"Long ago -- I reckon around the middle of February. The property went to Helen. She's been doin' fine. An' many folks say it's a pity she'll lose it.""She won't lose it," declared Dale. How strange his voice sounded to his own ears! It was hoarse and unreal, as if from disuse.
"Wal, we-all have our idees. I say she will. My father says so. Carmichael says so.""Who's he?"
"Reckon you remember thet cow-puncher who came up with Roy an' Auchincloss after the girls -- last fall?""Yes. They called him Las -- Las Vegas. I liked his looks.""Humph! You'll like him a heap when you know him. He's kept the ranch goin' for Miss Helen all along. But the deal's comin' to a head. Beasley's got thick with thet Riggs. You remember him?""Yes."
"Wal, he's been hangin' out at Pine all winter, watchin' for some chance to get at Miss Helen or Bo. Everybody's seen thet. An' jest lately he chased Bo on hossback -- gave the kid a nasty fall. Roy says Riggs was after Miss Helen. But Ithink one or t'other of the girls would do thet varmint.
Wal, thet sorta started goin's-on. Carmichael beat Riggs an' drove him out of town. But he come back. Beasley called on Miss Helen an' offered to marry her so's not to take the ranch from her, he said."Dale awoke with a thundering curse.
"Shore!" exclaimed John. "I'd say the same -- only I'm religious. Don't thet beady-eyed greaser's gall make you want to spit all over yourself? My Gawd! but Roy was mad!
Roy's powerful fond of Miss Helen an' Bo. . . . Wal, then, Roy, first chance he got, braced Beasley an' give him some straight talk. Beasley was foamin' at the mouth, Roy said.
It was then Riggs shot Roy. Shot him from behind Beasley when Roy wasn't lookin'! An' Riggs brags of bein' a gun-fighter. Mebbe thet wasn't a bad shot for him!""I reckon," replied Dale, as he swallowed hard. "Now, just what was Roy's message to me?""Wal, I can't remember all Roy said," answered John, dubiously. "But Roy shore was excited an' dead in earnest.
He says: 'Tell Milt what's happened. Tell him Helen Rayner's in more danger than she was last fall. Tell him I've seen her look away acrost the mountains toward Paradise Park with her heart in her eyes. Tell him she needs him most of all!'"Dale shook all over as with an attack of ague. He was seized by a whirlwind of passionate, terrible sweetness of sensation, when what he wildly wanted was to curse Roy and John for their simple-minded conclusions.
"Roy's -- crazy!" panted Dale.
"Wal, now, Milt -- thet's downright surprisin' of you. Roy's the level-headest of any fellars I know.""Man! if he MADE me believe him -- an' it turned out untrue -- I'd -- I'd kill him," replied Dale.
"Untrue! Do you think Roy Beeman would lie?""But, John -- you fellows can't see my case. Nell Rayner wants me -- needs me! . . . It can't be true!""Wal, my love-sick pard -- it jest IS true!" exclaimed John, feelingly. "Thet's the hell of life -- never knowin'. But here it's joy for you. You can believe Roy Beeman about women as quick as you'd trust him to track your lost hoss.
Roy's married three girls. I reckon he'll marry some more.
Roy's only twenty-eight an' he has two big farms. He said he'd seen Nell Rayner's heart in her eyes, lookin' for you -- an' you can jest bet your life thet's true. An' he said it because he means you to rustle down there an' fight for thet girl.""I'll -- go," said Dale, in a shaky whisper, as he sat down on a pine log near the fire. He stared unseeingly at the bluebells in the grass by his feet while storm after storm possessed his breast. They were fierce and brief because driven by his will. In those few moments of contending strife Dale was immeasurably removed from that dark gulf of self which had made his winter a nightmare. And when he stood erect again it seemed that the old earth had a stirring, electrifying impetus for his feet. Something black, bitter, melancholy, and morbid, always unreal to him, had passed away forever. The great moment had been forced upon him. He did not believe Roy Beeman's preposterous hint regarding Helen; but he had gone back or soared onward, as if by magic, to his old true self.
Mounted on Dale's strongest horses, with only a light pack, an ax, and their weapons, the two men had reached the snow-line on the pass by noon that day. Tom, the tame cougar, trotted along in the rear.
The crust of the snow, now half thawed by the sun, would not hold the weight of a horse, though it upheld the men on foot. They walked, leading the horses. Travel was not difficult until the snow began to deepen; then progress slackened materially. John had not been able to pick out the line of the trail, so Dale did not follow his tracks. An old blaze on the trees enabled Dale to keep fairly well to the trail; and at length the height of the pass was reached, where the snow was deep. Here the horses labored, plowing through foot by foot. When, finally, they sank to their flanks, they had to be dragged and goaded on, and helped by thick flat bunches of spruce boughs placed under their hoofs. It took three hours of breaking toil to do the few hundred yards of deep snow on the height of the pass. The cougar did not have great difficulty in following, though it was evident he did not like such traveling.
That behind them, the horses gathered heart and worked on to the edge of the steep descent, where they had all they could do to hold back from sliding and rolling. Fast time was made on this slope, at the bottom of which began a dense forest with snow still deep in places and windfalls hard to locate.
The men here performed Herculean labors, but they got through to a park where the snow was gone. The ground, however, soft and boggy, in places was more treacherous than the snow; and the travelers had to skirt the edge of the park to a point opposite, and then go on through the forest.
When they reached bare and solid ground, just before dark that night, it was high time, for the horses were ready to drop, and the men likewise.
