Love stories; Montana -- Fiction; Religious fiction; Western stories
"What do you want?" She had never heard of the divine claims of all the
human family. Her one instinct at present was fear.
An expression that was almost bitter flitted over the young man's face, as
of an unpleasant memory forgotten for the instant.
"It really wasn't of much consequence when you think of it," he said with
a shrug of his fine shoulders. "I was merely lost, and was wanting to
inquire where I was--and possibly the way to somewhere. But I don't know
as 'twas worth the trouble."
The girl was puzzled. She had never seen a man like this before. He was
not like her wild, reckless brother, nor any of his associates.
"This is Montana," she said, "or was, when I started," she added with
sudden thought.
"Yes? Well, it was Montana when I started, too; but it's as likely to be
the Desert of Sahara as anything else. I'm sure I've come far enough, and
found it barren enough."
"I never heard of that place," said the girl seriously; "is it in Canada?"
"I believe not," said the man with sudden gravity; "at least, not that I
know of. When I went to school, it was generally located somewhere in
Africa."
"I never went to school," said the girl wistfully; "but--" with a sudden
resolve--"I'll go now."
"Do!" said the man. "I'll go with you. Let's start at once; for, now that
I think of it, I haven't had anything to eat for over a day, and there
might be something in that line near a schoolhouse. Do you know the way?"
"No," said the girl, slowly studying him--she began to feel he was making
fun of her; "but I can give you something to eat."
"Thank you!" said the man. "I assure you I shall appreciate anything from
hardtack to bisque ice-cream."
"I haven't any of those," said the girl, "but there are plenty of beans
left; and, if you will get some wood for a fire, I'll make some coffee."
"Agreed," said the man. "That sounds better than anything I've heard for
forty-eight hours."
The girl watched him as he strode away to find wood, and frowned for an
instant; but his face was perfectly sober, and she turned to the business
of getting breakfast. For a little her fears were allayed. At least, he
would do her no immediate harm. Of course she might fly from him now
while his back was turned; but then of course he would pursue her again,
and she had little chance of getting away. Besides, he was hungry. She
could not leave him without something to eat.
"We can't make coffee without water," she said as he came back with a
bundle of sticks.
He whistled.
"Could you inform me where to look for water?" he asked.
She looked into his face, and saw how worn and gray he was about his eyes;
and a sudden compassion came upon her.
"You'd better eat something first," she said, "and then we'll go and hunt
for water. There's sure to be some in the valley. We'll cook some meat."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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