American fiction -- 20th century; Arizona -- Fiction; Western stories
When they had hurried supper, and Dale had gotten in the horses, the sun
had set and the valley was shadowing low down, while the ramparts were
still golden. The long zigzag trail Dale followed up the slope took
nearly an hour to climb, so that when that was surmounted and he led
out of the woods twilight had fallen. A rolling park extended as far as
Helen could see, bordered by forest that in places sent out straggling
stretches of trees. Here and there, like islands, were isolated patches
of timber.
At ten thousand feet elevation the twilight of this clear and cold night
was a rich and rare atmospheric effect. It looked as if it was seen
through perfectly clear smoked glass. Objects were singularly visible,
even at long range, and seemed magnified. In the west, where the
afterglow of sunset lingered over the dark, ragged, spruce-speared
horizon-line, there was such a transparent golden line melting into
vivid star-fired blue that Helen could only gaze and gaze in wondering
admiration.
Dale spurred his horse into a lope and the spirited mounts of the girls
kept up with him. The ground was rough, with tufts of grass growing
close together, yet the horses did not stumble. Their action and
snorting betrayed excitement. Dale led around several clumps of timber,
up a long grassy swale, and then straight westward across an open flat
toward where the dark-fringed forest-line raised itself wild and clear
against the cold sky. The horses went swiftly, and the wind cut like a
blade of ice. Helen could barely get her breath and she panted as if she
had just climbed a laborsome hill. The stars began to blink out of the
blue, and the gold paled somewhat, and yet twilight lingered. It seemed
long across that flat, but really was short. Coming to a thin line of
trees that led down over a slope to a deeper but still isolated patch
of woods, Dale dismounted and tied his horse. When the girls got off he
haltered their horses also.
“Stick close to me an' put your feet down easy,” he whispered. How tall
and dark he loomed in the fading light! Helen thrilled, as she had often
of late, at the strange, potential force of the man. Stepping softly,
without the least sound, Dale entered this straggly bit of woods, which
appeared to have narrow byways and nooks. Then presently he came to
the top of a well-wooded slope, dark as pitch, apparently. But as Helen
followed she perceived the trees, and they were thin dwarf spruce,
partly dead. The slope was soft and springy, easy to step upon without
noise. Dale went so cautiously that Helen could not hear him, and
sometimes in the gloom she could not see him. Then the chill thrills ran
over her. Bo kept holding on to Helen, which fact hampered Helen as
well as worked somewhat to disprove Bo's boast. At last level ground was
reached. Helen made out a light-gray background crossed by black bars.
Another glance showed this to be the dark tree-trunks against the open
park.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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