Chapter XXXVII: Old Scout and the Legend

A week later Westy and Rip were back again in the cabin, looking none the worse for having gone through such an ordeal--thanks to the kindness of Mrs. Redmond and Lola.

It was Saturday; they were alone, the two older members being out on the trail making up for lost time, as they were due in Santa Fe the next week.

Lola had invited them for supper Sunday evening and they had planned to leave Monday morning.

“You know, Rip,” Westy said impulsively, “I’d risk my neck again if I thought I could help Lola and her grandmother. They’ve certainly been the best!”

“I kinda think so,” Rip answered, and added: “You like Lola pretty well, don’t you?”

Westy reddened and laughed.

“Go on, Rip! Try something else!”

They heard voices and presently the door opened, admitting Educational Films. Billy put his stuff down and Mr. Wilde sank wearily into a chair.

“Well, I guess that’s all for this Range. The only thing we missed taking was the fleas. I’m satisfied to pull out of here now.”

“Yet,” Billy said, “it’s been nice knowing those fine people!”

“Indeed it has,” Mr. Wilde agreed, “and that reminds me----”

“Oh, yes,” Billy interrupted, “the guide and that party of roughnecks. Go on, tell them!”

“We met some people this morning just as we stepped out in the trail. An old man--pioneer type, called himself Old Scout, and a bunch of newly rich--you know the kind. He’s a guide and was taking them up to the haunted lake to camp over to-night and are coming back to-morrow.

“They were babbling so, talking a lot of stuff, that Billy and I got way ahead of them with Old Scout. We got up to Redmond’s trail and he excused himself to his party; said he wanted to make a call on them. They sat down and had a bite to eat and we went along with him.

“We were welcome as always and so was he. It seems he has known them all--even the first John Redmond. Lived in this cabin we’ve been using for thirty years. Says he got to be too old to live alone (he’s a man about seventy-five now, but splendid physique), and lives with a married daughter somewhere in the foothills. Earns a little now and then by guiding some of these would-be’s, but never could-be’s.

“However, they chatted awhile and Mrs. Redmond insisted upon him having a little snack. A perfect hostess, that lady! She made him promise to stop with his party on their way back to-morrow. Incidentally, she reminded us that we are expected also.

“We promised and left and resumed our talk with him. We told him how fine the Redmonds had been to us and the affair at the lake and forest.

“He said to escape from that place of torment was considered a miracle and he commented upon Westy’s ability to have stayed up the way he did.

“Then I asked him what he thought of the lake legend and the cliff. He took a chew of tobacco and wagged his head.

“‘Wa’al, I allus believed in it, same’s everybody roun’ here, I reckon, but here in the late spring one of them government scientists come ’long to look it over. He brought a powerful lot o’ loafers with him, too.

“‘They hired me to guide ’em up to the lake fust. Wa’al, after they monkeyed aroun’ with all sorts of queer-lookin’ appliances ’n’ brought up buckets full of dirt out o’ the side o’ the lake, we started on ’roun’ to the forest.

“‘I put my foot down flat when we got there and told ’em I’d camp outside on the trail until--they got out--if they ever did. They laughed at me, but in all my time a pusson was considered right crazy if they went in there.

“‘Along in four days they came out again and the scientist said to me, “Well, Old Scout, we got out all right, didn’t we?” I said, Yes, I reckon he did. Now what was it all about I asked him. He told me.

“‘It seems the forest must have been really the camping ground of some tribe long ago, sure enough. He knew the legend, but he said he didn’t take any stock in the cliff dwellers. Anyway, these Indians wanted to pertect themselves from enemies, he said, so they moved out on the cliff facing the lake and planted that forest. He says it must o’ took two generations and more to perfect this natural fortress. Nothin’ but tree after tree, some hardly five feet apart, and they planted them in a puffect circle. It took them scientists four hull days to go around it and he said they couldn’t a-done it in that time if they hadn’t known about the circle.

“‘He sez it’s the trees make it so damp; they’re so big around and so high, no sun ever gits in. Becuz o’ the swampy groun’ the snakes love it. ’N’ with no stream anywheres about, it makes it wuss. Them days Injuns must ’a’ been hard-hearted critters.

“‘And the lake?’” I reminded him.

“‘“Yes, that’s so,” he said. Nothin’ ter thet either, accordin’ to the scientist. He sez the lake has an almost bottomless depth ’n’ becuz of its narrer basin and something ’bout an unknown source is what makes them whirlpools, ’specially when a storm’s comin’ it’s wuss. ’N’ about it bein’ hot water, he sez thet water is rich in mineral substances underneath thet throw out treemenjus heat ’n’ with the water churlin’ so crazy it’s twice as bad.

“‘So, I don’t believe in the legend no more. I miss it, too! It was a right nice little story.’”