Dorn Of The Mountains by Zane Grey

of dead twig or thud of hoof on log. Likewise she became aware of a springy nature of the ground. And then she saw that the pine mats gave like rubber cushions under the hoofs of the horses and, after they had passed, sprang back to place again leaving no track. Helen could not see a sign of a trail they left behind. Indeed, it would take a sharp eye to follow Dorn through that forest. This knowledge was infinitely comforting to Helen, and for the first time since the flight had begun she felt a loosening of a weight upon mind and heart. It left her free for some of the appreciation she might have had in this wonderful ride under happier circumstances.
    Bo, however, seemed too young, too wild, too intense to mind what the circumstances were. She responded to reality. Helen began to suspect that the girl would welcome any adventure, and Helen knew surely now that Bo was a true Auchincloss. For three long days Helen had felt a constraint with which heretofore she had been unfamiliar, and for the last hours it had been submerged under dread. But it must be, she concluded, blood like her sister’s, pounding at her veins to be set free, to race and to burn.
    Bo loved action. She had an eye for beauty, but she was not contemplative. She was now helping Dorn drive the horses and hold them in rather close formation. She rode well and as yet showed no symptoms of fatigue or pain. Helen began to be aware of both, but not enough yet to limit her interest.
    A wonderful forest without birds did not seem real to her. Of all living creatures in Nature, Helen liked birds best and she knew many and could imitate the songs of a few. But here under the stately pines there were no birds. Squirrels, however, began to be seen here and there and, in the course of an hour’s travel, became abundant. The only one with which she was familiar was the chipmunk. All the others from the slim bright blacks to the striped russets and the white-tailed grays were totally new to her. They appeared tame and curious. The reds barked and scolded at the passing cavalcade; the blacks glided to some safe branch, there to watch; the grays paid no especial heed to this invasion of their domain.
    Once, Dorn, halting his horse, pointed with long arm, and Helen, following the direction, descried several gray deer standing in a glade, motionless, with long ears up. They made a wild and beautiful picture. Suddenly they bounded away with remarkable, springy strides.
    The forest on the whole held to the level open character, but there were swales and streambeds breaking up its regular conformity. Toward noon, however, it gradually changed, a fact that Helen believed she might have observed sooner had she been more keen. The general lay of the land began to ascend and the trees to grow denser.
    She made another discovery. Ever since she had entered the forest, she had been aware of a fullness in her head and a something affecting her nostrils. She imagined, with regret, that she had taken cold. But presently her head cleared somewhat and she realized that the thick pine odor of the forest had clogged her nostrils as if with a sweet pitch. The smell was overpowering, and disagreeable because of its strength. Also, her throat and lungs seemed to burn.
    When she began to lose interest in the forest and all pertaining to it, that regretful fact, she ascertained, owed its origin to aches and pains that would no longer be denied recognition. Thereafter she was not permitted to forget them and they grew worse. One especially was a pain beyond all her experience. It lay in the muscles of her side, above her hip, and it grew to be a treacherous thing. For it was not persis tent. It came and went. After it did, she, with a terrible flash, found it could be borne by shifting or easing the body. But it gave no warning. When she expected it, she was mistaken; when she dared to breathe again, then, with piercing swiftness, it returned like a blade in her side. This then was one of the