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The Man of the Forest


by Zane Grey







CHAPTER I

At sunset hour the forest was still; lonely; sweet with tang
of fir and spruce; blazing in gold and red and green; and
the man who glided on under the great trees seemed to blend
with the colors and; disappearing; to have become a part of
the wild woodland。

Old Baldy; highest of the White Mountains; stood up round
and bare; rimmed bright gold in the last glow of the setting
sun。  Then; as the fire dropped behind the domed peak; a
change; a cold and darkening blight; passed down the black
spear…pointed slopes over all that mountain world。

It was a wild; richly timbered; and abundantly watered
region of dark forests and grassy parks; ten thousand feet
above sea…level; isolated on all sides by the southern
Arizona desert  the virgin home of elk and deer; of bear
and lion; of wolf and fox; and the birthplace as well as the
hiding…place of the fierce Apache。

September in that latitude was marked by the sudden cool
night breeze following shortly after sundown。  Twilight
appeared to come on its wings; as did faint sounds; not
distinguishable before in the stillness。

Milt Dale; man of the forest; halted at the edge of a
timbered ridge; to listen and to watch。  Beneath him lay a
narrow valley; open and grassy; from which rose a faint
murmur of running water。  Its music was pierced by the wild
staccato yelp of a hunting coyote。  From overhead in the
giant fir came a twittering and rustling of grouse settling
for the night; and from across the valley drifted the last
low calls of wild turkeys going to roost。

To Dale's keen ear these sounds were all they should have
been; betokening an unchanged serenity of forestland。  He was
glad; for he had expected to hear the clipclop of white
men's horses  which to hear up in those fastnesses was
hateful to him。  He and the Indian were friends。  That fierce
foe had no enmity toward the lone hunter。  But there hid
somewhere in the forest a gang of bad men; sheep…thieves;
whom Dale did not want to meet。

As he started out upon the slope; a sudden flaring of the
afterglow of sunset flooded down from Old Baldy; filling the
valley with lights and shadows; yellow and blue; like the
radiance of the sky。  The pools in the curves of the brook
shone darkly bright。  Dale's gaze swept up and down the
valley; and then tried to pierce the black shadows across
the brook where the wall of spruce stood up; its speared and
spiked crest against the pale clouds。  The wind began to moan
in the trees and there was a feeling of rain in the air。
Dale; striking a trail; turned his back to the fading
afterglow and strode down the valley。

With night at hand and a rain…storm brewing; he did not head
for his own camp; some miles distant; but directed his steps
toward an old log cabin。  When he reached it darkness had
almost set in。  He approached with caution。  This cabin; like
the few others scattered in the valleys; might harbor
Indians or a bear or a panther。  Nothing; however; appeared
to be there。  Then Dale studied the clouds driving across the
sky; and he felt the cool dampness of a fine; misty rain on
his face。  It would rain off and on during the night。
Whereupon he entered the cabin。

And the next moment he heard quick hoof…beats of trotting
horses。  Peering out; he saw dim; moving forms in the
darkness; quite close at hand。  They had approached against
the wind so that sound had been deadened。  Five horses with
riders; Dale made out  saw them loom close。  Then he heard
rough voices。  Quickly he turned to feel in the dark for a
ladder he knew led to a loft; and finding it; he quickly
mounted; taking care not to make a noise with his rifle; and
lay down upon the floor of brush and poles。  Scarcely had he
done so when heavy steps; with accompaniment of clinking
spurs; passed through the door below into the cabin。

〃Wal; Beasley; are you here?〃 queried a loud voice。

There was no reply。  The man below growled under his breath;
and again the spurs jingled。

〃Fellars; Beasley ain't here yet;〃 he called。  〃Put the
hosses under the shed。  We'll wait。〃

〃Wait; huh!〃 came a harsh reply。  〃Mebbe all night  an' we
got nuthin' to eat。〃

〃Shut up; Moze。  Reckon you're no good for anythin' but
eatin'。  Put them hosses away an' some of you rustle
fire…wood in here。〃

Low; muttered curses; then mingled with dull thuds of hoofs
and strain of leather and heaves of tired horses。

Another shuffling; clinking footstep entered the cabin。

〃Snake; it'd been sense to fetch a pack along;〃 drawled this
newcomer。

〃Reckon so; Jim。  But we didn't; an' what's the use
hollerin'?  Beasley won't keep us waitin' long。〃

Dale; lying still and prone; felt a slow start in all his
blood  a thrilling wave。  That deep…voiced man below was
Snake Anson; the worst and most dangerous character of the
region; and the others; undoubtedly; composed his gang; long
notorious in that sparsely settle country。  And the Beasley
mentioned  he was one of the two biggest ranchers and
sheep…raisers of the White Mountain ranges。  What was the
meaning of a rendezvous between Snake Anson and Beasley?
Milt Dale answered that question to Beasley's discredit; and
many strange matters pertaining to sheep and herders; always
a mystery to the little village of Pine; now became as clear
as daylight。

Other men entered the cabin。

〃It ain't a…goin' to rain much;〃 said one。  Then came a crash
of wood thrown to the ground。

〃Jim; hyar's a chunk of pine log; dry as punk;〃 said
another。

Rustlings and slow footsteps; and then heavy thuds attested
to the probability that Jim was knocking the end of a log
upon the ground to split off a corner whereby a handful of
dry splinters could be procured。

〃Snake; lemme your pipe; an' I'll hev a fire in a jiffy。〃

〃Wal; I want my terbacco an' I ain't carin' about no fire;〃
replied Snake。

〃Reckon you're the meanest cuss in these woods;〃 drawled
Jim。

Sharp click of steel on flint  many times  and then a
sound of hard blowing and sputtering told of Jim's efforts
to start a fire。  Presently the pitchy blackness of the cabin
changed; there came a little crackling of wood and the
rustle of flame; and then a steady growing roar。

As it chanced; Dale lay face down upon the floor of the
loft; and right near his eyes there were cracks between the
boughs。  When the fire blazed up he was fairly well able to
see the men below。  The only one he had ever seen was Jim
Wilson; who had been well known at Pine before Snake Anson
had ever been heard of。  Jim was the best of a bad lot; and
he had friends among the honest people。  It was rumored that
he and Snake did not pull well together。

〃Fire feels good;〃 said the burly Moze; who appeared as
broad as he was black…visaged。  〃Fall's sure a…comin'。 。 。
Now if only we had some grub!〃

〃Moze; there's a hunk of deer meat in my saddle…bag; an' if
you git it you can have half;〃 spoke up another voice。

Moze shuffled out with alacrity。

In the firelight Snake Anson's face looked lean and
serpent…like; his eyes glittered; and his long neck and all
of his long length carried out the analogy of his name。

〃Snake; what's this here deal with Beasley?〃 inquired Jim。

〃Reckon you'll l'arn when I do;〃 replied the leader。  He
appeared tired and thoughtful。

〃Ain't we done away with enough of them poor greaser herders
 for nothin'?〃 queried the youngest of the gang; a boy in
years; whose hard; bitter lips and hungry eyes somehow set
him apart from his comrades。

〃You're dead right; Burt  an' that's my stand;〃 replied
the man who had sent Moze out。  〃Snake; snow 'll be flyin'
round these woods before long;〃 said Jim Wilson。  〃Are we
goin' to winter down in the Tonto Basin or over on the
Gila?〃

〃Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south;〃
replied Snake; gruffly。

At the juncture Moze returned。

〃Boss; I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail;〃 he said。

Snake rose and stood at the door; listening。  Outside the
wind moaned fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon
the cabin。

〃A…huh!〃 exclaimed Snake; in relief。

Silence ensued then for a moment; at the end 

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