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Updated: May 12, 2025
She lost sight of Dale. It gave her a strange, grim exultance. She bent her eager gaze to find the tracks of his horse, and she found them. Also she made out the tracks of Bo's mustang and the bear and the hound. Her horse, scenting game, perhaps, and afraid to be left alone, settled into a fleet and powerful stride, sailing over logs and brush.
He had to lift her off and help her to the tree where Bo leaned. Dale had ripped off a saddle and was spreading saddle-blankets on the ground under the pine. "Nell you swore you loved me!" was Bo's mournful greeting. The girl was pale, drawn, blue-lipped, and she could not stand up. "Bo, I never did or I'd never have brought you to this wretch that I am!" cried Helen. "Oh, what a horrible ride!"
Even a blow on the head that nearly blinded her did not in the least retard her. The horse could hardly be held, and not at all in the few open places. At last Helen reached another slope. Coming out upon canuon rim, she heard Dale's clear call, far down, and Bo's answering peal, high and piercing, with its note of exultant wildness.
Carmichael strode out, and Helen, bidding him good-by, closed the door after him. The instant he had departed Bo's transformation was tragic. "Flo! He meant Flo Stubbs that ugly, cross-eyed, bold, little frump!" "Bo!" expostulated Helen. "The young lady is not beautiful, I grant, but she's very nice and pleasant. I liked her." "Nell Rayner, men are no good!
Helen was laughing, and crying, too, but laughing mostly. Las Vegas Carmichael was a sight for the gods to behold. Bo's kiss had unclamped what had bound him. The sudden truth, undeniable, insupportable, glorious, made him a madman. "Bluff she called me ride Blue-Bo saf'ternoon!" he raved, reaching wildly for Helen. "Mrs. Tom Carmichael before dinner preacher presentable bridegroom!... Aw!
"His name's Ranger an' he's the fastest an' finest horse in this country." "I reckon he shore is along with my bay," corroborated Roy. "Roy, if you rode Ranger he'd beat your pet," said Dale. "We can start now. Roy, you drive the pack-horses." He took another look at Helen's saddle and then moved to do likewise with Bo's. "Are you all right?" he asked, quickly. Bo reeled in her seat.
The locust thickets characteristic of these slopes were thorny and close knit. They tore and scratched and stung both horses and riders. Ranger appeared to be the most intelligent of the horses and suffered less. Bo's white mustang dragged her through more than one brambly place. On the other hand, some of these steep slopes, were comparatively free of underbrush.
Bo took his disappearance apparently less to heart than Helen. But Bo grew more restless, wilder, and more wilful than ever. Helen thought she guessed Bo's secret; and once she ventured a hint concerning Carmichael's return. "If Tom doesn't come back pretty soon I'll marry Milt Dale," retorted Bo, tauntingly. This fired Helen's cheeks with red. "But, child," she protested, half angry, half grave.
Last innin' Bo's umpire switched balls on us. That ball was lively. An' they tried to switch back on me. But nix! We're goin' to git a chanst to hit that lively ball, An' they're goin' to git a dose of their own medicine. Now, you dead ones come back to life! Show me some hittin' an' runnin'." "Daddy, you mean they run in a trick on us?" demanded Lane, with flashing eyes.
Evidently he caught Bo's admiring gaze, for, with a word to his companions, he sauntered toward the window where the girls sat. His gait was singular, almost awkward, as if he was not accustomed to walking. The long spurs jingled musically. He removed his sombrero and stood at ease, frank, cool, smiling.
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