The Heart of the Red Firs: A Story of the Pacific NorthwestAnderson, Ada Woodruff
General
The Heart of the Red Firs: A Story of the Pacific Northwest
Anderson, Ada Woodruff
Northwest, Pacific -- Fiction
But the young man did not relax his hold, and though his face crimsoned,
he impelled her forward, closing his lips firmly over locked teeth, and
watching her warily, as an athlete measures an uncertain antagonist.
And he confessed to her privately, afterwards, that it "took more nerve"
to make her sing than was required later "to put a head on Pete Smith."
She met his look helplessly, but straightened herself once more, with
that little cough, and commenced in a clear quavering soprano.
"I’ve travelled all over ther country, prospectin’
an’ diggin’ fur gold,
I’ve tunnelled, hydraulicked an’ cradled, an’ I
hev be’n frequently sold."
The men grew silent, those to whom the song was new giving attention
only to the singer, the others dividing interest between her and the
table. But the words appealed to most, and convinced that, well
started, she would brave out the ordeal, Thornton resumed his place. He
masked his face in a set expression of indifference, but when his glance
moved to Samantha, his bold young heart leaped and proclaimed itself
through the batteries of his eyes.
She finished the song and took up her interrupted work of pouring
coffee. Eben cleared his throat, and parted his beard, stroking it
gently. "That ther chase you jest hed, Mill, ’minds me of er time I hed
over to Montaner. I dunno’s I ever let on ’bout that ther hunt o’ mine."
He paused, still stroking his whiskers, while the audience grew
attentive. "It was er full grown grizzly," he went on, "an’ I’d give
her a mighty mean shot, so’t she was fightin’ ugly. I hedn’t another
catridge an’ I dunno’s I’d hed time ter load up ef I hed. I natu’ally
hed ter light out, an’ ther wa’n’t er tree in sight; nothin’ but er few
scrub hazels. But I got ter circlin’ round them, ther bear after me,
tell ther first thing I see we was wearin’ er reg’lar ditch in ther
ground. When it got ’bout’s high’s my head he let up er minute ter get
his wind, an’ I see my chanct ter climb out. I was jest dead beat an’
all I could do was ter lay down close ter that bank an’ watch that ther
grizzly chase hisself—didn’t seem ter miss me—tell he dropped."
There was a pregnant silence, then young Thornton said gravely, "It was
er mighty close call, Eben, sure; ’bout ther closest you ever hed. But
I ’low you never showed us that ther grizzly’s skin."
There was another brief silence, during which Eben thoughtfully regarded
his empty plate. "You’re right," he said at last, "you’re right, Mill,
but that ther pelt wa’n’t worth keepin’. You see when I clumb down
after it I see it was spoiled. That ther ditch was mighty narrer, an’
scrapin’ round so long he jest natu’ally rubbed ther hair clean offn
both sides."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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