CHAPTER XXII

THE CABIN IN THE HILLS

Glen’s fears and forebodings of the previous night passed away as she rode Midnight along the trail on that beautiful summer morning.  For a time a feeling of security filled her heart.  Was she not well guarded by her father, her lover, and two reliable Indians, Sconda and Natsu!  Why should she fear?  Curly was evidently at Big Draw, and so discouraged over his reception at Glen West that he would hardly venture near the place again.  It was a bright happy face that she turned to Reynolds as he rode by her side wherever the trail permitted their horses to ride abreast.  They rejoiced in each other’s company, and words were unnecessary, for love has a silent language all its own.

Jim Weston rode ahead, while the two Indians brought up in the rear.  The horses which the natives rode bore a few extra provisions for several days’ outing, such as tea, coffee, sugar, flour, and a supply of canned goods.

Glen rode Midnight gracefully.  She was dressed the same as on the day Reynolds first saw her on Crooked Trail.  She was perfectly at home in the saddle, and what to Reynolds was difficult riding to her was a pleasure.  At times she smiled at his awkwardness as he tried to maintain his position where the trail was unusually rough and steep.

“You are better with the rifle, are you not?” Glen bantered.

“I certainly am,” was the reply.  “I have had very little experience on horse back.  I wish I could ride like you, for you are so much at ease.”

“I should be,” and again the girl smiled.  “I cannot remember the time when I did not know how to ride.  But, then, you have not seen me at my best.  Sconda has, though, and he knows that I can hold my own with the most expert rider.  Oh, it’s great when you’re going like the wind, clearing rocks and fallen trees with tremendous bounds.  Midnight understands, don’t you, old boy?” and she affectionately patted the horse’s glossy neck.

Reynolds watched the girl with deep admiration.  He felt that her words were no mere idle boast, and he longed to see an exhibition of her skilful riding.

At noon they stopped by the side of a little stream which flowed out from under the Golden Crest, and ate their luncheon.

“We shall have a great dinner to-night,” Weston informed them.  “We must do honor to such an occasion as this.”

“And if we can find Frontier Samson, all the merrier,” Reynolds replied.

“Sure, sure, we must find the old man,” Weston agreed.  “But, then, it’s unnecessary to worry about him.  He’s all right, never fear, though no doubt he is somewhat anxious about his runaway partner.”

The ruler of Glen West was in excellent spirits.  Glen had never seen him so animated, and at luncheon he joked and laughed in the most buoyant manner.  During the afternoon he pointed out to his companions numerous outstanding features of nature’s wonderful handiwork.  At times he would look back, and draw their attention to a peculiar rock formation, a small lake lying cool and placid amidst the hills, or to some beautiful northern flowers by the side of the trail.  Thus the afternoon passed quickly and pleasantly, and evening found them before the little cabin in the hills.