, +and that his eagerness arose from deeper causes. It was true that Dave +exulted in the work, and strangely the fact that it was part of the plot +against Bruce had been almost forgotten in the face of a greater +emotion. He was alone in the darkness with Linda—except of course for a +helpless old woman—and the command of Simon in regard to his attitude +toward her seemed suddenly dim and far away. He led them over a hill, +into the deeper forest.</p> + +<p>He walked swiftly, eagerly; the two women could hardly keep pace with +him. He left the dim trail and skirted about the thickets. No cry for +help could carry from this lonely place. No watchman on a hill could see +what transpired in the heavy coverts.</p> + +<p>So intent was he that he quite failed to observe a singular little +signal between old Elmira and Linda. The woman half turned about, giving +the girl an instant's glimpse of something that she transferred from her +breast to her sleeve. It was slender and of steel, and it caught the +moonlight on its shining surface.</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes glittered when she beheld it. She nodded, scarcely +perceptibly, and the strange file plunged deeper into the shadows.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later Dave drew up to a halt in a little patch of +moonlight, surrounded by a wall of low trees and brush.</p> + +<p>"There's more than one way to make a date for a walk with a pretty +girl," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl stared coldly into his eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The man laughed harshly. "I mean that Bruce ain't got back yet—he's +still on the other side of Little River, for all I know—"</p> + +<p>"Then why did you bring us here?"</p> + +<p>"Just to be sociable," Dave returned. "I'll tell you, Linda. I wanted to +talk to you. I ain't been in favor of a lot of things Simon's been +doing—to you and your people. I thought maybe you and I would like to +be—friends."</p> + +<p>No one could mistake the emotion behind the strained tone, the peculiar +languor in the furtive eyes. The girl drew back, shuddering. "I'm going +back," she told him.</p> + +<p>"Wait. I'll take you back soon. Let's have a kiss and make friends. The +old lady won't look—"</p> + +<p>He laughed again, a hoarse sound that rang far through the silences. He +moved toward her, hands reaching. She backed away. Then she half-tripped +over an outstretched root.</p> + +<p>The next instant she was in his arms, struggling against their steel. +She didn't waste words in pleading. A sob caught at her throat, and she +fought with all her strength against the drawn, nearing face. She had +forgotten Elmira; in this dreadful moment of terror and danger the old +woman's broken strength seemed too little to be of aid. And Dave thought +her as helpless to oppose him as the tall pines that watched from above +them.</p> + +<p>His wild laughter obscured the single sound that she made, a strange cry +that seemed lacking in all human quality. Rather it was such a sound as +a puma utters as it leaps upon its prey. It was the articulation of a +whole life of hatred that had come to a crisis at last,—of deadly and +terrible triumph after a whole decade of waiting. If Dave had discerned +that cry in time he would have hurled Linda from his arms to leap into a +position of defense. The desire for women in men goes down to the roots +of the world, but self-preservation is a deeper instinct still.</p> + +<p>But he didn't hear it in time. Elmira had not struck with her knife. The +distance was too far for that. But she swung her cane with all her +force. The blow caught the man at the temple, his arms fell away from +the girl's body, he staggered grotesquely in the carpet of pine needles. +Then he fell face downward.</p> + +<p>"His belt, quick!" the woman cried. No longer was her voice that of +decrepit age. The girl struggled with herself, wrenched back her +self-control, and leaped to obey her aunt. They snatched the man's belt +from about his waist, and the women locked it swiftly about his ankles. +With strong, hard hands they drew his wrists back of him and tied them +tight with the long bandana handkerchief he wore about his neck. They +worked almost in silence, with incredible rapidity and deftness.</p> + +<p>The man was waking now, stirring in his unconsciousness, and swiftly the +old woman cut the buckskin thongs from his tall logging boots. These +also she twisted about the wrists, knotting them again and again, and +pulling them so tight they were almost buried in the lean flesh. Then +they turned him face upward to the moon.</p> + +<p>The two women stood an instant, breathing hard. "What now?" Linda asked. +And a shiver of awe went over her at the sight of the woman's face.</p> + +<p>"Nothing more, Linda," she answered, in a distant voice. "Leave Dave +Turner to me."</p> + +<p>It was a strange picture. Womanhood—the softness and tenderness which +men have learned to associate with the name—seemed fallen away from +Linda and Elmira. They were only avengers,—like the she-bear that +fights for her cubs or the she-wolf that guards the lair. There was no +more mercy in them than in the females of the lower species. The moon +flooded the place with silver, the pines were dark and impassive as ever +above them.</p> + +<p>Dave wakened. They saw him stir. They watched him try to draw his arms +from behind him. It was just a faint, little-understanding pull at +first. Then he wrenched and tugged with all his strength, flopping +strangely in the dirt. The effort increased until it was some way +suggestive of an animal in the death struggle,—a fur bearer dying in +the trap.</p> + +<p>Terror was upon him. It was in his wild eyes and his moonlit face; it +was in the desperation and frenzy of his struggles. And the two women +saw it and smiled into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>Slowly his efforts ceased. He lay still in the pine needles. He turned +his head, first toward Linda, then to the inscrutable, dark face of the +old woman. As understanding came to him, the cold drops emerged upon his +swarthy skin.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he asked. "What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going back," Linda answered. "You had some other purpose in +bringing me out here—or you wouldn't have brought Elmira, too. I'm +going back to wait for Bruce."</p> + +<p>"And you and I will linger here," Elmira told him. "We have many things +to say to each other. We have many things to do. About my Abner—there +are many things you'll want to hear of him."</p> + +<p>The last vestige of the man's spirit broke beneath the words. Abner had +been old Elmira's son,—a youth who had laughed often, and the one hope +of the old woman's declining years. And he had fallen before Dave's +ambush in a half-forgotten fight of long years before.</p> + +<p>The man shivered in his bonds. Linda turned to go. The silence of the +wilderness deepened about them. "Oh, Linda, Linda," the man called. +"Don't leave me. Don't leave me here with her!" he pleaded. +"Please—please don't leave me in this devil's power. Make her let me +go."</p> + +<p>But Linda didn't seem to hear. The brush crackled and rustled; and the +two—this dark-hearted man and the avenger—were left together.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> + + +<p>The homeward journey over the ridges had meant only pleasure to Bruce. +Every hour of it had brought a deeper and more intimate knowledge of the +wilderness. The days had been full of little, nerve-tingling adventures, +and the nights full of peace. And beyond all these, there was the hope +of seeing Linda again at the end of the trail.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of her hardly ever left him throughout the long tramp. She had +more than fulfilled every expectation. It was true that he had found no +one of his own kin, as he had hoped; but the fact opened up new +possibilities that would have been otherwise forbidden.</p> + +<p>It was strange how he remembered her kiss. He had known other kisses in +his days—being a purely rational and healthy young man—but there had +been nothing of immortality about them. Their warmth had died quickly, +and they had been forgotten. They were just delights of moonlight nights +and nothing more. But he would wake up from his dreams at night to feel +Linda's kiss still upon his lips. To recall it brought a strange +tenderness,—a softening of all the hard outlines of his picture of +life. It changed his viewpoint; it brought him a knowledge of a joy and +a gentleness that could exist even in this stern world of wilderness and +pines. With her face lingering before his eyes, the ridges themselves +seemed less stern and forbidding; there were softer messages in the +wind's breath; the drama of the wild that went on about him seemed less +remorseless and cruel.</p> + +<p>He remembered the touch of her hands. They had been so cool, so gentle. +He remembered the changing lights in her dark eyes. Life had opened up +new vistas to him. Instead of a stern battleground, he began to realize +that it had a softer, gentler, kinder side,—a place where there could +be love as well as hatred, peace as well as battle, cheery homes and +firesides and pleasant ways and laughter instead of cold ways and lonely +trails and empty hearts and grim thoughts. Perhaps, if all went well, +tranquillity might come to him after all. Perhaps he might even know the +tranquil spirit of the pines.</p> + +<p>These were mating days. It was true that the rutting season had not, in +reality, commenced. The wolf pack had not yet gathered, and would not +until after the heavy frosts. But the bucks had begun to rub the velvet +from their horns so that they would be hard and sharp for the fights to +come. And these would be savage battles—with death at the end of many +of them. But perhaps the joys that would follow—the roving, mating days +with the does—would more than make up for their pain. The trim females +were seen less often with their fawns; and they seemed strangely +restless and tremulous, perhaps wondering what fortune the fall would +have for them in the way of a mate.</p> + +<p>The thought gave Bruce pleasure. He could picture the deer herd in the +fall,—the proud buck in the lead, ready to fight all contenders, his +harem of does, and what fawns and young bucks he permitted to follow +him. They would make stealing journeys down to the foothills to avoid +the snow, and all manner of pleasures would be theirs in the gentler +temperatures of the lowlands. They would know crisp dawns and breathless +nights, long runnings into the valleys, and to the does the realization +of motherhood when the spring broke.</p> + +<p>But aside from his contemplations of Linda, the long tramp had many +delights for him. He rejoiced in every manifestation of the wild life +about him, whether it was a bushy-tailed old gray squirrel, watching him +from a tree limb, a magpie trying its best to insult him, or the +fleeting glimpse of a deer in the coverts. Once he saw the black form of +Ashur the bear, mumbling and grunting as he searched under rotten logs +for grubs. But he didn't see the Killer again. He didn't particularly +care to do so.</p> + +<p>He kept his rifle ready during the day for game, but he shot only what +he needed. He did not attempt to kill the deer. He knew that he would +have no opportunity to care for the meat. But he did, occasionally, +shoot the head off a cock-grouse at close range, and no chef of Paris +could offer a more tempting dish than its flesh, rolled in flour and +served up, fried brown, in bacon grease. It was mostly white meat, +exceedingly tender, yet with the zest of wild game. But he dined on +bacon exclusively one night because, after many misses at grouse, he +declined to take the life of a gray squirrel that had perched in an oak +tree above the trail. Someway, it seemed to be getting too much pleasure +out of life for him to blast it with a rifle shot. A squirrel has only a +few ounces of flesh, and the woods without them would be dull and inane +indeed. Besides, they were bright-eyed, companionable people—dwellers +of the wilderness even as Bruce—and their personality had already +endeared itself to him.</p> + +<p>Once he startled a fawn almost out of its wits when he came upon it +suddenly in a bend in the trail, and he shouted with delight as it +bounded awkwardly away. Once a porcupine rattled its quills at him and +tried to seem very ferocious. But it was all the most palpable of +bluffs, for Urson, while particularly adept at defense, has no powers of +offense whatever. He cannot move quickly. He can't shoot his spines, as +the story-books say. He can only sit on the ground and erect them into a +sort of suit of armor to repel attack. But Bruce knew enough not to +attempt to stroke the creature. If he had done so, he would have spent +the remainder of the season pulling out spines from the soft flesh of +his hand.</p> + +<p>Urson was a patient, stupid, guileless creature, and he and Bruce had a +strange communion together as they stood face to face on the trail. +"You've got the right idea," Bruce told him. "To erect a wall around you +and let 'em yell outside without giving them a thought. To stand firm, +not to take part. You're a true son of the pines, Urson. Now let me +past."</p> + +<p>But the idea was furthest from Urson's mind. He sat firm on the trail, +hunched into a spiny ball. Instead of killing him with his rifle butt, +as Dave would have done, Bruce laughed good-naturedly and went around +him.</p> + +<p>Both days of the journey home he wakened sharply at dawn. The cool, +morning hours were the best for travel. He would follow down the narrow, +brown trail,—now through a heavy covert that rustled as the wild +creatures sped from his path, now up a long ridge, now down into a +still, dark glen, and sometimes into a strange, bleak place where the +forest fire had swept. Every foot was a delight to him.</p> + +<p>He was of naturally strong physique, and although the days fatigued him +unmercifully, he always wakened refreshed in the dawn. At noon he would +stop to lunch, eating a few pieces of jerkey and frying a single +flapjack in his skillet. He learned how to effect it quickly, first +letting his fire burn down to coals. And usually, during the noon rest, +he would practice with his rifle.</p> + +<p>He knew that if he were to fight the Turners, skill with a rifle was an +absolute necessity; such skill as would have felled the grizzly with one +shot instead of administering merely a flesh wound, accuracy to take off +the head of a grouse at fifty yards; and at the same time, an ability to +swing and aim the weapon in the shortest possible space of time. The +only thing that retarded him was the realization that he must not waste +too many cartridges. Elmira had brought him only a small supply.</p> + +<p>He would walk all afternoon—going somewhat easier and resting more +often than in the morning; and these were the times that he appreciated +a fragment of jerked venison. He would halt just before nightfall and +make his camp.</p> + +<p>The first work was usually to strip a young fir tree of its young, +slender branches. These, according to Linda's instructions, were laid on +the ground, their stalks overlapping, and in a remarkably few minutes he +could construct a bed as comfortable as a hair mattress. It was true +that the work always came at an hour when most of all he wanted food and +rest, but he knew that a restless night means quick fatigue the next +day. Then he would clean his game and build his fire and cook his +evening meal. Simple food had never tasted so good to him before. Bacon +grease was his only flavor, but it had a zest that all the sauces and +dressings of France could not approach. The jerkey was crisp and nutty; +his flapjacks went directly to the spot where he desired them to go.</p> + +<p>But the best hour of all was after his meal, as he sat in the growing +shadows with his pipe. It was always an hour of calm. The little, +breathless noises of the wild people in the thickets; the gophers, to +whose half blind eyes—used to the darkness of their underground +passages—the firelight was almost blinding; the chipmunks, and even the +larger creatures came clearest to him then and told him more. But they +didn't frighten him. Ordinarily, he knew, the forest creatures of the +Southern Oregon mountains mean and do no harm to lonely campers. +Nevertheless, he kept fairly accurate track of his rifle. He had enough +memory of the charge of the Killer to wish to do that. And he thought +with some pleasure that he had a reserve arsenal,—Dave's thirty-thirty +with five shells in its magazine.</p> + +<p>At this hour he felt the spirit of the pines as never before. He knew +their great, brooding sorrow, their infinite wisdom, their inexpressible +aloofness with which they kept watch over the wilderness. The smoke +would drift about him in soothing clouds; the glow of the coals was red +and warm over him. He could think then. Life revealed some of its lesser +mysteries to him. And he began to glimpse the distant gleam of even +greater truths, and sometimes it seemed to him that he could almost +catch and hold them. Always it was some message that the pines were +trying to tell him,—partly in words they made when their limbs rubbed +together, partly in the nature of a great allegory of which their dark, +impassive forms were the symbols. If he could only see clearly! But it +seemed to him that passion blinded his eyes.</p> + +<p>"They talk only to the stars," Linda had said once of the pines. But he +had no illusions about this talk of theirs. It was greater, more fraught +with wisdom, than anything men might say together below them. He could +imagine them telling high secrets that he himself could discern but +dimly and could hardly understand. More and more he realized that the +pines, like the stars, were living symbols of great powers who lived +above the world, powers that would speak to men if they would but listen +long and patiently enough, and in whose creed lay happiness.</p> + +<p>When the pipe was out he would go to his fragrant bed. The night hours +would pass in a breath. And he would rise and go on in the crisp dawns.</p> + +<p>The last afternoon he traveled hard. He wanted to reach Linda's house +before nightfall. But the trail was too long for that. The twilight +fell, to find him still a weary two miles distant. And the way was quite +dark when he plunged into the south pasture of the Ross estates.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later he was beneath the Sentinel Pine. He wondered why +Linda was not waiting beneath it; in his fancy, he thought of it as +being the ordained place for her. But perhaps she had merely failed to +hear his footsteps. He called into the open door.</p> + +<p>"Linda," he said. "I've come back."</p> + +<p>No answer reached him. The words rang through the silent rooms and +echoed back to him. He walked over the threshold.</p> + +<p>A chair in the front room was turned over. His heart leaped at the sight +of it. "Linda," he called in alarm, "where are you? It's Bruce."</p> + +<p>He stood an instant listening, a great fear creeping over him. He called +once more, first to Linda and then to the old woman. Then he leaped +through the doorway.</p> + +<p>The kitchen was similarly deserted. From there he went to Linda's room. +Her coat and hat lay on the bed, but there was no Linda to stretch her +arms to him. He started to go out the way he had come, but went instead +to his own room. A sheet of note-paper lay on the bed.</p> + +<p>It had been scrawled hurriedly; but although he had never received a +written word from Linda he did not doubt but that it was her hand:</p> + +<blockquote><p>The Turners are coming—I caught a glimpse of them on the +ridge. There is no use of my trying to resist, so I'll wait for +them in the front room and maybe they won't find this note. +They will take me to Simon's house, and I know from its +structure that they will lock me in an interior room in the +East wing. Use the window on that side nearest the North +corner. My one hope is that you will come at once to save me.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Bruce's eyes leaped over the page; then thrust it into his pocket. He +slipped through the rear door of the house, into the shadows.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> + + +<p>As Bruce hurried up the hill toward the Ross estates, he made a swift +calculation of the rifle shells in his pocket. The gun held six. He had +perhaps fifteen others in his pockets, and he hadn't stopped to +replenish them from the supply Elmira had brought. He hadn't brought +Dave's rifle with him, but had left it with the remainder of his pack. +He knew that the lighter he traveled the greater would be his chance of +success.</p> + +<p>The note had explained the situation perfectly. Obviously the girl had +written when the clan was closing about the house, and finding her in +the front room, there had been no occasion to search the other rooms and +thus discover it. The girl had kept her head even in that moment of +crisis. A wave of admiration for her passed over him.</p> + +<p>And the little action had set an example for him. He knew that only +rigid self-control and cool-headed strategy could achieve the thing he +had set out to do. There must be no false motions, no missteps. He must +put out of his mind all thought of what dreadful fate might have already +come upon the girl; such fancies would cost him his grip upon his own +faculties and lose him the power of clear thinking. His impulse was to +storm the door, to pour his lead through the lighted windows; but such +things could never take Linda out of Simon's hands. Only stealth and +caution, not blind courage and frenzy, could serve her now. Such blind +killing as his heart prompted had to wait for another time.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the stock of his rifle felt good in his hands. Perhaps +there would be a running fight after he got the girl out of the house, +and then his cartridges would be needed. There might even be a moment of +close work with what guards the Turners had set over her. But the heavy +stock, used like a club, would be most use to him then.</p> + +<p>He knew only the general direction of the Ross house where Simon lived. +Linda had told him it rested upon the crest of a small hill, beyond a +ridge of timber. The moonlight showed him a well-beaten trail, and he +strode swiftly along it. For once, he gave no heed to the stirring +forest life about him. When a dead log had fallen across his path, he +swung over it and hastened on.</p> + +<p>He had a vague sense of familiarity with this winding trail. Perhaps he +had toddled down it as a baby, perhaps his mother had carried him along +it on a neighborly visit to the Rosses. He went over the hill and pushed +his way to the edge of the timber. All at once the moon showed him the +house.</p> + +<p>He couldn't mistake it, even at this distance. And to Bruce it had a +singular effect of unreality. The mountain men did not ordinarily build +homes of such dimensions. They were usually merely log cabins of two or +three lower rooms and a garret to be reached with a ladder; or else, on +the rough mountain highways, crude dwellings of unpainted frame. The +ancestral home of the Rosses, however, had fully a dozen rooms, and it +loomed to an incredible size in the mystery of the moonlight. He saw +quaint gabled roofs and far-spreading wings. And it seemed more like a +house of enchantment, a structure raised by the rubbing of a magic lamp, +than the work of carpenters and masons.</p> + +<p>Probably its wild surroundings had a great deal to do with this effect. +There were no roads leading to Trail's End. Material could not be +carried over its winding trails except on pack animals. He had a +realization of tremendous difficulties that had been conquered by +tireless effort, of long months of unending toil, of exhaustless +patience, and at the end,—a dream come true. All of its lumber had to +be hewed from the forests about. Its stone had been quarried from the +rock cliffs and hauled with infinite labor over the steep trails.</p> + +<p>He understood now why the Turners had coveted it. It seemed the acme of +luxury to them. And more clearly than ever he understood why the Rosses +had died, sooner than relinquish it, and why its usurpation by the +Turners had left such a debt of hatred to Linda. It was such a house as +men dream about, a place to bequeath to their children and to perpetuate +their names. Built like a rock, it would stand through the decades, to +pass from one generation to another,—an enduring monument to the strong +thews of the men who had builded it. All men know that the love of home +is one of the few great impulses that has made toward civilization, but +by the same token it has been the cause of many wars. It was never an +instinct of a nomadic people, and possibly in these latter days—days +of apartments and flats and hotels—its hold is less. Perhaps the day is +coming when this love will die in the land, but with it will die the +strength to repel the heathen from our walls, and the land will not be +worth living in, anyway. But it was not dead to the mountain people. No +really primitive emotion ever is.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, after all, it is a question of the age-old longing for +immortality, and therefore it must have its seat in a place higher than +this world of death. Men know that when they walk no longer under the +sun and the moon it is good to have certain monuments to keep their name +alive, whether it be blocks of granite at the grave-head, or sons living +in an ancestral home. The Rosses had known this instinct very well. As +all men who are strong-thewed and of real natural virtue, they had known +pride of race and name, and it had been a task worth while to build this +stately house on their far-lying acres. They had given their fiber to it +freely; no man who beheld the structure could doubt that fact. They had +simply consecrated their lives to it; their one Work by which they could +show to all who came after that by their own hands they had earned their +right to live.</p> + +<p>They had been workers, these men; and there is no higher degree. But +their achievements had been stolen from their hands. Bruce felt the real +significance of his undertaking as never before.</p> + +<p>He saw the broad lands lying under the moon. There were hundreds of +acres in alfalfa and clover to furnish hay for the winter feeding. +There were wide, green pastures, ensilvered by the moon; and fields of +corn laid out in even rows. The old appeal of the soil, an instinct that +no person of Anglo-Saxon descent can ever completely escape, swept +through him. They were worth fighting for, these fertile acres. The wind +brought up the sweet breath of ripening hay.</p> + +<p>Not for nothing have a hundred generations of Anglo-Saxon people been +tillers of the soil. They had left a love of it to Bruce. In a single +flash of thought, even as he hastened toward the house where he supposed +Linda was held prisoner, the ancient joy returned to him. He knew what +it would be like to feel the earth's pulse through the handles of a +plow, to behold the first start of green things in the spring and the +golden ripening in fall; to watch the flocks through the breathless +nights and the herds feeding on the distant hills.</p> + +<p>Bruce looked over the ground. He knew enough not to continue the trail +farther. The space in front was bathed in moonlight, and he would make +the best kind of target to any rifle-man watching from the windows of +the house. He turned through the coverts, seeking the shadow of the +forests at one side.</p> + +<p>By going in a quartering direction he was able to approach within two +hundred yards of the house without emerging into the moonlight. At that +point the real difficulty of the stalk began. He hovered in the shadows, +then slipped one hundred feet farther to the trunk of a great oak tree.</p> + +<p>He could see the house much more plainly now. True, it had suffered +neglect in the past twenty years; it needed painting and many of its +windows were broken, but it was a magnificent old mansion even yet. It +stood lost in its dreams in the moonlight; and if, as old stories say, +houses have memories, this old structure was remembering certain tragic +dramas that had waged within and about it in a long-ago day. Bruce +rejoiced to see that there were no lights in the east wing of the house; +the window that Linda had indicated in the note was just a black square +on the moonlit wall.</p> + +<p>There was a neglected garden close to this wing of the house. Bruce +could make out rose bushes, grown to brambles, tall, rank weeds, and +heavy clumps of vines. If he could reach this spot in safety he could +approach within a few feet of the house and still remain in cover. He +went flat; then slowly crawled toward it.</p> + +<p>Once a light sprang up in a window near the front, and he pressed close +to the earth. But in a moment it went away. He crept on. He didn't know +when a watchman in one of the dark windows would discern his creeping +figure. But he did know perfectly just what manner of greeting he might +expect in this event. There would be a single little spurt of fire in +the darkness, so small that probably his eyes would quite fail to catch +it. If they did discern it, there would be no time for a message to be +recorded in his brain. It would mean a swift and certain end of all +messages. The Turners would lose no time in emptying their rifles at +him, and there wouldn't be the slightest doubt about their hitting the +mark. All the clan were expert shots and the range was close.</p> + +<p>The house was deeply silent. He felt a growing sense of awe. In a moment +more, he slipped into the shadows of the neglected rose gardens.</p> + +<p>He lay quiet an instant, resting. He didn't wish to risk the success of +his expedition by fatiguing himself now. He wanted his full strength and +breath for any crisis that he should meet in the room where Linda was +confined.</p> + +<p>Many times, he knew, skulking figures had been concealed in this garden. +Probably the Turners, in the days of the blood-feud, had often waited in +its shadows for a sight of some one of their enemies in a lighted +window. Old ghosts dwelt in it; he could see their shadows waver out of +the corner of his eyes. Or perhaps it was only the shadow of the +brambles, blown by the wind.</p> + +<p>Once his heart leaped into his throat at a sharp crack of brush beside +him; and he could scarcely restrain a muscular jerk that might have +revealed his position. But when he turned his head he could see nothing +but the coverts and the moon above them. A garden snake, or perhaps a +blind mole, had made the sound.</p> + +<p>Four minutes later he was within one dozen feet of the designated +window. There was a stretch of moonlight between, but he passed it +quickly. And now he stood in bold relief against the moonlit house-wall.</p> + +<p>He was in perfectly plain sight of any one on the hill behind. Possibly +his distant form might have been discerned from the window of one of the +lesser houses occupied by Simon's kin. But he was too close to the wall +to be visible from the windows of Simon's house, except by a deliberate +scrutiny. And the window slipped up noiselessly in his hands.</p> + +<p>He was considerably surprised. He had expected this window to be locked. +Some way, he felt less hopeful of success. He recalled in his mind the +directions that Linda had left, wondering if he had come to the wrong +window. But there was no chance of a mistake in this regard; it was the +northernmost window in the east wing. However, she had said that she +would be confined in an interior room, and possibly the Turners had seen +no need of barriers other than its locked door. Probably they had not +even anticipated that Bruce would attempt a rescue.</p> + +<p>He leaped lightly upward and slipped silently into the room. Except for +the moonlit square on the floor it was quite in darkness. It seemed to +him that even in the night hours over a camp fire he had never known +such silence as this that pressed about him now.</p> + +<p>He stood a moment, hardly breathing. But he decided it was not best to +strike a match. There were no enemies here, or they certainly would have +accosted him when he raised the window; and a match might reveal his +presence to some one in an adjoining room. He rested his hand against +the wall, then moved slowly around the room. He knew that by this +course he would soon encounter the door that led into the interior +rooms.</p> + +<p>In a moment he found it. He stood waiting. He turned the knob gently; +then softly pulled. But the door was locked.</p> + +<p>There was no sound now but the loud beating of his own heart. He could +no longer hear the voices of the wind outside the open window. He +wondered whether, should he hurl all his magnificent strength against +the panels, he could break the lock; and if he did so, whether he could +escape with the girl before he was shot down. But his hand, wandering +over the lock, encountered the key.</p> + +<p>It was easy, after all. He turned the key. The door opened beneath his +hand.</p> + +<p>If there had been a single ray of light under the door or through the +keyhole, his course would have been quite different. He would have +opened the door suddenly in that case, hoping to take by surprise +whosoever of the clan were guarding Linda. To open a door slowly into a +room full of enemies is only to give them plenty of time to cock their +rifles. But in this case the room was in darkness, and all that he need +fear was making a sudden sound. The opening slowly widened. Then he +slipped through and stood ten breathless seconds in silence.</p> + +<p>"Linda," he whispered. He waited a long time for an answer. Then he +stole farther into the room.</p> + +<p>"Linda," he said again. "It's Bruce. Are you here?"</p> + +<p>And in that unfathomable silence he heard a sound—a sound so dim and +small that it only reached the frontier of hearing. It was a strange, +whispering, eerie sound, and it filled the room like the faintest, +almost imperceptible gust of wind. But there was no doubting its +reality. And after one more instant in which his heart stood still, he +knew what it was: the sound of suppressed breathing. A living creature +occupied this place of darkness with him, and was either half-gagged by +a handkerchief over the face or was trying to conceal its presence by +muffling its breathing. "Linda," he said again.</p> + +<p>There was a strange response to the calling of that name. He heard no +whispered answer. Instead, the door he had just passed through shut +softly behind him.</p> + +<p>For a fleeting instant he hoped that the wind had blown it shut. For it +is always the way of youth to hope,—as long as any hope is left. His +heart leaped and he whirled to face it. Then he heard the unmistakable +sound of a bolt being slid into place.</p> + +<p>Some little space of time followed in silence. He struggled with growing +horror, and time seemed limitless. Then a strong man laughed grimly in +the darkness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> + + +<p>As Bruce waited, his eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness. He +began to see the dim outlines of his fellow occupants of the +room,—fully seven brawny men seated in chairs about the walls. "Let's +hear you drop your rifle," one of them said.</p> + +<p>Bruce recognized the grim voice as Simon's,—heard on one occasion +before. He let his rifle fall from his hands. He knew that only death +would be the answer to any resistance to these men. Then Simon scratched +a match, and without looking at him, bent to touch it to the wick of the +lamp.</p> + +<p>The tiny flame sputtered and flickered, filling the room with dancing +shadows. Bruce looked about him. It was the same long, white-walled room +that Dave and Simon had conversed in, after Elmira had first dispatched +her message by Barney Wegan. Bruce knew that he faced the Turner clan at +last.</p> + +<p>Simon sat beside the fireplace, the lamp at his elbow. As the wick +caught, the light brightened and steadied, and Bruce could see plainly. +On each side of him, in chairs about the walls, sat Simon's brothers and +his blood relations that shared the estate with him. They were huge, +gaunt men, most of them dark-bearded and sallow-skinned, and all of +them regarded him with the same gaze of speculative interest.</p> + +<p>Bruce did not flinch before their gaze. He stood erect as he could, +instinctively defiant.</p> + +<p>"Our guest is rather early," Simon began. "Dave hasn't come yet, and +Dave is the principal witness."</p> + +<p>A bearded man across the room answered him. "But I guess we ain't goin' +to let the prisoner go for lack of evidence."</p> + +<p>The circle laughed then,—a harsh sound that was not greatly different +from the laughter of the coyotes on the sagebrush hills. But they +sobered when they saw that Simon hadn't laughed. His dark eyes were +glowing.</p> + +<p>"You, by no chance, met him on the way home, did you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had," Bruce replied. "But I didn't."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand your eagerness. You didn't seem overly eager to meet +us."</p> + +<p>Bruce smiled wanly. These wilderness men regarded him with fresh +interest. Somehow, they hadn't counted on his smiling. It was almost as +if he were of the wilderness breed himself, instead of the son of +cities. "I'm here, am I not?" he said. "It isn't as if you came to my +house first."</p> + +<p>He regarded the clansmen again. He <i>had</i> missed Dave's crafty face in +the circle.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're here," Simon confirmed. "And I'm wondering if you remember +what I told you just as you left Martin's store that day—that I gave no +man two warnings."</p> + +<p>"I remember that," Bruce replied. "I saw no reason for listening to you. +I don't see any reason now, and I wouldn't if it wasn't for that row of +guns."</p> + +<p>Simon studied his pale face. "Perhaps you'll be sorry you didn't listen, +before this night is over. And there are many hours yet in it. +Bruce—you came up here to these mountains to open old wounds."</p> + +<p>"Simon, I came up here to right wrongs—and you know it. If old wounds +are opened, I can't help it."</p> + +<p>"And to-night," Simon went on as if he had not been answered, "you have +come unbidden into our house. It would be all the evidence the courts +would need, Bruce—that you crept into our house in the dead of night. +If anything happened to you here, no word could be raised against us. +You were a brave man, Bruce."</p> + +<p>"So I can suppose you left the note?"</p> + +<p>The circle laughed again, but Simon silenced them with a gesture. +"You're very keen," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then where is Linda?" Bruce's eyes hardened. "I am more interested in +her whereabouts than in this talk with you."</p> + +<p>"The last seen of her, she was going up a hill with Dave. When Dave +returns you can ask him."</p> + +<p>The bearded man opposite from Simon uttered a short syllable of a laugh. +"And it don't look like he's going to return," he said. The knowing +look on his face was deeply abhorrent to Bruce. Curiously, Simon's face +flushed, and he whirled in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean anything in particular, Old Bill?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"It looks to me like maybe Dave's forgot a lot of things you told him, +and he and Linda are havin' a little sparkin' time together out in the +brush."</p> + +<p>The idea seemed to please the clan. But Simon's eyes glowed, and Bruce +himself felt the beginnings of a blind rage that might, unless he held +hard upon it, hurl him against their remorseless weapons. "I don't want +any more such talk out of you, Old Bill," Simon reproved him, "and we've +talked enough, anyway." His keen eyes studied Bruce's flushed face. "One +of you give our guest a chair and fix him up in it with a thong. We +don't want him flying off the coop and getting shot until we're done +talking to him."</p> + +<p>One of the clansmen pushed a chair forward with sudden force, striking +Bruce in the knees and almost knocking him over. The circle leered, and +he sat down in it with as much ease as possible. Then one of the men +looped his arms to the arms of the chair with thongs of buckskin. +Another thong was tied about his ankles. Then the clansmen went back to +their chairs.</p> + +<p>"I really don't see the use of all these dramatics," Bruce said coldly. +"And I don't particularly like veiled threats. At present I seem to be +in your hands."</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to be," Simon answered with reddening eyes. "You are."</p> + +<p>"I have no intention of saying I'm sorry I didn't heed the threats you +gave me before—and as to those I've heard to-night—they're not going +to do you any good, either. It is true that you found me in the house +you occupy in the dead of night—but it isn't your house to start with. +What a man seizes by murder isn't his."</p> + +<p>"What a man holds with a hard fist and his rifle—in these +mountains—<i>is</i> his," Simon contradicted him.</p> + +<p>"Besides, you got me here with a trick," Bruce went on without heeding +him. "So don't pretend that any wickedness you do to-night was justified +by my coming. You'll have to answer for it just the same."</p> + +<p>Simon leaned forward in his chair. His dark eyes glowed in the +lamplight. "I've heard such talk as that before," he said. "I expect +your own father talked like that a few times himself."</p> + +<p>The words seemed to strike straight home to the gathered Turners. The +moment was breathless, weighted with suspense. All of them seemed +straining in their chairs.</p> + +<p>Bruce's head bowed, but the veins stood out beneath the short hair on +his temples, and his lips trembled when he answered. "That was a greater +wickedness than anything—<i>anything</i> you can do to-night. And you'll +have to answer for it all the more."</p> + +<p>He spoke the last sentence with a calm assurance. Though spoken softly, +the words rang clear. But the answer of the evil-hearted man before him +was only a laugh.</p> + +<p>"And there's one thing more I want to make clear," Bruce went on in the +strong voice of a man who had conquered his terror. And it was not +because he did not realize his danger. He was in the hands of the +Turners, and he knew that Simon had spoken certain words that, if for no +other reason than his reputation with his followers, he would have to +make good. Bruce knew that no moment of his life was ever fraught with +greater peril. But the fact itself that there were no doors of escape +open to him, and he was face to face with his destiny, steadied him all +the more.</p> + +<p>The boy that had been wakened in his bed at home by the ring of the +'phone bell had wholly vanished now. A man of the wild places had come +instead, stern and courageous and unflinching.</p> + +<p>"Everything is tolerable clear to us already," Simon said, "except your +sentence."</p> + +<p>"I want you to know that I refuse to be impressed with this judicial +attitude of you and your blackguard followers," Bruce went on. "This +gathering of the group of you doesn't make any evil that you do any less +wrong, or the payment you'll have to make any less sure. It lies wholly +in your power to kill me while I'm sitting here, and I haven't much hope +but that you'll do it. But let me tell you this. A reign of bloodshed +and crime can go on only so long. You've been kings up here, and you +think the law can't reach you. But it will—believe me, it will."</p> + +<p>"And this was the man who was going to begin the blood-feud—already +hollering about the law," Simon said to his followers. He turned to +Bruce. "It's plain that Dave isn't going to come. I'll have to be the +chief witness myself, after all. However, Dave told me all that I needed +to know. The first question I have to ask of you, Folger, is the +whereabouts of that agreement between your late lamented father and the +late lamented Matthew Ross, according to what the trapper Hudson told +you a few days ago."</p> + +<p>Bruce was strong enough to laugh in his bonds. "Up to this time I have +given you and your murderous crowd credit for at least natural +intelligence," he replied, "but I see I was mistaken—or you wouldn't +expect an answer to that question."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you don't know its whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing whether I know or not. I +just refuse to answer."</p> + +<p>"I trust the ropes are tight enough about your wrists."</p> + +<p>"Plenty tight, thank you. They are cutting the flesh so it bleeds."</p> + +<p>"How would you like them some tighter?"</p> + +<p>"Pull them till they cut my arms off, and you won't get a civil answer +out of me. In fact—" and the man's eyes blazed—"I'm tired of talking +to this outlaw crowd. And the sooner you do what you're going to do, the +better it will suit me."</p> + +<p>"We'll come to that shortly enough. Disregarding that for a moment—we +understand that you want to open up the blood-feud again. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>Bruce made no answer, only gazed without flinching into his questioner's +face.</p> + +<p>"That was what my brother Dave led me to understand," Simon went on, "so +we've decided to let you have your way. It's open—it's been open since +you came here. You disregarded the warning I gave—and men don't +disregard my warnings twice. You threatened Dave with your rifle. This +is a different land than you're used to, Bruce, and we do things our own +way. You've hunted for trouble and now you've found it. Your father +before you thought he could stand against us—but he's been lying still +a long time. The Rosses thought so too. And it is part of our code never +to take back a threat—but always to make it good."</p> + +<p>Bruce still sat with lowered head, seemingly not listening. The clansmen +gazed at him, and a new, more deadly spirit was in the room. None of +them smiled now; the whole circle of faces was dark and intent, their +eyes glittered through narrowed lids, their lips set. The air was +charged with suspense. The moment of crisis was near.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the men glanced at their leader's face, and what they saw +there filled them with a grim and terrible eagerness. Simon was +beginning to run true to form. His dark passions were slowly mastering +him. For a moment they all sat as if entranced in a communion of +cruelty, and to Bruce they seemed like a colony of spotted rattlesnakes +such as sometimes hold their communions of hatred on the sun-blasted +cliffs.</p> + +<p>All at once Simon laughed,—a sharp, hoarse sound that had, in its +overtones, a note of madness. Every man in the room started. They seemed +to have forgotten Bruce. They looked at their leader with a curious +expectancy. They seemed to know that that wild laugh betokened but one +thing—the impact of some terrible sort of inspiration.</p> + +<p>As they watched, they saw the idea take hold of him. The huge face +darkened. His eyes seemed to smolder as he studied his huge hands. They +understood, these wilderness men. They had seen their leader in such +sessions before. A strange and grim idea had come to him; already he was +feasting on its possibilities. It seemed to heat his blood and blur his +vision.</p> + +<p>"We've decided to be merciful, after all," he said slowly. But neither +Bruce nor the clansmen misunderstood him or were deceived. They only +knew that these words were simply part of a deadly jest that in a moment +all would understand. "Instead of filling you full of thirty-thirty +bullets, as better men than you have been filled and what we <i>ought</i> to +do—we're just going to let you lay out all night—in the pasture—with +your feet tied and your hands behind your back."</p> + +<p>No one relaxed. They listened, staring, for what would follow.</p> + +<p>"You may get a bit cold before morning," Simon went on, "but you're +warmly dressed, and a little frost won't hurt you. And I've got the +place all picked out for you. And we're even going to move something +that's laying there so it will be more pleasant."</p> + +<p>Again he paused. Bruce looked up.</p> + +<p>"The thing that's lying there is a dead yearling calf, half ate up. It +was killed last night by the Killer—the old grizzly that maybe you've +heard of before. Some of the boys were going to wait in trees to-night +by the carcass and shoot the Killer when he comes back after another +meal—something that likely won't happen until about midnight if he runs +true to form. But it won't be necessary now. We're going to haul the +carcass away—down wind where he won't smell it. And we're going to +leave you there in its place to explain to him what became of it."</p> + +<p>Bruce felt their glowing eyes upon him. Exultation was creeping over the +clan; once more their leader had done himself proud. It was such +suggestions as this that kept them in awe of him.</p> + +<p>And they thought they understood. They supposed that the night would be +of the utter depths of terror to the tenderfoot from the cities, that +the bear would sniff and wander about him, and perchance the man's hair +would be turned quite white by morning. But being mountain men, they +thought that the actual danger of attack was not great. They supposed +that the inborn fear of men that all animals possess would keep him at a +distance. And, if by any unlikely chance the theft of the beef-carcass +should throw him into such a rage that he would charge Bruce, no harm +in particular would be done. The man was a Folger, an enemy of the clan, +and after once the telltale ropes were removed, no one would ask +questions about the mutilated, broken thing that would be found next +morning in the pasture. The story would carry down to the settlements +merely as a fresh atrocity of the Killer, the last and greatest of the +grizzlies.</p> + +<p>But they had no realization of the full dreadfulness of the plan. They +hadn't heard the more recent history of the Killer,—the facts that +Simon had just learned from Dave. Strange and dark conjecturing occupied +Simon's mind, and he knew—in a moment's thought—that something more +than terror and indignity might be Bruce's fate. But his passion was +ripe for what might come. The few significant facts that they did not +know were merely that the Killer had already found men out, that he had +learned in an instant's meeting with Hudson beside Little River that men +were no longer to be feared, and worse, that he was raving and deadly +from the pain of the wound that Bruce's bullet had inflicted.</p> + +<p>The circle of faces faded out for both of them as the eyes of Bruce and +Simon met and clashed and battled in the silent room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> + + +<p>"If Simon Turner isn't a coward," Bruce said slowly to the clan, "he +will give me a chance to fight him now."</p> + +<p>The room was wholly silent, and the clan turned expectant eyes to their +leader. Simon scowled, but he knew he had to make answer. His eyes crept +over Bruce's powerful body. "There is no obligation on my part to answer +any challenges by you," he said. "You are a prisoner. But if you think +you can sleep better in the pasture because of it, I'll let you have +your chance. Take off his ropes."</p> + +<p>A knife slashed at his bonds. Simon stood up, and Bruce sprang from his +chair like a wild cat, aiming his hardened knuckles straight for the +leering lips. He made the attack with astonishing swiftness and power, +and his intention was to deliver at least one terrific blow before Simon +could get his arms up to defend himself. He had given the huge clan +leader credit for tremendous physical strength, but he didn't think that +the heavy body could move with real agility. But the great muscles +seemed to snap into tension, the head ducked to one side, and his own +huge fists struck out.</p> + +<p>If Bruce's blow had gone straight home where it had been aimed, Simon +would have had nothing more to say for a few moments at least. When man +was built of clay, Nature saw fit to leave him with certain +imperfections lest he should think himself a god, and a weak spot in the +region of the chin is one of them. The jaw bones carry the impact of a +hard blow to certain nerve centers near the temples, and restful sleep +comes quickly. There are never any ill effects, unless further damage is +inflicted while unconsciousness is upon him. In spite of the fact that +Simon got quickly into a position of defense, that first blow still had +a fair chance of bringing the fight to an abrupt end. But still another +consideration remained.</p> + +<p>Bruce's muscles had refused to respond. The leap had been powerful and +swift yet wholly inaccurate. And the reason was just that his wrists and +ankles had been numbed by the tight thongs by which they had been +confined. Simon met the leap with a short, powerful blow into Bruce's +face; and he reeled backward. The arms of the clansmen alone kept him +from falling.</p> + +<p>The blow seemed to daze Bruce; and at first his only realization was +that the room suddenly rang with harsh and grating laughter. Then +Simon's words broke through it. "Put back the thongs," he ordered, "and +go get your horses."</p> + +<p>Bruce was dimly aware of the falling of a silence, and then the arms of +strong men half carrying him to the door. But he couldn't see plainly at +first. The group stood in the shadow of the building; the moon was +behind. He knew that the clan had brought their horses and were waiting +for Simon's command. They loosened the ropes from about his ankles, and +two of the clansmen swung him on to the back of a horse. Then they +passed a rope under the horse's belly and tied his ankles anew.</p> + +<p>Simon gave a command, and the strange file started. The night air +dispelled the mists in Bruce's brain, and full realization of all things +came to him again. One of the men—he recognized him as Young Bill—led +the horse on which he rode. Two of the clansmen rode in front, grim, +silent, incredibly tall figures in the moonlight. The remainder rode +immediately behind. Simon himself, bowed in his saddle, kept a little to +one side. Their shadows were long and grotesque on the soft grass of the +meadows, and the only sound was the soft footfall of their mounts.</p> + +<p>A full mile distant across the lush fields the cavalcade halted about a +grotesque shadow in the grass. Bruce didn't have to look at it twice to +know what it was: the half-devoured body of the yearling calf that had +been the Killer's prey the night before. From thence on, their +operations became as outlandish occurrences in a dream. They seemed to +know just what to do. They took him from the saddle and bound his feet +again; then laid him in the fragrant grass. They searched his pockets, +taking the forged note that had led to his downfall. "It saves me a +trip," Simon commented. He saw two of them lift the torn body of the +animal on to the back of one of the horses, and he watched dully as the +horse plunged and wheeled under the unfamiliar weight. He thought for an +instant that it would step upon his own prone body, but he didn't +flinch. Simon spoke in the silence, but his words seemed to come from +far away.</p> + +<p>"Quiet that horse or kill him," he said softly. "You can't drag the +carcass with your rope—the Killer would trace it if you did and maybe +spoil the evening for Bruce."</p> + +<p>Strong arms sawed at the bits, and the horse quieted, trembling. For a +moment Bruce saw their white moonlit faces as they stared down at him.</p> + +<p>"What about a gag?" one of them asked.</p> + +<p>"No. Let him shout if he likes. There is no one to hear him here."</p> + +<p>Then the tall men swung on their horses and headed back across the +fields. Bruce watched them dully. Their forms grew constantly more dim, +the sense of utter isolation increased. Then he saw the file pause, and +it seemed to him that words, too faint for him to understand, reached +him across the moonlit spaces. Then one of the party turned off toward +the ridge.</p> + +<p>He guessed that it was Simon. He thought the man was riding toward +Linda's home.</p> + +<p>He watched until the shadows had hidden them all. Then, straining +upward, he tested his bonds. He tugged with the full strength of his +arms, but there was not the play of an inch between his wrists. The +Turners had done their work well. Not the slightest chance of escape lay +in this quarter.</p> + +<p>He wrenched himself to one side, then looked about him. The fields +stretched even and distant on one side, but he saw that the dark forest +was but fifty yards away on the other. He listened; and the little +night sounds reached him clearly. They had been sounds to rejoice in +before,—impulses to delightful fancies of a fawn stealing through the +thickets, or some of the Little People in their scurried, tremulous +business of the night hours. But lying helpless at the edge of the +forest, they were nothing to rejoice in now. He tried to shut his ears +to them.</p> + +<p>He rolled again to his back and tried to find peace for his spirit in +the stars. There were millions of them. They were larger and more bright +than any time he had ever seen them. They stood in their high places, +wholly indifferent and impassive to all the strife and confusion of the +world below them; and Bruce wished that he could partake of their spirit +enough so that he could rise above the fear and bitterness that had +begun to oppress him. But only the pines could talk to them. Only the +tall trees, stretching upward toward them, could reach into their +mysterious calm.</p> + +<p>His eyes discerned a thin filament of cloud that had swept up from +behind the ridges, and the sight recalled him to his own position with +added force. The moonlight, soft as it was, had been a tremendous relief +to him. At least, it would have enabled him to keep watch, and now he +dreaded the fall of utter darkness more than he had ever dreaded +anything in his life. It was an ancient instinct, coming straight from +the young days of the world when nightfall brought the hunting creatures +to the mouth of the cave, but he had never really experienced it before. +If the clouds spread, the moon that was his last remaining solace would +be obscured.</p> + +<p>He watched with growing horror the slow extension of the clouds. One by +one the stars slipped beneath them. They drew slowly up to the moon and +for a long minute seemed to hover. They were not heavy clouds, however, +and in their thinner patches the stars looked dimly through. Finally the +moon swept under them.</p> + +<p>The shadow fell around Bruce. For the first time he knew the age-old +terror of the darkness. Dreadful memories arose within him,—vague +things that had their font in the labyrinthal depths of the germ-plasm. +It is a knowledge that no man, with the weapons of the twentieth century +in his hands and in the glow of that great symbol of domain, the camp +fire, can really possess; but here, bound hand and foot in the darkness, +full understanding came to Bruce. He no longer knew himself as one of a +dominant breed, master of all the wild things in the world. He was +simply a living creature in a grim and unconquered world, alone and +helpless in the terror of the darkness.</p> + +<p>The moonlight alternately grew and died as the moon passed in and out of +the heavier cloud patches. Winds must have been blowing in the high +lanes of the air, but there was no breath of them where Bruce lay. The +forests were silent, and the little rustlings and stirrings that reached +him from time to time only seemed to accentuate the quiet.</p> + +<p>He speculated on how many hours had passed. He wondered if he could dare +to hope that midnight had already gone by and, through some divergence +from wilderness customs, the grizzly had failed to return to his feast. +It seemed endless hours since he had reëntered the empty rooms of +Linda's home. A wave of hope crept through the whole hydraulic system of +his veins. And then, as a sudden sound reached him from the forests at +one side, that bright wave of hope turned black, receded, and left only +despair.</p> + +<p>He heard the sound but dimly. In fact, except for his straining with +every nerve alert, he might not have heard it at all. Nevertheless, +distance alone had dimmed it; it had been a large sound to start with. +So far had it come that only a scratch on the eardrums was left of it; +but there was no chance to misunderstand it. It cracked out to him +through the unfathomable silence, and all the elements by which he might +recognize it were distinct. It was the noise of a heavy thicket being +broken down and parted before an enormous body.</p> + +<p>He waited, scarcely breathing, trying to tell himself he had been +mistaken. But a wiser, calmer self deep within him would not accept the +lie. He listened, straining. Then he heard the sound again.</p> + +<p>Whoever came toward him had passed the heavy brush by now. The sounds +that reached him were just faint and intermittent whispers,—first of a +twig cracking beneath a heavy foot, then the rattle of two pebbles +knocked together. Long moments of utter silence would ensue between, in +which he could hear the steady drum of his heart in his breast and the +long roll of his blood in his veins. The shadows grew and deepened and +faded and grew again, as the moon passed from cloud to cloud.</p> + +<p>The limbs of a young fir tree rustled and whispered as something brushed +against them. Leaves flicked together, and once a heavy limb popped like +a distant small-calibered rifle as a great weight broke it in two. Then, +as if the gods of the wilderness were using all their ingenuity to +torture him, the silence closed down deeper than ever before.</p> + +<p>It lasted so long that he began to hope again. Perhaps the sounds had +been made by a deer stealing on its way to feed in the pastures. Yet he +knew the step had been too heavy for anything but the largest deer, and +their way was to encircle a thicket rather than crash through it. The +deer make it their business always to go with silence in these hours +when the beasts of prey are abroad, and usually a beetle in the leaves +makes more noise than they. It might have been the step of one of the +small, black bears—a harmless and friendly wilderness dweller. Yet the +impression lingered and strengthened that only some great hunter, a +beast who feared neither other beasts nor men, had been steadily coming +toward him through the forest. In the long silence that ensued Bruce +began to hope that the animal had turned off.</p> + +<p>At that instant the moon slipped under a particularly heavy fragment of +cloud, and deep darkness settled over him. Even his white face was no +longer discernible in the dusk. He lay scarcely breathing, trying to +fight down his growing terror.</p> + +<p>This silence could mean but one of two things. One of them was that the +creature who had made the sounds had turned off on one of the many +intersecting game trails that wind through the forest. This was his +hope. The alternative was one of despair. It was simply that the +creature had detected his presence and was stalking him in silence +through the shadows.</p> + +<p>He thought that the light would never come. He strained again at his +ropes. The dark cloud swept on; and the moonlight, silver and bright, +broke over the scene.</p> + +<p>The forest stood once more in sharp silhouette against the sky. The moon +stood high above the tapering tops of the pines. He studied with +straining eyes the dark fringe of shadows one hundred feet distant. And +at first he could see only the irregularities cast by the young trees, +the firs between which lay the brush coverts.</p> + +<p>Then he detected a strange variation in the dark border of shadows. It +held his gaze, and its outlines slowly strengthened. So still it stood, +so seemingly a natural shadow that some irregularly shaped tree had +cast, that his eyes refused to recognize it. But in an instant more he +knew the truth.</p> + +<p>The shadow was that of a great beast that had stalked him clear to the +border of the moonlight. The Killer had come for his dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> + + +<p>When Linda returned home the events of the night partook even of a +greater mystery. The front door was open, and she found plenty of +evidence that Bruce had returned from his journey. In the center of the +room lay his pack, a rifle slanting across it.</p> + +<p>At first she did not notice the gun in particular. She supposed it was +Bruce's weapon and that he had come in, dropped his luggage, and was at +present somewhere in the house. It was true that one chair was upset, +but except for an instant's start she gave no thought to it. She thought +that he would probably go to the kitchen first for a bite to eat. He was +not in this room, however, nor had the lamp been lighted.</p> + +<p>Her next idea was that Bruce, tired out, had gone to bed. She went back +softly to the front room, intending not to disturb him. Once more she +noticed the upset chair. The longer she regarded it, the more of a +puzzle it became. She moved over toward the pack and looked casually at +the rifle. In an instant more it was in her hands.</p> + +<p>She saw at once that it was not Bruce's gun. The action, make, and +caliber were different. She was not a rifle-woman, and the little +shooting she had done had been with a pistol; but even a layman could +tell this much. Besides, it had certain peculiar notches on the stock +that the gun Elmira had furnished Bruce did not have.</p> + +<p>She stood a moment in thought. The problem offered no ray of light. She +considered what Bruce's first action would have been, on returning to +the house to find her absent. Possibly he had gone in search of her. She +turned and went to the door of his bedroom.</p> + +<p>She knocked on it softly. "Are you there, Bruce?" she called.</p> + +<p>No answer returned to her. The rooms, in fact, were deeply silent. She +tried the door and found it unlocked. The room had not been occupied.</p> + +<p>Thoroughly alarmed, she went back into the front room and tried to +decipher the mystery of the strange weapon. She couldn't conceive of any +possibility whereby Bruce would exchange his father's trusted gun for +this. Possibly it was an extra weapon that he had procured on his +journey. And since no possible gain would come of her going out into the +forests to seek him, she sat down to wait for his return. She knew that +if she did start out he might easily return in her absence and be +further alarmed.</p> + +<p>The moments dragged by and her apprehension grew. She took the rifle in +her hands and, slipping the lever part way back, looked to see if there +were a cartridge in the barrel. She saw a glitter of brass, and it gave +her a measure of assurance. She had a pistol in her own room—a weapon +that Elmira had procured, years before, from a passing sportsman—and +for a moment she considered getting it also. She understood its action +better and would probably be more efficient with it if the need arose, +but for certain never-to-be-forgotten reasons she wished to keep this +weapon until the moment of utmost need.</p> + +<p>Her whole stock of pistol cartridges consisted of six—completely +filling the magazine of the pistol. Closely watched by the Turners, she +had been unable to procure more. Many a dreadful night these six little +cylinders of brass had been a tremendous consolation to her. They had +been her sole defense, and she knew that in the final emergency she +could use them to deadly effect.</p> + +<p>Linda was a girl who had always looked her situations in the face. She +was not one to flinch from the truth and with false optimism disbelieve +it. She had the courage of many generations of frontiersmen and +woodsmen, and she had their vision too. She knew these mountain realms; +better still she understood the dark passions of Simon and his +followers, and this little half-pound of steel and wood with its brass +shells might mean, in the dreadful last moment of despair, deliverance +from them. It might mean escape for herself when all other ways were cut +off. In this wild land, far from the reaches of law and without allies +except for a decrepit old woman, the pistol and its deadly loads had +been her greatest solace.</p> + +<p>But she relied on the rifle now. And sitting in the shadow, she kept +watch over the moonlit ridge.</p> + +<p>The hours passed, and the clouds were starting up from the horizon when +she thought she saw Bruce returning. A tall form came swinging toward +her, over the little trail that led between the tree trunks. She peered +intently. And in one instant more she knew that the approaching figure +was not Bruce, but the man she most feared of anyone on earth, Simon +Turner.</p> + +<p>She knew him by his great form, his swinging stride. Her thoughts came +clear and true. It was obvious that his was no mission of stealth. He +was coming boldly, freely, not furtively; and he must have known that he +presented a perfect rifle target from the windows. Nevertheless, it is +well to be prepared for emergencies. If life in the mountains teaches +anything, it teaches that. She took the rifle and laid it behind a +little desk, out of sight. Then she went to the door.</p> + +<p>"I want to come in, Linda," Simon told her.</p> + +<p>"I told you long ago you couldn't come to this house," Linda answered +through the panels. "I want you to go away."</p> + +<p>Simon laughed softly. "You'd better let me in. I've brought word of the +child you took to raise. You know who I mean."</p> + +<p>Yes, Linda knew. "Do you mean Bruce?" she asked. "I let Dave in to-night +on the same pretext. Don't expect me to be caught twice by the same +lie."</p> + +<p>"Dave? Where is Dave?" The fact was that the whereabouts of his brother +had suddenly become considerable of a mystery to Simon. All the way +from the pasture where he had left his clan he had been having black +pictures of Dave. He had thought about him and Linda out in the darkness +together, and his heart had seemed to smolder and burn with jealousy in +his breast. It had been a great relief to him to find her in the house.</p> + +<p>"I wonder—where he is by now," Linda answered in a strange voice. "No +one in this world can answer that question, Simon. Tell me what you +want."</p> + +<p>She opened the door. She couldn't bear to show fear of this man. And she +knew that an appearance of courage, at least, was the wisest course.</p> + +<p>"No matter about him now. I want to talk to you on business. If I had +meant rough measures, I wouldn't have come alone."</p> + +<p>"No," Linda scorned. "You would have brought your whole murdering band +with you. The Turners believe in overwhelming numbers."</p> + +<p>The words stung him but he smiled grimly into her face. "I've come in +peace, Linda," he said, more gently. "I've come to give you a last +chance to make friends."</p> + +<p>He walked past her into the room. He straightened the chair that had +been upset, smiling strangely the while, and sat down in it.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me what you have to tell me," she said. "I'm in a hurry to go +to bed—and this really isn't the hour for calls."</p> + +<p>He looked a long time into her face. She found it hard to hold her own +gaze. Many things could be doubted about this man, but his power and +his courage were not among them. The smile died from his lips, the +lines deepened on his face. She realized as never before the tempestuous +passions and unfathomable intensity of his nature.</p> + +<p>"We've never been good friends," Simon went on slowly.</p> + +<p>"We never could be," the girl answered. "We've stood for different +things."</p> + +<p>"At first my efforts to make friends were just—to win you over to our +side. It didn't work—all it did was to waken other desires in +me—desires that perhaps have come to mean more than the possession of +the lands. You know what they are. You've always known—that any time +you wished—you could come and rule my house."</p> + +<p>She nodded. She knew that she had won, against her will, the strange, +somber love of this mighty man. She had known it for months.</p> + +<p>"As my wife—don't make any mistake about that. Linda, I'm a stern, hard +man. I've never known how to woo. I don't know that I want to know how, +the way it is done by weaker men. It has never been my way to ask for +what I wanted. But sometimes it seems to me that if I'd been a little +more gentle—not so masterful and so relentless—that I'd won you long +ago."</p> + +<p>Linda looked up bravely into his face. "No, Simon. You could have +never—never won me! Oh, can't you see—even in this awful place a woman +wants something more than just brute strength and determination. Every +woman prays to find strength in the man she loves—but it isn't the +kind that you have, the kind that makes your men grovel before you, and +makes me tremble when I'm talking to you. It's a big, calm +strength—and I can't tell you what it is. It's something the pines +have, maybe—strength not to yield to the passions, but to restrain, not +to be afraid of, but to cling to—to stand upright and honorable and +manly, and make a woman strong just to see it in the man she loves."</p> + +<p>He listened gravely. Her cheeks blazed. It was a strange scene—the +silent room, the implacable foes, the breathless suspense, the prophecy +and inspiration in her tones.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I should have been more gentle," he admitted. "I might have +forgotten—for a little while—this surging, irresistible impulse in my +muscles—and tried just to woo you, gently and humbly. But it's too late +now. I'm not a fool. I can't expect you to begin at the beginning. I can +only go on in my own way—my hard, remorseless, ruthless way.</p> + +<p>"It isn't every man who is brave enough to see what he wants and knock +away all obstacles to get it," he went on. "Put that bravery to my +credit. To pay no attention to methods, only to look forward to the +result. That has been my creed. It is my creed now. Many less brave men +would fear your hatred—but I don't fear it as long as I possess what I +go after and a hope that I can get you over it. Many of my own brothers +hate me, but yet I don't care as long as they do my will. No matter how +much you scorn it, this bravery has always got me what I wanted, and it +will get me what I want now."</p> + +<p>The high color died in her face. She wondered if the final emergency had +come at last.</p> + +<p>"I've come to make a bargain. You can take it or you can refuse. On one +side is the end of all this conflict, to be my wife, to have what you +want—bought by the rich return from my thousands of acres. And I love +you, Linda. You know that."</p> + +<p>The man spoke the truth. His terrible, dark love was all over him—in +his glowing eyes, in his drawn, deeply-lined face.</p> + +<p>"In time, when you come around to my way of thinking, you'll love me. If +you refuse—this last time—I've got to take other ways. On that side is +defeat for you—as sure as day. The time is almost up when the title to +those lands is secure. Bruce is in our hands—"</p> + +<p>She got up, white-faced. "Bruce—?"</p> + +<p>He arose too. "Yes! Did you think he could stand against us? I'll show +him to you in the morning. To-night he's paying the price for ever +daring to oppose my will."</p> + +<p>She turned imploring eyes. He saw them, and perhaps—far distant—he saw +the light of triumph too. A grim smile came to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Simon," she cried. "Have mercy."</p> + +<p>The word surprised him. It was the first time she had ever asked this +man for mercy. "Then you surrender—?"</p> + +<p>"Simon, listen to me," she begged. "Let him go—and I won't even try to +fight you any more. I'll let you keep those lands and never try any more +to make you give them up. You and your brothers can keep them forever, +and we won't try to get revenge on you either. He and I will go away."</p> + +<p>He gazed at her in deepening wonderment. For the moment, his mind +refused to accept the truth. He only knew that since he had faced her +before, some new, great strength had come to her,—that a power was in +her life that would make her forego all the long dream of her days.</p> + +<p>He had known perfectly the call of the blood in her. He had understood +her hatred of the Turners, he could hate in the same way himself. He +realized her love for her father's home and how she had dreamed of +expelling its usurpers. Yet she was willing to renounce it all. The +power that had come to her was one that he, a man whose code of life was +no less cruel and remorseless than that of the Killer himself, could not +understand.</p> + +<p>"But why?" he demanded. "Why are you willing to do all this for him?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" she echoed. Once more the luster was in her dark eyes. "I suppose +it is because—I love him."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with slowly darkening face. Passion welled within him. +An oath dropped from his lips, blasphemous, more savage than any +wilderness voice. Then he raised his arm and struck her tender flesh.</p> + +<p>He struck her breast. The brutality of the man stood forth at last. No +picture that all the dreadful dramas of the wild could portray was more +terrible than this. The girl cried out, reeled and fell fainting from +the pain, and with smoldering eyes he gazed at her unmoved. Then he +turned out of the door.</p> + +<p>But the curtain of this drama in the mountain home had not yet rung +down. Half-unconscious, she listened to his steps. He was out in the +moonlight, vanishing among the trees. Strange fancies swept her, all in +the smallest fraction of an instant, and a voice spoke clearly. With all +the strength of her will she dispelled the mists of dawning +unconsciousness that the pain had wrought and crept swiftly to the +little desk placed against the wall. Her hand fumbled in the shadow +behind it and brought out a glittering rifle. Then she crept to the open +doorway.</p> + +<p>Lying on the floor, she raised the weapon to her shoulder. Her thumb +pressed back, strong and unfaltering, against the hammer; and she heard +it click as it sprung into place. Then she looked along the barrel until +she saw the swinging form of Simon through the sights.</p> + +<p>There was no remorse in that cold gaze of hers. The wings of death +hovered over the man, ready to swoop down. Her fingers curled tighter +about the trigger. One ounce more pressure, and Simon's trail of +wickedness and bloodshed would have come to an end at last. But at that +instant her eyes widened with the dawn of an idea.</p> + +<p>She knew this man. She knew the hatred that was upon him. And she +realized, as if by an inspiration from on High, that before he went to +his house and to sleep he would go once more into the presence of Bruce, +confined somewhere among these ridges and suffering the punishment of +having opposed his will. Simon would want one look to see how his plan +was getting on; perhaps he would want to utter one taunting word. And +Linda saw her chance.</p> + +<p>She started to creep out of the door. Then she turned back, crawled +until she was no longer revealed in the silhouette of the lighted +doorway, and got swiftly to her feet. She dropped the rifle and darted +into her own room. There she procured a weapon that she trusted more, +her little pistol, loaded with six cartridges.</p> + +<p>If she had understood the real nature of the danger that Bruce faced she +would have retained the rifle. It shot with many times the smashing +power of the little gun, and at long range was many times as accurate, +but even it would have seemed an ineffective defense against such an +enemy as was even now creeping toward Bruce's body. But she knew that in +a crisis, against such of the Turners as she thought she might have to +face, it would serve her much better than the more awkward, heavier +weapon. Besides, she knew how to wield it, and all her life she had kept +it for just such an emergency.</p> + +<p>The pain of the blow was quite gone now, except for a strange sickness +that had encompassed her. But she was never colder of nerve and surer +of muscle. Cunningly she lay down again before she crept through the +door, so that if Simon chanced to look about he would fail to see that +she followed him. She crept to the thickets, then stood up. Three +hundred yards down the slope she could see Simon's dimming figure in the +moonlight, and swiftly she sped after him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2> + + +<p>The shadow that Bruce saw at the edge of the forest could not be +mistaken as to identity. The hopes that he had held before—that this +stalking figure might be that of a deer or an elk—could no longer be +entertained. Men as a rule do not love the wild and wailing sobs of a +coyote, as he looks down upon a camp fire from the ridge above. Sleep +does not come easily when a gaunt wolf walks in a slow, inquisitive +circle about the pallet, scarcely a leaf rustling beneath his feet. And +a few times, in the history of the frontier, men have had queer +tinglings and creepings in the scalp when they have happened to glance +over their shoulders and see the eyes of a great, tawny puma, glowing an +odd blue in the firelight. Yet Bruce would have had any one of these, or +all three together, in preference to the Killer.</p> + +<p>The reason was extremely simple. No words have ever been capable of +expressing the depths of cowardice of which a coyote is capable. He will +whine and weep about a camp, like a soul lost between two worlds, but if +he is in his right mind he would have each one of his gray hairs plucked +out, one by one, rather than attack a man. The cunning breed to which he +belongs has found out that it doesn't pay. The wolf is sometimes +disquietingly brave when he is fortified by his pack brethren in the +winter, but in such a season as this he is particularly careful to keep +out of the sight of man. And the Tawny One himself, white-fanged and +long-clawed and powerful as he is, never gets farther than certain +dreadful, speculative dreams.</p> + +<p>But none of these things was true of the Killer. He had already shown +his scorn of men. His very stride showed that he feared no living +creature that shared the forest with him. In fact, he considered himself +the forest master. The bear is never a particularly timid animal, and +whatever timidity the Killer possessed was as utterly gone as +yesterday's daylight.</p> + +<p>Bruce watched him with unwinking eyes. The shadow wavered ever so +slightly, as the Killer turned his head this way and that. But except to +follow it with his eyes, Bruce made no motion. The inner guardians of a +man's life—voices that are more to be relied upon than the promptings +of any conscious knowledge—had already told him what to do. These +monitors had the wisdom of the pines themselves, and they had revealed +to him his one hope. It was just to lie still, without a twitch of a +muscle. It might be that the Killer would fail to discern his outline. +Bruce had no conscious knowledge, as yet, that it is movement rather +than form to which the eyes of the wild creatures are most receptive. +But he acted upon that fact now as if by instinct. He was not lying in +quite the exact spot where the Killer had left his dead the preceding +night, and possibly his outline was not enough like it to attract the +grizzly's attention. Besides, in the intermittent light, it was wholly +possible that the grizzly would try to find the remains of his feast by +smell alone; and if this were lacking, and Bruce made no movements to +attract his attention, he might wander away in search of other game.</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life, Bruce knew Fear as it really was. It is +a knowledge that few dwellers in cities can possibly have; and so few +times has it really been experienced in these days of civilization that +men have mostly forgotten what it is like. If they experience it at all, +it is usually only in a dream that arises from the germ-plasm,—a +nightmare to paralyze the muscles and chill the heart and freeze a man +in his bed. The moon was strange and white as it slipped in and out of +the clouds, and the forest, mysterious as Death itself, lightened and +darkened alternately with a strange effect of unreality; but for all +that, Bruce could not make himself believe that this was just a dream. +The dreadful reality remained that the Killer, whose name and works he +knew, was even now investigating him from the shadows one hundred feet +away.</p> + +<p>The fear that came to him was that of the young world,—fear without +recompense, direct and primitive fear that grew on him like a sickness. +It was the fear that the deer knew as they crept down their dusky trails +at night; it was the fear of darkness and silence and pain and heaven +knows what cruelty that would be visited upon him by those terrible, +rending fangs and claws. It was the fear that can be heard in the pack +song in the dreadful winter season, and that can be felt in strange +overtones, in the sobbing wail of despair that the coyote utters in the +half-darkness. He had been afraid for his life every moment he was in +the hands of the Turners. He knew that if he survived this night, he +would have to face death again. He had no hopes of deliverance +altogether. But the Turners were men, and they worked with knife blade +and bullet, not rending fang and claw. He could face men bravely; but it +was hard to keep a strong heart in the face of this ancient fear of +beasts.</p> + +<p>The Killer seemed disturbed and moved slowly along the edge of the +moonlight. Bruce could trace his movements by the irregularity in the +line of shadows. He seemed to be moving more cautiously than ever, now. +Bruce could not hear the slightest sound.</p> + +<p>For an instant Bruce had an exultant hope that the bear would continue +on down the edge of the forest and leave him; and his heart stood still +as the great beast paused, sniffing. But some smell in the air seemed to +reach him, and he came stealing back.</p> + +<p>In reality, the Killer was puzzled. He had come to this place straight +through the forest with the expectation that food—flesh to tear with +his fangs—would be waiting for him. Perhaps he had no actual memory of +killing the calf the night before. Possibly it was only instinct, not +conscious intelligence, that brought him back to what was left of his +feast the preceding night. And now, as he waited at the border of the +darkness, he knew that a strange change had taken place. And the Killer +did not like strangeness.</p> + +<p>The smell that he had expected had dimmed to such an extent that it +promoted no muscular impulse. Perhaps it was only obliterated by a +stranger smell,—one that was vaguely familiar and wakened a slow, +brooding anger in his great beast's heart.</p> + +<p>He was not timid; yet he retained some of his natural caution and +remained in the gloom while he made his investigations. Probably it was +a hunting instinct alone. He crept slowly up and down the border of +moonlight, and his anger seemed to grow and deepen within him. He felt +dimly that he had been cheated out of his meal. And once before he had +been similarly cheated; but there had been singular triumph at the end +of that experience.</p> + +<p>All at once a movement, far across the pasture, caught his attention. +Remote as it was, he identified the tall form at once; it was just such +a creature as he had blasted with one blow a day or two before. But it +dimmed quickly in the darkness. It seemed only that some one had come, +taken one glance at the drama at the edge of the forest, and had +departed. Bruce himself had not seen the figure; and perhaps it was the +mercy of Fate—not usually merciful—that he did not. He might have been +caused to hope again, only to know a deeper despair when the man left +him without giving aid. For the tall form had been that of Simon coming, +as Linda had anticipated, for a moment's inspection of his handiwork. +And seeing that it was good, he had departed again.</p> + +<p>The grizzly watched him go, then turned back to his questioning regard +of the strange, dark figure that lay so prone in the grass in front. The +darkness dropped over him as the moon went behind a heavy patch of +cloud.</p> + +<p>And in that moment of darkness, the Killer understood. He remembered +now. Possibly the upright form of Simon had suggested it to him; +possibly the wind had only blown straighter and thus permitted him to +identify the troubling smells. All at once a memory flashed over +him,—of a scene in a distant glen, and similar tall figures that tried +to drive him from his food. He had charged then, struck once, and one of +the forms had lain very still. He remembered the pungent, maddening odor +that had reached him after his blow had gone home. Most clearly of all, +he remembered how his fangs had struck and sunk.</p> + +<p>He knew this strange shadow now. It was just another of that tall breed +he had learned to hate, and it was simply lying prone as his foe had +done after the charge beside Little River. In fact, the still-lying form +recalled the other occasion with particular vividness. The excitement +that he had felt before returned to him now; he remembered his +disappointment when the whistling bullets from the hillside above had +driven him from his dead. But there were no whistling bullets now. +Except for them, there would have been further rapture beside that +stream; but he might have it now.</p> + +<p>His fangs had sunk home just once, before, and his blood leaped as he +recalled the passion he had felt. The old hunting madness came back to +him. It was the fair game, this that lay so still in the grass, just as +the body of the calf had been and just as the warm body of Hudson in the +distant glen.</p> + +<p>The wound at his side gave him a twinge of pain. It served to make his +memories all the clearer. The lurid lights grew in his eyes. Rage swept +over him.</p> + +<p>But he didn't charge blindly. He retained enough of his hunting caution +to know that to stalk was the proper course. It was true that there was +no shrubbery to hide him, yet in his time he had made successful stalks +in the open, even upon deer. He moved farther out from the edge of the +forest.</p> + +<p>At that instant the moon came out and revealed him, all too vividly, to +Bruce. The Killer's great gray figure in the silver light was creeping +toward him across the silvered grass.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When Linda left her house, her first realization was the need of +caution. It would not do to let Simon see her. And she knew that only +her long training in the hills, her practice in climbing the winding +trails, would enable her to keep pace with the fast-walking man without +being seen.</p> + +<p>In her concern for Bruce, she had completely forgotten the events of the +earlier part of the evening. Wild and stirring though they were, they +now seemed to her as incidents of remote years, nothing to be +remembered in this hour of crisis. But she remembered them vividly when, +two hundred yards from the house, she saw two strange figures coming +toward her between the moonlit tree trunks.</p> + +<p>There was very little of reality about either. The foremost figure was +bent and strange, but she knew that it could be no one but Elmira. The +second, however—half-obscured behind her—offered no interpretation of +outline at all at first. But at the turn of the trail she saw both +figures in vivid profile. Elmira was coming homeward, bent over her +cane, and she led a saddled horse by its bridle rein.</p> + +<p>Still keeping Simon in sight, Linda ran swiftly toward her. She didn't +understand the deep awe that stole over her,—an emotion that even her +fear for Bruce could not transcend. There was a quality in Elmira's face +and posture that she had never seen before. It was as if she were +walking in her sleep, she came with such a strange heaviness and +languor, her cane creeping through the pine needles of the trail in +front. She did not seem to be aware of Linda's approach until the girl +was only ten feet distant. Then she looked up, and Linda saw the +moonlight on her face.</p> + +<p>She saw something else too, but she didn't know what it was. Her own +eyes widened. The thin lips were drooping, the eyes looked as if she +were asleep. The face was a strange net of wrinkles in the soft light. +Terrible emotions had but recently died and left their ashes upon it. +But Linda knew that this was no time to stop and wonder and ask +questions.</p> + +<p>"Give me the horse," she commanded. "I'm going to help Bruce."</p> + +<p>"You can have it," Elmira answered in an unfamiliar voice. "It's the +horse that—that Dave Turner rode here—and he won't want him any more."</p> + +<p>Linda took the rein, passed it over the horse's head, and started to +swing into the saddle. Then she turned with a gasp as the woman slipped +something into her hand.</p> + +<p>Linda looked down and saw it was the hilt of the knife that Elmira had +carried with her when the two women had gone with Dave into the woods. +The blade glittered; but Linda was afraid to look at it closely. "You +might need that, too," the old woman said. "It may be wet—I can't +remember. But take it, anyway."</p> + +<p>Linda hardly heard. She thrust the blade into the leather of the saddle, +then swung on her horse. Once more she sought Simon's figure. Far away +she saw it, just as it vanished into the heavy timber on top of the +hill.</p> + +<p>She rode swiftly until she began to fear that he might hear the hoof +beat of her mount; then she drew up to a walk. And when she had crested +the hill and had followed down its long slope into the glen, the moon +went under the clouds for the first time.</p> + +<p>She lost sight of Simon at once. Seemingly her effort to save Bruce had +come to nothing, after all.</p> + +<p>But she didn't turn back. There were light patches in the sky, and the +moon might shine forth again.</p> + +<p>She followed down the trail toward the cleared lands that the Turners +cultivated. She went to their very edge. It was a rather high point, so +she waited here for the moon to emerge again. Never, it seemed to her, +had it moved so slowly. But all at once its light flowed forth over the +land.</p> + +<p>Her eyes searched the distant spaces, but she could catch no glimpse of +Simon between the trees. Evidently he no longer walked in the direction +of the house. Then she looked out over the tilled lands.</p> + +<p>Almost a quarter of a mile away she saw the flicker of a miniature +shadow. Only the vivid quality of the moonlight, against which any +shadow was clear-cut and sharp, enabled her to discern it at all. It was +Simon, and evidently his business had taken him into the meadows. +Feeling that she was on the right track at last, she urged her horse +forward again, keeping to the shadow of the timber at first.</p> + +<p>Simon walked almost parallel to the dark fringe for nearly a mile; then +turned off into the tilled lands. She rode opposite him and reined in +the horse to watch.</p> + +<p>When the distance had almost obscured him, she saw him stop. He waited a +long time, then turned back. The moon went in and out of the clouds. +Then, trusting to the distance to conceal her, Linda rode slowly out +into the clearing.</p> + +<p>Simon reëntered the timber, his inspection seemingly done, and Linda +still rode in the general direction he had gone. The darkness fell +again, and for the space of perhaps five minutes all the surroundings +were obscured. A curious sense of impending events came over her as she +headed on toward the distant wall of forest beyond.</p> + +<p>Then, the clouds slowly dimming under the moon, the light grew with +almost imperceptible encroachments. At first it was only bright enough +to show her own dim shadow on the grass. The utter gloom that was over +the fields lessened and drew away like receding curtains; her vision +reached ever farther, the shadows grew more clearly outlined and +distinct. Then the moon rolled forth into a wholly open patch of sky—a +white sphere with a sprinkling of vivid stars around it—and the silver +radiance poured down.</p> + +<p>It was like the breaking of dawn. The fields stretched to incredible +distances about her. The forest beyond emerged in distinct outline; she +could see every irregularity in the plain. And in one instant's glance +she knew that she had found Bruce.</p> + +<p>His situation went home to her in one sweep of the eyes. Bruce was not +alone. Even now a great, towering figure was creeping toward him from +the forest. Linda cried out, and with the long strap of her rein lashed +her horse into the fastest pace it knew.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bruce did not hear her come. He lay in the soft grass, waiting for +death. A great calm had come upon him; a strange, quiet strength that +the pines themselves might have lent to him; and he made no cry. In this +dreadful last moment of despair the worst of his terror had gone and +left his thoughts singularly clear. And but one desire was left to him: +that the Killer might be merciful and end his frail existence with one +blow.</p> + +<p>It was not a great deal to ask for; but he knew perfectly that only by +the mercy of the forest gods could it come to pass. They are usually not +so kind to the dying; and it is not the wild-animal way to take pains to +kill at the first blow. Yet his eyes held straight. The Killer crept +slowly toward him; more and more of his vast body was revealed above the +tall heads of the grass. And now all that Bruce knew was a great +wonder,—a strange expectancy and awe of what the opening gates of +darkness would reveal.</p> + +<p>The Killer moved with dreadful slowness and deliberation. He was no +longer afraid. It was just as it had been before,—a warm figure lying +still and helpless for his own terrible pleasure. A few more steps and +he would be near enough to see plainly; then—after the grizzly +habit—to fling into the charge. It was his own way of hunting,—to +stalk within a few score of feet, then to make a furious, resistless +rush. He paused, his muscles setting. And then the meadows suddenly rang +with the undulations of his snarl.</p> + +<p>Almost unconscious, Bruce did not understand what had caused this +utterance. But strangely, the bear had lifted his head and was staring +straight over him. For the first time Bruce heard the wild beat of +hoofs on the turf behind him.</p> + +<p>He didn't have time to turn and look. There was no opportunity even for +a flood of renewed hope. Events followed upon one another with startling +rapidity. The sharp, unmistakable crack of a pistol leaped through the +dusk, and a bullet sung over his body. And then a wild-riding figure +swept up to him.</p> + +<p>It was Linda, firing as she came. How she had been able to control her +horse and ride him into that scene of peril no words may reveal. +Perhaps, running wildly beneath the lash, his starting eyes did not +discern or interpret the gray figure scarcely a score of yards distant +from Bruce; and it is true the grizzly's pungent smell—a thing to +terrify much more and to be interpreted more clearly than any kind of +dim form in the moonlight—was blown in the opposite direction. Perhaps +the lashing strap recalled the terrible punishment the horse had +undergone earlier that evening at the hands of Simon and no room was +left for any lesser terror. But most likely of all, just as in the case +of brave soldiers riding their horses into battle, the girl's own +strength and courage went into him. Always it has been the same; the +steed partook of its rider's own spirit.</p> + +<p>The bear reared up, snarling with wrath, but for a moment it dared not +charge. The sudden appearance of the girl and the horse held him +momentarily at bay. The girl swung to the ground in one leap, fired +again, thrust her arm through the loop of the bridle rein, then knelt +at Bruce's side. The white blade that she carried in her left hand +slashed at his bonds.</p> + +<p>The horse, plunging, seemed to jerk her body back and forth, and endless +seconds seemed to go by before the last of the thongs was severed. In +reality the whole rescue was unbelievably swift. The man helped her all +he could. "Up—up into the saddle," she commanded. The grizzly growled +again, advancing remorselessly toward them, and twice more she fired. +Two of the bullets went home in his great body, but their weight and +shocking power were too slight to affect him. He went down once more on +all fours, preparing to charge.</p> + +<p>Bruce, in spite of the fact that his limbs had been nearly paralyzed by +the tight bonds, managed to grasp the saddlehorn. In the strength of +new-born hope he pulled himself half up on it, and he felt Linda's +strong arms behind him pushing up. The horse plunged in deadly fear; and +the Killer leaped toward them. Once more the pistol cracked. Then the +horse broke and ran in a frenzy of terror.</p> + +<p>Bruce was full in the saddle by then, and even at the first leap his arm +swept out to the girl on the ground beside him. He swung her towards +him, and at the same time her hands caught at the arching back of the +saddle. Never had her fine young strength been put to a greater test +than when she tried to pull herself up on the speeding animal's back. +For the first fifty feet she was half-dragged, but slowly—with Bruce's +help—she pulled herself up to a position of security.</p> + +<p>The Killer's charge had come a few seconds too late. For a moment he +raced behind them in insane fury, but only his savage growl leaped +through the darkness fast enough to catch up with them. And the distance +slowly widened.</p> + +<p>The Killer had been cheated again; and by the same token Simon's oath +had been proved untrue. For once the remorseless strength of which he +boasted had been worsted by a greater strength; and love, not hate, was +the power that gave it. For once a girl's courage—a courage greater +than that with which he obeyed the dictates of his cruel will—had cost +him his victory. The war that he and his outlaw band had begun so long +ago had not yet been won.</p> + +<p>Indeed, if Simon could have seen what the moon saw as it peered out from +behind the clouds, he would have known that one of the debts of blood +incurred so many years ago had even now been paid. Far away on a distant +hillside there was one who gave no heed to the fast hoof beats of the +speeding horse. It was Dave Turner, and his trail of lust and wickedness +was ended at last. He lay with lifted face, and there were curious dark +stains on the pine needles.</p> + +<p>It was the first blood since the reopening of the feud. And the pines, +those tall, dark sentinels of the wilderness, seemed to look down upon +him in passionless contemplation, as if they wondered at the stumbling +ways of men. Their branches rubbed together and made words as the wind +swept through them, but no man may say what those words were.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_THREE" id="BOOK_THREE"></a>BOOK THREE</h2> + +<h3>THE COMING OF THE STRENGTH</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2> + + +<p>Fall was at hand at Trail's End. One night, and the summer was still a +joyous spirit in the land, birds nested, skies were blue, soft winds +wandered here and there through the forest. One morning, and a startling +change had come upon the wilderness world. The spirit of autumn had come +with golden wings.</p> + +<p>The wild creatures, up and about at their pursuits long before dawn, +were the first to see the change. A buck deer—a noble creature with six +points on his spreading horns—got the first inkling of it when he +stopped at a spring to drink. It was true that an hour before he had +noticed a curious crispness and a new stir in the air, but he had been +so busy keeping out of the ambushes of the Tawny One that he had not +noticed it. The air had been chill in his nostrils, but thanks to a +heavy growth of hair that—with mysterious foresight—had begun to come +upon his body, it gave him no discomfort. But it was a puzzling and +significant thing that the water he bent to drink had been transformed +to something hard and white and burning cold to the tip of his nose.</p> + +<p>It was the first real freeze. True, for the past few nights there had +been a measure of tinkling, cobweb frost on the ground in wet places, +but even the tender-skinned birds—always most watchful of signs of this +kind—had disregarded it. But there was no disregarding this half-inch +of blue ice that had covered the spring. The buck deer struck it angrily +with his front hoofs, broke through and drank; then went snorting up the +hill.</p> + +<p>His anger was in itself a significant thing. In the long, easy-going +summer days, Blacktail had almost forgotten what anger was like. He had +been content to roam over the ridges, cropping the leaves and grass, +avoiding danger and growing fat. But all at once this kind of existence +had palled on him. He felt that he wanted only one thing—not food or +drink or safety—but a good, slashing, hooking, hoof-carving battle with +another buck of his own species. An unwonted crossness had come upon +him, and his soft eyes burned with a blue fire. He remembered the does, +too—with a sudden leap of his blood—and wondered where they were +keeping themselves. Being only a beast he did not know that this new +belligerent spirit was just as much a sign of fall as the soft blush +that was coming on the leaves. The simple fact was that fall means the +beginning of the rut—the wild mating days when the bucks battle among +themselves and choose their harems of does.</p> + +<p>He had rather liked his appearance as he saw himself in the water of the +spring. The last of the velvet had been rubbed from his horns, and the +twelve tines (six on each horn) were as hard and almost as sharp as so +many bayonet points. As the morning dawned, the change in the face of +nature became ever more manifest. The leaves of the shrubbery began to +change in color. The wind out of the north had a keener, more biting +quality, and the birds were having some sort of exciting debate in the +tree tops.</p> + +<p>The birds are always a scurried, nervous, rather rattle-brained outfit, +and seem wholly incapable of making a decision about anything without +hours of argument and discussion. Their days are simply filled with one +excitement after another, and they tell more scandal in an hour than the +old ladies in a resort manage in the entire summer. This slow +transformation in the color of the leaves, not to mention the chill of +the frost through their scanty feathers, had created a sensation from +one end of birdland to another. And there was only one thing to do about +it. That was to wait until the darkness closed down again, then start +away toward the path of the sun in search of their winter resorts in the +south.</p> + +<p>The Little People in the forest of ferns beneath were not such gay +birds, and they did not have such high-flown ideas as these feathered +folk in the branches. They didn't talk such foolishness and small talk +from dawn to dark. They didn't wear gay clothes that weren't a particle +of good to them in cold weather. You can imagine them as being good, +substantial, middle-class people, much more sober-minded, tending +strictly to business and working hard, and among other things they saw +no need of flitting down to southern resorts for the cold season. These +people—being mostly ground squirrels and gophers and chipmunks and +rabbits—had not been fitted by nature for wide travel and had made all +arrangements for a pleasant winter at home. You could almost see a smile +on the fat face of a plump old gopher when he came out and found the +frost upon the ground; for he knew that for months past he had been +putting away stores for just this season. In the snows that would follow +he would simply retire into the farthest recesses of his burrow and let +the winds whistle vainly above him.</p> + +<p>The larger creatures, however, were less complacent. The wolves—if +animals have any powers of foresight whatever—knew that only hard days, +not luscious nuts and roots, were in store for them. There would be many +days of hunger once the snow came over the land. The black bear saw the +signs and began a desperate effort to lay up as many extra pounds of fat +as possible before the snows broke. Ashur's appetite was always as much +with him as his bobbed-off excuse for a tail, and as he was more or less +indifferent to a fair supply of dirt, he always managed to put away +considerable food in a rather astonishingly short period of time; and +now he tried to eat all the faster in view of the hungry days to come. +He would have need of the extra flesh. The time was coming when all +sources of food would be cut off by the snows, and he would have to seek +the security of hibernation. He had already chosen an underground abode +for himself and there he could doze away in the cold-trance through the +winter months, subsisting on the supplies of fat that he had stored next +to his furry hide.</p> + +<p>The greatest of all the bears, the Killer, knew that some such fate +awaited him also. But he looked forward to it with wretched spirit. He +was master of the forest, and perhaps he did not like to yield even to +the spirit of winter. His savagery grew upon him every day, and his +dislike for men had turned to a veritable hatred. But he had found them +out. When he crossed their trails again, he would not wait to stalk. +They were apt to slip away from him in this case and sting him +unmercifully with bullets. The thing to do was charge quickly and strike +with all his power.</p> + +<p>The three minor wounds he had received—two from pistol bullets and one +from Bruce's rifle—had not lessened his strength at all. They did, +however, serve to keep his blood-heat at the explosive stage most of the +day and night.</p> + +<p>The flowers and the grasses were dying; the moths that paid calls on the +flowers had laid their eggs and had perished, and winter lurked—ready +to pounce forth—just beyond the distant mountains. There is nothing so +thoroughly unreliable as the mountain autumn. It may linger in +entrancing golds and browns month after month, until it is almost time +for spring to come again; and again it may make one short bow and usher +in the winter. To Bruce and Linda, in the old Folger home in Trail's +End, these fall days offered the last hope of success in their war +against the Turners.</p> + +<p>The adventure in the pasture with the Killer had handicapped them to an +unlooked-for degree. Bruce's muscles had been severely strained by the +bonds; several days had elapsed before he regained their full use. Linda +was a mountain girl, hardy as a deer, yet her nerves had suffered a +greater shock by the experience than either of them had guessed. The +wild ride, the fear and the stress, and most of all the base blow that +Simon had dealt her had been too much even for her strong constitution; +and she had been obliged to go to bed for a few days of rest. Old Elmira +worked about the house the same as ever, but strange, new lights were in +her eyes. For reasons that went down to the roots of things, neither +Bruce nor Linda questioned her as to her scene with Dave Turner in the +coverts; and what thoughts dwelt in her aged mind neither of them could +guess.</p> + +<p>The truth was that in these short weeks of trial and danger whatever +dreadful events had come to pass in that meeting were worth neither +thought nor words. Both Bruce and Linda were down to essentials. It is a +descent that most human beings—some time in their lives—find they are +able to make; and there was no room for sentimentality or hysteria in +this grim household. The ideas, the softnesses, the laws of the valleys +were far away from them; they were face to face with realities. Their +code had become the basic code of life: to kill for self-protection +without mercy or remorse.</p> + +<p>They did not know when the Turners would attack. It was the dark of the +moon, and the men would be able to approach the house without presenting +themselves as targets for Bruce's rifle. The danger was not a thing on +which to conjecture and forget; it was an ever-present reality. Never +they stepped out of the door, never they crossed a lighted window, never +a pane rattled in the wind but that the wings of Death might have been +hovering over them. The days were passing, the date when the chance for +victory would utterly vanish was almost at hand, and they were haunted +by the ghastly fact that their whole defense lay in a single +thirty-thirty rifle and five cartridges. Bruce's own gun had been taken +from him in Simon's house; Linda had emptied her pistol at the Killer.</p> + +<p>"We've got to get more shells," Bruce told Linda. "The Turners won't be +such fools as to wait until we have the moon again to attack. I can't +understand why they haven't already come. Of course, they don't know the +condition of our ammunition supply, but it doesn't seem to me that that +alone would have held them off. They are sure to come soon, and you know +what we could do with five cartridges, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I know." She looked up into his earnest face. "We could die—that's +all."</p> + +<p>"Yes—like rabbits. Without hurting them at all. I wouldn't mind dying +so much, if I did plenty of damage first. It's death for me, anyway, I +suppose—and no one but a fool can see it otherwise. There are simply +too many against us. But I do want to make some payment first."</p> + +<p>Her hand fumbled and groped for his. Her eyes pled to him,—more than +any words. "And you mean you've given up hope?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He smiled down at her,—a grave, strange little smile that moved her in +secret ways. "Not given up hope, Linda," he said gently. They were +standing at the door and the sunlight—coming low from the South—was on +his face. "I've never had any hope to give up—just realization of what +lay ahead of us. I'm looking it all in the face now, just as I did at +first."</p> + +<p>"And what you see—makes you afraid?"</p> + +<p>Yet she need not have asked that question. His face gave an unmistakable +answer: that this man had conquered fear in the terrible night with the +Killer. "Not afraid, Linda," he explained, "only seeing things as they +really are. There are too many against us. If we had that great estate +behind us, with all its wealth, we might have a chance; if we had an +arsenal of rifles with thousands of cartridges, we might make a stand +against them. But we are three—two women and one man—and one rifle +between us all. Five little shells to be expended in five seconds. They +are seven or eight, each man armed, each man a rifle-shot. They are +certain to attack within a day or two—before we have the moon again. In +less than two weeks we can no longer contest their title to the estate. +A little month or two more and we will be snowed in—with no chance to +get out at all."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps before that," she told him.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Perhaps before that."</p> + +<p>They found a confirmation of this prophecy in the signs of fall +without—the coloring leaves, the dying flowers, the new, cold breath of +the wind. Only the pines remained unchanged; they were the same grave +sentinels they always were.</p> + +<p>"And you can forgive me?" Linda asked humbly.</p> + +<p>"Forgive you?" The man turned to her in surprise. "What have you done +that needs to be forgiven?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you see? To bring you here—out of your cities—to throw your +life away. To enlist you in a fight that you can't hope to win. I've +killed you, that's all I've done. Perhaps to-night—perhaps a few days +later."</p> + +<p>He nodded gravely.</p> + +<p>"And I've already killed your smile," she went on, looking down. "You +don't smile any more the way you used to. You're not the boy you were +when you came. Oh, to think of it—that it's all been my work. To kill +your youth, to lead you into this slaughter pen where nothing—nothing +lives but death—and hatred—and unhappiness."</p> + +<p>The tears leaped to her eyes. He caught her hands and pressed them +between his until pain came into her fingers. "Listen, Linda," he +commanded. She looked straight up at him. "Are you sorry I came?"</p> + +<p>"More than I can tell you—for your sake."</p> + +<p>"But when people look for the truth in this world, Linda, they don't +take any one's sake into consideration. They balance all things and give +them their true worth. Would you rather that you and I had never +met—that I had never received Elmira's message—that you should live +your life up here without ever hearing of me?"</p> + +<p>She dropped her eyes. "It isn't fair—to ask me that—"</p> + +<p>"Tell me the truth. Hasn't it been worth while? Even if we lose and die +before this night is done, hasn't it all been worth while? Are you sorry +you have seen me change? Isn't the change for the better—a man grown +instead of a boy? One who looks straight and sees clear?"</p> + +<p>He studied her face; and after a while he found his answer. It was not +in the form of words at first. As a man might watch a miracle he watched +a new light come into her dark eyes. All the gloom and sorrow of the +wilderness without could not affect its quality. It was a light of joy, +of exultation, of new-found strength.</p> + +<p>"You hadn't ought to ask me that, Bruce," she said with a rather +strained distinctness. "It has been like being born again. There aren't +any words to tell you what it has meant to me. And don't think I haven't +seen the change in you, too—the birth of a new strength that every day +is greater, higher—until it is—almost more than I can understand. The +old smiles are gone, but something else has taken their place—something +much more dear to me—but what it is I can hardly tell you. Maybe it's +something that the pines have."</p> + +<p>But he hadn't wholly forgotten how to smile. His face lighted as +remembrance came to him. "They are a different kind of smiles—that's +all," he explained. "Perhaps there will be many of them in the days to +come. Linda, I have no regrets. I've played the game. Whether it was +Destiny that brought me here, or only chance, or perhaps—if we take +just life and death into consideration—just misfortune, whatever it is +I feel no resentment toward it. It has been the worthwhile adventure. In +the first place, I love the woods. There's something else in them +besides death and hatred and unhappiness. Besides, it seems to me that I +can understand the whole world better than I used to. Maybe I can begin +to see a big purpose and theme running through it all—but it's not yet +clear enough to put into words. Certain things in this world are +essentials, certain other ones are froth. And I see which things belong +to one class and which to another so much more clearly than I did +before. One of the things that matters is throwing one's whole life into +whatever task he has set out to do—whether he fails or succeeds doesn't +seem greatly to matter. The main thing, it appears to me, is that he has +tried. To stand strong and kind of calm, and not be afraid—if I can +always do it, Linda, it is all I ask for myself. Not to flinch now. Not +to give up as long as I have the strength for another step. And to have +you with me—all the way."</p> + +<p>"Then you and I—take fresh heart?"</p> + +<p>"We've never lost heart, Linda."</p> + +<p>"Not to give up, but only be glad we've tried?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And keep on trying."</p> + +<p>"With no regrets?"</p> + +<p>"None—and maybe to borrow a little strength from the pines!"</p> + +<p>This was their new pact. To stand firm and strong and unflinching, and +never to yield as long as an ounce of strength remained. As if to seal +it, her arms crept about his neck and her soft lips pressed his.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2> + + +<p>Toward the end of the afternoon Linda saddled the horse and rode down +the trail toward Martin's store. She had considerable business to attend +to. Among other things, she was going to buy thirty-thirty +cartridges,—all that Martin had in stock. She had some hope of securing +an extra gun or two with shells to match. The additional space in her +pack was to be filled with provisions.</p> + +<p>For she was faced with the unpleasant fact that her larder was nearly +empty. The jerked venison was almost gone; only a little flour and a few +canned things remained. She had space for only small supplies on the +horse's back, and there would be no luxuries among them.—Their fare had +been plain up to this time; but from now on it was to consist of only +such things as were absolutely necessary to sustain life.</p> + +<p>She rode unarmed. Without informing him of the fact, the rifle had been +left for Bruce. She did not expect for herself a rifle shot from +ambush—for the simple reason that Simon had bidden otherwise—and Bruce +might be attacked at any moment.</p> + +<p>She was dreaming dreams, that day. The talk with Bruce had given her +fresh heart, and as she rode down the sunlit trail the future opened up +entrancing vistas to her. Perhaps they yet could conquer, and that would +mean reëstablishment on the far-flung lands of her father. Matthew +Folger had possessed a fertile farm also, and its green pastures might +still be utilized. It suddenly occurred to her that it would be of +interest to turn off the main trail, take a little dim path up the ridge +that she had discovered years before, and look over these lands. The +hour was early; besides, Bruce would find her report of the greatest +interest.</p> + +<p>She jogged slowly along in the Western fashion,—which means something +quite different from army fashion or sportsman fashion. Western riders +do not post. Riding is not exercise to them; it is rest. They hang limp +in the saddle, and all jar is taken up, as if by a spring, somewhere in +the region of the floating ribs that only a physician can correctly +designate. They never sit firm, these Western riders, and as a rule +their riding is not a particularly graceful thing to watch. But they do +not care greatly about grace as long as they may encompass their fifty +miles a day and still be fresh enough for a country dance at night. +There are many other differences in Western and Eastern riding, one of +them being the way in which the horse is mounted. Another difference is +the riding habit. Linda had no trim riding trousers, with tall glossy +boots, red coat, and stock. It was rather doubtful whether she knew such +things existed. She did, however, wear a trim riding skirt of khaki and +a middie blouse washed spotlessly clean by her own hands; and no one +would have missed the other things. It is an indisputable fact that she +made a rather alluring picture—eyes bright and hair dark and strong +arms bare to the elbow—as she came riding down the pine-needle trail.</p> + +<p>She came to the opening of the dimmer trail and turned down it. She did +not jog so easily now. The descent was more steep. She entered a still +glen, and the color in her cheeks and the soft brown of her arms blended +well with the new tints of the autumn leaves. Then she turned up a long +ridge.</p> + +<p>The 'trail led through an old burn—a bleak, eerie place where the fire +had swept down the forest, leaving only strange, black palings here and +there—and she stopped in the middle of it to look down. The mountain +world was laid out below her as clearly as in a relief map. Her eyes +lighted as its beauty and its fearsomeness went home to her, and her +keen eyes slowly swept over the surrounding hill tops. Then for a long +moment she sat very still in the saddle.</p> + +<p>A thousand feet distant, on the same ridge on which she rode, she caught +sight of another horse. It held her gaze, and in an instant she +discerned the rather startling fact that it was saddled, bridled, and +apparently tied to a tree. Momentarily she thought that its rider was +probably one of the Turners who was at present at work on the old Folger +farm; yet she knew at once the tilled lands were still too far distant +for that. She studied closely the maze of light and shadow of the +underbrush and in a moment more distinguished the figure of the +horseman.</p> + +<p>It was one of the Turners,—but he was not working in the fields. He was +standing near the animal's head, back to her, and his rifle lay in his +arms. And then Linda understood.</p> + +<p>He was simply guarding the trail down to Martin's store. Except for the +fact that she had turned off the main trail by no possibility could she +have seen him and escaped whatever fate he had for her.</p> + +<p>She held hard on her faculties and tried to puzzle it out. She +understood now why the Turners had not as yet made an attack upon them +at their home. It wasn't the Turner way to wage open warfare. They were +the wolves that struck from ambush, the rattlesnakes that lunged with +poisoned fangs from beneath the rocks. There was some security for her +in the Folger home, but none whatever here. There she had a strong man +to fight for her, a loaded rifle, and under ordinary conditions the +Turners could not hope to batter down the oaken door and overwhelm them +without at least some loss of life. For all they knew, Bruce had a large +stock of rifles and ammunition,—and the Turners did not look forward +with pleasure to casualties in their ranks. The much simpler way was to +watch the trail.</p> + +<p>They had known that sooner or later one of them would attempt to ride +down after either supplies or aid. Linda was a mountain girl and she +knew the mountain methods of procedure; and she knew quite well what she +would have had to expect if she had not discovered the ambush in time. +She didn't think that the sentry would actually fire on her; he would +merely shoot the horse from beneath her. It would be a simple feat by +the least of the Turners,—for these gaunt men were marksmen if nothing +else. It wouldn't be in accord with Simon's plan or desire to leave her +body lying still on the trail. But the horse killed, flight would be +impossible, and what would transpire thereafter she did not dare to +think. She had not forgotten Simon's threat in regard to any attempt to +go down into the settlements. She knew that it still held good.</p> + +<p>Of course, if Bruce made the excursion, the sentry's target would be +somewhat different. He would shoot him down as remorselessly as he would +shatter a lynx from a tree top.</p> + +<p>The truth was that Linda had guessed just right. "It's the easiest way," +Simon had said. "They'll be trying to get out in a very few days. If the +man—shoot straight and to kill! If Linda, plug the horse and bring her +here behind the saddle."</p> + +<p>Linda turned softly, then started back. She did not even give a second's +thought to the folly of trying to break through. She watched the +sentinel over her shoulder and saw him turn about. Far distant though he +was, she could tell by the movement he made that he had discovered her.</p> + +<p>She was almost four hundred yards away by then, and she lashed her horse +into a gallop. The man cried to her to halt, a sound that came dim and +strange through the burn, and then a bullet sent up a cloud of ashes a +few feet to one side. But the range was too far even for the Turners, +and she only urged her horse to a faster pace.</p> + +<p>She flew down the narrow trail, turned into the main trail, and galloped +wildly toward home. But the sentry did not follow her. He valued his +precious life too much for that. He had no intention of offering himself +as a target to Bruce's rifle as he neared the house. He headed back to +report to Simon.</p> + +<p>Young Bill—for such had been the identity of the sentry—found his +chief in the large field not far distant from where Bruce had been +confined. The man was supervising the harvest of the fall growth of +alfalfa. The two men walked slowly away from the workers, toward the +fringe of woods.</p> + +<p>"It looks as if we'll have to adopt rough measures, after all," Young +Bill began.</p> + +<p>Simon turned with flushing face. "Do you mean you let him get past +you—and missed him? Young Bill, if you've done that—"</p> + +<p>"Won't you wait till I've told you how it happened? It wasn't Bruce; it +was Linda. For some reason I can't dope out, she went up in the big burn +back of me and saw me—when I was too far off to shoot her horse. Then +she rode back like a witch. They'll not take that trail again."</p> + +<p>"It means one of two things," Simon said after a pause. "One of them is +to starve 'em out. It won't take long. Their supplies won't last +forever. The other is to call the clan and attack—to-night."</p> + +<p>"And that means loss of life."</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily. I don't know how many guns they've got. If any of you +were worth your salt, you'd find out those things. I wish Dave was +here."</p> + +<p>And Simon spoke the truth for once in his life: he did miss Dave. And it +was not that there had been any love lost between them. But the truth +was—although Simon never would have admitted it—the weaker man's +cunning had been of the greatest aid to his chief. Simon needed it +sorely now.</p> + +<p>"And we can't wait till to-morrow night—because we've got the moon +then," Young Bill added. "Just a new moon, but it will prevent a +surprise attack. I suppose you still have hopes of Dave coming back?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not. I'll venture to say now he's off on some good +piece of business—doing something none of the rest of you have thought +of. He'll come riding back one of these days with something actually +accomplished. I see no reason for thinking that he's dead. Bruce hasn't +had any chance at him that I know of. But if I thought he was—there'd +be no more waiting. We'd tear down that nest to-night."</p> + +<p>Simon spoke in his usual voice—with the same emphasis, the same +undertones of passion. But the last words ended with a queer inflection. +The truth was that he had slowly become aware that Young Bill was not +giving him his full attention, but rather was gazing off—unfamiliar +speculation in his eyes—toward the forests beyond.</p> + +<p>Simon's impulse was to follow the gaze; yet he would not yield to it. +"Well?" he demanded. "I'm not talking to amuse myself."</p> + +<p>The younger man seemed to start. His eyes were half-closed; and there +was a strange look of intentness about his facial lines when he turned +back to Simon. "You haven't missed any stock?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>Simon's eyes widened. "No. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Look there—over the forest." Young Bill pointed. Simon shielded his +eyes from the sunset glare and studied the blue-green skyline above the +fringe of pines. There were many grotesque, black birds wheeling on slow +wings above the spot. Now and then they dropped down, out of sight +behind the trees.</p> + +<p>"Buzzards!" Simon exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Young Bill answered quietly. "You see, it isn't much over a mile +from Folger's house—in the deep woods. There's something dead there, +Simon. And I think we'd better look to see what it is."</p> + +<p>"You think—" Then Simon hesitated and looked again with reddening eyes +toward the gliding buzzards.</p> + +<p>"I think—that maybe we're going to find Dave," Young Bill replied.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2> + + +<p>The darkness of this October night fell before its time. The twilight at +Trail's End is never long in duration, due to the simple fact that the +mountains cut off the flood of light from the west after the setting of +the sun, but to-night there seemed none at all. The reason was merely +that heavy banks of clouds swept up from the southeast just after +sunset.</p> + +<p>They came with rather startling rapidity and almost immediately +completely filled the sky. Young Bill had many things on his mind as he +rode beneath them, yet he found time to gaze at them with some +curiosity. They were of singular greenish hue, and they hung so low that +the tops of near-by mountains were obscured.</p> + +<p>The fact that there would be no moon to-night was no longer important. +The clouds would have cut off any telltale light that might illumine the +activities of the Turners. There would not be even the dim mist of +starlight.</p> + +<p>Young Bill rode from house to house through the estate,—the homes +occupied by Simon's brothers and cousins and their respective families. +He knocked on each door and he only gave one little message. "Simon +wants you at the house," he said, "and come heeled."</p> + +<p>He would turn to go, but always a singular quiet and breathlessness +remained in the homes after his departure. There would be a curious +exchange of glances and certain significant sounds. One of them was the +metallic click of cartridges being slipped into the magazine of a rifle. +Another was the buckling on of spurs, and perhaps the rattle of a pistol +in its holster. Before the night fell in reality, the clan came +riding—strange, tall figures in the half-darkness—straight for Simon's +house.</p> + +<p>His horse was saddled too, and he met them in front of his door. And in +a very few words he made all things plain to them.</p> + +<p>"We've found Dave," he told them simply. "Most of you already know it. +We've decided there isn't any use of waiting any more. We're going to +the Folger house to-night."</p> + +<p>The men stood silent, breathing hard. The clouds seemed to lower, +menacingly, toward them. Simon spoke very quietly, yet his voice carried +far. In their growing excitement they did not observe the reason, that a +puzzling, deep calm had come over the whole wilderness world. Even in +the quietest night there is usually a faint background of winds in the +mountain realms—troubled breaths that whisper in the thickets and +rustle the dead leaves—but to-night the heavy air had no breath of +life.</p> + +<p>"To-night Bruce Folger is going to pay the price, just as I said." He +spoke rather boastingly; perhaps more to impress his followers than from +impulse. Indeed, the passion that he felt left no room for his usual +arrogance. "Fire on sight. Bill and I will come from the rear, and we +will be ready to push through the back door the minute you break through +the front. The rest of you surround the house on three sides. And +remember—no man is to touch Linda."</p> + +<p>They nodded grimly; then the file of horsemen started toward the ridge. +Far distant they heard a sound such as had reached them often in summer +but was unfamiliar in fall. It was the faint rumble of distant thunder.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bruce and Linda sat in the front room of the Folger house, quiet and +watchful and unafraid. It was not that they did not realize their +danger. They had simply taken all possible measures of defense; and they +were waiting for what the night would bring forth.</p> + +<p>"I know they'll come to-night," Linda had said. "To-morrow night there +will be a moon, and though it won't give much light, it will hurt their +chances of success. Besides—they've found that their other plot—to +kill you from ambush—isn't going to work."</p> + +<p>Bruce nodded and got up to examine the shutters. He wanted no ray of +light to steal out into the growing darkness and make a target. It was a +significant fact that the rifle did not occupy its usual place behind +the desk. Bruce kept it in his hands as he made the inspection. Linda +had her empty pistol, knowing that it might—in the mayhap of +circumstance—be of aid in frightening an assailant. Old Elmira sat +beside the fire, her stiff fingers busy at a piece of sewing.</p> + +<p>"You know—" Bruce said to her, "that we are expecting an attack +to-night?"</p> + +<p>The woman nodded, but didn't miss a stitch. No gleam of interest came +into her eyes. Bruce's gaze fell to her work basket, and something +glittered from its depth. Evidently Elmira had regained her knife.</p> + +<p>He went back to his chair beside Linda, and the two sat listening. They +had never known a more quiet night. They listened in vain for the little +night sounds that usually come stealing, so hushed and tremulous, from +the forest. The noises that always, like feeble ghosts, dwell in a house +at night—the little explosions of a scraping board or a banging shutter +or perhaps a mouse, scratching in the walls—were all lacking too. And +they both started, ever so slightly, when they heard a distant rumble of +thunder.</p> + +<p>"It's going to storm," Linda told him.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A thunderstorm—rather unusual in the fall, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Almost unknown. It's growing cold too."</p> + +<p>They waited a breathless minute, then the thunder spoke again. It was +immeasurably nearer. It was as if it had leaped toward them, through the +darkness, with incredible speed in the minute that had intervened. The +last echo of the sound was not dead when they heard it a third time.</p> + +<p>The storm swept toward them and increased in fury. On a distant hillside +the strange file that was the Turners halted, then gathered around +Simon. Already the lightning made vivid, white gashes in the sky and +illumined—for a breathless instant—the long sweep of the ridge above +them. "We'll make good targets in the lightning," Old Bill said.</p> + +<p>"Ride on," Simon ordered. "You know a man can't find a target in the +hundredth of a second of a lightning flash. We're not going to turn back +now."</p> + +<p>They rode on. Far away they heard the whine and roar of wind, and in a +moment it was upon them. The forest was no longer silent. The peal of +the thunder was almost continuous.</p> + +<p>The breaking of the storm seemed to rock the Folger house on its +foundation. Both Linda and Bruce leaped to their feet; but they felt a +little tingle of awe when they saw that old Elmira still sat sewing. It +was as if the calm that dwelt in the Sentinel Pine outside had come down +to abide in her. No force that the world possessed could ever take it +from her.</p> + +<p>They heard the rumble and creak of the trees as the wind smote them, and +the flame of the lamp danced wildly, filling the room with flickering +shadows. Bruce straightened, the lines of his face setting deep. He +glanced once more at the rifle in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Linda," he said, "put out that fire. If there's going to be an attack, +we'd have a better chance if the room were in darkness. We can shoot +through the door then."</p> + +<p>She obeyed at once, knocking the burning sticks apart and drenching them +with water. They hissed, and steamed, but the noise of the storm almost +effaced the sound. "Now the light?" Linda asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. See where you are and have everything ready."</p> + +<p>She took off the glass shade of the lamp, and the little gusts of wind +that crept in the cracks of the windows immediately extinguished the +flame. The darkness dropped down. Then Bruce opened the door.</p> + +<p>The whole wilderness world struggled in the grasp of the storm. The +scene was such that no mortal memory could possibly forget. They saw it +in great, vivid glimpses in the intermittent flashes of the lightning, +and the world seemed no longer that which they had come to know. Chaos +was upon it. They saw young trees whipping in the wind, their slender +branches flailing the air. They saw the distant ridges in black and +startling contrast against the lighted sky. The tall tops of the trees +wagged back and forth in frenzied signals; their branches smote and +rubbed together. And just without their door the Sentinel Pine stood +with top lifted to the fury of the storm.</p> + +<p>A strange awe swept over Bruce. A moment later he was to behold a sight +that for the moment would make him completely forget the existence of +the great tree; but for an instant he poised at the brink of a profound +and far-reaching discovery. There was a great lesson for him in that +dark, towering figure that the lightning revealed. Even in the fury of +the storm it still stood infinitely calm, watchful, strong as the +mountains themselves. Its great limbs moved and spoke; its top swayed +back and forth, yet still it held its high place as Sentinel of the +Forest, passionless, patient, talking through the murk of clouds to the +stars that burned beyond.</p> + +<p>"See," Linda said. "The Turners are coming."</p> + +<p>It was true. Bruce dropped his eyes. Even now the clan had spread out in +a great wing and was bearing down upon the house. The lightning showed +them in strange, vivid flashes. Bruce nodded slowly.</p> + +<p>"I see," he answered. "I'm ready."</p> + +<p>"Then shoot them, quick—when the lightning shows them," she whispered +in his ear. "They're in range now." Her hand seized his arm. "What are +you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>He turned to her sternly. "Have you forgotten we only have five shells?" +he asked. "Go back to Elmira."</p> + +<p>Her eyes met his, and she tried to smile into them. "Forgive me, +Bruce—it's hard—to be calm."</p> + +<p>But at once she understood why he was waiting. The flashes of lightning +offered no opportunity for an accurate shot. Bruce meant to conserve his +little supply of shells until the moment of utmost need. The clan drew +nearer. They were riding slowly, with ready rifles. And ever the storm +increased in fury. The thunder was so close that it no longer gave the +impression of being merely sound. It was a veritable explosion just +above their heads. The flashes came so near together that for an +instant Bruce began to hope they would reveal the attackers clearly +enough to give him a chance for a well-aimed shot. The first drops of +rain fell one by one on the roof.</p> + +<p>His eyes sought for Simon's figure. To Simon he owed the greatest debt, +and to lay Simon low might mean to dishearten the whole clan. But +although the attackers were in fair range now, scarcely two hundred +yards away, he could not identify him. They drew closer. He raised his +gun, waiting for a chance to fire. And at that instant a resistless +force hurled him to the floor.</p> + +<p>There was the sense of vast catastrophe, a great rocking and shuddering +that was lost in billowing waves of sound; and then a frantic effort to +recall his wandering faculties. A blinding light cut the darkness in +twain; it smote his eyeballs as if with a physical blow; and summoning +all his powers of will he sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>There was only darkness at first; and he did not understand. But it was +of scarcely less duration than the flash of lightning. A red flame +suddenly leaped into the air, roared and grew and spread as if scattered +by the wind itself. And Bruce's breath caught in a sob of wonder.</p> + +<p>The Sentinel Pine, that ancient friend and counselor that stood not over +one hundred feet from the house, had been struck by a lightning bolt, +its trunk had been cleft open as if by a giant's ax, and the flame was +already springing through its balsam-laden branches.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2> + + +<p>Bruce stood as if entranced, gazing with awed face at the flaming tree. +There was little danger of the house itself catching fire. The wind blew +the flame in the opposite direction; besides, the rains were beating on +the roof. The fire in the great tree itself, however, was too well +started to be extinguished at once by any kind of rainfall; but it did +burn with less fierceness.</p> + +<p>Dimly he felt the girl's hand grasping at his arm. Her fingers pressed +until he felt pain. His eyes lowered to hers. The sight of that +passion-drawn face—recalling in an instant the scene beside the camp +fire his first night at Trail's End—called him to himself. "Shoot, you +fool!" she stormed at him. "The tree's lighted up the whole countryside, +and you can't miss. Shoot them before they run away."</p> + +<p>He glanced quickly out. The clan that had drawn within sixty yards of +the house at the time the lightning struck had been thrown into +confusion. Their horses had been knocked down by the force of the bolt +and were fleeing, riderless, away. The men followed them, shouting, +plainly revealed in the light from the burning tree. The great torch +beside the house had completely turned the tables. And Linda spoke true; +they offered the best of targets.</p> + +<p>Again the girl's eyes were lurid slits between the lids. Her lips were +drawn, and her breathing was strange. He looked at her calmly.</p> + +<p>"No, Linda. I can't—"</p> + +<p>"You can't," she cried. "You coward—you traitor! Kill—kill—kill them +while there's time."</p> + +<p>She saw the resolve in his face, and she snatched the rifle from his +hands. She hurled it to her shoulder and three times fired blindly +toward the retreating Turners.</p> + +<p>At that instant Bruce seemed to come to life. His thoughts had been +clear ever since the tree had been struck; his vision was straighter and +more far-reaching than ever in his life before, but now his muscles +wakened too. He sprang toward the girl and snatched the rifle from her +hand. She fought for it, and he held her with a strong arm.</p> + +<p>"Wait—wait, Linda," he said gently. "You've wasted three cartridges +now. There are only two left. And we may need them some other time."</p> + +<p>He held her from him with his arm; and it was as if his strength flowed +into her. Her blazing eyes sought his, and for a long second their wills +battled. And then a deep wonder seemed to come over her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she breathed. "What have you found out?"</p> + +<p>She spoke in a strange and distant voice. Slowly the fire died in her +eyes, the drawn features relaxed, her hands fell at her side. He drew +her away from he lighted doorway, out of the range of any of the +Turners that should turn to answer the rifle fire. The wind roared over +the house and swept by in clamoring fury, the electric storm dimmed and +lessened as it journeyed on.</p> + +<p>These two knew that if death spared them in all the long passage of +their years, they could never forget that moment. The girl watched him +breathlessly, oblivious to all things else. He seemed wholly unaware of +her now. There was something aloof, impassive, infinitely calm about +him, and a great, far-reaching understanding was in his eyes. Her own +eyes suddenly filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Linda, there's something come to me—and I don't know that I can make +you understand. I can only call it strength—a new strength and a +greater strength than I ever had before. It's something that the +pine—that great tree that we just saw split open—has been trying to +tell me for a long time. Oh, can't you see, Linda? There it stood, +hundreds of years—so great, so tall, so wise—in a moment broken like a +reed. It takes away my arrogance, Linda. It makes me see myself as I +really am. And that means—<i>power</i>."</p> + +<p>His eyes blazed, and he caught her hands in his.</p> + +<p>"It was a symbol, Linda, not only of the wilderness, but of powers +higher and greater than the wilderness. Powers that can look down, and +not be swept away by passion, and not try to tear to pieces those who in +their folly harm them. There's no room for such things as vengeance in +this new strength. There's no room for murder, and malice, and hatred, +and bloodshed."</p> + +<p>Linda understood. She knew that this new-found strength did not mean +renunciation of her cause. It did not mean that he would give over his +attempt to reinstate her as the owner of her father's estates. It only +meant that the impulse of personal vengeance was dead within him. He +knew now—the same as ever—that the duty of the men that dwell upon the +earth is to do their allotted tasks, and without hatred and without +passion to overcome the difficulties that stand in the way. She realized +that if one of the Turners should leap through the door and attack her, +Bruce would kill him without mercy or regret. She knew that he would +make every effort to bring the offenders to the law. But the ability to +shoot a fleeing enemy in the back, because of wrongs done long ago, was +past.</p> + +<p>Bruce's vision had come to him. He knew that if vengeance had been the +creed of the powers that ruled the world, the sphere would have been +destroyed with fire long since. To stand firm and straight and +unflinching; not to judge, not to condemn, not to resent; this was true +strength. He began to see the whole race of men as so many leaves, +buffeted by the winds of chance and circumstance; and was it for the oak +leaf that the wind carried swift and high to hold in scorn the shrub +leaf that the storm had already hurled to the dust?</p> + +<p>"I know," the girl said, her thoughts wandering afar. "Perhaps the name +for it all is—tolerance."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he nodded. "And possibly it is only—worship!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Turners had gone. The dimming lightning revealed the entire +attacking party half a mile distant and out of rifle range on the ridge; +and Bruce and Linda stole together out into the storm. The green foliage +of the tree had already burned away, but some of the upper branches +still glowed against the dark sky. A fallen branch smoldered on the +ground, hissing in the rain, and it lighted their way.</p> + +<p>Awed and mystified, Bruce halted before the ruin of the great tree. He +had almost forgotten the stress of the moment just passed. It did not +even occur to him that some of his enemies, unseen before, might still +be lurking in the shadow, watching for a chance to harm. They stood a +moment in silence. Then Bruce uttered one little gasp and stretched his +arm into the hollow that the cleft in the trunk had revealed.</p> + +<p>The light from the burning branch behind him had shown him a small, dark +object that had evidently been inserted in the hollow tree trunk through +some little aperture that had either since been closed up or they had +never observed. It was a leathern wallet, and Bruce opened it under +Linda's startled gaze. He drew out a single white paper.</p> + +<p>He held it in the light, and his glance swept down its lines of faded +ink. Then he looked up with brightening eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"The secret agreement between your father and mine," he told her simply. +"And we've won."</p> + +<p>He watched her eyes brighten. It seemed to him that nothing life had +ever offered had given him the same pleasure. It was a moment of +triumph. But before half of its long seconds were gone, it became a +moment of despair.</p> + +<p>A rifle spoke from the coverts beyond,—one sharp, angry note that rose +distinct and penetrating above the noise of the distant thunder. A +little tongue of fire darted, like a snake's head, in the darkness. And +the triumph on Bruce's face changed to a singular look of wonder.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2> + + +<p>To Simon, the night had seemingly ended in triumph after all. It had +looked dark for a while. The bolt of lightning, setting fire to the +pine, had deranged all of his plans. His men had been thrown from their +horses, the blazing pine tree had left them exposed to fire from the +house, and they had not yet caught their mounts and rallied. Young Bill +and himself, however, had tied their horses before the lightning had +struck and had lingered in the thickets in front of the house for just +such a chance as had been given them.</p> + +<p>He hadn't understood why Bruce had not opened fire on the fleeing +Turners. He wondered if his enemy were out of ammunition. The tragedy of +the Sentinel Pine had had no meaning for him; and he had held his rifle +cocked and ready for the instant that Bruce had shown himself.</p> + +<p>Young Bill had heard his little exultant gasp when Linda and Bruce had +come out into the firelight. Plainly they had kept track of all the +attacking party that had been visible, and supposed that all their +enemies had gone. He felt the movement of Simon's strong arms as he +raised the rifle. Those arms were never steadier. In the darkness the +younger man could not see his face, but his own fancy pictured it with +entire clearness. The eyes were narrowed and red, the lines cut deep +about the bloodhound lips, and mercy was as far from him as from the +Killer who hunted on the distant ridge.</p> + +<p>But Simon didn't fire at once. The two were coming steadily toward him, +and the nearer they were the better his chance of success in the +unsteady light. He sat as breathless, as wholly free from telltale +motion as a puma who waits in ambush for an approaching deer. He meant +to take careful aim. It was his big chance, and he intended to make the +most of it.</p> + +<p>The two had halted beside the ruined pine, but for a moment he held his +fire. They stood rather close together; he wanted to wait until Bruce +offered a clear target. And at that instant Bruce had drawn the leather +wallet from the tree.</p> + +<p>Curiosity alone stayed Simon's finger as Bruce had opened it. He saw the +gleam of the white paper in the dim light; and then he understood.</p> + +<p>Simon was a man of rigid, unwavering self-control; and his usual way was +to look a long time between the sights before he fired. Yet the sight of +that document—the missing Folger-Ross agreement on which had hung +victory or defeat—sent a violent impulse through all his nervous +system. For the first time in his memory his reflexes got away from him.</p> + +<p>It had meant too much; and his finger pressed back involuntarily against +the trigger. He hadn't taken his usual deliberate aim, although he had +seen Brace's figure clearly between the sights the instant before he had +fired. Simon was a rifle-man, bred in the bone, and he had no reason to +think that the hasty aim meant a complete miss. He did realize, however, +the difficulties of night shooting—a realization that all men who have +lingered after dusk in the duck blind experience sooner or later—and he +looked up over his sights to see the result of his shot. His +self-control had completely returned to him; and he was perfectly cold +about the whole matter.</p> + +<p>From the first second he knew he hadn't completely missed. He raised his +rifle to shoot again.</p> + +<p>But Bruce's body was no longer revealed. Linda stood in the way. It +looked as if she had deliberately thrown her own body as a shield +between.</p> + +<p>Simon spoke then,—a single, terrible oath of hatred and jealousy. But +in a second more he saw his triumph. Bruce swayed, reeled, and fell in +Linda's arms, and he saw her half-drag him into the house.</p> + +<p>He stood shivering, but not from the cold that the storm had brought. +"Come on," he ordered Young Bill. "I think we've downed him for good, +but we've got to get that paper."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>But Simon did not see all things clearly. He had little real knowledge +of the little drama that had followed his shot from ambush.</p> + +<p>Human nature is full of odd quirks and twists, and among other things, +symptoms are misleading. There is an accepted way for men to act when +they are struck with a rifle bullet. They are expected to reel, to +throw their arms wide, and usually to cry out. The only trouble with +these actions, as most men who have been in French battle-fields know +very well, is that they do not usually happen in real life.</p> + +<p>Bruce, with Linda's eyes upon him, took one rather long, troubled +breath. And he did look somewhat puzzled. Then he looked down at his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I'm hit, Linda," he said in a quiet way. "I think just a scratch."</p> + +<p>The tremendous shock of any kind of wound from a thirty-forty caliber +bullet had not seemingly affected him outwardly at all. Linda's response +was rather curious. Some hours were to pass before he completely +understood. The truth was that the shock of that rifle bullet, +ordinarily striking a blow of a half-ton, had cost him for the moment an +ability to make any logical interpretation of events. The girl moved +swiftly, yet without giving an impression of leaping, and stood very +close and in front of him. In one lightning movement she had made of her +own body a shield for his, in case the assassin in the covert should +shoot again.</p> + +<p>She was trained to mountain ways, and instantly she regained a perfect +mastery of herself. Her arms went about and seized his shoulders. +"Stagger," she whispered quickly. "Pretend to fall. It's the one chance +to save you."</p> + +<p>He dispelled the mists in his own brain and obeyed her. He swayed, and +her arms went about him. Then he fell forward.</p> + +<p>Her strong arms encircled his waist and with all her magnificent young +strength she dragged him to the door. It was noticeable, however—to all +eyes except Bruce's—that she kept her own body as much as she could +between him and the ambush. In an instant they were in the darkened +room. Bruce stood up, once more wholly master of himself.</p> + +<p>"You're not hurt bad?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"No. Just a deep scratch in the arm muscle near the shoulder. Bullet +just must have grazed me. But it's bleeding pretty bad."</p> + +<p>"Then there's no time to be lost." Her hands in her eagerness went again +to his shoulder. "Don't you see—he'll be here in a minute. We'll steal +out the back door and try to ride down to the courts before they can +overtake us—"</p> + +<p>In one instant he had grasped the idea; and he laughed softly in the +gloom. "I know. I'll snatch two blankets and the food. You get the +horse."</p> + +<p>She sprang out the kitchen door and he hurried into the bedrooms. He +snatched two of the warmest blankets from the beds and hurled them over +his shoulder. He hooked the camp ax on his belt, then hastened into the +little kitchen. He took up the little sack containing a few pounds of +jerked venison, spilled out a few pieces for Elmira, and carried +it—with a few pounds of flour—out to meet Linda. The horse still stood +saddled, and with deft hands they tied on their supplies and fastened +the blankets in a long roll in front of the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Get on," she whispered. "I'll get up behind you."</p> + +<p>She spoke in the utter darkness; he felt her breath against his cheek. +Then the lightning came dimly and showed him her face.</p> + +<p>"No, Linda," he replied quietly. "You are going alone—"</p> + +<p>She cut him off with a despairing cry. "Oh, please, Bruce—I won't. I'll +stay here then—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see?" he demanded. "You can make it out without me. I'm +wounded and bleeding, and can't tell how long I can keep up. We've only +got one horse, and without me to weigh him down you can get down to the +courts—"</p> + +<p>"And leave you here to be murdered? Oh, don't waste the precious seconds +any more. I won't go without you. I mean it. If you stay here, I do too. +Believe me if you ever believed anything."</p> + +<p>Once more the lightning revealed her face, and on it was the +determination of a zealot. He knew that she spoke the truth. He climbed +with some difficulty into the saddle. A moment more and she swung up +behind him.</p> + +<p>The entire operation had taken an astonishingly short period of time. +Bruce had worked like mad, wholly disregarding his injured arm. The rain +had already changed to snow, and the wet flakes beat in his face, but he +did not heed them. Just beyond, Simon with ready rifle was creeping +toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Which way?" Bruce asked.</p> + +<p>"The out-trail—around the mountain," she whispered. "Simon will +overtake us on the other—he's got a magnificent horse. On the mountain +trail we'll have a better chance to keep out of his sight."</p> + +<p>She spoke hurriedly, yet conveyed her message with entire clearness. +They knew what they had to face, these two. Simon and whoever of the +clan was with him would lose no time in springing in pursuit. They each +had a strong horse, they knew the trails, they carried long-range rifles +and would open fire at the first glimpse of the fugitives. Bruce was +wounded; slight as the injury was it would seriously handicap them in +such a test as this. Their one chance was to keep to the remote trails, +to lurk unseen in the thickets, and try to break through to safety. And +they knew that only by the doubtful mercy of the forest gods could they +ever succeed.</p> + +<p>She took the reins and pulled out of the trail, then encircled a heavy +wall of brush. She didn't wish to take the risk of Simon seeing their +forms in the dimming lightning and opening fire so soon. Then she turned +back into the trail and headed into the storm.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Simon had clear enough memory of the rifle fire that Linda had opened +upon the clan to wish to approach the house with care. It would be +wholly typical of the girl to lay her lover on his bed, then go back to +the window to wait for a sight of his assassin. She could look straight +along a rifle barrel! A few moments were lost as Young Bill and himself +encircled the thickets, keeping out of the gleam of the smoldering tree. +Its light was almost gone; it hissed and glowed in the wet snow.</p> + +<p>They crept up from the shadow, and holding their rifles ready, opened +the door. They were somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. The truth +was it had been left thus by design; Linda did not wish them to encircle +the house to the rear door and discover Bruce and herself in the act of +departure. The room was in darkness, and the two intruders rather +expected to find Bruce's body on the threshold.</p> + +<p>These were mountain men; and they had been in rifle duels before. They +had the sure instincts of the beasts of prey in the hills without, and +among other things they knew it wasn't wise to stand long in an open +doorway with the firelight of the ruined pine behind them. They slipped +quickly into the darkness.</p> + +<p>Then they stopped and listened. The room was deeply silent. They +couldn't hear the sound that both of them had so confidently +expected,—the faint breathing of a dying man. Simon struck a match. The +room was quite deserted.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" Bill demanded.</p> + +<p>Simon turned toward him with a scowl, and the match flickered and burned +out in his fingers. "Keep your rifle ready. He may be hiding +somewhere—still able to shoot."</p> + +<p>They stole to the door of Linda's room and listened. Then they threw it +wide.</p> + +<p>One of their foes was in this room—an implacable foe whose eyes were +glittering and strange in the matchlight. But it was neither Bruce nor +Linda. It was old Elmira, cold and sinister as a rattler in its lair. +Simon cursed her and hurried on.</p> + +<p>At that instant both men began to move swiftly. Holding his rifle like a +club, Simon swung through into, Bruce's room, lighted another match, +then darted into the kitchen. In the dim matchlight the truth went home +to him.</p> + +<p>He turned, eyes glittering. "They've gone—on Dave's horse," he said. +"Thank God they've only got one horse between 'em and can't go fast. You +ride like hell up the trail toward the store—they might have gone that +way. Keep close watch and shoot when you can make 'em out."</p> + +<p>"You mean—" Bill's eyes widened.</p> + +<p>"Mean! I mean do as I say. Shoot by sound, if you can't see them, and +don't lose another second or I'll shoot you too. Aim for the man if a +chance offers—but shoot, anyway. Don't stop hunting till you find +them—they'll duck off in the brush sure. If they get through, +everything is lost. I'll take the trail around the mountain."</p> + +<p>They raced to their horses, untied them, and mounted swiftly. The +darkness swallowed them at once.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2> + + +<p>In the depth of gloom even the wild folk—usually keeping so close a +watch on those that move on the shadowed trails—did not see Linda and +Bruce ride past. The darkness is usually their time of dominance, but +to-night most of them had yielded to the storm and the snow. They +hovered in their coverts. What movement there was among them was mostly +toward the foothills; for the message had gone forth over the wilderness +that the cold had come to stay. The little gnawing folk, emerging for +another night's work at filling their larders with food, crept down into +the scarcely less impenetrable darkness of their underground burrows. +Even the bears, whose furry coats were impervious to any ordinary cold, +felt the beginnings of the cold-trance creeping over them. They were +remembering the security and warmth of their last winter's dens, and +they began to long for them again.</p> + +<p>The horse walked slowly, head close to the ground. The girl made no +effort to guide him. The lightning had all but ceased; and in an instant +it had become apparent that only by trusting to the animal's instinct +could the trail be kept at all; almost at once all sense of direction +was lost to them. The snow and the darkness obscured the outline of the +ridges against the sky; the trail was wholly invisible beneath them.</p> + +<p>After the first hundred yards, they had no way of knowing that the horse +was actually on the trail. While animals in the light of day cannot see +nearly so far or interpret nearly so clearly as human beings, they +usually seem to make their way much better at night. Many a frontiersman +has been saved from death by realization of this fact; and, bewildered +by the ridges, has permitted his dog to lead him into camp. But nature +has never devised a creature that can see in the utter darkness, and the +gloom that enfolded them now seemed simply unfathomable. Bruce found it +increasingly hard to believe that the horse's eyes could make out any +kind of dim pathway in the pine needles. The feeling grew on him and on +Linda as well that they were lost and aimlessly wandering in the storm.</p> + +<p>Of all the sensations that the wilderness can afford, there are few more +dreadful to the spirit than this. It is never pleasant to lose one's +bearings,—and in the night and the cold and miles from any friendly +habitation it is particularly hard to bear. Bruce felt the age-old +menace of the wilderness as never before. It always seemed to be +crouching, waiting to take a man at a disadvantage; and like the gods +that first make mad those whom they would destroy, it doesn't quite play +fair. He understood now certain wilderness tragedies of which he had +heard: how tenderfeet—lost among the ridges—had broken into a wild run +that had ended nowhere except in exhaustion and death.</p> + +<p>Bruce himself felt a wild desire to lash his horse into a gallop, but +he forced it back with all his powers of will. His calmer, saner self +explained that folly with entire clearness. It would mean panic for the +horse, and then a quick and certain death either at the foot of a +precipice or from a blow from a low-hanging limb. The horse seemed to be +feeling its way, rather than seeing.</p> + +<p>They were strange, lonely figures in the darkness; and for a long time +they rode almost in silence. Then Bruce felt the girl's breath as she +whispered.</p> + +<p>"Bruce," she said. "Let's be brave and look this matter in the face. Do +you think we've got a chance?"</p> + +<p>He rode a long time before he answered. He groped desperately for a word +that might bring her cheer, but it was hard to find. The cold seemed to +deepen about them, the remorseless snow beat into his face.</p> + +<p>"Linda," he replied, "it is one of the mercies of this world for men +always to think that they've got a chance. Maybe it's only a cruelty in +our case."</p> + +<p>"I think I ought to tell you something else. I haven't the least way of +knowing whether we are on the right trail."</p> + +<p>"I knew that long ago. Whether we are on any trail at all."</p> + +<p>"I've just been thinking. I don't know how many forks it has. We might +have already got on a wrong one. Perhaps the horse is turned about and +is heading back home—toward Simon's stables."</p> + +<p>She spoke dully, and he thrust his arm back to her. "Linda, try to be +brave," he urged. "We can only take a chance."</p> + +<p>The horse plodded a few more steps. "Brave! To think that it is <i>you</i> +that has to encourage <i>me</i>—instead of my trying to keep up your +spirits. I will try to be brave, Bruce. And if we don't live through the +night, my last remembrance will be of your bravery—how you, injured and +weak from loss of blood, still remembered to give a cheery word to me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not badly injured," he told her gently. "And there are certain +things that have come clear to me lately. One of them is that except for +you—throwing your own precious body between—I wouldn't be here at +all."</p> + +<p>The feeling that they had lost the trail grew upon them. More than once +the stirrup struck the bark of a tree and often the thickets gave way +beneath them. Once they halted to adjust the blankets on the saddle, and +they listened for any sounds that might indicate that Simon was +overtaking them. But all they heard was the soft rustle of the leaves +under the wind-blown snow.</p> + +<p>"Linda," he asked suddenly. "Does it seem to you to be awfully cold?"</p> + +<p>She waited a long time before she spoke. This was not the hour to make +quick answers. On any decision might rest their success or failure.</p> + +<p>"I believe I can stand it—awhile longer," she answered at last.</p> + +<p>"But I don't think we'd better try to. It's getting cold. Every hour +it's colder, and I seem to be getting weaker. It isn't a real wound, +Linda—but it seems to have knocked some of my vitality out of me, and +I'm dreadfully in need of rest. I think we'd better try to make a camp."</p> + +<p>"And go on by morning light?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But Simon might overtake us then."</p> + +<p>"We must stay out of sight of the trail. But somehow—I can't help but +hope he won't try to follow us on such a night as this."</p> + +<p>He drew up the horse, and they sat in the beat of the snow. "Don't make +any mistake about that, Bruce," she told him. "Remember, that unless he +overtakes us before we come into the protection of the courts, his whole +fight is lost. It doesn't alone mean loss of the estate—for which he +would risk his life just as he has a dozen times. It means defeat—a +thing that would come hard to Simon. Besides, he's got a fire within him +that will keep him warm."</p> + +<p>"You mean—hatred?"</p> + +<p>"Hatred. Nothing else."</p> + +<p>"But in spite of it we must make camp. We'll get off the trail—if we're +still on it—and try to slip through to-morrow. You see what's going to +happen if we keep on going this way?"</p> + +<p>"I know that I feel a queer dread—and hopelessness—"</p> + +<p>"And that dread and hopelessness are just as much danger signals as the +sound of Simon's horse behind us. It means that the cold and the snow +and the fear are getting the better of us. Linda, it's a race with +death. Don't misunderstand me or disbelieve me. It isn't Simon alone +now. It's the cold and the snow and the fear. The thing to do is to make +camp, keep as warm as we can in our blankets, and push on in the +morning. It's two full days' ride, going fast, the best we can go—and +God knows what will happen before the end."</p> + +<p>"Then turn off the trail, Bruce," the girl told him.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that we're even on the trail."</p> + +<p>"Turn off, anyway. As long as we stay together—it doesn't matter."</p> + +<p>She spoke very quietly. Then he felt a strange thing. A warmth which +even that growing, terrible cold could not transcend swept over him. For +her arms had crept out under his arms and encircled his great breast, +then pressed with all her gentle strength.</p> + +<p>No word of encouragement, no cheery expression of hope could have meant +so much. Not defeat, not even the long darkness of death itself could +appall him now. All that he had given and suffered and endured, all the +mighty effort that he had made had in an instant been shown in its true +light, a thing worth while, a sacrifice atoned for and redeemed.</p> + +<p>They headed off into the thickets, blindly, letting the horse choose the +way. They felt him turn to avoid some object in his path—evidently a +fallen tree—and they mounted a slight ridge or rise. Then they felt the +wet touch of fir branches against their cheeks.</p> + +<p>Bruce stopped the horse and both dismounted. Both of them knew that +under the drooping limbs of the tree they would find, at least until the +snows deepened, comparative shelter from the storm. Here, rolled in +their blankets, they might pass the remainder of the night hours.</p> + +<p>Bruce tied the horse, and the girl unrolled the blankets. But she did +not lay them together to make a rude bed,—and the dictates of +conventionality had nothing whatever to do with it. If one jot more +warmth could have been achieved by it, these two would have lain side by +side through the night hours between the same blankets. She knew, +however, that more warmth could be achieved if each of them took a +blanket and rolled up in it; thus they would get two thicknesses instead +of one and no openings to admit the freezing air. When this was done +they lay side by side, economizing the last atom of warmth.</p> + +<p>The night hours were dreary and long. The rain beat into the limbs above +them, and sometimes it sifted through. At the first gray of dawn Bruce +opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>His dreams had been troubled and strange, but the reality to which he +wakened gave him no sense of relief. The first knowledge that he had was +that the snow had continued to sift down throughout the night, that it +had already laid a white mantle over the wilderness, and the whirling +flakes still cut off all view of the familiar landmarks by which he +might get his bearings.</p> + +<p>He had this knowledge before he was actually cognizant of the cold. And +then its first realization came to him in a strange heaviness and +dullness in his body, and an almost irresistible desire to sleep.</p> + +<p>He fought a little battle, lying there under the snow-covered limbs of +the fir tree. Because it was one in which no blows were exchanged, no +shots fired, and no muscles called into action, it was no less a battle, +trying and stern. It was a fight waged in his own spirit, and it seemed +to rend him in twain.</p> + +<p>The whole issue was clear in his mind at once. The cold had deepened in +these hours of dawn, and he was slowly, steadily freezing to death. Even +now the blood flowed less swiftly in his veins. Death itself, in the +moment, had lost all horror for him; rather it was a thing of peace, of +ease. All he had to do was to lie still. Just close his eyes,—and soft +shadows would drop over him.</p> + +<p>They would drop over Linda too. She lay still beside him; perhaps they +had already fallen. The war he had waged so long and so relentlessly +would end in blissful calm. Outside there was only snow and cold and +wracking limbs and pain, only further conflict with tireless enemies, +only struggle to tear his agonized body to pieces; and the bitterness of +defeat in the end. He saw his chances plain as he lay beneath that gray +sky. Even now, perhaps, Simon was upon them. Only two little rifle +shells remained with which to combat him, and he doubted that his +wounded arm would hold the rifle steady. There were weary, innumerable +miles between them and any shelter, and only the terrible, trackless +forest lay between.</p> + +<p>Why not lie still and let the curtains fall? This was an easy, tranquil +passing, and heaven alone knew what dreadful mode of egress would be his +if he rose to battle further. All the argument seemed on one side.</p> + +<p>But high and bright above all this burned the indomitable flame of his +spirit. Even as the thoughts came to him it mounted higher, it propelled +its essence of strength through his veins, it brought new steel to his +muscles. To rise, to fight, to struggle on! Never to yield until the +Power above decreed! To stand firm, even as the pines themselves. The +dominant greatness that Linda had found in this man rose in him, and he +set his muscles like iron.</p> + +<p>He struggled to rise. He shook off the mists of the frost in his brain. +He seemed to come to life. Quickly he knelt by Linda and shook her +shoulders in his hands. She opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Get up, Linda," he said gently. "We have to go on."</p> + +<p>She started to object, but a message in his eyes kept her from it. His +own spirit went into her. He helped her to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Help me roll the blankets," he commanded, "and take out enough food for +breakfast. We can't stop to eat it here. I think we're in sight of the +main trail; whether we can find it—in the snow—I don't know." She +understood; usually the absence of vegetation on a well-worn trail makes +a shallow covering of snow appear more level and smooth and thus +possible to follow.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid the snow's already too deep," he continued, "but we can go +on in a general direction for a while at least—unless the snow gets +worse so I can't even guess the position of the sun. We must get farther +into the thickets before we stop to eat."</p> + +<p>They were strange figures in the snow flurries as they went to work to +roll the blankets into a compact bundle. The food she had taken from +their stores for breakfast he thrust into the pocket of his coat; the +rest, with the blankets, she tied swiftly on the horse. They unfastened +the animal and for a moment she stood holding the reins while Bruce +crept back on the hillside to look for the trail.</p> + +<p>The snow swept round them, and they felt the lowering menace of the +cold. And at that instant those dread spirits that rule the wilderness, +jealous then and jealous still of the intrusion of man, dealt them a +final, deadly blow.</p> + +<p>Its weapon was just a sound—a loud crash in a distant thicket—and a +pungent message on the wind that their human senses were too blunt to +receive. Bruce saw the full dreadfulness of the blow and was powerless +to save. The horse suddenly snorted loudly, then reared up. He saw as in +a tragic, dream the girl struggle to hold him; he saw her pulled down +into the snow and the rein jerked from her hand. Then the animal +plunged, wheeled, and raced at top speed away into the snow flurries. +Some Terror that as yet they could not name had broken their control of +him and in an instant taken from them this one last hope of safety.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2> + + +<p>Bruce walked over to Linda, waiting in the snow on her knees. It was not +an intentional posture. She had been jerked down by the plunging horse, +and she had not yet completely risen. But the sight of her slight +figure, her raised white face, her clasped hands, and the remorseless +snow of the wilderness about her moved Bruce to his depths. He saw her +but dimly in the snow flurries, and she looked as if she were in an +attitude of prayer.</p> + +<p>He came rather slowly, and he even smiled a little. And she gave him a +wan, strange, little smile in return.</p> + +<p>"We're down to cases at last," he said, with a rather startling +quietness of tone. "You see what it means?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, then got to her feet.</p> + +<p>"We can walk out, if we are let alone and given time; it isn't that we +are obliged to have the horse. But our blankets are on its back, and +this storm is steadily becoming a blizzard. And you see—<i>time</i> is one +thing that we don't have. No human being can stand this cold for long +unprotected."</p> + +<p>"And we can't keep going—keep warm by walking?"</p> + +<p>His answer was to take out his knife and put the point of the steel to +his thumb nail. His eyes strained, then looked up. "A little way," he +answered, "but we can't keep our main directions. The sun doesn't even +cast a shadow on my nail to show us which is west. We could keep up a +while, perhaps, but there is no end to this wilderness and at noon or +to-night—the result would be the same."</p> + +<p>"And it means—the end?"</p> + +<p>"If I can't catch the horse. I'm going now. If we can regain the +blankets—by getting in rifle range of the horse—we might make some +sort of shelter in the snow and last out until we can see our way and +get our bearings. You don't know of any shelter—any cave or cabin where +we might build a fire?"</p> + +<p>"No. There are some in the hills, but we can't see our way to find +them."</p> + +<p>"I know. I should have thought of that. And you see, we can't build a +fire here—everything is wet, and the snow is beginning to whirl so we +couldn't keep it going. If we should stagger on all day in this storm +and this snow, we couldn't endure the night." He smiled again. "And I +want you to climb a tree—and stay there—until I come back."</p> + +<p>She looked at him dully. "What's the use, Bruce? You won't come back. +You'll chase the thing until you die—I know you. You don't know when to +give up. And if you want to come back—you couldn't find the way. I'm +going with you."</p> + +<p>"No." Once more she started to disobey, but the grave displeasure in +his eyes restrained her. "It's going to take all my strength to fight +through that snow—I must go fast—and maybe life and death will have to +depend on your strength at the end of the trail. You must save it—the +little you have left. I can find my way back to you by following my own +tracks—the snow won't fill them up so soon. And since I must take the +rifle—to shoot the horse if I can't catch him—you must climb a tree. +You know why."</p> + +<p>"Partly to hide from Simon if he comes this way. And partly—"</p> + +<p>"Because there's some danger in that thicket beyond!" he interrupted +her. "The horse's terror was real—besides, you heard the sound. It +might be only a puma. But it might be—the Killer. Swing your arms and +struggle all you can to keep the blood flowing. I won't be gone long."</p> + +<p>He started to go, and she ran after him with outstretched arms. "Oh, +Bruce," she cried, "come back soon—soon. Don't leave me to die alone. +I'm not strong enough for that—"</p> + +<p>He whirled, took two paces back, and his arms went about her. He had +forgotten his injury long since. He kissed her cool lips and smiled into +her eyes. Then at once the flurries hid him.</p> + +<p>The girl climbed up into the branches of a fir tree. In the thicket +beyond a great gray form tacked back and forth, trying to locate a scent +that a second before he had caught but dimly and had lost. It was the +Killer, and his temper was lost long ago in the whirling snow. His anger +was upon him, partly from the discomfort of the storm, partly from the +constant, gnawing pain of three bullet wounds in his powerful body. +Besides, he realized the presence of his old and greatest enemy,—those +tall, slight forms that had crossed him so many times, that had stung +him with their bullets, and whose weakness he had learned.</p> + +<p>The wind was variable, and all at once he caught the scent plain. He +lurched forward, crashed again through the brush, and walked out into +the snow-swept open. Linda saw his vague outline, and at first she hung +perfectly motionless, hoping to escape his gaze. She had been told many +times that grizzlies cannot climb, yet she had no desire to see him +raging below her, reaching, possibly trying to shake her from the limbs. +Her muscles were stiff and inactive from the cold, and she doubted her +ability to hold on. Besides, in that dread moment she found it hard to +believe that the Killer would not be able to swing into the lower limbs, +high enough to strike her down.</p> + +<p>He didn't seem to see her. His eyes were lowered; besides, it was never +the grizzly way to search the branches of a tree. The wind blew the +message that he might have read clearly in the opposite direction. She +saw him walk slowly across the snow, head lowered, a huge gray ghost in +the snow flurries not one hundred feet distant. Then she saw him pause, +with lowered head.</p> + +<p>In the little second before the truth came to her, the bear had already +turned. Bruce's tracks were somewhat dimmed by the snow, but the Killer +interpreted them truly. She saw too late that he had crossed them, read +their message, and now had turned into the clouds of snow to trace them +down.</p> + +<p>For an instant she gazed at him in speechless horror; and already the +flurries had almost obscured his gray figure. Desperately she tried to +call his attention from the tracks. She called, then she rustled the +branches as loudly as she could. But the noise of the wind obscured what +sound she made, and the bear was already too absorbed in the hunt to +turn and see her. As always, in the nearing presence of a foe, his rage +grew upon him.</p> + +<p>Sobbing, Linda swung down from the tree. She had no conscious plan of +aid to her lover. She only had a blind instinct to seek him, to try to +warn him of his danger, and at least to be with him at the death. The +great tracks of the Killer, seemingly almost as long as her own arm, +made a plain trail for her to follow. She too struck off into the +storm-swept canyon.</p> + +<p>And the forest gods who dwell somewhere in the region where the pine +tops taper into the sky, and who pull the strings that drop and raise +the curtain and work the puppets that are the players of the wilderness +dramas, saw a chance for a great and tragic jest in this strange chase +over the snow. The destinies of Bruce, Linda, and the Killer were +already converging on this trail that all three followed,—the path that +the runaway horse made in the snow. Only one of the great forces of the +war that had been waged at Trail's End was lacking, and now he came +also.</p> + +<p>Simon Turner had ridden late into the night and from before dawn; with +remorseless fury he had goaded on his exhausted horse, he had driven him +with unpitying strength through coverts, over great rocks, down into +rocky canyons in search of Bruce and Linda, and now, as the dawn broke, +he thought that he had found them. He had suddenly come upon the tracks +of Bruce's horse in the snow.</p> + +<p>If he had encountered them farther back, when the animal had been +running wildly, he might have guessed the truth and rejoiced. No man +would attempt to ride a horse at a gallop through that trailless +stretch. But at the point he found the tracks most of the horse's terror +had been spent, and it was walking leisurely, sometimes lowering its +head to crop the shrubbery. The trail was comparatively fresh too; or +else the fast-falling snow would have already obscured it. He thought +that his hour of triumph was near.</p> + +<p>But it had come none too soon. And Simon—out of passion-filled +eyes—looked and saw that it would likely bring death with it.</p> + +<p>He realized his position fully. The storm was steadily developing into +one of those terrible mountain blizzards in which, without shelter, no +human being might live. He was far from his home, he had no blankets, +and he could not find his way. Yet he would not have turned back if he +could.</p> + +<p>In all the manifold mysteries of the wilderness there was no stranger +thing than this: that in the face of his passion Simon had forgotten and +ignored even that deepest instinct, self-preservation. Nothing mattered +any more except his hatred. No desire was left except its expression.</p> + +<p>The securing of the document by which Bruce could take the great estates +from him was only a trifle now. He believed wholly within his own soul +that the wilderness—without his aid—would do his work of hatred for +him; and that by no conceivable circumstances could Bruce and Linda find +shelter from the blizzard and live through the day. He could find their +bodies in the spring if he by any chance escaped himself, and take the +Ross-Folger agreement from them. But it was not enough. He wanted also +to do the work of destruction.</p> + +<p>Even his own death—if it were only delayed until his vengeance was +wreaked—could not matter now. In all the ancient strife and fury and +ceaseless war of the wild through which he had come, there was no +passion to equal this. The Killer was content to let the wolf kill the +fawn for him. The cougar will turn from its warm, newly slain prey, in +which its white fangs have already dipped, at the sight of some great +danger in the thickets. But Simon could not turn. Death lowered its +wings upon him as well as upon his enemy, yet the fire in his heart and +the fury in his brain shut out all thought of it.</p> + +<p>He sprang off his horse better to examine the tracks, and then stood, +half bent over, in the snow.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bruce Folger headed swiftly up the trail that his runaway horse had +made. It was, he thought, his last effort, and he gave his full strength +to it. Weakened as he was by the cold and the wound, he could not have +made headway at all except for the fact that the wind was behind him.</p> + +<p>The snow ever fell faster, in larger flakes, and the track dimmed before +his eyes. It was a losing game. Terrified not only by the beast that had +stirred in the thicket but by the ever-increasing wind as well, the +animal would not linger to be overtaken. Bruce had not ridden it enough +to have tamed it, and his plan was to attempt to shoot the creature on +sight, rather than try to catch it. They could not go forward, anyway, +as long as the blizzard lasted. Which way was east and which was west he +could no longer guess. And with the blankets they might make some sort +of shelter and keep life in their bodies until the snow ceased and they +could find their way.</p> + +<p>The cold was deepening, the storm was increasing in fury. Bruce's bones +ached, his wounded arm felt numb and strange, the frost was getting into +his lungs. The wind's breath was ever keener, its whistle was louder in +the pines. There was no hope of the storm decreasing, rather it was +steadily growing worse. And Bruce had some pre-knowledge—an +inheritance, perhaps, from frontier ancestors—of the real nature of the +mountain blizzard such as was descending on him now. It was a losing +fight. All the optimism of youth and the spirit of the angels could not +deny this fact.</p> + +<p>The tracks grew more dim, and he began to be afraid that the falling +flakes would obscure his own footprints so that he could not find his +way back to Linda. And he knew, beyond all other knowledge, that he +wanted her with him when the shadows dropped down for good and all. He +couldn't face them bravely alone. He wanted her arms about him; the +flight would be easier then.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what's the use?" he suddenly said to the wind. "Why not give up and +go back?"</p> + +<p>He halted in the trail and started to turn. But at that instant a banner +of wind swept down into his face, and the eddy of snow in front of him +was brushed from his gaze. Just for the space of a breath the canyon for +a hundred feet distant was partially cleared of the blinding streamers +of snow. And he uttered a long gasp when he saw, thirty yards distant +and at the farthest reaches of his sight, the figure of a saddled horse.</p> + +<p>His gun leaped to his shoulder, yet his eagerness did not cost him his +self-control. He gazed quietly along the sights until he saw the +animal's shoulder between them. His finger pressed back against the +trigger.</p> + +<p>The horse rocked down, seemingly instantly killed, and the snow swept in +between. Bruce cried out in triumph. Then he broke into a run and sped +through the flurries toward his dead.</p> + +<p>But it came about that there was other business for Bruce than the +recovery of his blankets that he had supposed would be tied to the +saddle. The snow was thick between, and he was within twenty feet of the +animal's body before he glimpsed it clearly again. And he felt the first +wave of wonder, the first promptings of the thought that the horse he +had shot down was not his, but one that he had never seen before.</p> + +<p>But there was no time for the thought to go fully home. Some one cried +out—a strange, half-snarl of hatred and triumph that was almost lacking +in all human quality—and a man's body leaped toward him from the +thicket before which the horse had fallen. It was Simon, and Bruce had +mistaken his horse for the one he had ridden.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h2> + + +<p>Even in that instant crisis Bruce did not forget that he had as yet +neglected to expel the empty cartridge from the barrel of his rifle and +to throw in the other from the magazine. He tried to get the gun to his +shoulder, working the lever at the same time. But Simon's leap was too +fast for him. His strong hand seized the barrel of the gun and snatched +it from his hands. Then the assailant threw it back, over his shoulder, +and it fell softly in the snow. He waited, crouched.</p> + +<p>The two men stood face to face at last. All things else were forgotten. +The world they had known before—a world of sorrow and pleasures, of +mountains and woods and homes—faded out and left no realities except +each other's presence. All about them were the snow flurries that their +eyes could not penetrate, and it was as if they were two lone +contestants on an otherwise uninhabited sphere who had come to grips at +last. The falling snow gave the whole picture a curious tone of +unreality and dimness.</p> + +<p>Bruce straightened, and his face was of iron. "Well, Simon," he said. +"You've come."</p> + +<p>The man's eyes burned red through the snow. "Of course I would. Did you +think you could escape me?"</p> + +<p>"It didn't much matter whether I escaped you or not," Bruce answered +rather quietly. "Neither one of us is going to escape the storm and the +cold. I suppose you know that."</p> + +<p>"I know that <i>one</i> of us is. Because one of us is going out—a more +direct way—first. Which one that is doesn't much matter." His great +hands clasped. "Bruce, when I snatched your gun right now I could have +done more. I could have sprung a few feet farther and had you around the +waist—taken by surprise. The fight would have been already over. I +think I could have done more than that even—with my own rifle as you +came up. It's laying there, just beside the horse."</p> + +<p>But Bruce didn't turn his eyes to look at it. He was waiting for the +attack.</p> + +<p>"I could have snatched your life just as well, but I wanted to wait," +Simon went on. "I wanted to say a few words first, and wanted to master +you—not by surprise—but by superior strength alone."</p> + +<p>It came into Brace's mind that he could tell Simon of the wound near his +shoulder, how because of it no fight between them would be a fair test +of superiority, yet the words didn't come to his lips. He could not ask +mercy of this man, either directly or indirectly, any more than the +pines asked mercy of the snows that covered them.</p> + +<p>"You were right when you said there is no escaping from this storm," +Simon went on. "But it doesn't much matter. It's the end of a long war, +and what happens to the victor is neither here nor there. It seems all +the more fitting that we should meet just as we have—at the very brink +of death—and Death should be waiting at the end for the one of us who +survives. It's so like this damned, terrible wilderness in which we +live."</p> + +<p>Bruce gazed in amazement. The dark and dreadful poetry of this man's +nature was coming to the fore. The wind made a strange echo to his +words,—a long, wild shriek as it swept over the heads of the pines.</p> + +<p>"Then why are you waiting?" Bruce asked.</p> + +<p>"So you can understand everything. But I guess that time is here. There +is to be no mercy at the end of this fight, Bruce; I ask none and will +give none. You have waged a war against me, you have escaped me many +times, you have won the love of the woman I love—and this is to be my +answer." His voice dropped a note and he spoke more quietly. "I'm going +to kill you, Bruce."</p> + +<p>"Then try it," Bruce answered steadily. "I'm in a hurry to go back to +Linda."</p> + +<p>Simon's smoldering wrath blazed up at the words. Both men seemed to +spring at the same time. Their arms flailed, then interlocked; and they +rocked a long time—back and forth in the snow.</p> + +<p>They fought in silence. The flurries dropped over them, and the wind +swept by in its frantic wandering. Bruce called upon his last ounce of +reserve strength,—that mysterious force that always sweeps to a man's +aid in a moment of crisis.</p> + +<p>For the first time he had full realization of Simon's mighty strength. +With all the power of his body he tried to wrench him off his feet, but +it was like trying to tear a tree from the ground.</p> + +<p>But surprise at the other's power was not confined to Bruce alone. Simon +knew that he had an opponent worthy of the iron of his own muscles, and +he put all his terrible might into the battle. He tried to reach Bruce's +throat, but the man's strong shoulder held the arm against his side. +Simon's great hand reached to pin Bruce's arm, and for the first time he +discovered the location of his weakness.</p> + +<p>He saw the color sweep from Bruce's face and water drops that were not +melted snow come upon it. It was all the advantage needed between such +evenly matched contestants. And Simon forgot his spoken word that he +wished this fight to be a test of superiority alone. His fury swept over +him like a flood and effaced all things else; and he centered his whole +attack upon Bruce's wound.</p> + +<p>In a moment he had him down, and he struck once into Bruce's white face +with his terrible knuckles. The blow sent a strange sickness through the +younger man's frame; and he tried vainly to struggle to his feet. +"Fight! Fight on!" was the message his mind dispatched along his nerves +to his tortured muscles, but for an instant they wholly refused to +respond. They had endured too much. Total unconsciousness hovered above +him, ready to descend.</p> + +<p>Strangely, he seemed to know that Simon had crept from his body and was +even now reaching some dreadful weapon that lay beside the dead form of +the horse. In an instant he had it, and Bruce's eyes opened in time to +see him swinging it aloft. It was his rifle, and Simon was aiming a +murderous blow at him with its stock.</p> + +<p>There was no chance to ward it off. No human skull could withstand its +shattering impact. Bruce saw the man's dark face with the murder madness +upon it, the blazing eyes, the lips drawn back. The muscles contracted +to deal the blow.</p> + +<p>But that war of life and death in the far reaches of Trail's End was not +to end so soon. At that instant there was an amazing intervention.</p> + +<p>A great gray form came lunging out of the snow flurries. Their vision +was limited to a few feet, and so fast the creature came, with such +incredible, smashing power, that he was upon them in a breath. It was +the Killer in the full glory of the charge; and he had caught up with +them at last.</p> + +<p>Bruce saw only his great figure looming just over him. Simon, with +amazing agility, leaped to one side just in time, then battered down the +rifle stock with all his strength. But the blow was not meant for Bruce. +It struck where aimed,—the great gray shoulder of the grizzly.</p> + +<p>Then, dimmed and half-obscured by the snow flurries, there began as +strange a battle as the great pines above them had ever beheld. The +Killer's rage was upon him, and the blow at the shoulder had arrested +his charge for a moment only. Then he wheeled, a snarling, fighting +monster with death for any living creature in the blow of his forearm, +and lunged toward Simon again.</p> + +<p>It was the Killer at his grandest. The little eyes blazed, the neck hair +bristled, he struck with forearms and jaws—lashing, lunging, +recoiling—all the terrible might and fury of the wilderness centered +and personified in his mighty form. Simon had no chance to shoot his +rifle. In the instant that he would raise it those great claws and fangs +would be upon him. He swung it as a club, striking again and again, +dodging the sledge-hammer blows and springing aside in the second of the +Killer's lunges. He was fighting for his life, and no eye could bemean +that effort.</p> + +<p>Simon himself seemed exalted, and for once it appeared that the grizzly +had found an opponent worthy of his might. It was all so fitting: that +these two mighty powers, typifying all that is remorseless and terrible +in the wild, should clash at last in the gathering fury of the storm. +They were of one kind, and they seemed to understand each other. The +lust and passion and fury of battle were upon them both.</p> + +<p>The scene harked back to the young days of the world, when man and beast +battled for dominance. Nothing had changed. The forest stood grave and +silent, just the same. The elements warred against them from the +clouds,—that ancient persecution of which the wolf pack sings on the +ridge at night, that endless strife that has made of existence a travail +and a scourge. Man and beast and storm—those three great foes were +arrayed the same as ever. Time swung backward a thousand-thousand +years.</p> + +<p>The storm gathered in force. The full strength of the blizzard was upon +them. The snow seemed to come from all directions in great clouds and +flurries and streamers, and time after time it wholly hid the +contestants from Bruce's eyes. At such times he could tell how the fight +was going by sound alone,—the snarls of the Killer, the wild oaths of +Simon, the impact of the descending rifle-butt. Bruce gave no thought to +taking part. Both were enemies; his own strength seemed gone. The cold +deepened; Bruce could feel it creeping into his blood, halting its flow, +threatening the spark of life within him. The full light of day had come +out upon the land.</p> + +<p>Bruce knew the wilderness now. All its primitive passions were in play, +all its mighty forces at grips. The storm seemed to be trying to +extinguish these mortal lives; jealous of their intrusion, longing for +the world it knew before living things came to dwell upon it, when its +winds swept endlessly over an uninhabited earth, and its winter snows +lay trackless and its rule was supreme. And beneath it, blind to the +knowledge that in union alone lay strength to oppose its might—to +oppose all those cruel forces that make a battleground of life—man and +beast fought their battle to the death.</p> + +<p>It seemed to go on forever. Linda came stealing out of the +snow—following the grizzly's trail—and crept beside Bruce. She +crouched beside him, and his arm went about her as if to shield her. +She had heard the sounds of the battle from afar; she had thought that +Bruce was the contestant, and her terror had left a deep pallor upon her +face; yet now she gazed upon that frightful conflict with a strange and +enduring calm. Both she and Bruce knew that there was but one sure +conqueror, and that was Death. If the Killer survived the fight and +through the mercy of the forest gods spared their lives, there remained +the blizzard. They could conceive of no circumstances whereby further +effort would be of the least avail. The horse on which was tied their +scanty blankets was miles away by now; its tracks were obscured in the +snow, and they could not find their way to any shelter that might be +concealed among the ridges.</p> + +<p>The scene grew in fury. The last burst of strength was upon Simon; in +another moment he would be exhausted. The bear had suffered terrible +punishment from the blows of the rifle stock. He recoiled once more, +then lunged with unbelievable speed. His huge paw, with all his might +behind it, struck the weapon from Simon's hand.</p> + +<p>It shot through the air seemingly almost as fast as the bullets it had +often propelled from its muzzle and struck the trunk of a tree. So hard +it came that the lock was shattered; they heard the ring of metal. The +bear rocked forward once more and struck again. And then all the sound +that was left was the eerie complaint of the wind.</p> + +<p>Simon lay still. The brave fight was over. His trial had ended +fittingly,—in the grip of such powers as were typical of himself. But +the bear did not leap upon him to tear his flesh. For an instant he +stood like a statue in gray stone, head lowered, as if in a strange +attitude of thought. The snow swept over him.</p> + +<p>Linda and Bruce gazed at him in silent awe. Some way, they felt no fear. +No room in their hearts was left for it after the tumult of that battle. +The great grizzly uttered one deep note and half-turned about. His eyes +rested upon the twain, but he did not seem to see them.</p> + +<p>The fury was dead within him; this much was plain. The hair began to lie +down at his shoulders. The terrible eyes lost their fire. Then he turned +again and headed off slowly, deliberately, directly into the face of the +storm.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h2> + + +<p>The flurries almost immediately obscured the Killer's form, and Bruce +turned his attention back to Linda. "It's the end," he said quietly. +"Why not here—as well as anywhere else?"</p> + +<p>But before the question was finished, a strange note had come into his +voice. It was as if his attention had been called from his words by +something much more momentous. The truth was that it had been caught and +held by a curious expression on the girl's face.</p> + +<p>Some great idea, partaking of the nature of inspiration, had come to +her. He saw it in the growing light in her eyes, the deepening of the +soft lines of her face. All at once she sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Bruce!" she cried. "Perhaps there's a way yet. A long, long chance, but +maybe a way yet. Get your rifle—Simon's is broken—and come with me."</p> + +<p>Without waiting for him to rise she struck off into the storm, following +the huge footprints of the bear. The man struggled with himself, +summoned all that was left of his reserve supply of strength, and leaped +up. He snatched his rifle from the ground where Simon had thrown it, and +in an instant was beside her. Her cheeks were blazing.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it just means further torture," she confessed to him, "but don't +you want to make every effort we can to save ourselves? Don't you want +to fight till the last breath?"</p> + +<p>She glanced up and saw her answer in the growing strength of his face. +Then his words spoke too. "As long as the slightest chance remains," he +replied.</p> + +<p>"And you'll forgive me if it comes to nothing?"</p> + +<p>He smiled, dimly. She took fresh heart when she saw he still had +strength enough to smile. "You don't have to ask me that."</p> + +<p>"A moment ago an idea came to me—it came so straight and sure it was as +if a voice told me," she explained hurriedly. She didn't look at him +again. She kept her eyes intent upon the great footprints in the snow. +To miss them for a second meant, in that world of whirling snow, to lose +them forever. "It was after the bear had killed Simon and had gone away. +He acted exactly as if he thought of something and went out to do +it—exactly as if he had a destination in view. Didn't you see—his +anger seemed to die in him and he started off in the <i>face of the +storm</i>. I've watched the ways of animals too long not to know that he +had something in view. It wasn't food; he would have attacked the body +of the horse, or even Simon's body. If he had just been running away or +wandering, he would have gone with the wind, not against it. He was +weakened from the fight, perhaps dying—and I think—"</p> + +<p>He finished the sentence for her, breathlessly. "That he's going toward +shelter."</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know, Bruce—the bears hibernate every year. They always seem +to have places all chosen—usually caverns in the hillsides or under +uprooted trees—and when the winter cuts off their supplies of food they +go straight toward them. That's my one hope now—that the Killer has +gone to some cave he knows about to hibernate until this storm is over. +I think from the way he started off, so sure and so straight, that it's +near. It would be dry and out of the storm, and if we could take it away +from him we could make a fire that the snow wouldn't put out. It would +mean life—and we could go on when the storm is over."</p> + +<p>"You remember—we have only one cartridge."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know—I heard you fire. And it's only a thirty-thirty at that. +It's a risk—as terrible a risk as we've yet run. But it's a chance."</p> + +<p>They talked no more. Instead, they walked as fast as they could into the +face of the storm. It was a moment of respite. This new hope returned +some measure of their strength to them. They walked much more swiftly +than the bear, and they could tell by the appearance of the tracks that +they were but a few yards behind him.</p> + +<p>"He won't smell us, the wind blowing as it does," Linda encouraged. "And +he won't hear us either."</p> + +<p>Now the tracks were practically unspotted with the flakes. They strained +into the flurries. Now they walked almost in silence, their footfall +muffled in the snow.</p> + +<p>They soon became aware that they were mounting a low ridge. They left +the underbrush and emerged into the open timber. And all at once Bruce, +who now walked in front, paused with lifted hand, and pointed. Dim +through the flurries they made out the outline of the bear. And Linda's +inspiration had come true.</p> + +<p>There was a ledge of rocks just in front—a place such as the +rattlesnakes had loved in the blasting sun of summer—and a black hole +yawned in its side. The aperture had been almost covered with the snow, +and they saw that the great creature was scooping away the remainder of +the white drift with his paw. As they waited, the opening grew steadily +wider, revealing the mouth of a little cavern in the face of the rock.</p> + +<p>"Shoot!" Linda whispered. "If he gets inside we won't be able to get him +out."</p> + +<p>But Bruce shook his head, then stole nearer. She understood; he had only +one cartridge, and he must not take the risk of wounding the animal. The +fire had to be centered on a vital place.</p> + +<p>He walked steadily nearer until it seemed to Linda he would advance +straight into reach of the terrible claws. He held the rifle firmly; his +jaw was set, his face white, his eyes straight and strong with the +strength of the pines themselves. He went as softly as he could—nearer, +ever nearer—the rifle cocked and ready in his hands.</p> + +<p>The Killer turned his head and saw Bruce. Rage flamed again in his eyes. +He half-turned about; then poised to charge.</p> + +<p>The gun moved swiftly, easily, to the man's shoulder, his chin dropped +down, his straight eyes gazed along the barrel. In spite of his wound +never had human arms held more steady than his did then. And he marked +the little space of gray squarely between the two reddening eyes.</p> + +<p>The finger pressed back steadily against the trigger. The rifle cracked +in the silence. And then there was a curious effect of tableau, a long +second in which all three figures seemed to stand deathly still.</p> + +<p>The bear leaped forward, and it seemed wholly impossible to Linda that +Bruce could swerve aside in time to avoid the blow. She cried out in +horror as the great paws whipped down in the place where Bruce had +stood. But the man had been prepared for this very recoil, and he had +sprung aside just as the claws raked past.</p> + +<p>And the Killer would hunt no more in Trail's End. At the end of that +leap he fell, his great body quivering strangely in the snow. The lead +had gone straight home where it had been aimed, and the charge itself +had been mostly muscular reflex. He lay still at last, a gray, mammoth +figure that was majestic even in death.</p> + +<p>No more would the deer shudder with terror at the sound of his heavy +step in the thicket. No more would the herds fly into stampede at the +sight of his great shadow on the moonlit grass. The last of the Oregon +grizzlies had gone the way of all his breed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>To Bruce and Linda, standing breathless and awed in the snow-flurries, +his death imaged the passing of an old order—the last stand that the +forces of the wild had made against conquering man. But there was pathos +in it too. There was the symbol of mighty breeds humbled and destroyed.</p> + +<p>But the pines were left. Those eternal symbols of the wilderness—and of +powers beyond the wilderness—still stood straight and grand and +impassive above them. While these two lived, at least, they would still +keep their watch over the wilderness, they would still stand erect and +brave to the buffeting of the storm and snow, and in their shade dwelt +strength and peace.</p> + +<p>The cavern that was revealed to them had a rock floor and had been +hollowed out by running water in ages past. Bruce built a fire at its +mouth of some of the long tree roots that extended down into it, and the +life-giving warmth was a benediction. Already the drifting snow had +begun to cover the aperture.</p> + +<p>"We can wait here until the blizzard is done," Bruce told Linda, as she +sat beside him in the soft glow of the fire. "We have a little food, and +we can cut more from the body of the grizzly when we need it. There's +dead wood under the snow. And when the storm is over, we can get our +bearings and walk out."</p> + +<p>She sat a long time without answering. "And after that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He smiled. "No one knows. It's ten days before the thirtieth—the +blizzards up here never last over three or four days. We've got plenty +of time to get the document down to the courts. The law will deal with +the rest of the Turners. We've won, Linda."</p> + +<p>His hands groped for hers, and he laid it against his lips. With her +other hand she stroked his snow-wet hair. Her eyes were lustrous in the +firelight.</p> + +<p>"And after that—after all that is settled? You will come back to the +mountains?"</p> + +<p>"Could I ever leave them!" he exclaimed. "Of course, Linda. But I don't +know what I can do up here—except maybe to establish my claim to my +father's old farm. There's a hundred or so acres. I believe I'd like to +feel the handles of a plow in my palms."</p> + +<p>"It was what you were made for, Bruce," she told him. "It's born in you. +There's a hundred acres there—and three thousand—somewhere else. +You've got new strength, Bruce. You could take hold and make them yield +up their hay—and their crops—and fill all these hills with the herds." +She stretched out her arms. Then all at once she dropped them almost as +if in supplication. But her voice had regained the old merry tone he had +learned to love when she spoke again. "Bruce, have I got to do all the +asking?"</p> + +<p>His answer was to stretch his great arms and draw her into them. His +laugh rang in the cavern.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dearest!" he cried. The eyes lighted in his bronzed face. "I ask +for everything—everything—bold that I am! And what I want worst—this +minute—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"—Is just—a kiss."</p> + +<p>She gave it to him with all the tenderness of her soft lips. The snow +sifted down outside. Again the pines spoke to one another, but the +sadness seemed mostly gone from their soft voices.</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="By_EDISON_MARSHALL" id="By_EDISON_MARSHALL"></a>By EDISON MARSHALL</h2> + + +<h3>THE VOICE OF THE PACK</h3> + +<h3>With frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton</h3> + +<p><i>Love story, adventure story, nature story—all three qualities combine +in this tale of modern man and woman arrayed against the forces of +age-old savagery.</i></p> + +<p>"'The Voice of the Pack' is clean, fine, raw, bold, primitive; and has a +wonderfully haunting quality in the repeated wolf-note"—<i>Zane Grey.</i></p> + +<p>"Taken all around 'The Voice of the Pack' is the best of the stories +about wild life that has come out in many, many moons."—<i>The Chicago +Daily News.</i></p> + +<p>"As a story that mingles Adventure, Nature Study and Romance, 'The Voice +of the Pack' is undeniably of the front rank. Mr. Marshall knows the +wild places and the ways of the wild creatures that range them—and he +knows how to write. The study of Dan Failing's development against a +background of the wild life of the mountains, is an exceedingly clever +piece of literary work."—<i>The Boston Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"An unusually good tale of the West, evidently written by a man who +knows about the habits of the wolf-packs and cougars."—<i>The New York +Times.</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 35378-h.txt or 35378-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/3/7/35378">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/3/7/35378</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Herbert Dunton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Strength of the Pines + + +Author: Edison Marshall + + + +Release Date: February 23, 2011 [eBook #35378] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES*** + + +E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Michael, Mary Meehan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 35378-h.htm or 35378-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35378/35378-h/35378-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35378/35378-h.zip) + + + + + +THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES + +by + +EDISON MARSHALL + +With Frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton + + + + + + + +Boston +Little, Brown, and Company +1921 + +Copyright, 1921, +By Little, Brown, and Company. + +All rights reserved + +Published February, 1921 + +The Colonial Press +C. H. Simonds Co., Boston, U. S. A. + + + + + TO + LILLE BARTOO MARSHALL + DEAR COMRADE AND GUIDE + WHO GAVE ME LIFE + + +[Illustration: He marked the little space of gray squarely between the +two reddening eyes.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK ONE THE CALL OF THE BLOOD + +BOOK TWO THE BLOOD ATONEMENT + +BOOK THREE THE COMING OF THE STRENGTH + + + + +THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES + + + + +BOOK ONE + +THE CALL OF THE BLOOD + + + + +I + + +Bruce was wakened by the sharp ring of his telephone bell. He heard its +first note; and its jingle seemed to continue endlessly. There was no +period of drowsiness between sleep and wakefulness; instantly he was +fully aroused, in complete control of all his faculties. And this is not +especially common to men bred in the security of civilization. Rather it +is a trait of the wild creatures; a little matter that is quite +necessary if they care at all about living. A deer, for instance, that +cannot leap out of a mid-afternoon nap, soar a fair ten feet in the air, +and come down with legs in the right position for running comes to a sad +end, rather soon, in a puma's claws. Frontiersmen learn the trait too; +but as Bruce was a dweller of cities it seemed somewhat strange in him. +The trim, hard muscles were all cocked and primed for anything they +should be told to do. + +Then he grunted rebelliously and glanced at his watch beneath the +pillow. He had gone to bed early; it was just before midnight now. "I +wish they'd leave me alone at night, anyway," he muttered, as he slipped +on his dressing gown. + +He had no doubts whatever concerning the nature of this call. There had +been one hundred like it during the previous month. His foster father +had recently died, his estate was being settled up, and Bruce had been +having a somewhat strenuous time with his creditors. He understood the +man's real financial situation at last; at his death the whole business +structure collapsed like the eggshell it was. Bruce had supposed that +most of the debts had been paid by now; he wondered, as he fumbled into +his bedroom slippers, whether the thousand or so dollars that were left +would cover the claim of the man who was now calling him to the +telephone. The fact that he was, at last, the penniless "beggar" that +Duncan had called him at their first meeting didn't matter one way or +another. For some years he had not hoped for help from his foster +parent. The collapse of the latter's business had put Bruce out of work, +but that was just a detail too. All he wanted now was to get things +straightened up and go away--where, he did not know or care. + +"This is Mr. Duncan," he said coldly into the transmitter. + +When he heard a voice come scratching over the wires, he felt sure that +he had guessed right. Quite often his foster father's creditors talked +in that same excited, hurried way. It was rather necessary to be hurried +and excited if a claim were to be met before the dwindling financial +resources were exhausted. But the words themselves, however--as soon as +they gave their interpretation in his brain--threw a different light on +the matter. + +"How do you do, Mr. Duncan," the voice answered. "Pardon me if I got you +up. I want to talk to your son, Bruce." + +Bruce emitted a little gasp of amazement. Whoever talked at the end of +the line obviously didn't know that the elder Duncan was dead. Bruce had +a moment of grim humor in which he mused that this voice would have done +rather well if it could arouse his foster father to answer it. "The +elder Mr. Duncan died last month," he answered simply. There was not the +slightest trace of emotion in his tone. No wayfarer on the street could +have been, as far as facts went, more of a stranger to him; there was no +sense of loss at his death and no cause for pretense now. "This is Bruce +speaking." + +He heard the other gasp. "Old man, I'm sorry," his contrite voice came. +"I didn't know of your loss. This is Barney--Barney Wegan--and I just +got in from the West. Haven't had a bit of news for months. Accept my +earnest sympathies--" + +"Barney! Of course." The delight grew on Bruce's face; for Barney Wegan, +a man whom he had met and learned to know on the gym floor of his club, +was quite near to being a real friend. "And what's up, Barney?" + +The man's voice changed at once--went back to its same urgent, but +rather embarrassed tone. "You won't believe me if I tell you, so I won't +try to tell you over the 'phone. But I must come up--right away. May I?" + +"Of course--" + +"I'll jump in my car and be there in a minute." + +Bruce hung up, slowly descended to his library, and flashed on the +lights. + +For the first time he was revealed plainly. His was a familiar type; but +at the same time the best type too. He had the face and the body of an +athlete, a man who keeps himself fit; and there was nothing mawkish or +effeminate about him. His dark hair was clipped close about his temples, +and even two hours in bed had not disarranged its careful part. It is +true that men did look twice at Bruce's eyes, set in a brown, clean-cut +face, never knowing exactly why they did so. They had startling +potentialities. They were quite clear now, wide-awake and cool, yet they +had a strange depth of expression and shadow that might mean, somewhere +beneath the bland and cool exterior, a capacity for great emotions and +passions. + +He had only a few minutes to wait; then Barney Wegan tapped at his door. +This man was bronzed by the sun, never more fit, never straighter and +taller and more lithe. He had just come from the far places. The +embarrassment that Bruce had detected in his voice was in his face and +manner too. + +"You'll think I'm crazy, for routing you out at this time of night, +Bruce," he began. "And I'm going to get this matter off my chest as +soon as possible and let you go to bed. It's all batty, anyway. But I +was cautioned by all the devils of the deep to see you--the moment I +came here." + +"Cigarettes on the smoking-stand," Bruce said steadily. "And tell away." + +"But tell me something first. Was Duncan your real father? If he was, +I'll know I'm up a wrong tree. I don't mean to be personal--" + +"He wasn't. I thought you knew it. My real father is something like +you--something of a mystery." + +"I won't be a mystery long. He's not, eh--that's what the old hag said. +Excuse me, old man, for saying 'hag.' But she was one, if there is any +such. Lord knows who she is, or whether or not she's a relation of +yours. But I'll begin at the beginning. You know I was way back on the +Oregon frontier--back in the Cascades?" + +"I didn't know," Bruce replied. "I knew you were somewhere in the wilds. +You always are. Go on." + +"I was back there fishing for steelhead in a river they call the Rogue. +My boy, a steelhead is--but you don't want to hear that. You want to get +the story. But a steelhead, you ought to know, is a trout--a fish--and +the noblest fish that ever was! Oh, Heavens above! how they can strike! +But while way up on the upper waters I heard of a place called Trail's +End--a place where wise men do not go." + +"And of course you went." + +"Of course. The name sounds silly now, but it won't if you ever go +there. There are only a few families, Bruce, miles and miles apart, in +the whole region. And it's enormous--no one knows how big. Just ridge on +ridge. And I went back to kill a bear." + +"But stop!" Bruce commanded. He lighted a cigarette. "I thought you were +against killing bears--any except the big boys up North." + +"That's just it. I am against killing the little black fellows--they are +the only folk with any brains in the woods. But this, Bruce, was a real +bear,--a left-over from fifty years ago. There used to be grizzlies +through that country, you see, but everybody supposed that the last of +them had been shot. But evidently there was one family that still +remained--in the farthest recesses of Trail's End--and all at once the +biggest, meanest grizzly ever remembered showed up on the cattle ranges +of the plateau. With some others, I went to get him. 'The Killer', they +call him--and he certainly is death on live stock. I didn't get the +bear, but one day my guide stopped at a broken-down old cabin on the +hillside for a drink of water. I was four miles away in camp. The guide +came back and asked me if I was from this very city. + +"I told him yes, and asked him why he wanted to know. He said that this +old woman sent word, secretly, to every stranger that ever came to fish +or hunt in the region of Trail's End, wanting to know if they came from +here. I was the first one that answered 'yes.' And the guide said that +she wanted me to come to her cabin and see her. + +"I went--and I won't describe to you how she looked. I'll let you see +for yourself, if you care to follow out her instructions. And now the +strange part comes in. The old witch raised her arm, pointed her cane at +me, and asked me if I knew Newton Duncan. + +"I told her there might be several Newton Duncans in a city this size. +You should have seen the pain grow on her face. 'After so long, after so +long!' she cried, in the queerest, sobbing way. She seemed to have +waited years to find some one from here, and when I came I didn't know +what she wanted. Then she took heart and began again. + +"'This Newton Duncan had a son--a foster-son--named Bruce,' she told me. +And then I said I knew you. + +"You can't imagine the change that came over her. I thought she'd die of +heart failure. The whole thing, Bruce--if you must know--gave me the +creeps. 'Tell him to come here,' she begged me. 'Don't lose a moment. As +soon as you get home, tell him to come here.' + +"Of course I asked other questions, but I couldn't get much out of her. +One of 'em was why she hadn't written to Duncan. The answer was simple +enough--that she didn't know how to write. Those in the mountains that +could write wouldn't, or couldn't--she was a trifle vague on that +point--dispatch a letter. Something is up." + + + + +II + + +Before the gray of dawn came over the land Bruce Duncan had started +westward. He had no self-amazement at the lightning decision. He was +only strangely and deeply exultant. + +The reasons why went too deep within him to be easily seen. In the first +place, it was adventure--and Bruce's life had not been very adventurous +heretofore. It was true that he had known triumphs on the athletic +fields, and his first days at a great University had been novel and +entertaining. But now he was going to the West, to a land he had dreamed +about, the land of wide spaces and great opportunities. It was not his +first western journey. Often he had gone there as a child--had engaged +in furious battles with outlaws and Indians; but those had been +adventures of imagination only. This was reality at last. The clicking +rails beneath the speeding train left no chance for doubt. + +Then there was a sense of immeasurable relief at his sudden and +unexpected freedom from the financial problems his father had left. He +would have no more consultations with impatient creditors, no more would +he strive to gather together the ruins of the business, and attempt to +salvage the small remaining fragments of his father's fortune. He was +free of it all, at last. He had never known a darker hour--and none of +them that this quiet, lonely-spirited man had known had been very +bright--than the one he had spent just before going to bed earlier that +evening. He had no plans, he didn't know which way to turn. All at once, +through the message that Barney had brought him, he had seen a clear +trail ahead. It was something to do, something at last that mattered. + +Finally there remained the eminent fact that this was an answer to his +dream. He was going toward Linda, at last. The girl had been the one +living creature in his memory that he had cared for and who cared for +him--the one person whose interest in him was real. Men are a gregarious +species. The trails are bewildering and steep to one who travels them +alone. Linda, the little "spitfire" of his boyhood, had suddenly become +the one reality in his world, and as he thought of her, his memory +reviewed the few impressions he had retained of his childhood. + +First was the Square House--the orphanage--where the Woman had turned +him over to the nurse in charge. Sometimes, when tobacco smoke was heavy +upon him, Bruce could catch very dim and fleeting glimpses of the +Woman's face. He would bend his mind to it, he would probe and probe, +with little, reaching filaments of thought, into the dead years--and +then, all at once, the filaments would rush together, catch hold of a +fragment of her picture, and like a chain-gang of ants carrying a straw, +come lugging it up for him to see. It was only a fleeting glimpse, only +the faintest blur in half-tone, and then quite gone. Yet he never gave +up trying. He never quit longing for just one second of vivid +remembrance. It was one of the few and really great desires that Bruce +had in life. + +The few times that her memory-picture did come to him, it brought a +number of things with it. One of them was a great and overwhelming +realization of some terrible tragedy and terror the nature of which he +could not even guess. There had been terrible and tragic events--where +and how he could not guess--lost in those forgotten days of his +babyhood. + +"She's been through fire," the nurse told the doctor when he came in and +the door had closed behind the Woman. Bruce _did_ remember these words, +because many years elapsed before he completely puzzled them out. The +nurse hadn't meant such fires as swept through the far-spread evergreen +forests of the Northwest. It was some other, dread fire that seared the +spirit and burned the bloom out of the face and all the gentle lights +out of the eyes. It did, however, leave certain lights, but they were +such that their remembrance brought no pleasure to Bruce. They were just +a wild glare, a fixed, strange brightness as of great fear or insanity. + +The Woman had kissed him and gone quickly; and he had been too young to +remember if she had carried any sort of bundle close to her breast. Yet, +the man considered, there must have been such a bundle--otherwise he +couldn't possibly account for Linda. And there were no doubts about +her, at all. Her picture was always on the first page of the photograph +album of his memory; he had only to turn over one little sheet of years +to find her. + +Of course he had no memories of her that first day, nor for the first +years. But all later memories of the Square House always included her. +She must have been nearly four years younger than himself; thus when he +was taken to the house she was only an infant. But thereafter, the +nurses put them together often; and when Linda was able to talk, she +called him something that sounded like Bwovaboo. She called him that so +often that for a long time he couldn't be sure that wasn't his real +name. Now, in manhood, he interpreted. + +"Brother Bruce, of course. Linda was of course a sister." + +Linda had been homely; even a small boy could notice that. Besides, +Linda was nearly six when Bruce had left for good; and he was then at an +age in which impressions begin to be lasting. Her hair was quite blond +then, and her features rather irregular. But there had been a light in +her eyes! By his word, there had been! + +She had been angry at him times in plenty--over some childish game--and +he remembered how that light had grown and brightened. She had flung at +him too, like a lynx springing from a tree. Bruce paused in his +reflections to wonder at himself over the simile--for lynx were no +especial acquaintances of his. He knew them only through books, as he +knew many other things that stirred his imagination. But he laughed at +the memory of her sudden, explosive ferocity,--the way her hands had +smacked against his cheeks, and her sharp little nails had scratched +him. Curiously, he had never fought back as is the usual thing between +small boys and small girls. And it wasn't exactly chivalry either, +rather just an inability to feel resentment. Besides, there were always +tears and repentance afterward, and certain pettings that he openly +scorned and secretly loved. + +"I must have been a strange kid!" Bruce thought. + +It was true he had; and nothing was stranger than this attitude toward +Baby Sister. He was always so gentle with her, but at the same time he +contemplated her with a sort of amused tolerance that is to be expected +in strong men rather than solemn little boys. "Little Spitfire" he +sometimes called her; but no one else could call her anything but Linda. +For Bruce had been an able little fighter, even in those days. + +There was other evidence of strangeness. He was fond of drawing +pictures. This was nothing in itself; many little boys are fond of +drawing pictures. Nor were his unusually good. Their strangeness lay in +his subjects. He liked to draw animals in particular,--the animals he +read about in school and in such books as were brought to him. And +sometimes he drew Indians and cowboys. And one day--when he wasn't half +watching what he was doing--he drew something quite different. + +Perhaps he wouldn't have looked at it twice, if the teacher hadn't +stepped up behind him and taken it out of his hands. It was "geography" +then, not "drawing", and he should have been "paying attention." And he +had every reason to think that the teacher would crumple up his picture +and send him to the cloak-room for punishment. + +But she did no such thing. It was true that she seized the paper, and +her fingers were all set to crumple it. But when her eyes glanced down, +her fingers slowly straightened. Then she looked again--carefully. + +"What is this, Bruce?" she asked. "What have you been drawing?" + +Curiously, she had quite forgotten to scold him for not paying +attention. And Bruce, who had drawn the picture with his thoughts far +away from his pencil, had to look and see himself. Then he couldn't be +sure. + +"I--I don't know," the child answered. But the picture was even better +than his more conscious drawings, and it did look like something. He +looked again, and for an instant let his thoughts go wandering here and +there. "Those are trees," he said. A word caught at his throat and he +blurted it out. "Pines! Pine trees, growing on a mountain." + +Once translated, the picture could hardly be mistaken. There was a range +of mountains in the background, and a distinct sky line plumed with +pines,--those tall, dark trees that symbolize, above all other trees, +the wilderness. + +"Not bad for a six-year-old boy," the teacher commented. "But where, +Bruce, have you ever seen or heard of such pines?" But Bruce did not +know. + +Another puzzling adventure that stuck in Bruce's memory had happened +only a few months after his arrival at the Square House when a man had +taken him home on trial with the idea of adoption. Adoption, little +Bruce had gathered, was something like heaven,--a glorious and happy end +of all trouble and unpleasantness. Such was the idea he got from the +talk of the other Orphans, and even from the grown-ups who conducted the +establishment. + +All the incidents and details of the excursion with this prospective +parent were extremely dim and vague. He did not know to what city he +went, nor had he any recollection whatever of the people he met there. +But he did remember, with remarkable clearness, the perplexing talk that +the man and the superintendent of the Square House had together on his +return. + +"He won't do," the stranger had said. "I tried him out and he won't fill +in in my family. And I've fetched him back." + +The superintendent must have looked at the little curly-haired boy with +considerable wonder; but he didn't ask questions. There was no +particular need of them. The man was quite ready to talk, and the fact +that a round-eyed child was listening to him with both ears open, did +not deter him a particle. + +"I believe in being frank," the man said, "and I tell you there's +something vicious in that boy's nature. It came out the very first +moment he was in the house, when the Missus was introducing him to my +eight-year-old son. 'This is little Turner,' she said--and this boy +sprang right at him. I'd never let little Turner learn to fight, and +this boy was on top of him and was pounding him with his fists before we +could pull him off. Just like a wildcat--screaming and sobbing and +trying to get at him again. I didn't understand it at all." + +Nor did the superintendent understand; nor--in these later years--Bruce +either. + +He was quite a big boy, nearly ten, when he finally left the Square +House. And there was nothing flickering or dim about the memory of this +occasion. + +A tall, exceedingly slender man sat beside the window,--a man well +dressed but with hard lines about his mouth and hard eyes. Yet the +superintendent seemed particularly anxious to please him. "You will like +this sturdy fellow," he said, as Bruce was ushered in. + +The man's eyes traveled slowly from the child's curly head to his +rapidly growing feet; but no gleam of interest came into the thin face. +"I suppose he'll do--as good as any. It was the wife's idea, anyway, you +know. What about parentage? Anything decent at all?" + +The superintendent seemed to wait a long time before answering. Little +Bruce, already full of secret conjectures as to his own parentage, +thought that some key might be given him at last. "There is nothing that +we can tell you, Mr. Duncan," he said at last. "A woman brought him +here--with an infant girl--when he was about four. I suppose she was +his mother--and she didn't wait to talk to me. The nurse said that she +wore outlandish clothes and had plainly had a hard time." + +"But she didn't wait--?" + +"She dropped her children and fled." + +A cold little smile flickered at the man's lips. + +"It looks rather damnable," he said significantly. "But I'll take the +little beggar--anyway." + +And thus Bruce went to the cold fireside of the Duncans--a house in a +great and distant city where, in the years that had passed, many things +scarcely worth remembering had transpired. It was a gentleman's +house--as far as the meaning of the word usually goes--and Bruce had +been afforded a gentleman's education. There was also, for a while, a +certain amount of rather doubtful prosperity, a woman who died after a +few months of casual interest in him, and many, many hours of almost +overwhelming loneliness. Also there were many thoughts such as are not +especially good for the spirits of growing boys. + +There is a certain code in all worlds that most men, sooner or later, +find it wisest to adopt. It is simply the code of forgetfulness. The +Square House from whence Bruce had come had been a good place to learn +this code; and Bruce--child though he was--had carried it with him to +the Duncans'. But there were two things he had been unable to forget. +One was the words his foster father had spoken on accepting him,--words +that at last he had come to understand. + +A normal child, adopted into a good home, would not have likely given a +second thought to a dim and problematical disgrace in his unknown and +departed family. He would have found his pride in the achievements and +standing of his foster parents. But the trouble was that little Bruce +had not been adopted into any sort of home, good or bad. The place where +the Duncans lived was a house, but under no liberal interpretation of +the word could it be called a home. There was nothing homelike in it to +little Bruce. It wasn't that there was actual cruelty to contend with. +Bruce had never known that. But there was utter indifference which +perhaps is worse. And as always, the child filled up the empty space +with dreams. He gave all the love and worship that was in him to his own +family that he had pictured in imagination. Thus any disgrace that had +come upon them went home to him very straight indeed. + +The other lasting memory was of Linda. She represented the one living +creature in all his assemblage of phantoms--the one person with whom he +could claim real kinship. Never a wind blew, never the sun shone but +that he missed her, with a terrible, aching longing for which no one has +ever been able to find words. He had done a bold thing, after his first +few years with the Duncans. He planned it long and carried it out with +infinite care as to details. He wrote to Linda, in care of the +superintendent of the orphanage. + +The answer only deepened the mystery. Linda was missing. Whether she had +run away, or whether some one had come by in a closed car and carried +her off as she played on the lawns, the superintendent could not tell. +They had never been able to trace her. He had been fifteen then, a tall +boy with rather unusual muscular development, and the girl was eleven. +And in the year nineteen hundred and twenty, ten years after the reply +to his letter, Bruce had heard no word from her. A man grown, and his +boyish dreams pushed back into the furthest deep recesses of his mind, +where they could no longer turn his eyes away from facts, he had given +up all hope of ever hearing from her again. "My little sister," he said +softly to a memory. Then bitterness--a whole black flood of it--would +come upon him. "Good Lord, I don't even know that she _was_ my sister." +But now he was going to find her and his heart was full of joy and eager +anticipation. + + + + +III + + +There had not been time to make inquiry as to the land Bruce was going +to. He only knew one thing,--that it was the wilderness. Whether it was +a wilderness of desert or of great forest, he did not know. Nor had he +the least idea what manner of adventure would be his after he reached +the old woman's cabin; and he didn't care. The fact that he had no +business plans for the future and no financial resources except a few +hundred dollars that he carried in his pocket did not matter one way or +another. He was willing to spend all the money he had; after it was +gone, he would take up some work in life anew. + +He had a moment's wonder at the effect his departure would have upon the +financial problem that had been his father's sole legacy to him. He +laughed a little as he thought of it. Perhaps a stronger man could have +taken hold, could have erected some sort of a structure upon the ruins, +and remained to conquer after all. But Bruce had never been particularly +adept at business. His temperament did not seem suited to it. But the +idea that others also--having no business relations with his +father--might be interested in this western journey of his did not even +occur to him. He would not be missed at his athletic club. He had +scarcely any real friends, and none of his acquaintances kept +particularly close track of him. + +But the paths men take, seemingly with wholly different aims, crisscross +and become intertwined much more than Bruce knew. Even as he lay in his +berth, the first sweet drifting of sleep upon him, he was the subject of +a discussion in a far-distant mountain home; and sleep would not have +fallen so easily and sweetly if he had heard it. + + * * * * * + +It might have been a different world. Only a glimpse of it, illumined by +the moon, could be seen through the soiled and besmirched window pane; +but that was enough to tell the story. There were no tall buildings, +lighted by a thousand electric lights, such as Bruce could see through +the windows of his bedroom at night. The lights that could be discerned +in this strange, dark sky were largely unfamiliar to Bruce, because of +the smoke-clouds that had always hung above the city where he lived. +There were just stars, but there were so many of them that the mind was +unable to comprehend their number. + +There is a perplexing variation in the appearance of these twinkling +spheres. No man who has traveled widely can escape this fact. Likely +enough they are the same stars, but they put on different faces. They +seem almost insignificant at times,--dull and dim and unreal. It is not +this way with the stars that peer down through these high forests. Men +cannot walk beneath them and be unaware of them. They are incredibly +large and bright and near, and the eyes naturally lift to them. There +are nights in plenty, in the wild places, where they seem much more real +than the dim, moonlit ridge or even the spark of a trapper's campfire, +far away. They grow to be companions, too, in time. Perhaps after many, +many years in the wild a man even attains some understanding of them, +learning their infinite beneficence, and finding in them rare comrades +in loneliness, and beacons on the dim and intertwining trails. + +There was also a moon that cast a little square of light, like a fairy +tapestry, on the floor. It was not such a moon as leers down red and +strange through the smoke of cities. It was vivid and quite white,--the +wilderness moon that times the hunting hours of the forest creatures. +But the patch that it cast on the floor was obscured in a moment because +the man who had been musing in the big chair beside the empty fireplace +had risen and lighted a kerosene lamp. + +The light prevented any further scrutiny of the moon and stars. And what +remained to look at was not nearly so pleasing to the spirit. It was a +great, white-walled room that would have been beautiful had it not been +for certain unfortunate attempts to beautify it. The walls, that should +have been sweeping and clean, were adorned with gaudily framed pictures +which in themselves were dim and drab from many summers' accumulation of +dust. There was a stone fireplace, and certain massive, dust-covered +chairs grouped about it. But the eyes never would have got to these. +They would have been held and fascinated by the face and the form of +the man who had just lighted the lamp. + +No one could look twice at that massive physique and question its might. +He seemed almost gigantic in the yellow lamplight. In reality he stood +six feet and almost three inches, and his frame was perfectly in +proportion. He moved slowly, lazily, and the thought flashed to some +great monster of the forest that could uproot a tree with a blow. The +huge muscles rippled and moved under the flannel shirt. The vast hand +looked as if it could seize the glass bowl of the lamp and crush it like +an eggshell. + +The face was huge, big and gaunt of bone; and particularly one would +notice the mouth. It would be noticed even before the dark, deep-sunken +eyes. It was a bloodhound mouth, the mouth of a man of great and +terrible passions, and there was an unmistakable measure of cruelty and +savagely about it. But there was strength, too. No eye could doubt that. +The jaw muscles looked as powerful as those of a beast of prey. But it +was not an ugly face, for all the brutality of the features. It was even +handsome in the hard, mountain way. One would notice straight, black +hair--the man's age was about thirty-nine--long over rather dark ears, +and a great, gnarled throat. The words when he spoke seemed to come from +deep within it. + +"Come in, Dave," he said. + +In this little remark lay something of the man's power. The visitor had +come unannounced. His visit had been unexpected. His host had not yet +seen his face. Yet the man knew, before the door was opened, who it was +that had come. + +The reason went back to a certain quickening of the senses that is the +peculiar right and property of most men who are really residents of the +wilderness. And resident, in this case, does not mean merely one who +builds his cabin on the slopes and lives there until he dies. It means a +true relationship with the wild, an actual understanding. This man was +the son of the wild as much as the wolves that ran in the packs. The +wilderness is a fecund parent, producing an astounding variety of types. +Some are beautiful, many stronger than iron, but her parentage was never +more evident than in the case of this bronze-skinned giant that called +out through the open doorway. Among certain other things he had acquired +an ability to name and interpret quickly the little sounds of the +wilderness night. Soft though it was, he had heard the sound of +approaching feet in the pine needles. As surely as he would have +recognized the dark face of the man in the doorway, he recognized the +sound as Dave's step. + +The man came in, and at once an observer would have detected an air of +deference in his attitude. Very plainly he had come to see his chief. He +was a year or two older than his host, less powerful of physique, and +his eyes did not hold quite so straight. There was less savagery but +more cunning in his sharp features. + +He blurted out his news at once. "Old Elmira has got word down to the +settlements at last," he said. + +There was no muscular response in the larger man. Dave was plainly +disappointed. He wanted his news to cause a stir. It was true, however, +that his host slowly raised his eyes. Dave glanced away. + +"What do you mean?" the man demanded. + +"Mean--I mean just what I said. We should have watched closer. +Bill--Young Bill, I mean--saw a city chap just in the act of going in to +see her. He had come on to the plateaus with his guide--Wegan was the +man's name--and Bill said he stayed a lot longer than he would have if +he hadn't taken a message from her. Then Young Bill made some +inquiries--innocent as you please--and he found out for sure that this +Wegan was from--just the place we don't want him to be from. And he'll +carry word sure." + +"How long ago was this?" + +"Week ago Tuesday." + +"And why have you been so long in telling me?" + +When Dave's chief asked questions in this tone, answers always came +quickly. They rolled so fast from the mouth that they blurred and ran +together. "Why, Simon--you ain't been where I could see you. Anyway, +there was nothin' we could have done." + +"There wasn't, eh? I don't suppose you ever thought that there's yet two +months before we can clinch this thing for good, and young Folger +might--I say might--have kicking about somewhere in his belongings the +very document we've all of us been worrying about for twenty years." +Simon cursed--a single, fiery oath. "I don't suppose you could have +arranged for this Wegan to have had a hunting accident, could you? Who +in the devil would have thought that yelping old hen could have ever +done it--would have ever kept at it long enough to reach anybody to +carry her message! But as usual, we are yelling before we're hurt. It +isn't worth a cussword. Like as not, this Wegan will never take the +trouble to hunt him up. And if he does--well, it's nothing to worry +about, either. There is one back door that has been opened many times to +let his people go through, and it may easily be opened again." + +Dave's eyes filled with admiration. Then he turned and gazed out through +the window. Against the eastern sky, already wan and pale from the +encroaching dawn, the long ridge of a mountain stood in vivid and +startling silhouette. The edge of it was curiously jagged with many +little upright points. + +There was only one person who would have been greatly amazed by that +outline of the ridge; and the years and distance had obscured her long +ago. This was a teacher at an orphanage in a distant city, who once had +taken a crude drawing from the hands of a child. Here was the original +at last. It was the same ridge, covered with pines, that little Bruce +had drawn. + + + + +IV + + +The train came to a sliding halt at Deer Creek, paused an infinitesimal +fraction of a second, and roared on in its ceaseless journey. That +infinitesimal fraction was long enough for Bruce, poised on the bottom +step of a sleeping car, to swing down on to the gravel right-of-way. His +bag, hurled by a sleepy porter, followed him. + +He turned first to watch the vanishing tail light, speeding so swiftly +into the darkness; and curiously all at once it blinked out. But it was +not that the switchmen were neglectful of their duties. In this certain +portion of the Cascades the railroad track is constructed something +after the manner of a giant screw, coiling like a great serpent up the +ridges, and the train had simply vanished around a curve. + +Duncan's next impression was one of infinite solitude. He hadn't read +any guidebooks about Deer Creek, and he had expected some sort of town. +A western mining camp, perhaps, where the windows of a dance hall would +gleam through the darkness; or one of those curious little +mushroom-growth cities that are to be found all over the West. But at +Deer Creek there was one little wooden structure with only three +sides,--the opening facing the track. It was evidently the waiting room +used by the mountain men as they waited for their local trains. + +There were no porters to carry his bag. There were no shouting +officials. His only companions were the stars and the moon and, farther +up the slope, certain tall trees that tapered to incredible points +almost in the region where the stars began. The noise of the train died +quickly. It vanished almost as soon as the dot of red that had been its +tail light. It was true that he heard a faint pulsing far below him, a +sound that was probably the chug of the steam, but it only made an +effective background for the silence. It was scarcely more to be heard +than the pulse of his own blood; and as he waited even this faded and +died away. + +The moon cast his shadow on the yellow grass beside the crude station, +and a curious flood of sensations--scarcely more tangible than its +silver light--came over him. The moment had a quality of enchantment; +and why he did not know. His throat suddenly filled, a curious weight +and pain came to his eyelids, a quiver stole over his nerves. He stood +silent with lifted face,--a strange figure in that mystery of moonlight. + +The whole scene, for causes deeper than any words may ever seek and +reveal, moved him past any experience in his life. It was wholly new. +When he had gone to sleep in his berth, earlier that same night, the +train had been passing through a level, fertile valley that might have +been one of the river bottoms beyond the Mississippi. When darkness had +come down he had been in a great city in the northern part of the +State,--a noisy, busy place that was not greatly different from the city +whence he had come. But now he seemed in a different world. + +Possibly, in the long journey to the West, he had passed through forest +before. But some way their appeal had not got to him. He was behind +closed windows, his thoughts had been busy with reading and other +occupations of travel. There had been no shading off, no gradations; he +had come straight from a great seat of civilization to the heart of the +wilderness. + +He turned about until the wind was in his face. It was full of +fragrances,--strange, indescribable smells that seemed to call up a +forgotten world. They carried a message to him, but as yet he hadn't +made out its meaning. He only knew it was something mysterious and +profound: great truths that flickered, like dim lights, in his +consciousness, but whose outline he could not quite discern. They went +straight home to him, those night smells from the forest. One of them +was a balsam: a fragrance that once experienced lingers ever in the +memory and calls men back to it in the end. Those who die in its +fragrance, just as those who go to sleep, feel sure of having pleasant +dreams. There were other smells too--delicate perfumes from mountain +flowers that were deep-hidden in the grass--and many others, the nature +of which he could not even guess. + +Perhaps there were sounds, but they only seemed part of the silence. The +faintest rustle in the world reached him from the forests above of many +little winds playing a running game between the trunks, and the stir of +the Little People, moving in their midnight occupations. Each of these +sounds had its message for Bruce. They all seemed to be trying to tell +him something, to make clear some great truth that was dawning in his +consciousness. + +He was not in the least afraid. He felt at peace as never before. He +picked up his bag, and with stealing steps approached the long slope +behind. The moon showed him a fallen log, and he found a comfortable +seat on the ground beside it, his back against its bark. Then he waited +for the dawn to come out. + +Not even Bruce knew or understood all the thoughts that came over him in +that lonely wait. But he did have a peculiar sense of expectation, a +realization that the coming of the dawn would bring him a message +clearer than all these messages of fragrance and sound. The moon made +wide silver patches between the distant trees; but as yet the forest had +not opened its secrets to him. As yet it was but a mystery, a profundity +of shadows and enchantment that he did not understand. + +The night hours passed. The sense of peace seemed to deepen on the man. +He sat relaxed, his brown face grave, his eyes lifted. The stars began +to dim and draw back farther into the recesses of the sky. The round +outline of the moon seemed less pronounced. And a faint ribbon of light +began to grow in the east. + +It widened. The light grew. The night wind played one more little game +between the tree trunks and slipped away to the Home of Winds that lies +somewhere above the mountains. The little night sounds were slowly +stilled. + +Bruce closed his eyes, not knowing why. His blood was leaping in his +veins. An unfamiliar excitement, almost an exultation, had come upon +him. He lowered his head nearly to his hands that rested in his lap, +then waited a full five minutes more. + +Then he opened his eyes. The light had grown around him. His hands were +quite plain. Slowly, as a man raises his eyes to a miracle, he lifted +his face. + +The forest was no longer obscured in darkness. The great trees had +emerged, and only the dusk as of twilight was left between. He saw them +plainly,--their symmetrical forms, their declining limbs, their tall +tops piercing the sky. He saw them as they were,--those ancient, eternal +symbols and watchmen of the wilderness. And he knew them at last, +acquaintances long forgotten but remembered now. + +"The pines!" he cried. He leaped to his feet with flashing eyes. "I have +come back to the pines!" + + + + +V + + +The dawn revealed a narrow road along the bank of Deer Creek,--a brown +little wanderer which, winding here and there, did not seem to know +exactly where it wished to go. It seemed to follow the general direction +of the creek bed; it seemed to be a prying, restless little highway, +curious about things in general as the wild creatures that sometimes +made tracks in its dust, thrusting now into a heavy thicket, now +crossing the creek to examine a green and grassy bank on the opposite +side, now taking an adventurous tramp about the shoulder of a hill, +circling back for a drink in the creek and hurrying on again. It made +singular loops; it darted off at a right and left oblique; it made +sudden spurts and turns seemingly without reason or sense, and at last +it dimmed away into the fading mists of early morning. Bruce didn't know +which direction to take, whether up or down the creek. + +He gave the problem a moment's thought. "Take the road up the Divide," +Barney Wegan had said; and at once Bruce knew that the course lay up the +creek, rather than down. A divide means simply the high places between +one water-shed and another, and of course Trail's End lay somewhere +beyond the source of the stream. The creek itself was apparently a +sub-tributary of the Rogue, the great river to the south. + +There was something pleasing to his spirit in the sight of the little +stream, tumbling and rippling down its rocky bed. He had no vivid +memories of seeing many waterways. The river that flowed through the +city whence he had come had not been like this at all. It had been a +great, slow-moving sheet of water, the banks of which were lined with +factories and warehouses. The only lining of the banks of this little +stream were white-barked trees, lovely groves with leaves of glossy +green. It was a cheery, eager little waterway, and more than once--as he +went around a curve in the road--it afforded him glimpses of really +striking beauty. Sometimes it was just a shimmer of its waters beneath +low-hanging bushes, sometimes a distant cataract, and once or twice a +long, still place on which the shadows were still deep. + +These sloughs were obviously the result of dams, and at first he could +not understand what had been the purpose of dam-building in this lonely +region. There seemed to be no factories needing water power, no +slow-moving mill wheels. He left the road to investigate. And he +chuckled with delight when he knew the truth. + +These dams had not been the work of men at all. Rather they were +structures laid down by those curious little civil engineers, the +beavers. The cottonwood trees had been felled so that the thick branches +had lain across the waters, and in their own secret ways the limbs had +been matted and caked until no water could pass through. True, the +beavers themselves did not emerge for him to converse with. Perhaps +they were busy at their under-water occupations, and possibly the +trappers who sooner or later penetrate every wilderness had taken them +all away. He looked along the bank for further evidence of the beavers' +work. + +Wonderful as the dams were, he found plenty of evidence that the beavers +had not always used to advantage the crafty little brains that nature +has given them. They had made plenty of mistakes. But these very +blunders gave Bruce enough delight almost to pay for the extra work they +had occasioned. After all, he considered, human beings in their works +are often just as short-sighted. For instance, he found tall trees lying +rotting and out of reach, many feet back from the stream. The beavers +had evidently felled them in high water, forgetting that the stream +dwindled in summer and the trees would be of no use to them. They had +been an industrious colony! He found short poles of cottonwood sharpened +at the end, as if the little fur bearers had intended them for braces, +but which--through some wilderness tragedy--had never been utilized. + +But Bruce was in a mood to be delighted, these early morning hours. He +was on the way to Linda; a dream was about to come true. The whole +adventure was of the most thrilling and joyous anticipations. He did not +feel the load of his heavy suitcase. It was nothing to his magnificent +young strength. And all at once he beheld an amazing change in the +appearance of the stream. + +It had abruptly changed to a stream of melted, shimmering silver. The +waters broke on the rocks with opalescent spray; the whole coloring was +suggestive of the vivid tints of a Turner landscape. The waters gleamed; +they danced and sparkled as they sped about the boulders of the river +bed; the leaves shimmered above them. And it was all because the sun had +risen at last above the mountain range and was shining down. + +At first Bruce could hardly believe that just sunlight could effect such +a transformation. For no other reason than that he couldn't resist doing +so, he left his bag on the road and crept down to the water's edge. + +He stood very still. It seemed to him that some one had told him, far +away and long ago, that if he wished to see miracles he had only to +stand very still. Not to move a muscle, so that his vivid shadow would +not even waver. It is a trait possessed by all men of the wilderness, +but it takes time for city men to learn it. He waited a long time. And +all at once the shining surface of a deep pool below him broke with a +fountain of glittering spray. + +Something that was like light itself flung into the air and down again +with a splash. Bruce shouted then. He simply couldn't help it. And all +the time there was a strange straining and travail in his brain, as if +it were trying to give birth to a memory from long ago. He knew now what +had made that glittering arc. Such a common thing,--it was singular that +it should yield him such delight. It was a trout, leaping for an insect +that had fallen on the waters. + +It was strange that he had such a sense of familiarity with trout. True, +he had heard Barney Wegan tell of them. He had listened to many tales of +the way they seized a fly, how the reel would spin, and how they would +fight to absolute exhaustion before they would yield to the landing net. +"The King among fish," Barney had called them. Yet the tales seemingly +had meant little to him then. His interest in them had been superficial +only; and they had seemed as distant and remote as the marsupials of +Australia. But it wasn't this way now. He had a sense of long and close +acquaintance, of an interest such as men have in their own townsmen. + +He went on, and the forest world opened before him. Once a flock of +grouse--a hen and a dozen half-grown chickens--scurried away through the +underbrush at the sound of his step. One instant, and he had a clear +view of the entire covey. The next, and they had vanished like so many +puffs of smoke. He had a delicious game of hide-and-seek with them +through the coverts, but he was out-classed in every particular. He knew +that the birds were all within forty feet of him, each of them pressed +flat to the brown earth, but in this maze of light and shadow he could +not detect their outline. Nature has been kind to the grouse family in +the way of protective coloration. He had to give up the search and +continue up the creek for further adventure. + +Once a pair of mallards winged by on a straight course above his head. +Their sudden appearance rather surprised him. These beautiful game +birds are usually habitants of the lower lakes and marshes, not +rippling mountain streams. He didn't know that a certain number of these +winged people nested every year along the Rogue River, far below, and +made rapturous excursions up and down its tributaries. Mallards do not +have to have aeroplanes to cover distance quickly. They are the very +masters of the aerial lanes, and in all probability this pair had come +forty miles already that morning. Where they would be at dark no man +could guess. Their wings whistled down to him, and it seemed to him that +the drake stretched down his bright green head for a better look. Then +he spurted ahead, faster than ever. + +Once, at a distance, Bruce caught a glimpse of a pair of peculiar, +little, sawed-off, plump-breasted ducks that wagged their tails, as if +in signals, in a still place above a dam. He made a wide circle, +intending to wheel back to the creekside for a closer inspection of the +singular flirtation of those bobbing, fan-like tails. He rather thought +he could outwit these little people, at least. But when he turned back +to the water's edge they were nowhere to be seen. + +If he had had more experience with the creatures of the wild he could +have explained this mysterious disappearance. These little +ducks--"ruddies" the sportsmen call them--have advantages other than an +extra joint in their tails. One of them seems to be a total and +unprincipled indifference to the available supply of oxygen. When they +wish to go out of sight they simply duck beneath the water and stay +apparently as long as they desire. Of course they have to come up some +time--but usually it is just the tip of a bill--like the top of a +river-bottom weed, thrust above the surface. Bruce gaped in amazement, +but he chuckled again when he discovered his birds farther up the creek, +just as far distant from him as ever. + +The sun rose higher, and he began to feel its power. But it was a kindly +heat. The temperature was much higher than was commonly met in the +summers of the city, but there was little moisture in the air to make it +oppressive. The sweat came out on his bronze face, but he never felt +better in his life. There was but one great need, and that was +breakfast. + +A man of his physique feels hunger quickly. The sensation increased in +intensity, and the suitcase grew correspondingly heavy. And all at once +he stopped short in the road. The impulse along his nerves to his leg +muscles was checked, like an electric current at the closing of a +switch, and an instinct of unknown origin struggled for expression +within him. + +In an instant he had it. He didn't know whence it came. It was nothing +he had read or that any one had told him. It seemed to be rather the +result of some experience in his own immediate life, an occurrence of so +long ago that he had forgotten it. He suddenly knew where he could find +his breakfast. There was no need of toiling farther on an empty stomach +in this verdant season of the year. He set his suitcase down, and with +the confidence of a man who hears the dinner call in his own home, he +struck off into the thickets beside the creek bed. Instinct--and really, +after all, instinct is nothing but memory--led his steps true. + +He glanced here and there, not even wondering at the singular fact that +he did not know exactly what manner of food he was seeking. In a moment +he came to a growth of thorn-covered bushes, a thicket that only the +she-bear knew how to penetrate. But it was enough for Bruce just to +stand at its edges. The bushes were bent down with a load of delicious +berries. + +He wasn't in the least surprised. He had known that he would find them. +Always, at this season of the year, the woods were rich with them; one +only had to slip quickly through the back door--while the mother's eye +was elsewhere--to find enough of them not only to pack the stomach full +but to stain and discolor most of the face. It seemed a familiar thing +to be plucking the juicy berries and cramming them into his mouth, +impervious as the old she-bear to the remonstrance of the thorns. But it +seemed to him that he reached them easier than he expected. Either the +bushes were not so tall as he remembered them, or--since his first +knowledge of them--his own stature had increased. + +When he had eaten the last berry he could possibly hold, he went to the +creek to drink. He lay down beside a still pool, and the water was cold +to his lips. Then he rose at the sound of an approaching motor car +behind him. + +The driver--evidently a cattleman--stopped his car and looked at Bruce +with some curiosity. He marked the perfectly fitting suit of dark +flannel, the trim, expensive shoes that were already dust-stained, the +silken shirt on which a juicy berry had been crushed. "Howdy," the man +said after the western fashion. He was evidently simply feeling +companionable and was looking for a moment's chat. It is a desire that +often becomes very urgent and most real after enough lonely days in the +wilderness. + +"How do you do," Bruce replied. "How far to Martin's store?" + +The man filled his pipe with great care before he answered. "Jump in the +car," he replied at last, "and I'll show you. I'm going up that way +myself." + + + + +VI + + +Martin's was a typical little mountain store, containing a small sample +of almost everything under the sun and built at the forks in the road. +The ranchman let Bruce off at the store; then turned up the right-hand +road that led to certain bunch-grass lands to the east. Bruce entered +slowly, and the little group of loungers gazed at him with frank +curiosity. + +Only one of them was of a type sufficiently distinguished so that +Bruce's own curiosity was aroused. This was a huge, dark man who stood +alone almost at the rear of the building,--a veritable giant with +savage, bloodhound lips and deep-sunken eyes. There was a quality in his +posture that attracted Bruce's attention at once. No one could look at +him and doubt that he was a power in these mountain realms. He seemed +perfectly secure in his great strength and wholly cognizant of the hate +and fear, and at the same time, the strange sort of admiration with +which the others regarded him. + +He was dressed much as the other mountain men who had assembled in the +store. He wore a flannel shirt over his gorilla chest, and corduroy +trousers stuffed into high, many-seamed riding boots. A dark felt hat +was crushed on to his huge head. But there was an aloofness about the +man; and Bruce realized at once he had taken no part in the friendly +gossip that had been interrupted by his entrance. + +The dark eyes were full upon Bruce's face. He felt them--just as if they +had the power of actual physical impact--the instant that he was inside +the door. Nor was it the ordinary look of careless speculation or +friendly interest. Mountain men have not been taught it is not good +manners to stare, but no traveler who falls swiftly into the spirit of +the forest ordinarily resents their open inspection. But this look was +different. It was such that no man, to whom self-respect is dear, could +possibly disregard. It spoke clearly as words. + +Bruce flushed, and his blood made a curious little leap. He slowly +turned. His gaze moved until it rested full upon the man's eyes. It +seemed to Bruce that the room grew instantly quiet. The merchant no +longer tied up his bundles at the counter. The watching mountain men +that he beheld out of the corners of his eyes all seemed to be standing +in peculiar fixed attitudes, waiting for some sort of explosion. It took +all of Bruce's strength to hold that gaze. The moment was charged with a +mysterious suspense. + +The stranger's face changed too. He did not flush, however. His lips +curled ever so slightly, revealing an instant's glimpse of strong, +rather well-kept teeth. His eyes were narrowing too; and they seemed to +come to life with singular sparkles and glowings between the lids. + +"Well?" he suddenly demanded. Every man in the room--except +one--started. The one exception was Bruce himself. He was holding hard +on his nerve control, and he only continued to stare coldly. + +"Are you the merchant?" Bruce asked. + +"No, I ain't," the other replied. "You usually look for the merchant +behind the counter." + +There was no smile on the faces of the waiting mountain men, usually to +be expected when one of their number achieves repartee on a tenderfoot. +Nevertheless, the tension was broken. Bruce turned to the merchant. + +"I would like to have you tell me," he said quite clearly, "the way to +Mrs. Ross's cabin." + +The merchant seemed to wait a long time before replying. His eye stole +to the giant's face, found the lips curled in a smile; then he flushed. +"Take the left-hand road," he said with a trace of defiance in his tone. +"It soon becomes a trail, but keep right on going up it. At the fork in +the trail you'll find her cabin." + +"How far is it, please?" + +"Two hours' walk; you can make it easy by four o'clock." + +"Thank you." His eyes glanced over the stock of goods and he selected a +few edibles to give him strength for the walk. "I'll leave my suitcase +here if I may," he said, "and will call for it later." He turned to go. + +"Wait just a minute," a voice spoke behind him. It was a commanding +tone--implying the expectation of obedience. Bruce half turned. "Simon +wants to talk to you," the merchant explained. + +"I'll walk with you a way and show you the road," Simon continued. The +room seemed deathly quiet as the two men went out together. + +They walked side by side until a turn of the road took them out of +eye-range of the store. "This is the road," Simon said. "All you have to +do is follow it. Cabins are not so many that you could mistake it. But +the main thing is--whether or not you want to go." + +Bruce had no misunderstanding about the man's meaning. It was simply a +threat, nothing more nor less. + +"I've come a long way to go to that cabin," he replied. "I'm not likely +to turn off now." + +"There's nothing worth seeing when you get there. Just an old hag--a +wrinkled old dame that looks like a witch." + +Bruce felt a deep and little understood resentment at the words. Yet +since he had as yet established no relations with the woman, he had no +grounds for silencing the man. "I'll have to decide that," he replied. +"I'm going to see some one else, too." + +"Some one named--Linda?" + +"Yes. You seem quite interested." + +They were standing face to face in the trail. For once Bruce was glad of +his unusual height. He did not have to raise his eyes greatly to look +squarely into Simon's. Both faces were flushed, both set; and the eyes +of the older man brightened slowly. + +"I am interested," Simon replied. "You're a tenderfoot. You're fresh +from cities. You're going up there to learn things that won't be any +pleasure to you. You're going into the real mountains--a man's land such +as never was a place for tenderfeet. A good many things can happen up +there. A good many things have happened up there. I warn you--go back!" + +Bruce smiled, just the faint flicker of a smile, but Simon's eyes +narrowed when he saw it. The dark face lost a little of its insolence. +He knew men, this huge son of the wilderness, and he knew that no coward +could smile in such a moment as this. He was accustomed to implicit +obedience and was not used to seeing men smile when he uttered a threat. +"I've come too far to go back," Bruce told him. "Nothing can turn me." + +"Men have been turned before, on trails like this," Simon told him. +"Don't misunderstand me. I advised you to go back before, and I usually +don't take time or trouble to advise any one. Now I _tell_ you to go +back. This is a man's land, and we don't want any tenderfeet here." + +"The trail is open," Bruce returned. It was not his usual manner to +speak in quite this way. He seemed at once to have fallen into the +vernacular of the wilderness of which symbolic reference has such a +part. Strange as the scene was to him, it was in some way familiar too. +It was as if this meeting had been ordained long ago; that it was part +of an inexorable destiny that the two should be talking together, face +to face, on this winding mountain road. Memories--all vague, all +unrecognized--thronged through him. + +Many times, during the past years, he had wakened from curious dreams +that in the light of day he had tried in vain to interpret. He was never +able to connect them with any remembered experience. Now it was as if +one of these dreams were coming true. There was the same silence about +him, the dark forests beyond, the ridges stretching ever. There was some +great foe that might any instant overwhelm him. + +"I guess you heard me," Simon said; "I told you to go back." + +"And I hope you heard me too. I'm going on. I haven't any more time to +give you." + +"And I'm not going to take any more, either. But let me make one thing +plain. No man, told to go back by me, ever has a chance to be told +again. This ain't your cities--up here. There ain't any policeman on +every corner. The woods are big, and all kinds of things can happen in +them--and be swallowed up--as I swallow these leaves in my hand." + +His great arm reached out with incredible power and seized a handful of +leaves off a near-by shrub. It seemed to Bruce that they crushed like +fruit and stained the dark skin. + +"What is done up here isn't put in the newspapers down below. We're +mountain men; we've lived up here as long as men have lived in the West. +We have our own way of doing things, and our own law. Think once more +about going back." + +"I've already decided. I'm going on." + +Once more they stood, eyes meeting eyes on the trail, and Simon's face +was darkening with passion. Bruce knew that his hands were clenching, +and his own muscles bunched and made ready to resist any kind of attack. + +But Simon didn't strike. He laughed instead,--a single deep note of +utter and depthless scorn. Then he drew back and let Bruce pass on up +the road. + + + + +VII + + +Bruce couldn't mistake the cabin. At the end of the trail he found +it,--a little shack of unpainted boards with a single door and a single +window. + +He stood a moment in the sunlight. His shadow was already long behind +him, and the mountains had that curious deep blue of late afternoon. The +pine needles were soft under his feet; the later-afternoon silence was +over the land. He could not guess what was his destiny behind that rude +door. It was a moment long waited; for one of the few times in his life +he was trembling with excitement. He felt as if a key, long lost, was +turning in the doorway of understanding. + +He walked nearer and tapped with his knuckles on the door. + +If the forests have one all-pervading quality it is silence. Of course +the most silent time is at night, but just before sunset, when most of +the forest creatures are in their mid-afternoon sleep, any noise is a +rare thing. What sound there is carries far and seems rather out of +place. Bruce could picture the whole of the little drama that followed +his knock by just the faint sounds--inaudible in a less silent +land--that reached him from behind the door. At first it was just a +start; then a short exclamation in the hollow, half-whispering voice of +old, old age. A moment more of silence--as if a slow-moving, aged brain +were trying to conjecture who stood outside--then the creaking of a +chair as some one rose. The last sounds were of a strange hobbling +toward him,--a rustle of shoes half dragged on the floor and the +intermittent tapping of a cane. + +The face that showed so dimly in the shadowed room looked just as Bruce +had expected,--wrinkled past belief, lean and hawk-nosed from age. The +hand that rested on the cane was like a bird's claw, the skin blue and +hard and dry. There were a few strands of hair drawn back over her lean +head, but all its color had faded out long ago. She stood bowed over her +cane. + +Yet in that first instant Bruce had an inexplicable impression of being +in the presence of a power. He did not have the wave of pity with which +one usually greets the decrepit. And at first he didn't know why. But +soon he grew accustomed to the shadows and he could see the woman's +eyes. Then he understood. + +They were set deep behind grizzled brows, but they glowed like coals. +There was no other word. They were not the eyes of one whom time is +about to conquer. Her bodily strength was gone; any personal beauty that +she might have had was ashes long and long ago, but some great fire +burned in her yet. As far as bodily appearance went the grave should +have claimed her long since; but a dauntless spirit had sustained her. +For, as all men know, the power of the spirit has never yet been +measured. + +She blinked in the light. "Who is it?" she croaked. + +Bruce did not answer. He had not prepared a reply for this question. But +it was not needed. The woman leaned forward, and a vivid light began to +dawn in her dark, furrowed face. + +Even to Bruce, already succumbed to this atmosphere of mystery into +which his adventure had led him, that dawning light was the single most +startling phenomenon he had ever beheld. It is very easy to imagine a +radiance upon the face. But in reality, most all facial expression is +simply a change in the contour of lines. But this was not a case of +imagination now. The witchlike face seemed to gleam with a white flame. +And Bruce knew that his coming was the answer to the prayer of a whole +lifetime. It was a thought to sober him. No small passion, no weak +desire, no prayer that time or despair could silence could effect such a +light as this. + +"Bruce," he said simply. It did not even occur to him to use the surname +of Duncan. It was a name of a time and sphere already forgotten. "I +don't know what my real last name is." + +"Bruce--Bruce," the woman whispered. She stretched a palsied hand to him +as if it would feel his flesh to reassure her of its reality. The wild +light in her eyes pierced him, burning like chemical rays, and a great +flood of feeling yet unknown and unrecognized swept over him. He saw her +snags of teeth as her dry lips half-opened. He saw the exultation in her +wrinkled, lifted face. "Oh, praises to His Everlasting Name!" she +cried. "Oh, Glory--Glory to on High!" + +And this was not blasphemy. The words came from the heart. No matter how +terrible the passion from which they sprang, whether it was such evil as +would cast her to hell, such a cry as this could not go unheard. The +strength seemed to go out of her as water flows. She rocked on her cane, +and Bruce, thinking she was about to fall, seized her shoulders. "At +last--at last," she cried. "You've come at last." + +She gripped herself, as if trying to find renewed strength. "Go at +once," she said, "to the end of the Pine-needle Trail. It leads from +behind the cabin." + +He tried to emerge from the dreamlike mists that had enveloped him. "How +far is it?" he asked her steadily. + +"To the end of Pine-needle Trail," she rocked again, clutched for one of +his brown hands, and pressed it between hers. + +Then she raised it to her dry lips. Bruce could not keep her from it. +And after an instant more he did not attempt to draw it from her +embrace. In the darkness of that mountain cabin, in the shadow of the +eternal pines, he knew that some great drama of human life and love and +hatred was behind the action; and he knew with a knowledge unimpeachable +that it would be only insolence for him to try further to resist it. Its +meaning went too deep for him to see; but it filled him with a great and +wondering awe. + +Then he turned away, up the Pine-needle Trail. Clear until the deeper +forest closed around him her voice still followed him,--a strange +croaking in the afternoon silence. "At last," he heard her crying. "At +last, at last." + + + + +VIII + + +In almost a moment, Duncan was out of the thickets and into the big +timber, for really the first time. In his journey up the mountain road +and on the trail that led to the old woman's cabin, he had been many +times in the shade of the tall evergreens, but always there had been +some little intrusion of civilization, some hint of the works of man +that had kept him from the full sense of the majesty of the wild. At +first it had been the gleaming railroad tracks, and then a road that had +been built with blasting and shovels. To get the full effect of the +forest one must be able to behold wide-stretching vistas, and that had +been impossible heretofore because of the brush thickets. But this was +the virgin forest. As far as he could see there was nothing but the +great pines climbing up the long slope of the ridge. He caught glimpses +of them in the vales at either side, and their dark tops made a curious +background at the very extremity of his vision. They stood straight and +aloof, and they were very old. + +He fell into their spirit at once. The half-understood emotions that had +flooded him in the cabin below died within him. The great calm that is, +after all, the all-pervading quality of the big pines came over him. It +is always this way. A man knows solitude, his thoughts come clear, +superficialities are left behind in the lands of men. Bruce was rather +tremulous and exultant as he crept softly up the trail. + +It was the last lap of his journey. At the end of the trail he would +find--Linda! And it seemed quite fitting that she would be waiting +there, where the trail began, in the wildest heart of the pine woods. He +was quite himself once more,--carefree, delighting in all the little +manifestations of the wild life that began to stir about him. + +No experience of his existence had ever yielded the same pleasure as +that long walk up the trail. Every curve about the shoulder of a hill, +every still glen into which he dipped, every ridge that he surmounted +wakened curious memories within him and stirred him in little secret +ways under the skin. His delight grew upon him. It was a dream coming +true. Always, it seemed to him, he had carried in his mind a picture of +this very land, a sort of dream place that was a reality at last. He had +known just how it would be. The wind made the same noise in the tree +tops that he expected. Yet it was such a little sound that it could +never be heard in a city at all. His senses had already been sharpened +by the silence and the calm. + +He had always known how the pine shadows would fall across the carpet of +needles. The trees themselves were the same grave companions that he had +expected, but his delight was all the more because of his expectations. + +He began to catch glimpses of the smaller forest creatures,--the Little +People that are such a delight to all real lovers of the wilderness. +Sometimes it was a chipmunk, trusting to his striped skin--blending +perfectly with the light and shadow--to keep him out of sight. These are +quivering, restless, ever-frightened little folk, and heaven alone knows +what damage they may do to the roots of a tree. But Bruce wasn't in the +mood to think of forest conservation to-day. He had left a number of his +notions in the city where he had acquired them,--and this little, +bright-eyed rodent in the tree roots had almost the same right to the +forests that he had himself. Before, he had a measure of the same +arrogance with which most men--realizing the dominance of their +breed--regard the lesser people of the wild; but something of a +disastrous nature had happened to it. He spoke gayly to the chipmunk and +passed on. + +As the trail climbed higher, the sense of wilderness became more +pronounced. Even the trees seemed larger and more majestic, and the +glimpses of the wild people were more frequent. The birds stopped their +rattle-brained conversation and stared at him with frank curiosity. The +grouse let him get closer before they took to cover. + +Of course the bird life was not nearly so varied as in the pretty groves +of the Middle West. Most birds are gentle people, requiring an easy and +pleasant environment, and these stern, stark mountains were no place for +them. Only the hardier creatures could flourish here. Their songs would +have been out of place in the great silences and solemnity of the +evergreen forest. This was no land for weaklings. Bruce knew that as +well as he knew that his legs were under him. The few birds he saw were +mostly of the hardier varieties,--hale-fellows-well-met and cheerful +members of the lower strata in bird society. "Good old roughnecks," he +said to them, with an intuitive understanding. + +That was just the name for them,--a word that is just beginning to +appear in dictionaries. They were rough in manner and rough in speech, +and they pretended to be rougher than they were. Yet Bruce liked them. +He exulted in the easy freedom of their ways. Creatures have to be rough +to exist in and love such wilderness as this. Life gets down to a matter +of cold metal,--some brass but mostly iron! He rather imagined that they +could be fairly capable thieves if occasion arose, making off with the +edibles he had bought without a twitch of a feather. They squawked and +scolded at him, after their curiosity was satisfied. They said the most +shocking things they could think of and seemed to rejoice in it. He +didn't know their breeds, yet he felt that they were old friends. They +were rather large birds, mostly of the families of jays and magpies. + +The hours passed. The trail grew dimmer. Now it was just a brown serpent +in the pine needles, coiling this way and that,--but he loved every foot +of it. It dipped down to a little stream, of which the blasting sun of +summer had made only a succession of shallow pools. Yet the water was +cold to his lips. And he knew that little brook trout--waiting until +the fall rains should make a torrent of their tiny stream and thus +deliver them--were gazing at him while he drank. + +The trail followed the creek a distance, and at last he found the spring +that was its source. It was only a small spring, lost in a bed of deep, +green ferns. He sat down to rest and to eat part of his lunch. The +little wind had died, leaving a profound silence. + +By a queer pounding of his blood Bruce knew that he was in the high +altitudes. He had already come six miles from the cabin. The hour was +about six-thirty; in two hours more it would be too dark to make his way +at all. + +He examined the mud about the spring, and there was plenty of evidence +that the forest creatures had passed that way. Here was a little +triangle where a buck had stepped, and farther away he found two pairs +of deer tracks,--evidently those of a doe with fawn. A wolf had stopped +to cool his heated tongue in the waters, possibly in the middle of some +terrible hunt in the twilight hours. + +There was a curious round track, as if of a giant cat, a little way +distant in the brown earth. It told a story plainly. A cougar--one of +those great felines that is perhaps better called puma--had had an +ambush there a few nights before. Bruce wondered what wilderness tragedy +had transpired when the deer came to drink. Then he found another huge +abrasion in the mud that puzzled him still more. + +At first he couldn't believe that it was a track. The reason was simply +that the size of the thing was incredible,--as if some one had laid a +flour sack in the mud and taken it up again. He did not think of any of +the modern-day forest creatures as being of such proportions. It was +very stale and had been almost obliterated by many days of sun. Perhaps +he had been mistaken in thinking it an imprint of a living creature. He +went to his knees to examine it. + +But in one instant he knew that he had not been mistaken. It was a track +not greatly different from that of an enormous human foot; and the +separate toes were entirely distinct. It was a bear track, of course, +but one of such size that the general run of little black bears that +inhabited the hills could almost use it for a den of hibernation! + +His thought went back to his talk with Barney Wegan; and he remembered +that the man had spoken of a great, last grizzly that the mountaineers +had named "The Killer." No other animal but the great grizzly bear +himself could have made such a track as this. Bruce wondered if the +beast had yet been killed. + +He got up and went on,--farther toward Trail's End. He walked more +swiftly now, for he hoped to reach the end of Pine-needle Trail before +nightfall, but he had no intention of halting in case night came upon +him before he reached it. He had waited too long already to find Linda. + +The land seemed ever more familiar. A high peak thrust a white head +above a distant ridge, and it appealed to him almost like the face of an +old friend. Sometime--long and long ago--he had gazed often at a white +peak of a mountain thrust above a pine-covered ridge. + +Another hour ended the day's sunlight. The shadows fell quickly, but it +was a long time yet until darkness. He yet might make the trail-end. He +gave no thought to fatigue. In the first place, he had stood up +remarkably well under the day's tramp for no other reason than that he +had always made a point of keeping in the best of physical condition. +Besides, there was something more potent than mere physical strength to +sustain him now. It was the realization of the nearing end of the +trail,--a knowledge of tremendous revelations that would come to him in +a few hours more. + +Already great truths were taking shape in his brain; he only needed a +single sentence of explanation to connect them all together. He began to +feel a growing excitement and impatience. + +For the first time he began to notice a strange breathlessness in the +air. He paused, just for an instant, his face lifted to the wind. He did +not realize that all his senses were at razor edge, trying to interpret +the messages that the wind brought. He felt that the forest was +wakening. A new stir and impulse had come in the growing shadows. All at +once he understood. It was the hunting hour. + +Yet even this seemed familiar. Always, it seemed to him, he had known +this same strange thrill at the fall of darkness, the same sense of +deepening mystery. The jays no longer gossiped in the shrubs. They had +been silenced by the same awe that had come over Bruce. And now the man +began to discern, here and there through the forest, queer rustlings of +the foliage that meant the passing through of some of the great beasts +of prey. + +Once two deer flashed by him,--just a streak that vanished quickly. The +dusk deepened. The further trees were dimming. The sky turned green, +then gray. The distant mountains were enfolded in gloom. Bruce headed +on--faster, up the trail. + +The heaviness in his limbs had changed to an actual ache, but he gave no +thought to it. He was enthralled by the change that was on the +forest,--a whipping-back of a thousand-thousand years to a young and +savage world. There was the sense of vast and tragic events all in +keeping with the gathering gloom of the forest. He was awed and +mystified as never before. + +It was quite dark now, and he could barely see the trail. For the first +time he began to despair, feeling that another night of overpowering +impatience must be spent before he could reach Trail's End. The stars +began to push through the darkening sky. Then, fainter than the gleam of +a firefly, he saw the faint light of a far distant camp fire. + +His heart bounded. He knew what was there. It was the end of the trail +at last. And it guided him the rest of the way. When he reached the top +of a little rise in the trail, the whole scene was laid out in mystery +below him. + +The fire had been built at the door of a mountain house,--a log +structure of perhaps four rooms. The firelight played in its open +doorway. Something beside it caught his attention, and instinctively he +followed it with his eyes until it ended in an incredible region of the +stars. It was a great pine tree, the largest he had ever +seen,--seemingly a great sentinel over all the land. + +But the sudden awe that came over him at the sight of it was cut short +by the sight of a girl's figure in the firelight. He had an instant's +sense that he had come to the wilderness's heart at last, that this tall +tree was its symbol, that if he could understand the eternal watch that +it kept over this mountain world, he would have an understanding of all +things,--but all these thoughts were submerged in the realization that +he had come back to Linda at last. + +He had known how the mountains would seem. All that he had beheld to-day +was just the recurrence of things beheld long ago. Nothing had seemed +different from what he had expected; rather he had a sense that a lost +world had been returned to him, and it was almost as if he had never +been away. But the girl in the firelight did not answer in the least +degree the picture he had carried of Linda. + +He remembered her as a blond-headed little girl with irregular features +and a rather unreasonable allowance of homeliness. All the way he had +thought of her as a baby sister,--not as a woman in her flower. For a +long second he gazed at her in speechless amazement. + +Her hair was no longer blond. Time, it had peculiar red lights when the +firelight shone through it; but he knew that by the light of day it +would be deep brown. He remembered her as an awkward little thing that +was hardly able to keep her feet under her. This tall girl had the +wilderness grace,--which is the grace of a deer and only blind eyes +cannot see it. He dimly knew that she wore a khaki-colored skirt and a +simple blouse of white tied with a blue scarf. Her arms were bare in the +fire's gleam. And there was a dark beauty about her face that simply +could not be denied. + +She came toward him, and her hands were open before her. And her lips +trembled. Bruce could see them in the firelight. + +It was a strange meeting. The firelight gave it a tone of unreality, and +the whole forest world seemed to pause in its whispered business as if +to watch. It was as if they had been brought face to face by the +mandates of an inexorable destiny. + +"So you've come," the girl said. The words were spoken unusually soft, +scarcely above a whisper; but they were inexpressibly vivid to Bruce. In +his lifetime he had heard many words that were just so many lifeless +selections from a dictionary,--flat utterances with no overtones to give +them vitality. He had heard voices in plenty that were merely the +mechanical result of the vibration of vocal cords. But these words--not +for their meaning but because of the quality of the voice that had +spoken them--really lived. They told first of a boundless relief and joy +at his coming. But more than that, in these deep vibrant tones was the +expression of an unquenchable life and spirit. Every fiber of her body +lived in the fullest sense; he knew this fact the instant that she +spoke. + +She smiled at him, ever so quietly. "Bwovaboo," she said, recalling the +name by which she called him in her babyhood, "you've come to Linda." + + + + +IX + + +As the fire burned down to coals and the stars wheeled through the sky, +Linda told her story. The two of them were seated in the soft grass in +front of the cabin, and the moonlight was on Linda's face as she talked. +She talked very low at first. Indeed there was no need for loud tones. +The whole wilderness world was heavy with silence, and a whisper carried +far. Besides, Bruce was just beside her, watching her with narrowed +eyes, forgetful of everything except her story. + +It was a perfect background for the savage tale that she had to tell. +The long shadow of the giant pine tree fell over them. The fire made a +little circle of red light, but the darkness ever encroached upon it. +Just beyond the moonlight showed them silver-white patches between the +trees, across which shadows sometimes wavered from the passing of the +wild creatures. + +"I've waited a long time to tell you this," she told him. "Of course, +when we were babies together in the orphanage, I didn't even know it. It +has taken me a long time since to learn all the details; most of them I +got from my aunt, old Elmira, whom you talked to on the way out. Part of +it I knew by intuition, and a little of it is still doubtful. + +"You ought to know first how hard I have tried to reach you. Of course, +I didn't try openly except at first--the first years after I came here, +and before I was old enough to understand." She spoke the last word with +a curious depth of feeling and a perceptible hardness about her lips and +eyes. "I remembered just two things. That the man who had adopted you +was Newton Duncan; one of the nurses at the asylum told me that. And I +remembered the name of the city where he had taken you. + +"You must understand the difficulties I worked under. There is no rural +free delivery up here, you know, Bruce. Our mail is sent from and +delivered to the little post-office at Martin's store--over fifteen +miles from here. And some one member of a certain family that lives near +here goes down every week to get the mail for the entire district. + +"At first--and that was before I really understood--I wrote you many +letters and gave them to one of this family to mail for me. I was just a +child then, you must know, and I lived in the same house with these +people. And queer letters they must have been." + +For an instant a smile lingered at her lips, but it seemed to come hard. +It was all too plain that she hadn't smiled many times in the past days. +But for some unaccountable reason Bruce's heart leaped when he saw it. +It had potentialities, that smile. It seemed to light her whole face. He +was suddenly exultant at the thought that once he understood everything, +he might bring about such changes that he could see it often. + +"They were just baby letters from--from Linda-Tinda to Bwovaboo--letters +about the deer and the berries and the squirrels--and all the wild +things that lived up here." + +"Berries!" Bruce cried. "I had some on the way up." His tone wavered, +and he seemed to be speaking far away. "I had some once--long ago." + +"Yes. You will understand, soon. I didn't understand why you didn't +answer my letters. I understand now, though. You never got them." + +"No. I never got them. But there are several Duncans in my city. They +might have gone astray." + +"They went astray--but it was before they ever reached the post-office. +They were never mailed, Bruce. I was to know why, later. Even then it +was part of the plan that I should never get in communication with you +again--that you would be lost to me forever. + +"When I got older, I tried other tacks. I wrote to the asylum, enclosing +a letter to you. But those letters were not mailed, either. + +"Now we can skip a long time. I grew up. I knew everything at last and +no longer lived with the family I mentioned before. I came here, to this +old house--and made it decent to live in. I cut my own wood for my fuel +except when one of the men tried to please me by cutting it for me. I +wouldn't use it at first. Oh, Bruce--I wouldn't touch it!" + +Her face was no longer lovely. It was drawn with terrible passions. But +she quieted at once. + +"At last I saw plainly that I was a little fool--that all they would do +for me, the better off I was. At first, I almost starved to death +because I wouldn't use the food that they sent me. I tried to grub it +out of the hills. But I came to it at last. But, Bruce, there were many +things I didn't come to. Since I learned the truth, I have never given +one of them a smile except in scorn, not a word that wasn't a word of +hate. + +"You are a city man, Bruce. You are what I read about as a gentleman. +You don't know what hate means. It doesn't live in the cities. But it +lives up here. Believe me if you ever believed anything--that it lives +up here. The most bitter and the blackest hate--from birth until death! +It burns out the heart, Bruce. But I don't know that I can make you +understand." + +She paused, and Bruce looked away into the pine forest. He believed the +girl. He knew that this grim land was the home of direct and primitive +emotions. Such things as mercy and remorse were out of place in the game +trails where the wolf pack hunted the deer. + +"When they knew how I hated them," she went on, "they began to watch me. +And once they knew that I fully understood the situation, I was no +longer allowed to leave this little valley. There are only two trails, +Bruce. One goes to Elmira's cabin on the way to the store. The other +encircles the mountain. With all their numbers, it was easy to keep +watch of those trails. And they told me what they would do if they found +me trying to go past." + +"You don't mean--they threatened you?" + +She threw back her head and laughed, but the sound had no joy in it. +"Threatened! If you think threats are common up here, you are a greener +tenderfoot than I ever took you for. Bruce, the law up here is the law +of force. The strongest wins. The weakest dies. Wait till you see Simon. +You'll understand then--and you'll shake in your shoes." + +The words grated upon him, yet he didn't resent them. "I've seen Simon," +he told her. + +She glanced toward him quickly, and it was entirely plain that the quiet +tone in his voice had surprised her. Perhaps the faintest flicker of +admiration came into her eyes. + +"He tried to stop you, did he? Of course he would. And you came anyway. +May Heaven bless you for it, Bruce!" She leaned toward him, appealing. +"And forgive me what I said." + +Bruce stared at her in amazement. He could hardly realize that this was +the same voice that had been so torn with passion a moment before. In an +instant all her hardness was gone, and the tenderness of a sweet and +wholesome nature had taken its place. He felt a curious warmth stealing +over him. + +"They meant what they said, Bruce. Believe me, if those men can do no +other thing, they can keep their word. They didn't just threaten death +to me. I could have run the risk of that. Badly as I wanted to make them +pay before I died, I would have gladly run that risk. + +"You are amazed at the free way I speak of death. The girls you know, in +the city, don't even know the word. They don't know what it means. They +don't understand the sudden end of the light--the darkness--the +cold--the awful fear that it is! It is no companion of theirs, down in +the city. Perhaps they see it once in a while--but it isn't in their +homes and in the air and on the trails, like it is here. It's a reality +here, something to fight against every hour of every day. There are just +three things to do in the mountains--to live and love and hate. There's +no softness. There's no middle ground." She smiled grimly. "Let them +live up here with me--those girls you know--and they'd understand what a +reality Death is. They'd know it was something to think about and fight +against. Self-preservation is an instinct that can be forgotten when you +have a policeman at every corner. But it is ever present here. + +"I've lived with death, and I've heard of it, and I've seen it all my +life. If there hadn't been any other way, I would have seen it in the +dramas of the wild creatures that go on around me all the time. You'll +get down to cases here, Bruce--or else you'll run away. These men said +they'd do worse things to me than kill me--and I didn't dare take the +risk. + +"But once or twice I was able to get word to old Elmira--the only ally I +had left. She was of the true breed, Bruce. You'll call her a hag, but +she's a woman to be reckoned with. She could hate too--worse than a +she-rattlesnake hates the man that killed her mate--and hating is all +that's kept her alive. You shrink when I say the word. Maybe you won't +shrink when I'm done. Hating is a thing that gentlefolk don't do--but +gentlefolk don't live up here. It isn't a land of gentleness. Up here +there are just men and women, just male and female. + +"This old woman tried to get in communication with every stranger that +visited the hills. You see, Bruce, she couldn't write herself. And the +one time I managed to get a written message down to her, telling her to +give it to the first stranger to mail--one of my enemies got it away +from her. I expected to die that night. I wasn't going to be alive when +the clan came. The only reason I didn't was because Simon--the greatest +of them all and the one I hate the most--kept his clan from coming. He +had his own reasons. + +"From then on she had to depend on word of mouth. Some of the men +promised to send letters to Newton Duncan--but there was more than one +Newton Duncan--as you say--and possibly if the letters were sent they +went astray. But at last--just a few weeks ago--she found a man that +knew you. And it is your story from now on." + +They were still a little while. Bruce arose and threw more wood on the +fire. + +"It's only the beginning," he said. + +"And you want me to tell you all?" she asked hesitantly. + +"Of course. Why did I come here?" + +"You won't believe me when I say that I'm almost sorry I sent for you." +She spoke almost breathlessly. "I didn't know that it would be like +this. That you would come with a smile on your face and a light in your +eyes, looking for happiness. And instead of happiness--to find _all +this_!" + +She stretched her arms to the forests. Bruce understood her perfectly. +She did not mean the woods in the literal sense. She meant the primal +emotions that were their spirit. + +She went on with lowered tones. "May Heaven forgive me if I have done +wrong to bring you here," she told him. "To show you--all that I have to +show--you who are a city man and a gentleman. But, Bruce, I couldn't +fight alone any more. I had to have help. + +"To know the rest, you've got to go back a whole generation. Bruce, have +you heard of the terrible blood-feuds that the mountain families +sometimes have?" + +"Of course. Many times." + +"These mountains of Trail's End have been the scene of as deadly a +blood-feud as was ever known in the West. And for once, the wrong was +all on one side. + +"A few miles from here there is a wonderful valley, where a stream +flows. There is not much tillable land in these mountains, Bruce, but +there, along that little stream, there are almost five sections--three +thousand acres--of as rich land as was ever plowed. And Bruce--the home +means something in the mountains. It isn't just a place to live in, a +place to leave with relief. I've tried to tell you that emotions are +simple and direct up here, and love of home is one of them. That tract +of land was acquired long ago by a family named Ross, and they got it +through some kind of grant. I can't be definite as to the legal aspects +of all this story. They don't matter anyway--only the results remain. + +"These Ross men were frontiersmen of the first order. They were virtuous +men too--trusting every one, and oh! what strength they had! With their +own hands they cleared away the forest and put the land into rich +pasture and hay and grain. They built a great house for the owner of the +land, and lesser houses for his kinsfolk that helped him work it on +shares. Then they raised cattle, letting them range on the hills and +feeding them in winter. You see, the snow is heavy in winter, and unless +the stock are fed many of them die. The Rosses raised great herds of +cattle and had flocks of sheep too. + +"It was then that dark days began to come. Another family--headed by the +father of the man I call Simon--migrated here from the mountain +districts of Oklahoma. But they were not so ignorant as many mountain +people, and they were _killers_. Perhaps that's a word you don't know. +Perhaps you didn't know it existed. A killer is a man that has killed +other men. It isn't a hard thing to do at all, Bruce, after you are used +to it. These people were used to it. And because they wanted these great +lands--my own father's home--they began to kill the Rosses. + +"At first they made no war on the Folgers. The Folgers, you must know, +were good people too, honest to the last penny. They were connected, by +marriage only, to the Ross family. They were on our side clear through. +At the beginning of the feud the head of the Folger family was just a +young man, newly married. And he had a son after a while. + +"The newcomers called it a feud. But it wasn't a feud--it was simply +murder. Oh, yes, we killed some of them. Folger and my father and all +his kin united against them, making a great clan--but they were nothing +in strength compared to the usurpers. Simon himself was just a boy when +it began. But he grew to be the greatest power, the leader of the enemy +clan before he was twenty-one. + +"You must know, Bruce, that my own father held the land. But he was so +generous that his brothers who helped him farm it hardly realized that +possession was in his name. And father was a dead shot. It took a long +time before they could kill him." + +The coldness that had come over her words did not in the least hide her +depth of feeling. She gazed moodily into the darkness and spoke almost +in a monotone. + +"But Simon--just a boy then--and Dave, his brother, and the others of +them kept after us like so many wolves. There was no escape. The only +thing we could do was to fight back--and that was the way we learned to +hate. A man can hate, Bruce, when he is fighting for his home. He can +learn it very well when he sees his brother fall dead, or his father--or +a stray bullet hit his wife. A woman can learn it too, as old Elmira +did, when she finds her son's body in the dead leaves. There was no law +here to stop it. The little semblance of law that was in the valleys +below regarded it as a blood-feud, and didn't bother itself about it. +Besides--at first we were too proud to call for help. And after our +numbers were few, the trails were watched--and those who tried to go +down into the valleys--never got there. + +"One after another the Rosses were killed, and I needn't make it any +worse for you than I can help--by telling of each killing. Enough to say +that at last no one was left except a few old men whose eyes were too +dim to shoot straight, and my own father. And I was a baby then--just +born. + +"Then one night my father--seeing the fate that was coming down upon +him--took the last course to defeat them. Matthew Folger--a connection +by marriage--was still alive. Simon's clan hadn't attacked him yet. He +had no share in the land, but instead lived in this house I live in now. +He had a few cattle and some pasture land farther down the Divide. There +had been no purpose in killing him. He hadn't been worth the extra +bullet. + +"One night my father left me asleep and stole through the forests to +talk to him. They made an agreement. I have pieced it out, a little at a +time. My father deeded all his land to Folger. + +"I can understand now. The enemy clan pretended it was a blood-feud +only--and that it was fair war to kill the Rosses. Although my father +knew their real aim was to obtain the land, he didn't think they would +dare kill Matthew Folger to get it. He knew that he himself would fall, +sooner or later, but he thought that to kill Folger would show their +cards--and that would be too much, even for Simon's people. But he +didn't know. He hadn't foreseen to what lengths they would go." + +Bruce leaned forward. "So they killed--Matthew Folger?" he asked. + +He didn't know that his face had gone suddenly stark white, and that a +curious glitter had come to his eyes. He spoke breathlessly. For the +name--Matthew Folger--called up vague memories that seemed to reveal +great truths to him. The girl smiled grimly. + +"Let me go on. My father deeded Folger the land. The deed was to go on +record so that all the world would know that Folger owned it, and if the +clan killed him it was plainly for the purposes of greed alone. But +there was also a secret agreement--drawn up in black and white and to be +kept hidden for twenty-one years. In this agreement, Folger promised to +return to me--the only living heir of the Rosses--the lands acquired by +the deed. In reality, he was only holding them in trust for me, and was +to return them when I was twenty-one. In case of my father's death, +Folger was to be my guardian until that time. + +"Folger knew the risk he ran, but he was a brave man and he did not +care. Besides, he was my father's friend--and friendship goes far in the +mountains. And my father was shot down before a week was past. + +"The clan had acted quick, you see. When Folger heard of it, before the +dawn, he came to my father's house and carried me away. Before another +night was done he was killed too." + +The perspiration leaped out on Bruce's forehead. The red glow of the +fire was in his eyes. + +"He fell almost where this fire is built, with a thirty-thirty bullet in +his brain. Which one of the clan killed him I do not know--but in all +probability it was Simon himself--at that time only eighteen years of +age. And Folger's little boy--something past four years old--wandered +out in the moonlight to find his father's body." + +The girl was speaking slowly now, evidently watching the effect of her +words on her listener. He was bent forward, and his breath came in +queer, whispering gusts. "Go on!" he ordered savagely. "Tell me the +rest. Why do you keep me waiting?" + +The girl smiled again,--like a sorceress. "Folger's wife was from the +plains' country," she told him slowly. "If she had been of the mountains +she might have remained to do some killing on her own account. Like old +Elmira herself remained to do--killing on her own account! But she was +from cities, just as you are, but she--unlike you--had no mountain blood +in her. She wasn't used to death, and perhaps she didn't know how to +hate. She only knew how to be afraid. + +"They say that she went almost insane at the sight of that strong, brave +man of hers lying still in the pine needles. She hadn't even known he +was out of the house. He had gone out on some secret business--late at +night. She had only one thing left--her baby boy and her little +foster-daughter--little Linda Ross who is before you now. Her only +thought was to get those children out of that dreadful land of bloodshed +and to hide them so that they could never come back. And she didn't even +want them to know their true parentage. She seemed to realize that if +they had known, both of them would return some time--to collect their +debts. Sooner or later, that boy with the Folger blood in him and that +girl with the Ross blood would return, to attempt to regain their +ancient holdings, and to make the clan pay! + +"All that was left were a few old women with hate in their hearts and a +strange tradition to take the place of hope. They said that sometime, if +death spared them, they would see Folger's son come back again, and +assert his rights. They said that a new champion would arise and right +their wrongs. But mostly death didn't spare them. Only old Elmira is +left. + +"What became of the secret agreement I do not know. I haven't any hope +that you do, either. The deed was carried down to the courts by Sharp, +one of the witnesses who managed to get past the guard, and put on file +soon after it was written. The rest is short. Simon and his clan took up +the land, swearing that Matthew Folger had deeded it to them the day he +had procured it. They had a deed to show for it--a forgery. And the one +thing that they feared, the one weak chain, was that this secret +agreement between Folger and my father would be found. + +"You see what that would mean. It would show that he had no right to +deed away the land, as he was simply holding it in trust for me. Old +Elmira explained the matter to me--if I get mixed up on the legal end +of it, excuse it. If that document could be found, their forged deed +would be obviously invalid. And it angered them that they could not find +it. + +"Of course they never filed their forged deed--afraid that the forgery +would be discovered--but they kept it to show to any one that was +interested. But they wanted to make themselves still safer. + +"There had been two witnesses to the agreement. One of them, a man named +Sharp, died--or was killed--shortly after. The other, an old trapper +named Hudson, was indifferent to the whole matter--he was just passing +through and was at Folger's house for dinner the night Ross came. He is +still living in these mountains, and he might be of value to us yet. + +"Of course the clan did not feel at all secure. They suspected the +secret agreement had been mailed to some one to take care of, and they +were afraid that it would be brought to light when the time was ripe. +They knew perfectly that their forged deed would never stand the test, +so one of the things to do was to prevent their claim ever being +contested. That meant to keep Folger's son in ignorance of the whole +matter. + +"I hope I can make that clear. The deed from my father to Folger was on +record, Folger was dead, and Folger's son would have every right and +opportunity to contest the clan's claim to the land. If he could get the +matter into court, he would surely win. + +"The second thing to do was to win me over. I was just a child, and it +looked the easiest course of all. That's why I was stolen from the +orphanage by one of Simon's brothers. The idea was simply that when the +time came I would marry one of the clan and establish their claim to the +land forever. + +"Up to a few weeks ago it seemed to me that sooner or later I would win +out. Bruce, you can't dream what it meant! I thought that some time I +could drive them out and make them pay, a little, for all they have +done. But they've tricked me, after all. I thought that I would get word +to Folger's son, who by inheritance would have a clear title to the +land, and he, with the aid of the courts, could drive these usurpers +out. But just recently I've found out that even this chance is all but +gone. + +"Within a few more weeks, they will have been in possession of the land +for a full twenty years. Through some legal twist I don't understand, if +a man pays taxes and has undisputed possession of land for that length +of time, his title is secure. They failed to win me over, but it looks +as if they had won, anyway. The only way that they can be defeated now +is for that secret agreement--between my father and Folger--to reappear. +And I've long ago given up all hope of that. + +"There is no court session between now and October thirtieth--when their +twenty years of undisputed possession is culminated. There seems to be +no chance to contest them--to make them bring that forged deed into the +light before that time. We've lost, after all. And only one thing +remains." + +He looked up to find her eyes full upon him. He had never seen such +eyes. They seemed to have sunk so deep into the flesh about them that +only lurid slits remained. It was not that her lids were partly down. +Rather it was because the flesh-sacks beneath them had become charged +with her pounding blood. The fire's glow was in them and cast a strange +glamour upon her face. It only added to the strangeness of the picture +that she sat almost limp, rather than leaning forward in appeal. Bruce +looked at her in growing awe. + +But as the second passed he seemed no longer able to see her plainly. +His eyes were misted and blurred, but they were empty of tears as +Linda's own. Rather the focal points of his brain had become seared by a +mounting flame within himself. The glow of the fire had seemingly spread +until it encompassed the whole wilderness world. + +"What is the one thing that remains?" he asked her, whispering. + +She answered with a strange, terrible coldness of tone. "The blood +atonement," she said between back-drawn lips. + + + + +X + +When the minute hand of the watch in his pocket had made one more +circuit, both Bruce and Linda found themselves upon their feet. The +tension had broken at last. Her emotion had been curbed too long. It +broke from her in a flood. + +She seized his hands, and he started at their touch. "Don't you +understand?" she cried. "You--you--you are Folger's son. You are the boy +that crept out--under this very tree--to find him dead. All my life +Elmira and I have prayed for you to come. And what are you going to do?" + +Her face was drawn in the white light of the moon. For an instant he +seemed dazed. + +"Do?" he repeated. "I don't know what I'm going to do." + +"You don't!" she cried, in infinite scorn. "Are you just clay? Aren't +you a man? Haven't you got arms to strike with and eyes to see along a +rifle barrel? Are you a coward--and a weakling; one of your mother's +blood to run away? Haven't you anything to avenge? I thought you were a +mountain man--that all your years in cities couldn't take that quality +away from you! Haven't you any answer?" + +He looked up, a strange light growing on his face. "You mean--killing?" + +"What else? To kill--never to stop killing--one after another until they +are gone! Till Simon Turner and the whole Turner clan have paid the +debts they owe." + +Bruce recoiled as if from a blow. "Turner? Did you say Turner?" he asked +hoarsely. + +"Yes. That's the clan's name. I thought you knew." + +There was an instant of strange truce. Both stood motionless. The scene +no longer seemed part of the world that men have come to know in these +latter years,--a land of cities and homes and peaceful twilights over +quiet countrysides. The moon was still strange and white in the sky; the +pines stood tall and dark and sad,--eternal emblems of the wilderness. +The fire had burned down to a few lurid coals glowing in the gray ashes. +No longer were these two children of civilization. Their passion had +swept them back into the immeasurable past; they were simply human +beings deep in the simplest of human passions. They trembled all over +with it. + +Bruce understood now his unprovoked attack on the little boy when he had +been taken from the orphanage on trial. The boy had been named Turner, +and the name had been enough to recall a great and terrible hatred that +he had learned in earliest babyhood. The name now recalled it again; the +truth stood clear at last. It was the key to all the mystery of his +life; it stirred him more than all of Linda's words. In an instant all +the tragedy of his babyhood was recalled,--the hushed talk between his +parents, the oaths, the flames in their eyes, and finally the body he +had found lying so still beneath the pines. It was always the Turners, +the dread name that had filled his baby days with horror. He hadn't +understood then. It had been blind hatred,--hatred without understanding +or self-analysis. + +As she watched, his mountain blood mounted to the ascendancy. A strange +transformation came over him. The gentleness that he had acquired in his +years of city life began to fall away from him. The mountains were +claiming him again. + +It was not a mental change alone. It was a thing to be seen with the +unaided eyes. His hand had swept through his hair, disturbing the part, +and now the black locks dropped down on his forehead, almost to his +eyes. The whole expression of his face seemed to change. His look of +culture dropped from him; his eyes narrowed; he looked grotesquely out +of place in his soft, well-tailored clothes. + +But he was quite cold now. His passion was submerged under a steel +exterior. His voice was cold and hard when he spoke. + +"Then you and I are no relation whatever?" + +"None." + +"But we fight the same fight now." + +"Yes. Until we both win--or both die." + +Before he could speak again, a strange answer came out of the darkness. +"Not two of you," a croaking old voice told them. It rose, shrill and +cracked, from the shadows beyond the fire. They turned, and the +moonlight showed a bent old figure hobbling toward them. + +It was old Elmira, her cane tapping along in front of her; and something +that caught the moonlight lay in the hollow of her left arm. Her eyes +still glowed under the grizzled brows. + +"Not two, but three," she corrected, in the hollow voice of uncounted +years. In the magic of the moonlight it seemed quite fitting to both of +them that she should have come. She was one of the triumvirate; they +wondered why they had not missed her before. It was farther than she had +walked in years, but her spirit had kept her up. + +She put the glittering object that she carried into Bruce's hands. It +was a rifle--a repeating breechloader of a famous make and a model of +thirty years before. It was such a rifle as lives in legend, with sights +as fine as a razor edge and an accuracy as great as light itself. Loving +hands had polished it and kept it in perfect condition. + +"Matthew Folger's rifle," the old woman explained, "for Matthew Folger's +son." + +And that is how Bruce Folger returned to the land of his birth--as most +men do, unless death cheats them first--and how he made a pact to pay +old debts of death. + + + + +BOOK TWO + +THE BLOOD ATONEMENT + + + + +XI + + +"Men own the day, but the night is ours," is an old saying among the +wild folk that inhabit the forests of Trail's End. And the saying has +really deep significances that can't be discerned at one hearing. +Perhaps human beings--their thoughts busy with other things--can never +really get them at all. But the mountain lion--purring a sort of queer, +singsong lullaby to her wicked-eyed little cubs in the lair--and the +gray wolf, running along the ridges in the mystery of the moon--and +those lesser hunters, starting with Tuft-ear the lynx and going all the +way down to that terrible, white-toothed cutthroat, Little Death the +mink--_they_ know exactly what the saying means, and they know that it +is true. The only one of the larger forest creatures that doesn't know +is old Ashur, the black bear (_Ashur_ means black in an ancient tongue, +just as _Brunn_ means brown, and the common Oregon bear is usually +decidedly black) and the fact that he doesn't is curious in itself. In +most ways Ashur has more intelligence than all the others put together; +but he is also the most indifferent. He is not a hunter; and he doesn't +care who owns anything as long as there are plenty of bee trees to mop +out with his clumsy paw, and plenty of grubs under the rotten logs. + +The saying originated long and long ago when the world was quite young. +Before that time, likely enough, the beasts owned both the day and the +night, and you can imagine them denying man's superiority just as long +as possible. But they came to it in the end, and perhaps now they are +beginning to be doubtful whether they still hold dominion over the night +hours. You can fancy the forest people whispering the saying back and +forth, using it as a password when they meet on the trails, and trying +their best to believe it. "Man owns the day but the night is ours," the +coyotes whisper between sobs. In a world where men have slowly, steadily +conquered all the wild creatures, killed them and driven them away, +their one consolation lies in the fact that when the dark comes down +their old preeminence returns to them. + +Of course the saying is ridiculous if applied to cities or perhaps even +to the level, cleared lands of the Middle West. The reason is simply +that the wild life is practically gone from these places. Perhaps a +lowly skunk steals along a hedge on the way to a chicken pen, but he +quivers and skulks with fear, and all the arrogance of hunting is as +dead in him as his last year's perfume. And perhaps even the little +bobwhites, nestling tail to tail, know that it is wholly possible that +the farmer's son has marked their roost and will come and pot them while +they sleep. But a few places remain in America where the reign of the +wild creatures, during the night hours at least, is still supreme. And +Trail's End is one of them. + +It doesn't lie in the Middle West. It is just about as far west as one +can conveniently go, unless he cares to trace the rivers down to their +mouths. Neither was it cleared land, nor had its soil ever been turned +by a plow. The few clearings that there were--such as the great five +sections of the Rosses--were so far apart that a wolf could run all +night (and the night-running of a wolf is something not to speak of +lightly) without passing one. There is nothing but forest,--forest that +stretches without boundaries, forest to which a great mountain is but a +single flower in a meadow, forest to make the brain of a timber cruiser +reel and stagger from sheer higher mathematics. Perhaps man owns these +timber stretches in the daytime. He can go out and cut down the trees, +and when they don't choose to fall over on top of him, return safely to +his cabin at night. He can venture forth with his rifle and kill Ashur +the black bear and Blacktail the deer, and even old Brother Bill, the +grand and exalted ruler of the elk lodge. The sound of his feet disturbs +the cathedral silence of the tree aisles, and his oaths--when the +treacherous trail gives way beneath his feet--carry far through the +coverts. But he behaves somewhat differently at night. He doesn't feel +nearly so sure of himself. The sound of a puma screaming a few dozen +feet away in the shadows is likely enough to cause an unpleasant +twitching of the skin of his back. And he feels considerably better if +there are four stout walls about him. At nighttime, the wild creatures +come into their own. + +Bruce sensed these things as he waited for the day to break. For all the +hard exertion of the previous day, he wakened early on the first morning +of his return to his father's home. Through the open window he watched +the dawn come out. And he fancied how a puma, still hungry, turned to +snarl at the spreading light as he crept to his lair. + +All over the forest the hunting creatures left their trails and crept +into the coverts. Their reign was done until darkness fell again. The +night life of the forest was slowly stilled. The daylight +creatures--such as the birds--began to waken. Probably they welcomed the +sight of day as much as Bruce himself. The man dressed slowly. He +wouldn't waken the two women that slept in the next room, he thought. He +crept slowly out into the gray dawn. + +He made straight for the great pine that stood a short distance from the +house. For reasons unknown to him, the pine had come often into his +dreams. He had thought that its limbs rubbed together and made +words,--but of the words themselves he had hardly caught the meaning. +There was some high message in them, however; and the dream had left him +with a vague curiosity, an unexplainable desire to see the forest +monarch in the daylight. + +As he waited, the mist blew off of the land; the gray of twilight was +whisked away to a twilightland that is hidden in the heart of the +forest. He found to his delight that the tree was even more impressive +in the vivid morning light than it had been at night. It was not that +the light actually got into it. Its branches were too thick and heavy +for that. It still retained its air of eternal secrecy, an impression +that it knew great mysteries that a thousand philosophers would give +their lives to learn. He was constantly awed by the size of it. He +guessed its circumference as about twenty-five feet. The great lower +limbs were themselves like massive tree trunks. Its top surpassed by +fifty feet any pine in the vicinity. + +As he watched, the sun came up, gleaming first on its tall spire. It +slowly overtook it. The dusk of its green lightened. Bruce was not a +particularly imaginative man; but the impression grew that this towering +tree had an answer for some great question in his own heart,--a question +that he had never been able to shape into words. He felt that it knew +the wholly profound secret of life. + +After all, it could not but have such knowledge. It was so incredibly +old; it had seen so much. His mind flew back to some of the dramas of +human life that had been enacted in its shade, and his imagination could +picture many more. His own father had lain here dead, shot down by a +murderer concealed in the distant thicket. It had beheld his own wonder +when he had found the still form lying in the moonlight; it had seen his +mother's grief and terror. Wilderness dramas uncounted had been enacted +beneath it. Many times the mountain lion had crept into its dark +branches. Many times the bear had grunted beneath it and reached up to +write a challenge with his claws in its bark. The eyes of Tuft-ear the +lynx had gleamed from its very top, and the old bull-elk had filed off +his velvet on the sharp edges of the bark. It had seen savage battles +between the denizens of the wood; the deer racing by with the wolf pack +in pursuit. For uncounted years it had stood aloft, above all the +madness and bloodshed and passion that are the eternal qualities of the +wilderness, somber, stately, unutterably aloof. + +It had known the snows. When the leaves fell and the wind came out of +the north, it would know them again. For the snow falls for a depth of +ten feet or more over most of Trail's End. For innumerable winters its +limbs had been heaped with the white load, the great branches bending +beneath it. The wind made faint sounds through its branches now, but +would be wholly silent when the winter snows weighted the limbs. He +could picture the great, white giant, silent as death, still keeping its +vigil over the snow-swept wilderness. + +Bruce felt a growing awe. The great tree seemed so wise, it gave him +such a sense of power. The winds had buffeted it in vain. It had endured +the terrible cold of winter. Generation after generation of the +creatures who moved on the face of the earth had lived their lives +beneath it; they had struggled and mated and fought their battles and +felt their passions, and finally they had died; and still it +endured,--silent, passionless, full of thoughts. Here was real +greatness. Not stirring, not struggling, not striving; only standing +firm and straight and impassive; not taking part, but only watching, +knowing no passion but only strength,--ineffably patient and calm. + +But it was sad too. Such knowledge always brings sadness. It had seen +too much to be otherwise. The pines are never cheerful trees, like the +apple that blossoms in spring, or the elm whose leaves shimmer in the +sunlight; and this great monarch of all the pines was sad as great +music. In this quality, as well as in its strength, it was the symbol of +the wilderness itself. But it was more than that. It was the Great +Sentinel, and in its unutterable impassiveness it was the emblem and +symbol of even mightier powers. Bruce's full wisdom had not yet come to +him, so he couldn't name these powers. He only knew that they lived far +and far above the world and, like the tree itself, held aloof from all +the passion of Eve and the blood-lust of Cain. Like the pine itself, +they were patient, impassive, and infinitely wise. + +He felt stilled and calmed himself. Such was its influence. And he +turned with a start when he saw Linda in the doorway. + +Her face was calm too in the morning light. Her dark eyes were lighted. +He felt a curious little glow of delight at the sight of her. + +"I've been talking to the pine--all the morning," he told her. + +"But it won't talk to you," she answered. "It talks only to the stars." + + + + +XII + + +Bruce and Linda had a long talk while the sun climbed up over the great +ridges to the east and old Elmira cooked their breakfast. There was no +passion in their words this morning. They had got down to a basis of +cold planning. + +"Let me refresh my memory about a few of those little things you told +me," Bruce requested. "First--on what date does the twenty-year +period--of Turners' possession of the land--expire?" + +"On the thirtieth of October, of this year." + +"Not very long, is it? Now you understand that on that date they will +have had twenty years of undisputed possession of the land; they will +have paid taxes on it that long; and unless their title is proven false +between now and that date, we can't ever drive them out." + +"That's just right." + +"And the fall term of court doesn't begin until the fifth of the +following month." + +"Yes, we're beaten. That's all there is to it. Simon told me so the last +time he talked to me." + +"It would be to his interest to have you think so. But Linda--we mustn't +give up yet. We must try as long as one day remains. The law is full of +twists; we might find a way to checkmate them, especially if that secret +agreement should show up. It isn't just enough--to have vengeance. That +wouldn't put the estate back in your hands; they would have won, after +all. It seems to me that the first thing to do is to find the trapper, +Hudson--the one witness that is still alive. You say he witnessed that +secret agreement between your father and mine." + +"Yes." + +"His testimony would be invaluable to us. He might be able to prove to +the court that as my father never owned the land in reality, he couldn't +possibly have deeded it to the Turners. Do you know where this Hudson +is?" + +"I asked old Elmira last night. She thinks she knows. A man told her he +had his trap line on the upper Umpqua, and his main headquarters--you +know that trappers have a string of camps--was at the mouth of Little +River, that flows into the Umpqua. But it is a long way from here." + +Bruce was still a moment. "How far?" he asked. + +"Two full days' tramp at the least--barring out accidents. But if you +think it is best--you can start out to-day." + +Bruce was a man who made decisions quickly. He had learned the wisdom of +it,--that after all the evidence is gathered on each side, a single +second is all the time that is needed for any kind of decision. Beyond +that point there is only vacillation. "Then I'll start--right away. Can +you tell me how to find the trail?" + +"I can only tell you to go straight north. Use your watch as a compass +in the daytime and the North Star at night." + +"I didn't suppose that it was wisdom to travel at night." + +She looked at him in sudden astonishment. "And where did you learn that +fact, Bruce?" + +The man tried hard to remember. "I don't know. I suppose it was +something I heard when I was a baby--in these mountains." + +"It is one of the first things a mountaineer has to know--to make camp +at nightfall. You would want to, anyway, Bruce. You've got enough real +knowledge of the wilderness in you--born in you--to want a camp and a +fire at night. Besides, the trails are treacherous." + +"Then the thing to do is to get ready at once. And then try to bring +Hudson back with me--down to the valley. After we get there we can see +what can be done." + +Linda smiled rather sadly. "I'm not very hopeful. But he's our last +chance--and we might as well make a try. There is no hope that the +secret agreement will show up in these few weeks that remain. We'll get +your things together at once." + +They breakfasted, and after the simple meal was finished, Bruce began to +pack for the journey. He was very thankful for the months he had spent +in an army camp. He took a few simple supplies of food: a piece of +bacon, a little sack of dried venison--that delicious fare that has held +so many men up on long journeys--and a compact little sack of prepared +flour. There was no space for delicacies in the little pack. Besides, a +man forgets about such things on the high trails. Butter, sugar, even +that ancient friend coffee had to be left behind. He took one little +utensil for cooking--a small skillet--and Linda furnished him with a +camp ax and a long-bladed hunting knife. These things (with the +exception of the knife and ax) he tied up in one heavy, all-wool +blanket, making a compact pack for carrying on his back. + +In his pocket he carried cartridges for the rifle, pipe, tobacco, and +matches. Linda took the hob-nails out of her own shoes and pounded them +into his. For there are certain trails in Trail's End that to the +unnailed shoe are quite like the treadmills of ancient days; the foot +slips back after every step. + +One thing more was needed: tough leggings. The soft flannel trousers had +not been tailored for wear in the brush coverts. And there is still +another reason why the mountain men want their ankles covered. In +portions of Trail's End there are certain rock ledges--gray, strange +stone heaps blasted by the summer sun--and some of the paths that Bruce +would take crossed over them. These ledges are the home of a certain +breed of forest creatures that Bruce did not in the least desire to +meet. Unlike many of the wild folk, they are not at all particular about +getting out of the way, and they are more than likely to lash up at a +traveler's instep. It isn't wise to try to jump out of the way. If a man +were practiced at dodging lightning bolts he might do it, but not an +ordinary mortal. For that lunging head is one of the swiftest things in +the whole swift-moving animal world. And it isn't entirely safe to rely +on a warning rattle. Sometimes the old king-snake forgets to give it. +These are the poison people--the gray rattlesnakes that gather in +mysterious, grim companies on the rocks--and the only safety from them +is thick covering to the knees that the fangs cannot penetrate. + +But the old woman solved this problem with a deer hide that had been +curing for some seasons on the wall behind the house. Her eyes were +dimmed with age, her fingers were stiff, but in an astonishingly short +period of time she improvised a pair of leathern puttees, fastening with +a strap, that answered the purpose beautifully. The two women walked +with him, out under the pine. + +Bruce shook old Elmira's scrawny hand; then she turned back at once into +the house. The man felt singularly grateful. He began to credit the old +woman with a great deal of intuition, or else memories from her own +girlhood of long and long ago. He _did_ want a word alone with this +strange girl of the pines. But when Elmira had gone in and the coast was +clear, it wouldn't come to his lips. + +He felt curious conjecturings and wonderment arising within him. He +couldn't have shaped them into words. It was just that the girl's face +intrigued him, mystified him, and perhaps moved him a little too. It was +a frank, clear, girlish face, wonderfully tender of feature, and at +first her eyes held him most of all. They gave an impression of +astounding depth. They were quite serious now; and they had a luster +such as can be seen on cold spring water over dark moss,--and few other +places on earth. + +"It seems strange," he said, "to come here only last night--and then to +be leaving again." + +It seemed to his astonished gaze that her lips trembled ever so +slightly. "We have been waiting for each other a long time, Bwovaboo," +she replied. She spoke rather low, not looking straight at him. "And I +hate to have you go again so soon." + +"But I'll be back--in a few days." + +"You don't know. No one ever knows when they start out in these +mountains. Promise me, Bruce--to keep watch every minute. Remember +there's nothing--_nothing_--that Simon won't stoop to do. He's like a +wolf. He has no rules of fighting. He'd just as soon strike from ambush. +How do I know that you'll ever come back again?" + +"But I will." He smiled at her, and his eyes dropped from hers to her +lips. His heart seemed to miss a beat. He hadn't noticed these lips in +particular before. The mouth was tender and girlish, its sensitiveness +scarcely seeming fitting in a child of these wild places. He reached out +and took her hand. + +"Good-by, Linda," he said, smiling. + +She smiled in reply, and her old cheer seemed to return to her. +"Good-by, Bwovaboo. Be careful." + +"I'll be careful. And this reminds me of something." + +"What?" + +"That for all the time I've been away--and for all the time I'm going to +be away now--I haven't done anything more--well, more intimate--than +shake your hand." + +Her answer was to pout out her lips in the most natural way in the +world. Bruce was usually deliberate in his motions; but all at once his +deliberation fell away from him. There seemed to be no interlude of time +between one position and another. His arms went about her, and he kissed +her gently on the lips. + +But it was not at all as they expected. Both had gone into it +lightly,--a boy-and-girl caress such as is usually not worth thinking +about twice. He had supposed it would be just like the other kisses he +had known in his growing-up days: a moment's soft pressure of the lips, +a moment's delight, and nothing either to regret or rejoice in. But it +was far more than this, after all. Perhaps because they had been too +long in one another's thoughts; perhaps--living in a land of hated +foes--because Linda had not known many kisses, this little caress +beneath the pine went very straight home indeed to them both. They fell +apart, both of them suddenly sobered. The girl's eyes were tender and +lustrous, but startled too. + +"Good-by, Linda," he told her. + +"Good-by--Bwovaboo," she answered. He turned up the trail past the pine. + +He did not know that she stood watching him a long time, her hands +clasped over her breast. + + + + +XIII + + +Miles farther than Linda's cabin, clear beyond the end of the trail that +Duncan took, past even the highest ridge of Trail's End and in the +region where the little rivers that run into the Umpqua have their +starting place, is a certain land of Used to Be. Such a name as that +doesn't make very good sense to a tenderfoot on the first hearing. +Perhaps he can never see the real intelligence of it as long as he +remains a tenderfoot. Such creatures cannot exist for long in the +silences and the endless ridges and the unbeaten trails of this land; +they either become woodsmen or have communication with the buzzards. + +It isn't a land of the Present Time at all. It is a place that has never +grown old. When a man passes the last outpost of civilization, and the +shadows of the unbroken woods drop over him, he is likely to forget that +the year is nineteen hundred and twenty, and that the day before +yesterday he had seen an aeroplane passing over his house. It is true +that in this place he sees winged creatures in the air, seeming masters +of the aerial tracts, but they are not aeroplanes. Instead they are the +buzzards, and they are keeping even a closer watch on him than he is on +them. They know that many things may happen whereby they can get +acquainted before the morning breaks. The world seems to have kicked off +its thousand-thousand years as a warm man at night kicks off covers; and +all things are just as they used to be. It is the Young World,--a world +of beasts rather than men, a world where the hand of man has not yet +been felt. + +Of course it won't be that way forever. Sometime the forests will fall. +What will become of the beasts that live in them there is no telling; +there are not many places left for them to go. But at present it is just +as savage, just as primitive and untamed as those ancient forests of the +Young World that a man recalls sometimes in dreams. + +On this particular early-September day, the age-old drama of the +wilderness was in progress. It was the same play that had been enacted +day after day, year upon year, until the centuries had become too many +to count, and as usual, there were no human observers. There were no +hunters armed with rifles waiting on the deer trails to kill some of the +players. There were no naturalists taking notes that no one will believe +in the coverts. It was the usual matinee performance; the long, hot day +was almost at a close. The play would get better later in the evening, +and really would not be at its best until the moon rose; but it was not +a comedy-drama even now. Rather it was a drama of untamed passions and +bloodshed, strife and carnage and lust and rapine; and it didn't, +unfortunately, have a particularly happy ending. Mother Nature herself, +sometimes kind but usually cruel, was the producer; she furnished the +theater, even the spotted costume by which the fawn remained invisible +in the patches of light and shadow; and she had certain great purposes +of her own that no man understands. As the play was usually complicated +with many fatalities, the buzzards were about the only ones to benefit. +They were the real heroes of the play after all. Everything always +turned out all right for them. They always triumphed in the end. + +The greatest difference between this wilderness drama and the dramas +that human beings see upon a stage is that one was reality and the other +is pretense. The players were beasts, not men. The only human being +anywhere in the near vicinity was the old trapper, Hudson, following +down his trap line on the creek margin on the way to his camp. It is +true that two other men, with a rather astounding similarity of purpose, +were at present coming down two of the long trails that led to the +region; but as yet the drama was hidden from their eyes. One of these +two was Bruce, coming from Linda's cabin. One was Dave Turner, +approaching from the direction of the Ross estates. Turner was much the +nearer. Curiously, both had business with the trapper Hudson. + +The action of the play was calm at first. Mostly the forest creatures +were still in their afternoon sleep. Brother Bill, the great stag elk, +had a bed in the very center of a thick wall of buckbush, and human +observers at first could not have explained how his great body, with his +vast spread of antlers, had been able to push through. But in reality +his antlers aided rather than hindered. Streaming almost straight back +they act something like a snow-plow, parting the heavy coverts. + +The bull elk is in some ways the master of the forest, and one would +wonder why he had gone to such an out-of-the-way place to sleep. Unless +he is attacked from ambush, he has little to fear even from the Tawny +One, the great cougar, and ordinarily the cougar waits until night to do +his hunting. The lynx is just a source of scorn to the great bull, and +even the timber wolf--except when he is combined with his relatives in +winter--is scarcely to be feared. Yet he had been careful to surround +himself with burglar alarms,--in other words, to go into the deep +thicket that no beast of prey could penetrate without warning him--by +the sound of breaking brush--of its approach. It would indicate that +there was at least one living creature in this region--a place where men +ordinarily did not come--that the bull elk feared. + +The does and their little spotted fawns were sleeping too; the blacktail +deer had not yet sought the feeding grounds on the ridges. The cougar +yawned in his lair, the wolf dozed in his covert, even the poison-people +lay like long shadows on the hot rocks. But these latter couldn't be +relied upon to sleep soundly. One of the many things they can do is to +jump straight out of a dream like a flicking whiplash, coil and hit a +mark that many a good pistol shot would miss. + +Yet there was no chance of the buzzards, at present spectators in the +clouds and waiting for the final act, to become bored. Particularly the +lesser animals of the forest--the Little People--were busy at their +occupations. A little brown-coated pine marten--who is really nothing +but an overgrown weasel famous for his particularly handsome coat--went +stealing through the branches of a pine as if he had rather questionable +business. Some one had told him, and he couldn't remember who, that a +magpie had her nest in that same tree, and Red Eye was going to look and +see. Of course he merely wanted to satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps he +would try to arrange to get a little sip of the mother's blood, just as +it passed through the big vein of the throat,--but of course that was +only incidental. He felt some curiosity about the magpie's eggs too, the +last brood of the year. It might be that there were some little magpies +all coiled up inside of them, that would be worth investigation by one +of his scientific turn of mind. Perhaps even the male bird, coming +frantically to look for his wife, might fly straight into the nest +without noticing his brown body curled about the limb. It offered all +kinds of pleasing prospects, this hunt through the branches. + +Of course it is doubtful if the buzzards could detect his serpent-like +form; yet it is a brave man who will say what a buzzard can and cannot +see. Anything that can remain in the air as they do, seemingly without +the flutter of a wing, has powers not to speak of lightly. But if they +could have seen him they would have been particularly interested. A +marten isn't a glutton in his feeding, and often is content with just a +sip of blood from the throat. That leaves something warm and still for +the buzzard's beak. + +A long, spotted gopher snake slipped through the dead grass on the +ground beneath. He didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. He +was just moseying--if there is such a word--along. Not a blade of grass +rustled. Of course there was a chipmunk, sitting at the door of his +house in the uplifted roots of a tree; but the snake--although he was +approaching in his general direction--didn't seem at all interested in +him. Were it not for two things, the serpent would have seemed to be +utterly bored and indifferent to life in general. One of these things +was its cold, glittering, reptile eyes. The other was its darting, +forked tongue. + +It may be, after all, that this little tongue was of really great +importance in the serpent's hunting. Many naturalists think that quite +often the little, rattle-brained birds and rodents that it hunts are so +interested in this darting tongue that they quite fail to see the slow +approach of the mottled body of the snake behind it. At least it was +perfectly evident that the chipmunk did not see Limber-spine at present. +Otherwise he wouldn't have been enjoying the scenery with quite the same +complacency. If all went well, there might be a considerable lump in the +snake's throat yet this afternoon. But it would be a quite different +kind of lump from the one the chipmunk's little mate, waiting in vain +for her lord to come to supper, would have in _her_ throat. + +An old raccoon wakened from his place on a high limb, stretched himself, +scratched at his fur, then began to steal down the limb. He had a long +way to go before dark. Hunting was getting poor in this part of the +woods. He believed he would wander down toward Hudson's camp and look +for crayfish in the water. A coyote is usually listed among the larger +forest creatures, but early though the hour was--early, that is, for +hunters to be out--he was stalking a fawn in a covert. The coyote has +not an especially high place among the forest creatures, and he has to +do his hunting early and late and any time that offers. Most of the +larger creatures pick on him, all the time detesting him for his +cunning. The timber wolf, a rather close relation whom he cordially +hates, is apt to take bites out of him if he meets him on the trail. The +old bull elk would like nothing better than to cut his hide into rag +patches with the sharp-edged front hoofs. Even the magpies in the tree +tops made up ribald verses about him. But nevertheless the spotted fawn +had cause to fear him. The coyote is an infamous coward; but even the +little cotton tail rabbit does not have to fear a fawn. + +All these hunts were progressing famously when there came a curious +interruption. It was just a sound at first. And strangely, not one of +the forest creatures that heard it had ears sharp enough to tell exactly +from what direction it had come. And that made it all the more +unpleasant to listen to. + +It was a peculiar growl, quite low at first. It lasted a long time, then +died away. There was no opposition to it. The forest creatures had +paused in their tracks at its first note, and now they stood as if the +winter had come down upon them suddenly and frozen them solid. All the +other sounds of the forest--the little whispering noises of gliding +bodies and fluttering feet, and perhaps a bird's call in a shrub--were +suddenly stilled. There was a moment of breathless suspense. Then the +sound commenced again. + +It was louder this time. It rose and gathered volume until it was almost +a roar. It carried through the silences in great waves of sound. And in +it was a sense of resistless power; no creature in the forest but what +knew this fact. + +"The Gray King," one could imagine them saying among themselves. The +effect was instantaneous. The little raccoon halted in his descent, then +crept out to the end of a limb. Perhaps he knew that the gray monarch +could not climb trees, but nevertheless he felt that he would be more +secure clear at the swaying limb-tip. The marten forgot his curiosity in +regard to the nest of the magpie. The gopher snake coiled, then slipped +away silently through the grass. + +The coyote, an instant before crawling with body close to the earth, +whipped about as if he had some strange kind of circular spring inside +of him. His nerves were always rather ragged, and the sound had +frightened out of him the rigid control of his muscles that was so +necessary if he were to make a successful stalk upon the fawn. The +spotted creature bleated in terror, then darted away; and the coyote +snarled once in the general direction of the Gray King. Then he lowered +his head and skulked off deeper into the coverts. + +The blacktail deer, the gray wolf, even the stately Tawny One, stretched +in grace in his lair, wakened from sleep. The languor died quickly in +the latter's eyes, leaving only fear. These were braver than the Little +People. They waited until the thick brush, not far distant from where +the bull elk slept, began to break down and part before an enormous, +gray body. + +No longer would an observer think of the elk as the forest monarch. He +was but a pretender, after all. The real king had just wakened from his +afternoon nap and was starting forth to hunt. + +Even his little cousins, the black bears (who, after all is said and +done, furnish most of the comedy of the deadly forest drama) did not +wait to make conversation. They tumbled awkwardly down the hill to get +out of his way. For the massive gray form--weighing over half a ton--was +none other than that of the last of the grizzly bears, that terrible +forest hunter and monarch, the Killer himself. + + + + +XIV + + +Long ago, when Oregon was a new land to white men, in the days of the +clipper ships and the Old Oregon Trail, the breed to which the Killer +belonged were really numerous through the little corner north of the +Siskiyous and west of the Cascades. The land was far different then. The +transcontinental lines had not yet been built; the only settlements were +small trading posts and mining camps, and people did not travel over +paved highways in automobiles. If they went at all it was in a +prairie-schooner or on horseback. And the old grizzly bears must have +found the region a veritable heaven. + +They were a worthy breed! It is doubtful if any other section of the +United States offered an environment so favorable to them. Game was in +abundance, they could venture down into the valleys at the approach of +winter and thus miss the rigors of the snow, and at first there were no +human enemies. Unfortunately, stories are likely to grow and become +sadly addled after many tellings; but if the words of certain old men +could be believed, the Southern Oregon grizzly occasionally, in the +bountiful fall days, attained a weight of two thousand pounds. No doubt +whatever remains that thousand-pound bears were fairly numerous. They +trailed up and down the brown hillsides; they hunted and honey-grubbed +and mated in the fall; they had their young and fought their battles and +died, and once in a long while the skeleton of a frontiersman would be +found with his skull battered perfectly flat where one of the great +beasts had taken a short-arm pat at him. + +But unlike the little black bears, the grizzlies developed displeasing +habits. They were much more carnivorous in character than the blacks, +and their great bodily strength and power enabled them to master all of +the myriad forms of game in the Oregon woods. By the same token, they +could take a full-grown steer and carry it off as a woman carries her +baby. + +It couldn't be endured. The cattlemen had begun to settle the valleys, +and it was either a case of killing the grizzlies or yielding the +valleys to them. In the relentless war that followed, the breed had been +practically wiped out. A few of them, perhaps, fled farther and farther +up the Cascades, finding refuges in the Canadian mountains. Others +traveled east, locating at last in the Rocky Mountains, and countless +numbers of them died. At last, as far as the frontiersmen knew, only one +great specimen remained. This was a famous bear that men called +Slewfoot,--a magnificent animal that ranged far and hunted relentlessly, +and no one ever knew just when they were going to run across him. It +made traveling in the mountains a rather ticklish business. He was apt +suddenly to loom up, like a gray cliff, at any turn in the trail, and +his disposition grew querulous with age. In fact, instead of fleeing as +most wild creatures have learned to do, he was rather likely to make +sudden and unexpected charges. + +He was killed at last; and seemingly the Southern Oregon grizzlies were +wiped out. But it is rather easy to believe that in some of his +wanderings he encountered--lost and far in the deepest heart of the land +called Trail's End--a female of his own breed. There must have been cubs +who, in their turn, mated and fought and died, and perhaps two +generations after them. And out of the last brood had emerged a single +great male, a worthy descendant of his famous ancestor. This was the +Killer, who in a few months since he had left his fastnesses, was +beginning to ruin the cattle business in Trail's End. + +As he came growling from his bed this September evening he was not a +creature to speak of lightly. He was down on all fours, his vast head +was lowered, his huge fangs gleamed in the dark red mouth. The eyes were +small, and curious little red lights glowed in each of them. The Killer +was cross; and he didn't care who knew it. He was hungry too; but hunger +is an emotion for the beasts of prey to keep carefully to themselves. He +walked slowly across the little glen, carelessly at first, for he was +too cross and out of temper to have the patience to stalk. He stopped, +turning his head this way and that, marking the flight of the wild +creatures. He saw a pair of blacktail bucks spring up from a covert and +dash away; but he only made one short, angry lunge toward them. He knew +that it would only cost him his dignity to try to chase them. A grizzly +bear can move astonishingly fast considering his weight--for a short +distance he can keep pace with a running horse--but a deer is light +itself. He uttered one short, low growl, then headed over toward a great +wall of buckbush at the base of the hill. + +But now his hunting cunning had begun to return to him. The sun was +setting, the pines were growing dusky, and he began to feel the first +excitement and fever that the fall of night always brings to the beasts +of prey. It is a feeling that his insignificant cousins, the black +bears, could not possibly have,--for the sole reason that they are +berry-eaters, not hunters. But the cougar, stealing down a deer trail on +the ridge above, and a lean old male wolf--stalking a herd of deer on +the other side of the thicket--understood it very well. His blood began +to roll faster through his great veins. The sullen glare grew in his +eyes. + +It was the beginning of the hunting hour of the larger creatures. All +the forest world knew it. The air seemed to throb and tingle, the +shadowing thickets began to pulse and stir with life. The Fear--the +age-old heritage of all the hunted creatures--returned to the deer. + +The Killer moved quite softly now. One would have marveled how silently +his great feet fell upon the dry earth and with what slight sound his +heavy form moved through the thickets. Once he halted, gazing with +reddening eyes. But the coyote--the gray figure that had broken a twig +on the trail beside him--slipped quickly away. + +He skirted the thicket, knowing that no successful stalk could be made +where he had to force his way through dry brush. He moved slowly, +cautiously--all the time mounting farther up the little hill that rose +from the banks of the stream. He came to an opening in the thicket, a +little brown pathway that vanished quickly into the shadows of the +coverts. + +The Killer slipped softly into the heavy brush just at its mouth. It was +his ambush. Soon, he knew, some of the creatures that had bowers in the +heart of the thicket would be coming along that trail toward the feeding +grounds on the ridge. He only had to wait. + +As the shadows grew and the twilight deepened, the undercurrent of +savagery that is the eternal quality of the wilderness grew ever more +pronounced. A thrill and fever came in the air, mystery in the deepening +shadows, and brighter lights into the eyes of the hunting folk. The dusk +deepened between the trees; the distant trunks dimmed and faded quite +away. The stars emerged. The nightwind, rising somewhere in the region +of the snow banks on the highest mountains, blew down into the Killer's +face and brought messages that no human being may ever receive. Then his +sharp ears heard the sound of brush cracked softly as some one of the +larger forest creatures came up the trail toward him. + +The steps drew nearer and the Killer recognized them. They were plainly +the soft footfall of some member of the deer tribe, yet they were too +pronounced to be the step of any of the lesser deer. The bull elk had +left his bed. The red eyes of the grizzly seemed to glow as he waited. +Great though the stag was, only one little blow of the massive forearm +would be needed. The huge fangs would have to close down but once. The +long, many-tined antlers, the sharp front hoofs would not avail him in a +surprise attack such as this would be. Best of all, he was not +suspecting danger. He was walking down wind, so that the pungent odor of +the bear was blown away from him. + +The bear did not move a single telltale muscle. He scarcely breathed. +And the one movement that there was was such that not even the keen ears +of an elk could discern, just a curious erection of the gray hairs on +his vast neck. + +The bull was almost within striking range now. The wicked red eyes could +already discern the dimmest shadow of his outline through the thickets. +But all at once he stopped, head lifting. + +Perhaps a grizzly bear does not have mental processes as human +beings know them. Perhaps all impulse is the result of instinct +alone,--instinct tuned and trained to a degree that human beings find +hard to imagine. But if the bear couldn't understand the sudden halt +just at the eve of his triumph, at least he felt growing anger. He knew +perfectly that the elk had neither detected his odor nor heard him, and +he had made no movements that the sharp eyes could detect. Just a +glimpse of gray in the heavy brush would not have been enough in itself +to arouse the stag's suspicions. For the lower creatures are rarely able +to interpret outline alone; there must be movement too. + +Yet the bull was evidently alarmed. He stood immobile, one foot lifted, +nostrils open, head raised. Then, the wind blowing true, the grizzly +understood. + +A pungent smell reached him from below,--evidently the smell of a living +creature that followed the trail along the stream that flowed through +the glen. He recognized it in an instant. He had detected it many times, +particularly when he went into the cleared lands to kill cattle. It was +man, an odor almost unknown in this lonely glen. Dave Turner, brother of +Simon, was walking down the stream toward Hudson's camp. + +The elk was widely traveled too, and he also realized the proximity of +man. But his reaction was entirely different. To the grizzly it was an +annoying interruption to his hunt; and a great flood of rage swept over +him. It seemed to him that these tall creatures were always crossing his +path, spoiling his hunting, even questioning his rule of the forests. +They did not seem to realize that he was the wilderness king, and that +he could break their slight forms in two with one blow of his paw. It +was true that their eyes had strange powers to disquiet him; but his +isolation in the fastnesses of Trail's End had kept him from any full +recognition of their real strength, and he was unfortunately lacking in +the awe with which most of the forest creatures regard them. But to the +elk this smell was Fear itself. He knew the ways of men only too well. +Too many times he had seen members of his herd fall stricken at a word +from the glittering sticks they carried in their hands. He uttered a +far-ringing snort. + +It was a distinctive sound, beginning rather high on the scale as a loud +whistle and descending into a deep bass bawl. And the Killer knew +perfectly what that sound meant. It was a simple way of saying that the +elk would progress no further down _that_ trail. The bear leaped in wild +fury. + +A growl that was more near a puma-like snarl came from between the bared +teeth, and the great body lunged out with incredible speed. Although the +distance was far, the charge was almost a success. If one second had +intervened before the elk saw the movement, if his muscles had not been +fitted out with invisible wings, he would have fought no more battles +with his herd brethren in the fall. The bull seemed to leap straight up. +His muscles had been set at his first alarm from Turner's smell on the +wind, and they drove forth the powerful limbs as if by a powder +explosion. He was full in the air when the forepaws battered down where +he had been. Then he darted away into the coverts. + +The grizzly knew better than to try to overtake him. Almost rabid with +wrath he turned back to his ambush. + + + + +XV + + +Simon Turner had given Dave very definite instructions concerning his +embassy to Hudson. They were given in the great house that Simon +occupied, in the same room, lighted by the fire's glow, from which +instructions had gone out to the clan so many times before. "The first +thing this Bruce will do," Simon had said, "is to hunt up Hudson--the +one living man that witnessed that agreement between Ross and old +Folger. One reason is that he'll want to verify Linda's story. The next +is to persuade the old man to go down to the courts with him as his +witness. And what you have to do is line him up on our side first." + +Dave had felt Simon's eyes upon him, so he didn't look straight up. "And +that's what the hundred is for?" he asked. + +"Of course. Get the old man's word that he'll tell Bruce he never +witnessed any such agreement. Maybe fifty dollars will do it; the old +trapper is pretty hard up, I reckon. He'd make us a lot of trouble if +Bruce got him as a witness." + +"You think--" Dave's eyes wandered about the room, "you think that's the +best way?" + +"I wouldn't be tellin' you to do it if I didn't think so." Simon +laughed,--a sudden, grim syllable. "Dave, you're a blood-thirsty devil. +I see what you're thinking of--of a safer way to keep him from telling. +But you know the word I sent out. 'Go easy!' That's the wisest course to +follow at present. The valley people pay more attention to such things +than they used to; the fewer the killings, the wiser we will be. If +he'll keep quiet for the hundred let him have it in peace." + +Dave hadn't forgotten. But his features were sharper and more ratlike +than ever when he came in sight of Hudson's camp, just after the fall of +darkness of the second day out. The trapper was cooking his simple +meal,--a blue grouse frying in his skillet, coffee boiling, and flapjack +batter ready for the moment the grouse was done. He was kneeling close +to the coals; the firelight cast a red glow over him, and the picture +started a train of rather pleasing conjectures in Dave's mind. + +He halted in the shadows and stood a moment watching. After all he +wasn't greatly different from the wolf that watched by the deer trail or +the Killer in his ambush, less than a mile distant in the glen. The same +strange, dark passion that was over them both was over him also. One +could see it in the almost imperceptible drawing back of his dark lips +over his teeth. There was just a hint of it in the lurid eyes. + +Dave's thought returned to the hundred dollars in his pocket,--a good +sum in the hills. A brass rifle cartridge, such as he could fire in the +thirty-thirty that he carried in the hollow of his arm, cost only about +six cents. The net gain would be--the figures flew quickly through his +mind--ninety-nine dollars and ninety-four cents; quite a good piece of +business for Dave. But the trouble was that Simon might find out. + +It was not, he remembered, that Simon was adverse to this sort of +operation when necessary. Perhaps the straight-out sport of the thing +meant more to him than to Dave; he was a braver man and more primitive +in impulse. There were certain memory pictures in Dave's mind of this +younger, more powerful brother of his; and he smiled grimly when he +recalled them. They had been wild, strange scenes of long ago, usually +in the pale light of the moon, and he could recall Simon's face with +singular clearness. There had always been the same drawing back of the +lips, the same gusty breathing, the same strange little flakes of fire +in the savage eyes. He had always trembled all over too, but not from +fear; and Dave remembered especially well the little drama outside +Matthew Folger's cabin in the darkness. He was no stranger to the blood +madness, this brother of his, and the clan had high hopes for him even +in his growing days. And he had fulfilled those hopes. Never could the +fact be doubted! He could still make a fresh notch in his rifle stock +with the same rapture. But the word had gone out, for the present at +least, to "go easy." Such little games as occurred to Dave now--as he +watched the trapper in the firelight with one hundred dollars of the +clan's money in his own pocket--had been prohibited until further +notice. + +The thing looked so simple that Dave squirmed all over with annoyance. +It hurt him to think that the hundred dollars that he carried was to be +passed over, without a wink of an eye, to this bearded trapper; and the +only return for it was to be a promise that Hudson would not testify in +Bruce's behalf. And a hundred dollars was real money! It was to be +thought of twice. On the other hand, it would be wholly impossible for +one that lies face half-buried in the pine needles beside a dead fire to +make any kind of testimony whatsoever. It would come to the same thing, +and the hundred dollars would still be in his pocket. Just a little +matter of a single glance down his rifle barrel at the figure in the +silhouette of the fire glow--and a half-ounce of pressure on the hair +trigger. Half jesting with himself, he dropped on one knee and raised +the weapon. The trapper did not guess his presence. The blood leaped in +Dave's veins. + +It would be so easy; the drawing back of the hammer would be only the +work of a second; and an instant's peering through the sights was all +that would be needed further. His body trembled as if with passion, as +he started to draw back the hammer. + +But he caught himself with a wrench. He had a single second of vivid +introspection; and what he saw filled his cunning eyes with wonder. +There would have been no holding back, once the rifle was cocked and he +saw the man through the sights. The blood madness would have been too +strong to resist. He felt as might one who, taking a few injections of +morphine on prescription, finds himself inadvertently with a loaded +needle in his hands. He knew a moment of remorse--so overwhelming that +it was almost terror--that the shedding of blood had become so easy to +him. He hadn't known how easy it had been to learn. He didn't know that +a vice is nothing but a lust that has been given free play so many times +that the will can no longer restrain it. + +But the sight of Hudson's form, sitting down now to his meal, dispelled +his remorse quickly. After all, his own course would have been the +simplest way to handle the matter. There would be no danger that Hudson +would double-cross them then. But he realized that Simon had spoken true +when he said that the old days were gone, that the arm of the law +reached farther than formerly, and it might even stretch to this far +place. He remembered Simon's instructions. "The quieter we can do these +things, the better," the clan leader had said. "If we can get through to +October thirtieth with no killings, the safer it is for us. We don't +know how the tenderfeet in the valley are going to act--there isn't the +same feeling about blood-feuds that there used to be. Go easy, Dave. +Sound this Hudson out. If he'll keep still for a hundred, let him have +it in peace." + +Dave slipped his rifle into the hollow of his arm and continued on down +the trail. He didn't try to stalk. In a moment Hudson heard his step and +looked up. They met in a circle of firelight. + +It is not the mountain way to fraternize quickly, nor are the mountain +men quick to show astonishment. Hudson had not seen another human being +since his last visit to the settlements. Yet his voice indicated no +surprise at this visitation. + +"Howdy," he grunted. + +"Howdy," Dave replied. "How about grub?" + +"Help yourself. Supper just ready." + +Dave helped himself to the food of the man that, a moment before, he +would have slain; and in the light of the high fire that followed the +meal, he got down to the real business of the visit. + +Dave knew that a fairly straight course was best. It was general +knowledge through the hills that the Turners had gouged the Rosses of +their lands and it was absurd to think that Hudson did not realize the +true state of affairs. "I suppose you've forgotten that little deed you +witnessed between old Mat Folger and Ross--twenty years ago," Dave began +easily, his pipe between his teeth. + +Hudson turned with a cunning glitter in his eyes. Dave saw it and grew +bolder. "Who wants me to forget it?" Hudson demanded. + +"I ain't said that anybody wants you to," Dave responded. "I asked if +you had." + +Hudson was still a moment, stroking absently his beard. "If you want to +know," he said, "I ain't forgotten. But there wasn't just a deed. There +was an agreement too." + +Dave nodded. Hudson's eyes traveled to his rifle,--for the simple reason +that he wanted to know just how many jumps he would be obliged to make +to reach it in case of emergencies. Such things are good to know in +meetings like this. + +"I know all about that agreement," Dave confessed. + +"You do, eh? So do I. I ain't likely to forget." + +Dave studied him closely. "What good is it going to do you to remember?" +he demanded. + +"I ain't saying that it's going to do me any good. At present I ain't +got nothing against the Turners. They've always been all right to me. +What's between them and the Rosses is past and done--although I know +just in what way Folger held that land and no transfer from him to you +was legal. But that's all part of the past. As long as the Turners +continue to be my friends I don't see why anything should be said about +it." + +Dave did not misunderstand him. He didn't in the least assume that these +friendly words meant that he could go back to the ranches with the +hundred dollars still in his pocket. It meant merely that Hudson was +open to reason and it wouldn't have to be a shooting affair. + +Dave speculated. It was wholly plain that the old man had not yet heard +of Bruce's return. There was no need to mention him. "We're glad you are +our friend," Dave went on. "But we don't expect no one to stay friends +with us unless they benefit to some small extent by it. How many furs do +you hope to take this year?" + +"Not enough to pay to pack out. Maybe two hundred dollars in bounties +before New Year--coyotes and wolves. Maybe a little better in the three +months following in furs." + +"Then maybe fifty or seventy-five dollars, without bothering to set the +traps, wouldn't come in so bad." + +"It wouldn't come in bad, but it doesn't buy much these days. A hundred +would do better." + +"A hundred it is," Dave told him with finality. + +The eyes above the dark beard shone in the firelight. "I'd forget I had +a mother for a hundred dollars," he said. He watched, greedily, as +Dave's gaunt hand went into his pocket. "I'm gettin' old, Dave. Every +dollar is harder for me to get. The wolves are gettin' wiser, the mink +are fewer. There ain't much that I wouldn't do for a hundred dollars +now. You know how it is." + +Yes, Dave knew. The money changed hands. The fire burned down. They sat +a long time, deep in their own thoughts. + +"All we ask," Dave said, "is that you don't take sides against us." + +"I'll remember. Of course you want me, in case I'm ever subpoenaed, to +recall signing the deed itself." + +"Yes, we'd want you to testify to that." + +"Of course. If there hadn't been any kind of a deed, Folger couldn't +have deeded the property to you. But how would it be, if any one asks me +about it, to swear that there _never was_ no secret agreement, but a +clear transfer; and to make it sound reasonable for me to say--to say +that Ross was forced to deed the land to Folger because he'd had +goings-on with Folger's wife, and Folger was about to kill him?" + +The only response, at first, was the slightest, almost imperceptible +narrowing of Dave's eyes. He had considerable native cunning, but such +an idea as this had never occurred to him. But he was crafty enough to +see its tremendous possibilities at once. All that either Simon or +himself had hoped for was that the old man would not testify in Bruce's +behalf. But he saw that such a story, coming from the apparently honest +old trapper, might have a profound effect upon Bruce. Dave understood +human nature well enough to know that he would probably lose faith in +the entire enterprise. To Bruce it had been nothing but an old woman's +story, after all; it was wholly possible that he would relinquish all +effort to return the lands to Linda Ross. Men always can believe +stranger things of sex than any other thing; Bruce would in all +probability find Hudson's story much more logical than the one Linda had +told him under the pine. It was worth one hundred dollars, after all. + +"I'll bet you could make him swallow it, hook, bait, and sinker," Dave +responded at last, flattering. They chuckled together in the darkness. +Then they turned to the blankets. + +"I'll show you another trail out to-morrow," Hudson told him. "It comes +into the glen that you passed to-night--the canyon that the Killer has +been using lately for a hunting ground." + + + + +XVI + + +The Killer had had an unsuccessful night. He had waited the long hours +through at the mouth of the trail, but only the Little People--such as +the rabbits and similar folk that hardly constituted a single bite in +his great jaws--had come his way. Now it was morning and it looked as if +he would have to go hungry. + +The thought didn't improve his already doubtful mood. He wanted to +growl. The only thing that kept him from it was the realization that it +would frighten away any living creature that might be approaching toward +him up the trail. He started to stretch his great muscles, intending to +leave his ambush. But all at once he froze again into a lifeless gray +patch in the thickets. + +There were light steps on the trail. Again they were the steps of +deer,--but not of the great, wary elk this time. Instead it was just a +fawn, or a yearling doe at least, such a creature as had not yet learned +to suspect every turn in the trail. The morning light was steadily +growing, the stars were all dimmed or else entirely faded in the sky, +and it would have been highly improbable that a full-grown buck in his +wisdom would draw within leaping range without detecting him. But he +hadn't the slightest doubt about the fawn. They were innocent +people,--and their flesh was very tender. The forest gods had been good +to him, after all. + +He peered through the thickets, and in a moment more he had a glimpse of +the spotted skin. It was almost too easy. The fawn was stealing toward +him with mincing steps--as graceful a creature as dwelt in all this +wilderness world of grace--and its eyes were soft and tender as a +girl's. It was evidently giving no thought to danger, only rejoicing +that the fearful hours of night were done. The mountain lion had already +sought its lair. The fawn didn't know that a worse terror still lingered +at the mouth of the trail. + +But even as the Killer watched, the prize was simply taken out of his +mouth. A gray wolf--a savage old male that also had just finished an +unsuccessful hunt--had been stealing through the thickets in search of a +lair, and he came out on the trail not fifty feet distant, halfway +between the bear and the fawn. The one was almost as surprised as the +other. The fawn turned with a frightened bleat and darted away; the wolf +swung into pursuit. + +The bear lunged forward with a howl of rage. He leaped into the trail +mouth, then ran as fast as he could in pursuit of the running wolf. He +was too enraged to stop to think that a grizzly bear has never yet been +able to overtake a wolf, once the trim legs got well into action. At +first he couldn't think about anything; he had been cheated too many +times. His first impulse was one of tremendous and overpowering +wrath,--a fury that meant death to the first living creature that he +met. + +But in a single second he realized that this wild chase was fairly good +tactics, after all. The chances for a meal were still rather good. The +fawn and the wolf were in the open now, and it was wholly evident that +the gray hunter would overtake the quarry in another moment. It was true +that the Killer would miss the pleasure of slaying his own game,--the +ecstatic blow to the shoulder and the bite to the throat that followed +it. In this case, the wolf would do that part of the work for him. It +was just a simple matter of driving the creature away from his dead. + +The fawn reached the stream bank, then went bounding down the margin. +The distance shortened between them. It was leaping wildly, already +almost exhausted; the wolf raced easily, body close to the ground, in +long, tireless strides. The grizzly bear sped behind him. + +But at that instant fate took a hand in this merry little chase. To the +fawn, it was nothing but a sharp clang of metal behind him and an +answering shriek of pain,--sounds that in its terror it heard but dimly. +But it was an unlooked-for and tragic reality to the wolf. His leap was +suddenly arrested in mid-air, and he was hurled to the ground with +stunning force. Cruel metal teeth had seized his leg, and a strong chain +held him when he tried to escape. He fought it with desperate savagery. +The fawn leaped on to safety. + +But there was no need of the grizzly continuing its pursuit. Everything +had turned out quite well for him, after all. A wolf is ever so much +more filling than any kind of seasonal fawn; and the old gray pack +leader was imprisoned and helpless in one of Hudson's traps. + + * * * * * + +In the first gray of morning, Dave Turner started back toward his home. +"I'll go with you to the forks in the trail," Hudson told him. "I want +to take a look at some of my traps, anyhow." + +Turner had completed his business none too soon. At the same hour--as +soon as it was light enough to see--Bruce was finishing his breakfast in +preparation for the last lap of his journey. He had passed the night by +a spring on a long ridge, almost in eye range of Hudson's camp. Now he +was preparing to dip down into the Killer's glen. + +Turner and Hudson followed up the little creek, walking almost in +silence. It is a habit all mountain men fall into, sooner or later,--not +to waste words. The great silences of the wild places seem to forbid it. +Hudson walked ahead, Turner possibly a dozen feet behind him. And +because of the carpet of pine needles, the forest creatures could hardly +hear them come. + +Occasionally they caught glimpses of the wild life that teemed about +them, but they experienced none of the delight that had made the two-day +tramp such a pleasure to Bruce. Hudson thought in terms of pelts only; +no creature that did not wear a marketable hide was worth a glance. +Turner did not feel even this interest. + +The first of Hudson's sets proved empty. The second was about a turn in +the creek, and a wall of brush made it impossible for him to tell at a +distance whether or not he had made a catch. But when still a quarter of +a mile distant, Hudson heard a sound that he thought he recognized. It +was a high, sharp, agonized bark that dimmed into a low whine. "I +believe I've got a coyote or a wolf up there," he said. They hastened +their steps. + +"And you use that little pea-gun for wolves?" Dave Turner asked. He +pointed to the short-barreled, twenty-two caliber rifle that was slung +on the trapper's back. "It doesn't look like it would kill a mosquito." + +"A killer gun," Hudson explained. "For polishin' 'em off when they are +alive in the traps. Of course, it wouldn't be no good more'n ten feet +away, and then you have to aim at a vital spot. But I've heard tell of +animals I wouldn't want to meet with that thirty-thirty of yours." + +This was true enough. Dave had heard of them also. A thirty-thirty is a +powerful weapon, but it isn't an elephant gun. They hurried on, Dave +very anxious to watch the execution that would shortly ensue if whatever +animal had cried from the trap was still alive. Such things were only +the day's work to Hudson, but Dave felt a little tingle of anticipation. +And the thought damned him beyond redemption. + +But instead of the joy of killing a cowering, terror-stricken animal, +helpless in the trap, the wilderness had made other plans for Hudson and +Dave. They hastened about the impenetrable wall of brush, and in one +glance they knew that more urgent business awaited them. + +The whole picture loomed suddenly before their eyes. There was no wolf +in the trap. The steel had sprung, certainly, but only a hideous +fragment of a foot remained between the jaws. The bone had been broken +sharply off, as a man might break a match in his fingers. There was no +living wolf for Hudson to execute with his killer gun. Life had gone out +of the gray body many minutes before. The two men saw all these things +as a background only,--dim details about the central figure. But the +thing that froze them in their tracks with terror was the great, gray +form of the Killer, not twenty feet distant, beside the mangled body of +the wolf. + +The events that followed thereafter came in such quick succession as to +seem simultaneous. For one fraction of an instant all three figures +stood motionless, the two men staring, the grizzly half-leaning over his +prey, his head turned, his little red eyes full of hatred. Too many +times this night he had missed his game. It was the same intrusion that +had angered him before,--slight figures to break to pieces with one +blow. Perhaps--for no man may trace fully the mental processes of +animals--his fury fully transcended the fear that he must have +instinctively felt; at least, he did not even attempt to flee. He +uttered one hoarse, savage note, a sound in which all his hatred and his +fury and his savage power were made manifest, whirled with incredible +speed, and charged. + +The lunge seemed only a swift passing of gray light. No eye could +believe that the vast form could move with such swiftness. There was +little impression of an actual leap. Rather it was just a blow; the +great form, huddled over the dead wolf, had simply reached the full +distance to Hudson. + +The man did not even have time to turn. There was no defense; his +killer-gun was strapped on his back, and even if it had been in his +hands, its little bullet would not have mattered the sting of a bee in +honey-robbing. The only possible chance of breaking that deadly charge +lay in the thirty-thirty deer rifle in Dave's arms; but the craven who +held it did not even fire. He was standing just below the outstretched +limb of a tree, and the weapon fell from his hands as he swung up into +the limb. The fact that Hudson stood weaponless, ten feet away in the +clearing, did not deter him in the least. + +No human flesh could stand against that charge. The vast paw fell with +resistless force; and no need arose for a second blow. The trapper's +body was struck down as if felled by a meteor, and the power of the +impact forced it deep into the carpet of pine needles. The savage +creature turned, the white fangs caught the light in the open mouth. The +head lunged toward the man's shoulder. + +No man may say what agony Hudson would have endured in the last few +seconds of his life if the Killer had been given time and opportunity. +His usual way was to linger long, sharp fangs closing again and again, +until all living likeness was destroyed. The blood-lust was upon him; +there would have been no mercy to the dying creature in the pine +needles. Yet it transpired that Hudson's flesh was not to know those +rending fangs a second time. Although it is an unfamiliar thing in the +wilderness, the end of Hudson's trail was peaceful, after all. + +On the hillside above, a stranger to this land had dropped to his knee +in the shrubbery, his rifle lifted to the level of his eyes. It was +Bruce, who had come in time to see the charge through a rift in the +trees. + + + + +XVII + + +There were deep significances in the fact that Bruce kept his head in +this moment of crisis. It meant nothing less than an iron self-control +such as only the strongest men possess, and it meant nerves steady as +steel bars. + +The bear was on Hudson, and the man had gone down, before Bruce even +interpreted him. Then it was just a gray patch, a full three hundred +yards away. His instinct was to throw the gun to his shoulder and fire +without aiming; yet he conquered it with an iron will. But he did move +quickly. He dropped to his knee the single second that the gun leaped to +his shoulder. He seemed to know that from a lower position the target +would be more clearly revealed. The finger pressed back against the +trigger. + +The distance was far; Bruce was not a practiced rifle shot, and it +bordered on the miraculous that his lead went anywhere near the bear's +body. And it was true that the bullet did not reach a vital place. It +stung like a wasp at the Killer's flank, however, cutting a shallow +flesh wound. But it was enough to take his dreadful attention from the +mortally wounded trapper in the pine needles. + +He whirled about, growling furiously and biting at the wound. Then he +stood still, turning his gaze first to the pale face of Dave Turner +thirty feet above him in the pine. The eyes glowed in fury and hatred. +He had found men out at last; they died even more easily than the fawn. +He started to turn back to the fallen, and the rifle spoke again. + +It was a complete miss, this time; yet the bear leaped in fear when the +bullet thwacked into the dust beside him. He did not wait for a third. +His caution suddenly returning to him, and perhaps his anger somewhat +satiated by the blow he had dealt Hudson, he crashed into the security +of the thicket. + +Bruce waited a single instant, hoping for another glimpse of the +creature; then ran down to aid Hudson. But in driving the bear from the +trapper's helpless body he had already given all the aid that he could. +Understanding came quickly. He had arrived only in time for the +Departure,--just a glimpse of a light as it faded. The blow had been +more than any human being could survive; even now Hudson was entering +upon that strange calm which often, so mercifully, immediately precedes +death. + +He opened his eyes and looked with some wonder into Bruce's face. The +light in them was dimming, fading like a twilight, yet there was +indication of neither confusion nor delirium. Hudson, in that last +moment of his life, was quite himself. + +There was, however, some indication of perplexity at the peculiar turn +affairs had taken. "You're not Dave Turner," he said wonderingly. + +Dim though the voice was, there was considerable emphasis in the tone. +Hudson seemed quite sure of this point, whether or not he knew anything +concerning the dark gates he was about to enter. He wouldn't have spoken +greatly different if he had been sitting in perfect health before his +own camp fire and the shadow was now already so deep his eyes could +scarcely penetrate it. + +"No," Bruce answered. "Dave Turner is up a tree. He didn't even wait to +shoot." + +"Of course he wouldn't." Hudson spoke with assurance. The words dimmed +at the end, and he half-closed his eyes as if he were too sleepy to stay +awake longer. Then Bruce saw a strange thing. He saw, unmistakable as +the sun in the sky, the signs of a curious struggle in the man's face. +There was a singular deepening of the lines, a twitching of the muscles, +a queer set to the lips and jaws. They were as much signs of battle as +the sound of firing a general hears from far away. + +The trapper--a moment before sinking into the calm of death--was +fighting desperately for a few moments of respite. There could be no +other explanation. And he won it at last,--an interlude of half a dozen +breaths. "Who are you?" he whispered. + +Bruce bowed his head until his ear was close to the lips. "Bruce +Folger," he answered,--for the first time in his knowledge speaking his +full name. "Son of Matthew Folger who lived at Trail's End long ago." + +The man still struggled. "I knew it," he said. "I saw it--in your face. +I see--everything now. Listen--can you hear me?" + +"Yes." + +"I just did a wrong--there's a hundred dollars in my pocket that I just +got for doing it. I made a promise--to lie to you. Take the money--it +ought to be yours, anyway--and hers; and use it toward fighting the +wrong. It will go a little way." + +"Yes," Bruce looked him full in the eyes. "No matter about the money. +What did you promise Turner?" + +"That I'd lie to you. Grip my arms with your hands--till it hurts. I've +only got one breath more. Your father held those lands only in +trust--the Turners' deed is forged. And the secret agreement that I +witnessed is hidden--" + +The breath seemed to go out of the man. Bruce shook him by the +shoulders. Dave, still in the tree, strained to hear the rest. +"Yes--where?" + +"It's hidden--just--out--" The words were no longer audible to Dave, and +what followed Bruce also strained to hear in vain. The lips ceased +moving. The shadow grew in the eyes, and the lids flickered down over +them. A traveler had gone. + +Bruce got up, a strange, cold light in his eyes. He glanced up. Dave +Turner was climbing slowly down the tree. Bruce made six strides and +seized his rifle. + +The effect on Dave was ludicrous. He clung fast to the tree limbs, as if +he thought a bullet--like a grizzly's claws--could not reach him there. +Bruce laid the gun behind him, then stood waiting with his own weapon +resting in his arms. + +"Come down, Dave," he commanded. "The bear is gone." + +Dave crept down the trunk and halted at its base. He studied the cold +face before him. "Better not try nothing," he advised hoarsely. + +"Why not?" Bruce asked. "Do you think I'm afraid of a coward?" The man +started at the words; his head bobbed backward as if Bruce had struck +him beneath the jaw with his fist. + +"People don't call the Turners cowards and walk off with it," the man +told him. + +"Oh, the lowest coward!" Bruce said between set teeth. "The yellowest, +mongrel coward! Your own confederate--and you had to drop your gun and +run up a tree. You might have stopped the bear's charge." + +Dave's face twisted in a scowl. "You're brave enough now. Wait to see +what happens later. Give me my gun. I'm going to go." + +"You can go, but you don't get your gun. I'll fill you full of lead if +you try to touch it." + +Dave looked up with some care. He wanted to know for certain if this +tenderfoot meant what he said. The man was blind in some things, his +vision was twisted and dark, but he made no mistake about the look on +the cold, set face before him. Bruce's finger was curled about the +trigger, and it looked to Dave as if it itched to exert further +pressure. + +"I don't see why I spare you, anyway," Bruce went on. His tone was +self-reproachful. "God knows I hadn't ought to--remembering who and what +you are. If you'd only give me one little bit of provocation--" + +Dave saw lurid lights growing in the man's eyes; and all at once a +conclusion came to him. He decided he'd make no further effort to regain +the gun. His life was rather precious to him, strangely, and it was +wholly plain that a dread and terrible passion was slowly creeping over +his enemy. He could see it in the darkening face, the tight grip of the +hands on the rifle stock. His own sharp features grew more cunning. "You +ought to be glad I didn't stop the bear with my rifle," he said +hurriedly. "I had Hudson bribed--you wouldn't have found out something +that you did find out if he hadn't lain here dying. You wouldn't have +learned--" + +But the sentence died in the middle. Bruce made answer to it. For once +in his life Dave's cunning had not availed him; he had said the last +thing in the world that he should have said, the one thing that was +needed to cause an explosion. He hadn't known that some men have +standards other than self gain. And some small measure of realization +came to him when he felt the dust his full length under him. + +Bruce's answer had been a straight-out blow with his fist, with all his +strength behind it, in the very center of his enemy's face. + + + + +XVIII + + +In his years of residence at Trail's End, Dave Turner had acquired a +thorough knowledge of all its paths. That knowledge stood him in good +stead now. He wished to cross the ridges to Simon's house at least an +hour before Bruce could return to Linda. + +He traveled hard and late, and he reached Simon's door just before +sundown of the second day. Bruce was still a full two hours distant. But +Dave did not stay to knock. It was chore-time, and he thought he would +find Simon in his barn, supervising the feeding and care of the +livestock. He had guessed right, and the two men had a moment's talk in +the dusky passage behind the stalls. + +"I've brought news," Dave said. + +Simon made no answer at first. The saddle pony in the stall immediately +in front of them, frightened at Dave's unfamiliar figure, had crowded, +trembling, against his manger. Simon's red eyes watched him; then he +uttered a short oath. He took two strides into the stall and seized the +halter rope in his huge, muscular hand. Three times he jerked it with a +peculiar, quartering pull, a curbing that might have been ineffective by +a man of ordinary strength, but with the incomprehensible might of the +great forearm behind it was really terrible punishment. Dave thought for +a moment his brother would break the animal's neck; the whites began to +show about the soft, dark pupils of its eyes. The strap over the head +broke with the fourth pull; then the horse recoiled, plunging and +terrified, into the opposite corner of the stall. + +Simon leaped with shattering power at the creature's shoulders, his huge +arms encircled its neck, his shoulders heaved, and he half-threw it to +the floor. Then, as it staggered to rise, his heavy fist flailed against +its neck. Again and again he struck, and in the half-darkness of the +stable it was a dreadful thing to behold. The man's fury, always quickly +aroused, was upon him; his brawny form moved with the agility of a +panther. Even Dave, whose shallow eyes were usually wont to feast on +cruelty, viewed the scene with some alarm. It wasn't that he was moved +by the agony of the horse. But he did remember that horses cost money, +and Simon seemed determined to kill the animal before his passion was +spent. + +The horse cowered, and in a moment more it was hard to remember he was a +member of a noble, high-spirited breed,--a swift runner, brainy as a +dog, a servant faithful and worthy. It was no longer easy to think of +him as a creature of beauty,--and there is no other word than beauty for +these long-maned, long-tailed, trim-lined animals. He stood quiet at +last, his head hanging low, knees bent, eyes curiously sorrowful and +dark. Simon fastened the broken strap about his neck, gave it one more +jerk that almost knocked the animal off his feet, then turned back to +Dave. Except for a higher color in his cheeks, darker lights in his +eyes, and an almost imperceptible quickening of his breathing, it did +not seem as if he had moved. + +"You're always bringing news," he said. + +Dave opened his eyes. He had forgotten his own words in the tumult of +the fight he had just watched, but plainly Simon hadn't forgotten. He +opened his mouth to speak. + +"Well, what is it? Out with it," his brother urged. "If it's as +important as some of the other news you've brought don't take my time." + +"All right," the other replied sullenly. "You don't have to hear it. But +I'm telling you it's of real importance this time--and sometime you'll +find out." He scowled into the dark face. "But suit yourself." + +He turned as if to go. He rather thought that Simon would call him back. +It would be, in a measure, a victory. But Simon went back to his +inspection of the stalls. + +Dave walked clear to the door, then turned. "Don't be a fool, Simon," he +urged. "Listen to what I have to tell you. Bruce Folger knows where that +secret agreement is." + +For once in his life Dave got a response of sufficient emphasis to +satisfy him. His brother whirled, his whole expression undergoing an +immediate and startling change. If there was one emotion that Dave had +never seen on Simon's face it was fear,--and he didn't know for certain +that he saw it now. But there was alarm--unmistakable--and surprise +too. + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. + +Dave exulted inwardly. His brother's response had almost made up for the +evil news that he brought. For Dave's fortunes, as well as Simon's, +depended on the vast fertile tract being kept in the clan's possession. +His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. For the first time in his life, as +far as Dave could remember, Simon had encountered a situation that he +had not immediately mastered. Perhaps it was the beginning of Simon's +downfall, which meant--by no great stretch of the imagination--the +advancement of Dave. But in another second of clear thinking Dave knew +that in his brother's strength lay his own; if this mighty force at the +head of the clan was weakening, no hope remained for any of them. His +own face grew anxious. + +"Out with it," Simon stormed. His tone was really urgent now, not +insolent as usual. "Good Lord, man, don't you know that if Bruce gets +that down to the settlements before the thirtieth of next month we're +lost--and nothing in this world can save us? We can't drive _him_ off, +like we drove the Rosses. There's too much law down in the valleys. If +he's got that paper, there's only one thing to do. Help me saddle a +horse." + +"Wait a minute. I didn't say he had it. I only said he knew where it +was. He's still an hour or two walk from here, toward Little River, and +if we have to wait for him on the trail, we've got plenty of time. And +of course I ain't quite sure he _does_ know where it is." + +Simon smiled mirthlessly. "The news is beginning to sound like the rest +of yours." + +"Old Hudson is dead," Dave went on. "And don't look at me--I didn't do +it. I wish I had, though, first off. For once my judgment was better +than yours. The Killer got him." + +"Yes. Go on." + +"I was with him when it happened. My gun got jammed so I couldn't +shoot." + +"Where is it now?" + +Dave scrambled in vain for a story to explain the loss of his weapon to +Bruce, and the one that came out at last didn't do him particular +credit. "I--I threw the damn thing away. Wish I hadn't now, but it made +me so mad by jamming--it was a fool trick. Maybe I can go back after it +and find it." + +Simon smiled again. "Very good so far," he commented. + +Dave flushed. "Bruce was there too--fact is, creased the bear--and the +last minute before he died Hudson told him where the agreement was +hidden. I couldn't hear all he said--I was too far away--but I heard +enough to think that he told Bruce the hiding, place. It was natural +Hudson would know it, and we were fools for not asking him about it long +ago." + +"And why didn't you get that information away from Bruce with your gun?" + +"Didn't I tell you the thing was jammed? If it hadn't of been for that, +I'd done something more than find out where it is. I'd stopped this +nonsense once and for all, and let a hole through that tenderfoot big +enough to see through. _Then_ there'd never be any more trouble. It's +the thing to do now." + +Simon looked at his brother's face with some wonder. More crafty and +cunning, Dave was like the coyote in that he didn't yield so quickly to +fury as that gray wolf, his brother. But when it did come, it seared +him. It had come now. Simon couldn't mistake the fact; he saw it plain +in the glowing eyes, the clenched hands, the drawn lips. Dave was +remembering the pain of the blow Bruce had given him, and the smart of +the words that had preceded it. + +"You and he must have had a little session down there by the creek," +Simon suggested slowly, "when your gun was jammed. Of course, he took +the gun. What's the use of trying to lie to me?" + +"He did. What could I do?" + +"And now you want him potted--from ambush." + +"What's the use of waiting? Who'd know?" The two men stood face to face +in the quiet and deepening dusk of the barn; and there was growing +determination on each face. "Every day our chance is less and less," +Dave went on. "We've been thinking we're safe, but if he knows where +that agreement is, we're not safe at all. How would you like to get +booted off these three thousand acres now, just after we've all got +attached to them? To start making our living as day laborers--and maybe +face a hangin' for some things of long ago? With this land behind him, +he'd be in a position to pay old debts, I'm telling you. We're not +secure, and you know it. The law doesn't forget, and it doesn't forgive. +We've been fooling away our time ever since we knew he was coming. We +should have met him on the trail and let the buzzards talk to him." + +"Yes," Simon echoed in a strange half-whisper. "Let the buzzards talk to +him." + +Dave took fresh heart at the sound of that voice. "No one would have +ever knowed it," he went on. "No one would ever know it now. They'd find +his bones, some time maybe, but there'd be no one to point to. They'd +never get any thing against us. Everybody except the mountain people +have forgotten about this affair. Those in the mountains are too +scattered and few to take any part in it. I tell you--it's all the way, +or no way at all. Tell me to wait for him on the trail." + +"Wait. Wait a minute. How long before he will come?" + +"Any time now. And don't postpone this matter any more. We're men, not +babies. He's not a fool or not a coward, either. He's got his old man's +blood in him--not his mother's to run away. As long as he ain't croaked, +all we've done so far is apt to come to nothing. And there's one thing +more. He's going to take the blood-feud up again." + +"Lots of good it would do him. One against a dozen." + +"But he's a shot--I saw that plain enough--and how'd you like to have +him shoot through _your_ windows some time? Old Elmira and Linda have +set him on, and he's hot for it." + +"I wish you'd got that old heifer when you got her son," Simon said. He +still spoke calmly; but it was plain enough that Dave's words were +having the desired effect. Dave could discern this fact by certain +lights and expressions about the pupils of his brother's eyes, signs +learned and remembered long ago. "So he's taken up the blood-feud, has +he? I thought I gave his father some lessons in that a long time since. +Well, I suppose we must let him have his way!" + +"And remember too," Dave urged, "what you told him when you met him in +the store. You said you wouldn't warn him twice." + +"I remember." The two men were silent, but Dave stood no longer +motionless. The motions that he made, however, were not discernible in +the growing gloom of the barn. He was shivering all over with malice and +fury. + +"Then you've given the word?" he asked. + +"I've given the word, but I'll do it my own way. Listen, Dave." Simon +stood, head bent, deep in thought. "Could you arrange to have Linda and +the old hag out of the house when Bruce gets back?" + +"Yes--" + +"We've got to work this thing right. We can't operate in the open like +we used to. This man has taken up the blood-feud--but the thing to +do--is to let him come to us." + +"But he won't do it. He'll go to the courts first." + +Simon's face grew stern. "I don't want any more interruptions, Dave. I +mean we will want to give the impression that he attacked us first--on +his own free will. What if he comes into our house-a man unknown in +these parts--and something happens to him there--in the dead of night? +It wouldn't look so bad then, would it? Besides--if we got him +here--before the clan, we might be able to find out where that document +is. At least we'll have him here where everything will be in our favor. +First, how can you tell when he's going to come?" + +"He ought to be here very soon. The moon's bright and I can get up on +the ridge and see his shadow through your field glasses when he crosses +the big south pasture. That will give me a full half-hour before he +comes." + +"It's enough. I'm ready to give you your orders now. They are--just to +use your head, and on some pretext get those two women out of the house +so that Bruce can't find them when he returns. Don't let them come back +for an hour, if you can help it. If it works--all right. If it doesn't, +we'll use more direct measures. I'll tend to the rest." + +He strode to the wall and took down a saddle from the hook. Quickly he +threw it over the back of one of the cow ponies, the animal that he had +punished. He put the bridle in Dave's hand. "Stop at the house for the +glasses, then ride to the ridge at once," he ordered. "Then keep +watch." + +Without words Dave led the horse through the door and swung on to its +back. In an instant the wild folk, in the fringe of forest beyond, +paused in their night occupations to listen to the sound of hoof beats +on the turf. Then Simon slowly saddled his own horse. + + + + +XIX + + +The day was quite dead when Dave Turner reached his post on top of the +ridge. The gray of twilight had passed, the forest was lost in darkness, +the stars were all out. The only vestige of daylight that remained was a +pale, red glow over the Western mountains,--and this was more like red +flowers that had been placed on its grave in remembrance. + +Fortunately, the moon rose early. Otherwise Dave's watch would have been +in vain. The soft light wrought strange miracles in the forest: bathing +the tree tops in silver, laying wonderful cobweb tapestries between the +trunks, upsetting the whole perspective as to distance and contour. Dave +didn't have long to wait. At the end of a half-hour he saw, through the +field glasses, the wavering of a strange black shadow on the distant +meadow. Only the vivid quality of the full moon enabled him to see it at +all. + +He tried to get a better focus. It might be just the shadow of deer, +come to browse on the parched grass. Dave felt a little tremor of +excitement at the thought that if it were not Bruce, it was more likely +the last of the grizzlies, the Killer. The previous night the gray +forest king had made an excursion into Simon's pastures and had killed a +yearling calf; in all probability he would return to-night to finish his +feast. In fact, this night would in all probability see the end of the +Killer. Some one of the Turners would wait for him, with a loaded rifle, +in a safe ambush. + +But it wasn't the Killer, after all. It was before his time; besides, +the shadow was too slender to be that of the huge bear. Dave Turner +watched a moment longer, so that there could be no possibility of a +mistake. Bruce was returning; he was little more than a half-hour's walk +from Linda's home. + +Turner swung on his horse, then lashed the animal into a gallop. Less +than five minutes later he drew up to a halt beneath the Sentinel Pine, +almost a mile distant. For the first time, Dave began to move +cautiously. + +It would complicate matters if the two women had already gone to bed. +The hour was early--not yet nine--but the fall of darkness is often the +going-to-bed time of the mountain people. It is warmer there and safer; +and the expense of candles is lessened. Incidentally, it is the natural +course for the human breed,--to bed at nightfall and up at dawn; and +only distortion of nature can change the habit. It is doubtful if even +the earliest men--those curious, long-armed, stiff-thumbed, heavy-jowled +forefathers far remote--were ever night hunters. Like the hawks and most +of the other birds of prey they were content to leave the game trails to +the beasts at night. As life in the mountains gets down to a primitive +basis, most of the hill people soon fall into this natural course. But +to-night Linda and old Elmira were sitting up, waiting for Bruce's +return. + +A candle flame flickered at the window. Dave went up to the door and +knocked. + +"Who's there?" Elmira called. It was a habit learned in the dreadful +days of twenty years ago, not to open a door without at least some +knowledge of who stood without. A lighted doorway sets off a target +almost as well as a field of white sets off a black bull's-eye. + +Dave knew that truth was the proper course. "Dave Turner," he replied. + +A long second of heavy, strange silence ensued. Then the woman spoke +again. There was a new note in her voice, a curious hoarseness, but at +the same time a sense of exultation and excitement. But Dave didn't +notice it. Perhaps the oaken door that the voice came through stripped +away all the overtones; possibly his own perceptions were too blunt to +receive it. He might, however, have been interested in the singular look +of wonder that flashed over Linda's face as she stared at her aged aunt. +Linda was not thinking of Dave. She had forgotten that he stood outside. +His visit was the last thing that either of them expected--except, +perhaps, on some such deadly business as the clan had come years +before--yet she found no space in her thought for him. Her whole +attention was seized and held by the unfamiliar note in her aunt's +voice, and a strange drawing of the woman's features that the closed +door prevented Dave from seeing. It was a look almost of rapture, hardly +to be expected in the presence of an enemy. The dim eyes seemed to glow +in the shadows. It was the look of one who had wandered steep and +unknown trails for uncounted years and sees the distant lights of his +home at last. + +She got up from her chair and moved over to the little pack she had +carried on her back when she had walked up from her cabin. Linda still +gazed at her in growing wonder. The long years seemed to have fallen +away from her; she slipped across the uncarpeted floor with the agility +and silence of a tiger. She always had given the impression of latent +power, but never so much as now. She took some little object from the +bag and slipped it next to her withered and scrawny breast. + +"What do you want?" she called out into the gloom. + +Dave had been getting a little restless in the silence; but the voice +reassured him. "I'll tell you when you open the door. It's something +about Bruce." + +Linda remembered him then. She leaped to the door and flung it wide. She +saw the stars without, the dark fringe of pines against the sky line +behind. She felt the wind and the cool breath of the darkness. But most +of all she saw the cunning, sharp-featured face of Dave Turner, with the +candlelight upon him. The yellow beams were in his eyes too. They seemed +full of guttering lights. + +The few times that Linda had talked to Dave she had always felt uneasy +beneath his speculative gaze. The same sensation swept over her now. She +knew perfectly what she would have had to expect, long since, from this +man, were it not that he had lived in fear of his brother Simon. The +mighty leader of the clan had set a barrier around her as far as +personal attentions went,--and his reasons were obvious. The mountain +girls do not usually attain her perfection of form and face; his desire +for her was as jealous as it was intense and real. This dark-hearted man +of great and terrible emotions did not only know how to hate. In his own +savage way he could love too. Linda hated and feared him, but the +emotion was wholly different from the dread and abhorrence with which +she regarded Dave. "What about Bruce?" she demanded. + +Dave leered. "Do you want to see him? He's lying--up here on the hill." + +The tone was knowing, edged with cruelty; and it had the desired effect. +The color swept from the girl's face. In a single fraction of an instant +it showed stark white in the candlelight. + +There was an instant's sensation of terrible cold. But her voice was +hard and lifeless when she spoke. + +"You mean you've killed him?" she asked simply. + +"We ain't killed him. We've just been teaching him a lesson," Dave +explained. "Simon warned him not to come up--and we've had to talk to +him a little--with fists and heels." + +Linda cried out then, one agonized syllable. She knew what fists and +heels could do in the fights between the mountain men. They are as much +weapons of torture as the claws and fangs of the Killer. She had an +instant's dread picture of this strong man of hers lying maimed and +broken, a battered, whimpering, ineffective thing in the moonlight of +some distant hillside. The vision brought knowledge to her. Even more +clearly than in the second of their kiss, before he had gone to see +Hudson, she realized what an immutable part of her he was. She gazed +with growing horror at Dave's leering face. "Where is he?" she asked. +She remembered, with singular steadfastness, the pistol she had +concealed in her own room. + +"I'll show you. If you want to get him in you'd better bring the old hag +with you. It'll take two of you to carry him." + +"I'll come," the old woman said from across the shadowed room. She spoke +with a curious breathlessness. "I'll go at once." + +The door closed behind the three of them, and they went out into the +moonlit forest. Dave walked first. There was an unlooked-for eagerness +in his motions, but Linda thought that she understood it. It was wholly +characteristic of him that he should find a degenerate rapture in +showing these two women the terrible handiwork of the Turners. He +rejoiced in just this sort of cruelty. She had no suspicion that this +excursion was only a pretext to get the two women away from the house, +and that his eagerness arose from deeper causes. It was true that Dave +exulted in the work, and strangely the fact that it was part of the plot +against Bruce had been almost forgotten in the face of a greater +emotion. He was alone in the darkness with Linda--except of course for a +helpless old woman--and the command of Simon in regard to his attitude +toward her seemed suddenly dim and far away. He led them over a hill, +into the deeper forest. + +He walked swiftly, eagerly; the two women could hardly keep pace with +him. He left the dim trail and skirted about the thickets. No cry for +help could carry from this lonely place. No watchman on a hill could see +what transpired in the heavy coverts. + +So intent was he that he quite failed to observe a singular little +signal between old Elmira and Linda. The woman half turned about, giving +the girl an instant's glimpse of something that she transferred from her +breast to her sleeve. It was slender and of steel, and it caught the +moonlight on its shining surface. + +The girl's eyes glittered when she beheld it. She nodded, scarcely +perceptibly, and the strange file plunged deeper into the shadows. + +Fifteen minutes later Dave drew up to a halt in a little patch of +moonlight, surrounded by a wall of low trees and brush. + +"There's more than one way to make a date for a walk with a pretty +girl," he said. + +The girl stared coldly into his eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +The man laughed harshly. "I mean that Bruce ain't got back yet--he's +still on the other side of Little River, for all I know--" + +"Then why did you bring us here?" + +"Just to be sociable," Dave returned. "I'll tell you, Linda. I wanted to +talk to you. I ain't been in favor of a lot of things Simon's been +doing--to you and your people. I thought maybe you and I would like to +be--friends." + +No one could mistake the emotion behind the strained tone, the peculiar +languor in the furtive eyes. The girl drew back, shuddering. "I'm going +back," she told him. + +"Wait. I'll take you back soon. Let's have a kiss and make friends. The +old lady won't look--" + +He laughed again, a hoarse sound that rang far through the silences. He +moved toward her, hands reaching. She backed away. Then she half-tripped +over an outstretched root. + +The next instant she was in his arms, struggling against their steel. +She didn't waste words in pleading. A sob caught at her throat, and she +fought with all her strength against the drawn, nearing face. She had +forgotten Elmira; in this dreadful moment of terror and danger the old +woman's broken strength seemed too little to be of aid. And Dave thought +her as helpless to oppose him as the tall pines that watched from above +them. + +His wild laughter obscured the single sound that she made, a strange cry +that seemed lacking in all human quality. Rather it was such a sound as +a puma utters as it leaps upon its prey. It was the articulation of a +whole life of hatred that had come to a crisis at last,--of deadly and +terrible triumph after a whole decade of waiting. If Dave had discerned +that cry in time he would have hurled Linda from his arms to leap into a +position of defense. The desire for women in men goes down to the roots +of the world, but self-preservation is a deeper instinct still. + +But he didn't hear it in time. Elmira had not struck with her knife. The +distance was too far for that. But she swung her cane with all her +force. The blow caught the man at the temple, his arms fell away from +the girl's body, he staggered grotesquely in the carpet of pine needles. +Then he fell face downward. + +"His belt, quick!" the woman cried. No longer was her voice that of +decrepit age. The girl struggled with herself, wrenched back her +self-control, and leaped to obey her aunt. They snatched the man's belt +from about his waist, and the women locked it swiftly about his ankles. +With strong, hard hands they drew his wrists back of him and tied them +tight with the long bandana handkerchief he wore about his neck. They +worked almost in silence, with incredible rapidity and deftness. + +The man was waking now, stirring in his unconsciousness, and swiftly the +old woman cut the buckskin thongs from his tall logging boots. These +also she twisted about the wrists, knotting them again and again, and +pulling them so tight they were almost buried in the lean flesh. Then +they turned him face upward to the moon. + +The two women stood an instant, breathing hard. "What now?" Linda asked. +And a shiver of awe went over her at the sight of the woman's face. + +"Nothing more, Linda," she answered, in a distant voice. "Leave Dave +Turner to me." + +It was a strange picture. Womanhood--the softness and tenderness which +men have learned to associate with the name--seemed fallen away from +Linda and Elmira. They were only avengers,--like the she-bear that +fights for her cubs or the she-wolf that guards the lair. There was no +more mercy in them than in the females of the lower species. The moon +flooded the place with silver, the pines were dark and impassive as ever +above them. + +Dave wakened. They saw him stir. They watched him try to draw his arms +from behind him. It was just a faint, little-understanding pull at +first. Then he wrenched and tugged with all his strength, flopping +strangely in the dirt. The effort increased until it was some way +suggestive of an animal in the death struggle,--a fur bearer dying in +the trap. + +Terror was upon him. It was in his wild eyes and his moonlit face; it +was in the desperation and frenzy of his struggles. And the two women +saw it and smiled into each other's eyes. + +Slowly his efforts ceased. He lay still in the pine needles. He turned +his head, first toward Linda, then to the inscrutable, dark face of the +old woman. As understanding came to him, the cold drops emerged upon his +swarthy skin. + +"Good God!" he asked. "What are you going to do?" + +"I'm going back," Linda answered. "You had some other purpose in +bringing me out here--or you wouldn't have brought Elmira, too. I'm +going back to wait for Bruce." + +"And you and I will linger here," Elmira told him. "We have many things +to say to each other. We have many things to do. About my Abner--there +are many things you'll want to hear of him." + +The last vestige of the man's spirit broke beneath the words. Abner had +been old Elmira's son,--a youth who had laughed often, and the one hope +of the old woman's declining years. And he had fallen before Dave's +ambush in a half-forgotten fight of long years before. + +The man shivered in his bonds. Linda turned to go. The silence of the +wilderness deepened about them. "Oh, Linda, Linda," the man called. +"Don't leave me. Don't leave me here with her!" he pleaded. +"Please--please don't leave me in this devil's power. Make her let me +go." + +But Linda didn't seem to hear. The brush crackled and rustled; and the +two--this dark-hearted man and the avenger--were left together. + + + + +XX + + +The homeward journey over the ridges had meant only pleasure to Bruce. +Every hour of it had brought a deeper and more intimate knowledge of the +wilderness. The days had been full of little, nerve-tingling adventures, +and the nights full of peace. And beyond all these, there was the hope +of seeing Linda again at the end of the trail. + +Thoughts of her hardly ever left him throughout the long tramp. She had +more than fulfilled every expectation. It was true that he had found no +one of his own kin, as he had hoped; but the fact opened up new +possibilities that would have been otherwise forbidden. + +It was strange how he remembered her kiss. He had known other kisses in +his days--being a purely rational and healthy young man--but there had +been nothing of immortality about them. Their warmth had died quickly, +and they had been forgotten. They were just delights of moonlight nights +and nothing more. But he would wake up from his dreams at night to feel +Linda's kiss still upon his lips. To recall it brought a strange +tenderness,--a softening of all the hard outlines of his picture of +life. It changed his viewpoint; it brought him a knowledge of a joy and +a gentleness that could exist even in this stern world of wilderness and +pines. With her face lingering before his eyes, the ridges themselves +seemed less stern and forbidding; there were softer messages in the +wind's breath; the drama of the wild that went on about him seemed less +remorseless and cruel. + +He remembered the touch of her hands. They had been so cool, so gentle. +He remembered the changing lights in her dark eyes. Life had opened up +new vistas to him. Instead of a stern battleground, he began to realize +that it had a softer, gentler, kinder side,--a place where there could +be love as well as hatred, peace as well as battle, cheery homes and +firesides and pleasant ways and laughter instead of cold ways and lonely +trails and empty hearts and grim thoughts. Perhaps, if all went well, +tranquillity might come to him after all. Perhaps he might even know the +tranquil spirit of the pines. + +These were mating days. It was true that the rutting season had not, in +reality, commenced. The wolf pack had not yet gathered, and would not +until after the heavy frosts. But the bucks had begun to rub the velvet +from their horns so that they would be hard and sharp for the fights to +come. And these would be savage battles--with death at the end of many +of them. But perhaps the joys that would follow--the roving, mating days +with the does--would more than make up for their pain. The trim females +were seen less often with their fawns; and they seemed strangely +restless and tremulous, perhaps wondering what fortune the fall would +have for them in the way of a mate. + +The thought gave Bruce pleasure. He could picture the deer herd in the +fall,--the proud buck in the lead, ready to fight all contenders, his +harem of does, and what fawns and young bucks he permitted to follow +him. They would make stealing journeys down to the foothills to avoid +the snow, and all manner of pleasures would be theirs in the gentler +temperatures of the lowlands. They would know crisp dawns and breathless +nights, long runnings into the valleys, and to the does the realization +of motherhood when the spring broke. + +But aside from his contemplations of Linda, the long tramp had many +delights for him. He rejoiced in every manifestation of the wild life +about him, whether it was a bushy-tailed old gray squirrel, watching him +from a tree limb, a magpie trying its best to insult him, or the +fleeting glimpse of a deer in the coverts. Once he saw the black form of +Ashur the bear, mumbling and grunting as he searched under rotten logs +for grubs. But he didn't see the Killer again. He didn't particularly +care to do so. + +He kept his rifle ready during the day for game, but he shot only what +he needed. He did not attempt to kill the deer. He knew that he would +have no opportunity to care for the meat. But he did, occasionally, +shoot the head off a cock-grouse at close range, and no chef of Paris +could offer a more tempting dish than its flesh, rolled in flour and +served up, fried brown, in bacon grease. It was mostly white meat, +exceedingly tender, yet with the zest of wild game. But he dined on +bacon exclusively one night because, after many misses at grouse, he +declined to take the life of a gray squirrel that had perched in an oak +tree above the trail. Someway, it seemed to be getting too much pleasure +out of life for him to blast it with a rifle shot. A squirrel has only a +few ounces of flesh, and the woods without them would be dull and inane +indeed. Besides, they were bright-eyed, companionable people--dwellers +of the wilderness even as Bruce--and their personality had already +endeared itself to him. + +Once he startled a fawn almost out of its wits when he came upon it +suddenly in a bend in the trail, and he shouted with delight as it +bounded awkwardly away. Once a porcupine rattled its quills at him and +tried to seem very ferocious. But it was all the most palpable of +bluffs, for Urson, while particularly adept at defense, has no powers of +offense whatever. He cannot move quickly. He can't shoot his spines, as +the story-books say. He can only sit on the ground and erect them into a +sort of suit of armor to repel attack. But Bruce knew enough not to +attempt to stroke the creature. If he had done so, he would have spent +the remainder of the season pulling out spines from the soft flesh of +his hand. + +Urson was a patient, stupid, guileless creature, and he and Bruce had a +strange communion together as they stood face to face on the trail. +"You've got the right idea," Bruce told him. "To erect a wall around you +and let 'em yell outside without giving them a thought. To stand firm, +not to take part. You're a true son of the pines, Urson. Now let me +past." + +But the idea was furthest from Urson's mind. He sat firm on the trail, +hunched into a spiny ball. Instead of killing him with his rifle butt, +as Dave would have done, Bruce laughed good-naturedly and went around +him. + +Both days of the journey home he wakened sharply at dawn. The cool, +morning hours were the best for travel. He would follow down the narrow, +brown trail,--now through a heavy covert that rustled as the wild +creatures sped from his path, now up a long ridge, now down into a +still, dark glen, and sometimes into a strange, bleak place where the +forest fire had swept. Every foot was a delight to him. + +He was of naturally strong physique, and although the days fatigued him +unmercifully, he always wakened refreshed in the dawn. At noon he would +stop to lunch, eating a few pieces of jerkey and frying a single +flapjack in his skillet. He learned how to effect it quickly, first +letting his fire burn down to coals. And usually, during the noon rest, +he would practice with his rifle. + +He knew that if he were to fight the Turners, skill with a rifle was an +absolute necessity; such skill as would have felled the grizzly with one +shot instead of administering merely a flesh wound, accuracy to take off +the head of a grouse at fifty yards; and at the same time, an ability to +swing and aim the weapon in the shortest possible space of time. The +only thing that retarded him was the realization that he must not waste +too many cartridges. Elmira had brought him only a small supply. + +He would walk all afternoon--going somewhat easier and resting more +often than in the morning; and these were the times that he appreciated +a fragment of jerked venison. He would halt just before nightfall and +make his camp. + +The first work was usually to strip a young fir tree of its young, +slender branches. These, according to Linda's instructions, were laid on +the ground, their stalks overlapping, and in a remarkably few minutes he +could construct a bed as comfortable as a hair mattress. It was true +that the work always came at an hour when most of all he wanted food and +rest, but he knew that a restless night means quick fatigue the next +day. Then he would clean his game and build his fire and cook his +evening meal. Simple food had never tasted so good to him before. Bacon +grease was his only flavor, but it had a zest that all the sauces and +dressings of France could not approach. The jerkey was crisp and nutty; +his flapjacks went directly to the spot where he desired them to go. + +But the best hour of all was after his meal, as he sat in the growing +shadows with his pipe. It was always an hour of calm. The little, +breathless noises of the wild people in the thickets; the gophers, to +whose half blind eyes--used to the darkness of their underground +passages--the firelight was almost blinding; the chipmunks, and even the +larger creatures came clearest to him then and told him more. But they +didn't frighten him. Ordinarily, he knew, the forest creatures of the +Southern Oregon mountains mean and do no harm to lonely campers. +Nevertheless, he kept fairly accurate track of his rifle. He had enough +memory of the charge of the Killer to wish to do that. And he thought +with some pleasure that he had a reserve arsenal,--Dave's thirty-thirty +with five shells in its magazine. + +At this hour he felt the spirit of the pines as never before. He knew +their great, brooding sorrow, their infinite wisdom, their inexpressible +aloofness with which they kept watch over the wilderness. The smoke +would drift about him in soothing clouds; the glow of the coals was red +and warm over him. He could think then. Life revealed some of its lesser +mysteries to him. And he began to glimpse the distant gleam of even +greater truths, and sometimes it seemed to him that he could almost +catch and hold them. Always it was some message that the pines were +trying to tell him,--partly in words they made when their limbs rubbed +together, partly in the nature of a great allegory of which their dark, +impassive forms were the symbols. If he could only see clearly! But it +seemed to him that passion blinded his eyes. + +"They talk only to the stars," Linda had said once of the pines. But he +had no illusions about this talk of theirs. It was greater, more fraught +with wisdom, than anything men might say together below them. He could +imagine them telling high secrets that he himself could discern but +dimly and could hardly understand. More and more he realized that the +pines, like the stars, were living symbols of great powers who lived +above the world, powers that would speak to men if they would but listen +long and patiently enough, and in whose creed lay happiness. + +When the pipe was out he would go to his fragrant bed. The night hours +would pass in a breath. And he would rise and go on in the crisp dawns. + +The last afternoon he traveled hard. He wanted to reach Linda's house +before nightfall. But the trail was too long for that. The twilight +fell, to find him still a weary two miles distant. And the way was quite +dark when he plunged into the south pasture of the Ross estates. + +Half an hour later he was beneath the Sentinel Pine. He wondered why +Linda was not waiting beneath it; in his fancy, he thought of it as +being the ordained place for her. But perhaps she had merely failed to +hear his footsteps. He called into the open door. + +"Linda," he said. "I've come back." + +No answer reached him. The words rang through the silent rooms and +echoed back to him. He walked over the threshold. + +A chair in the front room was turned over. His heart leaped at the sight +of it. "Linda," he called in alarm, "where are you? It's Bruce." + +He stood an instant listening, a great fear creeping over him. He called +once more, first to Linda and then to the old woman. Then he leaped +through the doorway. + +The kitchen was similarly deserted. From there he went to Linda's room. +Her coat and hat lay on the bed, but there was no Linda to stretch her +arms to him. He started to go out the way he had come, but went instead +to his own room. A sheet of note-paper lay on the bed. + +It had been scrawled hurriedly; but although he had never received a +written word from Linda he did not doubt but that it was her hand: + + The Turners are coming--I caught a glimpse of them on the + ridge. There is no use of my trying to resist, so I'll wait for + them in the front room and maybe they won't find this note. + They will take me to Simon's house, and I know from its + structure that they will lock me in an interior room in the + East wing. Use the window on that side nearest the North + corner. My one hope is that you will come at once to save me. + +Bruce's eyes leaped over the page; then thrust it into his pocket. He +slipped through the rear door of the house, into the shadows. + + + + +XXI + + +As Bruce hurried up the hill toward the Ross estates, he made a swift +calculation of the rifle shells in his pocket. The gun held six. He had +perhaps fifteen others in his pockets, and he hadn't stopped to +replenish them from the supply Elmira had brought. He hadn't brought +Dave's rifle with him, but had left it with the remainder of his pack. +He knew that the lighter he traveled the greater would be his chance of +success. + +The note had explained the situation perfectly. Obviously the girl had +written when the clan was closing about the house, and finding her in +the front room, there had been no occasion to search the other rooms and +thus discover it. The girl had kept her head even in that moment of +crisis. A wave of admiration for her passed over him. + +And the little action had set an example for him. He knew that only +rigid self-control and cool-headed strategy could achieve the thing he +had set out to do. There must be no false motions, no missteps. He must +put out of his mind all thought of what dreadful fate might have already +come upon the girl; such fancies would cost him his grip upon his own +faculties and lose him the power of clear thinking. His impulse was to +storm the door, to pour his lead through the lighted windows; but such +things could never take Linda out of Simon's hands. Only stealth and +caution, not blind courage and frenzy, could serve her now. Such blind +killing as his heart prompted had to wait for another time. + +Nevertheless, the stock of his rifle felt good in his hands. Perhaps +there would be a running fight after he got the girl out of the house, +and then his cartridges would be needed. There might even be a moment of +close work with what guards the Turners had set over her. But the heavy +stock, used like a club, would be most use to him then. + +He knew only the general direction of the Ross house where Simon lived. +Linda had told him it rested upon the crest of a small hill, beyond a +ridge of timber. The moonlight showed him a well-beaten trail, and he +strode swiftly along it. For once, he gave no heed to the stirring +forest life about him. When a dead log had fallen across his path, he +swung over it and hastened on. + +He had a vague sense of familiarity with this winding trail. Perhaps he +had toddled down it as a baby, perhaps his mother had carried him along +it on a neighborly visit to the Rosses. He went over the hill and pushed +his way to the edge of the timber. All at once the moon showed him the +house. + +He couldn't mistake it, even at this distance. And to Bruce it had a +singular effect of unreality. The mountain men did not ordinarily build +homes of such dimensions. They were usually merely log cabins of two or +three lower rooms and a garret to be reached with a ladder; or else, on +the rough mountain highways, crude dwellings of unpainted frame. The +ancestral home of the Rosses, however, had fully a dozen rooms, and it +loomed to an incredible size in the mystery of the moonlight. He saw +quaint gabled roofs and far-spreading wings. And it seemed more like a +house of enchantment, a structure raised by the rubbing of a magic lamp, +than the work of carpenters and masons. + +Probably its wild surroundings had a great deal to do with this effect. +There were no roads leading to Trail's End. Material could not be +carried over its winding trails except on pack animals. He had a +realization of tremendous difficulties that had been conquered by +tireless effort, of long months of unending toil, of exhaustless +patience, and at the end,--a dream come true. All of its lumber had to +be hewed from the forests about. Its stone had been quarried from the +rock cliffs and hauled with infinite labor over the steep trails. + +He understood now why the Turners had coveted it. It seemed the acme of +luxury to them. And more clearly than ever he understood why the Rosses +had died, sooner than relinquish it, and why its usurpation by the +Turners had left such a debt of hatred to Linda. It was such a house as +men dream about, a place to bequeath to their children and to perpetuate +their names. Built like a rock, it would stand through the decades, to +pass from one generation to another,--an enduring monument to the strong +thews of the men who had builded it. All men know that the love of home +is one of the few great impulses that has made toward civilization, but +by the same token it has been the cause of many wars. It was never an +instinct of a nomadic people, and possibly in these latter days--days +of apartments and flats and hotels--its hold is less. Perhaps the day is +coming when this love will die in the land, but with it will die the +strength to repel the heathen from our walls, and the land will not be +worth living in, anyway. But it was not dead to the mountain people. No +really primitive emotion ever is. + +Perhaps, after all, it is a question of the age-old longing for +immortality, and therefore it must have its seat in a place higher than +this world of death. Men know that when they walk no longer under the +sun and the moon it is good to have certain monuments to keep their name +alive, whether it be blocks of granite at the grave-head, or sons living +in an ancestral home. The Rosses had known this instinct very well. As +all men who are strong-thewed and of real natural virtue, they had known +pride of race and name, and it had been a task worth while to build this +stately house on their far-lying acres. They had given their fiber to it +freely; no man who beheld the structure could doubt that fact. They had +simply consecrated their lives to it; their one Work by which they could +show to all who came after that by their own hands they had earned their +right to live. + +They had been workers, these men; and there is no higher degree. But +their achievements had been stolen from their hands. Bruce felt the real +significance of his undertaking as never before. + +He saw the broad lands lying under the moon. There were hundreds of +acres in alfalfa and clover to furnish hay for the winter feeding. +There were wide, green pastures, ensilvered by the moon; and fields of +corn laid out in even rows. The old appeal of the soil, an instinct that +no person of Anglo-Saxon descent can ever completely escape, swept +through him. They were worth fighting for, these fertile acres. The wind +brought up the sweet breath of ripening hay. + +Not for nothing have a hundred generations of Anglo-Saxon people been +tillers of the soil. They had left a love of it to Bruce. In a single +flash of thought, even as he hastened toward the house where he supposed +Linda was held prisoner, the ancient joy returned to him. He knew what +it would be like to feel the earth's pulse through the handles of a +plow, to behold the first start of green things in the spring and the +golden ripening in fall; to watch the flocks through the breathless +nights and the herds feeding on the distant hills. + +Bruce looked over the ground. He knew enough not to continue the trail +farther. The space in front was bathed in moonlight, and he would make +the best kind of target to any rifle-man watching from the windows of +the house. He turned through the coverts, seeking the shadow of the +forests at one side. + +By going in a quartering direction he was able to approach within two +hundred yards of the house without emerging into the moonlight. At that +point the real difficulty of the stalk began. He hovered in the shadows, +then slipped one hundred feet farther to the trunk of a great oak tree. + +He could see the house much more plainly now. True, it had suffered +neglect in the past twenty years; it needed painting and many of its +windows were broken, but it was a magnificent old mansion even yet. It +stood lost in its dreams in the moonlight; and if, as old stories say, +houses have memories, this old structure was remembering certain tragic +dramas that had waged within and about it in a long-ago day. Bruce +rejoiced to see that there were no lights in the east wing of the house; +the window that Linda had indicated in the note was just a black square +on the moonlit wall. + +There was a neglected garden close to this wing of the house. Bruce +could make out rose bushes, grown to brambles, tall, rank weeds, and +heavy clumps of vines. If he could reach this spot in safety he could +approach within a few feet of the house and still remain in cover. He +went flat; then slowly crawled toward it. + +Once a light sprang up in a window near the front, and he pressed close +to the earth. But in a moment it went away. He crept on. He didn't know +when a watchman in one of the dark windows would discern his creeping +figure. But he did know perfectly just what manner of greeting he might +expect in this event. There would be a single little spurt of fire in +the darkness, so small that probably his eyes would quite fail to catch +it. If they did discern it, there would be no time for a message to be +recorded in his brain. It would mean a swift and certain end of all +messages. The Turners would lose no time in emptying their rifles at +him, and there wouldn't be the slightest doubt about their hitting the +mark. All the clan were expert shots and the range was close. + +The house was deeply silent. He felt a growing sense of awe. In a moment +more, he slipped into the shadows of the neglected rose gardens. + +He lay quiet an instant, resting. He didn't wish to risk the success of +his expedition by fatiguing himself now. He wanted his full strength and +breath for any crisis that he should meet in the room where Linda was +confined. + +Many times, he knew, skulking figures had been concealed in this garden. +Probably the Turners, in the days of the blood-feud, had often waited in +its shadows for a sight of some one of their enemies in a lighted +window. Old ghosts dwelt in it; he could see their shadows waver out of +the corner of his eyes. Or perhaps it was only the shadow of the +brambles, blown by the wind. + +Once his heart leaped into his throat at a sharp crack of brush beside +him; and he could scarcely restrain a muscular jerk that might have +revealed his position. But when he turned his head he could see nothing +but the coverts and the moon above them. A garden snake, or perhaps a +blind mole, had made the sound. + +Four minutes later he was within one dozen feet of the designated +window. There was a stretch of moonlight between, but he passed it +quickly. And now he stood in bold relief against the moonlit house-wall. + +He was in perfectly plain sight of any one on the hill behind. Possibly +his distant form might have been discerned from the window of one of the +lesser houses occupied by Simon's kin. But he was too close to the wall +to be visible from the windows of Simon's house, except by a deliberate +scrutiny. And the window slipped up noiselessly in his hands. + +He was considerably surprised. He had expected this window to be locked. +Some way, he felt less hopeful of success. He recalled in his mind the +directions that Linda had left, wondering if he had come to the wrong +window. But there was no chance of a mistake in this regard; it was the +northernmost window in the east wing. However, she had said that she +would be confined in an interior room, and possibly the Turners had seen +no need of barriers other than its locked door. Probably they had not +even anticipated that Bruce would attempt a rescue. + +He leaped lightly upward and slipped silently into the room. Except for +the moonlit square on the floor it was quite in darkness. It seemed to +him that even in the night hours over a camp fire he had never known +such silence as this that pressed about him now. + +He stood a moment, hardly breathing. But he decided it was not best to +strike a match. There were no enemies here, or they certainly would have +accosted him when he raised the window; and a match might reveal his +presence to some one in an adjoining room. He rested his hand against +the wall, then moved slowly around the room. He knew that by this +course he would soon encounter the door that led into the interior +rooms. + +In a moment he found it. He stood waiting. He turned the knob gently; +then softly pulled. But the door was locked. + +There was no sound now but the loud beating of his own heart. He could +no longer hear the voices of the wind outside the open window. He +wondered whether, should he hurl all his magnificent strength against +the panels, he could break the lock; and if he did so, whether he could +escape with the girl before he was shot down. But his hand, wandering +over the lock, encountered the key. + +It was easy, after all. He turned the key. The door opened beneath his +hand. + +If there had been a single ray of light under the door or through the +keyhole, his course would have been quite different. He would have +opened the door suddenly in that case, hoping to take by surprise +whosoever of the clan were guarding Linda. To open a door slowly into a +room full of enemies is only to give them plenty of time to cock their +rifles. But in this case the room was in darkness, and all that he need +fear was making a sudden sound. The opening slowly widened. Then he +slipped through and stood ten breathless seconds in silence. + +"Linda," he whispered. He waited a long time for an answer. Then he +stole farther into the room. + +"Linda," he said again. "It's Bruce. Are you here?" + +And in that unfathomable silence he heard a sound--a sound so dim and +small that it only reached the frontier of hearing. It was a strange, +whispering, eerie sound, and it filled the room like the faintest, +almost imperceptible gust of wind. But there was no doubting its +reality. And after one more instant in which his heart stood still, he +knew what it was: the sound of suppressed breathing. A living creature +occupied this place of darkness with him, and was either half-gagged by +a handkerchief over the face or was trying to conceal its presence by +muffling its breathing. "Linda," he said again. + +There was a strange response to the calling of that name. He heard no +whispered answer. Instead, the door he had just passed through shut +softly behind him. + +For a fleeting instant he hoped that the wind had blown it shut. For it +is always the way of youth to hope,--as long as any hope is left. His +heart leaped and he whirled to face it. Then he heard the unmistakable +sound of a bolt being slid into place. + +Some little space of time followed in silence. He struggled with growing +horror, and time seemed limitless. Then a strong man laughed grimly in +the darkness. + + + + +XXII + + +As Bruce waited, his eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness. He +began to see the dim outlines of his fellow occupants of the +room,--fully seven brawny men seated in chairs about the walls. "Let's +hear you drop your rifle," one of them said. + +Bruce recognized the grim voice as Simon's,--heard on one occasion +before. He let his rifle fall from his hands. He knew that only death +would be the answer to any resistance to these men. Then Simon scratched +a match, and without looking at him, bent to touch it to the wick of the +lamp. + +The tiny flame sputtered and flickered, filling the room with dancing +shadows. Bruce looked about him. It was the same long, white-walled room +that Dave and Simon had conversed in, after Elmira had first dispatched +her message by Barney Wegan. Bruce knew that he faced the Turner clan at +last. + +Simon sat beside the fireplace, the lamp at his elbow. As the wick +caught, the light brightened and steadied, and Bruce could see plainly. +On each side of him, in chairs about the walls, sat Simon's brothers and +his blood relations that shared the estate with him. They were huge, +gaunt men, most of them dark-bearded and sallow-skinned, and all of +them regarded him with the same gaze of speculative interest. + +Bruce did not flinch before their gaze. He stood erect as he could, +instinctively defiant. + +"Our guest is rather early," Simon began. "Dave hasn't come yet, and +Dave is the principal witness." + +A bearded man across the room answered him. "But I guess we ain't goin' +to let the prisoner go for lack of evidence." + +The circle laughed then,--a harsh sound that was not greatly different +from the laughter of the coyotes on the sagebrush hills. But they +sobered when they saw that Simon hadn't laughed. His dark eyes were +glowing. + +"You, by no chance, met him on the way home, did you?" he asked. + +"I wish I had," Bruce replied. "But I didn't." + +"I don't understand your eagerness. You didn't seem overly eager to meet +us." + +Bruce smiled wanly. These wilderness men regarded him with fresh +interest. Somehow, they hadn't counted on his smiling. It was almost as +if he were of the wilderness breed himself, instead of the son of +cities. "I'm here, am I not?" he said. "It isn't as if you came to my +house first." + +He regarded the clansmen again. He _had_ missed Dave's crafty face in +the circle. + +"Yes, you're here," Simon confirmed. "And I'm wondering if you remember +what I told you just as you left Martin's store that day--that I gave no +man two warnings." + +"I remember that," Bruce replied. "I saw no reason for listening to you. +I don't see any reason now, and I wouldn't if it wasn't for that row of +guns." + +Simon studied his pale face. "Perhaps you'll be sorry you didn't listen, +before this night is over. And there are many hours yet in it. +Bruce--you came up here to these mountains to open old wounds." + +"Simon, I came up here to right wrongs--and you know it. If old wounds +are opened, I can't help it." + +"And to-night," Simon went on as if he had not been answered, "you have +come unbidden into our house. It would be all the evidence the courts +would need, Bruce--that you crept into our house in the dead of night. +If anything happened to you here, no word could be raised against us. +You were a brave man, Bruce." + +"So I can suppose you left the note?" + +The circle laughed again, but Simon silenced them with a gesture. +"You're very keen," he said. + +"Then where is Linda?" Bruce's eyes hardened. "I am more interested in +her whereabouts than in this talk with you." + +"The last seen of her, she was going up a hill with Dave. When Dave +returns you can ask him." + +The bearded man opposite from Simon uttered a short syllable of a laugh. +"And it don't look like he's going to return," he said. The knowing +look on his face was deeply abhorrent to Bruce. Curiously, Simon's face +flushed, and he whirled in his chair. + +"Do you mean anything in particular, Old Bill?" he demanded. + +"It looks to me like maybe Dave's forgot a lot of things you told him, +and he and Linda are havin' a little sparkin' time together out in the +brush." + +The idea seemed to please the clan. But Simon's eyes glowed, and Bruce +himself felt the beginnings of a blind rage that might, unless he held +hard upon it, hurl him against their remorseless weapons. "I don't want +any more such talk out of you, Old Bill," Simon reproved him, "and we've +talked enough, anyway." His keen eyes studied Bruce's flushed face. "One +of you give our guest a chair and fix him up in it with a thong. We +don't want him flying off the coop and getting shot until we're done +talking to him." + +One of the clansmen pushed a chair forward with sudden force, striking +Bruce in the knees and almost knocking him over. The circle leered, and +he sat down in it with as much ease as possible. Then one of the men +looped his arms to the arms of the chair with thongs of buckskin. +Another thong was tied about his ankles. Then the clansmen went back to +their chairs. + +"I really don't see the use of all these dramatics," Bruce said coldly. +"And I don't particularly like veiled threats. At present I seem to be +in your hands." + +"You don't seem to be," Simon answered with reddening eyes. "You are." + +"I have no intention of saying I'm sorry I didn't heed the threats you +gave me before--and as to those I've heard to-night--they're not going +to do you any good, either. It is true that you found me in the house +you occupy in the dead of night--but it isn't your house to start with. +What a man seizes by murder isn't his." + +"What a man holds with a hard fist and his rifle--in these +mountains--_is_ his," Simon contradicted him. + +"Besides, you got me here with a trick," Bruce went on without heeding +him. "So don't pretend that any wickedness you do to-night was justified +by my coming. You'll have to answer for it just the same." + +Simon leaned forward in his chair. His dark eyes glowed in the +lamplight. "I've heard such talk as that before," he said. "I expect +your own father talked like that a few times himself." + +The words seemed to strike straight home to the gathered Turners. The +moment was breathless, weighted with suspense. All of them seemed +straining in their chairs. + +Bruce's head bowed, but the veins stood out beneath the short hair on +his temples, and his lips trembled when he answered. "That was a greater +wickedness than anything--_anything_ you can do to-night. And you'll +have to answer for it all the more." + +He spoke the last sentence with a calm assurance. Though spoken softly, +the words rang clear. But the answer of the evil-hearted man before him +was only a laugh. + +"And there's one thing more I want to make clear," Bruce went on in the +strong voice of a man who had conquered his terror. And it was not +because he did not realize his danger. He was in the hands of the +Turners, and he knew that Simon had spoken certain words that, if for no +other reason than his reputation with his followers, he would have to +make good. Bruce knew that no moment of his life was ever fraught with +greater peril. But the fact itself that there were no doors of escape +open to him, and he was face to face with his destiny, steadied him all +the more. + +The boy that had been wakened in his bed at home by the ring of the +'phone bell had wholly vanished now. A man of the wild places had come +instead, stern and courageous and unflinching. + +"Everything is tolerable clear to us already," Simon said, "except your +sentence." + +"I want you to know that I refuse to be impressed with this judicial +attitude of you and your blackguard followers," Bruce went on. "This +gathering of the group of you doesn't make any evil that you do any less +wrong, or the payment you'll have to make any less sure. It lies wholly +in your power to kill me while I'm sitting here, and I haven't much hope +but that you'll do it. But let me tell you this. A reign of bloodshed +and crime can go on only so long. You've been kings up here, and you +think the law can't reach you. But it will--believe me, it will." + +"And this was the man who was going to begin the blood-feud--already +hollering about the law," Simon said to his followers. He turned to +Bruce. "It's plain that Dave isn't going to come. I'll have to be the +chief witness myself, after all. However, Dave told me all that I needed +to know. The first question I have to ask of you, Folger, is the +whereabouts of that agreement between your late lamented father and the +late lamented Matthew Ross, according to what the trapper Hudson told +you a few days ago." + +Bruce was strong enough to laugh in his bonds. "Up to this time I have +given you and your murderous crowd credit for at least natural +intelligence," he replied, "but I see I was mistaken--or you wouldn't +expect an answer to that question." + +"Do you mean you don't know its whereabouts?" + +"I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing whether I know or not. I +just refuse to answer." + +"I trust the ropes are tight enough about your wrists." + +"Plenty tight, thank you. They are cutting the flesh so it bleeds." + +"How would you like them some tighter?" + +"Pull them till they cut my arms off, and you won't get a civil answer +out of me. In fact--" and the man's eyes blazed--"I'm tired of talking +to this outlaw crowd. And the sooner you do what you're going to do, the +better it will suit me." + +"We'll come to that shortly enough. Disregarding that for a moment--we +understand that you want to open up the blood-feud again. Is that true?" + +Bruce made no answer, only gazed without flinching into his questioner's +face. + +"That was what my brother Dave led me to understand," Simon went on, "so +we've decided to let you have your way. It's open--it's been open since +you came here. You disregarded the warning I gave--and men don't +disregard my warnings twice. You threatened Dave with your rifle. This +is a different land than you're used to, Bruce, and we do things our own +way. You've hunted for trouble and now you've found it. Your father +before you thought he could stand against us--but he's been lying still +a long time. The Rosses thought so too. And it is part of our code never +to take back a threat--but always to make it good." + +Bruce still sat with lowered head, seemingly not listening. The clansmen +gazed at him, and a new, more deadly spirit was in the room. None of +them smiled now; the whole circle of faces was dark and intent, their +eyes glittered through narrowed lids, their lips set. The air was +charged with suspense. The moment of crisis was near. + +Sometimes the men glanced at their leader's face, and what they saw +there filled them with a grim and terrible eagerness. Simon was +beginning to run true to form. His dark passions were slowly mastering +him. For a moment they all sat as if entranced in a communion of +cruelty, and to Bruce they seemed like a colony of spotted rattlesnakes +such as sometimes hold their communions of hatred on the sun-blasted +cliffs. + +All at once Simon laughed,--a sharp, hoarse sound that had, in its +overtones, a note of madness. Every man in the room started. They seemed +to have forgotten Bruce. They looked at their leader with a curious +expectancy. They seemed to know that that wild laugh betokened but one +thing--the impact of some terrible sort of inspiration. + +As they watched, they saw the idea take hold of him. The huge face +darkened. His eyes seemed to smolder as he studied his huge hands. They +understood, these wilderness men. They had seen their leader in such +sessions before. A strange and grim idea had come to him; already he was +feasting on its possibilities. It seemed to heat his blood and blur his +vision. + +"We've decided to be merciful, after all," he said slowly. But neither +Bruce nor the clansmen misunderstood him or were deceived. They only +knew that these words were simply part of a deadly jest that in a moment +all would understand. "Instead of filling you full of thirty-thirty +bullets, as better men than you have been filled and what we _ought_ to +do--we're just going to let you lay out all night--in the pasture--with +your feet tied and your hands behind your back." + +No one relaxed. They listened, staring, for what would follow. + +"You may get a bit cold before morning," Simon went on, "but you're +warmly dressed, and a little frost won't hurt you. And I've got the +place all picked out for you. And we're even going to move something +that's laying there so it will be more pleasant." + +Again he paused. Bruce looked up. + +"The thing that's lying there is a dead yearling calf, half ate up. It +was killed last night by the Killer--the old grizzly that maybe you've +heard of before. Some of the boys were going to wait in trees to-night +by the carcass and shoot the Killer when he comes back after another +meal--something that likely won't happen until about midnight if he runs +true to form. But it won't be necessary now. We're going to haul the +carcass away--down wind where he won't smell it. And we're going to +leave you there in its place to explain to him what became of it." + +Bruce felt their glowing eyes upon him. Exultation was creeping over the +clan; once more their leader had done himself proud. It was such +suggestions as this that kept them in awe of him. + +And they thought they understood. They supposed that the night would be +of the utter depths of terror to the tenderfoot from the cities, that +the bear would sniff and wander about him, and perchance the man's hair +would be turned quite white by morning. But being mountain men, they +thought that the actual danger of attack was not great. They supposed +that the inborn fear of men that all animals possess would keep him at a +distance. And, if by any unlikely chance the theft of the beef-carcass +should throw him into such a rage that he would charge Bruce, no harm +in particular would be done. The man was a Folger, an enemy of the clan, +and after once the telltale ropes were removed, no one would ask +questions about the mutilated, broken thing that would be found next +morning in the pasture. The story would carry down to the settlements +merely as a fresh atrocity of the Killer, the last and greatest of the +grizzlies. + +But they had no realization of the full dreadfulness of the plan. They +hadn't heard the more recent history of the Killer,--the facts that +Simon had just learned from Dave. Strange and dark conjecturing occupied +Simon's mind, and he knew--in a moment's thought--that something more +than terror and indignity might be Bruce's fate. But his passion was +ripe for what might come. The few significant facts that they did not +know were merely that the Killer had already found men out, that he had +learned in an instant's meeting with Hudson beside Little River that men +were no longer to be feared, and worse, that he was raving and deadly +from the pain of the wound that Bruce's bullet had inflicted. + +The circle of faces faded out for both of them as the eyes of Bruce and +Simon met and clashed and battled in the silent room. + + + + +XXIII + + +"If Simon Turner isn't a coward," Bruce said slowly to the clan, "he +will give me a chance to fight him now." + +The room was wholly silent, and the clan turned expectant eyes to their +leader. Simon scowled, but he knew he had to make answer. His eyes crept +over Bruce's powerful body. "There is no obligation on my part to answer +any challenges by you," he said. "You are a prisoner. But if you think +you can sleep better in the pasture because of it, I'll let you have +your chance. Take off his ropes." + +A knife slashed at his bonds. Simon stood up, and Bruce sprang from his +chair like a wild cat, aiming his hardened knuckles straight for the +leering lips. He made the attack with astonishing swiftness and power, +and his intention was to deliver at least one terrific blow before Simon +could get his arms up to defend himself. He had given the huge clan +leader credit for tremendous physical strength, but he didn't think that +the heavy body could move with real agility. But the great muscles +seemed to snap into tension, the head ducked to one side, and his own +huge fists struck out. + +If Bruce's blow had gone straight home where it had been aimed, Simon +would have had nothing more to say for a few moments at least. When man +was built of clay, Nature saw fit to leave him with certain +imperfections lest he should think himself a god, and a weak spot in the +region of the chin is one of them. The jaw bones carry the impact of a +hard blow to certain nerve centers near the temples, and restful sleep +comes quickly. There are never any ill effects, unless further damage is +inflicted while unconsciousness is upon him. In spite of the fact that +Simon got quickly into a position of defense, that first blow still had +a fair chance of bringing the fight to an abrupt end. But still another +consideration remained. + +Bruce's muscles had refused to respond. The leap had been powerful and +swift yet wholly inaccurate. And the reason was just that his wrists and +ankles had been numbed by the tight thongs by which they had been +confined. Simon met the leap with a short, powerful blow into Bruce's +face; and he reeled backward. The arms of the clansmen alone kept him +from falling. + +The blow seemed to daze Bruce; and at first his only realization was +that the room suddenly rang with harsh and grating laughter. Then +Simon's words broke through it. "Put back the thongs," he ordered, "and +go get your horses." + +Bruce was dimly aware of the falling of a silence, and then the arms of +strong men half carrying him to the door. But he couldn't see plainly at +first. The group stood in the shadow of the building; the moon was +behind. He knew that the clan had brought their horses and were waiting +for Simon's command. They loosened the ropes from about his ankles, and +two of the clansmen swung him on to the back of a horse. Then they +passed a rope under the horse's belly and tied his ankles anew. + +Simon gave a command, and the strange file started. The night air +dispelled the mists in Bruce's brain, and full realization of all things +came to him again. One of the men--he recognized him as Young Bill--led +the horse on which he rode. Two of the clansmen rode in front, grim, +silent, incredibly tall figures in the moonlight. The remainder rode +immediately behind. Simon himself, bowed in his saddle, kept a little to +one side. Their shadows were long and grotesque on the soft grass of the +meadows, and the only sound was the soft footfall of their mounts. + +A full mile distant across the lush fields the cavalcade halted about a +grotesque shadow in the grass. Bruce didn't have to look at it twice to +know what it was: the half-devoured body of the yearling calf that had +been the Killer's prey the night before. From thence on, their +operations became as outlandish occurrences in a dream. They seemed to +know just what to do. They took him from the saddle and bound his feet +again; then laid him in the fragrant grass. They searched his pockets, +taking the forged note that had led to his downfall. "It saves me a +trip," Simon commented. He saw two of them lift the torn body of the +animal on to the back of one of the horses, and he watched dully as the +horse plunged and wheeled under the unfamiliar weight. He thought for an +instant that it would step upon his own prone body, but he didn't +flinch. Simon spoke in the silence, but his words seemed to come from +far away. + +"Quiet that horse or kill him," he said softly. "You can't drag the +carcass with your rope--the Killer would trace it if you did and maybe +spoil the evening for Bruce." + +Strong arms sawed at the bits, and the horse quieted, trembling. For a +moment Bruce saw their white moonlit faces as they stared down at him. + +"What about a gag?" one of them asked. + +"No. Let him shout if he likes. There is no one to hear him here." + +Then the tall men swung on their horses and headed back across the +fields. Bruce watched them dully. Their forms grew constantly more dim, +the sense of utter isolation increased. Then he saw the file pause, and +it seemed to him that words, too faint for him to understand, reached +him across the moonlit spaces. Then one of the party turned off toward +the ridge. + +He guessed that it was Simon. He thought the man was riding toward +Linda's home. + +He watched until the shadows had hidden them all. Then, straining +upward, he tested his bonds. He tugged with the full strength of his +arms, but there was not the play of an inch between his wrists. The +Turners had done their work well. Not the slightest chance of escape lay +in this quarter. + +He wrenched himself to one side, then looked about him. The fields +stretched even and distant on one side, but he saw that the dark forest +was but fifty yards away on the other. He listened; and the little +night sounds reached him clearly. They had been sounds to rejoice in +before,--impulses to delightful fancies of a fawn stealing through the +thickets, or some of the Little People in their scurried, tremulous +business of the night hours. But lying helpless at the edge of the +forest, they were nothing to rejoice in now. He tried to shut his ears +to them. + +He rolled again to his back and tried to find peace for his spirit in +the stars. There were millions of them. They were larger and more bright +than any time he had ever seen them. They stood in their high places, +wholly indifferent and impassive to all the strife and confusion of the +world below them; and Bruce wished that he could partake of their spirit +enough so that he could rise above the fear and bitterness that had +begun to oppress him. But only the pines could talk to them. Only the +tall trees, stretching upward toward them, could reach into their +mysterious calm. + +His eyes discerned a thin filament of cloud that had swept up from +behind the ridges, and the sight recalled him to his own position with +added force. The moonlight, soft as it was, had been a tremendous relief +to him. At least, it would have enabled him to keep watch, and now he +dreaded the fall of utter darkness more than he had ever dreaded +anything in his life. It was an ancient instinct, coming straight from +the young days of the world when nightfall brought the hunting creatures +to the mouth of the cave, but he had never really experienced it before. +If the clouds spread, the moon that was his last remaining solace would +be obscured. + +He watched with growing horror the slow extension of the clouds. One by +one the stars slipped beneath them. They drew slowly up to the moon and +for a long minute seemed to hover. They were not heavy clouds, however, +and in their thinner patches the stars looked dimly through. Finally the +moon swept under them. + +The shadow fell around Bruce. For the first time he knew the age-old +terror of the darkness. Dreadful memories arose within him,--vague +things that had their font in the labyrinthal depths of the germ-plasm. +It is a knowledge that no man, with the weapons of the twentieth century +in his hands and in the glow of that great symbol of domain, the camp +fire, can really possess; but here, bound hand and foot in the darkness, +full understanding came to Bruce. He no longer knew himself as one of a +dominant breed, master of all the wild things in the world. He was +simply a living creature in a grim and unconquered world, alone and +helpless in the terror of the darkness. + +The moonlight alternately grew and died as the moon passed in and out of +the heavier cloud patches. Winds must have been blowing in the high +lanes of the air, but there was no breath of them where Bruce lay. The +forests were silent, and the little rustlings and stirrings that reached +him from time to time only seemed to accentuate the quiet. + +He speculated on how many hours had passed. He wondered if he could dare +to hope that midnight had already gone by and, through some divergence +from wilderness customs, the grizzly had failed to return to his feast. +It seemed endless hours since he had reentered the empty rooms of +Linda's home. A wave of hope crept through the whole hydraulic system of +his veins. And then, as a sudden sound reached him from the forests at +one side, that bright wave of hope turned black, receded, and left only +despair. + +He heard the sound but dimly. In fact, except for his straining with +every nerve alert, he might not have heard it at all. Nevertheless, +distance alone had dimmed it; it had been a large sound to start with. +So far had it come that only a scratch on the eardrums was left of it; +but there was no chance to misunderstand it. It cracked out to him +through the unfathomable silence, and all the elements by which he might +recognize it were distinct. It was the noise of a heavy thicket being +broken down and parted before an enormous body. + +He waited, scarcely breathing, trying to tell himself he had been +mistaken. But a wiser, calmer self deep within him would not accept the +lie. He listened, straining. Then he heard the sound again. + +Whoever came toward him had passed the heavy brush by now. The sounds +that reached him were just faint and intermittent whispers,--first of a +twig cracking beneath a heavy foot, then the rattle of two pebbles +knocked together. Long moments of utter silence would ensue between, in +which he could hear the steady drum of his heart in his breast and the +long roll of his blood in his veins. The shadows grew and deepened and +faded and grew again, as the moon passed from cloud to cloud. + +The limbs of a young fir tree rustled and whispered as something brushed +against them. Leaves flicked together, and once a heavy limb popped like +a distant small-calibered rifle as a great weight broke it in two. Then, +as if the gods of the wilderness were using all their ingenuity to +torture him, the silence closed down deeper than ever before. + +It lasted so long that he began to hope again. Perhaps the sounds had +been made by a deer stealing on its way to feed in the pastures. Yet he +knew the step had been too heavy for anything but the largest deer, and +their way was to encircle a thicket rather than crash through it. The +deer make it their business always to go with silence in these hours +when the beasts of prey are abroad, and usually a beetle in the leaves +makes more noise than they. It might have been the step of one of the +small, black bears--a harmless and friendly wilderness dweller. Yet the +impression lingered and strengthened that only some great hunter, a +beast who feared neither other beasts nor men, had been steadily coming +toward him through the forest. In the long silence that ensued Bruce +began to hope that the animal had turned off. + +At that instant the moon slipped under a particularly heavy fragment of +cloud, and deep darkness settled over him. Even his white face was no +longer discernible in the dusk. He lay scarcely breathing, trying to +fight down his growing terror. + +This silence could mean but one of two things. One of them was that the +creature who had made the sounds had turned off on one of the many +intersecting game trails that wind through the forest. This was his +hope. The alternative was one of despair. It was simply that the +creature had detected his presence and was stalking him in silence +through the shadows. + +He thought that the light would never come. He strained again at his +ropes. The dark cloud swept on; and the moonlight, silver and bright, +broke over the scene. + +The forest stood once more in sharp silhouette against the sky. The moon +stood high above the tapering tops of the pines. He studied with +straining eyes the dark fringe of shadows one hundred feet distant. And +at first he could see only the irregularities cast by the young trees, +the firs between which lay the brush coverts. + +Then he detected a strange variation in the dark border of shadows. It +held his gaze, and its outlines slowly strengthened. So still it stood, +so seemingly a natural shadow that some irregularly shaped tree had +cast, that his eyes refused to recognize it. But in an instant more he +knew the truth. + +The shadow was that of a great beast that had stalked him clear to the +border of the moonlight. The Killer had come for his dead. + + + + +XXIV + + +When Linda returned home the events of the night partook even of a +greater mystery. The front door was open, and she found plenty of +evidence that Bruce had returned from his journey. In the center of the +room lay his pack, a rifle slanting across it. + +At first she did not notice the gun in particular. She supposed it was +Bruce's weapon and that he had come in, dropped his luggage, and was at +present somewhere in the house. It was true that one chair was upset, +but except for an instant's start she gave no thought to it. She thought +that he would probably go to the kitchen first for a bite to eat. He was +not in this room, however, nor had the lamp been lighted. + +Her next idea was that Bruce, tired out, had gone to bed. She went back +softly to the front room, intending not to disturb him. Once more she +noticed the upset chair. The longer she regarded it, the more of a +puzzle it became. She moved over toward the pack and looked casually at +the rifle. In an instant more it was in her hands. + +She saw at once that it was not Bruce's gun. The action, make, and +caliber were different. She was not a rifle-woman, and the little +shooting she had done had been with a pistol; but even a layman could +tell this much. Besides, it had certain peculiar notches on the stock +that the gun Elmira had furnished Bruce did not have. + +She stood a moment in thought. The problem offered no ray of light. She +considered what Bruce's first action would have been, on returning to +the house to find her absent. Possibly he had gone in search of her. She +turned and went to the door of his bedroom. + +She knocked on it softly. "Are you there, Bruce?" she called. + +No answer returned to her. The rooms, in fact, were deeply silent. She +tried the door and found it unlocked. The room had not been occupied. + +Thoroughly alarmed, she went back into the front room and tried to +decipher the mystery of the strange weapon. She couldn't conceive of any +possibility whereby Bruce would exchange his father's trusted gun for +this. Possibly it was an extra weapon that he had procured on his +journey. And since no possible gain would come of her going out into the +forests to seek him, she sat down to wait for his return. She knew that +if she did start out he might easily return in her absence and be +further alarmed. + +The moments dragged by and her apprehension grew. She took the rifle in +her hands and, slipping the lever part way back, looked to see if there +were a cartridge in the barrel. She saw a glitter of brass, and it gave +her a measure of assurance. She had a pistol in her own room--a weapon +that Elmira had procured, years before, from a passing sportsman--and +for a moment she considered getting it also. She understood its action +better and would probably be more efficient with it if the need arose, +but for certain never-to-be-forgotten reasons she wished to keep this +weapon until the moment of utmost need. + +Her whole stock of pistol cartridges consisted of six--completely +filling the magazine of the pistol. Closely watched by the Turners, she +had been unable to procure more. Many a dreadful night these six little +cylinders of brass had been a tremendous consolation to her. They had +been her sole defense, and she knew that in the final emergency she +could use them to deadly effect. + +Linda was a girl who had always looked her situations in the face. She +was not one to flinch from the truth and with false optimism disbelieve +it. She had the courage of many generations of frontiersmen and +woodsmen, and she had their vision too. She knew these mountain realms; +better still she understood the dark passions of Simon and his +followers, and this little half-pound of steel and wood with its brass +shells might mean, in the dreadful last moment of despair, deliverance +from them. It might mean escape for herself when all other ways were cut +off. In this wild land, far from the reaches of law and without allies +except for a decrepit old woman, the pistol and its deadly loads had +been her greatest solace. + +But she relied on the rifle now. And sitting in the shadow, she kept +watch over the moonlit ridge. + +The hours passed, and the clouds were starting up from the horizon when +she thought she saw Bruce returning. A tall form came swinging toward +her, over the little trail that led between the tree trunks. She peered +intently. And in one instant more she knew that the approaching figure +was not Bruce, but the man she most feared of anyone on earth, Simon +Turner. + +She knew him by his great form, his swinging stride. Her thoughts came +clear and true. It was obvious that his was no mission of stealth. He +was coming boldly, freely, not furtively; and he must have known that he +presented a perfect rifle target from the windows. Nevertheless, it is +well to be prepared for emergencies. If life in the mountains teaches +anything, it teaches that. She took the rifle and laid it behind a +little desk, out of sight. Then she went to the door. + +"I want to come in, Linda," Simon told her. + +"I told you long ago you couldn't come to this house," Linda answered +through the panels. "I want you to go away." + +Simon laughed softly. "You'd better let me in. I've brought word of the +child you took to raise. You know who I mean." + +Yes, Linda knew. "Do you mean Bruce?" she asked. "I let Dave in to-night +on the same pretext. Don't expect me to be caught twice by the same +lie." + +"Dave? Where is Dave?" The fact was that the whereabouts of his brother +had suddenly become considerable of a mystery to Simon. All the way +from the pasture where he had left his clan he had been having black +pictures of Dave. He had thought about him and Linda out in the darkness +together, and his heart had seemed to smolder and burn with jealousy in +his breast. It had been a great relief to him to find her in the house. + +"I wonder--where he is by now," Linda answered in a strange voice. "No +one in this world can answer that question, Simon. Tell me what you +want." + +She opened the door. She couldn't bear to show fear of this man. And she +knew that an appearance of courage, at least, was the wisest course. + +"No matter about him now. I want to talk to you on business. If I had +meant rough measures, I wouldn't have come alone." + +"No," Linda scorned. "You would have brought your whole murdering band +with you. The Turners believe in overwhelming numbers." + +The words stung him but he smiled grimly into her face. "I've come in +peace, Linda," he said, more gently. "I've come to give you a last +chance to make friends." + +He walked past her into the room. He straightened the chair that had +been upset, smiling strangely the while, and sat down in it. + +"Then tell me what you have to tell me," she said. "I'm in a hurry to go +to bed--and this really isn't the hour for calls." + +He looked a long time into her face. She found it hard to hold her own +gaze. Many things could be doubted about this man, but his power and +his courage were not among them. The smile died from his lips, the +lines deepened on his face. She realized as never before the tempestuous +passions and unfathomable intensity of his nature. + +"We've never been good friends," Simon went on slowly. + +"We never could be," the girl answered. "We've stood for different +things." + +"At first my efforts to make friends were just--to win you over to our +side. It didn't work--all it did was to waken other desires in +me--desires that perhaps have come to mean more than the possession of +the lands. You know what they are. You've always known--that any time +you wished--you could come and rule my house." + +She nodded. She knew that she had won, against her will, the strange, +somber love of this mighty man. She had known it for months. + +"As my wife--don't make any mistake about that. Linda, I'm a stern, hard +man. I've never known how to woo. I don't know that I want to know how, +the way it is done by weaker men. It has never been my way to ask for +what I wanted. But sometimes it seems to me that if I'd been a little +more gentle--not so masterful and so relentless--that I'd won you long +ago." + +Linda looked up bravely into his face. "No, Simon. You could have +never--never won me! Oh, can't you see--even in this awful place a woman +wants something more than just brute strength and determination. Every +woman prays to find strength in the man she loves--but it isn't the +kind that you have, the kind that makes your men grovel before you, and +makes me tremble when I'm talking to you. It's a big, calm +strength--and I can't tell you what it is. It's something the pines +have, maybe--strength not to yield to the passions, but to restrain, not +to be afraid of, but to cling to--to stand upright and honorable and +manly, and make a woman strong just to see it in the man she loves." + +He listened gravely. Her cheeks blazed. It was a strange scene--the +silent room, the implacable foes, the breathless suspense, the prophecy +and inspiration in her tones. + +"Perhaps I should have been more gentle," he admitted. "I might have +forgotten--for a little while--this surging, irresistible impulse in my +muscles--and tried just to woo you, gently and humbly. But it's too late +now. I'm not a fool. I can't expect you to begin at the beginning. I can +only go on in my own way--my hard, remorseless, ruthless way. + +"It isn't every man who is brave enough to see what he wants and knock +away all obstacles to get it," he went on. "Put that bravery to my +credit. To pay no attention to methods, only to look forward to the +result. That has been my creed. It is my creed now. Many less brave men +would fear your hatred--but I don't fear it as long as I possess what I +go after and a hope that I can get you over it. Many of my own brothers +hate me, but yet I don't care as long as they do my will. No matter how +much you scorn it, this bravery has always got me what I wanted, and it +will get me what I want now." + +The high color died in her face. She wondered if the final emergency had +come at last. + +"I've come to make a bargain. You can take it or you can refuse. On one +side is the end of all this conflict, to be my wife, to have what you +want--bought by the rich return from my thousands of acres. And I love +you, Linda. You know that." + +The man spoke the truth. His terrible, dark love was all over him--in +his glowing eyes, in his drawn, deeply-lined face. + +"In time, when you come around to my way of thinking, you'll love me. If +you refuse--this last time--I've got to take other ways. On that side is +defeat for you--as sure as day. The time is almost up when the title to +those lands is secure. Bruce is in our hands--" + +She got up, white-faced. "Bruce--?" + +He arose too. "Yes! Did you think he could stand against us? I'll show +him to you in the morning. To-night he's paying the price for ever +daring to oppose my will." + +She turned imploring eyes. He saw them, and perhaps--far distant--he saw +the light of triumph too. A grim smile came to his lips. + +"Simon," she cried. "Have mercy." + +The word surprised him. It was the first time she had ever asked this +man for mercy. "Then you surrender--?" + +"Simon, listen to me," she begged. "Let him go--and I won't even try to +fight you any more. I'll let you keep those lands and never try any more +to make you give them up. You and your brothers can keep them forever, +and we won't try to get revenge on you either. He and I will go away." + +He gazed at her in deepening wonderment. For the moment, his mind +refused to accept the truth. He only knew that since he had faced her +before, some new, great strength had come to her,--that a power was in +her life that would make her forego all the long dream of her days. + +He had known perfectly the call of the blood in her. He had understood +her hatred of the Turners, he could hate in the same way himself. He +realized her love for her father's home and how she had dreamed of +expelling its usurpers. Yet she was willing to renounce it all. The +power that had come to her was one that he, a man whose code of life was +no less cruel and remorseless than that of the Killer himself, could not +understand. + +"But why?" he demanded. "Why are you willing to do all this for him?" + +"Why?" she echoed. Once more the luster was in her dark eyes. "I suppose +it is because--I love him." + +He looked at her with slowly darkening face. Passion welled within him. +An oath dropped from his lips, blasphemous, more savage than any +wilderness voice. Then he raised his arm and struck her tender flesh. + +He struck her breast. The brutality of the man stood forth at last. No +picture that all the dreadful dramas of the wild could portray was more +terrible than this. The girl cried out, reeled and fell fainting from +the pain, and with smoldering eyes he gazed at her unmoved. Then he +turned out of the door. + +But the curtain of this drama in the mountain home had not yet rung +down. Half-unconscious, she listened to his steps. He was out in the +moonlight, vanishing among the trees. Strange fancies swept her, all in +the smallest fraction of an instant, and a voice spoke clearly. With all +the strength of her will she dispelled the mists of dawning +unconsciousness that the pain had wrought and crept swiftly to the +little desk placed against the wall. Her hand fumbled in the shadow +behind it and brought out a glittering rifle. Then she crept to the open +doorway. + +Lying on the floor, she raised the weapon to her shoulder. Her thumb +pressed back, strong and unfaltering, against the hammer; and she heard +it click as it sprung into place. Then she looked along the barrel until +she saw the swinging form of Simon through the sights. + +There was no remorse in that cold gaze of hers. The wings of death +hovered over the man, ready to swoop down. Her fingers curled tighter +about the trigger. One ounce more pressure, and Simon's trail of +wickedness and bloodshed would have come to an end at last. But at that +instant her eyes widened with the dawn of an idea. + +She knew this man. She knew the hatred that was upon him. And she +realized, as if by an inspiration from on High, that before he went to +his house and to sleep he would go once more into the presence of Bruce, +confined somewhere among these ridges and suffering the punishment of +having opposed his will. Simon would want one look to see how his plan +was getting on; perhaps he would want to utter one taunting word. And +Linda saw her chance. + +She started to creep out of the door. Then she turned back, crawled +until she was no longer revealed in the silhouette of the lighted +doorway, and got swiftly to her feet. She dropped the rifle and darted +into her own room. There she procured a weapon that she trusted more, +her little pistol, loaded with six cartridges. + +If she had understood the real nature of the danger that Bruce faced she +would have retained the rifle. It shot with many times the smashing +power of the little gun, and at long range was many times as accurate, +but even it would have seemed an ineffective defense against such an +enemy as was even now creeping toward Bruce's body. But she knew that in +a crisis, against such of the Turners as she thought she might have to +face, it would serve her much better than the more awkward, heavier +weapon. Besides, she knew how to wield it, and all her life she had kept +it for just such an emergency. + +The pain of the blow was quite gone now, except for a strange sickness +that had encompassed her. But she was never colder of nerve and surer +of muscle. Cunningly she lay down again before she crept through the +door, so that if Simon chanced to look about he would fail to see that +she followed him. She crept to the thickets, then stood up. Three +hundred yards down the slope she could see Simon's dimming figure in the +moonlight, and swiftly she sped after him. + + + + +XXV + + +The shadow that Bruce saw at the edge of the forest could not be +mistaken as to identity. The hopes that he had held before--that this +stalking figure might be that of a deer or an elk--could no longer be +entertained. Men as a rule do not love the wild and wailing sobs of a +coyote, as he looks down upon a camp fire from the ridge above. Sleep +does not come easily when a gaunt wolf walks in a slow, inquisitive +circle about the pallet, scarcely a leaf rustling beneath his feet. And +a few times, in the history of the frontier, men have had queer +tinglings and creepings in the scalp when they have happened to glance +over their shoulders and see the eyes of a great, tawny puma, glowing an +odd blue in the firelight. Yet Bruce would have had any one of these, or +all three together, in preference to the Killer. + +The reason was extremely simple. No words have ever been capable of +expressing the depths of cowardice of which a coyote is capable. He will +whine and weep about a camp, like a soul lost between two worlds, but if +he is in his right mind he would have each one of his gray hairs plucked +out, one by one, rather than attack a man. The cunning breed to which he +belongs has found out that it doesn't pay. The wolf is sometimes +disquietingly brave when he is fortified by his pack brethren in the +winter, but in such a season as this he is particularly careful to keep +out of the sight of man. And the Tawny One himself, white-fanged and +long-clawed and powerful as he is, never gets farther than certain +dreadful, speculative dreams. + +But none of these things was true of the Killer. He had already shown +his scorn of men. His very stride showed that he feared no living +creature that shared the forest with him. In fact, he considered himself +the forest master. The bear is never a particularly timid animal, and +whatever timidity the Killer possessed was as utterly gone as +yesterday's daylight. + +Bruce watched him with unwinking eyes. The shadow wavered ever so +slightly, as the Killer turned his head this way and that. But except to +follow it with his eyes, Bruce made no motion. The inner guardians of a +man's life--voices that are more to be relied upon than the promptings +of any conscious knowledge--had already told him what to do. These +monitors had the wisdom of the pines themselves, and they had revealed +to him his one hope. It was just to lie still, without a twitch of a +muscle. It might be that the Killer would fail to discern his outline. +Bruce had no conscious knowledge, as yet, that it is movement rather +than form to which the eyes of the wild creatures are most receptive. +But he acted upon that fact now as if by instinct. He was not lying in +quite the exact spot where the Killer had left his dead the preceding +night, and possibly his outline was not enough like it to attract the +grizzly's attention. Besides, in the intermittent light, it was wholly +possible that the grizzly would try to find the remains of his feast by +smell alone; and if this were lacking, and Bruce made no movements to +attract his attention, he might wander away in search of other game. + +For the first time in his life, Bruce knew Fear as it really was. It is +a knowledge that few dwellers in cities can possibly have; and so few +times has it really been experienced in these days of civilization that +men have mostly forgotten what it is like. If they experience it at all, +it is usually only in a dream that arises from the germ-plasm,--a +nightmare to paralyze the muscles and chill the heart and freeze a man +in his bed. The moon was strange and white as it slipped in and out of +the clouds, and the forest, mysterious as Death itself, lightened and +darkened alternately with a strange effect of unreality; but for all +that, Bruce could not make himself believe that this was just a dream. +The dreadful reality remained that the Killer, whose name and works he +knew, was even now investigating him from the shadows one hundred feet +away. + +The fear that came to him was that of the young world,--fear without +recompense, direct and primitive fear that grew on him like a sickness. +It was the fear that the deer knew as they crept down their dusky trails +at night; it was the fear of darkness and silence and pain and heaven +knows what cruelty that would be visited upon him by those terrible, +rending fangs and claws. It was the fear that can be heard in the pack +song in the dreadful winter season, and that can be felt in strange +overtones, in the sobbing wail of despair that the coyote utters in the +half-darkness. He had been afraid for his life every moment he was in +the hands of the Turners. He knew that if he survived this night, he +would have to face death again. He had no hopes of deliverance +altogether. But the Turners were men, and they worked with knife blade +and bullet, not rending fang and claw. He could face men bravely; but it +was hard to keep a strong heart in the face of this ancient fear of +beasts. + +The Killer seemed disturbed and moved slowly along the edge of the +moonlight. Bruce could trace his movements by the irregularity in the +line of shadows. He seemed to be moving more cautiously than ever, now. +Bruce could not hear the slightest sound. + +For an instant Bruce had an exultant hope that the bear would continue +on down the edge of the forest and leave him; and his heart stood still +as the great beast paused, sniffing. But some smell in the air seemed to +reach him, and he came stealing back. + +In reality, the Killer was puzzled. He had come to this place straight +through the forest with the expectation that food--flesh to tear with +his fangs--would be waiting for him. Perhaps he had no actual memory of +killing the calf the night before. Possibly it was only instinct, not +conscious intelligence, that brought him back to what was left of his +feast the preceding night. And now, as he waited at the border of the +darkness, he knew that a strange change had taken place. And the Killer +did not like strangeness. + +The smell that he had expected had dimmed to such an extent that it +promoted no muscular impulse. Perhaps it was only obliterated by a +stranger smell,--one that was vaguely familiar and wakened a slow, +brooding anger in his great beast's heart. + +He was not timid; yet he retained some of his natural caution and +remained in the gloom while he made his investigations. Probably it was +a hunting instinct alone. He crept slowly up and down the border of +moonlight, and his anger seemed to grow and deepen within him. He felt +dimly that he had been cheated out of his meal. And once before he had +been similarly cheated; but there had been singular triumph at the end +of that experience. + +All at once a movement, far across the pasture, caught his attention. +Remote as it was, he identified the tall form at once; it was just such +a creature as he had blasted with one blow a day or two before. But it +dimmed quickly in the darkness. It seemed only that some one had come, +taken one glance at the drama at the edge of the forest, and had +departed. Bruce himself had not seen the figure; and perhaps it was the +mercy of Fate--not usually merciful--that he did not. He might have been +caused to hope again, only to know a deeper despair when the man left +him without giving aid. For the tall form had been that of Simon coming, +as Linda had anticipated, for a moment's inspection of his handiwork. +And seeing that it was good, he had departed again. + +The grizzly watched him go, then turned back to his questioning regard +of the strange, dark figure that lay so prone in the grass in front. The +darkness dropped over him as the moon went behind a heavy patch of +cloud. + +And in that moment of darkness, the Killer understood. He remembered +now. Possibly the upright form of Simon had suggested it to him; +possibly the wind had only blown straighter and thus permitted him to +identify the troubling smells. All at once a memory flashed over +him,--of a scene in a distant glen, and similar tall figures that tried +to drive him from his food. He had charged then, struck once, and one of +the forms had lain very still. He remembered the pungent, maddening odor +that had reached him after his blow had gone home. Most clearly of all, +he remembered how his fangs had struck and sunk. + +He knew this strange shadow now. It was just another of that tall breed +he had learned to hate, and it was simply lying prone as his foe had +done after the charge beside Little River. In fact, the still-lying form +recalled the other occasion with particular vividness. The excitement +that he had felt before returned to him now; he remembered his +disappointment when the whistling bullets from the hillside above had +driven him from his dead. But there were no whistling bullets now. +Except for them, there would have been further rapture beside that +stream; but he might have it now. + +His fangs had sunk home just once, before, and his blood leaped as he +recalled the passion he had felt. The old hunting madness came back to +him. It was the fair game, this that lay so still in the grass, just as +the body of the calf had been and just as the warm body of Hudson in the +distant glen. + +The wound at his side gave him a twinge of pain. It served to make his +memories all the clearer. The lurid lights grew in his eyes. Rage swept +over him. + +But he didn't charge blindly. He retained enough of his hunting caution +to know that to stalk was the proper course. It was true that there was +no shrubbery to hide him, yet in his time he had made successful stalks +in the open, even upon deer. He moved farther out from the edge of the +forest. + +At that instant the moon came out and revealed him, all too vividly, to +Bruce. The Killer's great gray figure in the silver light was creeping +toward him across the silvered grass. + + * * * * * + +When Linda left her house, her first realization was the need of +caution. It would not do to let Simon see her. And she knew that only +her long training in the hills, her practice in climbing the winding +trails, would enable her to keep pace with the fast-walking man without +being seen. + +In her concern for Bruce, she had completely forgotten the events of the +earlier part of the evening. Wild and stirring though they were, they +now seemed to her as incidents of remote years, nothing to be +remembered in this hour of crisis. But she remembered them vividly when, +two hundred yards from the house, she saw two strange figures coming +toward her between the moonlit tree trunks. + +There was very little of reality about either. The foremost figure was +bent and strange, but she knew that it could be no one but Elmira. The +second, however--half-obscured behind her--offered no interpretation of +outline at all at first. But at the turn of the trail she saw both +figures in vivid profile. Elmira was coming homeward, bent over her +cane, and she led a saddled horse by its bridle rein. + +Still keeping Simon in sight, Linda ran swiftly toward her. She didn't +understand the deep awe that stole over her,--an emotion that even her +fear for Bruce could not transcend. There was a quality in Elmira's face +and posture that she had never seen before. It was as if she were +walking in her sleep, she came with such a strange heaviness and +languor, her cane creeping through the pine needles of the trail in +front. She did not seem to be aware of Linda's approach until the girl +was only ten feet distant. Then she looked up, and Linda saw the +moonlight on her face. + +She saw something else too, but she didn't know what it was. Her own +eyes widened. The thin lips were drooping, the eyes looked as if she +were asleep. The face was a strange net of wrinkles in the soft light. +Terrible emotions had but recently died and left their ashes upon it. +But Linda knew that this was no time to stop and wonder and ask +questions. + +"Give me the horse," she commanded. "I'm going to help Bruce." + +"You can have it," Elmira answered in an unfamiliar voice. "It's the +horse that--that Dave Turner rode here--and he won't want him any more." + +Linda took the rein, passed it over the horse's head, and started to +swing into the saddle. Then she turned with a gasp as the woman slipped +something into her hand. + +Linda looked down and saw it was the hilt of the knife that Elmira had +carried with her when the two women had gone with Dave into the woods. +The blade glittered; but Linda was afraid to look at it closely. "You +might need that, too," the old woman said. "It may be wet--I can't +remember. But take it, anyway." + +Linda hardly heard. She thrust the blade into the leather of the saddle, +then swung on her horse. Once more she sought Simon's figure. Far away +she saw it, just as it vanished into the heavy timber on top of the +hill. + +She rode swiftly until she began to fear that he might hear the hoof +beat of her mount; then she drew up to a walk. And when she had crested +the hill and had followed down its long slope into the glen, the moon +went under the clouds for the first time. + +She lost sight of Simon at once. Seemingly her effort to save Bruce had +come to nothing, after all. + +But she didn't turn back. There were light patches in the sky, and the +moon might shine forth again. + +She followed down the trail toward the cleared lands that the Turners +cultivated. She went to their very edge. It was a rather high point, so +she waited here for the moon to emerge again. Never, it seemed to her, +had it moved so slowly. But all at once its light flowed forth over the +land. + +Her eyes searched the distant spaces, but she could catch no glimpse of +Simon between the trees. Evidently he no longer walked in the direction +of the house. Then she looked out over the tilled lands. + +Almost a quarter of a mile away she saw the flicker of a miniature +shadow. Only the vivid quality of the moonlight, against which any +shadow was clear-cut and sharp, enabled her to discern it at all. It was +Simon, and evidently his business had taken him into the meadows. +Feeling that she was on the right track at last, she urged her horse +forward again, keeping to the shadow of the timber at first. + +Simon walked almost parallel to the dark fringe for nearly a mile; then +turned off into the tilled lands. She rode opposite him and reined in +the horse to watch. + +When the distance had almost obscured him, she saw him stop. He waited a +long time, then turned back. The moon went in and out of the clouds. +Then, trusting to the distance to conceal her, Linda rode slowly out +into the clearing. + +Simon reentered the timber, his inspection seemingly done, and Linda +still rode in the general direction he had gone. The darkness fell +again, and for the space of perhaps five minutes all the surroundings +were obscured. A curious sense of impending events came over her as she +headed on toward the distant wall of forest beyond. + +Then, the clouds slowly dimming under the moon, the light grew with +almost imperceptible encroachments. At first it was only bright enough +to show her own dim shadow on the grass. The utter gloom that was over +the fields lessened and drew away like receding curtains; her vision +reached ever farther, the shadows grew more clearly outlined and +distinct. Then the moon rolled forth into a wholly open patch of sky--a +white sphere with a sprinkling of vivid stars around it--and the silver +radiance poured down. + +It was like the breaking of dawn. The fields stretched to incredible +distances about her. The forest beyond emerged in distinct outline; she +could see every irregularity in the plain. And in one instant's glance +she knew that she had found Bruce. + +His situation went home to her in one sweep of the eyes. Bruce was not +alone. Even now a great, towering figure was creeping toward him from +the forest. Linda cried out, and with the long strap of her rein lashed +her horse into the fastest pace it knew. + + * * * * * + +Bruce did not hear her come. He lay in the soft grass, waiting for +death. A great calm had come upon him; a strange, quiet strength that +the pines themselves might have lent to him; and he made no cry. In this +dreadful last moment of despair the worst of his terror had gone and +left his thoughts singularly clear. And but one desire was left to him: +that the Killer might be merciful and end his frail existence with one +blow. + +It was not a great deal to ask for; but he knew perfectly that only by +the mercy of the forest gods could it come to pass. They are usually not +so kind to the dying; and it is not the wild-animal way to take pains to +kill at the first blow. Yet his eyes held straight. The Killer crept +slowly toward him; more and more of his vast body was revealed above the +tall heads of the grass. And now all that Bruce knew was a great +wonder,--a strange expectancy and awe of what the opening gates of +darkness would reveal. + +The Killer moved with dreadful slowness and deliberation. He was no +longer afraid. It was just as it had been before,--a warm figure lying +still and helpless for his own terrible pleasure. A few more steps and +he would be near enough to see plainly; then--after the grizzly +habit--to fling into the charge. It was his own way of hunting,--to +stalk within a few score of feet, then to make a furious, resistless +rush. He paused, his muscles setting. And then the meadows suddenly rang +with the undulations of his snarl. + +Almost unconscious, Bruce did not understand what had caused this +utterance. But strangely, the bear had lifted his head and was staring +straight over him. For the first time Bruce heard the wild beat of +hoofs on the turf behind him. + +He didn't have time to turn and look. There was no opportunity even for +a flood of renewed hope. Events followed upon one another with startling +rapidity. The sharp, unmistakable crack of a pistol leaped through the +dusk, and a bullet sung over his body. And then a wild-riding figure +swept up to him. + +It was Linda, firing as she came. How she had been able to control her +horse and ride him into that scene of peril no words may reveal. +Perhaps, running wildly beneath the lash, his starting eyes did not +discern or interpret the gray figure scarcely a score of yards distant +from Bruce; and it is true the grizzly's pungent smell--a thing to +terrify much more and to be interpreted more clearly than any kind of +dim form in the moonlight--was blown in the opposite direction. Perhaps +the lashing strap recalled the terrible punishment the horse had +undergone earlier that evening at the hands of Simon and no room was +left for any lesser terror. But most likely of all, just as in the case +of brave soldiers riding their horses into battle, the girl's own +strength and courage went into him. Always it has been the same; the +steed partook of its rider's own spirit. + +The bear reared up, snarling with wrath, but for a moment it dared not +charge. The sudden appearance of the girl and the horse held him +momentarily at bay. The girl swung to the ground in one leap, fired +again, thrust her arm through the loop of the bridle rein, then knelt +at Bruce's side. The white blade that she carried in her left hand +slashed at his bonds. + +The horse, plunging, seemed to jerk her body back and forth, and endless +seconds seemed to go by before the last of the thongs was severed. In +reality the whole rescue was unbelievably swift. The man helped her all +he could. "Up--up into the saddle," she commanded. The grizzly growled +again, advancing remorselessly toward them, and twice more she fired. +Two of the bullets went home in his great body, but their weight and +shocking power were too slight to affect him. He went down once more on +all fours, preparing to charge. + +Bruce, in spite of the fact that his limbs had been nearly paralyzed by +the tight bonds, managed to grasp the saddlehorn. In the strength of +new-born hope he pulled himself half up on it, and he felt Linda's +strong arms behind him pushing up. The horse plunged in deadly fear; and +the Killer leaped toward them. Once more the pistol cracked. Then the +horse broke and ran in a frenzy of terror. + +Bruce was full in the saddle by then, and even at the first leap his arm +swept out to the girl on the ground beside him. He swung her towards +him, and at the same time her hands caught at the arching back of the +saddle. Never had her fine young strength been put to a greater test +than when she tried to pull herself up on the speeding animal's back. +For the first fifty feet she was half-dragged, but slowly--with Bruce's +help--she pulled herself up to a position of security. + +The Killer's charge had come a few seconds too late. For a moment he +raced behind them in insane fury, but only his savage growl leaped +through the darkness fast enough to catch up with them. And the distance +slowly widened. + +The Killer had been cheated again; and by the same token Simon's oath +had been proved untrue. For once the remorseless strength of which he +boasted had been worsted by a greater strength; and love, not hate, was +the power that gave it. For once a girl's courage--a courage greater +than that with which he obeyed the dictates of his cruel will--had cost +him his victory. The war that he and his outlaw band had begun so long +ago had not yet been won. + +Indeed, if Simon could have seen what the moon saw as it peered out from +behind the clouds, he would have known that one of the debts of blood +incurred so many years ago had even now been paid. Far away on a distant +hillside there was one who gave no heed to the fast hoof beats of the +speeding horse. It was Dave Turner, and his trail of lust and wickedness +was ended at last. He lay with lifted face, and there were curious dark +stains on the pine needles. + +It was the first blood since the reopening of the feud. And the pines, +those tall, dark sentinels of the wilderness, seemed to look down upon +him in passionless contemplation, as if they wondered at the stumbling +ways of men. Their branches rubbed together and made words as the wind +swept through them, but no man may say what those words were. + + + + +BOOK THREE + +THE COMING OF THE STRENGTH + + + + +XXVI + + +Fall was at hand at Trail's End. One night, and the summer was still a +joyous spirit in the land, birds nested, skies were blue, soft winds +wandered here and there through the forest. One morning, and a startling +change had come upon the wilderness world. The spirit of autumn had come +with golden wings. + +The wild creatures, up and about at their pursuits long before dawn, +were the first to see the change. A buck deer--a noble creature with six +points on his spreading horns--got the first inkling of it when he +stopped at a spring to drink. It was true that an hour before he had +noticed a curious crispness and a new stir in the air, but he had been +so busy keeping out of the ambushes of the Tawny One that he had not +noticed it. The air had been chill in his nostrils, but thanks to a +heavy growth of hair that--with mysterious foresight--had begun to come +upon his body, it gave him no discomfort. But it was a puzzling and +significant thing that the water he bent to drink had been transformed +to something hard and white and burning cold to the tip of his nose. + +It was the first real freeze. True, for the past few nights there had +been a measure of tinkling, cobweb frost on the ground in wet places, +but even the tender-skinned birds--always most watchful of signs of this +kind--had disregarded it. But there was no disregarding this half-inch +of blue ice that had covered the spring. The buck deer struck it angrily +with his front hoofs, broke through and drank; then went snorting up the +hill. + +His anger was in itself a significant thing. In the long, easy-going +summer days, Blacktail had almost forgotten what anger was like. He had +been content to roam over the ridges, cropping the leaves and grass, +avoiding danger and growing fat. But all at once this kind of existence +had palled on him. He felt that he wanted only one thing--not food or +drink or safety--but a good, slashing, hooking, hoof-carving battle with +another buck of his own species. An unwonted crossness had come upon +him, and his soft eyes burned with a blue fire. He remembered the does, +too--with a sudden leap of his blood--and wondered where they were +keeping themselves. Being only a beast he did not know that this new +belligerent spirit was just as much a sign of fall as the soft blush +that was coming on the leaves. The simple fact was that fall means the +beginning of the rut--the wild mating days when the bucks battle among +themselves and choose their harems of does. + +He had rather liked his appearance as he saw himself in the water of the +spring. The last of the velvet had been rubbed from his horns, and the +twelve tines (six on each horn) were as hard and almost as sharp as so +many bayonet points. As the morning dawned, the change in the face of +nature became ever more manifest. The leaves of the shrubbery began to +change in color. The wind out of the north had a keener, more biting +quality, and the birds were having some sort of exciting debate in the +tree tops. + +The birds are always a scurried, nervous, rather rattle-brained outfit, +and seem wholly incapable of making a decision about anything without +hours of argument and discussion. Their days are simply filled with one +excitement after another, and they tell more scandal in an hour than the +old ladies in a resort manage in the entire summer. This slow +transformation in the color of the leaves, not to mention the chill of +the frost through their scanty feathers, had created a sensation from +one end of birdland to another. And there was only one thing to do about +it. That was to wait until the darkness closed down again, then start +away toward the path of the sun in search of their winter resorts in the +south. + +The Little People in the forest of ferns beneath were not such gay +birds, and they did not have such high-flown ideas as these feathered +folk in the branches. They didn't talk such foolishness and small talk +from dawn to dark. They didn't wear gay clothes that weren't a particle +of good to them in cold weather. You can imagine them as being good, +substantial, middle-class people, much more sober-minded, tending +strictly to business and working hard, and among other things they saw +no need of flitting down to southern resorts for the cold season. These +people--being mostly ground squirrels and gophers and chipmunks and +rabbits--had not been fitted by nature for wide travel and had made all +arrangements for a pleasant winter at home. You could almost see a smile +on the fat face of a plump old gopher when he came out and found the +frost upon the ground; for he knew that for months past he had been +putting away stores for just this season. In the snows that would follow +he would simply retire into the farthest recesses of his burrow and let +the winds whistle vainly above him. + +The larger creatures, however, were less complacent. The wolves--if +animals have any powers of foresight whatever--knew that only hard days, +not luscious nuts and roots, were in store for them. There would be many +days of hunger once the snow came over the land. The black bear saw the +signs and began a desperate effort to lay up as many extra pounds of fat +as possible before the snows broke. Ashur's appetite was always as much +with him as his bobbed-off excuse for a tail, and as he was more or less +indifferent to a fair supply of dirt, he always managed to put away +considerable food in a rather astonishingly short period of time; and +now he tried to eat all the faster in view of the hungry days to come. +He would have need of the extra flesh. The time was coming when all +sources of food would be cut off by the snows, and he would have to seek +the security of hibernation. He had already chosen an underground abode +for himself and there he could doze away in the cold-trance through the +winter months, subsisting on the supplies of fat that he had stored next +to his furry hide. + +The greatest of all the bears, the Killer, knew that some such fate +awaited him also. But he looked forward to it with wretched spirit. He +was master of the forest, and perhaps he did not like to yield even to +the spirit of winter. His savagery grew upon him every day, and his +dislike for men had turned to a veritable hatred. But he had found them +out. When he crossed their trails again, he would not wait to stalk. +They were apt to slip away from him in this case and sting him +unmercifully with bullets. The thing to do was charge quickly and strike +with all his power. + +The three minor wounds he had received--two from pistol bullets and one +from Bruce's rifle--had not lessened his strength at all. They did, +however, serve to keep his blood-heat at the explosive stage most of the +day and night. + +The flowers and the grasses were dying; the moths that paid calls on the +flowers had laid their eggs and had perished, and winter lurked--ready +to pounce forth--just beyond the distant mountains. There is nothing so +thoroughly unreliable as the mountain autumn. It may linger in +entrancing golds and browns month after month, until it is almost time +for spring to come again; and again it may make one short bow and usher +in the winter. To Bruce and Linda, in the old Folger home in Trail's +End, these fall days offered the last hope of success in their war +against the Turners. + +The adventure in the pasture with the Killer had handicapped them to an +unlooked-for degree. Bruce's muscles had been severely strained by the +bonds; several days had elapsed before he regained their full use. Linda +was a mountain girl, hardy as a deer, yet her nerves had suffered a +greater shock by the experience than either of them had guessed. The +wild ride, the fear and the stress, and most of all the base blow that +Simon had dealt her had been too much even for her strong constitution; +and she had been obliged to go to bed for a few days of rest. Old Elmira +worked about the house the same as ever, but strange, new lights were in +her eyes. For reasons that went down to the roots of things, neither +Bruce nor Linda questioned her as to her scene with Dave Turner in the +coverts; and what thoughts dwelt in her aged mind neither of them could +guess. + +The truth was that in these short weeks of trial and danger whatever +dreadful events had come to pass in that meeting were worth neither +thought nor words. Both Bruce and Linda were down to essentials. It is a +descent that most human beings--some time in their lives--find they are +able to make; and there was no room for sentimentality or hysteria in +this grim household. The ideas, the softnesses, the laws of the valleys +were far away from them; they were face to face with realities. Their +code had become the basic code of life: to kill for self-protection +without mercy or remorse. + +They did not know when the Turners would attack. It was the dark of the +moon, and the men would be able to approach the house without presenting +themselves as targets for Bruce's rifle. The danger was not a thing on +which to conjecture and forget; it was an ever-present reality. Never +they stepped out of the door, never they crossed a lighted window, never +a pane rattled in the wind but that the wings of Death might have been +hovering over them. The days were passing, the date when the chance for +victory would utterly vanish was almost at hand, and they were haunted +by the ghastly fact that their whole defense lay in a single +thirty-thirty rifle and five cartridges. Bruce's own gun had been taken +from him in Simon's house; Linda had emptied her pistol at the Killer. + +"We've got to get more shells," Bruce told Linda. "The Turners won't be +such fools as to wait until we have the moon again to attack. I can't +understand why they haven't already come. Of course, they don't know the +condition of our ammunition supply, but it doesn't seem to me that that +alone would have held them off. They are sure to come soon, and you know +what we could do with five cartridges, don't you?" + +"I know." She looked up into his earnest face. "We could die--that's +all." + +"Yes--like rabbits. Without hurting them at all. I wouldn't mind dying +so much, if I did plenty of damage first. It's death for me, anyway, I +suppose--and no one but a fool can see it otherwise. There are simply +too many against us. But I do want to make some payment first." + +Her hand fumbled and groped for his. Her eyes pled to him,--more than +any words. "And you mean you've given up hope?" she asked. + +He smiled down at her,--a grave, strange little smile that moved her in +secret ways. "Not given up hope, Linda," he said gently. They were +standing at the door and the sunlight--coming low from the South--was on +his face. "I've never had any hope to give up--just realization of what +lay ahead of us. I'm looking it all in the face now, just as I did at +first." + +"And what you see--makes you afraid?" + +Yet she need not have asked that question. His face gave an unmistakable +answer: that this man had conquered fear in the terrible night with the +Killer. "Not afraid, Linda," he explained, "only seeing things as they +really are. There are too many against us. If we had that great estate +behind us, with all its wealth, we might have a chance; if we had an +arsenal of rifles with thousands of cartridges, we might make a stand +against them. But we are three--two women and one man--and one rifle +between us all. Five little shells to be expended in five seconds. They +are seven or eight, each man armed, each man a rifle-shot. They are +certain to attack within a day or two--before we have the moon again. In +less than two weeks we can no longer contest their title to the estate. +A little month or two more and we will be snowed in--with no chance to +get out at all." + +"Perhaps before that," she told him. + +"Yes. Perhaps before that." + +They found a confirmation of this prophecy in the signs of fall +without--the coloring leaves, the dying flowers, the new, cold breath of +the wind. Only the pines remained unchanged; they were the same grave +sentinels they always were. + +"And you can forgive me?" Linda asked humbly. + +"Forgive you?" The man turned to her in surprise. "What have you done +that needs to be forgiven?" + +"Oh, don't you see? To bring you here--out of your cities--to throw your +life away. To enlist you in a fight that you can't hope to win. I've +killed you, that's all I've done. Perhaps to-night--perhaps a few days +later." + +He nodded gravely. + +"And I've already killed your smile," she went on, looking down. "You +don't smile any more the way you used to. You're not the boy you were +when you came. Oh, to think of it--that it's all been my work. To kill +your youth, to lead you into this slaughter pen where nothing--nothing +lives but death--and hatred--and unhappiness." + +The tears leaped to her eyes. He caught her hands and pressed them +between his until pain came into her fingers. "Listen, Linda," he +commanded. She looked straight up at him. "Are you sorry I came?" + +"More than I can tell you--for your sake." + +"But when people look for the truth in this world, Linda, they don't +take any one's sake into consideration. They balance all things and give +them their true worth. Would you rather that you and I had never +met--that I had never received Elmira's message--that you should live +your life up here without ever hearing of me?" + +She dropped her eyes. "It isn't fair--to ask me that--" + +"Tell me the truth. Hasn't it been worth while? Even if we lose and die +before this night is done, hasn't it all been worth while? Are you sorry +you have seen me change? Isn't the change for the better--a man grown +instead of a boy? One who looks straight and sees clear?" + +He studied her face; and after a while he found his answer. It was not +in the form of words at first. As a man might watch a miracle he watched +a new light come into her dark eyes. All the gloom and sorrow of the +wilderness without could not affect its quality. It was a light of joy, +of exultation, of new-found strength. + +"You hadn't ought to ask me that, Bruce," she said with a rather +strained distinctness. "It has been like being born again. There aren't +any words to tell you what it has meant to me. And don't think I haven't +seen the change in you, too--the birth of a new strength that every day +is greater, higher--until it is--almost more than I can understand. The +old smiles are gone, but something else has taken their place--something +much more dear to me--but what it is I can hardly tell you. Maybe it's +something that the pines have." + +But he hadn't wholly forgotten how to smile. His face lighted as +remembrance came to him. "They are a different kind of smiles--that's +all," he explained. "Perhaps there will be many of them in the days to +come. Linda, I have no regrets. I've played the game. Whether it was +Destiny that brought me here, or only chance, or perhaps--if we take +just life and death into consideration--just misfortune, whatever it is +I feel no resentment toward it. It has been the worthwhile adventure. In +the first place, I love the woods. There's something else in them +besides death and hatred and unhappiness. Besides, it seems to me that I +can understand the whole world better than I used to. Maybe I can begin +to see a big purpose and theme running through it all--but it's not yet +clear enough to put into words. Certain things in this world are +essentials, certain other ones are froth. And I see which things belong +to one class and which to another so much more clearly than I did +before. One of the things that matters is throwing one's whole life into +whatever task he has set out to do--whether he fails or succeeds doesn't +seem greatly to matter. The main thing, it appears to me, is that he has +tried. To stand strong and kind of calm, and not be afraid--if I can +always do it, Linda, it is all I ask for myself. Not to flinch now. Not +to give up as long as I have the strength for another step. And to have +you with me--all the way." + +"Then you and I--take fresh heart?" + +"We've never lost heart, Linda." + +"Not to give up, but only be glad we've tried?" + +"Yes. And keep on trying." + +"With no regrets?" + +"None--and maybe to borrow a little strength from the pines!" + +This was their new pact. To stand firm and strong and unflinching, and +never to yield as long as an ounce of strength remained. As if to seal +it, her arms crept about his neck and her soft lips pressed his. + + + + +XXVII + + +Toward the end of the afternoon Linda saddled the horse and rode down +the trail toward Martin's store. She had considerable business to attend +to. Among other things, she was going to buy thirty-thirty +cartridges,--all that Martin had in stock. She had some hope of securing +an extra gun or two with shells to match. The additional space in her +pack was to be filled with provisions. + +For she was faced with the unpleasant fact that her larder was nearly +empty. The jerked venison was almost gone; only a little flour and a few +canned things remained. She had space for only small supplies on the +horse's back, and there would be no luxuries among them.--Their fare had +been plain up to this time; but from now on it was to consist of only +such things as were absolutely necessary to sustain life. + +She rode unarmed. Without informing him of the fact, the rifle had been +left for Bruce. She did not expect for herself a rifle shot from +ambush--for the simple reason that Simon had bidden otherwise--and Bruce +might be attacked at any moment. + +She was dreaming dreams, that day. The talk with Bruce had given her +fresh heart, and as she rode down the sunlit trail the future opened up +entrancing vistas to her. Perhaps they yet could conquer, and that would +mean reestablishment on the far-flung lands of her father. Matthew +Folger had possessed a fertile farm also, and its green pastures might +still be utilized. It suddenly occurred to her that it would be of +interest to turn off the main trail, take a little dim path up the ridge +that she had discovered years before, and look over these lands. The +hour was early; besides, Bruce would find her report of the greatest +interest. + +She jogged slowly along in the Western fashion,--which means something +quite different from army fashion or sportsman fashion. Western riders +do not post. Riding is not exercise to them; it is rest. They hang limp +in the saddle, and all jar is taken up, as if by a spring, somewhere in +the region of the floating ribs that only a physician can correctly +designate. They never sit firm, these Western riders, and as a rule +their riding is not a particularly graceful thing to watch. But they do +not care greatly about grace as long as they may encompass their fifty +miles a day and still be fresh enough for a country dance at night. +There are many other differences in Western and Eastern riding, one of +them being the way in which the horse is mounted. Another difference is +the riding habit. Linda had no trim riding trousers, with tall glossy +boots, red coat, and stock. It was rather doubtful whether she knew such +things existed. She did, however, wear a trim riding skirt of khaki and +a middie blouse washed spotlessly clean by her own hands; and no one +would have missed the other things. It is an indisputable fact that she +made a rather alluring picture--eyes bright and hair dark and strong +arms bare to the elbow--as she came riding down the pine-needle trail. + +She came to the opening of the dimmer trail and turned down it. She did +not jog so easily now. The descent was more steep. She entered a still +glen, and the color in her cheeks and the soft brown of her arms blended +well with the new tints of the autumn leaves. Then she turned up a long +ridge. + +The 'trail led through an old burn--a bleak, eerie place where the fire +had swept down the forest, leaving only strange, black palings here and +there--and she stopped in the middle of it to look down. The mountain +world was laid out below her as clearly as in a relief map. Her eyes +lighted as its beauty and its fearsomeness went home to her, and her +keen eyes slowly swept over the surrounding hill tops. Then for a long +moment she sat very still in the saddle. + +A thousand feet distant, on the same ridge on which she rode, she caught +sight of another horse. It held her gaze, and in an instant she +discerned the rather startling fact that it was saddled, bridled, and +apparently tied to a tree. Momentarily she thought that its rider was +probably one of the Turners who was at present at work on the old Folger +farm; yet she knew at once the tilled lands were still too far distant +for that. She studied closely the maze of light and shadow of the +underbrush and in a moment more distinguished the figure of the +horseman. + +It was one of the Turners,--but he was not working in the fields. He was +standing near the animal's head, back to her, and his rifle lay in his +arms. And then Linda understood. + +He was simply guarding the trail down to Martin's store. Except for the +fact that she had turned off the main trail by no possibility could she +have seen him and escaped whatever fate he had for her. + +She held hard on her faculties and tried to puzzle it out. She +understood now why the Turners had not as yet made an attack upon them +at their home. It wasn't the Turner way to wage open warfare. They were +the wolves that struck from ambush, the rattlesnakes that lunged with +poisoned fangs from beneath the rocks. There was some security for her +in the Folger home, but none whatever here. There she had a strong man +to fight for her, a loaded rifle, and under ordinary conditions the +Turners could not hope to batter down the oaken door and overwhelm them +without at least some loss of life. For all they knew, Bruce had a large +stock of rifles and ammunition,--and the Turners did not look forward +with pleasure to casualties in their ranks. The much simpler way was to +watch the trail. + +They had known that sooner or later one of them would attempt to ride +down after either supplies or aid. Linda was a mountain girl and she +knew the mountain methods of procedure; and she knew quite well what she +would have had to expect if she had not discovered the ambush in time. +She didn't think that the sentry would actually fire on her; he would +merely shoot the horse from beneath her. It would be a simple feat by +the least of the Turners,--for these gaunt men were marksmen if nothing +else. It wouldn't be in accord with Simon's plan or desire to leave her +body lying still on the trail. But the horse killed, flight would be +impossible, and what would transpire thereafter she did not dare to +think. She had not forgotten Simon's threat in regard to any attempt to +go down into the settlements. She knew that it still held good. + +Of course, if Bruce made the excursion, the sentry's target would be +somewhat different. He would shoot him down as remorselessly as he would +shatter a lynx from a tree top. + +The truth was that Linda had guessed just right. "It's the easiest way," +Simon had said. "They'll be trying to get out in a very few days. If the +man--shoot straight and to kill! If Linda, plug the horse and bring her +here behind the saddle." + +Linda turned softly, then started back. She did not even give a second's +thought to the folly of trying to break through. She watched the +sentinel over her shoulder and saw him turn about. Far distant though he +was, she could tell by the movement he made that he had discovered her. + +She was almost four hundred yards away by then, and she lashed her horse +into a gallop. The man cried to her to halt, a sound that came dim and +strange through the burn, and then a bullet sent up a cloud of ashes a +few feet to one side. But the range was too far even for the Turners, +and she only urged her horse to a faster pace. + +She flew down the narrow trail, turned into the main trail, and galloped +wildly toward home. But the sentry did not follow her. He valued his +precious life too much for that. He had no intention of offering himself +as a target to Bruce's rifle as he neared the house. He headed back to +report to Simon. + +Young Bill--for such had been the identity of the sentry--found his +chief in the large field not far distant from where Bruce had been +confined. The man was supervising the harvest of the fall growth of +alfalfa. The two men walked slowly away from the workers, toward the +fringe of woods. + +"It looks as if we'll have to adopt rough measures, after all," Young +Bill began. + +Simon turned with flushing face. "Do you mean you let him get past +you--and missed him? Young Bill, if you've done that--" + +"Won't you wait till I've told you how it happened? It wasn't Bruce; it +was Linda. For some reason I can't dope out, she went up in the big burn +back of me and saw me--when I was too far off to shoot her horse. Then +she rode back like a witch. They'll not take that trail again." + +"It means one of two things," Simon said after a pause. "One of them is +to starve 'em out. It won't take long. Their supplies won't last +forever. The other is to call the clan and attack--to-night." + +"And that means loss of life." + +"Not necessarily. I don't know how many guns they've got. If any of you +were worth your salt, you'd find out those things. I wish Dave was +here." + +And Simon spoke the truth for once in his life: he did miss Dave. And it +was not that there had been any love lost between them. But the truth +was--although Simon never would have admitted it--the weaker man's +cunning had been of the greatest aid to his chief. Simon needed it +sorely now. + +"And we can't wait till to-morrow night--because we've got the moon +then," Young Bill added. "Just a new moon, but it will prevent a +surprise attack. I suppose you still have hopes of Dave coming back?" + +"I don't see why not. I'll venture to say now he's off on some good +piece of business--doing something none of the rest of you have thought +of. He'll come riding back one of these days with something actually +accomplished. I see no reason for thinking that he's dead. Bruce hasn't +had any chance at him that I know of. But if I thought he was--there'd +be no more waiting. We'd tear down that nest to-night." + +Simon spoke in his usual voice--with the same emphasis, the same +undertones of passion. But the last words ended with a queer inflection. +The truth was that he had slowly become aware that Young Bill was not +giving him his full attention, but rather was gazing off--unfamiliar +speculation in his eyes--toward the forests beyond. + +Simon's impulse was to follow the gaze; yet he would not yield to it. +"Well?" he demanded. "I'm not talking to amuse myself." + +The younger man seemed to start. His eyes were half-closed; and there +was a strange look of intentness about his facial lines when he turned +back to Simon. "You haven't missed any stock?" he asked abruptly. + +Simon's eyes widened. "No. Why?" + +"Look there--over the forest." Young Bill pointed. Simon shielded his +eyes from the sunset glare and studied the blue-green skyline above the +fringe of pines. There were many grotesque, black birds wheeling on slow +wings above the spot. Now and then they dropped down, out of sight +behind the trees. + +"Buzzards!" Simon exclaimed. + +"Yes," Young Bill answered quietly. "You see, it isn't much over a mile +from Folger's house--in the deep woods. There's something dead there, +Simon. And I think we'd better look to see what it is." + +"You think--" Then Simon hesitated and looked again with reddening eyes +toward the gliding buzzards. + +"I think--that maybe we're going to find Dave," Young Bill replied. + + + + +XXVIII + + +The darkness of this October night fell before its time. The twilight at +Trail's End is never long in duration, due to the simple fact that the +mountains cut off the flood of light from the west after the setting of +the sun, but to-night there seemed none at all. The reason was merely +that heavy banks of clouds swept up from the southeast just after +sunset. + +They came with rather startling rapidity and almost immediately +completely filled the sky. Young Bill had many things on his mind as he +rode beneath them, yet he found time to gaze at them with some +curiosity. They were of singular greenish hue, and they hung so low that +the tops of near-by mountains were obscured. + +The fact that there would be no moon to-night was no longer important. +The clouds would have cut off any telltale light that might illumine the +activities of the Turners. There would not be even the dim mist of +starlight. + +Young Bill rode from house to house through the estate,--the homes +occupied by Simon's brothers and cousins and their respective families. +He knocked on each door and he only gave one little message. "Simon +wants you at the house," he said, "and come heeled." + +He would turn to go, but always a singular quiet and breathlessness +remained in the homes after his departure. There would be a curious +exchange of glances and certain significant sounds. One of them was the +metallic click of cartridges being slipped into the magazine of a rifle. +Another was the buckling on of spurs, and perhaps the rattle of a pistol +in its holster. Before the night fell in reality, the clan came +riding--strange, tall figures in the half-darkness--straight for Simon's +house. + +His horse was saddled too, and he met them in front of his door. And in +a very few words he made all things plain to them. + +"We've found Dave," he told them simply. "Most of you already know it. +We've decided there isn't any use of waiting any more. We're going to +the Folger house to-night." + +The men stood silent, breathing hard. The clouds seemed to lower, +menacingly, toward them. Simon spoke very quietly, yet his voice carried +far. In their growing excitement they did not observe the reason, that a +puzzling, deep calm had come over the whole wilderness world. Even in +the quietest night there is usually a faint background of winds in the +mountain realms--troubled breaths that whisper in the thickets and +rustle the dead leaves--but to-night the heavy air had no breath of +life. + +"To-night Bruce Folger is going to pay the price, just as I said." He +spoke rather boastingly; perhaps more to impress his followers than from +impulse. Indeed, the passion that he felt left no room for his usual +arrogance. "Fire on sight. Bill and I will come from the rear, and we +will be ready to push through the back door the minute you break through +the front. The rest of you surround the house on three sides. And +remember--no man is to touch Linda." + +They nodded grimly; then the file of horsemen started toward the ridge. +Far distant they heard a sound such as had reached them often in summer +but was unfamiliar in fall. It was the faint rumble of distant thunder. + + * * * * * + +Bruce and Linda sat in the front room of the Folger house, quiet and +watchful and unafraid. It was not that they did not realize their +danger. They had simply taken all possible measures of defense; and they +were waiting for what the night would bring forth. + +"I know they'll come to-night," Linda had said. "To-morrow night there +will be a moon, and though it won't give much light, it will hurt their +chances of success. Besides--they've found that their other plot--to +kill you from ambush--isn't going to work." + +Bruce nodded and got up to examine the shutters. He wanted no ray of +light to steal out into the growing darkness and make a target. It was a +significant fact that the rifle did not occupy its usual place behind +the desk. Bruce kept it in his hands as he made the inspection. Linda +had her empty pistol, knowing that it might--in the mayhap of +circumstance--be of aid in frightening an assailant. Old Elmira sat +beside the fire, her stiff fingers busy at a piece of sewing. + +"You know--" Bruce said to her, "that we are expecting an attack +to-night?" + +The woman nodded, but didn't miss a stitch. No gleam of interest came +into her eyes. Bruce's gaze fell to her work basket, and something +glittered from its depth. Evidently Elmira had regained her knife. + +He went back to his chair beside Linda, and the two sat listening. They +had never known a more quiet night. They listened in vain for the little +night sounds that usually come stealing, so hushed and tremulous, from +the forest. The noises that always, like feeble ghosts, dwell in a house +at night--the little explosions of a scraping board or a banging shutter +or perhaps a mouse, scratching in the walls--were all lacking too. And +they both started, ever so slightly, when they heard a distant rumble of +thunder. + +"It's going to storm," Linda told him. + +"Yes. A thunderstorm--rather unusual in the fall, isn't it?" + +"Almost unknown. It's growing cold too." + +They waited a breathless minute, then the thunder spoke again. It was +immeasurably nearer. It was as if it had leaped toward them, through the +darkness, with incredible speed in the minute that had intervened. The +last echo of the sound was not dead when they heard it a third time. + +The storm swept toward them and increased in fury. On a distant hillside +the strange file that was the Turners halted, then gathered around +Simon. Already the lightning made vivid, white gashes in the sky and +illumined--for a breathless instant--the long sweep of the ridge above +them. "We'll make good targets in the lightning," Old Bill said. + +"Ride on," Simon ordered. "You know a man can't find a target in the +hundredth of a second of a lightning flash. We're not going to turn back +now." + +They rode on. Far away they heard the whine and roar of wind, and in a +moment it was upon them. The forest was no longer silent. The peal of +the thunder was almost continuous. + +The breaking of the storm seemed to rock the Folger house on its +foundation. Both Linda and Bruce leaped to their feet; but they felt a +little tingle of awe when they saw that old Elmira still sat sewing. It +was as if the calm that dwelt in the Sentinel Pine outside had come down +to abide in her. No force that the world possessed could ever take it +from her. + +They heard the rumble and creak of the trees as the wind smote them, and +the flame of the lamp danced wildly, filling the room with flickering +shadows. Bruce straightened, the lines of his face setting deep. He +glanced once more at the rifle in his hands. + +"Linda," he said, "put out that fire. If there's going to be an attack, +we'd have a better chance if the room were in darkness. We can shoot +through the door then." + +She obeyed at once, knocking the burning sticks apart and drenching them +with water. They hissed, and steamed, but the noise of the storm almost +effaced the sound. "Now the light?" Linda asked. + +"Yes. See where you are and have everything ready." + +She took off the glass shade of the lamp, and the little gusts of wind +that crept in the cracks of the windows immediately extinguished the +flame. The darkness dropped down. Then Bruce opened the door. + +The whole wilderness world struggled in the grasp of the storm. The +scene was such that no mortal memory could possibly forget. They saw it +in great, vivid glimpses in the intermittent flashes of the lightning, +and the world seemed no longer that which they had come to know. Chaos +was upon it. They saw young trees whipping in the wind, their slender +branches flailing the air. They saw the distant ridges in black and +startling contrast against the lighted sky. The tall tops of the trees +wagged back and forth in frenzied signals; their branches smote and +rubbed together. And just without their door the Sentinel Pine stood +with top lifted to the fury of the storm. + +A strange awe swept over Bruce. A moment later he was to behold a sight +that for the moment would make him completely forget the existence of +the great tree; but for an instant he poised at the brink of a profound +and far-reaching discovery. There was a great lesson for him in that +dark, towering figure that the lightning revealed. Even in the fury of +the storm it still stood infinitely calm, watchful, strong as the +mountains themselves. Its great limbs moved and spoke; its top swayed +back and forth, yet still it held its high place as Sentinel of the +Forest, passionless, patient, talking through the murk of clouds to the +stars that burned beyond. + +"See," Linda said. "The Turners are coming." + +It was true. Bruce dropped his eyes. Even now the clan had spread out in +a great wing and was bearing down upon the house. The lightning showed +them in strange, vivid flashes. Bruce nodded slowly. + +"I see," he answered. "I'm ready." + +"Then shoot them, quick--when the lightning shows them," she whispered +in his ear. "They're in range now." Her hand seized his arm. "What are +you waiting for?" + +He turned to her sternly. "Have you forgotten we only have five shells?" +he asked. "Go back to Elmira." + +Her eyes met his, and she tried to smile into them. "Forgive me, +Bruce--it's hard--to be calm." + +But at once she understood why he was waiting. The flashes of lightning +offered no opportunity for an accurate shot. Bruce meant to conserve his +little supply of shells until the moment of utmost need. The clan drew +nearer. They were riding slowly, with ready rifles. And ever the storm +increased in fury. The thunder was so close that it no longer gave the +impression of being merely sound. It was a veritable explosion just +above their heads. The flashes came so near together that for an +instant Bruce began to hope they would reveal the attackers clearly +enough to give him a chance for a well-aimed shot. The first drops of +rain fell one by one on the roof. + +His eyes sought for Simon's figure. To Simon he owed the greatest debt, +and to lay Simon low might mean to dishearten the whole clan. But +although the attackers were in fair range now, scarcely two hundred +yards away, he could not identify him. They drew closer. He raised his +gun, waiting for a chance to fire. And at that instant a resistless +force hurled him to the floor. + +There was the sense of vast catastrophe, a great rocking and shuddering +that was lost in billowing waves of sound; and then a frantic effort to +recall his wandering faculties. A blinding light cut the darkness in +twain; it smote his eyeballs as if with a physical blow; and summoning +all his powers of will he sprang to his feet. + +There was only darkness at first; and he did not understand. But it was +of scarcely less duration than the flash of lightning. A red flame +suddenly leaped into the air, roared and grew and spread as if scattered +by the wind itself. And Bruce's breath caught in a sob of wonder. + +The Sentinel Pine, that ancient friend and counselor that stood not over +one hundred feet from the house, had been struck by a lightning bolt, +its trunk had been cleft open as if by a giant's ax, and the flame was +already springing through its balsam-laden branches. + + + + +XXIX + + +Bruce stood as if entranced, gazing with awed face at the flaming tree. +There was little danger of the house itself catching fire. The wind blew +the flame in the opposite direction; besides, the rains were beating on +the roof. The fire in the great tree itself, however, was too well +started to be extinguished at once by any kind of rainfall; but it did +burn with less fierceness. + +Dimly he felt the girl's hand grasping at his arm. Her fingers pressed +until he felt pain. His eyes lowered to hers. The sight of that +passion-drawn face--recalling in an instant the scene beside the camp +fire his first night at Trail's End--called him to himself. "Shoot, you +fool!" she stormed at him. "The tree's lighted up the whole countryside, +and you can't miss. Shoot them before they run away." + +He glanced quickly out. The clan that had drawn within sixty yards of +the house at the time the lightning struck had been thrown into +confusion. Their horses had been knocked down by the force of the bolt +and were fleeing, riderless, away. The men followed them, shouting, +plainly revealed in the light from the burning tree. The great torch +beside the house had completely turned the tables. And Linda spoke true; +they offered the best of targets. + +Again the girl's eyes were lurid slits between the lids. Her lips were +drawn, and her breathing was strange. He looked at her calmly. + +"No, Linda. I can't--" + +"You can't," she cried. "You coward--you traitor! Kill--kill--kill them +while there's time." + +She saw the resolve in his face, and she snatched the rifle from his +hands. She hurled it to her shoulder and three times fired blindly +toward the retreating Turners. + +At that instant Bruce seemed to come to life. His thoughts had been +clear ever since the tree had been struck; his vision was straighter and +more far-reaching than ever in his life before, but now his muscles +wakened too. He sprang toward the girl and snatched the rifle from her +hand. She fought for it, and he held her with a strong arm. + +"Wait--wait, Linda," he said gently. "You've wasted three cartridges +now. There are only two left. And we may need them some other time." + +He held her from him with his arm; and it was as if his strength flowed +into her. Her blazing eyes sought his, and for a long second their wills +battled. And then a deep wonder seemed to come over her. + +"What is it?" she breathed. "What have you found out?" + +She spoke in a strange and distant voice. Slowly the fire died in her +eyes, the drawn features relaxed, her hands fell at her side. He drew +her away from he lighted doorway, out of the range of any of the +Turners that should turn to answer the rifle fire. The wind roared over +the house and swept by in clamoring fury, the electric storm dimmed and +lessened as it journeyed on. + +These two knew that if death spared them in all the long passage of +their years, they could never forget that moment. The girl watched him +breathlessly, oblivious to all things else. He seemed wholly unaware of +her now. There was something aloof, impassive, infinitely calm about +him, and a great, far-reaching understanding was in his eyes. Her own +eyes suddenly filled with tears. + +"Linda, there's something come to me--and I don't know that I can make +you understand. I can only call it strength--a new strength and a +greater strength than I ever had before. It's something that the +pine--that great tree that we just saw split open--has been trying to +tell me for a long time. Oh, can't you see, Linda? There it stood, +hundreds of years--so great, so tall, so wise--in a moment broken like a +reed. It takes away my arrogance, Linda. It makes me see myself as I +really am. And that means--_power_." + +His eyes blazed, and he caught her hands in his. + +"It was a symbol, Linda, not only of the wilderness, but of powers +higher and greater than the wilderness. Powers that can look down, and +not be swept away by passion, and not try to tear to pieces those who in +their folly harm them. There's no room for such things as vengeance in +this new strength. There's no room for murder, and malice, and hatred, +and bloodshed." + +Linda understood. She knew that this new-found strength did not mean +renunciation of her cause. It did not mean that he would give over his +attempt to reinstate her as the owner of her father's estates. It only +meant that the impulse of personal vengeance was dead within him. He +knew now--the same as ever--that the duty of the men that dwell upon the +earth is to do their allotted tasks, and without hatred and without +passion to overcome the difficulties that stand in the way. She realized +that if one of the Turners should leap through the door and attack her, +Bruce would kill him without mercy or regret. She knew that he would +make every effort to bring the offenders to the law. But the ability to +shoot a fleeing enemy in the back, because of wrongs done long ago, was +past. + +Bruce's vision had come to him. He knew that if vengeance had been the +creed of the powers that ruled the world, the sphere would have been +destroyed with fire long since. To stand firm and straight and +unflinching; not to judge, not to condemn, not to resent; this was true +strength. He began to see the whole race of men as so many leaves, +buffeted by the winds of chance and circumstance; and was it for the oak +leaf that the wind carried swift and high to hold in scorn the shrub +leaf that the storm had already hurled to the dust? + +"I know," the girl said, her thoughts wandering afar. "Perhaps the name +for it all is--tolerance." + +"Perhaps," he nodded. "And possibly it is only--worship!" + + * * * * * + +The Turners had gone. The dimming lightning revealed the entire +attacking party half a mile distant and out of rifle range on the ridge; +and Bruce and Linda stole together out into the storm. The green foliage +of the tree had already burned away, but some of the upper branches +still glowed against the dark sky. A fallen branch smoldered on the +ground, hissing in the rain, and it lighted their way. + +Awed and mystified, Bruce halted before the ruin of the great tree. He +had almost forgotten the stress of the moment just passed. It did not +even occur to him that some of his enemies, unseen before, might still +be lurking in the shadow, watching for a chance to harm. They stood a +moment in silence. Then Bruce uttered one little gasp and stretched his +arm into the hollow that the cleft in the trunk had revealed. + +The light from the burning branch behind him had shown him a small, dark +object that had evidently been inserted in the hollow tree trunk through +some little aperture that had either since been closed up or they had +never observed. It was a leathern wallet, and Bruce opened it under +Linda's startled gaze. He drew out a single white paper. + +He held it in the light, and his glance swept down its lines of faded +ink. Then he looked up with brightening eyes. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"The secret agreement between your father and mine," he told her simply. +"And we've won." + +He watched her eyes brighten. It seemed to him that nothing life had +ever offered had given him the same pleasure. It was a moment of +triumph. But before half of its long seconds were gone, it became a +moment of despair. + +A rifle spoke from the coverts beyond,--one sharp, angry note that rose +distinct and penetrating above the noise of the distant thunder. A +little tongue of fire darted, like a snake's head, in the darkness. And +the triumph on Bruce's face changed to a singular look of wonder. + + + + +XXX + + +To Simon, the night had seemingly ended in triumph after all. It had +looked dark for a while. The bolt of lightning, setting fire to the +pine, had deranged all of his plans. His men had been thrown from their +horses, the blazing pine tree had left them exposed to fire from the +house, and they had not yet caught their mounts and rallied. Young Bill +and himself, however, had tied their horses before the lightning had +struck and had lingered in the thickets in front of the house for just +such a chance as had been given them. + +He hadn't understood why Bruce had not opened fire on the fleeing +Turners. He wondered if his enemy were out of ammunition. The tragedy of +the Sentinel Pine had had no meaning for him; and he had held his rifle +cocked and ready for the instant that Bruce had shown himself. + +Young Bill had heard his little exultant gasp when Linda and Bruce had +come out into the firelight. Plainly they had kept track of all the +attacking party that had been visible, and supposed that all their +enemies had gone. He felt the movement of Simon's strong arms as he +raised the rifle. Those arms were never steadier. In the darkness the +younger man could not see his face, but his own fancy pictured it with +entire clearness. The eyes were narrowed and red, the lines cut deep +about the bloodhound lips, and mercy was as far from him as from the +Killer who hunted on the distant ridge. + +But Simon didn't fire at once. The two were coming steadily toward him, +and the nearer they were the better his chance of success in the +unsteady light. He sat as breathless, as wholly free from telltale +motion as a puma who waits in ambush for an approaching deer. He meant +to take careful aim. It was his big chance, and he intended to make the +most of it. + +The two had halted beside the ruined pine, but for a moment he held his +fire. They stood rather close together; he wanted to wait until Bruce +offered a clear target. And at that instant Bruce had drawn the leather +wallet from the tree. + +Curiosity alone stayed Simon's finger as Bruce had opened it. He saw the +gleam of the white paper in the dim light; and then he understood. + +Simon was a man of rigid, unwavering self-control; and his usual way was +to look a long time between the sights before he fired. Yet the sight of +that document--the missing Folger-Ross agreement on which had hung +victory or defeat--sent a violent impulse through all his nervous +system. For the first time in his memory his reflexes got away from him. + +It had meant too much; and his finger pressed back involuntarily against +the trigger. He hadn't taken his usual deliberate aim, although he had +seen Brace's figure clearly between the sights the instant before he had +fired. Simon was a rifle-man, bred in the bone, and he had no reason to +think that the hasty aim meant a complete miss. He did realize, however, +the difficulties of night shooting--a realization that all men who have +lingered after dusk in the duck blind experience sooner or later--and he +looked up over his sights to see the result of his shot. His +self-control had completely returned to him; and he was perfectly cold +about the whole matter. + +From the first second he knew he hadn't completely missed. He raised his +rifle to shoot again. + +But Bruce's body was no longer revealed. Linda stood in the way. It +looked as if she had deliberately thrown her own body as a shield +between. + +Simon spoke then,--a single, terrible oath of hatred and jealousy. But +in a second more he saw his triumph. Bruce swayed, reeled, and fell in +Linda's arms, and he saw her half-drag him into the house. + +He stood shivering, but not from the cold that the storm had brought. +"Come on," he ordered Young Bill. "I think we've downed him for good, +but we've got to get that paper." + + * * * * * + +But Simon did not see all things clearly. He had little real knowledge +of the little drama that had followed his shot from ambush. + +Human nature is full of odd quirks and twists, and among other things, +symptoms are misleading. There is an accepted way for men to act when +they are struck with a rifle bullet. They are expected to reel, to +throw their arms wide, and usually to cry out. The only trouble with +these actions, as most men who have been in French battle-fields know +very well, is that they do not usually happen in real life. + +Bruce, with Linda's eyes upon him, took one rather long, troubled +breath. And he did look somewhat puzzled. Then he looked down at his +shoulder. + +"I'm hit, Linda," he said in a quiet way. "I think just a scratch." + +The tremendous shock of any kind of wound from a thirty-forty caliber +bullet had not seemingly affected him outwardly at all. Linda's response +was rather curious. Some hours were to pass before he completely +understood. The truth was that the shock of that rifle bullet, +ordinarily striking a blow of a half-ton, had cost him for the moment an +ability to make any logical interpretation of events. The girl moved +swiftly, yet without giving an impression of leaping, and stood very +close and in front of him. In one lightning movement she had made of her +own body a shield for his, in case the assassin in the covert should +shoot again. + +She was trained to mountain ways, and instantly she regained a perfect +mastery of herself. Her arms went about and seized his shoulders. +"Stagger," she whispered quickly. "Pretend to fall. It's the one chance +to save you." + +He dispelled the mists in his own brain and obeyed her. He swayed, and +her arms went about him. Then he fell forward. + +Her strong arms encircled his waist and with all her magnificent young +strength she dragged him to the door. It was noticeable, however--to all +eyes except Bruce's--that she kept her own body as much as she could +between him and the ambush. In an instant they were in the darkened +room. Bruce stood up, once more wholly master of himself. + +"You're not hurt bad?" she asked quickly. + +"No. Just a deep scratch in the arm muscle near the shoulder. Bullet +just must have grazed me. But it's bleeding pretty bad." + +"Then there's no time to be lost." Her hands in her eagerness went again +to his shoulder. "Don't you see--he'll be here in a minute. We'll steal +out the back door and try to ride down to the courts before they can +overtake us--" + +In one instant he had grasped the idea; and he laughed softly in the +gloom. "I know. I'll snatch two blankets and the food. You get the +horse." + +She sprang out the kitchen door and he hurried into the bedrooms. He +snatched two of the warmest blankets from the beds and hurled them over +his shoulder. He hooked the camp ax on his belt, then hastened into the +little kitchen. He took up the little sack containing a few pounds of +jerked venison, spilled out a few pieces for Elmira, and carried +it--with a few pounds of flour--out to meet Linda. The horse still stood +saddled, and with deft hands they tied on their supplies and fastened +the blankets in a long roll in front of the saddle. + +"Get on," she whispered. "I'll get up behind you." + +She spoke in the utter darkness; he felt her breath against his cheek. +Then the lightning came dimly and showed him her face. + +"No, Linda," he replied quietly. "You are going alone--" + +She cut him off with a despairing cry. "Oh, please, Bruce--I won't. I'll +stay here then--" + +"Don't you see?" he demanded. "You can make it out without me. I'm +wounded and bleeding, and can't tell how long I can keep up. We've only +got one horse, and without me to weigh him down you can get down to the +courts--" + +"And leave you here to be murdered? Oh, don't waste the precious seconds +any more. I won't go without you. I mean it. If you stay here, I do too. +Believe me if you ever believed anything." + +Once more the lightning revealed her face, and on it was the +determination of a zealot. He knew that she spoke the truth. He climbed +with some difficulty into the saddle. A moment more and she swung up +behind him. + +The entire operation had taken an astonishingly short period of time. +Bruce had worked like mad, wholly disregarding his injured arm. The rain +had already changed to snow, and the wet flakes beat in his face, but he +did not heed them. Just beyond, Simon with ready rifle was creeping +toward the house. + +"Which way?" Bruce asked. + +"The out-trail--around the mountain," she whispered. "Simon will +overtake us on the other--he's got a magnificent horse. On the mountain +trail we'll have a better chance to keep out of his sight." + +She spoke hurriedly, yet conveyed her message with entire clearness. +They knew what they had to face, these two. Simon and whoever of the +clan was with him would lose no time in springing in pursuit. They each +had a strong horse, they knew the trails, they carried long-range rifles +and would open fire at the first glimpse of the fugitives. Bruce was +wounded; slight as the injury was it would seriously handicap them in +such a test as this. Their one chance was to keep to the remote trails, +to lurk unseen in the thickets, and try to break through to safety. And +they knew that only by the doubtful mercy of the forest gods could they +ever succeed. + +She took the reins and pulled out of the trail, then encircled a heavy +wall of brush. She didn't wish to take the risk of Simon seeing their +forms in the dimming lightning and opening fire so soon. Then she turned +back into the trail and headed into the storm. + + * * * * * + +Simon had clear enough memory of the rifle fire that Linda had opened +upon the clan to wish to approach the house with care. It would be +wholly typical of the girl to lay her lover on his bed, then go back to +the window to wait for a sight of his assassin. She could look straight +along a rifle barrel! A few moments were lost as Young Bill and himself +encircled the thickets, keeping out of the gleam of the smoldering tree. +Its light was almost gone; it hissed and glowed in the wet snow. + +They crept up from the shadow, and holding their rifles ready, opened +the door. They were somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. The truth +was it had been left thus by design; Linda did not wish them to encircle +the house to the rear door and discover Bruce and herself in the act of +departure. The room was in darkness, and the two intruders rather +expected to find Bruce's body on the threshold. + +These were mountain men; and they had been in rifle duels before. They +had the sure instincts of the beasts of prey in the hills without, and +among other things they knew it wasn't wise to stand long in an open +doorway with the firelight of the ruined pine behind them. They slipped +quickly into the darkness. + +Then they stopped and listened. The room was deeply silent. They +couldn't hear the sound that both of them had so confidently +expected,--the faint breathing of a dying man. Simon struck a match. The +room was quite deserted. + +"What's up?" Bill demanded. + +Simon turned toward him with a scowl, and the match flickered and burned +out in his fingers. "Keep your rifle ready. He may be hiding +somewhere--still able to shoot." + +They stole to the door of Linda's room and listened. Then they threw it +wide. + +One of their foes was in this room--an implacable foe whose eyes were +glittering and strange in the matchlight. But it was neither Bruce nor +Linda. It was old Elmira, cold and sinister as a rattler in its lair. +Simon cursed her and hurried on. + +At that instant both men began to move swiftly. Holding his rifle like a +club, Simon swung through into, Bruce's room, lighted another match, +then darted into the kitchen. In the dim matchlight the truth went home +to him. + +He turned, eyes glittering. "They've gone--on Dave's horse," he said. +"Thank God they've only got one horse between 'em and can't go fast. You +ride like hell up the trail toward the store--they might have gone that +way. Keep close watch and shoot when you can make 'em out." + +"You mean--" Bill's eyes widened. + +"Mean! I mean do as I say. Shoot by sound, if you can't see them, and +don't lose another second or I'll shoot you too. Aim for the man if a +chance offers--but shoot, anyway. Don't stop hunting till you find +them--they'll duck off in the brush sure. If they get through, +everything is lost. I'll take the trail around the mountain." + +They raced to their horses, untied them, and mounted swiftly. The +darkness swallowed them at once. + + + + +XXXI + + +In the depth of gloom even the wild folk--usually keeping so close a +watch on those that move on the shadowed trails--did not see Linda and +Bruce ride past. The darkness is usually their time of dominance, but +to-night most of them had yielded to the storm and the snow. They +hovered in their coverts. What movement there was among them was mostly +toward the foothills; for the message had gone forth over the wilderness +that the cold had come to stay. The little gnawing folk, emerging for +another night's work at filling their larders with food, crept down into +the scarcely less impenetrable darkness of their underground burrows. +Even the bears, whose furry coats were impervious to any ordinary cold, +felt the beginnings of the cold-trance creeping over them. They were +remembering the security and warmth of their last winter's dens, and +they began to long for them again. + +The horse walked slowly, head close to the ground. The girl made no +effort to guide him. The lightning had all but ceased; and in an instant +it had become apparent that only by trusting to the animal's instinct +could the trail be kept at all; almost at once all sense of direction +was lost to them. The snow and the darkness obscured the outline of the +ridges against the sky; the trail was wholly invisible beneath them. + +After the first hundred yards, they had no way of knowing that the horse +was actually on the trail. While animals in the light of day cannot see +nearly so far or interpret nearly so clearly as human beings, they +usually seem to make their way much better at night. Many a frontiersman +has been saved from death by realization of this fact; and, bewildered +by the ridges, has permitted his dog to lead him into camp. But nature +has never devised a creature that can see in the utter darkness, and the +gloom that enfolded them now seemed simply unfathomable. Bruce found it +increasingly hard to believe that the horse's eyes could make out any +kind of dim pathway in the pine needles. The feeling grew on him and on +Linda as well that they were lost and aimlessly wandering in the storm. + +Of all the sensations that the wilderness can afford, there are few more +dreadful to the spirit than this. It is never pleasant to lose one's +bearings,--and in the night and the cold and miles from any friendly +habitation it is particularly hard to bear. Bruce felt the age-old +menace of the wilderness as never before. It always seemed to be +crouching, waiting to take a man at a disadvantage; and like the gods +that first make mad those whom they would destroy, it doesn't quite play +fair. He understood now certain wilderness tragedies of which he had +heard: how tenderfeet--lost among the ridges--had broken into a wild run +that had ended nowhere except in exhaustion and death. + +Bruce himself felt a wild desire to lash his horse into a gallop, but +he forced it back with all his powers of will. His calmer, saner self +explained that folly with entire clearness. It would mean panic for the +horse, and then a quick and certain death either at the foot of a +precipice or from a blow from a low-hanging limb. The horse seemed to be +feeling its way, rather than seeing. + +They were strange, lonely figures in the darkness; and for a long time +they rode almost in silence. Then Bruce felt the girl's breath as she +whispered. + +"Bruce," she said. "Let's be brave and look this matter in the face. Do +you think we've got a chance?" + +He rode a long time before he answered. He groped desperately for a word +that might bring her cheer, but it was hard to find. The cold seemed to +deepen about them, the remorseless snow beat into his face. + +"Linda," he replied, "it is one of the mercies of this world for men +always to think that they've got a chance. Maybe it's only a cruelty in +our case." + +"I think I ought to tell you something else. I haven't the least way of +knowing whether we are on the right trail." + +"I knew that long ago. Whether we are on any trail at all." + +"I've just been thinking. I don't know how many forks it has. We might +have already got on a wrong one. Perhaps the horse is turned about and +is heading back home--toward Simon's stables." + +She spoke dully, and he thrust his arm back to her. "Linda, try to be +brave," he urged. "We can only take a chance." + +The horse plodded a few more steps. "Brave! To think that it is _you_ +that has to encourage _me_--instead of my trying to keep up your +spirits. I will try to be brave, Bruce. And if we don't live through the +night, my last remembrance will be of your bravery--how you, injured and +weak from loss of blood, still remembered to give a cheery word to me." + +"I'm not badly injured," he told her gently. "And there are certain +things that have come clear to me lately. One of them is that except for +you--throwing your own precious body between--I wouldn't be here at +all." + +The feeling that they had lost the trail grew upon them. More than once +the stirrup struck the bark of a tree and often the thickets gave way +beneath them. Once they halted to adjust the blankets on the saddle, and +they listened for any sounds that might indicate that Simon was +overtaking them. But all they heard was the soft rustle of the leaves +under the wind-blown snow. + +"Linda," he asked suddenly. "Does it seem to you to be awfully cold?" + +She waited a long time before she spoke. This was not the hour to make +quick answers. On any decision might rest their success or failure. + +"I believe I can stand it--awhile longer," she answered at last. + +"But I don't think we'd better try to. It's getting cold. Every hour +it's colder, and I seem to be getting weaker. It isn't a real wound, +Linda--but it seems to have knocked some of my vitality out of me, and +I'm dreadfully in need of rest. I think we'd better try to make a camp." + +"And go on by morning light?" + +"Yes." + +"But Simon might overtake us then." + +"We must stay out of sight of the trail. But somehow--I can't help but +hope he won't try to follow us on such a night as this." + +He drew up the horse, and they sat in the beat of the snow. "Don't make +any mistake about that, Bruce," she told him. "Remember, that unless he +overtakes us before we come into the protection of the courts, his whole +fight is lost. It doesn't alone mean loss of the estate--for which he +would risk his life just as he has a dozen times. It means defeat--a +thing that would come hard to Simon. Besides, he's got a fire within him +that will keep him warm." + +"You mean--hatred?" + +"Hatred. Nothing else." + +"But in spite of it we must make camp. We'll get off the trail--if we're +still on it--and try to slip through to-morrow. You see what's going to +happen if we keep on going this way?" + +"I know that I feel a queer dread--and hopelessness--" + +"And that dread and hopelessness are just as much danger signals as the +sound of Simon's horse behind us. It means that the cold and the snow +and the fear are getting the better of us. Linda, it's a race with +death. Don't misunderstand me or disbelieve me. It isn't Simon alone +now. It's the cold and the snow and the fear. The thing to do is to make +camp, keep as warm as we can in our blankets, and push on in the +morning. It's two full days' ride, going fast, the best we can go--and +God knows what will happen before the end." + +"Then turn off the trail, Bruce," the girl told him. + +"I don't know that we're even on the trail." + +"Turn off, anyway. As long as we stay together--it doesn't matter." + +She spoke very quietly. Then he felt a strange thing. A warmth which +even that growing, terrible cold could not transcend swept over him. For +her arms had crept out under his arms and encircled his great breast, +then pressed with all her gentle strength. + +No word of encouragement, no cheery expression of hope could have meant +so much. Not defeat, not even the long darkness of death itself could +appall him now. All that he had given and suffered and endured, all the +mighty effort that he had made had in an instant been shown in its true +light, a thing worth while, a sacrifice atoned for and redeemed. + +They headed off into the thickets, blindly, letting the horse choose the +way. They felt him turn to avoid some object in his path--evidently a +fallen tree--and they mounted a slight ridge or rise. Then they felt the +wet touch of fir branches against their cheeks. + +Bruce stopped the horse and both dismounted. Both of them knew that +under the drooping limbs of the tree they would find, at least until the +snows deepened, comparative shelter from the storm. Here, rolled in +their blankets, they might pass the remainder of the night hours. + +Bruce tied the horse, and the girl unrolled the blankets. But she did +not lay them together to make a rude bed,--and the dictates of +conventionality had nothing whatever to do with it. If one jot more +warmth could have been achieved by it, these two would have lain side by +side through the night hours between the same blankets. She knew, +however, that more warmth could be achieved if each of them took a +blanket and rolled up in it; thus they would get two thicknesses instead +of one and no openings to admit the freezing air. When this was done +they lay side by side, economizing the last atom of warmth. + +The night hours were dreary and long. The rain beat into the limbs above +them, and sometimes it sifted through. At the first gray of dawn Bruce +opened his eyes. + +His dreams had been troubled and strange, but the reality to which he +wakened gave him no sense of relief. The first knowledge that he had was +that the snow had continued to sift down throughout the night, that it +had already laid a white mantle over the wilderness, and the whirling +flakes still cut off all view of the familiar landmarks by which he +might get his bearings. + +He had this knowledge before he was actually cognizant of the cold. And +then its first realization came to him in a strange heaviness and +dullness in his body, and an almost irresistible desire to sleep. + +He fought a little battle, lying there under the snow-covered limbs of +the fir tree. Because it was one in which no blows were exchanged, no +shots fired, and no muscles called into action, it was no less a battle, +trying and stern. It was a fight waged in his own spirit, and it seemed +to rend him in twain. + +The whole issue was clear in his mind at once. The cold had deepened in +these hours of dawn, and he was slowly, steadily freezing to death. Even +now the blood flowed less swiftly in his veins. Death itself, in the +moment, had lost all horror for him; rather it was a thing of peace, of +ease. All he had to do was to lie still. Just close his eyes,--and soft +shadows would drop over him. + +They would drop over Linda too. She lay still beside him; perhaps they +had already fallen. The war he had waged so long and so relentlessly +would end in blissful calm. Outside there was only snow and cold and +wracking limbs and pain, only further conflict with tireless enemies, +only struggle to tear his agonized body to pieces; and the bitterness of +defeat in the end. He saw his chances plain as he lay beneath that gray +sky. Even now, perhaps, Simon was upon them. Only two little rifle +shells remained with which to combat him, and he doubted that his +wounded arm would hold the rifle steady. There were weary, innumerable +miles between them and any shelter, and only the terrible, trackless +forest lay between. + +Why not lie still and let the curtains fall? This was an easy, tranquil +passing, and heaven alone knew what dreadful mode of egress would be his +if he rose to battle further. All the argument seemed on one side. + +But high and bright above all this burned the indomitable flame of his +spirit. Even as the thoughts came to him it mounted higher, it propelled +its essence of strength through his veins, it brought new steel to his +muscles. To rise, to fight, to struggle on! Never to yield until the +Power above decreed! To stand firm, even as the pines themselves. The +dominant greatness that Linda had found in this man rose in him, and he +set his muscles like iron. + +He struggled to rise. He shook off the mists of the frost in his brain. +He seemed to come to life. Quickly he knelt by Linda and shook her +shoulders in his hands. She opened her eyes. + +"Get up, Linda," he said gently. "We have to go on." + +She started to object, but a message in his eyes kept her from it. His +own spirit went into her. He helped her to her feet. + +"Help me roll the blankets," he commanded, "and take out enough food for +breakfast. We can't stop to eat it here. I think we're in sight of the +main trail; whether we can find it--in the snow--I don't know." She +understood; usually the absence of vegetation on a well-worn trail makes +a shallow covering of snow appear more level and smooth and thus +possible to follow. + +"I'm afraid the snow's already too deep," he continued, "but we can go +on in a general direction for a while at least--unless the snow gets +worse so I can't even guess the position of the sun. We must get farther +into the thickets before we stop to eat." + +They were strange figures in the snow flurries as they went to work to +roll the blankets into a compact bundle. The food she had taken from +their stores for breakfast he thrust into the pocket of his coat; the +rest, with the blankets, she tied swiftly on the horse. They unfastened +the animal and for a moment she stood holding the reins while Bruce +crept back on the hillside to look for the trail. + +The snow swept round them, and they felt the lowering menace of the +cold. And at that instant those dread spirits that rule the wilderness, +jealous then and jealous still of the intrusion of man, dealt them a +final, deadly blow. + +Its weapon was just a sound--a loud crash in a distant thicket--and a +pungent message on the wind that their human senses were too blunt to +receive. Bruce saw the full dreadfulness of the blow and was powerless +to save. The horse suddenly snorted loudly, then reared up. He saw as in +a tragic, dream the girl struggle to hold him; he saw her pulled down +into the snow and the rein jerked from her hand. Then the animal +plunged, wheeled, and raced at top speed away into the snow flurries. +Some Terror that as yet they could not name had broken their control of +him and in an instant taken from them this one last hope of safety. + + + + +XXXII + + +Bruce walked over to Linda, waiting in the snow on her knees. It was not +an intentional posture. She had been jerked down by the plunging horse, +and she had not yet completely risen. But the sight of her slight +figure, her raised white face, her clasped hands, and the remorseless +snow of the wilderness about her moved Bruce to his depths. He saw her +but dimly in the snow flurries, and she looked as if she were in an +attitude of prayer. + +He came rather slowly, and he even smiled a little. And she gave him a +wan, strange, little smile in return. + +"We're down to cases at last," he said, with a rather startling +quietness of tone. "You see what it means?" + +She nodded, then got to her feet. + +"We can walk out, if we are let alone and given time; it isn't that we +are obliged to have the horse. But our blankets are on its back, and +this storm is steadily becoming a blizzard. And you see--_time_ is one +thing that we don't have. No human being can stand this cold for long +unprotected." + +"And we can't keep going--keep warm by walking?" + +His answer was to take out his knife and put the point of the steel to +his thumb nail. His eyes strained, then looked up. "A little way," he +answered, "but we can't keep our main directions. The sun doesn't even +cast a shadow on my nail to show us which is west. We could keep up a +while, perhaps, but there is no end to this wilderness and at noon or +to-night--the result would be the same." + +"And it means--the end?" + +"If I can't catch the horse. I'm going now. If we can regain the +blankets--by getting in rifle range of the horse--we might make some +sort of shelter in the snow and last out until we can see our way and +get our bearings. You don't know of any shelter--any cave or cabin where +we might build a fire?" + +"No. There are some in the hills, but we can't see our way to find +them." + +"I know. I should have thought of that. And you see, we can't build a +fire here--everything is wet, and the snow is beginning to whirl so we +couldn't keep it going. If we should stagger on all day in this storm +and this snow, we couldn't endure the night." He smiled again. "And I +want you to climb a tree--and stay there--until I come back." + +She looked at him dully. "What's the use, Bruce? You won't come back. +You'll chase the thing until you die--I know you. You don't know when to +give up. And if you want to come back--you couldn't find the way. I'm +going with you." + +"No." Once more she started to disobey, but the grave displeasure in +his eyes restrained her. "It's going to take all my strength to fight +through that snow--I must go fast--and maybe life and death will have to +depend on your strength at the end of the trail. You must save it--the +little you have left. I can find my way back to you by following my own +tracks--the snow won't fill them up so soon. And since I must take the +rifle--to shoot the horse if I can't catch him--you must climb a tree. +You know why." + +"Partly to hide from Simon if he comes this way. And partly--" + +"Because there's some danger in that thicket beyond!" he interrupted +her. "The horse's terror was real--besides, you heard the sound. It +might be only a puma. But it might be--the Killer. Swing your arms and +struggle all you can to keep the blood flowing. I won't be gone long." + +He started to go, and she ran after him with outstretched arms. "Oh, +Bruce," she cried, "come back soon--soon. Don't leave me to die alone. +I'm not strong enough for that--" + +He whirled, took two paces back, and his arms went about her. He had +forgotten his injury long since. He kissed her cool lips and smiled into +her eyes. Then at once the flurries hid him. + +The girl climbed up into the branches of a fir tree. In the thicket +beyond a great gray form tacked back and forth, trying to locate a scent +that a second before he had caught but dimly and had lost. It was the +Killer, and his temper was lost long ago in the whirling snow. His anger +was upon him, partly from the discomfort of the storm, partly from the +constant, gnawing pain of three bullet wounds in his powerful body. +Besides, he realized the presence of his old and greatest enemy,--those +tall, slight forms that had crossed him so many times, that had stung +him with their bullets, and whose weakness he had learned. + +The wind was variable, and all at once he caught the scent plain. He +lurched forward, crashed again through the brush, and walked out into +the snow-swept open. Linda saw his vague outline, and at first she hung +perfectly motionless, hoping to escape his gaze. She had been told many +times that grizzlies cannot climb, yet she had no desire to see him +raging below her, reaching, possibly trying to shake her from the limbs. +Her muscles were stiff and inactive from the cold, and she doubted her +ability to hold on. Besides, in that dread moment she found it hard to +believe that the Killer would not be able to swing into the lower limbs, +high enough to strike her down. + +He didn't seem to see her. His eyes were lowered; besides, it was never +the grizzly way to search the branches of a tree. The wind blew the +message that he might have read clearly in the opposite direction. She +saw him walk slowly across the snow, head lowered, a huge gray ghost in +the snow flurries not one hundred feet distant. Then she saw him pause, +with lowered head. + +In the little second before the truth came to her, the bear had already +turned. Bruce's tracks were somewhat dimmed by the snow, but the Killer +interpreted them truly. She saw too late that he had crossed them, read +their message, and now had turned into the clouds of snow to trace them +down. + +For an instant she gazed at him in speechless horror; and already the +flurries had almost obscured his gray figure. Desperately she tried to +call his attention from the tracks. She called, then she rustled the +branches as loudly as she could. But the noise of the wind obscured what +sound she made, and the bear was already too absorbed in the hunt to +turn and see her. As always, in the nearing presence of a foe, his rage +grew upon him. + +Sobbing, Linda swung down from the tree. She had no conscious plan of +aid to her lover. She only had a blind instinct to seek him, to try to +warn him of his danger, and at least to be with him at the death. The +great tracks of the Killer, seemingly almost as long as her own arm, +made a plain trail for her to follow. She too struck off into the +storm-swept canyon. + +And the forest gods who dwell somewhere in the region where the pine +tops taper into the sky, and who pull the strings that drop and raise +the curtain and work the puppets that are the players of the wilderness +dramas, saw a chance for a great and tragic jest in this strange chase +over the snow. The destinies of Bruce, Linda, and the Killer were +already converging on this trail that all three followed,--the path that +the runaway horse made in the snow. Only one of the great forces of the +war that had been waged at Trail's End was lacking, and now he came +also. + +Simon Turner had ridden late into the night and from before dawn; with +remorseless fury he had goaded on his exhausted horse, he had driven him +with unpitying strength through coverts, over great rocks, down into +rocky canyons in search of Bruce and Linda, and now, as the dawn broke, +he thought that he had found them. He had suddenly come upon the tracks +of Bruce's horse in the snow. + +If he had encountered them farther back, when the animal had been +running wildly, he might have guessed the truth and rejoiced. No man +would attempt to ride a horse at a gallop through that trailless +stretch. But at the point he found the tracks most of the horse's terror +had been spent, and it was walking leisurely, sometimes lowering its +head to crop the shrubbery. The trail was comparatively fresh too; or +else the fast-falling snow would have already obscured it. He thought +that his hour of triumph was near. + +But it had come none too soon. And Simon--out of passion-filled +eyes--looked and saw that it would likely bring death with it. + +He realized his position fully. The storm was steadily developing into +one of those terrible mountain blizzards in which, without shelter, no +human being might live. He was far from his home, he had no blankets, +and he could not find his way. Yet he would not have turned back if he +could. + +In all the manifold mysteries of the wilderness there was no stranger +thing than this: that in the face of his passion Simon had forgotten and +ignored even that deepest instinct, self-preservation. Nothing mattered +any more except his hatred. No desire was left except its expression. + +The securing of the document by which Bruce could take the great estates +from him was only a trifle now. He believed wholly within his own soul +that the wilderness--without his aid--would do his work of hatred for +him; and that by no conceivable circumstances could Bruce and Linda find +shelter from the blizzard and live through the day. He could find their +bodies in the spring if he by any chance escaped himself, and take the +Ross-Folger agreement from them. But it was not enough. He wanted also +to do the work of destruction. + +Even his own death--if it were only delayed until his vengeance was +wreaked--could not matter now. In all the ancient strife and fury and +ceaseless war of the wild through which he had come, there was no +passion to equal this. The Killer was content to let the wolf kill the +fawn for him. The cougar will turn from its warm, newly slain prey, in +which its white fangs have already dipped, at the sight of some great +danger in the thickets. But Simon could not turn. Death lowered its +wings upon him as well as upon his enemy, yet the fire in his heart and +the fury in his brain shut out all thought of it. + +He sprang off his horse better to examine the tracks, and then stood, +half bent over, in the snow. + + * * * * * + +Bruce Folger headed swiftly up the trail that his runaway horse had +made. It was, he thought, his last effort, and he gave his full strength +to it. Weakened as he was by the cold and the wound, he could not have +made headway at all except for the fact that the wind was behind him. + +The snow ever fell faster, in larger flakes, and the track dimmed before +his eyes. It was a losing game. Terrified not only by the beast that had +stirred in the thicket but by the ever-increasing wind as well, the +animal would not linger to be overtaken. Bruce had not ridden it enough +to have tamed it, and his plan was to attempt to shoot the creature on +sight, rather than try to catch it. They could not go forward, anyway, +as long as the blizzard lasted. Which way was east and which was west he +could no longer guess. And with the blankets they might make some sort +of shelter and keep life in their bodies until the snow ceased and they +could find their way. + +The cold was deepening, the storm was increasing in fury. Bruce's bones +ached, his wounded arm felt numb and strange, the frost was getting into +his lungs. The wind's breath was ever keener, its whistle was louder in +the pines. There was no hope of the storm decreasing, rather it was +steadily growing worse. And Bruce had some pre-knowledge--an +inheritance, perhaps, from frontier ancestors--of the real nature of the +mountain blizzard such as was descending on him now. It was a losing +fight. All the optimism of youth and the spirit of the angels could not +deny this fact. + +The tracks grew more dim, and he began to be afraid that the falling +flakes would obscure his own footprints so that he could not find his +way back to Linda. And he knew, beyond all other knowledge, that he +wanted her with him when the shadows dropped down for good and all. He +couldn't face them bravely alone. He wanted her arms about him; the +flight would be easier then. + +"Oh, what's the use?" he suddenly said to the wind. "Why not give up and +go back?" + +He halted in the trail and started to turn. But at that instant a banner +of wind swept down into his face, and the eddy of snow in front of him +was brushed from his gaze. Just for the space of a breath the canyon for +a hundred feet distant was partially cleared of the blinding streamers +of snow. And he uttered a long gasp when he saw, thirty yards distant +and at the farthest reaches of his sight, the figure of a saddled horse. + +His gun leaped to his shoulder, yet his eagerness did not cost him his +self-control. He gazed quietly along the sights until he saw the +animal's shoulder between them. His finger pressed back against the +trigger. + +The horse rocked down, seemingly instantly killed, and the snow swept in +between. Bruce cried out in triumph. Then he broke into a run and sped +through the flurries toward his dead. + +But it came about that there was other business for Bruce than the +recovery of his blankets that he had supposed would be tied to the +saddle. The snow was thick between, and he was within twenty feet of the +animal's body before he glimpsed it clearly again. And he felt the first +wave of wonder, the first promptings of the thought that the horse he +had shot down was not his, but one that he had never seen before. + +But there was no time for the thought to go fully home. Some one cried +out--a strange, half-snarl of hatred and triumph that was almost lacking +in all human quality--and a man's body leaped toward him from the +thicket before which the horse had fallen. It was Simon, and Bruce had +mistaken his horse for the one he had ridden. + + + + +XXXIII + + +Even in that instant crisis Bruce did not forget that he had as yet +neglected to expel the empty cartridge from the barrel of his rifle and +to throw in the other from the magazine. He tried to get the gun to his +shoulder, working the lever at the same time. But Simon's leap was too +fast for him. His strong hand seized the barrel of the gun and snatched +it from his hands. Then the assailant threw it back, over his shoulder, +and it fell softly in the snow. He waited, crouched. + +The two men stood face to face at last. All things else were forgotten. +The world they had known before--a world of sorrow and pleasures, of +mountains and woods and homes--faded out and left no realities except +each other's presence. All about them were the snow flurries that their +eyes could not penetrate, and it was as if they were two lone +contestants on an otherwise uninhabited sphere who had come to grips at +last. The falling snow gave the whole picture a curious tone of +unreality and dimness. + +Bruce straightened, and his face was of iron. "Well, Simon," he said. +"You've come." + +The man's eyes burned red through the snow. "Of course I would. Did you +think you could escape me?" + +"It didn't much matter whether I escaped you or not," Bruce answered +rather quietly. "Neither one of us is going to escape the storm and the +cold. I suppose you know that." + +"I know that _one_ of us is. Because one of us is going out--a more +direct way--first. Which one that is doesn't much matter." His great +hands clasped. "Bruce, when I snatched your gun right now I could have +done more. I could have sprung a few feet farther and had you around the +waist--taken by surprise. The fight would have been already over. I +think I could have done more than that even--with my own rifle as you +came up. It's laying there, just beside the horse." + +But Bruce didn't turn his eyes to look at it. He was waiting for the +attack. + +"I could have snatched your life just as well, but I wanted to wait," +Simon went on. "I wanted to say a few words first, and wanted to master +you--not by surprise--but by superior strength alone." + +It came into Brace's mind that he could tell Simon of the wound near his +shoulder, how because of it no fight between them would be a fair test +of superiority, yet the words didn't come to his lips. He could not ask +mercy of this man, either directly or indirectly, any more than the +pines asked mercy of the snows that covered them. + +"You were right when you said there is no escaping from this storm," +Simon went on. "But it doesn't much matter. It's the end of a long war, +and what happens to the victor is neither here nor there. It seems all +the more fitting that we should meet just as we have--at the very brink +of death--and Death should be waiting at the end for the one of us who +survives. It's so like this damned, terrible wilderness in which we +live." + +Bruce gazed in amazement. The dark and dreadful poetry of this man's +nature was coming to the fore. The wind made a strange echo to his +words,--a long, wild shriek as it swept over the heads of the pines. + +"Then why are you waiting?" Bruce asked. + +"So you can understand everything. But I guess that time is here. There +is to be no mercy at the end of this fight, Bruce; I ask none and will +give none. You have waged a war against me, you have escaped me many +times, you have won the love of the woman I love--and this is to be my +answer." His voice dropped a note and he spoke more quietly. "I'm going +to kill you, Bruce." + +"Then try it," Bruce answered steadily. "I'm in a hurry to go back to +Linda." + +Simon's smoldering wrath blazed up at the words. Both men seemed to +spring at the same time. Their arms flailed, then interlocked; and they +rocked a long time--back and forth in the snow. + +They fought in silence. The flurries dropped over them, and the wind +swept by in its frantic wandering. Bruce called upon his last ounce of +reserve strength,--that mysterious force that always sweeps to a man's +aid in a moment of crisis. + +For the first time he had full realization of Simon's mighty strength. +With all the power of his body he tried to wrench him off his feet, but +it was like trying to tear a tree from the ground. + +But surprise at the other's power was not confined to Bruce alone. Simon +knew that he had an opponent worthy of the iron of his own muscles, and +he put all his terrible might into the battle. He tried to reach Bruce's +throat, but the man's strong shoulder held the arm against his side. +Simon's great hand reached to pin Bruce's arm, and for the first time he +discovered the location of his weakness. + +He saw the color sweep from Bruce's face and water drops that were not +melted snow come upon it. It was all the advantage needed between such +evenly matched contestants. And Simon forgot his spoken word that he +wished this fight to be a test of superiority alone. His fury swept over +him like a flood and effaced all things else; and he centered his whole +attack upon Bruce's wound. + +In a moment he had him down, and he struck once into Bruce's white face +with his terrible knuckles. The blow sent a strange sickness through the +younger man's frame; and he tried vainly to struggle to his feet. +"Fight! Fight on!" was the message his mind dispatched along his nerves +to his tortured muscles, but for an instant they wholly refused to +respond. They had endured too much. Total unconsciousness hovered above +him, ready to descend. + +Strangely, he seemed to know that Simon had crept from his body and was +even now reaching some dreadful weapon that lay beside the dead form of +the horse. In an instant he had it, and Bruce's eyes opened in time to +see him swinging it aloft. It was his rifle, and Simon was aiming a +murderous blow at him with its stock. + +There was no chance to ward it off. No human skull could withstand its +shattering impact. Bruce saw the man's dark face with the murder madness +upon it, the blazing eyes, the lips drawn back. The muscles contracted +to deal the blow. + +But that war of life and death in the far reaches of Trail's End was not +to end so soon. At that instant there was an amazing intervention. + +A great gray form came lunging out of the snow flurries. Their vision +was limited to a few feet, and so fast the creature came, with such +incredible, smashing power, that he was upon them in a breath. It was +the Killer in the full glory of the charge; and he had caught up with +them at last. + +Bruce saw only his great figure looming just over him. Simon, with +amazing agility, leaped to one side just in time, then battered down the +rifle stock with all his strength. But the blow was not meant for Bruce. +It struck where aimed,--the great gray shoulder of the grizzly. + +Then, dimmed and half-obscured by the snow flurries, there began as +strange a battle as the great pines above them had ever beheld. The +Killer's rage was upon him, and the blow at the shoulder had arrested +his charge for a moment only. Then he wheeled, a snarling, fighting +monster with death for any living creature in the blow of his forearm, +and lunged toward Simon again. + +It was the Killer at his grandest. The little eyes blazed, the neck hair +bristled, he struck with forearms and jaws--lashing, lunging, +recoiling--all the terrible might and fury of the wilderness centered +and personified in his mighty form. Simon had no chance to shoot his +rifle. In the instant that he would raise it those great claws and fangs +would be upon him. He swung it as a club, striking again and again, +dodging the sledge-hammer blows and springing aside in the second of the +Killer's lunges. He was fighting for his life, and no eye could bemean +that effort. + +Simon himself seemed exalted, and for once it appeared that the grizzly +had found an opponent worthy of his might. It was all so fitting: that +these two mighty powers, typifying all that is remorseless and terrible +in the wild, should clash at last in the gathering fury of the storm. +They were of one kind, and they seemed to understand each other. The +lust and passion and fury of battle were upon them both. + +The scene harked back to the young days of the world, when man and beast +battled for dominance. Nothing had changed. The forest stood grave and +silent, just the same. The elements warred against them from the +clouds,--that ancient persecution of which the wolf pack sings on the +ridge at night, that endless strife that has made of existence a travail +and a scourge. Man and beast and storm--those three great foes were +arrayed the same as ever. Time swung backward a thousand-thousand +years. + +The storm gathered in force. The full strength of the blizzard was upon +them. The snow seemed to come from all directions in great clouds and +flurries and streamers, and time after time it wholly hid the +contestants from Bruce's eyes. At such times he could tell how the fight +was going by sound alone,--the snarls of the Killer, the wild oaths of +Simon, the impact of the descending rifle-butt. Bruce gave no thought to +taking part. Both were enemies; his own strength seemed gone. The cold +deepened; Bruce could feel it creeping into his blood, halting its flow, +threatening the spark of life within him. The full light of day had come +out upon the land. + +Bruce knew the wilderness now. All its primitive passions were in play, +all its mighty forces at grips. The storm seemed to be trying to +extinguish these mortal lives; jealous of their intrusion, longing for +the world it knew before living things came to dwell upon it, when its +winds swept endlessly over an uninhabited earth, and its winter snows +lay trackless and its rule was supreme. And beneath it, blind to the +knowledge that in union alone lay strength to oppose its might--to +oppose all those cruel forces that make a battleground of life--man and +beast fought their battle to the death. + +It seemed to go on forever. Linda came stealing out of the +snow--following the grizzly's trail--and crept beside Bruce. She +crouched beside him, and his arm went about her as if to shield her. +She had heard the sounds of the battle from afar; she had thought that +Bruce was the contestant, and her terror had left a deep pallor upon her +face; yet now she gazed upon that frightful conflict with a strange and +enduring calm. Both she and Bruce knew that there was but one sure +conqueror, and that was Death. If the Killer survived the fight and +through the mercy of the forest gods spared their lives, there remained +the blizzard. They could conceive of no circumstances whereby further +effort would be of the least avail. The horse on which was tied their +scanty blankets was miles away by now; its tracks were obscured in the +snow, and they could not find their way to any shelter that might be +concealed among the ridges. + +The scene grew in fury. The last burst of strength was upon Simon; in +another moment he would be exhausted. The bear had suffered terrible +punishment from the blows of the rifle stock. He recoiled once more, +then lunged with unbelievable speed. His huge paw, with all his might +behind it, struck the weapon from Simon's hand. + +It shot through the air seemingly almost as fast as the bullets it had +often propelled from its muzzle and struck the trunk of a tree. So hard +it came that the lock was shattered; they heard the ring of metal. The +bear rocked forward once more and struck again. And then all the sound +that was left was the eerie complaint of the wind. + +Simon lay still. The brave fight was over. His trial had ended +fittingly,--in the grip of such powers as were typical of himself. But +the bear did not leap upon him to tear his flesh. For an instant he +stood like a statue in gray stone, head lowered, as if in a strange +attitude of thought. The snow swept over him. + +Linda and Bruce gazed at him in silent awe. Some way, they felt no fear. +No room in their hearts was left for it after the tumult of that battle. +The great grizzly uttered one deep note and half-turned about. His eyes +rested upon the twain, but he did not seem to see them. + +The fury was dead within him; this much was plain. The hair began to lie +down at his shoulders. The terrible eyes lost their fire. Then he turned +again and headed off slowly, deliberately, directly into the face of the +storm. + + + + +XXXIV + + +The flurries almost immediately obscured the Killer's form, and Bruce +turned his attention back to Linda. "It's the end," he said quietly. +"Why not here--as well as anywhere else?" + +But before the question was finished, a strange note had come into his +voice. It was as if his attention had been called from his words by +something much more momentous. The truth was that it had been caught and +held by a curious expression on the girl's face. + +Some great idea, partaking of the nature of inspiration, had come to +her. He saw it in the growing light in her eyes, the deepening of the +soft lines of her face. All at once she sprang to her feet. + +"Bruce!" she cried. "Perhaps there's a way yet. A long, long chance, but +maybe a way yet. Get your rifle--Simon's is broken--and come with me." + +Without waiting for him to rise she struck off into the storm, following +the huge footprints of the bear. The man struggled with himself, +summoned all that was left of his reserve supply of strength, and leaped +up. He snatched his rifle from the ground where Simon had thrown it, and +in an instant was beside her. Her cheeks were blazing. + +"Maybe it just means further torture," she confessed to him, "but don't +you want to make every effort we can to save ourselves? Don't you want +to fight till the last breath?" + +She glanced up and saw her answer in the growing strength of his face. +Then his words spoke too. "As long as the slightest chance remains," he +replied. + +"And you'll forgive me if it comes to nothing?" + +He smiled, dimly. She took fresh heart when she saw he still had +strength enough to smile. "You don't have to ask me that." + +"A moment ago an idea came to me--it came so straight and sure it was as +if a voice told me," she explained hurriedly. She didn't look at him +again. She kept her eyes intent upon the great footprints in the snow. +To miss them for a second meant, in that world of whirling snow, to lose +them forever. "It was after the bear had killed Simon and had gone away. +He acted exactly as if he thought of something and went out to do +it--exactly as if he had a destination in view. Didn't you see--his +anger seemed to die in him and he started off in the _face of the +storm_. I've watched the ways of animals too long not to know that he +had something in view. It wasn't food; he would have attacked the body +of the horse, or even Simon's body. If he had just been running away or +wandering, he would have gone with the wind, not against it. He was +weakened from the fight, perhaps dying--and I think--" + +He finished the sentence for her, breathlessly. "That he's going toward +shelter." + +"Yes. You know, Bruce--the bears hibernate every year. They always seem +to have places all chosen--usually caverns in the hillsides or under +uprooted trees--and when the winter cuts off their supplies of food they +go straight toward them. That's my one hope now--that the Killer has +gone to some cave he knows about to hibernate until this storm is over. +I think from the way he started off, so sure and so straight, that it's +near. It would be dry and out of the storm, and if we could take it away +from him we could make a fire that the snow wouldn't put out. It would +mean life--and we could go on when the storm is over." + +"You remember--we have only one cartridge." + +"Yes, I know--I heard you fire. And it's only a thirty-thirty at that. +It's a risk--as terrible a risk as we've yet run. But it's a chance." + +They talked no more. Instead, they walked as fast as they could into the +face of the storm. It was a moment of respite. This new hope returned +some measure of their strength to them. They walked much more swiftly +than the bear, and they could tell by the appearance of the tracks that +they were but a few yards behind him. + +"He won't smell us, the wind blowing as it does," Linda encouraged. "And +he won't hear us either." + +Now the tracks were practically unspotted with the flakes. They strained +into the flurries. Now they walked almost in silence, their footfall +muffled in the snow. + +They soon became aware that they were mounting a low ridge. They left +the underbrush and emerged into the open timber. And all at once Bruce, +who now walked in front, paused with lifted hand, and pointed. Dim +through the flurries they made out the outline of the bear. And Linda's +inspiration had come true. + +There was a ledge of rocks just in front--a place such as the +rattlesnakes had loved in the blasting sun of summer--and a black hole +yawned in its side. The aperture had been almost covered with the snow, +and they saw that the great creature was scooping away the remainder of +the white drift with his paw. As they waited, the opening grew steadily +wider, revealing the mouth of a little cavern in the face of the rock. + +"Shoot!" Linda whispered. "If he gets inside we won't be able to get him +out." + +But Bruce shook his head, then stole nearer. She understood; he had only +one cartridge, and he must not take the risk of wounding the animal. The +fire had to be centered on a vital place. + +He walked steadily nearer until it seemed to Linda he would advance +straight into reach of the terrible claws. He held the rifle firmly; his +jaw was set, his face white, his eyes straight and strong with the +strength of the pines themselves. He went as softly as he could--nearer, +ever nearer--the rifle cocked and ready in his hands. + +The Killer turned his head and saw Bruce. Rage flamed again in his eyes. +He half-turned about; then poised to charge. + +The gun moved swiftly, easily, to the man's shoulder, his chin dropped +down, his straight eyes gazed along the barrel. In spite of his wound +never had human arms held more steady than his did then. And he marked +the little space of gray squarely between the two reddening eyes. + +The finger pressed back steadily against the trigger. The rifle cracked +in the silence. And then there was a curious effect of tableau, a long +second in which all three figures seemed to stand deathly still. + +The bear leaped forward, and it seemed wholly impossible to Linda that +Bruce could swerve aside in time to avoid the blow. She cried out in +horror as the great paws whipped down in the place where Bruce had +stood. But the man had been prepared for this very recoil, and he had +sprung aside just as the claws raked past. + +And the Killer would hunt no more in Trail's End. At the end of that +leap he fell, his great body quivering strangely in the snow. The lead +had gone straight home where it had been aimed, and the charge itself +had been mostly muscular reflex. He lay still at last, a gray, mammoth +figure that was majestic even in death. + +No more would the deer shudder with terror at the sound of his heavy +step in the thicket. No more would the herds fly into stampede at the +sight of his great shadow on the moonlit grass. The last of the Oregon +grizzlies had gone the way of all his breed. + + * * * * * + +To Bruce and Linda, standing breathless and awed in the snow-flurries, +his death imaged the passing of an old order--the last stand that the +forces of the wild had made against conquering man. But there was pathos +in it too. There was the symbol of mighty breeds humbled and destroyed. + +But the pines were left. Those eternal symbols of the wilderness--and of +powers beyond the wilderness--still stood straight and grand and +impassive above them. While these two lived, at least, they would still +keep their watch over the wilderness, they would still stand erect and +brave to the buffeting of the storm and snow, and in their shade dwelt +strength and peace. + +The cavern that was revealed to them had a rock floor and had been +hollowed out by running water in ages past. Bruce built a fire at its +mouth of some of the long tree roots that extended down into it, and the +life-giving warmth was a benediction. Already the drifting snow had +begun to cover the aperture. + +"We can wait here until the blizzard is done," Bruce told Linda, as she +sat beside him in the soft glow of the fire. "We have a little food, and +we can cut more from the body of the grizzly when we need it. There's +dead wood under the snow. And when the storm is over, we can get our +bearings and walk out." + +She sat a long time without answering. "And after that?" she asked. + +He smiled. "No one knows. It's ten days before the thirtieth--the +blizzards up here never last over three or four days. We've got plenty +of time to get the document down to the courts. The law will deal with +the rest of the Turners. We've won, Linda." + +His hands groped for hers, and he laid it against his lips. With her +other hand she stroked his snow-wet hair. Her eyes were lustrous in the +firelight. + +"And after that--after all that is settled? You will come back to the +mountains?" + +"Could I ever leave them!" he exclaimed. "Of course, Linda. But I don't +know what I can do up here--except maybe to establish my claim to my +father's old farm. There's a hundred or so acres. I believe I'd like to +feel the handles of a plow in my palms." + +"It was what you were made for, Bruce," she told him. "It's born in you. +There's a hundred acres there--and three thousand--somewhere else. +You've got new strength, Bruce. You could take hold and make them yield +up their hay--and their crops--and fill all these hills with the herds." +She stretched out her arms. Then all at once she dropped them almost as +if in supplication. But her voice had regained the old merry tone he had +learned to love when she spoke again. "Bruce, have I got to do all the +asking?" + +His answer was to stretch his great arms and draw her into them. His +laugh rang in the cavern. + +"Oh, my dearest!" he cried. The eyes lighted in his bronzed face. "I ask +for everything--everything--bold that I am! And what I want worst--this +minute--" + +"Yes?" + +"--Is just--a kiss." + +She gave it to him with all the tenderness of her soft lips. The snow +sifted down outside. Again the pines spoke to one another, but the +sadness seemed mostly gone from their soft voices. + +THE END + + + + +By EDISON MARSHALL + + +THE VOICE OF THE PACK + +With frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton + +_Love story, adventure story, nature story--all three qualities combine +in this tale of modern man and woman arrayed against the forces of +age-old savagery._ + +"'The Voice of the Pack' is clean, fine, raw, bold, primitive; and has a +wonderfully haunting quality in the repeated wolf-note"--_Zane Grey._ + +"Taken all around 'The Voice of the Pack' is the best of the stories +about wild life that has come out in many, many moons."--_The Chicago +Daily News._ + +"As a story that mingles Adventure, Nature Study and Romance, 'The Voice +of the Pack' is undeniably of the front rank. Mr. Marshall knows the +wild places and the ways of the wild creatures that range them--and he +knows how to write. The study of Dan Failing's development against a +background of the wild life of the mountains, is an exceedingly clever +piece of literary work."--_The Boston Herald._ + +"An unusually good tale of the West, evidently written by a man who +knows about the habits of the wolf-packs and cougars."--_The New York +Times._ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STRENGTH OF THE PINES*** + + +******* This file should be named 35378.txt or 35378.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/3/7/35378 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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