Read Ebook: Glen of the High North by Cody H A Hiram Alfred

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Ebook has 1734 lines and 75057 words, and 35 pages

"Worse than grizzlies, and far more ugly, crafty, and brutal."

"My, I never heard of such creatures," and the girl's eyes grew big with astonishment.

"Oh, I guess you have," and Reynolds smiled. "They raise and train them in Germany. I met them in France."

"What! were you over there?" Glen's interest and admiration were intense now.

"Yes, almost from the beginning of the war. I was a sharpshooter, you see, and so had excellent practice."

"Oh!" It was all the girl said, but it thrilled the young man's very soul, and when his eyes again met hers a sudden embarrassment came upon him.

"Do you live here?" he unexpectedly asked.

This question aroused Glen, and she at once assumed the defensive. The expression in her eyes changed, and she looked apprehensively around.

"A long way from here," she replied. "I must be off at once."

"Let me go with you, Miss Weston," Reynolds suggested. "You are unarmed, and may meet another grizzly before you reach home."

"How do you know who I am?" the girl asked. "You never saw me before, did you?"

"Indeed I do, and too well at that. I wish that the fog had not lifted just then. Your eyes were too sharp that morning."

"But the men in the canoe were not sorry, though. They seemed to be mighty glad to be picked up."

"It is too bad that the fog lifted when it did," and the girl gave a deep sigh.

"You know the men, then?"

"Only one, but he is enough."

"I saw you with him at the dance. I suppose he is the one you mean."

"Where is he now?" There was a note of sternness in the girl's voice.

"At Big Draw. Any message I can take to him?"

The girl's face underwent a marvellous change. It was like the sweep of a cloud over a sunny landscape. She touched Midnight with her whip, and he sprang forward. Down the trail he clattered at a reckless gait, and when he had reached the level below his rider swung him sharply around. Then he bounded upward, and when near to where Reynolds was standing, Glen pulled him up with a sudden jerk.

"There is no message," she announced. "Why have you misjudged me? Are all men alike? Thank you for what you did for me to-day. Good-by."

She again lifted her whip and it was about to fall upon Midnight's flank when Reynolds stepped forward and laid his right hand upon the horse's bridle.

"Forgive me," he pleaded. "I meant nothing. I was merely joking. Perhaps I understand more than you realise. May I accompany you home? It is not safe for you to travel alone, unarmed as you are, in a place like this."

"No, no, you must not come," the girl protested. "It is much safer for me than it would be for you. Never cross the Golden Crest. I have warned you, so remember."

Again she touched her whip to Midnight, who leaped forward up the steep trail, pleased to be away from the place where he had received such a fright. Only once did the girl look back to wave a friendly hand to Reynolds ere a sharp turn in the trail hid her from view.

BOTTLES WILL DO

For a few minutes Reynolds stood and looked up the trail after the girl and horse had disappeared from view. He was strongly tempted to follow to the heights above to see what lay beyond. He refrained, however, as the afternoon was fast wearing away, and he had a heavy load to carry back to camp. Retracing his steps to the brook, he walked up the ravine until he came to the spot where the grizzly was lying, half buried beneath the rocks and earth.

"Too bad, old chap," he remarked, as he looked down upon the brute. "But, then, it served you right. You attacked the innocent and defenseless, little thinking that such swift vengeance was so near. You were little different, however, from certain two-legged brutes who tried the same game to their own sorrow. You did me a great favor to-day, though, and it's too bad I had to shoot you. I would like to take your skin and keep it as a souvenir of this day. Guess I'll have to come back for it as I cannot carry it now. And, besides, I shall need a shovel to dig you out of that heap."

It was later than usual when Reynolds reached camp. The way was long and the sheep he carried was heavy. But his step was light and his heart happy. He had met Glen, had talked with her, looked into her eyes, and felt the firm pressure of her hand. Fate was kind to him, he reasoned, and it augured well for the future.

He was tired and hungry when he reached his little tent on the bank of the creek. A supper of broiled lamb, sour-dough bread, stewed dried fruit, and tea greatly refreshed him. He then lighted his pipe, and stretching himself out upon his blankets, meditated upon all that had taken place during the afternoon. It was good to lie there and rest with deep silence all around, the vision of Glen before him, and the remembrance of her voice and the touch of her hand. He wondered how and when he should see her again. He was determined that it must be soon, and he smiled at the idea of a terrible father keeping him away from her. What did he care for desperate men? Had he not faced them over and over again as they lay entrenched behind blazing rifles and deadly machine-guns? He had carried his life in his hand on numerous occasions on behalf of King and country, and he was not afraid to do it again for his own personal satisfaction. Just how he was to accomplish his object he had no definite idea. It was enough for him as he lay there to think of Glen's voice, the charm of her face, and the glory of her kindling eyes.

When he had finished his smoke he arose, and hoisting the sheep once again upon his back he carried it down to the roadhouse, where he sold it to Shorty, who had bargained with him the evening before for his game of the day. It was much easier than toting it around to the various tents and shacks, and selling it by the piece to the miners. He made less, to be sure, but he was satisfied. In fact, he was becoming tired of this business, and longed for something else, especially since he had met Glen in the hills.

Several men had arrived at Big Draw that day, and had brought a number of letters. One was for Reynolds, from his old friend, the editor. It was a fatherly letter, full of interest for his welfare, and the hope that he would soon return and enter upon the quest to find the missing Henry Redmond.

"I cannot get this notion out of my mind," he wrote in conclusion. "It is with me night and day since I talked it over with you. I believe you are the person best fitted for the undertaking. Give up your present wild-goose chase, and come home."

Reynolds smiled as he thrust the letter into his pocket, The editor called his trip north a "wild-goose chase." He little knew that it was a chase of a different kind, and the bird was a fascinating girl. "I guess I shall have to tell Harmon that the bird I'm after is not a wild goose, but a new species, found solely up here, and with only one known specimen in existence. But I must write to him, anyway, and tell him something about my doings and the life at Big Draw."

In an adjoining room men were playing cards. Reynolds entered and stood watching them, especially Curly, who was deep in a game. He was evidently losing heavily, and he was in a bad frame of mind. As Reynolds stood and watched him, he began to wonder when the fellow had first met Glen. Was it on the trail, or had Curly ventured beyond the Golden Crest? It pleased him to know that the girl disliked the man, and how she wished that the fog-bank had not lifted just when it did. He longed to know what was in Curly's mind. Would he attempt to meet the girl again? That he was capable of the basest villainy, he had not the shadow of a doubt. Frontier Samson had told him as much, and the old prospector apparently knew whereof he spoke. It was not safe for Glen to travel alone among the hills, he mused. She was in danger of meeting a worse brute than the raging grizzly she had encountered that afternoon.

As Reynolds thought of these things he kept his eyes fixed intently upon Curly's face, not realising that he was staring so hard. But Curly did, and glancing up several times from his cards, he met those steady, inscrutable eyes. At first it annoyed him, making him nervous and impatient. He wondered what the quiet, reserved fellow meant by looking at him in such a manner. At length he became angry, and noticing that the eyes never left his face, he leaped to his feet with a savage oath, and moving over to where Reynolds was standing, demanded of him an explanation.

Brought suddenly to earth, Reynolds started, and asked what was the trouble.

"Why, I have been doing nothing," and Reynolds looked his surprise. "I was merely watching the game."

"No, you weren't. You were watching me like a cat watches a mouse, and I want to know what you mean."

Reynolds laughed.

"I didn't realise I was watching you," he explained. "My mind was elsewhere. I was thinking of more important things. You seem to be looking for trouble."

"H'm, you needn't accuse me. It must be your own conscience. I am not looking for a quarrel, even if you are. I shall leave at once if my presence is so objectionable to you. I'm rather fond of my own company."

"Coward!"

Reynolds had partly turned as this word smote him like a knife. He wheeled in an instant and faced Curly.

"Did you refer to me?" he asked. His eyes spoke danger, and the muscles of his body were tense. But Curly did not heed the signs; he had thrown caution to the winds.

Curly never finished the sentence, for a rigid fist caught him suddenly under the right jaw, and sent him reeling backward upon a small table. Recovering himself as speedily as possible, and wild with pain and rage, he ripped forth a revolver from a hip-pocket. A dead silence pervaded the room, like a calm before a storm. And during that silence something unexpected happened. It was not the report of the revolver, but the angry growl of a dog, the spitting of a cat, the bleat of a sheep, and the crow of a cock.

"Gr-r-r-r, ps-s-s-s, ba-a-a-a, cock-a-doodle-do-o-o."

So incongruous did the peculiar sounds appear, that all stared in amazement. Then when they beheld Frontier Samson standing near the door, their faces broadened into knowing grins, followed by hearty outbursts of laughter.

The prospector walked at once over to where Curly was standing, and laid his big right hand upon his shoulder.

"What's all this about?" he asked. "In trouble agin, eh?"

"An' so yer goin' to shoot?"

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