CHAPTER XXI
"OH, I COULD KILL YOU!"
Before sundown they reached the timber-land on Bear Top. The horsesslipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentleincline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. Itwas very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellowbars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reachedthe crest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guessat where the trail wound on among the trees lower down.
Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. Anesting grouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighteda short distance away and went limping and dragging one wing beforethem, cheeping piteously.
While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg inlighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from hissix-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did notknow he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away throughthe trees, and Lorraine was glad that it had escaped.
Al slid the gun back into his holster, leaned from his saddle andpicked up the dead grouse as unconcernedly as he would have dismounted,pulled his knife from his boot and drew the bird neatly, flinging thecrop and entrails from him.
"Them juniper berries tastes the meat if you don't clean 'em out rightaway," he remarked casually to Lorraine, as he wiped the knife on histrousers and thrust it back into the boot-scabbard before he tied thegrouse to the saddle by its blue, scaley little feet.
When he was ready to go on, Snake refused to budge. Tough as he was,he had at last reached the limit of his energy and ambition. Al yankedhard on the bridle reins, then rode back and struck him sharply withhis quirt before Snake would rouse himself enough to move forward. Hewent stiffly, reluctantly, pulling back until his head was heldstraight out before him. Al dragged him so for a rod or two, lostpatience and returned to whip him forward again.
"What a brute you are!" Lorraine exclaimed indignantly. "Can't you seehow tired he is?"
Al glanced at her from under his eyebrows. "He's all in, but he's gotto make it," he said. "I've been that way myself--and made it. What Ican do, a horse can do. Come on, you yella-livered bonehead!"
Snake went on, urged now and then by Al's quirt. Every blow madeLorraine wince, and she made the wincing perfectly apparent to Al, inthe hope that he would take some notice of it and give her a chance totell him what she thought of him without opening the conversationherself.
But Al did not say anything. When the time came--as even Lorraine sawthat it must--when Snake refused to attempt a steep slope, Al stillsaid nothing. He untied her ankles from the stirrups and her handsfrom the saddle horn, carried her in his arms to his own horse andcompelled her to mount. Then he retied her exactly as she had beentied on Snake.
"Skinner knows this trail," he told Lorraine. "And I'm behind yuh witha gun. Don't forget that, Miss Spitfire. You let Skinner go to suithimself--and if he goes wrong, you pay, because it'll be you reininghim wrong. Get along there, Skinner!"
Skinner got along in a businesslike way that told why Al Woodruff hadchosen to ride him on this trip. He seemed to be a perfectlydependable saddle horse for a bandit to own. He wound in and out amongthe trees and boulders, stepping carefully over fallen logs; he thrusthis nose out straight and laid back his ears and pushed his way throughthickets of young pines; he went circumspectly along the edge of a deepgulch, climbed over a ridge and worked his way down the precipitousslope on the farther side, made his way around a thick clump of sprucesand stopped in a little, grassy glade no bigger than a city lot, butwith a spring gurgling somewhere near. Then he swung his head aroundand looked over his shoulder inquiringly at Al, who was coming behind,leading Snake.
Lorraine looked at him also, but Al did not say anything to her or tothe horse. He let them stand there and wait while he unsaddled Snake,put a drag rope on him and led him to the best grazing. Then, comingback, he very matter-of-factly untied Lorraine and helped her off thehorse. Lorraine was all prepared to fight, but she did not quite knowhow to struggle with a man who did not take hold of her or touch her,except to steady her in dismounting. Unconsciously she waited for acue, and the cue was not given.
Al's mind seemed intent upon making Skinner comfortable. Still, hekept an eye on Lorraine, and he did not turn his back to her. Lorrainelooked over to where Snake, too exhausted to eat, stood with droopinghead and all four legs braced like sticks under him. It flashed acrossher mind that not even her old director would order her to make a runfor that horse and try to get away on him. Snake looked as if he wouldnever move from that position until he toppled over.
Al pulled the bridle off Skinner, gave him a half-affectionate slap onthe rump, and watched him go off, switching his tail and nosing theground for a likeable place to roll. Al's glance went on to Snake, andfrom him to Lorraine.
"You sure do know how to ride hell out of a horse," he remarked. "Nowhe'll be stiff and sore to-morrow--and we've got quite a ride to make."
His tone of disapproval sent a guilty feeling through Lorraine, untilshe remembered that a slow horse might save her from this man who wasall bad,--except, perhaps, just on the surface which was not altogetherrepellent. She looked around at the tiny basin set like a saucer amongthe pines. Already the dusk was painting deep shadows in the woodsacross the opening, and turning the sky a darker blue. Skinner rolledover twice, got up and shook himself with a satisfied snort and wentaway to feed. She might, if she were patient, run to the horse whenAl's back was turned, she thought. Once in the woods she might havesome chance of eluding him, and perhaps Skinner would show as muchwisdom going as he had in coming, and take her down to the sageland.
But Skinner walked to the farther edge of the meadow before he stopped,and Al Woodruff never turned his back to a foe. An owl hootedunexpectedly, and Lorraine edged closer to her captor, who wasgathering dead branches one by one and throwing them toward a certainspot which he had evidently selected for a campfire. He looked at herkeenly, even suspiciously, and pointed with the stick in his left hand.
"You might go over there by the saddle and set down till I get a firegoing," he said. "Don't go wandering around aimless, like a henturkey, watching a chance to duck into the brush. There's bear inthere and lion and lynx, and I'd hate to see you chawed. They neverclean their toe-nails, and blood poison generally sets in where theyleave a scratch. Go and set down."
Lorraine did not know how much of his talk was truth, but she went andsat down by his saddle and began braiding her hair in two tight braidslike a squaw. If she did get a chance to run, she thought, she did notwant her hair flying loose to catch on bushes and briars. She had oncefled through a brush patch in Griffith Park with her hair flowingloose, and she had not liked the experience, though it had looked verynice on the screen.
Before she had finished the braiding, Al came over to the saddle anduntied his slicker roll and the grouse.
"Come on over to the fire," he said. "I'll learn yuh a trick or twoabout camp cooking. If I'm goin' to keep yuh with me, you might justas well learn how to cook. We'll be on the trail the biggest part ofour time, I expect."
He took her by the arm, just as any man might have done, and led her tothe fire that was beginning to crackle cheerfully. He set her down onthe side where the smoke would be least likely to blow her way andproceeded to dress the grouse, stripping off skin and featherstogether. He unrolled the slicker and laid out a piece of bacon, apackage of coffee, a small coffeepot, bannock and salt. The coffeepotand the grouse he took in one hand--his left, Lorraine observed--andstarted toward the spring which she could hear gurgling in the shadowsamongst the trees.
Lorraine watched him sidelong. He seemed to take it for granted nowthat she would stay where she was. The woods were dark, the firelightand the warmth enticed her. The sight of the supper preparations madeher hungrier than she had ever been in her life before. When one hasbreakfasted on one cup of coffee at dawn and has ridde
n all day withnothing to eat, running away from food, even though that food is in thehands of one's captor, requires courage. Lorraine was terribly temptedto stay, at least until she had eaten. But Al might not give heranother chance like this. She crept on her knees to the slicker andseized one piece of bannock, crawled out of the firelight stealthily,then sprang to her feet and began running straight across the meadowtoward Skinner.
Twenty yards she covered when a bullet sang over her head. Lorraineducked, stumbled and fell head-first over a hummock, not quite surethat she had not been shot.
"Thought maybe I could trust yuh to play square," Al said disgustedly,pulling her to her feet, the gun still smoking in his hands. "Youlittle fool, what do you think you'd do in these hills alone? You sureenough belittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million ofgetting away from me!"
She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation wasat last swinging around to a normal kidnapping. Still, Al Woodruffseemed unable to play his part realistically. He failed to fill herwith fear and repulsion. She had to think back, to remember that hehad killed men, in order to realise her own danger. Now, for instance,he merely forced her back to the campfire, pulled the saddle stringsfrom his pocket and tied her feet together, using a complicated knotwhich he told her she might work on all she darn pleased, for all hecared. Then he went calmly to work cooking their supper.
This was simple. He divided the grouse so that one part had the meatybreast and legs, and the other the back and wings. The meaty part helarded neatly with strips of bacon, using his hunting knife,--whichLorraine watched fascinatedly, wondering if it had ever taken the lifeof a man. He skewered the meat on a green, forked stick and gave it toher to broil for herself over the hottest coals of the fire, while hemade the coffee and prepared his own portion of the grouse.
Lorraine was hungry. She broiled the grouse carefully and ate it, withthe exception of one leg, which she surprised herself by offering toAl, who was picking the bones of his own share down to the last shredof meat. She drank a cup of coffee, black, and returned the cup to thekiller, who unconcernedly drank from it without any previous rinsing.She ate bannock with her meat and secretly thought what an adventure itwould be if only it were not real,--if only she were not threatenedwith a forced marriage to this man. The primitive camp appealed toher; she who had prided herself upon being an outdoor girl saw how shehad always played at being primitive. This was real. She would haveloved it if only the man opposite were Lone, or Swan, or some one elsewhom she knew and trusted.
She watched the firelight dancing on Al's sombre face, softening itshardness, making it almost wistful when he gazed thoughtfully into thecoals. She thrilled when she saw how watchful he was, how he liftedhis head and listened to every little night sound. She was afraid ofhim as she feared the lightning; she feared his pitiless attitudetoward human life. She would find some way to outwit him when it cameto the point of marrying him, she thought. She would escape him if shecould without too great a risk of being shot. She felt absolutelycertain that he would shoot her with as little compunction as he wouldmarry her by force,--and it seemed to Lorraine that he would notgreatly care which he did.
"I guess you're tired," Al said suddenly, rousing himself from deepstudy and looking at her imperturbably. "I'll fix yuh so you cansleep--and that's about all yuh can do."
He went over to his saddle, took the blanket and unfolded it untilLorraine saw that it was a full-size bed blanket of heavy gray wool.The man's ingenuity seemed endless. Without seeming to have any extraluggage, he had nevertheless carried a very efficient camp outfit withhim. He took his hunting knife, went to the spruce grove and cut manysmall, green branches, returning with all he could hold in his arms.She watched him lay them tips up for a mattress, and was secretly gladthat she knew this much at least of camp comfort. He spread theblanket over them and then, without a word, came over to her and untiedher feet.
"Go and lay down on the blanket," he commanded.
"I'll do nothing of the kind!" Lorraine set her mouth stubbornly.
"Well, then I'll have to lay you down," said Al, lifting her to herfeet. "If you get balky, I'm liable to get rough."
Lorraine drew away from him as far as she could and looked at him for afull minute. Al stared back into her eyes. "Oh, I could _kill_ you!"cried Lorraine for the second time that day and threw herself down onthe bed, sobbing like an angry child.
Al said nothing. The man's capacity for keeping still was amazing. Heknelt beside her, folded the blanket over her from the two sides, andtied the corners around her neck snugly, the knot at the back. In thesame way he tied her ankles. Lorraine found herself in a sleeping bagfrom which she had small hope of extricating herself. He took hiscoat, folded it compactly and pushed it under her head for a pillow;then he brought her own saddle blanket and spread it over her for extrawarmth.
"Now stop your bawling and go to sleep," he advised her calmly. "Youain't hurt, and you ain't going to be as long as you gentle down andbehave yourself."
She saw him draw the slicker over his shoulders and move back where theshadows were deep and she could not see him. She heard some animalsquall in the woods behind them. She looked up at the stars,--millionsof them, and brighter than she had ever seen them before. Insensiblyshe quieted, watching the stars, listening to the night noises,catching now and then a whiff of smoke from Al Woodruff's cigarette.Before she knew that she was sleepy, she slept.