TOLD IN THE HILLS 
 
They stood so in reality only a flash of seconds. Page 34. 
 
fold in the Hills 
 
 MARAH ELLIS RYAN 
 
 THE BONDWOMAN," "THAT Gmi. MONTANA," "A PAGAN 
 OF THK ALI.EGHANIES," "!N LOVE S DOMAIN," "A 
 FLOWER OF FRANCE," "MERZE," "Miss 
 MOCCASINS," "SQUAW ELOUISE." 
 
 CHICAGO NEW YORK 
 
 RAND McNALLY & COMPAN\ 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1891, by Rand, McNally & Co., Chicago. 
 Copyright, 1905, by Rand, McNally & Co., Chicago, 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 (Told in the Hills) 
 
IN ALL REVERENCE IN ALL GRATITUDE 
 TO THE FRIENDS GRANTED ME BY 
 
 THE WEST 
 
 FAYETTE SPRINGS, PENN. 
 
 
KOPA MESIKA 
 
 Nika sikks klaksta kumtucks 
 Klaksta yakwa mamook elahan, 
 Nika mahsie mahsie kwaneswn. 
 
 M. E. R. 
 
Thou shalt not see thy brother s ox, or his sheep, go astray. 
 . . . Thou shalt bring it unto thine own house, and it 
 shall be with thee until thy brother seek after it, and thou shalt 
 restore it to him again. ...... 
 
 . And with all lost things of thy brother s which he hath 
 lost, and thou hast found, shalt thou do likewise. . 
 
 In any case thou shalt deliver him the pledge again when 
 the sun goeth down. Deuteronomy. 
 
TOLD IN THE 
 
 PART FIRST 
 
 THE PLEDGE 
 
 "The only one of the name who is not a gentleman"; 
 those words were repeated over and over by a young 
 fellow who walked, one autumn morning, under the 
 shade of old trees and along a street of aristocratic 
 houses in old New Orleans. 
 
 He would have been handsome had it not been for 
 the absolutely wicked expression of his face as he 
 muttered to himself while he walked. He looked about 
 twenty-five dark and tall so tall as to be a noticeable 
 man among many men, and so well proportioned, and 
 so confidently careless in movement as not to be ungainly 
 the confidence of strength. 
 
 Some negroes whom he passed turned to look after 
 him, even the whites he met eyed him seriously. He 
 looked like a man off a sleepless journey, his eyes were 
 
 9 
 
10 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 bloodshot; his jfac6 haggard, and over all was a malignant 
 expression as of lurking devilishness. 
 
 ; He -stopped; at. a House set back from the street, and 
 half-smothered in the shade of the trees and great creep 
 ing vines that flung out long arms from the stone walls. 
 There was a stately magnificence about its grand 
 entrance, and its massive proportions it showed so 
 plainly the habitation of wealth. Evidently the ill- 
 natured looking individual was not a frequent visitor 
 there, for he examined the house, and the numbers 
 about, with some indecision; then his eyes fell on the 
 horse-block, in the stone of which a name was carved. 
 A muttered something, which was not a blessing, issued 
 from his lips as he read it. but with indecision at an end 
 he strode up the walk to the house. A question was 
 answered by the dubious -looking darky at the door, 
 and a message was sent somewhere to the upper regions ; 
 then the darky, looking no less puzzled, requested the 
 gentleman to follow him to the "Young Massa s" study. 
 The gentleman did so, noting with those wicked side 
 glances of his the magnificence of the surroundings, and 
 stopping short before a picture of a brunette, willowy 
 girl that rested on an easel. The face was lovely enough 
 to win praise from any man, but an expression, strangely 
 akin to that bestowed on the carven name outside, 
 escaped him. Through the lattice of the window the 
 laughter of woman came to him as fresh and cheery as 
 the light of the young sun, and bits of broken sentences 
 also words of banter and retort. 
 
 "Ah, but he is beautiful your husband!" sighed a 
 girlish voice with the accent of France; "so impressibly 
 charming! And so young. You two children!" 
 
 Some gay remonstrance against childishness was 
 returned, and then the first voice went on: 
 
THE PLEDGE. 11 
 
 "And the love all of one quick meeting, and one quick, 
 grand passion that only the priest could bring cure for? 
 And how shy you were, and how secret was it not 
 delightful? Another Juliet and her Romeo. Only it 
 is well your papa is not so ill-pleased." 
 
 "Why should he be? My family is no better than my 
 husband s only some richer; but we never thought 
 of that we two. I thought of his beautiful changeable 
 eyes, and he thought of my black ones, and well, I 
 came home to papa a wife, and my husband said only, 
 I love her, when we were blamed for the haste and the 
 secrecy, and papa was won as I think every one is, by 
 his charming boyishness; but," with a little laugh, "he 
 is not a boy." 
 
 "Though he is younger than yourself?" 
 
 "Well, what then? I am twenty-three. You see 
 we are quite an old couple, for he is almost within a year 
 of being as old. Come ; my lord has not yet come down. 
 I have time to show you the roses. I am sure they are 
 the kind you want." 
 
 Their chatter and gaiety grew fainter as they walked 
 away from the window, and their playful chat added 
 no light to the visitor s face. He paced up and down 
 the room with the eager restlessness of some caged thing. 
 A step sounded outside that brought him to a halt a 
 step and a mellow voice with the sweetness of youth in 
 it. Then the door opened and a tall form entered 
 swiftly, and quick words of welcome and of surprise 
 came from him as he held out his hand heartily. 
 
 But it was not taken. The visitor stuck his hands in 
 the pockets of his coat, and surveyed his host with a 
 good deal of contempt. 
 
 Yet he was a fine, manly -looking fellow, almost as tall 
 as his visitor, and fairer in coloring. His hair was a 
 
12 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 warmer brown, while the other man s was black. His 
 eyes were frank and open, while the other s were scowl 
 ing and contracted. They looked like allegorical types 
 of light and darkness as they stood there, yet something 
 in the breadth of forehead and form of the nose gave a 
 suggestion of likeness to their faces. 
 
 The younger one clouded indignantly as he drew back 
 his offered hand. 
 
 "Why, look here, old fellow, what s up?" he asked 
 hastily, and then the indignation fled before some 
 warmer feeling, and he went forward impulsively, lay 
 ing his hand on the other s arm. 
 
 "Just drop that," growled his visitor, "I didn t 
 come here for that sort of thing, but for business yes 
 you can bet your money on that ! " 
 
 His host laughed and dropped into a chair. 
 
 "Well, you don t look as if you come on a pleasure 
 trip," he agreed, "and I think you might look a little 
 more pleasant, considering the occasion and and 
 everything. I thought father would come down sure, 
 when I wrote I was married, but I didn t expect to see 
 anyone come in this sort of a temper. What is it ? Has 
 your three-year-old come in last in the fall race, or have 
 you lost money on some other fellow s stock, and what 
 the mischief do you mean by sulking at me ? 
 
 "It isn t the three-year-old, and it isn t money lost," 
 and the dark eyes were watching every feature of the 
 frank young face; "the business I ve come on is you." 
 
 "Look here," and the young fellow straightened up 
 with the conviction that he had struck the question, 
 "is it because of my marriage?" 
 
 "Rather." Still those watchful eyes never changed. 
 
 "Well," and the fair face flushed a little, "I suppose 
 ft wasn t just the correct thing; but you re not exactly 
 
THE PLEDGE. 13 
 
 the preacher for correct deportment, are you?" and 
 the words, though ironical, were accompanied by such 
 a bright smile that no offense could be taken from 
 them. "But I ll tell you how it happened. Sit down. 
 I would have sent word before, if I d suspected it my 
 self, but I didn t. Now don t look so glum, old fellow. 
 I never imagined you would care. You see we were 
 invited to make up a yachting party and go to Key 
 West. We never had seen each other until the trip, 
 and well, we made up for the time we had lost in 
 the rest of our lives; though I honestly did not think 
 of getting married any more than you would. And 
 then, all at once, what little brains I had were upset. 
 It began in jest, one evening in Key West, and the 
 finale of it was that before we went to sleep that night 
 we were married. No one knew it until we got back to 
 New Orleans, and then I wrote home at once. Now, 
 I m ready for objections." 
 
 When you left home you were to be back in two 
 months it is four now. Why didn t you come?" 
 
 "Well, you know I was offered the position of assistant 
 here to Doctor Grenier; that was too good to let 
 
 go." 
 
 "Exactly; but you could have got off, I reckon, to 
 have spent your devoted father s birthday at home 
 if you had wanted to." 
 
 "He was your father first," was the good-humored 
 retort. 
 
 "Why didn t you come home?" 
 
 There was a hesitation in the younger face. For the 
 first time he looked ill at ease. 
 
 "I don t know why I should give you any reason 
 except that I did not want to," he returned, and then 
 he arose, walking back and forth a couple of times 
 
14 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 across the room and stopping at a window, with his 
 back to ^ his visitor. "But I will," he added, impul 
 sively. I stayed away on account of Annie." 
 
 The dark eyes fairly blazed at the name 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I I was a fool when I was home last spring," con 
 tinued the young fellow, still with his face to the win- 
 "I had never realized before that she had grown 
 up or that she was prettier than anyone I knew, until 
 you warned me about it you remember?" 
 
 "I reckon I do," was the grim reply. 
 
 "Well, I tried to be sensible. I did try," he pro 
 tested, though no contradiction was made. And after 
 I left I concluded I had better stay away untilwell 
 until we were both a little older "and more level 
 headed." 
 
 "It s a pity you didn t reach that idea before you 
 left," said the other significantly 
 "What!" 
 
 "And before you turned back for that picture you 
 had forgotten." 
 
 "What do you mean" and for the first time a sort of 
 terror shone in his face a dread of the dark eyes that 
 were watching him so cruelly. "Tell me what it is 
 you mean, brother." 
 
 "You can just drop that word," was the cold remark. 
 "I haven t any relatives to my knowledge. Your 
 father told me this morning I was the only one of the 
 name who was not a gentleman. I reckon I ll get 
 along without either father or brother for the rest of 
 my life. The thing I came here to see about is the 
 homestead. It is yours and mine or will be some 
 day. What do you intend doing with your share?" 
 
 "Well, I m not ready to make my will yet," said 
 
THE PLEDGE. 15 
 
 the other, still looking uneasy as he waited further 
 explanations. 
 
 "I rather think you ll change your mind about that, 
 and fix it right here, and now. To-day I want you to 
 transfer every acre of your share to Annie." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "To insure her the home you promised your mother 
 she should always have." 
 
 But look here 
 
 "To insure it for her and her child." 
 
 The face at the window was no longer merely startled, 
 it was white as death. 
 
 "Good God! You don t mean that!" he gasped. 
 "It is not true. It can t be true!" 
 
 "You contemptible cur! You damnable liar!" mut 
 tered the other through his teeth. "You sit there like 
 the whelp that you are, telling me of this woman you 
 have married, with not a thought of that girl up in 
 Kentucky that you had a right to marry. Shooting 
 you wouldn t do her any good, or I wouldn t leave the 
 work undone. Now I reckon you ll make the transfer." 
 
 The other had sat down helplessly, with his head in 
 his hands. 
 
 "I can t believe it I can t believe it," he repeated 
 heavily. "Why why did she not write to me?" 
 
 "It wasn t an easy thing to write, I reckon," said the 
 other bitterly, "and she waited for you to come back. 
 She did send one letter, but you were out on the water 
 with your fine friends, and it was returned. The next 
 we heard was the marriage. Word got there two days 
 ago, and then she told me." 
 
 "You!" and he really looked unsympathetic enough 
 to exempt him from being chosen as confidant of heart 
 secrets. 
 
16 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Yes; and she shan t be sorry for it if I can help it. 
 What about that transfer?" 
 
 "I ll make it;" and the younger man rose to his feet 
 again with eyes in which tears shone. "I ll do any 
 thing under God s heaven for her! I ve never got rid 
 of the sight of her face. It it hoodooed me. I 
 couldn t get rid of it! or of remorse. I thought it 
 best to stay away, we were so young to marry, and there 
 was my profession to work for yet; and then on top of 
 all my sensible plans there came that invitation on the 
 yacht and so you know the whole story; and now 
 what will become of her?" 
 
 "You fix that transfer, and I ll look after her." 
 
 "You! I don t deserve this of you, and " 
 
 "No; I don t reckon you do," returned the other, 
 tersely ; and when you damn your conceit ! catch me 
 doing that or anything else on your account, just let 
 me know. It isn t for either one of you, for that matter. 
 It s because I promised." 
 
 The younger dropped his arms and head on the 
 table. 
 
 "You promised!" he groaned. "I I promised as 
 well as you, and mother believed me trusted me, 
 and, now oh, mother! mother!" 
 
 His remorseful emotion did not stir the least sym 
 pathy in his listener, only a chilly unconcern as to his 
 feelings in the matter. 
 
 "You, you cried just about that way when you made 
 the promise," he remarked indifferently. "It was 
 wasted time and breath then, and I reckon it s the same 
 thing now. You can put in the rest of your life in the 
 wailing and gnashing of teeth business if you want to 
 you might get the woman you married to help you, 
 if you tell her what she has for a husband. But just 
 
THE PLEDGE. 17 
 
 now there are other things to attend to. I air leaving 
 this part of the country in less than six hours, and this 
 thing must be settled first. I want your promise to 
 transfer to Annie all interest you have in the home 
 stead during your lifetime, and leave it to her by will 
 in case the world is lucky enough to get rid of you." 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 His head was still on the table; he did not look up 
 or resent in any way the taunts thrown at him. He 
 seemed utterly crushed by the revelations he had lis 
 tened to. 
 
 "And another thing I want settled is, that you are 
 never again to put foot on that place or in that house, 
 or allow the woman you married to go there, that you 
 will neither write to Annie nor try to see her." 
 
 "But there might be circumstances 
 
 "There are no circumstances that will keep me from 
 shooting you like the dog you are, if you don t make 
 that promise, and keep it," said the other deliberately. 
 "I don t intend to trust to your word. But you ll never 
 find me too far out of the world to get back here if you 
 make it necessary for me to come. And the promise 
 I expect is that you ll never set foot on the old place 
 again without my consent and the phrase was too 
 ironical to leave much room for hope. 
 
 "I promise. I tell you I ll do anything to make 
 amends," he moaned miserably. 
 
 "Your whole worthless life wouldn t do that!" was 
 the bitter retort. "Now, there is one thing more I 
 want understood," and his face became more set and 
 hardened; "Annie and her child are to live in the house 
 that should be theirs by right, and they are to live 
 there respected do you hear? That man you call 
 father has about as much heart in. him as a sponge. 
 
18 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 He would turn her out of the house if he knew the truth t 
 and in this transfer of yours he is to know nothing of 
 the reason understand that. He is quite ready to 
 think it prompted by your generous, affectionate heart j 
 and the more he thinks that, the better it will be for 
 Annie. You will have a chance to pose for the rest 
 of your life as one of the most honorable of men, and 
 the most loyal to a dead mother s trust," and a sound 
 that would have been a laugh but for its bitterness 
 broke from him as he walked to the door; that will suit 
 you, I reckon. One more lie doesn t matter, and the 
 thing I expect you to do is to make that transfer to-day 
 and send it to Annie with a letter that anyone could 
 read, and be none the wiser the only letter you re 
 ever to write her. You have betrayed that trust; it s 
 mine now." 
 
 And you ll be worth it," burst out the other heart- 
 brokenly; "worth a dozen times over more than I ever 
 could be if I tried my best. You ll take good care 
 of her, and and good God! If I could only speak 
 to her once!" 
 
 "If you do, I ll know it, and I ll kill you!" said the 
 man at the door. 
 
 He was about to walk out when the other arose 
 bewilderedly. 
 
 "Wait," he said, and his livid face was convulsed 
 pitifully. He was so little more than a boy. "This 
 that you have told me has muddled my head. I can t 
 think. I know the promises, and I ll keep them. If 
 shooting myself would help her, I d do that; but you 
 say you are leaving the country, and Annie is to live 
 on at the old place, and and yet be respected? I 
 can t understand how, with under the the circum 
 stances. I " 
 
"// you do, I ll know it, and I ll kill you!" Page 18. 
 
THE PLEDGE. 19 
 
 "No, I don t reckon you can," scowled the other, 
 altogether unmoved by the despairing eyes and broken, 
 remorseful words. "It isn t natural that you should 
 understand a man, or how a man feels; but Annie s 
 name shall be one you had a right to give her four 
 months ago 
 
 "What are you saying?" broke in the other with 
 feverish intensity ; tell me ! tell me what it is you mean ! 
 
 "I mean that she shan t be cheated out of a name for 
 herself and child by your damned rascality ! Her name 
 for the rest of her life will be the same as yours just 
 remember that when you forward that transfer. She is 
 my wife. We were married an hour before I started." 
 
 Then the door closed, and the dark, malignant looking 
 fellow stalked out into the morning sunlight, and through 
 the scented walk where late lillies nodded as he passed. 
 He seemed little in keeping with their fragrant white 
 ness, for he looked not a whit less scowlingly wicked 
 than on his entrance; and of some men working on the 
 lawn, one said to another: 
 
 "Looks like he got de berry debbel in dem snappin 
 eyesFee how dey shine. Mighty rakish young genel- 
 man to walk out o dat doah look like he been on a 
 big spree." 
 
 And when the bride and her friend came chattering 
 in, with their hands full of roses, they found a strange, 
 unheard-of thing had happened. The tall young hus 
 band, so strong, so long acclimated, had succumbed to 
 the heat of the morning, or the fragrance of the tube 
 rose beside him, and had fallen in a fainting fit by the 
 door. 
 
PART SECOND 
 
 "A CULTUS CORRIE" 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 
 
 The de il tak them wi their weeman folk, whose 
 nerves are too delicate for a squaw man, or an Injun 
 guide. I d tak no heed o them if I was well, an I ll 
 do less now I m plagued wi this reminder o that griz 
 zly s hug. It gives me many s the twinge whilst out 
 lookin to the traps." 
 
 "Where ? your gallantry, MacDougall?" asked a 
 deep, rather musical voice from the cabin door; "and 
 your national love for the winsome sex, as I ve heard 
 you call it? If ladies are with them you can t refuse." 
 
 "Can I not? Well, I can that same now," said the 
 first speaker, emphasizing his speech by the vim with 
 which he pitched a broken-handled skillet into the 
 cupboard a cupboard made of a wooden box. "May- 
 haps you think I haven t seen a white woman these 
 six months, I ll be a breakin my neck to get to their 
 camp across there. Well, I will not; they may be 
 all very fine, no doubt folk from the East; but ye 
 well know a lot o tenderfeet in the bush are a sight 
 worse to tak the care of than the wild things they ll 
 be tryin to hunt. A man s a fool who stumbles over 
 the same stone twice, is an old, true say in , an I know 
 what I m talkin of. It s four years this autumn 
 since I was down in the Walla Walla country, an 
 
 20 
 
ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 21 
 
 there was a fine party from the East, just as these are; 
 an they would go up into the Blue Mountains, an 
 they would have me for a guide; an if the Lord ll 
 forgive me for associatin with sich a pack o lunatics 
 for that trip, I ll never be caught wi the same bait 
 again." 
 
 "What did they do to you?" asked the voice, with a 
 tinge of amusement in it. 
 
 "To me? They did naught to me but pester me wi 
 questions of insane devisin . Scarce a man o them 
 could tether a beast or lasso one that was astray. They 
 had a man servant, a sort o flunky, to wait on them 
 and he just sat around like a bump on a log, and looked 
 fearsomely for Injuns an grizzlies. They would pala 
 ver until all hours in the night, about the scientific 
 causes of all things we came across. Many a good 
 laugh I might have had, if I had na been disgusted 
 wi the pretenses o the poor bodies. Why, they knew 
 not a thing but the learnin o books. They were 
 from the East down East, they said; that is, the 
 Southeast, I suppose they meant to say; and their 
 flunky said they were well-to-do at home, and very 
 learned, the poor fools! Well, I ll weary myself wi 
 none others o the same ilk." 
 
 "You re getting cranky, Mac, from being too much 
 alone;" and the owner of the voice lounged lazily up 
 from the seat of the cabin door, and stood looking in 
 at the disgusted Scotchman, bending ever so slightly 
 a dark, well-shaped head that was taller than the 
 cross-piece above the door. 
 
 "Am I, now?" asked the old man, getting up stiffly 
 from filling a pan of milk for the cat. "Well, then., 
 I have a neighbor across on the Maple range that is 
 subject o late to the same complaint, but from a wide 
 
22 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 difference o reason;" and he nodded his head signifi 
 cantly at the man in the door, adding: "An there s 
 a subject for a debate, Jack Genesee, whether loneliness 
 is worse on the disposition than the influence o wrong 
 company." 
 
 Jack Genesee straightened out of his lounging atti 
 tude, and stepped back from the doorway with a decision 
 that would impress a man as meaning business. 
 
 "None o that, MacDougall," he said curtly, drop 
 ping his hand with a hillman s instinct to the belt 
 where his revolvers rested. "I reckon you and I will 
 be better friends through minding our own business 
 and keeping to our own territory in future;" and whis 
 tling to a beautiful brown mare that was browsing 
 close to the cabin, he turned to mount her, when the 
 old man crossed the floor quickly and laid a sinewy ; 
 brown hand on his arm. 
 
 "Bide a bit, Genesee," he said, his native accent 
 always creeping upward in any emotion. "Friends are 
 rare and scarce in this Chinook land. You re a bit 
 hasty in your way, and mayhaps I m a bit curious in 
 mine; but I ll no let ye leave Davy MacDougall s like 
 that just for the want o sayin I m regretful at 
 havin said more than I should o you and yours. I 
 canna lose a friend o four years for a trifle like 
 that." 
 
 The frankness of the old man s words made the 
 other man drop the bridle and turn back with out 
 stretched hand. 
 
 "That s all right, Mac," he said, heartily; "say no 
 more about it. I am uglier than the devil to get along 
 with sometimes, and you re about straight when you 
 say I m a crank; only well, it s nobody s fault but 
 my own." 
 
ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 23 
 
 "No, o* course not," said MacDougall in a concili 
 atory tone as he went back to his dish-washing at 
 the table the dishes were tin pans and cups, and 
 the dish-pan was an iron pot "to be sure not; but 
 the half-breeds are pizen in a man s cabin, an that 
 Talapa, wi the name that s got from a prairie wolf 
 an the Injun de il, is well called a full-blood Injun 
 is easier to manage, my lad; an then," he added, quiz 
 zically, "I m but givin ye the lay o the land where 
 I ve fought myself, an mayhaps got wounded." 
 
 The "lad," who was about thirty-five, laughed heartily 
 at this characteristic confession. There was evidently 
 some decided incongruity between the old Scotchman s 
 statement and his quaint housewifery, as he wrapped a 
 cloth reduced to strings around a fork and washed out 
 a coffee-pot with the improvised mop. Something 
 there was in it that this man Genesee appreciated, and 
 his continued laughter drew the beautiful mare again 
 to his side, slipping her velvety nose close to his ear, 
 and muzzling there like a familiar spirit that had a 
 right to share her master s emotions. 
 
 "All right, Mowitza," he said in a promising tone; 
 "we ll hit the bush by and by. But old sulky here 
 is slinging poisoned arrows at our Kloocheman. We 
 can t stand that, you know. We don t like cooking 
 our own grub, do we, Mowitza? Shake your head and 
 tell him halo 1 that s right. Skookum Kiutan! Skoo- 
 kitm, Mowitza!" 
 
 And the man caressed the silky brown head, and 
 murmured to her the Indian jargon of endearment and 
 praise, and the mare muzzled closer and whinnied an 
 understanding of her master. MacDougall put away 
 the last pan, threw a few knots of cedar on the bit 
 of fire in the stone fire-place, and came to the door 
 
24 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 just as the sun, falling back of the western mountains, 
 threw a flood of glory about the old cabin of the moun 
 taineer. The hill-grass back of it changed from uncer 
 tain green to spears of amber as the soft September 
 winds stole through it. Away below in the valley, 
 the purple gloom of dark spruces was burying itself 
 in night s shadows. Here and there a poison- vine 
 flashed back defiance under its crimson banners, and 
 again a white-limbed aspen shone like a shapely ghost 
 from between lichen-covered bowlders. But slowly 
 the gloaming crept upward until the shadow-line fell 
 at the cabin door, and then up, up, past spruce and 
 cedar, past the scrub of the dwarf growths, past the 
 invisible line that the snakes will not cross, on up 
 to the splintered crest, where the snows glimmer in 
 the sunshine, and about which the last rays of the sun 
 linger and kiss and fondle, long after a good-bye has 
 been given to the world beneath. 
 
 Such was but one of the many recurring vistas of 
 beauty which the dwellers of the northern hills are 
 given to delight in if they care to open their eyes 
 and see the glorious smile with which the earth ever 
 responds to the kiss of God. 
 
 MacDougall had seen many of the grand panoramas 
 which day and night on Scot s mountain give one, 
 and he stood in the door unheeding this one. His keen 
 eyes, under their shaggy brows, were directed to the 
 younger man s bronzed face. 
 
 "There ye go!" he said, half peevishly; "ye jabber 
 Chinook to that Talapa and to the mare until it s a 
 wonder ye know any English at all; an when ye be 
 goin back where ye belong, it ll be fine, queer times 
 ye ll have with your ways of speech." 
 
ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 25 
 
 Genesee only laughed shortly an Indian laugh, in 
 which there is no melody. 
 
 "I don t reckon I belong anywhere, by this time, 
 except in this Chinook region; consequently," he added, 
 looking up in the old man s interested face, "I m not 
 likely to be moving anywhere, if that s what you re 
 trying to find out." 
 
 MacDougall made a half-dissenting murmur against 
 trying to find out anything, but Genesee cut him short 
 without ceremony. 
 
 "The fact is, Mac," he continued; "you are a pre 
 cious old galoot a regular nervous old numbskull. 
 You ve been as restless as a newly-caught grizzly ever 
 since I went down to Cceur d Alene, two weeks ago 
 afraid I was going to cut loose from Tamahnous Peak 
 and pack my traps and go back to the diggin s; is that 
 it? Don t lie about it. The whole trip wasn t worth 
 a good lie, and all it panned out for me was empty 
 pockets." 
 
 "Lord! lad, ye canna mean to say ye lost 
 
 "Every damned red," finished Mr. Genesee com 
 placently. 
 
 "An how" 
 
 "Cards and mixed drinks," he said, laconically. 
 "Angels in the wine-rooms, and a slick individual at 
 the table who had a better poker hand than I had. 
 How s that as a trade for six months work? How 
 does it pan out in the balance with half-breeds?" 
 
 Evidently it staggered MacDougall. "It is no much 
 like ye to dissipate, Genesee," he said, doubtfully. 
 "O course a man likes to try his chance on the chips 
 once in a way, and to the kelpies o the drinkin places 
 one must leave a few dollars, but the mixin o drinks 
 or the muddlin o the brains is no natural to ye; it 
 
26 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 may be a divarsion after the hill life, but there s many 
 a kind that s healthier." 
 
 "You re a confounded old humbug," said Genesee 
 coolly; "you preach temperance to me, and get drunk 
 as a fiddler all alone here by yourself not much Scotch 
 in that way of drinking, I can tell you. Hello! who s 
 that?" 
 
 MacDougall leaned forward and peered down the 
 path where the sound of a horse s feet were heard com 
 ing around the bend. 
 
 "It s that man o Hardy s comin again about a guide, 
 I have na doubt. I ll send him across Seven-mile Creek 
 to Tyee-Kamooks. They can get a Siwash guide from 
 him, or they can lose themsel s for all me," he said, 
 grumpily, incited thereto, no doubt, by Genesee s criti 
 cism of his habits. He often grumbled that his friend 
 from the Maple range was mighty "tetchy" about his 
 own faults, and mighty cool in his opinions of others. 
 
 A dark, well-built horse came at an easy, swinging 
 pace out of the gloom of the spruce boughs and over 
 the green sward toward the cabin; his rider, a fair, 
 fine-looking fellow, in a ranchman s buckskin suit, 
 touched his hat ever so lightly in salute, a courtesy 
 the others returned, Genesee adding the Chinook word 
 that is either salutation or farewell, "Klakowya, 
 stranger," and the old man giving the more English 
 speech of "Good evening; won t ye light, stranger?" 
 
 "No; obliged to you, but haven t time. I suppose 
 I m speaking to Mr. MacDougall," and he took his 
 eyes from the tall, dark form of Genesee to address his 
 speech to the old trapper. 
 
 "Yes, I m Davy MacDougall, an I give a guess 
 you re from the new sheep ranch that s located down 
 Kootenai Park; you re one of Hardy s men." 
 
ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 27 
 
 "No; I m Hardy." 
 
 "Are ye, now?" queried the old fellow in surprise. 
 "I expected to see an older man only by the cause of 
 hearin you were married, I suppose. Well, now, I m 
 right glad to meet wi a new neighbor to think of a 
 ranch but a bit of ten miles from Scot s Mountain, 
 an a white family on it, too! Will ye no light an have 
 a crack at a pipe an a glass ? " 
 
 Hardy himself was evidently making a much better 
 impression on MacDougall than the messenger who had 
 come to the cabin in the morning. 
 
 "No, partner, not any for me," answered the young 
 ranchman, but with so pleasant a negative that even 
 a Westerner could not but accept graciously such a 
 refusal. "I just rode up from camp myself to see you 
 about a guide for a small party over into the west 
 branch of the Rockies. Ivans, who came to see you 
 this morning, tells me that you are disabled your 
 self" 
 
 "Yes; that is, I had a hug of a grizzly two weeks 
 back that left the ribs o my right side a bit sore; 
 but" 
 
 The old man hesitated; evidently his reluctance to 
 act as guide to the poor fools was weakening. This 
 specimen of an Eastern man was not at all the style of 
 the tourists who had disgusted him so. 
 
 "An so I told your man I thought I could na guide 
 you," he continued in a debatable way, at which Hardy s 
 blonde mustache twitched suspiciously, and Genesee 
 stooped to fasten a spur that had not needed attention 
 before; for the fact was Mac had felt "ower cranky" 
 that morning, and the messenger had been a stupid 
 fellow who irritated him until he swore by all the car 
 penter s outfit of a certain workman in Nazareth that. 
 
28 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 he would be no guide for "weemen folk and tender- 
 feet" in the hills. His vehemence had caused the 
 refusal of Ivans to make a return trip, and Hardy, 
 remembering Ivans account, was amused, and had an 
 idea that the dark, quiet fellow with the musical voice 
 was amused as well. 
 
 "Yes," agreed the stranger; "I understood you could 
 not come, but I wanted to ask if you could recommend 
 an Indian guide. I had Jim Kale engaged he s the 
 only white man I know in this region; the men on my 
 place are all from south of the Flathead country. He 
 sent me word yesterday he couldn t come for a week- 
 confound these squaw men! He s gone to hunt caribou 
 with his squaw s people, so I brought my party so far 
 myself, but am doubtful of the trail ahead. One of 
 the ladies is rather nervous about Indians, and that 
 prevented me from getting a guide from them at first; 
 but if we continue, she must accustom herself to Mon 
 tana surroundings." 
 
 "That s the worst o the weemen folk when it comes 
 to the hills," broke in MacDougall, "they ve over easy 
 to be frightened at shadows; a roof an .four walls is 
 the best stoppin place for a o them." 
 
 The young ranchman laughed easily. 
 
 "I don t believe you have known many of our Ken 
 tucky women, Mr. MacDougall; they are not hot-house 
 plants, by any means." 
 
 Genesee pushed a wide-brimmed light hat back 
 from his face a little, and for the first time joined the 
 conversation. 
 
 "A Kentucky party, did you say, sir?" he queried, 
 with half -careless interest. 
 
 "Yes," said Hardy, turning toward him; "relatives 
 of mine from back East, and I wanted to give them a 
 
ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 29 
 
 taste of Montana hill life, and a little hunting. But 
 I can t go any farther into the hills alone, especially 
 as there are three ladies in the party; and a man can t 
 take many risks when he has them to consider." 
 
 "That s so," said Genesee, with brief sympathy; 
 "big gang?" 
 
 "No only six of us. My sister and her husband, 
 and a cousin, a young lady, are the strangers. Then 
 one of the men off my ranch who came to look after 
 the pack-mules, and my wife and self. I have an extra 
 horse for a guide if I can pick one up." 
 
 "I shouldn t be surprised if you could," said Gen 
 esee reflectively; "the woods are full of them, if you 
 want Indian guides, and if you don t well, it doesn t 
 seem the right thing to let visitors leave the country 
 disappointed, especially ladies, and I reckon I might 
 take charge of your outfit for a week or so." 
 
 MacDougall nearly dropped his pipe in his surprise 
 at the offer. 
 
 "Well, I ll be he began; but Genesee turned on 
 him. 
 
 "What s the matter with that?" he asked, looking 
 at Mac levelly, with a glance that said: "Keep your 
 mouth shut." "If I want to turn guide and drop dig 
 ging in that hill back there, why shouldn t I? It ll 
 be the divarsion you were suggesting a little while 
 back; and if Mr. Hardy wants a guide, give me a recom 
 mend, can t you?" 
 
 "Do you know the country northwest of here?" asked 
 Hardy eagerly. It was plain to be seen he was pleased 
 at his "find." "Do you live here in the Chinook coun 
 try? You may be a neighbor of mine, but I haven t 
 the pleasure of knowing your name." 
 
 "That s Mac s fault," said the other fellow coolly; 
 
80 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "he s master of ceremonies in these diggin s, and has 
 forgotten his business. They call me Genesee Jack 
 mostly, and I know the Kootenai hills a little." 
 
 "Indeed, then, he does Mr. Hardy," said MacDou- 
 gall, finding his voice. "Yell find no Siwash born 
 on the hills who knows them better than does Gen 
 esee, only he s been bewitched like, by picks and shovels 
 a gulch in the Maple range, for so long it s a bit 
 strange to see him actin as guide; but you re a lucky 
 man to be gettin him, Mr. Hardy, I ll tell ye that 
 much." 
 
 "I am willing to believe it," said Hardy frankly. 
 Could you start at once with us, in the morning?" 
 "I reckon so." 
 
 "I will furnish you a good horse," began the ranch 
 man; but Genesee interrupted, shaking his head with 
 a gesture of dissent. 
 
 "No, I think not," he said in the careless, musical 
 voice that yet could be so decided in its softness- and 
 he whistled softly, as a cricket chirrups, and the brown 
 mare came to him with long, cat-like movements of 
 the slender limbs, dropping her head to his shoulder 
 "This bit of horse-flesh is good enough for me," he 
 said, slipping a long, well-shaped hand over the silky 
 cheek; "an where I go, Mowitza goeseh, pet?" 
 
 The mare whinnied softly as acknowledgment of the 
 address, and Hardy noticed with admiration the fine 
 points in her sinewy, supple frame. 
 
 "Mowitza," he repeated. "That in Chinook means 
 the deer, does it not or the elk; which is it? I 
 haven t been here long enough to pick up much of the 
 jargon." 
 
 "Well, then, ye ll be hearin enough of it from Gen 
 esee," broke in MacDougall. "He ll be forgettin 
 
ON SCOT S MOUNTAIN. 31 
 
 his native language in it if he lives here five years 
 longer; an 
 
 "There, you ve said enough," suggested Genesee. 
 "After giving a fellow a recommend for solid work, 
 don t spoil it by an account of his fancy accomplish 
 ments. You re likely to overdo it. Yes, Mowitza 
 means a deer, and this one has earned her name. We ll 
 both be down at your camp by sun-up to-morrow; will 
 that do?" 
 
 "It certainly will," answered Hardy in a tone of 
 satisfaction. "And the folks below will be mighty 
 glad to know a white man is to go with us. Jim Kale 
 rather made them doubtful of squaw men, and my sister 
 is timid about Indians as steady company through the 
 hills. I must get back and give them the good news. 
 At sun-up to-morrow, Mr. Genesee?" 
 
 "At sun-up to-morrow." 
 
32 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AS THE SUN ROSE. 
 
 Do you know the region of the Kootenai that lies 
 in the northwest corner of a most northwestern state 
 where the " bunch -grass " of the grazing levels bends 
 even now under a chance wild stallion and his harem 
 of silken-coated mates; where fair upland "parks 
 spread back from the cool rush of the rivers ; where the 
 glittering peaks of the mountains glow at the rise and 
 fall of night like the lances of a guard invincible, that 
 lift their grand silence as a barrier against the puny 
 strife of the outside world ? 
 
 Do you know what it is to absorb the elastic breath 
 of the mountains at the awakening of day? To stand 
 far above the levels and watch the faint amethystine 
 peaks catch one by one their cap of gold flung to them 
 from an invisible sun? To feel the blood thrill with 
 the fever of an infinite possession as the eyes look out 
 alone over a seemingly creatureless scene of vastness, 
 of indefiniteness of all vague promise, in the growing 
 light of day? To feel the cool crispness of the heights, 
 tempered by the soft "Chinook" winds? To feel the 
 fresh wet dews of the morning on your hands and on 
 your face, and to know them in a dim way odorous 
 odorous with the virginity of the hills of the day dawn, 
 with all the sweet things of form or feeling that the 
 new day brings into new life? 
 
 A girl on Scot s Mountain seemed to breathe in all 
 that intoxication of the hill country, as she stood on 
 
AS THE SUN ROSE. 33 
 
 a little level, far above the smoke of the camp-fire, and 
 watched the glowing, growing lights on the far peaks. 
 A long time she had stood there, her riding-dress gath 
 ered up above the damp grass, her cap in her hand, and 
 her brown hair tossing in a bath of the winds. Twice 
 a shrill whistle had called her to the camp hidden by the 
 spruce boughs, but she had only glanced down toward 
 the valley, shook her head mutinously, and returned 
 to the study of her panorama; for it seemed so entirely 
 her own displaying its beauties for her sole surprisal 
 that it seemed discourteous to ignore it or descend to 
 lower levels during that changing carnival of color. So 
 she just nodded a negative to her unseen whistler below, 
 determined not to leave, even at the risk of getting the 
 leavings of the breakfast not a small item to a young 
 woman with a healthy, twenty-year-old appetite. 
 
 Something at last distracted that wrapt attention. 
 What was it? She heard no sound, had noticed no 
 movement but the stir of the wind in the leaves and 
 the grasses, yet she shrugged her shoulders with a 
 twitchy movement of being disturbed and not know 
 ing by what. Then she gathered her skirts a little 
 closer in her hand and took a step or so backward in 
 an uncertain way, and a moment later clapped the cap 
 on her tumbled hair, and turned around, looking squarely 
 into the face of a stranger not a dozen steps from her, 
 who was watching her with rather sombre, curious 
 eyes. Their steady gaze accounted for the mesmeric 
 disturbance, but her quick turn gave her revenge, for 
 he flushed to the roots of his dark hair as she caught 
 him watching her like that, and he did not speak just 
 at first. He lifted his wide-brimmed hat, evidently 
 with the intention of greeting her, but his tongue was 
 
34 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 a little unruly, and he only looked at her, and she at 
 him. 
 
 They stood so in reality only a flash of seconds, 
 though it seemed a continuous stare of minutes to 
 both; then the humorous side of the situation appealed 
 to the girl, and her lips twitched ever so slightly as 
 she recovered her speech first and said demurely: 
 
 "Good morning, sir." 
 
 "How are you?" he returned; and having regained 
 the use of his tongue, he added, in an easier way: "You ll 
 excuse me, lady, if I sort of scared you? " 
 
 Oh, no, I was not at all startled," she answered 
 hastily, "only a little surprised." 
 
 "Yes," he agreed, "so was I. That s why I stood 
 there a-staring at you couldn t just make out if you 
 were real or a ghost, though I never before saw even 
 the ghost of a white woman in this region." 
 
 "And you were watching to see if I would vanish 
 into thin air like a Macbeth witch, were you?" she 
 asked quizzically. 
 
 He might be on his native heath and she an inter 
 loper, but she was much the most at her ease 
 evidently a young lady of adaptability and consider 
 able self-possession. His eyes had grown wavering 
 and uncertain in their glances, and that flush made 
 him still look awkward, and she wondered if Mac- 
 beth s witches were not unheard-of individuals to him, 
 and she noticed with those direct, comprehensive eyes 
 that a suit of buckskin can be wonderfully becoming 
 to tall, lazy-looking men, and that wide, light som 
 breros have quite an artistic effect as a frame for dark 
 hair and eyes; and through that decision she heard 
 him say : 
 
 "No. I wasn t watching you for anything special, 
 
AS THE SUN ROSE. 35 
 
 only if you were a real woman, I reckoned you were 
 prospecting around looking for the trail, and and so 
 I just waited to see, knowing you were a stranger." 
 
 And is that all you know about me ? she asked mis 
 chievously. " I know much more than that about you." 
 
 How much ? 
 
 "Oh, I know you re just coming from Davy Mac- 
 Dougall s, and you are going to Hardy s camp to act 
 as commander-in-chief of the eastern tramps in it, 
 and your name is Mr. Jack Genesee and and that 
 is all." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon it is," he agreed, looking at her in 
 astonishment. "It s a good deal, considering you 
 never saw me before, and I don t know 
 
 "And you don t know who I am," she rejoined easily. 
 "Well, I can tell you that, too. I m a wanderer from 
 Kentucky, prospecting, as you would call it, for some 
 thing new in this Kootenai country of yours, and my 
 name is Rachel Hardy." 
 
 "That s a good, square statement," he smiled, put at 
 his ease by the girl s frankness. "So you re one of the 
 party I m to look after on this cultus corrie?" 
 
 "Yes, I m one of them Cousin Hardy says the most 
 troublesome of the lot, because I always want to be 
 doing just the things I ve no business to"; then she 
 looked at him and laughed a little. "I tell you this 
 at once," she added, "so you will know what a task 
 you have undertaken, and if you re timid, you might 
 back out before it s too late are you timid?" 
 
 "Do I look it?" 
 
 "N no"; but she didn t give him the scrutiny she 
 had at first -only a swift glance and a little hurry to 
 her next question: "What was that queer term yoii 
 when speaking of our trip cul 
 
36 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Oh, cultus cornel That s Chinook for pleasure 
 ride." 
 
 " Is it ? What queer words they have. Cousin Harry 
 was telling me it was a mongrel language, made up 
 of Indian, French, English, and any stray words from 
 other tongues that were adjustable to it. Is it hard 
 to learn?" 
 
 "I think not I learned it." 
 
 "What becoming modesty in that statement!" she 
 laughed quizzically. "Come, Mr. Jack Genesee, sup 
 pose we begin our cultus corrie by eating breakfast 
 together; they ve been calling me for the past half- 
 hour." 
 
 He whistled for Mowitza, and Miss Rachel Hardy 
 recognized at once the excellence of this silken-coated 
 favorite. 
 
 "Mowitza; what a musical name!" she remarked as 
 she followed the new guide to the trail leading down 
 the mountain. "It sounds Russian is it?" 
 
 "No; another Chinook word look out there; these 
 stones are bad ones to balance on, they re too round, 
 and that gully is too deep below to make it safe." 
 
 "I m all right," she announced in answer to the 
 warning as she amused herself by hopping bird-like 
 from one round, insecure bowlder to another, and send 
 ing several bounding and crashing into the gully that 
 cut deep into the heart of the mountain. "I can man 
 age to keep my feet on your hills, even if I can t speak 
 their language. By the way, I suppose you don t care 
 to add Professor of Languages to your other titles, do 
 you, Mr. Jack Genesee?" 
 
 "I reckon I m in the dark now, Miss, sort of blind 
 fold can t catch onto what you mean." 
 
 "Oh, I was just thinking I might take up the study 
 
AS THE SUN ROSE. 37 
 
 of Chinook while out here, and go back home over 
 whelming the natives by my novel accomplishment. " 
 And she laughed so merrily at the idea, and looked so 
 quizzically at Genesee Jack s dark, serious face, that 
 he smiled in sympathy. 
 
 They had only covered half the trail leading down 
 to the camp, but already, through the slightly strange 
 and altogether unconventional meeting, she found her 
 self making remarks to him with the freedom of a 
 long-known chum, and rather enjoying the curious, puz 
 zled look with which he regarded her when she was 
 quick enough to catch him looking at her at all. 
 
 "Stop a moment," she said, just as the trail plunged 
 from the open face of the mountain into the shadow 
 of spruce and cedar. "You see this every morning, I 
 suppose, but it is a grand treat to me. See how the 
 light has crept clear down to the level land now. I 
 came up here long before there was a sign of the sun, 
 for I knew the picture would be worth it. Isn t it 
 beautiful ? 
 
 Her eyes, alight with youth and enthusiasm, were 
 turned for a last look at the sun-kissed country below, 
 to which she directed his attention with one bare, out 
 stretched hand. 
 
 "Yes, it is," he agreed; but his eyes were not on the 
 valley of the Kootenai, but on the girl s face. 
 
38 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHAT IS A SQUAW MAN? 
 
 "Rache, I want you to stop it." The voice had an 
 insinuating tone, as if it would express "will you stop 
 it?" 
 
 The speaker was a chubby, matronly figure, enthroned 
 on a hassock of spruce boughs, while the girl stretched 
 beside her was drawing the fragrant spikes of green, 
 bit by bit, over closed eyes and smiling; only the mouth 
 and chin could be seen under the green veil, but the 
 corners of the mouth were widening ever so little. 
 Smiles should engender content; they are supposed to 
 be a voucher of sweet thoughts, but at times they have 
 a tendency to bring out all that is irritable in human 
 nature, and the chubby little woman noted that growing 
 smile with rising impatience. 
 
 "I am not jesting," she continued, as if there might 
 be a doubt on that question; "and I wish you would 
 stop it." 
 
 "You haven t given it a name yet. Say, Clara, 
 that sounds like an invitation to drink, doesn t it? 
 a western invitation." 
 
 But her fault-finder was not going to let her escape 
 the subject like that. 
 
 "I am not sure it has a name," she said curtly. "No 
 one seems to know whether it is Genesee Jack or Jack 
 Genesee, or whether both are not aliases in fact, the 
 most equivocal sort of companion for a young girl over 
 these hills." 
 
WHAT IS A SQUAW MAN? 39 
 
 "What a tempest you raise about nothing, Clara," 
 said the girl good-humoredly ; "one would think that 
 I was in hourly danger of being kidnaped by Mr. Gen- 
 esee Jack the name is picturesque in sound, and suits 
 him, don t you think so? But I am sure the poor man 
 is quite harmless, and stands much more in awe of me 
 than I do of him." 
 
 "I believe you," assented her cousin tartly. "I never 
 knew you to stand in awe of anything masculine, from 
 your babyhood. You are a born flirt, for all your 
 straightforward, independent ways. Oh, I know you." 
 
 "So I hear you say," answered Miss Hardy, peering 
 through the screen of cedar sprays, her eyes shining a 
 little wickedly from their shadows. "You have a hard 
 time of it with me, haven t you, dear? By the way, 
 Clara, who prompted you to this lecture Hen?" 
 
 "No, Hen did not; neither he nor Alec seem to have 
 eyes or ears for anything but deer and caribou; they 
 are constantly airing their new-found knowledge of the 
 country. I had to beg Alec to come to sleep last night, 
 or I believe they would have gossiped until morning. 
 The one redeeming point in your Genesee Jack is that 
 he doesn t talk." 
 
 "He isn t my Genesee Jack," returned the girl; "but 
 he does talk, and talk well, I think. You do not know 
 him, that is all, and you never will, with those starchy 
 manners of yours. Not talk! why, he has taught me 
 a lot of Chinook, and told me all about a miner s life 
 and a hunter s. Not talk! I ve only known him a 
 little over a week, and he has told me his life for ten 
 years back." 
 
 "Yes, with no little encouragement from you, I ll 
 wager " 
 
 Well, my bump of curiosity was enlarged some- 
 
40 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 what as to his life," acknowledged the girl. "You see 
 he has such an unusual personality, unusually interest 
 ing, I mean. I never knew any man like him in the East. 
 Why, he only needs a helmet instead of the sombrero, 
 and armor instead of the hunting suit, and he would 
 make an ideal Launcelot." 
 
 "Good gracious, Rache! do stop raving over the 
 man, or I shall certainly have Hen discharge him and 
 take you back to civilization at once." 
 
 "But perhaps I won t go back what then; and per 
 haps Hen could not be able to see your reason for 
 getting rid of a good guide," said the girl coolly, know 
 ing she had the upper hand of the controversy; "and 
 as to the raving, you know I never said a word about 
 him until you began to find fault with everything, 
 from the cut of his clothes to the name he gives, and 
 then well, a fellow must stand up for his friends, you 
 know." 
 
 "Of course a fellow must," agreed someone back of 
 them, and the young ranchman from the East came 
 down under the branches from the camp-fire just 
 kindled; "that is a manly decision, Rache, and does 
 you credit. But what s the argument?" 
 
 "Oh, Clara thinks I am taking root too quickly in 
 the soil of loose customs out here," explained the girl, 
 covering the question, yet telling nothing. 
 
 "She doesn t approve of our savage mode of life, 
 does she?" he queried, sympathetically; "and she 
 hasn t seen but a suggestion of its horrors yet. Too 
 bad Jim Kale did not come; she could have made the 
 acquaintance of a specimen that would no doubt be of 
 interest to her a squaw man with all his native charms 
 intact." 
 
 "Hen," said the girl, rising on her elbow, "I wish 
 

 / give you fair warning, you might as well tell me all I want to 
 know." Page 41. 
 
WHAT IS A SQUAW MAN? 41 
 
 you would tell me just what you mean by a squaw 
 man ; is it a man who buys squaws, or sells them, or 
 eats them, or well, what does he do? " 
 
 "He marries them sometimes," was the laconic 
 reply, as if willing to drop the question. But Miss 
 Rache, when interested, was not to be thrust aside until 
 satisfied. 
 
 "Is that all?" she persisted; "is he a sort of Mor 
 mon, then an Indian Mormon? And how many do 
 they marry?" 
 
 "I never knew them to marry more than one," haz 
 arded Mr. Hardy. "But, to tell the truth, I know 
 very little about their customs; I understand they are 
 generally a worthless class of men, and the term squaw 
 man is a stigma, in a way the most of them are rather 
 ashamed of it, I believe." 
 
 "I don t see why," began Rache. 
 
 "No, I don t suppose you do," broke in her cousin 
 Hardy with a relative s freedom, "and it is not neces 
 sary that you should; just confine your curiosity to 
 other phases of Missoula County that are open for 
 inspection, and drop the squaw men." 
 
 "I haven t picked up any of them yet," returned the 
 girl, rising to her feet, "but I will the first chance I get; 
 and I give you fair warning, you might as well tell me 
 all I want to know, for I will find out." 
 
 "I ll wager she will," sighed Clara, as the girl walked 
 away to where their traps and sachels were stacked 
 under a birch tree, and while she turned things topsy 
 turvy looking for something, she nodded her" head 
 sagaciously over her shoulder at the two left behind; 
 "to be sure she will she is one of the girls who are 
 always stumbling on just the sort of knowledge that 
 should be kept from them; and this question of your 
 
42 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 horrid social system out here well, she will know all 
 about it if she has to interview Ivans or your guide 
 to find out; and I suppose it is an altogether objection 
 able topic?" 
 
 The intonation of the last words showed quite as much 
 curiosity as the girl had declared, only it was more care 
 fully veiled. 
 
 "Oh, I don t know as it is," returned her brother; 
 "except under well circumstances. But, some way, 
 a white man is mightily ashamed to have it known that 
 he has a squaw wife. Ivans told me that many of them 
 would as soon be shot as to have it known back East 
 where they came from." 
 
 "Yes," remarked a gentleman who joined them dur 
 ing this speech, and whose brand-new hunting suit 
 bespoke the " got-up-regardless " tourist; "it is strange, 
 don t you think so? Why, back East we would hear 
 of such a marriage and think it most romantic; but out 
 here well, it seems hard to convince a Westerner that 
 there is any romance about an Indian." 
 
 "And I don t wonder, Alec, do you?" asked Mrs. 
 Houghton, turning to her husband as if sure of sym 
 pathy from him; "all the squaws we have seen are 
 horribly slouchy, dirty creatures. I have yet to see 
 the Indian maiden of romance." 
 
 "In their original state they may have possessed all 
 the picturesque dignities and chivalrous character 
 ascribed to them," answered Mr. Houghton, doubtfully; 
 "but if so, their contact with the white race has caused 
 a vast degeneration." 
 
 "Which it undoubtedly has," returned Hardy, decid 
 edly. "Mixing of races always has that effect, and 
 in the Indian country it takes a most decided turn. 
 The vSiwash or Indian men of this territory may be 
 
WHAT IS A SQUAW MAN? 43 
 
 a thieving, whisky-drinking lot, but the chances are 
 that nine-tenths of the white men who marry among 
 them become more worthless and degraded than the 
 Indian." 
 
 "There are, I suppose, exceptions," remarked Hough- 
 ton. 
 
 "Well, there may be," answered Hardy, "but they 
 are not taken into consideration, and that is why a man 
 dislikes to be classed among them. There is something 
 of the same feeling about it that there is back home 
 about a white man marrying a negro." 
 
 "Then why do they do it, if they are ashamed of it?" 
 queried Mrs. Houghton with logical directness. 
 
 "Well, I suppose because there are no white women 
 here for them to marry," answered her brother, "and 
 Indians or half-breeds are always to be found." 
 
 " If ministers are not," added Houghton. 
 
 "Exactly!" 
 
 "Oh, good gracious!" ejaculated the little matron 
 in a tone of disgust; "no wonder they are ashamed 
 even the would-be honest ones are likely to incur sus 
 picion, because, as you say, the exceptions are too 
 few for consideration. A truly delightful spot you 
 have chosen; the moral atmosphere would be a good 
 field for a missionary, I should say yet you would 
 come here." 
 
 "Yes, and I am going to stay, too," said Hardy, in 
 answer to this sisterly tirade. "We see or know but 
 little of those poor devils or their useless lives only 
 we know by hearing that such a state of things exists. 
 But as for quitting the country because of that well, 
 no, I could not be bought back to the East after know 
 ing this glorious climate. Why, Tillie and I have 
 picked out a tree to be buried under a magnificent 
 
46 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Because I was thinking," continued her tormentor 
 "I was thinking that if the exile, as Clara calls it, 
 would be too severe on you, I might, if it was for your 
 own good I might send you back with the rest to 
 Kentucky." 
 
 Then there was a raising of the head quick enough 
 and a tempestuous flight across the space that separated 
 them, and a flood of remonstrances that ended in happy 
 laughter, a close clasp of arms, and yes, in spite of 
 the girl who was standing not very far away a kiss; 
 and Hardy circled his wife s shoulders with his long 
 arms, and, with a glance of laughing defiance at his 
 cousin, drew her closer and followed in the wake of the 
 Houghtons. 
 
 The girl had deliberately stood watching that little 
 scene with a curious smile in her eyes, a semi-cynical 
 gaze at the lingering fondness of voice and touch. 
 There was no envy in her face, only a sort of good- 
 natured disbelief. Her cousin Clara always averred 
 that Rachel was too masculine in spirit to ever under 
 stand the little tendernesses that burnish other women s 
 lives. 
 
BANKED FIRES. 47 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BANKED FIRES. 
 
 She did not look masculine, however, as she stood 
 there, slender, and brown from the tan of the winds; 
 the unruly, fluffy hair clustering around a face and 
 caressing a neck that was essentially womanly in every 
 curve; only, slight as the form seemed, one could find 
 strong points in the depth of chest and solid look of the 
 shoulders ; a veteran of the roads would say those same 
 points in a bit of horse-flesh would denote capacity for 
 endurance, and, added to the strong-looking hand and 
 the mockery latent in the level eyes, they completed a 
 personality that she had all her life heard called queer. 
 And with a smile that reflected that term, she 
 watched those two married lovers stroll arm in 
 arm to where the freshly-killed deer lay. Glanc 
 ing at the group, she missed the face of their 
 guide, a face she had seen much of since that sunrise 
 in the Kootenai. Across the sward a little way the 
 horses were picketed, and Mowitza s graceful head 
 was bent in search for the most luscious clusters of the 
 bunch-grass; but Mowitza s master was not to be seen. 
 She had heard him speak, the night before, of signs 
 of grizzlies around the shank of the mountain, and 
 wondered if he had started on a lone hunt for them. 
 She was conscious of a half-resentful feeling that he 
 had not given her a chance of going along, when he 
 knew she wanted to see everything possible in this out- 
 of-door life in the hills. 
 
48 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 So, in some ill-humor, she walked aimlessly across 
 the grass where Clara s lecture on the conventionali 
 ties had been delivered; and pushing ahead under the 
 close-knit boughs, she was walking away from the 
 rest, led by that spirit of exploration that comes natur 
 ally to one in a wilderness, and parting a wide-spread 
 ing clump of laurel, was about to wedge her way through 
 it, when directly on the other side of that green wall 
 she saw Genesee, whom she had supposed was alone 
 after a grizzly. Was he asleep? He was lying face 
 downward under the woven green roof that makes 
 twilight in the cedars. The girl stopped, about 
 to retrace her steps quietly, when a sudden thought 
 made her look at him more closely, with a devout 
 prayer in her heart that he was asleep, and asleep 
 soundly; for her quick eyes had measured the short 
 distance between that resting-place and the scene 
 of the conversation of a few minutes ago. She tried 
 wildly to remember what Clara had said about him, 
 and, most of all, what answers Clara had received. 
 She had no doubt said things altogether idiotic, just 
 from a spirit of controversy, and here the man had 
 been within a few feet of them all the time! She felt 
 like saying something desperately, -expressively mascu 
 line; but instead of easing her feelings in that manner, 
 she was forced to complete silence and a stealthy 
 retreat. 
 
 Was he asleep, or only resting? The uncertainty was 
 aggravating. And a veritable Psyche, she could not 
 resist the temptation of taking a last, sharp look. She 
 leaned forward ever so little to ascertain, and thus 
 lost her chance of retreating unseen; for among the 
 low-hanging branches was one on which there were no 
 needles of green a bare, straggling limb with twigs 
 
BANKED FIRES. 49 
 
 like the fingers of black skeletons. In bending for 
 ward, she felt one of them fasten itself in her hair; 
 tugging blindly and wildly, at last she loosened their 
 impish clutches, and left as trophy to the tree some 
 erratic, light -brown hair and she gave up in despair as 
 she saw it her cap, that swung backward and forward, 
 just out of reach. 
 
 If it only staid there for the present, she would 
 not care so much; but it was so tantalizingly inse 
 cure, hanging by a mere thread, and almost directly 
 above the man. Fascinated by the uncertainty, she 
 stood still. Would it stay where it was? Would it 
 fall? 
 
 The silent query was soon answered it fell, dropped 
 lightly down on the man s shoulder, and he, raising 
 his head from the folded arms, showed a face from 
 which the girl took a step back in astonishment. He 
 had not been asleep, then; but to the girl s eyes he 
 looked like a man who had been either fighting or 
 weeping. She had never seen a face so changed, tell 
 ing so surely of some war of the emotions. He lay in 
 the shadow, one hand involuntarily lifting itself as a 
 shade for his eyes while he looked up at her. 
 
 Well ! The tone was gruff, almost hoarse ; it was as 
 unlike him as his face at that moment, and Rachel 
 Hardy wondered, blankly, if he was drunk it was about 
 the only reasonable explanation she could give herself. 
 But even with that she could not be satisfied; there 
 was too much quick anger at the thought not anger 
 alone, but a decided feeling of disappointment in the 
 man. To be sure, she had been influenced by no one to 
 have faith in him; still someway 
 
 "Are you are you ill, Mr. Genesee?" she asked at 
 last. 
 4 
 
50 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Not that I know of." 
 
 What a bear the man was! she thought; what need 
 was there to answer a civil question in that tone. It 
 made her just antagonistic enough not to care so 
 much if his feelings had been hurt by Clara s remarks, 
 and she asked bluntly: 
 
 "Have you been here long?" 
 
 "Some time." 
 
 "Awake?" 
 
 "Well, yes," and he made a queer sound in his 
 throat, half grunt, half laugh; "I reckon I was 
 awake." 
 
 The slow, half -bitter words impelled her to con 
 tinue : 
 
 "Then you you heard the the conversation over 
 there?" 
 
 He looked at her, and she thought his eyes were 
 pretty steady for a drunken man s. 
 
 "Well, yes," he repeated, "I reckonI heard it." 
 
 All her temper blazed up at the deliberate confes 
 sion. If he had seemed embarrassed or wounded, she 
 would have felt sorry; but this stoicism angered her, 
 as the idea of drunkenness had done perhaps because 
 each set herself and her feelings aside I do not know, 
 but that may have been the reason; she was a woman. 
 
 "And you deliberately lay there and listened," she 
 burst out wrathfully, "and let us say all sorts of things, 
 no doubt, when it was your place as a gentleman to 
 let us know you were here? I I would not have 
 taken you for an eavesdropper, Mr. Jack Genesee!" 
 And with this tirade she turned to make her" way back 
 through the laurel. 
 
 "Here!" 
 
 She obeyed the command in his voice, thinking, as 
 
BANKED FIRES. 51 
 
 she did so, how quick the man was to get on his feet. 
 In a stride he was beside her, his hand outstretched 
 to stop her; but it was not necessary, his tone had 
 done that, and he thrust both hands into the pockets 
 of his hunting coat. 
 
 "Stop just where you are for a minute, Miss," he 
 said, looking down at her; "and don t be so infernally 
 quick about making a judge and jury of yourself and 
 you look just now as if you d like to be sheriff, too. 
 I make no pretense of being a gentleman of culture, 
 so you can save yourself the trouble of telling me the 
 duty of one. What little polish I ever had has been 
 knocked off in ten years of hill life out here. I m 
 not used to talking to ladies, and my ways may seem 
 mighty rough to you; but I want you to know I wasn t 
 listening I would have got away if I could, but I 
 was paralyzed." 
 
 "What?" Her tone was coldly unbelieving. 
 
 His manner was collected enough now. He was 
 talking soberly, if rather brusquely; but that strange 
 look in his face at first? and the eyes that burned as 
 if for the lack of tears? those were things not yet 
 understood. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, "that s what I was, I reckon. 
 I heard what she said; she is right, too, when she says 
 I m no fit company for a lady. I hadn t thought of 
 it before, and it started me to thinking thinking 
 fast and I just lay still there and forgot everything 
 only those words; and then I heard the things you 
 said mighty kind they were, too, but I wasn t think 
 ing of them much only trying to see myself as peo 
 ple of your sort would see me if they knew me as I do, 
 and I concluded I would pan out pretty small; then 
 I heard something else that was good for me, but bitter 
 
52 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 to take. And then His voice grew uncertain; he 
 was not looking at the girl, but straight ahead of him, 
 his features softened, his eyes half closed at some 
 memory. 
 
 "And then what, Genesee?" She felt a little sorry 
 for him as he was speaking a little kinder since he 
 had owned his own unworthiness. A touch of remorse 
 even led her to lay a couple of fingers on the sleeve 
 of his coat, to remind him of her presence as she repeated : 
 "And then?" 
 
 He glanced down at the fingers the glance made 
 the hand drop to her side very quickly and then he 
 coolly brushed his sleeve carefully with the other 
 hand. 
 
 Then for a little bit I was let get a glimpse of what 
 heaven on earth might mean to a man, if he hadn t 
 locked the door against himself and dropped into 
 hell instead. This is a blind trail I m leading on, 
 is it, Miss? all tso-lo. Well, it doesn t matter; you 
 would have to drop into a pretty deep gulch yourself 
 before you could understand, and you ll never do that 
 the Almighty forbid!" he added, energetically. "You 
 belong to the mountains and the high places, and 
 you re too sure-footed not to stay there. You can go 
 now. I only stopped you to say that my listening 
 mightn t have been in as mean a spirit as you judged. 
 Judging things you don t understand is bad business 
 anyway let it alone." 
 
 With that admonition he turned away, striding 
 through the laurel growth and spruce, and on down 
 the mountain, leaving Miss Hardy feeling more lec 
 tured and astonished than she had often been in her 
 life. 
 
 "Well, upon my word!" 
 
BANKED FIRES. 53 
 
 It is not an original exclamation she was not equal 
 to any original thought just then; but for some time 
 after his disappearance that was all she could find 
 to say, and she said it standing still there, bareheaded 
 and puzzled; then, gathering up her faculties and her 
 skirts, she made her way back through the low growth, 
 and sat down where Clara and herself had sat only a 
 little while before. 
 
 "And Clara says he doesn t talk!" she soliloquized, 
 with a faint smile about her lips. "Not talk! he did 
 not give me a chance to say a word, even if I had wanted 
 to. I feel decidedly sat upon, as Hen would say, and 
 I suppose I deserved it." 
 
 Then she missed her cap , and went to look for it ; but 
 it was gone. She remembered seeing it in his hand; 
 he must have forgotten and taken it with him. Then 
 she sat down again, and all the time his words, and 
 the way he had said them, kept ringing in her head 
 "Judging things you don t understand is bad business." 
 
 Of course he was right; but it seemed strange for 
 her to be taken to task by a man like that on such a 
 subject an uncouth miner and hunter in the Indian 
 hills. But was he quite uncouth? While he made her 
 stop and listen, his earnestness had overleaped that 
 slurred manner of speech that belongs to the ignorant 
 of culture. His words had been clearer cut. There 
 had been the ring of finished steel in his voice, not 
 the thud of iron in the ore, and it had cut clear a path 
 of revelations. The man, then, could do more than 
 ride magnificently, and look a Launcelot in buckskin 
 he could think how deeply and wildly had been shown 
 by the haggard face she had seen. But the cause of 
 it? Even his disjointed explanation had given her 
 no clue. 
 
54 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Tso-lo" she thought, repeating the Chinook word 
 he had used; "that means to lose one s way to wan 
 der in the dark. Well, he was right. That is what I 
 am doing"; and then she laughed half mockingly at 
 herself as she added: "And Mr. Jack Genesee has 
 started me on the path and started me bare-headed. 
 Oh, dear, what a muddle! I wonder where my cap is, 
 and I wonder where the man went to, and I wonder I 
 wonder what he meant by a glimpse of heaven. I 
 haven t seen any signs of it." 
 
 But she had seen it seen it and laughed mockingly, 
 unbelievingly, while the man had by the sight been 
 touched into a great heart-ache of desolation. And 
 yet it was a commonplace thing they had seen; only 
 two lives bound together by the wish of their hearts 
 and a wedding ring an affection so honest that its 
 fondness could be frankly shown to the world. 
 ***** * 
 
 That evening Genesee came back to camp looking 
 tired, and told Ivans there was a grizzly waiting to be 
 skinned in a gully not far off. He had had a hard tussle 
 after it and was too tired to see to the pelt ; and then he 
 turned to Miss Hardy and drew her cap from his pocket. 
 
 "I picked it up back there in the brush, and forgot 
 to give it to you before going out," he said. 
 
 That was all no look or manner that showed any 
 remembrance of their conversation. And for the next 
 two days the girl saw very little of their guide; no more 
 long gallops ahead of the party. Mr. Genesee had 
 taken a sedate turn, and remained close to the rest, 
 and if any of the ladies received more of his attention 
 than another it -was Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 He had for her something approaching veneration. 
 In her tender, half-shy love of her husband she seemed 
 
BANKED FIRES 55 
 
 to him as the Madonna to those of the Roman church 
 a symbol of something holy of a purity of affection 
 unknown to the rough man of the hills. Unpreten 
 tious little Tillie would have been amazed if she had 
 suspected the pedestal she occupied in the imagina 
 tion of this dark-faced fellow, whose only affection 
 seemed to be lavished on Mowitza. Clara always 
 looked at him somewhat askance; and in passing a 
 party of the Indians who were berry-hunting in the 
 mountains, she noted suspiciously his ready speech 
 in their own language, and the decided deference paid 
 him by them; the stolid stare of the squaws filled her 
 with forebodings of covetousness for her raiment 
 of which several of them rather stood in need, though 
 the weather was warm and that night was passed 
 by her in waking dreams of an Indian massacre, with 
 their guide as a leader of the enemy. 
 
 "Do you know them very well?" asked Miss Hardy, 
 riding up to Genesee. "Is it entirely Chinook they are 
 talking? Let me try my knowledge of it. I should 
 like to speak to them in their jargon. Can I?" 
 
 "You can try. Here s a Siwash, a friend of mine, 
 who is as near a Boston (American) man as any of 
 them try him." 
 
 And, under Genesee s tuition, she asked several 
 questions about the berry yield in the hills, and the dis 
 tance to markets where pelts could be sold; and the 
 Indian answered briefly, expressing distance as much 
 by the sweep of his hand toward the west as by the 
 adjective " siah-si-ah;" and Miss Hardy, well satisfied 
 with her knowledge, would have liked to add to her 
 possessions the necklace of bear s claws that adorned 
 the bronze throat of the gentleman who answered her 
 questions. 
 
56 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 The squaws slouched around the camp, curious and 
 dirty, here and there a half-breed showing the paler 
 blood through olive skin. The younger women or 
 girls were a shade less repulsive than their mothers, 
 but none showed material for a romance of Indian life. 
 They were as spiritless as ill-kept cattle. 
 
 Back of some tethered ponies Miss Hardy noticed a 
 dark form dodging as if to avoid being seen. A squaw 
 possessed of shyness was such a direct contradiction 
 of those she had seen, that the white girl found her 
 self watching the Indian one with a sort of curiosity 
 in fact, she rode her horse over in the direction of the 
 ponies, thinking the form she had a glimpse of was only 
 a child; but it was not, for back of the ponies it lay 
 flat to the ground as a snake, only the head raised, 
 the eyes meeting those of Miss Hardy with a half scowl, 
 and the bright-beaded dress outlining the form of a 
 girl perhaps twenty years old, and dressed much neater 
 than any she had seen in the camp. By the light 
 tinge of color she was evidently a half-breed, and the 
 white girl was about to turn her horse s head, when, 
 with a low exclamation, the other seized a blanket 
 that had slipped from a pony, and quick as a flash 
 had rolled her plump form in it, head and heels, and 
 dropped like one asleep, face downward, in the trampled 
 grass. 
 
 Wondering at the sudden hiding and its cause, Miss 
 Hardy turned away and met Genesee, who was riding 
 toward her. 
 
 "Shaky-looking stock," he commented, supposing 
 she was looking at the ponies. "The rest are going on, 
 Miss; we have to do some traveling to reach our last 
 camp by night-fall." 
 
 As they rode away, Miss Hardy turned for a last 
 
BANKED FIRES. 57 
 
 look at that mummy-looking form by the ponies. It 
 apparently had not moved. She wondered if it was 
 Genesee the girl was hiding from, and if so, why? Was 
 their guide one of those heroes of the border whose face 
 is a thing of terror to Indian foe? And was the half- 
 breed girl one of the few timid ones? She could not 
 answer her own questions, and something kept her from 
 speaking to Genesee of it; in fact, she did not speak to 
 him of anything with the same freedom since that con 
 versation by the laurel bushes. 
 
 Sometimes she would laugh a little to herself as she 
 thought of how he had brushed off that coat-sleeve; 
 it had angered her, amused her, and puzzled her. That 
 entire scene seemed a perplexing, unreal sort of an 
 affair to her sometimes, especially when looking at 
 their guide as he went about the commonplace duties in 
 the camp or on the trail. An undemonstrative, prosaic 
 individual she knew he appeared to the rest; laconic 
 and decided when he did speak, but not a cheery com 
 panion. To her always, after that day, he was a sug 
 gestion of a crater in which the fires were banked. 
 
58 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT LAST CAMP. 
 
 After their stop at the Indian camp, which Genesee 
 explained was a berrying crowd from the Kootenai 
 tribe, there was, of course, comment among the visitors 
 as to the mixed specimens of humanity they had seen 
 there. 
 
 "I don t wonder a white man is ashamed of an Indian 
 wife," said Mrs. Houghton. "What slouchy crea 
 tures!" 
 
 "All the more reason for a white man to act the part 
 of missionary, and marry them," remarked Rachel 
 Hardy, "and teach them what the domestic life of a 
 woman should be." 
 
 Genesee turned square around to look at the speaker 
 perhaps she did not strike him as being a domestic 
 woman herself. Whatever the cause of that quick 
 attention, she noticed it, and added: "Well, Mr. Gen 
 esee, don t you think so? You must have seen con 
 siderable of that sort of life." 
 
 "I have some," he answered concisely, but show 
 ing no disposition to discuss it, while Mrs. Houghton 
 was making vain efforts to engage Miss Hardy s atten 
 tion by the splendid spread of the country below them ; 
 but it was ineffectual. 
 
 "Yes, Clara, I see the levels along that river I ve 
 been seeing them for the past two hours but just 
 now I am studying the social system of those hills"; 
 and then she turned again to their guide. "You did 
 
AT LAST CAMP. 59 
 
 not answer my question, Mr. Genesee," she said, ignor 
 ing Mrs. Houghton s admonishing glances. "Do you 
 not agree with my idea of marriages between whites 
 and Indians?" 
 
 "No!" he said bluntly; "most of the white men I 
 know among the Indians need themselves to be taught 
 how people should live; they need white women to 
 teach them. It s uphill work showing an Indian how 
 to live decently when a man has forgotten how himself. 
 Missionary work! Squaw men are about as fit for that 
 as as hell s fit for a powder-house." 
 
 And under this emphatic statement and the shocked 
 expression of Clara s face, Miss Hardy collapsed, with 
 the conviction that there must be lights and shades 
 of life in the Indian country that were not apparent 
 to the casual visitor. She wondered sometimes that 
 Genesee had lived there so long with no family ties, and 
 she seldom heard him speak of any white friend in 
 Montana only of old Davy MacDougall sometimes. 
 Most of his friends had Indian names. Altogether, 
 it seemed a purposeless sort of existence. 
 
 "Do you expect to live your life out here, like this?" 
 she asked him once. "Don t you ever expect to go 
 back home ? 
 
 "Hardly! There is nothing to take me back now." 
 
 "And only a horse and a gun to keep you here?" 
 she smiled. 
 
 "N no; something besides, Miss. I ve got a right 
 smart of a ranch on the other side of the Maple range. 
 It s running wild no stock on it; but in Tamahnous 
 Hill there s a hole I ve been digging at for the past 
 four years. MacDougall reckons I m witched by 
 it, but it may pan out all right some of these days." 
 
 "Gold hunting?" 
 
60 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "No, Miss, silver; and it s there. I ve got tired 
 more than once and given it the klatawa (the go-by); 
 but I d always come back, and I reckon I always will 
 until I strike it." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Well, I haven t got that far yet." 
 
 And thus any curiosity about the man s life or future 
 was generally silenced. He had told her many things 
 of the past; his life in the mines of Colorado and Idaho, 
 with now and then the diversion of a government scout s 
 work along the border. All of that he would speak of 
 without reserve, but of the actual present or of the 
 future he would say nothing. 
 
 I have read somewhere in a book of a man without a 
 past," remarked the girl to Mrs. Hardy; "but our guide 
 seems a man utterly without a future." 
 
 "Perhaps he does not like to think of it here alone," 
 suggested Tillie thoughtfully; "he must be very lonely 
 sometimes. Just see how he loves that horse!" 
 
 "Not a horse, Tillie a klootchman kiuatan" corrected 
 the student of Chinook; "If you are going to live out 
 here, you must learn the language of the hills." 
 
 "You are likely to know it first;" and then, after a 
 little, she added: But noticing that man s love for 
 his Mowitza, I have often thought how kind he would 
 be to a wife. I think he has a naturally affectionate 
 nature, though he does swear I heard him; and to 
 grow old and wild here among the Indians and squaw 
 men seems too bad. He is intelligent a man who 
 might accomplish a great deal yet. You know he is com 
 paratively young thirty-five, I heard Hen say." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Houghton sarcastically; "a good 
 age at which to adopt a child. You had better take 
 him back as one of the fixtures on the ranch, Tillie; 
 
AT LAST CAMP. 61 
 
 of course he may need some training in the little cour 
 tesies of life, but no doubt Rachel would postpone her 
 return East and offer her services as tutor;" and with 
 this statement Mistress Houghton showed her disgust 
 of the entire subject. 
 
 "She is riled, " said the girl, looking quizzically 
 after the plump retreating form. 
 
 "Why, what in the world 
 
 "Nothing in the world, Tillie, and that s what s 
 the matter with Clara. Her ideas of the world are, 
 and always will be, bounded by the rules and regula 
 tions of Willow Centre, Kentucky. Of course it isn t 
 to be found on a map of the United States, but it s a 
 big place to Clara; and she doesn t approve of Mr. 
 Genesee because he lives outside its knowledge. She 
 intimated yesterday that he might be a horse-thief 
 for any actual acquaintance we had with his resources 
 or manner of living." 
 
 Ridiculous ! laughed Tillie. That man ! 
 
 The girl slipped her arm around the little wife s 
 waist and gave her a hug like a young bear. She had 
 been in a way lectured and snubbed by that man, but 
 she bore no malice. 
 
 The end of their cultus corrie was reached as they 
 went into camp for a two-days stay, on the shoulder 
 of a mountain from which one could look over into the 
 Idaho hills, north into British Columbia, and through 
 the fair Kootenai valleys to the east, where the home- 
 ranch lay. 
 
 Houghton and Hardy each had killed enough big 
 game to become inoculated with the taste for wild 
 life, and the ladies were delighted with the idea of 
 having the spoils of the hunt for the adornment of their 
 homes; and altogether the trip was voted a big success. 
 
62 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Is there anything more appetizing, after a long ride 
 through the mountains, than to rest under the cedars 
 at sunset and hear the sizzle of broiled meat on the 
 red coals, and have the aroma of coffee borne to you 
 on the breeze that would lull you to sleep if you were 
 not so hungry ? 
 
 "I could have eaten five meals during every twenty- 
 four hours since we started," acknowledged Rachel, as 
 she watched with flattering attention the crisping 
 slices of venison that were accumulating on a platter 
 by the fire. 
 
 And she looked as if both the appetite and the wild 
 living had agreed with her. Clara complained that 
 Rachel really seemed to pride herself on the amount 
 of tan she had been able to gather from the wind and 
 the sun, while Hardy decided that only her light hair 
 would keep her from being taken for an Indian. 
 
 But for all the looks that were gaining a tinge of 
 wildness, and the appetites that would persist in grow 
 ing ravenous, it was none the less a jolly, pleasant 
 circle that gathered about the evening meal, some 
 times eaten on a large flat stone, if any were handy, 
 and again on the grass, v/here the knives and small 
 articles of table-ware would lose themselves in the 
 tall spears; but, whatever was used as a table, the 
 meal in the evening was the domestic event of the 
 day. At midday there was often but a hasty lunch; 
 breakfast was simply a preparation for travel; but 
 in the evening all were prepared for rest and the enjoy 
 ment of either eatables or society. And until the 
 darkness fell there was the review of the day s hunt 
 by the men Hardy and Houghton vying with 
 each other in their recitals or, as Ivans expressed it, 
 "swappin lies" around the fire. Sometimes there 
 
AT LAST CAMP. 63 
 
 would be singing, and blended with the notes of night- 
 birds in the forest would sound the call of human throats 
 echoing upward in old hymns that all had known some 
 time, in the East. And again Tillie would sing them 
 a ballad or a love-song in a sweet, fresh voice; or, with 
 Clara, Hardy, and Houghton, a quartette would add 
 volume to some favorite, their scout a silent listener. 
 Rachel never sang with the rest ; she preferred whistling, 
 herself. And many a time when out of sight of her on 
 the trail, she was located by that boyish habit she had 
 of echoing the songs of many of the birds that were new to 
 her, learning their notes, and imitating them so 
 well as to bring many a decoyed answer from the woods. 
 
 Between herself and the guide there was no more their 
 former camaraderie. They had never regained their old 
 easy, friendly manner. Still, she asked him that night 
 at "last camp" of the music of the Indians. Had they 
 any? Could he sing? Had there ever been any of 
 their music published? etc. 
 
 And he told them of the airs that were more like 
 chants, like the echoes of whispering or moaning 
 forests, set to human words; of the dusky throats 
 that, without training, yet sang together with never a 
 discord; of the love-songs that had in them the minor 
 cadences of sadness. Only their war-songs seemed to 
 carry brightness, and they only when echoes of 
 victory. 
 
 In the low, glowing light of the fire, when the group 
 around it faded in the darkness, he seemed to forget 
 his many listeners, and talked on as if to only one. 
 To the rest it was as if they had met a stranger there 
 that evening for the first time, and found him enter 
 taining. Even Mrs. Houghton dropped her slightly 
 supercilious manner toward him, a change to which 
 
34 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 he was as indifferent as to her coolness. It may have 
 been Tillie s home-songs in the evening that unlocked 
 his lips; or it may have been the realization that the 
 pleasure-trip was ended that in a short time he would 
 know these people no more, who had brought him 
 home-memories in their talk of home-lives. It may 
 have been a dash of recklessness that urged him to 
 enjoy it for a little only this association that sug 
 gested so much to which he had long been a stranger. 
 Whatever the impulse was, it showed a side of his 
 nature that only Rachel had gained any knowledge 
 of through those first bright, eager days of their cultus 
 corrie. 
 
 At Tillie s request he repeated some remembered 
 fragments of Indian songs that had been translated into 
 the Red s language, and of which he gave them the 
 English version or meaning as well as he could. A 
 couple of them he knew entire, and to Tillie s delight he 
 hummed the plaintive airs until she caught the notes. 
 And even after the rest had quietly withdrawn and 
 rolled themselves in blankets for the night s rest, Hardy 
 and his wife and Genesee still sat there with old legends 
 of Tsiatko, the demon of the night, for company, and 
 with strange songs in which the music would yet sound 
 familiar to any ears used to the shrilling of the winds 
 through the timber, or the muffled moans of the wood- 
 dove. 
 
 And in the sweet dusk of the night, Rachel, 
 the first to leave the fire, lay among the odorous, 
 spicy branches of the cedar and watched the picture 
 of the group about the fire. All was in darkness, save 
 when a bit of reflected red would outline form or feature, 
 and they looked rather uncanny in the red-and-black 
 coloring. An Indian council or the grouping of witches 
 
AT LAST CAMP. 65 
 
 and warlocks it might have been, had one judged the 
 scene only from sight. But the voices of the final 
 three, dropped low though they were for the sake of 
 the supposed sleepers, yet had a tone of pleasant con 
 verse that belied their impish appearance. 
 
 Those voices came to Rachel dreamily, merging 
 their music with the drowsy odors of a spruce pillow. 
 And through them all she heard Tillie and Genesee 
 singing a song of some unlettered Indian poet 
 
 Lemolo mika tsolo siah polaklie, 
 Towagh tsee chil-chil siah saghallie. 
 Mika na chakko ? me sika chil-chil, 
 O pits ah! mika winapia, 
 Tsolo tso-lo! 
 
 "Wild do I wander, far in the darkness, 
 Shines bright a sweet star far up above. 
 Will you not come to me ? you are the star, 
 Sweetheart! I wait, 
 Lost! in the dark!" 
 
 And the white girl s mouth curled dubiously in that 
 smile that always vanquished the tender curves of her 
 lips, and then dropped asleep whispering the refrain, 
 "Tsolo tso-lo!" 
 
66 TOLD IN THE HILLS 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TSOLO TSO-LO! 
 
 The retracing of steps, either figuratively or liter 
 ally, is always provocative of thought to the individual 
 who walks again over the old paths; the waning of a 
 moon never finds the same state of feelings in the heart 
 that had throbbed through it under the gold sickle. 
 Back over how many a road do we walk with a sigh, 
 remembering the laughter that had once echoed along 
 it! Something has been gained, something has been 
 lost, since; and a human sigh is as likely to be called 
 forth by one cause as the other. 
 
 Miss Rachel Hardy, who usually laughed at sighs of 
 sentiment, did not indulge in them as one by one the 
 landmarks of the past three weeks rose in sight. But 
 different natures find different vents for feeling, and 
 she may have got rid of hers by the long gallops she 
 took alone over the now known trail, priding herself 
 on her ability to find her way miles ahead of the slower- 
 moving party; and resting herself and horse in some 
 remembered retreat, would await their coming. 
 
 Through these solitary rides she began to understand 
 the fascination such a free, untrammeled existence 
 would have for a man. One must feel a very Adam 
 in the midst of this virginity of soil and life of the 
 hills. She had not Tillie s domestic ideas of life, else 
 the thought of an Eve might also have occurred to 
 her. But though she wasted no breath in sighs over 
 the retraced cultus corrie, neither did she in the mockery 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO! 67 
 
 that had tantalized Clara in the beginning. That lady 
 did not find her self-imposed duty of chaperon nearly 
 so arduous as at first, since, from the time the other 
 ladies awakened to the fact that their guide had a good 
 baritone voice and could be interesting, the girl forgot 
 her role of champion, also her study of mongrel lan 
 guages; for she dropped that ready use of Chinook of 
 which she had been proud, especially in her conversa 
 tion with him, and only used it if chance threw her 
 in the way of Indians hunting or gathering olallie 
 (berries) in the hills. 
 
 Genesee never noticed by word or action the changed 
 manner that dropped him out of her knowledge. Once 
 or twice, in crossing a bit of country that was in any 
 way dangerous to a stranger, he had said no one must 
 leave the party or go out of hearing distance; and 
 though the order was a general one, they all knew he 
 meant Rachel, and the ladies wondered a little if that 
 generally headstrong damsel would heed it, or if she 
 would want willfully to take the bit in her teeth and 
 go as she pleased a habit of hers; but she did not; 
 she rode demurely with the rest, showing the respect 
 of a soldier to the orders of a commander. Along the 
 last bit of bad country he spoke to her of the enforced 
 care through the jungle of underbrush, where the 
 chetwoot (black bear) was likely to be met and prove 
 a dangerous enemy, at places where the trail led along 
 the edge of ravines, and where a fright to a horse was 
 a risky thing. 
 
 "It s hard on you, Miss, to be kept back here with 
 the rest of us," he said, half apologetically; "you re 
 too used to riding free for this to be any pleasure, 
 but" 
 
 "Pon t distress yourself about me," she answered 
 
68 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 easily, but without looking at him. "I have felt a little 
 lazy to-day, so has Betty, and have been satisfied to 
 loaf; but now we are at the edge of this bad strip, and 
 just down over this bend ahead is a long stretch of 
 level, and I think yes, I am quite sure I am ready 
 now for a run." 
 
 And without waiting to hear either assent or dissent 
 to her intention, she touched Betty with the whip, and 
 Mowitza and her master were left behind, much to 
 Mowitza s dissatisfaction. She gave one plunge ahead 
 as if to follow, but Genesee s hand on the bridle had 
 a quick, cruel grip for a moment, and in slow silence 
 they made their way down the timbered slope to the 
 lower levels. The girl, free from companionship save 
 her own thoughts, galloped through the odorous, shad- 
 do wy table-lands, catching here and there a glimpse of 
 glistening water in a river ahead, as it trailed its length 
 far below the plateaus, and shone like linked diamonds 
 away toward the east. 
 
 She remembered the river; it was a branch of the 
 Kootenai. To be near it meant but a short journey 
 home; two days more, perhaps, and then well, their 
 outing would be over. She would go back East, and 
 say good-bye to Betty; and then she began to think 
 of that man who belonged to these hills and who never 
 need leave them never need go a mile without his 
 horse, if he did not choose; and she envied him as 
 she could not have thought it possible to do six months 
 before to envy a man such a primitive existence, 
 such simple possessions! But most human wants are 
 so much a matter of association, and Rachel Hardy, 
 though all unconscious of it, was most impression 
 able to surroundings. Back of her coolness and careless 
 ness was a sensitive temperament in which the pulses 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO! 69 
 
 were never stilled. It thrilled her with quick sympa 
 thies for which she was vexed with herself, and which 
 she hid as well as she could. She had more than likely 
 never tried to analyze her emotions; they were seldom 
 satisfactory enough for her to grant them so much 
 patience; but had she done so, she would have found 
 her desires molded as much by association and sentiment 
 as most other human nature of her age. 
 
 Once or twice she looked back as she left the tim 
 ber, but could see nothing of the others, and Betty 
 seemed to scent the trail home, and long for the ranch 
 and the white-coated flocks of the pastures, for she 
 struck out over the table-lands, where her hoofs fell 
 so softly in the grass that the wild things of the ground- 
 homes and the birds that rest on the warm earth 
 scampered and flew from under the enemy s feet that 
 were shod with iron. A small herd of elk with uncouth 
 heads and monstrous antlers were startled from the 
 shelter of a knoll around which she cantered; for a 
 moment the natives and the stranger gazed at each 
 other with equal interest, and then a great buck plunged 
 away over the rolling land to the south, and the 
 others followed as if they had been given a word of 
 command. 
 
 The girl watched them out of sight, finding them, 
 like the most of Montana natives, strange and inter 
 esting not only the natives, but the very atmosphere 
 of existence, with its tinges of wildness and coloring 
 of the earth; even the rising and setting of the sun 
 had a distinct character of its own, in the rarefied air 
 of this land that seemed so far off from all else in the 
 world. For in the valley of the Kootenai, where the 
 light breaks over the mountains of the east and van 
 ishes again over the mountains of the west, it is hard 
 
70 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 at times to realize that its glory is for any land but 
 the mellow, sun-kissed "park" whose only gates open 
 to the south. 
 
 The late afternoon was coming on; only an hour or 
 so of sun, and then the long flush twilight. 
 
 Remembering the camping-spot they were making 
 for, she gave Betty rein, thinking to reach it and have 
 a fire built on their arrival, and her hard ride gave her 
 a longing for the sight of the pack-mules with the 
 eatables. 
 
 Another of those ugly, jolting bits of scrub-timber 
 had to be crossed before the haven of rest was reached. 
 Betty had almost picked her way through it, when a 
 huge black something came scrambling down through 
 the brush almost in front of them. The little mare 
 shied in terror, and the girl tried to make a circuit 
 of the animal, which she could see was an enormous 
 black bear. It did not seem to notice her, but was 
 rolling and pitching downward as if on a trail no 
 doubt that of honey in a tree. Managing Betty was 
 not an easy matter, and it took all of the girl s strength 
 to do so until the black stranger passed, and then, on 
 loosening the bridle, the terrified beast gave a leap 
 forward. There was a crash, a growl from under her 
 feet, and an answering one from the huge beast that 
 had just gone by them; she had been followed by two 
 cubs that had escaped Rachel s notice in the thick 
 brush, as all her attention had been given to the mother; 
 but Betty s feet coming down on one of the cubs had 
 brought forth a call that the girl knew might mean a 
 war of extermination. With a sharp cut of the whip, 
 Betty, wild from the clawing thing at her feet, sprang 
 forward over it with a snort of terror, just as the mother 
 with fierce growls broke through the brush. 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO! 71 
 
 Once clear of them, the little mare ran like mad 
 through the rough trail over which she had picked her 
 way so carefully but a little before. Stones and loose 
 earth clattered down the gully, loosened by her flying 
 feet, and dashed ominously in the mountain stream 
 far below. The girl was almost torn from the saddle 
 by the low branches of the trees under which she was 
 borne. In vain she tried to check or moderate the 
 mare s gait. She could do little but drop low on the 
 saddle and hang there, wondering if she should be 
 able to keep her seat until they got clear of the tim 
 ber. The swish of some twigs across her eyes half 
 blinded her, and it seemed like an hour went by with 
 Betty crashing through the brush, guiding herself, 
 and seeming to lose none of her fright. Her ears were 
 deaf to the girl s voice, and at last, stumbling in her 
 headlong run, her rider was thrown against a tree, 
 knowing nothing after the sickening jar, and seeing 
 nothing of Betty, who, freed from her burden, recov 
 ered her footing, and, triumphant, dashed away on a 
 cultits "coolie" (run) of her own. 
 
 When Rachel recovered her powers of reasoning, she 
 felt too lazy, too tired to use them. She ached all 
 over from the force of the fall, and though realizing 
 that the sun was almost down, and that she was alone 
 there in the timber, all she felt like doing was to drag 
 herself into a more comfortable position and go to 
 sleep ; but real sleep did not come easily only a drowsy 
 stupor, through which she realized she was hungry, 
 and wondered if the rest were eating supper by that 
 time, and if they had found Betty, and if no, rather, 
 when would they find her? 
 
 She had no doubt just yet that they would find 
 her; she could half imagine how carefully and 
 
72 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 quickly Mowitza would cover the ground after they 
 missed her. Of course there were other horses in the 
 party, but Mowitza was the only one she happened to 
 think of. She did not know where she was; the mare 
 had struck into a new trail for herself, and had dropped 
 her rider on a timbered slope of one of the foot-hills, 
 where there w^ere no remembered landmarks, and 
 the closeness of night would prevent her from seeking 
 them. 
 
 Twice she roused herself and tried to walk, but 
 she was dizzily sick from the wild ride and the fall 
 that had stunned her, and both times she was com 
 pelled to drop back on her couch of grass. The stars 
 began to creep out in the clear, warm sky, and up 
 through the timber the shadows grew black, and it all 
 seemed very peaceful and very lovely. She thought 
 she would not mind sleeping there if she only had a 
 blanket, and yes, some hot coffee for through the 
 shadows of the lower hills the dew falls quickly and 
 already the coolness made itself felt with a little shiver. 
 She searched her pocket for some matches not a match, 
 therefore no fire. 
 
 A sound in the distance diverted her thoughts from 
 disappointment, and she strained her ears for a repeti 
 tion of it. Surely it was a shot, but too far off for any 
 call of hers to answer it. She could do nothing but 
 listen and wait, and the waiting grew long, so long that 
 she concluded it could be no one on her trail perhaps 
 some of the Indians in the hills. She would be glad to 
 see even them, she thought, for all she met had seemed 
 kindly disposed. 
 
 Then she fell to wondering about that half-breed girl 
 who had hid back of the ponies ; was it Genesee she was 
 afraid of, and if so, why? 
 
"7 am so glad it is you." Page 73. 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO! 73 
 
 Suddenly a light gleamed through the woods above 
 her; a bent figure was coming down the hill carrying 
 a torch, and back of it a horse was following slowly. 
 
 "Genesee!" called a glad voice through the dusk. 
 "Genesee!" 
 
 There was no word in answer; only the form straight 
 ened, and with the torch held high above his head he 
 plunged down through the trees, straight as an arrow, 
 in answer to her voice. 
 
 She had risen to her feet, but swayed unsteadily as 
 she went to meet him. 
 
 I am so glad it is you," she said, her hs^ds 
 outstretched as he came close. And then that return 
 ing dizziness sent her staggering forward, half on her 
 knees and half in his arms, as he threw the torch from 
 him and caught her. 
 
 She did not faint, though the only thing she was 
 still conscious of was that she was held in strong arms, 
 and held very closely, and the beat of a heart that 
 was not her own throbbed against her rather nerveless 
 form. He had not yet spoken a word, but his breath 
 coming quickly, brokenly, told of great exhaustion, 
 or it may be excitement. 
 
 Opening her eyes, she looked up into the face that 
 had a strange expression in the red light from the 
 torch his eyes seemed searching her own so curi 
 ously. 
 
 I I m all right," she half smiled in answer to what 
 she thought an unspoken query, "only" and a wave 
 of forgetfulness crept over the estrangement of the late 
 days and she added "only Hyas till nika" (I am 
 very tired). 
 
 Her eyes were half closed in the content of being 
 found, and the safety of his presence. She had not 
 
74 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 changed her position or noticed that he had not spoken. 
 His hat had fallen to the ground, and something almost 
 boyish was in the bend of his bared head and the soft 
 ness of his features as his face drooped low over her 
 own. Death brings back the curves of youth to 
 aged faces sometimes is it the only change that 
 does so? 
 
 She felt the hand on her shoulder trembling; was 
 it with her weight and he so strong? A muttered 
 sentence came to her ears, through which she could 
 only distinguish a word that in its suppressed force 
 might belong to either a curse or a prayer an intense 
 "Christ!" 
 
 That aroused her to a realization of what she had 
 been too contented to remember. She opened her eyes 
 and raised her head from his arm, brushing his lips with 
 her hair as she did so. 
 
 "Were you so much alarmed?" she asked in a clearer, 
 more matter-of-fact way, as she propped herself up on 
 his outstretched arm; "and did you come alone to 
 find me?" 
 
 He drew back from her with a long, indrawn breath, 
 and reached for his hat. 
 
 "Yes," he said. 
 
 It was the first time he had spoken to her, and he 
 did so with his eyes still on her face and that curious 
 expression in them. He was half kneeling, his body 
 drawn back and away from her, but his eyes unchanging 
 in their steadiness. As the girl lay there full length 
 on the mountain grass, only her head raised and turned 
 toward him, she might have been a Lamia from their 
 attitudes and his expression. 
 
 "It seemed long to wait," she continued, turning her 
 eyes toward Mowitza, who had quietly come near them; 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO! 75 
 
 "but I was not afraid. I knew you would find me. I 
 would have walked back to meet you if the fall had 
 not made me so dizzy. I am decidedly wake kloshe" 
 (no good); and she smiled as she reached out her hand 
 to him, and he helped her rise to her feet. "I feel 
 all jolted to pieces," she said, taking a few steps toward 
 a tree against which she leaned. "And even now 
 that you have come, I don t know how I am to get 
 to camp." 
 
 "I will get you there," he answered briefly. "Did 
 the mare throw you?" 
 
 "I am not sure what she did," answered the girl. 
 "She fell, I think, and I fell with her, and when I could 
 see trees instead of stars she had recovered and dis 
 appeared. Oh! Did you see the bear?" 
 
 "Yes, and shot her. She might have killed you 
 when her temper was up over that cub. How did it 
 happen?" 
 
 Each of them was a little easier in speech than at 
 first, and she told him as well as she could of the episode, 
 and her own inability to check Betty. And he told 
 her of the fright of the others, and their anxiety, and 
 that he had sent them straight ahead to camp, while 
 he struck into the timber where Betty had left the old 
 trail. 
 
 "I promised them to have word of you soon," he 
 added; "and I reckon they ll be mighty glad you can 
 take the word yourself it s more than they expected. 
 She might have killed you." 
 
 His tone and repetition of the words showed the fear 
 that had been uppermost in his thoughts. 
 
 "Yes she might," agreed the girl. "That is a lesson 
 to me for my willfulness;" and then she smiled mock 
 ingly with a gleam of her old humor, adding: "And so 
 
76 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 in the future, for the sake of my neck and the safety 
 of my bones, I will be most obedient to orders, Mr. 
 Genesee Jack." 
 
 He only looked at her across the nickering circle of 
 light from the torch. It must have dazzled his eyes, 
 for in putting on his hat he pulled it rather low over 
 his forehead, and turning his back abruptly on her he 
 walked over for Mowitza. 
 
 But he did not bring her at once. He stood with 
 his elbows on her shoulders and his head bent over his 
 clasped hands, like a man who is thinking or else very 
 tired. 
 
 Rachel had again slipped down beside the tree; her 
 head still seemed to spin around a little if she stood 
 long; and from that point of vantage she could easily 
 distinguish the immovable form in the shifting lights 
 and shadows. 
 
 "What is the matter with the man?" she asked her 
 self as he stood there. "He was glad to find me I 
 know it; and why he should deliberately turn his back 
 and walk away like that, I can t see. But he shan t 
 be cool or sulky with me ever again; I won t let him." 
 
 And with this determination she said: 
 
 "Genesee!" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, but did not move. 
 
 "Now that you have found me, are you going to leave 
 me here all night?" she asked demurely. 
 
 "No, Miss," he answered, and laid his hand on the 
 bridle. "Come, Mowitza, we must take her to camp;" 
 and striding back with quick, decided movements that 
 were rather foreign to his manner, he said: 
 
 "Here she is, Miss; can you ride on that saddle?" 
 
 "I don t know, I m sure. I I suppose so; but how 
 are you to get there?" 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO! 77 
 
 "Walk," he answered concisely. 
 
 "Why, how far is it?" 
 
 "About five miles straight across." 
 
 "Can we go straight across?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 She looked up at him and laughed, half vexed. 
 
 "Mr. Genesee Jack," she remarked, "you can be one 
 of the most aggravatingly non-committal men I ever 
 met. It has grown as dark as a stack of black cats, 
 and I know we must have an ugly trip to make with 
 only one horse between us. Do you suppose I have no 
 natural curiosity as to how we are to get there, and 
 when? Don t be such a lock-and-key individual. I 
 can t believe it is natural to you. It is an acquired 
 habit, and hides your real self often." 
 
 "And a good thing it does, I reckon," he returned; 
 "locks and keys are good things to have, Miss; don t 
 quarrel with mine or my ways to-night ; wait till I leave 
 you safe with your folks, then you can find fault or 
 laugh, whichever you please. It won t matter then." 
 
 His queer tone kept her from answering at once, 
 and she sat still, watching him adjust the stirrup, and 
 then make a new torch of pine splits and knots. 
 
 "What do you call a torch in Chinook?" she asked 
 after a little, venturing on the supposed safe ground 
 of jargon. 
 
 "La gome towagh," he answered, splitting a withe to 
 bind them together, and using a murderous looking 
 hunting-knife on which the light glimmered and fretted. 
 
 "And a knife?" she added. 
 
 "Opitsah." 
 
 She looked up at him quickly. "Opitsah means 
 sweetheart," she returned; "I know that much myself. 
 Are you not getting a little mixed. Professor?" 
 
78 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "I think not," he said, glancing across at her; "the 
 same word is used for both; and," he added, thrusting 
 the knife in its sheath and rising to his feet, "I reckon 
 the men who started the jargon knew what they were 
 talking about, too. Come, are you ready?" 
 
 Assuredly, though he had hunted for her, and been 
 glad to find her alive, yet now that he had found her 
 he had no fancy for conversation, and he showed a 
 decided inclination to put a damper on her attempts 
 at it. He lifted her to the saddle, and walking at 
 Mowitza s head, they started on their home journey 
 through the night. 
 
 "The moon will be up soon," he remarked, glancing 
 up at the sky. "We only need a torch for the gulch 
 down below there." 
 
 She did not answer; the movement of the saddle 
 brought back the dizziness to her head all the glare 
 of the torch was a blur before her. She closed her 
 eyes, thinking it would pass away, but it did not, and 
 she wondered why he stalked on like that, just as if he 
 did not care, never once looking toward her or noticing 
 how she was dropping forward almost on Mowitza s 
 neck. Then, as they descended a steep bit of hill, she 
 became too much lost to her surroundings for even that 
 speculation, and could only say slowly: 
 
 "Tsolo, Genesee?" 
 
 "No," he answered grimly, "not now." 
 
 But she knew or heard nothing of the tone that implied 
 more than it expressed. She could only reach grop 
 ingly toward him with one hand, as if to save herself 
 from falling from the saddle. Only her finger-tips 
 touched his shoulder it might have been a drooping 
 branch out of the many under which they went, for all 
 the weight of it; but grim and unresponsive as he was 
 
He turned and caught her arm. Page 
 
TSOLO TSO-LO. 79 
 
 in some ways, he turned, through some quick sympathy 
 at the touch of her hand, and caught her arm as she 
 was about to fall forward. In an instant she was lifted 
 from the saddle to her feet, and his face was as white as 
 hers as he looked at her. 
 
 "Dead!" he said, in a quiet sort of way, as her hand 
 dropped nerveless from his own, and he lifted her in his 
 arms, watching for some show of life in the closed lids 
 and parted lips. And then with a great shivering 
 breath, he drew the still face to his own, and in a half- 
 motherly way smoothed back the fair hair as if she had 
 been a child, whispering over and over: "Not dead, 
 my pretty! not you, my girl! Here, open your eyes; 
 listen to me; don t leave me like this until I tell you 
 tell you God! I wish I was dead beside you! Ah, 
 my girl! my girl!" 
 
80 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 UNDER THE CHINOOK MOON. 
 
 Ikt polaklie konaway moxt. 
 
 Over the crowns of the far hills the moon wheeled 
 slowly up into the sky, giving the shadows a cloak of 
 blue mist, and vying with the forgotten torch in light 
 ing up the group in the gulch. The night winds rustled 
 through the leaves and sighed through the cedars; 
 and the girl s voice, scarcely louder than the whispers 
 of the wood, said: "Genesee! Tillie!" 
 
 "Yes, Miss," the man answered, as he lowered her 
 head from his shoulder to the sward, making a pillow 
 for her of his hat. With returning life and conscious 
 ness she again slipped out of his reach or possession, 
 and himself and his emotions were put aside, to be 
 hidden from her eyes. 
 
 Through the blessing of death, infinite possession 
 comes to so many souls that life leaves beggared; and 
 in those hurried moments of uncertainty, she belonged 
 to him more fully than he could hope for while she 
 lived. 
 
 "Is it you, Genesee?" she said, after looking at him 
 drowsily for a little. "I I thought Tillie was here, 
 crying, and kissing me." 
 
 "No, Miss, you fainted, I reckon, and just dreamed 
 that part of it," he answered, but avoiding the eyes 
 that, though drowsy, looked so directly at him. 
 
 "I suppose so," she agreed. "I tried to reach you 
 
UNDER THE CHINOOK MOON. 81 
 
 when I felt myself going; but you wouldn t look 
 around. Did you catch me ?" 
 
 "Yes; and I don t think you were quite square with 
 me back there ; you told me you were all right ; but you 
 must have got hurt more than you owned up to. Why 
 didn t you tell me ? 
 
 "But I am not indeed I am not!" she persisted. 
 "I was not at all injured except for the jar of the fall; 
 it leaves me dizzy and sick when I sit upright in the 
 saddle that is all." 
 
 "And it is enough," he returned decidedly; "do you 
 spose, if you d told me just how you felt, I should 
 have set you there to ride through these hills and hol 
 lows?" 
 
 "What else could you do?" she asked; "you couldn t 
 bring a carriage for me." 
 
 "May be not, but I could have ridden Mowitza myself 
 and carried you." 
 
 "That would be funny," she smiled. "Poor Mowitza! 
 could she carry double ? 
 
 "Yes," he answered curtly; perhaps the situation 
 did not strike him in a humorous light. "Yes, she can, 
 and that s what she will have to do. Let me know 
 when you feel able to start." 
 
 "I think I do now," she said, raising herself from the 
 ground; "I am a little shaky, but if I do not have to sit 
 upright I can keep my wits about me, I believe. Will 
 you help me, please?" 
 
 He lifted her into the saddle without a word, and then 
 mounting himself, he took her in front of him, circling 
 her with one arm and guiding Mowitza with the other, 
 with as much unconcern as if he had carried damsels in 
 Uke cavalier fashion all his life. 
 
 They rode on in silence for a little through the shadows 
 
 6 
 
82 $OLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 of the valley, where the moon s light only fell in patches. 
 His eyes were straight ahead, on the alert for gullies 
 and pitfalls along the blind trail. He seemed to 
 have no glances for the girl whose head was on 
 his shoulder, but whom he held most carefully. 
 Once he asked how she felt, and if she was com 
 fortable; and she said "Yes, thank you," very 
 demurely, with that mocking smile about her lips. 
 She felt like laughing at the whole situation all the 
 more so because he looked so solemn, almost grim. 
 She always had an insane desire to laugh when 
 in circumstances where any conventional woman would 
 be gathering up her dignity. It had got her into scrapes 
 often, and she felt as if it was likely to do so now. The 
 movement of the horse no longer made her ill, since 
 she did not have to sit upright; she was only a little 
 dizzy at times, as if from the rocking of a swing, and 
 lazily comfortable with that strong arm and shoulder 
 for support. 
 
 "I am afraid I am getting heavy," she remarked 
 after a while; "if I could get my arm around back of 
 you and hold either the saddle or reach up to your 
 shoulder, I might not be such a dead weight on your 
 arm." 
 
 "Just as you like," was the brief reply that again 
 aroused her desire to laugh. It did seem ridiculous 
 to be forced into a man s arms like that, and the humor 
 ous part of it was heightened, in her eyes, by his appar 
 ent sulkiness over the turn affairs had taken. 
 
 She slipped her arm across his back, however, and 
 up to his shoulder, thus lightening her weight on the 
 arm that circled her, an attempt to which he appeared 
 indifferent. And so they rode on out of the valley 
 into the level land at the foot of the hills, and then into 
 
UNDER THE CHINOOK MOON. 83 
 
 the old trail where the route was more familiar and not 
 so much care needed. 
 
 The girl raised her head drowsily as she noted some 
 old landmarks in the misty light. 
 
 "Poor Mowitza!" she said; "she did not have such 
 a load when she came over this road before; it was the 
 day after you joined us, do you remember? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Remember! It had been the gateway through which 
 he had gained a glimpse into a new world those 
 days that were tinged with the delightful suggestions 
 of dawn. He smiled rather grimly at the question, but 
 she could not see his face very well, under the shadow 
 of his wide hat, 
 "Has Mowitza ever before had to carry double?" 
 
 There was a little wait after her question perhaps 
 he was trying to remember; then he said : 
 
 "Yes" 
 
 She wanted to ask who, and under what circum 
 stances, but someway was deterred by his lock-and-key 
 manner, as she called it. She rather commended her 
 self for her good humor under its influence, and won 
 dered that she only felt like laughing at his gruff ness. 
 With any other person she would have felt like retali 
 ating, and she lay there looking up into the shadowy 
 face with a mocking self-query as to why he was made 
 an exception of. 
 
 "Genesee!" she began, after one of those long spells 
 of silence; and then the utterance of the name sug 
 gested a new train of thought "by the way, is your 
 name Genesee?" 
 
 He did not answer at once- was he trying to remem 
 ber that also? 
 
 "I wish you would tell me," she continued, morf 
 
84 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 gently than was usual with her. "I am going away 
 soon ; I should like to know by what real name I am 
 to remember you when I am back in Kentucky Is 
 your name Jack Genesee ?" 
 
 "No," he said at last; "Genesee is a name that stuck 
 to me from some mines where I worked., south of this. 
 If I went back to them I would be called Kootenai 
 Jack, perhaps, because I came from here. Plenty ol 
 men are known by names out here that would not be 
 recognized at home, if they have a home. 
 
 "But your name is Jack" she persisted. 
 
 "Yes, my name is Jack." 
 
 But he did not seem inclined to give any further 
 information on the subject that just then was of 
 interest to her, and she did not like to question fur 
 ther, but contented herself with observing: 
 
 "I shan t call you Genesee any more." 
 
 "Just as you like, Miss." 
 
 Again came that crazy desire of hers to laugh, and 
 although she kept silent, it was a convulsive silence 
 one of heaving bosom and quivering shoulders. To 
 hide it, she moved restlessly, changing her position 
 somewhat, and glancing about her. 
 
 "Not much farther to go," she remarked; "won t 
 they be surprised to find you carrying me into camp 
 like this? I wonder if Betty came this way, or if 
 they found her the little vixen! There is only one 
 more hill to cross until we reach camp is there not " 
 
 "Only one more." 
 
 "And both Mowitza and yourself will need a good 
 rest when we get there," she remarked. "Your arm 
 must feel paralyzed. Do you know I was just think 
 ing if you had found me dead in that gulch, you would 
 have had to carry me back over this trail, just like 
 
UNDER THE CHINOOK MOON 85 
 
 this. Ugh! What a dismal ride, carrying a dead 
 woman!" 
 
 His arm closed around her quickly, and he drew a 
 deep breath as he looked at her. 
 
 "I don t know," he said in a terse way, as if through 
 shut teeth; "perhaps it wouldn t have been so dismal, 
 for I might never have come back. I might have staid 
 there with you." 
 
 She could see his eves plainly enough when he looked 
 at her like that ; even the shadows could not cover their 
 warmth; they left little to be expressed in words, and 
 neither attempted any. Her face turned away from 
 him a little, but her hand slipped into the clasp of his 
 fingers, and so they rode on in silence. 
 
 The brow of the last hill was reached. Down below 
 them could be seen the faint light from the camp- 
 fire, and for an instant Mowitza was halted for 
 a breathing-spell ere she began the descent. The girl 
 glanced down toward the fire-light, and then up to his 
 face. 
 
 "You can rest now," she said, with the old quizzical 
 smile about her lips, even while her fingers closed on his 
 own. "There is the camp; alta nika wake tsolo" (now 
 you no longer wander in the dark) . 
 
 But there was no answering smile on his face not 
 even at the pleasure of the language that at times had 
 seemed a tacit bond between them. He only looked 
 at her in the curious way she had grown accustomed to 
 in him, and said : 
 
 "The light down there is for you; I don t belong to 
 it. Just try and remember that after after you are 
 safe with your folks." 
 
 " I shall remember a great deal," returned the girl in 
 her independent tone; " among other things, the man 
 
86 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 who brought me back to them. Now, why don t you 
 say, Just as you like, Miss? You ought to to be 
 natural." 
 
 But her raillery brought no more words from him. 
 His face had again its sombre, serious look, and in 
 silence he guided Mowitza s feet down toward the glow- 
 light. Once a puff of wind sent the girl s hair blowing 
 across her face, and he smoothed it back carefully that 
 he might see her eyes in the moonlight; but the half- 
 caress in the movement was as if given to a child. All 
 the quick warmth was gone from his eyes and speech 
 after that one comprehensive outbreak, and the girl 
 was puzzled at the change that had come in its stead. 
 He was so gentle, but so guarded the touch even of 
 his fingers on her shoulder was tremulous, as if with 
 the weight of resistance forced into them. She did 
 not feel like laughing any longer, after they began the 
 descent of the hill. His manner had impressed her 
 too strongly with the feeling of some change to come 
 with the end of that ride and the eventful moonlight 
 night, but no words came to her; but her hand remained 
 in his of its own accord, not because it was held there, 
 and she lay very quiet, wondering if he would not 
 speak would say nothing more to her ere they joined 
 the others, to whom they were moving nearer at every 
 step. 
 
 He did not. Once his fingers closed convulsively 
 over her own. His eyes straight ahead caused her 
 to glance in that direction, and she saw Tillie and 
 Hardy clearly, in the moonlight, walking together 
 hand-in-hand down toward the glow of the camp-fire. 
 On a ledge of rock that jutted out clear from the 
 shadowy brush, they lingered for an instant. The soft 
 blue light and the silence made them look a little ghostly 
 
UNDER THE CHINOOK MOON 87 
 
 a tryst of spirits as the tall shoulders drooped 
 forward with circling arms into which Tillie crept, 
 reaching upward until their faces met. The eyes of 
 those two on horseback turned involuntarily toward 
 each other at the sight of those married lovers, but 
 there was no echo of a caress in their own movements, 
 unless it was the caress of a glance ; and in a few moments 
 more they were within speaking distance of the 
 camp. 
 
 "We are here," he said slowly, as Hardy and his 
 wife, hearing the steps of the horse, hurried toward 
 them. 
 
 "Yes, I know," she whispered. 
 
 It was their good-bye to the night. 
 
 A neigh from the renegade Betty was answered by 
 Mowitza, and in an instant all the group about the 
 camp was alive to the fact of the return. But the 
 eager questions received few answers, for Genesee 
 handed Rachel into the arms of Hardy, and said to 
 Tillie: 
 
 "Don t let them pester her with questions to-night, 
 Mrs. Hardy. She has no injuries, I guess, only she s 
 used up and needs rest badly. I found her ready to 
 faint in a gulch back from the trail about three 
 miles. She ll be all right to-morrow, I reckon; only 
 see that she gets a good rest and isn t bothered 
 to-night." 
 
 No need to tell them that. Their gladness at her 
 safe return made them all consideration. 
 
 Genesee and Mowitza also came in for a share of their 
 solicitude, and the former for a quantity of thanks that 
 met with rather brusque response. 
 
 "That s nothing to thank a man for," he said a little 
 impatiently, as the Houghtons were contributing their 
 
88 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 share. "I reckon you don t know much about the 
 duties of a scout or guide in this country, or you would 
 know it was my business to go for the lady just as 
 it would be to hunt up lost stock, if any had strayed 
 off. There wasn t much of a trick in finding her 
 Betty left too clear a trail; and I reckon it s time we 
 all turned in to sleep instead of talking about it." 
 
 In the morning Rachel awoke refreshed and expect 
 ant in a vague way. The incidents of the night before 
 came crowding to her memory, sending the blood tin 
 gling through her veins as she thought of their meet 
 ing; of the ride; of those few significant words of his, 
 and his face as he had spoken. She wondered at her 
 self accepting it all so dreamily as if in a lethargy. 
 She was far from a stupor at the thought of it 
 in the light of the early day, as she watched the blue 
 mists rising up, up, from the valleys. Was he 
 watching them, too? Was he thinking as she was of 
 that ride and its revelations? Would he meet her 
 again with that queer, distant manner of his? Would 
 he 
 
 Her ruminations were cut short by Tillie, who thought 
 to awaken her with the proffer of a cup of hot coffee, 
 and who was surprised to find her awake. 
 
 "Yes, I am awake, and hungry, too," she said briskly; 
 "you did not give me nearly enough to eat last night. 
 Is breakfast all ready? I wonder how poor Mowitza 
 is this morning after her heavy load. Say, Tillie, did 
 we look altogether riduculous? " 
 
 " No, you did not," said Tillie stoutly. "It was won 
 derfully kind of him to bring you so carefully. I always 
 said he had a great deal of heart in him; but he is gone, 
 already." 
 
 "Gone! where?" And the cup of coffee was set m 
 
UNDER THE CHINOOK MOON. 89 
 
 the grass as if the hunger and thirst were forgotten. 
 "Where?" 
 
 "We don t know," said Tillie helplessly. "Clara 
 says back to his tribe; but she always has something 
 like that to say of him. It s the queerest thing; even 
 Hen is puzzled. He was wakened this morning about 
 dawn by Genesee, who told him his time was up with 
 the party; that we could follow the trail alone well 
 enough now; and that he had to join some Indian 
 hunters away north of this to-night, so had to make 
 an early start. I guess he forgot to speak of it last 
 night, or else was too tired. He left a good-bye for 
 Hen to deliver for him to the rest of us, and a 
 klahowya to you." 
 
 "Did he?" asked the girl with a queer little laugh. 
 "That was thoughtful of him. May his hunting be 
 prosperous and his findings be great." 
 
 "Dear me!" said Tillie weakly, "you are just as care 
 less about it as Clara, and I did think you would be 
 sorry to lose him. I am, and so is Hen; but evidently 
 persuasions were of no avail. He said he could not 
 even wait for breakfast; that he should have gone last 
 night. And the queerest thing about it is that he 
 utterly refused any money from Hen, on the plea that 
 the whole affair had been a pleasure ride, not work at 
 all; and so he is gone." 
 
 "And so he is gone," said the girl, mimicking her 
 tone; "what a tragical manner over a very prosaic cir 
 cumstance! Tillie, my child, don t be so impressible, 
 or I shall have to tell Hen that our guide has taken your 
 affections in lieu of greenbacks." 
 
 "Rachel!" 
 
 "Matilda!" said the other mildly, looking teas- 
 ingly over the rim of the coffee-cup she was slowly 
 
90 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 emptying. "Don t startle me with that tone before 
 breakfast, and don t grieve over the exodus of Mr 
 Genesee Jack. I shall take on my own shoulders the 
 duties of guide in his stead, so you need not worry 
 about getting home safely; and in the meantime I am 
 woefully hungry." 
 
 She was still a little dizzy as she rose to her feet, 
 and very stiff and sore from her ride; but, joking over 
 her rheumatic joints, she limped over to where the 
 breakfast was spread on a flat rock. 
 
 "There is one way in which I may not be able to 
 take Mr. Genesee Jack s place, in your estimation," 
 she said lowly to Tillie as they were about to join the 
 others. "I shall not be able to tell you stories of Indian 
 conjurors or sing you Indian love-songs. I can t do 
 anything but whistle." 
 
 "Hen, she wasn t the least bit interested about him 
 leaving like that!" said Tillie confidentially to her 
 husband a few hours later. "She never does seem to 
 have much feeling for anything; but after he brought 
 her back so carefully, and after the chumminess there 
 was between them for a while, one would naturally 
 think 
 
 "Of course one would," agreed her husband laugh 
 ingly, "especially if one was an affectionate, match 
 making little person like yourself, and altogether a 
 woman. But Rache " and his glance wandered ahead 
 to where the slim figure of the girl was seen stubbornly 
 upright on Betty "well, Rache never was like the 
 rest of the girls at home, and I fancy she will never under 
 stand much of the sentimental side of life. She is too 
 level-headed and practical." 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE STORM AND AFTER. 
 
 Olapitski yahka ships. 
 
 Two weeks later storm-clouds were flying low over 
 the Kootenai hills and chasing shadows over the faces 
 of two equestrians who looked at each other in comic 
 dismay. 
 
 "Jim, we are lost ! " stated the one briefly. 
 
 "I allow we are, Miss Hardy," answered the other, 
 a boy of about fifteen, who gazed rather dubiously back 
 over the way they had come and ahead where a half- 
 blind trail led up along the mountain. 
 
 "Suppose we pitch pennies to see what direction to 
 take," suggested the girl; but the boy only laughed. 
 
 "Haven t much time for that, Miss," he answered. 
 "Look how them clouds is crowdin us; we ve got to 
 hunt cover or get soaked. This trail goes somewhere; 
 may be to an Injun village. I allow we d better freeze 
 to it." 
 
 "All right. We ll allow that we had," agreed Miss 
 Hardy. "Betty, get around here, and get up this hill! 
 I know every step is taking us farther from the ranch, 
 but this seems the only direction in which a trail leads. 
 Jim, how far do you suppose we are from 
 home ? 
 
 "Bout fifteen miles, I guess," said the boy, looking 
 blue. 
 
 "And we haven t found the lost sheep?" 
 
 "No, we haven t." 
 
92 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 And we have got lost ? 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Jim, I don t believe we are a howling success as 
 sheep farmers." 
 
 "I don t care a darn about the sheep just now," 
 declared Jim. "What I want to know is where we are 
 to sleep to-night." 
 
 "Oh, you want too much," she answered briskly; 
 "I am content to sit up all night, if I only can find a 
 dry place to stay in do you hear that?" as the thunder 
 that had grumbled in the distance now sounded its 
 threats close above them. 
 
 "Yes, I hear it, and it means business, too. I wish 
 we were at the end of this trail," he said, urging his horse 
 up through the scrubby growth of laurel. 
 
 The darkness was falling so quickly that it was not 
 an easy matter to keep the trail; and the wind hiss 
 ing through the trees made an open space a thing to 
 wish for. Jim, who was ahead, gave a shout as he 
 reached the summit of the hill where the trail 
 crossed it. 
 
 "We re right!" he yelled that she might hear his 
 voice above the thunder and the wind; "there s some 
 sort of a shanty across there by a big pond; it s half a 
 mile away, an the rain s a-comin come on!" 
 
 And on they went in a wild run to keep ahead of the 
 rain-cloud that was pelting its load at them with the 
 force of hail. The girl had caught a glimpse of the white 
 sheen of a lake or pond ahead of them; the shanty she 
 did not wait to pick out from the gloom, but followed 
 blindly after Jim, at a breakneck gait, until they both 
 brought up short, in the shadow of a cabin in the edge 
 of the timber above the lake. 
 
 Jump off quick and in with you ! called Jim ; and 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 93 
 
 without the ceremony of knocking, she pushed open 
 the door and dived into the interior. 
 
 It was almost as dark as night. She stumbled around 
 until she found a sort of bed in one corner, and sat 
 down on it, breathless and wet. The rain was coming 
 down in torrents, and directly Jim, with the saddles 
 in his arms, came plunging in, shaking himself like a 
 water-spaniel. 
 
 "Great guns! But it s comin down solid," he gasped; 
 where are you ? 
 
 "Here I ve found a bed, so somebody lives here. 
 Have you any matches?" 
 
 "I allow I have," answered Jim, "if they only ain t 
 wet no, by George, they re all right." 
 
 The brief blaze of the match showed him the fire 
 place and a pile of wood beside it, and a great osier 
 basket of broken bark. "Say, Miss Hardy, we ve 
 struck great luck," he announced while on his knees, 
 quickly starting a fire and fanning it into a blaze with 
 his hat; "I wonder who lives here and where 
 they are. Stickin to that old trail was a pay streak 
 hey?" 
 
 In the blaze of the fire the room assumed quite a 
 respectable appearance. It was not a shanty, as Jim 
 had at first supposed, but a substantial log-cabin, fur 
 nished in a way to show constant and recent occupation. 
 
 A table made like a wide shelf jutted from the wall 
 under the one square window; a bed and two 
 chairs that bespoke home manufacture were covered 
 by bear-skins; on the floor beside the bed was a 
 buffalo-robe; and a large locked chest stood against 
 the wall. Beside the fire-place was a cupboard with 
 cooking and table utensils, and around the walls hung 
 trophies of the hunt. A bow and quiver of arrows and 
 
04 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 a knotted silken sash hung on one wooden peg, and 
 added to a pair of moccasins in the corner, gave an 
 Indian suggestion to the occupancy of the cabin, but 
 the furnishing in general was decidedly that of a white 
 person; to the rafters were fastened some beaver-paws 
 and bear-claws, and the skins of three rattlesnakes were 
 pendent against the wall. 
 
 "Well, this is a queer go! ain t it? remarked Jim 
 as he walked around taking a survey of the room. 
 "I d like to know who it all belongs to. Did you ever 
 hear folks about here speak of old Davy Mac- 
 Dougall?" 
 
 "Yes, I have," answered the girl, sitting down on 
 the buffalo-robe before the fire, to dry her shoulders at 
 the blaze. 
 
 "Well, I believe this is his cabin, and we are about 
 ten mile from home," decided the boy. "I didn t 
 think we d strayed as far north as Scot s Mountain, but 
 I allow this is it." 
 
 "Well, I wish he would come home and get supper," 
 said the girl, easily adapting herself to any groove 
 into which she happened to fall; "but perhaps we should 
 have sent him word of our visit. What did you do with 
 the horses, Jim?" 
 
 "Put em in a shed at the end o the house a 
 bang-up place, right on the other side o this fire-place. 
 Whoever lives here keeps either a norse or a 
 cow." 
 
 "I hope it s a cow, and that there s some milk to 
 be had. Jimmy, I wonder if there is anything to eat in 
 that cupboard." 
 
 "I ve been thinkin o that myself," said Jim in answer 
 to that insinuating speech. 
 
 "Suppose you do something besides think suppose 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER, 95 
 
 you look," suggested the more unscrupulous of the 
 foragers ; " I m hungry. 
 
 "So am I," acknowledged her confederate; "you an* 
 me is most alike about our eatin , ain t we? Mrs. 
 Houghton said yesterday I had a terrible appe 
 tite." 
 
 The boy at once began making an examination of 
 the larder, wondering, as he did so, what the girl was 
 laughing at. 
 
 The rain was coming down in torrents through the 
 blackness of the night; now and then the lightning 
 would vie with the fire in lighting up the room, while 
 the thunder seemed at home in that valley of the moun 
 tain, for its volleys of sound and their echoes never 
 ceased. 
 
 Small wonder that anyone s house would seem a 
 home to the two, or that they would have no comptmc- 
 tion in taking possession of it. 
 
 "There s coffee here somewhere, I can smell it," 
 announced Jim; "an here s rice an crackers, an corn- 
 meal, an dried raspberries, an potatoes, an yes, here s 
 the coffee! Say, Miss Hardy, we ll have a regular 
 feast!" 
 
 "I should say so!" remarked that lady, eyeing Jim s 
 "find" approvingly; "I think there is a bed of coals here 
 at this side of the fire-place that will just fit about six 
 of those potatoes can you eat three, Jim?" 
 
 "Three will do if they re big enough," said Jim, look 
 ing dubiously at the potatoes; "but these ain t as good- 
 sized as some I ve seen." 
 
 "Then give me two more; that makes five for you and 
 three for me." 
 
 Hadn t you better shove in a couple more?" asked 
 Jim with a dash of liberality "You know MacDougall 
 
96 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 may come back hungry, an then we can spare him two 
 that makes ten to roast." 
 
 "Ten it is!" said the girl, burying two more in the 
 ashes as the share of their host. "Jim, see if there is 
 any water in here to make coffee with." 
 
 4 Yes, a big jar full," reported the steward; "an here 
 is a little crock half full of eggs prairie-chicken, I guess 
 say, can you make a pone?" 
 
 "I think I can;" and the cook at once rolled up the 
 sleeves of her riding-dress, and Jimmy brought out 
 the eggs and some bits of salt meat evidently bear- 
 meat that was hung from the ceiling of the cupboard; 
 at once there began a great beating of eggs and stir 
 ring up of a corn pone; some berries were set on the 
 coals to stew in a tin-cup, the water put to boil for 
 the coffee, and an iron skillet with a lid utilized 
 as an oven; and the fragrance of the preparing 
 eatables filled the little room and prompted the hungry 
 lifting of lids many times ere the fire had time to do 
 its work. 
 
 "That pone s a dandy! " said Jim, taking a peep at 
 it; "it s gettin as brown as as your hair; an them 
 berries is done, an ain t it time to put in the coffee?" 
 
 Acting on this hint, the coffee, beaten into a froth 
 with an egg, had the boiling water poured over it, and 
 set bubbling and aromatic on the red coals. 
 
 "You mayn t be much use to find strayed-off stock," 
 said Jim deliberately, with his head on one side, as he 
 watched the apparent ease with which the girl managed 
 her primitive cooking apparatus; "but I tell you you 
 ain t no slouch when it comes to gettin grub ready, 
 and gettin it quick." 
 
 "Better keep your compliments until you have 
 tried to eat some of the cooking," suggested Miss 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 97 
 
 Hardy, on her knees before the fire. "I believe the 
 pone is done." 
 
 "Then we ll dish-up in double-quick," said Jin?, 
 handing her two tin pans for the pone and potatoes. 
 "We ll have to set the berries on in the tin by George! 
 what s that?" 
 
 "That" was the neigh of Betty in the shed by the 
 chimney, and an answering one from somewhere out 
 in the darkness. Through the thunder and the rain 
 they had heard no steps, but Jim s eyes were big with 
 suspense as he listened. 
 
 "My horse has broke loose from the shed," he said 
 angrily, reaching for his hat; "and how the dickens 
 I m to find him in this storm I don t know." 
 
 "Don t be so quick to give yourself a shower-bath," 
 suggested the girl on the floor; "he won t stray far off, 
 and may be glad to come back to the shed; and then 
 again," she added, laughing, "it may be MacDougall." 
 Jim looked rather blankly at the supper on the 
 hearth and the girl who seemed so much at home on 
 the buffalo-robe. 
 
 "By George! it might be," he said slowly; and for 
 the first time the responsibility of their confiscations 
 loomed up before him. "Say," he added uneasily, 
 "have you any money?" 
 
 "Money?" she repeated inquiringly; and then seeing 
 the drift of his thoughts, "Oh, no, I haven t a cent." 
 
 "They say MacDougall is an old crank," he insin 
 uated, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, to 
 see what effect the statement would have on her. But 
 she only smiled in an indifferent way. "An an ef he 
 wants the money cash down for this lay-out" and he 
 glanced comprehensively over the hearth "well, I 
 
 don t know what to say." 
 7 J 
 
98 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "That s easily managed," said the girl coolly; "you 
 can leave your horse in pawn." 
 
 "An foot it home ten miles? not if I know it!" 
 burst out Jim; "an besides it s Hardy s horse." 
 
 "Well, then, leave the saddle, and ride home bare 
 back." 
 
 "I guess not!" protested Jim, with the same aggres 
 sive tone; "that s my own saddle." 
 
 After this unanswerable reason, there was an expect 
 ant silence in the room for a little while, that was 
 finally broken by Jim saying ruefully: 
 
 "If that is MacDougall, he ll have to have them two 
 potatoes." 
 
 Rachel s risible tendencies were not proof against 
 this final fear of Jim s, and her laughter drowned his 
 grumblings, and also footsteps without, of which neither 
 heard a sound until the door was flung open and a man 
 walked into the room. 
 
 Jim looked at him with surprised eyes, and managed 
 to stammer, "How are you?" for the man was so far 
 from his idea of old Davy MacDougall that he was 
 staggered. 
 
 But Miss Hardy only looked up, laughing, from her 
 position by the fire, and drew the coffee-pot from the 
 coals with one hand, while she reached the other to the 
 new-comer. 
 
 "Klahowya! Mr. Jack," she said easily; "got wet, 
 didn t you? You are just in time for supper." 
 
 "You!" was all he said; and Jim thought they were 
 both crazy, from the way the man crossed the room 
 to her and took her one hand in both his as if he never 
 intended letting it go or saying another word, content 
 only to hold her hand and look at her. And Miss 
 Rachel Hardy s eyes were not idle either. 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 99 
 
 "Yes, of course it s I," she said, slipping her hand 
 away after a little, and dropping her face that had 
 flushed pink in the firelight; "I don t look like a ghost, 
 do I ? You would not find a ghost at such prosaic work 
 as getting supper." 
 
 "Getting supper?" he said, stepping back a bit and 
 glancing around. For the first time he seemed to 
 notice Jim, or have any remembrance of anything but 
 the girl herself. "You mean that you two have been 
 getting supper alone?" 
 
 "Yes, Jim and L Mr. Jack, this is my friend Jim, 
 from the ranch. We tried to guide each other after 
 sheep, and both got lost; and as you did not get here 
 in time to cook supper, of course we had to do it 
 alone." 
 
 "But I mean was there no one else here?" -he still 
 looked a little dazed and perplexed, his eyes roving 
 uneasily about the room "I a a young Indian " 
 
 "No!" interrupted the girl eagerly. "Do you mean 
 the Indian boy who brought me that black bear s skin? 
 I knew you had sent it, though he would not say a word 
 looked at me as if he did not understand Chinook 
 when I spoke." 
 
 "May be he didn t understand yours," remarked 
 Jimmy, edging past her to rake the potatoes out of the 
 ashes. 
 
 "But he wasn t here when we came," continued Miss 
 Hardy. "The house was deserted and in darkness when 
 we found it, just as the storm came on in earnest." 
 
 "And the fire?" said Genesee. 
 
 "There was none," answered the boy, "The ashes 
 were stone-cold, I noticed it; so your Injun hadn t 
 had any fire all day." 
 
 "All day!" repeated the man, going to the door and 
 
100 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 looking out. "That means a long tramp, and to 
 night 
 
 "And to-night is a bad one for a tramp back," added 
 Jim. 
 
 "Yes," agreed Genesee, "that s what I was thinking." 
 
 If there was a breath of relief in the words, both 
 were too occupied with the potatoes in the ashes to 
 notice it. He shut the door directly as the wind sent 
 a gust of rain inside, and then turned again to the 
 pirates at the fire-place. 
 
 "What did you find to cook?" he asked, glancing at 
 the "lay-out," as Jim called it. "I haven t been here 
 since yesterday, and am afraid you didn t find much 
 any fresh meat?" 
 
 Miss Hardy shook her head. 
 
 "Salt meat and eggs, that s all," she said. 
 
 "Not by a long shot it ain t, Mr. Mr Jack," said 
 Jim, contradicting her flatly. "She s got a first-class 
 supper; an by George! she can make more out o nothin 
 than any woman I ever seen." In his enthusiasm 
 over Rachel he was unconscious of the slur on their 
 host s larder. "I never knowed she was such a rattlin 
 cook!" 
 
 "I know I have never been given credit for my every 
 day, wearing qualities," said the girl, without looking 
 up from the eggs she was scrambling in the bake-oven 
 of a few minutes before. The words may have been to 
 Jim, but by the man s eyes he evidently thought they 
 were at Genesee such a curious, pained look as that 
 with which he watched her every movement, every 
 curve of form and feature, that shone in the light of the 
 fire. Once she saw the look, and her own eyes dropped 
 under it for a moment, but that independence of hers 
 would not let it be for long. 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 101 
 
 "Do you want a share of our supper ?V, : sfrf! j 
 looking up at him quizzically. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, but his steady, curious- gaze* &t 
 her showed that his thoughts were not of the question 
 or answer. 
 
 Not so Jim. That young gentleman eyed dubiously 
 first the lay-out and then Genesee s physique, trying 
 to arrive at a mental estimate of his capacity and the 
 probable division of the pone and potatoes. 
 
 "How about that saddle, now, Jim?" asked the girl. 
 Whereupon Jim began a pantomime enjoining silence, 
 back of the chair of the man, who appeared more like 
 a guest than host perhaps because it was so hard to 
 realize that it was really his hearth where that girl 
 sat as if at home. She noticed his preoccupation, and 
 remarked dryly: 
 
 "You really don t deserve a share of our cooking 
 after the way you deserted us before! not even a 
 klahowya when you took the trail." 
 
 "You re right, I reckon; but don t you be the one 
 to blame me for that," he answered, in a tone that 
 made the command a sort of plea; and Miss Hardy 
 industriously gave her attention to the supper. 
 
 "It s all ready," announced Jim, as he juggled a pan 
 of hot pone from one hand to another on the way to 
 the table. "Ouch! but it s hot! Say, wouldn t some 
 fresh butter go great with this!" 
 
 "Didn t you find any?" asked Genesee, waking to the 
 practical things of life at Jim s remark. 
 
 "Find any? No! Is there any?" asked that little 
 gourmand, with hope and doubt chasing each other over 
 his rather thin face. 
 
 "I don t know there ought to be; " and lifting a loose 
 board in the floor by the cupboard, he drew forth a 
 
102 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 reed basket, and on a smooth stone in 
 the bottom lay a large piece of. yellow butter, around 
 whic K Jim -performed a sort of dance of adoration. 
 
 What a supper that was, in the light of the pitch- 
 pine and the fierce accompaniment of the outside 
 tempest ! Jim vowed that never were there potatoes so 
 near perfection, in their brown jackets and their steam 
 ing, powdery flakes; and the yellow pone, and the 
 amber coffee, and the cool slices of butter that Gene- 
 see told them was from an Indian village thirty miles 
 north. And to the table were brought such tremendous 
 appetites! at least by the cook and steward of the 
 party. And above all, what a delicious atmosphere of 
 unreality pervaded the whole thing! Again and again 
 Genesee s eyes seemed to say, "Can it be you?" and 
 grew warm as her quizzical glances told him it could 
 be no one else. 
 
 As the night wore on, and the storm continued, he 
 brought in armfuls of wood from the shed without, 
 and in the talk round the fire his manner grew more 
 assured more at home with the surroundings that were 
 yet his own. Long they talked, until Jim, unable to 
 think of any more questions to ask of silver-mining and 
 bear-hunting, slipped down in the corner, with his head 
 on a saddle, and went fast asleep. 
 
 "I ll sit up and keep the fire going," said Genesee, 
 at this sign of the late hour; "but you had better get 
 what rest you can on that bunk there you ll need it 
 for your ride in the morning." 
 
 "In the morning!" repeated the girl coolly; that 
 sounds as if you are determined our visit shall end as 
 soon as possible, Mr. Genesee Jack." 
 
 "Don t talk like that!" he said, looking across at 
 her; "you don t know anything about it." And getting 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 103 
 
 up hastily, he walked back and forward across the 
 room; once stopping suddenly, as if with some deter 
 mination to speak, and then, as she looked up at him, 
 his courage seemed to vanish, and he turned his face 
 away from her and walked to the door. 
 
 The storm had stilled its shrieks, and was dying 
 away in misty moans down the dip in the hills, taking 
 the rain with it. The darkness was intense as he held 
 the door open and looked into the black vault, where 
 not a glimmer of a star or even a gray cloud could be 
 seen. 
 
 "It s much nicer in-doors," decided Miss Hardy, mov 
 ing her chair against the chimney-piece, and propping 
 herself there to rest. 
 
 "Jim had better lie on the bed, he is so sleepy, and 
 I am not at all so; this chair is good enough for me, if 
 you don t mind." 
 
 He picked the sleeping boy up without a word, and 
 laid him on the couch of bear-skins without waking 
 him. 
 
 "There isn t much I do mind," he said, as he came 
 back to the fire-place; "that is, if you are only com 
 fortable." 
 
 "I am very much so," she answered, "and would 
 be entirely so if you only seemed a little more at home. 
 As it is, I have felt all evening as if we are upsetting 
 your peace of mind in some way not as if we are 
 unwelcome, mind you, but just as if you are worried 
 about us." 
 
 "That so?" he queried, not looking at her; "that s 
 curious. I didn t know I was looking so, and I m sure 
 you and the boy are mighty welcome to my cabin or 
 anything in the world I can do for you." 
 
 There was no mistaking the heartiness of the man s 
 
104 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 words, and she smiled her gratitude from the niche in 
 the corner where, with her back toward the blaze, only 
 one side of her face was outlined by the light. 
 
 "Very well," she said amicably; "you can do some 
 thing for me just now open the door for a little. while; 
 the room seems close with being shut up so tight from 
 the rain and then make yourself comfortable there 
 on that buffalo-robe before the fire. I remember your 
 lounging habits in the camp, and a chair doesn t seem 
 to quite suit you. Yes, that looks much better, as if you 
 were at home again." 
 
 Stretched on the robe, with her saddle on which to 
 prop up his shoulders, he lay, looking in the red coals, 
 as if forgetful of her speech or herself. But at last he 
 repeated her words: 
 
 "At home again! Do you know there s a big lot of 
 meaning in those words, Miss, especially to a man 
 who hasn t known what home meant for years? and 
 to-night, with white people in my cabin and a white 
 woman to make things look natural, I tell you it makes 
 me remember what home used to be, in a way I have 
 not experienced for many a day." 
 
 "Then I m glad I strayed off into the storm and 
 your cabin," said the girl promptly; "because a man 
 shouldn t forget his home and home-folks, especially 
 if the memories would be good ones. People need all 
 the good memories they can keep with them in this 
 world; they re a sort of steering apparatus in a life-boat, 
 and help a man make a straight journey toward his 
 future." 
 
 "That s so," he said, and put his hand up over his 
 eyes as if to shield them from the heat of the fire. He 
 was lying full in the light, while she was in the 
 shadow. He could scarcely see her features, with her 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER 105 
 
 head drawn back against the wall like that. And 
 the very fact of knowing herself almost unseen a 
 voice, only, speaking to him gave her courage to say 
 things as she could not have said them at another 
 time. 
 
 Do you know," she said, as she sat there watching 
 him with his eyes covered by his hand "do you know 
 that once or twice when we have been together I have 
 wished I was a man, that I could say some things to 
 you that a woman or a girl that is, most girls can t 
 say very well? One of the things is that I should be 
 glad to hear of you getting out of this life here ; there is 
 something wrong about it to you something that 
 doesn t suit you; I don t know what it is, but I can 
 see you are not the man you might be and ought to 
 be. I ve thought of it often since I saw you last, and 
 sometimes yes I ve been sorry for my ugly manner 
 toward you. White people, when they meet in these 
 out-of-the-way places in the world, ought to be as so 
 many brothers and sisters to each other; and there 
 were times, often, when I might have helped you to 
 feel at home among us when I might have been more 
 kind." 
 
 "More kind? Good God!" whispered the man. 
 
 "And I made up my mind," continued the girl cour 
 ageously, "that if I ever saw you again, I was going tc 
 speak plainly to you about yourself and the dissatisfac 
 tion with yourself that you spoke of that day in the 
 laurel thicket. I don t know what the cause of it is, 
 and I don t want to, but if it is any wrong that you ve 
 done in in the past, a bad way to atone is by bury 
 ing oneself alive, along with all energy and ambition. 
 Now, you may think me presuming to say these things 
 to you like this; but I ve been wishing somebody would 
 
106 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 say them to you, and there seems no one here to do it 
 but me, and so 
 
 She stopped, not so much because she had finished 
 as because she felt herself failing utterly in saying the 
 things she had really intended to say. It all sounded 
 very flat and commonplace in her own ears not at all 
 the words to carry any influence to anyone, and so she 
 stopped helplessly and looked at him. 
 
 "I m glad it is you that says them," he answered, 
 still without looking at her, "because you ve got the 
 stuff in you for such a good, square friend to a man 
 the sort of woman a person could go to in trouble, 
 even if they hadn t the passport of a saint to take with 
 them ; and I wish I wish I could tell you to-night some 
 thing of the things that you ve started on. If I could " 
 he stopped a moment. 
 
 "I suppose any other girl " she began in a depre 
 cating tone ; but he dropped his hand from his eyes and 
 looked at her. 
 
 "You re not like other girls," he said with a great 
 fondness in his eyes, "and that s just the reason I feel 
 like telling you all. You re not like any girl I ve ever 
 known. I ve often felt like speaking to you as if you 
 were a boy an almighty aggravatin slip of a boy some 
 times; and yet 
 
 He lay silent for a little while, so long that the girl 
 wondered if he had forgotten what he was to try to tell 
 her. The warmth after the rain had made them neglect 
 the fire, and its blaze had dropped low and lower, until 
 she was entirely in the shadow only across the hearth 
 and his form did the light fall. 
 
 "And yet," he continued, as if there had been no 
 break in his speech, "there s been many a night I ve 
 dreamed of seeing you sit here by this fire-place just 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 107 
 
 as I ve seen you to-night; just as bright like and con 
 tented, as if all the roughness and poorness of it was 
 nothing to you, or else a big joke for you to make fun 
 of; and then well, at such times you didn t seem like 
 a boy, but " 
 
 Again he stopped. 
 
 "Never mind what I m like," suggested the girl; 
 that doesn t matter. I guess everyone seems a different 
 person with different people; but you wanted to tell 
 me something of yourself, didn t you? " 
 
 "That s what I m trying to get at," he answered, 
 "but it isn t easy. I ve got to go back so far to start 
 at the beginning -back ten years, to reckon up mis 
 takes. That s a big job, my girl my girl." 
 
 The lingering repetition of those words opened the 
 girl s eyes wide with a sudden memory of that moon 
 lit night in the gulch. Then she had not fancied those 
 whispered words! they had been uttered, and by his 
 voice; and those fancied tears of Tillie s, and 
 the kisses ! 
 
 So thick came those thronging memories, that she 
 did not notice his long, dreamy silence. She was think 
 ing of that night, and all the sweet, vague suggestion 
 in it that had vanished with the new day. She was 
 comparing its brief charm with this meeting of to-night 
 that was ignoring it so effectually; that was as the 
 beginning of a new knowledge of each other, with the 
 commonplace and practical as a basis. 
 
 Her reverie was broken sharply by the sight of a 
 form that suddenly, silently, appeared in the doorway. 
 Her first impulse of movement or speech was checked 
 as the faint, flickering light shifted across the visage 
 of the new-comer, and she recognized the Indian girl 
 who had hidden behind the ponies. A smile was on 
 
108 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 the dark face as she saw Genesee lying there, asleep he 
 must have looked from the door, and utterly oblivious 
 of her entrance. Her soft moccasins left no sound as 
 she crossed the floor and dropped down beside him, 
 laying one arm about his throat. He clasped the hand 
 quickly and opened his half -shut eyes. Did he, for 
 an instant, mistake it for another hand that had slipped 
 into his that one night? Whatever he thought, his 
 face was like that of death as he met the eyes of the 
 Indian girl. 
 
 "Talapa!" he muttered, and his fingers closing on 
 her wrist must have twisted it painfully, by the quick 
 change in her half-Indian, half-French face. He seemed 
 hardly conscious of it. Just then he looked at her as 
 if she was in reality that Indian deity of the inferno 
 from whom her name was derived. 
 
 "Hyak nika kelapie!" (I returned quickly), she 
 whined, as if puzzled at her reception, and darting furi 
 ous sidelong glances from the black eyes that had the 
 width between them that is given to serpents. "Nah!" 
 she ejaculated angrily, as no answer was made to her; 
 and freeing her hand, she rose to her feet. She had not 
 once seen the white girl in the shadow. Coming from 
 the darkness into the light, her eyes were blinded to all 
 but the one plainly seen figure. But as she rose to her 
 feet, and Genesee with her, Rachel stooped to the pile 
 of wood beside her, and throwing some bits of pine on 
 the fire, sent the sparks flying upward, and a second 
 later a blaze of light flooded the room. 
 
 The action was a natural, self-possessed one it took 
 a great deal to upset Miss Hardy s equanimity and 
 she coolly sat down again facing the astonished Indian 
 girl and Genesee; but her face was very white, though 
 she said not a word. 
 
There is no need for me to try to remember the beginning, is 
 there?" Page IOQ. 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 109 
 
 "There is no need for me to try to remember the 
 beginning, is there," said Genesee bitterly, looking at 
 her with sombre, moody eyes, "since the end has told 
 its own story? This is my my 
 
 Did he say wife? She never could be quite sure of 
 the word, but she knew he tried to say it. 
 
 His voice sounded smothered, unnatural, as it had 
 that day in the laurel thicket when he had spoken of 
 locking himself out from a heaven. She understood 
 what he meant now. 
 
 "No, there is no need," she said, as quietly as she 
 could, though her heart seemed choking her and her 
 hands trembled. "I hope all will come right for you 
 sometime, and I understand, now." 
 
 Did she really understand, even then, or know the 
 moral lie the man had told, the lie that, in his abase 
 ment, he felt was easier to have her believe than the 
 truth? 
 
 Talapa stood drying her moccasins at the fire, as if 
 not understanding their words; but the slow, cunning 
 smile crept back to her lips as she recognized the white 
 girl, and no doubt remembered that she and Genesee 
 had ridden together that day at the camp. 
 
 He picked up his hat and walked to the door, after 
 her kindly words, putting his hand out ahead of him 
 in a blind sort of way, and then stopped, saying to her 
 gently : 
 
 "Get what rest you can try to, anyway; you will 
 need it." And then, with some words in Indian to 
 Talapa, he went out into the night. 
 
 His words to Talapa were in regard to their guests 
 comfort, for that silent individual at once began prepara 
 tions for bed-making on her behalf, until Rachel told 
 her in Chinook that she would sleep in her chair where 
 
110 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 she was. And there she sat through the night, feeling 
 that the eyes of the Indian girl were never taken from 
 her as the motionless form lay rolled in a blanket on 
 the floor, much as it had rolled itself up on the grass 
 that other day. 
 
 Jim was throned in royal state, for he had the bed all 
 to himself, and in the morning opened his eyes in amaze 
 ment as he smelled the coffee and saw the Indian girl 
 moving about as if at home. 
 
 "Yes, we ve got a new cook, Jim," said. Miss 
 Hardy, from the window; "so we are out of work, you 
 and I. Sleep well?" 
 
 "Great!" said Jim, yawning widely. "Where s Mr. 
 Jack?" 
 
 "Out, somewhere," returned the girl comprehen 
 sively. She did not add that he had been out all night, 
 and Jim was too much interested with the prospect of 
 breakfast to be very curious. 
 
 He had it, as he had the bed all to himself. Miss 
 Hardy was not hungry, for a wonder, and Talapa dis 
 appeared after it was placed on the table. The girl 
 asked Jim if that was Indian etiquette, but Jim didn t 
 know what etiquette was, so he couldn t tell. 
 
 Through that long vigil of the night there had returned 
 to the girl much of her light, ironical manner; but the 
 mockery was more of herself and her own emotions 
 than aught else, for when Genesee brought the horses 
 to the door and she looked in his face, any thought 
 of jesting with him was impossible; the signs of a storm 
 were 011 him as they were on the mountains in the morn 
 ing light. 
 
 "I will guide you back to the home trail," he said as 
 he held Betty at the door for her to mount. 
 
 "Go in and get some breakfast," was all the answer 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. Ill 
 
 she made him. But he shook his head, and reached his 
 hand to help her. 
 
 "What s the matter with everyone this morning?" 
 asked Jim. "There hasn t been a bite of breakfast eaten 
 only what I got away with myself. 
 
 Genesee glanced in at the table. "Would you eat 
 nothing because it was mine?" he asked in a low tone. 
 
 "I did not because I could not," she said in the 
 same tone; and then added, good-humoredly : "Despite 
 Jim s belief in my appetite, it does go back on me 
 sometimes and this is one of the times. It s too 
 early in the morning for breakfast. Are you going 
 with us on foot?" as she noticed Mowitza, unsaddled, 
 grazing about the green turf at the edge of the tim 
 ber. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "I have not far to go," 
 
 She slipped past him, and gathering her dress up from 
 the wet grass walked over to where Mowitza browsed. 
 The beautiful mare raised her head and came over the 
 grass with long, light steps, as if recognizing the low call 
 of her visitor; and resting her head on the girl s shoulder, 
 there seemed to be a conversation between them per 
 fectly satisfactory to each; while Mowitza s owner 
 stood looking at them with a world of conflicting emo- 
 tionsjn his face* 
 
 "I have been saying good-bye to Mowitza," she 
 remarked, as she joined them and mounted Betty, "and 
 we are both disconsolate. She carried me out of danger 
 once, and I am slow to forget a favor." 
 
 It was a very matter-of-fact statement; she was a 
 matter-of-fact young woman that morning. Genesee 
 felt that she was trying to let him know her memory 
 would keep only the best of her knowledge of him. It 
 was an added debt to that which he already owed her, 
 
112 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 and he walked in silence at her horse s head, finding no 
 words to express his thoughts, and not daring to use 
 them if he had. 
 
 The valleys were wrapped in the whitest of mists as 
 they got a glimpse of them from the heights. The sun 
 was struggling through one veil only to be plunged 
 into another, and all the cedar wood was in the drip, 
 drip of tears that follow tempests. Where was all 
 that glory of the east at sunrise which those two had 
 once watched from a mountain not far from this? In 
 the east, as they looked now, there were only faint 
 streaks of lavender across the sky of lavender the color 
 of mourning. 
 
 He directed Jim the way of the trail, and then turned 
 to her. 
 
 "I don t know what to say to you or just how low 
 you will think me," he said in a miserable sort of way. 
 "When I think of of some things, I wonder that you 
 even speak to me this morning God! I m ashamed 
 to look you in the face! " 
 
 And he looked it. All the cool assurance that had 
 been a prominent phase of his personality that evening 
 when Hardy met him first, was gone His handsome, 
 careless face and the independent head were drooped 
 before hers as his broad-brimmed hat was pulled a little 
 lower over his eyes. 
 
 Some women are curious, and this one, whom he had 
 thought unlike all others, rather justified his belief, as 
 she bent over in the saddle and lifted the cover from his 
 dark hair. 
 
 "Don t be!" she said gently and as he looked up at 
 her she held out her hand "nika tillikum" (my 
 friend); and the sweetness possible in the words had 
 never been known by him until she uttered them so. 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 113 
 
 "My friend, don t feel like that, and don t think me 
 quite a fool. I ve seen enough of life to know that 
 few men under the same circumstances would try as 
 hard to be honest as you did, and if you failed in some 
 ways, the fault was as much mine as yours." 
 
 "Rachel!" It was the first time he had ever called 
 her that. 
 
 "Yes, I had some time to think about it last night," 
 she said, with a little ironical smile about her lips; 
 "and the conclusion I ve come to is that we should 
 afford to be honest this morning, and not not so very 
 much ashamed;" and then she hurried on in her speech, 
 stumbling a little as the clasp of his hand made her 
 unsteady through all her determination. "I will not 
 see you again, perhaps ever. But I want you to know 
 that I have faith in your making a great deal of ycur 
 life if you try; you have the right foundations strong 
 will and a good principle. Mentally, you have been 
 asleep here in the hills don t find fault with your 
 awakening. And don t feel so so remorseful about 
 that night. There are some things people do and think 
 that they can t help we couldn t help that night; and 
 so good-bye Jack. 
 
 "God bless you, girl!" were the heart-felt, earnest 
 words that answered her good-bye; and with a last 
 firm clasp of hands, she turned Betty s head toward the 
 trail Jim had taken, and rode away under the cedar 
 boughs. 
 
 Genesee stood bare-headed, with a new light in his 
 eyes as he watched her the dawn of some growing 
 determination. 
 
 Once she looked back, and seeing him still there, 
 touched her cap in military fashion, and with a smile 
 disappeared in the wet woods. As he turned away 
 
114 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 there crept from the shrubbery at the junction of 
 the trails Talapa, who, with that slow, knowing smile 
 about her full lips, stole after him in her dusky 
 silence a very shadow of a man s past that grows 
 heavy and wide after the noon is dead, and bars 
 out lives from sunny doors where happiness might 
 be found His head was bent low, thinking think 
 ing as he walked back to the cabin that had once held 
 at least a sort of content a content based on one 
 side of his nature. Had the other died, or was it 
 only asleep? And she had told him not to find fault 
 with his awakening she! He had never before real 
 ized the wealth or loss one woman could make to the 
 world. 
 
 "Ashamed to look her in the face!" His own words 
 echoed in his ears as he walked under the wet leaves, 
 with the shadow of the shame skulking unseen after 
 Mm; and then, little by little, the sense of her fare 
 well came back to him, and running through it, that 
 strong thread of faith in him yet, making his life more 
 worth living. 
 
 "Damned little in my present outfit for her to build 
 any foundation for hope on," he muttered grimly, as 
 he saddled and bridled Mowitza, as if in hot haste to 
 be gone somewhere, and then sat down on the door 
 step as if forgetful of the intention. 
 
 Talapa slipped past him with an armful of bark for 
 the fire. Not a word had passed between them since 
 the night before, and the girl watched him covertly 
 from under drooped lids. Was she trying to fathom 
 his meditations, or determine how .far they were to 
 affect her own future? For as the birds foretell by 
 the signs in the air the change of the summer, so 
 Talapa, through the atmosphere of the cabin that 
 
WHE STORM AND AFTER. 115 
 
 morning, felt approach the end of a season that had been 
 to her luxurious with comforts new to her; and though 
 the Indian blood in her veins may have disdained the 
 adjuncts of civilization, yet the French tide that 
 crossed it carried to her the Gallic yearning for the 
 dainties and delicacies of life. To be sure, one would 
 not find many of those in a backwoodsman s cabin; 
 but all content is comparative, and Talapa s basis of 
 comparison was the earthen floor of a thronged "tepee," 
 or wigwam, where blows had been more frequent than 
 square meals; and being a thing feminine, her affections 
 turned to this white man of the woods who could give 
 her a floor of boards and a dinner-pot never empty, 
 and moreover, being of the sex feminine, those bonds of 
 affection were no doubt securely fastened bonds welded 
 in a circle endless. 
 
 At least those attributes, vaguely remembered, are 
 usually conceded to the more gentle half of humanity, 
 and I give Talapa the benefit of the belief, as her portrait 
 has been of necessity set in the shadows, and has need of 
 all the high lights that can be found for it. Whatever 
 she may have lacked from a high-church point of view, 
 she had at least enviable self-possession. Whatever 
 tumult of wounded feeling there may have been in this 
 daughter of the forest, she moved around sedately, with 
 an air that in a white woman would be called martyr- 
 like, and said nothing. 
 
 It was as well, perhaps, that she had the rare gift 
 of silence, for the man at the door, with his chin rest 
 ing grimly on his fists, did not seem at all sympa 
 thetic, or in the humor to fit himself to anyone s 
 moods. The tones of that girl s voice were still 
 vibrating over chords in his nature that disturbed 
 him. He did not even notice Talapa s movements 
 
116 TOLD IN THE HILLS 
 
 until she ceased them by squatting down with native 
 grace by the fire-place, and then 
 
 "Get up off that!" he roared, in a voice that hastened 
 Talapa s rising considerably. 
 
 "That" was the buffalo-robe on which the other girl 
 had throned herself the night before; and what a picture 
 she had made in the fire-light ! 
 
 Genesee in two strides crossed the floor, and grab 
 bing the robe, flung it over his shoulder. No, it was 
 not courteous to unseat a lady with so little ceremony 
 it may not even have been natural to him, so many 
 things are not natural to us human things that are yet 
 so true. 
 
 "And why so?" asked Talapa sullenly, her back 
 against the wall as if in a position to show fight; that 
 is, she said "Pe-kah-ta?" but, for the benefit of the 
 civilized reader, the ordinary English is given "And 
 why so?" 
 
 Genesee looked at her a moment from head to foot, 
 but the scrutiny resulted in silence no remark. At 
 length he walked back to the chest against the wall, 
 and unlocking it, drew out an account-book, between 
 the leaves of which were some money orders; two of 
 them he took out, putting the rest in his pocket. Then, 
 writing a signature on those two not the name of Jack 
 Genesee, by the way he turned to Mistress Talapa, 
 who had slid from the wall down on the floor minus the 
 buffalo-robe. 
 
 "Here!" he said tersely. "I am going away. Klat- 
 awah si-ah do you understand?" And then, fishing 
 some silver out of his pocket, he handed it to her with 
 the notes. "Take these to the settlement to the 
 bank-store. They ll give you money money to live 
 all winter. Live in the cabin if you want ; only get out 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 117 
 
 in the spring do you hear? I will want it myself then 
 and I want it alone." 
 
 Without comment, Talapa reached up and took the 
 money, looking curiously at the notes, as if to decipher 
 the meaning in the pictured paper, and then: 
 
 "Nika wake tikegh Talapa?" she queried, but with 
 nothing in her tone to tell if she cared whether he wanted 
 her or not. 
 
 "Not by a " he began energetically, and then, "you 
 are your own boss now," he added, more quietly. "Go 
 where you please, only you d better keep clear of the 
 old gang, for I won t buy you from them again 
 kumtuks?" 
 
 Talapa nodded that she understood, her eyes roving 
 about the cabin, possibly taking note of the wealth that 
 she had until spring to revel in or filch from. 
 
 Genesee noticed that mental reckoning. 
 
 "Leave these things alone," he said shortly. "Use 
 them, but leave them here. If any of them are gone 
 when I get back well, I ll go after them." 
 
 And throwing the robe over his arm again, he strode 
 out through the door, mounted Mowitza, and rode away. 
 
 It was not a sentimental finale to an idyl of the wood, 
 but by the time the finale is reached, the average human 
 specimen has no sentiment to waste. Had they 
 possessed any to begin with? 
 
 It was hard to tell whether Talapa was crushed by 
 the cold cruelty of that leave-taking, or whether she 
 was indifferent ; that very uncertainty is a charm exerted 
 over us by those conservative natures that lock within 
 themselves wrath or joy where we ordinary mortals 
 give expression to ours with all the language possessed 
 by us, and occasionally borrow some adjectives that 
 would puzzle us to give a translation of. 
 
118 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Talapa sat where he left her, not moving except once 
 to shy a pine knot at a rat by the cupboard and hit it, 
 too, though she did belong to the sex divine. So she 
 sat, pensively dribbling the silver coin from hand to 
 hand, until the morning crept away and the sun shone 
 through the mists. 
 
 What was it that at last awakened her from an 
 apparent dreamland the note of that bird whistling 
 in the forest in very gladness that the sun shone 
 again? Evidently so, and the Indian blood in her 
 veins had taught her the secret of sympathy with the 
 wild things, for she gave an answering call, half voice, 
 half whistle. Silence for a little, and then again from 
 the timber came that quavering note, with the rising 
 inflection at the finish that was so near an interro 
 gation. 
 
 It brought Talapa to her feet, and going to the door, 
 she sent a short, impatient call that a little later was 
 answered by the appearance of a comely buck one of 
 the order of red men who lounged down the little 
 incline with his head thrust forward as if to scent 
 danger if any was about; but a few words from the 
 girl assuring him that the coast was clear the fort 
 unguarded gave him more an air of assurance, as he 
 stepped across the threshhold and squatted down on 
 the side of the bed. 
 
 "Genesee gone?" he queried in the musical medley 
 of consonants. 
 
 Talapa grunted an assent, with love in her eyes for 
 the noble specimen on the bed. 
 
 "Gone far gone all time till spring," she communi 
 cated, as if sure of being the giver of welcome news. 
 "House all mine everything mine all winter." 
 
 "Ugh!" was all the sound given in answer to the 
 
THE STORM AND AFTER. 119 
 
 information; but the wide mouth curved upward ever 
 so slightly at the corners, and coupled with the inter 
 rogative grunt, expressed, no doubt, as much content 
 as generally falls to the lot of individual humanity. 
 One of his boots hurt him, or rather the moccasins 
 which he wore with leggings, and above them old blue 
 pantaloons and a red shirt; the moccasin was ripped, 
 and without ceremony he lessened it and kicked it 
 toward Talapa. 
 
 "Mamook tipshin," he remarked briefly; and by that 
 laconic order to sew his moccasin, Skulking Brave 
 virtually took possession of Genesee s cabin and Gen- 
 esee s squaw. 
 
 Through the gray shadows of that morning Rachel 
 and Jim rode almost in silence down the mountain trail. 
 The memory of the girl was too busy for speech, and the 
 frequent yawns of Jim showed that a longer sleep would 
 have been appreciated by him. 
 
 "Say," he remarked at last, as the trail grew wide 
 enough for them to ride abreast, " everything was jolly 
 back here at Mr. Jack s last night, but I m blest if it 
 was this morning. The breakfast wasn t anything to 
 brag of, an the fire was no good, an the fog made the 
 cabin as damp as rain when the door was open, an 
 he was glum an quiet, an you wasn t much better. 
 Say, was it that Injun cook o his you was af eared to 
 eat after?" 
 
 "Not exactly," she answered with a little laugh; 
 "what an observer you are, Jim! I suppose the atmos 
 phere of the cabin was the effect of the storm last 
 night." 
 
 "What? Well, the storm wasn t much worse to 
 plow through last night than the wet timber this morn 
 ing," he answered morosely; "but say, here s the sun 
 
120 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 coming out at last by George! How the wind lifts 
 the fog when it gets started. Look at it!" And then, 
 as the sunlight really crept in a great shimmer through 
 the pines, he added: "It might just as well have come 
 earlier, or else kept away altogether, for we re as wet 
 now as we can get." 
 
 "Be thankful that it shines at all, Jim." 
 "Oh, the shine s all right, but it shines too late." 
 "Yes," agreed the girl, with a memory of shamed, 
 despairing eyes flitting through her brain. "Yes, it 
 always shines too late for someone." 
 
 "It s for two of us this time," replied grumbling 
 Jim, taking her speech literally. "We ve had a Nick 
 of a time anyway this trip. Why that storm had to 
 wait until just the day we got lost, so as we d get wet, 
 an straggle home dead beat an without the sheep 
 I can t see." 
 
 "No, we can t see," said Rachel, with a queer little 
 smile. "Perhaps perhaps it s all because this is the 
 end instead of the beginning of a cultus corrie." 
 
PART THIRD 
 
 "PRINCE CHARLIE" 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 
 
 In the spring that followed, what a spirit of prom 
 ise and enterprise was abroad on the Hardy ranch! 
 What multitudes of white lambs, uncertain in the 
 legs, staggered and tottered about the pasture lands! 
 and what musical rills of joy in the mountain streams 
 escaping through the sunshine from their prisons of 
 ice! The flowers rose from the dead once more such 
 a fragrant resurrection! slipping from out their damp 
 coffins and russet winding-sheets with dauntless heads 
 erect, and eager lips open to the breath of promise. 
 Some herald must bear to their earth-homes the tid 
 ings of how sweet the sun of May is perhaps the 
 snow sprites who are melted into tears at his glances 
 and slip out of sight to send him a carpet of many 
 colors instead of the spotless white his looks had ban 
 ished. It may be so, though only the theory of an 
 alien. 
 
 And then the winged choruses of the air! What 
 matinees they held in the sylvan places among the 
 white blossoms of the dogwood and the feathery tassels 
 of the river willow, all nodding, swaying in the soft 
 kisses sent by the Pacific from the southwest soft 
 relays of warmth and moisture that moderate those 
 
 121 
 
122 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 western valleys until they are affronted by the rocky 
 wall that of old was called by the Indians the Chip- 
 pewyan Mountains, but which in our own day, in the 
 more poetical language of the usurper, has been improved 
 upon and dubbed the "Rockies." But all the common 
 places of those aliens can not deprive the inaccessible, 
 conservative solitudes of their wild charms. And after 
 those long months of repression, how warmly their smile 
 bursts forth and how contagious it is! 
 
 Laugh though the world may at the vibrations of 
 poet hearts echoing the songs of the youngest of seasons, 
 how can they help it? It is never the empty vessel 
 that brims over, and with the spring a sort of inspira 
 tion is wakened in the most prosaic of us. The same 
 spirit of change that thrills the saplings with fresh 
 vitality sends through human veins a creeping ecstasy 
 of new life. And all its insidious, penetrating charm 
 seemed abroad there in the Northern-land escaped 
 from under the white cloak of winter. The young grass, 
 fresh from the valley rains, warmed into emerald velvet 
 in the sunshine, bordered and braced with yellow 
 buttons of dandelion; while the soil was turned over 
 with the plows, and field and garden stocked with 
 seed for the harvest. 
 
 Energetic, busy days those were after the long months 
 of semi-inaction; even the horses were too mettlesome 
 for farm drudgery intoxicated, no doubt, by the 
 bracing, free winds that whispered of the few scattered 
 droves away off to the north that bore no harness and 
 owned no master. All things were rebellious at the 
 long restraint, and were breaking into new paths of life 
 for the new season. 
 
 Even a hulking Siwash, with his squaw and children, 
 lame dragging down the valley in the wake of the fresh- 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 123 
 
 ets, going to the Reservation south, content to go any 
 place where they could get regular meals, with but the 
 proviso to be "good Injun." 
 
 They loafed about the ranch two days, resting, and 
 coming in for a share of rations from the Hardy table; 
 and the little barefooted "hostiles" would stand about 
 the gate and peer in around the posts of the porch, say 
 ing in insinuating tones : 
 
 "Pale papoose?" 
 
 Yes, the spirit of the hills and grazing lands had crept 
 under the rafters and between the walls, and a new life 
 had been given to the world, just as the first violets crept 
 sunward. 
 
 And of course no other life was ever quite so sweet, 
 so altogether priceless, as this little mite, who was 
 already mistress of all she surveyed ; and Aunty Luce 
 their one female servant declared : 
 
 "Them eyes o hers certainly do see everything in 
 reach of em. She s a mighty peart chile, I m tellin 
 ye." 
 
 Even Jim had taken to loafing around the house more 
 than of old, and showing a good deal of nervous irrita 
 tion if by any chance "she" was allowed to test her 
 lungs in the slightest degree. The setter pups paled 
 into insignificance, and a dozen times a day he would 
 remark to Ivans that it was "the darndest, cutest, little 
 customer he ever saw." 
 
 "Even you have become somewhat civilized, Rachel, 
 since baby s arrival," remarked Tillie in commenda 
 tion. 
 
 Yes, Rachel was still there. At the last moment, 
 a few appealing glances from Tillie and some per 
 suasive words from Hen had settled the question, 
 and a rebellion was declared against taking the home 
 
124 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 trail, and all the words of the Houghtons fell on barren 
 soil, for she would not and she would not. 
 
 "They will never miss me back there in Kentucky," 
 she argued; "there are so many girls there. But out 
 here, femininity is at a premium. Let me alone, Clara; 
 I may take the prize." 
 
 And when am I to tell the folks you will come back ? 
 asked Mrs. Houghton, with the purpose of settling on 
 a fixed time and then holding her to it. 
 
 "Just tell them the truth, dear say you don t know," 
 answered the girl sweetly. "I may locate a claim out 
 here yet and develop into a stock-grower. Do not 
 look so sulky. I may be of use here ; no one needs me in 
 Kentucky." 
 
 What of Nard Stevens ? was a final query ; at which 
 Rachel no longer smiled she laughed. 
 
 "Oh, you silly Clara!" she burst .out derisively. 
 "You think yourself so wise, and you never see an inch 
 beyond that little nose of yours. Nard needs me no 
 more than I need him bless the boy! He s a good 
 fellow; but you can not use him as a trump card in 
 this game, my dear. Yes, I know that speech is 
 slangy. Give my love to Nard when you see him 
 well, then, my kind regards and best wishes if the 
 other term conflicts with your proper spirit, and tell 
 him I have located out here to grow up with the coun- 
 try." 
 
 And through the months that followed she assuredly 
 grew to the country at all events; the comparative 
 mildness of the winters proving a complete surprise 
 to her, as, hearing of the severe weather of the North, 
 she had not known that its greatest intensity extends 
 only to the eastern wall of the great mountain range, 
 and once crossing the divide, the Chinook winds or 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 12H 
 
 currents from the Pacific give the valleys much the 
 temperature of our Middle States, or even more mild, 
 since the snow-fall in the mountains is generally rain 
 in the lowlands. Sometimes, of course, with the 
 quick changes that only the wind knows, there would 
 come a swoop downward of cold from the direct North, 
 cutting through the basins, and driving the Pacific air 
 back coastward in a fury, and those fitful gusts were 
 to be guarded against by man and beast ; and wise were 
 growing those eastern prophets in their quickness to 
 judge from the heavens whether storm or calm was to 
 be with them. 
 
 But despite Clara s many predictions, the days did 
 not grow dull to Rachel, and the ranch was not a prison 
 in winter-time. She had too clearly developed the 
 faculty of always making the best of her surroundings 
 and generally drawing out the best points in the people 
 about her. 
 
 It was that trait of hers that first awakened her 
 interest in that splendid animal, their guide from the 
 Maple range. 
 
 He had disappeared gone from the Kootenai coun 
 try, so they told her. But where? or for what? That 
 none could answer. 
 
 Her memory sometimes brought her swift flushes of 
 mortification when she thought of him of their associa 
 tion so pregnant with some sympathy or subtle influ 
 ence that had set the world so far beyond them at times. 
 Now that he was gone, and their knowledge of each 
 other perhaps all over, she tried to coolly reason it all 
 out for herself, but found so much that contained no 
 reason that had existed only through impulses 
 impulses not easy to reailze once outside the circle of 
 their attending circumstances. 
 
126 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Those memories puzzled her her own weakness 
 when she lay in his arms, and her own gift of second- 
 sight that gave her an understanding of him that morn- 
 Ing when she turned champion for him against 
 himself. 
 
 Was it really an understanding of him? or was it 
 only that old habit of hers of discovering fine traits in 
 characters voted worthless? discoveries laughed at 
 by her friends, until her "spectacles of imagination" 
 were sometimes requested if some specimen of the 
 genus homo without any redeeming points was under 
 discussion. 
 
 Was it so in this case? She had asked herself the 
 question more than once during the winter. And if 
 she had been at all pliable in her opinions, she would 
 long ere spring have dropped back to the original 
 impression that the man was a magnificent animal 
 with an intellect, and with spirituality and morality 
 sleeping. 
 
 But she was not. A certain stubbornness in her 
 nature kept her from being influenced, as the others 
 were, by the knowledge that after all they had had a 
 veritable "squaw man " as a guide. 
 
 Hardy was surprised, and Tillie was inconsol 
 able. 
 
 "I never will believe in an honest face again!" she 
 protested. 
 
 Nonsense ! laughed Rachel. Pocahontas was an 
 Indian, and Rolfe was not hustled out of society in 
 consequence." 
 
 "N No," assented Tillie, eyeing Rachel doubtfully 
 "but then, you see Rolfe married Pocahontas." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "And and Ivans told Hen he heard that the squaw 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 127 
 
 you saw at Genesee s was only a sort of slave. Did he 
 tell you and Jim that she was his wife ? 
 
 "I I don t know;" and Rachel suddenly sat down 
 on a chair near the window and looked rather hope 
 lessly at the questioner. "No, I don t believe he said 
 so, but the circumstances and all well, I took it for 
 granted; he looked so ashamed." 
 
 "And you thought it was because of a marriage cere 
 mony, not for the lack of one?" 
 
 "Yes," acknowledged the girl, inwardly wondering 
 why that view of the question had not presented itself 
 to her. Had she after all imagined herself sighting an 
 eagle, and was it on nearer acquaintance to develop 
 into a vulture or, worse still, a buzzard a thing 
 reveling only in carrion, and knowing itself to unclean 
 to breathe the same air with the untainted! So it 
 seemed; so Tillie was convinced; so she knew Clara 
 would have thought. In fact, in all the range of her 
 female acquaintances she could think of none whose 
 opinion would not have been the same, and she had 
 an impatient sort of wonder with herself for not agree 
 ing with them. But the memory of the man s 
 face that morning, and the echo of that "God bless 
 you, girl!" always drifted her away from utter unbelief 
 in him. 
 
 She heard considerable about him that winter; that 
 he was thought rather eccentric, and belonged more to 
 the Indians than the whites, sometimes living with a 
 tribe of Kootenais for weeks, sometimes disappearing, 
 no one knew where, for months, and then settling 
 down in the cabin again and placidly digging away at 
 that hole in the hill by the little lake the hill itself 
 called by the Indians "Tamdhnous" meaning be 
 witched, or haunted. And his persistence in that 
 
128 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 work was one of the eccentric things that made some 
 people say significantly: 
 
 "They allowed Genesee was a good man, but a little 
 * touched on the silver question." 
 
 And for Tillie s benefit Hen had to explain that the 
 term " good " had nothing whatever to do with the man s 
 moral or spiritual worth; its use was in a purely physical 
 sense. 
 
 After the snows fell in the mountains there were 
 but few strangers found their way to the new ranch. 
 Half locked in as it was by surrounding hills, the passes 
 were likely to be dangerous except to the initiated, 
 and there were not many who had business urgent 
 enough to push them through the drifts, or run their 
 chances with land-slides. But if a stray hunter did 
 come their way, his call was not allowed to be a short 
 one. They had already become too thoroughly Western 
 in their hospitality to allow the quick departure of a 
 guest, a trait of which they had carried the germs from 
 old Kentucky. 
 
 What cheery evenings there were in the great sitting- 
 room, with the logs heaped high in the stone 
 fire-place! An uncarpeted room, with long, cushioned 
 settees along two sides of it and mighty restful they 
 were voted by the loungers after the day s work; a 
 few pictures on the wall, mostly engravings; the only 
 color given the furnishing was in the pink and maroon 
 chintz curtains at the windows, or cushions to the 
 oak chairs. There in the firelight of the long 
 evenings were cards played, or stories told, or maga 
 zines read aloud, Rachel and Hen generally taking turn 
 about as reader. And Tillie in the depths of the cush 
 ioned rocker, knitting soft wool stuffs, was a chatelaine, 
 the picture of serene content, with close beside her a 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 129 
 
 foil in the form of black Aunty Luce, whom only devo 
 tion to her young miss would ever have tempted into 
 those wilds; and after the work was over for the night, 
 it was a usual thing to see her slipping in and snug 
 gling down quietly to listen to the stories told or read, 
 her big eyes glancing fearfully toward windows or 
 doors if the Indian question was ever touched on; 
 though occasionally, if approached with due ceremony 
 and full faith shown in her knowledge, she would her 
 self add her share to the stories told, her donation 
 consisting principally of sure "hoodoos," and the doings 
 of black witches and warlocks in the land of bayous; 
 for Aunty Luce had originally come from the swamps of 
 Louisiana, where the native religion and superstitions 
 have still a good following. And old Aunty s reminis 
 cences added to the variety of their evening s bill of 
 entertainment. 
 
 A mail-carrier unexpectedly sprang up for them 
 in the winter in the person of a young half-breed called 
 Kalitan, or the Arrow. He had another name, his 
 father, an Englishman, and agent for a fur company, 
 had happened to be around when his swarthy offspring 
 was ushered into the world, and he promptly bestowed 
 on him his own name of Thomas Alexander. But it 
 was all he did bestow on him and that only by cour 
 tesy, not legality; and Alexander Junior had not even 
 the pleasure of remembering his father s face, as his 
 mother was soon deserted. She went back to her tribe 
 and reared her son as an Indian, even his name in 
 time was forgotten, as by common consent the more 
 characteristic one of Kalitan was given him because of 
 the swiftness of foot that had placed him among the 
 best "runners" or messengers in the Indian country 
 and the average speed of a runner will on a long march 
 
 9 
 
130 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 out-distance that of cavalry. At the military post at 
 Fort Missoula, Kalitan s lines had first fallen among 
 those of Genesee, and for some unexplained reason 
 his adherence to that individual became as devoted 
 as Mowitza s own. For a long time they had not ranged 
 far apart, Genesee seldom leaving the Kootenai country 
 that Kalitan did not disappear as well. This last 
 trip his occupation was gone, for word had been left 
 with MacDougall that the trail was not clear ahead, 
 but if Kalitan was wanted he would be sent for, and 
 that sinewy, bronze personage did not seem to think 
 of doing other than wait and the waiting promised to 
 be long. 
 
 He took to hanging around Scot s Mountain more than 
 of old, with the query, "May -be Genesee send lettah 
 s pose? I go see." 
 
 And go he would, over and over again, always with 
 a philosophic "S pose next time," when he returned 
 empty-handed. Sometimes he stopped at the ranch, 
 and Rachel at once recognized him as the youth who 
 had brought her the black bear skin months before, 
 and pretended at the time utter ignorance of Chinook. 
 He would speak Chinook fast enough to her now if 
 there was any occasion, his white blood, and the idea 
 that she was Genesee s friend, inclining him to socia 
 bility seldom known to the aristocratic conservatives 
 of the Indian race. 
 
 The nearest mail station was twenty miles south, 
 and it was quite an item to find a messenger as willing 
 as was Kalitan; storm or calm, he would make the 
 trip just the same, carrying his slip of paper on which 
 all the names were written and which he presented as 
 an order to the postmaster. A big mail was a cause of 
 pride to him, especially magazines or packages. Letters 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 131 
 
 he did not think of much account, because of their 
 size. 
 
 To Aunty Luce he was a thing of dread, as were all 
 of his race. She was firmly convinced that the dusky, 
 well-featured face belonged to an imp of the evil one, 
 and that he simply slid over the hills on the cold winds, 
 without even the aid of a broom-stick. The nights 
 that he spent at the ranch found Aunty s ebony 
 face closer than ever to the side of Mistress Tillie s 
 chair. 
 
 Another member had been added to the visiting 
 list at Hardy s, and that was the sovereign of Scot s 
 Mountain. 
 
 Along in midwinter, Kalitan brought a scrawled note 
 from "Ole Man Mac," asking for some drugs of which 
 he stood in need. The request brought to light the fact 
 that Kalitan one day while paying visits had found 
 "Ole Man Mac" sick in bed "heap sick crank no 
 swallow medicine but white man s." 
 
 The required white man s medicine was sent, and 
 with it a basket with white bread, fresh butter, and 
 various condiments of home manufacture that Tillie s 
 kindly heart prompted her to send to the old trapper- 
 one of their nearest neighbors. 
 
 The following day Rachel and her henchman Jim 
 started on Kalitan s trail, with the idea of learning 
 personally if any further aid that the ranch could give 
 was needed at the cabin. A snow three days old cov 
 ered the ground, in which Kalitan s trail was easily 
 followed; and then Rachel had been over the same 
 route before, starting light-hearted and eager, on that 
 cultus corrie. 
 
 They reached Scot s Mountain a little after noon, 
 and found its grizzled, unshaven owner much better 
 
132 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 than he had been the day before, and close beside him 
 on the pillow lay his one companion, the cat. 
 
 "Well, well! to think o this!" said the old man, 
 reaching a brawny hand to her from the bunk. "You re 
 the first white woman as ever passed that door-post, 
 and it s rare and glad I am that it s your own self." 
 
 "Why myself more than another?" she asked, rather 
 surprised at his words. "I would have come long 
 ago if I had known I was wanted, or that you even 
 knew of me." 
 
 "Have I not, then?" he queried, looking at her 
 sharply from under his wrinkled, half -closed lids. 
 "But sit ye down, lady. Kalitan, bring the chair. 
 And is that a brother the lad there? I thought I had 
 na heard of one. Sit you down close that I can see ye 
 a sight good for sore een; an I have no heard o ye? 
 Ah, but I have, though. Many s the hour the lad has 
 lain lazy like on the cot here, an told me o the gay 
 folk frae the East. Ye know I d be a bit curious o 
 my new neighbors, an would be askin many s the 
 question, an all the tales would end wi something 
 about the lass that was ay the blithe rider, an ever the 
 giver o good judgment." 
 
 The girl felt her face grow hot under those sharp 
 old eyes. She scarcely knew what to say, and yet 
 could give no sensible reason for such embarrassment; 
 and then 
 
 "The lad what lad?" she asked at last. 
 
 "Oh ay. I clean forgot he is no lad to you. Kali- 
 tan, will ye be building up that fire a bit? When we 
 have quality to visit we must give them a warm wel 
 come, if no more. An the lad, as I was savin , he 
 continued, "was but Genesee no other; though he 
 looked more the lad when I called him so first." 
 
/ would have come long ago if I had known 1 was wanted. 
 Page 132. 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 133 
 
 "You are such old friends, then?" 
 
 "No so old as so close, ye might say. It s a matter 
 o five year now since he come up in these hills wi 
 some men who were prospect in , an one an another 
 got tired and dropped down the country again till 
 only Genesee was left. He struck that haunted hill 
 in the Maple range that they all said was of no good, 
 an he would na leave it. There he stuck in very 
 stubbornness, bewitched like by it; an the day before 
 his flittin in the fall found him clear through the hill, 
 helped a bit by striking into an old mine that nobody 
 knew aught of. Think o that! dug into a mine that 
 had been abandoned by the Indians generations ago, 
 most like." 
 
 "I did not know that the Indians ever paid attention 
 to mining. They seem to know no use for gold or silver 
 until the white men teach them it." 
 
 "True enough; but there the old mine stands, as a 
 clear showin that some o the heathen, at some time, 
 did mine in that range; an the stone mallets an such 
 like that he stumbled on there shows that the cave was 
 no the result o accident." 
 
 "And has he at last given it up as hopeless?" 
 
 "That s as time may happen to tell," answered the 
 old man sagely; "an old Daddy Time his own self 
 could na keep his teeth shut more tight than can Gen 
 esee if there s a bit secret to hold. But o the old mine 
 he said little when he was takin the trail, only, It has 
 kept these thousand o years, Davy it will most like 
 keep until I get back. " 
 
 From that speech Rachel gathered the first intimation 
 that Genesee s absence from the Kootenai country 
 was only a transient one. Was he then to come back 
 and again drop his life into its old lines? She did not 
 
134 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 like to think of it or to question. But that winter 
 visit to "Ole Man Mac," as Kalitan called him, was 
 the beginning of an avowed friendship between the old 
 hermit of the northern hills and the young girl from the 
 southern ones. 
 
 Her independent, curious spirit and youthful vitality 
 were a sort of tonic to him, and as he grew better he 
 accepted her invitation to visit the ranch, and from 
 that time on the grizzled head and still athletic frame 
 of the old fellow were not strange to the Hardy house 
 hold. He was there as often as was consistent with 
 the weather in the hills and almost seventy years of 
 braving their hardships; for of late years MacDougall 
 did not range widely. His traps could find too many 
 nooks near home for mink, lynx, and the black bear, 
 and from the Kootenai tribes on the north he bought 
 pelts, acting the trader as well as trapper; and twice a 
 year making a trip to a settlement to dispose of his 
 wares, with horses from his Indian neighbors to transport 
 them with. 
 
 Rachel learned that for forty years he had followed 
 that isolated life moving steadily farther west or 
 farther north as the grip of civilization made itself 
 felt behind him ; and he felt himself crowded if a settler s 
 prairie schooner was sighted within twenty-five miles 
 of him. The girl wondered, often, the cause of that 
 self-exile, but no word or sign gave her any clew. He 
 had come from the eastern highlands of Scotland when 
 less than thirty years old, and had struck out at once 
 for the extreme borders of civilization in America; and 
 there he had remained always on the borders never 
 quite overtaken. 
 
 "It will be but a few more stands I can make," he 
 would say to her sometimes. "Time is little content 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 135 
 
 to be a laggard, and he is running me close in a race he 
 has na a doubt of winning." 
 
 With advancing years, the barrier, whatever the 
 foundation, that he had raised between himself and 
 the world was evidently weakening somewhat; and 
 first through Genesee, and now through this girl, had 
 come a growing desire for intercourse with his own 
 race once more. And much teasing did the girl get in 
 consequence of the visits that by the family in general 
 were conceded to belong to Rachel in particular, teas 
 ing, however, which she bore with indifference, openly 
 claiming that the stronger interest was on her side, 
 and if he forgot his visits she would certainly go her 
 self to Scot s Mountain to learn the why and where 
 fore. This she did more than once, through the 
 season, when indoor life grew at all monotonous; some 
 times with Jim as a companion, and sometimes with 
 Kalitan trotting at her mare s head, and guiding very 
 carefully Betty s feet over the dangerous places - 
 Aunty Luce always watching such a departure with 
 prophecies of "Miss Rache s sca p a-hangin round 
 the neck o that red nigger some o these days, I m 
 a-tellin yeh!" 
 
 Despite prophecies, Kalitan proved a most eager and 
 careful guardian, seeming to feel rather proud when he 
 was allowed to be her sole companion. 
 
 Sometimes he would say: "S pose you hear where 
 Genesee is may be?" and at her negative he, like a 
 philosopher of unlimited patience, would content 
 himself with: Sometime he sure come; s pose waum 
 illihie" waum illihie meaning the summer-time; and 
 Rachel, noting his faithfulness to that one idea, 
 wondered how many seasons his patience would en 
 dure. 
 
136 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 At last, about the middle of April, he stalked into 
 the ranch door one morning early, scaring Aunty Luce 
 out of her seven senses, or as many extra ones as she laid 
 claim to. 
 
 "Rashell Hardy?" was all he deigned to address to 
 that personage, so inborn in the Indian is the scorn 
 of a slave or those of slavish origin. And Kalitan 
 who had lived almost entirely with his tribe, had many 
 of the aristocratic ideas of race that so soon degenerate 
 in the Indian of the settlements or haunts of the white 
 man. Once Aunty Luce, not understanding his ideas 
 of caste, thought to propitiate him with some kindly 
 social inquiry as to the state of his health and well- 
 being, and had beat an ignominious retreat to the 
 floor above at the black look of indignation on his 
 face at being questioned by a slave. When Rachel 
 took him to task for such a ferocious manner, he 
 answered, with a sullen sort of pride: "I, Kalitan, 
 am of a race of chiefs not a dog to be bidden by 
 black blood;" and she had noticed then, and at other 
 times, that any strong emotion, especially anger, 
 gave an elevated tone and manner of speech to him 
 and his race, lifting it out of the slurred common 
 places of the mongrel jargon a direct contradiction 
 of their white brother, on whom anger generally has 
 an effect exactly contrary. After that one venture of 
 Aunty s at timorous friendliness, she might have been 
 a dumb woman so far as Kalitan ever had further 
 knowledge; for her conversations in his presence were 
 from that date carried on entirely in pantomime, often 
 to the annoyance, though always to the amusement, of 
 the family. 
 
 Kalitan s abrupt entrance and query that April 
 morning was answered by a comprehensive nod and 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 137 
 
 wave of pudgy black hands toward the sitting-room, 
 into which he walked without knocking that, also 
 perhaps, being deemed a prerogative of his lordly 
 race. 
 
 "Why, Kalitan, so early!" said Rachel in surprise. 
 "Are you trying to outrun the sun? What is it?" 
 For her eyes, accustomed to the usual calm of his 
 countenance, recognized at once that some new cur 
 rent of emotion was struggling for supremacy in him 
 that morning. He did not answer at once, but seated 
 himself in impressive silence on the edge of one of 
 the settees, and after a dramatic pause that he con 
 sidered a fitting prelude to the importance of his com 
 munication, he addressed himself to Rachel the 
 only woman, by the way, whom he was ever known to 
 meet or converse with on terms of equality, as Indian 
 chivalry does not extend to their exaltation of the 
 gentler sex. 
 
 "Rashell Hardy," he said, in a mingling of English 
 and Chinook, "I, Kalitan, the Arrow, shoot to the 
 south. Genesee has sent in the talking-paper to Ole 
 Man Mac that the Reservation Indians south have dug 
 up the hatchet. Genesee is taking the trail from the 
 fort, with rifle and many men, and he wants an arrow 
 that can shoot out of sight of any other; so he wants 
 Kalitan." 
 
 And having delivered himself of this modest enco 
 mium on his own worth, there was a stage-wait of about 
 a minute, that might have been relieved by some words 
 conceding his superiority, but wasn t. Rachel was 
 looking out of the window as if in momentary forget- 
 fulness of the honor done her in this statement of facts. 
 Kalitan rose to his feet. 
 
 "Ole Man Mac come down valley, may be, in two 
 
138 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 days. I stop to tell you, and say like white man, 
 klahowya." 
 
 And with the Indian word of farewell, he turned to 
 the door, when Rachel stopped him. 
 
 "Wait, Kalitan," she said, holding out her hand to 
 stop him. "You are going south into the hostile coun 
 try. Will the Arrow carry a message as it flies?" 
 
 "Let Rashell Hardy speak. Kalitan is swift. A 
 message is not heavy from a friend." 
 
 "That is it, Kalitan; it is to your friend Genesee." 
 
 "Rachel!" ejaculated Tillie, who had been a silent 
 auditor of this queer little scene, with its ceremony 
 and its ludicrous features ludicrous to any not know 
 ing the red man s weakness for forms and a certain 
 pomposity that seems a childish love of display and 
 praise. But Rachel never ridiculed it; instead, she 
 simply let herself drop into his tone, and thus enhanced 
 very much his opinion of her. And at Tillie s voice 
 she turned impatiently. 
 
 "Well, why not?" she asked; and her combative air 
 at once reduced Tillie to withdrawing as easily as she 
 could from the discussion. 
 
 "But, dear, the man s reputation! and really you 
 know he is nothing we thought he was. He is scarcely 
 fit for any lady to speak to. It is better to leave such 
 characters alone. One never can tell how far they 
 may presume on even recognition." 
 
 "Yes? After all, Tillie, I believe you are very much 
 of the world worldly. Did he stop to ask if I was 
 entirely a proper sort of person before he started to hunt 
 for me that time in the Kootenai hills ? 
 
 Nonsense ! Of course not. But the cases are totally 
 unlike." 
 
 "Naturally. He is a man; I am a woman. But if 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 139 
 
 the cases were reversed, though I might preserve a 
 better reputation, I doubt much if, in some respects, I 
 should equal the stubborn strength of character I have 
 seen that man show at times." 
 
 "Oh, I might have known better than to advise you, 
 Rachel, if I wanted to influence you," remarked Tillie 
 helplessly. "You are like an Irishman, always spoil 
 ing for a fight, and hunt up the most ridiculous, impos 
 sible theories to substantiate your views; but I am so 
 disappointed in that man he seemed such a fine fel 
 low. But when we are assured of our mistake, it is 
 time, especially, Rachel, for a girl, to drop all acquaint 
 ance with him." 
 
 "I wish I was not a girl. Then I would not have 
 to be hedged in forever. You would not think it so 
 terrible if Hen or Ivans, or any of the men, were to meet 
 him as usual or send word to him if they chose/ 
 
 "But that is different." 
 
 "And I am sick of the differences. The more I see 
 the narrowness of social views, the less I wonder at 
 old MacDougall and Genesee taking to the mountains, 
 where at least the life, even the life s immoralities, are 
 primitive." 
 
 "Primitive! Oh, good Lord!" ejaculated Tillie in 
 serio-comic despair. "What would you suggest as an 
 improvement on their simplicity ? 
 
 And then, both being rather good-natured women, 
 the absurdity of their vehemence seemed to strike 
 them, and looking at each other for a second, they both 
 burst out laughing. 
 
 All this time Kalitan stood, showing his silent dis 
 dain of this squaw "wait-wait" with the impassive gaze 
 that went straight over their heads at the opposite 
 wall, not seeing the debaters, as if it were beneath 
 
140 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 his dignity to open his ears to their words. In fact, 
 his dignity had been enhanced several degrees since 
 his visit to the ranch, some ten days before all because 
 of that "talking-paper," no doubt, that had come 
 from the Fort, and his full Indian dress for he would 
 scorn to wear the garb of his father was decked with 
 several additional trinkets, borrowed or stolen from 
 the tribe, that were likely to render his appearance 
 more impressive. 
 
 And Rachel, glancing at him, was reminded by that 
 manner of dignified toleration that she had kept him 
 waiting no doubt five minutes and five minutes in the 
 flight of an arrow is a life-time. 
 
 "Tell Jack Genesee," she said, turning to him in 
 complete negligence of arguments just used, "that 
 Rachel Hardy sends to him greetings you under 
 stand? That she is glad t- hear where he is; a soldier s 
 life is a good one for him, and she will always have faith 
 in his fighting well, and trying t. fight on the right side. 
 Is that message much to remember?" 
 
 Kalitan poetically answered in Chinook to the effect 
 that his heart was in his ears when she spoke, and 
 would be in his tongue when he met Genesee: and 
 with that startling statement he made his exit, 
 watchcc? by Aunty Luce from the stairs on which she 
 had taken refuge. 
 
 "You are a queer girl, Rache," said Tillie as Rachel 
 stood watching the gaily-decked, sinewy form as it 
 broke into a sort of steady trot, once outside the gate, 
 and was so quickly out of sight down the valley. 
 
 "Am I? Try and say something more original," she 
 suggested. 
 
 "I believe you would make a good missionary," con 
 tinued Tillie debatably. "Your theory of civilizing peo- 
 
IN THE KOOTENAI SPRING-TIME. 141 
 
 pie seems to be all right; but while it may work capi 
 tally with those savages born in heathendom, I fear 
 its results when applied to enlightened mortals who 
 have preferred dropping into degraded lives. Your 
 laudable energy is likely to be wasted on that sort of 
 material." 
 
 "What a learned diagnosis for you to make, my 
 child," said Miss Hardy approvingly. "Aunty Luce 
 confided to me she was going to make a batch of 
 sugar cookies this morning, and you shall have the 
 very first one as a reward for delivering your little 
 speech so nicely." 
 
142 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 
 
 " Oh, cam ye here the fight to shun, 
 Or herd the sheep wi me, man?" 
 
 Spring, with its showers and promises, drifted into 
 the dim perspective, as summer, with flaunting assump 
 tion, took possession of the foreground. All through 
 the changing weeks rumors came from the south and 
 east, telling of disaffection among the hereditary lords 
 of the soil, and petty troubles in different localities, 
 that, like low mutterings of far-off thunder, promised 
 storms that might be remembered. 
 
 Some rust on the wheels of the slow-moving ma 
 chinery of government had caused a delay in the deal 
 ings with the people on the reservations. Treaties 
 ignored through generations, in both letter and spirit, 
 are not calculated to beget faith in the hearts of the 
 red nations, or teach them belief in the straightness 
 of our tongues. Was it the fault of the Department 
 of the Interior at Washington, or the dishonesty of 
 their local agents? the chicanery of the party in 
 office, or the scheme of some political ring that wanted 
 to get in by bringing forward a cause for condemna 
 tion of the existing regime ? Whatever one of the 
 multitudinous excuses was finally given for neglect 
 of duty treaties, promises of government Mr Lo 
 nad now as he has ever had to bear the suffering in 
 question, whether just or unjust. 
 
 Small wonder if, now and then, a spark of that old fire 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 143 
 
 in the blood ignites, and even the most tamed spirits 
 rise up ready to write pages of history in blood. The 
 only wonder is that they ever pass by the house or the 
 offspring of the white race without that call of the 
 red heart for vengeance being too strong for the hand 
 to resist. 
 
 Through the late winter, whether through storms 
 or floods or the schemes of men, on one of the reserva 
 tions to the south the rations had not been forthcom 
 ing; and from week to week excuses were given that 
 were no longer listened to with credence by the Indians. 
 In vain were visits made, first to the agency, 
 next to the nearest fort, supplicating for their 
 rights. One delegation after another turned back 
 from those visits unsatisfied, told by the first 
 that the rations would be distributed when they 
 arrived, not before; told by the second that the War 
 Department was not in any way responsible for 
 deficiencies of the Department of the Interior, and 
 could not interfere at the same time advising them 
 to be patient, as eventually their wants would be satis 
 fied. Eventually! and in the meantime they could go 
 back to their tribes and eat their horses, their dogs, 
 and see their people grow weak as the children for the 
 want of food. 
 
 Small wonder if one group after another of the younger 
 braves, and even the older warriors, broke loose from 
 the promise of peace and joined the hostile bands that 
 thieved along the border, sweeping the outlying ranches 
 of horses and cattle, and beating a retreat back into 
 the hills with their booty. 
 
 Of course, the rations arrived eventually, and were 
 distributed by those fair-minded personages whose 
 honest dealing with the red man is proverbial along 
 
144 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 the border; but the provisions came too late to stem 
 the tide of secession that had set in, and the War Depart 
 ment had found that, after all, it would be influ 
 enced by the actions of the Department of the 
 Interior, and that its interference was demanded for 
 the protection of the homes on the frontier. As the 
 homes were the homes of white citizens, its action was, 
 of course, one of promptness. White men s votes decide 
 who shall continue to sit in the high places of the land, 
 or who shall step down and out to .make way for the new 
 man of new promises. 
 
 But they found ordinary methods of war were of little 
 avail against the scattered bands, who, like bees in the 
 summer-time, divided their swarms, and honey-combed 
 the hills, knowing every retreat, and posted as to every 
 movement by Indian runners and kindred left behind. 
 
 It was simply a war of skirmishing, and one not 
 likely soon to cease. Reinforcements came to the 
 hostile tribes from all the worthless outlaws of the 
 border some of white, others of mixed blood; and 
 from those mongrels resulted the more atrocious feat 
 ures of the outbreak. They fought and schemed 
 with the Indian because they wanted his protection, 
 and any proposed treaty for peace was argued against 
 by them most vehemently. And while an Indian 
 makes a good thief, a half-breed makes a better; but 
 the white man, if his taste runs in that direction, is 
 an artist, and to him his red brother is indebted for 
 much teaching in the subtle art through many genera 
 tions. 
 
 That, and like accomplishments, made them com 
 rades to be desired by the tribes who depended for 
 their subsistence on the country guarded by troops; 
 and scientific methods of thievery were resorted to, 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 145 
 
 methods that required the superior brain and the white 
 face of the Caucasian. 
 
 Thus was the trouble fostered, and the contagion 
 spread, until far-off tribes, hearing of it, missed now 
 one, now another, of their more restless spirits; and 
 the white authorities found it would not do to trust 
 to the peace of any of the nations the only surety 
 was to guard it. This they tried to do, locating posts 
 and stationing troops near even the most peaceable 
 tribes their presence suggesting the advisability of 
 remaining so. 
 
 And, now through one, now another, and generally 
 by MacDougall, the people at the ranch heard at 
 times of the Arrow and of Genesee. They were with the 
 troops, and were together; and the latter s knowledge 
 of Indian tactics was counting much in his favor evi 
 dently, as his opinions were cited in the reports and 
 prophecies of results, and his influence had decided 
 more than one movement of the campaign that had won 
 him the commendation of his superior officers cir 
 cumstances that were, of course, discussed pro and con 
 by the people of the Kootenai. There was little of 
 local news in so isolated a place, and Rachel declared 
 they were all developing into gossips because of the 
 avidity with which the slightest of events in their own 
 region was talked over; and of course the Indian ques 
 tion was an all-absorbing topic, and to Aunty Luce 
 was attended by a sort of paralysis of terror. In vain 
 to point out the friendly listlessness of the Kootenais, 
 their nearest neighbors of the red race, for the Koo 
 tenais were simple hunters or fishers, making war on 
 none, unless now and then a detachment of thieving 
 Blackfeet from east of the mountains would file through 
 the old Flathead Pass and run off portions of their 
 
 10 
 
146 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 stock ; in the time of the fishing, the greater part of the 
 village would move for the season away from their 
 pasture-lands, in search of the fish that they smoke, 
 dry, and pack in osier baskets for the winter. It was 
 generally during that temporary flitting that a visit 
 from those neighboring tribes would be made, and an 
 assessment levied, to the extent of all loose cattle in 
 reach, and an occasional squaw now and then. And 
 so, though the Kootenais were on the most friendly 
 terms with the few whites about them, their relations 
 with their red brethren on the east, and across the line 
 in the Northwest Territories were decidedly strained. 
 
 But it was useless to talk "good Indian" to Aunty 
 who was afraid to stay in the house or out of it ; afraid 
 to start back to Kentucky, yet sure that delay meant 
 death. And all through the summer, let the rest have 
 faith if they chose, yet the baby s wardrobe and her 
 own were always packed ready for flight at the first 
 sign of danger. 
 
 With this one exception, the Indian question troubled 
 the people at the ranch but little. They found too 
 many duties in the new country to take up their time 
 and attention. The sheep-raising experiment showed 
 signs of such thorough success that it would require 
 more than the skirmishing of the races a couple of 
 hundred miles away to disenchant Hardy with the 
 country; and where he was content, Tillie was, of course; 
 and Rachel well, Rachel was deemed a sort of vaga 
 bond in regard to a settlement anywhere. She was 
 satisfied with any place where the fences were not too 
 high, or the limits of her range too narrow. 
 
 She often wondered that the world in general knew 
 so little of that beautiful corner of the earth. She 
 knew that people flocked to "resorts" that possessed 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 147 
 
 not at all the wealth of beauties that whimsical nature 
 had scattered on those Indian hills. 
 
 In the fall, about a year after the cultus corrie, she 
 began to think that, after all, they might meet 
 with deserved appreciation some day, for one man 
 rode up to them, not for stock, or to locate land, or for 
 any of the few reasons that brought people to the Koo- 
 tenai country, but simply and only for pleasure and 
 rest so he said. 
 
 It was in late September, and as he rode leisurely 
 through the dusky shadows of the pines, and along the 
 passionate, restless path of some mountain stream, his 
 expressive face showed a more than casual interest in 
 the prodigality of delightful vistas and the impressive 
 grandeur of the mountains, as they loomed about him 
 or slowly drifted beneath him. 
 
 All the beauty of autumn was around him, yet he 
 himself looked like one of the people who belong only 
 to summer, judging from his eager eyes and the boy 
 ish laugh that broke on the still air as he watched the 
 pranks of some squirrels making holiday in their own 
 domain. 
 
 Not that the stranger was so young. He was not a 
 boy in years; but the spirit of youth, that remains so 
 long with some natures, shone in his glance, and loitered 
 about the sensitive mouth. In seeing him smile, one 
 would forget the thread of premature silver that shone 
 through the bronze of his hair. He was almost beauti 
 ful in face: yet his stature, which was much above the 
 average, and his exceptionally complete proportions, 
 saved him from the beauty that is effeminate ; but what 
 ever beauty he possessed, however, was in every way 
 refined. 
 
 It was noon when stragglers of sheep met his gaze, 
 
148 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 dotting with white the green and amber grasses of the 
 great park, and showing, as he forded Missoula Creek, 
 a picture before him, framed in the high wall of the 
 hills, and restful with pastoral peace that was a striking 
 contrast to the untamable wilds through which he had 
 passed. 
 
 "Almost there," he whispered eagerly, as he rode 
 along the corrals and was greeted by a tumbling lot of 
 sheep-dogs. "Will it be of use?" 
 
 Before he reached the gate he was met by Hardy, 
 who, bare-headed, had left the dinner-table to welcome 
 a visitor whom, from the porch, all had decided was a 
 stranger. 
 
 The host scattered the dogs. There were a few 
 words, a shake of hands, and they could hear Hardy s 
 hearty invitation to dismount. 
 
 Meanwhile, Aunty Luce was bustling about as fast 
 as her stout, short form would allow her, arranging a 
 place at the table for the late guest, and thanking her 
 stars that a real gentleman was to be company for them 
 once more her opinion that he was a gentleman hav 
 ing foundation in the fact that he wore store-clothes 
 instead of the trappings of buckskin affected by the 
 natives of the Kootenai. 
 
 They found he was possessed of more decided points 
 due the idea of a gentleman, both in breeding 
 and education, and before many remarks were 
 exchanged, the rest of the family, as well as Aunty, 
 were congratulating themselves on this acquisition 
 from the world. 
 
 "Yes, I am altogether a stranger up here," he said 
 pleasantly, in answer to a query; "and at Holland s they 
 told me there was one of my Statesmen up in this 
 

 Before he reached the gate he was met by Hardy. Page 148, 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 149 
 
 park; so I asked the way and started west, instead of 
 north, as I had thought of doing." 
 
 "Doing a bit o prospectin , then?" was MacDou- 
 gall s query. 
 
 It was a visiting-day of his, and he had been watching 
 the new-comer s face with scrutinizing eyes ever since 
 the first words of self -introduction, in which the visitor s 
 name had been overlooked. 
 
 "Well yes," answered the other slowly, as if he was 
 not decided, or had not anticipated the question. 
 
 "I thought as much, since ye carry no hunting gear," 
 remarked the trapper; "and in this country a man is 
 likely to be the one thing or the other." 
 
 "And in this case it is the other," smiled the stranger, 
 "as I have not as yet found any vocation; I have come 
 out here to forget I ever had one prospecting for a 
 rest. " 
 
 "Well, there is plenty of room here to rest in," said 
 Hardy hospitably. 
 
 "Yes, or work in," added Rachel; "and a new country 
 needs the workers." 
 
 Tillie threw an admonishing glance as payment for 
 the uncivil speech, and the stranger turned his atten 
 tion to the speaker. The contour of her face must 
 have been pleasing, since he looked at it interestedly, 
 as if forgetting in its contemplation the words uttered; 
 and then 
 
 "Indeed?" he said at last. "Well, who knows but 
 that I may develop into a worker; is industry con 
 tagious here?" 
 
 And Rachel, whose tone had been more uncivil than 
 her intention, felt herself put at a disadvantage by the 
 suavity that was not a feature of Kootenai character. 
 
 " Indeed, then," said MacDougall, "it s gettin to be a 
 
150 TOLD IN THE HILLS 
 
 brisk, busy country these late days, an ye canna go a 
 matter o twenty mile without tiippin up on a settle 
 ment. An ye come from Holland s without a guide? 
 That s pretty good for a stranger in the parts, as I 
 doubt na ye be, Mr. And he stopped suggestively. 
 
 The stranger laughed, and drew a card from his 
 pocket. 
 
 "I told Mr. Hardy my name at the gate," he observed, 
 "but evidently it escaped his memory; he introduced 
 me only as a stranger." 
 
 "It does not matter, however, what a man is called 
 out here," returned Hardy. "It is the man that is 
 valued in the West not the name given him; now, 
 back home they weighed about equal." 
 
 "And in my country," said MacDougall, looking up 
 from the card, "here s a name that would carry ye 
 many a mile, an bespeak ye good-will from many an 
 old heart Charles Stuart. It s a name to take unco 
 good care of, my man." 
 
 "I try to take good care of the owner of it, at all 
 events," answered the stranger; "but it is not an 
 uncommon name in America; there are few parts of 
 the country in which I am not able to find a name 
 sake." 
 
 "Indeed, then, an I have run across none o the 
 name these seven odd year," said MacDougall; "an 
 then it .was a man in the Bitter Root Mountains, who 
 spelt it with the e-w instead of the u, an had never 
 e en heard tell o Prince Charlie." 
 
 "And you have known no one in tuis country by the 
 name of Stuart?" asked the stranger, his eyes seeming 
 to watch at the same time both Hardy and the old man. 
 Ivans and Jim had left the table and lounged out to the 
 stables to smoke. 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 151 
 
 "No," answered Hardy; "we are comparatively new 
 comers here, but all the settlers within a radius of 
 fifty miles are already known to us by name it is not 
 so difficult where white men are so scarce; and I have 
 never heard of any Stuarts among them." 
 
 "Then I have dropped literally into a strange coun 
 try," said Stuart, rising and walking to the end of the 
 porch; "and from what I have seen of it, a decidedly 
 interesting one. Hunting good?" 
 
 "Excellent," returned Hardy. "We ve been too 
 busy to get to the hills so far this year, but now we have 
 a little breathing-spell, and if you would care to try 
 your luck with game, I should take pleasure in showing 
 you our hunting grounds." 
 
 "That is certainly kind of you," said Mr. Stuart 
 heartily, "and I will accept the offer most gratefully. 
 The fact is, I ve been rather used up with a profes 
 sional life, and was in hopes a trip up through this 
 country would set me on my feet again. Over there at 
 Holland s they told me about you and your family, 
 and 
 
 "Yes," completed Hardy, "a man with his family 
 and household goods up in these hills is a marked indi 
 vidual; but my wife and cousin do not rebel at the 
 exile; they are both philosophers, in their way." 
 
 "Yes?" and Stuart s agreement had the intonation 
 of a man who hears, but ceases to grasp the sense of 
 words. Some closer thought seemed present with 
 him. He glanced at Hardy, a swift, quickly with 
 drawn scrutiny, and then said: "Do you know, 
 Mr. Hardy, I should like to propose myself for mem 
 bership in your household for a few weeks; would 
 it be deemed an impertinence? I can t stay at 
 Holland Centre with any comfort, and this place of 
 
152 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 yours seems to be a haven of rest. Could you give me 
 space to live in for a while, without my being a nuisance 
 to the establishment?" 
 
 "Yes, and welcome," answered Hardy. "You don t 
 seem to appreciate what a treat it is to have a visitor 
 from civilization ride our way; and one from our old 
 State is especially in demand. I was going to propose 
 that you move your outfit up here and make the ranch 
 your headquarters while in the country. A nuisance! 
 No, sir." 
 
 And thus was the simple ceremony concluded that 
 introduced this stranger to the Hardy s, to the general 
 satisfaction of all concerned. Rachel was the only mem 
 ber who did not seem especially delighted. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he is clever and entertaining," she agreed 
 to Tillie, "and his manner is so charmingly insinuating 
 that I may end by falling in love with him; but I am 
 beginning with an unreasonable desire to say snappy 
 things to him." 
 
 "I should say it was unreasonable a thorough 
 gentleman, of fine family connections. He mentioned 
 several Kentucky families that Hen might know what 
 his standing was back home, and his profession is 
 that of medicine I noticed the M. D. on his card; 
 and altogether I can not see what ground you have for 
 objecting." 
 
 "I am not objecting bless the man! no," returned 
 Rachel; "only, because a man has acquired a charming 
 manner and possesses a handsome face is no reason 
 for me devoting myself to admiration of him, like 
 Aunty Luce. She is jubilant over having so fine a 
 gentleman to wait on. You are discreetly elated over 
 having so charming a person to entertain; even Miss 
 Margaret (Miss Margaret was the baby) everything 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 153 
 
 feminine about the place has succumbed. And I sup 
 pose my reason for keeping on my own side of the 
 fence is that I m jealous. I am no longer first in the 
 affections of anyone about the place. MacDougall is 
 likely to swear allegiance at any time because his 
 name is Stuart and, above all, Charlie Stuart; even 
 Jim is wavering in the balance, and shows a wonderful 
 alacrity in anticipating the wishes of this tenderfoot. 
 Is it any wonder I rebel?" 
 
 "Well, for the comfort of the rest of us, do not begin 
 a civil war," admonished Tillie, and was only reassured 
 by a promise that there should be no active hostilities. 
 "If you are more comfortable in war than in peace, 
 go south and fight with the skirmishing Indians," 
 suggested the little woman. 
 
 "I will," said Rachel. "If you get any more civilized 
 recruits up here to make the place tame and common 
 place, I will seek service under the standard of the 
 Arrow, or Genesee." And at the mention of the last 
 name Tillie discreetly subsided. 
 
 The girl found the raw recruit rapidly making him 
 self a power in the social world of the ranch. There 
 was something of charming grace in the man s person 
 ality; and that rare gift of a sympathetic nature that 
 had also the faculty of expression, at once accorded 
 him the trust of women and children. 
 
 It may be that a degree of physical beauty influenced 
 them also, for his fine, well-shaped head was very good 
 to look at; the poise of the erect, tall figure bespoke 
 serene self-confidence; the curves of his lips, slightly 
 hidden by a mustache, gave a sweetness of expression 
 to the lower part of his face; while the wide brows and 
 fine eyes gave an intellectual cast to a personality that 
 did not lack attractive points. 
 
154 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "The lad has the old grace o the Stuarts," Mac- 
 Dougall affirmed, sticking to his fancy of connecting 
 the old blood-royal with the slip of the name grown 
 on alien ground. " And it is much the same free-handed 
 manner o the old stock free o their smiles, an win 
 ning o hearts by the clasp o the hand; but there s a bit 
 about this one that is a rare puzzle to me. I think 
 like enough it s the eyes, they re main handsome ones; 
 but I m always a-rackin o my brains to tell where I ve 
 seen them before." 
 
 Rachel, to whom this speech was made, only 
 laughed. 
 
 "He has never been West until now, so you can not 
 have seen them," she argued; but her tone made the 
 old man regard her with attention. 
 
 "What do ye mean by that, lass?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, only he says so;" and then she went 
 into the house, leaving her guest sitting on the bench 
 of the porch. 
 
 "The Stuart," as the others had already dropped into 
 calling him, after MacDougall, had been at the ranch 
 about a week. The proposed hunt was yet to be; and 
 in the meantime he rode through the parks, and saw 
 all that was near-about the ranch. He talked stock 
 raising with Hardy, medicinal herbs with Aunty Luce, 
 babies with Tillie, and with Rachel numerous worldly 
 topics of interest, that, however, never seemed to change 
 the nature of their acquaintance; which remained 
 much as it was the first day on her side, arms bur 
 nished and ready for action; on his, the serene gen 
 tleness of manner, almost a caress, a changeless good- 
 humor that spoke volumes for his disposition, and 
 at times forced even her into a sort of admiration of 
 him. 
 
A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD. 155 
 
 The health-recruiting trip he had come on, he was 
 evidently taking advantage of, for he almost lived 
 out-of-doors, and looked wonderfully healthy and 
 athletic for an invalid. In the house, he wrote a great 
 deal. But the morning Rachel left MacDougall on 
 the porch, the Stuart came sauntering up the path, the 
 picture of careless content with himself and the world. 
 "Where has Mr. Hardy gone?" he inquired, seating 
 himself on the porch. "I ve been looking for him out 
 at the pens but the men have all disappeared." 
 
 "Gone up the range for the yearlin s that strayed off 
 the last week; but they ll no go far." 
 
 "I wanted to ask Mr. Hardy about mail out here. 
 How often is it brought to the ranch?" 
 
 "Well," said the old man, between the puffs of his 
 pipe, "that depends a bit on how often it is sent for; 
 just whene er they re a bit slack o work, or if anybody 
 o them wants the trip made special; but Hardy will 
 be sendin Jimmy across for it, if it s any favor to you 
 be sure o that " 
 
 "Oh, for that matter I seem to be the most useless 
 commodity about the ranch I could make the trip 
 myself. Is Jim the usual mail-carrier?" 
 
 Well, I canna say; Andrews, a new man here, goes 
 sometimes, but it s no rare thing for him to come home 
 carrying more weight in whisky than in the letters, an 
 Hardy got a bit tired o that." 
 
 "But haven t you a regular mail-carrier for this part 
 of the country?" persisted Stuart. 
 
 MacDougall laughed shortly at the idea. "Who d 
 be paying the post?" he asked, "with but the Hardys 
 an myself, ye might say, barring the Kootenais; an 
 I have na heard that they know the use of a postage 
 stamp." 
 
156 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "But someone of their tribe does come to the Centre 
 for mail," continued Stuart in half argument "an 
 Indian youth ; have you never seen him ? 
 
 "From the Kootenais? Well, I have not, then. It 
 may be, of late, there are white men among them, but 
 canna say; I see little o any o them this long time." 
 
 "And know no other white people in this region?" 
 
 " No, lad, not for a long time," said the old man, with 
 a half sigh. 
 
 The listener rose to his feet. "I think," he said, as 
 if a prospect of new interest had suddenly been awak 
 ened in his mind "I think I should like to make a 
 trip up into the country of the Kootenais It is not 
 very far, I believe, and would be a new experience. 
 Yes, if I could get a guide, I would go." 
 
 "Well," said MacDougall drily, "seeing I ve lived 
 next door to the Kootenais for some time, I might be 
 able to take ye a trip that way myself." 
 
 Rachel, writing inside the window, heard the conver 
 sation, and smiled to herself. 
 
 "Strange that Kalitan should have slipped MacDou- 
 gall s memory," she thought; "but then he may have 
 been thinking only of the present, and the Stuart, of 
 months back. So he does know some things of people 
 in the Kootenai, for all his blind ignorance. And he 
 would have learned more, if he had not been so clever 
 and waited until the rest were gone, to question. I 
 wonder what he is hunting for in this country; I don t 
 believe it is four-footed game." 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 157 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 
 
 "Their tricks and craft ha put me daft, 
 They ve taen me in, and a that." 
 
 "And so you got back unharmed from the midst of 
 the hostiles?" asked Rachel in mock surprise, when, 
 a week later, Hardy, Stuart, and MacDougall returned 
 from their pilgrimage, bringing with them specimens 
 of deer they had sighted on their return. 
 
 "Hostiles is about the last name to apply to them, 
 I should imagine," remarked Stuart; "they are as peace 
 able as sheep." 
 
 "But they can fight, too," said MacDougall, "an 
 used to be reckoned hard customers to meet; but the 
 Blackfeet ha well-nigh been the finish o them. The 
 last o their war-chiefs is an old, old man now, an 
 there s small chance that any other will ever walk in 
 his moccasins." 
 
 "I ve been told something of the man s character," 
 said Rachel, "but have forgotten his name Bald 
 Eagle?" 
 
 "Grey Eagle. An there s more character in him 
 worth the tellin of than you ll find -in any Siwash in 
 these parts. I doubt na Genesee told you tales o him. 
 He took a rare, strange liking to Genesee from the first- 
 made him some presents, an went through a bit o 
 ceremony by which they adopt a warrior." 
 
 "Was this Genesee of another tribe?" asked Stuart, 
 who was always attentive to any information of the 
 natives. 
 
158 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Yes," said Rachel quickly, anticipating the others, 
 "of a totally different tribe one of the most extensive 
 in America at present." 
 
 "A youth? A half -breed?" 
 
 "No," she replied; "an older man than you, and of 
 pure blood. Hen, there is Miss Margaret pummeling 
 the window for you to notice her. Davy MacDougall, 
 did you bring me nothing at all as a relic of your trip? 
 Well, I must say times are changing when you forget 
 me for an entire week." 
 
 Both the men looked a little amused at Rachel s 
 truthful yet misleading replies, and thinking it just 
 one of her freaks, did not interfere, though it was 
 curious to them both that Stuart, living among them 
 so many days, had not heard Genesee mentioned before. 
 But no late news coming from the southern posts, 
 had made the conversations of their troops flag some 
 what; while Stuart, coming into their circle, brought 
 new interests, new topics, that had for the while super 
 seded the old, and Genesee s absence of a year had 
 made them count him no longer as a neighbor Then 
 it may be that, ere this, Rachel had warded off atten 
 tion from the subject. She scarcely could explain 
 to herself why she did it it was an instinctive impulse 
 in the beginning; and sometimes she laughed at herself 
 for the folly of it. 
 
 "Never mind," she would reassure herself by saying, 
 "even if I am wrong, I harm no one with the fancy; 
 and I have just enough curiosity to make me wonder 
 what that man s real business is in these wilds, for he 
 is not nearly so careless as his manner, and not nearly 
 so light-hearted as his laugh." 
 
 "Well, did you find any white men among the Koo- 
 tenais?" she asked him abruptly, the day of his return, 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 159 
 
 His head, bent that Miss Margaret could amuse her 
 self with it, as a toy of immense interest, raised sud 
 denly. Much in the girl s tone and manner to him was 
 at times suggestive; this was one of the times. His 
 usually pale face was flushed from his position, and 
 his rumpled hair gave him a totally different appear 
 ance as he turned on her a look half-compelling in its 
 direct regard. 
 
 "What made you ask that?" he demanded, in a tone 
 that matched the eyes. 
 
 She laughed ; to see him throw off his guard of gracious 
 suavity was victory enough for one day. 
 
 "My feminine curiosity prompted the question," she 
 replied easily. Did you ? 
 
 "No," he returned, after a rather steady look at her; 
 "none that you could call men." 
 "A specimen, then?" 
 
 "Heaven help the race, if the one I saw was accepted 
 as a specimen," he answered fervently; "a filthy, 
 unkempt individual, living on the outskirts of the vil 
 lage, and much more degraded than any Indian I met; 
 but he had a squaw wife." 
 
 "Yes, the most of them have wives or slaves." 
 "Slaves?" he asked incredulously. 
 "Actually slaves, though they do not bring the high 
 prices we used to ask for those of darker skin in the 
 South. Emancipation has not made much progress up 
 here. It is too much an unknown corner as yet." 
 
 "Is it those of inferior tribes that are bartered, or 
 prisoners taken in battle?" 
 
 "No, I believe not, necessarily," she replied, "though 
 I suppose such a windfall would be welcomed; but 
 if there happens to be any superfluous members in 
 a family, it is a profitable way to dispose of them, 
 
160 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 among some of the Columbia Basin Indians, anyway. 
 Davy MacDougall can give you more information than 
 I, as most of my knowledge is second-hand. But 
 I believe this tribe of the Kootenais is a grade 
 above that sort of traffic I mean bartering their own 
 kindred." 
 
 "How long have you been out here, Miss Rachel? 
 he asked, as abruptly as she had questioned him of the 
 white men. 
 
 "About a year a little over." 
 
 "And you like it?" 
 
 "Yes; I like it." 
 
 In response to several demands, he had enthroned 
 Miss Margaret on his lap by this time; and even there 
 she was not contented. His head seemed to have a 
 special fascination for her babyship; and she had such 
 an insinuating way of snuggling upward that she was 
 soon close in his arms, her hands in easy reach of his 
 hair, which she did not pull in infantile fashion, but 
 dallied with, and patted caressingly. There was no 
 mistaking the fact that Stuart was prime favorite 
 here at all events; and the affection was not one-sided 
 by any means unless the man was a thorough actor. 
 His touch, his voice even, acquired a caressing way 
 when Miss Margaret was to be pleased or appeased. 
 Rachel, speaking to Tillie of it, wondered if his attrac 
 tion was to children in general or to this one in particular; 
 and holding the baby so that her soft, pink cheek was 
 against his own, he seemed ruminating over the girl s 
 replies, and after a little 
 
 "Yes, you must, of course," he said thoughtfully; 
 "else you could never make yourself seem so much a 
 part of it as you do/ 
 
 During the interval of silence the girl s thoughts 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 161 
 
 had been wandering. She had lost the slight thread of 
 their former topic, and looked a little at sea. 
 
 "A part of what?" she asked. 
 
 "Why, the life here. You seem as if you had always 
 belonged to it a bit of local color in harmony with the 
 scenes about us." 
 
 "How flattering! charmingly expressed!" murmered 
 Miss Hardy derisively. "A bit of local color? Then, 
 according to Mr. Stuart s impressions I may look for 
 ward to finding myself catalogued among greasy squaws 
 and picturesque squaw men." 
 
 "You seem to take a great deal of delight in turning 
 all I say or do into ridicule," he observed. "You do 
 it on the principle of the country that guys a tender 
 foot ; and that is just one of the things that stamp 
 you as belonging to the life here. I try to think of 
 you as a Kentucky girl transplanted, but even the 
 fancy eludes me. You impress one as belonging to 
 this soil, and more than that, showing a disposition to 
 freeze out new-comers." 
 
 " I haven t frozen you out." 
 
 "No thanks to my temperament that refuses to con 
 geal. I did not leave all my warmth in the South." 
 
 "Meaning that I did?-" 
 
 "Meaning that you, for some reason, appear to have 
 done so." 
 
 "Dear me, what a subtle personage you make of 
 me! Come here, Margaret; this analyst is likely to 
 prejudice you against your only auntie." 
 
 "Let her be with me," he said softly, as the baby s 
 big blue eyes turned toward Rachel, and then were 
 screened by heavy, white lids; "she is almost asleep 
 little darling. Is she not a picture? See how she 
 clings to my finger so tightly;" and then he dropped 
 
 11 
 
162 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 his face until his lips touched the soft cheek. It is a 
 child to thank God for," he said lovingly. 
 
 The girl looked at him, surprised at the thrill of 
 feeling in his tones. 
 
 "You spoke like a woman just then," she said, her 
 own voice changed slightly; "like a a mother a 
 parent." 
 
 "Did I?" he asked, and arose with the child in his 
 arms to deliver it to Aunty Luce. "Perhaps I felt so; 
 is that weakness an added cause for trying to bar me 
 out from the Kootenai hills ? 
 
 But he walked away without giving her a chance to 
 reply. 
 
 She saw nothing more of him until evening, and 
 then he was rather quiet, sitting beside Tillie and Miss 
 Margaret, with occasional low-toned remarks to them, 
 but not joining in the general conversation. 
 
 "What a queer remark that was for a man to make! " 
 thought Rachel, looking at him across the room; "a 
 young man especially"; and that started her to think 
 ing of his age, about which people would have widely 
 different opinions. To see him sometimes, laughing 
 and joking with the rest, he looked a boy of twenty. 
 To hear him talking of scientific researches in his own 
 profession and others, of the politics of the day, or 
 literature of the age, one would imagine him at least 
 forty. But sitting quietly, his face in repose, yet look 
 ing tired, his eyes so full of life, yet steeped in reveries, 
 the rare mouth relaxed, unsmiling, then he looked what 
 he probably was, thought the girl about thirty; but 
 it was seldom that he looked like that. 
 
 "Therefore," reasoned this feminine watcher, "it 
 is seldom that we see him as he really is; query- 
 why?" 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 163 
 
 "Perhaps I felt as a parent feels!" How frank his 
 words had been, and how unlike most men he was, to 
 give utterance to that thought with so much feeling, 
 and how caressing to the child! Rachel had to 
 acknowledge that he was original in many ways, and 
 the ways were generally charming. His affections 
 were so warm, so frankly bestowed; yet that gracious, 
 tender manner of his, even when compared with the 
 blunt ness of the men around him, never made him seem 
 effeminate. 
 
 Rachel, thinking of his words, wondered if he had 
 a sweetheart somewhere, that made him think of a pos 
 sible wife or children longingly and if so, how that 
 girl must love him ! 
 
 So, despite her semi-warlike attitude, and her delight 
 in thwarting him, she had appreciation enough of his 
 personality to understand how possible it was for him 
 to be loved deeply. 
 
 Jim, under Miss Hardy s tuition, had been making 
 an attempt to "rope in" an education, and that night 
 was reading doubtfully the history of our Glorious 
 Republic in its early days; garnishing the statements 
 now and then with opinions of his own, especially the 
 part relating to the character of the original lords of 
 the soil. 
 
 "Say, Miss Rache, yer given me a straight tip on 
 this lay-out?" he said at last, shutting the book and 
 eyeing her closely. 
 
 The question aroused her from the contemplation of 
 the Hermes-like head opposite, though she had, like 
 Hardy, been pretending to read. 
 
 "Do you mean, is it true?" she asked. 
 
 " Naw! " answered Jim, with the intonation of supreme 
 disgust; "I hain t no call to ask that; but what I m 
 
164 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 curious about is whether the galoot as wrote the 
 truck lied by accident someone sort o playiii 
 it on him, ye see er whether he thought the rest o 
 creation was chumps from away back, an he just 
 naturally laid himself out to sell them cheap now say, 
 which is it?" 
 
 In vain his monitor tried to impress on his mind 
 the truth of the chronicles, and the fact that genera 
 tions ago the Indian could be truly called a noble man, 
 until his child-like faith in the straight tongue of the 
 interloper had made a net for his feet, to escape which 
 they had recourse only to treachery and the tomahawk, 
 thus carving in history a character that in the beginning 
 was not his, but one into which he was educated by the 
 godly people who came with their churches and guns, 
 their religion and whisky, to civilize the credulous 
 people of the forests. 
 
 Jim listened, but in the supercilious disbelief in 
 his eyes Rachel read the truth. In trying to estab 
 lish historical facts for his benefit, she was simply 
 losing ground in his estimation at every statement 
 made. 
 
 "An you," he finally remarked, after listening in 
 wonderful silence for him "an you ve read it all, 
 then?" 
 
 "Yes, most of it." 
 
 "An swallowed it as gospel?" 
 
 "Well, not exactly such literal belief as that; but 
 I have read not only this history, but others in support 
 of those facts." 
 
 "Ye have, have yeh?" remarked her pupil, with a 
 sarcastic contempt for her book-learning. "Well, I 
 allow this one will do me a life-time, fer I ve seen Flat- 
 heads, an Diggers, an Snakes!" 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 165 
 
 Thus ended the first lesson in history. 
 
 " Don t you think," said Tillie softly to Stuart, 
 "that Rachel would win more glory as a missionary to 
 the Indians than among her own race? She is always 
 running against stumbling-blocks of past knowledge 
 with the progressive white man." 
 
 Rachel cast one silencing glance at the speaker; 
 Tillie laughed. 
 
 Never mind," she said reassuringly; "I will say 
 nothing about your other attempt, and I only hope you 
 will be willing to confine yourself to the Indians near 
 home, and not start out to see some Flatheads, and 
 Diggers, and Snakes for yourself." 
 
 "Lawd bress yeh, honey!" spoke up Aunty Luce, 
 whose ears were always open to anything concerning 
 their red neighbors; "don yo go to puttin no sech 
 thoughts in her haid. Miss Rache needs tamin down, 
 she do, stead o couragement." 
 
 "Well, it s precious little encouragement I get here, 
 except to grow rusty in everything," complained Rachel. 
 "A crusade against even the Diggers would be a break 
 in the monotony. I wish I had gone with you to the 
 Kootenai village, Mr. Stuart; that would have been a 
 diversion." 
 
 "But rather rough riding," he added; "and much of 
 the life, and well, there is a great deal one would 
 not care to take a lady to see." 
 
 "You don t know how Rachel rides," said Tillie, 
 with a note of praise in her voice; "she rides as hard 
 as the men on the ranch. You must go together for 
 a ride, some day. She knows the country very well 
 already." 
 
 Rachel was thinking of the other part of his 
 speech. 
 
166 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "I should not have asked to be taken," she said, 
 "but would have gone on my own independence, as 
 one of the party." 
 
 "Then your independence would have led you to 
 several sights revolting to a refined nature," he said 
 seriously, "and you would have wished yourself well 
 out of it." 
 
 "Well, the Kootenais are several degrees superior to 
 other tribes of the Columbia Basin; so you had better 
 fight shy of Jim s knowledge. Why," she added, with 
 a little burst of indignation that their good points 
 were so neglected, "the Kootenais are a self-support 
 ing people, asking nothing of the Government. They 
 are independent traders." 
 
 "Say, Miss Rachel," broke in Jim, "was Kalitan a 
 Kootenai Injun?" 
 
 "No, though he lived with them often. He was of 
 the Gros Ventres, a race that belongs to the plains 
 rather than the hills." 
 
 "You are already pretty well posted about the differ 
 ent tribes," observed Stuart. 
 
 "Yes, the Lawd knows humph!" grunted Aunty 
 Luce, evidently thinking the knowledge not a thing to 
 be proud of. 
 
 "Oh, yes," smiled Tillie, "Rachel takes easily to 
 everything in these hills. You should hear her talk 
 ing Chinook to a blanket brave, or exchanging compli 
 ments with her special friend, the Arrow." 
 
 "The Arrow? That is a much more suggestive title 
 than the Wahoosh, Kah-kwa, Sipah, and some other 
 equally meaningless names I jotted down as I heard 
 them up there." 
 
 "They are only meaningless to strangers," answered 
 the girl. "They all have their own significance." 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES 167 
 
 "Why, this same Arrow is called Kalitan," broke in 
 Jim; "an what d you make out of that? Both names 
 mean just the same thing. He was called that even 
 when he was a little fellow, he said, cause he could run 
 like a streak. Why, he used to make the trip down to 
 the settlement an be back here with the mail afore 
 supper, makin his forty miles afoot after breakfast; 
 how s that for movin over rough country?" 
 
 The swiftness did not seem to make the desired im 
 pression, his listener catching, instead, at the fact of 
 their having had an Indian mail-carrier. 
 
 "And where is your Indian messenger of late?" he 
 asked. "He has not visited you since my arrival, has he? 
 
 "No; he left this country months ago," said Rachel. 
 "Kalitan is a bit of a wanderer never long in one 
 place." 
 
 "Davy MacDougall says he d allus loaf around here 
 if Genesee would, but he s sure to go trottin after Gen- 
 esee soon as he takes a trail." 
 
 "That is the Indian you spoke of this morning, is it 
 not?" asked Stuart, looking at Rachel. 
 
 "What!" roared Jim; and Hardy, who was taking 
 a nap behind a paper, awoke with a start. "Genesee 
 an Injun! Well, that s good!" and he broke into shrill, 
 boyish laughter. "Well, you ought to just say it to his 
 face, that s all!" 
 
 "Is he not?" he asked, still looking at the girl, who 
 did not answer. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Tillie; "he is a white man, a a 
 well, he has lived with the Indians, I believe." 
 
 "I understood you to say he himself was an Indian." 
 And Rachel felt the steady regard of those warm eyes, 
 while she tried to look unconscious, and knew she was 
 failing. 
 
168 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Hardy laughed, and shook himself rightly awake. 
 
 "Beg your pardon," he said, coming to the rescue, 
 "but she didn t say so; she only gave you the informa 
 tion that he was pure-blooded; and I should say he is 
 as much of a white man as you or I." 
 
 "Mine was the mistake," acknowledged Stuart, with 
 his old easy manner once more; "but Miss Rachel s 
 love of a joke did not let me fall into it without a leader. 
 And may I ask who he is, this white man with the Indian 
 name what is he?" 
 
 Rachel answered him then brusquely: "You saw a 
 white man with the Kootenais, did you not one who 
 lives as they do, with a squaw wife, or slave? You 
 described the specimen as more degraded than the 
 Indians about him. Well, Genesee is one of the class 
 to which that man belongs a squaw man; and he is 
 also an Indian by adoption. Do you think you would 
 care for a closer acquaintance ? 
 
 Tillie opened her eyes wide at this sweeping denun 
 ciation of Genesee and his life, while even Hardy looked 
 surprised; Rachel had always, before, something to say 
 in his favor. But the man she questioned so curtly 
 was the only one who did not change even expression. 
 He evidently forgot to answer, but sat there looking 
 at her, with a little smile in his eyes. 
 
 Once in bed, it did not keep her awake; and the 
 gray morning crept in ere she opened her eyes, earlier 
 than usual, and from a cause not usual the sound in the 
 yard of a man s voice singing snatches of song, ignor 
 ing the words sometimes, but continuing the air in 
 low carols of music, such as speak so plainly of a glad 
 heart. It was not yet sun-up, and she rebelled, 
 drowsily, at the racket as she rolled over toward 
 the window and looked out. There he was, tinker- 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 169 
 
 ing at something about his saddle, now and then whis 
 tling in mimicry of a bird swaying on a leafless reed 
 in the garden. She could see the other men, out across 
 the open space by the barn, moving around as usual, 
 looking after the domestic stock; but until one has had 
 a breakfast, no well-regulated individual is hilarious 
 or demonstrative, and their movements, as she could 
 see, were not marvels of fast locomotion. They looked 
 as she felt, she thought, yawningly, and groped around 
 for her shoes, and finding them, sat down on the side 
 of the bed again and looked out at that musical worker 
 in the yard. 
 
 She could hear Aunty Luce tinkling the dishes in the 
 kitchen, and Tillie and Miss Margaret, in the next room, 
 cooing over some love-story of dawn they were telling 
 each other. All seemed drowsy and far off, except that 
 penetrating, cheery voice outside. 
 
 "The de il tak him!" she growled, quoting Mac- 
 Dougall; "what does the fellow mean by shouting like 
 that this time of the night? He is as much of a boy 
 as Jim." 
 
 "Here awa , there awa , wandering Willie. 
 Here awa , there awa , hand awa , hame!" 
 
 warbled the Stuart, with an accent that suited his 
 name; and the girl wakened up a bit to the remem 
 brance of the old song, thinking, as she dressed, that, 
 social and cheery as he often was, this was the first 
 time she had ever heard him sing; and what a reso 
 nant, yet boyish, timbre thrilled through his voice. 
 She threw up the window. 
 
 "Look here!" she said, with mock asperity, "we are 
 willing to make some allowance for national enthusiasm, 
 Mr. Charles, Prince of the Stuarts, but we rebel at 
 
170 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Scotch love-songs shouted under our windows before 
 daybreak. 
 
 "All right," he smiled, amiably. "I know one or 
 two Irish ones, if you prefer them. 
 
 "Oh, acushla Mavourneen! won t you marry me? 
 Gramachree, Mavourneen; oh, won t you marry me?" 
 
 Click! went the window shut again, and from the 
 inside she saw him looking up at the casement with eyes 
 full of triumph and mischief. He was metamorphosed 
 in some way. Yesterday he had been serious and 
 earnest, returning from his hill trip with something like 
 despondency, and now 
 
 She remembered her last sight of him the night 
 before, as he smiled at her from the stairway. Ah, 
 yes, yes! all just because he had felt jubilant over 
 outwitting her, or rather over seeing a chance do the 
 work for another. Was it for that he was still singing? 
 Had her instincts then told her truly when she had 
 connected his presence with the memory of that older 
 man s sombre eyes and dogged exile? Well, the exile 
 was his own business, not that of anyone else least 
 of all that of this debonair individual, with his vary 
 ing emotions. 
 
 And she went down the stairs with a resentful feel 
 ing against the light-hearted melody of "Acushla 
 Mavourneen." 
 
 "Be my champion, Mrs. Hardy," he begged at the 
 breakfast -table, "or I am tabooed forever by Miss 
 Rachel." 
 "How so?" 
 
 "By what I intended as an act of homage, giving 
 her a serenade at sunrise in the love-songs of my fore 
 fathers." 
 
 "Nonsense ! " laughed Rachel. He never knew what 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 171 
 
 his forefathers were until Davy MacDougall brushed 
 up his history; and you have not thought much of the 
 songs you were trying to sing, else you would know 
 they belong to the people of the present and future as 
 well as the past. 
 
 " Trying to sing!" was all the comment Mr. Stuart 
 made, turning with an injured air to Tillie. 
 
 "Learn some Indian songs," advised that little con 
 spirator impressively; "in the Kootenai country you 
 must sing Chinook if you want to be appreciated." 
 
 "There speaks one who knows," chimed in Hardy 
 lugubriously. "A year ago I had a wife and an undi 
 vided affection; but I couldn t sing Chinook, and the 
 other fellow could, and for many consecutive days I had 
 to take a back seat." 
 
 Hen ! How dare you ? 
 
 "In fact," he continued, unrestrained by the little 
 woman s tones or scolding eyes, "I believe I have to 
 thank jealousy for ever reinstating me to the head of 
 the family." 
 
 "Indeed," remarked Stuart, with attention impres 
 sively flattering ; may I ask how it was effected ? 
 
 "Oh, very simply very simply. Chance brought her 
 the knowledge that there was another girl up the coun 
 try to whom her hero sang Chinook songs, and, presto! 
 she has ever since found English sufficient for ail her 
 needs." 
 
 And Tillie, finding she had enough to do to defend 
 herself without teasing Rachel, gave her attention to her 
 husband, and the girl turned to Stuart. 
 
 "All this gives no reason for your spasms of Scotch 
 expression this morning," she reminded him. 
 
 "No? Well, my father confessor in the feminine, 
 I was musical beg pardon, tried to be because I 
 
172 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 awoke this morning with an unusually light heart; 
 and I sang Scotch songs or tried to sing them 
 because I was thinking of a Scotchman, and ontem- 
 plating a visit to him to-day." 
 
 "Davy MacDougall?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 "And you were with him only yesterday." 
 
 "And may say good-bye to him to-morrow for a long 
 time." 
 
 "So you are going?" she asked, in a more subdued 
 tone. 
 
 "I believe so!" And for the moment the question 
 and answer made the two seem entirely alone, though 
 surrounded by the others. Then she laughed in the 
 old quizzical, careless way. 
 
 "I see now the inspiration to song and jubilance 
 that prevented you from sleeping," she said, nodding 
 her head sagaciously. "It was the thought of escaping 
 from us and our isolated life. Is that it ? " 
 
 "No, it is not," he answered earnestly. "My stay 
 here has been a pleasure, and out of it I hope will grow 
 something deeper a happiness." 
 
 The feeling in the words made her look at him quickly. 
 His eyes met her own, with some meaning back of 
 their warmth that she did not understand. Nine 
 girls out of ten would have thought the words and 
 manner suggestive of a love declaration and would at 
 once have dropped their eyes in the prettiest air of 
 confusion and been becomingly fluttered; but Rachel 
 was the tenth, and her eyes were remarkably steady as 
 she returned his glance with one of inquiry, reached for 
 another biscuit, and said: 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 But the low tones and his earnestness had not escaped 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 173 
 
 two pairs of eyes at the table those of Mistress Tillie 
 and Master Jim both of them coming to about the 
 same conclusion in the matter, the one that Rachel 
 was flirting, and the other that Stuart had a bad case 
 of spoons." 
 
 Many were the expostulations when, after breakfast, 
 Hardy s guest informed him that his exit from their 
 circle was likely to be almost as abrupt as his entrance 
 had been. In vain was there held out to him the sport 
 of their proposed hunt every persuasive argument was 
 met with a regretful refusal. 
 
 "I am sorry to put aside that pleasure," he answered; 
 "but, to tell the truth, I scarcely realized how far the 
 season has advanced. The snow will soon be deep in 
 the mountains, they tell me, and before that time I must 
 get across the country to Fort Owens. It is away from 
 a railroad far enough to make awkward travel in bad 
 weather, and I realize that the time is almost past 
 when I can hope for dry days and sunshine; so, think 
 ing it over last night, I felt I had better start as early as 
 possible." 
 
 You know nothing of the country in that direction ? 
 asked Hardy. 
 
 No more than I did of this; but an old school-fel 
 low of mine is one of the officers there Captain Sneath. 
 I have not seen him for years, but can not consider my 
 trip up here complete without visiting him; so, you 
 see" 
 
 "Better fight shy o that territory," advised Andrews, 
 chipping in with a cowboy s brief say-so. "Injun 
 faction fights all through thar, an it s risky, unless ve 
 go with a squad a big chance to pack bullets." 
 
 "Then I shall have an opportunity of seeing life 
 there under the most stirring circumstances," replied 
 
17 4 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Stuart in smiling unconcern, "for in time of peace 
 a military post is about the dullest place one can 
 
 find." 
 
 "To be sure," agreed his adviser, eyeing him dubi 
 ously; "an if ye find yerself sort o pinin for the pomp 
 o war, as I heard an actor spoutin about once, in a 
 theatre at Helena well, down around Bitter Root 
 River, an up the Nez Perce Fork, I reckon you ll find 
 a plenty o it jest about this time o year." 
 
 "And concluding as I have to leave at once," resumed 
 Stuart, turning to Hardy, "I felt like taking a ride up 
 to MacDougall s for a good-bye. I find myself inter 
 ested in the old man, and would not like to leave without 
 seeing him again." 
 
 "I rather think I ve got to stay home to-day," said 
 his host ruefully, "else I would go with you, but 
 
 "Not a word of your going," broke in Stuart; "do 
 you think I ve located here for the purpose of breaking 
 up your routine of stock and agricultural schemes? 
 Not a bit of it! I m afraid, as it is, your hos 
 pitality has caused them to suffer; so not a word of 
 an escort. I wouldn t take a man from the place, 
 
 so " 
 
 "What about a woman?" asked Rachel, with a chal 
 lenging glance that was full of mischief. For a moment 
 he looked at a loss for a reply, and she continued: 
 "Because I don t mind taking a ride to Davy MacDou 
 gall s my own self. As you say, the sunny days will be 
 few now, and I may not have another chance for weeks; 
 so here I am, ready to guide you, escort you, and guard 
 you with my life." 
 
 What was there left for the man to say? 
 "What possessed you to go to-day, Rachel?" asked 
 Tillie dubiously. "Do you think it is quite" 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 175 
 
 "Oh, yes, dear quite," returned that young lady con 
 fidently; "and you need not assume that anxious air 
 regarding either the proprieties or my youthful affections, 
 for, to tell the truth, I am impelled to go through sheer 
 perversity; not because your latest favorite wants me, 
 but simply because he does not." 
 
 Twenty minutes after her offer they were mounted 
 and clattering away over the crisp bronze turf. To 
 Stuart the task of entertaining a lady whose remarks 
 to him seldom verged from the ironical was anything 
 but a sinecure more, it was easy to see that he was 
 unused to it; and an ungallant query to himself was: 
 "Why did she come, anyway?" He had not heard her 
 reply to Tillie. 
 
 The air was crisp and cold enough to make their heavy 
 wraps a comfort, especially when they reached the 
 higher land; the sun was showing fitfully, low-flying, 
 skurrying clouds often throwing it in eclipse. 
 
 "Snow is coming," prophesied the girl, with a weather- 
 eye to the north, where the sky was banking up in 
 pale-gray masses ; perhaps not heavy enough to impede 
 your trip south, to Owens, but that bit over there looks 
 like a visiting-card of winter." 
 
 "How weather-wise you are!" he observed. "Now I 
 had noticed not the slightest significance in all that; 
 in fact, you seem possessed of several Indian accomplish 
 ments their wood-lore, their language, their habit of 
 going to nature instead of an almanac; and did not Mrs. 
 Hardy say you knew some Indian songs? Who taught 
 you them?" 
 
 "Songs came near getting us into a civil war at 
 breakfast," she observed, "and I am not sure that the 
 ground is any more safe around Indian than Scotch 
 ones." 
 
176 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "There is something more substantial of the former 
 race," he said, pointing ahead. 
 
 It was the hulking figure of a Siwash, who had seen 
 them first and tried to dodge out of sight, and failing 
 halted at the edge of a little stream 
 
 "Hostile?" queried Stuart, relying more on his 
 companion s knowledge than his own; but she shook her 
 
 head. 
 
 "No; from the Reservation, I suppose. He doesn t 
 look like a blanket brave. We will see." 
 
 Coming within speaking distance, she hailed him 
 across the divide of the little stream, and got in reply 
 what seemed to Stuart an inextricable mass of staccatos 
 and gutturals. 
 
 "He is a Kootenai," she explained, "and wants to 
 impress on our minds that he is a good Indian." 
 
 "He does not look good for much," was the natural 
 remark of the white man, eyeing Mr. Kootenai critically; 
 "even on his native heath he is not picturesque." 
 
 "No poor imp!" agreed the girl; "with winter so 
 close, their concern is more how they are to live than 
 how they appear to people who have no care for 
 them." 
 
 She learned he was on his way south to the Flathead 
 Reservation; so he had evidently solved the question 
 of how he intended living for the winter, at all events. 
 He was, however, short of ammunition. When Rachel 
 explained his want, Stuart at once agreed to give him 
 some. 
 
 "Don t be in a hurry!" advised his commander-in- 
 chief; "wait until we know how it is that he has no 
 ammunition, and so short a distance from his tribe. An 
 Indian can always get that much if he is not too lazy 
 to hunt or trap, or is not too much of a thief." 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 177 
 
 But she found the noble red man too proud too 
 answer many questions of a squaw. The fear however, 
 of hostilities from the ever-combative Blackfeet seemed 
 to be the chief moving cause. 
 
 "Rather a weak-backed reason," commented Rachel; 
 "and I guess you can dig roots from here to the Reser 
 vation. No powder, no shot." 
 
 "Squaw papoose sick," he added, as a last appeal 
 to sympathy. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 He waved a dirty hand up the creek. 
 
 "Go on ahead; show us where they are." 
 
 His hesitation was too slight to be a protest, but still 
 there was a hesitation, and the two glanced at each other 
 as they noticed it. 
 
 "I don t believe there is either squaw or papoose," 
 decided Stuart. "Lo is a romancer." 
 
 But there was, huddled over a bit of fire, and holding 
 in her arms a little bundle of bronze flesh and blood. 
 It was, as the Indian had said, sick paroxysms of 
 shivers assailing it from time to time, 
 
 "Give me your whisky-flask!" Rachel said promptly; 
 and dismounting, she poured some in the tin cup at her 
 saddle and set it on the fire the blue, sputtering flame 
 sending the odor of civilization into the crisp air. Cool 
 ing it to suit baby s lips, she knelt beside the squaw, 
 who had sat stolidly, taking no notice of the new 
 comers; but as the girl s hand was reached to help 
 the child she raised her head, and then Rachel knew 
 who she was. 
 
 They did not speak, but after a little of the warm 
 liquor had forced itself down the slight throat, Rachel 
 left the cup in the mother s hands, and reached again 
 for the whisky. 
 
 12 
 
178 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "You can get more from Davy MacDougall," she said, 
 in a half-conciliatory tone at this wholesale confiscation ; 
 "and and you might give him some ammunition not 
 much. * 
 
 "What a vanishing of resolves!" he remarked, meas 
 uring out an allowance of shot; "and all because of a 
 copper-colored papoose. So you have a bit of natural, 
 womanly weakness?" 
 
 The girl did not answer; there was a certain air of 
 elation about her as she undid a scarf from her throat 
 and wrapped it about the little morsel of humanity. 
 
 "Go past the sheep ranch," she directed the passive 
 warrior, who stood gazing at the wealth in whisky and 
 powder. "Do you know where it is Hardy s? Tell 
 them I sent you show them that," and she pointed to 
 the scarf; "tell them what you need for squaw and 
 papoose; they will find it." 
 
 Skulking Brave signified that he understood, and then 
 led Betty toward her. 
 
 "He is not very hospitable," she confided to Stuart, 
 in the white man s tongue, "else he would not be in such 
 haste to get rid of us." 
 
 And although their host did not impress one as 
 having a highly strung nervous organization, yet his 
 manner during their halt gave them the idea that he 
 was ill at ease. They did not tarry long, but having 
 given what help they could, rode away, lighter of 
 whisky and ammunition, and the girl, strange enough, 
 seemed lighter of heart. 
 
 After they had reached a point high above the little 
 creek, they turned for a look over the country passed. 
 It lay in brown and blue-gray patches, with dashes of 
 dark-green on the highlands, where the pines grew. 
 
 "What is the white thing moving along that line 
 
She undid a scarf from her throat. Page 1 78. 
 
AT CROSS-PURPOSES. 179 
 
 of timber?" asked the girl, pointing in the direction 
 they had come. It was too far off to see clearly, but 
 with the aid of Stuart s field-glass, it was decided to 
 be the interesting family they had stopped with a 
 little ways back. And the white thing noticed was a 
 horse they were riding. It was getting over the ground 
 at the fastest rate possible with its triple weight, for the 
 squaw was honored with a seat back of her lord. 
 
 "I imagined they were traveling on foot, didn t you?" 
 asked Stuart. 
 
 "What a fool he was to steal a white horse!" re 
 marked the girl contemptuously; "he might know it 
 would be spotted for miles." 
 
180 TOLD IN THE HILLS 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 
 
 The noon was passed when they reached the cabin on 
 Scot s Mountain, and found its owner on the point of 
 leaving for the Maple range. But quickly replacing 
 his gun on its pegs, he uncovered the fire, set on the 
 coffee-pot, and, with Rachel s help, in a very short time 
 had a steaming-hot dinner of broiled bear steaks and 
 "corn-dodgers," with the additional delicacy of a bowl 
 of honey from the wild bees store- 
 
 "I have some laid by as a bit of a gift to Mr. Hardy s 
 lady," he confided to Rachel. "I found this fellow," 
 tapping the steak, "in one o the traps as I was a-comin 
 my way home; an the fresh honey on his paws helped 
 me smell out where he had spied it, and a good lot o 
 it there was that Mr. Grizzly had na reached." 
 
 "See here," said Stuart, noting that, because of 
 their visit, the old man had relinquished all idea of 
 going to the woods, "we must not interfere with your 
 plans, for at best we have but a short time to stay." 
 And then he explained the reason. 
 
 When the question of snow was taken into account, 
 Davy agreed that Stuart s decision was perhaps wise; 
 but "he was main sorry o the necessity." 
 
 "An it s to Owens ye be taken the trail?" he 
 asked. "Eh, but that s curious now. I have a rare 
 an good friend thereabouts that I would be right 
 glad to send a word to; an I was just about to take 
 a look at his tunnel an the cabin, when ye come the 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 181 
 
 day, just to see it was all as it should be ere the snows 
 set in." 
 
 "I should be delighted to be of any service to you," 
 said Stuart warmly; "and to carry a message is a very 
 slight one. Who is your friend?" 
 
 "It s just the man Genesee, who used to be my 
 neighbor. But he s left me alone now these many 
 months about a year;" and he turned to Rachel for 
 corroboration. 
 
 "More than a year," she answered briefly. 
 
 "Well, it is now. I m losin track o dates these 
 late days; but you re right, lass, an the winter would 
 ha been ower lonely if it had na been for yourself. 
 Think o that, Charlie Stuart: this slim bit o woman 
 kind substituting herself for a rugged build o a man 
 taller than you by a half-head, an wi no little suc 
 cess, either. But," he added teasingly, "ye owed 
 me the debt o your company for the sending o him 
 away; so ye were only honest after all, Rachel 
 Hardy." 
 
 Rachel laughed, thinking it easier, perhaps, to dis 
 pose of the question thus than by any disclaimer 
 especially with the eyes of Stuart on her as they 
 were. 
 
 "You are growing to be a tease," she answered. 
 "You will be saying I sent Kalitan and Talapa, next." 
 
 "But Talapa has na gone from the hills?" 
 
 "Hasn t she? Well, I saw her on the trail, going 
 direct south, this morning, as fast as she could get 
 over the ground, with a warrior and a papoose as com 
 panions." 
 
 "Did ye now? Well, good riddance to them. They 
 ha been loafing around the Kootenai village ever 
 since I sent them from the cabin in the summer. That 
 
182 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Talapa was a sleepy-eyed bit o old Nick. I told 
 Genesee that same from the first, when he was wasting 
 his stock o pity on her. Ye see," he said, turning 
 his speech to Stuart, "a full-blooded Siwash has some 
 redeeming points, and a character o their own; but 
 the half-breeds are a part white an a part red, with a 
 good wheen o the devil s temper thrown in." 
 
 She didn t appear to have much of the last this 
 morning," observed Rachel. "She looked pretty mis 
 erable." 
 
 "Ah, well, tak the best o them, an they look that 
 to the whites. An so they re flittin to the Reservation 
 to live off the Government? Skulking Bob ll be too 
 lazy to be even takin the chance o fightin with his 
 people against the Blackfeet, if trouble should come; 
 and there s been many a straggler from the rebels 
 makin their way north to the Blackfeet, an that is 
 like to breed mischief." 
 
 "And your friend is at Owens?" 
 
 "Yes or thereabouts. One o the foremost o their 
 scouts, they tell me, an a rare good one he is, with 
 no prejudice on either side o the question." 
 
 "I should think, being a white man, his sympathies 
 would lean toward his own race," observed Stuart. 
 
 "Well, that s as may chance. There s many the 
 man who finds his best friends in strange blood. Gen 
 esee is thought no little of among the Kootenais 
 more, most like, than he would be where he was born 
 and bred. Folk o the towns know but little how to 
 weigh a man." 
 
 "And is he from the cities?" 
 
 For the first time Davy MacDougall looked up 
 quickly. 
 
 "I know not," he answered briefly, "an , not giving 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 183 
 
 to you a short answer, I care not. Few questions make 
 long friends in the hills." 
 
 Stuart was somewhat nonplussed at the bluntness of 
 the hint, and Rachel was delighted. 
 
 "You see," she reminded him wickedly, "one can 
 be an M. D., an L. S. D., or any of the annexations, 
 without Kootenai people considering his education 
 finished. But look here, Davy MacDougall, we only ran 
 up to say klahowya, and have got to get back to-night; 
 so, if you are going over to Tamahnous cabin, don t 
 stop on our account; we can go part of the way with 
 you." 
 
 "But ye can go all the way, instead o but a part, 
 an then no be out o your road either," he said, with 
 eagerness that showed how loath he was to part from 
 his young companions. "Ye know," he added, turn 
 ing to Rachel, "it is but three miles by the cross-cut 
 to Genesee s, while by the valley ye would cover eight 
 on the way. Now, the path o er the hills is no fit for 
 the feet o a horse, except it be at the best o seasons; 
 but this is an ower good one, with neither the rain nor 
 the ice ; an if ye will risk it 
 
 Of course they would risk it; and with a draught 
 apiece from an odorous, dark-brown jug, and the gift 
 of a flask that found its way to Stuart s pocket, they 
 started. 
 
 They needed that swallow of brandy as a brace against 
 the cold wind of the hills. It hustled through the 
 pines like winged fiends let loose from the north. Dried 
 berries from the bushes and cones from the trees were 
 sent pattering to sleep for the winter, and the 
 sighs through the green roofing, and the moans from 
 twisted limbs, told of the hardihood needed for life 
 up there. The idea impressed Stuart so much that he 
 
184 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 gave voice to it, and was laughed at grimly by the old 
 mountaineer. 
 
 Oh, well, it just takes man to be man, an that s 
 all when all s said," he answered "To be sure, there 
 be times when one canna stir for the snow wreaths, but 
 that s to be allowed for; an then ye may ha took 
 note that my cabin is in shelter o all but the south 
 wind, an that s a great matter. Men who live in the 
 mountain maun get used to its frolics; but it s an 
 ugly bit," he acknowledged, as they stopped to rest 
 and look up over the seemingly pathless way they 
 had come; "but I ve been thankful for it many s the 
 time, when, unlocked for, Genesee and Mowitza would 
 show their faces at my door, an she got so she could 
 make that climb in the dark think o that! Ah, but 
 she was the wise one ! 
 
 Stuart glanced at Rachel, who was more likely than 
 himself to understand what was meant by the "wise 
 one ; " but he did not again venture a question. Mowitza 
 was another squaw, he supposed, and one of the com 
 panions of the man Genesee. And the other one 
 they had passed in the morning? her name also was 
 connected with the scout whom the white girl seemed 
 to champion or condemn as the fancy pleased her. 
 And Stuart, as a stranger to the social system of the 
 wilderness, had his curiosity widely awakened A 
 good deal of it was directed to Rachel herself. Hearing 
 MacDougall speak of the man to her, he could under 
 stand that she had no lack of knowledge in that direc 
 tion an( j the direction was one of which the right 
 sort of a girl was supposed to be ignorant; or, if not 
 ignorant, at least to conceal her wisdom in the wise 
 way of her sisters. 
 
 This one did nothing of the sort; and the series 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 185 
 
 of new impressions received made him observe 
 the girl with a scrutiny not so admiring as he had 
 always, until now, given her. He was irritated with 
 himself that it was so, yet his ideas of what a woman 
 should be were getting some hard knocks at her 
 hands. 
 
 Suddenly the glisten of the little lake came to them 
 through the gray trunks of the trees, and a little 
 later they had descended the series of small circular 
 ridges that terraced the cove from the timber to the 
 waters, that was really not much more than an immense 
 spring that happened to bubble up where there was a 
 little depression to spread itself in and show to 
 advantage. 
 
 "But a mill would be turned easily by that same 
 bit o water," observed MacDougall; "an there s 
 where Genesee showed the level head in locating his 
 claim where he did." 
 
 "It looks like wasted power, placed up here," ob 
 served Stuart, "for it seems about the last place in 
 Christendom for a mill." 
 
 "Well, so it may look to many a pair o eyes," re 
 turned the old man, with a wink and a shrug that was 
 indescribable, but suggested a vast deal of unuttered 
 knowledge; "but the lad who set store by it because 
 o the water-power was a long ways from a fool, I can 
 tell ye." 
 
 Again Stuart found himself trying to count the 
 spokes of some shadowy wheels within wheels that 
 had a trick of eluding him; and he felt irritatingly con 
 fident that the girl looking at him with quizzical, non 
 committal eyes could have enlightened him much 
 as to the absent ruler of this domain, who, accord 
 ing to her own words, was utterly degraded, yet had 
 
186 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 a trick of keeping his personality such a living thing 
 after a year s absence. 
 
 The cabin was cold with the chill dreariness of any 
 house that is left long without the warmth of an 
 embodied human soul. Only the wandering, homeless 
 spirits of the air had passed in and out, in and out of 
 its chinks, sighing through them for months, until, on 
 entrance, one felt an intuitive, sympathetic shiver for 
 their loneliness. 
 
 A fire was soon crackling on the hearth; but the red 
 gleams did not dance so merrily on the rafters as they 
 had the first time she had been warmed at the fire 
 placethe daylight was too merciless a rival. It 
 penetrated the corners and showed up the rude bunk 
 and some mining implements; from a rafter hung a roll 
 of skins done up in bands of some pliable withes. 
 
 Evidently Genesee s injunction had been obeyed, 
 for even the pottery, and reed baskets, and bowls still 
 shone from the box of shelves. 
 
 "It s a mystery to me those things are not stolen by 
 the Indians," observed Stuart, noticing the lack of 
 any fastening on the door, except a bar on the inside. 
 
 "There s no much danger o that," said the old man 
 grimly, "unless it be by a Si wash who knows naught 
 o the country. The Kootenai people would do no 
 ill to Genesee, nor would any Injun when he lives in 
 the Tamahnons ground." 
 
 "What territory is that?" 
 
 "Just the territory o witchcraft no less. The old 
 mine and the spring, with the circle o steps down to 
 it, they let well alone, I can tell ye; and as for stealin , 
 they d no take the worth o a tenpenny nail from 
 between the two hills that face each other, an the 
 rocks o them gives queer echoes that they canna 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 1&7 
 
 explain. Oh, yes, they have their witches, an j their 
 warlocks, an enchanted places, an will no go against 
 their belief, either." 
 
 "But," said Rachel, with a slight hesitation, "Talapa 
 was not afraid to live here." 
 
 "An did ye not know, then, that she was not o Koote- 
 nai stock?" asked the old man. "Well, she was not a 
 bit o it; Genesee bought her of a beast of a Blackfoot. : 
 
 "Bought her?" asked Stuart, and even Rachel 
 opened her eyes in attention perhaps, after all, not 
 knowing so much as the younger man had angrily given 
 her credit for. 
 
 "Just that; an dear she would ha been at most any 
 price. But she was a braw thing to look at, an young 
 enough to be sorry o er. An so when he come across 
 her takin a beating like a mule he could na stand it ; 
 an the only way he could be sure o putting an end 
 to it was by maken a bargain; an that s just what he 
 did, an a most afore he had time to take thought, 
 the girl was his, an he had to tek her with him. Well," 
 and the old man laughed comically at the remem 
 brance, "you should ha seen him at the comin home! 
 
 tried to get her off his hands by leavin her an a 
 
 quitclaim at my cabin; but I d have none o that- 
 no half-breed woman could stay under a roof o mine; 
 an the finish o it was he hed to bring her here to keep 
 house for him, an a rueful commencement it was. 
 Then it was but a short while til he got hurt one day 
 in the tunnel, an took a deal o care before he 
 was on his feet again. Well, ye know woman 
 kind make natural nurses, an by the time she had him 
 on the right trail again he had got o the mind that 
 Talapa was a necessity o the cabin; an so ye may 
 know she stayed." 
 
188 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 In what tunnel was he injured?" asked Stuart. 
 
 "Why, just" 
 
 "There s your horse ranging calmly up toward the 
 timber/ observed Rachel, turning from the window to 
 Stuart. " Do you want to walk to the ranch? " 
 
 "Well, not to-day;" and a moment later he was out 
 of the door and running across the terraced meadow. 
 
 "Don t tell him too much about the tunnel," sug 
 gested the girl, when she and the old man were alone. 
 
 "Why, lass," he began; but she cut him short 
 brusquely, keeping her eye on the form on the hill-side. 
 
 "Oh, he may be all right; but it isn t like you, Davy 
 MacDougall. to tell all you know to strangers, even 
 if they do happen to have Scotch names you clan 
 nish old goose!" 
 
 "But the lad s all right." 
 
 "May be he is; but you ve told him enough of the 
 hills now to send him away thinking we are all a rather 
 mixed and objectionable lot. Oh, yes, he does 
 too!" as Davy tried to remonstrate. "I don t care how 
 much you tell him about the Indians; but that tunnel 
 may have something in it that Genesee wouldn t want 
 Eastern speculators spying into while he s away do 
 you see?" 
 
 Evidently he did, and the view was not one flatter 
 ing to his judgment, for, in order to see more clearly, 
 he took off his fur cap, scratched his head, and then 
 replacing the covering with a great deal of energy, he 
 burst out : 
 
 "Well, damn a fool, say I." 
 
 Rachel paid not the slightest attention to this pro 
 fane plea. 
 
 "I suppose he s all right," she continued; "only 
 when somebody s interest is at stake, especially a 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 189 
 
 friend s, we oughtn t to take things for granted, and 
 keeping quiet hurts no one, unless it be a stranger s 
 curiosity." 
 
 The old man looked at her sharply. "Ye dinna 
 like him. then?" 
 
 She hesitated, her eyes on the tall form leading 
 back the horse. Just then there seemed a strange 
 likeness to Mowitza and Genesee in their manner, for 
 the beast was tossing its head impatiently, and he was 
 laughing, evidently teasing it with the fact of its cap 
 ture. 
 
 "Yes, I do like him," she said at last; " there is 
 much about him to like. But we must not give away 
 other people s affairs because of that." 
 
 "Right you are, my lass," answered Davy; "an it s 
 rare good sense ye show in remindin me o the same. 
 It escapes me many s the time that he s a bit of a 
 stranger when all s said; an do ye know, e en at the 
 first he had no the ways of a stranger to me. I used 
 to fancy that something in his build, or it may ha 
 been but the voice, was like to 
 
 "You are either too old or not old enough to have 
 fancies, Davy MacDougall," interrupted the girl 
 briskly, as Stuart re-entered. "Well, is it time to be 
 moving?" 
 
 He looked at his watch. 
 
 "Almost; but come to the fire and get well warmed 
 before we start. I believe it grows colder; here, take 
 this seat." 
 
 "Well, I will not," she answered, looking about her; 
 "don t let your gallantry interfere with your comfort, 
 for I ve a chair of my own when I visit this witchy 
 quarter of the earth yes, there it is." 
 
 And from the corner by the bunk she drew forward 
 
100 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 the identical chair on which she had sat through the 
 night at her only other visit. But from her speech 
 Stuart inferred that this time was but one of the many. 
 
 "What are you going to do here, Davy MacDougall?" 
 she asked, drawing her chair close beside him and 
 glancing comprehensively about the cabin; "weather 
 board it up for winter?" 
 
 "Naw, scarcely that," he answered good-humoredly ; 
 "but just to gather up the blankets or skins or aught 
 that the weather or the rats would lay hold of, and 
 carry them across the hills to my own camp till the 
 spring comes; mayhaps he may come with it." 
 
 The hope in his voice was not very strong, and the 
 plaintiveness in it was stronger than he knew. The 
 other two felt it, and were silent. 
 
 "An will ye be tellin him for me," he continued, 
 after a little, to Stuart, "that all is snug an safe, an 
 that I ll keep them so, an a welcome with them, against 
 his return? An just mention, too, that his father, 
 Grey Eagle, thinks the time is long since he left, 
 an that the enemy Time is close on his trail. An 
 an that the day he comes back will be holiday in 
 the hills." 
 
 "The last from Grey Eagle or yourself?" asked 
 Stuart teasingly. But the girl spoke up, covering the 
 old man s momentary hesitation. 
 
 "From me," she said coolly; "if any name is needed 
 to give color to so general a desire, you can use mine." 
 
 His face flushed; he looked as if about to speak to 
 her, but, instead, his words were to MacDougall. 
 
 "I will be very glad to carry the word to your friend," 
 he said; "it is but a light weight." 
 
 "Yes, I doubt na it seems so to the carrier, but I 
 would no think it so light a thing to ha word o the 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 191 
 
 lad. We ha been neighbors, ye see, this five year, with 
 but little else that was civilized to come near us. An 
 there s a wide difference atween neighbors c stone 
 pavements an neighbors o the hills a fine differ 
 ence." 
 
 "Yes, there is," agreed the girl; and from their tones 
 one would gather the impression that all the splendors 
 of a metropolis were as nothing when compared with 
 the luxuries of "shack" life in the "bush." 
 
 "Can ye hit the trail down at the forks without me 
 along?" asked MacDougall, with a sudden remembrance 
 of the fact that Rachel did not know the way so well 
 from the "Place of the Tamahnous" as she did from Scot s 
 Mountain. She nodded her head independently. 
 
 "I can, Davy MacDougall. And you are paying me 
 a poor compliment when you ask me so doubtfully. 
 I ve been prowling through the bush enough for this 
 past year to know it for fifty miles around, instead of 
 twenty. And now if your highness thinks we ve had 
 our share of this fire, let us move our freight, hit 
 the breeze, or any other term of the woolly West that 
 means action, and get up and git." 
 
 "I am at your service," answered Stuart, with a gra- 
 ciousness of manner that made her own bravado more 
 glaring by contrast. He could see she assumed much 
 for the sake of mischief and irritation to himself; and 
 his tone in reply took an added intonation of 
 refinement; but the hint was lost on her she only 
 laughed. 
 
 "I tell you what it is, Davy MacDougall," she 
 remarked to that gentleman, "this slip of your nation 
 has been planted in the wrong century. He belongs 
 to the age of lily -like damsels in sad-colored frocks, 
 and knights of high degree on bended knee and their 
 
192 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 armor hung to the rafters. I get a little mixed in my 
 dates sometimes, but believe it was the age when cap? 
 and bells were also in fashion." 
 
 "Dinna mind her at all," advised the old man; "she d 
 be doin ye a good turn wi just as ready a will as she 
 would mak sport o ye. Do I not know her? ah, 
 but I do!" 
 
 "So does the Stuart," said Rachel; "and as for 
 doing him a good turn, I proved my devotion in that 
 line this morning, when I saved him from a lonely, 
 monotonous ride didn t I?" she added, glancing up 
 at him. 
 
 "You look positively impish," was the only reply he 
 made; and returning her gaze with one that was half 
 amusement, half vexation, he went out for the horses. 
 
 "You see, he didn t want me at all, Davy MacDou- 
 gall," confided the girl, and if she felt any chagrin she 
 concealed it admirably. "But they ve been talking 
 some about Genesee down at the ranch, and and 
 Stuart s interest was aroused. I didn t know how 
 curious he might be Eastern folks are powerful so"- 
 and in the statement and adoption of vernacular she 
 seemed to forget how lately she was of the East her 
 self; "and I concluded he might ask questions, or 
 encourage you to talk about well, about the tunnel, 
 you know; so I just came along to keep the trail free 
 of snags see?" 
 
 The old man nodded, and watched her in a queer, 
 dubious way; as she turned, a moment later, to speak 
 to Stuart at the door, she noticed it, and laughed. 
 
 "You think I m a bit loony, don t you, Davy Mac- 
 Dougall? Well, I forgive you. May be, some day, 
 you ll see I m not on a blind trail. Come and see us 
 soon, and give me a chance to prove my sanity." 
 
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND. 193 
 
 "Strange that any mind could doubt it," murmured 
 Stuart. "Come, we haven t time for proofs of the ques 
 tion now. Good-bye, MacDougall; take care of your 
 self for the winter. Perhaps I ll get back in the sum 
 mer to see how well you have done so." 
 
 A hearty promise of welcome, a hand-clasp, a few 
 more words of admonition and farewell, and then the 
 two young people rode away across the ground deemed 
 uncanny by the natives; and the old man went back to 
 his lonely task. 
 
 On reaching the ranch at dusk, it was Rachel who was 
 mildly hilarious, seeming to have changed places with 
 the gay chanter of the dawn. He was not sulky, but 
 something pretty near it was in his manner, and rather 
 intensified under Miss Hardy s badinage. 
 
 She told the rest how he divided his whisky with the 
 squaw; hinted at a fear that he intended adopting the 
 papoose; gave them an account of the conversation 
 between himself and Skulking Brave; and otherwise 
 made their trip a subject for ridicule. 
 
 "Did you meet with Indians?" asked Tillie, trying 
 to get the girl down to authentic statements. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, we did, and I sent them home to you 
 or told them to come; but they evidently had not 
 time for morning calls." 
 
 "Were they friendly?" 
 
 "Pretty much enough so to ask for powder and 
 shot. None of the men sighted them? " 
 
 No." 
 
 And no other Indians?" 
 
 No why?" 
 
 Only that I would not like Talapa to be roughly 
 unhorsed." 
 
 "Talapa! Why, Rachel, that s" 
 13 
 
/94 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Yes, of course it is with a very promising family in 
 tow. Say, suppose you hustle Aunty up about that 
 supper, won t you? And have her give the Stuart 
 something extra nice; he has had a hard day of it." 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 195 
 
 CHAPTER V- 
 
 A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 
 
 Yahka kelapie. 
 
 The snows had dropped a soft cloak over the Koo- 
 tenai hills, and buried the valleys in great beds of 
 crystallized down. Rachel s prophecy had proven a 
 true one, for the clouds that day had been a visiting- 
 card from winter. 
 
 That day was two weeks gone now; so was Stuart s 
 leave-taking, and at the ranch life had dropped into 
 the old lines, but with an impression of brightness 
 lost. Miss Margaret had not yet got over the habit of 
 turning quickly if anyone entered the room, and show 
 ing her disappointment in a frown when it was not the 
 one looked for. 
 
 Aunty Luce declared she "nevah did see a chile so 
 petted on one who wasn t no kin." 
 
 All of them discovered they had been somewhat "pet 
 ted" on the genial nature. Again the evenings were 
 passed with magazines or cards; during his stay they 
 had revived the primitive custom of taking turns telling 
 stories, and in that art Stuart had proven himself a 
 master, sometimes recounting actual experiences of 
 self or friends, again giving voice to some remembered 
 gem of literature; but, whatever the theme, it was 
 given life, through the sympathetic tendencies of the 
 man who had so much the timber of an actor or 
 rather an artist the spirit that tends to reproduce 
 or create, 
 
196 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 If Rachel missed him, she kept quiet about it, and 
 ridiculed the rest if any regrets came to her ears. No 
 one minded that much; Rachel ridiculed everyone 
 even herself. Sometimes she thought Fate seemed 
 more than willing to help her. One night, two weeks 
 after that ride from the "Place of the Tamahnous," she 
 was struck with a new conviction of the fact. 
 
 Andrews had gune to Holland s for the mail and 
 domestic miscellany. A little after sun-up he had 
 started, and the darkness was three hours old, and yet 
 no sign or sound. The rest had finally given up the 
 idea of getting any letters that night, and had gone 
 to bed. As usual, Rachel the night-owl of the fam 
 ily was left the last guard at the warm hearth. Up 
 stairs she could hear Jim s voice in the "boys " room, 
 telling Ivans some exploit whose character was denoted 
 by one speech that made its way through the ceiling 
 of pine boards : 
 
 "Yes, sir; my horse left his n half a length behind 
 every time it hit the ground." 
 
 Ivans grunted. Evidently he had listened to recitals 
 from the same source before, and was too tired for 
 close attention; anyway, the remarks of this Truthful 
 James drifted into a monologue, and finally into silence, 
 and no sound of life was left in the house. 
 
 She had been reading a book Stuart had sent back 
 to her by Hardy, the day he left. She wondered a 
 little why, for he had never spoken of it to her. It was 
 a novel, a late publication, and by an author whose 
 name she had seen affixed to magazine work; and the 
 charm in it was undeniable the charm of quiet hearts 
 and restful pictures, that proved the writer a lover of 
 the tender, sympathetic tones of life, rather than the 
 storms and battles of human emotions. 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 197 
 
 It held the girl with a puzzling, unusual interest 
 one that in spite of her would revert from the expressed 
 thoughts on the paper to the personality of the man who 
 had sent it to her, and she found in many instances, a 
 mystifying likeness. 
 
 She sat there thinking drowsily over it, and filled 
 with the conviction that it was really time to go to 
 bed; but the big chair was so comfortable, and the 
 little simmer of the burning wood was like a lullaby, 
 and she felt herself succumbing, without the slight 
 est rebellion, to the restful influence. She was aroused 
 by the banging of a door somewhere, and decided that 
 Andrews had at last returned; and remembering the 
 number of things he had to bring in, concluded to go 
 out and help him. Her impulse was founded as much 
 on economy as generosity, for the late hour was pretty 
 good proof that Andrews was comfortably drunk also 
 that breakages were likely to be in order. 
 
 It was cloudy only the snow gave light; the air 
 was not cold, but had in it the softness of rain. Over 
 it she walked quickly, fully awakened by the thought 
 of the coffee getting a bath of vinegar, or the mail 
 mucilaged together with molasses. 
 
 " Oh, here you are at last ! " she remarked, in that inane 
 way people have when they care not whether you are 
 here or in the other place. "You took your own time." 
 
 "Well, I didn t take any other fellow s!" returned 
 the man from the dark corner where he was unsad 
 dling the horse. 
 
 Andrews was usually very obsequious to Miss Rachel, 
 and she concluded he must be pretty drunk. 
 
 "I came out to help you with the things," she 
 remarked from her post in the door- way; "where are 
 they?" 
 
198 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "I ve got em myself," came the gruff tones again 
 from the corner. "I reckon I ll manage without help. 
 You d better skip for the house you ll catch cold 
 likely." 
 
 "Why, it isn t cold are you? I guess Aunty left 
 a lunch for you. I ll go and warm the coffee." 
 
 She started, and then stopped. 
 
 "Say, did you get any letters for me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 With a grumble about her ill-luck, she started back 
 toward the house, the late arrival following a little 
 ways behind with something over his shoulder. Once 
 she looked back. 
 
 "I rather think Andrews gets on dignified drunks," she 
 soliloquized; "he is walking pretty straight, anyway." 
 
 She set the coffee-pot on the coals and glanced at 
 the bundle he had dropped just inside the door it 
 was nothing but a blanket and a saddle. 
 
 "Well, upon my word!" she began, and rose to her 
 feet; but she did not say any more, for, in turning to 
 vent her displeasure on Andrews, she was tongue- 
 tied by the discovery that it was not he who had fol 
 lowed her from the stable. 
 
 "Genesee!" she breathed, in a tone a little above a 
 whisper. " Alah mika chahko! " 
 
 She was too utterly astonished either to move toward 
 him or offer her hand; but the welcome in her Indian 
 words was surely plain enough for him to understand. 
 It was just like him, however, not to credit it, and he 
 smiled a grim understanding of his own, and walked 
 over to a chair. 
 
 "Yes, that s who it is," he remarked. "I am sorry, 
 for the sake of your hopes, that it isn t the other fellow; 
 but here I am." 
 
"Genesee!" she breathed in a tone a little above a whisper. 
 Page 198. 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 199 
 
 He had thrown his hat beside him and leaned back 
 in the big chair, shutting his eyes sleepily. She had 
 never seen him look so tired. 
 
 "Tillikum, I am glad to see you again," she said, 
 going to him and holding out her hand. He smiled, 
 but did not open his eyes. 
 
 "It took you a long time to strike that trail," he 
 observed. "What brought you out to the stable?" 
 
 I thought you were Andrews, and that you were 
 drunk and would break things." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "And I am glad to see you, Jack." 
 
 He opened his eyes then. "Thank you, little girl. 
 That is a good thing for a man to hear, and I believe 
 you. Come here. It was a good thing for me to get 
 that word from Kalitan, too. I reckon you know all 
 that, though, or you wouldn t have sent it." 
 
 She did not answer, but stooped to lift the pot of 
 coffee back from the blaze. The action recalled him 
 to the immediate practical things, and he said: 
 
 "Think I can stay all night here?" 
 
 "I don t know of any reason to prevent it." 
 
 "Mowitza was used up, and I wanted a roof for her; 
 but I didn t allow to come to the house myself." 
 
 "Where would you have slept?" 
 
 "In my blanket, on the hay." 
 
 "Just as if we would let you do that on our place! " 
 
 "No one would have known it if you had kept away 
 from the stable, and in your bed, where you ought to 
 be." 
 
 "Shall I go there at once, or pour your coffee first ? " 
 
 "A cup of coffee would be a treat; I m dead tired." 
 
 The coffee was drank, and the lunch for Andrews 
 was appropriated for Genesee. 
 
200 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Have you come back to the Kootenai country for 
 good?" she asked, after furnishing him with whatever 
 she could find in the pantry without awakening the rest. 
 
 "I don t know it may be for bad," he replied doubt 
 fully. "I ve taken the trail north to sound any tribes 
 that are hostile, and if troops are needed they are to 
 follow me." 
 
 "Up into this country?" 
 
 "I reckon so. Are you afraid of fighting?" 
 
 She did not answer. A new idea, a sudden remem 
 brance, had superseded that of Indian warfare. 
 
 "How long since you left Fort Owens?" she asked. 
 
 "Fifteen days. Why?" 
 
 "A friend of MacDougall s started in that direction 
 about two weeks ago. Davy sent a kind message by 
 him ; but you must have passed it on the way. 
 
 "Likely; I ve been in the Flathead country, and that s 
 wide of the trail to Owens. Who was the man? " 
 
 "His name is Stuart." 
 
 He set the empty cup down, and looked in the fire 
 for a moment with a steadiness that made the girl 
 doubt if he had either heard or noticed; but after a 
 little he spoke. 
 
 "What was that you said?" 
 
 "That the man s name was Stuart." 
 
 "Young or old?" 
 
 "Younger than you." 
 
 "And he has gone to Fort Owens?" 
 
 "Started for there, I said." 
 
 "Oh! then you haven t much faith in a tenderfoot 
 getting through the hostiles or snow-banks?" 
 
 1 How do you know he is a tenderfoot ? 
 
 He glanced up ; she was looking at him with as much 
 of a question in her eyes as her words. 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 201 
 
 "Well, I reckon I don t," he answered, picking up 
 his hat as if to end the conversation. I knew a man 
 called Stuart once, but I don t know this one. Now, 
 have you any pressing reason for loafing down here 
 any longer? If not, I ll take my blanket and that 
 lounge and get some sleep. I ve been thirty-six hours 
 in the saddle." 
 
 In vain she tried to prevail on him to go upstairs 
 and go to bed "right." 
 
 This is right enough for me," he answered, laying 
 his hat and gloves on a table and unfastening his spurs. 
 "No, I won t go up to the men s room. Good-night." 
 
 "But, Jacklook here " 
 
 "I can t too sleepy to look anywhere, or see if I did 
 look;" and his revolvers and belt were laid beside the 
 growing collection on the table. 
 
 "But Hen will scold me for not giving you better 
 lodging." 
 
 "Then he and another man will have a shooting- 
 match before breakfast to-morrow. Are you going?" 
 
 He was beginning to deliberately unfasten his neck- 
 gear of scarlet and bronze. She hesitated, as if to make 
 a final protest, but failed and fled; and as the door 
 closed behind her, she heard another half-laughing 
 "Klahowya!" 
 
 Early in the morning she was down-stairs, to find 
 Aunty Luce half wild with terror at the presence of a 
 stranger who had taken possession of the sitting-room 
 during the night. 
 
 "Cain t see his face for the blanket, honey," she 
 whispered shrilly, "but he s powerful big; an an just 
 peep through the door at the guns and things it s 
 wah times right ovah again, shueh as I m tellen yo , 
 chile." 
 
202 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Be quiet, Aunty, and get breakfast; it s a friend of 
 ours." 
 
 "Hi-yi! I know all bout them kind o friends, honey; 
 same kind as comes South in wah times, a trampen 
 into houses o quality folks an sleepen whah they liked, 
 an callen theyselves friends. He s a moven now! 
 less call the folks ! 
 
 The attempted yell was silenced by Rachel clap 
 ping her hand over the full lips and holding her 
 tightly. 
 
 "Don t be a fool!" she admonished the old woman 
 impatiently. "I let the man in last night; it s all right. 
 Go and get him a good breakfast." 
 
 Aunty Luce eyed the girl as if she thought her a 
 conspirator against the safety of the house, and despite 
 precautions, managed to slip upstairs to Tillie with a 
 much-garbled account of thieves in the night, and war 
 times, and tramps, and Miss Rache. 
 
 Much mystified, the little woman dressed quickly, 
 and came down the stairs to find her husband shaking 
 hands quite heartily with Genesee. Instantly she for 
 got the multitudinous reasons there were for banning 
 him from the bosom of one s family, and found herself 
 telling him he was very welcome. 
 
 I reckon in your country a man would wait to hear 
 someone say that before stowing his horse in their 
 stables, or himself in their beds," he observed. 
 
 His manner was rather quiet, but one could see that 
 the heartiness of their greeting was a great pleasure, 
 and, it may be, a relief. 
 
 "Do you call that a bed?" asked Tillie, with con 
 temptuous warmth. "I do think, Mr. Genesee, you 
 might have wakened some of us, and given us a chance 
 to treat a guest to something better." 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 203 
 
 "I suppose, then, I am not counted in with the fam- 
 ily," observed Rachel, meekly, from the background. 
 "I was on hand to do the honors, but wasn t allowed 
 to do them. I even went to the stable to receive the 
 late-comer, and was told to skip into the house, and 
 given a general understanding that I interfered with 
 his making himself comfortable in the hay-mow." 
 
 "Did she go out there at night, and alone, after we 
 were all in bed?" And Tillie s tone indicated volumes 
 of severity. 
 
 "Yes," answered Genesee; for Rachel, with a martyr- 
 like manner, said nothing, and awaited her lecture ; she 
 thought it was your man Andrews." 
 
 "Yes, and she would have gone just as quickly if it 
 had been Indians or or anybody. She keeps me 
 nervous half the time with her erratic ways." 
 
 "I rather think she s finding fault with me for giving 
 you that coffee and letting you sleep on the lounge," 
 said Rachel; and through Tillie s quick disclaimer her 
 own shortcomings were forgotten, at least for the time. 
 The little matron s caution, that always lagged woefully 
 behind her impulse, obtruded itself on her memory 
 several times before the breakfast was over; and think 
 ing of the reasons why a man of such character should 
 not be received as a friend by ladies, especially girls, 
 she was rather glad when she heard him say 
 he was to push on into the hills as soon as possi 
 ble 
 
 "I only stopped last night because I had to; Mowitza 
 and I were both used up. I was trying to make Mac- 
 Dougall s, but when I crossed the trail to your place, 
 I reckoned we would fasten to it working through the 
 snow was telling on her; but she is all right this morn 
 ing." 
 
204 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Rachel told him of her visit to the old man, and his 
 care of the cabin on the Tamahnous ground; of rumors 
 picked up from the Kootenai tribe as to the chance of 
 trouble with the Blackfeet, and many notes that were 
 of interest to this hunter of feeling on the Indian ques 
 tion. He commented on her Chinook, of which she 
 had gained considerable knowledge in the past year, 
 and looked rather pleased when told it had been gained 
 from Kalitan. 
 
 "You may see him again if I have to send for troops 
 up here, and it looks that way now," he remarked, much 
 to the terror and satisfaction of Aunty Luce, who was a 
 house divided against itself in her terror of Indian 
 trouble and her desire to prove herself a prophetess. 
 
 Jim was all anticipation. After a circus or a variety 
 show, nothing had for him the charm that was exerted 
 by the prospect of a fight ; but his hopes in that direction 
 were cooled by the scout s statement that the troops 
 were not coming with the expectation of war, but simply 
 to show the northern tribes its futility, and that the 
 Government was strengthening its guard for protection 
 all along the line. 
 
 "Then yer only ringin in a bluff on the hostiles! ?i 
 ventured the sanguinary hopeful disgustedly. "I 
 counted on business if the yaller turned out," meaning 
 by the "yaller" the cavalry, upon whose accoutrements 
 the yellow glints show. 
 
 "Never mind, sonny," said Genesee; "if we make a 
 bluff, it won t be on an empty hand. But I must take 
 the trail again, and make up for time lost in sleep 
 here." 
 
 "When may we look for you back?" 
 
 It was Hardy who spoke, but something had taken 
 the free-heartiness out of his tones; he looked just 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 205 
 
 a trifle uncomfortable. Evidently Tillie had been giv 
 ing him a hint of second thoughts, and while trying to 
 adopt them they fitted his nature too clumsily not to be 
 apparent. 
 
 His guest, however, had self-possession enough for 
 both. 
 
 "Don t look for me," he advised, taking in the group 
 with a comprehensive glance; "that is, don t hurt the 
 sight of your eyes in the business; the times are uncer 
 tain, and I reckon I m more uncertain than the times. 
 I m obliged to you for the sleep last night, and the cover 
 for Mowitza. If I can ever do you as good a turn, just 
 sing out." 
 
 Hardy held out his hand impulsively. "You did a 
 heap more for us a year ago, for which we never had a 
 chance to make return," he said in his natural, hearty 
 manner. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you have had," contradicted Rachel s cool 
 tones from the porch; "you have the chance now." 
 
 Genesee darted one quick glance at her face. Some 
 thing in it was evidently a compensation, and blotted 
 out the bitterness that had crept into his last speech, 
 for with a freer manner he took the proffered hand. 
 
 "That s all right," he said easily. "I was right 
 glad of the trip myself, so it wasn t any work; but 
 at the present speaking the days are not picnic days, 
 and I must git. Good-bye, Mrs. Hardy, good-bye; 
 boys." 
 
 Then he turned in his saddle and looked at Rachel. 
 "Klahowyatillikum" he said, lifting his hat in a final 
 farewell to all. 
 
 But in the glance toward her she felt he had said 
 "thank you" as plainly as he had in the Indian lan 
 guage called her "friend." 
 
206 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" said Tillie, turning into the house as he 
 rode away. "I wish the man had staid away, or else that 
 we had known more about him when we first met him. 
 It is very awkward to change one s manner to him, and 
 and yet it seems the only thing to do." 
 
 "Certainly," agreed Rachel, with an altogether 
 unnecessary degree of contempt, "it is the only thing 
 for you to do." 
 
 Tillie sat down miserably under this stroke, the 
 emphasis denoting very plainly the temper of the 
 speaker. 
 
 "Oh, don t be ugly, Rache," she begged. "I really 
 feel wretched about it. I thought at first all the free 
 dom of social laws out here was so nice* but it isn t. 
 It has a terrible side to it, when the greatest scamp is 
 of as much account as the finest gentleman, and expects 
 to be received on the same footing. He he had no 
 right to come imposing on us at the first;" and with 
 this addition to her defense, Tillie tried to ensconce 
 herself behind the barricade of injured faith, but feel 
 ing that her protests were only weakening her argu 
 ment. 
 
 "To the best of my recollection," said the girl, 
 with a good deal of the supercilious in her manner, "he 
 neither came near us nor advanced any desire for friend 
 ship on his own account. We hunted him up, and 
 insisted on talking natural history and singing songs 
 with him, and pressing on him many invitations to visit 
 us, invitations which he avoided accepting. He was 
 treated, not as an equal of the other gentlemen, but as a 
 superior; and I believe it is the only time we ever did 
 him justice." 
 
 "Yes, he did seem very nice in those days; but you 
 see it was all false pretense. Think of the life that he 
 
A VISIT IN THE NIGHT-TIME. 207 
 
 had come from, and that he went back to! It s no use 
 talking, Rachel there is only a right way and a wrong 
 way in this world. He has shown his choice, and 
 self-respecting people can only keep rid of him as much 
 as possible. I don t like to hurt his feelings, but it 
 makes it very awkward for us that we have accepted 
 any favors from him." 
 
 "The obligation rests rather lightly on your shoul 
 ders to cause you much fretting," said the girl bitterly; 
 "and he thought so much of you, too so much." 
 
 Her voice, that began so calmly, ended a little uncer 
 tainly, and she walked out of the door. 
 
 Hardy, coming in a moment later, found Tillie divided 
 between penitence and pettishness, and fighting her 
 way to comfort through tears. 
 
 "I know I m right, Hen, about the whole question," 
 she whimpered, when safely perched on the strong 
 hold of his knee, "and that is what makes it so aggra 
 vating." 
 
 "To know you re right?" 
 
 "No; but to have Rachel, who knows she is in the 
 wrong, take that high-handed way about the affair, 
 and end up by making me feel ashamed. Yes, she 
 did, Hen just that. I felt so ashamed I cried, and 
 yet I knew I was right all the time now what are you 
 laughing at?" 
 
208 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NEIGHBORS OF THE NORTH PARK. 
 
 Reveille! Boots and saddles! Taps! 
 
 About the Hardy ranch the changes were rung on 
 all those notes of camp, from early morn till dewy 
 eve, by the melodious imitations of Jim. 
 
 Stories of grizzlies and black bear had grown passJ; 
 even the more rare accounts of wild horses spotted in 
 some secluded valley failed to stir his old-time interest. 
 All else had drifted into nothingness to him, for the 
 "yaller" had come. 
 
 It had been stationed in the North Park for ten 
 days days of wild commotion at the ranch, for North 
 Park was only two miles away, following the little 
 branch of Missoula Creek that flowed north to the Koo- 
 tenai River. The necessary errands to and fro between 
 the two points of residence were multitudinous, for 
 Jim could never remember but one thing at a time 
 of late; and the retraced steps he took would have 
 tired out anyone less curious. He was disappointed, 
 at first, to find that only one company had been sent 
 up to guard the gate into the Kootenai country. It 
 did not look as if they feared any outbreak or active 
 service, and if it had not been in the most miserable 
 of seasons, they would have had much the appear 
 ance of a pleasure party; but the rains were in the 
 valleys and the snows were on the hills, and camp 
 life under those circumstances is a breeder of rayless 
 monotony. 
 
NEIGHBORS OF THE NORTH PARK. 209 
 
 "And your ranch up here has proved the oasis in 
 our desert," declared Fred Dreyer in a burst of grati 
 tude to Rachel, just as if the locating of the sheep 
 farm in that particular part of the world was due to 
 the sagacity and far-sightedness of Miss Hardy; "and 
 when Mr. Stuart told us at the Fort that we should 
 have so charming a neighbor, I wanted to throw up 
 my plate and give three cheers. We were at mess 
 at dinner, I mean. But I restrained my enthusiasm, 
 because my leave to come along was only provisional 
 at that time, and depended on my good behavior; 
 but once here, my first impulse was to give you a big 
 hug instead of the conventional hand-shake, for there 
 are no girls at the Fort, and I was hungry for the sight 
 of one." 
 
 It was not, as one may suppose, one of the uniformed 
 warriors of the camp who expressed himself with this 
 enthusiasm, though several looked as if they would 
 like to, but it was the most petite little creature in 
 petticoats to her own disgust; and to mitigate the 
 femininity of them as much as possible, they were of 
 regular army blue, their only trimming belt and bands 
 of the "yaller," an adornment Jim openly envied her, 
 and considered senseless when wasted on a girl. She 
 was Miss Frederick Dreyer, the daughter of Major 
 Dreyer, of the Fort, and the sweetheart of most of the 
 men in it, from the veterans down. 
 
 "They all think they own me," she confided plain 
 tively to Rachel, "just because I m little. It s only 
 a year and a half since they quit calling me Baby 
 Fred think of that! When you re owned by a 
 whole regiment, it s so hard to gather up any dignity, 
 or keep it if you do get hold of it; don t you think 
 so?" 
 
 14 
 
210 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "I have had no experience in that line," answered 
 Rachel. "You see I have never been owned by a regiment, 
 nor by anybody else." 
 
 "How delightfully independent you are!" and Miss 
 Fred, encircled by comrades, seemed really to envy the 
 other her loneness in the world. "No orderly forever 
 on duty at your heels, and " 
 
 "And no lieutenant," put in Rachel; and then they 
 both laughed, and the younger told the elder she was 
 ridiculous, for the lieutenants were not a bit worse 
 than the rest. 
 
 "Worse? Not at all. I could even imagine circum 
 stances under which they might be preferable, and 
 I m not gifted with much imagination, either." 
 
 "I know someone who thinks you are, and an envi 
 able imagination at that," laughed Miss Fred. 
 
 Rachel opened her eyes a little in questioning, but 
 diid not speak. 
 
 "Why, it was Mr. Stuart. He talked about you a 
 good deal at the Fort. You know there are several 
 officers who have their wives with them, and he was 
 asking them lots of questions about typical Western 
 girls, but they didn t seem to know any, for at a military 
 fort girls don t remain girls long unless they re half 
 boys, like me. Someone always snaps them up and 
 tacks Mrs. to their name, and that settles them." 
 
 "Poor girls!" 
 
 "Oh, bless you! they would say that same thing of 
 anyone who visited a fort and did not become married, 
 or engaged well, I should think so!" 
 
 "Do you come in for your share of commiseration?" 
 asked Tillie, who was listening with interest to this 
 gossip of military life that seemed strange for a woman 
 to share. 
 
NEIGHBORS OF THE NORTH PARK. 211 
 
 "Me? Not a bit of it. I am not worth their notice 
 in that respect. They haven t begun to treat me as 
 if I was grown up, yet; that s the disadvantage of 
 being little you never can impress people with a 
 belief in your own importance. Yesterday, Lieutenant 
 Murray had the impudence to tell me that, when all 
 was said and done, I was only a camp follower hang 
 ing onto the coat-tails of the army, and likely to be 
 mustered out of the regiment at the discretion of the 
 superior officers my lords and masters! What do 
 you think of that ? 
 
 That you must have made things rather warm for 
 the poor Lieutenant to provoke a speech so unnatural 
 to his usual courtesy," answered Rachel. "Whatever 
 Mr. Stuart may credit me with, I have not imagina 
 tion enough to conceive that speech being unprovoked." 
 
 "Well, if you re going to champion his High-Mighti 
 ness, I ll tell you nothing more. Mr. Stuart said you 
 were so sympathetic, too." 
 
 "I should say it was the Stuart who was imaginative," 
 laughed Rachel; "ask Tillie." 
 
 "But, he did say that seriously," insisted Miss 
 Fred, turning to Tillie. "When Mrs. Captain Sneath 
 was curious about you, he said you had a delicate 
 imagination that would rind beauty in things that to 
 many natures would be commonplace, and topped off a 
 long list of virtues by saying you were the most loyal 
 of friends." 
 
 Tillie sat looking at Rachel in astonishment. 
 
 "What have you been doing with the man?" she 
 asked; "giving him some potion brewed by an Indian 
 witch? A sure hoodoo it must be, to warp a man s 
 judgment like that! And you were not so very nice 
 to him, either," 
 
 14 
 
212 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Wasn t she?" asked Fred in amazement. "Well I 
 think it would be hard to be anything else to so charm 
 ing and so clever a man. Do you know he is very 
 rich?" 
 
 "No," answered Tillie. "We only knew that he was 
 a physician out here for a change of air. He is splendid 
 company." 
 
 "Well, I should think so! We were all in love with 
 him at the Fort. Mrs. Sneath says he has given up 
 medicine, and I believe it s something of a secret, but 
 it doesn t matter in this far-out corner of the world 
 he is something of a writer a writer of fiction. 
 The way I heard it was through the Captain, who used 
 to know him at college. He says that the Stuart, as 
 you call him, is most likely out here studying up mate 
 rial for some work a novel, may be. Wouldn t you 
 love to read it ? " 
 
 "I can t say unless I have some idea of the class of 
 work. What has he done ?" 
 
 It was Rachel who was the questioner, and who, in 
 the light of a reasonable cause for his presence in the 
 Kootenai, felt herself all in a moment a bit of a fool for 
 some of her old fancies. 
 
 "I don t know wish I did," said Miss Fred promptly. 
 "He writes under an assumed name. Mrs. Sneath 
 wouldn t tell me, for fear I d bother him about it, I 
 suppose; but if he comes up here to camp, I ll find out 
 before he leaves see if I don t." 
 
 "He is not likely to pay a visit up here in this season 
 of the year," remarked Rachel. "I thought he was 
 going East from Owens." 
 
 "He did talk like that when he first went down 
 there, and that s what made Captain Sneath decide 
 he was studying up the country; for all at once he 
 
NEIGHBORS OF THE NORTH PARK. 213 
 
 said he might stay out West all winter, and seemed 
 to take quite an interest in the Indian question made 
 friends with all the scouts down there, and talked 
 probabilities with even the few good Indians about 
 the place. He told me he might see me again, if I 
 was coming up with the company. So he is studying 
 up something out here sure." 
 
 Nobody answering this speculation, she was silent 
 a bit, looking at Rachel, who had picked up a book off 
 the table; and then she began to laugh. 
 
 "Well " and Rachel glanced over at her, noting 
 that she looked both amused and hesitating "well, 
 what is it?" 
 
 "I was only thinking how how funny it would be 
 if you happened to be that something. 
 
 But Rachel s answering laugh, as she pushed the 
 book away, signified that it was the least probable of 
 all fancies. 
 
 "It is you who should write romances, instead of 
 the Stuart," she replied "you and Tillie here. She 
 has a good deal of the same material in her that of 
 a match-maker. She has spied out life-partners for 
 me in all sorts of characters out here, from Davy Mac- 
 Dougall down to Jim. They are wonderfully anxious 
 to get rid of me." 
 
 Just outside the gate, the blue of military garb 
 showed the coming of the usual afternoon callers from 
 Camp Kootenai, among them the Major, commander 
 of the compnay, the only occasional rebel being his 
 petite non-commissioned officer in petticoats. A tall 
 young fellow in lieutenant s uniform halted on his 
 way out to exchange greeting; and if the daughter 
 complained of the young soldier s lack of deference, 
 the father had no reason to, for in his eyes, as he 
 
214 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 saluted, shone something nearer affection than mere 
 duty a feeling that he shared with every man in the 
 command, for Major Dreyer was a universal favor 
 ite. 
 
 "No later news of that scout, Genesee?" asked the 
 younger as they separated. 
 
 "No; but we can expect him soon now for that red 
 shadow of his, Kalitan, just loped into camp. And, by 
 the way," added the older officer, "he mentioned that 
 he passed our friend Stuart back at the settlement. He 
 is coming up this way again." 
 
 "Tell Miss Fred that, Major. When I saw her, an 
 hour ago, she needed something to put her in a good 
 humor." 
 
 "Ah! Good-evening, Lieutenant." 
 
 "Good-evening, Major." 
 
 The minute the subordinate s back was turned, Miss 
 Fred, with a running jump that would have done Jim 
 credit, landed almost on the Major s shoulder. He 
 gave her a ferocious hug, and dropped her plump on 
 her feet with a stern 
 
 "Attention!" 
 
 Quick as light the little hand was raised in salute, 
 and the little figure gathered together its scattered 
 dignity to make a soldierly appearance. 
 
 "Private Dreyer, I have been met on the outposts 
 with a message telling me of a disorganized temper that 
 should belong to your command. What have you to 
 say for yourself?" 
 
 Instantly the role of the soldier was dropped, and that 
 of the girl with a temper took its place. 
 
 "Oh, he told you, did he?" she asked, with a wrathful 
 glance at the figure retreating toward camp. "Well, 
 just wait until I go riding with him again! He s called 
 
NEIGHBORS OF THE NORTH PARK. 215 
 
 me a camp follower, and and everything else that was 
 uncivil." 
 
 "Ah! And what did you do?" 
 
 "I? Why nothing, of course." 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 "Well, I did threaten to go over and turn them out of 
 the cabin that was built for me, but 
 
 "But that was a mere trifle in this tropical climate. 
 I ve no doubt it would do them good to sleep under 
 the stars instead of a roof; and then it would give you 
 an opportunity to do some wholesale nursing, if they 
 caught colds all around." 
 
 Just as if I would ! 
 
 "Just as if you would not! And Lieutenant Murray 
 would come in for the worse medicine and the biggest 
 doses." 
 
 "If his constitution is equal to his impudence, it 
 would take stupendous doses to have any effect. I 
 wish he could be sent back to the Fort." 
 
 "Won t sending him up among the Indians do just 
 as well ? 
 
 "Y-yes. Are you going to, papa?" 
 
 "Ah! now you grow inquisitive." 
 
 "I do think," said Tillie, "you all plague her a great 
 deal." 
 
 "They just treat me as if I was a joke instead of a 
 girl," complained Fred. "They began it before I was 
 born by giving me a boy s name, and it s been kept up 
 ever-since." 
 
 "Never mind, Baby," he said soothingly; "if I had 
 not made a boy of you I could not have had you with 
 me, so the cause was vital." 
 
 They both laughed, but it was easy to see that the 
 cause was vital to them, and their companionship 
 
216 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 very much of a necessity. Its interruptions since her 
 babyhood had been few and short, and her education, 
 picked up on the frontier, had taught her that in the 
 world there was just one place for her in the saddle, 
 and beside her father, just as her mother had ridden 
 beside him before Fred was born. 
 
A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 217 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST LONG AGO?" 
 
 The next morning, bright and early, Kalitan called 
 at the ranch; and Miss Fred, accustomed as she was 
 to the red men, grew rather enthusiastic over this 
 haughty, graceful specimen, who gave her one glance 
 at the door and walked past her into the house as 
 she afterward described it, "just as if she had been 
 one of the wooden door-posts." 
 
 "Rashell Hardy?" was nil he said; and without more 
 ado Miss Fred betook herself up the stairs to do his im 
 plied bidding and hunt Miss Hardy. 
 
 "I rather think it s the grand mogul of all the 
 Kootenais," she said, in announcing him. "No, he 
 didn t give any card; but his personality is too 
 striking to be mistaken, if one has ever seen him or 
 heard him speak. He looked right over my head, 
 and made me feel as if I was about two feet high." 
 
 "Young Indian?" 
 
 "Yes, but he looks like a young faun. That one 
 never came from a scrub race." 
 
 "I ll ask him to stay to dinner," laughed Rachel; 
 "if anything will cure one of a tendency to idealize 
 an Indian, it is to see him satisfying the inner man. 
 Come down and talk to him. It is Kalitan." 
 
 "Oh, it is Kalitan, is it? And pray what it is that 
 a chief rich in lineage and blooded stock ? His assurance 
 Speaks of wealth and power, I should say, and his manner 
 
218 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 shows one a Fenimore Cooper spirit come to life. How 
 am I as a guesser?" 
 
 "One of the worst in the world. Kalitan is really a 
 handsome humbug in some ways. That superb manner 
 of his is the only stock in trade he possesses beyond his 
 swift feet; but the idea of importance he manages to 
 convey speaks wonders for his strength of will. Come 
 along!" 
 
 "Klahowya, Rashell Hardy?" he said; and stepping 
 solemnly forward, shook her hand in a grave, cere 
 monious fashion. Rachel told him the other lady 
 was her friend, by way of introduction, and he widened 
 his mouth ever so little in a smile, but that was the 
 only sign of acknowledgement he gave; and when 
 Rachel spoke to him in English he would not answer, 
 but sat stolidly looking into the fire until she saw what 
 was wrong and addressed him in Chinook. "Rashell 
 Hardy need not so soon forget," he reminded her 
 briefly; and then went on with his speech to her of 
 where he had been; the wonders he had done in the 
 way of a runner, and all else of self-glorification that 
 had occurred in the past months. Many times the 
 name of his chief was uttered in a way that impressed 
 on a listener the idea that among the troops along the 
 frontier there were two men who were really worthy 
 of praise a scout and a runner. "Kalitan tired now 
 pretty much," he wound up, as a finale; "come up 
 Kootenai country to rest, may be, while spring comes. 
 Genesee he rest, too, may be may be not." 
 
 "Where, Kalitan?" 
 
 "S pose camp s pose may be Tamahnous cabin; not 
 here yet." 
 
 "Coming back?" 
 
 Kalitan nodded, and arose. 
 

 She nearly dropped it in her fright. Page 219. 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 219 
 
 "Come see you, may be, sometime, often," he said, as 
 if conferring a special honor by promised visits; and 
 then he stalked out as he had stalked in, only checking 
 his gait at sight of Aunty Luce coming in from the 
 kitchen with a dish of cold meat. She nearly dropped 
 it in her fright, and closed her eyes in silent prayer and 
 terror; when she opened them the enemy had left the 
 porch. 
 
 "Good Lawd, Miss Rache!" she gasped. "He s 
 skeered me before bad enough, but this the fust time 
 he evah stopped stock an glare at me! I s gwine to 
 complain to the milantary I is, shuah." 
 
 "You are a great old goose!" said Rachel brusquely. 
 "He wasn t looking at you, but at that cold meat." 
 
 There seemed a general gathering of the clans along 
 the Kootenai valley that winter. With the coming 
 north of Genesee had come the troops, then Kalitan, 
 then their mercurial friend of the autumn the Stuart; 
 and down from Scot s Mountain came Davy Mac- 
 Dougall, one fair day, to join the circle that was a sort 
 of reunion. And among the troops were found many 
 good fellows who were so glad of an evening spent at 
 the ranch that never a night went by without a party 
 gathered there. 
 
 "The heft o them does everything but sleep here," 
 complained Aunty Luce; "an all the other ones look 
 jealous cause Mr. Stuart does that." 
 
 For Hardy and his wife had insisted on his stop 
 ping with them, as before, though much of his time 
 was spent at the camp. There was something about 
 him that made him a companion much desired by 
 men; Rachel had more opportunity to observe this 
 now than when their circle was so much smaller. That 
 gay good-humor, with its touches of serious feeling, 
 
220 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 and the delicate sympathy that was always alive to 
 earnest emotion she found that those traits were keys 
 to the hearts of men as well as women; and a smile 
 here, a kind word there, or a clasp of the hand, were 
 the only arts needed to insure him the unsought friend 
 ship of almost every man in the company. 
 
 "It s the gift that goes wi the name," said MacDou* 
 gall one day when someone spoke of the natural charm 
 of the man s manner. "It s just that no less. No, o 
 course he does na strive for it; it s but a bit o nature. 
 A blessin , say you, Miss? Well, mayhaps; but to the 
 old stock it proved but a curse." 
 
 "It seems a rather fair life to connect the idea of a 
 curse with," remarked the Major; "but I rather think 
 he has seen trouble, too. Captain Sneath said some 
 thing to that effect, I believe some sudden death of 
 wife and children in an epidemic down in Mexico." 
 
 "Married! That settles the romance," said Fred; 
 "but he is interesting, anyway, and I am going immedi 
 ately to find out what he has written and save up my 
 money to buy copies." 
 
 "I may save you that expense in one instance," and 
 Rachel handed her the book Stuart had sent her. Tillie 
 looked at her in astonishment, an^. Fred seized it eag 
 erly. 
 
 "Oh, but you are sly!" she said, "with an accusing 
 pout; "you ve heard me puzzling about his work for 
 days and never gave me a hint." 
 
 "I only guessed it was his, he never told me; but 
 this morning I charged him with it, and he did not deny. 
 I do not think there is any secret about it, only down 
 at the Fort there were several ladies, I believe, and 
 and some of them curious " 
 
 "You re right," laughed the Major; "they would 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 221 
 
 have hounded him to death. Camp life is monotonous 
 to most women, and a novelist, especially a young, 
 handsome fellow, would have been a bonanza to them. 
 As it was, they tried to spoil him; and look here!" he 
 said suddenly, "see that you say nothing of his marriage 
 to him, Babe. As he does not mention it himself, it 
 may be that the trouble, or well, just remember not 
 to broach the subject." 
 
 "Just as if I would!" said his daughter after he had 
 left. ^ "Papa never realizes that I have at all neared 
 the age of discretion. But doesn t it seem strange to 
 think of Mr. Stuart being married? He doesn t look 
 a bit like it." 
 
 " Does that state of existence impress itself so indelibly 
 on one s physical self?" laughed Rachel. 
 
 "It does -mostly," affirmed Fred. "They get set 
 tled down and prosy, or else well, dissipated." 
 
 "Good gracious! Is that the effect we are supposed 
 to have on the character of our lords and masters?" 
 asked Mrs. Hardy unbelievingly. 
 
 "Fred s experience is confined to barrack life and its 
 attendant evils. I don t think she makes allowance for 
 the semi-artistic temper of the Stuart. He strikes me 
 as having just enough of it to keep his heart always 
 young, and his affections too on tap, as it were." 
 
 "What queer ideas you have about that man!" said 
 Fred suddenly. Don t you like him ? 
 
 "I would not dare say no with so many opposing 
 me." 
 
 "Oh, you don t know Rachel. She is always attrib 
 uting the highest of virtues or the worst of vices to 
 the most unexpected people," said Tillie. "I don t 
 believe she has any feeling in the question at all, except 
 to get on the opposite side of the question from every- 
 
222 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 one else. If she would own up, I ll wager she likes him 
 as well as the rest of us." 
 
 Do you, Rachel ? But her only answer was a laugh. 
 "If you do, I can t see why you disparage him." 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Well, you said his affections were always 1 on 
 tap." 
 
 "That was because I envy him the exhaustless youth 
 such a temperament gives one. Such people defy 
 time and circumstances in a way we prosaic folks 
 can never do. It is a gift imparted to an artist, to sup 
 ply the lack of practical ingredients that are the prime 
 ones to the rest of creation." 
 
 "How you talk! Why, Mr. Stuart is not an artist!" 
 
 "Isn t he? There are people who are artists though 
 they never draw a line or mix a color; but don t you 
 think we are devoting a great deal of time to this pill- 
 peddler of literary leanings?" 
 
 "You are prejudiced," decided Fred. "Leanings 
 indeed! He has done more than lean in that direction 
 witness that book." 
 
 "I like to hear him tell a story, if he is in the 
 humor," remarked Tillie, with a memory of the cozy 
 autumn evenings. "We used to enjoy that so much 
 before we ever guessed he was a story-teller by pro 
 fession." 
 
 "Well, you must have had a nice sort of a time up 
 here," concluded Fred; "a sort of Tom Moore episode. 
 He would do all right for the poet-prince or was it a 
 king? But you well, Rachel, you are not just one s 
 idea of a Lalla." 
 
 "You slangy little mortal! Go and read your book." 
 
 Which she did obediently and thoroughly, to the 
 author s discomfiture, as he was besieged with questions 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 223 
 
 that taxed his memory and ingenuity pretty thoroughly 
 at times. 
 
 He found himself on a much better footing with 
 Rachel than during his first visit. It may have been 
 that her old fancy regarding his mission up there was 
 disappearing; the fancy itself had always been a rather 
 intangible affair a fabrication wrought by the shuttle 
 of a woman s instinct. Or, having warned Genesee 
 she had felt it was a warning there might have 
 fallen from her shoulders some of the responsibility 
 she had so gratuitously assumed. Whatever it was, 
 she was meeting him on freer ground, and found the 
 association one of pleasure. 
 
 "I think Miss Fred or your enlarged social circle has 
 had a most excellent influence on your temper," he 
 said to her one day after a ride from camp together, 
 and a long, pleasant chat. "You are now more like the 
 girl I used to think you might be the girl you debarred 
 me from knowing." 
 
 " But think what an amount of time you had for work 
 in those days that are forfeited now to dancing attend 
 ance on us women folk!" 
 
 "I do not dance. 
 
 "Well, you ride, and you walk, and you sing, and 
 tell stories, and manage at least to waste lots of time 
 when you should be working." 
 
 "You have a great deal of impatience with anyone 
 who is not a worker, haven t you?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, looking up at him. "I grow very 
 impatient myself often from the same cause." 
 
 "You always seem to me to be very busy," he 
 answered half-vexedly ; "too busy. You take on your 
 self responsibilities in all directions that do not belong 
 to you; and you have such a way of doing as you please 
 
224 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 that no one about the place seems to realize how much 
 of a general manager you are here, or how likely you 
 are to overburden yourself." 
 
 Nonsense ! 
 
 She spoke brusquely, but could not but feel the kind 
 ness in the penetration that had given her appreciation 
 where the others, through habit, had grown to take her 
 accomplishments as a matter of course. In the begin 
 ning they had taken them as a joke. 
 
 "Pardon me," he said finally. "I do not mean to be 
 rude, but do you mind telling me if work is a necessity 
 to you?" 
 
 "Certainly not. I have none of that sort of pride to 
 contend with, I hope, and I have a little money not 
 much, but enough to live on; so, you see, I am provided 
 for in a way." 
 
 "Then why do you always seem to be skirmishing 
 around for work?" he asked, in a sort of impatience. 
 "Women should be home-makers, not " 
 
 "Not prospectors or adventurers," she finished up 
 amiably. "But as I have excellent health, average 
 strength and understanding, I feel they should be put 
 to use in some direction. I have not found the direc 
 tion yet, and am a prospector meanwhile; but a con 
 tented, empty life is a contemptible thing to me. I 
 think there is some work intended for us all in the 
 world; and," she added, with one of those quick 
 changes that kept folks from taking Rachel s most 
 serious meanings seriously "and I think it s playing 
 it pretty low down on Providence to bluff him on an 
 empty hand." 
 
 He laughed. "Do you expect, then, to live your life 
 out here helping to manage other people s ranches and 
 accumulating that sort of Western logic in extenuation? " 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 225 
 
 She did not answer for a little ; then she said : 
 
 "I might do worse." 
 
 She said it so deliberately that he could not but feel 
 some special thing was meant, and asked quickly: 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Well, I might be given talents of benefit to people, 
 and fritter them away for the people s pastime. The 
 people would never know they had lost anything, or 
 come so near a great gain; but I, the cheat, would know 
 it. After the lights were turned out and the curtain 
 down on the farce, I would realize that it was too late 
 to begin anew, but that the same lights and the same 
 theater would have served as well for the truths of 
 Christ as the pranks of Pantaloon the choice lay only 
 in the will of the worker." 
 
 Her eyes were turned away from him, as if she was 
 seeking for metaphors in the white stretch of the 
 snow-fall. He reached over and laid his hand on 
 hers. 
 
 "Rachel!" 
 
 It was the only time he had called her that, and the 
 caress of the name gave voice to the touch of his fin 
 gers. 
 
 "Rachel! What is it you are talking about? Look 
 around here! I want to see you! Do you mean that 
 you think of of me like that tell me? " 
 
 If Miss Fred could have seen them at that moment 
 it would have done her heart good, for they really 
 looked rather lover-like; each was unconscious of it, 
 though their faces did not lack feeling She drew her 
 hand slowly away, and said, in that halting yet per 
 sistent way in which she spoke when very earnest yet 
 not very sure of herself: 
 
 "You think me egotistical, I suppose, to criticise 
 
 15 
 
226 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 work that is beyond my own capabilities, but it was 
 you I meant." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 His fingers closed over the arm of the chair instead 
 of her hand. AH his face was alight with feeling. 
 Perhaps it was as well that her stubborness kept her 
 eyes from his; to most women they would not have 
 been an aid to cool judgment. 
 
 "Well, there isn t anything more to say, is there?" 
 she asked, smiling a little out at the snow. "It was 
 the book that did it made me feel like that about 
 you; that your work is well, surface work skimmed 
 over for pastime. But here and there are touches 
 that show how much deeper and stronger the work you 
 might produce if you were not either lazy or care 
 less." 
 
 "You give one heroic treatment, and can be merci 
 less. Tire story was written some time ago, and writ 
 ten under circumstances that well, you see I do not, 
 sign my name to it, so I can t be very proud of it." 
 
 "Ah! that is it? Your judgment, I believe, is too 
 good to be satisfied with it ; I shouldn t waste breath 
 speaking, if I was not sure of that. But you have 
 the right to do work you can be proud of; and that is 
 what you must do." 
 
 Rachel s way was such a decided way, that people 
 generally accepted her "musts" as a matter of course, 
 Stuart did the same, though evidently unused to the 
 term; and her cool practicalities that were so surely 
 noting his work, not himself, had the effect of check 
 ing that first impulse of his to touch her to make 
 her look at him. He felt more than ever that the girl 
 was strange and changeable not only in herself, but 
 in her influence. He arose and walked across the 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 227 
 
 floor a couple of times, but came back and stood beside 
 
 her. 
 
 "You think I am not ambitious enough; and you are 
 right, I suppose. I have never yet made up my mind 
 whether it was worth my while to write, or whether it 
 might not be more wise to spare the public." 
 
 "But you have the desire you must feel confidence 
 at times." 
 
 "How do you know or imagine so much of what I 
 feel?" 
 
 "I read it in that book," and she nodded toward 
 the table. "In it you seem so often just on the point 
 of saying or doing, through the people, things that 
 would lift that piece of work into a strong moral lesson ; 
 but just when you reach that point you drop it 
 undeveloped." 
 
 "You have read and measured it, haven t you?" and 
 he sat down again beside her. "I never thought of 
 of what you mention in it. A high moral lesson," he 
 repeated; "but to preach those a man should feel him 
 self fit; I am not." 
 
 "I don t believe you!" 
 
 "What do you know about it?" he demanded so 
 sharply that she smiled; it was so unlike him. But 
 the sharpness was evidently not irritation, for his face 
 had in it more of sadness than any other feeling; she 
 saw it, and did not speak. 
 
 After a little he turned to her with that rare impetu 
 osity that was so expressive. 
 
 "You are very helpful to me in what you have said; 
 I think you are that to everyone it seems so. Per 
 haps you are without work of your own in the world, 
 that you may have thought for others who need help; 
 that is the highest of duties, and it needs strong, good 
 
228 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 hearts. But do you understand that it is as hard 
 sometimes to be thought too highly of as to be 
 accused wrongfully? It makes one feel such a cheat 
 such a cursed liar!" 
 
 "I rather think we are all cheats, more or less, in 
 that respect," she answered. "I am quite sure the inner 
 workings of my most sacred thought could not be adver 
 tised without causing my exile from the bosom of my 
 family; yet I refuse to think myself more wicked than 
 the rest of humanity." 
 
 "Don t jest!" 
 
 "Really, I am not jesting," she answered. "And I 
 believe you are over-sensitive as to your own short 
 comings, whatever they happen to be. Because I have 
 faith in your ability to do strong work, don t think I 
 am going to skirmish around for a pedestal, or think 
 I ve found a piece of perfection in human nature, because 
 they re not to be found, my friend." 
 
 "How old are you?" he asked her suddenly. 
 
 She laughed, feeling so clearly the tenor of his 
 thought. 
 
 "Twenty-two by my birthdays, but old enough to 
 know that the strongest workers in the world have not 
 been always the most immaculate. What matter the 
 sort of person one has been, or the life one has 
 lived if he come out of it with knowledge and the wish 
 to use it well? You have a certain power that is yours, 
 to use for good or bad, and from a fancy that you should 
 not teach or preach, you let it go to waste. Don t 
 magnify peccadillos!" 
 
 "You seem to take for granted the fact that all my 
 acts have been trifling that only the promises are 
 worthy," he said impatiently. 
 
 "I do believe " she answered smiling brightly "that 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 229 
 
 you would rather I thought you an altogether wicked 
 person than an average trifler. But I will not I do 
 not believe it possible for you deliberately to do any 
 wicked thing; you have too tender a heart, and 
 
 You don t know anything about it!" he repeated 
 vehemently. "What difference whether an act is delib 
 erate or careless, so long as the effect is evil? I tell 
 you the greater part of the suffering in the world is 
 caused not by wicked intents and hard hearts, but by 
 the careless desire to shirk unpleasant facts, and the 
 soft-heartedness that will assuage momentary pain at 
 the price of making a life-long cripple, either mentally, 
 morally, or physically. Nine times out of ten the man 
 whom we call soft-hearted is only a moral coward. 
 Ah, don t help me to think of that ; I think of it enough- 
 enough ! 
 
 He brought his clenched hand down on the arm of 
 the chair with an emphasis that was heightened by the 
 knitted brow and compressed lips. He did not look 
 at her. The latter part of the rapid speech seemed 
 more to himself than to her. At least it admitted of 
 no answer; the manner as much as the words kept her 
 silent. 
 
 "Come! come!" he added, after a little, as if to 
 arouse himself as well as her. "You began by giving 
 me some good words of advice and suggestion; I must 
 not repay you by dropping into the blues. For a long 
 time I ve been a piece of drift-wood, with nothing to 
 anchor ambition to; but a change is coming, I think, 
 and and if it brings me fair weather, I may have 
 something then to work for; then I may be worth your 
 belief in me I am not now. My intentions to be so 
 are all right, but they are not always to be trusted. 
 I said, before, that you had the faculty of making 
 
230 STOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 people speak the truth to you, if they spoke at all, 
 and I rather think 1 am proving my words." 
 
 He arose and stood looking down at her. Since he 
 had found so many words, she had seemed to lose hers; 
 anyway, she was silent. 
 
 "It can t be very pleasant for you," he said at last, 
 to be bored by the affairs of every renegade to whom 
 you are kind, because of some fancied good you may 
 see in him; but you are turning out just the sort of 
 woman I used to fancy you might be and I am grate 
 ful to you." 
 
 "That s all right," she answered in the old brusque 
 way. To tell the truth, a part of his speech was scarcely 
 heard. Something in the whole affair the confidence 
 and personal interest, and all had taken her memory 
 back to the days of that cultus corrie, when another man 
 had shared with her scenes somewhat similar to this. 
 Was there a sort of fate that had set her apart for this 
 sort of thing? She smiled a little grimly at the fancy, 
 and scarcely heard him. He saw the ghost of a smile, 
 and it made him check himself in something he was 
 about to say, and walk toward the door. 
 
 She neither spoke nor moved; her face was still 
 toward the window. Turning to look at her, his inde 
 cision disappeared, and in three steps he was beside 
 her. 
 
 "Rachel, I want to speak to you of something else," 
 he said rapidly, almost eagerly, as if anxious to have 
 it said and done with; "I I want to tell you what 
 that anchor is I ve been looking for, and without which 
 I never will be able to do the higher class of work, and 
 and " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 He had stopped, making a rather awkward pause 
 
"A WOMAN WHO WAS LOST." 231 
 
 after his eager beginning. With the one encouraging 
 word, she looked up at him and waited. 
 
 "It is a woman." 
 
 "Not an unusual anchor for mankind," she remarked 
 with a little laugh. 
 
 But there was no answering smile in his eyes; they 
 were very serious. 
 
 "I never will be much good to myself, or the rest of 
 the world, until I find her again," he said, "though no 
 one s words are likely to help me more than yours. You 
 would make one ambitious if he dared be and " 
 
 "Never mind about that," she said kindly. "I am 
 glad if it has happened so. And this girl it is someone 
 you love?" 
 
 "I can t talk to anyone of her yet," he answered, 
 avoiding her eyes; "only I wanted you to understand 
 it is at least a little step toward that level where 
 you fancy I may belong. Don t speak of it again; I 
 can hardly say what impelled me to tell you now. Yes, 
 it is a woman I cared for, and who was lost whom I 
 lost long ago." 
 
 A moment later she was alone, and could hear his 
 step in the outer room, then on the porch. Fred called 
 after him, but he made no halt did not even answer, 
 much to the surprise of that young lady and Miss 
 Margaret. 
 
 The other girl sat watching him until he disappeared 
 in the stables, and a little later saw him emerge and ride 
 at no slow gait out over the trail toward camp. 
 
 "It only needed that finale," she soliloquized, "to 
 complete the picture. "Woman! woman! What a 
 disturbing element you are in the universe man s 
 universe!" 
 
 After this bit of trite philosophy, the smile developed 
 
232 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 into a noiseless laugh that had something of irony 
 in it. 
 
 "I rather think Talapa s entrance was more dra 
 matic," was one of the reflections that kept her company ; 
 "anyway, she was more picturesque, if less elegant, 
 than Mrs. Stuart is likely to be. Mrs. Stuart! By the 
 way, I wonder if it is Mrs. Stuart? Yes, I suppose so 
 yet, a woman whom I cared for, and who was lost 
 long ago! Lost? lost?" 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 233 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME!" 
 
 Rumors were beginning to drift into camp of hostile 
 intents of the Blackfeet ; and a general feeling of uneasi 
 ness became apparent as no word came from the chief 
 of their scouts, who had not shown up since locating 
 the troops. 
 
 The Major s interest was decidedly alive in regard 
 to him, since not a messenger entered camp from any 
 direction who was not questioned on the subject. But 
 from none of them came any word of Genesee. 
 
 Other scouts were there good men, too, and in the 
 southern country of much value; but the Kootenai 
 corner of the State was almost an unknown region to 
 them. They were all right to work under orders; but 
 in those hills, where everything was in favor of the 
 native, a man was needed who knew every gully and 
 every point of vantage, as well as the probable hostile. 
 
 While Major Dreyer fretted and fumed over the 
 absentee, there was more than one of the men in camp 
 to remember that their chief scout was said to be a 
 squaw man; and as most of them shared his own 
 expressed idea of that class, conjectures were set afloat 
 as to the probability of his not coming back at all, 
 or if it came to a question of righting with the northern 
 Indians, whether he might not be found on the other 
 side. 
 
 "You can t bet any money on a squaw man," was 
 
234 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 the decision of one of the scouts from over in Idaho 
 one who did not happen to be a squaw man himself, 
 because the wife of his nearest neighbor at home ob 
 jected. "No, gentlemen, they re a risky lot. This one 
 is a good man; I allow that a damned good man, I may 
 say, and a fighter from away back; but the thing we 
 have to consider is that up this way he s with his own 
 people, as you may say, having taken a squaw wife and 
 been adopted into the tribe; an I tell you, sirs, it s jest 
 as reasonable that he will go with them as against them 
 I m a tellin you!" 
 
 Few of these rumors were heard at the ranch. It was 
 an understood thing among the men that the young 
 ladies at Hardy s were to hear nothing of camp affairs 
 that was likely to beget alarm; but Stuart heard them, 
 as did the rest of the men; and like them, he tried to 
 question the only one in camp who shared suspicion 
 Kalitan. But Kalitan was unapproachable in English, 
 and even in Chinook would condescend no information. 
 He doubtless had none to give, but the impression of 
 suppressed knowledge that he managed to convey 
 made him an object of close attention, and any attempt 
 to leave camp would have been hailed as proof positive 
 of many intangible suspicions. He made no such 
 attempt. On the contrary, after his arrival there from 
 the Gros Ventres, he seemed blissfully content to live 
 all winter on Government rations and do nothing. But 
 he was not blind by any means and understanding 
 English, though he would not speak it, the chances were 
 that he knew more of the thought of the camp than it 
 guessed of his; and his stubborn resentment showed 
 itself when three Kootenai braves slouched into camp 
 one day, and Kalitan was not allowed to speak to 
 them save in the presence of an interpreter, and when 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 235 
 
 one offered in the person of a white scout, Kalitan 
 looked at him with unutterable disdain, and turning 
 his back, said not a word. 
 
 The Major was not at camp. He had just left to 
 pay his daily visit to Hardy s; for, despite all persua 
 sions, he refused to live anywhere but with his men, 
 and if Fred did not come to see him in the morning, 
 he was in duty bound to ride over to her quarters in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 The officer in command during his absence was a 
 Captain Holt, a man who had no use for an Indian 
 in any capacity, and whose only idea of settling the 
 vexed question of their rights was by total extermina 
 tion and grave-room an opinion that is expressed by 
 many a white man who has had to deal with them. 
 But he was divided between his impulse to send the 
 trio on a double-quick about their business and the 
 doubt as to what effect it would have on the tribe if 
 they were sent back to it in the sulks. Ordinarily 
 he would not have given their state of mind a moment s 
 consideration ; but the situation was not exactly ordinary, 
 and he hesitated. 
 
 After stowing away enought provender in their 
 stomachs to last an ordinary individual two days, and 
 stowing the remainder in convenient receptacles about 
 their draperies, intercourse was resumed with their 
 white hosts by the suggestive Kalitan. 
 
 Just then Stuart and Rachel rode into camp. They 
 had taken to riding together into camp, and out of 
 camp, and in a good many directions of late; and in 
 the coffee-colored trio she at once recognized the brave 
 of the bear-claws whom she had spoken with during 
 that "olallie" season in the western hills, and who 
 she had learned since was a great friend of Genesee s, 
 
236 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 She spoke to him at once a great deal more intel 
 ligibly than her first attempt and upon questioning, 
 learned that she was well remembered. She heard 
 herself called "the squaw who rides" by him, proba 
 bly from the fact that she was the only white woman 
 met by their hunters in the hills, though she had not 
 imagined herself so well known by them as his words 
 implied. 
 
 He of the bear-claws their spokesman mentioned 
 Kalitan, giving her for the first time an idea of what 
 had occurred. She turned at once to Captain Holt 
 not protesting, but interested and learned all she 
 wanted to. 
 
 "Kalitan does not like your southern scouts, for 
 some reason," she said, "and I rather think it was his 
 dignity rather than his loyalty that would suffer from 
 having one of them a listener. Let them speak in my 
 presence; I can understand them, and not arouse 
 Kalitan s pride, either." 
 
 The Captain, nothing loath, accepted her guidance 
 out of the dilemna, though it was only by a good deal 
 of flattery on her part that Kalitan could at all forget 
 his anger enough to speak to anyone. 
 
 The conversation was, after all, commonplace enough, 
 as it was mostly a recital of his Kalitan s glories; 
 for in the eyes of these provincials he posed as a warrior 
 of travel and accumulated knowledge. The impas 
 sive faces of his listeners gave no sign as to whether 
 they took him at his own valuation or not. Rachel 
 now and then added a word, to keep from having too 
 entirely the appearance of a listener, and she asked about 
 Genesee. 
 
 The answer gave her to understand that weeks ago 
 five weeks Genesee had been in their village; asked 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 237 
 
 for a runner to go south to the Fort with talking-paper. 
 Had bought pack-horse and provisions, and started 
 alone to the northeast may be Blackfoot Agency, 
 they could not say; had seen him no more. Kalitan 
 made some rapid estimate of probabilities that found 
 voice in 
 
 "Blackfoot one hundred and twenty miles; go 
 slow Mowitza tired ; long wau-wau (talk) ; come slow- 
 snows high; come soon now, may be." 
 
 That was really the only bit of information in the 
 entire "wau-wau" that was of interest to the camp 
 information that Kalitan would have disdained to 
 satisfy them with willingly; and even to Rachel, whom 
 he knew was Genesee s friend, and his, he did not hint 
 the distrust that had grown among the troops through 
 that suspicious absence. 
 
 He would talk long and boastfully of his own affairs, 
 but it was a habit that contrasted strangely with the 
 stubborn silence by which he guarded the affairs of 
 others. 
 
 "What is the matter back there?" asked Rachel, 
 as she and Stuart started back to the ranch. "Ill- 
 feeling?" 
 
 "Oh, I guess not much," he answered; "only they 
 are growing careful of the Indians of late afraid of 
 them imposing on good nature, I suppose." 
 
 "A little good nature in Captain Holt would do him 
 no harm with the Indians," she rejoined; "and he should 
 know better than to treat Kalitan in that suspicious 
 way. Major Dreyer would not do it, I feel sure, and 
 Genesee won t like it. 
 
 "Will that matter much to the company or the 
 command? " 
 
 He spoke thus only to arouse that combative spirit 
 
238 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 of hers; but she did not retort as usual only said! 
 quietly : 
 
 "Yes, I think it would they will find no man like 
 
 him." 
 
 They never again referred to that conversation that 
 had been in a way a confession on his part the question 
 of the woman at least was never renewed, though he 
 told her much of vague plans that he hoped to develop, 
 "when the time comes." 
 
 Three days after the visit of Bear-claws and his 
 brethren, Stuart and Rachel were again at the camp; 
 this time accompanying Miss Fred, who thought it 
 was a good-enough day to go and see the "boys." 
 
 Surely it was a good-enough day for any use clear 
 and fresh overhead, white and sparkling underfoot, 
 and just cold enough to make them think with desire 
 of the cheery wood fires in the camp they were making 
 for. From above, a certain exhilaration was borne to 
 them on the air, sifted through the cedars of the guar 
 dian hills; even the horses seemed enthused with the 
 spirit of it, and joyously entered into a sort of a go-as- 
 you-please race that brought them all laughing and 
 breathless down the length of "the avenue," a strip of 
 beaten path about twenty feet wide, along which the 
 tents were pitched in two rows facing each other and 
 not very imposing looking rows, either. 
 
 There were greetings and calls right and left, as 
 they went helter-skelter down the line; but there was 
 no check of speed until they stopped, short, at the 
 Major s domicile, that was only a little more distin 
 guished on the outside than the rest, by having the 
 colors whipping themselves into shreds from the flag 
 staff at the door. 
 
 It was too cold for ceremony; and throwing the 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 239 
 
 bridles to an orderly, they made a dash for the door- 
 Miss Fred leading. 
 
 "Engaged, is he?" she said good-humoredly to the 
 man who stepped in her path. "I don t care if he is 
 married. I don t intend to freeze on the place where 
 his door-step ought to be. You tell him so." 
 
 The man on duty touched his cap and disappeared, 
 and from the sound of the Major s laughter within, must 
 have repeated the message verbatim, and a moment 
 later returned. 
 
 " Major Dreyer says you may enter;" and then, laugh 
 ing and shivering, the Major s daughter seized Rachel 
 with one hand, Stuart with the other, and making a 
 quick charge, darted into the ruling presence. 
 
 "Oh, you bear!" she said, breaking from her com 
 rades and into the bear s embrace; "to keep us out 
 there and it so cold! And I came over specially 
 for 
 
 And then she stopped. The glitter of the sun on 
 the sun had made a glimmer of everything under a 
 roof, and on her entrance she had not noticed a figure 
 opposite her father, until a man rose to his feet and took 
 a step forward as if to go. 
 
 "Let me know when you want me, Major," he said; 
 and the voice startled those two muffled figures in the 
 background, for both, by a common impulse, started 
 forward Rachel throwing back the hood of her jacket 
 and holding out her hand. 
 
 "I am glad you have come," she said heartily, and 
 he gripped the offered member with a sort of fierceness 
 as he replied: 
 
 "Thank you, Miss." 
 
 But his eyes were not on her. The man who had 
 come with her- who still held her gloves in his 
 
240 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 hand was the person who seemed to draw all his 
 attention. 
 
 "You two are old neighbors, are you not?" remarked 
 the Major. "Fred, my dear, you have met Mr. Gen- 
 esee, our scout ? No ? Mr. Genesee, this is my daughter ; 
 and this, a friend of ours Mr. Stuart." 
 
 An ugly devil seemed alive in Genesee s eyes, as the 
 younger man came closer, and with an intense, expres 
 sive gesture, put out his hand 
 
 Then, with a bow that might have been an acknowl 
 edgment of the introduction, and might have been only 
 one of adieu to the rest of the group, the scout walked 
 to the door without a word, and Stuart s hand dropped 
 to his side. 
 
 "Come back in an hour, Genesee," said the Major; 
 "I will think over the trip to the Fort in the mean 
 time." 
 
 "I hear. Good-morning, ladies;" and then the door 
 closed behind him, and the quartette could not but 
 feel the situation awkward. 
 
 "Come closer to the fire sit down," said the Major 
 hospitably, intent on effacing the rudeness of his 
 scout. "Take off your coat, Stuart; you ll appre 
 ciate it more when outside. And I m going to tell you 
 right now, that, pleased as I am to have you all come 
 this morning, I intend to turn you out in twenty min 
 utes that s all the time I can give to pleasure this 
 morning." 
 
 "Well, you are very uncivil, I must say," remarked 
 Fred. "But we will find some of the other boys not so 
 unapproachable. I guess," she added, "that we have 
 to thank Mr. Man-with-the-voice for being sent to the 
 right-about in such short order." 
 
 "You did not hear him use it much," rejoined her 
 
"This is a friend of ours Mr. Stuart." Page 240. 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 241 
 
 father, and then turned to the others, neither of whom 
 had spoken. "He is quite a character, and of great 
 value to us in the Indian troubles, but I believe is 
 averse to meeting strangers; anyway, the men down 
 at the Fort did not take to him much not enough to 
 make him a social success." 
 
 "I don t think he would care," said Fred. "He 
 impressed me very much as Kalitan did when I first 
 met him. Does living in the woods make people feel 
 like monarchs of all they survey? Does your neighbor 
 ever have any better manners, Rachel?" 
 
 "I have seen him with better and with worse." 
 
 "Worse? What possibilities there must be in that 
 man! What do you think, Mr. Stuart?" 
 
 "Perhaps he lacks none of the metal of a soldier 
 because he does not happen to possess that of a courtier," 
 hazarded Stuart, showing no sign that the scout s rude 
 ness had aroused the slightest feeling of resentment; 
 and Rachel scored an opinion in his favor for that 
 generosity, for she, more than either of the others, had 
 noted the meeting, and Genesee s entire disregard of 
 the Stuart s feelings. 
 
 Major Dreyer quickly seconded Stuart s statement. 
 
 "You are right, sir. He may be as sulky as Satan 
 and I hear he is at times but his work makes amends 
 for it when he gets where work is needed. He got in 
 here last night, dead-beat, from a trip that I don t 
 believe any other man but an Indian could have made 
 and get back alive. He has his good points and they 
 happen to be points that are in decided demand up here." 
 
 "I don t care about his good points, if we have to be 
 turned out for him," said Fred. "Send him word he 
 can sleep the rest of the day, if he is tired out; may be 
 he would wake up more agreeable " 
 
 16 
 
242 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "And you would not be ousted from my attention," 
 added her father, pinching her ear. "Are you jealous 
 of Squaw -man-with-a-voice ? * 
 
 "Is he that?" asked the girl, with a great deal of con 
 tempt in her tone. "Well, that is enough to hear of 
 him. I should think he would avoid white people. 
 The specimens we have seen of that class would make 
 you ashamed you were human," she said, turning to 
 Rachel and Stuart. "I know papa says there are 
 exceptions, but papa is imaginative. This one looks 
 rather prosperous, and several degrees cleaner than 
 I ve seen them, but " 
 
 "Don t say anything against him until you know 
 you have reason, Fred," suggested Rachel. "He did 
 me a favor once, and I can t allow people to talk 
 about him on hearsay. I think he is worse than few 
 and better than many, and I have known him over a 
 year." 
 
 "Mum is the word," said Fred promptly, proceeding 
 to gag herself with two little fists; but the experiment 
 was a failure. 
 
 "If she takes him under her wing, papa, his social 
 success is an assured fact, even if he refuses to open his 
 mouth. May I expect to be presented to his interesting 
 family to-morrow, Rachel?" 
 
 Rachel only laughed, and asked the Major some ques 
 tions about the reports from the northeast ; the attitude 
 of the Blackfeet, and the snow-fall in the mountains. 
 
 "The Blackfeet are all right now," he replied, "and 
 the snows in the hills to the east are very heavy that 
 was what caused our scout s delay. But south of us I 
 hear they are not nearly so bad, for a wonder, and am 
 glad to hear it, as I myself may need to make a trip 
 down to Fort Owens." 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 243 
 
 "Why, papa," broke in his commanding officer, "you 
 are not going to turn scout or runner, are you, and leave 
 me behind ? I won t stay ! 
 
 "You will obey orders, as a soldier should," answered 
 her father. If I go instead of sending, it will be because 
 it is necessary, and you will have to bow to necessity, 
 and wait until I can get back." 
 
 "And we ve got to thank Mr. Squaw-man for that, 
 too!" burst out Fred wrathfully. "You never thought 
 of going until he came; oh, I know itI hate him!" 
 
 "He would be heart-broken if he knew it," observed 
 her father dryly. "By the way, Miss Rachel, do you 
 know if there is room in the ranch stables for another 
 horse ? 
 
 " They can make room, if it is necessary. Why ? " 
 "Genesee s mare is used up even worse than her 
 master by the long, hard journey he has made. Our 
 stock that is in good condition can stand our accommo 
 dations all right, but that fellow seemed miserable to 
 think the poor beast had not quarters equal to his own. 
 He is such a queer fellow about asking a favor that I 
 thought" 
 
 "And the thought does you credit," said the girl with 
 a suspicious moisture in her eyes. "Poor, brave 
 Mowitza! I could not sleep very soundly myself if I 
 knew she was not cared for, and I know just how he 
 feels. Don t say anything about it to him, but I will 
 have my cousin come over and get her, before even 
 ing." 
 
 "You are a trump, Miss Rachel!" said the Major 
 emphatically; "and if you can arrange it, I know you 
 will lift a load off Genesee s mind. I ll wager he is 
 out there in the shed with her at this moment, instead 
 of beside a comfortable fire; and this camp owes him 
 
244 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 too much, if it only knew it, to keep from him any 
 comforts for either himself or that plucky bit of horse 
 flesh." 
 
 Then the trio, under guard of the Lieutenant, paid 
 some other calls along the avenue were offered more 
 dinners, if they would remain, than they could have 
 eaten in a week; but in all their visits they saw nothing 
 more of the scout. Rachel spoke of his return to one 
 of the men, and received the answer that they reckoned 
 he was putting in most of his time out in the shed 
 tying the blankets off his bunk around that mare of 
 his. 
 
 "Poor Mowitza! she was so beautiful," said the girl, 
 with a memory of the silken coat and wise eyes. "I 
 should not like to see her looking badly." 
 
 "Do you know/ said Stuart to her, "that when I 
 heard you speak of Mowitza and her beauty and brav 
 ery, I never imagined you meant a four-footed ani 
 mal?" 
 
 "What, then?" 
 
 "Well, I am afraid it was a nymph of the dusky tribe 
 a woman." 
 
 "Naturally! " was the one ironical and impatient word 
 he received as answer, and scarcely noted. 
 
 He was talking with the others on multitudinous sub 
 jects, laughing, and trying to appear interested in jests 
 that he scarcely heard, and all the while the hand he had 
 offered to Genesee clenched and opened nervously in his 
 seal glove. 
 
 Rachel watched him closely, for her instincts had antic 
 ipated something unusual from that meeting; the actual 
 had altered all her preconceived fancies. More strong 
 than ever was her conviction that those two were not 
 strangers; but from Stuart s face or manner she could 
 
"I LL KILL HIM THIS TIME." 245 
 
 learn nothing. He was a much better actor than 
 Genesee. 
 
 They did not see any more of him, yet he saw them; 
 for from the shed, off several rods from the avenue, 
 the trail to Hardy s ranch was in plain sight half its 
 length. And the party, augmented by Lieutenant 
 Murray, galloped past in all ignorance of moody eyes 
 watching them from the side of a blanketed 
 horse. 
 
 Out a half-mile, two of the riders halted a moment, 
 while the others dashed on. The horses of those two 
 moved close close together. The arms of the man 
 reached over to the woman, who leaned toward him. 
 At that distance it looked like an embrace, though he 
 was really but tying a loose scarf, and then they moved 
 apart and went on over the snow after their comrades. 
 A brutal oath burst from the lips of the man she had 
 said was worse than few. 
 
 "If it is I ll kill him this time! By God! I ll kill 
 him!" 
 
246 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AFTER TEN YEARS. 
 
 Major Dreyer left the next day, with a scout and 
 small detachment, with the idea of making the jour 
 ney to Fort Owens and back in two weeks, as matters 
 were to be discussed requiring prompt action and per 
 sonal influence. 
 
 Jack Genesee was left behind an independent, unen- 
 listed adjunct to the camp, and holding a more anomal 
 ous position there than Major Dreyer dreamed of; for 
 none of the suspicious current of the scout ever pene 
 trated to his tent the only one in the company who 
 was ignorant of them. 
 
 "Captain Holt commands, Genesee," he had said 
 before taking leave; "but on you I depend chiefly in 
 negotiations with the reds, should there be any before 
 I get back, for I believe you would rather save lives on 
 both sides than win a victory through extermination 
 of the hostiles. We need more men with those opin 
 ions; so, remember, I trust you." 
 
 The words had been uttered in the presence of others, 
 and strengthened the suspicions of the camp that 
 Genesee had been playing some crooked game. None 
 knew the reason for that hastily decided trip of the 
 Major s, though they all agreed that that "damned skunk 
 of a squaw man" was posted. Prophecies were rife to 
 the effect that more than likely he was playing into 
 the hands of the hostiles by sending away the Major 
 and as many men as possible on some wild-goose 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS. 247 
 
 chase; and the decision arrived at was that observa 
 tion of his movements was a matter of policy, and 
 readiness to meet an attack from the hills a probable 
 necessity. 
 
 He saw it had seen it from the day of his arrival 
 and he kept pretty much out of the way of all except 
 Kalitan; for in watching Genesee they found they 
 would have to include his runner, who was never will 
 ingly far away. 
 
 During the first few days their watching was an easy 
 matter, for the suspected individual appeared well con 
 tent to hug the camp, only making daily visits to Hardy s 
 stable, generally in the evening; but to enter the house 
 was something he avoided. 
 
 "No," he said, in answer to Hardy s invitation; "I 
 reckon I m more at home with the horses than with 
 your new company. I ll drop in sometime after the 
 Kootenai valley is clear of uniforms." 
 
 "My wife told me to ask you," said Hardy; "and 
 when you feel like coming, you ll find the door open." 
 
 "Thank you, Hardy; but I reckon not not for awhile 
 yet." 
 
 "I d like you to get acquainted with Stuart," added 
 the unsuspicious ranchman. "He is a splendid fel 
 low, and has become interested in this part of the coun- 
 try." 
 
 "Oh, he has?" 
 
 "Yes," and Hardy settled himself, Mexican fashion, 
 to a seat on his heels. "You see he s a writer, a nov 
 elist, and I guess he s going to write up this territory. 
 Anyway, this is the second trip he has made. 
 You could give him more points than any man I 
 know." 
 
 "Yes I might." 
 
248 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Rachel has given him all the knowledge she has 
 about the country the Indians, and all that but she 
 owns that all she learned she got from you; so, if you 
 had a mind to be more sociable, Genesee " 
 
 The other arose to his feet. 
 
 "Obliged to you, Hardy," he said; and only the addi 
 tion of the name saved it from curtness. "Some day, 
 perhaps, when things are slack; I have no time now." 
 
 "Well, he doesn t seem to me to be rushed to death 
 with work," soliloquized Hardy, who was abruptly left 
 alone. "He used to seem like such an all-round good 
 fellow, but he s getting surlier than the devil. May 
 be Til lie was right to hope he wouldn t accept the 
 invitation. Hello, Stuart! Where are you bound 
 for?" 
 
 "Nowhere in particular. I thought that Indian, 
 Kalitan, was over here." 
 
 "No; Jack Genesee came over himself this morning. 
 That mare of his is coming up in great shape, and you d 
 better believe he s proud over it. I reckon he saw you 
 coming that he took himself away in such a hurry. He s 
 a queer one." 
 
 "I should judge so. Then Kalitan won t be over? 
 
 "Well, he s likely to be before night. Want him?" 
 
 "Yes. If you see him, will you send him to the 
 house?" 
 
 Hardy promised ; and Kalitan presented himself, with 
 the usual interrogation : 
 
 "Rashell Hardy?" 
 
 But she, the head of the house in his eyes, was in the 
 dark about his visit, and was not enlightened much 
 when Stuart entered, stating that it was he who had 
 wanted Kalitan. 
 
 That personage was at once deaf and dumb. Only 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS. 249 
 
 by Rachel saying, "He is my friend; will you not 
 listen?" did he unbend at all; and the girl left them 
 on the porch alone, and a little later Stuart went upstairs, 
 where she heard him walking up and down the room. 
 She had heard a good deal of that since that day the 
 three had called upon the Major, and a change had come 
 over the spirit of their social world ; for where Stuart had 
 been the gayest, they could never depend on him now. 
 Even Rachel found their old pleasant companionship 
 ended suddenly, and she felt, despite his silence he was 
 unhappy. 
 
 "Well, when he finds his tongue he will tell me 
 what s the matter," she decided, and so dismissed that 
 question. 
 
 She rode to camp alone if it was needful, and some 
 times caught a glimpse of Genesee if he did not happen 
 to see her first , but he no longer came forward to speak, 
 as the rest did only, perhaps, a touch of his hat 
 and a step aside into some tent, and she knew she 
 was avoided. A conventional young lady of ortho 
 dox tendencies would have held her head a little 
 higher next time they met, and not have seen him 
 at all; but this one was woefully deficient in those 
 self-respecting bulwarks; so, the next time she hap 
 pened to be at the end of the avenue, she turned 
 her steed directly across his path, and called a 
 halt. 
 
 "Good-morning, Miss Rachel." 
 
 "Klahowya, tillikum" she answered, bringing him 
 back to a remembrance of his Chinook. "Jack Gen 
 esee, do you intend ever to come to see us I mean 
 to walk in like your old self, instead of looking through 
 the window at night ? 
 
 "Looking" 
 
250 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Don t lie," she said coolly, "for I saw you, though 
 no one else did. Now tell me what s wrong, Why 
 won t .you come in the house?" 
 
 "Society is more select in the Kootenai hills than 
 it was a year ago;" he answered with a sort of defiance. 
 "Do you reckon there is any woman in the house who 
 would speak to me if she could get out of it anyone 
 except you?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t count." 
 
 "I had an invite this morning," he added grimly 
 "not because they wanted me, but because your new 
 friend over there wanted someone to give him points 
 about the country; so I ve got him to thank for being 
 wanted at all. Now don t look like that or think 
 I m kicking. It s a square enough deal so far as 
 I m concerned, and it stands to reason a man of my 
 stamp hasn t many people pining for him in a respect 
 able house. For the matter of that, it won t do you 
 any good to be seen talking to me this long. I m 
 going." 
 
 "All right; so am I. You can go along " 
 
 "With you?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "I reckon not." 
 
 "Don t be so stubborn. If you didn t feel like 
 coming, you would not have been at that window last 
 night." 
 
 His face flushed at this thrust which he could not 
 parry. 
 
 "Well, I reckon I won t go there again." 
 "No; come inside next time. Come, ride half way 
 to the ranch, and tell me about that trip of yours to 
 the Blackfeet. Major Dreyer gave you great praise 
 for your work there." 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS. 251 
 
 "He should have praised you;" and her own color 
 deepened at the significance of his words. 
 
 "I met Kalitan on his way to the ranch, as I came," 
 she said in the most irrelevant way. 
 
 He looked at her very sharply, but didn t speak. 
 
 "Well, are you going to escort me home, or must I 
 go alone?" 
 
 "It is daylight; you know every foot of the way, 
 and you don t need me," he said, summing up the case 
 briefly. "When you do, let me know." 
 
 "And you won t come?" she added good-naturedly. 
 "All right. Klakowya. " 
 
 She moved out of his way, touched Betty with the 
 whip, and started homeward. She rather expected to 
 meet Kalitan again, but there was no sign of him on the 
 road; arriving at the house, she found that youth 
 ensconced among the pillows of the largest settee 
 with the air of a king on a throne, and watching with long, 
 unblinking stares Miss Fred, who was stumbling over 
 the stitches of some crochet -work for the adornment of 
 Miss Margaret. 
 
 "I m so glad you ve come!" she breathed gratefully. 
 "He has me so nervous I can t count six; and Mrs. 
 Hardy is taking a nap, and Aunty Luce has locked 
 herself upstairs, and I never was stared so out of coun 
 tenance in my life." 
 
 "I rather think that s a phase of Indian courtship," 
 Rachel comforted her by saying; "so you have won 
 a new admirer. What is it Kalitan?" 
 
 He signified that his business was with the "Man- 
 who-laughs," the term by which he designated Stuart. 
 
 "Mr. Stuart left the house just after you did," said 
 Fred; "I thought, perhaps, to catch you." 
 
 "No, he didn t go my way. Well, you look comfort- 
 
252 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 able, Kalitan; and if you had the addition of another 
 crazy-patch cushion for your left elbow you might stand 
 a little longer wait think so?" 
 
 Kalitan thought he could; and there he remained 
 until Stuart arrived, flushed and rather breathless 
 from his ride from somewhere. 
 
 "I was out on the road, but did not see you, " said 
 Rachel, on his entrance. 
 
 "This is likely enough," he answered. "I didn t 
 want you to or anyone else. I m not good company 
 of late. I was trying to ride away from myself." 
 Then he saw Kalitan, propped among the cushions. 
 "Well," he said sharply; "what have you brought 
 me?" 
 
 Kalitan answered by no word, but thrust his hand 
 inside his hunting-shirt and brougnt forth an envel 
 ope, which he gave into the eager hands reaching 
 for it. 
 
 Stuart gave it one quick glance, turning it in his hand 
 to examine both sides, and then dropped it in his pocket 
 and sat down by the window Rachel could see it 
 was a thick, well-filled envelope, and that the shape 
 was the same used by Stuart himself, very large and 
 perfectly square a style difficult to duplicate in the 
 Kootenai hills. 
 
 "You can go now, if you choose, Kalitan," she said, 
 fearing his ease would induce him to stay all night, 
 and filled with a late alarm at the idea of Tillie getting 
 her eyes on the peaceful "hostile" and her gorgeous 
 cushions; and without any further notice of Stuart, 
 Kalitan took his leave. 
 
 When Rachel re-entered the room, a moment later, 
 a letter was crisping into black curls in the fire-place, 
 and the man sat watching it moodily. 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS. 253 
 
 All that evening there was scarcely question or 
 answer to be had from Stuart. He sat by the fire, with 
 Miss Margaret in his arms her usual place of an even 
 ing; and through the story-telling and jollity he sat 
 silent, looking, Jim said, as if he was "workin han 
 at thinkinV 
 
 "To-morrow night you must tell us a story," said 
 Miss Fred, turning to him. "You have escaped now 
 for oh, ever so many nights ." 
 "I am afraid my stock is about exhausted." 
 
 "Out of the question! The flimsiest of excuses," 
 she decided. "Just imagine a new one, and tell it us 
 instead of writing it; or tell us the one you are writing 
 at now." 
 
 "Well, we will see when to-morrow comes;" and 
 with that vague proposal Miss Fred had to be con 
 tent. 
 
 When the morrow came Stuart looked as if there 
 had been no night for him at least no sleep; and Rachel, 
 or even MacDougall himself, would not think of calling 
 him Prince Charlie, as of old. 
 
 She was no longer so curious about him and that other 
 man who was antagonistic to him. She had been fear 
 ful, but whatever knowledge they had of each other 
 she had decided would not mean harm; the quiet days 
 that had passed were a sort of guarantee of that. 
 
 Yet they seemed to have nerved Stuart up to some 
 purpose, for the morning after the burning of the let 
 ter he appeared suddenly at the door of Genesee s 
 shack, or the one Major Dreyer had turned over to him 
 during his own absence. 
 
 From the inside Kalitan appeared, as if by enchant 
 ment, at the sound of a hand on the latch. Stuart, 
 with a gesture, motioned him aside, and evidently 
 
254 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 to Kalitan s own surprise, he found himself stepping 
 out while the stranger stepped in. For perhaps a 
 minute the Indian stood still, listening, and then no 
 sounds of hostilities coming to his ears, an expressive 
 gutteral testified to his final acquiescence, and he moved 
 away. His hesitation showed that Rachel had not been 
 the only one to note the bearing of those two toward 
 each other. 
 
 Had he listened a minute longer, he might have 
 .ieard the peace within broken by the voices that at 
 t suppressed and intense; rose with growing earnest 
 
 ness 
 
 The serious tones of Stuart sounded through the thin 
 
 oard walls in expostulation, and again as if urging 
 
 some point that was granted little patience; for above 
 
 the voice of Genesee broke in, all the mellowness gone 
 from it, killed by the brutal harshness, the contemptu 
 ous derision, with which he answered some plea or 
 proposition. 
 
 "Oh, you come to me now, do you?" he said walk 
 mg back and forth across the room like some animal 
 fighting to keep back rage with motion, if one can 
 imagine an animal trying to put restraint on itself- 
 and at every turn his smoldering, sullen gaze flashed 
 /er the still figure inside the door, and its manner 
 
 h a certain calm steadfastness of purpose, not to be 
 upset by anger, seemed to irritate him all the more 
 > you come this time to lay out proposals to me 
 eh? And think, after all these years, that I m to be 
 
 w^i ed TMi Ver t0 What y U Want bv a few sof t words? 
 Wei, 111 see you damned first; so you can strike the 
 back trail as soon as you ve a mind to." 
 
 "I shan t go back," said Stuart deliberately, "until 
 I get what I came for." 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS, 255 
 
 The other answered with a short, mirthless laugh. 
 
 "Then you re located till doomsday," he retorted, 
 "and doomsday in the afternoon; though I reckon that 
 won t be much punishment, considering the attrac 
 tions you manage to find up here, and the advantages 
 you carry with you a handsome face, a gentleman s 
 manners and an honest name. Why, you are begging 
 on a full hand, Mister; and what are you begging to? 
 A man that s been about as good as dead for years 
 a man without any claim to a name, or to recognition 
 by decent people an outlaw from civilization." 
 
 "Not so bad as that, Jack," broke in Stuart, who 
 was watching in a sort of misery the harsh self-con 
 demnation in the restless face and eyes of Genesee. 
 "Don t be so bitter as that on yourself. You are unjust 
 don t I know?" 
 
 **The hell you say!" was the withering response to 
 this appeal, as if with the aid of profanity to destroy 
 the implied compliment to himself. "Your opinion 
 may go for a big pile among your fine friends, but it 
 doesn t amount to much right here. And you d better 
 beat a retreat, sir. The reputation of the highly re 
 spected Charles Stuart, the talented writer, the honor 
 able gentleman, might get some dirty marks across 
 it if folks knew he paid strictly private visits 
 to Genesee Jack, a renegade squaw man; and more 
 still if they guessed that he came for a favor that s 
 what you called it when you struck the shack, I believe. 
 A favor! It has taken you a good while to find that 
 name for it." 
 
 "No, it has not, Jack," and the younger man s earnest 
 ness of purpose seemed to rise superior to the 
 taunts and sarcasm of the other. "It was so from the 
 first, when I realized after I knew I didn t seem to 
 
256 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 have thoughts for anything else. It was a sort of jus 
 tice, I suppose, that made me want them when I had 
 put it out of my power to reach them. You don t 
 seem to know what it means, Jack, but I I am home 
 sick for them; I have been for years, and now that 
 things have changed so for me, I Jack, for God s 
 sake, have some feeling! and realize that other men 
 can have!" 
 
 Jack turned on him like a flash. 
 
 "You you say that to me!" he muttered fiercely. 
 
 "You, who took no count of anybody s feelings but 
 your own, and thought God Almighty had put the 
 best things on this earth for you to use and destroy! 
 Killing lives as sure as if they d never drawn another 
 breath, and forgetting all about it with the next pretty 
 face you saw! If that is what having a stock of feeling 
 leads a man to, I reckon we re as well off without any 
 such extras." 
 
 Stuart had sat down on a camp-stool, his face buried 
 in his hands, and there was a long silence after Gen- 
 esee s bitter words, as he stood looking at the bent 
 head with an inexplicable look in his stormy eyes. 
 Then his visitor arose. 
 
 "Jack," he said with the same patience not a word 
 of retort had come from him "Jack, I ve been pun 
 ished every day since. I have tried to forget it to 
 kill all memory by every indulgence and distraction 
 in my reach pursued forgetfulness so eagerly that 
 people have thought me still chasing pleasure. I 
 turned to work, and worked hard, but the practice 
 brought to my knowledge so many lives made wretched 
 as as well, I could not stand it. The heart-sickness 
 it brought me almost drove me melancholy mad The 
 only bright thing in life was the children " 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS. 257 
 
 An oath broke from Genesee s lips. 
 
 "And then," continued Stuart, without any notice 
 save a quick closing of the eyes as if from a blow, "and 
 then they died both of them. That was justice, 
 too, no doubt, for they stayed just long enough to make 
 themselves a necessity to me a solace and to make 
 me want what I have lost. I am telling you this be 
 cause I want you to know that I have had things to 
 try me since I saw you last, and that I ve come through 
 them with the conviction that there is to be no con 
 tent in life to me until I make what amends I can 
 for the folly of the boy you knew. The thought has 
 become a monomania with me. I hunted for months 
 for you, and never found a trace. Then I wrote 
 there." 
 
 "You did!" 
 
 "Yes, I did say what you please, do what you 
 please. It was my only hope, and I took it. I told 
 her I was hunting for you and my purpose. In return 
 I got only this," and he handed toward Genesee a 
 sheet of paper with one line written across it. "You 
 see your address, nothing more. But, Jack, can t 
 you see it would not have been sent if she had not 
 wished 
 
 "That s enough!" broke in the other. "I reckon 
 I ve given you all the time I have to spare this morn 
 ing, Mister. You re likely to strike better luck in 
 some different direction than talking sentiment and 
 the state of your feelings to me. I ve been acquainted 
 with them before pretty much and don t recollect 
 that the effect was healthy." 
 
 "Jack, you will do what I ask?" 
 
 "Not this morning, sonny," answered the other, 
 still with that altogether aggressive taunt in his 
 
258 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 tone. "I would go back to the ranch if I was you, and 
 by this time to-morrow some of them may make you 
 forget the favor you want this morning. So long!" 
 
 And with this suggestion to his guest to vacate, he 
 turned his back, sat down by the fire, and began fill 
 ing a pipe. 
 
 "All right; I ll go, and in spite of your stubborn 
 ness, with a lighter heart than I carried here, for I ve 
 made you understand that I want to make amends, 
 and that I have not been all a liar; that I want to win 
 back the old faith you all had in me; and, Jack, if my 
 head has gone wrong, something in my heart forbade 
 me to have content, and that has been my only hope 
 for myself. For I have a hope, and a determination, 
 Jack, and as for anyone helping me to forget well, 
 you are wrong there; one woman might do it for a 
 while I acknowledge that, but I am safe in knowing 
 she would rather help me to remember." 
 
 Genesee wheeled about quickly. 
 
 "Have you dared 
 
 "No, I have not told her, if that is what you mean, 
 why why should I?" 
 
 His denial weakened a little as he remembered how 
 closely his impulse had led him to it, and how strong, 
 though reasonless, that impulse had been. 
 
 The stem of the pipe snapped in Genesee s fingers 
 as he arose, pushing the camp-stool aside with his foot, 
 as if clearing space for action. 
 
 "Since you own up that there s someone about 
 here that you you ve taken a fancy to damn you! 
 I m going to tell you right now that you ve got to 
 stop that! You re no more fit than I am to speak to 
 her, or ask for a kind word from her, and I give you 
 a pointer that if you try playing fast and loose with 
 
AFTER TEN YEARS. 259 
 
 her, there ll be a committee of one to straighten out 
 the case, and do it more completely than that man did 
 who was a fool ten years ago. Now, hearken to that 
 will you?" 
 
 And then, without waiting for an answer, he strode 
 out of the shack, slamming the door after him, and 
 leaving his visitor in possession. 
 
 "I ve got to show him, by staying right in these 
 hills, that I am in earnest," Stuart decided, taking 
 the seat his host had kicked aside, and stretching his 
 feet out to the fire. "No use in arguing or pleading 
 with him there never was. But give him his own 
 lead, and he will come around to the right point of 
 view, though he may curse me up hill and down dale 
 while he is doing it; a queer, queer fellow God bless 
 him! And how furious he was about that girl! Those 
 two are a sort of David and Jonathan in their defense 
 of each other, and yet never exchange words if they 
 can help it that s queer, too it would be hard telling 
 which of them is the more so. Little need to warn 
 any man away from her, however; she is capable of 
 taking very good care of herself." 
 
 There was certainly more than one woman at the 
 ranch; but to hear the speech of those two men, one 
 would have doubted it; for neither had thought it 
 necessary even to mention her name. 
 
260 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TELLING OF A STORY. 
 
 "But you promised! Yes, you did, Mr. Stuart 
 didn t he, Mrs. Hardy? There, that settles it; so you 
 see this is your evening to tell a story." 
 
 The protracted twilight, with its cool grays and 
 purples, had finally faded away over the snow, long 
 after the stars took up their watch for the night. The 
 air was so still and so chill that the bugle-call at sunset 
 had sounded clearly along the little valley from camp, 
 and Fred thought the nearness of sound made a house 
 seem so much more home-like. After the bugle notes 
 and the long northern twilight, had come the grouping 
 of the young folks about the fire, and Fred s reminder 
 that this was to be a "story" night. 
 
 "But," declared Stuart, "I can think of none, except 
 a very wonderful one of an old lady who lived in a shoe, 
 and another of a house marvelously constructed by a 
 gentleman called Jack " 
 
 Here a clamor arose from the rebels in the audience, 
 and from Fred the proposal that he should read or tell 
 them of what he was working on at present, and gaining 
 at last his consent. 
 
 "But I must bring down some notes in manuscript," 
 he added, "as part of it is only mapped out, and my 
 memory is treacherous." 
 
 I will go and get them," offered Fred. "No, don t 
 you go! I m afraid to let you out of the room, 
 Jest you may remember some late business at camp 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 261 
 
 and take French leave. Is the manuscript on the table 
 in your room? I ll bring it." 
 
 And scarcely waiting either assent or remonstrance, 
 she ran up the stairs, returning immediately with 
 hands full of loose sheets and two rolls of manu 
 script. 
 
 "I confiscated all there was in reach," she laughed. 
 "Here they are; you pay no money, and you take your 
 choice." 
 
 She was such a petite, pretty little creature, her 
 witchy face alight with the confidence of pleasure to 
 come ; and looking down at her, he remarked : 
 
 "You look so much a spirit of inspiration, Miss Fred, 
 that you had better not make such a sweeping offer, 
 lest I might be tempted to choose you." 
 
 " And have a civil war on your hands," warned Rachel, 
 "with the whole camp in rebellion." 
 
 "Not much; they don t value me so highly," confessed 
 Fred. "They would all be willing to give me away." 
 
 "A willingness only seconded by your own." This 
 from the gallant Lieutenant on the settee. "My child, 
 
 this is not leap-year, and in the absence of your parent 
 I 
 
 "Yes, I know. But as Captain Holt commands in 
 papa s absence, I don t see what extra responsibility 
 rests on your shoulders. Now, Mr. Stuart, all quiet 
 along the Kootenai; go ahead." 
 
 "Not an easy thing to do," he answered ruefully, 
 trying to sort the jumbled lot of papers she had brought 
 him, and beginning by laying the rolls of manuscript on 
 the table back of him, as if disposing of them. "You 
 have seized on several things that we could not possibly 
 wade through in one evening, but here is the sketch I 
 spoke of. It is of camp-life, by the way, and so open 
 
262 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 to criticism from you two veterans. It was suggested 
 by a story I heard told at the Fort." 
 
 Just then a wild screech of terror sounded from the 
 yard, and then an equally wild scramble across the 
 porch. Everyone jumped to their feet, but Rachel 
 reached the door first, just as Aunty Luce, almost gray 
 from terror, floundered in. 
 
 "They s come!" she panted, in a sort of paralysis of 
 fright and triumph of prophecy. "I done tole all you 
 chillen! Injuns! right here I seed em!" 
 
 Hardy reached for his gun, the others doing the 
 same; but the girl at the door had darted out into the 
 darkness. 
 
 "Rachel!" screamed Tillie, but no Rachel answered. 
 Even Hardy s call was not heeded; and he followed 
 her with something like an oath on his lips, and Stuart 
 at his elbow. 
 
 Outside, it seemed very dark after the brightness 
 within, and they stopped on the porch an instant to 
 guide themselves by sound, if there was any move 
 ment. 
 
 There was the least ominous of sounds a laugh. 
 The warlike attitude of all relaxed somewhat, for it 
 was so high and clear that it reached even those 
 within doors; and then, outlined against the back 
 ground of snow, Stuart and Hardy could see two forms 
 near the gate a tall and a short one, and the shorter 
 one was holding to the sleeve of the other and laugh 
 ing. 
 
 "You and Aunty Luce are a fine pair of soldiers," 
 she was saying ; both beat a retreat at the first glimpse 
 of each other. And you can t leave after upsetting 
 everyone like this; you must come in the house and 
 reassure them. Come on ! " 
 
/ done tole all you Mien! Injuns! right here-I seed em." 
 Page 262. 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 263 
 
 Some remonstrance was heard, and at the sound of 
 the voice Hardy stepped out. 
 
 "Hello, Genesee!" he said, with a good deal of relief 
 in his manner; "were you the scarecrow? Come 
 in to the light, till we make sure we re not to be 
 scalped." 
 
 After a few words with the girl that the 
 others could not hear, he walked beside her to the 
 porch. 
 
 "I m mighty sorry, Hardy," he said as they met. 
 "I was a little shaky about Mowitza to-day, and reck 
 oned I d better make an extra trip over; but I didn t 
 count on kicking up a racket like this didn t even 
 spot the woman till she screeched and run." 
 
 "That s all right," said Hardy reassuringly. "I m 
 glad you came, whether intentionally or by accident. 
 You know I told you the other day " 
 "Yes I know." 
 
 Rachel and Stuart had entered the house ahead of 
 them, and all had dropped back into their chosen 
 points of vantage for the evening when assurance was 
 given that the Indians belonged to Aunty s imagina 
 tion ; but for those short seconds of indecision Tillie had 
 realized, as never before, that they were really within 
 the lines of the Indian country. 
 
 Aunty Luce settled herself sulkily in the corner, 
 a grotesque figure, with an injured air, eyeing Genesee 
 with a suspicion not a whit allayed when she recog 
 nized the man who had brought the first customs of 
 war to them taking nocturnal possession of the best 
 room. 
 
 "No need tell me he s a friend o you all!" she 
 grunted. "Nice sort o friend you s comin to, I say 
 lives with Injuns; reckon I heard umph!" 
 
264 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 This was an aside to Tillie, who was trying to keep 
 her quiet, and not succeeding very well, much to the 
 amusement of the others within hearing, especially 
 Fred. 
 
 Genesee had stopped in the outer room, speaking 
 with Hardy; and, standing together on the hearth, in 
 the light of the fire, it occurred to the group in the 
 other room what a fine pair they made each a piece 
 of physical perfection in his way 
 
 "A pair of typical frontiersmen," said Murray, and 
 Miss Fred was pleased to agree, and add some praise 
 on her own account. 
 
 "Why, that man Genesee is really handsome," she 
 whispered; "he isn t scowling like sin, as he was when 
 I saw him before. Ask him in here, Mrs. Tillie; I like 
 to look at him." 
 
 Mrs. Tillie had already made a movement toward 
 him. Perhaps the steady, questioning gaze of Rachel 
 had impelled her to follow what was really her desire, 
 only why need the man be so flagrantly improper? 
 Tillie had a great deal of charity for black sheep, but 
 she believed in their having a corral to themselves, and 
 not allowing them the chance of smutching the spotless 
 flocks that have had good luck and escaped the mire. 
 She was a good little woman, a warm-hearted one; 
 and despite her cool condemnation of his wickedness 
 when he was absent, she always found herself, in his 
 presence, forgetting all but their comradeship of that 
 autumn, and greeting him with the cordiality that 
 belonged to it. 
 
 "I shall pinch myself for this in the morning," she 
 prophesied, even while she held out her hand and 
 reminded him that he had been a long time deciding 
 about making them a visit. 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 265 
 
 Her greeting was much warmer than her farewell 
 had been the morning he left possibly because of 
 the relief in finding it was not a "hostile" at their 
 gate. And he seemed more at ease, less as if he need 
 to put himself on the defensive an attitude that had 
 grown habitual to him, as it does to many who live 
 against the rulings of the world. 
 
 She walked ahead of him into the other room, thus 
 giving him no chance to object had he wanted to; 
 and after a moment s hesitation he followed her, and 
 noticed, without seeming to look at any of them, that 
 Rachel stood back of Stuart s chair, and that Stuart 
 was looking at him intently, as if for recognition. On 
 the other side, he saw the Lieutenant quietly lay his 
 hand on Miss Fred s wrist that was in shadow, just 
 as she arose impulsively to offer her hand to the man 
 whom she found was handsome when he had the aid 
 of a razor. A beard of several weeks growth had 
 covered his face at their first meeting; now there was 
 only a heavy mustache left. But she heeded that 
 silent pressure of the wrist more than she would a 
 spoken word, and instead of the proffered hand there 
 was a little constrained smile of recognition, and a 
 hope given that Aunty Luce had not upset his nerves 
 with her war-cries. 
 
 He saw it all the moment he was inside the door 
 the refined face of Stuart, with the graciousness of 
 manner so evidently acceptable to all, the sheets of 
 manuscript still in his fingers, looking as he stood 
 there like the ruling spirit of the cheery circle; and 
 just outside that circle, though inside the door, he 
 Genesee stood alone, the fact sharply accented by 
 Miss Fred s significant movement; and with the remem 
 brance of the fact came the quick, ever-ready spirit 
 
266 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 of bravado, and his head was held a trifle higher as he 
 smiled down at her in apparent unconcern. 
 
 "If it is going to make Aunty Luce feel more com 
 fortable to have company, I m ready to own up that 
 my hair raised the hat off my head at first sight of her 
 isn t quite settled into place yet;" and he ran his 
 fingers through the mass of thick, dark hair. "How s 
 that, Aunty?" 
 
 "Umph!" she grunted, crouching closer to the wall, 
 and watching him distrustfully from the extreme corner 
 of her eye. 
 
 "Have you ever been scared so badly you couldn t 
 yell, Aunty?" he asked, with a bland disregard of the 
 fact that she was just then in danger of roasting herself 
 on the hearth for the purpose of evading him. "No? 
 That s the way you fixed me a little while back, sure 
 enough. I was scared too badly to run, or they never 
 would have caught me." 
 
 The only intelligible answer heard from her was: 
 "Go long, you!" 
 
 He did not "go long." On the contrary, he wheeled 
 about in Tillie s chair, and settled himself as if that 
 corner was especially attractive, and he intended 
 spending the evening in it a suggestion that was a 
 decided surprise to all, even to Rachel, remembering 
 his late conservatism. 
 
 Stuart was the only one who realized that it was per 
 haps a method of proving by practical demonstration 
 the truth of his statement that he was a Pariah among 
 the class who received the more refined character with 
 every welcome. It was a queer thing for a man to 
 court slights, but once inside the door, his total uncon 
 cern of that which had been a galling mortification to 
 him was a pretty fair proof of Stuart s theory. He 
 
<PHE TELLING OF A STORY. 267 
 
 talked Indian wars to Hardy, and Indian love-songs to 
 Hardy s wife. He coolly turned his attention to Lieu 
 tenant Murray, with whom his acquaintance was the 
 slightest, and from the Lieutenant to Miss Fred, who 
 was amused and interested in what was, to her, a new 
 phase of a "squaw man;" and her delight was none 
 the less keen because of the ineffectual attempts in 
 any way to suppress this very irregular specimen, whose 
 easy familiarity was as silencing as his gruff curtness 
 had been the day they met him first. 
 
 Beyond an occasional remark, his notice was in no 
 way directed to Rachel in fact, he seemed to avoid 
 looking at her He was much more interested in the 
 other two ladies, who by degrees dropped into a cordi 
 ality on a par with that of Aunty Luce ; and he promptly 
 took advantage of it by inviting Miss Fred to go riding 
 with him in the morning. 
 
 The man s impudence and really handsome face gave 
 Fred a wicked desire to accept, and horrify the Lieu 
 tenant and Tillie; but one glance at that little matron 
 told her it would not do. 
 
 "I have an engagement to ride to-morrow," she said 
 rather hurriedly, else 
 
 "Else I should be your cavalier," he laughed. "Ah, 
 well, there are more days coming. I can wait." 
 
 A dead silence followed, in which Rachel caught 
 the glance Genesee turned on Stuart a smile so mirth 
 less and with so much of bitter irony in it that it told 
 her plainly as words that the farce they had sat through 
 was understood by those two men, if no others; 
 and, puzzled and eager to break the awkward 
 silence, she tried to end it by stepping into the 
 breach. 
 
 "You have totally forgotten the story you were to 
 
268 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 tell us," she said, pointing to the sheets of manuscript 
 in Stuart s hand; "if we are to have it to-night, why 
 not begin?" 
 
 "Certainly; the story, by all means," echoed Fred. 
 "We had it scared out of our heads, I guess, but our 
 nerves are equal to it now. Are you fond of stories, 
 Mr. Mr. Genesee?" 
 
 "Uncommonly." 
 
 "Well, Mr- Stuart was about to read us one just as 
 you came in: one he wrote since he came up in these 
 wilds at the Fort, didn t you say, Mr. Stuart? You 
 know," she added, turning again to Genesee "you 
 know Mr. Stuart is a writer a romancer." 
 
 "Yes," he answered slowly, looking at the subject of 
 their discourse as if examining something rare and 
 curious; "I should reckon he might be." 
 
 The contempt in the tone sent the hot blood to Stuart s 
 face, his eyes glittering as ominously as Genesee s own 
 would in anger. An instant their gaze met in chal 
 lenge and retort, and then the sheets of paper were laid 
 deliberately aside. 
 
 "I believe, after all, I will read you something else," 
 he said, reaching for one of the rolls of manuscript on 
 the table; "that is, with your permission. It is not 
 a finished story, only the prologue. I wrote it in the 
 South, and thought I might find material for the com 
 pletion of it up here; perhaps I may." 
 
 "Let us have that, by all means," urged Tillie. 
 
 "What do you call it?" 
 
 "I had not thought of a title, as the story was scarcely 
 written with the idea of publication. The theme, 
 however, which is pretty fairly expressed in the quota 
 tion at the beginning, may suggest a title. I will leave 
 that to my audience." 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 26S 
 
 "And we will all put on our thinking-caps and 
 study up a title while you tell the story, and when it 
 is ended, see which has the best one to offer. It will 
 be a new sort of game with which to test our imagina 
 tions. Go on. What is the quotation, to begin 
 with?" 
 
 To the surprise of the listeners, he read that old 
 command from Deuteronomy, written of brother to 
 brother : 
 
 "Thou shalt not see thy brother s ox or his sheep go astray; 
 thou shalt in any case bring them again unto thy brother. 
 
 "And with all lost things of thy brother s, which he hath lost 
 and thou hast found, shalt thou do likewise. 
 
 In any case thou shalt deliver him the pledge again when the 
 sun goeth down." 
 
 Stuart ceased after those lines, and looked for 
 comment. He saw enough in the man s face oppo 
 site him. 
 
 "Oh, go on," said Rachel. "Never mind about the 
 suggestions in that heading it is full of them; give us 
 the story." 
 
 "It is only the prologue to a story," he reminded 
 her; and with no further comment began the manu 
 script. 
 
 Its opening was that saddest of all things to the 
 living a death-bed and that most binding of all 
 vows a promise given to the dying. 
 
 There was drawn the picture of a fragile, fair little 
 lady, holding in her chilling fingers the destiny of the 
 lives she was about to leave behind young lives- 
 one a sobbing, wondering girl of ten, and two boys; 
 the older perhaps eighteen, an uncouth, strong-faced 
 youth, who clasped hands with another boy several 
 years younger, but so fair that few would think them 
 brothers, and only the more youthful would ever have 
 
270 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 been credited as the child of the little woman who 
 looked so like a white lily. 
 
 The other was the elder son an Esau, however, 
 who was favorite with neither father nor mother; with 
 no one, in fact, who had ever known the sunny face and 
 nature of the more youthful an impulsive, loving 
 disposition that only shone the brighter by contrast 
 with the darker-faced, undemonstrative one whom even 
 his mother never understood. 
 
 And the shadow of that misunderstanding was with 
 them even at the death-bed, where the Jacob sobbed 
 out his grief in passionate protests against the power 
 that would rob him, and the Esau stood like a statue 
 to receive her commands. Back of them was the father, 
 smothering his own grief and consoling his favorite, 
 when he could, and the one witness to the seal that was 
 set on the three young lives. 
 
 Her words were not many she was so weak -but 
 she motioned to the girl beside the bed. "I leave her 
 to you," she said, looking at them both, but the eyes, 
 true to the feeling back of them, wandered to the 
 fairer face and rested there. "The old place will belong 
 to you two ere many years your father will perhaps 
 come after me;" and she glanced lovingly toward the 
 man whom all the world but herself had found cold 
 and hard in nature. "I promised long ago when her 
 mother died that she should always have a home, and 
 now I have to leave the trust to you, my sons." 
 
 "We will keep it," said the steady voice of Esau, 
 as he sat like an automaton watching her slowly drift 
 ing from them; while Jacob, on his knees, with his 
 arms about her, was murmuring tenderly, as to a child, 
 that all should be as she wished her trust was to be 
 theirs always. 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 271 
 
 And if either of you should fail or forget, the other 
 must take the care on his own shoulders. Promise me 
 that too, because " 
 
 The words died away in a whisper, but her eyes 
 turned toward the Esau. He knew too bitterly what 
 it meant. Though only a boy, he was a wild one- 
 people said a bad one. His father had pronounced 
 him the only one of their name who was not a gentle 
 man. He gambled and he drank; his home seemed 
 the stables, his companions, fast horses and their fast 
 masters; and in the eyes of his mother he read, as 
 never before, the effect that life had produced. His 
 own mother did not dare trust the black sheep of 
 the family, even though he promised at her death 
 bed. 
 
 A wild, half-murderous hate arose in him at the 
 knowledge a hate against his elegant, correctly man 
 nered father, whose cold condemnation had long ago 
 barred him out from his mother s sympathy, until even 
 at her death-bed he felt himself a stranger his little 
 mother and he had worshiped her as the faithful do 
 their saints, and like them, afar off. 
 
 But even the hate for his father was driven back at 
 the sight of the wistful face, and the look that comes 
 to eyes but once. 
 
 "We promise I promise that, so help me God!" 
 he said earnestly, and then bent forward for the first 
 time, his voice breaking as he spoke. "Mother! 
 mother! say just once that you trust that you believe 
 in me!" 
 
 Her gaze was still on his face; it was growing difficult 
 to move the eyes at will, and the very intensity of his 
 own feelings may have held her there. Her eyes 
 widened ever so little, as if at some revelation born 
 
272 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 to her by that magnetism, and then My boy, I 
 trust " 
 
 The words again died in a whisper; and raising his 
 head with a long breath of relief, he saw his father 
 drop on his knees by the younger son. Their arms 
 were about each other and about her. A few broken, 
 disjointed whispers; a last smile upward, beyond them, 
 a soft, sighing little breath, after which there was no 
 other, and then the voice of the boy, irrepressible in 
 his grief, as his love, broke forth in passionate despair, 
 and was soothed by his father, who led him sobbing 
 and rebellious from the bedside both in their sorrow 
 forgetting that third member of the family, who sat 
 so stoically through it all, until the little girl, their 
 joint trust, half -blind with her own tears saw 
 him there so still and as pathetically alone as 
 the chilling clay beside him. Trying to say some 
 comforting words, she spoke to him, but received 
 no answer. She had always been rather afraid 
 of this black sheep he was so morose about the 
 house, and made no one love him except the 
 horses; but the scene just past drew her to him for 
 once without dread. 
 
 "Brother," she whispered, calling him by the name 
 his mother had left her; "dear brother, don t you sit 
 there like that;" and a vague terror came to her as he 
 made no sign. "You you frighten me. ! 
 
 She slipped her hand about his neck with a child s 
 caressing sympathy, and then a wild scream brought 
 the people hurrying into the room. 
 
 "He is dead!" she cried, as she dropped beside him; 
 "sitting there cold as stone, and we thought he didn t 
 care! And he is dead dead!" 
 
 But he was not dead the physician soon assured 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 273 
 
 them of that. It was only a cataleptic fit. The emo 
 tion that had melted the one brother to tears had frozen 
 the other into the closest semblance to stone that life 
 can reach, and still be life. 
 
 The silence was thrilling as Stuart s voice ceased, 
 and he stooped for the other pages laid by his chair. 
 
 A feeling that the story on paper could never con 
 vey was brought to every listener by the something 
 in his voice that was not tears, but suggested 
 the emotion back of tears. They had always 
 acknowledged the magnetism of the man, but felt 
 that he was excelling himself in this instance. Tillie 
 and Fred were silently crying. Rachel was staring 
 very steadily ahead of her, too steadily to notice 
 that the hand laid on Genesee s revolver at the com 
 mencement of the story had gradually relaxed and 
 dropped listless beside him. All the strength in his 
 body seemed to creep into his eyes as he watched Stuart, 
 trusting as much to his eyes as his ears for the 
 complete comprehension of the object in or back 
 of that story. In the short pause the author, with 
 one sweeping glance, read his advantage that he 
 was holding in the bonds of sympathy this man whom 
 he could never conquer through an impersonal influ 
 ence. The knowledge was a ten-fold inspiration 
 the point to be gained was so great to him; and with 
 his voice thrilling them all with its intensity, he read 
 on and on. 
 
 The story? Its finish was the beginning of this 
 one; but it was told with a spirit that can not be trans 
 mitted by ink and paper, for the teller depended lit 
 tle on his written copy. He knew it by heart knew 
 all the tenderness of a love-story in it that was care 
 less ot the future as the butterflies that coquette on a 
 is 
 
274 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 summer s day, passing and repassing with a mere touch 
 of wings, a challenge to a kiss, and then darting hither 
 and yon in the chase that grows laughing and 
 eager, until each flash of white wings in the sun bears 
 them high above the heads of their comrades, as the 
 divine passion raises all its votaries above the com 
 monplace. Close and closer they are drawn by the 
 spirit that lifts them into a new life; high and higher, 
 until against the blue sky there is a final flash of white 
 wings. It is the wedding by a kiss, and the coquet - 
 tings are over the sky closes in. They are a world 
 of their own. 
 
 Such a love story of summer was told by him in 
 the allegory of the butterflies; but the young heart 
 throbbing through it was that of the woman-child who 
 had wept while the two brothers had clasped hands 
 and accepted her as the trust of the dying; and her 
 joyous teacher of love had been the fair-haired, fine- 
 faced boy whose grief had been so great and whose 
 promises so fervent. It is a very old story, but an ever- 
 pathetic one that tragedy of life; and likewise this 
 one, without thought of sin, with only a fatal fondness 
 on her part, a fatal desire for being loved on his, and a 
 season s farewell to be uttered, of which they could 
 speak no word the emotions that have led to more 
 than one tragedy of soul. And one of the butterflies 
 in this one flitted for many days through the flowers 
 of her garden, shy, yet happy, whispering over and 
 over, "His wife, his wife!" while traveling southward, 
 the other felt a passion of remorse in his heart, and 
 resolved on multitudinous plans for the following of a 
 perfection of life in the future. 
 
 All this he told too delicately to give offense, yet 
 too unsparingly not to show that the evil wrought in a 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 275 
 
 moment of idle pastime, of joyous carelessness, is as 
 fatal in its results as the most deliberate act of pre-con- 
 ceived wickedness. 
 
 And back of the lives and loves of those two, witli 
 their emotional impulses and joyous union of untutored 
 hearts, there arose, unloved and seemingly unloving, 
 the quiet, watchful figure of the Esau. 
 
 Looking at his life from a distance, and perhaps 
 through eyes of remorse, the writer had idealized that 
 one character, while he had only photographed the 
 others; had studied out the deeds back of every decided 
 action, and discovered, or thought he had, that it was 
 the lack of sympathy in his home-life had made a sort 
 of human porcupine of him, and none had guessed that, 
 back of the keen darts, there beat a pulse hungry for 
 words such as he begged from his mother at the last 
 and receiving, was ready to sacrifice every hope of his, 
 present or future, that he might prove himself worthy 
 of the trust she had granted him, though so late. 
 
 Something in the final ignoring of self and the tak 
 ing on his own shoulders the responsibilities of those 
 two whom his mother had loved something in all 
 that, made him appear a character of heroic propor 
 tions, viewed from Stuart s point of view. He walked 
 through those pages as a live thing, the feeling in the 
 author s voice testifying to his own earnestness 
 in the portrayal an earnestness that seemed to gain 
 strength as he went along, and held his listeners with 
 convincing power until the abrupt close of the 
 scene between those two men in the old New Orleans 
 house. 
 
 Everyone felt vaguely surprised and disturbed 
 when he finished it was all so totally unlike Stuart s 
 stories with which he had entertained them before. 
 
276 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 They were unprepared for the emotions provoked-, 
 and there was in it, and in the reading, a suggestion 
 of something beyond all that was told. 
 
 The silence was so long that Stuart himself was 
 the first to lift his eyes to those opposite, and tried to 
 say carelessly: 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 His face was pale, but not more so than that of 
 Genesee, who, surprised in that intent gaze, tried to 
 meet his eyes steadily, but failed, faltered, wavered, 
 and finally turned to Rachel, as if seeking in some 
 way his former assurance. And what he saw there 
 was the reaching out of her hand until it touched Stu 
 art s shoulder with a gesture of approving com 
 radeship. 
 
 "Good!" she said tersely; "don t ever again talk of 
 writing for pastime the character of that one man is 
 enough to be proud of." 
 
 "But there are two men," said Fred, finding her 
 voice again, with a sense of relief; "which one do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "No," contradicted Rachel, with sharp decision; 
 "I can see only one the Esau." 
 
 Stuart shrank a little under her hand, not even 
 thanking her for the words of praise; and, to her sur 
 prise, it was Genesee who answered her, his eyes 
 steady enough, except when looking at the author of 
 the story. 
 
 "Don t be too quick about playing judge," he sug 
 gested; and the words took her back like a flash to 
 that other time when he had given her the same curt 
 advice. "May be that boy had some good points that 
 are not put down there. Maybe he might have had 
 plans about doing the square thing, and something 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 277 
 
 upset them; or or he might have got tangled up in a 
 lariat he wasn t looking for It s just natural bad 
 luck some men have of getting tangled up like that; 
 and may be he this fellow 
 
 Fred broke out laughing at his reasoning for the 
 defense. 
 
 "Why, Genesee," she said gleefully, "an audience 
 of you would be an inspiration to an author or actor; 
 you are talking about the man as if he was a flesh and 
 blood specimen, instead of belonging to Mr. Stuart s 
 imagination." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon you re right, Miss," he said, rising to 
 his feet, with a queer, half-apologetic smile; "you see, 
 I m not used to hearing folks read romances." But 
 the insolent sarcasm with which he had spoken of the 
 word at first was gone. 
 
 The others had all regained their tongues, or the 
 use of them, and comment and praise were given the 
 author not much notice taken of Genesee s opinion 
 and protest. His theories of the character might be 
 natural ones; but his own likelihood for entanglements, 
 to judge by his reputation, was apt to prejudice him, 
 rendering him unduly charitable toward any other 
 fellow who was unlucky. 
 
 "My only objection to it," said Tillie, "is that there 
 is not enough of it. It seems unfinished." 
 
 "Well, he warned us in the beginning that it was only 
 a prologue," reminded her husband; "but there is a 
 good deal in it, too, for only a prologue a good deal." 
 
 "For my part," remarked the Lieutenant, I don t 
 think I should want anything added to it. Just as it 
 stands, it proves the characters of the two men. If it 
 was carried further, it might gain nothing, and leave 
 nothing for one s imagination." 
 
278 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "I had not thought of that " said Stuart; "in fact, it 
 was only written to help myself in analyzing two char 
 acters I had in my head, and could not get rid of until 
 I put them on paper. Authors are haunted by such 
 ghosts sometimes. It is Miss Fred s fault that I resurrected 
 this one to-night she thrust on me the accidental remem 
 brance." 
 
 "There are mighty few accidents in the world," was 
 Genesee s concise statement, as he pulled on his heavy 
 buckskin gloves. "I m about to cut for camp. Going?" 
 This to the Lieutenant. 
 
 After that laconic remark on accidents, no further 
 word or notice was exchanged between Stuart and 
 Genesee; but it was easily seen that the story read had 
 smoothed out several wrinkles of threatened discord 
 and discontent. It had at least tamed the spirit of the 
 scout, and left him more the man Rachel knew in him. 
 Her impatience at his manner early in the evening dis 
 appeared as he showed improvement; and just before 
 they left, she crossed over to him, asking something of 
 the snows on the Scot Mountain trail, his eyes warming 
 at the directness of her speech and movement, showing 
 to any who cared to notice that she spoke to him as 
 to a friend; but his glance turned instinctively from her 
 to Stuart. He remembered watching them that day as 
 they rode from camp. 
 
 "But what of Davy?" she repeated; "have you heard 
 any word of him ? 
 
 "No, and I m ashamed to say it," he acknowledged; 
 "I haven t been to see him at all since I got back. I ve 
 had a lot of things in my head to keep track of, and 
 didn t even send. I ll do it, though, in a day or so 
 or else go myself." 
 
 I m afraid he may be sick. If the snow is not bad, 
 
THE TELLING OF A STORY. 279 
 
 it s a wonder he has not been down. I believe I will 
 go." 
 
 "I don t like you to go over those trails alone," he 
 said in a lower tone; not just now, at any rate." 
 
 "Why not now?" 
 
 "Well, you know these Indian troubles may bring 
 queer cattle into the country. The Kootenai tribe 
 would rather take care of you than do you harm ; but- 
 well, I reckon you had better keep to the ranch " 
 
 "And you don t reckon you can trust me to tell me 
 why?" she said in a challenging way. 
 
 "It mightn t do any good I don t know, you see, 
 that it is really dangerous, only I d rather you d keep 
 on the safe side; and and don t say I can t trust you. 
 I d trust you with my life yes, more than that, if I 
 had it!" 
 
 His voice was not heard by the others, who were 
 laughing and chatting, it was so low; but its intensity 
 made her step back, looking up at him. 
 
 "Don t look as if I frighten you," he said quickly; 
 I didn t come in here for that. You shouldn t have 
 made me come, anyway I belong to the outside; 
 coming in only helps me remember it." 
 
 "So that was what put you in such a humor. I 
 thought it was Stuart." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 "Yes; I know you don t like him but, I think you 
 are prejudiced." 
 
 "Oh, you do?" And she saw the same inscrutable 
 smile on his face that she had noticed when he looked 
 at Stuart. 
 
 "There there," she laughed, throwing up her hand 
 as if to check him, "don t tell me again that I am too 
 anxious to judge people; but he is a good fellow." 
 
280 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "And you are a good girl," he said warmly, look 
 ing down at her with so much feeling in his face that 
 Stuart, glancing toward them, was startled into strange 
 conjectures at the revelation in it. It was the 
 first time he had ever seen them talking together. 
 
 "And you re a plucky girl, too," added Genesee, 
 "else you wouldn t stand here talking to me before 
 everyone. I ll remember it always of you. Tillikum, 
 good -night " 
 
PART FOURTH 
 
 ONE SQUAW MAN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LAMONTI. 
 
 The next morning awoke with the balmy air of spring 
 following the sunrise over the snow a fair, soft day, 
 with treachery back of its smiles ; for along in the after 
 noon the sky gathered in gray drifts, and the weather- 
 wise prophesied a big snow-fall. 
 
 All the morning Genesee wrote. One page after 
 another was torn up, and it was the middle of the after 
 noon before he finally finished the work to his satis 
 faction, did it up in a flat, square package, and having 
 sealed it securely, called Kalitan. 
 
 "You take this to the express office at the station," 
 he said; "get a paper for it receipt; then go to Hol 
 land s to the bank store; give them this," and he 
 handed a slip of written paper. "If they give you 
 letter, keep it carefully so," and he took from his shirt- 
 pocket a rubber case the size of an ordinary envelope. 
 Evidently Kalitan had carried it before, for he opened 
 a rather intricate clasp and slipped the bit of paper 
 into it. 
 
 "All good not get wet," he said, picking up the 
 larger package. " The Arrow fly down ; come back how 
 soon ? 
 
 "Send this," pointing to the package, "the first thing 
 in the morning; then wait until night for the stage from 
 
 281 
 
282 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Pacific that brings the mail may be if road is bad it 
 will not come till next morning." 
 
 "Kalitan wait?" 
 
 "Yes, wait till the stage comes, then ask for letter, 
 and keep your eyes open; watch for bad whites. Kla- 
 howya! 
 
 Watching Kalitan start off with that package, he 
 drew a long breath of relief, like a man who had laid 
 down some burden; and leaving the avenue and the 
 camp behind, he struck out over the trail toward Hardy s, 
 not even stopping to saddle a horse. He was going to 
 have a "wau-wau" with Mowitza. 
 
 He had barely entered the stable door when Tillie 
 came across the yard, with a shawl thrown over her 
 head and looking disturbed. 
 
 "Oh, is it you, Mr. Genesee?" she said, with a little 
 sigh of disappointment ; I thought it was Hen or one 
 of the others come back. Did you meet them?" 
 
 "Yes; going up the west valley after stock." 
 
 "The west valley! Then they won t get back before 
 dark, and I I don t know what to do! " and the worried 
 look reached utter despair as she spoke. 
 
 "What s up? I can ride after them if you say so " 
 
 "I don t know what to say. I should have told Hen 
 at noon; but I knew it would put him out of patience 
 with Rachel, and I trusted to her getting back all right; 
 but now, if the snow sets in quickly, and it threatens 
 to, she may get lost, and I " 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "Gone to Scot s Mountain." 
 
 An energetic expletive broke from his lips, un 
 checked even by the presence of the little woman who 
 had seemed a sort of Madonna to him in the days a 
 year old. The Madonna did not look much shocked. 
 
LAMONTI. 283 
 
 She had an idea that the occasion was a war 
 rant for condemnation, and she felt rather guilty 
 herself. 
 
 "One of the Kootenai tribe came here this morn 
 ing t and after jabbering Chinook with him, she 
 told me Davy MacDougall was sick, and she was going 
 to ride up there. Hen was out, and she wouldn t 
 listen to Miss Fred and me just told us to keep 
 quiet and not tell him where she was, and that she 
 would get back for supper; so we haven t said a 
 word; and now the snow is coming, she may get 
 lost." 
 
 Tillie was almost in tears; it was easy to see she was 
 terribly frightened, and very remorseful for keeping 
 Rachel s command to say nothing to Hardy. 
 
 "Did that Indian^ go with her?" 
 
 "No; and she started him back first, up over that 
 hill, to be sure he would not go over to the camp. I 
 can t see what her idea was for that." 
 
 Genesee could it was to prevent him from knowing 
 she was going up into the hills despite his caution. 
 
 "There is not a man left on the place, except Jim," 
 continued Tillie, "or I would send them after her. 
 But Jim does not know the short-cut trail that I ve 
 heard Rachel speak of, and he might miss her in the 
 hills; and oh, dear! oh, dear!" 
 
 Genesee reached to the wooden peg where his sad 
 dle hung, and threw it across Mowitza s back. 
 
 In a moment Tillie understood what it meant, and 
 felt that, capable as he might be, he was not the person 
 she should send as guardian for a young girl. To be 
 sure, he had once before filled that position, and brought 
 her in safety; but that was before his real character 
 was known. 
 
284 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Tillie thought of what the rest would say, of what 
 Stuart would think for she had already bracketed 
 Rachel and Stuart in her match-making calendar. 
 She was between several fires of anxiety and in 
 decision, as she noted the quick buckling of straps 
 and the appropriation of two blankets from the hanging 
 shelf above them. 
 
 Are you can you get someone to go for me from 
 the camp?" she asked hurriedly. He turned and looked 
 at her with a smile in his eyes. 
 
 "I reckon so," he answered briefly; and then, seeing 
 her face flushed and embarrassed, the smile died out as 
 he felt what her thoughts were. Who do you want?" 
 he added, leading Mowitza out and standing beside 
 her, ready to mount. 
 
 She did not even look up. She felt exactly as she 
 had when she told Hen that she knew she was right, 
 and yet felt ashamed of herself. 
 
 " I thought if you could spare Kalitan " she hesi 
 tated. "She knows him, and he has been with her so 
 often up there, no one else would know so well where 
 to look for her that is, if you could spare him," she 
 added helplessly. 
 
 "The chances are that I can," he said in a business 
 like way; "and if I was you I d just keep quiet about 
 the trip, or else tell them she has an Indian guide 
 and she will have. Can you give me a bottle of brandy 
 and some biscuits?" 
 
 She ran into the house, and came back with them at 
 once. He was mounted and awaiting her. 
 
 "Kalitan has left the camp gone over that hill;" 
 and he motioned rather vaguely toward the ridge 
 across the valley. "I ll just ride over and start 
 him from there, so he won t need to go back to camp 
 

 Don t you worry; just keep quiet, and she ll come back all right 
 with Kal-itan." Page 285. 
 
LAMONTI. 285 
 
 for rations. Don t you worry; just keep quiet, and 
 she ll come back all right with Kalitan." 
 
 He turned without further words, and rode away 
 through the soft flakes of snow that were already begin 
 ning to fall. He did not even say a good-bye; and 
 Tillie, hedged in by her convictions and her anxiety, 
 let him go without even a word of thanks." 
 
 "I simply did not dare to say thank you to him," 
 she thought, as he disappeared. And then she went 
 into the house and eased Fred s heart and her own 
 conscience with the statement that Kalitan, the best 
 guide Rachel could have, had gone to meet her. She 
 made no mention of the objectionable character who 
 had sent Kalitan. 
 
 By the time of sunset, Scot s Mountain was smothered 
 in the white cloud that had closed over it so 
 suddenly, and the snow was still falling straight 
 down, and so steadily that one could not retrace steps 
 and find tracks ten minutes after they were made. 
 Through the banked-up masses a white-coated 
 unrecognizable individual plowed his way to Mac- 
 Dougall s door, and without ceremony opened it and 
 floundered in, carrying with him what looked enough 
 snow to smother a man; but his eyes were clear of it, 
 and a glance told him the cabin had but one occu 
 pant. 
 
 "When did she leave?" was the salutation Mac- 
 Dougall received, after a separation of six weeks. 
 
 "Why, Jack, my lad!" 
 
 "Yes, that s who it is, and little time to talk. Has 
 she been here?" 
 
 "The lass Rachel? She has that a sight for sore 
 eyes and set all things neat and tidy for me in no 
 time;" and he waved his hand toward the clean-swept 
 
286 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 hearth, and the table with clean dishes, and a basket 
 with a loaf of new bread showing through. "But she 
 did na stay long wi me. The clouds were comin up 
 heavy, she said, and she must get home before the 
 snow fell; an it snows now?" 
 
 "Well, rather. Can t you see out?" 
 
 "I doubt na I ve had a nap since she left;" and the 
 old man raised himself stiffly from the bunk. "I got 
 none the night, for the sore pain o my back, but the 
 lass helped me. She s a rare helpful one." 
 
 "Which trail did she take?" asked Genesee impa 
 tiently. 
 
 He saw the old man was not able to help him look 
 for her, and did not want to alarm him; but to stand 
 listening to comments when every minute was deepen 
 ing the snow, and the darkness well, it was a test to the 
 man waiting. 
 
 "I canna say for sure, but she spoke o the trail 
 through the Maples being the quickest way home; 
 likely she took it." 
 
 Genesee turned to the door with a gesture of despair. 
 He had come that way and seen no sign of her; but 
 the trail wound above gulches where a misstep was 
 fatal, and where a horse and rider could be buried in 
 the depths that day and leave no trace. 
 
 At the door he stopped and glanced at Davy Mac- 
 Dougall, and then about the cabin. 
 
 Are you fixed all right here in case of being snowed 
 in?" he asked. 
 
 "I am that for four weeks, if need be; but does it 
 look like that out ? 
 
 "Pretty much. Good-bye, Davy;" and he walked 
 back and held out his hand to the old man, who looked 
 at him wonderingly. Though their friendship was 
 
LAMONTI. 287 
 
 earnest, they were never demonstrative, and Genesee 
 usually left with a careless kldhowya! 
 
 "Why, lad " 
 
 "I m going to look for her, Davy, If I find her, 
 you ll hear of it; if I don t, tell the cursed fools at the 
 ranch that I that I sent a guide who would give his 
 life for her. Good-bye, old fellow good-bye." 
 
 Down over the mountain he went, leading Mowitza, 
 and breaking the path ahead of her slow, slow work. 
 At that rate of. travel, it would be morning before he 
 could reach the ranch; and he must find her first. 
 
 He found he could have made more speed with snow- 
 shoes and without Mowitza the snow was banking 
 up so terribly. The valley was almost reached when 
 a queer sound came to him through the thick veil of 
 white that had turned gray with coming night. 
 
 Mowitza heard it, too, for she threw up her head 
 and answered it with a long whinny, even before her 
 master had decided what the noise was; but it came 
 again, and then he had no doubt it was the call of a 
 horse, and it was somewhere on the hill above 
 him. 
 
 He fastened Mowitza to a tree, and started up over 
 the way he had come, stopping now and then to call, 
 but hearing no answer not even from the horse, that 
 suggested some phantom-like steed that had passed in 
 the white storm. 
 
 Suddenly, close to him, he heard a sound much more 
 human a whistle; and in a moment he plunged in 
 that direction, and almost stumbled over a form hud 
 dled against a fallen tree. He could not see her face. 
 He did not need to. She was in his arms, and she 
 was alive. That was enough. But she lay strangely 
 still for a live woman, and he felt in his pocket for 
 
288 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 that whisky-flask; a little of the fiery liquor strangled 
 her, but aroused her entirely. 
 
 "Jack?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I knew if I called long enough you would come; 
 but I can only whisper now. You came just in time." 
 
 "How long have you been here?" 
 
 "Oh, hours, I think. I started for the gulch trail, 
 and couldn t make it with snow on the ground. Then 
 I tried for the other trail, but got lost in the snow 
 couldn t even find the cabin. Help me up, will you? 
 I guess I m all right now." 
 
 She was not, quite, for she staggered woefully; and 
 he caught her quickly to him and held her with one 
 arm, while he fumbled for some matches with the 
 other. 
 
 "You re a healthy-looking specimen," was the rather 
 depreciating verdict he gave at sight of the white, 
 tired face. She smiled from the pillow of his shoul 
 der, but did not open her eyes; then the match flick 
 ered and went out, and he could see her no more. 
 
 "Why didn t you stay at home, as I told you to?" 
 
 "Didn t want to." 
 
 "Don t you know I m likely to catch my death of 
 cold tramping here after you ? 
 
 "No," with an intonation that sounded rather heart 
 less; "you never catch cold." 
 
 The fact that she had not lost her old spirit, if she 
 had her voice, was a great point in her favor, and he 
 had a full appreciation of it. She was tired out, and 
 hoarse, but still had pluck enough to attempt the trip 
 to the ranch. 
 
 "We ve got to make it," she decided, when the sub 
 ject was broached; "we can make it to-night as well 
 
LAMONTI. 289 
 
 as to-morrow, if you know the trail. Did you say you 
 had some biscuits? Well, I m hungry." 
 
 "You generally are," he remarked, with a dryness in 
 no way related to the delight with which he got the 
 biscuits for her and insisted on her swallowing some 
 more of the whisky. Are you cold ? 
 
 "No not a bit; and that seems funny, too. If it 
 hadn t been such a soft, warm snow, I should have been 
 frozen." 
 
 He left her and went to find the mare, which he did 
 without much trouble; and in leading her back over 
 the little plateau he was struck with a sense of being 
 on familiar ground. It was such a tiny little shelf 
 jutting out from the mountain. 
 
 Swathed in snow as it was, and with the darkness above 
 it, he felt so confident that he walked straight out to 
 where the edge should be if he was right. Yes, there 
 was the sudden shelving that left the little plot inac 
 cessible from one side. 
 
 "Do you know where we are, my girl?" he asked as 
 he rejoined her. 
 
 "Somewhere on Scot s Mountain," she hazarded; the 
 possessive term used by him had a way of depriving 
 her of decided opinions. 
 
 "You re just about the same place where you watched 
 the sun come up once may be you remember?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He had helped her up. They stood there silent 
 what seemed a long time ; then he spoke : 
 
 "I ve come here often since that time. It s been a 
 sort of a church one that no one likely ever set foot in 
 but you and me." He paused as if in hesitation; then 
 continued: "I ve wished often I could see you here 
 again in the same place, just because I got so fond of it; 
 
290 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 and I don t know what you think of it, but this little 
 bit of the mountain has something witched in it for 
 me. I felt in the dark when my feet touched it, and I 
 have a fancy, after it s all over, to be brought up here 
 and laid where we stood that morning." 
 
 "Jack," and her other hand was reached impulsively 
 to his, " what s the matter what makes you speak like 
 that now?" 
 
 "I don t know. The idea came strong to me back 
 there, and I felt as if you you were the only one I 
 could tell it to, for you know nearly all now all the 
 bad in me, too; yet you ve never been the girl to draw 
 away or keep back your hand if you felt I needed it. 
 Ah, my girl, you are one in a thousand!" 
 
 He was speaking in the calmest, most dispassionate 
 way, as if it was quite a usual thing to indulge in dis 
 sertations of this sort, with the snow slowly covering 
 them. Perhaps he was right in thinking the place 
 witched. 
 
 "You ve been a good friend to me," he continued, 
 "whether I was near or far MacDougall told me 
 things that proved it; and if my time should come 
 quick, as many a man s has in the Indian country, I 
 believe you would see I was brought here, where I 
 want to be." 
 
 "You may be sure of it," she said earnestly; "but I 
 don t like to hear you talk like that it isn t like you. 
 You give me a queer, uncanny feeling. I can t see 
 you, and I am not sure it is Jack nika tiltikum I 
 am talking to at all. If you keep it up, you will have 
 me nervous." 
 
 He held her hand and drew it up to his throat, press 
 ing his chin against the fingers with a movement that 
 was as caressive as a kiss. 
 
LAMONTI. 291 
 
 "Don t you be afraid," he said gently; you are 
 afraid of nothing else, and you must never be of me. 
 Come, come, my girl, if we re to go, we d better be 
 getting a move on." 
 
 The prosaic suggestion seemed an interruption of his 
 own tendencies, which were^ not prosaic. The girl 
 slipped her fingers gently but decidedly from their 
 resting-place so near his lips, and laid her one hand on 
 his arm. 
 
 "Yes, we must be going, or" and he knew she was 
 smiling, though the darkness hid her "or it will look 
 as if there are two witched folks in our chapel our 
 white chapel to-night. I m glad we happened here, 
 since the thought is any comfort to you; but I hope it 
 will be many a day before you are brought here, instead 
 of bringing yourself." 
 
 He took her hand, and through the white masses 
 turned their faces down the mountain. The mare fol 
 lowed meekly after. The stimulant of bread and 
 whisky and more, the coming of this man, of whom 
 he was so stubbornly confident had acted as a tonic 
 to Rachel, and she struggled through bravely, accept 
 ing little of help, and had not once asked how he came 
 to be there instead of the ranchmen. 
 
 Perhaps it was because of their past association, 
 and that one night together when he had carried her 
 in his arms; but whatever he was to the other people, 
 he had always seemed to her a sort of guardian of the 
 hills and all lost things. 
 
 She did not think of his presence there nearly so much 
 as she did of those ideas of his that seemed "uncanny." 
 He, such a bulwark of physical strength, to speak like 
 that of a grave-site! It added one more to the con 
 tradictions she had seen in him, 
 
292 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Several things were in her mind to say to him, and 
 not all of them pleasant. She had heard a little of 
 the ideas current as to his Indian sympathies, and 
 the doubt with which he was regarded in camp; and, 
 while she defended him, she many times felt vexed 
 that he cared so little about defending himself. And 
 with the memory of the night before, and feminine 
 comments at the ranch after he had gone, she made an 
 attempt to storm his stubbornness during a short 
 breathing-spell when they rested against the great bole 
 of a tree. 
 
 "Genesee, why don t you let the other folks at the 
 ranch, or the camp, know you as I do?" was the first 
 break, at which he laughed shortly. 
 
 "They may know me the best of the two." 
 "But they don t; I know they don t; you know they 
 don t." 
 
 "Speak for yourself," he suggested; "I m not sure 
 either way, and when a man can t bet on himself, it 
 isn t fair to expect his friends to. You ve been the 
 only one of them all to pin faith to me, with not a thing 
 to prove that you had reason for it; it s just out-and- 
 out faith, nothing else. What they think doesn t 
 count, nor what I ve been; but if ever I get where 
 I can talk to you, you ll know, may be, how much a 
 woman s faith can help a man when he s down. But 
 don t you bother your head over what they think. If 
 I m any good, they ll know it sometime; if I m not, 
 you ll know that, too. That s enough said, isn t it? 
 And we d better break away from here; we re about 
 the foot of the mountain, I reckon." 
 
 Then he took possession of her hand again, and 
 led her on in the night; and she felt that her 
 attempt had been a failure, except that it showed how 
 
LAMONTI. 293 
 
 closely he held her regard, and she was too human not 
 to be moved by the knowledge. Yes, he was very 
 improper, as much so as most men, only it had hap 
 pened to be in a way that was shocking to tenderfeet 
 lucky enough to have families and homes as safe 
 guards against evil. He was very disreputable, and, 
 socially, a great gulf would be marked between them 
 by their friends. But in the hills, where the universe 
 dwindled to earth, sky, and two souls, they were but 
 man and woman; and all the puzzling things about 
 him that were blameful things melted away, as the 
 snow that fell on their faces. She felt his strong pres 
 ence as a guard about her, and without doubt or hesita 
 tion she kept pace beside him. 
 
 Once in the valley, she mounted Betty, and letting 
 Mowitza follow, he walked ahead himself, to break 
 the trail a slow, slavish task, and the journey seemed 
 endless. Hour after hour went by in that slow march 
 scarcely a word spoken, save when rest was iiec- 
 cessary; and the snow never ceased falling a widely 
 different journey from that other time when he had 
 hunted and found her. 
 
 You have your own time finding the trail for me 
 when I get lost," she said once, as he lifted her to the 
 saddle after a short rest. 
 
 "You did the same thing for me one day, a good 
 while ago," he answered simply. 
 
 The night had reached its greatest darkness, in the 
 hours that presage the dawn, when they crossed the 
 last ridge, and knew that rest was at last within com 
 paratively easy reach. Then for the first time, Genesee 
 spoke of his self-imposed search. 
 
 "I reckon you know I m an Indian?" he said by 
 way of preface. 
 
294 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "I don t know anything of the sort." 
 "But I am a regular adopted son in the Kootenai 
 tribe, four years old; so if they ask you if an Indian 
 guide brought you home, you can tell them yes, Do 
 you see?" 
 
 "Yes, I see, but not the necessity. Why should I 
 not tell them you brought me?" 
 
 "May be you know, and may be you don t, that I m 
 not supposed to range far from camp, Kalitan was 
 to go for you. Kalitan had some other work, and 
 sent a Kootenai friend of his. The friend s name is 
 Lamonti. Can you mind that? It means the moun 
 tain. I come by it honest it s a present Grey Eagle 
 made me. If they ask questions about your guide, 
 just put them off some way tell them you don t know 
 where he s gone to; and you won t. Now, can you do 
 that?" 
 
 "I can, of course; but I don t like to have you leave 
 like this, You must be half-dead, and I Jack, Jack, 
 what would I have done without you!" 
 
 He was so close, in the darkness, that in throwing 
 out her hand it touched his face, one of the trivial 
 accidents that turn lives sometimes. He caught it, 
 pressing it to his lips, his eyes, his cheek. 
 
 "Don t speak like that, unless you want to make a 
 crazy man of me," he muttered. "I can t stand every 
 thing. God! girl, you ll never know, and I can t tell 
 you! For Christ sake, don t act as if you were afraid 
 -the only one who has ever had faith in me! I think 
 that would wake up all the devil you helped put asleep 
 once. Here! give me your hand again, just once- 
 just to show you trust me. I ll be worth it I swear I 
 will! I ll never come near you again!" 
 
 The bonds under which he had held himself so long 
 
LAMONTI. 295 
 
 had broken at the touch of her hand and the impul 
 sive tenderness of her appeal. Through the half sob 
 in his wild words had burst all the repressed emotions 
 of desolate days and lonely nights, and the force of 
 them thrilled the girl, half-stunned her, for she could 
 not speak. A sort of terror of his broken, passionate 
 speech had drawn her quickly back from him, and she 
 seemed to live hours in that second of indecision. All 
 her audacity and self-possession vanished as a bulwark 
 of straws before a flood. Her hands trembled, and 
 a great compassion filled her for this alien by whose 
 side she would have to stand against the world. That 
 certainty it must have been that decided her, as it has 
 decided many another woman, and ennobled many 
 a love that otherwise would have been commonplace. 
 And though her hands trembled, they trembled out 
 toward him, and fell softly as a benediction on his 
 upturned face. 
 
 "I think you will come to me again," she said tremu 
 lously, as she leaned low from the saddle and 
 felt tears as well as kisses on her hands, "and you are 
 worth it now, I believe; worth more than I can give 
 you." 
 
 A half -hour later Rachel entered the door of the ranch, 
 and found several of its occupants sleepless and await 
 ing some tidings of her. In the soft snow they had not 
 heard her arrival until she stepped on the porch. 
 
 "I ve been all night getting here," she said, glanc 
 ing at the clock that told an hour near dawn, "and 
 I m too tired to talk; so don t bother me. See how 
 hoarse I am. No; Kalitan did not bring me. It was 
 a Kootenai called Lamonti. I don t know where he 
 has gone wouldn t come in. Just keep quiet and let 
 me get to bed, will you?" 
 
296 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A PHILOSOPHICAL HORSE-THIEF. 
 
 An hour before dawn the wind came, hurtling down 
 through the mountains and moaning along the val 
 leys; before it drove the flying snow in great chilly 
 sheets, as it was lifted from the high places and spread 
 in every nook that would warrant its safe-keeping. 
 
 Through its fitful gusts Genesee walked into camp, 
 his tracks filled by the eager flakes as he left them. 
 There seemed a strange alertness about the place, 
 for so early an hour even through the commotion, 
 blissful and despairing, in his own breast, he noticed 
 it as the guard hailed him, and when he replied, he 
 heard from that individual an excited exclamatior of 
 astonishment. 
 
 "By jolly, if it ain t Genesee!" 
 
 "I reckon it is," he answered, and passed on, too 
 tired, yet elated by his night s work, to care whether 
 or not his absence had been commented on. 
 
 The door of the shack had barely closed on him 
 when one of the several lanterns that he had noticed 
 floating like stars along the snow stopped at his door, 
 then a knock, and the entrance of a very wide-awake 
 looking corporal. 
 
 "You are to report to Captain Holt at once," was 
 the message he brought. 
 
 "What s up?" and the boot that was half-way off 
 was yanked on again. 
 
 "That s all the message I was given." 
 
A PHILOSOPHICAL HORSE-THIEF. 297 
 
 "The hell you say! Well, trot along." 
 
 His own frowning perplexity was no more decided 
 than that of Captain Holt, as he looked up to notice 
 the entrance of the scout and there was little of friend 
 liness in the look. 
 
 "You sent a man to say you wanted me." 
 
 "Yes, I sent a man about two hours ago to say I 
 wanted you," was the ironical reply. "You were not 
 to be found. Have you any report to make?" 
 
 "Not that I know of," he said curtly. A sort of 
 quiet antagonism had always been felt between the 
 chief of scouts and the new commander, but this was 
 the first time any expression had been given it, and 
 Genesee s intolerance quickly responded to the man 
 ner of the officer that had in it both dislike and dis 
 trust. 
 
 "Then you refuse to tell me where you spent the 
 night?" 
 
 The light in Genesee s eyes flashed sudden defi 
 ance. 
 
 "Yes; if it comes to that, and that s the way you put 
 it, I do." 
 
 "You had better think twice before you give that 
 answer," advised Captain Holt, his face paling with 
 anger at the insubordination; "and another question 
 to be put to you is, Where is the half-breed, your run 
 ner?" 
 
 "I don t know as that concerns you, either," answered 
 Genesee coolly. "He is my Indian, and neither of us 
 belonging to the United States Army, we can leave 
 camp when it suits us. But I don t mind telling you 
 I sent him to Holland s yesterday." 
 
 "For what purpose?" 
 
 "My own business." 
 
298 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "The same thing that took you from camp at three 
 yesterday and kept you out all night?" 
 
 "Just so," 
 
 "Then, since you refuse to answer a very necessary 
 question, you may until I have an opportunity of 
 investigating an absence that is, to say the least, sus 
 picious you may consider yourself under arrest." 
 
 " What in" 
 
 "For horse-stealing," finished the Captain calmly. 
 
 Genesee s hand dropped to his belt in a suggestive 
 manner, and from the door two guards stepped for 
 ward. He turned to look at them, and the ridiculous 
 idea of his arrest quelled the quick rage that had flashed 
 up in his face. 
 
 "You needn t have troubled yourself with these pro 
 tectors," he remarked, "for I reckon there isn t much 
 I d want to do that they would stop me from; and as 
 for you this is a piece of dirty work for some end. I m 
 ready to be put under arrest, just to see some fun when 
 your commander gets back. And now may be you ll 
 just tell me whose horse I stole?" 
 
 "It is not one horse, but one-half the stock belong 
 ing to the company, that was run off by your Kootenai 
 friends last night," replied Captain Holt grimly; "and 
 as your disappearance was likely helpful to them, 
 and a matter of mystery to the command, you will 
 be debarred from visiting them again until the mat 
 ter is investigated. Even the explanation is more 
 than your insolence deserves. You can go back to your 
 quarters." 
 
 "It s an infernal lie!" burst out Genesee wrathfully. 
 "No Kootenai touched your stock. It s been some 
 thieving Blackfeet and their white friends; and if you 
 interfere with the Kootenais, and try to put it on 
 
A PHILOSOPHICAL HORSE-THIEF. 200 
 
 their shoulders, you ll get yourself in trouble big 
 trouble." 
 
 "When I want your advice, I will ask for it," was 
 the natural reply to the contradiction and half threat. 
 Genesee walked to the door with the guards, and turning, 
 came back. 
 
 "Captain Holt," with more of appeal in manner 
 than one would look for in him, "I m ready to take my 
 chances in this business, and I m not trying to give 
 advice, but I m going to ask you, on the reputation 
 you know I have in Indian matters, to be mighty 
 careful what you do or what you let the men do toward 
 the Kootenai people. They re only waiting the Major s 
 return to send word to camp that their arms and 
 fighting braves are willing to help the troops against 
 the Blackfeet if they re needed. I know it. Their 
 messenger is likely to come any day; and it will be a 
 bad thing for our cause if their friendliness is broken 
 by this suspicion." 
 
 "Your cause?" 
 
 "No, I haven t got any," he retorted. "I m not 
 talking for myself I m out of it; but I mean the cause 
 of lives here in the valley the lives on both sides 
 that would be lost in a useless fight. It s all useless." 
 
 "And you acknowledge, then, that you don t consider 
 the cause of the whites as your own cause?" asked the 
 Captain quietly. 
 
 "Yes!" he burst out emphatically, "I ll own up to 
 you or anyone else; so make me a horse-thief on that, 
 if you can! I d work for the reds quicker than for 
 you, if there was anything to be gained by fighting for 
 them; but there isn t They d only kill, and be killed 
 off in the end. If I ve worked on your side, it s been 
 to save lives, not to take them; and if I ve got any sym- 
 
300 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 pathies in the matter, it s with the reds. They ve 
 been dogged to death by your damned cause. Now 
 you ve got my ideas in a nut-shell." 
 
 "Yes," agreed the Captain sarcastically, "very plainly 
 expressed. To establish entirely your sympathy with 
 your red friends, it only remains for you to be equally 
 frank and report your movements of last night." 
 
 "Go to hell and find out;" and with this climax of 
 insubordination, the scout left the presence of the com 
 manding officer and marched back to his shack, where 
 he took possession of the bunk and was sound asleep 
 in five minutes, and altogether undisturbed by the fact 
 that a guard was stationed at the door of the impromptu 
 prison with orders to shoot him if an attempt to escape 
 was made. 
 
 Captain Holt s leniency with the scout, who simply 
 ignored military rule and obedience in a place where 
 it was the only law, was, for him, phenomenal. 
 
 The one thing in Genesee s favor was his voluntary 
 return to camp ; and until he learned what scheme was 
 back of that, the Captain was obliged, with the thought 
 of his superior officer in mind and the scout s im 
 portance, to grant him some amenities, ignore his 
 insolence, and content himself with keeping him under 
 guard. 
 
 The guard outside was not nearly so strong in its con 
 trol of Genesee as the bonds of sleep that held him 
 through the morning and well-nigh high noon. He 
 had quickly summed up the case after his interview 
 with Holt, and decided that in two days, at most, the 
 Major would be back, and that the present commander 
 would defer any decided movement toward the 
 Kootenais until then. As for the horses, that was 
 a bad business; but if they chose to put him under 
 
A PHILOSOPHICAL HORSE-THIEF. 301 
 
 arrest, they plainly took from him the responsibility 
 of hunting for stock. So he decided, and in the free 
 dom from any further care, dropped asleep. Once a 
 guard came in with some breakfast, which he ate drows 
 ily, and turned again to his pillow. 
 
 "When that fool, the commanding officer, concludes 
 to let up on this arrest, there s likely to be some work 
 to do I ll fortify myself while I have the chance;" 
 and that determination, added to his exhaustion, served 
 to make his rest a very deliberate affair, not to be dis 
 turbed by trifles. 
 
 Several things occurred during that winter s morn 
 ing that were far from trifling; yet no sound of them 
 came to him, not even when a shot on the ridge 
 echoed across the valley, and ten minutes later was 
 followed by several more, accompanied by yells, heard 
 faintly, but clearly enough to tell that a skirmish 
 ing party was having a shooting-match with some 
 one across the hills. In three minutes every horse 
 left in camp was mounted and scurrying fast as their 
 feet could carry them through the drifts, while the 
 horseless ones, whose stock had been run off in the 
 muffled silence of the snow-storm, remained unwil- 
 ingly behind. 
 
 At the end of the avenue Lieutenant Murray caught 
 sight of Stuart and Hardy, riding toward camp. 
 There was a hallooed invitation to join, another of 
 acceptance, and the civilians joined the irregular 
 cavalcade and swept with them over the hill, where 
 the sounds of shots were growing fainter evidently 
 a retreat and a chase toward which they rode 
 blindly. 
 
 Through all of it their chief of scouts slept uncon 
 cernedly; a solid ten hours of rest was taken posses- 
 
302 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 sion of before he aroused himself to care whether it 
 was daylight or darkness. 
 
 "Major come yet?" was the first query. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Am I still under arrest?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then bring me something to eat. Past chuck?" 
 
 On being informed that the midday meal had been 
 ended two hours before, his next query was whether 
 anyone from the ranch had been to camp; but the 
 guard thought not a reply most grateful to the pris 
 oner. 
 
 "Suppose you tell me something about the horses 
 being run off," he suggested. "Oh, yes, I reckon I m 
 supposed to know all about it," he added; "but, just 
 to pass the time, suppose you tell me your side of 
 it." 
 
 There was not much to tell. Hardy s men had 
 been riding around after stray stock until late; had 
 passed camp after ten o clock. About one in the morn 
 ing the snow was falling thick; a little racket was heard 
 in the long shed where the horses were tied, and the 
 sentry, thinking some of Hardy s stray stock had wan 
 dered in there, tramped around with a light to see 
 what was wrong. He had barely reached the end of 
 the corral when someone from behind struck him 
 over the head. In falling, his gun was discharged; 
 and when investigations were made, it was found that 
 nearly half the horses, about forty head, had been 
 quietly run off through the snow, and the exploded 
 gun was all that saved the rest. 
 
 The trail was hot, and pursuit began, but the thieves 
 evidently knew the country, while the troops did not; 
 and every moment lost in consultation and conjecture 
 
A PHILOSOPHICAL HORSE-THIEF. 303 
 
 was gained by the people ahead, until the wind rose 
 and the trail was buried in the snow. 
 
 The followers had only returned to camp a few minutes 
 before Genesee was reported back; but the man sur 
 mised that if the troops did not get the horses, they 
 were taking their pay out of the hides of the red-skins. 
 "How s that?" demanded Genesee, with the quick, 
 perplexed frown that was as much anxiety as dis 
 pleasure. 
 
 "Well, a young cub of a Siwash came a-riding along 
 to camp about noon, as large as life and independent 
 as a hog on ice, and Denny Claflin you know him, 
 his horse was roped in by them last night well, he 
 called the buck to halt, as he d a perfect right to do, 
 and got no more notice than if the wind had whistled. 
 Denny hates an Injun as the devil does holy water, 
 and being naturally riled over last night, he called to 
 halt, or he d fire. Well, Mr. Siwash never turned his 
 head, and Denny let him have it." 
 "Killed him?" 
 
 "Dead as a door-nail. Right over the ridge north. 
 Our boys were just coming in, after skirmishing for 
 signs from last night. They heard the shot, and rode 
 up; and then, almost before they saw them, some 
 ambushed Injuns burst out on them like all-possessed. 
 They d come with the young one, who was sent ahead, 
 you see. Well, there was a go-as-you-please fight, I 
 guess, till our men got out from camp, and chased 
 them so far they haven t showed up since. Some of 
 us went out afoot to the ridge, and found the dead 
 buck. We buried him up there, and have been keeping 
 an eye open for the boys ever since." 
 "Did Captain Holt go?" 
 "You bet! and every other man that had a horse 
 
304 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 to go on; even that Mr. Stuart and Hardy from the 
 ranch went." 
 
 "And they haven t showed up?" 
 
 "Naw." 
 
 No more questions were asked, and the guard betook 
 himself to his pipe and enjoyment of the warm room, 
 for intense cold had followed in the wake of the 
 snow. 
 
 And the prisoner? The man on watch eyed dubi 
 ously the dark face as it lounged on the bunk. Aroused 
 and refreshed by rest, he drifted away from the remem 
 brance of his prison by living over with tender eyes 
 the victory of the night before. Once he had seen it 
 was possible for her to care for him that once of a 
 year ago, before she knew what he was; but lately 
 well, he thought her a plucky, cool-headed girl, who 
 wouldn t go back on a friend, and her stanchness had 
 shown that; but the very frank and outspoken showing 
 had taken from him any hope of the warmer feeling 
 that had existed in the old days, when she had likened 
 him to a Launcelot in buckskin. The hope? His 
 teeth set viciously as he thought of it as a hope. What 
 right had he for such a wish? What right had he 
 to let go of himself as he had done, and show her how 
 his life was bound up in hers ? What a hopeless tangle 
 it was; and if she cared for him, it meant plainly enough 
 that he was to repay her by communicating its hope 
 lessness to her. 
 
 If she cared! In the prosaic light of day he even 
 attempted to tell himself that the victory of the night 
 might have been in part a delusion; that she had pitied 
 him and the passion she had raised, and so had stooped 
 from the saddle. Might it not have been only 
 that? His reason told him perhaps; and then all the 
 
A PHILOSOPHICAL HORSE-THIEF. 305 
 
 wild unreason in the man turned rebel, and the force 
 of a tumultuous instinct arose and took possession of 
 him of her, for it gave her again into his arms, and 
 the laws of people were as nothing. She was his by 
 her own gift; the rest of the world was blotted out. 
 
 20 
 
306 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 "THE SQUAW WHO RIDES." 
 
 At the ranch a strange cloak of silence hung around 
 the household in regard to the horse-stealing. The 
 men, hearing of the night raid, had endeavored to keep 
 it from the women for fear of giving them uneasiness, 
 but had not altogether succeeded. Jim had frustrated 
 that attempt by forgetting, and blurting out at the 
 dinner table something about Genesee s arrest. 
 
 "It isn t true; it can t be true!" and Rachel turned 
 with such an appeal in her tired eyes that Andrews 
 dropped his own. 
 
 "It s true, Miss; he s accused of knowin all about it, 
 even if he didn t help. It s supposed to be his Koo- 
 tenai friends that did it, and they say he s mighty close- 
 mouthed over it ; that tells against him. I hope to God 
 it ain t true, for he seemed a mighty good man; but 
 he s under guard at the camp; won t allow folks to see 
 him, I hear leastwise, no Injuns." 
 
 Rachel glanced at the others, but found in their faces 
 no strong partisanship for Genesee. Tillie and Fred 
 were regretful, but not hopeful. 
 
 "It seems a shame that such a fine-looking fellow 
 should be a squaw man," said the Major s daughter; 
 "but since he is one, there is not much to be hoped of 
 him, though papa did have a wonderful lot of faith in 
 this one." 
 
 Rachel s eyes lightened at the words." What day 
 do they look for your father back?" she asked quickly. 
 
"THE SQUAW WHO RIDES." 307 
 
 "To-day or to-morrow, though this snow may hinder 
 them some," 
 
 "Well, he can t get here any too soon," chipped in 
 the loquacious Jim. "I reckon they " 
 
 Then his discourse was cut short by the toe of Andrews 
 boot under the table. Although the horse-stealing 
 was known at the ranch, and now the suspicion of 
 Genesee, yet there was one thing that Andrews and 
 Ivans had maneuvered to keep quiet, and that was 
 the absence of Hardy and Stuart, and the fact that 
 hostile Indians had descended from the hills. 
 
 Apocryphal stories had been told Tillie of an early 
 supper her husband and guest had eaten at camp, and 
 a ride they had taken after stock overlooked the night 
 before; and the hours dragged on, the night came, and 
 the two conspirators were gaining themselves the 
 serious anxiety they had endeavored to shield the 
 women from, and Jim, once outside the door, was 
 threatened with instant annihilation if he let his tongue 
 run so far ahead of his wit again. 
 
 The ladies had decided not to tell Rachel about 
 Genesee Tillie had so clear a remembrance of her 
 stubborn friendliness for that outlaw; but Jim had 
 settled the question of silence, and all the weariness 
 dropped from her at thought of what that accusation 
 meant to him death. Once she got up with the strong 
 light of hope in her eyes, and mnning across the snow 
 in the dark, opened the door of the stable where Jim 
 was bedding the horses. 
 
 "Jim!" she called sharply; "when was it the stock 
 was run off from camp what time?" 
 
 "Early this mornin ," answered that youth sulkily. 
 He had just received the emphatic warning against 
 "tattling." 
 
308 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "This morning? What time this morning?" 
 
 "Oh, early; afore daylight." 
 
 Before daylight! She had gained a wild hope that 
 it was during the time they were together; but from 
 Jim s vague suggestion they had returned just about 
 the time it had occurred in time for it. She turned 
 hopelessly toward the house, then hesitated and came 
 back. 
 
 "Jim." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Is Mowitza here?" 
 
 "Yes, can t you see?" 
 
 But she could not see very clearly. Something in 
 her eyes blinded her as she thought of Mowitza and 
 the glad days when they knew each other first; and of 
 Mowitza s master, and his voice as she had heard it 
 last and the words! Oh, the despairing, exultant, 
 compelling words! And then, after he had gone from 
 her, could it be so? 
 
 "Take good care of the mare, Jim, until until he 
 needs her." 
 
 When the girl re-entered the house, Tillie turned 
 with a lecture to deliver on the idiocy of going out 
 without a wrap; it was not spoken, for a glance 
 into Rachel s eyes told she had been crying something 
 so unusual as to awe the little woman into silence, and 
 perplex her mightily. Headstrong as the girl had been 
 in her championship of Genesee, Tillie had always been 
 very sure that the cause was mainly Rachel s contrari 
 ness; and to associate him with the tears never entered 
 her mind. 
 
 The evening wore on, and about the fire there 
 were conjectures about the protracted stay of Hardy 
 and Stuart, and wonderment from Fred that not a man 
 
"THE SQUAW WHO RIDES. 309 
 
 had called from the camp all day and evening. Rachel 
 sat silent, thinking thinking, and finding a glimmer 
 of hope in the thought that Major Dreyer would soon 
 be back; there, she felt, would be no prejudiced mind 
 come to judgment. 
 
 At last they were startled by the sound of a step 
 on the porch, and all looked around, glad of the return 
 of the two wanderers, when the door opened, and there 
 entered Kalitan a very tired-looking Arrow, and 
 with something in his face that was more than fatigue 
 anxiety. 
 
 "Rashell Hardy?" he said, and deliberately walked 
 into the other room, intimating that she was to fol 
 low and the interview to be private an interview 
 conducted in low tones and in Chinook, after which 
 Rachel asked Aunty Luce to give him some supper; 
 for he was very tired, and would not go on to camp 
 until morning. 
 
 The night before had been one of wakefulness, be 
 cause of Rachel s absence, and all were sleepy enough 
 to hunt beds early; and leaving a lunch on the table 
 for the absent ones, the hearth was soon deserted- 
 Ivans and Andrews, however, agreeing to sleep with 
 one eye open. 
 
 Both must have closed unawares, or else the mocca- 
 sined feet that stole out in the darkness must have 
 been very, very light, and the other figure beside him 
 very stealthy; for no alarm was given, no ear took 
 note. It was late, past eleven o clock, when the 
 sentry challenged a horse and rider coming as 
 briskly and nonchalantly into camp as if it had been 
 eleven in the morning, and occasioning as much aston 
 ishment as had Genesee, when it was seen to be Miss 
 Hardy. 
 
310 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Rather late to be out alone, Miss, ain t it?" asked 
 the sentry, as she stopped to chat with him of the 
 continued absence of the men. 
 
 "Is it?" she laughed. "I don t know what you call 
 late over here; but I suppose we of the ranch would 
 be considered night-owls. I rode over with some mail 
 that came late, and thought I d hear if there was any 
 news before we went to bed. Who s in command?" 
 
 "Lieutenant Kennedy; but he turned in an hour 
 ago." 
 
 "Good gracious! Do you folks go to bed with the 
 sun? I have a magazine for him, but he can wait for 
 it, then, until to-morrow. Tell him I will expect him 
 over." 
 
 "Yes, Miss." 
 
 Just then from along the avenue sauntered a soldierly 
 figure, who drew near at the sound of voices. 
 
 "There comes Sergeant Kelp," remarked the sentry. 
 "He s on night duty in Kennedy s place." 
 
 Instantly the girl turned to the officer in charge. 
 "Well, I m glad to find someone up and awake," 
 she said, leaning over to shake hands with him. "It 
 helps to keep me from seeming altogether a night- 
 prowler. I came over to get the returns, if there were 
 any. The folks are getting anxious at the ranch." 
 
 "Naturally," answered the young fellow. "I would 
 have called this evening, but am on duty. Don t 
 let the ladies worry if you can help it. We are likely 
 to hear from the men before morning. Every scout we 
 had went with them, and without horses we can t do 
 much but just stay here and wait; all the boys find 
 it mighty hard work, too." 
 
 "You remind me of half my mission, Sergeant, when 
 you speak of your scouts. I brought over some mail, 
 
"THE SQUAW WHO RIDES." 311 
 
 and everyone I wanted to see is either away or asleep. 
 How about your chief of scouts is he asleep, 
 too?" 
 
 It seemed to her that her heart ceased beating, 
 the wind ceased blowing, and the stars ceased twink 
 ling above the snow, as she waited for his disgusted 
 reply. 
 
 "No; not by a good deal. I never saw such a crank 
 as that fellow! When everything was smooth sail 
 ing, that man would skulk around camp without a 
 word to speak to anyone, the surliest white man I 
 want to see; but now that he s jailed for horse-stealing, 
 tied up and watched in the shack, I m blest if he 
 doesn t put in the time singing. Yes, he does; been 
 at it ever since taps. I threatened to have him gagged 
 if he disturbed the boys ; but they say he don t. Roberts 
 is the only one who has to listen to it; says he never 
 heard so many Indian songs in his life. But it s 
 a mighty queer streak of luck for a man to be musical 
 over." 
 
 Rachel laughed, and agreed. "I have a letter for 
 him, too," she added. "Look, here; I d like to take it 
 to him myself, and get to hear some of those songs. Can 
 I? I know it s rather late, but if he is awake, it doesn t 
 matter, I suppose; or is no one allowed to see him?" 
 
 "Indians only are tabooed, but none of them have 
 shown up, not even his runner, and I guess you can 
 speak to him if you want to; it isn t a thing most ladies 
 would like to do, though," he added. 
 
 "I suppose not," she said good-humoredly ; "but 
 then, I ve known the man for something over a year, 
 and am not at all afraid in fact, I d rather like to 
 do it and have something to horrify the ladies at the 
 ranch with. Think of it! An interview with a horse- 
 
312 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 thief perhaps a duet with him all alone in the middle 
 of the night. Oh, yes, that s too good to miss. But 
 I must hurry up, or they will be sending someone 
 after me." 
 
 At the door of the shack, however, she paused a 
 moment in what might be trepidation, her hand laid 
 hesitatingly on the saddle, as if in doubt whether to 
 remount or enter the shanty, from which she could 
 hear the low refrain of a song of their cultus corrie 
 "Tsolo, tso-lol" 
 
 "The guard will not leave the door?" she whispered; 
 and Sergeant Kelp concluded that, after all, she was 
 pretending to greater nerve than she possessed. 
 
 "Never fear," he returned; "I will call him out to 
 hold your horse, and he won t stir from the door. By 
 the way, I ll have someone to see you home when you re 
 ready to go. Good-night." 
 
 Thent he guard was called out, and a moment later 
 the visitor slipped in, the prisoner never turning his head 
 or noticing the exchange until she spoke. 
 
 "Jack!" 
 
 He turned quickly enough. 
 
 "God A mighty, girl! What are you doing 
 here ? ? 
 
 She thought of the ears, possibly listening ears, on 
 the other side of the door, and her tone was guarded 
 and careless, as it had been with the Sergeant, as she 
 laughed and answered in Chinook: 
 
 "To pay a visit; what else?" 
 
 She noticed with exultation that it was only rope 
 he was tied with his hands and his feet, as he sat 
 on the bunk a plaited rope of rawhide; strong enough 
 when strengthened by a guard opposite and a loaded 
 gun; but without the guard and with a keen knife! 
 
"THE SQUAW WHO RIDES." 313 
 
 She checked him in the midst of a passionate protest 
 against her coming. 
 
 "I am here, so that fact is settled," she said quietly. 
 "I didn t come for fun, and we haven t any time 
 to lose. I brought you a letter; it is in this/* 
 she said. 
 
 "You have seen Kalitan?" 
 
 He took from her the rubber case and extracted the 
 letter from it, but scarcely noticed it, his eyes were 
 turned so anxiously to her face. 
 
 "Yes; and you had better read it," she advised, 
 walking back to the door. 
 
 "Rachel" 
 
 "Read it; let them see you!" and she opened the 
 door wide and stepped out as if to make sure of the 
 guard s presence. 
 
 "It s all right, Miss, I m here," he whispered, looking 
 past her to the prisoner opening the letter and throw 
 ing the envelope in the fire. "I ll not stir from here 
 with the beast. Don t be uneasy;" and then she 
 turned back and closed the door. She had seen he was 
 not close enough to listen. 
 
 "Jack," she said, coming back to him, "you must 
 get out of this. Mowitza is at the door; I have brought 
 the things you will need. Can you make a dash for it 
 and get away?" 
 
 He looked at her in utter amazement. 
 
 "I didn t know it until to-night," she continued; 
 "this is your chance, before the others get back if 
 they ever do get back! God help them!" 
 
 "What do you mean? Where are they?" And his 
 hand, tied as it was, caught her own quickly. 
 
 "They are in a death-trap, in that gully back of the 
 Tamahnous ground. You know where right over the 
 
314 TOLD IN THE HILLS 
 
 peak from the old mine. They ve been there since 
 dark, hedged in by the Kootenais, who are only waiting 
 for daylight to come. Heaven help our men when it 
 does cornel" 
 
 "The Kootenais? It can t be them. They are not 
 hostile." 
 
 "Not yesterday," she agreed bitterly, "but they are 
 to-day. They sent a messenger of good-will to camp 
 this morning, the grandson of Grey Eagle. He was 
 shot down, almost in sight of camp, by one of the 
 soldiers, and the braves he had brought, the best in 
 the tribe, attempted a rescue. Our cavalry pursued 
 them, and were led into that ravine. The Indians 
 knew the ground, and our men didn t. At the end of 
 the narrow pass, the reds rolled boulders down the 
 mountain and closed it up, and then cut off retreat; 
 and there they are, waiting for daylight or starvation 
 God knows what ! 
 "Who told you this?" 
 
 "Kalitan; he met an Indian trapper who had passed 
 the gulch but a little while before. He came directly 
 to me. The whites here blame you for helping the 
 trouble the beginning it, the " 
 
 "You mean the horse stealing?" he said, looking at 
 her curiously. 
 
 "Yes." Her eyes were on the floor; she did not see 
 that scrutiny. "And you must get out of here before 
 word comes of those men penned up there. There 
 would be no waiting for trial then; they would shoot 
 you." 
 
 "And that is what you came for?" 
 "Yes;" and she drew a sharp knife an Indian knife 
 -from her belt under the shawl. With a quick stroke 
 she severed the knotted cords and they fell from his 
 
"THE SQUAW WHO RIDES." 315 
 
 wrists; then she dropped on her knees, a flash, once, 
 twice, of the blade in the light, and he stooped and 
 raised her. 
 
 "You are doing this for me," he said, drawing her 
 to him, "without knowing whether I deserve shooting 
 or not ? 
 
 "Don t speak of that part of it!" she burst out. 
 "When I let myself think, I feel as if I am going crazy! " 
 then she stopped short. "And a crazy woman just 
 now would handicap you some. No, Jack, we need all 
 of our wits for to-night here," and unfastening the 
 belt from under her shawl, she buckled it about him. 
 It contained two loaded revolvers. 
 
 "It s the first time I ve armed you as I ve seen sweet 
 hearts or wives do," she said, looking up at him. "It 
 may be the last. I only ask one thing you will not, 
 unless it is the last means of saving your own life, turn 
 one of these against my friends?" 
 
 Even then, the weakness of the man in him came 
 uppermost. 
 
 But if it is to save my own life ? 
 
 Her b";nds went quickly over her eyes, as if to shut 
 out sight or thought. 
 
 "Don t ask me only go and take care of yourself!" 
 
 He caught the hands from her eyes, kissing her 
 fiercely exultantly. 
 
 Then I am first to you nearer than all the rest ! My 
 girl, you ve proved it to-night, and I ll show you! If 
 you know how to pray, pray for me to-night for me 
 and the men in that death-trap. Do you hear? I 
 am going now. Here is this letter; it will tell you 
 all. If I never come back, tell Prince Charlie he is 
 right at last that I believe him. He will under 
 stand. My girl mine it is not an eternal good-bye. 
 
316 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 I will come back if I live, and I will have to live long 
 enough for that! Here, just once, kiss me, my girl 
 my girl!" 
 
 The next instant she was flung from that embrace 
 and fell with a faint scream to the floor. 
 
 The guard dashed in, and was dextrously tripped by 
 an unlooked-for figure close to the wall, his gun wrenched 
 from him, and a staggering blow dealt that sent him to 
 his knees. 
 
 Clouds had swept over the cold stars, and the sentry 
 could see but dimly the equestrian figure that came 
 clattering down the avenue. 
 
 " Hadn t you better wait for company, Miss?" he 
 called, but no answer was given; and in much wonder, 
 he was about to call again, when pistol-shots from the 
 shack aroused the camp. He called a halt; that was 
 heeded no more than his question, and he sent a ran 
 dom shot after the flying figure not for the purpose 
 of hitting the girl, but to impress on her the duty of 
 a sentry and some idea of military rule. Before 
 the last dull thud of hoofs in the snow had ceased 
 to be heard, Roberts had staggered to the door, 
 firing wildly, and calling to stop the prisoner to stop 
 the horse-thief. 
 
 There was nothing in the camp to do it with. He 
 was gone everyone was blaming everybody else for 
 it; but no one thought of blaming the girl who lay in 
 a dead faint on the floor, where he had flung her, that 
 none might think she had let him go willingly. And 
 Miss Rachel was cared for very tenderly, and a man 
 was sent to the ranch to assure Mrs. Hardy of her safe 
 keeping, waking Mrs. Hardy out of a delicious sleep, 
 and mystifying her completely by the information. 
 The only one about the house who might have helped 
 
Dealt him a staggering blow that sent him to his knees. Page 316. 
 
318 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 
 
 An hour before day in the Kootenais! Not the 
 musical dawn of that early autumn, when all the woods 
 were a-quiver with the fullness of color and sound; 
 when the birds called to each other of the coming sun, 
 and the little rills of the shady places moistened the 
 sweet fern and spread its fragrance around and about, 
 until one could find no couch so seductive as one on 
 the amber grasses with the rare, all-pervading scents 
 of the virgin soil. 
 
 Not any of those seductions solaced or made more 
 bitter the watch of the men who stood hopeless in the 
 snow of that treacherous ravine. Not even a fire dared 
 be lit all the night long, because of those suddenly 
 murderous natives, who, through knowing the secrets 
 of the cleft earth, held their fates at the mercy of eager 
 bronze hands. 
 
 "And one man who knew the country could have 
 prevented this!" groaned Hardy, with a thought of the 
 little wife and Miss Margaret. How would they listen 
 to this story ? 
 
 "If we had Genesee with us, we should not have been 
 penned up in any such fashion as this," decided Mur 
 ray, stamping back and forward, as many others were 
 doing, to keep their blood in circulation for what? 
 
 "Hard to tell," chimed in the scout from Idaho. 
 "Don t know as it s any better to be tricked by one s 
 own gang than the hostiles. Genesee, more n likely, 
 was gettin ready for this when he run off the stock." 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 319 
 
 Just then something struck him. The snow made 
 a soft bed, but the assailant had not stopped to con 
 sider that, and quick as light his knee was on the fallen 
 man s chest. 
 
 "Take it back!" he commanded, with the icy muz 
 zle of a revolver persuading his meaning into the brain 
 of the surprised scout. "That man is no horse-thief. 
 Take it back, or I ll save the Indians the trouble of 
 wasting lead on you." 
 
 "Well," reasoned the philosopher in the snow, "this 
 ain t the damnedest best place I ve ever been in for 
 arguin a point, an as you have fightin ideas on the 
 question, an I haven t any ideas, an don t care a hell 
 of a sight, I ll eat my words for the time bein , and 
 we ll settle the question o that knock on the head, if 
 the chance is ever given us to settle anything, out o 
 this gully." 
 
 "What s this?" and though only outlines of figures 
 could be distinguished, the voice was the authoritative 
 one of Captain Holt. "Mr. Stuart, I am surprised to 
 find you in this sort of thing, and about that squaw 
 man back in camp. Find something better to waste 
 your strength for. There is no doubt in my mind now 
 of the man s complicity 
 
 "Stop it!" broke in Stuart curtly; "you can hold 
 what opinion you please of him, but you can t tell me 
 he s a horse-thief. A squaw man and adopted Indian 
 he may be and altogether an outlaw in your eyes; but 
 I doubt much your fitness to judge him, and advise you 
 not to call him a thief until you are able to prove your 
 words, or willing to back them with all we ve got left 
 here." 
 
 All they had left was their lives, and Stuart s unex 
 pected recklessness and sharp words told them his was 
 
320 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 ready as a pledge to his speech. None cared, at that 
 stage of the game, to question why. It was no time 
 for quarrels among themselves when each felt that 
 with the daylight might come death. 
 
 Afterward, when the tale was told, no man could 
 remember which of them first discovered a form in 
 their midst that had not been with them on their entrance 
 a breathless, panting figure, that leaned against one 
 of their horses. 
 
 "Who is it? someone asked. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 No one answered only pressed closer, with fingers 
 on triggers, fearing treachery. And then the panting 
 figure raised itself from its rest on the horse s neck, rose 
 to a stature not easily mistaken, even in that light, and 
 a familiar, surly voice spoke : 
 
 "I don t reckon any of you need be puzzled much 
 to find out; hasn t been such a long time since you saw 
 me." 
 
 "By God, it sGenesee!" 
 
 And despite the wholesale condemnation of the man, 
 there was not a heart that did not grow lighter with the 
 knowledge. They knew, or believed, that here was 
 the one man who had the power to save them, if he cared 
 to use it ; but would he ? 
 
 "Jack!" 
 
 Someone, at sound of his voice, pushed through the 
 crowd with outstretched hand. It was not refused this 
 time. 
 
 "I ve come for you," was all Genesee said; then he 
 turned to the others. 
 
 "Are you willing to follow me?" he asked, raising 
 his voice a little. "The horses can t go through where 
 I ve got to take you; you ll have to leave them." 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 321 
 
 A voice close to his elbow put in a word of expostu 
 lation against the desertion of the horses. Genesee 
 turned on the speaker with an oath. 
 
 "You may command in a quiet camp, but we re out 
 side of it now, and I put just a little less value on your 
 opinion than on any man s in the gulch. This is a 
 question for every man to answer for himself. You ve 
 lost their lives for them if they re kept here till daylight. 
 I ll take them out if they re ready to come." 
 
 There was no dissenting voice. Compared with the 
 inglorious death awaiting them in the gulch, the deliv 
 erance was a God-send. They did not just see how it 
 was to be effected; but the strange certainty of hope 
 with which they turned to the man they had left behind 
 as a horse-thief was a thing surprising to them all, when 
 they had time to think of it in the dusk of the morning, 
 they had not. 
 
 He appeared among them as if a deliverer had mate 
 rialized from the snow-laden branches of cedar, or from 
 .the close-creeping clouds of the mountain. They had 
 felt themselves touched by a superstitious thrill when 
 he was found in their midst; but they knew that, come 
 as he might, be what he would, they had in him one 
 to whom the mountains were as an open book, as the 
 Indians knew when they tendered him the significant 
 name of Lamonti. 
 
 Captain Holt was the only rebel on the horse question- 
 to add those to the spoils of the Indians was a bitter 
 thing for him to do. 
 
 "It looks as if we were not content with them taking 
 half our stock, but rode up here to leave them the rest," 
 he said, aggressively, to nobody in particular." I ve a 
 notion to leave only the carcasses." 
 
 "Not this morning," broke in the scout. "We ve no 
 
322 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 time to wait for work of that sort. Serves you right 
 to lose them, too, for your damned blunders. Come 
 along if you want to get out of this single file, and 
 keep quiet." 
 
 It was no time for argument or military measures 
 for insubordination; and bitter as the statement of 
 inefficiency was, Captain Holt knew there were some 
 grounds for it, and knew that, in the eyes of the men, 
 he was judged from the same standpoint. The blind 
 raid with green scouts did seem, looking back at it, 
 like a headlong piece of folly. How much of folly the 
 whole attack was, they did not as yet realize. 
 
 It was not far that Genesee led them through the 
 stunted, gnarled growth up the steep sides of the gulch. 
 Half-way to the top there were, in the summer-time, 
 green grass and low brush in which the small game 
 could hide; but above that rose a sheer wall of rock 
 clear up to where the soil had gathered and the pines 
 taken root. 
 
 In the dusk they could see no way of surmounting 
 it ; yet there was no word of demur, not even a question. 
 He was simply their hope, and they followed him. 
 
 And their guide felt it. He knew few of them liked 
 him personally, and it made his victory the greater; 
 but even above that was the thought that his freedom 
 was due to the girl who never guessed how he should 
 use it. 
 
 He felt, some way, as if he must account to her for 
 every act she had given him the power to perform, as 
 if his life itself belonged to her, and the sweetness of 
 the thought was with him in every step of the night 
 ride, in every plan for the delivery of the men. 
 
 At the very foot of the rock wall he stopped and 
 turned to the man next him. It was Hardy. 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 323 
 
 "It s a case of crawl here for a few lengths; pass 
 the word along, and look out for your heads." 
 
 The next instant he had vanished under the rock wall 
 Hardy following him; then a flicker of light shone 
 like a star as a guide for the others, and in five minutes 
 every man of them had wriggled through what seemed 
 but a slit in the solid front. 
 
 "A regular cave, by hooky! " said the moral guide from 
 Idaho, as he stood upright at last. His voice echoed 
 strangely. "Hooky! hooky! hooky!" sounded from 
 different points where the shadows deepened, suggesting 
 endless additions to the room where they stood. 
 
 Genesee had halted and was splitting up some pine 
 for a torch, using the knife Rachel had cut his bonds 
 with, and showing that the handle was stained with 
 blood, as were the sticks of pine he was handling. 
 
 "Look for some more sticks around here, and lend 
 a hand," he said. "We need more than one torch. I 
 burnt up what I had in working through that hole. 
 I ve been at it for three hours, I reckon, without know 
 ing, till I got the last stone away, whether I d be in time 
 or find daylight on the other side." 
 
 "And is that what cut your hands?" asked Lieutenant 
 Murray. "Why, they re a sight! For heaven s sake, 
 what have you been doing?" 
 
 "I found a cave-in of rock and gravel right at the 
 end of that tunnel," answered Genesee, nodding the 
 way they had just come, and drawing their notice to 
 fresh earth and broken stone thrown to the side. "I 
 had no tools here, nothing but that," and he motioned 
 toward a mallet -like thing of stone. "My tools were 
 moved from the mine over to Scot s Mountain awhile 
 back, and as that truck had to be hoisted away, and I 
 hadn t time to invite help, it had to be done with these ; " 
 
324 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 and he held out his hands that were bleeding a telling 
 witness of his endeavors to reach there in time. And 
 every man of them felt it. 
 
 There was an impulsive move forward, and Hardy 
 was the first to hold out his hand. But Genesee stepped 
 back, and leaned against the wall. 
 
 "That s all right, Hardy," he said, with something 
 of his old careless smile. "I m glad you re the first, 
 for the sake of old times; but I reckon it would be 
 playing it pretty low down on a friend to let him take 
 me in on false pretenses. You see I haven t been 
 acquitted -of horse -stealing yet about the most low 
 lived trade a man can turn to, unless it is sheep - 
 stealing." 
 
 "Oh, hell!" broke in one of the men, "this clears the 
 horse business so far as I m concerned, and I can bet 
 on the other boys, too!" 
 
 "Can you?" asked Genesee, with a sort of elated, yet 
 conservative, air; "but this isn t your game or the boys 
 game. I m playing a lone hand, and not begging 
 either. That torch ready?" 
 
 The rebuff kept the others from any advance, if they 
 had thought of making it. Lieutenant Murray had 
 picked up the stone mallet and was examining it by the 
 flickering light; one side was flattened a little, like a 
 tomahawk. 
 
 "That s a queer affair," he remarked. "What did you 
 have it made for?" 
 
 Have it made ! The chances are that thing was made 
 before Columbus ever managed a sail-boat," returned 
 Genesee. "I found a lot of them in here; wedges, too, 
 and such." 
 
 "In here?" and the men looked with a new interest 
 at the rocky walls. "What is it?" 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 325 
 
 " An extension I tumbled into, over a year back, when 
 I was tunneling at a drift the other side of the hill. 
 One day I found that hole there, and minded it this 
 morning, so it came in handy. I reckon this is the 
 original Tamahnous mine of the old tribe. It s been 
 lost over a hundred years. The Kootenais only have 
 a tradition of it." 
 
 "A mine gold?" 
 
 "Well, I was digging for a silver show when I struck 
 it," answered Genesee; "and, so far as I see, that s what 
 was here, but it s worked out. Didn t do much pros 
 pecting in it, as I left the Kootenai hills less than a week 
 after. I just filled up the entry, and allowed it would 
 keep till I got back." 
 
 "Does it belong to you?" asked one man, with specu 
 lation in his voice. 
 
 Genesee laughed. "I reckon so. Tamahnous Peak 
 is mine, and a few feet of grazing land on the east. 
 Nobody grudges it to me up this way. Indians think 
 it s haunted, cause all the rocks around it give echoes; 
 and I " 
 
 He ceased speaking abruptly, his eyes on the pile 
 of debris in the corner. Then he lit a fresh torch 
 from the dying one, and gave the word to strike for 
 the outside, following single file, as the hill was 
 pretty well honey-combed, and it was wise to be cau 
 tious. 
 
 "Because," said their leader, "if any should stray 
 off, we might not have time this day of our Lord to 
 come back and hunt him up." 
 
 Before leaving what seemed like the back entrance, 
 he walked over to the corner and picked up the thing 
 that had arrested his attention a minute before, and 
 slipping it in his pocket, walked to the head of the 
 
326 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 long line of men, several of whom were wounded, but 
 only one less than the number who had left camp. 
 And the one lacking was the man who had fired the 
 first shot and killed the messenger from Grey Eagle 
 he himself dying from a wound, after the ride into 
 the gulch. 
 
 As the scout passed the men, a hand and a pair of 
 gloves were thrust out to him from a group ; and turning 
 his torch so that the light would show the giver, he saw 
 it was Stuart. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," he Baid, with more graciousness 
 than most of the men had ever seen in him; "I ll take 
 them from you, as my own are damaged some." They 
 were torn to shreds, and the fingers under them worn 
 to the quick, 
 
 The echoing steps of the forty men were as if forty 
 hundred were making their way through the mine of 
 the Tamahnous; for no living tribe ever claimed it, 
 even by descent, The hill that contained it had for 
 generations been given by tradition to the witches of 
 evil, who spoke through the rock a clever scheme 
 of those vanished workers to guard their wealth, or 
 the wealth they hoped to find ; but for what use ? Neither 
 silver in coin nor vessel can be traced as ever belonging 
 to tribes of the Northern Indians. Yet that honey 
 combed peak, with its wide galleries, its many entries, 
 and well-planned rooms, bespoke trained skill in under 
 ground quarrying. From some unseen source fresh 
 air sifted through the darkness to them, and the tinkle 
 of dripping water in pools came to their ears, though 
 the pools were shrouded in the darkness that, just 
 beyond the range of the few torches, was intense; and 
 after the long tramp through echoing winds and turns, 
 the misty dawn that was still early seemed dazzling 
 

 Thank you, sir," he said, "Til take them from you, as my own 
 are damaged some." Page ^26. 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 327 
 
 to the eyes, red and haggard from the vigil of the 
 night. 
 
 "You will have to get away from here on a double- 
 quick," said Genesee sharply, after a glance at the 
 sky and up the sides of the hill from which they had 
 come. "Once down there in the valley, the fog may 
 hide you till sun-up, and then, again, it mightn t. Just 
 mind that they have horses." 
 
 "We are not likely to forget it," was Captain Holt s 
 answer; and then hesitated a moment, looking at 
 Genesee. 
 
 "Are you not coming with us?" asked Lieutenant 
 Murray, giving voice to the question in his commander s 
 mind as well as the others. 
 
 "Yes, part of the way," said the scout quietly, but 
 with a challenge to detention in the slight pause with 
 which he glanced at the group; "but I have a beast to 
 carry me back, and I m just tired enough to use it." 
 And disappearing for a minute in the brush, he led out 
 Mowitza, and, mounting her, turned her head toward 
 the terraces of the lower valley. 
 
 They passed the isolated cabin that brought back 
 to Stuart a remembrance of where they were; then 
 down the steps of the Tamahnous and along the little 
 lake, all swathed alike in the snow and the mist leaving 
 null all character in the landscape. 
 
 The cabin was commented on by the men, to whom 
 it was a surprise, looming up so close to them through 
 the cloud curtain. 
 
 "That s mine," their guide remarked, and one of 
 them, puzzled, stated it as his belief that Genesee 
 claimed the whole Kootenai territory. 
 
 The scout gave up his saddle to a man with a leg- 
 wound, but he did not let go the bridle of "Mowitza; 
 
328 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 and so they went on with their guide stalking grimly 
 ahead, ready, they all knew, to turn as fiercely against 
 them at a sign of restraint as he had worked for them, 
 if a movement was made to interfere with his further 
 liberty. 
 
 The sun rolled up over the purple horizon a great 
 body of blushes suffusing the mountains; but its chaste 
 entrance had brazened into a very steady stare before 
 it could pierce the veil of the valleys, and pick out 
 the dots of moving blue against the snow on the home 
 trail. 
 
 It had been a wonderfully quiet tramp. Most of the 
 thoughts of the party were of the man walking ahead 
 of them, and his nearness made the discussion of his 
 actions awkward. They did not know what to expect 
 of him, and a general curiosity prevailed as to what he 
 would do next. 
 
 They learned, when at last the ridge above camp 
 was reached, about the middle of the forenoon. He 
 had been talking some to the man on Mowitza, and 
 when they reached that point he stopped. 
 
 "Whereabouts?" he asked; and the man pointed to 
 a place where the snow was colored by soil. 
 
 "Over there! I guess the boys buried him." 
 
 "Well, you can get down from that saddle now. I 
 reckon you can walk down to camp; if not, they can 
 carry you." Then he turned to the rest. 
 
 "There s a body under that snow that I want," he 
 said sententiously. "I m not in condition for anymore 
 digging," and he glanced at his hands. "Are there any 
 men among you that will get it out for me ? 
 
 "You bet!" was the unhesitating reply; and without 
 question, hands and knives were turned to the task, 
 the man on horseback watching them attentively. 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 329 
 
 "May I ask what that is for?" asked Captain Holt; 
 at last, as amiably as he could, in the face of being 
 ignored and affronted at every chance that was given 
 Genesee. He had saved the commander s life; that 
 was an easy thing to do compared with the possibility 
 of hiding his contempt. 
 
 He was openly and even unreasonably aggressive one 
 of the spots in his nature that to a careless eye would 
 appear the natural color of his whole character. He 
 did not answer at once, and Captain Holt spoke again: 
 
 "What is the object of digging up that Indian?" 
 
 Then Genesee turned in the saddle. 
 
 "Just to give you all a little proof of how big a fool 
 a man can be without being a permanent in a lunatic 
 asylum." 
 
 And then he turned his attention again to the men 
 digging up the loose earth. They had not far to go; 
 small care had been taken to make the grave deep. 
 
 "Take care there with your knives," said Genesee 
 as one shoulder was bared to sight. "Lift him out. 
 Here give him to me." 
 
 "What in 
 
 "Give him to me!" he repeated. "I ve given your 
 damned fool lives back to forty of you, and all I m 
 asking for it is that Kootenai s dead body." 
 
 Stuart stooped and lifted the chill, dark thing, and 
 other hands were quick to help. The frozen soil was 
 brushed like dust from the frozen face, and then, heavy 
 heavy, it wa? laid in the arms of the man waiting for it. 
 
 He scanned from the young face to the moccasined 
 feet swiftly, and then turned his eyes to the others. 
 
 "Where s his blanket?" he demanded; and a man 
 who wore it pushed forward and threw it over the 
 figure. 
 
330 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Denny took it," he said in extenuation, "and when 
 Denny went under, I took it." 
 
 "Yes!" and again his eyes swept the crowd. "Now 
 I want his rifle, his knife, a snake-skin belt, and a neck 
 lace of bear s teeth who s got them?" 
 
 "Well, I ll be damned!" "How s that for second 
 sight?" "Beats the devil out of hell!" were some of 
 the sotto-voce remarks exchanged at the enumeration 
 of the things wanted. 
 
 "I ve no time to waste in waiting," he added. "If 
 they re in this crowd and ain t given up, I ll straighten 
 the account some day, if I have to hunt five years for 
 the trail to them. I m a-waiting." 
 
 His hand was laid on the breast of the dead Indian 
 as he spoke, and something in the touch brought a 
 change to his face. The hand was slipped quickly 
 inside the fringed shirt, and withdrawn, clasping a 
 roll of parchment cured in Indian fashion. A bitter 
 oath broke from him as he untied the white sinews of 
 the deer, and glanced at the contents. 
 
 "What is it? What is it?" was the question from 
 all sides. 
 
 Genesee, in a sort of fury, seemed to hear most clearly 
 that of the, for the hour, displaced commander. 
 
 "I ll tell you what it is!" he burst out wrathfully. 
 "It s a message of peace from the Kootenai tribe an 
 offer of their help against the Blackfeet any time the 
 troops of the United States need them. It is sent by 
 Grey Eagle, the oldest of their war chiefs, and the 
 messenger sent was Grey Eagle s grandson, Snowcap 
 the future chief of their people. And you have had 
 him shot down like a dog while carrying that message. 
 By God! I wouldn t have blamed them if they had 
 scalped every mother s son of you." 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINE. 331 
 
 To say that the revelation was impressive, would 
 express the emotions of the men but mildly. Captain 
 Holt was not the only one of them who turned white at 
 the realization of what a provoked uprising of those 
 joint tribes would mean, in the crippled condition of 
 the camp. It would mean a sweeping annihilation of 
 all white blood in their path; the troops would have 
 enough to do to defend themselves, without being able 
 to help the settlers. 
 
 "In God s name, Genesee, is this true?" and forget 
 ting all animosity in the overwhelming news, Holt 
 pressed forward, laying his hand on the shoulder of the 
 dead messenger. 
 
 "Take it off!" yelled Genesee, looking at the uncon 
 scious hand that involuntarily had moved toward him. 
 "Take it off, or, by Heaven, I ll cut it off!" 
 
 And his fingers closing nervously on the hunting- 
 knife emphasized his meaning, and showed how stub 
 born and sleepless were the man s prejudices. 
 
 The hand dropped, and Genesee reached out the 
 document to one of the crestfallen scouts. 
 
 "Just read that out loud for the benefit of anyone 
 that can t understand my way of talking," he sug 
 gested with ironical bitterness; "and while you are 
 about it, the fellows that stripped this boy will be good 
 enough to ante up with everything they ve got of his 
 and no time to waste about it either." 
 
 And Captain Holt, with a new idea of the seriousness 
 of the demand, seconded it, receiving with his own hands 
 the arms and decorations that had been seized by the 
 victorious Denny, and afterward divided among his 
 comrades. Genesee noted that rendering up of trifling 
 spoils with sullen eyes, in which the fury had not abated 
 a particle. 
 
332 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "A healthy crew you are!" he remarked contemptu 
 ously; "a nice, clean-handed lot, without grit enough 
 to steal a horse, but plenty of it for robbing a dead 
 boy. I reckon no one of you ever had a boy that age 
 of your own." 
 
 Several of them looking in the dark, dead face 
 felt uneasy, and forgot for the moment that they were 
 lectured by a horse-thief; forgot even how light a thing 
 the life of an Indian was anyway. 
 
 "Don t blame the whole squad," said the man who 
 took the articles from the Captain and handed them 
 up to Genesee. "Denny captured them when he made 
 the shot, just as anyone would do, and it s no use cussin 
 about Denny; he s buried up in that gulch the Koo- 
 tenais finished him." 
 
 "And saved me the trouble," added the scout signifi 
 cantly. 
 
 He was wrapping as well as he could the gay blanket 
 over the rigid form. The necklace was clasped about 
 the throat, but the belt was more awkward to manage, 
 and was thrust into the bosom of Genesee s buckskin 
 shirt, the knife in his belt, the rifle swung at his back. 
 
 There was something impressively ghastly in those 
 two figures the live one with the stubborness of fate, 
 and the stolidity, sitting there, with across his thighs 
 the blanketed, shapeless thing that had held a life; 
 and even the husk seemed a little rrore horrible with 
 its face hidden than when revealed more frankly; there 
 was something so weirdly suggestive in the motion 
 less outlines. 
 
 "No, I don t want that," he said, as the man who 
 read the message was about to hand it back to him; 
 "it belongs to the command, and I may get a dose of 
 cold lead before I could deliver it." 
 
THROUGH THE LOST MINIS. 333 
 
 Then he glanced about, signaling Stuart by a motion 
 of his head. 
 
 "There s a lady across in the valley there that I 
 treated pretty badly last night," he said, in a tone so 
 natural that all near could hear him, and more than 
 one head was raised in angry question. "She was 
 just good enough to ride over from the ranch to bring 
 a letter to me hearing I was locked up for a horse- 
 thief, and couldn t go after it. Well, as I tell you, 
 I was just mean enough to treat her pretty bad flung 
 her on the floor when she tried to stop me, and then 
 nabbed the beast she rode to camp on happened to 
 be my own; but may be she won t feel so bad if you 
 just tell her what the nag was used for; and may be 
 that will show her I didn t take the trail for fun." 
 
 "That" was one of the gloves he had worn from his 
 hands with his night s work, and there were stains on 
 it darker than those made with earth. 
 
 "I ll tell her;" and then an impulsive honesty of 
 feeling made him add: "You need never fear her judg 
 ment of you, Jack." 
 
 The two looked a moment in each other s eyes, and 
 the older man spoke. 
 
 "I ve been hard on you," he said deliberately, 
 "damned hard; all at once I ve seen it, and all the time 
 you ve been thinking a heap better of me than I deserved. 
 I know it now, but it s about over. I won t stand in 
 your way much longer; wait till I come back " 
 
 "You are coming back? and where are you going?" 
 The questions, a tone louder than they had used, were 
 heard by the others around. Genesee noted the listening 
 look on the faces, and his words were answers to them 
 as much as to the questioner. 
 
 "I m going to take the trail for the Kootenai village; 
 
<J34 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 if any white man is let reach it, or patch up the infernal 
 blunder that s been made, I can do it with him," and 
 his hand lay on the breast of the shrouded thing before 
 him. 
 
 "If I get out of it alive, I ll be back to meet the 
 Major; if I don t" -and this time his significant glance 
 was turned unmistakably to the blue coats and their 
 leader "and if I don t, you d better pack your car 
 casses out of this Kootenai valley, and hell go With 
 you." 
 
 So, with a curse for them on his lips, and the dogged 
 determination to save them in his heart, he nodded 
 to Hardy, clasped the hand of Stuart, and turning 
 Mowitza s head, started with that horrible burden back 
 over the trail that would take a day and a night to 
 cover. 
 
 The men were grateful for the bravery that had saved 
 their lives, but burned under the brutal taunts that 
 had spared nothing of their feelings. His execrable 
 temper had belittled his own generosity. 
 
 He was a squaw man, but they had listened in silence 
 and ashamed, when he had presumed to censure them. 
 He was a horse-thief, yet the men who believed it 
 watched, with few words, the figure disappear slowly 
 along the trail, with no thought of checking him. 
 
HIS WIFE S LETTER. 335 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HIS WIFE S LETTER. 
 
 In the bosom of Rachel s family strange thoughts had 
 been aroused by that story of Genesee s escape. 
 
 They were wonderfully sparing of their comments in 
 her presence; for, when the story came to her of what 
 he had done when he left her, she laughed. 
 
 "Yet he is a horse-thief," she said, in that tone of 
 depreciation that expresses praise, "and he sent me 
 his glove? Well, I am glad he had the grace to be 
 sorry for scattering me over the floor like that. And 
 we owe it to him that we see you here alive again ? We 
 can appreciate his bravery, even say prayers for him, 
 if the man would only keep out of sight, but we couldn t 
 ask him to a dinner party, supposing we gave dinner 
 parties, could we, Tillie?" 
 
 And Tillie, who had impulsively said "God bless him ! " 
 from the shelter of her husband s arms, collapsed, con 
 science-stricken and tearful. 
 
 "You have a horrid way, Rachel, of making people 
 feel badly," she said, in the midst of her thankfulness and 
 remorse; "but wait until I see him again I will let him 
 know how much we can appreciate such courage as 
 that. Just wait until he comes back!" 
 
 "Yes," said the girl, with all the irony gone 
 from her voice, only the dreariness remaining, "I m 
 waiting. 
 
 The words started Tillie to crying afresh; for, in the 
 recesses of her own bosom, another secret of Genesee s 
 generosity was hidden for prudential motives the fact 
 
336 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 that it was he who had sent the guide for Rachel that 
 terrible night of the snow. And Tillie was not a good 
 keeper of secrets even this thoroughly wise one was 
 hard to retain, in her gladness at having her husband 
 back ! 
 
 "The man seems a sort of shepherd of everything 
 that gets astray in these hills," said Lieutenant Mur 
 ray, who was kindly disposed toward all creation 
 because of an emotional, unsoldier-like welcome that 
 had been given him by the little non-commissioned 
 officer in petticoats. "He first led us out of that 
 corral in the hills and brought us back where we 
 belonged, and then dug up that dead Indian and 
 started to take him where he belonged. I tell you 
 there was a sort of of sublimity in the man as he 
 sat there with that horrible load he was to carry, that 
 is, there would have been if he hadn t cussed so 
 much." 
 
 "Does he swear?" queried Fred. 
 
 "Does he? My child, you would have a finely-trained 
 imagination if you could conceive the variety of expres 
 sions by which he can consign a citizen to the winter 
 resort from which all good citizens keep free. His 
 profanity, they say, is only equaled by his immorality. 
 But, ah what a soldier he would make! He is the 
 sort of a man that men would walk right up to cannon 
 with even if they detested him personally." 
 
 "And a man needs no fine attributes or high morality 
 to wield that sort of influence, does he?" asked Rachel, 
 and walked deliberately away before any reply could be 
 made. 
 
 But she was no more confident than they of his 
 unimpeachable worth. There was the horse-thieving 
 still unexplained ; he had not even denied it to her. And 
 
HIS WIFE S LETTER. 337 
 
 she came to the conclusion that she herself was sadly 
 lacking in the material for orthodox womanhood, since 
 the more proof she had of his faults, the more solidly 
 she took her position for his defense. It had in it some 
 thing of the same blind stubbornness that governed 
 his likes and dislikes, and that very similarity might 
 have accounted for the sort of understanding that had 
 so long existed between them. And she had more 
 than the horse-stealing to puzzle over. She had that 
 letter he had thrust in her hand and told her to read; 
 such a pleading letter, filled with the heart -sickness of a 
 lonely woman. She took it out and re-read it that time 
 when she walked away from their comments ; and read 
 ing over the lines, and trying to read between them, she 
 was sorely puzzled : 
 
 DEAR JACK: I wrote you of my illness weeks ago, 
 but the letter must have been lost, or else your answer, 
 for I have not heard a word from you, and I have 
 wanted it more than I can tell you. I am better, and 
 our little Jack has taken such good care of me He 
 is so helpful, so gentle ; and do you know, dear, he grows 
 to look more like you every day. Does that seem 
 strange? He does not resemble me in the least. You 
 will think me very exacting, I suppose, when I tell you 
 that such a child, and such a home as you have given 
 me, does not suffice for my content. I know you will 
 think me ungrateful, but I must speak of it to you. 
 I wrote you before, but no answer has come. If I get 
 none to this, I will go to find you if I am strong enough. 
 If I am not, I shall send Jack. He is so manly and 
 strong, I know he could go. I will know then, at least, 
 if you are living. I feel as if I am confessing a fault 
 to you when I tell you I have heard from him at last 
 and more, that I was so glad to hear! 
 22 
 
338 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "Jack dear Jack he has never forgotten. He is 
 free now ; would marry me yet if it were possible. Write 
 to me tell me if it can ever be. I know how weak you 
 will think me. Perhaps my late ill-health has made 
 me more so ; but I am hungry for the sound of the dear 
 voice, and I am so alone since your father died. You 
 will never come back; and you know, Jack, how loneli 
 ness always was so dreadful to me even our boy 
 is not enough. He does not understand. Come back, 
 or write to me. Let my boy know his father, or else 
 show me how to be patient; this silence is so terrible 
 to YOUR WIFE. 
 
 "Jack, what a mockery that word looks yet I am 
 grateful." 
 
 This was the letter he had told her to read and give 
 to Stuart, if he never returned ; but she gave it to no one. 
 She mentioned it to no one, only waited to see if he ever 
 came back, and with each reading of that other woman s 
 longings, there grew stronger in her the determination 
 that his life belonged to the writer of that letter and 
 her child her boy, who looked like him. Surely there 
 was a home and an affection that should cure him of 
 this wild, semi-civilized life he was leading. She was 
 slipping away that almighty need he had shown of 
 herself. She grimly determined that all remembrance 
 of it must be put aside; it was such an unheard-of, 
 reasonless sort of an attraction anyway, and if she 
 really had any influence over him, it should be used to 
 make him answer that letter as it should be answered, 
 and straighten out the strange puzzles in it. All this 
 she determined she would tell him when he got 
 back. 
 
ON THE HEIGHTS. 339 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 
 
 While they commented, and wondered, and praised, 
 and found fault with him, the day drifted into dark 
 ness, the darkness into a dreary dawn; and through 
 all changes of the hours the outlaw stalked, with some 
 times his ghastly companion bound to the saddle, and 
 then again he would remount, holding Snowcap in his 
 arms but seldom halting, never wavering; and Mow- 
 itza, who seemed more than ever a familiar spirit, forged 
 ahead as if ignoring the fact of hunger and scanty 
 herbage to be found, her sturdy persistence suggesting 
 a realization of her own importance. 
 
 A broad trail was left for them, one showing that 
 the detachment of braves and the horses of the troops 
 had returned under forced march to bear the news to 
 their village and such news ! 
 
 The man s dark face hardened and more than one 
 of those expressive maledictions broke from him as he 
 thought over it. All his sympathies were with them. 
 For five years they had been as brethren to him ; never 
 had any act of treachery touched him through them. 
 To their people he was not Genesee the outcast, the 
 immoral, the suspected. He was Lamonti of the 
 mountains like their own blood. 
 
 He was held wise in their councils, and his advice had 
 weight. 
 
 He could have ruled their chief, and so their nation, 
 had he been ambitious for such control. 
 
 He was their adopted son, and had never presumed on 
 
340 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 their liking, though he knew there was little in their 
 slender power that would not have been his had he 
 desired it. 
 
 Now he knew he would be held their enemy. His 
 influence had encouraged the sending of that message 
 and the offered braves to the commander of the troops. 
 Would they grant him a hearing now? or would they 
 shoot him down, as the soldier had shot Snowcap, with 
 his message undelivered? 
 
 Those questions, and the retrospection back of them, 
 were with him as he went upward into the mountains 
 to the north. 
 
 Another night was falling slowly, and the jewels of 
 the far skies one by one slipped from their ether casket, 
 and shone with impressive serenity on the crusted snow. 
 Along the last ridge Mowitza bore for the last time her 
 double burden. There was but a slope to descend, a 
 sheltered cove to reach, and Snowcap would be given 
 back to his kindred. 
 
 The glittering surface of the white carpet warmed 
 into reflected lights as the moon, a soft -footed, imma 
 ture virgin, stole after the stars and let her gleams 
 be wooed and enmeshed in the receptive arms of the 
 whispering pine. Not a sound broke through the 
 peace of the heights. In their sublime isolation, they 
 lift souls as well as bodies above the commonplace, 
 and the rider, the stubborn keeper of so many of their 
 secrets, threw back his head with a strange smile 
 in his eyes as the last summit was reached and 
 reached in the light of peace. Was it an omen of 
 good? He thought of that girl back in the valley 
 who was willing to share this life of the hills with 
 him. All things beautiful made him think of her, 
 and the moon-kissed night was grand, up there above 
 
ON THE HEIGHTS. 341 
 
 where men lived. He thought of her superb faith, not 
 in what he was, but in what her woman s instinct told 
 her it was possible for him to be. What a universe of 
 loves in human hearts revolves about those unseen, 
 unproven substances! 
 
 He thought of the time when she had lain in his 
 arms as Snowcap was lying, and he had carried her 
 over the hills in the moonlight. He was bitterly cold, 
 but through the icy air there came the thrill and flush 
 of that long-past temptation. He wondered what 
 she would say when they told her how he had used 
 his freedom. The conviction of her approval again 
 gave that strange smile of elation to his eyes; and 
 the cold and hunger were ignored, and his fatigue 
 fell from him. And with the tenderness that one 
 gives to a sleeping child, he adjusted with his wounded 
 hands the blanket that slipped from the dead 
 boy, raising one of the rigid arms the better to shroud 
 it in the gay colors. 
 
 Then the peace of the heights was broken by a sharp 
 report; the whiteness of the moonlight was crossed 
 by the quick, red flash of death and Mowitza stopped 
 still in her tracks, while her master, with that 
 dead thing clasped close in his arms, lunged forward 
 on her neck. 
 
342 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A REBEL. 
 
 Within the confines of Camp Kootenai there was a 
 ripple of rejoicing. At last, after four days lost because 
 of the snow, Major Dreyer had arrived, pushing on 
 with all possible haste after meeting the runner and, 
 to the bewilderment of all, he rode into camp on one 
 of the horses stolen almost a week ago. 
 
 "No mystery about it only a little luck," he said 
 in explanation. "I found him at Holland s as I came 
 up. A white man belonging to the Blackfeet rode 
 him in there several nights ago. The white man got 
 drunk, picked a row, and got his pay for it. They 
 gave him grave-room down there, and in the morning 
 discovered that the beast had our brand, so gave him 
 up to us as we came through." 
 
 Needless to say that this account was listened to 
 with unusual interest. A man belonging to the 
 Blackfeet! That proved Genesee s theory of which he 
 had spoken to Captain Holt the theory that was so 
 thoroughly discredited. 
 
 When word was brought that the Major s party had 
 been sighted from the south, Fred and Rachel could 
 hardly wait for the saddles to be thrown on the horses. 
 
 Tillie caught the fever of impatience, and rode 
 down beside Hardy. Stuart was not about. The days 
 since Genesee s departure he had put in almost 
 entirely with the scouts stationed to note any 
 approach from the north; he was waiting for that 
 coming back. Kalitan, for the first time since 
 
A REBEL. 343 
 
 Genesee s flight, came into camp. The man who had 
 seemed the friend of his friend was again in com 
 mand; and he showed his appreciation of the differ 
 ence by presenting himself in person beside Rachel, 
 to whom he had allied himself in a way that was curi 
 ous to the rest, and was so devotionally serious to 
 himself. 
 
 "Then, perhaps it was not that Genesee who stole 
 the horses, after all," broke in Fred, as her father told 
 the story. 
 
 "Genesee! nonsense!" said the Major brusquely. 
 "We must look into that affair at once," and he glanced 
 at the Captain; "but if that man s a horse-thief, I ve 
 made a big mistake and I won t believe it until I have 
 proof." 
 
 As yet there had been no attempt at any investiga 
 tion of affairs, only an informal welcoming group, 
 and Fred, anxious to tell a story that she thought 
 astonishing, recounted breathlessly the saving of the 
 men by way of the mine, and of the gloves and the 
 hands worn in that night s work, and last, of the dig 
 ging up of that body and carrying it aw r ay to the moun 
 tains. 
 
 Her father, at first inclined to check her voluble 
 recital that would come to him in a more official form, 
 refrained, as the practical array of facts showing through 
 her admiration summed themselves up in a mass that 
 echoed his convictions. 
 
 "And that is the man suspected of stealing a few 
 horses? Good God! what proof have you that will 
 weigh against courage like that ? 
 
 "Major, he scarcely denied it," said the Captain, in 
 extenuation of their suspicions. "He swore the Koo- 
 tenais did not do it, and that s all he would say. He 
 
344 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 was absent all the afternoon and all the night of the 
 thievery, and refused to give any account whatever of 
 his absence, even when I tried to impress him with the 
 seriousness of the situation. The man s reputation, 
 added to his suspicious absence, left me but one thing 
 to do I put him under guard." 
 
 That does look strange," agreed the Major, with a 
 troubled face; "refused 
 
 He was interrupted by a sound from Rachel, who had 
 not spoken after the conversation turned to Genesee. 
 She came forward with a low cry, trembling and pas 
 sionate, doubt and hope blending in her face. 
 
 "Did you say the night the horses were stolen?" she 
 demanded. All looked at her wonderingly, and Kali- 
 tan instinctively slid a little nearer. 
 
 "Yes, it was in the night," answered the Captain, 
 "about two o clock; but you surely knew about it?" 
 
 "I? I knew nothing," she burst out furiously; "they 
 lied to me all of you. You told me it was in the 
 morning. How dared you how dared you do it?" 
 
 The Major laid a restraining hand on her arm; he 
 could feel that she was trembling violently. She had 
 kept so contemptuously cool through all those days 
 of doubt, but she was cool no longer; her face was white, 
 but it looked a white fury. 
 
 "What matter about the hour, Miss Rachel?" asked 
 the commander ; and she shook off his hand and stepped 
 back beside Kalitan, as if putting herself where Genesee 
 had put himself with the Indians. 
 
 "Because I could have told where Jack Genesee was 
 that night, if they had not deceived me. He was 
 with me." 
 
 Tillie gave a little cry of wonder and contrition. She 
 saw it all now. 
 
A REBEL. 345 
 
 "But but you said it was a Kootenai who brought you 
 home," she protested feebly; "you told us Lamonti." 
 
 "He is a Kootenai by adoption, and he is called 
 Lamonti," said the girl defiantly; "and the night those 
 horses were run off, he was with me from an hour after 
 sundown until four o clock in the morning." 
 
 That bold statement had a damaging ring to it 
 unnecessarily so; and the group about her, and the 
 officers and men back of them, looked at her curiously. 
 
 "Then, since you can tell this much in his favor, can 
 you tell why he himself refused to answer so simple a 
 question?" asked Major Dreyer kindly. 
 
 That staggered her for a moment, as she put her hand 
 up in a helpless way over her eyes, thinking thinking 
 fast. She realized now what it meant, the silence that 
 was for her sake the silence that was not broken even 
 to her. And a mighty remorse arose for her doubt the 
 doubt she had let him see ; yet he had not spoken ! She 
 raised her eyes and met the curious glances of the men, 
 and that decided her. They were the men who had 
 from the first condemned him been jealous of the 
 commander s trust. 
 
 "Yes, I think I can tell you that, too," she said 
 frankly. "The man is my friend. I was lost in the 
 snow that night; he found me, and it took us all night 
 to get home. He knows how these people think of 
 him;" and her eyes spared none. "They have made 
 him feel that he is an outcast among them. They have 
 made him feel that a friendship or companionship with 
 him is a discredit to any woman oh, I know! They 
 think so now, in spite of what he has done for them. 
 He knows that. He is very generous, and wanted, I 
 suppose, to spare me; and I I was vile enough to doubt 
 him," she burst out. "Even when I brought him his 
 
346 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 horse, I half believed the lies about him, and he knew 
 it, and never said a word not one word." 
 
 "When you brought him his horse? " asked the Major, 
 looking at her keenly, though not unkindly. 
 
 Her remorse found a new vent in the bravado with 
 which she looked at them all and laughed. 
 
 "Yes," she said defiantly, as if there was a certain 
 comfort in braving their displeasure, and proving her 
 rebellion to their laws; "yes, I brought him his horse 
 not by accident either! I brought him brandy and 
 provisions; I brought him revolvers and ammunition. 
 I helped him to escape, and I cut the bonds your guards 
 had fastened him with. Now, what are you going to 
 do about it?" 
 
 Tillie gasped with horror. She did not quite know 
 whether they would shoot her as a traitor, or only 
 imprison her; but she knew military law could be a 
 very dreadful thing, and her fears were extravagant. 
 
 As for Miss Fred, her eyes were sparkling. With 
 the quick deductions of her kind, she reasoned that, 
 without the escape that night, the men would have 
 died in that trap in the hills, and a certain delicious 
 meeting and its consequences of which she was wait 
 ing to tell the Major, would never have been hers. 
 Her feelings were very frankly expressed, as she 
 stepped across to the self-isolated rebel and kissed 
 her. 
 
 "You re a darling and a plucky girl," she said 
 warmly; "and you never looked so pretty in your 
 life." 
 
 The defiant face did not relax, even at that 
 intelligence. Her eyes were on the commander, her 
 judge. And he was looking with decided interest at 
 her. 
 
A REBEL 347 
 
 "Yours is a very grave offense, Miss Rachel," he 
 said, with deliberation that struck added terrors to 
 Tillie s heart. "The penalty of contriving the escape 
 of prisoners is one I do not like to mention to you; 
 but since the man in this case was innocent, and I 
 take your evidence in proof well, that might be some 
 extenuation of the act." 
 
 "I didn t know he was innocent when I helped him," 
 she broke in; "I thought the horses were stolen after 
 he left me." 
 
 "That makes it more serious, certainly;" but his eyes 
 were not at all serious. "And since you seem deter 
 mined to allow nothing in extenuation of your own 
 actions, I can only say that that I value very highly 
 the forty men whose lives were saved to us by that 
 escape; and when I see Mr. Genesee, I will thank him 
 in the warmest way at my command;" and he held out 
 his hand to the very erect, very defiant rebel. 
 
 She could scarcely believe it when she heard the 
 words of praise about her; when one man after another 
 of that rescued crowd came forward to shake hands 
 with her and Hardy almost lifted her off her feet to 
 kiss her. "By George! I m proud of you, Rachel," 
 he said impulsively. "You are plucky enough to to 
 be Genesee himself." 
 
 The praise seemed a very little thing to her. Her 
 bravado was over; she felt as if she must cry if they 
 did not leave her alone. Of what use were words, 
 if he should never come back never know that he 
 was cleared of suspicion? If they had so many kind 
 words now, why had they not found some for him 
 when he needed them? She did not know the uncom 
 promising surliness that made him so difficult of 
 approach to many people, especially any who showed 
 
348 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 their own feeling of superiority, as most of them did, 
 to a squaw man. 
 
 She heard that term from the Major, a moment after 
 he had shaken hands with her. He had asked what 
 were the other suspicions mentioned against Genesee; 
 she could not hear the answer they had moved a little 
 apart from her but she could hear the impatience with 
 which he broke in on their speech. 
 
 "A squaw man! well, what if he is?" he asked, 
 with a serene indifference to the social side of the ques 
 tion. "What difference does it make whether the man s 
 wife has been red, or white, or black, so long as she 
 suited him? There are two classes of squaw men, as 
 there are of other men on the frontier the renegades 
 and the usual percentage of honest and dishonest 
 citizens. You ve all apparently been willing to under 
 stand only the renegades. I ve been along the border 
 for thirty years, and some of the bravest white men 
 I ve ever seen had Indian wives. Some of the men 
 whose assistance in Indian wars has been invaluable 
 to us are ranchmen whose children are half-breeds, 
 and who have taught their squaws housework and 
 English at the same time, and made them a credit to 
 any nation. There s a heap of uncalled-for prejudice 
 against a certain class of those men; and, so far as I ve 
 noticed, the sneak who abandons his wife and children 
 back in the States, or borrows the wife of someone 
 else to make the trip out here with, is the specimen 
 that is first to curl his lip at the squaw man. That 
 girl over there strikes me as showing more common 
 sense than the whole community; she gave him the 
 valuation of a man." 
 
 The Major s blood was up. It was seldom that he 
 made so long a speech; but the question was one 
 
A REBEL. 349 
 
 against which he had clashed often, and to find the 
 old prejudice was so strong a factor in the disorganizing 
 of an outpost was enraging. 
 
 And do you realize what that man did when he took 
 that trail north?" he demanded impressively. "He 
 knew that he carried his life in his hand as surely as 
 he carried that body. And he went up there to play it 
 against big odds for the sake of a lot of people who had 
 a contemptible contempt for him." 
 
 "And cursed us soundly while he did it," added one 
 of the men, in an aside; but the Major overheard it. 
 
 "Yes, that s like him, too," he agreed. "But, if any 
 of you can show me so great a courage and conscien 
 tiousness in a more refined citizen, I m waiting to 
 see it." 
 
 Then there was the quick fall of hoofs outside the 
 shack, hurried questions and brief answers. One of 
 the scouts from the north ridge rushed in and reported 
 to Major Dreyer. 
 
 "A gang o hostiles are in sight not many; they ve 
 got our horses. Think they carry a flag o truce, but 
 couldn t spot it for sure. They re not a fighten gang, 
 any way, fur they re comen slow and carryen some- 
 then ." 
 
 "A flag of truce? That means peace. Thank God!" 
 said Tillie, fervently. 
 
 "And Genesee," added the Major. 
 
 As for Rachel, her heart seemed in her throat. She 
 tried to speak, to rush out and learn their message, but 
 she could not move. An awful presentiment bound her. 
 Carrying something ! 
 
350 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "WHEN THE SUN GOETH DOWN." 
 
 O pits ah! Klahowya. 
 
 They brought him his dark, sad-faced brothers 
 bearing him on a bed of elastic poles and the skins of 
 beasts; and walking through the lines of blue-coats as 
 if not seeing them, they laid him on the floor of the 
 shack, and grouped themselves clannishly in one corner, 
 near his head. Stuart knelt with trembling hands 
 to examine the cruel wound in the throat, and turned 
 away, shaking his head. He could not speak. There 
 was a slow, inward hemorrhage. He was bleeding to 
 death. 
 
 " Determination has kept him alive," decided the 
 Major, when the spokesman of the Kootenais told of 
 the shot on the mountain, and how they had to carry 
 him, with Snowcap in his arms, to the wigwam of 
 Grey Eagle; of the council through which he kept up, 
 and then told them he would live until he reached 
 camp he was so sure of it! For the body of Snow- 
 cap he had asked the horses left in the gulch, and 
 was given them and much more, because of the sor 
 row of their nation. He did not try to speak at first, 
 only looked about, drinking in the strange kindness 
 in all the faces; then he reached out his hand toward 
 Rachel. 
 
 "Opitsah!" he whispered, with that smile of triumph 
 in his eyes. "I told you I d live till I got back to 
 you;" and then his eyes turned to the Major. "I got 
 a stand-off on the hostilities till your return inside 
 
"WHEN THE SUN GOETH DOWN." 351 
 
 my coat I wrote it." He ceased, gasping, while they 
 drew out the "talking-paper" with the mark of Grey 
 Eagle at the foot, and on it also were their murderous 
 stains. 
 
 "You treat with them now," he continued, "but 
 be careful. Don t shirk promises. They re easy man 
 aged now like a lot of children, just because they shot 
 me when I was carrying Snowcap home. But they ll 
 get over that, and then be careful. They were 
 ready for the war-path when I got there." 
 
 He saw Captain Holt not far from him, and through 
 the pallor of his face a faint flush crept. 
 
 "Well, I ve come back for my trial," he scowled, 
 with something of his old defiance; and the Major knelt 
 down and took his hand. 
 
 "That s all over, Genesee," he said gently. "It was 
 a big mistake. There is not a soul here with anything 
 but gratitude and admiration for you. It was your own 
 fault you were suspected; Miss Rachel has explained. 
 Why did you not?" 
 
 He did not answer only looked at her, and seemed 
 gathering his strength for some final effort. 
 
 "I want someone to write." 
 
 He was still holding Rachel s hand. She had not 
 said a word ; only her eyes seemed to tell him enough. 
 
 Stuart came forward. "Will I do, Jack?" 
 
 Jack nodded, and more than one was astonished at 
 the signs of grief in Stuart s face. Rachel was past 
 speculation. 
 
 "This lady, here," said Genesee, motioning to her, 
 "has done a heap for memore than she knows I 
 reckon and I want to square things." 
 
 Rachel attempted to speak; but he raised his hand. 
 
 "Don t," he whispered. "Let me say ittillikum" 
 
352 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Then he turned to Stuart. "There s a bit of ground 
 up in the hills; it s mine, and I want her to have it 
 it s Tamahnous Hill and the old mine write it." 
 
 She thought of that other woman, and tried to 
 protest. Again he saw it, and pressed her hand for 
 silence. 
 
 "I want her to have it for she likes these hills, and 
 she s been mighty good to me. No one will interfere 
 with her claim I reckon." 
 
 "No one shall interfere," said Stuart, toward whom 
 he looked. Genesee smiled. 
 
 "That s right that s all right. She won t be afraid 
 of the witches. And she ll tell you where I want 
 to go she knows." His voice was growing fainter; 
 they could see he was almost done with the Kootenai 
 valley. 
 
 "In my pocket is something from the mine," he 
 said, looking at Rachel; "it will show you and there s 
 another will in the bank at Holland s it is for 
 Annie." 
 
 Stuart guided his hand for the signature to the paper. 
 Stuart wrote his own, and Hardy followed, his eyes 
 opening in wonder at something written there. 
 
 A slight rustle in the group at the door drew the 
 Major s attention, and a young face coming forward 
 made him turn to Stuart. 
 
 "I had altogether forgotten that I brought someone 
 from Holland s for you a boy sent there to find J. S. 
 Stuart. I knew it must be C. S. Stuart, though, and 
 brought him along." 
 
 A dark-faced little fellow, with a sturdy, bright look, 
 walked forward at the commander s motion; but his 
 wondering gaze was on the man lying there with such 
 an eager look in his eyes. 
 
"WHEN THE SUN GOETH DOWN." 353 
 
 "This is Mr. Stuart," said the Major, and then turned 
 to Genesee. 
 
 The Stuart s face was white as the wounded man s 
 as the boy looked up at him, frankly. 
 
 "I m I m Jack," he said; "and mamma sent a 
 letter." 
 
 The letter was held out, and the boy s plucky mouth 
 trembled a little at the lack of welcome; not even 
 a hand-shake, and he was such a little fellow about 
 ten. But Stuart looked like a man who sees a ghost. 
 He took the letter, after a pause that seemed 
 very long to the people who watched his strange man 
 ner. Then he looked at the envelope, took the boy by 
 the arm, and thrusting the Major blindly aside, he 
 knelt by Genesee. 
 
 "This is for you, Jack," he said, motioning the others 
 back by a gesture all but Rachel that hand-clasp 
 was so strong! "and your namesake has brought it : 
 
 "Read it," and he motioned Rachel to take it; "read 
 me Annie s letter." 
 
 She read it in a low tone a repetition of that other 
 plea that Jack had left with her, and its finale the same 
 longing request that her boy should at last be let know 
 his father. Stuart was in tears when she fin 
 ished. 
 
 "Jack," he said, "ten years is a long time; I ve 
 suffered every hour of them. Give me the boy; let 
 me know you are agreed at last. Give Annie back to 
 me!" 
 
 Jack raised his hand to the bewildered boy, who took 
 it reverently. 
 
 "You are Annie s boy?" he whispered; "kiss me for 
 her tell her " And then his eyes sought Stuart s 
 " I held them in pawn for you. I reckon you re earnest 
 
 I 
 
354 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 enough now to redeem them. What was that verse 
 about giving back the pledge when the sun goes 
 down? You read it. Mother used to read it little 
 mother! She will be glad, I reckon she " 
 
 Stuart was sobbing outright, with his arms about 
 the boy. Rachel, with the letter in her hand, was as 
 puzzled as those who had drawn out of hearing. Only 
 the Indians stood close and impassive. Jack, meeting 
 her eyes, smiled. 
 
 "You know now all about them and Annie. 
 That was why I tried to keep away from you you 
 know now." 
 
 But she did not know. 
 
 "You took his wife from him?" she said, in a maze 
 of conflicting revelations; and Jack looked at Stuart, 
 as she added, "and who were you?" 
 
 "He is my brother!" said Stuart, in answer to that 
 look of Jack s. "He would not let me say it before 
 not for years. But he is my brother!" 
 
 The words were loud enough for all to hear, and there 
 was a low chorus of surprise among the group. All 
 concealment was about over for Genesee even the 
 concealment of death. 
 
 Then Stuart looked across at Rachel. He heard 
 that speech, "You took his wife from him;" and he 
 asked no leave of Jack to speak now. 
 
 "Don t think that of him," he said, steadily. "You 
 have been the only one who has, blindfolded, judged 
 him aright. Don t fail him now. He is worth all 
 the belief you had in him. The story I read you 
 that night was true. His was the manhood you 
 admired in it; mine, the one you condemned. As I 
 look back on our lives now, his seems to me one 
 immense sacrifice and no compensations one terri- 
 
He is my brother!" said Stuart. Page 354. 
 
"WHEN THE SUN GOETH DOWN." 355 
 
 ble isolation; and now-now everything comes to him 
 too late!" 
 
 "He is-sorry," whispered Genesee, "and talks wild 
 -but you know now?" 
 
 "Yes," and the girl s face had something of the solemn 
 elation of his own. "Yes, I know now." 
 
 "And you-will live in the hills-may be?-not so 
 very far away from-me. In my pocket-is something- 
 from the mine-Davy will tell you. Be good to-my 
 Kootenais; they think-a heap of you . Kalitan!" 
 
 The Arrow came forward, and shook reverently the 
 hand of the man who had been master to him The 
 eyes roved about the room, as if in search of others 
 unseen. Rachel guessed what was wanted, and mo- 
 tioned to the Indians. 
 
 "Come; your brother wants you," she said. And as 
 
 they grouped about him and her, they barred out the 
 
 soldiers and civilians-the white brother and child- 
 
 barred out all from him save his friends of the moun- 
 
 ams and the wild places-the haunts of exiles. And 
 
 the g,rl, as one by one they touched her hand at his 
 
 equest, and circled her with their dark forms, seemed 
 
 to belong to them too. 
 
 led J-T th ?7 SnOW elts-the flowers are on that 
 edge, he wbspered with his eyes closed, "and the 
 birds-not echoes-the echoes are in the mine-don t 
 be-afraid. I ll go along-and Mowitza " 
 
 at her ^ Pened Ms <** and smiled 
 
 h^ ~ y Ur f d wishes - a d kiss me, and I ll 
 ell, was the characteristic answer given so 
 
356 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 "And you ve kissed me again! Who said no com 
 pensation? they don t know; we know and the 
 moonlight, and yes mother knows; she thought, at 
 l as t_l was not all bad; not all little mother! And 
 now don t be afraid; I won t go far klahowya, my 
 girl my girl!" 
 
 Then one Indian from the circle unslung his rifle from 
 his shoulder and shattered it with one blow of an axe 
 that lay by the fire. The useless thing was laid beside 
 what had been Genesee. And the owner, shrouding 
 his head in his blanket, sat apart from the rest. It was 
 he of the bear claws; the sworn friend of Lamonti, and 
 the man who had shot him. 
 
 ******* 
 
 At sunset he was laid to rest in the little plateau 
 on Scot s Mountain that faces the west. He was borne 
 there by the Indians, who buried in his grave the toma 
 hawk they had resurrected for the whites of Camp 
 Kootenai. Mowitza, rebelliously impatient, was led 
 riderless by Kalitan. All military honors were paid 
 him who had received no honors in life, the rites end 
 ing by that volley of sound that seals the grave ^of a 
 soldier. 
 
 Then the pale-faces turned again to the south, the 
 dark-faces took the trail to the north, and the sun with 
 a last flickering blaze flooded the snow with crimson, 
 and died behind the western peaks they had watched 
 light up one morning. 
 
"RASHELL OF LAMONTI." 357 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " RASHELL OF LAMONTI. * 
 
 The echoes are no longer silent in Tamahnous Peak. 
 The witchcraft of silver has killed the old superstition. 
 The something" in Genesee s pocket had been a 
 specimen that warranted investigation. The lost tribe 
 had left enough ore there through the darkness of 
 generations to make mining a thing profitable. Above 
 those terraces of unknown origin there is a dwelling- 
 house now, built of that same bewitched stone in which 
 the echoes sleep; and often there is gathered under its 
 roof a strange household. 
 
 The words of Genesee, "Be good to my Kootenais!" 
 have so far been remembered by the girl who during 
 the last year of his life filled his thoughts so greatly. 
 His friends are her friends, and medley as the lot would 
 appear to others, they are welcome to her. They have 
 helped her solve the problem of what use she could 
 make of her life. Her relatives have given up in despair 
 trying to alter her unheard-of manner of living. The 
 idea is prevalent among them that Rachel s mind, on 
 some subjects, is really queer she was always so 
 erratic! They speak to her of the loneliness of those 
 heights, and she laughs at them. She is never lonely. 
 She had his word that he would not go far. With her 
 lives old Davy MacDougall, who helps her much in 
 the mining matters, and Kalitan is never far off. He 
 is her shadow now, as he once was Genesee s. Indian 
 women do the work of her home. A school is there for 
 
358 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 any who care to learn, and in the lodges of the Koot- 
 enais she is never forgotten . 
 
 It seemed strange that he who had so few friends in 
 his life should win her so many by his death. The 
 Indians speak of him now with a sort of awe, as their 
 white brother whose counsels were so wise, whose 
 courage was so great; he who forced from the spirits 
 the secret of the lost mine. He has drifted into tradi 
 tion as some wonderful creature who was among them 
 for a while, disappearing at times, but always coming 
 back at a time of their need. 
 
 To Rachel they turn as to something which they 
 must guard for he said so. She is to them always 
 "Rashell of Lamonti" of the mountains. 
 
 From the East and South come friends sometimes 
 letters and faces of people who knew him; Miss Fred, 
 and her husband, and the Major, who is a stanch friend 
 and admirer of the eccentric girl who was once a rebel 
 in his camp; and in reminiscences the roughness of his 
 Kootenai chief of scouts is swathed in the gray veil of 
 the past only the lightning-flashes of courage are 
 photographed in the veteran s memory. 
 
 The Stuart and his wife and boy come there some 
 times in the summer; and the girl and little Jack, who 
 are very fond of each other, ride over the places where 
 the other Jack Stuart rode nameless for so long. 
 
 As for Prince Charlie, his natural affection for chil 
 dren amounts to adoration of the boy. Rachel won 
 ders sometimes if the ideal his remorse had fostered 
 for so long was filled at last by the girl whom he had 
 left a delicately tinted apple-blossom and found a 
 delicate type of the invalid, whose ill-health never 
 exceeds fashionable indisposition. If not, no word or 
 sign from him shows it. The pretty, ideal phases of 
 
"RASHELL OF LAMONTI." 359 
 
 domestic love and life that he used to write of, are not so 
 ready to his pen as they once were through his dreams 
 and remorse. Much changed for him are those northern 
 hills, but they still have a fascination for him and he 
 writes of them a good deal. 
 
 "It is the witchcraft of the place, or else it is you, 
 Rachel," he said, once. "Both help me. When life 
 grows old and stale in civilization, I come up here and 
 straightway am young again. I can understand now 
 how you helped Jack." 
 
 His wife a pretty little woman with a gently appeal 
 ing air never really understands Rachel, though she 
 and Tillie are great friends; but, despite Tillie s praise, 
 Annie never can discover what there is in the girl for 
 "Charlie and all the other men to like so much and 
 even poor, dear Jack, who must have been in love with 
 her to leave her a silver mine." To Annie she seems 
 rather clever, but with so little affection! and not even 
 sympathetic, as most girls are. She heard of Rachel s 
 pluck and bravery; but that is so near to boldness! 
 as heroes are to adventurers; and Annie is a very prim 
 little woman herself. She quotes "my husband" a 
 good deal, and rates his work with the first writers of 
 the age. 
 
 The work has grown earnest; the lessons of 
 Rachel s prophecy have crept into it. He has in so 
 many ways justified them achieved more than he 
 hoped; but he never will write anything more fasci 
 nating than the changeless youth in his own eyes, or 
 the serious tenderness of his own mouth when he 
 smiles. 
 
 "Prince Charlie is a rare, fine lad," old Davy remarked 
 at the end of an autumn, as he and Rachel watched 
 their visitors out of sight clown the valley; "a man fine 
 
300 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 enough to be brother to Genesee, an I ne er was wearied 
 o him till I hearkened to that timorous fine lady o his 
 lilting him into the chorus o every song she sung. 
 By her tellin* she s the first o the wives that s ever had 
 a husband." 
 
 "But she is not a fine lady at all," contradicted 
 Rachel; "and she s a very affectionate, very good little 
 woman. You are set against her because of that story 
 of long ago and that is hardly fair, Davy Mac- 
 Dougall." 
 
 "Well, then, I am not, lass. It s little call I have 
 to judge children, but I own I m ower cranky when I 
 think o the waste o a man s life for a bit pigeon like 
 that an a man like my lad was! The prize was no 
 worth the candle that give light to it. A man s life is a 
 big thing to throw away, lass, an I see nothing in 
 that bit o daintiness to warrant it. To me it s a 
 woeful waste." 
 
 The girl walked on beside him through the fresh, 
 sweet air of the morning that was filled with crisp 
 kisses the kisses that warn the wild things of the 
 Frost-King s coming. She was separated so slightly 
 from the wild things herself that she was growing 
 to understand them in a new spirit through a sym 
 pathy touched less by curiosity than of old. She 
 thought of that man, who slept across on Scot s Moun- 
 tian, in sight of Tamahnous Peak; how he had understood 
 them! not through the head, but the heart. Through 
 some reflected light of feeling she had lived those last 
 days of his life at a height above her former level. 
 She had seen in the social outlaw who loved her a 
 soul that, woman -like, she placed above where she 
 knelt. Perhaps it had been the uncivilized heroism, 
 perhaps the unselfish, deliberate sacrifice, appealing 
 
"RASHELL OF LAMONTI." 361 
 
 to a hero-worshiper. Something finer in nature than 
 she had ever been touched by in a more civilized life 
 had come to her through him in those last days not 
 through the man as men knew him, and not through the 
 love he had borne her but through the spirit she thought 
 she saw there. 
 
 It may have been in part an illusion women have 
 so many but it was strong in her. It raised up her 
 life to touch the thing she had placed on the heights, 
 and something of the elation that had come to him 
 through that last sacrifice filled her, and forbade her 
 return into the narrowed valleys of existence. 
 
 His wasted life! It had been given at last to the 
 wild places he loved. It had left its mark on the 
 humanity of them, and the mark had not been a mean 
 one. The girl, thinking of what it had done for her, 
 wondered often if the other lives of the valley that 
 winter could live on without carrying indelible coloring 
 from grateful, remorseful emotions born there. She 
 did not realize how transient emotions are in some 
 people ; and then she had grown to idealize him so greatly. 
 She fancied herself surely one of many, while really she 
 was one alone. 
 
 "Yes, lass a woeful waste," repeated the old man; 
 and her thoughts wandered back to their starting- 
 place. 
 
 "No!" she answered with the sturdy certainty of 
 faith. "The prodigality there was not wastefulness, 
 and was not without a method not a method of his 
 own, but that something beyond us we call God or 
 Fate. The lives he lived or died for may seem of 
 mighty little consequence individually, but what is, 
 is more than likely to be right, Davy MacDougall, 
 even if we can t see it from our point of view." 
 
362 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Then, after a little, she added, "He is not the first lion 
 that has died to feed dogs there was that man of 
 Nazareth." 
 
 Davy MacDougall stopped, looking at her with fond, 
 aged eyes that shone perplexedly from under his shaggy 
 brows. 
 
 "You re a rare, strange lass, Rachel Hardy," he said 
 at last, "an long as I ve known ye, I m not ower certain 
 that I know ye at all. The lad used to be a bit like 
 that at times, but when I see ye last at the night, I m 
 ne er right certain what I ll find ye in the mornin ." 
 
 "You ll never find me far from that, at any rate," 
 and she motioned up the "Hill of the Witches," and on 
 a sunny level a little above them Mowitza and Kalitan 
 were waiting. 
 
 "Then, lass, ye ll ne er tak leave o the Kootenai 
 hills?" 
 
 "I think not. I should smother now in the life those 
 people are going to," and she nodded after the depart 
 ing guests who were going back to the world. Then 
 her eyes turned from the mists of the valleys to the 
 whispering peace of cedars that guard Scot s Mountain. 
 
 "No, Davy, I ll never leave the hills." 
 
 KLOSHE KAH-KWA. 
 
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