The Forester's Daughter by Garland Hamlin

Author:Garland, Hamlin [Hamlin, Garland,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2008-08-09T04:00:00+00:00

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IX

FURTHER PERPLEXITIES

Wayland, for his part, was not deceived by Siona Moore. He knew her kind, and understood her method of attack. He liked her pert ways, for they brought back his days at college, when dozens of just such misses lent grace and humor and romance to the tennis court and to the football field. She carried with her the aroma of care-free, athletic girlhood. Flirtation was in her as charming and almost as meaningless as the preening of birds on the bank of a pool in the meadow.

Speaking aloud, he said: “Miss Moore travels the trail with all known accessories, and I’ve no doubt she thinks she is a grand campaigner; but I am wondering how she would stand such a trip as that you took last night. I don’t believe she could have done as well as I. She’s the imitation—you’re the real thing.”

The praise involved in this speech brought back a little of Berrie’s humor. “I reckon those brown boots of hers would have melted,” she said, with quaint smile.

He became very grave. “If it had not been for you, dear girl, I would be lying up there in the forest this minute. Nothing but your indomitable spirit kept me moving. I shall be deeply hurt if any harm comes to you on account of me.”

“If it hadn’t been for me you wouldn’t have started on that trip last night. It was perfectly useless. It would have been better for us both if we had stayed in camp, for we wouldn’t have met these people.”

“That’s true,” he replied; “but we didn’t know that at the time. We acted for the best, and we must not blame ourselves, no matter what comes of it.”

They fell silent at this point, for each was again conscious of their new relationship. She, vaguely suffering, waited for him to resume the lover’s tone, while he, oppressed by the sense of his own shortcomings and weakness, was planning an escape. “It’s all nonsense, my remaining in the forest. I’m not fitted for it. It’s too severe. I’ll tell McFarlane so and get out.”

Perceiving his returning weakness and depression, Berea insisted on his lying down again while she set to work preparing dinner. “There is no telling when father will get here,” she said. “And Tony will be hungry when he comes. Lie down and rest.”

He obeyed her silently, and, going to the bunk, at once fell asleep. How long he slept he could not tell, but he was awakened by the voice of the ranger, who was standing in the doorway and regarding Berrie with a round-eyed stare.

He was a tall, awkward fellow of about thirty-five, plainly of the frontier type; but a man of intelligence. At the end of a brief explanation Berrie said, with an air of authority: “Now you’d better ride up the trail and bring our camp outfit down. We can’t go back that way, anyhow.”

The ranger glanced toward Wayland. “All right, Miss Berrie, but perhaps your tenderfoot needs a doctor.

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