CHAPTER X
One day Wade remarked to Belllounds: "You can never tell what a dog isuntil you know him. Dogs are like men. Some of 'em look good, butthey're really bad. An' that works the other way round. If a dog's bornto run wild an' be a sheep-killer, that's what he'll be. I've known dogsthat loved men as no humans could have loved them. It doesn't make anydifference to a dog if his master is a worthless scamp."
"Wal, I reckon most of them hounds I bought had no good masters, judgin'from the way they act," replied the rancher.
"I'm developin' a first-rate pack," said Wade. "Jim hasn't any faultsexceptin' he doesn't bay enough. Sampson's not as true-nosed as Jim, buthe'll follow Jim, an' he has a deep, heavy bay you can hear for miles.So that makes up for Jim's one fault. These two hounds hang together,an' with them I'm developin' others. Denver will split off of bear orlion tracks when he jumps a deer. I reckon he's not young enough to becured of that. Some of the younger hounds are comin' on fine. Butthere's two dogs in the bunch that beat me all hollow."
"Which ones?" asked Belllounds.
"There's that bloodhound, Kane," replied the hunter. "He's sure a queerdog. I can't win him. He minds me now because I licked him, an' oncegood an' hard when he bit me.... But he doesn't cotton to me worth adamn. He's gettin' fond of Miss Columbine, an' I believe might make agood watch-dog for her. Where'd he come from, Belllounds?"
"Wal, if I don't disremember he was born in a prairie-schooner, comin'across the plains. His mother was a full-blood, an' come fromLouisiana."
"That accounts for an instinct I see croppin' out in Kane," rejoinedWade. "He likes to trail a man. I've caught him doin' it. An' he doesn'ttake to huntin' lions or bear. Why, the other day, when the hounds treeda lion an' went howlin' wild, Kane came up, an' he looked disgusted an'went off by himself. He hunts by himself, anyhow. First off I thought hemight be a sheep-killer. But I reckon not. He can trail men, an' that'sabout all the good he is. His mother must have been a slave-hunter, an'Kane inherits that trailin' instinct."
"Ahuh! Wal, train him on trailin' men, then. I've seen times when a doglike thet'd come handy. An' if he takes to Collie an' you approve ofhim, let her have him. She's been coaxin' me fer a dog."
"That isn't a bad idea. Miss Collie walks an' rides alone a good deal,an' she never packs a gun."
"Funny about thet," said Belllounds. "Collie is game in most ways, butshe'd never kill anythin'.... Wade, you ain't thinkin' she ought to stopthem lonesome walks an' rides?"
"No, sure not, so long as she doesn't go too far away."
"Ahuh! Wal, supposin' she rode up out of the valley, west on the BlackRange?"
"That won't do, Belllounds," replied Wade, seriously. "But Miss Collie'snot goin' to, for I've cautioned her. Fact is I've run across somehard-lookin' men between here an' Buffalo Park. They're not hunters orprospectors or cattlemen or travelers."
"Wal, you don't say!" rejoined Belllounds. "Now, Wade, are youconnectin' up them strangers with the stock I missed on this lastround-up?"
"Reckon I can't go as far as that," returned Wade. "But I didn't liketheir looks."
"Thet comin' from you, Wade, is like the findin's of a jury.... It'sgettin' along toward October. Snow'll be flyin' soon. You don't reckonthem strangers will winter in the woods?"
"No, I don't. Neither does Lewis. You recollect him?"
"Yes, thet prospector who hangs out around Buffalo Park, lookin' fergold. He's been hyar. Good fellar, but crazy on gold."
"I've met Lewis several times, one place and another. I lost the houndsday before yesterday. They treed a lion an' Lewis heard the racket, an'he stayed with them till I come up. Then he told me some interestin'news. You see he's been worryin' about this gang thet's rangin' aroundBuffalo Park, an' he's tried to get a line on them. Somebody took a shotat him in the woods. He couldn't swear it was one of that outfit, but hecould swear he wasn't near shot by accident. Now Lewis says these menpack to an' fro from Elgeria, an' he has a hunch they're in cahoots withSmith, who runs a place there. You know Smith?"
"No, I don't, an' haven't any wish to," declared Belllounds, shortly."He always looked shady to me. An' he's not been square with friends ofmine in Elgeria. But no one ever proved him crooked, whatever wasthought. Fer my part, I never missed a guess in my life. Men don't havescars on their face like his fer nothin'."
"Boss, I'm confidin' what I want kept under your hat," said Wade,quietly. "I knew Smith. He's as bad as the West makes them. I gave himthat scar.... An' when he sees me he's goin' for his gun."
"Wal, I'll be darned! Doesn't surprise me. It's a small world.... Wade,I'll keep my mouth shut, sure. But what's your game?"
"Lewis an' I will find out if there is any connection between Smith an'this gang of strangers--an' the occasional loss of a few head of stock."
"Ahuh! Wal, you have my good will, you bet.... Sure thar's been somerustlin' of cattle. Not enough to make any rancher holler, an' I reckonthere never will be any more of thet in Colorado. Still, if we get thedrop on some outfit we sure ought to corral them."
"Boss, I'm tellin' you--"
"Wade, you ain't agoin' to start thet tellin' hell-bent happenin's tocome hyar at White Slides?" interrupted Belllounds, plaintively.
"No, I reckon I've no hunch like that now," responded Wade, seriously."But I was about to say that if Smith is in on any rustlin' of cattlehe'll be hard to catch, an' if he's caught there'll be shootin' to pay.He's cunnin' an' has had long experience. It's not likely he'd workopenly, as he did years ago. If he's stealin' stock or buyin' an'sellin' stock that some one steals for him, it's only on a small scale,an' it'll be hard to trace."
"Wal, he might be deep," said Belllounds, reflectively. "But men likethet, no matter how deep or cunnin' they are, always come to a bad end.Jest works out natural.... Had you any grudge ag'in' Smith?"
"What I give him was for somebody else, an' was sure little enough. He'sgot the grudge against me."
"Ahuh! Wal, then, don't you go huntin' fer trouble. Try an' make WhiteSlides one place thet'll disprove your name. All the same, don't shy atsight of anythin' suspicious round the ranch."
The old man plodded thoughtfully away, leaving the hunter likewise in abrown study.
"He's gettin' a hunch that I'll tell him of some shadow hoverin' blackover White Slides," soliloquized Wade. "Maybe--maybe so. But I don't seeany yet.... Strange how a man will say what he didn't start out to say.Now, I started to tell him about that amazin' dog Fox."
Fox was the great dog of the whole pack, and he had been absolutelyoverlooked, which fact Wade regarded with contempt for himself.Discovery of this particular dog came about by accident. Somewhere inthe big corral there was a hole where the smaller dogs could escape, butWade had been unable to find it. For that matter the corral was full ofholes, not any of which, however, it appeared to Wade, would permitanything except a squirrel to pass in and out.
One day when the hunter, very much exasperated, was prowling around andaround inside the corral, searching for this mysterious vent, a rathersmall dog, with short gray and brown woolly hair, and shaggy brows halfhiding big, bright eyes, came up wagging his stump of a tail.
"Well, what do you know about it?" demanded Wade. Of course he hadnoticed this particular dog, but to no purpose. On this occasion the dogrepeated so unmistakably former overtures of friendship that Wade gavehim close scrutiny. He was neither young nor comely nor thoroughbred,but there was something in his intelligent eyes that struck the huntersignificantly. "Say, maybe I overlooked somethin'? But there's been aheap of dogs round here an' you're no great shucks for looks. Now, ifyou're talkin' to me come an' find that hole."
Whereupon Wade began another search around the corral. It covered nearlyan acre of ground, and in some places the fence-poles had been sunk nearrocks. More than once Wade got down upon his hands and knees to see ifhe could find the hole. The dog went with him, watching with knowingeyes that the hunter imagined actually laughed at him. But they wereglad eyes, which began to make an appea
l. Presently, when Wade came to arough place, the dog slipped under a shelving rock, and thence through ahalf-concealed hole in the fence; and immediately came back through towag his stump of a tail and look as if the finding of that hole waseasy enough.
"You old fox," declared Wade, very much pleased, as he patted the dog."You found it for me, didn't you? Good dog! Now I'll fix that hole, an'then you can come to the cabin with me. An' your name's Fox."
That was how Fox introduced himself to Wade, and found his opportunity.The fact that he was not a hound had operated against his being takenout hunting, and therefore little or no attention had been paid him.Very shortly Fox showed himself to be a dog of superior intelligence.The hunter had lived much with dogs and had come to learn that thelonger he lived with them the more there was to marvel at and love.
Fox insisted so strongly on being taken out to hunt with the hounds thatWade, vowing not to be surprised at anything, let him go. It happened tobe a particularly hard day on hounds because of old tracks andcross-tracks and difficult ground. Fox worked out a labyrinthine trailthat Sampson gave up and Jim failed on. This delighted Wade, and thatnight he tried to find out from Andrews, who sold the dog to Belllounds,something about Fox. All the information obtainable was that Andrewssuspected the fellow from whom he had gotten Fox had stolen him.Belllounds had never noticed him at all. Wade kept the possibilities ofFox to himself and reserved his judgment, and every day gave the doganother chance to show what he knew.
"I'm beginnin' to feel that I couldn't let her marry thatBuster Jack," soliloquized Wade, as he rode along the grassy trail.]
Long before the end of that week Wade loved Fox and decided that he wasa wonderful animal. Fox liked to hunt, but it did not matter what hehunted. That depended upon the pleasure of his master. He would findhobbled horses that were hiding out and standing still to escapedetection. He would trail cattle. He would tree squirrels and pointgrouse. Invariably he suited his mood to the kind of game he hunted. Ifput on an elk track, or that of deer, he would follow it, keeping wellwithin sight of the hunter, and never uttering a single bark or yelp;and without any particular eagerness he would stick until he had foundthe game or until he was called off. Bear and cat tracks, however,roused the savage instinct in him, and transformed him. He yelped atevery jump on a trail, and whenever his yelp became piercing andcontinuous Wade well knew the quarry was in sight. He fought bear like awise old dog that knew when to rush in with a snap and when to keepaway. When lions or wildcats were treed Fox lost much of his ferocityand interest. Then the matter of that particular quarry was ended. Hismost valuable characteristic, however, was his ability to stick on thetrack upon which he was put. Wade believed if he put Fox on the trail ofa rabbit, and if a bear or lion were to cross that trail ahead of him,Fox would stick to the rabbit. Even more remarkable was it that Foxwould not steal a piece of meat and that he would fight the other dogsfor being thieves.
Fox and Kane, it seemed to the hunter in his reflective foreshadowingof events at White Slides, were destined to play most important parts.
* * * * *
Upon a certain morning, several days before October first--which daterankled in the mind of Wade--he left Moore's cabin, leading apack-horse. The hounds he had left behind at the ranch, but Foxaccompanied him.
"Wade, I want some elk steak," old Belllounds had said the day before."Nothin' like a good rump steak! I was raised on elk meat. Now hyar,more'n a week ago I told you I wanted some. There's elk all around. Iheerd a bull whistle at sunup to-day. Made me wish I was young ag'in!...You go pack in an elk."
"I haven't run across any bulls lately," Wade had replied, but he didnot mention that he had avoided such a circumstance. The fact was Wadeadmired and loved the elk above all horned wild animals. So strange washis attitude toward elk that he had gone meat-hungry many a time withthese great stags bugling near his camp.
As he climbed the yellow, grassy mountain-side, working round above thevalley, his mind was not centered on the task at hand, but on WilsonMoore, who had come to rely on him with the unconscious tenacity of ason whose faith in his father was unshakable. The crippled cowboy kepthis hope, kept his cheerful, grateful spirit, obeyed and suffered with apatience that was fine. There had been no improvement in his injuredfoot. Wade worried about that much more than Moore. The thing thatmostly occupied the cowboy was the near approach of October first, withits terrible possibility for him. He did not talk about it, except whenfever made him irrational, but it was plain to Wade how he prayed andhoped and waited in silence. Strange how he trusted Wade to avertcatastrophe of Columbine's marriage! Yet such trust seemed familiar toWade, as he reflected over past years. Had he not wanted such trust--hadhe not invited it?
For twenty years no happiness had come to Wade in any sense comparableto that now secretly his, as he lived near Columbine Belllounds,divining more and more each day how truly she was his own flesh and theimage of the girl he had loved and married and wronged. Columbine washis daughter. He saw himself in her. And Columbine, from being stronglyattracted to him and trusting in him and relying upon him, had come tolove him. That was the most beautiful and terrible fact of hislife--beautiful because it brought back the past, her babyhood, and hisbarren years, and gave him this sudden change, where he livedtransported with the sense and the joy of his possession. It wasterrible because she was unhappy, because she was chained to duty andhonor, because ruin faced her, and lastly because Wade began to have thevague, gloomy intimations of distant tragedy. Far off, like a cloud onthe horizon, but there! Long ago he had learned the uselessness offighting his morbid visitations. But he clung to hope, to faith in life,to the victory of the virtuous, to the defeat of evil. A thousand proofshad strengthened him in that clinging.
There were personal dread and poignant pain for Wade in ColumbineBelllounds's situation. After all, he had only his subtle and intuitiveassurance that matters would turn out well for her in the end. To trustthat now, when the shadow began to creep over his own daughter, seemedunwise--a juggling with chance.
"I'm beginnin' to feel that I couldn't let her marry that Buster Jack,"soliloquized Wade, as he rode along the grassy trail. "Fust off, seein'how strong was her sense of duty an' loyalty, I wasn't so set againstit. But somethin's growin' in me. Her love for that crippled boy, now,an' his for her! Lord! they're so young an' life must be so hot an' loveso sweet! I reckon that's why I couldn't let her marry Jack.... But, onthe other hand, there's the old man's faith in his son, an' there'sCollie's faith in herself an' in life. Now I believe in that. An' theyears have proved to me there's hope for the worst of men.... I haven'teven had a talk with this Buster Jack. I don't know him, except byhearsay. An' I'm sure prejudiced, which's no wonder, considerin' where Isaw him in Denver.... I reckon, before I go any farther, I'd better meetthis Belllounds boy an' see what's in him."
* * * * *
It was characteristic of Wade that this soliloquy abruptly ended histhoughtful considerations for the time being. This was owing to the factthat he rested upon a decision, and also because it was time he began toattend to the object of his climb.
Bench after bench he had ascended, and the higher he got the denser andmore numerous became the aspen thickets and the more luxuriant thegrass. Presently the long black slope of spruce confronted him, with itsedge like a dark wall. He entered the fragrant forest, where not a twigstirred nor a sound pervaded the silence. Upon the soft, matted earththe hoofs of the horses made no impression and scarcely aperceptible thud.
Wade headed to the left, avoiding rough, rocky defiles of weatheredcliff and wind-fallen trees, and aimed to find easy going up to thesummit of the mountain bluff far above. This was new forest to him,consisting of moderate-sized spruce-trees growing so closely togetherthat he had to go carefully to keep from snapping dead twigs. Foxtrotted on in the lead, now and then pausing to look up at his master,as if for instructions.
A brightening of the dark-green gloom ahead showed th
e hunter that hewas approaching a large glade or open patch, where the sunlight fellstrongly. It turned out to be a swale, or swampy place, some few acresin extent, and directly at the foot of a last steep, wooded slope. HereFox put his nose into the air and halted.
"What're you scentin', Fox, old boy?" asked Wade, with low voice, as hepeered ahead. The wind was in the wrong direction for him to approachclose to game without being detected. Fox wagged his stumpy tail andlooked up with knowing eyes. Wade proceeded cautiously. The swamp was arank growth of long, weedy grasses and ferns, with here and there agreen-mossed bog half hidden and a number of dwarf oak-trees. Wade'shorse sank up to his knees in the mire. On the other side showed freshtracks along the wet margin of the swale.
"It's elk, all right," said Wade, as he dismounted. "Heard us comin'.Now, Fox, stick your nose in that track. An' go slow."
With rifle ready Wade began the ascent of the slope on foot, leading hishorse. An old elk trail showed a fresh track. Fox accommodated his paceto that of the toiling hunter. The ascent was steep and led up throughdense forest. At intervals, when Wade halted to catch his breath andlisten, he heard faint snapping of dead branches far above. At length hereached the top of the mountain, to find a wide, open space, with heavyforest in front, and a bare, ghastly, burned-over district to his right.Fox growled, and appeared about to dash forward. Then, in an openingthrough the forest, Wade espied a large bull elk, standing at gaze,evidently watching him. He was a gray old bull, with broken antlers.Wade made no move to shoot, and presently the elk walked out of sight.
"Too old an' tough, Fox," explained the hunter to the anxious dog. Butperhaps that was not all Wade's motive in sparing him.
Once more mounted, Wade turned his attention to the burned district. Itwas a dreary, hideous splotch, a blackened slash in the green cover ofthe mountain. It sloped down into a wide hollow and up another bareslope. The ground was littered with bleached logs, trees that had beenkilled first by fire and then felled by wind. Here and there a lofty,spectral trunk still withstood the blasts. Across the hollow sloped aconsiderable area where all trees were dead and still standing--amelancholy sight. Beyond, and far round and down to the left, opened upa slope of spruce and bare ridge, where a few cedars showed dark, andthen came black, spear-tipped forest again, leading the eye to themagnificent panorama of endless range on range, purple in the distance.
Wade found patches of grass where beds had been recently occupied.
"Mountain-sheep, by cracky!" exclaimed the hunter. "An' fresh tracks,too!... Now I wonder if it wouldn't do to kill a sheep an' tellBelllounds I couldn't find any elk."
The hunter had no qualms about killing mountain-sheep, but he loved thelordly stags and would have lied to spare them. He rode on, with keengaze shifting everywhere to catch a movement of something in thiswilderness before him. If there was any living animal in sight it didnot move. Wade crossed the hollow, wended a circuitous route through theupstanding forest of dead timber, and entered a thick woods that skirtedthe rim of the mountain. Presently he came out upon the open rim, fromwhich the depths of green and gray yawned mightily. Far across, OldWhite Slides loomed up, higher now, with a dignity and majestyunheralded from below.
Wade found fresh sheep tracks in the yellow clay of the rim, small aslittle deer tracks, showing that they had just been made by ewes andlambs. Not a ram track in the group!
"Well, that lets me out," said Wade, as he peered under the bluff forsight of the sheep. They had gone over the steep rim as if they hadwings. "Beats hell how sheep can go down without fallin'! An' how theycan hide!"
He knew they were near at hand and he wasted time peering to spy themout. Nevertheless, he could not locate them. Fox waited impatiently forthe word to let him prove how easily he could rout them out, but thispermission was not forthcoming.
"We're huntin' elk, you Jack-of-all-dogs," reprovingly spoke the hunterto Fox.
So they went on around the rim, and after a couple of miles of travelcame to the forest, and then open heads of hollows that widened anddeepened down. Here was excellent pasture and cover for elk. Wade leftthe rim to ride down these slow-descending half-open ridges, wherecedars grew and jack-pines stood in clumps, and little grassy-borderedbrooks babbled between. He saw tracks where a big buck deer had crossedahead of him, and then he flushed a covey of grouse that scared thehorses, and then he saw where a bear had pulled a rotten log to pieces.Fox did not show any interest in these things.
By and by Wade descended to the junction of these hollows, where threetiny brooklets united to form a stream of pure, swift, clear water,perhaps a foot deep and several yards wide.
"I reckon this's the head of the Troublesome," said Wade. "Whoever namedthis brook had no sense.... Yet here, at its source, it's gatherin'trouble for itself. That's the way of youth."
The grass grew thickly and luxuriantly and showed signs of recentgrazing. Elk had been along the brook that morning. There were manytracks, like cow tracks, only smaller, deeper, and more oval; and therewere beds where elk had lain, and torn-up places where bulls had plowedand stamped with heavy hoofs.
Fox trailed the herd to higher ground, where evidently they had enteredthe woods. Here Wade tied his horses, and, whispering to Fox, heproceeded stealthily through this strip of spruce. He came out to anopen point, taking care, however, to keep well screened, from which hehad a glimpse of a parklike hollow, grassy and watered. Working round tobetter vantage, he soon espied what had made Fox stand so stiff andbristling. A herd of elk were trooping up the opposite slope, scarcely ahundred yards distant. They had heard or scented him, but did not appearalarmed. They halted to look back. The hunter's quick estimate creditednearly two dozen to the herd, mostly cows. A magnificent bull, withwide-spreading antlers, and black head and shoulders and gray hindquarters, stalked out from the herd, and stood an instant, head aloft,splendidly significant of the wild. Then he trotted into the woods, hisantlers noiselessly spreading the green. Others trotted off likewise.Wade raised his rifle and looked through the sight at the bull, and lethim pass. Then he saw another over his rifle, and another. Reluctant andforced, he at last aimed and pulled trigger. The heavy Henry boomed outin the stillness. Fox dashed down with eager barks. When the smokecleared away Wade saw the opposite slope bare except for one fallen elk.
Then he returned to his horses, and brought them back to where Foxperched beside the dead quarry.
"Well, Fox, that stag'll never bugle any more of a sunrise," said Wade."Strange how we're made so we have to eat meat! I'd 'a' liked itotherwise."
He cut up the elk, and packed all the meat the horse could carry, andhung the best of what was left out of the reach of coyotes. Mountingonce more, he ascended to the rim and found a slope leading down to thewest. Over the basin country below he had hunted several days. This wayback to the ranch was longer, he calculated, but less arduous for manand beast. His pack-horse would have hard enough going in any event.From time to time Wade halted to rest the burdened pack-animal. Atlength he came to a trail he had himself made, which he now proceeded tofollow. It led out of the basin, through burned and boggy ground anddown upon the forest slope, thence to the grassy and aspened uplands.One aspen grove, where he had rested before, faced the west, and, forreasons hard to guess, had suffered little from frost. All the leaveswere intact, some still green, but most of them a glorious gold againstthe blue. It was a large grove, sloping gently, carpeted with yellowgrass and such a profusion of purple asters as Wade had never seen inhis flower-loving life. Here he dismounted and sat against anaspen-tree. His horses ruthlessly cropped the purple blossoms.
Nature in her strong prodigality had outdone herself here. Pale whitethe aspen-trees shone, and above was the fluttering, quivering canopy ofgold tinged with green, and below clustered the asters, thick as starsin the sky, waving, nodding, swaying gracefully to each little autumnbreeze, lilac-hued and lavender and pale violet, and all the shades ofexquisite purple.
Wade lingered, his senses predominating. This was one of th
ose momentsthat colored his lonely wanderings. Only to see was enough. He wouldhave shut out the encroaching thoughts of self, of others, of life, hadthat been wholly possible. But here, after the first few moments ofexquisite riot of his senses, where fragrance of grass and blossomfilled the air, and blaze of gold canopied the purple, he began to thinkhow beautiful the earth was, how Nature hid her rarest gifts for thosewho loved her most, how good it was to live, if only for theseblessings. And sadness crept into his meditations because all thisbeauty was ephemeral, all the gold would soon be gone, and the asters,so pale and pure and purple, would soon be like the glory of a dreamthat had passed.
Yet still followed the saving thought that frost and winter must againyield to sun, and spring, summer, autumn would return with the flowersof their season, in that perennial birth so gracious and promising. Theaspen leaves would quiver and slowly gild, the grass would wave in thewind, the asters would bloom, lifting star-pale faces to the sky. Nextautumn, and every year, and forever, as long as the sun warmedthe earth!
It was only man who would not always return to the haunts he loved.