They traversed glade and park, and wended a crooked trail through the deepening forest, and climbed, bench after bench, to higher ground, while the sun sloped to the westward, lower and redder. Sunset had gone, and twilight was momentarily brightening to the afterglow when Anson, breaking his silence of the afternoon, ordered a halt.
The place was wild, dismal, a shallow vale between dark slopes of spruce. Grass, fire-wood, and water were there in abundance. All the men were off, throwing saddles and packs, before the tired girl made an effort to get down. Riggs, observing her, made a not ungentle move to pull her off. She gave him a sounding slap with her gloved hand.
"Keep your paws to yourself," she said. No evidence of exhaustion was there in her spirit.
Wilson had observed this by-play, but Anson had not.
"What come off?" he asked.
"Wal, the Honorable Gunman Riggs jest got caressed by the lady--as he was doin' the elegant," replied Moze, who stood nearest.
"Jim, was you watchin'?" queried Anson. His curiosity had held through the afternoon.
"He tried to yank her off an' she biffed him," replied Wilson.
"That Riggs is jest daffy or plain locoed," said Snake, in an aside to Moze.
"Boss, you mean plain cussed. Mark my words, he'll hoodoo this outfit. Jim was figgerin' correct."
"Hoodoo--" cursed Anson, under his breath.
Many hands made quick work. In a few moments a fire was burning brightly, water was boiling, pots were steaming, the odor of venison permeated the cool air. The girl had at last slipped off her saddle to the ground, where she sat while Riggs led the horse away. She sat there apparently forgotten, a pathetic droop to her head.
Wilson had taken an ax and was vigorously wielding it among the spruces. One by one they fell with swish and soft crash. Then the sliding ring of the ax told how he was slicing off the branches with long sweeps. Presently he appeared in the semi-darkness, dragging half-trimmed spruces behind him. He made several trips, the last of which was to stagger under a huge burden of spruce boughs. These he spread under a low, projecting branch of an aspen. Then he leaned the bushy spruces slantingly against this branch on both sides, quickly improvising a V-shaped shelter with narrow aperture in front. Next from one of the packs he took a blanket and threw that inside the shelter. Then, touching the girl on the shoulder, he whispered: "When you're ready, slip in there. An' don't lose no sleep by worryin', fer I'll be layin' right here."