The Dual Alliance Part 8

"You're right, Mr.--a----"

"Bill--Bill Hawkins. Sure I'm right. That's the pony fer her."

"We want to make a good many trips around here, and we'll need a guide.

Could you go with us?" Paul asked.

"Yep."

"All right, we want you," said Bob.

"All ye got to do is to holler. When ye cal'clatin' to start?"

"To-morrow. Let's go for two days up that biggest one," said Bob.

"Cripes! She ain't goin' to lose no time. It'll hustle me some to git the camp outfit and the grub ready fer to-morrow."

"All right, Bill, hustle!" smiled the lady.

"Better be ready to start 'bout five o'clock. We can git breakfast up the mounting."

Trent questioned her silently and she nodded. Supper at the ranch house was poor, and on the way back to their cabin Bob announced that hereafter she and Bill Hawkins would serve meals from the kitchenette on the cabin porch.

They sat for a while on the tiny veranda, watching the dark shut down and lock in the valley. Then a new moon slid over a mountain peak into view, big yellow stars, close overhead, burst through the sky.

"My! what stars! They are like yellow coryopsis flowers leaning out of the sky garden!" exclaimed Bob.

"Shall I pick you a few to wear in your hair?"

"'Twould be a pity to have them fade."

"Then I'll get you the moon."

"It's no good unless you get it for yourself, Governor."

They talked casually and comfortably for half an hour, and then Bob announced that she was going to bed, so that she might get strength to face a five o'clock rising. They groped about for the candles, and by the dim light of one Paul lighted her to the bare bedchamber.

"We'd better pack our knapsacks to-night. I'll get out the steamer rugs, too. I know you'll need one on that bunk of yours. Go see what is on it."

He reported a cotton blanket and a comfortable made of pig iron. In due course of time they got things organized, and lights were out in the cabin at nine o'clock.

Trent woke to a sound of laughter--peal after peal on the morning air.

He sat up, listened, looked at his watch, sprang up and dressed. He went out around the cabin to the spot from which the laughter came, punctuated by a strange and unidentified noise. A slight boy in khaki breeches, shirt, and boots, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled down on his head, was conversing with a small gray burro, who lifted his long neck and emitted unearthly sounds, at which the boy laughed.

"If that pet belongs to you, young man, you might lead him off my premises."

"He's singing a hymn to the rising sun," said Bob, turning to him.

"My word, you are Bob sure enough now," he exclaimed.

"Comfy! No matter, you men like it."

"We certainly like it on you," he remarked in surprised admiration.

"Here's Bill," she interrupted him, as the guide rode up leading the ponies. He stared at Bob with delight.

"Got an extry boy in this party, ain't we? How many of ye is there?"

"According to my appet.i.te there's six of me," she laughed. "I can't wait to go up any mountain before breakfast."

"Wa'al, I got to thinkin' 'bout that, and I jest made a camp up the trail 'bout a mile, and the coffee's bilin' right now. Git yer blankets and knapsacks out, and we'll strop 'em on, an' git up there before it biles over."

In ten minutes they were off after Bill, the ponies on the run. The air nipped with a touch of frost in it. The mountains stood out as clear as if they were cut out of coloured paper and pasted on the flat sky. As they neared Bill's camp the smell of coffee and bacon greeted them.

"All the perfumes of Arabia can't touch that for smell," laughed Paul.

Bill and a cowboy a.s.sistant served a breakfast that no New York hotel could surpa.s.s; the mountain air gave a zest that no hothouse fruit ever produced, as appetizer. They ate like hungry hounds, and an hour later, all packed and mounted, they said good-bye to the cowboy chef and started on their way.

Bill rode well in advance, then Bob, then Paul. Bob's pony was a constant amus.e.m.e.nt, he was too nervous for the average, inexperienced rider, so he had not been ridden much. He had a distinct suspicion of rocks, overhanging trees, and things that darted across the road.

"He's a dancer. The equine Vernon Castle," Bob laughed, after a _pas seul_ in a narrow and most inconvenient spot.

"Little too fresh. Don't you want to change with me?"

"Not I."

Sometimes the trail permitted them to ride side by side for a few minutes, and look off over the world spread below.

"It's incredible--such peace," he said, as they drew their ponies to a halt.

"That pa.s.seth understanding," she nodded.

"I suppose this sense of awe, of rest, _is_ worship, _is_ religion."

Barbara took a deep breath.

"Yes, it makes you feel purified."

The trail wound up and up. Every instant the view changed. There were difficulties to be met, where washouts had made the road almost impa.s.sable. It seemed only an hour or two later that they caught up with Bill, clearing a s.p.a.ce to make a fire and cook the lunch.

"Not lunch! Why, what time is it?" cried Bob.

"One o'clock by my watch, ten minutes since we started by my mind, and six o'clock to-night by my appet.i.te," said Paul.

Seated on the ground, eating a thick sandwich and devouring Heinz's pickles, Barbara sighed ecstatically.

"There never was such food," said she.

"And that for your sated New York appet.i.te!" laughed Paul.