Chapter 2 Chapter two

The two of them walked out along the wooden corridor.Hank Lucas said to the sheriff, "Bill, you know, if that guy's been in the Salmon River tributary since last fall, I should know. Maybe he's been in for a month or two." , hiding in a cabin somewhere. Let me have another look at the material about him." Catlin took the material from Ed Havel's letter and handed it over. "5'9," Hank said, "age, 32, weight, 185 lbs. red hair, blue eyes, fair skin, freckles... No way, Bill, he can't stay in the area long Even if he came, he didn't stay."

"I know," said the sheriff reassuringly, "but this Ed Havel, he thinks the only way to search is to go into the Salmon River tributary, and look all over the area for this cabin." "This log cabin," said Hank, "might be found. It's on a ridge, and it was built by someone with a string of traps. It started about fall, when there was no snow on the ground, and when it was finished, the ground Then there is about 3 feet of snow. You can see where the stumps were cut close to the ground and where the stumps were cut upwards. The last few small trees stretched over the door , for hanging traps and other things, they were cut down from 5 feet off the ground. These stumps were around the cabin."

Bill Catlin grinned at him. "I'm not going to tell this soon-to-be detective, Hank." "why not?" "Well," said the sheriff, "these urban detectives are kind of funny, they think they're the only ones who can reason. They don't know that all police work is just following leads, and a cowboy can do more tracking in a day than a detective can do." That's more than a month's work. This DeWitt is going to pretend to be a hunting enthusiast, but he's going to be a seasoned detective. It wouldn't be very good if you said everything he had to say first."

Hank grinned. "Me? I'm just a rough old cowboy rancher. How long has this Gridley guy been around?" "Well, well," said the sheriff, "Ed Havel didn't tell me. Hank, you shouldn't know anything about Gridley. And don't treat this Eastern guy as a detective. You just Know that you're looking for a log cabin and a missing guy, and the detective will most likely be posing as some friend from his home town." "Well," Hank grinned back, "it's much easier..." The woman who walked into the hotel after the afternoon bus had a slender waist and flat buttocks, and looked very confident.She seems to believe that she can achieve the set goals, and she knows what is on her mind.

She still has the imprint of the city on her body.Obviously, she was not familiar with the environment here. She stood for a while, looked up and down the street and the various frame buildings on both sides, then raised her eyes, looking over the roof to the mountains in the distance.At this altitude and in this dry weather, the shadows of those mountains had sharp boundaries and seemed to be all black, in sharp contrast to the bright sunshine.The summit of the mountain rises into the deep blue sky, shining blindingly in the sun. She suddenly noticed that the shuttle driver was looking at her curiously, so she walked into the hotel without hesitation, walked through the foyer, went straight to the reception counter, and nodded to Ray Fieldon.Ray is the hotel owner, and he is standing behind the counter to greet the incoming guests.She took the pen handed over by the boss.

She hesitated for a moment when the nib rested on the registration card.With long experience, Ray Fieldon realized what this moment of hesitation meant, and he raised his eyebrows curiously. Then the woman wrote "Marion Chandler, Crystal City" clearly and firmly. Ray Fieldon became friendly and talkative. "Have you lived there long?" he asked, pointing to the address she had written. Ray Fieldon used this particular method as a ready-made trump card against women who registered under false names.Experience told him that they reacted in one of two ways: either they blushed in embarrassment, or they looked at him coldly and condescendingly, seeking shelter under their dignified exterior.

But the woman just gave him a sincere, unguarded smile.There was no embarrassment in her calm hazel eyes."Oh, I don't actually live there, it's just my legal residence," she said in a voice that was neither hurried nor hesitant. She then said calmly, "I want to take a bath if you Here if possible. I don't intend to stay with you long, but to prepare my pack for a trip into the Salmon River tributary country on horseback. Perhaps you know someone who is very reliable on horseback." Facing the firm but friendly gaze, Fielden gave in. "Oh, ma'am, the best horse-rider around here is Hank Lucas. As it happens, he's going into the Salmon River tributary tomorrow, Bring a group in and you might be able to catch up and join them - if everyone agrees, of course. You'll save a ton of money that way. You'll have to figure out if you'll get along well together though OK. You can talk to Hank."

She hesitated. "The other two are due to arrive sometime this afternoon," Fielden went on. "The man's name is DeWitt, and the woman's name is Adrian. I can talk to Hank if you want." "I want you to go." "He's in town and I—" The door was pushed open suddenly, which interrupted Fielden.Marion Chandler turned to examine the newcomer.He walked into the foyer, wearing a pair of dark blue Levi's skinny jeans and high-heeled boots, baggy. "This is Hank," Fielden whispered. Hank called out, "See my tourist?" "They didn't come by shuttle, maybe they wanted to come by their own car," Fielden replied. "Come here, Hank."

Hank glanced the young woman up and down quickly, then removed his sweat-stained sombrero, revealing his dark curly hair in a messy pile on his head.Fieldon introduced them and explained why. "Oh," Hank said, "I'm fine with that, but you'd better hang out with other people this afternoon, see how you feel about them, and ask for their opinion. Going out with someone you don't like can be awkward Yes, you'll have cabin fever in no time." "Cabin Fever?" she asked, interest in her voice and eyes when she noticed that Hank was very sincere. "Yeah, we call it cabin fever here. Two guys stuck in a cabin all winter in the snow, with nothing to do but stare. Soon they're utterly bored, and the next The slightest thing can irritate them, and you can imagine that they will quarrel. Outsiders sometimes feel this way when they go camping with people who are out of temper."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll get along just fine with these guys." "Well, they should get on well with you," Hank said.He made no effort to hide his admiration: "What do you like? Fishing? Hunting? Or..." She gave him the same smile she had just had when Fielden questioned her where she lived: "I'm an amateur photographer. I'd like to take pictures of the Salmon River Tributary area, and I'd especially like to take pictures of people. Yeah, pictures of people who've lived in the area for a long time. You know, old residents of all sorts. I'm doing some character research."

"Oh, I think this can be arranged." Hank said hesitantly, "Country and wooden houses, these are all fine, but you have to be more experienced when dealing with those people." She laughed: "You'd be surprised how sophisticated I am." Hank grinned: "Oh, those people are coming in the afternoon. You can go and see them then." "What do they like? Hunting? Fishing?" she asked. Hank said, "Well, well, people don't ask these questions casually here." "But you asked me." Hank shifted his weight from one foot to the other, interested. "Well, ma'am, you have to be easy on me. I'm not like that." "I've always been good at forgiving people," she said. "I've been through a lot." "That'll be useful sooner or later," Hank told her. "You're the one asking the question," she went on, "and from what you've found out from them, is it a good idea for me to join the team?" "You'd better meet them first, and then decide for yourself." "As far as I'm concerned, I'm sure I'm fine." "Have you got a sleeping bag, ma'am?" "It's still at the courier office—I mean, it's supposed to be there. I sent most of my stuff by express mail a few days ago." "I'll check," said Ray Fieldon, and then asked casually, "Is it from Crystal City?" She met his gaze. "No," she said, "you just ask if there's a package addressed to Marion Chandler by courier, and if you'd like, please..." Early the next afternoon, Marion Chandler rode at the head of the procession, looking back at the long procession.The luggage covered with a white tarpaulin was shaking slightly from side to side as the pack horse walked.The whole pack looks like a huge centipede, and each piece of white luggage resembles a segment of the centipede. It was a long narrow path that cut out of the canyon wall, not more than two feet wide in most places.Below, a stream churns swiftly over rocks and sunken logs, eddies at turns, and throws white spray into its tumultuous turbulence. Soaring canyon walls and granite pinnacles pierce the sky and seem to overhang the road in many places.In the far distance behind there were gentler slopes, covered with patches of dark pine forests, leading up to at last the jagged ridge of the highest peak. The road spiraled endlessly.From a pasture in a hollow, the road followed the stream through wooded meadows, cold and still, covered with a white frost.Now, the sun was shining brightly and the road had descended steeply along the canyon.At these low elevations, the sun pours its heat into the narrow passage. Hank Lucas leads the team.Behind him was Collis Adrian, whom Marion estimated to be about twenty-seven.She had chestnut hair, brown eyes, and, though she tried to restrain herself, there was an air of tragedy about her.Marion felt that this gesture suited her because it made men think she was "brave." From the way she rode, Marion knew she was a novice.Her back was too stiff and she insisted on short stirrups, which put her weight on the back of the saddle.She has asked Hank casually twice, "I don't know how far we have come since we started." From the vague but relaxed tone of Lucas' answer, Marion knew that this was a big deal for him. It's a common occurrence, and it's the first sign that visitors are feeling tired.But Colliss acted bravely, without complaint, and rode silently. Behind Marion Chandler is James DeWitt, a stocky, jovial man of about thirty-five, who simply grabs the pommel of the saddle, which is so common in the West, when the road is bad. .Riding behind him is the cook Sam Eaton, a quiet middle-aged man who usually doesn't say a word unless absolutely necessary. Behind him, the team of packhorses staggered forward, and behind him was Howard Kenny, the rancher's assistant, a young lad who had just returned from the army, and there was always something sad in his eyes.Marion noticed that when he was happy, he seemed to be trying to pull his mind back from past memories.Afterwards, he almost always had a period of extreme detachment, staring into the distance, his gray eyes full of fatigue. Now, as he rode forward, the dust was blowing up after the procession, and he had no complaints about it, thinking it was part of the day's work.From time to time he turned in the saddle, and with his shovel he dug up a throwable stone from the side of the hill, and standing in the stirrups, if any horse showed any signs of refusing to move forward, he would place the stone exactly. Throw it over and urge the horse to continue walking. Hank Lucas, at the head of the line, sat slumped on his horse with low stirrups.His sombrero, sweat-stained, hung sideways on the back of his head, and he kept singing the cowboy chant.Sometimes he sang so loudly that even the people behind could hear a line or two of cheerful lyrics gliding by quickly, and then suddenly he lowered his voice again, and only some muffled voices could be heard. The long procession of pack horses meandered along the canyon, and at about three o'clock in the afternoon entered the open area of ​​a tributary of the Salmon River. The road followed the river for several miles, then turned in a rocky terrain, where the road was blasted out of sheer granite rocks, barely rooming for a horse.On the left was a deep ravine of about 200 feet. The road was so narrow that the saddle hangers and the side bulges of the horses completely obscured the edge of the road.Sitting straight in the saddle and looking down, all I could see was the 200-foot abyss below the left stirrup and the running water below. DeWitt clutched the pommel tightly, staring nervously at the road with wide-eyed eyes, but he managed to maintain a jovial appearance. "Hey, I say, Hank," he called. Hank Lucas spun lazily out of the saddle, looking over his left shoulder to see what was going on, and he didn't lose his balance when he turned.The interest on his face was merely polite and therefore casual. "In a place like this, what would you do if another team came across?" DeWitt asked worriedly. "Oh," Hank paused, and then said slowly, "You can't turn around, you can't go over, and the only thing you can do is to see which piece of equipment is the least valuable, and then throw it away." "Please don't make such jokes," said Collis Adrian in a low, hoarse voice. Hank grinned contagiously. "Ma'am," he said, "I'm not kidding. Here's my answer. You might as well try and see if you can find anything else." After he finished speaking, he grinned unhurriedly again, and continued, "We can camp in about 10 minutes." Then he turned around and began to sing a mournful tune loudly. Marion Chandler looked at his watch and realized that the 10 minutes he had said were actually 23 full minutes.They pitched their tent in a meadow where the pine trees provided a cool shade.Everything about the pack team is proceeding as planned.The cook started the fire, and Marion could smell the food even before the shepherds had tied up the horses and put a bell on the lead. James DeWitt came and stood beside her: "You seem to be feeling pretty good about the trip." "good." "Do you often ride horses?" "Why do you think so?" "I don't know, maybe it's the way you sit on the horse, you seem to be integrated with it. Are you not tired?" "Not particularly tired." "I'm exhausted," he admits. "I'm too fat for this kind of travel. I'm going to get myself busy and lose 25 pounds. I've been swearing by it for a year now." , maybe this is a good start." Marion nodded towards the bonfire: "Let's wait until the bonfire turns to ashes and you smell the aroma of grilling steak." "steak?" "Sam told me. He had steak the first night he said it." DeWitt wiped his mouth with his hand exaggeratedly. "Then I guess we'll start the diet tomorrow," he said. "So you're here for the photo?" "yes." "A date with a certain magazine?" "No, I'm a freelance photographer." "That kind of travel is pretty expensive for a freelance photographer, isn't it?" "No way!" she said indifferently. "Excuse me." He grinned. "I'm always getting in trouble and saying things that just pop out of my head. Did you take pictures along the way?" "No, I'm going to wait another day or two. It will be better, because the scenery will be more beautiful, and the first day's travel is the longest and hardest for both animals and people. People who travel on horses don't want to come out. On the first day, let you delay the team's itinerary." "Sounds like you're an old hand." She laughed happily and said, "I heard from Hank." "But have you ever done quite a few camping trips?" "um, yes." It was obvious that DeWitt wanted to ask more questions, but her attitude prevented his curiosity.