"Miss, you'd do well to change right here," said Roy, earnestly. "It'll save time in the long run an' a lot of sufferin' before sunup."Helen stared at the young man, absolutely amazed with his simplicity. She was advised to change her traveling-dress for a riding-suit -- out somewhere in a cold, windy desert -- in the middle of the night -- among strange young man!
"Bo, which bag is it?" asked Dale, as if she were his sister. And when she indicated the one, he picked it up.
"Come off the road."
Bo followed him, and Helen found herself mechanically at their heels. Dale led them a few paces off the road behind some low bushes.
"Hurry an' change here," he said. "We'll make a pack of your outfit an' leave room for this bag."Then he stalked away and in a few strides disappeared.
Bo sat down to begin unlacing her shoes. Helen could just see her pale, pretty face and big, gleaming eyes by the light of the stars. It struck her then that Bo was going to make eminently more of a success of Western life than she was.
"Nell, those fellows are n-nice," said Bo, reflectively.
"Aren't you c-cold? Say, he said hurry!"
It was beyond Helen's comprehension how she ever began to disrobe out there in that open, windy desert, but after she had gotten launched on the task she found that it required more fortitude than courage. The cold wind pierced right through her. Almost she could have laughed at the way Bo made things fly.
"G-g-g-gee!" chattered Bo. "I n-never w-was so c-c-cold in all my life. Nell Rayner, m-may the g-good Lord forgive y-you!"Helen was too intent on her own troubles to take breath to talk. She was a strong, healthy girl, swift and efficient with her hands, yet this, the hardest physical ordeal she had ever experienced, almost overcame her. Bo outdistanced her by moments, helped her with buttons, and laced one whole boot for her. Then, with hands that stung, Helen packed the traveling-suits in the bag.
"There! But what an awful mess!" exclaimed Helen. "Oh, Bo, our pretty traveling-dresses!""We'll press them t-to-morrow -- on a l-log," replied Bo, and she giggled.
They started for the road. Bo, strange to note, did not carry her share of the burden, and she seemed unsteady on her feet.
The men were waiting beside a group of horses, one of which carried a pack.
"Nothin' slow about you," said Dale, relieving Helen of the grip. "Roy, put them up while I sling on this bag."Roy led out two of the horses.
"Get up," he said, indicating Bo. "The stirrups are short on this saddle."Bo was an adept at mounting, but she made such awkward and slow work of it in this instance that Helen could not believe her eyes.
"Haw 're the stirrups?" asked Roy. "Stand in them. Guess they're about right. . . . Careful now! Thet hoss is skittish. Hold him in."Bo was not living up to the reputation with which Helen had credited her.
"Now, miss, you get up," said Roy to Helen. And in another instant she found herself astride a black, spirited horse.
Numb with cold as she was, she yet felt the coursing thrills along her veins.
Roy was at the stirrups with swift hands.
"You're taller 'n I guessed," he said. "Stay up, but lift your foot. . . . Shore now, I'm glad you have them thick, soft boots. Mebbe we'll ride all over the White Mountains.""Bo, do you hear that?" called Helen.
But Bo did not answer. She was leaning rather unnaturally in her saddle. Helen became anxious. Just then Dale strode back to them.
"All cinched up, Roy?"
"Jest ready," replied Roy.
Then Dale stood beside Helen. How tall he was! His wide shoulders seemed on a level with the pommel of her saddle.
He put an affectionate hand on the horse.
"His name's Ranger an' he's the fastest an' finest horse in this country.""I reckon he shore is -- along with my bay," corroborated Roy.
"Roy, if you rode Ranger he'd beat your pet," said Dale. "We can start now. Roy, you drive the pack-horses."He took another look at Helen's saddle and then moved to do likewise with Bo's.
"Are you -- all right?" he asked, quickly.
Bo reeled in her seat.
"I'm n-near froze," she replied, in a faint voice. Her face shone white in the starlight. Helen recognized that Bo was more than cold.
"Oh, Bo!" she called, in distress.
"Nell, don't you worry, now."
"Let me carry you," suggested Dale.
"No. I'll s-s-stick on this horse or d-die," fiercely retorted Bo.
The two men looked up at her white face and then at each other. Then Roy walked away toward the dark bunch of horses off the road and Dale swung astride the one horse left.
"Keep close to me," he said.
Bo fell in line and Helen brought up the rear.
Helen imagined she was near the end of a dream. Presently she would awaken with a start and see the pale walls of her little room at home, and hear the cherry branches brushing her window, and the old clarion-voiced cock proclaim the hour of dawn.
