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there shells in the mountains？〃
〃Once this country was under the sea；〃 replied Dale。 〃I've
found things that 'd make you wonder。〃
〃Under the sea！〃 ejaculated Helen。 It was one thing to have
read of such a strange fact； but a vastly different one to
realize it here among these lofty peaks。 Dale was always
showing her something or telling her something that
astounded her。
〃Look here；〃 he said one day。 〃What do you make of that
little bunch of aspens？〃
They were on the farther side of the park and were resting
under a pine…tree。 The forest here encroached upon the park
with its straggling lines of spruce and groves of aspen。 The
little clump of aspens did not differ from hundreds Helen
had seen。
〃I don't make anything particularly of it；〃 replied Helen；
dubiously。 〃Just a tiny grove of aspens some very small；
some larger； but none very big。 But it's pretty with its
green and yellow leaves fluttering and quivering。〃
〃It doesn't make you think of a fight？〃
〃Fight？ No； it certainly does not；〃 replied Helen。
〃Well； it's as good an example of fight； of strife； of
selfishness； as you will find in the forest；〃 he said。 〃Now
come over； you an' Bo； an' let me show you what I mean。〃
〃Come on； Nell；〃 cried Bo； with enthusiasm。 〃He'll open our
eyes some more。〃
Nothing loath； Helen went with them to the little clump of
aspens。
〃About a hundred altogether；〃 said Dale。 〃They're pretty
well shaded by the spruces； but they get the sunlight from
east an' south。 These little trees all came from the same
seedlings。 They're all the same age。 Four of them stand；
say； ten feet or more high an' they're as large around as my
wrist。 Here's one that's largest。 See how full…foliaged he
is how he stands over most of the others； but not so much
over these four next to him。 They all stand close together；
very close； you see。 Most of them are no larger than my
thumb。 Look how few branches they have； an' none low down。
Look at how few leaves。 Do you see how all the branches
stand out toward the east an' south how the leaves； of
course； face the same way？ See how one branch of one tree
bends aside one from another tree。 That's a fight for the
sunlight。 Here are one two three dead trees。 Look； I
can snap them off 。 An' now look down under them。 Here are
little trees five feet high four feet high down to
these only a foot high。 Look how pale； delicate； fragile；
unhealthy！ They get so little sunshine。 They were born with
the other trees； but did not get an equal start。 Position
gives the advantage； perhaps。〃
Dale led the girls around the little grove； illustrating his
words by action。 He seemed deeply in earnest。
〃You understand it's a fight for water an' sun。 But mostly
sun； because； if the leaves can absorb the sun； the tree an'
roots will grow to grasp the needed moisture。 Shade is death
slow death to the life of trees。 These little aspens are
fightin' for place in the sunlight。 It is a merciless
battle。 They push an' bend one another's branches aside an'
choke them。 Only perhaps half of these aspens will survive；
to make one of the larger clumps； such as that one of
full…grown trees over there。 One season will give advantage
to this saplin' an' next year to that one。 A few seasons'
advantage to one assures its dominance over the others。 But
it is never sure of holdin' that dominance。 An 'if wind or
storm or a strong…growin' rival does not overthrow it； then
sooner or later old age will。 For there is absolute and
continual fight。 What is true of these aspens is true of all
the trees in the forest an' of all plant life in the forest。
What is most wonderful to me is the tenacity of life。〃
And next day Dale showed them an even more striking example
of this mystery of nature。
He guided them on horseback up one of the thick；
verdant…wooded slopes； calling their attention at various
times to the different growths； until they emerged on the
summit of the ridge where the timber grew scant and dwarfed。
At the edge of timber…line he showed a gnarled and knotted
spruce…tree； twisted out of all semblance to a beautiful
spruce； bent and storm…blasted； with almost bare branches；
all reaching one' way。 The tree was a specter。 It stood
alone。 It had little green upon it。 There seemed something
tragic about its contortions。 But it was alive and strong。
It had no rivals to take sun or moisture。 Its enemies were
the snow and wind and cold of the heights。
Helen felt； as the realization came to her； the knowledge
Dale wished to impart； that it was as sad as wonderful； and
as mysterious as it was inspiring。 At that moment there were
both the sting and sweetness of life the pain and the joy
in Helen's heart。 These strange facts were going to teach
her to transform her。 And even if they hurt； she welcomed
them。
CHAPTER XI
〃I'll ride you if it breaks my neck！〃 panted Bo；
passionately； shaking her gloved fist at the gray pony。
Dale stood near with a broad smile on his face。 Helen was
within earshot； watching from the edge of the park； and she
felt so fascinated and frightened that she could not call
out for Bo to stop。 The little gray mustang was a beauty；
clean…limbed and racy； with long black mane and tail； and a
fine； spirited head。 There was a blanket strapped on his
back； but no saddle。 Bo held the short halter that had been
fastened in a hackamore knot round his nose。 She wore no
coat； her blouse was covered with grass and seeds； and it
was open at the neck； her hair hung loose and disheveled；
one side of her face bore a stain of grass and dirt and a
suspicion of blood； the other was red and white； her eyes
blazed； beads of sweat stood out on her brow and wet places
shone on her cheeks。 As she began to strain on the halter；
pulling herself closer to the fiery pony； the outline of her
slender shape stood out lithe and strong。
Bo had been defeated in her cherished and determined
ambition to ride Dale's mustang； and she was furious。 The
mustang did not appear to be vicious or mean。 But he was
spirited； tricky； mischievous； and he had thrown her six
times。 The scene of Bo's defeat was at the edge of the park；
where thick moss and grass afforded soft places for her to
fall。 It also afforded poor foothold for the gray mustang；
obviously placing him at a disadvantage。 Dale did not bridle
him； because he had not been broken to a bridle； and though
it was harder for Bo to try to ride him bareback； there was
less risk of her being hurt。 Bo had begun in all eagerness
and enthusiasm； loving and petting the mustang； which she
named 〃Pony。〃 She had evidently anticipated an adventure；
but her smiling； resolute face had denoted confidence。 Pony
had stood fairly well to be mounted； and then had pitched
and tossed until Bo had slid off or been upset or thrown。
After each fall Bo bounced up with less of a smile； and more
of spirit； until now the Western passion to master a horse
had suddenly leaped to life within her。 It was no longer
fun； no more a daring circus trick to scare Helen and rouse
Dale's admiration。 The issue now lay between Bo and the
mustang。