an' grasshoppers."
"Grasshoppers?"
"They come in clouds to darken the sun, an' they eat everything in sight. Mostly they like cultivated crops." Vallian turned his back on her and crossed to his horse. Mounting, he rode away toward the new camp and she stared after him, angry and frustrated.
"He doesn't think much of our chances, does he, Ma?" Tom said. "But we'll show him! You just wait!"
"Of course, Tom. Mr. Vallian does not know us, but he has a right to be skeptical. This is a new life for us, and a hard one. We will have to adjust to many changes, I am afraid."
"I hope he stays with us."
"What? What ever put that idea into your head? Why should he stay with us? Mr. Vallian is a drifter, son, so far as we know he just moves from place to place, and from his appearance I would say he doesn't do very well."
"He's been here a long time, I think. And he's alive."
She put her hand on Tom's shoulder. "Yes ... yes, you are right, Tom. Whatever one might say about him he is alive, and he's able."
Tom kicked dirt into the coals. One after another the coals died out until only a little smoke arose from where the fire had been.
"Come, Tom. We'd better go." Somewhere an owl hooted, a mournful, lonely sound in the dark trees.
Chapter III
Susanna sat in the darkness near the horses. Tom was beside her, and despite his determination to stay awake, he had fallen asleep at last.
Vallian came to them and spoke softly. "I figure to sleep some. Ma'am, you'd better do the same, like the boy here.
"McKaskel, you take the first watch. Listen, learn the sounds that are natural to the night, and you'll hear most of them in the first hour or so. Any other sound you hear is likely to be them.
"You watch my horse. Those are city horses you've got, so you don't have to pay them much mind. My horse will have his ears up as soon as he hears them coming, and he'll hear them before you do.
"He's mustang--wild stock--and all his young life he had to listen for varmints that might attack him, so he's not likely to miss much. About one o'clock by that watch of yours, you wake me up."
With his saddle for a pillow he lay on his groundsheet and rolled himself in a blanket. Within minutes, he was asleep.
Duncan McKaskel sat down by his wife. "They'll find our fire," he said, "I am sure there will be some smoke. That should take some time, and we may hear them."
"He's a strange man," she said.
"Ssh! He may be awake."
"No, he's breathing evenly. I am sure he's sleeping." After a moment, she added, "We can learn from him, Duncan. He knows so much that we'd better know."
"Yes," he admitted, "I suppose so. The kind of education we have doesn't count for much out here."
After awhile Susanna dozed, and McKaskel got up and moved out, closer to the horses. They were cropping grass in the small circle they had chosen for a camp. For the first time he walked all around it, and shook his head in irritation at himself. He should have seen this place at once. The fallen tree barred all approach from one angle because one end was up against some rocks, the other was near the edge of the bluff. Around that tree there was a good deal of old bark, dried leaves and branches.
Behind them was a thick grove of trees, so thick that a man could push through it only with considerable noise. On the other side were the fallen trees, broken brush and old stumps of a deserted beaver pond. The position was not sheltered from gunfire except near the fallen tree, but it was difficult to find or approach by night.
Vallian had seen the place at once, which indicated how much could be learned by observation. A man had tosee , not just look.
McKaskel listened, but heard no other sounds than those of the night. He moved carefully, trying to walk without sound, and not to remain in one place too long. He was thinking, trying to understand this new world and to draw on what he remembered from his reading that might help. He sat down on a log and rested, listening.
Several
"Grasshoppers?"
"They come in clouds to darken the sun, an' they eat everything in sight. Mostly they like cultivated crops." Vallian turned his back on her and crossed to his horse. Mounting, he rode away toward the new camp and she stared after him, angry and frustrated.
"He doesn't think much of our chances, does he, Ma?" Tom said. "But we'll show him! You just wait!"
"Of course, Tom. Mr. Vallian does not know us, but he has a right to be skeptical. This is a new life for us, and a hard one. We will have to adjust to many changes, I am afraid."
"I hope he stays with us."
"What? What ever put that idea into your head? Why should he stay with us? Mr. Vallian is a drifter, son, so far as we know he just moves from place to place, and from his appearance I would say he doesn't do very well."
"He's been here a long time, I think. And he's alive."
She put her hand on Tom's shoulder. "Yes ... yes, you are right, Tom. Whatever one might say about him he is alive, and he's able."
Tom kicked dirt into the coals. One after another the coals died out until only a little smoke arose from where the fire had been.
"Come, Tom. We'd better go." Somewhere an owl hooted, a mournful, lonely sound in the dark trees.
Chapter III
Susanna sat in the darkness near the horses. Tom was beside her, and despite his determination to stay awake, he had fallen asleep at last.
Vallian came to them and spoke softly. "I figure to sleep some. Ma'am, you'd better do the same, like the boy here.
"McKaskel, you take the first watch. Listen, learn the sounds that are natural to the night, and you'll hear most of them in the first hour or so. Any other sound you hear is likely to be them.
"You watch my horse. Those are city horses you've got, so you don't have to pay them much mind. My horse will have his ears up as soon as he hears them coming, and he'll hear them before you do.
"He's mustang--wild stock--and all his young life he had to listen for varmints that might attack him, so he's not likely to miss much. About one o'clock by that watch of yours, you wake me up."
With his saddle for a pillow he lay on his groundsheet and rolled himself in a blanket. Within minutes, he was asleep.
Duncan McKaskel sat down by his wife. "They'll find our fire," he said, "I am sure there will be some smoke. That should take some time, and we may hear them."
"He's a strange man," she said.
"Ssh! He may be awake."
"No, he's breathing evenly. I am sure he's sleeping." After a moment, she added, "We can learn from him, Duncan. He knows so much that we'd better know."
"Yes," he admitted, "I suppose so. The kind of education we have doesn't count for much out here."
After awhile Susanna dozed, and McKaskel got up and moved out, closer to the horses. They were cropping grass in the small circle they had chosen for a camp. For the first time he walked all around it, and shook his head in irritation at himself. He should have seen this place at once. The fallen tree barred all approach from one angle because one end was up against some rocks, the other was near the edge of the bluff. Around that tree there was a good deal of old bark, dried leaves and branches.
Behind them was a thick grove of trees, so thick that a man could push through it only with considerable noise. On the other side were the fallen trees, broken brush and old stumps of a deserted beaver pond. The position was not sheltered from gunfire except near the fallen tree, but it was difficult to find or approach by night.
Vallian had seen the place at once, which indicated how much could be learned by observation. A man had tosee , not just look.
McKaskel listened, but heard no other sounds than those of the night. He moved carefully, trying to walk without sound, and not to remain in one place too long. He was thinking, trying to understand this new world and to draw on what he remembered from his reading that might help. He sat down on a log and rested, listening.
Several
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