The Range Dwellers Read online

  CHAPTER VII.

  One Day Too Late!

  I suppose there is always a time when a fellow passes quite suddenly outof the cub-stage and feels himself a man--or, at least, a very greatdesire to be one. Until that Fourth of July life had been to me aplayground, with an interruption or two to the game. When dad took suchheroic measures to instil some sense into my head, he interrupted the gamefor ten days or so--and then I went back to my play, satisfied with newtoys. At least, that is the way it seemed to me. But after that night,things were somehow different. I wanted to amount to something; I wasabsolutely ashamed of my general uselessness, and I came near writing todad and telling him so.

  The worst of it was that I didn't know just what it was I wanted to do,except ride over to that little pinnacle just out from King's Highway, andwatch for Beryl King; that, of course, was out of the question, andmaudlin, anyway.

  On the third day after, as Frosty and I were riding circle quite silentlyand moodily together, we rode up into a little coulee on the southwesternside of White Divide, and came quite unexpectedly upon a littlepicnic-party camped comfortably down by the spring where we had meant toslake our own thirst. Of course, it was the Kings' house-party; they werethe only luxuriously idle crowd in the country.

  Edith and her mother greeted me with much apparent joy, but, really,I felt sorry for Frosty; all that saved him from recognition then was theprovidential near-sightedness of Mrs. Loroman. I observed that he wascareful not to come close enough to the lady to run any risk.

  Aunt Lodema tilted her chin at me, and Beryl--to tell the truth,I couldn't make up my mind about Beryl. When I first rode up to them, andshe looked at me, I fancied there was a welcome in her eyes; after thatthere was anything else you like to name. I looked several times at herto make sure, but I couldn't tell any more what she was thinking than onecan read the face of a Chinaman. (That isn't a pretty comparison, I know,but it gives my meaning, for, of all humans, Chinks are about the hardestto understand or read.) I was willing, however, to spend a good deal oftime studying the subject of her thoughts, and got off my horse almost assoon as Mrs. Loroman and Edith invited me to stop and eat lunch with them.That Weaver fellow was not present, but another man, whom they introducedas Mr. Tenbrooke, was sitting dolefully on a rock, watching a maidunpacking eatables. Edith told me that "Uncle Homer"--which was old manKing--and Mr. Weaver would be along presently. They had driven over toKenmore first, on a matter of business.

  Frosty, I could see, was not going to stay, even though Edith, in a politelittle voice that made me wonder at her, invited him to do so. Edith wasnot the hostess, and had really no right to do that.

  I tried to get a word with Miss Beryl, found myself having a good manywords with Edith, instead, and in fifteen minutes I became as thoroughlydisgusted with unkind fate as ever I've been in my life, and suddenlyremembered that duty made further delay absolutely impossible. We rodeaway, with Edith protesting prettily at what she was pleased to call mybad manners.

  For the rest of the way up that coulee Frosty and I were even more silentand moody than we had been before. The only time we spoke was when Frostyasked me gruffly how long those people expected to stay out here. I toldhim a week, and he grunted something under his breath about femalefortune-hunters. I couldn't see what he was driving at, for I certainlyshould never think of accusing Edith and her mother of being that especialbrand of abhorrence, but he was in a bitter mood, and I wouldn't arguewith him then--I had troubles of my own to think of. I was beginning tocall myself several kinds of a fool for letting a girl--however wonderfulher eyes--give me bad half-hours quite so frequently; the thing had neverhappened to me before, and I had known hundreds of nicegirls--approximately. When a fellow goes through a co-ed course, and has adad whom the papers call financier, he gets a speaking-acquaintance with afew girls. The trouble with me was, I never gave the whole bunch as muchthought as I was giving to Beryl King--and the more I thought about her,the less satisfaction there was in the thinking.

  I waited a day or two, and then practically ran away from my work and rodeover to that little butte. Some one was sitting on the same flat rock, andI climbed up to the place with more haste than grace, I imagine. WhenI reached the top, panting like the purr of the _Yellow Peril_--myautomobile--when it gets warmed up and going smoothly, I discovered thatit was Edith Loroman sitting placidly, with a camera on her knees, doingthings to the internal organs of the thing. I don't know much aboutcameras, so I can't be more explicit.

  "If it isn't Ellie, looking for all the world like the _Virginian_ juststepped down from behind the footlights!" was her greeting. "Where in theworld have you been, that you haven't been over to see us?"

  "You must know that the palace of the King is closed against theCarletons," I, said, and I'm afraid I said it a bit crossly; I hadn'tclimbed that unmerciful butte just to bandy commonplaces with EdithLoroman, even if we were old friends. There are times when new enemies aremore diverting than the oldest of old friends.

  "Well, you could come when Uncle Homer is away--which he often is," shepouted. "Every Sunday he drives over to Kenmore and pokes around hisminers and mines, and often Terence and Beryl go with him, so you couldcome--"

  "No, thank you." I put on the dignity three deep there. "If I can't comewhen your uncle is at home, I won't sneak in when he's gone. I--how doesit happen you are away out here by yourself?"

  "Well," she explained, still doing things to the camera, "Beryl came outhere yesterday, and made a sketch of the divide; I just happened to seeher putting it away. So I made her tell me where she got that view-point,and I wanted her to come with me, so I could get a snap shot; it _is_pretty, from here. But she went over to the mines with Mr. Weaver, andI had to come alone. Beryl likes to be around those dirty mines--but Ican't bear it. And, now I'm here, something's gone wrong with the thing,so I can't wind the film. Do you know how to fix it, Ellie?"

  I didn't, and I told her so, in a word. Edith pouted again--she has apretty mouth that looks well all tied up in a knot, and I have a slightsuspicion that she knows it--and said that a fellow who could take anautomobile all to pieces and put it together again ought to be able to fixa kodak. That's the way some women reason, I believe--just as though carsand kodaks are twin brothers.

  Our conversation, as I remember it now, was decidedly flat and dull.I kept thinking of Beryl being there the day before--and I never knew; ofher being off somewhere to-day with that Weaver fellow--and I knew it andcouldn't do a thing. I hardly know which was the more unpleasant to dwellupon, but I do know that it made me mighty poor company for Edith. I satthere on a near-by rock and lighted cigarettes, only to let them go out,and glowered at King's Highway, off across the flat, as if it were themouth of the bottomless pit. I can't wonder that Edith called me a bear,and asked me repeatedly if I had toothache, or anything.

  By and by she had her kodak in working order again, and took two or threepictures of the divide. Edith is very pretty, I believe, and looks herbest in short walking-costume. I wondered why she had not ridden out tothe butte; Beryl had, the time I met her there, I remembered. She had adeep-chested blue roan that looked as if he could run, and I had noticedthat she wore the divided skirt, which is so popular among women who ride.I don't, as a rule, notice much what women have on--but Beryl King's feetare altogether too small for the least observant man to pass over. Edith'sfeet were well shod, but commonplace.

  "I wish you'd let me have one of those pictures when they're done,"I told her, as amiably as I could.

  She pushed back a lock of hair. "I'll send you one, if you like, whenI get home. What address do you claim, in this wilderness?"

  I wrote it down for her and went my way, feeling a badly used young man,with a strong inclination to quarrel with fate. Edith had managed, duringher well-meant efforts at entertaining me, to couple Mr. Weaver's name alltoo frequently with that of her cousin. I found it very depressing--a goodmany things, in fact, were depressing that day.

  I went back to camp and stuck to
work for the rest of that week--untilsome of the boys told me that they had seen the Kings' guests scootingacross the prairie in the big touring-car of Weaver's, evidently headedfor Helena.

  After that I got restless again, and every mile the round-up moved southI took as a special grievance; it put that much greater distance between meand King's Highway--and I had got to that unhealthy stage where everymile wore on my nerves, and all I wanted was to moon around that littlebutte. I believe I should even have taken a morbid pleasure in watchingthe light in her window o' nights, if it had been at all practicable.