She slipped into her free, swinging stride; and the last beams from the
windows of the house were soon lost in the pines behind her. It was one
of those silent, breathless nights with which no mountaineer is entirely
unacquainted, and for a long tune the only sound she could hear was her
own soft tramp in the pine needles. The trees themselves were
motionless. That peculiar sound, not greatly different from that of
running water which the wind often makes in the pine tops, was entirely
lacking. Not that she could be deceived by it,--as stories tell that
certain tenderfeet, dying of thirst in the barren hills, have been. But
she always liked the sound; and she missed it especially to-night.
She felt that if she would stop to listen, there would be many faint
sounds in the thickets,--those little hushed noises that the wild things
make to remind night-wanderers of their presence. But she did not in the
least care to hear these sounds. They do not tend toward peace of mind
on a long walk over the ridges.
The wilderness began at once. Whatever influence toward civilization her
father's house had brought to the wilds chopped off as beneath a blade
in the first fringe of pines. This is altogether characteristic of the
Oregon forests. They are much too big and too old to be tamed in any
large degree by the presence of one house. No one knew this fact better
than Lennox himself who, in a hard winter of four years before, had
looked out of his window to find the wolf pack ranged in a hungry circle
about his house. Within two hundred yards after she had passed through
her father's door, she was perfectly aware that the wild was stirring
and throbbing with life about her. At first she tried very hard to think
of other things. But the attempt wasn't entirely a success. And before
she had covered the first of the twelve miles, the sounds that from the
first had been knocking at the door of her consciousness began to make
an entrance.
If a person lies still long enough, he can usually hear his heart
beating and the flow of his blood in his arteries. Any sound, no matter
how faint, will make itself heard at last. It was this way with a very
peculiar noise that crept up through the silence from the trail behind
her. She wouldn't give it any heed at first. But in a very little while
indeed, it grew so insistent that she could no longer disregard it.
Some living creature was trotting along on the trail behind, keeping
approximately the same distance between them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account