Under the Tonto Rim (1991) (26 page)

At last they surmounted the great timbered incline. Lucy fell on a pine mat, so out of breath that she gasped. She had an acute pain in her side. It afforded her some satisfaction to see Edd's heaving breast and his perspiring face.

"What're--you--panting about?" she asked, heroically sitting up.

"Reckon that pull is a good one to lumber up on," he said.

"Oh-h-h! Are there--any worse pulls?"

"Shore I don't know. We might have to climb up over the Rim."

"Well," concluded Lucy, with resignation, "where's our bee line?"

"I got plumb off," confessed Edd, in humiliation, as if the error he had made was one of unforgivable proportions. "But, honest, sometimes it's impossible to go straight."

"I accept your apology, Edward," said Lucy facetiously. "But it wasn't necessary. No human being--even a bee hunter--can pass through rocks, trees, hills, walls of brush, and piles of logs...What'll we do now?"

"I'll walk along an' see if I can find her. If I don't we'll burn some honey. That'll take time, but it'll shore fetch her. You rest here."

Lucy could see the two clearings of the Denmeades nestling green and yellow in the rolling lap of the forest. How far she had travelled! She was proud of this achievement already. With her breath regained, and that pain gone from her side, she was not the least the worse for her exertion. Indeed, she felt strong and eager to pursue the bee line to its end. Only by such effort as this could she see the wonderful country or learn something about the forest land. She was high up now, and yet the Rim still towered beyond and above, unscalable except for eagles. She was revelling in the joy of her sensations when Edd's step disrupted them.

"I found her. We wasn't so far off. Come now, if you're rested," he said.

"Edd, how far do bee lines usually run from where you find them?" asked Lucy.

"Sometimes miles. But I reckon most bee lines are short. Shore they seem long because you have to go up an' down, right over everythin'."

Rolling forest stretched away from the ridge-top, neither level nor hilly. Despite the heavy growth of pines the bee line seemed to penetrate the forest and still preserve its unwavering course. Lucy could see the bees flying down the aisles between the tree-tops, and she was unable to make certain that they curved in the least. Edd could line them only a short distance, owing to intervening trees. Progress here was necessarily slower, a fact that Lucy welcomed. Birds and squirrels and rabbits enlivened this open woodland; and presently when Edd pointed out a troop of sleek grey deer, wonderfully wild and graceful as they watched with long ears erect, Lucy experienced the keenest of thrills.

"Black-tails," said Edd, and he raised his gun.

"Oh--please don't kill one of them!" cried Lucy appealingly.

"Shore I was only takin' aim at that buck. I could take him plumb centre."

"Well, I'll take your word for it," rejoined Lucy. "How tame they are!...They're going...Oh, there's a beautiful little fawn!"

She watched them bound out of sight, and then in her relief and pleasure to see them disappear safely she told Edd she was glad he was a bee-hunter instead of a deer-hunter.

"Wal, I'm not much on bees to-day," he acknowledged. "But that's natural, seein' I've a girl with me."

"You mean you do better alone?"

"I reckon."

"Are you sorry you brought me?"

"Sorry? Wal, I guess not. 'Course I love best to be alone in the woods. But havin' you is somethin' new. It's not me, but the woods an' the bees an' the work you're thinkin' about. You don't squeal an' you don't want to get mushy in every shady place."

Lucy, failing of an adequate response to this remarkable speech, called his attention to the bees; and Edd stalked on ahead, peering through the green aisles. The beautiful open forest was soon to end in a formidable rocky canyon, not more than half a mile wide, but very deep and rugged. Lucy stood on the verge and gazed, with her heart in her eyes. It was a stunning surprise. This deep gorge notched the Rim. Red and yellow crags, cliffs, ledges, and benches varied with green slopes, all steps down and down to the black depths. A murmur of running water soared upward. Beneath her sailed an eagle, brown of wing and back, white of head and tail, the first bald eagle Lucy had ever seen.

"Dog-gone!" ejaculated Edd. "Shore I was hopin' we'd find our bee tree on this side of Doubtful Canyon."

"Doubtful? Is that its name?"

"Yes, an' I reckon it's a Jasper."

"Edd, it may be doubtful, but it's grand," declared Lucy.

"You won't think it's grand if we undertake to cross."

"Then our bee tree is way over there some place," said Lucy, gazing at the blue depths, the black slopes, the yellow crags, the red cliffs. They would have looked close but for the dominating bulk of the Rim, rising above and beyond the canyon wall. All was green growth over there except the blank faces of the rocks. Ledges and benches, nooks and crannies, irresistibly beckoned for Lucy to explore.

"If! We're certainly going to cross, aren't we?" she queried, turning to Edd.

"Wal, if you say so, we'll try. But I reckon you can't make it."

"Suppose I do make it--can we go home an easier way?"

"Shore. I can find easy goin', downhill all the way," replied Edd.

"Well, then I propose we rest here and have our lunch. Then cross! Before we start, though, you might let me see you burn some honey. Just for fun."

This plan met with Edd's approval. Just below they found a huge flat ledge of rock, projecting out over the abyss. Part of it was shaded by a bushy pine, and here Edd spread the lunch. Then while Lucy sat down to eat he built a tiny fire out on the edge of the rock. Next he placed a goodly bit of honey on a stone close enough to the fire to make it smoke.

"Pretty soon we'll have some fun," he said.

"Wrong! We're having fun now. At least I am," retorted Lucy.

"Wal, then, I mean some more fun," he corrected. Whereupon they fell with hearty appetites upon the ample lunch Mrs. Denmeade had provided. Edd presently said he heard bees whizz by. But a quarter of an hour elapsed before any bees actually began to drop down over the smoking honey. Then Edd poured some of the honey out on the rock. The bees circled and alighted. More came and none left. Lucy asked why they did not fly away.

"Makin' pigs of themselves," he said "But soon as they get all they can hold they'll fly."

By the time the lunch was finished a swarm of bees of different sizes and hues had been attracted to the honey, and many were departing. As they came from different directions, so they left. Edd explained this to be owing to the fact that these bees belonged to different trees.

"Do all these wild bees live in trees?" she asked.

"All but the yellow-jackets. They have holes in the ground. I've seen where many holes had been dug out by bears...Wal, we played hob with the lunch. An' now I reckon it's high time we began our slide down this canyon."

"Slide? Can't we walk?"

"I reckon you'll see. It'll be a slidin' walk," averred Edd. "Shore I'm goin' to have all the fun I can, 'cause you'll shore never go anywheres with me again."

"My! How terrible this sliding walk must be!...But I might fool you, Edd. I've decided to go to the dance with you, an' let Clara go with Joe."

"Aw! That's nice of you," he replied, with frank gladness. His face lighted at some anticipation. "Joe will shore be proud."

He walked out upon the ledge to get his bucket, driving the bees away with his sombrero, and when he had secured it he took a last long look across the canyon. Lucy noticed what a picture he made, standing there, tall, round-limbed, supple, his youthful leonine face sharp against the sky. He belonged there. He fitted the surroundings. He was a development of forest and canyon wilderness. The crudeness once so objectionable to her was no longer manifest. Was it because of change and growth in him--or in her? Lucy fancied it was the latter. Edd had vastly improved, but not in the elemental quality from which had sprung his crudeness.

"She'll be right across there," he said, pointing with long arm. "I can line her half-way across. Reckon I see the tree now. It's an oak, sort of grey in colour, standin' on a ledge. An' it's got a dead top an' one big crooked branch."

"Very well, I'll remember every word," warned Lucy.

"I'll go ahead, so when you come slidin' I can grab you," he said.

"See that you don't miss me," replied Lucy, as she started to follow him down off the ledge. At first the descent, though steep, was easy enough. Had Edd zigzagged down she would have had no trouble at all. But he descended straight down over bare earth, rock slides, banks and benches, swerving only for trees and brush, and then taking care to get back again in alignment with whatever he had marked to guide him. Lucy could not go slowly, unless she sat down, which, despite an almost irresistible temptation, she scorned to do. Quite abruptly, without preparation, she found herself standing at the top of a wonderful green and brown slope dotted by pine trees and remarkable for its waved effect. It descended at an angle of forty-five degrees, an open forest standing almost on end! The green colour was grass; the brown, pine needles. This place made Lucy's heart leap to her throat. An absolutely unaccountable and new species of fright assailed her. Never in her life before had she seen a slope like that, or been attacked by such dread.

"Wal, here's where we slide," drawled Edd, gazing up at her. "Whatever you do, do it quick, an' keep in line with me."

Then he started down. His action here was very much different from any before. He descended sidewise, stepping, or rather running, on the edge of his boots, holding gun and bucket in his left hand, and reaching back with his right. His position corresponded with the slant of the slope. He slid more than he ran. His right hand often touched the ground behind him. He left a furrow in grass and needles. Forty or fifty feet below he lodged on a bench. Then he straightened round to look up at Lucy.

"Wal, city girl!" he called gaily. His voice was bantering, full of fun.

It lent Lucy recklessness. Through it she recovered from the queer locked sensation.

"All right, country boy, I'm coming," she replied, with bravado.

Then she launched herself, heedlessly attempting to imitate Edd's method of procedure. A few swift steps landed her upon the pine needles. Quick as lightning her feet flew up and she fell. Frantically she caught the ground with her hands and held on, stopped her momentum. Both breath and bravado had been jarred out of her.

"Wal, you've started comin', so come on," called Edd, never cracking a smile.

Lucy, holding on in most undignified manner, glared down upon him, making one last desperate effort to keep her equilibrium and her temper. If he had laughed or smiled, she might have trusted him more.

"Did you get me here on purpose?" she demanded, with magnificent disregard of reason.

"Shore. We're on our bee line. You couldn't be talked out of it," he replied.

"I mean on this terrible hill," she added, weakening.

"How'd I know she'd make a bee-line over this hill?" he demanded.

Lucy, seeing that action, not talk, was imperative, got up, and ran downhill right at him. She forgot his method of descending, but executed a very good one of her own. She ran, she flew, she fell, right upon Edd. He caught her outstretched hands and kept her from upsetting.

"Heavens!" gasped Lucy. "Suppose you hadn't been here?"

"Wal, you'd have slid some," he said. "But, honest, you did that fine."

"It was an accident," confessed Lucy as she fearfully gazed below. The next stage, to a bench below, seemed still steeper, and the one below that made Lucy's head reel.

"I'm sorry I called you city girl," he said contritely. "For you're shore game, an' quick on your feet. You hunt bees like you dance."

Lucy's misery was not alleviated by the compliment, because she knew she was a sham; nevertheless, she felt a weak little thrill. Maybe she could go on without killing herself.

"Don't hang on to me," added Edd as again he started. "That's not the way. We'll both slip, an' if we do we'll go clear to the bottom, same as if this hill was snow...When I make it down there you come, same as you got here."

"Ha! Ha!" laughed Lucy wildly. "Don't worry, I'll come."

Edd made a splendid achievement of the next descent, and halted in a favourable position to wait for Lucy. It encouraged her. Stifling her vacillations, she launched herself with light steps, leaning back, and depending on her gloved hand. She kept her feet most of the distance, but landed before Edd in a sliding posture. On the next attempt a couple of pine trees made descent easy for her. Below that were successive stages calculated to give her undue confidence.

"Wal, this is plumb bad," ejaculated Edd, gazing below and to right and left. "But we can't climb back. An' it's worse on each side. Reckon there's nothin' to do but slide."

And he did slide and fall and roll, and finally lodge against a tree.

"Hey! you can't do worse than that!" he shouted. "Come on. Don't wait an' think...Come a-rarin'."

Lucy was in a strange state of suspended exhilaration and acute panic. She was both inhibited and driven. Actually she closed her eyes on the instant she jumped. Then she ran. Her objective was Edd and she had to look. She expected to plunge head over heels, yet she reached Edd upright, and earned another compliment. They went on with varying luck, but at least they made remarkable progress. The farther down this slope they proceeded the thicker lay the mats of pine needles and the scantier grew the patches of grass. Naturally the needles slipped and slid downward. Also, trees and brush grew scarce. Then, to make the situation worse, the descent took a sharper angle and the benches cropped out farther apart. At last they reached a point where Edd seemed at a loss. The slope just below was not only more precipitous and longer than any yet, but it ended in a jump-off, the extent of which Edd could not determine.