CHAPTER IV

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*"THER BIGGEST COWARD IN THER WOODS"*

Forrest was lying on his blanket, his feet to the camp-fire, hands clasped under his head, his wakeful face raised to the near stars. An arm's-length from him Myers slumbered, audibly. Stillness rested on the small white tent. But presently his horse tramped uneasily, pulling on his picket rope, and the young man rose and went over to him. "So, Colonel," he said softly, "restless, too, are you? Steady, now, steady, we'll work it off, old fellow, so."

He found the bridle and, mounting without a saddle turned up the lofty slope. The horse flung his head, and with some airy stepping by the white tent, set himself willingly to the ascent. The firelight, as he passed, brought out the silver star between his intelligent eyes, the one marking, from the tips of his sensitive ears to his nimble hind feet, in a handsome, jet-black coat.

The settler stirred and rose on his elbow with an inquiring "Hello!" And Forrest called back, "I'm just going up to the summit for another look around, and to try to shape a course for the day's tramp."

Myers laughed and settled back comfortably to his blanket. "I 'low," he told himself, yawning, "he ain't likely ter see much more'n fog."

Half way up the hill Forrest halted, breathing his horse on a level spur, and looked down over the tops of the firs. "It's a natural town site," he said aloud; "and when the country opens it's bound to be a mining center. There's a fortune in that water power, but I should set up my own stamp mills there at the falls, and build cottages for the men to the right on that knoll. And meantime--meantime--what an Eden it would make." He turned with a quick upward lift of his head. "Come, Colonel, come," he said, "we must keep a tighter rein. It's summer now, and she isn't over the novelty; but it won't last through the first September rains. Even if she loved me--I could never ask her to bury herself up here in the wilderness; her--with her ideals and dreams, and all those nice, luxurious ways."

He rode on in silence. The moon paled; there were no longer stars, and, as he reached the summit and looked eastward, he saw the first streak of light broadening and toning to green on the horizon. The peaks and shoulders of the Cascades loomed against it purplish black, but all their base, the valleys, foothills, sank in a white fog that lifted slowly to meet the dawn. The sky warmed to yellow; a far spur flushed. He felt the rising moisture in the air, drew a damp breath. A belt of high cloud crimsoned, and he saw nothing more.

The fog closed in, billow on billow, flooding the canyon, lapping the ledge where he stopped. Then for a moment the white sea parted, and the granite tower hung tilting over the abyss. It stood solitary, like a lighthouse on a stormy coast, and in another instant was blotted out.

He dismounted, and with his hand on his horse's neck, his hat pushed back, stood watching these waves, flowing, separating, rolling together, rushing out. "And it's something you can't grapple with, or put down," he said at last. "You've got to push into it, blind, or wait for it to break. It's like the future. That's it; I could give a year or two to the grind at Freeport, easily enough, if I was only reasonably sure. But it's all a chance. A chance that no other man will stumble on my find, or want this section, or the water power, a chance,--" he began to smooth the black's mane gently,--"a chance, old boy, that she will care enough for me, some day, to wait for me."

The defiance faded from his face. He took his lariat coil, and seating himself on a rock, allowed the horse to go the length of the rope, seeking a scant forage. Presently he breathed a whistle; it settled into a definite tune:

[Illustration: Music fragment]

He went over it again and again, with variations that were not the notes of a flute, nor yet of a thrush but something of each and more; an expression so sweet, so tender, so full of subtlety, that you must have guessed the meaning even though you had never heard the words of the song.

He broke off finally and sat for a long interval looking absently into the fog. When he started to his feet a brisk wind was blowing and overhead the mist was like pulverized gold. "Come, Colonel," he said, "we must get out of this; I can't afford to wait any longer and you must put me back in camp inside an hour."

But suddenly, as he turned his horse, picking up the thread of trail which on rock and heather was repeatedly lost, a broad shaft of sunshine struck the hilltop, and directly the crest of Mt. Rainier rose like a phantom from the rushing sea. Then everywhere, through the fog that parted and closed, and parted again like a rent curtain in the wind, dome and pinnacle gleamed opal or rose in the full glory of the morning. And the sun went with him down the slope, touching the higher spurs, the tops of the firs, and finally the small white tent in the open, and the edge of the dense undergrowth that followed the watercourse.

Myers welcomed him with a long "Hello," and the teacher waved her hand and stood for a moment watching him as he wound down between the great boles, then she turned her attention to the broiling trout which she herself had caught below the falls. The soft flush of the early morning was on her cheek; its sparkle was in her eyes.

But during breakfast he had little to say to her; he seemed more interested in the settler and his views of homestead and pre-emption rights, timber laws and government surveys.

"I 'low," said Eben, "you ain't countin' on takin' up ord'nary land, yourself? You're jest huntin' fur a gold mine."

"There's nothing I would like better than to find and open up my lost prospect," answered Forrest, "but, if I could spare the time now, to-day, I should file on this section, right here in the heart of the red firs. It's the best vacant piece I know of."

"Do you mean," asked Alice, with awakened interest, "that you would homestead it, like any settler?"

"Yes; and put a timber filing on the quarter adjoining to take in those fine old trees up the slope. It's one of the best stretches of red fir in the whole Washington forest."

"But," she said thoughtfully, "there is plenty of fine standing timber close to the Sound, where transportation to the lumber mills is easy; here it would be a tremendous problem."

"True, and I shouldn't think of spoiling this park for years. It's just a good section to hold for the future. And, well, I'm fond of the place; I shall be sorry to know any other man has taken possession."

"I see," she said after a moment, "I see. And of course you would secure the water power at the same time. And while you lived here you would be close at hand to carry on your prospecting, perhaps development."

"Yes, that's what I've wanted to do, but"--he shook his head and looked at her with his smile of the eyes,--"that position at the Freeport mills was too good to refuse; and if I do find my mine, it's going to call for capital at the start. I can't expect to interest other money until I am able to make some sort of a showing."

He rose to his feet and stood looking off to a high shoulder of the hills. Then, presently, he and Eben were starting on their tramp, the day of search for the lost prospect. The sun fell in long shafts between the boughs and her glance followed him from light to shade. Martha also, standing a few steps away, looked in the same direction, her head bent a little forward, her knotted fingers shading her anxious eyes.

"Ther ain't many like him," she said at length, dropping her hand.

"No," answered the teacher, absently, "no; walking or riding, it's a pleasure to watch him. He is so strong, so self-reliant and yet so--kind; in every way he is the finest man I know. He stands alone."

"I meant Eben," said Martha with her shadowy smile. She paused, watching the teacher's face, for she flushed hotly to the ears. "He's good-looking, an' he's got consider'ble grit when he gets started. He's always a plannin' an' a studyin', but he ain't ever hed er show. Ef he hed, I don't s'pose I'd ever a got him."

"I'm sure," said Alice warmly, "Mr. Myers himself won a great prize. Why, you plow, sow, reap; you milk and drive the herds. You carry on the whole farm. He never could do without you."

"He always 'lowed I was a good worker," and Martha turned to gather up the breakfast things.

Presently the teacher asked, "With a clear trail, about how long would it take to ride from here to the schoolhouse?"

"Why, I jedge you could do it in erbout five hours. It's roundabout, you see, an' you'd hev ter go clear to our place an' ercross."

"But with a new branch cut directly through?"

"Land, you could do it in half ther time, an' take er stepper like Colonel, he could make it in two hours, or likely one an' er half."

The teacher began to walk back and forth through the open. Her hands were clasped loosely behind her, she looked off absently through the trees, and her swift thoughts alternately clouded and brightened her speaking face. After a while she approached Forrest's picketed horse. He lifted his head from the luscious grass and she stood for a moment smoothing his ruffled mane. "If we only could do it," she said softly, "if we only could, Colonel; it would pay your hire."

Later, while they were walking to the river, she, herself, displayed a sudden interest in homestead laws, gathering from Mrs. Myers both small and valuable detail as to the methods of clearing land and building a cabin.

Martha found a seat below the falls and took out her knitting, a sock for Eben, while the teacher chose a place a little down-stream and opened her sketchbook. She began to outline the cataract, but she studied the perspective less and less and finally not at all. Then for an idle interval she leaned on the boulder at her elbow and looked dreamily up through the great park. When she bent again to her work, behold, the torrent was but a background for a figure, young, well-knit, in short sack coat and trousers bound in leggins. And so engrossed was she in producing those strong lines of brow and chin, the quiet, searching, humor-haunting eyes, the mouth severe yet tender, that she did not know that Martha had risen quickly, and stood listening with her alert gaze searching the jungle directly behind her. She was only roused by the close snapping of a branch and a sudden sense of peril.

She started to her feet, dropping the book, and faced the thicket. The color went from her lips. There, in a tangle of hazel, tawny, handsome, with swaying tail and brilliant eyes fixed on her, stood a well grown cougar.

The next instant Martha reached her side. She had caught up from the ground a stout bough, and she swung it, thrust it at the brute, shouting. Alice, quick to grasp the expedient, armed herself with another fallen branch. The beast gave back a step, another, and the two women pressed him slowly, cautiously. At length he turned and slunk reluctantly away into the timber.

"Ef Eben hed left ther gun," said Martha, wiping the perspiration from her face, "it 'ud saved us consider'ble bother. But I jedge we best get back ter the open an' hev er look at ther horses."

Alice stood with her eyes fixed on the point where the cougar had disappeared. Her breast heaved with deep, quick breaths and she still grasped her heavy hemlock bough with both hands. At last she dragged her gaze away and met Martha's serious glance. She could not speak but her spirit rose and recognized in silent tribute, the great soul of the pioneer.

Martha put her shoulder to an encroaching bough and led the way back to the stream. Presently she stooped and picked up the sketchbook, and, having smoothed the leaves, gave it to the artist. Then Alice said slowly, "I shall always remember--as long as I live--what you did."

"Oh, land," and Martha smiled, "it wa'n't much ter do. An' a cougar's ther biggest coward in ther woods. He wouldn't dast ter tech er man, lest he was cornered or hungry; but I 'low he hed er pretty good chanct when he kem ercross you."

A little farther on she possessed herself of her dropped knitting, and, having gained the path, she moved towards camp, setting her needles and picking up lost stitches. But her knotty fingers worked mechanically; they trembled slightly, and her anxious eyes repeatedly swept the jungle. She knew that a cougar, hunting, does not so easily abandon his quarry. Though cautious, hesitating, he trails his game for hours, constantly preparing for, while he is diverted from an attack. She also knew that, like the human coward, once assailed and cornered, he becomes a fury.

In the open they found Ginger standing with hoofs planted like a figure in stone; but the black, in his terror, had circled and recircled the alder to which he was tied, winding his lariat, and, reduced to an arm's-length of rope, he made short and frenzied plunges to break free. Suddenly he stopped, dragged back the limit of the line, and stood trembling.

Instantly Martha understood. She ran forward, dropping her knitting, and picked up another bough. The cougar had reached a vine maple a few rods from the black. She saw his tawny body outstretched on the great curving branch of the parted bole. "Pile them pieces o' spruce on ther fire," she said coolly. "Make er smoke. Then slack up Colonel's rope an' get him back behind it."

She stepped between the horse and the cougar, again lifting the heavy limb, swinging it, thrusting it, but avoiding direct contact with the beast, and renewing her shouts. Before she had finished her directions Alice had caught up a resinous branch and thrown it on the embers. It crackled noisily and sent out a great cloud of smoke, which the wind, setting from the river, carried directly into the eyes and nostrils of the panther. He began to retreat, snarling, along the maple. Presently he dropped to the ground, and while Martha pressed him, step by step, the girl, who had succeeded in loosening the lariat, urged the horse around the fire.

Again the cougar turned and disappeared. Colonel was finally picketed near the old cedar trunk, and they piled fresh boughs on the fire, still pursuing the panther with thick, pungent smoke. Then they rested, gathering themselves, in the brief reprieve, for his certain return.

The black, less panic-ridden, continued to listen or tug at his rope. The other horse began to browse. The suspense pressed. Then, suddenly, a rifle shot startled the solitudes. And while the two women stood marking the puff of smoke, which rose a few yards off, there came a clamor of snarls. Two hounds slunk through the underbrush into the open and waited, shaking. A second report rang through the hills, then, the cries having ceased, one of the dogs plucked up courage and sounded a clarion. After a moment his mate returned into the thicket, alert, cautious, feeling ground. The first hound crept in his wake, and directly their baying, multiplied as by a score of throats, filled the wood.

The dogs were Laramie's, and the women followed them, seeking their master, but the hunter was Mose. The cougar was stretched in his death throes before him, on a bed of trampled fern and broken boughs.

"Saprie," he exclaimed as the teacher approached, "if I ees have dat gun of Laramie's I doan' have some trouble to keel heem de firs' shot. But dis gun dat Yelm Jim ees lend to me, he ees buy long tam 'go to de Hudson Bay Companee; an' for sure dey ees sell heem one no 'count Injun gun."

"Oh," said Alice, her voice shaking, "it was a grand shot--Mose. And you--you came--just--in time."

"Monjee, Mees, ees it dis cougar ees give you some trouble, a'ready?"

She could not speak again directly; she could only nod her head, affirmatively. But Martha smiled grimly. "Wal, yes," she said; "he's be'n er trailin' us, off 'n on, fur a good spell; an' Eben, he's prospectin' down ther canyon with ther rifle."

"So," said Mose, "so, but it ees good t'ing I come 'long den. You see dose dogs ees track me las' night to Yelm Jim's cabane, an' I ees keep dem to hunt some mowitch to-day. Dey ees fine dogs for trail de deer, ya-as, but A'm mooch shame how dey ees scare' of dis cougar. Cultus Pichou." He paused to cuff aside one of the snuffing hounds. "So you ees come back now, hey? You ees have de brave heart now dat you ees see dis cougar ees be keel. Nawitka, Mees, you doan' have to be some more 'fraid. Dis sacre cougar," and he thrust his foot against the lax body, "he ees sure 'nough dead."

They went back to the open, but in a little while, when Mose had been shown the maple where the cougar had crept in ambush, and the clump of hazels where he had first appeared, the boy returned to secure the pelt. Martha joined him, but Alice stopped at the old cedar trunk and sank down into its chairlike arms. On a log near her Mrs. Myers had left the provision bag, and not far from it, against a fir, Mose had stood the musket. She felt a security in the gun and in having him within call, and she closed her eyes, relaxing her strained muscles and nerves.

She was roused by some moving body in the underbrush, and she started up instantly, at tight tension once more. A man was retreating from the open into the jungle, riverward. He looked back, scowling over his shoulder at her, and she recognized the shaggy, unkempt head and gaunt face of Slocum. The next moment he was gone, and with him had disappeared the food supply and Yelm Jim's musket.

She ran, calling Mose, and met him returning with the pelt. But there was nothing he could do. It was useless, unarmed, to trail the trespasser. He stood staring in the direction the man had taken; the color glowed in his cheeks. He dropped the skin in a heap on the ground and clenched his hands, slowly, twice, as he had the day at school when Laramie struck him. But his volubility died. The Indian in him wakened and effaced the White. His lips set in a thin line; his face became a mask through which his eyes only flamed heat. Presently he turned and stalked swiftly away, towards the settlement. He stopped once to whistle the dogs, but when Alice followed him, calling him back, it was as though he had not heard.

"Oh," she said, returning to Martha, "Yelm Jim will blame him. He may punish him, cruelly."

"Land, no," answered Martha. "Ef it hed be'n Laramie's gun, I 'low Mose 'ud get licked in an inch o' his life, but Yelm Jim ain't goin' ter blame him. He's more likely ter watch fur a good chanct to take it out'n some white man. Don't matter who, long's he's white."

She went over and picked up the cougar skin and spread it on the earth, showing it from tip to tip. "Mose took him here in the shoulder," she said, "an' his second shot fixed him right atween ther eyes. Measures 'bout nine feet."

But the teacher had turned away. She went back to the cedar stump and stood leaning weakly on it, looking off in the direction of the canyon. It seemed very far off.

Presently Martha joined her. She had prepared a pointed stick by holding it in the fire, and the end of it still smouldered. "I'm goin' down-stream ter dig wapato," she said. "Them two prospectors is goin' ter be terrible hungry when they get back, an' it'll taste pretty good."

Alice had seen this edible root, which is a favorite food among the Indians; it grew in profusion along the watercourse. "I will go with you and help," she said, "unless I had better stay to watch the horses."

Martha stood a thoughtful moment looking at the black. "I dunno," she said, "how Dick Slocum kem to leave Colonel. He hed er mighty good chanct to take er horse that 'ud carry him out er ther country, easy. But he was mighty scared o' makin' er noise, an' got erway in er terrible hurry. I jedge he didn't 'low ther was only one gun in ther crowd; he hedn't located Eben an' ther rifle."

But evidently the outlaw had located the rifle, for, lifting her keen eyes Martha discovered Forrest, the gun in the curve of his arm, coming swiftly down the glade. His glance swept the open anxiously, as he approached, but at sight of the girl, unharmed, the tense lines softened in his face. "I thought I heard a shot," he said, and his look again searched the place for the hunter; "I fixed it at about here. But I see I was mistaken. The truth is," he shook his head, smiling at his folly, "I got it into my head that you needed me. I couldn't think of anything else. You see you were so incautious yesterday, at the river; then, too, I blamed myself for leaving you without the protection of Eben's rifle. And I had forgotten to give you your book. You dropped it yesterday at the canyon, and I was afraid the time would drag without anything to read."

He drew the little volume from his pocket, and flushing, conscious of the shallowness of his excuse, looked off, riverward.

"I jedge," said Martha briefly, "ef you head right off fur ther river, up-stream, you kin hit Dick Slocum's trail. He's jest gone off 'ith ther rations, bag an' all. Keep ther rifle handy; he's took Mose Laramie's gun."

Then for the first time Forrest looked straight at the girl. The line drew black between his brows. He saw that her face was grimy with smoke and moisture; that the hand which had taken the book was scratched, bruised, stained. "Slocum? Then I did hear a shot." His voice was quiet, but it took a new quality, the streak of iron outcropping in the man. "He did not offer to touch you?"

"No, oh, no." She swayed a little on her feet; it was difficult to find words. "The shot you heard was Mose's. He--"

But that was enough. Forrest was off, pushing swiftly towards the river, picking up the fugitive's trail. Martha followed him a short distance, then turned down-stream. It was not her way to wait in idleness for the chance rescue of the provision bag, and she began industriously to dig the wapato. Presently she selected a more stubborn plant and dropped to her knees. "He kem back jest ter bring that ther book," she said slowly, thrusting the sharpened stick deep into the earth, "an' mebbe ther rifle. Lost 'bout half er day's prospectin'. An' he 'lowed he only hed one ter spare. Ef it don't beat all."

But the complete day was lost. The rich ledge, of which he had once found strong indications, remained locked in that secret passage of the hills for any chance comer to stumble upon. The search for Slocum also proved fruitless. Even Myers, who sauntered into camp an hour after Forrest, to learn what kept the young prospector, failed to trail the outlaw beyond a rocky point half a mile up-stream, where he presumably had taken advantage of low water to push up the gravelly bars of the river bed.

The two searchers returning met near camp. "I jedge," said Eben dryly, "ther next time we count on doin' any prospectin', we'll leave ther women folks ter home."

Forrest made no answer and the settler put his shoulder to a clump of alders and pushed through. The late sun, slanting between the branches, was in his eyes, but across the open he saw his wife at the camp-fire, preparing her dish of wapato. "I dunno," he added, "but what Marthy's er pretty good hand ter have erlong sometimes. An' I 'low ef she hed hed ther rifle she'd er fetched that ther cougar. Marthy's er mighty fine shot."

"Cougar?" repeated Forrest, "what cougar?"

Eben stopped and looked back. "Didn't they tell you 'bout that cougar? Mose kem erlong an' killed him; they was keepin' him off with bresh. An' Mose was takin' ther pelt when Slocum sneaked in an' lit out with his gun."

Forrest asked no more. He pushed by Myers into the open, and stumbled over something damp and soft that clung to his shoes. It was the skin; the hairy side, turned back at the end where he had tripped, was of the tawny, unmistakable color familiar in those days to every woodsman on Puget Sound.

Alice was coming across the grass to meet him. He moved back a step, steadying himself with one hand on an alder. His whole young, well-knit body shook. "Alice," he said, and his voice rang, deepened, and broke. "Alice--what happened?"

"Nothing--" she looked at the skin,--"Mose killed him. Nothing happened. But Paul,--it was the closest--" she laughed a little, bravely--"'_the closest--shave--I ever had._'"

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