Part 21 (1/2)

”No, you're a good friend. I know it.”

”I'm not very deep,” he said, with a touch of dejection. ”n.o.body ever takes me very seriously. But I hope you'll trust me!”

”Indeed I will! But come! We must go back.”

So they went slipping and sliding down the hill, digging their heels into the ground, clinging to rocks and trees to check their swift descent, laughing at their wild plunges and gyrations. At the house, when they had rested a while on the veranda, Marion dismissed Smythe as quickly as she could without abruptness; and when he had gone she hastened to her room, and locked the door, and flung herself down on the bed, with her hands clasped behind her head, to stare up at the ceiling in a whirl of thoughts. There was a mystery! There was a motive behind Haig's conduct! ”The most unselfish man in the world”

And she repeated the words over and over again, and gathered them to her heart.

CHAPTER XI

AVALANCHE

Huntington soon had his revenge on Marion, though, in his blindness, he never knew it. She and Claire, after an unusually protracted Small Talk the night before, arose late one morning to find the house topsy-turvy from masculine activity. On the veranda they discovered Seth cleaning rifles, surrounded by cartridge boxes, hunting knives, canvas bags and wrappings, rubber coats, leather straps, fis.h.i.+ng tackle and what not.

”In the name of goodness, Seth Huntington! What are you doing?”

shrilled Claire.

”Guess!” replied Huntington, with a rather heavy attempt at tantalizing.

”Oh, I know! Camping. But you don't mean to-day?”

”Sure!”

”But why didn't you ask us?” demanded Claire. ”Maybe we don't choose--”

”But you do, though. I promised Marion that as soon as I--”

He stopped, for even his habitually veiled eyes could not miss the look of consternation on Marion's face.

”Why--I thought--” he began uncertainly. ”Of course, if you don't want to go--”

The oiled rag dropped from his hand. His descent from elation (he had planned a little surprise) to dejection and chagrin was a tumble that touched Marion's commiseration and disarmed her. She did not want to go camping; she did not want to leave the Park for even a day, an hour; she did not want to miss any opportunity to see Haig. More than ever now was she determined to solve his mystery. So Huntingdon's ”surprise” was a greater shock to her than he, simple man, could possibly have foreseen or perceived. But even if she had not been moved by his rather ludicrous disappointment she would not have dared to refuse acquiescence in his programme. She had indeed expressed an ardent--oh, too ardent!--desire to go camping, and any explanation she could think of on the instant would have led her into regions where she could not trust herself.

”Indeed, I want to go!” she cried quickly, though there was a big lump in her throat. ”You took me by surprise, that's all.”

”I should say so!” said Claire. ”Think you're smart, don't you? We might have been all dressed for it if you'd only told us. When do we start, Big Boss?”

Huntington recovered his good spirits quickly, a.s.sured that he had succeeded after all.

”I thought we'd ride to Ely's to-day, sleep there to-night, and make Mount Avalanche to-morrow evening.”

”Then we must hurry,” said Claire. ”Come, Marion.”

”How long--shall we be gone?” asked Marion, struggling to appear enthusiastic.

”Four or five days, I suppose.”

Her heart sank. She could have cried with vexation. But she managed to conceal her real feelings in the bustle of preparation. There were provisions to be packed: cans and jars and bottles; bacon and ham and flour against the possible event of bad luck with the guns and rods; warm clothes and bedding; medicines and bandages. So fully occupied were her hands and brain with these details, and later with her first real experience with the mountain trails, that her heart must perforce keep its peace until some hour of solitude.