CHAPTER II.
IN THE SHADOW OF THE GIANT'S FACE.
FRIEDA walked ankle deep in purple violets. Her hands were full of themand she carried a brimful basket on her arm.
"What a picture you are, Frieda," Jack called, as she came out on thebroad veranda of the ranch house at about eight o'clock the nextmorning.
"I don't care if we don't make our everlasting fortunes with our violetbeds, they are just too sweet for anything! Jean is coming out to helpyou pick the flowers in a minute; I have got to go down to the rancho tomake my peace with Jim."
Jack walked briskly along. It was a gentle October day with a bright sunand warm wind. You seemed to be able to see half way across the world,the horizon line stretched so far beyond you.
One of the ways in which Jean and Frieda had been trying to help to makethe ranch pay was by starting a violet farm. Nearly an acre of land nearthe house had been irrigated and glistened with the dark green leavesand purple stars of the young plants. The flowers were to be coveredwith glass later on. Now the fresh morning air was fragrant with theirperfume. Of course the flowers had not yet had time to pay for theexpense of planting them, but Frieda was eagerly calculating how manybunches she would have to send to the nearest town, when Jean joinedher.
"Don't you wish we could spend this whole day out of doors, Jean?"Frieda suggested. "I forgot to say anything about it to Jack, but youknow how we have talked about riding over to the Giant's Canyon to haveour lunch. Aunt Ellen can pack our saddle bags, and we can join Jack atthe rancho."
After a ten minutes' walk, Jacqueline Ralston touched the brim of herbroad sombrero hat with a military salute and brought her heels sharplytogether, when a tall figure came down the path toward her from therancho with his hands deep in his old leather trousers. She was near themess-house, where the men who worked the ranch had their quarters. Thegirls called it "Jim's rancho," to distinguish it from their own homehalf a mile away.
Jim Colter returned Jack's salute gravely. He was a handsome man ofabout thirty, with black hair and skin almost as swarthy as a Mexican's.The queer thing about his appearance was that his eyes were as blue andas gentle as a baby's, except when he was angry and then there was noharder man in Wyoming to deal with than the overseer of Rainbow Ranch.Jack would not have dared to let him know how rude Dan Norton had beento her.
Jim was a man of mystery. He came from goodness knows where; no one knewanything of his past. One day, many years before, he rode up to theranch house nearly dead from fatigue and hunger. Mr. Ralston took him inand he never went away again. But he would not say one word abouthimself and no one dared to ask him many questions, because his blueeyes would suddenly grow black and angry and he would look as though hewere recalling something he wanted to forget.
Jim was devoted to Jack and Jean, but Frieda was his special favorite.She was only two years old when he came to live at Rainbow Ranch, but hetaught her to ride and to swim, when other babies were only justlearning to walk. He and Mr. Ralston used to ride all over the greatranch, with Frieda tucked up in front of Jim's saddle and Jack perchedbehind her father's when both little girls were almost babies. By thetime she was fourteen, Jacqueline Ralston, who was her father's shadow,knew the trick of lassoing. There was not a cowboy on the ranch whocould ride faster, shoot straighter, or understood more about thebusiness of caring for the cattle and the sheep than she did, and sinceMr. Ralston's death, Jim had always consulted Jack about each newbusiness venture.
Jack made her report of yesterday's expedition, but without a word ofher meeting with Dan. Jim said nothing about the fright Jack had giventhem, but Jack found herself blushing and feeling like a little girl,instead of the head of a thousand acre ranch as he looked at her.
"It really wasn't my fault I was out late, yesterday, Jim," Jackapologized. "But we girls have decided to turn over a new leaf. We havemade up our minds to stay at home and study, until we are regular bluestockings."
Jim laughed and at this moment glanced up the road. Jean and Frieda wereriding calmly toward them. Jean was leading Hotspur and the threegirls' saddle bags were packed as though they were pioneers travelingacross the Deadwood trail to the gold regions of California.
Jim chuckled. "Looks like a party of bluestockings from Boston, Jack,coming this way, 'specially that there fishing tackle Jean's carrying.Where was you expecting to spend to-day?" he drawled in a funny Westernfashion.
Frieda tucked a small bunch of violets in the buttonhole of Jim's khakishirt. She wore a blue riding suit and a big Mexican hat like Jack's andher face looked very young and babyish under it. "We are going to theGiant's Canyon, Jim," she said apologetically. "It's such a dream of aday, but Jack doesn't know. We have brought her sketch book and Jean'salong and I have my history, so we can get our lessons outdoors and thenwe can make a fire and have lunch in my own little cave in the rocks."
"We will be back early, Jim," Jean added.
"All right," Jim agreed. His eyes twinkled at the vision of Jean andJack sketching under the shadow of the great stone peaks whose brokenoutline looked like the profile of a giant's face. The Giant's Canyon wasfive miles across the plains, but the ranch girls were in the habit ofriding over to it. Between the ridges of rock, nestling in the deepgorge, were little lakes filled with shimmering trout. One of the rockycaverns in the canyon, Frieda had adopted as her very own. The girlsalways spoke of it as Frieda's cave.
Frieda's stone castle was really two stories high. A large flat rockjutted out over a second one about eight feet below it while a flight ofnatural stairs ran from the ground to the floor of the cave.
Frieda unpacked the saddle bags, while Jean and Jack tethered the poniesto a great cottonwood tree not far from the edge of the gorge. The placewas entirely deserted, except for an eagle that swooped out of her eyrieand floated above the newcomers' heads. Frieda slipped down the stairsinto her cave, spread out her pony's blanket and set to housekeeping,humming as cheerfully as though she had been in her own private room atthe ranch. She was not in the least awed by the grandeur and lonelinessof the scenery about her. Indeed Frieda was so much at home in hercavern that she kept an old frying pan hung from one of the sharp pointsof the rock and some broken dishes stored away in a crevice which formeda kind of natural pantry.
Jean and Jack made a fire, because no camper is really happy withoutone. Then they religiously got out their sketch books and set to work tomake pictures of their three sturdy bronchos munching the buffalo grassin their neighborhood.
Both girls worked patiently for about ten minutes and then Jean sighedonce or twice. She had used her eraser oftener than her drawing pencil.Holding her drawing out, she gazed at it critically. Finally she tore itinto small bits and strolled over to Jack, to gaze over her shoulder.
"And what be those critturs you are picturing, Friend Ralston?" Jeandemanded, in a familiar, Western tone. "If they are native to this herestate of Wyoming, I ain't never seen 'em before. Be they mules orbuffaloes?"
Jack frowned and bit her pencil. "Don't be a goose, Jean," she answered,"and please don't interrupt." Jack surveyed her masterpiece critically."The ponies do look a bit queer," she confessed. "One of them has threelegs and the other five, but then I haven't worked very long. Do go awayand see if you can do any better yourself. You know we solemnly vowedthat we were going to sketch an hour each day."
Jean departed to another ten minutes of labor. But the sun was shininggloriously; the day was one long, sunlit delight. She could hear thewater trickling over the rocks in the gorge below, and Frieda movingabout at her housekeeping. Jean picked up her fishing rod, selected achoice fly and slipped her sketch book into her knapsack.
"Au revoir, Jack dear," she announced cheerfully. "Stay here and lookafter Frieda. I am going down to the pool to get some trout for lunch."Jean flung some pine knots on their fire, kissed her hand to Frieda andmarched off, smiling wickedly at Jack, who was drawing as though herlife depended on it. She wished to be an object lesson of industry toslothful Jean.
/> When Jean had entirely disappeared down the side of the ravine, Jackstopped to gaze sadly at her morning's work. "I am afraid I am not anatural-born artist," she declared aloud. "It may be all right forgeniuses to work from life, but I can't make any headway without ateacher. I wish Cousin Ruth had not put French and drawing into her listof what a young woman should know. They may be easy enough for girls tolearn in her beloved old Vermont, but they are pretty hard work outhere. I am afraid the ranch girls don't know any of the things theyshould." Jack's red lips parted. "But it's lots of fun to know theunnecessary things like fishing and riding. Gee whiz, I can't standworking any longer."
Jack leaned over the ledge of rock. Her drawing fluttered down to hersister. "Here Frieda, decorate your cave with that work of art. It lookslike a drawing made by the Indians in pre-historic days. You won't mind,will you, if I go away for a while? I won't be out of calling distanceand I won't stay long. If you need me, just sing out."
Frieda smiled. Her blue eyes looked like a reflection of the clear skyabove them. She had so little idea of feeling any fear, that she did noteven trouble to answer Jack's question. There were no more wild animalsin the gorge. Besides, the ranch girls knew that few animals wouldattack them, except in self-defense.
Frieda climbed down the rocky cliff to fill an old teakettle with waterfrom a spring not far below and then hung it over the fire on a crookedstick. If the water boiled long before Jean and Jack returned, thepleasant, sizzly sound would keep her company. Frieda's house was inorder, so she set out her luncheon dishes, arranging them around in acircle on the floor of her cave. In the center, in a broken teacup, sheplaced the bunch of violets she had worn in her trip across the plain.Still the girls had not returned; Frieda might have studied, but shedecided that it would be more fun to enlarge the crevice in the rocks,which formed the storehouse for her kitchen and dining-room utensils.
She struck the rock sharply with a large stone. A piece chipped off,then another. It was red sandstone and not very hard and Frieda wasbanging away with all her might, when she gave a quick exclamation ofsurprise. A great crack appeared along one side of the stone wall, and abig boulder crashed down at Frieda's feet. Before her, she beheldanother cavern in the rock, almost as large as the one in which sheplayed.
The little girl jumped back. At any moment she expected to see a pair ofwild eyes glaring at her from the rocky retreat, believing that she hadaccidentally broken into the cave of some animal. But nothing happened;there was no stir, no sound from the darkness inside.
Frieda's heart beat rapidly. Her face was pale from excitement. Shelooked cautiously into the opening, thrust one small hand into it anddrew out a round dish of hard, baked clay, engraved with queer, Indiancharacters. Frieda gave a shriek of delight, although she did notrealize that she had accidentally discovered an important collection ofIndian relics. But she was fascinated with the arrow heads and queerIndian dolls that she dug out a second later.
In the midst of her search, Frieda heard a sound that made her heartstand still. At the head of the gorge, about a quarter of a mile away,there was a dense thicket of evergreens. From this direction came a cryof pain and terror. Frieda flew up to the ground above.
"Jean, Jack!" she called. "What has happened? Is one of you hurt? Pleasecome to me." Frieda gave the call, that was always the signal betweenthe three ranch girls. "Oh-oo, Oh-ooo, Oh-oooo," ending in a shrill,drawn-out note, as she touched her lips with her fingers, three times inquick succession.
Then she listened, but neither Jean nor Jack answered her. The ranchgirls could hear sounds from afar off, as they had spent their lives inthe open country. As Frieda ran forward a few steps, she caught the echoof light feet, flying along the ground. A girl came out of the woods,rushing toward her blindly. But Frieda could not tell who it was orguess what had happened. Was it Jean or Jack?