open quote
O Miss Ralston, will you ride horseback with me this morning instead of going over in the coach to see the geysers?" An unfamiliar masculine voice spoke near Jack. She had stolen out of doors early to catch a view of "The Sleeping Giant," one of the natural curiosities of Yellowstone Lake, the perfect outline of a human face turned skyward reflected in one of the pools near the hotel. Jack started and turned to discover Mr. Drummond.
"I brought my own horses to the Yellowstone with me," he continued, "and I am sure you will find riding more agreeable than being bounced around in a rickety coach. I heard your chaperon say last night that you intended to give your own horses and caravan a rest. We can ride near enough the stage for them to look after you."
Jack's eyes sparkled with pleasure, like a child's. "Oh, please, do you really wish meto ride with you?" she asked, only half convinced. "One of the girls I met at the hotel yesterday told me you had the most wonderful horses. But how did you ever guess how I loved to ride?"
Mr. Drummond laughed. Jack's acceptance of his invitation was as frank as a boy's. She made no pretense of caring for Mr. Drummond's society as she did for the chance to ride.
"It is easy enough to guess you can ride or do anything else that belongs to the outdoors," he returned smiling. "So please don't forget to ask your chaperon right away, so I can give my man the order for our horses."
Jack nodded happily. "Oh, I am sure it will be all right," she answered. "I hope you won't think we are very unconventional, but you see we have always lived on a ranch, and perhaps we don't know all the fine social distinctions, just what's right and what's wrong for a girl to do." She laughed cheerfully. Nothing in the wide world interested Jack less than society, and never could she have become such good friends with Peter if she had met him anywhere else than here in the wilderness. Jack had none of the stirrings of sentiment in her, but although she was ayoung girl and Mr. Drummond a man of wide experience she had a genius for friendship, which he was to find out in an amazingly short time.
An hour later a dozen or more people trooped out of the hotel ready for the day's amusement. It had been arranged that the Harmons and the caravan party should drive over to the most reliable geyser in the Yellowstone Park, "Old Faithful," who pours forth his steaming, scalding water every seventy minutes as regularly as clock work. Fortunately for the ranch girls, Ruth had seen that each one of them owned a second traveling costume, for the outfits in which they left Rainbow Ranch were too dilapidated to put on again. Now they appeared in new khaki costumes, looking as fresh and businesslike as the day they first set out on their journey. Only Jack wore a corduroy riding habit.
Olive and Jack gazed with open admiration at Mrs. Harmon, never having seen a woman so beautifully gowned before. Somehow in her soft, hunter's green broadcloth and close-fitting hat she did suggest Olive—Jack thought, perhaps because she wore Olive's favorite shade of green.
Ralph Merrit had waited to say a finalgood-by to the caravan party just before the stage rolled away. He had walked over with Jack to where Mr. Drummond and his groom waited with the horses; then he came back, kissed Frieda and shook hands with Olive, Ruth and Jim. Jean was looking everywhere but in his direction.
She held a small book in her hand, and Ruth looked at it curiously. Jean was fond of reading, but she would hardly select the day they were to visit the most famous geyser in the world to pursue her literary tastes. Sticking forth from the pages, quite by accident Ruth saw a spray of pale blue forget-me-nots; they grew everywhere about the park.
"You'll be sure to come to Rainbow Lodge to see us some day, won't you?" Ruth urged cordially. Jim gave Ralph's hand another shake. "We'll count on you," he urged. "You know I told you I never liked a fellow half so well in so short a time."
"Won't you say good-by, Jean, and take back what you said last night?" Ralph asked, half serious and half smiling.
Jean thrust out a book. "I suppose I must," she answered, "as I hate to be cross with people when they are so far away there is no chance to quarrel. I have put a sprayof forget-me-nots in this book, so you won't forget us," she ended prettily.
Just before the coach moved off Jack, mounted on a thoroughbred horse, rode up to show herself to her friends with Mr. Drummond following behind her.
In the best seat in the stage, with sofa cushions piled about her, sat Elizabeth Harmon. As she saw Jack an ill-humored expression crossed her face. "I thought we were going to have the drive together. You promised only last night that you would try to make me have a good time, and now first thing next morning you are going off and leaving me," she exclaimed.
Jack turned crimson. She had meant to be good to Elizabeth, but it had never occurred to her to give up her horseback ride on her account.
"I am sorry, Elizabeth," she answered uncomfortably. "Perhaps Mr. Drummond would exchange me for Jean or Olive. I didn't know you cared so much about my driving with you."
Jean and Olive both shook their heads decidedly, and Frieda gazed at Elizabeth in stern disapproval; but Mr. Drummond, who was also accustomed to having his own way,settled the matter. "You'lltake the ride with me this morning, Miss Ralston," he announced, "then you can devote yourself to your friend later in the day if you like." And Elizabeth was obliged to be content.
Jack was convinced she had never had such a wonderful ride in her life, never had she felt in such glorious health and spirits. Her horse moved along under her with a gait to which she was entirely unaccustomed. Only shaggy bronchos and rough western ponies had been her mounts until to-day, and now she was on the back of a beautiful Kentucky thoroughbred, riding over a perfect road, very different from the long stretches of sand on the plains. The two riders had galloped on for several miles without a word, Peter keeping a little in the background to enjoy the wonderful grace and ease of Jack's horsemanship.
Suddenly the girl reined in her horse and the man slowed down. "I want to thank you for this glorious ride now while I have the chance," she said simply. "Sometimes I wish I could spend my whole life in the saddle, I love it so. I hope I wasn't selfish in not driving with Elizabeth Harmon. I am so horribly sorry for people who can't rideand walk and swim and enjoy the things I do, I would do nearly anything in the world for them," she ended wistfully. And for a long time afterward Mr. Drummond remembered what Jack had said and her beauty and careless vigor as she spoke, with her hands holding her mare's reins lightly but firmly and her body keeping perfect rhythm with its every movement.
The two riders came to the neighborhood of the great geyser a little in advance of the coaching party. They rode up to within a reasonable distance of the queer, symmetrical, cone-shaped hill. There were a few people waiting about, but the place was quite peaceful and showed no sign of the leaping torrent of water Jack anticipated. She was intending to dismount from her horse when the stage arrived. Suddenly a roar, like a giant's snort, came from beneath the earth and almost instantly steaming water began to rise through the mouth of the cone in glistening, gleaming bubbles, then a giant cataract reared itself. Jack and Peter Drummond had been too surprised at the geyser's sudden display of its powers to get off their horses at once, and Jack's thoroughbred was not trained to endure any such exhibition ofthe unknown forces of nature. Her whole body quivered as though she had been struck a cruel blow, then, making a leap straight into the air and coming down on her two hind feet, she began to dance and curvet and leap about as though bewitched. Mr. Drummond had a horrified moment of fearing Jack would be dreadfully injured, but he was too engaged in quieting his own horse's terror to give her aid. The coaching party arrived on the scene at this minute and they were torn between interest in the marvelous geyser and concern for Jack's safety.
Jack proved her horsemanship by recognizing that the high-strung animal she was riding required a different treatment from one of her rough ponies. Never once did she use her whip on the pretty mare, but talked to her in a gentle, soothing tone, keeping her nose turned directly toward the roaring stream of water, so that the mare should not bolt and run on hearing extraordinary noises at her back.
In four or five minutes two hundred and fifty thousand gallons of scalding water had been raised one hundred and fifty feet in the air, held for a little time and then dashed down to earth again, and "Old Faithful" wasonce more peaceful for exactly an hour and ten minutes.
But in this period Jacqueline had brought her horse to a quivering standstill not far from the geyser. Elizabeth Harmon was pale with fright and her eyes were full of tears of apprehension, but Frieda was merely interested in her sister's performance, as she had not the least idea of her being hurt.
In a few seconds after the excitement had passed, Jim Colter leapt out of the stage and walked toward Jack. "Bravo!" he said, as she slid off her mare, handing her reins to Mr. Drummond.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he continued stiffly—Mr. Drummond's citified elegance had irritated him—"I couldn't help feeling some pride in Miss Ralston's cool head. When it comes to a question of nerve, Jack, you certainly have got the right stuff in you," he concluded. And Jack blushed happily, because Jim's praises were rare, not caring half so much that her new friend was even more impressed by her courage than her old one.
ALL that was possible of geyserland was seen by the ranch girls and their friends during the long day: geysers alive and dead, spouting and silent, great and small, and all the magic, shining pools in the neighborhood, until there seemed no words left for wonderment and no strength for further admiration. The coaching party had brought with them the clothes and supplies they would need for several days and nights, as they meant to make the tour of the Park before returning to their starting place, spending the nights in the various hotels along their route.
Mr. Drummond had intended to return to the Lake the same evening, but this was before he spent a picnic day with the ranch girls. After a hurried consultation with Jim he decided to go on with the travelers.
It was late in the afternoon of the first day, when Mrs. Harmon and Ruth found abit of wild woodland and declared they must rest and not see another sight. They were in walking distance of the hotel where they were to spend the night, and Jim and Mr. Drummond went ahead with the horses and coach to see what arrangements had been made for their comfort.
The two older women were getting out the tea basket and lighting their alcohol lamp, when Jean and Donald insisted on trying to boil the water at one of the hot springs in the neighborhood. Olive, Frieda and Carlos followed them, Frieda anxious to avert a tragedy. Having read in her guidebook that a small dog, leaping into the pool for a stick, had been boiled and sizzled to death, she was determined that no one of them should meet the same fate.
As Elizabeth was tired, Jack stayed behind with her, letting the sick girl rest her head in her lap while they talked of the day's experiences.
Suddenly Elizabeth sat up. "Let me do your hair for you, Jack," she begged. "I want to see it over your shoulders. I know it is prettier than mine; and for once I won't be jealous." Instead of two long braids Jack, in honor of her ride with Mr. Drummond,had twisted her hair into a coronet. Slowly Elizabeth began to unwind it.
"Of course my hair isn't prettier than yours," Jack protested. "It is not so lovely and shiny. Nobody thinks it is even half so nice as Frieda's or Jean's or Olive's, and I don't care a bit, neither do you, you goose."
Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, I do, Jack," she confessed honestly. "You don't care because you have so much, but I have so little I am awfully jealous and envious."
Jack's frank face clouded. She did not know exactly what to say to so queer a girl as Elizabeth Harmon. The ranch girls never preached, and Jack was not inclined to be critical, always preferring action to speech, so that now she found herself in deep water.
"Look here, Elizabeth," she said a moment later, with a wisdom greater than she dreamed, "I believe you make yourself sicker by thinking so much about your illness and worrying about the things youcan'tdo. I know it is awfully hard, but if you'll promise me while you are out west to try every day to see if you can walk a little farther and eat more and not be cross, why, I'll do most anything in the world for you."
"Will you come and stay with me at RainbowLodge and let the others go on with their holiday?" Elizabeth begged.
Jack laughed and shook her head. "I couldn't do that, dear. I should feel too queer and homesick to be visiting in my own home."
"Then you'll come to New York next winter to stay with me?" Elizabeth demanded. "That will be best of all. It seems so funny to me that you've never been in a theater or to a big restaurant or to any large city!"
"I'd love to come, Elizabeth," Jack agreed, "but you mustn't expect me, for you know we ranch girls haven't any money except just enough to live on, and I couldn't possibly take more than my share for such a trip."
Elizabeth pouted. "You don't know what it means not to be rich, Elizabeth," Jack explained. "Here come the others, thank goodness! I am nearly starved."
When Frieda, Carlos and Olive appeared, their hands were filled with every variety of lovely wild flower. They had been searching the woods and hills for them, while Jean and Donald hung over the boiling pool with their kettle swung in the water by a long string. Olive and the two children flung their flowers in a heap in Ruth's lap. "Give us a botany lesson on the Park flowers whentea is over, Ruth," Olive suggested. "I wish I knew as much about them as you do."
It was a beautiful afternoon, warm even for July in this part of the country, although the whole month had been such a mild one that the peaks of the snow-capped Yellowstone mountains were less white than usual, from the melting of the snow. Nobody seemed inclined to stir when tea was over. Ruth was idly twining a wreath of the wild flowers, when Jean flung herself down by her.
"Don't give us a real botany lesson, Ruth," Jean exclaimed. "I have thought of a much prettier idea. Suppose you tell us our characters in flowers. Give each one of us a special posy and then tell us the names and habits of the flower, and say why you think we are like them."
Ruth laughed. "That's a small order, Miss Bruce," she answered; "but if Mrs. Harmondoesn'tmind our foolish ways of having a good time together, I'll do my best."
Elizabeth sat up and a faint sparkle came into her eyes and a color in her face. "I should dearly love to hear our flower natures," Mrs. Harmon returned, as eager and interested as any one of the company.
Ruth surveyed her bouquet critically.From the center of the tangled mass in her lap she carefully selected a thick cluster of deep blue forget-me-nots, and with a perfectly serious face leaned over and stuck them into Jean's brown hair.
"Here, Jean, suppose we begin with you," she suggested. "I believe a forget-me-not is your flower."
Jean blushed a soft rose color that no one saw except Ruth. "I don't see why you select a forget-me-not for my flower, Ruth, dear," Jean remarked innocently. "I haven't forget-me-not eyes, like Elizabeth and Frieda, and I'm not a wonderful, unforgettable person, like Olive or Jack."
"Never mind, Jean, I have my own reasons for the choice," Ruth returned, and Jean suddenly flung her arms around Frieda and drew her to her lap, so that no one should see her face.
"Olive, dear, you are an evening primrose," Ruth declared, smiling at her own fancy. "I have an idea that part of the time you close up your real feelings inside you, just as this flower hides its blossoms in the daytime. It's almost sunset now and time for it to show its delicate, pink petals. Don't let yourself grow too reserved, dear. Jack has your confidencenow, but some day it may be best for the rest of us to know your real dreams and desires." Ruth handed a spray of the blossoms to Olive, with a smile as an apology for her little sermon, though it was well meant and timely.
"Can't you find a flower for me?" Beth asked wistfully, her thin face looking whiter than usual from her fatigue and in contrast with the brilliant, glowing health of the ranch girls.
Ruth looked at the spoiled girl tenderly. Like Jack, she had taken more of a fancy to her than to any member of the Harmon family.
"Here is a flower for you, Beth?" she returned gently. "I hope you will like it. See, it's pure white and like velvet, and though it looks fragile and delicate it keeps its beauty longer than any of the other flowers. Out here in the West they call it an 'immortelle.' It is a prettier name than our eastern title of 'everlasting.'"
Elizabeth's eyes swam with tears of pleasure, and Jack, reaching over, found the white buds in Ruth's lap and made them into a crown for her friend's flowing gold hair, until in the soft light the pale girl looked like amythical princess in an old Scandinavian legend.
Frieda's eyes were big and wistful and her lips trembled slightly, for she was not accustomed to being overlooked while a strange girl was made much of by her own sister; indeed both Olive and Frieda had to stifle many pangs of jealousy at Jack's interest in Elizabeth Harmon.
But fortunately Ruth caught Frieda's expression. "Dear me, baby, I haven't forgotten you," she announced. "Won't you be a bitter-root blossom? The flower hasn't a pretty name, but you remember it was the first you gathered when we entered the park yesterday, and the reason I select it for you is because the old gypsy fortune teller said you were sweet and good enough to eat, and this flower is used for food by the Indians, isn't it, Carlos?"
Frieda now smiled placidly, not understanding Ruth's meaning nor any of the other nonsense they were talking, but just the same not wishing to be ignored.
"Now we all have our flowers except Jack," Olive remarked fondly.
"Oh, Ruth hasn't a flower for me. She has exhausted the whole collection," Jack answered."It is just as well, for I am the most prosaic and unflowerlike character in the entire assembly."
"I don't believe that, Miss Ralston," Mrs. Harmon exclaimed, breaking unexpectedly into the conversation. "You are not like the other girls—I never saw girls so unlike as you ranch girls. I suppose you mean that you are more matter-of-fact and have less sentiment than they have, but you would do anything for a person you loved and you would never turn back from what you thought to be right. You'd face danger, like—well, like we ought all to face it," she ended seriously.
Olive kissed her hand to Jack. "She has doneall thatfor me," she murmured, but Jack shook her head, not wishing the Harmons to know anything of Olive's past, and no questions were asked.
"Oh, no, I haven't forgotten Jack. I have purposely saved the columbine for her," Ruth replied. "I must agree with Mrs. Harmon, for it is an aspiring flower and grows taller than any of the other wild flowers. And I am sure it has deep, ardent impulses; for see all its beautiful colors from pure white to rich purple!"
Jack blushed uncomfortably. "Hear, hear!" Jean exclaimed half in fun and half in earnest. "For goodness' sake, don't shower any more compliments on Jacqueline Ralston or we won't be able to live with her. I don't see why you find so many marvelous virtues in her. Consider what an angel I am, and yet nobody is devoting her time to mentioning my noble qualities."
Jack extracted a sofa cushion from Elizabeth's pile, flinging it with accurate aim straight at her cousin's head. Jean returned it with interest and then the girls chased one another around the trees until they were out of breath.
A little later Mr. Drummond and Jim Colter were seen walking toward them, summoning them to the hotel. The entire company gathered up their belongings, and Donald carried his sister to a rolling chair which they had brought along in the stage.
Jean lingered a little in the background, putting her arm about Ruth's waist to draw her away from the others.
"Ruth, dear," she said, with a far-away expression in her eyes, "you've a tiny flower in your buttonhole which has been there all day. I wonder if Jim gave it to you?"
Ruth nodded. "Why do you ask?" she inquired.
"Oh, for no particular reason," Jean answered, "only I happen to know that Jim got up soon after daylight this morning, and climbed for miles and miles up a steep hill. Why don't you choose that flower, Ruth, as appropriate to your character?" Jean proposed, and her expression was so innocent that Ruth began to guess at her meaning.
"The flower is called Indian Paint Brush," Jean continued; "but the name has nothing to do with you. It is only that it grows on the peaks of high, cold mountains and one has to climb and climb and struggle and struggle to reach it. Poor old Jim!"
Ruth made no reply to her saucy companion, but hurried on to join the rest of the party.
IT was Frieda who first found words to speak.
After several days more of travel and sight-seeing, the caravaners and their friends stood on a rocky balcony gazing at the Great Falls of the Yellowstone as they dashed over rocks streaked with red, orange, purple and gold into the gorge below.
"It is the end of the rainbow, I know it is, Mr. Peter Drummond," Frieda remarked confidentially to her companion who had tight hold of her hand so she should not go too close to the steep embankment. "Jean and Jack have often told me wonderful stories of finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Now I know better, for this is really the place where the rainbow touched the earth and all her beautiful colors spilled out and ran into these rocks."
Jack, who overheard her sister's speech, dropped down on one knee and respectfullykissed her hand. "Never did I dream until this minute that you were a poet, Frieda Ralston," she exclaimed. "That is a perfectly lovely idea of yours about the rainbow, but you must not let Mr. Drummond think the rainbow ends anywhere except on our ranch, else why should we call it the Rainbow? He has promised to come some day to see for himself."
It was early morning, the sun had just risen and the dawn colors were now slowly fading out of the sky. The tourists had arrived at the hotel near the Canyon late the afternoon before, and had gone to bed as soon as possible so as to see the latest marvel by daylight. To-day was to end their sight-seeing expedition through the Yellowstone Park. Next morning they were to take the train back to their starting place at the Lake; from there the Harmons were to leave for Rainbow Ranch, Mr. Drummond to continue his trip west and Jim to escort Ruth and the ranch girls to a little village in the mountains near the Park, where they were to spend the rest of the summer. Then he intended to make his way home to the ranch and get back to work as quickly as possible.
In the course of their travels, Jim had foundtime to tell the girls of Mr. Harmon's proposal to buy their ranch, but they had laughed the suggestion to scorn and he had written Mr. Harmon that they would not consider selling. Also Jim had explained the matter more fully to Mrs. Harmon, asking her to make things clear to her husband on her return to the Lodge—Rainbow Ranch was not in the market.
"Peter is coming to the ranch on his way back to New York, perhaps," Frieda said. In the last few days she had grown to be almost as intimate with Mr. Drummond as her sister, and had also been allowed to ride his wonderful horse. Jean and Olive had enjoyed their turns, but Jack had received the lion's share of attention from their new acquaintance. Once or twice Mr. Drummond had been almost persuaded to tell her of the girl in the East whom he intended to forget.
"Misses Frieda and Jacqueline Ralston," Mr. Drummond said five minutes later, "I am persuaded that these mighty Falls and this giant Canyon may remain in the landscape for some years to come, butIshall not live much longer unless we go back to our hotel for breakfast. I have noticed our party,and they are pale and silent from exhaustion. Never did I approve of before-breakfast excursions. Let us make a start for the hotel and see if they don't follow suit."
The entire company was standing in little groups at some distance apart. Elizabeth had been taking Jack's advice and walking more in the last few days than she had dreamed possible; now she was leaning on Donald's arm, having come all the way from the hotel on foot. Jack, Frieda and Mr. Drummond turned to go down the hill, when Elizabeth caught sight of them. She was worn and tired, for her walk had been too much for her, irritable on account of her fatigue and in a general bad humor with everybody.
"I say, Jack, where are you going?" Elizabeth called out suspiciously in a high, clear voice. "You are always going off somewhere with Mr. Drummond. It is quite impossible to keep up with you."
Jack and her companions stopped stock still, Ruth and Jim looked around in surprise, Mrs. Harmon blushed, and some strangers from the hotel laughed impertinently. Jack's temper got the best of her. Her heart pounded and the pupils of her eyelidsdarkened until they were almost black; her mouth was opened to speak.
"Steady, Miss Jack," Peter Drummond whispered quickly. "Remember, Elizabeth is ill and so tired she does not know what she is saying."
"We are going to the hotel to breakfast, Beth," Jack answered quietly, instead of the speech she had intended to make. "Don't you want to come with us? Let me help you." Jack turned back toward her friend and found her eyes filled with tears of regret. Breaking away from Donald, Elizabeth grasped Jack's arm, but was hardly able to stand, even with her assistance.
"Elizabeth isn't able to walk back to the hotel, Donald," Mrs. Harmon said at this moment. "Won't you go ahead and bring back her chair? And I will wait here with her, so no one else must stay on our account."
Elizabeth shook her head, setting her white lips obstinately. "I can walk perfectly well," she insisted. "Jack says it is much better for me to make the effort." Mrs. Harmon looked reproachfully at Jack, and the young girl blushed uncomfortably over having the responsibility thrust upon her.
"I only meant for Beth to walk a littleat a time. I didn't mean for her to overdo herself," she tried to explain.
By this time Olive and Donald had gone on ahead. Ruth and Jim, with Carlos between them, had turned toward the hotel, the strangers had departed, and Mr. Drummond and Frieda were waiting, not too patiently, a little distance off.
Mrs. Harmon took her daughter's other arm and the three women started onward, but it was soon plain, even to Elizabeth, that she could not go on. With a petulant sigh she dropped on the ground. "Go and leave me, please, everybody," she insisted. "I sha'n't mind waiting alone, and I don't care for any breakfast."
Mrs. Harmon signaled to Jack. "Run along, dear, and ask Don to hurry," she murmured quietly, but Elizabeth reached up and caught hold of Jack's skirt. "If anybody's to stay with me, let it be you, Jack," she pleaded. "I have something I want so much to say to you alone. It's most important, and you'll be awfully sorry if you don't listen."
"What can you have to say to Miss Ralston, Elizabeth?" Mrs. Harmon inquired nervously.
"Oh, it is a secret between father and me,"Beth returned mysteriously. "He wants me to ask Jack something and not to let anyone else know just yet. I had a long telegram from him last night, and now is a good time to ask it."
Reluctantly Jacqueline sat down near Beth, for she did not wish to hear a secret at this hour of the morning, and she did feel faint and hungry for her breakfast. Mrs. Harmon moved off, taking Mr. Drummond and Frieda along with her. The Honorable Peter did not look any too pleased at what he considered the sacrifice of Jack.
As soon as they were out of hearing, Beth flung her arms about her friend. "I am so sorry I said that about you and Mr. Drummond, Jack, dear," she apologized. "I didn't mean a thing by it, and mother says it may be very useful to you ranch girls some day to have such a friend as Mr. Drummond; he may be able to do a lot for you."
"All right, Beth," Jack answered, not as affectionately as usual. "But don't talk about Mr. Drummond's beingusefulto us. I should hate to have a friend for any such horrid reason."
Beth's delicate arm clung to Jack with such pathetic appeal that she was soon softened."What was it you wanted to tell me?" she asked a second later.
"I want you to do the most wonderful and beautiful thing for me, Jack," Elizabeth answered passionately, "and what you do will prove whether you are a friend of mine and want me near you, or whether you have been deceiving me all this time. You know you promised me you would do anything I wished on this trip, if I would walk more and try not to be cross, and I have tried to do as you said. Promise me, promise me, you will grant my request, won't you? It will make me so happy!" Elizabeth's cheeks burned with the strength of her desire.
"What in the world are you talking about?" Jack queried, feeling her heart beat uncomfortably.
"Well, father wishes me to persuade you to sell him part of your ranch," Elizabeth explained eagerly. "You see I wrote him that I never had a real girl friend in my life until now, but I believed you cared for me. He says if you do, you will let him have some of your land, so that he can build a little house for me. He wants just a special part of the ranch; I don't understand just what part, but I know it would not makeany difference to you, for it is somewhere in the neighborhood of your creek. Then father wrote that if you would do this for me, I could invite you to visit me in New York next winter and he would pay all your expenses. Oh, wouldn't it be too heavenly!" Elizabeth had taken her arms from about Jack's neck and was clasping her hands together until the veins showed through her white skin. But Jack was as white as her companion, for she knew how difficult it would be to refuse Elizabeth's request and not bitterly wound her feelings, yet the answer must be made.
"I am so sorry, dear," Jack replied, "but I can't sell your father any part of our ranch. The ranch does not belong to me alone and, as I am not of age, Jim Colter is our guardian; and he would never consent to our giving up a part of our place. Don't you see, we need it all to raise our cattle, and the creek is particularly valuable. I can't understand why your father is so anxious to buy the Rainbow Ranch. He has written to Jim and made him an offer for the whole place, yet he can buy other land near us without any trouble, for Wyoming is rich in land." Jack was talking as fast as possible, trying not tosee the storm of tears pouring down Elizabeth's cheeks.
"Then you positivelywon'tsell the land, Jack?" Elizabeth interrupted. "I might have known you didn't really care for me and wouldn't wish me to live near you for even a part of the year," she protested bitterly. "And please don't preach anymore, for I can see very plainly now that you are not the kind of a girl who can be relied on to keep her word. I would rather you would not stay here with me. I can manage in some way to get down the hill. I certainly shall not let you touch me."
The two girls were seated near the edge of a rocky embankment which dropped down into terraced ledges of stone twenty, then thirty, then forty feet below. On the other side, toward the right, the hill sloped far more gradually and a road had been cut leading to the hotel.
Elizabeth was so angry that she got on her feet before Jack fully realized what she was doing. Then, as Jack made a detaining clutch at her, she lurched away toward the left near the jagged precipice. All about the neighborhood of the Falls, where the ground was uncertain, signs were set up bearing theword "dangerous." Jack saw in a moment of horror that Elizabeth was tottering toward one of these places. Whether she screamed or not she did not know. But Elizabeth was crying and could not see the sign, and if she heard, she was not strong enough to stop her course instantly. As Jack ran toward her the loose earth crumbled beneath Elizabeth's feet and she slid half over the precipice. But since self-preservation is strong in all of us, she caught with desperate hands at some low shrubs above her head and hung with only half her body over the cliff. "Jack!" she called just once, and was silent, putting all her strength in her clinging hands.
It is said that the drowning have a vision of all that has happened in their past, as the water closes over them for the last time, but Jacqueline Ralston had a vision of all the peril ahead of her as she saw her friend's danger, and realized what she must do to try to save her. Also she knew in this moment that this was her supreme chance to prove she would do anything in her power for a friend.
Jack understood that she could not walk out on the ledge of loose earth, which hadalready failed to support Elizabeth's light weight, and so pull the girl back to safety. By some method she must reach up to her from below. Down on her hands and knees, testing cautiously every foot of the way, Jack crawled on until she found a side of the cliff that she was able to climb down. Then, almost like a cat, she crept along, her feet on incredibly small protuberances in the rocks and her hands clutching at anything she could find for support. Finally she reached a small platform in the rocks not more than a foot square, but directly below Elizabeth and within reach of her.
"Be quiet, Beth, and as I push, pull upward with all your might," was all she trusted herself to say, and Elizabeth was beyond answering.
Now Jacqueline Ralston was to prove how a lifetime spent out of doors may give one a cool head, a gallant courage and muscles of steel. Taking firm hold of Elizabeth just below the girl's knees, she pushed her up, up, inch by inch; Elizabeth stretching out one hand at a time to grasp the shrubs growing in the more solid ground. At last, with Jack's strong hands below her feet and one more shove, Elizabeth dragged herself out ofdanger and lay half fainting on the solid earth.
Then came Jack's peril. All this time while every thought and effort were directed toward her friend's rescue, she had not looked down at the wicked precipice beneath the narrow ledge of rock where she held her footing. But the instant she let go of Elizabeth's body and lost the slight support it had given her, she also lost the steadying influence that she must fight to save another weaker than herself, and glanced downward. Then whether she grew dizzy and lost her balance or whether she slipped back in an effort to climb, it was impossible to know, but backward she fell past a straight cliff, landing in a crumpled mass on a ledge of the rainbow colored stones twenty feet below. There was no movement and no sound, not even a noise when her body struck.
"Jack!" Elizabeth called faintly a moment later, "Jack!" But no one answered, and the silence was more awful than any sound. Only a great golden eagle swooped over the open gorge as though trying to fathom the tragedy beneath.
PETER DRUMMOND, returning for the two girls with Donald, found Jack. Elizabeth, who had not dared stir, could only point dumbly to the overhanging abyss, without voice to express her terror.
Donald got his sister back to their hotel, and upstairs in the room with her mother, without any member of the caravan party knowing of their return.
In an incredibly short space of time men came with rope ladders to where Peter watched and waited, and one of them brought Jack's body up, putting it gently down on the grass. Some one else explained that a famous doctor who was a guest at the hotel would be with them in a few minutes.
So Mr. Drummond, alone of all her friends, knelt with the strange men trying to find a spark of life in the unconscious form and still, cold face of the girl who had been theembodiment of grace and vitality less than a half hour before.
Jim, Ruth, the three other girls and Carlos were having their breakfast in the dining room, when the head waiter came and told Jim that Mr. Drummond wished to speak to him for a moment alone on business.
No one was in the least uneasy about Jack's failure to return. As it was natural to suppose it would take some time to see Elizabeth escorted home in safety, they had decided not to wait for her. Besides, no one ever thought that anything could happen to Jack; she seemed one of the persons in the world best fitted to care for herself and to help look after other people. Here was the old story once more repeating itself: when the beloved one was in grave danger, as Jack was during the night of her enforced stay in the wilderness, on the trip to Miner's Folly, she had turned up serene and unhurt; now when trouble was the farthest thing from their imagination, she was being brought back to them and no one knew whether she were alive or dead.
One sight of Peter's haggard face told Jim that something had happened, but he supposed Elizabeth Harmon to be the victim.Peter was wise enough not to delay in letting him know the truth. There is no easy way to break bad news, for the shock must always come in the end, so it is best to make the suspense as short as possible. Besides, Mr. Drummond knew that the physician was even now having Jack carried home to the hotel and the little procession might arrive at any moment.
The girls had thought nothing of Jim's disappearance, from the table, but Ruth had not liked the expression on the face of the man who called him away. Suddenly she was seized with a premonition of disaster. Excusing herself, with the explanation that she wanted something in her room, she slipped out after Jim so quietly that neither he nor Mr. Drummond saw or heard her approach until Peter's story was told. And then it was not Ruth, but Jim Colter who broke down. The big, strong man staggered, and such a queer sound came from between his white lips that Ruth laid a shaking hand on him and Mr. Drummond caught him by the arm.
"Remember the girls, Jim," Ruth said almost sternly. "This is the time to think ofthem, not of our own feelings. Mr. Drummond,I must go back to them first. Will you see that everything is——"
Ruth could not go on, but Peter understood. He was to see that all necessary arrangements were made to receive the doctor, who was still to find out if there was any chance of restoring Jack to consciousness.
By the time Ruth returned to the dining room the news of the accident had somehow spread among most of the guests at breakfast. Only the ranch girls were entirely unconscious. Jean was teasing Frieda and Olive was laughing at them, when Ruth put her hand on Jean's shoulder. "Come out of the room with me as quickly and quietly as possible," she whispered.
"It's Jack, isn't it?" Olive asked with the calmness that so often comes in the first moment of sorrow, and Ruth silently bowed her head.
For an hour Ruth and the girls waited in their room. Ruth and Olive had asked to see Jack, but were not allowed to stay with her. Now and then Mr. Drummond, or Donald Harmon, or Jim would come in to them for a few moments, but would soon slip out again promising to return when there was news. Jean and Frieda cried in eachother's arms until they were blind and sick, but neither Olive nor Ruth shed a tear, so differently do people bear trouble. It seemed that half a lifetime must have passed when the door was suddenly flung open and Jim Colter walked into the room and dropped into a chair. The big, weather-beaten man was crying like a child and shaking as though he were in a chill. Frieda ran to him and climbed into his lap, putting her arms about his neck and burying her face on his shoulder. Olive and Jean opened their mouths to speak, but no words came from their dry lips. The hope that had been sustaining them vanished at the sight of Jim's broken appearance. Only Ruth understood.
"Tell us at once, Jim. It isn't fair to make us wait," she said quietly, guessing that his tears were the tears of relief. "She will live?"
Jim nodded. "Jack opened her eyes a minute ago and said, 'Hello, Jim,'" he answered brokenly. "The doctor says she is pretty badly hurt, but she will pull through."
Then Ruth, hardly knowing what she was doing, leaned over and kissed Jim on his forehead under the line of his black hair, and above the level of his deeply blue Irisheyes. Quite unexpectedly she and Olive now began to cry for the first time, while Jean and Frieda and Jim were radiant with relief.
Ten days later the family from the Rainbow Ranch, accompanied by Mr. Drummond, left the Yellowstone Park for a small town on its borders.
Jack was able to be moved, and they had rented a little furnished house on the outskirts of the near-by village, hoping that the quiet and change of scenery might benefit her. She had broken her leg by her fall over the precipice, but something else more serious appeared to be the matter with her, something that the doctor did not exactly understand. She had not been able to sit up since the accident.
A week before the ranch party left the hotel, the Harmons went back to the Lodge. When Don and his mother found they could be of no service, it was thought best to take Elizabeth away, for she had never ceased to insist that the tragedy was her fault and to demand to see Jack; and this was impossible. But Mr. Drummond had stayed on and on. Even after he had seen Jack safely moved he seemed unwilling to leave. The little house was so tiny that there was only roomfor them and on the front porch for one cot and one chair, but he lived at a hotel and came each day to talk to the invalid and to take the other girls for long walks. Peter had a long, confidential talk with Ruth and Jim, and made them promise that unless Jack grew better after the summer's rest they would bring her on to New York in the fall to consult with famous specialists. He did not dream that they would have to sell a part of the ranch to manage it; but this was what they had quietly made up their minds to do, although Jack was not to be told, for fear of upsetting her, and Jim did not mean to close the bargain with Mr. Harmon until he was able to get back to the ranch.
The tiny house had been a haven of refuge for two weeks when Peter Drummond found that he was obliged to leave. He had persuaded the girls and Ruth to go for a last walk with him, leaving Jim as Jack's guardian. She was asleep on the porch when they slipped out the back door so quietly she had not awakened.
You would hardly have known Jack, so great a change had the last few weeks wrought in her. She had suffered a great deal and the radiant color had gone from her face, leavingit white and drawn; her full, crimson lips were pale and drooping now; her dark, level eyebrows looked like thin lines of black penciling and her lashes made a shadow against the pallor of her cheeks. Only her hair, the color of burnished copper, shone with its old beauty. It was Olive's special care, and now hung in the two familiar braids almost reaching to the porch floor.
Jack had been awake for some time before Jim realized it. She had been very quiet during her illness, and to the relief of them all had asked no questions about herself, apparently taking it for granted that she was not to be allowed to sit up and could only be moved lying down. Jack's leg was in a plaster cast and her friends believed she regarded this as a sufficient reason for being kept perfectly quiet. Yet all the time she knew that had her leg been the only trouble she would have been allowed to get about on crutches and to sit up to eat her meals, instead of being eternally propped on pillows when she tried to stir.
Jack had asked no questions, because she did not wish to give anyone the pain of telling her the truth until she was strong enough to bear it. But there had not been a wakinghour in the day or night when the vision of Elizabeth Harmon's misfortune had not been present before her mind, and the idea that she might have a greater sorrow to face. Frank Kent had telegraphed to ask if he might come to his friends, but Jack had asked that he wait; she could not bear to see even him just yet.
Jim Colter's eyes were fixed on Jack as sadly and tenderly as her father's could have been, had he been alive, when unexpectedly she lifted her lashes and her gray eyes met her friends with their old brave spirit. She stared a long time with her lips twitching before she spoke.
"What is it, boss? You've got something on your mind that you want to speak about, haven't you?" Jim inquired gently. "The girls think it's a good sign you don't ask questions, but I'm not so sure. You are like some men. Dear, I know you. You can take your medicine when you have to, but you can't be left in the dark. Ask Jim anything you like, and I promise I'll tell you the truth."
"Are we by ourselves?" Jack asked huskily, and Jim nodded. "Then will you tell me please if I am ever going to be able to walkagain?" she queried without hesitating or faltering, keeping her clear eyes still on Jim's.
"We don't know, Jack," Jim replied, like a soldier, "but I believe you will. The doctors we have seen out here don't seem able to say just what is the matter with you. They tell us to give you a chance to get stronger this summer and then take you east."
Jack closed her eyes for a few moments and lay perfectly still. Then she opened them and smiled a queer, little, twisted smile. "We haven't got the money to take me east, pard," she murmured, "and don't you sell any part of our ranch. I'll fool the doctors yet, but if I've got to be—ill," Jack ended, "why I'd rather be sick at home than any place in the world."
Jim cleared his throat and moved his chair so his companion could not look directly at him.
"Pardner," Jack said a few minutes afterwards, "I don't want to be impatient, but I do want to go homenow. Couldn't you write and ask Mr. Harmon to give up the ranch a little sooner than October? They can't want to be at Rainbow Lodge as much as I do." She looked at the dark hill that rose straight up in front of their tiny verandahand dreamed of the beautiful, spacious piazza in front of her home, with the grove of cottonwood trees ahead and on every side the stretch of the broad, wind-swept prairies, and sighed.
Jim felt such a rush of anger that his collar choked him. "I have written Mr. Harmon to ask him to let us come back; I knew you was homesick, boss," he returned slowly. "But Mr. Harmon says he can't give up the Lodge until his contract is over, says it's doing his daughter such a lot of good and she hasn't yet recovered from her nervous shock. Fine behavior from a man, when you saved his child's life!"
In half an hour, Ruth, Mr. Drummond, the girls and Carlos came trooping back from an effort to buy out the village. Peter was going to say good-by to Jack, and, as Ruth saw she was even paler than usual, she persuaded Jean to take the two children indoors. They had brought Jack everything they could find in the town, and Olive had a large package addressed to her friend in Elizabeth Harmon's writing, which she found at the post office. Listlessly Jack allowed Olive to cut the string and unwrap the pasteboard from about the flat envelope. Then Oliveheld up before them all a new and beautiful photograph of the Rainbow Lodge—Aunt Ellen and Uncle Zack were standing in the yard, old Shep was resting on the steps of the porch and there was a suggestion of Jean's and Frieda's violet beds to one side. Poor Elizabeth had thought to give Jack a pleasure, but instead the sight of the home she longed for so intensely was more than the girl could bear after the strain of the afternoon. Suddenly she gave way and sobbed as she had not done since her accident. "I want to go home, I want to go home," Jack repeated, like a sick child.
Ruth dropped on the porch, hiding her face in the shawl that covered Jack. Olive and even Mr. Drummond were too choked to think of anything comforting to say. And as for Jim Colter, he got up and stalked off the verandah, marching up and down in the little yard like a caged animal whose anger and bitterness cannot be quietly endured.
Five minutes later it was surprising to see him reappear with a radiant expression, every wrinkle miraculously smoothed out of his face and his blue eyes smiling. He sat down in his chair and tenderly patted Jack's hand, then struck his knee with such aresounding clap that everybody jumped and Jack laughed.
"What is it, Jim?" she inquired. "I am sorry I have been such a goose."
"Why, I have just been thinking what a parcel of idiots we are," he said happily. "You girls ain't ever thought much of it, but I want you to know that Rainbow Lodge ain't the only house on our place. What's the matter with the rancho? We ain't renteditto the Harmons, and the cowboys would be only too glad to turn out with me into some tents and hand our house over to you girls. What do you say to our taking the train for the Rainbow Ranch about the day after to-morrow? That will give me time to telegraph the boys to vacate. Think you could manage to make the trip in a sleeper, old girl, with me to see after you?" he demanded of Jack.
And the radiance of Jack's face, into which a slow rose color was creeping, was enough answer for them all.