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The splendors of the foliage, subdued by the rains, the grandeur of the peaks, the song of the glorious stream all were lost on Berrie, for she now felt herself to be nothing but a big, clumsy, coarse-handed tomboy. Her worn gloves, her faded skirt, and her man's shoes had been made hateful to her by that smug, graceful, play-acting tourist with the cool, keen eyes and smirking lips.
He estimated precisely the value of the malicious parting words of Siona Moore. "She's a natural tease, the kind of woman who loves to torment other and less fortunate women. She cares nothing for me, of course, it's just her way of paying off old scores. It would seem that Berrie has not encouraged her advances in times past."
For the first time Berrie showed signs of weakness and distress. "Why, you see, Alec Belden and Mr. Moore were over there to look at some timber, and old Marm Belden and that Moore girl went along. I suppose they sent word to Cliff, and I presume that Moore girl put him on our trail. Leastwise that's the way I figure it out. That's the worst of the whole business."
McFarlane met him at the hitching-bar, and it required but a glance for him to read in her face a troubled state of mind. "This has been a disastrous trip for Berrie," she said, after one of the hands had relieved the Supervisor of his horse. "In what way?" She was a bit impatient. "Mrs. Belden is filling the valley with the story of Berrie's stay in camp with Mr. Norcross."
"Well, good-by, Molly, wish I could stay longer." "Good-by. Run down again." "I will. You come up." The young passenger sprang to the ground and politely said: "May I help you in?" Bill stared, the girl smiled, and her companion called: "Be careful, Berrie, don't hurt yourself, the wagon might pitch." The youth, perceiving that he had made another mistake, stammered an apology.
You all get ready and I'll have one of the boys hook up the surrey as if for a little drive, and you can pull out over the old stage-road to Flume and catch the narrow-gage morning train for Denver. You've been wanting for some time to go down the line. Now here's a good time to start." Berrie now argued against running away. Her blood was up. She joined her mother.
An hour later Belden left the mill and set off up the trail behind Norcross, his face fallen into stern lines. Frank writhed in delight. "There goes Cliff, hot under the collar, chasing Norcross. If he finds out that Berrie is interested in him, he'll just about wring that dude's neck."
Berrie also had keen eyes for his outfit and his training, and under her direction he learned to pack a horse, set a tent, build a fire in the rain, and other duties. "You want to remember that you carry your bed and board with you," she said, "and you must be prepared to camp anywhere and at any time."
With the resiliency of youth they had accepted the situation, and were making the best of it. "Here comes somebody," called Berrie, pulling her ponies to a walk. "Throw a blanket over that valise." She was chuckling as if it were all a good joke. "It's old Jake Proudfoot. I can smell him. Now hang on. I'm going to pass him on the jump."
"It's going toward noon. You get up or you'll have no breakfast." Thereupon Wayland called: "Can I get you anything, Miss Berrie? Would you like some warm water?" "What for?" interposed McFarlane, before the girl could reply. "To bathe in," replied the youth. "To bathe in! If a daughter of mine should ask for warm water to wash with I'd throw her in the creek." Berrie chuckled.
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