tried outlanders though they were, dr. inman shonto and andy jerome were hopelessly lost. afoot, horseback, and by motor car the pair had covered thousands of square miles of desert and forest land in southern california. but it was different up here in the mountainous region of the northern part of the state, where they found themselves surrounded by heavy timber vaster than they had dreamed could have been left standing by the ensanguined hand of the lumberman. and, besides, thin fingers of fog were reaching in from the sea, about eighteen miles to the west of them.
for hours they had been following wooded ridges, which here and there offered a view of the seemingly illimitable sweep of redwood forests below them. spruce, fir, several varieties of oak, and madrones crowned these ridges—trees of a height and girth that they could understand. but down below them towered the monarchs of the vegetable kingdom, straight as the path of righteousness, solemn, aloof—impossible trees—whose height would bring their tops on a level with the clock of the metropolitan building, whose[2] boles occupied a space greater than a good-sized living room.
they awed the southerners immeasurably, for this was their first trip into the northern part of their state. they were silent as they hurried on, sliding down steep slopes, clambering up rocky, timbered inclines, always hoping for some familiar object that would show them they were on the campward trail.
each carried a .25-.35 rifle, for they had left camp early that morning to hunt deer—and both had entertained fond hopes that a wandering bear or a panther might cross their path. the doctor had wounded a big six-pointer close to noon, and following the bloody trail which the cripple left had led the pair astray.
now night was close at hand, and, for all they knew, they were still many miles from camp. the trail had inveigled them down into the mysteries of the dark forest below them, and there they had lost all sense of direction. with the approach of night they had abandoned the bloody trail and climbed to the ridges once more, in the hope of relocating themselves. but an hour had passed, and they still were lost.
“this is a little serious, andy,” remarked the doctor. “i’m afraid we haven’t much of an idea as to the vast scope of this forest. of course we’ll make it back sometime, and i guess we’re old enough hands at the game to take care of ourselves until we do; but meanwhile we’re going to be up against a little inconvenience, to put it mildly.”
“it’s going to be mighty cold to-night,” was the only answer that the younger man vouchsafed.
[3]he was about twenty-four, this companion of the doctor—a good-looking youth with light curly hair and a friendly blue eye. he was of medium height, well knit, wiry. his step was light and his muscles sure, and more than once the older man eyed him admiringly as they hurried on into the coming dusk.
dr. inman shonto was one of those men who command attention wherever they go. he was tall and lean and broad-shouldered, and his outing clothes had been fitted to his remarkable body with precision. he was an ugly man as masculine comeliness goes, but, for all that, women found him intensely interesting. his nose was monstrous, and lightly pitted from bridge to tip. his mouth was big, and the lips were thick, puckered, and firm. his hair was thin and neutral in colour—somewhere between a dark brown and a light. his ears were rather large and a trifle outstanding. his eyes were grey and very intense in their manner of observing others.
it was the strong face of a strong man. one knew instinctively that great will power was this man’s heritage. one believed, after a glance into that homely face, that this man took what he wanted from life, and that his wants were by no means puny. even in hunting clothes dr. inman shonto was fastidious. and his walk was fastidious, even here in the wilderness. the realization that he and his young companion were lost in the wilds did not serve to ruffle the doctor’s calm exterior. he was nothing if not self-controlled on all occasions.
despite his homeliness, his smile was engaging as he[4] turned and looked back at andy after topping a little bald rise toward which the two had been travelling, hoping on its summit to gain a better view of the surrounding country.
“andy,” he said, “i smell smoke. sound encouraging?”
the young man reached his side, and the two stood looking in every direction and sniffing speculatively.
“i get it, too, doctor,” andy told the other finally. “it seems to be over in that direction.”
andy pointed west, and the doctor nodded silently.
“there’s a ranch or a camp pretty close,” he decided. “now let’s locate that smoke definitely and make a bee-line for it. i don’t just fancy a night in this cold, unfriendly forest.”
“do you know, dr. shonto,” said andy, “that i don’t exactly think of the forest as unfriendly. time and again, when you and i have been together in the outlands, you’ve thought nature unkind—bleak—unfriendly. nature never strikes me that way.”
“that’s your inheritance from your alps-climbing swiss ancestors, i imagine,” replied the doctor. “but, if you’ll pardon me, andrew, i’m more interested right now in locating a welcoming curl of blue smoke over the treetops than i am in a discussion of the attitude of mother nature toward two of her misplaced atoms. look over there to the west. (i suppose that’s west.) don’t you imagine you see a thin stream of smoke going up over there—just above that massive bull pine on the brow of that hill? confound this infernal fog!”
[5]“yes, i believe you’re right,” andy agreed after looking a long time in the direction the doctor had indicated. and after another pause—“yes, smoke, all right. and if it weren’t for the fog it would spread, and we’d never have seen it. now what, doctor?”
dr. shonto gave the surrounding country careful study.
“it seems to me,” he decided, “that, if we head straight for that tall fir on the brow of the hill beyond the next one, we ought to see what’s causing the smoke. but we’ve got to go down and up, down and up; and we’ll pass through heavy timber between here and there. we must keep our wits about us and not swerve from a straight line. and that’s hard to do, with the fog rolling in on us. anyway, it’s up to us to try it. let’s go!”
with each of them picking his own way, they rattled down steep slopes and came upon tiny creeks, cold, brown from the dye of fallen autumn leaves. they clambered up slopes that seemed far steeper because of the extra strain they put upon their hearts and muscles. dense growths of chaparral occasionally confronted them and made them make detours, despite their firm resolve to keep to the straight and narrow way. but in half an hour after sighting the thin stream of smoke they came out in an open space on a hillside and saw the tall fir which was their goal.
they crossed to it on level land, to look down a more precipitous slope than they had before encountered. and down there far below them they saw the misty gleam of cabin lights as they struggled with the night[6] and the increasing obstinacy of the fog that marched in from the sea.
“here’s a sort of trail, doctor,” announced andrew jerome. “and it looks to be leading straight toward those lights. shall we try it?”
“sure,” replied the doctor. “by all means. you’re the better mountaineer, andy—take the lead. we can get a shakedown on the floor of the man who made those lights, i guess, and get set on the right trail to-morrow morning.”
it was dark now, and the insweeping fog added to the density of the surrounding gloom. far to their left coyotes lifted their mocking, plaintive yodel to the goddess of darkness, their patron saint, who shielded their stealthy deviltry from the eyes of men. but the blurred lights beckoned the wanderers downward, and they obeyed the signal, slipping over rounded stones, staggering into prickly bushes, sliding over abrupt ledges.
andrew jerome followed the trail by instinct, and dr. shonto was glad to follow andy. the youth’s aptitude in the mountains was ever a source of wonder for the doctor, and often he had told the boy that he attributed it to heredity. for on his mother’s side of the family andy’s ancestors had been of alpine swiss stock, by name zanini. dr. inman shonto was a firm believer in heredity, anyway, and his young friend’s dexterous mountaineering presented a sound basis for his theorizing.
they came out eventually on level land, heavily timbered with pines. straight through the pines the trail[7] led them, and soon they were confronted by a set of bars. beyond the bars the fog-screened lights still invited them, so the doctor lifted his voice and called.
there came no answer from the gloom. no dog rushed around an invisible cabin to challenge them.
“let’s take a chance, andy,” said the doctor. “if a pack of hounds leaps out at us, we can retreat as gracefully as possible. we’ve got to get closer to make ourselves heard.”
they crawled between the bars and struck out along a beaten path. still no outraged canine came catapulting toward them. still the house remained invisible. only the smeared lights stared at them through the fog.
dr. shonto came to a halt, and andy stopped beside him.
“in the cabin there!” called shonto. “cabin ahoy!”
several silent moments followed, and then, between the window lights that had lured them there, a new streak of muddy brilliancy grew to a rectangle, and a woman’s figure stood framed by a door.
“hello!” shouted the doctor. “we’re lost in the woods and hunting shelter for the night. our camp is far from here, and we can’t find it. can you help us out? there are two of us—two men! we’ll gladly pay you for your inconvenience.”
they saw the figure of the woman turn. she was speaking with somebody within the cabin, and her profile was toward them. it vanished as she once more turned her face their way.
[8]“come on in!” came her invitation. “she says she’ll do the best she can for you.”
“she,” muttered the doctor. “i once knew a man that never called his wife anything but ‘she.’ come on—i smell baking-powder biscuits, or my name’s not shonto. here’s the backwoods for you.”
and then, as if to give the lie to his words, he stepped upon a broad stone doorstep and was faced by a radiant girl in a sky-blue evening gown, with precious stones in her dark hair, and gilded, high-heeled slippers on her feet.
“good evening,” she greeted them easily. “welcome to el trono de tolerancia. there are baking powder biscuits, venison, and chocolate for supper, and we’ve an extra bed.”
