to the last man-第3部分

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as　he　turned　his　horse　away　toward　the　left。　　〃Thet　trail　leadin'
south　is　yours。　　When　you　come　to　the　Rim　you'll　see　a　bare　spot　down
in　the　Basin。　　Thet　'll　be　Grass　Valley。〃

He　rode　away　out　of　sight　into　the　woods。　　Jean　leaned　against　his
horse　and　pondered。　　It　seemed　difficult　to　be　just　to　this　Colter；
not　because　of　his　claims；　but　because　of　a　subtle　hostility　that
emanated　from　him。　　Colter　had　the　hard　face；　the　masked　intent；
the　turn　of　speech　that　Jean　had　come　to　associate　with　dishonest　men。
Even　if　Jean　had　not　been　prejudiced；　if　he　had　known　nothing　of　his
father's　trouble　with　these　sheepmen；　and　if　Colter　had　met　him　only
to　exchange　glances　and　greetings；　still　Jean　would　never　have　had　a
favorable　impression。　　Colter　grated　upon　him；　roused　an　antagonism
seldom　felt。

〃Heigho！〃　sighed　the　young　man；　〃Good…by　to　huntin'　an'　fishing'！
Dad's　given　me　a　man's　job。〃

With　that　he　mounted　his　horse　and　started　the　pack　mule　into　the
right…hand　trail。　　Walking　and　trotting；　he　traveled　all　afternoon；
toward　sunset　getting　into　heavy　forest　of　pine。　　More　than　one　snow
bank　showed　white　through　the　green；　sheltered　on　the　north　slopes　of
shady　ravines。　　And　it　was　upon　entering　this　zone　of　richer；　deeper
forestland　that　Jean　sloughed　off　his　gloomy　forebodings。　　These　stately
pines　were　not　the　giant　firs　of　Oregon；　but　any　lover　of　the　woods
could　be　happy　under　them。　　Higher　still　he　climbed　until　the　forest
spread　before　and　around　him　like　a　level　park；　with　thicketed　ravines
here　and　there　on　each　side。　　And　presently　that　deceitful　level　led
to　a　higher　bench　upon　which　the　pines　towered；　and　were　matched　by
beautiful　trees　he　took　for　spruce。　　Heavily　barked；　with　regular
spreading　branches；　these　conifers　rose　in　symmetrical　shape　to　spear
the　sky　with　silver　plumes。　　A　graceful　gray…green　moss；　waved　like
veils　from　the　branches。　　The　air　was　not　so　dry　and　it　was　colder；
with　a　scent　and　touch　of　snow。　　Jean　made　camp　at　the　first　likely　site；
taking　the　precaution　to　unroll　his　bed　some　little　distance　from　his
fire。　　Under　the　softly　moaning　pines　he　felt　comfortable；　having　lost
the　sense　of　an　immeasurable　open　space　falling　away　from　all　around　him。

The　gobbling　of　wild　turkeys　awakened　Jean；　〃Chuga…lug；　chug…a…lug；
chug…a…lug…chug。〃　　There　was　not　a　great　difference　between　the　gobble
of　a　wild　turkey　and　that　of　a　tame　one。　　Jean　got　up；　and　taking　his
rifle　went　out　into　the　gray　obscurity　of　dawn　to　try　to　locate　the
turkeys。　　But　it　was　too　dark；　and　finally　when　daylight　came　they
appeared　to　be　gone。　　The　mule　had　strayed；　and；　what　with　finding
it　and　cooking　breakfast　and　packing；　Jean　did　not　make　a　very　early
start。　　On　this　last　lap　of　his　long　journey　he　had　slowed　down。
He　was　weary　of　hurrying；　the　change　from　weeks　in　the　glaring　sun
and　dust…laden　wind　to　this　sweet　coot　darkly　green　and　brown　forest
was　very　welcome；　he　wanted　to　linger　along　the　shaded　trail。　　This
day　he　made　sure　would　see　him　reach　the　Rim。　　By　and　by　he　lost　the
trail。　　It　had　just　worn　out　from　lack　of　use。　　Every　now　and　then
Jean　would　cross　an　old　trail；　and　as　he　penetrated　deeper　into　the
forest　every　damp　or　dusty　spot　showed　tracks　of　turkey；　deer；　and
bear。　　The　amount　of　bear　sign　surprised　him。　　Presently　his　keen
nostrils　were　assailed　by　a　smell　of　sheep；　and　soon　he　rode　into
a　broad　sheep；　trail。　　From　the　tracks　Jean　calculated　that　the
sheep　had　passed　there　the　day　before。

An　unreasonable　antipathy　seemed　born　in　him。　　To　be　sure　he　had　been
prepared　to　dislike　sheep；　and　that　was　why　he　was　unreasonable。　　But
on　the　other　hand　this　band　of　sheep　had　left　a　broad　bare　swath；
weedless；　grassless；　flowerless；　in　their　wake。　　Where　sheep　grazed
they　destroyed。　　That　was　what　Jean　had　against　them。

An　hour　later　he　rode　to　the　crest　of　a　long　parklike　slope；　where
new　green　grass　was　sprouting　and　flowers　peeped　everywhere。　　The
pines　appeared　far　apart；　gnarled　oak　trees　showed　rugged　and　gray
against　the　green　wall　of　woods。　　A　white　strip　of　snow　gleamed　like
a　moving　stream　away　down　in　the　woods。

Jean　heard　the　musical　tinkle　of　bells　and　the　baa…baa　of　sheep　and
the　faint；　sweet　bleating　of　lambs。　　As　he　road　toward　these　sounds
a　dog　ran　out　from　an　oak　thicket　and　barked　at　him。　　Next　Jean　smelled
a　camp　fire　and　soon　he　caught　sight　of　a　curling　blue　column　of　smoke；
and　then　a　small　peaked　tent。　　Beyond　the　clump　of　oaks　Jean　encountered
a　Mexican　lad　carrying　a　carbine。　　The　boy　had　a　swarthy；　pleasant　face；
and　to　Jean's　greeting　he　replied；　〃BUENAS　DIAS。〃　　Jean　understood
little　Spanish；　and　about　all　he　gathered　by　his　simple　queries　was
that　the　lad　was　not　aloneand　that　it　was　〃lambing　time。〃

This　latter　circumstance　grew　noisily　manifest。　　The　forest　seemed
shrilly　full　of　incessant　baas　and　plaintive　bleats。　　All　about　the
camp；　on　the　slope；　in　the　glades；　and　everywhere；　were　sheep。　　A　few
were　grazing；　many　were　lying　down；　most　of　them　were　ewes　suckling
white　fleecy　little　lambs　that　staggered　on　their　feet。　　Everywhere
Jean　saw　tiny　lambs　just　born。　　Their　pin…pointed　bleats　pierced　the
heavier　baa…baa　of　their　mothers。

Jean　dismounted　and　led　his　horse　down　toward　the　camp；　where　he
rather　expected　to　see　another　and　older　Mexican；　from　whom　he　might
get　information。　　The　lad　walked　with　him。　　Down　this　way　the　plaintive
uproar　made　by　the　sheep　was　not　so　loud。

〃Hello　there！〃　called　Jean；　cheerfully；　as　he　approached　the　tent。
No　answer　was　forthcoming。　　Dropping　his　bridle；　he　went　on；　rather
slowly；　looking　for　some　one　to　appear。　　Then　a　voice　from　one　side
startled　him。

〃Mawnin'；　stranger。〃

A　girl　stepped　out　from　beside　a　pine。　　She　carried　a　rifle。　　Her
face　flashed　richly　brown；　but　she　was　not　Mexican。　　This　fact；　and
the　sudden　conviction　that　she　had　been　watching　him；　somewhat
disconcerted　Jean。

〃Beg　pardonmiss；〃　he　floundered。　　〃Didn't　expect；　to　see　agirl。
。　。　。　I'm　sort　of　lostlookin'　for　the　Riman'　thought　I'd　find　a
sheep　herder　who'd　show　me。　　I　can't　savvy　this　boy's　lingo。〃

While　he　spoke　it　seemed　to　him　an　intentness　of　expression；　a　strain
relaxed　from　her　face。　　A　faint　suggestion　of　hostility　likewise
disappeared。　　Jean　was　not　even　sure　that　he　had　caught　it；　but　there
had　been　something　that　now　was　gone。

〃Shore　I'll　be　glad　to　show　y'u；〃　she　said。

〃Thanks；　miss。　　Reckon　I　can　breathe　easy　now；〃　he　replied；

〃It's　a　long　ride　from　San　Diego。　　Hot　an'　dusty！　　I'm　pretty　tired。
An'　maybe　this　woods　isn't　good　medicine　to　achin'　eyes！〃

〃San　Diego！　　Y'u're　from　the　coast？〃

〃Yes。〃

Jean　had　doffed　his　sombrero　at　sight　of　her　and　he　still　held　it；
rather　deferentially；　perhaps。　　It　seemed　to　attract　her　attention。

〃Put　on　y'ur　hat；　stranger。　。　。　。　Shore　I　can't　recollect　when　any
man　bared　his　haid　to　me。　　〃She　uttered　a　little　laugh　in　which
surprise　and　frankness　mingled　with　a　tint　of　bitterness。

Jean　sat　down　with　his　back　to　a　pine；　and；　laying　the　sombrero　by
his　side；　he　looked　full　at　her；　conscious　of　a　singular　eagerness；
as　if　he　wanted　to　verify　by　close　scrutiny　a　first　hasty　impression。
If　there　had　been　an　instinct　in　his　meeting　with　Colter；　there　was
more　in　this。　　The　girl　half　sat；　half　leaned　against　a　log；　with　the
shiny　little　carbine　across　her　knees。　　She　had　a　level；　curious　gaze
upon　him；　and　Jean　had　never　met　one　just　like　it。　　Her　eyes　were
rather　a　wide　oval　in　shape；　clear　and　steady；　with　shadows　of　thought
in　their　amber…brown　depths。　　They　seemed　to　look　through　Jean；　and
his　gaze　dropped　first。　　Then　it　was　he　saw　her　ragged　homespun　skirt
and　a　few　inches　of　brown；　bare　ankles；　strong　and　round；　and　crude
worn…out　moccasins　that　failed　to　hide　the　shapeliness；　of　her　feet。
Suddenly　she　drew　back　her　stockingless　ankles　and　ill…shod　little　feet。
When　Jean　lifted　his　gaze　again　he　found　her　face　half　averted　and　a
stain　of　red　in　the　gold　tan　of　her　cheek。　　That　touch　of　embarrassment
somehow　removed　her　from　this　strong；　raw；　wild　woodland　setting。　　It
changed　her　poise。　　It　detracted　from　the　curious；　unabashed；　almost
bold；　look　that　he　had　encountered　in　her　eyes。

〃Reckon　you're　from　Texas；〃　said　Jean；　presently。

〃Shore　am；〃　she　drawled。　　She　had　a　lazy　Southern　voice；　pleasant
to　hear。　　〃How'd　y'u…all　guess　that？〃

〃Anybody　can　tell　a　Texan。　　Where　I　came　from　there　were　a　good　many
pioneers　an'　ranchers　from　the　old　Lone　Star　state。　　I've　worked　for
several。　　An'；　come　to　think　of　it；　I'd　rather　hear　a　Texas　girl　talk
than　anybody。〃

〃Did　y'u　know　many　Texas　girls？〃　she　inquired；　turning　again　to　face　him。

〃Reckon　I　didquite　a　good　many。〃

〃Did　y'u　go　with　them？〃

〃Go　with　them？　　Reckon　you　mean　keep　company。　　Why；　yes；　I　guess　I
dida　little；〃　laughed　Jean。　　〃Sometimes　on　a　Sunday　or　a　dance　once
in　a　blue　moon；　an'　occasionally　a　ride。　〃

〃Shore　that　accounts；〃　said　the　girl；　wistfully。

〃For　what？　〃　asked　Jean。

〃Y'ur　bein'　a　gentleman；〃　she　replied；　with　force。　　Oh；　I've　not
forgotten。　　I　had　friends　when　we　lived　in　Texas。　。　。　。　Three　years
ago。　　Shore　it　seems　longer。　　Three　miserable　years　in　this　damned
country！〃