“So was I—I mean to say I was regenerated out here. The truth is I was a good deal of a scapegrace when I left England. I was always for hunting and horses, and naturally I came directly to the wild West country, and here I’ve been ever since. I’ve had my turn at each phase of it—cow-puncher, soldier, Rough-rider, and finally forest ranger. I reckon I’ve found my job at last.”
“Do you like it so much?”
“At the present time I am perfectly contented. I’m associated now with a country that will never yield to the plough—yes, I like my work. I love the forests and the streams. I wish I might show them to you. You don’t know how beautiful they are. The most beautiful parks in the world are commonplace to what I can show you. My only sorrow is to think of them given over to the sawmill. Perhaps you and your mother will come up some time, and let me show you my lakes and streams. There are waters so lovely they make the heart ache. Hugh is planning to come up soon; perhaps you and Mrs. Redfield will come with him.”
“I’d like it above everything,” she responded, fervently. Then her voice changed: “But all depends on my mother’s health.”
It hurt him to hear her call Eliza Wetherford mother. He wanted to forget her origin for the moment. He was not in love with her—far from it! But she was so alluring, and the proprietress of the Wetherford House was not nice, and that made one doubt the daughter.
She broke the silence. “It seems dreadfully dark and mysterious up there.” She indicated his path.
“It isn’t as bad as it looks. There is a good trail, and my pony knows it as well as I do. I enjoy riding by night.”
“But there are bears and other wild things, are there not?”
“Not as many as I wish there were.”
“Why do you say that?”