The Furnace of Gold | Page 7

some mad new ecstacy in all Beth's being.
She could almost have done something wild--she knew not what; and
all the alarm subsided from her thoughts. As if in answer to her tumult
of joy, Van spurred his pinto to a gallop. Instantly responding to her lift
of the reins, Beth's roan went romping easily forward. The bay at the
rear, with Elsa, followed rhythmically, pounding out a measure on the
turf.
A comparatively short session of this more rapid locomotion sufficed
for the transit of the cove--that is, of the wide-open portion. The trail
then dived out of sight in a copse where pine trees were neighbors of
the aspens. Van disappeared, though hardly more than fifty feet ahead.
Through low-hanging boughs, that she needs must push aside, Beth
followed blindly, now decidedly piqued by the wholly ungallant

indifference to her fate of the horseman leading the way.
She caught but a glimpse of him, now and again, in the density of the
growth. How strange it was to be following thus, meekly, helplessly,
perforce with some sort of confidence, in the charge of this unknown
mountain man, to--whatsoever he might elect! The utterly absurd part
of it all was that it was pleasant!
At length they emerged from the shady halls of trees, to find
themselves confronted by the wall of mountains. Already Van was
riding up the slope, where larger pines, tall thickets of green chincopin,
and ledges of rock compelled the trail to many devious windings. Once
more the horseman was whistling his Toreador refrain. He did not look
back at his charges. That he was watching them both, from the tail of
his eye, was a fact that Beth felt--and resented.
The steepness of the trail increased. At times the meager pathway
disappeared entirely. It lay upon rocks that gave no sign of the hoofs
that had previously rung metallic clinks upon the granite. How the man
in the lead discerned it here was a matter Beth could not comprehend.
Some half-confessed meed of admiration, already astir in her nature for
the horseman and his way, increased as he breasted the ascent. How
thoroughly at home--how much a part of it all he appeared, as he rode
upon his pony!
Two hours of steady climbing, with her mare oblique beneath her
weight, and Beth felt an awe in her being. It was wonderful; it was
almost terrible, the fathomless silence, the altitudes, this heretofore
unexperienced intimacy with the mountains' very nakedness! It was
strange altogether, and impressive, the vast unfolding of the world
below, the frequency with which the pathway skirted some dark
precipice--and the apparent unconcern of the man ahead, now so
absolutely master. And still that soul-inviting exhilaration of the air
aroused those ecstacies within her spirit that she had not known were
there.
They were nearing the summit of the pass. It was still a thousand feet
below the snow. To the left a mighty chasm trenched the adamant, its

bottom lowered away to depths of mysterious blue. Its side, above
which the three stout ponies picked their way, was a jagged set of
terraces, over the brink of which the descents were perpendicular.
Rising as if to bar the way, the crowning terrace apparently ended the
trail against all further advance. Here Van finally halted, dismounted,
and waited for the advent of his charges.
Beth rode up uncertainly, her brown eyes closely scrutinizing his face.
It appeared as if they had come to the end of everything--the place for
leaping off into downward space.
"Let me see if the cinches are tight," said the horseman quietly, and he
looked to the girth of her saddle.
It was found to be in a satisfactory condition. The girth on the bay he
tightened, carelessly pushing Elsa's foot and the stirrup aside for the
purpose.
His own horse now showed unmistakable signs of weariness. He had
traveled some twenty odd miles to arrive at Dave's before undertaking
this present bit of hardship. Since then Van had pushed him to the limit
of his strength and speed, in the effort to reach Goldite with the
smallest possible delay.
If a sober expression of sympathy came for a second in the horseman's
steady eyes, as he glanced where his pony was standing, it quickly gave
way to something more inscrutable as he looked up at Beth, in
advancing once more to the fore.
"Both of you give them the reins," he instructed quietly. "Just drop
them down. Let the bronchos pick the trail." He paused, then added, as
if on second thought, "Shut your eyes if you find you're getting
dizzy--don't look down."
Beth turned slightly pale, in anticipation of some ordeal, undoubtedly
imminent, but the light in her eyes was one of splendid courage. She
might feel