They Of The High Trails Part 29

"Oh no, not at all badly. My foot was jammed a little. Please help me on to my horse; I'll be all right in a minute."

She put so good a face on her accident that he helped her into her saddle and ordered the train to move on; but Peggy perceived that the girl was suffering keenly.

"Sha'n't we stop, Allie?" she called, a few minutes later.

"No. I'll be all right in a few minutes."

She rode on for nearly half an hour, bravely enduring her pain, but at last she turned to Mrs. Adams and cried out: "I can't stand it, Peggy!

My foot pains me frightfully!"

Adams again called to Ward and the procession halted, while Ward came back, all his anger gone.

"We'll go into camp," he said, as he examined her bruised foot. "You're badly hurt."

"It's a poor place to camp, Professor," protested Gage. "If she can go on for about fifteen minutes--"

"I'll try," she said; "but I can't bear the stirrup, and my shoe is full of blood."

Ward, who was now keenly sympathetic, put her on his own horse and walked beside her while they slowly crawled down into the small valley, which held a deep and gra.s.sy tarn. Here they went into camp and the day was lost.

Alice was profoundly mortified to find herself the cause of the untimely halt, and as she watched the men making camp with anxious, irritated faces she wept with shame of her folly. She had seized the worst possible moment, in the most inaccessible spot of their journey, to commit her crowning indiscretion.

She was ill in every nerve, shivering and weak, and remained for that day the center of all the activities of the camp. Ward, very tender even in his chagrin, was constantly at her side, his brow knotted with care.

He knew what it meant to be disabled two hundred miles from a hospital, with fifty miles of mountain trail between one's need and a roof, but Alice buoyed herself up with the belief that no bones were broken, and that in the clear air of the germless world her wound would quickly heal.

She lay awake a good part of that night, hearing, above the roar of the water, the far-off noises of the wild-animal world. A wolf howled, a cat screamed, and their voices were fear-inspiring.

She began also to worry about the effect of her mishap on the expedition, for she heard Ward say to Adams: "This delay is very unfortunate. Our stay is so limited. I fear we will not be able to proceed for some days, and snow is likely to fall at any time."

What they said after that Alice could not hear, but she was in full possession of their trouble. It was not a question of the loss of a few days; it meant the possible failure of the entire attempt to reach the summit.

"Peggy," she declared, next morning, "the men must push on and leave you with me here in the camp. I will not permit the expedition to fail on my account."

This seemed a heroic resolution at the moment, with the menacing sounds of the night still fresh in her ears, but it was the most natural and reasonable thing in the world at the moment, for the sun was rising warm and clear and the valley was as peaceful and as beautiful as a park.

Mrs. Adams readily agreed to stay, for she was wholly free from the ordinary timidities of women, but Ward, though sorely tempted, replied:

"No. We'll wait a day or two longer and see how you come on."

At this point one of the guides spoke up, saying: "If the women would be more comfortable in a cabin, there's one down here in the brush by the lake. I found it this morning when I was wranglin' the horses."

"A cabin! In this wild place?" said Alice.

"Yes, ma'am--must be a ranger's cabin."

Ward mused. "If it's habitable it would be warmer and safer than a tent.

Let's go see about it."

He came back jubilant. "It doesn't seem to have been occupied very recently, but is in fair shape. We'll move you right down there."

The wounded girl welcomed the shelter of a roof, and it was good to feel solid logs about her helpless self. The interior of the hut was untidy and very rude, but it stood in a delightful nook on the bank of a pond just where a small stream fell into the valley, and it required but a few minutes of Mrs. Adams's efforts to clear the place out and make it cozy, and soon Alice, groaning faintly, was deposited in the rough pole bunk at the dark end of the room. What an inglorious end to her exalted ride!

Ward seemed to understand her tears as he stood looking down upon her, but he only said: "I dislike leaving you, even for the day. I shall give up my trip."

"No, no! you must go on!" she cried out. "I shall hate myself if you don't go on."

He reluctantly yielded to her demand, but said: "If I find that we can't get back to-morrow I will send Gage back. He's a trusty fellow. I can't spare Adams, and Smith and Todd--as you know--are paying for their trip."

Mrs. Adams spoke up firmly. "You need not worry about us. We can get along very well without anybody. If you climb the peak you'll need Gage.

I'm not afraid. We're the only people in this valley, and with this staunch little cabin I feel perfectly at home."

"That's quite true," replied Ward in a relieved tone. "We are above the hunters--no one ever crosses here now. But it will be lonely."

"Not at all!" Alice a.s.sured him. "We shall enjoy being alone in the forest."

With slow and hesitating feet Ward left the two women and swung into his saddle. "I guess I'll send Gage back, anyhow," he said.

"Don't think of it!" called Peggy.

As a matter of fact, Alice was glad to have the men pull out. Their pity, their reproach, irritated her. It was as if they repeated aloud a scornful phrase--"You're a lovely and tempting creature, but you're a fool-hen just the same."

The two women spent the day peacefully, save now and then when Alice's wounded foot ached and needed care; but as night began to rise in the canon like the smoke of some hidden, silent, subterranean fire, and the high crags glowed in the last rays of the sun, each of them acknowledged a touch of that immemorial awe of the darkness with which the race began.

Peggy, seating herself in the doorway, described the scene to her patient, who could see but little of it. "Oh, but it's gloriously uncanny to be here. Only think! We are now alone with G.o.d and His animals, and the night."

"I hope none of G.o.d's bears is roaming about," replied Alice, flippantly.

"There aren't any bears above the berries. We're perfectly safe. My soul! but it's a mighty country! I wish you could see the glow on the peaks."

"I'm taking my punishment," replied Alice. "Freeman was very angry, wasn't he?"

"If it breaks off the match I won't be surprised," replied Peggy, with resigned intonation.

"There wasn't any match to break off."

"Well!" replied the other, and as she slowly rose she added: "I won't say that he is perfectly distracted about you, but I do know that he thinks more of you than of any other woman in the world, and I've no doubt he is worrying about you this minute."

II

It was deep moonless night when Alice woke with a start. For a few moments she lay wondering what had roused her--then a bright light flashed and her companion screamed.

"Who's there!" demanded the girl.

In that instant flare she saw a man's face, young, smooth, with dark eyes gleaming beneath a broad hat. He stood like a figure of bronze while his match was burning, then exclaimed in breathless wonder:

"Great Peter's ghost! a woman!" Finally he stepped forward and looked down upon the white, scared faces as if uncertain of his senses. "Two of them!" he whispered. As he struck his second match he gently asked: "Would you mind saying how you got here?"