Part 4 (1/2)
”Climb up. Let's see if you fit the stirrups,” said Cless. ”Couldn't be better.”
”Now, young feller, you can hit the trail,” put in Buell, with his big voice. ”An' remember what I told you. This country ain't got much use for a feller as can't look out for himself.”
He opened the gate, and led my mustang into the road and quite some distance. The pony jogged along after us. Then Buell stopped with a finger outstretched.
”There, at the end of this street, you'll find a trail. Hit it an' stick to it. All the little trail's leadin' into it needn't bother you.”
He swept his hand round to the west of the mountain. The direction did not tally with the idea I had gotten from d.i.c.k's letter.
”I thought Penetier was on the north side of the mountains.”
”Who said so?” he asked, staring. ”Don't I know this country? Take it from me.”
I thanked him, and, turning, with a light heart I faced the black mountain and my journey.
It was about ten o'clock when Hal jogged into a broad trail on the outskirts of Holston. A gray flat lay before me, on the other side of which began the slow rise of the slope. I could hardly contain myself.
I wanted to run the mustang, but did not for the sake of the burdened pony. That sage-flat was miles wide, though it seemed so narrow. The back of the lower slope began to change to a dark green, which told me I was surely getting closer to the mountains, even if it did not seem so.
The trail began to rise, and at last I reached the first pine-trees.
They were a disappointment to me, being no larger than many of the white oaks at home, and stunted, with ragged dead tops. They proved to me that trees isolated from their fellows fare as poorly as trees overcrowded.
Where pines grow closely, but not too closely, they rise straight and true, cleaning themselves of the low branches, and making good lumber, free of knots. Where they grow far apart, at the mercy of wind and heat and free to spread many branches, they make only gnarled and knotty lumber.
As I rode on the pines became slowly more numerous and loftier. Then, when I had surmounted what I took to be the first foot-hill, I came upon a magnificent forest. A little farther on the trail walled me in with great seamed trunks, six feet in diameter, rising a hundred feet before spreading a single branch.
Meanwhile my mustang kept steadily up the slow-rising trail, and the time pa.s.sed. Either the grand old forest had completely bewitched me or the sweet smell of pine had intoxicated me, for as I rode along utterly content I entirely forgot about d.i.c.k and the trail and where I was heading. Nor did I come to my senses until Hal snorted and stopped before a tangled windfall.
Then I glanced down to see only the clean, brown pine-needles. There was no trail. Perplexed and somewhat anxious, I rode back a piece, expecting surely to cross the trail. But I did not. I went to the left and to the right, then circled in a wide curve. No trail! The forest about me seemed at once familiar and strange.
It was only when the long shadows began to creep under the trees that I awoke fully to the truth.
I had missed the trail! I was lost in the forest!
IV. LOST IN THE FOREST
For a moment I was dazed. And then came panic. I ran up this ridge and that one, I rushed to and fro over ground which looked, whatever way I turned, exactly the same. And I kept saying, ”I'm lost! I'm lost!” Not until I dropped exhausted against a pine-tree did any other thought come to me.
The moment that I stopped running about so aimlessly the panicky feeling left me. I remembered that for a ranger to be lost in the forest was an every-day affair, and the sooner I began that part of my education the better. Then it came to me how foolish I had been to get alarmed, when I knew that the general slope of the forest led down to the open country.
This put an entirely different light upon the matter. I still had some fears that I might not soon find d.i.c.k Leslie, but these I dismissed for the present, at least. A suitable place to camp for the night must be found. I led the mustang down into the hollows, keeping my eye sharp for gra.s.s. Presently I came to a place that was wet and soggy at the bottom, and, following this up for quite a way, I found plenty of gra.s.s and a pool of clear water.
Often as I had made camp back in the woods of Pennsylvania, the doing of it now was new. For this was not play; it was the real thing, and it made the old camping seem tame. I took the saddle off Hal and tied him with my la.s.so, making as long a halter as possible. Slipping the pack from the pony was an easier task than the getting it back again was likely to prove. Next I broke open a box of cartridges and loaded the Winchester. My revolver was already loaded, and hung on my belt.
Remembering d.i.c.k's letters about the bears and mountain-lions in Penetier Forest, I got a good deal of comfort out of my weapons. Then I built a fire, and while my supper was cooking I sc.r.a.ped up a ma.s.s of pine-needles for a bed. Never had I sat down to a meal with such a sense of strange enjoyment.
But when I had finished and had everything packed away and covered, my mind began to wander in unexpected directions. Why was it that the twilight seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down the hollow? While I gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night came suddenly. My campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at hand the flickering gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased up the straight tree trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light steps of the grazing mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Then a low moaning from a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no idea what it was, but presently I thought it must be the wind in the pines.
It bore no resemblance to any sound I had ever before heard in the woods. It would murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes it would cease for a little, and then travel and swell toward me, only to die away again. But it rose steadily, with shorter intervals of silence, until the intermittent gusts swept through the tree-tops with a rus.h.i.+ng roar. I had listened to the crash of the ocean surf, and the resemblance was a striking one.
Listening to this mournful wind with all my ears I was the better prepared for any lonesome cries of the forest; nevertheless, a sudden, sharp ”Ki-yi-i!” seemingly right at my back, gave me a fright that sent my tongue to the roof of my mouth.