The Man of the Forest, Zane Grey [manga ebook reader txt] 📗

you girls up,” said Dale, after greeting them. “Did he scare you?”

“Pedro. So that's his name. No, he didn't exactly scare me. He did Nell, though. She's an awful tenderfoot,” replied Bo.

“He's a splendid-looking dog,” said Helen, ignoring her sister's sally. “I love dogs. Will he make friends?”

“He's shy an' wild. You see, when I leave camp he won't hang around. He an' Tom are jealous of each other. I had a pack of hounds an' lost all but Pedro on account of Tom. I think you can make friends with Pedro. Try it.”

Whereupon Helen made overtures to Pedro, and not wholly in vain. The dog was matured, of almost stern aloofness, and manifestly not used to people. His deep, wine-dark eyes seemed to search Helen's soul. They were honest and wise, with a strange sadness.

“He looks intelligent,” observed Helen, as she smoothed the long, dark ears.

“That hound is nigh human,” responded Dale. “Come, an' while you eat I'll tell you about Pedro.”

Dale had gotten the hound as a pup from a Mexican sheep-herder who claimed he was part California bloodhound. He grew up, becoming attached to Dale. In his younger days he did not get along well with Dale's other pets and Dale gave him to a rancher down in the valley. Pedro was back in Dale's camp next day. From that day Dale began to care more for the hound, but he did not want to keep him, for various reasons, chief of which was the fact that Pedro was too fine a dog to be left alone half the time to shift for himself. That fall Dale had need to go to the farthest village, Snowdrop, where he left Pedro with a friend. Then Dale rode to Show Down and Pine, and the camp of the Beemans' and with them he trailed some wild horses for a hundred miles, over into New Mexico. The snow was flying when Dale got back to his camp in the mountains. And there was Pedro, gaunt and worn, overjoyed to welcome him home. Roy Beeman visited Dale that October and told that Dale's friend in Snowdrop had not been able to keep Pedro. He broke a chain and scaled a ten-foot fence to escape. He trailed Dale to Show Down, where one of Dale's friends, recognizing the hound, caught him, and meant to keep him until Dale's return. But Pedro refused to eat. It happened that a freighter was going out to the Beeman camp, and Dale's friend boxed Pedro up and put him on the wagon. Pedro broke out of the box, returned to Show Down, took up Dale's trail to Pine, and then on to the Beeman camp. That was as far as Roy could trace the movements of the hound. But he believed, and so did Dale, that Pedro had trailed them out on the wild-horse hunt. The following spring Dale learned more from the herder of a sheepman at whose camp he and the Beemans; had rested on the way into New Mexico. It appeared that after Dale had left this camp Pedro had arrived, and another Mexican herder had stolen the hound. But Pedro got away.

“An' he was here when I arrived,” concluded Dale, smiling. “I never wanted to get rid of him after that. He's turned out to be the finest dog I ever knew. He knows what I say. He can almost talk. An' I swear he can cry. He does whenever I start off without him.”

“How perfectly wonderful!” exclaimed Bo. “Aren't animals great?... But I love horses best.”

It seemed to Helen that Pedro understood they were talking about him, for he looked ashamed, and swallowed hard, and dropped his gaze. She knew something of the truth about the love of dogs for their owners. This story of Dale's, however, was stranger than any she had ever heard.

Tom, the cougar, put in an appearance then, and there was scarcely love in the tawny eyes he bent upon Pedro. But the hound did not deign to notice him. Tom sidled up to Bo, who sat on the farther side of the tarpaulin table-cloth, and manifestly wanted part of her breakfast.

“Gee! I love the look of him,” she said. “But when he's close he makes my flesh creep.”

“Beasts are as queer as people,” observed Dale. “They take likes an' dislikes. I believe Tom has taken a shine to you an' Pedro begins to be interested in your sister. I can tell.”

“Where's Bud?” inquired Bo.

“He's asleep or around somewhere. Now, soon as I get the work done, what would you girls like to do?”

“Ride!” declared Bo, eagerly.

“Aren't you sore an' stiff?”

“I am that. But I don't care. Besides, when I used to go out to my uncle's farm near Saint Joe I always found riding to be a cure for aches.”

“Sure is, if you can stand it. An' what will your sister like to do?” returned Dale, turning to Helen.

“Oh, I'll rest, and watch you folks—and dream,” replied Helen.

“But after you've rested you must be active,” said Dale, seriously. “You must do things. It doesn't matter what, just as long as you don't sit idle.”

“Why?” queried Helen, in surprise. “Why not be idle here in this beautiful, wild place? just to dream away the hours—the days! I could do it.”

“But you mustn't. It took me years to learn how bad that was for me. An' right now I would love nothin' more than to forget my work, my horses an' pets—everythin', an' just lay around, seein' an' feelin'.”

“Seeing and feeling? Yes, that must be what I mean. But why—what is it? There are the beauty and color—the wild, shaggy slopes—the gray cliffs—the singing wind—the lulling water—the clouds—the sky. And the silence, loneliness, sweetness of it all.”

“It's a driftin' back. What I love to do an' yet fear most. It's what makes a lone hunter of a man. An' it can grow so strong that it binds a man to the wilds.”

“How strange!” murmured Helen. “But that could never bind ME. Why, I must live and fulfil my mission, my work in the civilized world.”

It seemed to Helen that Dale almost imperceptibly shrank at her earnest words.

“The ways of Nature are strange,” he said. “I look at it different. Nature's just as keen to wean you back to a savage state as you are to be civilized. An' if Nature won, you would carry out her design all the better.”

This hunter's talk shocked Helen and yet stimulated her mind.

“Me—a savage? Oh no!” she exclaimed. “But, if that were possible, what would Nature's design be?”

“You spoke of your mission in life,” he replied. “A woman's mission is to have children. The female of any species has only one mission—to reproduce its kind. An' Nature has only one mission—toward greater strength, virility, efficiency—absolute perfection, which is unattainable.”

“What of mental and spiritual development of man and woman?” asked Helen.

“Both are direct obstacles to