"We won't have venison steak off him, that's certain,"remarked Dale, dryly. "An' maybe none off any deer, if Roy does the shootin'."They resumed travel, sheering off to the right and keeping to the edge of the intersecting canuon. At length they rode down to the bottom, where a tiny brook babbled through willows, and they followed this for a mile or so down to where it flowed into the larger stream. A dim trail overgrown with grass showed at this point.
"Here's where we part," said Dale. "You'll beat me into my camp, but I'll get there sometime after dark.""Hey, Milt, I forgot about thet darned pet cougar of yours an' the rest of your menagerie. Reckon they won't scare the girls? Especially old Tom?""You won't see Tom till I get home," replied Dale.
"Ain't he corralled or tied up?"
"No. He has the run of the place."
"Wal, good-by, then, an' rustle along."
Dale nodded to the girls, and, turning his horse, he drove the pack-train before him up the open space between the stream and the wooded slope.
Roy stepped off his horse with that single action which appeared such a feat to Helen.
"Guess I'd better cinch up," he said, as he threw a stirrup up over the pommel of his saddle. "You girls are goin' to see wild country.""Who's old Tom?" queried Bo, curiously.
"Why, he's Milt's pet cougar."
"Cougar? That's a panther -- a mountain-lion, didn't he say?""Shore is. Tom is a beauty. An' if he takes a likin' to you he'll love you, play with you, maul you half to death."Bo was all eyes.
"Dale has other pets, too?" she questioned, eagerly.
"I never was up to his camp but what it was overrun with birds an' squirrels an' vermin of all kinds, as tame as tame as cows. Too darn tame, Milt says. But I can't figger thet.
You girls will never want to leave thet senaca of his.""What's a senaca?" asked Helen, as she shifted her foot to let him tighten the cinches on her saddle.
"Thet's Mexican for park, I guess," he replied. "These mountains are full of parks; an', say, I don't ever want to see no prettier place till I get to heaven. . . . There, Ranger, old boy, thet's tight."He slapped the horse affectionately, and, turning to his own, he stepped and swung his long length up.
"It ain't deep crossin' here. Come on," he called, and spurred his bay.
The stream here was wide and it looked deep, but turned out to be deceptive.
"Wal, girls, here beginneth the second lesson," he drawled, cheerily. "Ride one behind the other -- stick close to me --do what I do -- an' holler when you want to rest or if somethin' goes bad."With that he spurred into the thicket. Bo went next and Helen followed. The willows dragged at her so hard that she was unable to watch Roy, and the result was that a low-sweeping branch of a tree knocked her hard on the head.
It hurt and startled her, and roused her mettle. Roy was keeping to the easy trot that covered ground so well, and he led up a slope to the open pine forest. Here the ride for several miles was straight, level, and open. Helen liked the forest to-day. It was brown and green, with patches of gold where the sun struck. She saw her first bird -- big blue grouse that whirred up from under her horse, and little checkered gray quail that appeared awkward on the wing.
Several times Roy pointed out deer flashing gray across some forest aisle, and often when he pointed Helen was not quick enough to see.
Helen realized that this ride would make up for the hideous one of yesterday. So far she had been only barely conscious of sore places and aching bones. These she would bear with.
She loved the wild and the beautiful, both of which increased manifestly with every mile. The sun was warm, the air fragrant and cool, the sky blue as azure and so deep that she imagined that she could look far up into it.
Suddenly Roy reined in so sharply that he pulled the bay up short.
"Look!" he called, sharply.
Bo screamed.
"Not thet way! Here! Aw, he's gone!"
"Nell! It was a bear! I saw it! Oh! not like circus bears at all!" cried Bo.
Helen had missed her opportunity.
"Reckon he was a grizzly, an' I'm jest as well pleased thet he loped off," said Roy. Altering his course somewhat, he led to an old rotten log that the bear had been digging in.
"After grubs. There, see his track. He was a whopper shore enough."They rode on, out to a high point that overlooked canuon and range, gorge and ridge, green and black as far as Helen could see. The ranges were bold and long, climbing to the central uplift, where a number of fringed peaks raised their heads to the vast bare dome of Old Baldy. Far as vision could see, to the right lay one rolling forest of pine, beautiful and serene. Somewhere down beyond must have lain the desert, but it was not in sight.
"I see turkeys 'way down there," said Roy, backing away.
"We'll go down and around an' mebbe I'll get a shot."Descent beyond a rocky point was made through thick brush.
This slope consisted of wide benches covered with copses and scattered pines and many oaks. Helen was delighted to see the familiar trees, although these were different from Missouri oaks. Rugged and gnarled, but not tall, these trees spread wide branches, the leaves of which were yellowing.
Roy led into a grassy glade, and, leaping off his horse, rifle in hand, he prepared to shoot at something. Again Bo cried out, but this time it was in delight. Then Helen saw an immense flock of turkeys, apparently like the turkeys she knew at home, but these had bronze and checks of white, and they looked wild. There must have been a hundred in the flock, most of them hens. A few gobblers on the far side began the flight, running swiftly off. Helen plainly heard the thud of their feet. Roy shot once -- twice -- three times. Then rose a great commotion. and thumping, and a loud roar of many wings. Dust and leaves whirling in the air were left where the turkeys had been.