The Freebooters of the Wilderness | Page 7

your shoulder, Dick?"
"Oh, that," said the Forest Ranger, "that is a well known, game old elderly spinster lady commonly called the Moon; and that other on the branch chittering swear words is nothing in the world but a Douglas squirrel hunting--I think he is really hunting--a flea to mix in his spruce tips as salad."
"Do you know what he is saying?"
"Of course! Cheer up! Cheer up! Chirrup! He's our Master Forester--caches the best seed cones for us to steal."
But when he turned back, she had freed her hands, and slipped to the other side of the slab seat; and Wayland--inconsistent fellow--went all abash when they had both got hold of themselves and were once more back to life with feet on solid earth.
"And is it straddle or--fight?"
She had put on her panama sunshade and was looking straight and steadily in his eyes. The Ranger met the look, the eager look slowly and deliberately giving place to determined masterdom.
"If that is a challenge, I'll take it!" Then he added; and his face went hot as her own: "As to the freebooters of the Western Wilderness ripping the bowels out of public property out here, I'll accept that challenge, too! We'll put up a bluff of a fight, anyway!"
"I didn't mean that, Dick." She was looking over the edge of the Ridge. "I couldn't give a precious gift conditionally if I wanted to, Dick. It would surely give itself before I could stop it. Isn't that always the way? I wanted you to feel I would be with you in the fight if I could. They are late. Father and the missionary, Mr. Williams, and his boy were to have been here an hour ago. I heard them talking of your struggle against the big steals, and came up here before them to wait. They are coming to see about changing the sheep from the Holy Cross Range to the Rim Rocks."
"I can hear 'em coming," Wayland leaned over the precipice. "They are coming up the switch back now. They have a turn or two to take--we have a few minutes yet--Eleanor, best gifts come unasked: perhaps, also, they go unsent. Listen, I couldn't Hope to keep the gift unless I jumped in this fight for right; but it's a man's job! I mustn't desert because of the gift! I mustn't take the prize before I finish the job! I want you to see that--always that I mind my p's and q's and don't swerve from that resolution. If I deserted and went down from the Ridge to the Valley, from hard to easy, I wouldn't be worthy of--do you understand what I am trying to say to you?"
"Not in the least. You wouldn't be worthy of what?"
"Of you," said Wayland.
"Gifts?" It was the falsetto of a boy's voice from the trail below the Ridge. "Who's talkin' of gifts and things?"
They heard the others ascending. Her woman instinct caught at the first straw to hand. "Photogravures, Fordie, three more to-day. They are Watts--"
"He has to round the next turn! Never mind! He didn't hear," interjected Wayland irritably.
"All the same," she said, "I'm going to send one of those pictures up to you for the cabin. There is Hope sitting on top of the World, eyes bandaged, harp strings broken--"
"Don't send that one! Jim-jams enough of my own up here! I want my Hope clear-eyed even if she has to go it blind for a bit as to you--"
"Then there's Faith sheathing her sword--"
"Not putting away the Big-Stick," interrupted Wayland.
"Then you'll have to take the Happy Warrior--"
"I forget that one: I've been up here four years, you know?"
"It's the Soldier asleep on the Battle-Field--"
"You mean the picture of the girl kissing the man in his sleep--Yes, that will do all right for me. You can send that one--"
And the Missionary's boy came over the edge of the Ridge trail in a hand spring.
CHAPTER III
THE CHALLENGE TO A LOSING FIGHT
"Hullo, Dick! Who is talking of pictures and things?" The high falsetto announced the Missionary's boy of twelve, who promptly turned a hand spring over the slab bench, never pausing in a running fire of exuberant comment. "Get on y'r bib and tucker, Dickie! You're goin' t' have a s'prise party--right away! Senator Moses and Battle Brydges, handy-andy-dandy, comin' up with Dad and MacDonald! Oh, hullo, Miss Eleanor, how d' y' get here ahead? Did y' climb? We met His Royal High Mightiness and His Nibs goin' to the cow-camp. Say, Miss Eleanor, I don't care what they say, I'm goin' to take sheep all by my lonesome this time, sure; goin' t' ride Pinto 'cause he's got a big tummy t' keep him from sinking when he swims. You needn't laugh, it's so! You ask Dad if a tum-jack don't keep a horse from