Suddenly a miniature saw-mill whirred at their feet. A swarm of bees filled the air! Priscilla, intent upon David, had not noticed the flat surface of the rock where the sun lay warm and bright. Warned by the strange sound, her terrified eyes saw the snake, coiled and ready to spring! She had a fleeting vision of a flat, cruel head, and a thousand diamond-shaped yellow dots as she grasped little David by the neckband and pulled him from the rocks to the corral. It was a rattlesnake! The brakeman"s prophecy had come true! In spite of Virginia"s a.s.sertion that they never came near the house, she had seen one!
Little David was crying from surprise and a sore neck. He had not seen the snake. Priscilla was trembling in every muscle. There was no one whom she could call. The men were on the range and in the fields; Mr. Hunter and the girls, except Vivian, were in town; Aunt Nan was at the Keiths. The snake must not be allowed to live. Little David might be playing around there again, or some other child. She herself would never, never have the courage----! She started, for suddenly in place of the sound of the saw-mill and the vision of the diamond-shaped dots, came the memory of a lion rampant on a field of gold, an eagle perched upon a shield, and a unicorn surrounded by stars. As the red came back into her white cheeks, Donald"s words came back also:
"You see, you"re no quitter anyway, Priscilla!"
Two minutes later Mrs. Alec and Hannah were surprised to receive into their midst a shrieking child, borne by a most determined girl, who was almost out of breath.
"He"s all right!" she gasped. "Except his neck, I mean! I dragged him. I had to! I"ll tell you why by and by. Keep him till I get back!"
Then she flew out of the house and down the path to the stables. A many-tined pitchfork rested against one of the sheds. It was one which William had used that morning in turning over sod for a new flower-bed.
Priscilla in her hurried transit with David had marked the fork, and chosen it as her best weapon. Of all those cruel tines, one must surely be successful. Donald had told tales of forked sticks and heavy stones, but her hands were too inexperienced for those things.
She seized the fork and ran down the path toward the rocks, not daring to stop lest her resolve should fail her; not even waiting to plan her attack lest the memory of that awful head should send her back to the kitchen.
The saw-mill whirred again as she neared the rock. Apparently the snake had not stirred since his last conquest. This time she saw his wicked little eyes, his flattened head, and the contraction of his diamond-covered muscles as he made ready to spring. But Priscilla sprang first. The tines of the heavy pitchfork pierced the coils, and the only whirr which sounded was the whirr of iron against the rock.
Priscilla, on the rock below, held the handle of the pitchfork firmly, and tried not to look at her victim as he writhed in agony. A sickness was creeping over her. There were queer vibrations in the air, and a strange, singing sound in her ears. Memory brought back the picture of an evening in Carver Standish"s room at the Gordon School when she had felt the same way. She would not faint, she said to herself, rallying all her forces.
She would die first! The snake had ceased writhing. He was surely dead.
Little David need be no longer in danger, and she--perhaps she need not feel so unworthy when she thought of the Winthrop coat-of-arms.
She was very white when she reached the kitchen after depositing the pitchfork and its burden by the shed. Grateful Mrs. Alec cried and held little David closer when Priscilla, fortified by Hannah"s cider, told the story. Alec, who came in a few minutes later, was grateful, too, in his bluff Scotch way. The snake, he said, was a whopper. He had rarely seen a larger, and Miss Priscilla was a trump--the very bravest tenderfoot he"d ever seen!
She had been true to her heritage, Donald said that evening--worthy to bear the Winthrop coat-of-arms. But then he knew she wasn"t a quitter anyway. He had told her so that very afternoon.
But Priscilla"s honesty was equal to all the demands placed upon it that night. Donald"s praise was but the last straw!
"All the coats-of-arms and family mottoes in the world, Donald," she said, "couldn"t have made me kill that snake. It was what you said about them, and about me not being a quitter that did it. I think I was a quitter until this afternoon; but now I can go and write Miss Wallace without covering up the top of the paper. I"m going to do it before bed-time, if you"ll excuse me. Good-night!"
CHAPTER XVIII
A GOOD SPORT
"Whew!" sighed Vivian, shifting her position in the saddle for the tenth time in as many minutes, and taking off her broad-brimmed hat to fan her tanned, flushed face. "I think sagebrush must attract the sun. I never was hotter in all my life! I wish now we"d stayed at the Buffalo Horn and waited till after supper to start back. Of course I don"t exactly love riding in the dark, but of the two I"d about as soon be scared to death as baked. Where is the next shady spot, Virginia? I can"t see a tree for miles! I honestly can"t!"
"There aren"t any," said the comforting Virginia, brushing back the damp rings of hair from her hot forehead, "and the next shady spot is two miles away. The trail bends and there are some quaking-asps by a spring. We"ll rest there, and eat our cookies, and drink some real water. "Twill be a change from the river."
"I"m thankful for the river though, even if I have drunk all kinds of bugs. I guess we"d have died without it through all these miles of sagebrush. When will the others get home, do you suppose?"
"Not until late," Virginia answered, "that is, if they wait for supper.
I"d have loved to have stayed, but William wants Pedro for the range to-morrow, and I wanted him to have a longer rest. Besides, he runs so with the other horses and gets nervous. You were a peach to come with me, Vivian. Right in the hottest part of the day, too."
Vivian was honest.
"It wasn"t all out of kindness," she admitted, "though, of course, I love to ride with you. I didn"t especially care about riding home at night, and I don"t like such a big crowd either. Siwash always forgets how old he is, and begins to act kittenish, and I never know what to do. I"m thirsty again. Shall we drink a few more bugs?"
"Might as well, I suppose," Virginia replied. "Pedro and Siwash seem ready. Ugh! I got one that time! Actually felt him go down my throat! We ought not to put water on our faces, Vivian. They"re peeling now! Here"s some cold cream!"
Vivian squeezed the tube and smeared her glowing nose, before she again mounted Siwash.
"We mustn"t drink any more of the river," she said. "I feel like an insect cabinet already. Let"s get to the quaking-asps as soon as we can and rest."
Virginia"s eyes glowed with pride as she watched Vivian mount Siwash and ride away from the river. One would never have known it was the same Vivian who nearly seven weeks ago had begged to stay at home from the getting-acquainted trip. She had learned to ride well and easily, and no apparent fear, at least of Siwash, remained. With still more pride Virginia saw her tanned, happy face, the red color in her cheeks, and the extra pounds which Wyoming had given her. The Big Horn country had been kind to Vivian in more ways than one.
"I never saw any one improve so in riding, Vivian," she could not resist saying. "You do every bit as well as Priscilla, and Don thinks she"s a marvel. I"m proud as Punch of you!"
Vivian"s cheeks glowed redder.
"I can"t help but be a tiny bit pleased with myself," she said hesitatingly, "at least about the riding. And--and there are other things, too, Virginia. Of course I know there have been loads of silly things--Mr.
Crusoe, for instance. I"ll never forget how awful that was, even though you were all so fine about it. But in spite of everything foolish, I have learned things out here, Virginia, that I never knew in all my life.
Mother and Father probably won"t see any difference next week when I get home, but there is some just the same. I"m not quite such a--a coward as I was! I feel it inside!"
"I know you do," said Virginia, riding Pedro closer. "It shows on your face, too. I guess what"s really inside of us usually does. You"re getting to be a good sport, Vivian, and we"re all proud of it--with you!"
The knowledge of Virginia"s approval somehow made the mid-day heat less intense, and the two miles to the quaking-asps less long. It was good to reach them, and to lie at full length on the cool ground before drinking from the spring a few steps away. Pedro and Siwash were grateful, too, as they cropped the sweet, moist gra.s.s. A half hour here would sustain them against the three miles of sagebrush beyond.
Virginia and Vivian lay flat on their backs with their arms straight above their heads and rested, as they had been taught to do at St. Helen"s.
Above them the interlaced branches of the quaking-asps shut out the sun.
The air was still with that strange stillness which sometimes comes before a storm. Even the ever-active leaves of the quaking-asps moved not at all.
"It"s the stillest place I ever knew," said Vivian, as she reached for a cookie. "How far is it to the nearest house?"
Virginia considered.
"Six miles," she said. "No, there"s a homesteader"s cabin nearer. That"s about four, I guess, but Michner"s, the cattle ranch, is six. We always call them the nearest neighbors from here. It is still, isn"t it?"
"Awfully!" returned Vivian.
Their words were hardly finished when the sound of hoofs broke the stillness. Pedro and Siwash snorted. Virginia and Vivian sat up quickly--one interested, the other alarmed. Some one was coming along the rough trail through the sagebrush. Some one was very near! They peered through the quaking-asps. The some one was a lone cowboy riding a buckskin horse. He was leaning forward in his saddle and clutching the horn. His face, almost covered by the big hat he wore, was close to the black mane of the st.u.r.dy little buckskin.
From their shelter they watched him draw near with beating hearts. There was something strange about him--strange as the stillness. They could not see that he was guiding the horse, who apparently knew not only the way, but her mission as well. She came straight toward the shady thicket and stopped beneath the trees a few rods away from the two anxious spectators.
Her rider, conscious perhaps from the halt that he had reached his destination, loosened his hold upon the saddle-horn, swung himself with a mighty effort from the saddle, and fell upon the ground, his hat all unnoticed falling from his head.
The buckskin was apparently worried. She sniffed the air dubiously, snorted an anxious greeting to Pedro and Siwash, and moved to one side, lest by mistake she should tread upon her master, who lay in a motionless heap close beside her. Then Virginia"s quick eyes discovered blood upon the man"s head and face. She jumped to her feet.
"He"s hurt somehow, Vivian," she said, "terribly hurt, I"m afraid. We mustn"t leave him like this. He might die here all alone! Come on! Let"s see what we can do."
Vivian, too surprised to remonstrate, followed Virginia through the quaking-asps. The man lay where he had fallen, unconscious of anything about him. Blood was flowing from an ugly wound just above his forehead.
He was a sad and sorry sight. Vivian shuddered and drew back.
"Who is he, Virginia?" she breathed. "You know who he is, don"t you? Oh, what are you going to do?" For Virginia"s strong young arms were trying to pull the man into a more comfortable position, and farther beneath the trees.
"No, I don"t know who he is," she whispered, fanning the man"s white face with her broad-brimmed hat. "That doesn"t make any difference. He"s awfully hurt! I thought at first "twas a shot, but I guess he"s fallen. It looks like that. The horse belongs to Michner"s. I know by the brand. Fan him, Vivian, while I fix his head and see if he has any whisky about him anywhere."
The dazed and frightened Vivian obediently took the fan, and turning her face away, frantically fanned the quaking-asps until they danced and fluttered once more. Virginia untied the cow boy"s slicker from the back of the buckskin"s saddle and folded it into a pillow, which she placed beneath the sick man"s head. The buckskin was relieved and whinnied her thanks. Then from one pocket she drew a small, leathern flask and shook it.