The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine
from her reached the farm, but they had been written before the letter, which Rube helped to compose, had been received. Since then no word had come from the girl. Ma was satisfied, and accepted her silence with equanimity, but for appearances' sake assumed an attitude of complaint. Rube said nothing; he had no subtlety in these matters. Seth was quite in the dark. He never complained, but he was distressed at this sudden and unaccountable desertion.
Seth's wound and broken shoulder had healed. He had been up a week, but this was his first day out of the house. Now he stood staring out with shaded eyes in the direction of the Reservations. During the past week he had received visits from many of the neighboring settlers. Parker, particularly, had been his frequent companion. He had learned all that it was possible for him to learn by hearsay of the things which most interested him; but, even so, he felt that he had much time to make up, much to learn that could come only from his own observation.
Now, on this his first day out in the open, he found himself feeling very weak, a thin, pale shadow of his former self. Curiously enough he had little inclination for anything. He simply stood gazing upon the scene before him, drinking in deep draughts of the pure, bracing, spring air. Though his thoughts should have been with those matters which concerned the welfare of the homestead, they were thousands of miles away, somewhere in a London of his own imagination, among people he had never seen, looking on at a life and pleasures of which he had no knowledge of, and through it all he was struggling to understand how it was Rosebud had come to forget them all so utterly, and so suddenly.
He tried to make allowances, to point out to himself the obligations of the girl's new life. He excused her at every point; yet, when it was all done, when he had proved to himself the utter impossibility of her keeping up a weekly correspondence, he was dissatisfied, disappointed. There was something behind it all, some reason which he could not fathom.
In the midst of these reflections he was joined by Rube. The old man was smoking his after-breakfast pipe.
"She's openin'," he said, indicating the brown patches of earth already showing through the snow. Seth nodded.
They were standing just outside the great stockade which had been completed during Seth's long illness. There were only the gates waiting to be hung upon their vast iron hinges.
After the old man's opening remark a long silence fell. Seth's thoughts ran on unchecked in spite of the other's presence. Rube smoked and watched the lean figure beside him out of the corners of his eyes. He was speculating, too, but his thought was of their own immediate surroundings. Now that Seth was about again he felt that it would be good to talk with him. He knew there was much to consider. Though perhaps he lacked something of the younger man's keen Indian knowledge he lacked nothing in experience, and experience told him that the winter, after what had gone before, had been, but for the one significant incident of Seth's wound, very, very quiet--too quiet.
"Say, boy," the old man went on, some minutes later, "guess you ain't yarned a heap 'bout your shootin' racket?"
Seth was suddenly brought back to his surroundings. His eyes thoughtfully settled on the distant line of woodland that marked the river and the Reservation. He answered readily enough.
"That shootin' don't affect nothin'--nothin' but me," he said with meaning.
"I thought Little----"
Seth shook his head. He took Rube's meaning at once.
"That's to come, I guess," he said gravely.
Rube suddenly looked away down the trail in the direction of Beacon Crossing. His quick ears had caught an unusual sound. It was a "Coo-ee," but so thin and faint that it came to him like the cry of some small bird. Seth heard it, too, and he turned and gazed over the rotting sleigh track which spring was fast rendering impassable. There was nothing in sight. Just the gray expanse of melting snow, dismal, uninteresting even in the flooding sunlight.
Rube turned back to the gateway of the stockade. His pipe was finished and he had work to do. Seth was evidently in no mood for talk.
"I'd git around and breathe good air fer awhiles," he said kindly, "y' ain't goin' to git strong of a sudden, Seth."
"Guess I'll ride this afternoon. Hello!"
The cry reached them again, louder, still high-pitched and shrill, but nearer. Away down the trail a figure in black furs was moving toward them.
Both men watched the object with the keenest interest. It was a mere speck on the gray horizon, but it was plainly human, and evidently wishful to draw their attention.
"Some'un wantin' us?" said Rube in a puzzled tone.
"Seems." Seth was intent upon the figure.
Another "Coo-ee" rang out, and Rube responded with his deep guttural voice. And, in answer, the bundle of furs raised two arms and waved them beckoningly.
Rube moved along the trail. Without knowing quite why, but roused to a certain curiosity, he was going to meet the newcomer. Seth followed him.
Seth's gait was slower than the older man's, and he soon dropped behind. Suddenly he saw Rube stop and turn, beckoning him on. When he came up the old man pointed down the road.
"It's a woman," he said, and there was a curious look in his eyes.
The muffled figure was more than a hundred and fifty yards away, but still laboriously stumbling along the snow-bound trail toward them.
Before Seth could find a reply another "Coo-ee" reached them, followed quickly by some words that were blurred by the distance. Seth started. The voice had a curiously familiar sound. He glanced at Rube, and the old man's face wore a look of grinning incredulity.
"Sounds like----" Seth began to speak but broke off.
"Gee! Come on!" cried Rube, in a boisterous tone. "It's Rosebud!"
The two men hastened forward. Rube's announcement seemed incredible. How could it be Rosebud--and on foot? The surface of the trail gave way under their feet at almost every step. But they were undeterred. Slush or ice, deep snow or floundering in water holes, it made no difference. It was a race for that muffled figure, and Rube was an easy winner. When Seth came up he found the bundle of furs in the bear-like embrace of the older man. It was Rosebud!
Questions raced through Seth's brain as he looked on, panting with the exertion his enfeebled frame had been put to. How? Why? What was the meaning of it all? But his questions remained unspoken. Nor was he left in doubt long. Rosebud laughing, her wonderful eyes dancing with an inexpressible delight, released herself and turned to Seth. Immediately her face fell as she looked on the shadow of a man standing before her.
"Why, Seth," she cried, in a tone of great pity and alarm that deceived even Rube, "what's the matter that you look so ill?" She turned swiftly and flashed a meaning look into Rube's eyes. "What is it? Quick! Oh, you two sillies, tell me! Seth, you've been ill, and you never told me!"
Slow of wit, utterly devoid of subterfuge as Rube was, for once he grasped the situation.
"Why, gal, it's jest nothin'. Seth's been mighty sick, but he's right enough now, ain't you, Seth, boy?"
"Sure."
Seth had nothing to add, but he held out his hand, and the girl seized it in both of hers, while her eyes darkened to an expression which these men failed to interpret, but which Ma Sampson could have read aright. Seth cleared his throat, and his dark eyes gazed beyond the girl and down the trail.
"How'd you come, Rosie?" he asked practically. "You ain't traipsed from Beacon?"
Suddenly the girl's laugh rang out. It was the old irresponsible laugh that had always been the joy of these men's hearts, and it brought a responsive smile to their faces now.
"Oh, I forgot," she cried. "The delight of seeing you two dears put it out of my silly head. Why, we drove out from Beacon, and the wagon's stuck in a hollow away back, and my cousin, I call her 'aunt,' and her maid, and all the luggage are mired on the road, calling down I don't know what terrible curses upon the country and its people, and our teamster in particular. So I just left them