The Girl from Montana

"Well, you've got to lie down and sleep awhile," said the girl decidedly.

"You can't keep going like that. It'll kill you. You lie down, and I'll

watch, and get dinner. I'm going to cook that bird."

He demurred, but in the end she had her way; for he was exceedingly weary,

and she saw it. So he let her spread the old coat down for him while he

gathered some wood for a fire, and then he lay down and watched her simple

preparations for the meal. Before he knew it he was asleep.

When he came to himself, there was a curious blending of dream and

reality. He thought his lady was coming to him across the rough plains in

an automobile, with gray wings like those of the bird the girl had shot,

and his prayer as he knelt in the sand was drawing her, while overhead the

air was full of a wild, sweet music from strange birds that mocked and

called and trilled. But, when the automobile reached him and stopped, the

lady withered into a little, old, dried-up creature of ashes; and the girl

of the plains was sitting in her place radiant and beautiful.

He opened his eyes, and saw the rude little dinner set, and smelt the

delicious odor of the roasted bird. The girl was standing on the other

side of the fire, gravely whistling a most extraordinary song, like unto

all the birds of the air at once.

She had made a little cake out of the corn-meal, and they feasted royally.

"I caught two fishes in the brook. We'll take them along for supper," she

said as they packed the things again for starting. He tried to get her to

take a rest also, and let him watch; but she insisted that they must go

on, and promised to rest just before dark. "For we must travel hard at

night, you know," she added fearfully.

He questioned her more about the man who might be pursuing, and came to

understand her fears.

"The scoundrel!" he muttered, looking at the delicate features and clear,

lovely profile of the girl. He felt a strong desire to throttle the evil

man.

He asked a good many questions about her life, and was filled with wonder

over the flower-like girl who seemed to have blossomed in the wilderness

with no hand to cultivate her save a lazy, clever, drunken father, and a

kind but ignorant mother. How could she have escaped being coarsened amid

such surroundings. How was it, with such brothers as she had, that she had

come forth as lovely and unhurt as she seemed? He somehow began to feel a

great anxiety for her lonely future and a desire to put her in the way of

protection. But at present they were still in the wilderness; and he began

to be glad that he was here too, and might have the privilege of

protecting her now, if there should be need.