Hope Hathaway Part 19

"Yes, you may go with me if you will show me how to cast a fly. Sydney says you are an expert fisherman, but I don't know the first thing about it. We will walk up the creek and fish down, because the boys are fishing down here." She called to the boy, who was walking toward the stream: "I'll be ready to go home in about an hour, wait for me!" He nodded in reply. "Come on," she said to Livingston.

They had fished in silence some minutes, far up the stream at an open point where several other smaller streams joined this, forming a broad group of tiny, gravelly islands.

"I do think," said the girl finally, "that this is great sport, though I cannot haul them out like you do. Now it must be luck--nothing more, for we both have exactly the same kind of flies."

"You leave your fly too long in the water," said the man. "You should cast more--like this."

"But I can't for the life of me get the hang of it," she exclaimed, making a desperate attempt.

"Not like that," said Livingston. "Look, this is the way. There, you've caught yourself!"

"Yes, how foolish," laughed the girl. "It's in there to stay, too!"

"Wait, I will a.s.sist you," he said, leaping across the stream which separated them, and coming to her side.

"I think I can get it out all right," she said, throwing down her pole, and using on the entangled hook more force than discretion. She laughed in a half-vexed manner at her attempts, while Livingston stood near watching, his eyes earnest, intent, his face illumed by a soft, boyish smile of quiet enjoyment.

"If I had another hook I'd cut this off and leave it in there," she said, "but the fishing is too fine to leave now. No, wait a minute,"

motioning him back with the disengaged hand while she tugged vigorously at the hook with the other. "I can do it. If only the material in this waist wasn't so strong, I might tear it out. How perfectly idiotic of me to do such a thing, anyway!" Her cheeks were aflame with the exertion.

"You see," she continued, still twisting her neck and looking down sideways at the shoulder of her gown where the hook was imbedded, "I don't want to break it because we'd have to go way back to the camp and start in over, and then it would be too late in the day. I don't see what possessed that fish to get away with my other hook! But this goods simply won't tear!"

"There's no other way," declared Livingston, with conviction. "You will have to let me help you. I'll cut it out. See," he scrutinized the hook very closely, while Hope threw down her arms in despair, "it's only held by a few threads. If you don't mind doing a little mending, I will perform the operation in a moment to your entire satisfaction."

"Well, hurry, please, because we are certainly wasting good time and lots of fish."

"If all time were but wasted like this," he exclaimed softly, prolonging the task.

She knew that he was taking undue advantage of the situation and that she was strangely glad of it, recklessly glad, in her own fashion. She had never looked at him so closely before. In this position he could not see her. She noticed his broad, white forehead, and felt a strong desire to touch the hair that dropped over it, then admonished herself for feeling glad at his slowness.

From the hillside above them a man on a piebald horse watched the scene interestedly. Without warning the girl's eyes lifted suddenly from the soft, brown hair so near, and met those of the rider above.

Livingston's head was bent close to her own, so that he did not see the leering, grinning face that peered down at them, but Hope caught the look direct, and all, and more, than it seemed to imply. Her eyes glittered with anger. Like a flash her hand sought her blouse and for an instant the bright sunlight gleamed upon a small weapon. As quickly the man wheeled his horse and disappeared behind the hill. With a deep flush the girl hid the little revolver as Livingston, ignorant of the scene, triumphantly held up for inspection the rescued fishhook.

"Making love, by the holy smoke," chuckled Shorty Smith to himself, spurring up his piebald horse and heading off a stray calf. "So that's what she does 'longside o' teachin' kids!"

CHAPTER XVII

Upon the highest ridge between the camp and old Peter's basin Hope and the twins met Ned riding slowly along, his st.u.r.dy little legs drawn up into the straps of a man's saddle. He had an old, discarded felt hat of his father's, several sizes too large for him, pulled down until his ears laid flat along the brim. From under its wide, dingy expanse his sharp, little black eyes peered out inquisitively. In imitation of a certain French breed whom he greatly admired, a large red handkerchief was knotted about his waist.

He made a picturesque little figure in the bright sunlight as he rode leisurely toward them.

"Where've you all been?" he called at the top of his boyish treble. "You boys're goin' to catch it if you don't bring in those cows before dark!"

"Who told you?" roared Dave.

"The old man told me to come an' look you fellers up. Where've you been?" inquired the child, riding up alongside and swinging his horse into pace with the others.

"Now you want to find out something," said Dan complacently.

"I don't _care_ where you've been," said the child indignantly, "but you'd better be roundin' in them cows or you'll catch it!"

Hope rode up beside him. "I'm sorry you weren't home when we left. We've been over at my cousin's camp. The next time you shall go along."

"Let's go to-morrow," suggested the boy eagerly, to which amusing proposition she immediately agreed. "Say," he continued, "I seen Long Bill and some o' them fellers drive in a bunch of mavericks off'n the range, an' they're goin' to brand 'em back of old Peter's this evenin'.

There was a cow with an O Bar brand on her, followed 'em all the way down, bellerin' an' makin' a big fuss, an' they can't get rid of her.

They give me a half a dollar to drive her back, but she turned so quick I couldn't do nothin' with her, so I thought I'd just let 'em take care of her themselves."

"Are you sure about that brand?" asked Hope quickly.

"Sure as anything," replied the boy. "Why?"

"I think you must be mistaken," she told him. "For it would be very queer if one of my father's cows should be following a stray maverick up to old Peter's place."

"I'll tell you something," whispered the boy, leaning toward her. "They wasn't yearlings at all, they was bringin' in, only big calves."

Her face darkened savagely. "Come," she exclaimed, "I'm going to see for myself!"

"Tattle-tale!" cried the sweet-voiced twin. "Now you'll get us into a sc.r.a.pe for tellin'. I'll lick you for this!"

The girl turned her horse sharply about, stopped it short, facing them fiercely.

"You coward!" she exclaimed. "That child didn't know what he was telling! He's honest. If either of you touch him, or say one unkind word to him about this, I'll make you smart for it!"

"I didn't mean nothin'," declared the soft-voiced twin suavely.

"Well, I guess you didn't if you know what's good for you!" she exclaimed, still angry. "Now what are you going to do about it, go home like babies, or stand by me and do what I tell you?"

"You bet I'll stand by you!" roared Dave.

"I reckon you're our captain, ain't you?" said the other sweetly.

"I'm a scout, I am!" exclaimed the boy, Ned, riding close beside her.

She mused for a moment with darkening eyes, putting her elbow upon the saddle's horn and resting her chin in the hollow of her hand.

"It's all right," she said at length deliberately. "Ned will show you where the cow is, and you boys drive it up to old Peter's corral just as quickly as you can ride. Don't let anyone see you. When you have done that, go up to the school-house and wait there for me. Now hurry, and don't let anyone see you drive in that cow. Go around this other side of old Peter's."

She motioned her hand for them to go, and waited until they were out of sight, then rode on to the school coulee which led into old Peter's basin. It was a long, roundabout way, but her horse covered the ground rapidly.

From the hill behind the school-house she saw Livingston driving back to his ranch. She stood out in full relief against the green hillside, and if he had glanced in that direction must surely have seen her. From that distance she could not tell if he had done so or not. She wondered what he would think if he saw her there alone. Then to get sooner out of sight she ran her horse at full speed up the school coulee toward old Peter's basin.

Livingston saw her quite plainly; from that distance there was no mistaking her. Then he proceeded to do a very unwise thing. He put his horses to their full speed, reached his stables in a few moments, threw his saddle on his best horse and set out in the direction the girl had taken.

Hope made her way quickly up to the top of the divide, then skirmished from brush patch to brush patch, keeping well out of sight until she reached the brush-covered entrance of Peter's basin. There she had a plain view of the small cabin, the rude stable, and corral, without herself being observed by the occupants of the place, and there she settled herself to wait the appearance of the cow, whose queer actions had been reviewed to her.

It was difficult to believe that she was actually in the midst of cattle thieves, though the suspicion had more than once crossed her mind.