The Young Forester | Page 8

I was scared--frightened half to death.
If there had been a bolt on the window the matter would not have been
so disturbing. I lay there a-quiver, eyes upon the gray window space of
my room. Dead silence once more intervened. All I heard was the
pound of my heart against my ribs.
Suddenly I froze at the sight of a black figure against the light of my
window. I recognized the strange bat, the grotesque outlines. I was
about to shout for help when the fellow reached down and softly began
to raise the sash.
That made me angry. Jerking up in bed, I caught the heavy pitcher from
the wash-stand and flung it with all my might.
Crash!
Had I smashed out the whole side of the room it could scarcely have
made more noise. Accompanied by the clinking of glass and the
creaking of tin, my visitor rolled off the roof. I waited, expecting an
uproar from the other inmates of the hotel. No footstep, no call sounded
within hearing. Once again the stillness settled down.
Then, to my relief, the gray gloom lightened, and dawn broke. Never
had I been so glad to see the morning. While dressing I cast gratified
glances at the ragged hole in the window. With the daylight my
courage had returned, and I began to have a sort of pride in my

achievement.
"If that fellow had known how I can throw a baseball he'd have been
careful," I thought, a little cockily.
I went down-stairs into the office. The sleepy porter was mopping the
floor. Behind the desk stood a man so large that he made Buell seem
small. He was all shoulders and beard.
"Can I get breakfast?"
"Nobody's got a half-hitch on you, has they?" he replied, jerking a
monstrous thumb over his shoulder toward a door.
I knew the words half-hitch had something to do with a lasso, and I was
rather taken back by the hotel proprietor's remark. The dining-room
was more attractive than anything I had yet seen about the place: the
linen was clean, and the ham and eggs and coffee that were being
served to several rugged men gave forth a savory odor. But either the
waiter was blind or he could not bear, for he paid not the slightest
attention to me. I waited, while trying to figure out the situation.
Something was wrong, and, whatever it was, I guessed that it must be
with me. After about an hour I got my breakfast. Then I went into the
office, intending to be brisk, businesslike, and careful about asking
questions.
"I'd like to pay my bill, and also for a little damage," I said, telling what
had happened.
"Somebody'll kill thet Greaser yet," was all the comment the man
made.
I went outside, not knowing whether to be angry or amused with these
queer people. In the broad light of day Holston looked as bad as it had
made me feel by night. All I could see were the station and
freight-sheds, several stores with high, wide signs, glaringly painted,
and a long block of saloons. When I had turned a street corner, however,
a number of stores came into view with some three-storied brick

buildings, and, farther out, many frame houses.
Moreover, this street led my eye to great snowcapped mountains, and I
stopped short in my tracks, for I realized they were the Arizona peaks.
Up the swelling slopes swept a black fringe that I knew to be timber.
The mountains appeared to be close, but I knew that even the foot-bills
were miles away. Penetier, I remembered from one of Dick's letters,
was on the extreme northern slope, and it must be anywhere from forty
to sixty miles off. The sharp, white peaks glistened in the morning sun;
the air had a cool touch of snow and a tang of pine. I drew in a full
breath, with a sense on being among the pines.
Now I must buy my outfit and take the trail for Penetier. This I
resolved to do with as few questions as possible. I never before was
troubled by sensitiveness, but the fact had dawned upon me that I did
not like being taken for a tenderfoot. So, with this in mind, I entered a
general merchandise store.
It was very large, and full of hardware, harness, saddles, blankets--
everything that cowboys and ranchmen use. Several men, two in
shirt-sleeves, were chatting near the door. They saw me come in, and
then, for all that it meant to them, I might as well not have been in
existence at all. So I sat down to wait, determined to take Western ways
and things as I found them. I sat there fifteen minutes by my watch.
This