he sat. Then the driver cracked his whip; the stage lurched and began to roll; the motley crowd was left behind. Helen awakened to the reality, as she saw Bo staring with big eyes at the hunter, that a stranger adventure than she had ever dreamed of had begun with the rattling roll of that old stagecoach.
Dorn laid off his sombrero and leaned forward, holding his rifle between his knees. The light shone better upon his features now that he was bareheaded. Helen had never seen a face like that, which at first glance appeared darkly bronzed and hard, and then became clear, cold, aloof, still, intense. She wished she might see a smile upon it. And now that the die was cast she could not tell why she had trusted it. There was singular force in it, but she did not recognize what kind of force. One instant she thought it was stern, and the next that it was sweet, and again that it was neither.
“I’m glad you’ve got your sister,” he said.
“How did you know she’s my sister?”
“I reckon she looks like you.”
“No one else ever thought so,” replied Helen, trying to smile.
Bo had no difficulty in smiling as she said: “Wish I was half as pretty as Nell.”
“Nell. Isn’t your name Helen?” queried Dorn.
“Yes. But my…some few call me Nell.”
“I like Nell better than Helen. An’ what’s yours?” went on Dorn, looking at Bo.
“Mine’s Bo. Just plain B-o. Isn’t it silly? But I wasn’t asked when they gave it to me,” she replied.
“Bo. It’s nice an’ short. Never heard it before. But I haven’t met many people for years.”
“Oh! We’ve left the town!” cried Bo. “Look, Nell! How bare! It’s just like desert.”
“It is desert. We’ve forty miles of that before we come to a hill or a tree.”
Helen glanced out. A flat dull green expanse waved away from the road on and on to a bright dark horizon line where the sun was setting rayless on a clear sky. Open, desolate, and lonely, the scene gave her a cold thrill.
“Did your Uncle Al ever write anythin’ about a man named Beasley?” asked Dorn.
“Indeed he did,” replied Helen with a start of surprise. “Beasley! That name is familiar to us…and detestable. My uncle complained of this man for years. Then he grew bitter…accused Beasley. But the last year or so, not a word.”
“Well, now,” began the hunter earnestly. “Let’s get the bad news over. I’m sorry you must be worried. But you must learn to take the West as it is. There’s good and bad, maybe more bad. That’s because the country’s young…so to come right out with it…this Beasley hired a gang of outlaws to meet the stage you was goin’ in to Snowdrop…tomorrow…an’ to make off with you.”
“Make off with me?” ejaculated Helen, bewildered.
“Kidnap you! Which in that gang would be worse than killin’ you,” declared Dorn grimly, and he closed a huge fist on his knee.
Helen was utterly astounded. “How horrible!” she gasped out. “Make off with me! What in heaven’s name for?”
Bo gave vent to a fierce little utterance.
“For reasons you ought to guess,” replied Dorn, and he leaned forward again. Neither his voice nor face changed in the least, but yet there was a something about him that fascinated Helen. “I’m a hunter. I live in the woods. A few nights ago I happened to be caught out in a storm an’ I took to an old log cabin. Soon as I got there, I heard horses. I hid up in the loft. Some men rode up an’ come in. It was dark. They couldn’t see me. An’ they talked. It turned out they were Snake Anson an’ his gang of sheep thieves. They expected to meet Beasley there. Pretty soon he came. He told Anson how old Al, your uncle, was on his last legs…how he had sent for you to have his property when he died…. Beasley swore he had claims on Al. An’ he made a deal with Anson to get you out of the way. He named the day you were to reach Magdalena. With Al dead an’ you not there, Beasley could get the
Dorn laid off his sombrero and leaned forward, holding his rifle between his knees. The light shone better upon his features now that he was bareheaded. Helen had never seen a face like that, which at first glance appeared darkly bronzed and hard, and then became clear, cold, aloof, still, intense. She wished she might see a smile upon it. And now that the die was cast she could not tell why she had trusted it. There was singular force in it, but she did not recognize what kind of force. One instant she thought it was stern, and the next that it was sweet, and again that it was neither.
“I’m glad you’ve got your sister,” he said.
“How did you know she’s my sister?”
“I reckon she looks like you.”
“No one else ever thought so,” replied Helen, trying to smile.
Bo had no difficulty in smiling as she said: “Wish I was half as pretty as Nell.”
“Nell. Isn’t your name Helen?” queried Dorn.
“Yes. But my…some few call me Nell.”
“I like Nell better than Helen. An’ what’s yours?” went on Dorn, looking at Bo.
“Mine’s Bo. Just plain B-o. Isn’t it silly? But I wasn’t asked when they gave it to me,” she replied.
“Bo. It’s nice an’ short. Never heard it before. But I haven’t met many people for years.”
“Oh! We’ve left the town!” cried Bo. “Look, Nell! How bare! It’s just like desert.”
“It is desert. We’ve forty miles of that before we come to a hill or a tree.”
Helen glanced out. A flat dull green expanse waved away from the road on and on to a bright dark horizon line where the sun was setting rayless on a clear sky. Open, desolate, and lonely, the scene gave her a cold thrill.
“Did your Uncle Al ever write anythin’ about a man named Beasley?” asked Dorn.
“Indeed he did,” replied Helen with a start of surprise. “Beasley! That name is familiar to us…and detestable. My uncle complained of this man for years. Then he grew bitter…accused Beasley. But the last year or so, not a word.”
“Well, now,” began the hunter earnestly. “Let’s get the bad news over. I’m sorry you must be worried. But you must learn to take the West as it is. There’s good and bad, maybe more bad. That’s because the country’s young…so to come right out with it…this Beasley hired a gang of outlaws to meet the stage you was goin’ in to Snowdrop…tomorrow…an’ to make off with you.”
“Make off with me?” ejaculated Helen, bewildered.
“Kidnap you! Which in that gang would be worse than killin’ you,” declared Dorn grimly, and he closed a huge fist on his knee.
Helen was utterly astounded. “How horrible!” she gasped out. “Make off with me! What in heaven’s name for?”
Bo gave vent to a fierce little utterance.
“For reasons you ought to guess,” replied Dorn, and he leaned forward again. Neither his voice nor face changed in the least, but yet there was a something about him that fascinated Helen. “I’m a hunter. I live in the woods. A few nights ago I happened to be caught out in a storm an’ I took to an old log cabin. Soon as I got there, I heard horses. I hid up in the loft. Some men rode up an’ come in. It was dark. They couldn’t see me. An’ they talked. It turned out they were Snake Anson an’ his gang of sheep thieves. They expected to meet Beasley there. Pretty soon he came. He told Anson how old Al, your uncle, was on his last legs…how he had sent for you to have his property when he died…. Beasley swore he had claims on Al. An’ he made a deal with Anson to get you out of the way. He named the day you were to reach Magdalena. With Al dead an’ you not there, Beasley could get the
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