CHAPTER XXVI. A RECONCILIATION
The small boy, ignoring Jane, sprang toward the mountain girl and draggedher into the cabin. On the floor lay Julie, her cheeks wet with tears,her eyes dulled with suffering.
With a glad cry Jane leaped into the darkened room and was about to takethe small girl in her arms, but Julie turned away and held her hands outtoward Meg, when to their surprise Jane sank down in a worn-out heap onthe floor and began to sob bitterly.
"Oh, mother, mother!" she cried, as though addressing someone she knewmust be present, "help me to take your place with Julie and Gerald. Tellthem to forgive me."
Meg feared that Jane's long day of anguish had temporarily unbalanced hermind, but Julie, hearing that cry, reached out a comforting hand.
"Jane," she said weakly, "don't feel so badly. I guess we were awfullytrying, me and Gerald."
Passionately Jane caught the child in her arms and held her close. Shekissed her forehead and her tumbled hair. Then she reached out a hand tothe boy, who had drawn near amazed to see his usually cold, hard sisterso affected.
"Give me another chance, Gerald!" she cried, tears streaming unheededdown her cheeks. "Don't hate me yet. I'm going to begin all over. I'mgoing to try to be like mother."
A cry of pain from the small girl then caught her attention.
"Julie, what is it, dear? Are you hurt? What has happened?"
Gerald spoke up: "That's why we came in here. We were headin' down themountain for the Packard ranch when Julie fell. I guess her ankle ishurt."
Meg at once was on her knees unbuttoning the high shoe. The ankle wasswollen, but there were no bones broken.
"It is a bad sprain," she said.
Then, swinging the knapsack which she always carried when on a mountainhike from her back, she took out her emergency kit. She washed the angrylooking place with soothing liniment and then wound tightly about itstrips of clean white cloth.
"Now," she said, "we will have some refreshments."
This amazed her listeners and greatly pleased at least one of them.
"Gee-golly!" Gerald cried. "I hadn't thought of it before, but I guessI'm starving to death more'n likely."
Meg smiled as she produced a box of raisins. "This may not seem much of amenu, but it is all one needs for several days to sustain life."
The small boy took a generous handful and gobbled it with speed. Then themountain girl brought out a canteen.
"Bring us some water from the creek," she told him. Jane held out adetaining hand.
"Oh, Meg," she implored, "don't send Gerry to that raging torrent. Don'tyou remember how we heard it roaring?"
"But you don't hear it now," was the reply. "The water from thecloudburst has long since gone to the valley to be absorbed, much of it,in the coarse gravel. You'll find Crazy Creek just as it always is."
"That's where Julie sprained her ankle," Gerald said. "We were trying toreach it to get a drink."
He soon returned with the canteen full of ice-cold water. His eyes werewide.
"Say, girls," he began, "we can't make it home tonight, can we? The sun'sgoing down west of our peak right this minute."
"We didn't expect to," Meg replied. "Gerald, you come with me and we willbring in pine branches or kinnikinick, if we can find any, for our beds."
From her knapsack Meg took a folding knife as she talked.
"Kinnikinick?" the boy gayly repeated. Everything that had happened nowappeared to him in the light of a jolly adventure except, of course,Julie's ankle, and she no longer seemed to be in pain. "What sort of athing is that?"
Meg had led the way out of the cabin.
"Here's some!" she shouted, and the boy raced over to find the girl whomhe so admired bending over a dense evergreen vine.
"It's prettier in winter," she told him, "for then it has red berriesamong the bright green leaves. It makes a wonderful bed. It is so softand springy."
After half an hour of effort branches of pine and some of the kinnikinickwere laid on the floor, Julie was made comfortable, but Jane would notlie down. She sat with her back against the wall holding the small girl'shead on her lap. Dan had been right. One could carve oneself after amodel. Never, never again would she lose sight, she assured herself, ofher chosen goal, which was to do in all things as her dear mother wouldhave done.
As soon as the sun sank it began to grow dark. Meg had at once barred thedoor, and also she had examined the floor and walls to be sure that therewas no yawning knothole large enough to admit a snake.
The children slept from sheer exhaustion, but Jane and Meg stayed awakethrough the seemingly endless hours, while night prowlers howled manytimes close to their cabin.
At the first gray streak of dawn, Julie stirred uneasily and began to crysoftly. Meg begged Jane to change positions with her, and, completelyworn out, Jane did lie down on the pine boughs which had been so placedthat they were springy and comfortable. Almost at once she fell asleep.
Meg removed the bandages that were hot from the little girl's hurt ankleand again applied the cooling liniment. Other fresh strips of cloth wereused and then, with the small head pillowed on Meg's lap, Julie againfell asleep. Gerald had not wakened through the night, not even when acurious wolf had sniffed at their doorsill and had then lifted his headto wail out his displeasure.
The sun was high above the peak when Jane leaped up, startled, from herrestless slumber. "What was that? I thought I heard a gun shot."
"You did." Nothing seemed to stir Meg from her undisturbed calm. "Someoneis coming. Julie, will you sit up against the wall, dear, and I will openthe door."
Gerald, half awake, but sensing some excitement, leaped out of the cabin,his small gun held in readiness. "Do you 'spect it's the Utes?" he asked,almost hoping that the answer would be in the affirmative. But Meglaughed. "No," she said. "It is probably someone searching for you." Thenshe fired in answer. From not far above them came two gun shots in rapidsuccession.
"Oh, boy!" Gerald leaped to a position where he could see the road as itwound under the pines. "There are two horsemen. Gee! One of 'em is Dan."
"And the other is Jean Sawyer!" his companion told him.
Julie had wanted to see what was going on, so hopping on one foot, sheappeared in the doorway, supported by Jane. The two lads uttered whoopsof joy when they saw the group awaiting them. Dan at once caught Geraldin his arms and then glanced tenderly toward the two in the doorway.Little did Jane guess that in that moment, white and worn as she was, shehad never looked so beautiful to her brother. And as for Jean Sawyer, hesaw in the face which had charmed him, a softer expression, and he knewthat some great transformation had taken place in the soul of the girl.Leaping forward, he said with deep solicitude: "Oh, Miss Jane, how youhave suffered!"
Dan lifted Julie most carefully to the back of his horse as he said:"Meg, can you ride in front of this little miss and I will walk at yourside?" Then he smiled, and Jane, glancing at him anxiously, rejoiced tonote he was not ill as she had feared he would be, though he did lookvery tired. The lad continued: "You see, Jean and I expected to find youall here. Intuitive knowledge, if you wish to call it that, and so weplanned what we would do. Jane is to ride on Silver, which Mr. Packardloaned us, and Jean will lead the way."
"But where are we going?" his older sister inquired.
"Down to the ranch," Jean replied. "I had strict orders to bring you backwith me, all of you, for that visit that you were to have paid at theweekend."
Meg was about to demur, but the lad hastened to say: "I told your fatherthat I would telephone the forest ranger as soon as you all were located.He is waiting there for a message, and I cannot until I get you to theranch."
Still Meg thought she ought to climb back to her own home, but Janeimplored: "Oh, don't leave me! I do _so_ want you to go with us." Thatsettled it and though the girl from the East little dreamed it, there wasa warm glow of joy in the heart of the mountain girl who had so wanted afriend o
f her own age.
Jane shuddered as they rode down the old trail of the deserted miningcamp. Shacks in all degrees of ruin stood about, machinery was rustingwhere it had been left. The beauty of the mountain had been marred bydark tunnels, outside of which stood heaps of orange and blue-grayrefuse. Even in the more substantial log huts, made of aspen poles,windows were broken and doors hung on one hinge. "The desolation of theplace will haunt my dreams forever," the girl from the East said.
"And all this," Jean made a wide sweep with his arm, "because the payingvein they had been so frantically following was lost. It might have beenfound, Mr. Packard told me, but another rich strike was made on EagleHead Mountain and the inhabitants of this camp, to a man, deserted it andflocked to that new mine, and from there they probably followed otherlures, ending, I suppose, as poor, or poorer, than when they began."
Dan was interested. "Then the lost vein may still be here, who knows?" hecommented with a backward glance at the deserted camp they had left. Andyet, was it deserted? As soon as the young people were gone a stealthyfigure appeared, slinking out of one of the huts. It was the old UteIndian and since he carried a pick and shovel, it was quite evident thathe had started out to dig. Was it the lost vein or some other treasurethat he sought?