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diff --git a/old/1262-0.txt b/old/1262-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2da0967 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1262-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9608 @@ + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heritage of the Desert, by Zane Grey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost +no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it +under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Heritage of the Desert + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: August 21, 2008 [EBook #1262] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer and Rick Fane + + + + + + + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A NOVEL + +By Zane Grey + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET + +II. WHITE SAGE + +III. THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + +IV. THE OASIS + +V. BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + +VI. THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + +VII. SILVERMANE + +IX. THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + +X. RIDING THE RANGES + +XI. THE DESERT-HAWK + +XII. ECHO CLIFFS + +XIII. THE SOMBRE LINE + +XIV. WOLF + +XV. DESERT NIGHT + +XVI. THUNDER RIVER + +XVII. THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + +XVIII. THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +XIX. UNLEASHED + +XX. THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + +XXI. MESCAL + + + + + + + + + +I. THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET + +“BUT the man's almost dead.” + +The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his +eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that +had overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a +sombre group of men. + +“Leave him here,” said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. “He's the +fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. He's all +but dead. Dene's outlaws are after him. Don't cross Dene.” + +The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a +follower of Cromwell. + +“Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or +any other man. You forget your religion. I see my duty to God.” + +“Yes, August Naab, I know,” replied the little man, bitterly. “You would +cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who went down +from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. But I've suffered +enough at the hands of Dene.” + +The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving +Hare that he was still in the land of the Mormons. As he lay there the +strange words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few +days with the stern reality of the present. + +“Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers,” replied Naab, like +one reading from the Old Testament. “They came into this desert land to +worship and multiply in peace. They conquered the desert; they prospered +with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all +hostile to their religion and their livelihood. Nor did they ever fail +to succor the sick and unfortunate. What are our toils and perils +compared to theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn +from mercy because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the +times, but I am a Mormon; I trust in God.” + +“August Naab, I am a Mormon too,” returned Cole, “but my hands are +stained with blood. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and +your cattle. Yes, I know. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far +off in your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, +guarded by your Navajo friends. But Holderness is creeping slowly on +you. He'll ignore your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will +steal cattle under your very eyes. Don't make them enemies.” + +“I can't pass by this helpless man,” rolled out August Naab's sonorous +voice. + +Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward. +“There! Dene and his band! See, under the red wall; see the dust, not +ten miles away. See them?” + +The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to +the west. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched the waste, and followed +the red mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional +in its craggy sweep, shut out the north. Far away little puffs of dust +rose above the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace. + +“See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for my +prophecy,” cried Cole, fanatically. “The red sunset--the sign of the +times--blood!” + +A broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme +west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several clouds of +striking color and shape. They alone, in all that expanse, were dyed in +the desert's sunset crimson. The largest projected from behind the dark +cloud-bank in the shape of a huge fist, and the others, small and round, +floated below. To Cole it seemed a giant hand, clutching, with +inexorable strength, a bleeding heart. His terror spread to his +companions as they stared. + +Then, as light surrendered to shade, the sinister color faded; the +tracing of the closed hand softened; flush and glow paled, leaving the +sky purple, as if mirroring the desert floor. One golden shaft shot up, +to be blotted out by sudden darkening change, and the sun had set. + +“That may be God's will,” said August Naab. “So be it. Martin Cole, take +your men and go.” + +There was a word, half oath, half prayer, and then rattle of stirrups, +the creak of saddles, and clink of spurs, followed by the driving rush +of fiery horses. Cole and his men disappeared in a pall of yellow dust. + +A wan smile lightened John Hare's face as he spoke weakly: “I fear your- +-generous act--can't save me... may bring you harm. I'd rather you left +me--seeing you have women in your party.” + +“Don't try to talk yet,” said August Naab. “You're faint. Here--drink.” + He stooped to Hare, who was leaning against a sage-bush, and held a +flask to his lips. Rising, he called to his men: “Make camp, sons. We've +an hour before the outlaws come up, and if they don't go round the sand- +dune we'll have longer.” + +Hare's flagging senses rallied, and he forgot himself in wonder. While +the bustle went on, unhitching of wagon-teams, hobbling and feeding of +horses, unpacking of camp-supplies, Naab appeared to be lost in deep +meditation or prayer. Not once did he glance backward over the trail on +which peril was fast approaching. His gaze was fastened on a ridge to +the east where desert line, fringed by stunted cedars, met the pale-blue +sky, and for a long time he neither spoke nor stirred. At length he +turned to the camp-fire; he raked out red coals, and placed the iron +pots in position, by way of assistance to the women who were preparing +the evening meal. + +A cool wind blew in from the desert, rustling the sage, sifting the +sand, fanning the dull coals to burning opals. Twilight failed and night +fell; one by one great stars shone out, cold and bright. From the zone +of blackness surrounding the camp burst the short bark, the hungry +whine, the long-drawn-out wail of desert wolves. + +“Supper, sons,” called Naab, as he replenished the fire with an armful +of grease-wood. + +Naab's sons had his stature, though not his bulk. They were wiry, rangy +men, young, yet somehow old. The desert had multiplied their years. Hare +could not have told one face from another, the bronze skin and steel eye +and hard line of each were so alike. The women, one middle-aged, the +others young, were of comely, serious aspect. + +“Mescal,” called the Mormon. + +A slender girl slipped from one of the covered wagons; she was dark, +supple, straight as an Indian. + +August Naab dropped to his knees, and, as the members of his family +bowed their heads, he extended his hands over them and over the food +laid on the ground. + +“Lord, we kneel in humble thanksgiving. Bless this food to our use. +Strengthen us, guide us, keep us as Thou hast in the past. Bless this +stranger within our gates. Help us to help him. Teach us Thy ways, O +Lord--Amen.” + +Hare found himself flushing and thrilling, found himself unable to +control a painful binding in his throat. In forty-eight hours he had +learned to hate the Mormons unutterably; here, in the presence of this +austere man, he felt that hatred wrenched from his heart, and in its +place stirred something warm and living. He was glad, for if he had to +die, as he believed, either from the deed of evil men, or from this last +struggle of his wasted body, he did not want to die in bitterness. That +simple prayer recalled the home he had long since left in Connecticut, +and the time when he used to tease his sister and anger his father and +hurt his mother while grace was being said at the breakfast-table. Now +he was alone in the world, sick and dependent upon the kindness of these +strangers. But they were really friends--it was a wonderful thought. + +“Mescal, wait on the stranger,” said August Naab, and the girl knelt +beside him, tendering meat and drink. His nerveless fingers refused to +hold the cup, and she put it to his lips while he drank. Hot coffee +revived him; he ate and grew stronger, and readily began to talk when +the Mormon asked for his story. + +“There isn't much to tell. My name is Hare. I am twenty-four. My parents +are dead. I came West because the doctors said I couldn't live in the +East. At first I got better. But my money gave out and work became a +necessity. I tramped from place to place, ending up ill in Salt Lake +City. People were kind to me there. Some one got me a job with a big +cattle company, and sent me to Marysvale, southward over the bleak +plains. It was cold; I was ill when I reached Lund. Before I even knew +what my duties were for at Lund I was to begin work--men called me a +spy. A fellow named Chance threatened me. An innkeeper led me out the +back way, gave me bread and water, and said: 'Take this road to Bane; +it's sixteen miles. If you make it some one'll give you a lift North.' I +walked all night, and all the next day. Then I wandered on till I +dropped here where you found me.” + +“You missed the road to Bane,” said Naab. “This is the trail to White +Sage. It's a trail of sand and stone that leaves no tracks, a lucky +thing for you. Dene wasn't in Lund while you were there--else you +wouldn't be here. He hasn't seen you, and he can't be certain of your +trail. Maybe he rode to Bane, but still we may find a way--” + +One of his sons whistled low, causing Naab to rise slowly, to peer into +the darkness, to listen intently. + +“Here, get up,” he said, extending a hand to Hare. “Pretty shaky, eh? +Can you walk? Give me a hold--there.... Mescal, come.” The slender girl +obeyed, gliding noiselessly like a shadow. “Take his arm.” Between them +they led Hare to a jumble of stones on the outer edge of the circle of +light. + +“It wouldn't do to hide,” continued Naab, lowering his voice to a swift +whisper, “that might be fatal. You're in sight from the camp-fire, but +indistinct. By-and-by the outlaws will get here, and if any of them +prowl around close, you and Mescal must pretend to be sweethearts. +Understand? They'll pass by Mormon love-making without a second look. +Now, lad, courage... Mescal, it may save his life.” + +Naab returned to the fire, his shadow looming in gigantic proportions on +the white canopy of a covered wagon. Fitful gusts of wind fretted the +blaze; it roared and crackled and sputtered, now illuminating the still +forms, then enveloping them in fantastic obscurity. Hare shivered, +perhaps from the cold air, perhaps from growing dread. Westward lay the +desert, an impenetrable black void; in front, the gloomy mountain wall +lifted jagged peaks close to the stars; to the right rose the ridge, the +rocks and stunted cedars of its summit standing in weird relief. +Suddenly Hare's fugitive glance descried a dark object; he watched +intently as it moved and rose from behind the summit of the ridge to +make a bold black figure silhouetted against the cold clearness of sky. +He saw it distinctly, realized it was close, and breathed hard as the +wind-swept mane and tail, the lean, wild shape and single plume resolved +themselves into the unmistakable outline of an Indian mustang and rider. + +“Look!” he whispered to the girl. “See, a mounted Indian, there on the +ridge--there, he's gone--no, I see him again. But that's another. Look! +there are more.” He ceased in breathless suspense and stared fearfully +at a line of mounted Indians moving in single file over the ridge to +become lost to view in the intervening blackness. A faint rattling of +gravel and the peculiar crack of unshod hoof on stone gave reality to +that shadowy train. + +“Navajos,” said Mescal. + +“Navajos!” he echoed. “I heard of them at Lund; 'desert hawks' the men +called them, worse than Piutes. Must we not alarm the men?--You--aren't +you afraid? + +“No.” + +“But they are hostile.” + +“Not to him.” She pointed at the stalwart figure standing against the +firelight. + +“Ah! I remember. The man Cole spoke of friendly Navajos. They must be +close by. What does it mean?” + +“I'm not sure. I think they are out there in the cedars, waiting.” + +“Waiting! For what?” + +“Perhaps for a signal.” + +“Then they were expected?” + +“I don't know; I only guess. We used to ride often to White Sage and +Lund; now we go seldom, and when we do there seem to be Navajos near the +camp at night, and riding the ridges by day. I believe Father Naab +knows.” + +“Your father's risking much for me. He's good. I wish I could show my +gratitude.” + +“I call him Father Naab, but he is not my father.” + +“A niece or granddaughter, then?” + +“I'm no relation. Father Naab raised me in his family. My mother was a +Navajo, my father a Spaniard.” + +“Why!” exclaimed Hare. “When you came out of the wagon I took you for an +Indian girl. But the moment you spoke--you talk so well--no one would +dream--” + +“Mormons are well educated and teach the children they raise,” she said, +as he paused in embarrassment. + +He wanted to ask if she were a Mormon by religion, but the question +seemed curious and unnecessary. His interest was aroused; he realized +suddenly that he had found pleasure in her low voice; it was new and +strange, unlike any woman's voice he had ever heard; and he regarded her +closely. He had only time for a glance at her straight, clean-cut +profile, when she turned startled eyes on him, eyes black as the night. +And they were eyes that looked through and beyond him. She held up a +hand, slowly bent toward the wind, and whispered: + +“Listen.” + +Hare heard nothing save the barking of coyotes and the breeze in the +sage. He saw, however, the men rise from round the camp-fire to face the +north, and the women climb into the wagon, and close the canvas flaps. +And he prepared himself, with what fortitude he could command for the +approach of the outlaws. He waited, straining to catch a sound. His +heart throbbed audibly, like a muffled drum, and for an endless moment +his ears seemed deadened to aught else. Then a stronger puff of wind +whipped in, banging the rhythmic beat of flying hoofs. Suspense ended. +Hare felt the easing of a weight upon him. Whatever was to be his fate, +it would be soon decided. The sound grew into a clattering roar. A black +mass hurled itself over the border of opaque circle, plunged into the +light, and halted. + +August Naab deliberately threw a bundle of grease-wood upon the camp- +fire. A blaze leaped up, sending abroad a red flare. “Who comes?” he +called. + +“Friends, Mormons, friends,” was the answer. + +“Get down--friends--and come to the fire.” + +Three horsemen advanced to the foreground; others, a troop of eight or +ten, remained in the shadow, a silent group. + +Hare sank back against the stone. He knew the foremost of those horsemen +though he had never seen him. + +“Dene,” whispered Mescal, and confirmed his instinctive fear. + +Hare was nervously alive to the handsome presence of the outlaw. +Glimpses that he had caught of “bad” men returned vividly as he noted +the clean-shaven face, the youthful, supple body, the cool, careless +mien. Dene's eyes glittered as he pulled off his gauntlets and beat the +sand out of them; and but for that quick fierce glance his leisurely +friendly manner would have disarmed suspicion. + +“Are you the Mormon Naab?” he queried. + +“August Naab, I am.” + +“Dry camp, eh? Hosses tired, I reckon. Shore it's a sandy trail. Where's +the rest of you fellers?” + +“Cole and his men were in a hurry to make White Sage to-night. They were +travelling light; I've heavy wagons.” + +“Naab, I reckon you shore wouldn't tell a lie?” + +“I have never lied.” + +“Heerd of a young feller thet was in Lund--pale chap--lunger, we'd call +him back West?” + +“I heard that he had been mistaken for a spy at Lund and had fled toward +Bane.” + +“Hadn't seen nothin' of him this side of Lund?” + +“No.” + +“Seen any Navvies?” + +“Yes.” + +The outlaw stared hard at him. Apparently he was about to speak of the +Navajos, for his quick uplift of head at Naab's blunt affirmative +suggested the impulse. But he checked himself and slowly drew on his +gloves. + +“Naab, I'm shore comin' to visit you some day. Never been over thet +range. Heerd you hed fine water, fine cattle. An' say, I seen thet +little Navajo girl you have, an' I wouldn't mind seein' her again.” + +August Naab kicked the fire into brighter blaze. “Yes fine range,” he +presently replied, his gaze fixed on Dene. “Fine water, fine cattle, +fine browse. I've a fine graveyard, too; thirty graves, and not one a +woman's. Fine place for graves, the canyon country. You don't have to +dig. There's one grave the Indians never named; it's three thousand feet +deep.” + +“Thet must be in hell,” replied Dene, with a smile, ignoring the covert +meaning. He leisurely surveyed Naab's four sons, the wagons and horses, +till his eye fell upon Hare and Mescal. With that he swung in his saddle +as if to dismount. + +“I shore want a look around.” + +“Get down, get down,” returned the Mormon. The deep voice, unwelcoming, +vibrant with an odd ring, would have struck a less suspicious man than +Dene. The outlaw wrung his leg back over the pommel, sagged in the +saddle, and appeared to be pondering the question. Plainly he was +uncertain of his ground. But his indecision was brief. + +“Two-Spot, you look 'em over,” he ordered. + +The third horseman dismounted and went toward the wagons. + +Hare, watching this scene, became conscious that his fear had +intensified with the recognition of Two-Spot as Chance, the outlaw whom +he would not soon forget. In his excitement he moved against Mescal and +felt her trembling violently. + +“Are you afraid?” he whispered. + +“Yes, of Dene.” + +The outlaw rummaged in one of the wagons, pulled aside the canvas flaps +of the other, laughed harshly, and then with clinking spurs tramped +through the camp, kicking the beds, overturning a pile of saddles, and +making disorder generally, till he spied the couple sitting on the stone +in the shadow. + +As the outlaw lurched that way, Hare, with a start of recollection, took +Mescal in his arms and leaned his head against hers. He felt one of her +hands lightly brush his shoulder and rest there, trembling. + +Shuffling footsteps scraped the sand, sounded nearer and nearer, slowed +and paused. + +“Sparkin'! Dead to the world. Ham! Haw! Haw!” + +The coarse laugh gave place to moving footsteps. The rattling clink of +stirrup and spur mingled with the restless stamp of horse. Chance had +mounted. Dene's voice drawled out: “Good-bye, Naab, I shore will see you +all some day.” The heavy thuds of many hoofs evened into a roar that +diminished as it rushed away. + +In unutterable relief Hare realized his deliverance. He tried to rise, +but power of movement had gone from him. + +He was fainting, yet his sensations were singularly acute. Mescal's hand +dropped from his shoulder; her cheek, that had been cold against his, +grew hot; she quivered through all her slender length. Confusion claimed +his senses. Gratitude and hope flooded his soul. Something sweet and +beautiful, the touch of this desert girl, rioted in his blood; his heart +swelled in exquisite agony. Then he was whirling in darkness; and he +knew no more. + + + + + + +II. WHITE SAGE + +THE night was as a blank to Hare; the morning like a drifting of hazy +clouds before his eyes. He felt himself moving; and when he awakened +clearly to consciousness he lay upon a couch on the vine-covered porch +of a cottage. He saw August Naab open a garden gate to admit Martin +Cole. They met as friends; no trace of scorn marred August's greeting, +and Martin was not the same man who had shown fear on the desert. His +welcome was one of respectful regard for his superior. + +“Elder, I heard you were safe in,” he said, fervently. “We feared--I +know not what. I was distressed till I got the news of your arrival. +How's the young man?” + +“He's very ill. But while there's life there's hope.” + +“Will the Bishop administer to him?” + +“Gladly, if the young man's willing. Come, let's go in.” + +“Wait, August,” said Cole. “Did you know your son Snap was in the +village?” + +“My son here!” August Naab betrayed anxiety. “I left him home with work. +He shouldn't have come. Is--is he--” + +“He's drinking and in an ugly mood. It seems he traded horses with Jeff +Larsen, and got the worst of the deal. There's pretty sure to be a +fight.” + +“He always hated Larsen.” + +“Small wonder. Larsen is mean; he's as bad as we've got and that's +saying a good deal. Snap has done worse things than fight with Larsen. +He's doing a worse thing now, August--he's too friendly with Dene.” + +“I've heard--I've heard it before. But, Martin, what can I do?” + +“Do? God knows. What can any of us do? Times have changed, August. Dene +is here in White Sage, free, welcome in many homes. Some of our +neighbors, perhaps men we trust, are secret members of this rustler's +band.” + +“You're right, Cole. There are Mormons who are cattle-thieves. To my +eternal shame I confess it. Under cover of night they ride with Dene, +and here in our midst they meet him in easy tolerance. Driven from +Montana he comes here to corrupt our young men. God's mercy!” + +“August, some of our young men need no one to corrupt them. Dene had no +great task to win them. He rode in here with a few outlaws and now he +has a strong band. We've got to face it. We haven't any law, but he can +be killed. Some one must kill him. Yet bad as Dene is, he doesn't +threaten our living as Holderness does. Dene steals a few cattle, kills +a man here and there. Holderness reaches out and takes our springs. +Because we've no law to stop him, he steals the blood of our life-- +water--water--God's gift to the desert! Some one must kill Holderness, +too!” + +“Martin, this lust to kill is a fearful thing. Come in, you must pray +with the Bishop.” + +“No, it's not prayer I need, Elder,” replied Cole, stubbornly. “I'm +still a good Mormon. What I want is the stock I've lost, and my fields +green again.” + +August Naab had no answer for his friend. A very old man with snow-white +hair and beard came out on the porch. + +“Bishop, brother Martin is railing again,” said Naab, as Cole bared his +head. + +“Martin, my son, unbosom thyself,” rejoined the Bishop. + +“Black doubt and no light,” said Cole, despondently. “I'm of the younger +generation of Mormons, and faith is harder for me. I see signs you can't +see. I've had trials hard to bear. I was rich in cattle, sheep, and +water. These Gentiles, this rancher Holderness and this outlaw Dene, +have driven my cattle, killed my sheep, piped my water off my fields. I +don't like the present. We are no longer in the old days. Our young men +are drifting away, and the few who return come with ideas opposed to +Mormonism. Our girls and boys are growing up influenced by the Gentiles +among us. They intermarry, and that's a death-blow to our creed.” + +“Martin, cast out this poison from your heart. Return to your faith. The +millennium will come. Christ will reign on earth again. The ten tribes +of Israel will be restored. The Book of Mormon is the Word of God. The +creed will live. We may suffer here and die, but our spirits will go +marching on; and the City of Zion will be builded over our graves.” + +Cole held up his hands in a meekness that signified hope if not faith. + +August Naab bent over Hare. “I would like to have the Bishop administer +to you,” he said. + +“What's that?” asked Hare. + +“A Mormon custom, 'the laying on of hands.' We know its efficacy in +trouble and illness. A Bishop of the Mormon Church has the gift of +tongues, of prophecy, of revelation, of healing. Let him administer to +you. It entails no obligation. Accept it as a prayer.” + +“I'm willing,” replied the young man. + +Thereupon Naab spoke a few low words to some one through the open door. +Voices ceased; soft footsteps sounded without; women crossed the +threshold, followed by tall young men and rosy-checked girls and round- +eyed children. A white-haired old woman came forward with solemn +dignity. She carried a silver bowl which she held for the Bishop as he +stood close by Hare's couch. The Bishop put his hands into the bowl, +anointing them with fragrant oil; then he placed them on the young man's +head, and offered up a brief prayer, beautiful in its simplicity and +tremulous utterance. + +The ceremony ended, the onlookers came forward with pleasant words on +their lips, pleasant smiles on their faces. The children filed by his +couch, bashful yet sympathetic; the women murmured, the young men +grasped his hand. Mescal flitted by with downcast eye, with shy smile, +but no word. + +“Your fever is gone,” said August Naab, with his hand on Hare's cheek. + +“It comes and goes suddenly,” replied Hare. “I feel better now, only I'm +oppressed. I can't breathe freely. I want air, and I'm hungry.” + +“Mother Mary, the lad's hungry. Judith, Esther, where are your wits? +Help your mother. Mescal, wait on him, see to his comfort.” + +Mescal brought a little table and a pillow, and the other girls soon +followed with food and drink; then they hovered about, absorbed in +caring for him. + +“They said I fell among thieves,” mused Hare, when he was once more +alone. “I've fallen among saints as well.” He felt that he could never +repay this August Naab. “If only I might live!” he ejaculated. How +restful was this cottage garden! The green sward was a balm to his eyes. +Flowers new to him, though of familiar springtime hue, lifted fresh +faces everywhere; fruit-trees, with branches intermingling, blended the +white and pink of blossoms. There was the soft laughter of children in +the garden. Strange birds darted among the trees. Their notes were new, +but their song was the old delicious monotone--the joy of living and +love of spring. A green-bowered irrigation ditch led by the porch and +unseen water flowed gently, with gurgle and tinkle, with music in its +hurry. Innumerable bees murmured amid the blossoms. + +Hare fell asleep. Upon returning drowsily to consciousness he caught +through half-open eyes the gleam of level shafts of gold sunlight low +down in the trees; then he felt himself being carried into the house to +be laid upon a bed. Some one gently unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, +removed his shoes, and covered him with a blanket. Before he had fully +awakened he was left alone, and quiet settled over the house. A +languorous sense of ease and rest lulled him to sleep again. In another +moment, it seemed to him, he was awake; bright daylight streamed through +the window, and a morning breeze stirred the faded curtain. + +The drag in his breathing which was always a forerunner of a coughing- +spell warned him now; he put on coat and shoes and went outside, where +his cough attacked him, had its sway, and left him. + +“Good-morning,” sang out August Naab's cheery voice. “Sixteen hours of +sleep, my lad!” + +“I did sleep, didn't I? No wonder I feel well this morning. A +peculiarity of my illness is that one day I'm down, the next day up.” + +“With the goodness of God, my lad, we'll gradually increase the days up. +Go in to breakfast. Afterward I want to talk to you. This'll be a busy +day for me, shoeing the horses and packing supplies. I want to start for +home to-morrow.” + +Hare pondered over Naab's words while he ate. The suggestion in them, +implying a relation to his future, made him wonder if the good Mormon +intended to take him to his desert home. He hoped so, and warmed anew to +this friend. But he had no enthusiasm for himself; his future seemed +hopeless. + +Naab was waiting for him on the porch, and drew him away from the +cottage down the path toward the gate. + +“I want you to go home with me.” + +“You're kind--I'm only a sort of beggar--I've no strength left to work +my way. I'll go--though it's only to die.” + +“I haven't the gift of revelation--yet somehow I see that you won't die +of this illness. You will come home with me. It's a beautiful place, my +Navajo oasis. The Indians call it the Garden of Eschtah. If you can get +well anywhere it'll be there.” + +“I'll go but I ought not. What can I do for you?” + +“No man can ever tell what he may do for another. The time may come-- +well, John, is it settled?” He offered his huge broad hand. + +“It's settled--I--” Hare faltered as he put his hand in Naab's. The +Mormon's grip straightened his frame and braced him. Strength and +simplicity flowed from the giant's toil-hardened palm. Hare swallowed +his thanks along with his emotion, and for what he had intended to say +he substituted: “No one ever called me John. I don't know the name. Call +me Jack.” + +“Very well, Jack, and now let's see. You'll need some things from the +store. Can you come with me? It's not far.” + +“Surely. And now what I need most is a razor to scrape the alkali and +stubble off my face.” + +The wide street, bordered by cottages peeping out of green and white +orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which +led up to the Pink Cliffs. A green square enclosed a gray church, a +school-house and public hall. Farther down the main thoroughfare were +several weather-boarded whitewashed stores. Two dusty men were riding +along, one on each side of the wildest, most vicious little horse Hare +had ever seen. It reared and bucked and kicked, trying to escape from +two lassoes. In front of the largest store were a number of mustangs all +standing free, with bridles thrown over their heads and trailing on the +ground. The loungers leaning against the railing and about the doors +were lank brown men very like Naab's sons. Some wore sheepskin “chaps,” + some blue overalls; all wore boots and spurs, wide soft hats, and in +their belts, far to the back, hung large Colt's revolvers. + +“We'll buy what you need, just as if you expected to ride the ranges for +me to-morrow,” said Naab. “The first thing we ask a new man is, can he +ride? Next, can he shoot?” + +“I could ride before I got so weak. I've never handled a revolver, but I +can shoot a rifle. Never shot at anything except targets, and it seemed +to come natural for me to hit them.” + +“Good. We'll show you some targets--lions, bears, deer, cats, wolves. +There's a fine forty-four Winchester here that my friend Abe has been +trying to sell. It has a long barrel and weighs eight pounds. Our desert +riders like the light carbines that go easy on a saddle. Most of the +mustangs aren't weight-carriers. This rifle has a great range; I've shot +it, and it's just the gun for you to use on wolves and coyotes. You'll +need a Colt and a saddle, too.” + +“By-the-way,” he went on, as they mounted the store steps, “here's the +kind of money we use in this country.” He handed Hare a slip of blue +paper, a written check for a sum of money, signed, but without register +of bank or name of firm. “We don't use real money,” he added. “There's +very little coin or currency in southern Utah. Most of the Gentiles +lately come in have money, and some of us Mormons have a bag or two of +gold, but scarcely any of it gets into circulation. We use these checks, +which go from man to man sometimes for six months. The roundup of a +check means sheep, cattle, horses, grain, merchandise or labor. Every +man gets his real money's value without paying out an actual cent.” + +“Such a system at least means honest men,” said Hare, laughing his +surprise. + +They went into a wide door to tread a maze of narrow aisles between +boxes and barrels, stacks of canned vegetables, and piles of harness and +dry goods; they entered an open space where several men leaned on a +counter. + +“Hello, Abe,” said Naab; “seen anything of Snap?” + +“Hello, August. Yes, Snap's inside. So's Holderness. Says he rode in off +the range on purpose to see you.” Abe designated an open doorway from +which issued loud voices. Hare glanced into a long narrow room full of +smoke and the fumes of rum. Through the haze he made out a crowd of men +at a rude bar. Abe went to the door and called out: “Hey, Snap, your dad +wants you. Holderness, here's August Naab.” + +A man staggered up the few steps leading to the store and swayed in. His +long face had a hawkish cast, and it was gray, not with age, but with +the sage-gray of the desert. His eyes were of the same hue, cold yet +burning with little fiery flecks in their depths. He appeared short of +stature because of a curvature of the spine, but straightened up he +would have been tall. He wore a blue flannel shirt, and blue overalls; +round his lean hips was a belt holding two Colt's revolvers, their +heavy, dark butts projecting outward, and he had on high boots with +long, cruel spurs. + +“Howdy, father?” he said. + +“I'm packing to-day,” returned August Naab. “We ride out to-morrow. I +need your help.” + +“All-l right. When I get my pinto from Larsen.” + +“Never mind Larsen. If he got the better of you let the matter drop.” + +“Jeff got my pinto for a mustang with three legs. If I hadn't been drunk +I'd never have traded. So I'm looking for Jeff.” + +He bit out the last words with a peculiar snap of his long teeth, a +circumstance which caused Hare instantly to associate the savage +clicking with the name he had heard given this man. August Naab looked +at him with gloomy eyes and stern shut mouth, an expression of righteous +anger, helplessness and grief combined, the look of a man to whom +obstacles had been nothing, at last confronted with crowning defeat. +Hare realized that this son was Naab's first-born, best-loved, a thorn +in his side, a black sheep. + +“Say, father, is that the spy you found on the trail?” Snap's pale eyes +gleamed on Hare and the little flames seemed to darken and leap. + +“This is John Hare, the young man I found. But he's not a spy.” + +“You can't make any one believe that. He's down as a spy. Dene's spy! +His name's gone over the ranges as a counter of unbranded stock. Dene +has named him and Dene has marked him. Don't take him home, as you've +taken so many sick and hunted men before. What's the good of it? You +never made a Mormon of one of them yet. Don't take him--unless you want +another grave for your cemetery. Ha! Ha!” + +Hare recoiled with a shock. Snap Naab swayed to the door, and stepped +down, all the time with his face over his shoulder, his baleful glance +on Hare; then the blue haze swallowed him. + +The several loungers went out; August engaged the storekeeper in +conversation, introducing Hare and explaining their wants. They +inspected the various needs of a range-rider, selecting, in the end, not +the few suggested by Hare, but the many chosen by Naab. The last +purchase was the rifle Naab had talked about. It was a beautiful weapon, +finely polished and carved, entirely out of place among the plain +coarse-sighted and coarse-stocked guns in the rack. + +“Never had a chance to sell it,” said Abe. “Too long and heavy for the +riders. I'll let it go cheap, half price, and the cartridges also, two +thousand.” + +“Taken,” replied Naab, quickly, with a satisfaction which showed he +liked a bargain. + +“August, you must be going to shoot some?” queried Abe. “Something +bigger than rabbits and coyotes. Its about time--even if you are an +Elder. We Mormons must--” he broke off, continuing in a low tone: +“Here's Holderness now.” + +Hare wheeled with the interest that had gathered with the reiteration of +this man's name. A new-comer stooped to get in the door. He out-topped +even Naab in height, and was a superb blond-bearded man, striding with +the spring of a mountaineer. + +“Good-day to you, Naab,” he said. “Is this the young fellow you picked +up?” + +“Yes. Jack Hare,” rejoined Naab. + +“Well, Hare, I'm Holderness. You'll recall my name. You were sent to +Lund by men interested in my ranges. I expected to see you in Lund, but +couldn't get over.” + +Hare met the proffered hand with his own, and as he had recoiled from +Snap Naab so now he received another shock, different indeed but +impelling in its power, instinctive of some great portent. Hare was +impressed by an indefinable subtlety, a nameless distrust, as colorless +as the clear penetrating amber lightness of the eyes that bent upon him. + +“Holderness, will you right the story about Hare?” inquired Naab. + +“You mean about his being a spy? Well, Naab, the truth is that was his +job. I advised against sending a man down here for that sort of work. It +won't do. These Mormons will steal each other's cattle, and they've got +to get rid of them; so they won't have a man taking account of stock, +brands, and all that. If the Mormons would stand for it the rustlers +wouldn't. I'll take Hare out to the ranch and give him work, if he +wants. But he'd do best to leave Utah.” + +“Thank you, no,” replied Hare, decidedly. + +“He's going with me,” said August Naab. + +Holderness accepted this with an almost imperceptible nod, and he swept +Hare with eyes that searched and probed for latent possibilities. It was +the keen intelligence of a man who knew what development meant on the +desert; not in any sense an interest in the young man at present. Then +he turned his back. + +Hare, feeling that Holderness wished to talk with Naab, walked to the +counter, and began assorting his purchases, but he could not help +hearing what was said. + +“Lungs bad?” queried Holderness. + +“One of them,” replied Naab. + +“He's all in. Better send him out of the country. He's got the name of +Dene's spy and he'll never get another on this desert. Dene will kill +him. This isn't good judgment, Naab, to take him with you. Even your +friends don't like it, and it means trouble for you.” + +“We've settled it,” said Naab, coldly. + +“Well, remember, I've warned you. I've tried to be friendly with you, +Naab, but you won't have it. Anyway, I've wanted to see you lately to +find out how we stand.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“How we stand on several things--to begin with, there Mescal.” + +“You asked me several times for Mescal, and I said no.” + +“But I never said I'd marry her. Now I want her, and I will marry her.” + +“No,” rejoined Naab, adding brevity to his coldness. + +“Why not?” demanded Holderness. “Oh, well, I can't take that as an +insult. I know there's not enough money in Utah to get a girl away from +a Mormon.... About the offer for the water-rights--how do we stand? I'll +give you ten thousand dollars for the rights to Seeping Springs and +Silver Cup.” + +“Ten thousand!” ejaculated Naab. “Holderness, I wouldn't take a hundred +thousand. You might as well ask to buy my home, my stock, my range, +twenty years of toil, for ten thousand dollars!” + +“You refuse? All right. I think I've made you a fair proposition,” said +Holderness, in a smooth, quick tone. “The land is owned by the +Government, and though your ranges are across the Arizona line they +really figure as Utah land. My company's spending big money, and the +Government won't let you have a monopoly. No one man can control the +water-supply of a hundred miles of range. Times are changing. You want +to see that. You ought to protect yourself before it's too late.” + +“Holderness, this is a desert. No men save Mormons could ever have made +it habitable. The Government scarcely knows of its existence. It'll be +fifty years before man can come in here to take our water.” + +“Why can't he? The water doesn't belong to any one. Why can't he?” + +“Because of the unwritten law of the desert. No Mormon would refuse you +or your horse a drink, or even a reasonable supply for your stock. But +you can't come in here and take our water for your own use, to supplant +us, to parch our stock. Why, even an Indian respects desert law!” + +“Bah! I'm not a Mormon or an Indian. I'm a cattleman. It's plain +business with me. Once more I make you the offer.” + +Naab scorned to reply. The men faced each other for a silent moment, +their glances scintillating. Then Holderness whirled on his heel, +jostling into Hare. + +“Get out of my way,” said the rancher, in the disgust of intense +irritation. He swung his arm, and his open hand sent Hare reeling +against the counter. + +“Jack,” said Naab, breathing hard, “Holderness showed his real self to- +day. I always knew it, yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt.... For +him to strike you! I've not the gift of revelation, but I see--let us +go.” + +On the return to the Bishop's cottage Naab did not speak once; the +transformation which had begun with the appearance of his drunken son +had reached a climax of gloomy silence after the clash with Holderness. +Naab went directly to the Bishop, and presently the quavering voice of +the old minister rose in prayer. + +Hare dropped wearily into the chair on the porch; and presently fell +into a doze, from which he awakened with a start. Naab's sons, with +Martin Cole and several other men, were standing in the yard. Naab +himself was gently crowding the women into the house. When he got them +all inside he closed the door and turned to Cole. + +“Was it a fair fight?” + +“Yes, an even break. They met in front of Abe's. I saw the meeting. +Neither was surprised. They stood for a moment watching each other. Then +they drew--only Snap was quicker. Larsen's gun went off as he fell. That +trick you taught Snap saved his life again. Larsen was no slouch on the +draw.” + +“Where's Snap now?” + +“Gone after his pinto. He was sober. Said he'd pack at once. Larsen's +friends are ugly. Snap said to tell you to hurry out of the village with +young Hare, if you want to take him at all. Dene has ridden in; he +swears you won't take Hare away.” + +“We're all packed and ready to hitch up,” returned Naab. “We could start +at once, only until dark I'd rather take chances here than out on the +trail.” + +“Snap said Dene would ride right into the Bishop's after Hare.” + +“No. He wouldn't dare.” + +“Father!” Dave Naab spoke sharply from where he stood high on a grassy +bank. “Here's Dene now, riding up with Culver, and some man I don't +know. They're coming in. Dene's jumped the fence! Look out!” + +A clatter of hoofs and rattling of gravel preceded the appearance of a +black horse in the garden path. His rider bent low to dodge the vines of +the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with +the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant. + +“What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?” challenged August Naab, +planting his broad bulk square before Hare. + +“Dene's spy!” + +“What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?” repeated Naab. + +“I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about,” returned +Dene, his smile slowly fading. + +“No speech could be a lie to an outlaw.” + +“I want him, you Mormon preacher!” + +“You can't have him.” + +“I'll shore get him.” + +In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene. + +The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and +back again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act +was even quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the +outlaw cried as his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp. + +Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching +companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip. + +August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there +with brawny arm. + +“Whelp of an evil breed!” he thundered, shaking his gray head. “Do you +think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!” He released +Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved, +quicker than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He +dropped it back into the holster. “Let that teach you never to draw on +me again.” He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes. +“One blow would crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it? +Because, you mindless hell-hound, because there's a higher law than +man's--God's law--Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave +me and mine alone from this day. Now go!” + +He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions. + +“Out with you!” said Dave Naab. “Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not +so particular about God as Dad is!” + + + + + + +III. THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + +AFTER the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White +Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade +him to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely +met in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole +said, unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the +trail in the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and +the women shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open +wagon, one that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain. +When it grew so dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man +vaulted the cottage fence. + +“Dave, where are the boys?” asked Naab. + +“Not so loud! The boys are coming,” replied Dave in a whisper. “Dene is +wild. I guess you snapped a bone in his arm. He swears he'll kill us +all. But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've +time to reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle.” + +“Any news of Snap?” + +“He rode out before sundown.” + +Three more forms emerged from the gloom. + +“All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead.” + +Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate; +the first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving +in the darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his +seat on the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and +climbed over the tail-board of the wagon. + +A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the +sound made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the +right low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and +there lights twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked. + +Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels +cracked and crunched the stones. + +Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of poplar- +trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and rider, just +a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant they vanished, +and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his eyes had not +deceived him. + +“Getup,” growled Naab to his horses. “Jack, did you see that fellow?” + +“Yes. What was he doing there?” + +“Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts.” + +“Will Dene--” + +One of Naab's sons came trotting back. “Think that was Larsen's pal. He +was laying in wait for Snap.” + +“I thought he was a scout for Dene,” replied August. + +“Maybe he's that too.” + +“Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively. They've +had a week's rest.” + +Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, +like Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the +huge windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet +transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under the +blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a +polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed it +under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening on +the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round +head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where +Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop +to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent +insistence, disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given him +a man's part to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his self- +abasement; once more he felt himself a man. + +Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he +endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his +eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he could +not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his +face, the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady +trot of horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him, +recalled the actuality of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had +been covered, how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in +the trail, and whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped +the team and, climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt +sure that Dene was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the +horses and the rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could +hear. Naab returned to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a +trot; they were climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which +he could hear the slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he +awoke to raise himself and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he +discovered that the black night had changed to gray; dawn was not far +distant; he dozed and awakened to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay +far below and to the eastward; the intervening descent was like a +rolling sea with league-long swells. + +“Glad you slept some,” was Naab's greeting. “No sign of Dene yet. If we +can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain +in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it +runs far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred +miles of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona +line now.” + +Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to +his inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble +proportions. + +“Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while,” said Naab, +reading Hare's expression. “They'd only have to be made over as soon as +you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a +mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're +lucky. There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? +Look sharp. Good! That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from +here. Nine Mile Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole. +Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide.” + +The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the +increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in +color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the +half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of +other cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length +Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his +eyes. The wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored; +Naab's “Getup” was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then +hot; and the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his +lethargy. The wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with +outstretched arm. George and Dave were close by their mustangs, and Snap +Naab, mounted on a cream-colored pinto, reined him under August's arm, +and faced the valley below. + +“Maybe you'll make them out,” said August. “I can't, and I've watched +those dust-clouds for hours. George can't decide, either.” + +Hare, looking at Snap, was attracted by the eyes from which his father +and brothers expected so much. If ever a human being had the eyes of a +hawk Snap Naab had them. The little brown flecks danced in clear pale +yellow. Evidently Snap had not located the perplexing dust-clouds, for +his glance drifted. Suddenly the remarkable vibration of his pupils +ceased, and his glance grew fixed, steely, certain. + +“That's a bunch of wild mustangs,” he said. + +Hare gazed till his eyes hurt, but could see neither clouds of dust nor +moving objects. No more was said. The sons wheeled their mustangs and +rode to the fore; August Naab reseated himself and took up the reins; +the ascent proceeded. + +But it proceeded leisurely, with more frequent rests. At the end of an +hour the horses toiled over the last rise to the summit and entered a +level forest of cedars; in another hour they were descending gradually. + +“Here we are at the tanks,” said Naab. + +Hare saw that they had come up with the other wagons. George Naab was +leading a team down a rocky declivity to a pool of yellow water. The +other boys were unharnessing and unsaddling. + +“About three,” said Naab, looking at the sun. “We're in good time. Jack, +get out and stretch yourself. We camp here. There's the Coconina Trail +where the Navajos go in after deer.” + +It was not a pretty spot, this little rock-strewn glade where the white +hard trail forked with the road. The yellow water with its green scum +made Hare sick. The horses drank with loud gulps. Naab and his sons +drank of it. The women filled a pail and portioned it out in basins and +washed their faces and hands with evident pleasure. Dave Naab whistled +as he wielded an axe vigorously on a cedar. It came home to Hare that +the tension of the past night and morning had relaxed. Whether to +attribute that fact to the distance from White Sage or to the arrival at +the water-hole he could not determine. But the certainty was shown in +August's cheerful talk to the horses as he slipped bags of grain over +their noses, and in the subdued laughter of the women. Hare sent up an +unspoken thanksgiving that these good Mormons had apparently escaped +from the dangers incurred for his sake. He sat with his back to a cedar +and watched the kindling of fires, the deft manipulating of biscuit +dough in a basin, and the steaming of pots. The generous meal was spread +on a canvas cloth, around which men and women sat cross-legged, after +the fashion of Indians. Hare found it hard to adapt his long legs to the +posture, and he wondered how these men, whose legs were longer than his, +could sit so easily. It was the crown of a cheerful dinner after hours +of anxiety and abstinence to have Snap Naab speak civilly to him, and to +see him bow his head meekly as his father asked the blessing. Snap ate +as though he had utterly forgotten that he had recently killed a man; to +hear the others talk to him one would suppose that they had forgotten it +also. + +All had finished eating, except Snap and Dave Naab, when one of the +mustangs neighed shrilly. Hare would not have noticed it but for looks +exchanged among the men. The glances were explained a few minutes later +when a pattering of hoofs came from the cedar forest, and a stream of +mounted Indians poured into the glade. + +The ugly glade became a place of color and action. The Navajos rode +wiry, wild-looking mustangs and drove ponies and burros carrying packs, +most of which consisted of deer-hides. Each Indian dismounted, and +unstrapping the blanket which had served as a saddle headed his mustang +for the water-hole and gave him a slap. Then the hides and packs were +slipped from the pack-train, and soon the pool became a kicking, +splashing melee. Every cedar-tree circling the glade and every branch +served as a peg for deer meat. Some of it was in the haunch, the bulk in +dark dried strips. The Indians laid their weapons aside. Every sagebush +and low stone held a blanket. A few of these blankets were of solid +color, most of them had bars of white and gray and red, the last color +predominating. The mustangs and burros filed out among the cedars, +nipping at the sage and the scattered tufts of spare grass. A group of +fires, sending up curling columns of blue smoke, and surrounded by a +circle of lean, half-naked, bronze-skinned Indians, cooking and eating, +completed a picture which afforded Hare the satisfying fulfilment of +boyish dreams. What a contrast to the memory of a camp-site on the +Connecticut shore, with boy friends telling tales in the glow of the +fire, and the wash of the waves on the beach! + +The sun sank low in the west, sending gleams through the gnarled +branches of the cedars, and turning the green into gold. At precisely +the moment of sunset, the Mormon women broke into soft song which had +the element of prayer; and the lips of the men moved in silent harmony. +Dave Naab, the only one who smoked, removed his pipe for the moment's +grace to dying day. + +This simple ceremony over, one of the boys put wood on the fire, and +Snap took a jews'-harp out of his pocket and began to extract doleful +discords from it, for which George kicked at him in disgust, finally +causing him to leave the circle and repair to the cedars, where he +twanged with supreme egotism. + +“Jack,” said August Naab, “our friends the Navajo chiefs, Scarbreast and +Eschtah, are coming to visit us. Take no notice of them at first. +They've great dignity, and if you entered their hogans they'd sit for +some moments before appearing to see you. Scarbreast is a war-chief. +Eschtah is the wise old chief of all the Navajos on the Painted Desert. +It may interest you to know he is Mescal's grandfather. Some day I'll +tell you the story.” + +Hare tried very hard to appear unconscious when two tall Indians stalked +into the circle of Mormons; he set his eyes on the white heart of the +camp-fire and waited. For several minutes no one spoke or even moved. +The Indians remained standing for a time; then seated themselves. +Presently August Naab greeted them in the Navajo language. This was a +signal for Hare to use his eyes and ears. Another interval of silence +followed before they began to talk. Hare could see only their blanketed +shoulders and black heads. + +“Jack, come round here,” said Naab at length. “I've been telling them +about you. These Indians do not like the whites, except my own family. I +hope you'll make friends with them.” + +“How do?” said the chief whom Naab had called Eschtah, a stately, keen- +eyed warrior, despite his age. + +The next Navajo greeted him with a guttural word. This was a warrior +whose name might well have been Scarface, for the signs of conflict were +there. It was a face like a bronze mask, cast in the one expression of +untamed desert fierceness. + +Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were +doubtful, yet not unfriendly. + +“Shake,” finally said Eschtah, offering his hand. + +“Ugh!” exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm. + +This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies +of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf. In his ensuing +speech, which was plentifully emphasized with gestures, he lapsed often +into English, saying “weak--no strong” when he placed his hand on Hare's +legs, and “bad” when he touched the young man's chest, concluding with +the words “sick--sick.” + +Scarbreast regarded Hare with great earnestness, and when Naab had +finished he said: “Chineago--ping!” and rubbed his hand over his +stomach. + +“He says you need meat--lots of deer-meat,” translated Naab. + +“Sick,” repeated Eschtah, whose English was intelligible. He appeared to +be casting about in his mind for additional words to express his +knowledge of the white man's tongue, and, failing, continued in Navajo: +“Tohodena--moocha--malocha.” + +Hare was nonplussed at the roar of laughter from the Mormons. August +shook like a mountain in an earthquake. + +“Eschtah says, 'you hurry, get many squaws--many wives.'” + +Other Indians, russet-skinned warriors, with black hair held close by +bands round their foreheads, joined the circle, and sitting before the +fire clasped their knees and talked. Hare listened awhile, and then, +being fatigued, he sought the cedar-tree where he had left his blankets. +The dry mat of needles made an odorous bed. He placed a sack of grain +for a pillow, and doubling up one blanket to lie upon, he pulled the +others over him. Then he watched and listened. The cedar-wood burned +with a clear flame, and occasionally snapped out a red spark. The voices +of the Navajos, scarcely audible, sounded “toa's” and “taa's”--syllables +he soon learned were characteristic and dominant--in low, deep murmurs. +It reminded Hare of something that before had been pleasant to his ear. +Then it came to mind: a remembrance of Mescal's sweet voice, and that +recalled the kinship between her and the Navajo chieftain. He looked +about, endeavoring to find her in the ring of light, for he felt in her +a fascination akin to the charm of this twilight hour. Dusky forms +passed to and fro under the trees; the tinkle of bells on hobbled +mustangs rang from the forest; coyotes had begun their night quest with +wild howls; the camp-fire burned red, and shadows flickered on the +blanketed Indians; the wind now moaned, now lulled in the cedars. + +Hare lay back in his blankets and saw lustrous stars through the network +of branches. With their light in his face and the cold wind waving his +hair on his brow he thought of the strangeness of it all, of its +remoteness from anything ever known to him before, of its inexpressible +wildness. And a rush of emotion he failed wholly to stifle proved to him +that he could have loved this life if--if he had not of late come to +believe that he had not long to live. Still Naab's influence exorcised +even that one sad thought; and he flung it from him in resentment. + +Sleep did not come so readily; he was not very well this night; the +flush of fever was on his cheek, and the heat of feverish blood burned +his body. He raised himself and, resolutely seeking for distraction, +once more stared at the camp-fire. Some time must have passed during his +dreaming, for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was +bowed and his head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat +Eschtah beside a slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized +Mescal. Surprise claimed him, not more for her presence there than for +the white band binding her smooth black tresses. She had not worn such +an ornament before. That slender band lent her the one touch which made +her a Navajo. Was it worn in respect to her aged grandfather? What did +this mean for a girl reared with Christian teaching? Was it desert +blood? Hare had no answers for these questions. They only increased the +mystery and romance. He fell asleep with the picture in his mind of +Eschtah and Mescal, sitting in the glow of the fire, and of August Naab, +nodding silently. + +“Jack, Jack, wake up.” The words broke dully into his slumbers; wearily +he opened his eyes. August Naab bent over him, shaking him gently. + +“Not so well this morning, eh? Here's a cup of coffee. We're all packed +and starting. Drink now, and climb aboard. We expect to make Seeping +Springs to-night.” + +Hare rose presently and, laboring into the wagon, lay down on the sacks. +He had one of his blind, sickening headaches. The familiar lumbering of +wheels began, and the clanking of the wagon-chain. Despite jar and jolt +he dozed at times, awakening to the scrape of the wheel on the leathern +brake. After a while the rapid descent of the wagon changed to a roll, +without the irritating rattle. He saw a narrow valley; on one side the +green, slow-swelling cedar slope of the mountain; on the other the +perpendicular red wall, with its pinnacles like spears against the sky. +All day this backward outlook was the same, except that each time he +opened aching eyes the valley had lengthened, the red wall and green +slope had come closer together in the distance. By and by there came a +halt, the din of stamping horses and sharp commands, the bustle and +confusion of camp. Naab spoke kindly to him, but he refused any food, +lay still and went to sleep. + +Daylight brought him the relief of a clear head and cooled blood. The +camp had been pitched close under the red wall. A lichen-covered cliff, +wet with dripping water, overhung a round pool. A ditch led the water +down the ridge to a pond. Cattle stood up to their knees drinking; +others lay on the yellow clay, which was packed as hard as stone; still +others were climbing the ridge and passing down on both sides. + +“You look as if you enjoyed that water,” remarked Naab, when Hare +presented himself at the fire. “Well, it's good, only a little salty. +Seeping Springs this is, and it's mine. This ridge we call The Saddle; +you see it dips between wall and mountain and separates two valleys. +This valley we go through to-day is where my cattle range. At the other +end is Silver Cup Spring, also mine. Keep your eyes open now, my lad.” + +How different was the beginning of this day! The sky was as blue as the +sea; the valley snuggled deep in the embrace of wall and mountain. Hare +took a place on the seat beside Naab and faced the descent. The line of +Navajos, a graceful straggling curve of color on the trail, led the way +for the white-domed wagons. + +Naab pointed to a little calf lying half hidden under a bunch of sage. +“That's what I hate to see. There's a calf, just born; its mother has +gone in for water. Wolves and lions range this valley. We lose hundreds +of calves that way.” + +As far as Hare could see red and white and black cattle speckled the +valley. + +“If not overstocked, this range is the best in Utah,” said Naab. “I say +Utah, but it's really Arizona. The Grand Canyon seems to us Mormons to +mark the line. There's enough browse here to feed a hundred thousand +cattle. But water's the thing. In some seasons the springs go almost +dry, though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle.” + +Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth; +evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to +support only one tuft. + +“What's that?” he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black +bobbing borders. + +“Wild mustangs,” replied Naab. “There are perhaps five thousand on the +mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad +as sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a +range once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too +plentiful. There are also several bands of wild horses.” + +“What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?” + +“I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in +here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally +wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at +Silvermane or Whitefoot.” + +“What are they?” + +“Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the +most beautiful horse I ever saw. Whitefoot's an old black shaggy demon, +with one white foot. Both stallions ought to be killed. They fight my +horses and lead off the mares. I had a chance to shoot Silvermane on the +way over this trip, but he looked so splendid that I just laid down my +rifle.” + +“Can they run?” asked Hare eagerly, with the eyes of a man who loved a +horse. + +“Run? Whew! Just you wait till you see Silvermane cover ground! He can +look over his shoulder at you and beat any horse in this country. The +Navajos have given up catching him as a bad job. Why--here! Jack! quick, +get out your rifle--coyotes!” + +Naab pulled on the reins, and pointed to one side. Hare discerned three +grayish sharp-nosed beasts sneaking off in the sage, and he reached back +for the rifle. Naab whistled, stopping the coyotes; then Hare shot. The +ball cut a wisp of dust above and beyond them. They loped away into the +sage. + +“How that rifle spangs!” exclaimed Naab. “It's good to hear it. Jack, +you shot high. That's the trouble with men who have never shot at game. +They can't hold low enough. Aim low, lower than you want. Ha! There's +another--this side--hold ahead of him and low, quick!--too high again.” + +It was in this way that August and Hare fell far behind the other +wagons. The nearer Naab got to his home the more genial he became. When +he was not answering Hare's queries he was giving information of his own +accord, telling about the cattle and the range, the mustangs, the +Navajos, and the desert. Naab liked to talk; he had said he had not the +gift of revelation, but he certainly had the gift of tongues. + +The sun was in the west when they began to climb a ridge. A short +ascent, and a long turn to the right brought them under a bold spur of +the mountain which shut out the northwest. Camp had been pitched in a +grove of trees of a species new to Hare. From under a bowlder gushed the +sparkling spring, a grateful sight and sound to desert travellers. In a +niche of the rock hung a silver cup. + +“Jack, no man knows how old this cup is, or anything about it. We named +the spring after it--Silver Cup. The strange thing is that the cup has +never been lost nor stolen. But--could any desert man, or outlaw, or +Indian, take it away, after drinking here?” + +The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on the +bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood. + +That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap Naab +buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger braves +to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing, “hoya-heeya- +howya,” as they moved in and out of the firelight. + +Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and +repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a +curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward +motions and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him and +fought for possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous +for its welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the +clamor of a delighted circle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew +so strenuous in his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the +Navajos about like shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, +sought to break away. But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to +the ground, and calmly sat astride him while they went through his +pockets. August Naab roared his merriment and Hare laughed till he +cried. The incident was as surprising to him as it was amusing. These +serious Mormons and silent Navajos were capable of mirth. + +Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying to +him, “Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!” sent him off to his blankets, +where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager to +know what the day would bring. + +“Wait,” said August, soberly. + +They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare +had not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses +climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonous ascent. There was +nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the +summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable +place on the sacks. + +“Now, Jack,” said August. + +Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood. Red +scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a vast +irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath. +To the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a black-timbered +plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped vent +in the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earth-riven +line lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reaching vision of white +wastes, of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the +shimmering dust-veiled desert. + +“Here we come to the real thing,” explained Naab. “This is Windy Slope; +that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side is the +Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows his flat +head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the +Vermillion Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be +able to see.” + +“Why?” + +“Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles--watch out for your eyes!” + +Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians +trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white +wagons disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which +justified Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once +more he could see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his +eyes with dust difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the +wind. + +The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of +Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died. + +“Five miles of red sand,” said Naab. “Here's what kills the horses. +Getup.” + +There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels, +dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels +ploughed deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab +trudged on foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also, +soon tired, and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again. +Twilight came with the horses still toiling. + +“There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that +trailless waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun +it after dark. We'll be home soon. There's my sign. See? Night or day we +call it the Blue Star.” + +High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky +through. + +There was cheer in Naab's “Getup,” now, and the horses quickened with +it. Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. “Easy, easy-- +soho!” cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the +shelving cliff they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner. +Lights twinkled in Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water, +dampened his cheek, and a hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant +thunder, filled his ears. + +“What's that?” he asked. + +“That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's +the roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon.” + + + + + + +IV. THE OASIS + +AUGUST NAAB'S oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with +leaf and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of +vivid vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the +red walls from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, +remote as of some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was +east a dreamy hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the +cottonwoods; when no wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of +serene plain or mountain fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and +breathless. Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world +was this Garden of Eschtah. + +Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but +routed him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of +cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow. A grove of gray-barked trees +spread green canopy overhead, and through the intricate web shone +crimson walls, soaring with resistless onsweep up and up to shut out all +but a blue lake of sky. + +“I want you to see the Navajos cross the river,” said Naab. + +Hare accompanied him out through the grove to a road that flanked the +first rise of the red wall; they followed this for half a mile, and +turning a corner came into an unobstructed view. A roar of rushing +waters had prepared Hare, but the river that he saw appalled him. It was +red and swift; it slid onward like an enormous slippery snake; its +constricted head raised a crest of leaping waves, and disappeared in a +dark chasm, whence came a bellow and boom. + +“That opening where she jumps off is the head of the Grand Canyon,” said +Naab. “It's five hundred feet deep there, and thirty miles below it's +five thousand. Oh, once in, she tears in a hurry! Come, we turn up the +bank here.” + +Hare could find no speech, and he felt immeasurably small. All that he +had seen in reaching this isolated spot was dwarfed in comparison. This +“Crossing of the Fathers,” as Naab called it, was the gateway of the +desert. This roar of turbulent waters was the sinister monotone of the +mighty desert symphony of great depths, great heights, great reaches. + +On a sandy strip of bank the Navajos had halted. This was as far as they +could go, for above the wall jutted out into the river. From here the +head of the Canyon was not visible, and the roar of the rapids was +accordingly lessened in volume. But even in this smooth water the river +spoke a warning. + +“The Navajos go in here and swim their mustangs across to that sand +bar,” explained Naab. “The current helps when she's high, and there's a +three-foot raise on now.” + +“I can't believe it possible. What danger they must run--those little +mustangs!” exclaimed Hare. + +“Danger? Yes, I suppose so,” replied Naab, as if it were a new idea. “My +lad, the Mormons crossed here by the hundreds. Many were drowned. This +trail and crossing were unknown except to Indians before the Mormon +exodus.” + +The mustangs had to be driven into the water. Scarbreast led, and his +mustang, after many kicks and reluctant steps, went over his depth, +wetting the stalwart chief to the waist. Bare-legged Indians waded in +and urged their pack-ponies. Shouts, shrill cries, blows mingled with +snorts and splashes. + +Dave and George Naab in flat boats rowed slowly on the down-stream side +of the Indians. Presently all the mustangs and ponies were in, the +procession widening out in a triangle from Scarbreast, the leader. The +pack-ponies appeared to swim better than the mounted mustangs, or else +the packs of deer-pelts made them more buoyant. When one-third way +across the head of the swimming train met the current, and the line of +progress broke. Mustang after mustang swept down with a rapidity which +showed the power of the current. Yet they swam steadily with flanks +shining, tails sometimes afloat, sometimes under, noses up, and riders +holding weapons aloft. But the pack-ponies labored when the current +struck them, and whirling about, they held back the Indians who were +leading them, and blocked those behind. The orderly procession of the +start became a broken line, and then a rout. Here and there a Navajo +slipped into the water and swam, leading his mustang; others pulled on +pack-ponies and beat their mounts; strong-swimming mustangs forged +ahead; weak ones hung back, and all obeyed the downward will of the +current. + +While Hare feared for the lives of some of the Navajos, and pitied the +laden ponies, he could not but revel in the scene, in its vivid action +and varying color, in the cries and shrill whoops of the Indians, and +the snorts of the frightened mustangs, in Naab's hoarse yells to his +sons, and the ever-present menacing roar from around the bend. The +wildness of it all, the necessity of peril and calm acceptance of it, +stirred within Hare the call, the awakening, the spirit of the desert. + +August Naab's stentorian voice rolled out over the river. “Ho! Dave--the +yellow pinto--pull him loose--George, back this way--there's a pack +slipping--down now, downstream, turn that straggler in--Dave, in that +tangle--quick! There's a boy drowning--his foot's caught--he's been +kicked--Hurry! Hurry!--pull him in the boat--There's a pony under--Too +late, George, let that one go--let him go, I tell you!” + +So the crossing of the Navajos proceeded, never an instant free from +danger in that churning current. The mustangs and ponies floundered +somewhat on the sand-bar and then parted the willows and appeared on a +trail skirting the red wall. Dave Naab moored his boat on that side of +the river, and returned with George. + +“We'll look over my farm,” said August, as they retraced their steps. He +led Hare through fields of alfalfa, in all stages of growth, explaining +that it yielded six crops a year. Into one ten-acre lot pigs and cows +had been turned to feed at will. Everywhere the ground was soggy; little +streams of water trickled down ditches. Next to the fields was an +orchard, where cherries were ripe, apricots already large, plum-trees +shedding their blossoms, and apple-trees just opening into bloom. Naab +explained that the products of his oasis were abnormal; the ground was +exceedingly rich and could be kept always wet; the reflection of the sun +from the walls robbed even winter of any rigor, and the spring, summer, +and autumn were tropical. He pointed to grape-vines as large as a man's +thigh and told of bunches of grapes four feet long; he showed sprouting +plants on which watermelons and pumpkins would grow so large that one +man could not lift them; he told of one pumpkin that held a record of +taking two men to roll it. + +“I can raise any kind of fruit in such abundance that it can't be used. +My garden is prodigal. But we get little benefit, except for our own +use, for we cannot transport things across the desert.” + +The water which was the prime factor in all this richness came from a +small stream which Naab, by making a dam and tunnelling a corner of +cliff, had diverted from its natural course into his oasis. + +Between the fence and the red wall there was a wide bare plain which +stretched to the house. At its farthest end was a green enclosure, which +Hare recognized as the cemetery mentioned by Snap. Hare counted thirty +graves, a few with crude monuments of stone, the others marked by wooden +head-pieces. + +“I've the reputation of doctoring the women, and letting the men die,” + said Naab, with a smile. “I hardly think it's fair. But the fact is no +women are buried here. Some graves are of men I fished out of the river; +others of those who drifted here, and who were killed or died keeping +their secrets. I've numbered those unknown graves and have kept a +description of the men, so, if the chance ever comes, I may tell some +one where a father or brother lies buried. Five sons of mine, not one of +whom died a natural death, found graves here--God rest them! Here's the +grave of Mescal's father, a Spaniard. He was an adventurer. I helped him +over in Nevada when he was ill; he came here with me, got well, and +lived nine years, and he died without speaking one word of himself or +telling his name.” + +“What strange ends men come to!” mused Hare. Well, a grave was a grave, +wherever it lay. He wondered if he would come to rest in that quiet +nook, with its steady light, its simple dignity of bare plain graves +fitting the brevity of life, the littleness of man. + +“We break wild mustangs along this stretch,” said Naab, drawing Hare +away. “It's a fine run. Wait till you see Mescal on Black Bolly tearing +up the dust! She's a Navajo for riding.” + +Three huge corrals filled a wide curved space in the wall. In one corral +were the teams that had hauled the wagons from White Sage; in another +upward of thirty burros, drooping, lazy little fellows half asleep; in +the third a dozen or more mustangs and some horses which delighted Hare. +Snap Naab's cream pinto, a bay, and a giant horse of mottled white +attracted him most. + +“Our best stock is out on the range,” said Naab. “The white is Charger, +my saddle-horse. When he was a yearling he got away and ran wild for +three years. But we caught him. He's a weight-carrier and he can run +some. You're fond of a horse--I can see that.” + +“Yes,” returned Hare, “but I--I'll never ride again.” He said it +brightly, smiling the while; still the look in his eyes belied the +cheerful resignation. + +“I've not the gift of revelation, yet I seem to see you on a big gray +horse with a shining mane.” Naab appeared to be gazing far away. + +The cottonwood grove, at the western curve of the oasis, shaded the five +log huts where August's grown sons lived with their wives, and his own +cabin, which was of considerable dimensions. It had a covered porch on +one side, an open one on the other, a shingle roof, and was a roomy and +comfortable habitation. + +Naab was pointing out the school-house when he was interrupted by +childish laughter, shrieks of glee, and the rush of little feet. + +“It's recess-time,” he said. + +A frantic crowd of tousled-headed little ones were running from the log +school-house to form a circle under the trees. There were fourteen of +them, from four years of age up to ten or twelve. Such sturdy, glad-eyed +children Hare had never seen. In a few moments, as though their happy +screams were signals, the shady circle was filled with hounds, and a +string of puppies stepping on their long ears, and ruffling turkey- +gobblers, that gobbled and gobbled, and guinea-hens with their shrill +cries, and cackling chickens, and a lame wild goose that hobbled along +alone. Then there were shiny peafowls screeching clarion calls from the +trees overhead, and flocks of singing blackbirds, and pigeons hovering +over and alighting upon the house. Last to approach were a woolly sheep +that added his baa-baa to the din, and a bald-faced burro that walked in +his sleep. These two became the centre of clamor. After many tumbles +four chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others, with loud +acclaim, shouting, “Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!” endeavored to make +him go. But Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then an +ambitious urchin of six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and +essayed to climb to his back. Willing hands assisted him. “Ride him, +Billy, ride him. Getup, Navvy, getup!” + +Navvy evidently had never been ridden, for he began a fair imitation of +a bucking bronco. Billy held on, but the smile vanished and the corners +of his mouth drew down. + +“Hang on, Billy, hang on,” cried August Naab, in delight. Billy hung on +a moment longer, and then Navvy, bewildered by the pestering crowd about +him, launched out and, butting into Noddle, spilled the four youngsters +and Billy also into a wriggling heap. + +This recess-time completed Hare's introduction to the Naabs. There were +Mother Mary, and Judith and Esther, whom he knew, and Mother Ruth and +her two daughters very like their sisters. Mother Ruth, August's second +wife, was younger than Mother Mary, more comely of face, and more sad +and serious of expression. The wives of the five sons, except Snap +Naab's frail bride, were stalwart women, fit to make homes and rear +children. + +“Now, Jack, things are moving all right,” said August. “For the present +you must eat and rest. Walk some, but don't tire yourself. We'll +practice shooting a little every day; that's one thing I'll spare time +for. I've a trick with a gun to teach you. And if you feel able, take a +burro and ride. Anyway, make yourself at home.” + +Hare found eating and resting to be matters of profound enjoyment. +Before he had fallen in with these good people it had been a year since +he had sat down to a full meal; longer still since he had eaten +wholesome food. And now he had come to a “land overflowing with milk and +honey,” as Mother Ruth smilingly said. He could not choose between roast +beef and chicken, and so he waived the question by taking both; and what +with the biscuits and butter, apple-sauce and blackberry jam, cherry pie +and milk like cream, there was danger of making himself ill. He told his +friends that he simply could not help it, which shameless confession +brought a hearty laugh from August and beaming smiles from his women- +folk. + +For several days Hare was remarkably well, for an invalid. He won golden +praise from August at the rifle practice, and he began to take lessons +in the quick drawing and rapid firing of a Colt revolver. Naab was +wonderfully proficient in the use of both firearms; and his skill in +drawing the smaller weapon, in which his movement was quicker than the +eye, astonished Hare. “My lad,” said August, “it doesn't follow because +I'm a Christian that I don't know how to handle a gun. Besides, I like +to shoot.” + +In these few days Hare learned what conquering the desert made of a man. +August Naab was close to threescore years; his chest was wide as a door, +his arm like the branch of an oak. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, a +carpenter, a cooper, a potter. At his forge and in his shop, everywhere, +were crude tools, wagons, farming implements, sets of buckskin harness, +odds and ends of nameless things, eloquent and pregnant proof of the +fact that necessity is the mother of invention. He was a mason; the +levee that buffeted back the rage of the Colorado in flood, the wall +that turned the creek, the irrigation tunnel, the zigzag trail cut on +the face of the cliff--all these attested his eye for line, his judgment +of distance, his strength in toil. He was a farmer, a cattle man, a +grafter of fruit-trees, a breeder of horses, a herder of sheep, a +preacher, a physician. Best and strangest of all in this wonderful man +was the instinct and the heart to heal. “I don't combat the doctrine of +the Mormon church,” he said, “but I administer a little medicine with my +healing. I learned that from the Navajos.” The children ran to him with +bruised heads, and cut fingers, and stubbed toes; and his blacksmith's +hands were as gentle as a woman's. A mustang with a lame leg claimed his +serious attention; a sick sheep gave him an anxious look; a steer with a +gored skin sent him running for a bucket of salve. He could not pass by +a crippled quail. The farm was overrun by Navajo sheep which he had +found strayed and lost on the desert. Anything hurt or helpless had in +August Naab a friend. Hare found himself looking up to a great and +luminous figure, and he loved this man. + +As the days passed Hare learned many other things. For a while illness +confined him to his bed on the porch. At night he lay listening to the +roar of the river, and watching the stars. Twice he heard a distant +crash and rumble, heavy as thunder, and he knew that somewhere along the +cliffs avalanches were slipping. By day he watched the cotton snow down +upon him, and listened to the many birds, and waited for the merry show +at recess-time. After a short time the children grew less shy and came +readily to him. They were the most wholesome children he had ever known. +Hare wondered about it, and decided it was not so much Mormon teaching +as isolation from the world. These children had never been out of their +cliff-walled home, and civilization was for them as if it were not. He +told them stories, and after school hours they would race to him and +climb on his bed, and beg for more. + +He exhausted his supply of fairy-stories and animal stories; and had +begun to tell about the places and cities which he had visited when the +eager-eyed children were peremptorily called within by Mother Mary. This +pained him and he was at a loss to understand it. Enlightenment came, +however, in the way of an argument between Naab and Mother Mary which he +overheard. The elder wife said that the stranger was welcome to the +children, but she insisted that they hear nothing of the outside world, +and that they be kept to the teachings of the Mormon geography--which +made all the world outside Utah an untrodden wilderness. August Naab did +not hold to the letter of the Mormon law; he argued that if the children +could not be raised as Mormons with a full knowledge of the world, they +would only be lost in the end to the Church. + +Other developments surprised Hare. The house of this good Mormon was +divided against itself. Precedence was given to the first and elder +wife--Mother Mary; Mother Ruth's life was not without pain. The men were +out on the ranges all day, usually two or more of them for several days +at a time, and this left the women alone. One daughter taught the +school, the other daughters did all the chores about the house, from +feeding the stock to chopping wood. The work was hard, and the girls +would rather have been in White Sage or Lund. They disliked Mescal, and +said things inspired by jealousy. Snap Naab's wife was vindictive, and +called Mescal “that Indian!” + +It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal. What had +become of her? Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her. + +“Mescal's with the sheep,” piped Billy. + +That she was a shepherdess pleased Hare, and he thought of her as free +on the open range, with the wind blowing her hair. + +One day when Hare felt stronger he took his walk round the farm with new +zest. Upon his return to the house he saw Snap's cream pinto in the +yard, and Dave's mustang cropping the grass near by. A dusty pack lay on +the ground. Hare walked down the avenue of cottonwoods and was about to +turn the corner of the old forge when he stopped short. + +“Now mind you, I'll take a bead on this white-faced spy if you send him +up there.” + +It was Snap Naab's voice, and his speech concluded with the click of +teeth characteristic of him in anger. + +“Stand there!” August Naab exclaimed in wrath. “Listen. You have been +drinking again or you wouldn't talk of killing a man. I warned you. I +won't do this thing you ask of me till I have your promise. Why won't +you leave the bottle alone?” + +“I'll promise,” came the sullen reply. + +“Very well. Then pack and go across to Bitter Seeps.” + +“That job'll take all summer,” growled Snap. + +“So much the better. When you come home I'll keep my promise.” + +Hare moved away silently; the shock of Snap's first words had kept him +fast in his tracks long enough to hear the conversation. Why did Snap +threaten him? Where was August Naab going to send him? Hare had no means +of coming to an understanding of either question. He was disturbed in +mind and resolved to keep out of Snap's way. He went to the orchard, but +his stay of an hour availed nothing, for on his return, after threading +the maze of cottonwoods, he came face to face with the man he wanted to +avoid. + +Snap Naab, at the moment of meeting, had a black bottle tipped high +above his lips. + +With a curse he threw the bottle at Hare, missing him narrowly. He was +drunk. His eyes were bloodshot. + +“If you tell father you saw me drinking I'll kill you!” he hissed, and +rattling his Colt in its holster, he walked away. + +Hare walked back to his bed, where he lay for a long time with his whole +inner being in a state of strife. It gradually wore off as he strove for +calm. The playground was deserted; no one had seen Snap's action, and +for that he was glad. Then his attention was diverted by a clatter of +ringing hoofs on the road; a mustang and a cloud of dust were +approaching. + +“Mescal and Black Bolly!” he exclaimed, and sat up quickly. The mustang +turned in the gate, slid to a stop, and stood quivering, restive, +tossing its thoroughbred head, black as a coal, with freedom and fire in +every line. Mescal leaped off lightly. A gray form flashed in at the +gate, fell at her feet and rose to leap about her. It was a splendid +dog, huge in frame, almost white, wild as the mustang. + +This was the Mescal whom he remembered, yet somehow different. The +sombre homespun garments had given place to fringed and beaded buckskin. + +“I've come for you,” she said. + +“For me?” he asked, wonderingly, as she approached with the bridle of +the black over her arm. + +“Down, Wolf!” she cried to the leaping dog. “Yes. Didn't you know? +Father Naab says you're to help me tend the sheep. Are you better? I +hope so-- You're quite pale.” + +“I--I'm not so well,” said Hare. + +He looked up at her, at the black sweep of her hair under the white +band, at her eyes, like jet; and suddenly realized, with a gladness new +and strange to him, that he liked to look at her, that she was +beautiful. + + + + + + +V. BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + +AUGUST NAAB appeared on the path leading from his fields. + +“Mescal, here you are,” he greeted. “How about the sheep?” + +“Piute's driving them down to the lower range. There are a thousand +coyotes hanging about the flock.” + +“That's bad,” rejoined August. “Jack, there's evidently some real +shooting in store for you. We'll pack to-day and get an early start to- +morrow. I'll put you on Noddle; he's slow, but the easiest climber I +ever owned. He's like riding... What's the matter with you? What's +happened to make you angry?” + +One of his long strides spanned the distance between them. + +“Oh, nothing,” said Hare, flushing. + +“Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie. You've met Snap.” + +Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August's +stern face showed the uselessness of it. He kept silent. + +“Drink makes my son unnatural,” said Naab. He breathed heavily as one in +conflict with wrath. “We'll not wait till to-morrow to go up on the +plateau; we'll go at once.” + +Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal's eyes; +he caught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a +glow of an emotion half pleasure, half pain. + +“Mescal,” went on August, “go into the house, and keep out of Snap's +way. Jack, watch me pack. You need to learn these things. I could put +all this outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack +might bump a burro off. Let's see, I've got all your stuff but the +saddle; that we'll leave till we get a horse for you. Well, all's +ready.” + +Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward the +cliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her. Hare bestrode Noddle. August, +waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burros after +Mescal. + +How they would be able to climb the face of that steep cliff puzzled +Hare. Upon nearer view he discovered the yard-wide trail curving upward +in cork-screw fashion round a projecting corner of cliff. The stone was +a soft red shale, and the trail had been cut in it at a steep angle. It +was so steep that the burros appeared to be climbing straight up. Noddle +pattered into it, dropped his head and his long ears and slackened his +pace to patient plodding. August walked in the rear. + +The first thing that struck Hare was the way the burros in front of him +stopped at the curves in the trail, and turned in a space so small that +their four feet were close together; yet as they swung their packs they +scarcely scraped the wall. At every turn they were higher than he was, +going in the opposite direction, yet he could reach out and touch them. +He glanced up to see Mescal right above him, leaning forward with her +brown hands clasping the pommel. Then he looked out and down; already +the green cluster of cottonwoods lay far below. After that sensations +pressed upon him. Round and round, up and up, steadily, surely, the +beautiful mustang led the train; there were sounds of rattling stones, +and click of hoofs, and scrape of pack. On one side towered the iron- +stained cliff, not smooth or glistening at close range, but of dull, +dead, rotting rock. The trail changed to a zigzag along a seamed and +cracked buttress where ledges leaned outward waiting to fall. Then a +steeper incline, where the burros crept upward warily, led to a level +ledge heading to the left. + +Mescal halted on a promontory. She, with her windblown hair, the gleam +of white band about her head, and a dash of red along the fringed +leggings, gave inexpressible life and beauty to that wild, jagged point +of rock, sharp against the glaring sky. + +“This is Lookout Point,” said Naab. “I keep an Indian here all the time +during daylight. He's a peon, a Navajo slave. He can't talk, as he was +born without a tongue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of +any Indian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing, +the Navajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the +Navajos signal to me, and also the White Sage Trail.” + +The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with its +rising roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To the +right white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across the +Canyon line opened the many-hued desert. + +“With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised,” said +Naab. “That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've +never had anything to fear from across the river.” + +Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the +greeting he could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians +resembled each other. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not +differing in blanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze +skin, but in the bird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of +his glittering eyes. Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a +few words in Navajo, and then slapped the burros into the trail. + +The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trail +now led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones had +changed from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places. +Hare's judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that he +gave up trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell on +his strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to stay +longer upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sun +was yet an hour high, his fingers were numb. + +“Hang on, Jack,” cheered August. “We're almost up.” + +At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by +one, then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw a +gray-green cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, and +a rush of cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could not +get his breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply trying +to overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble was +not with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweet +penetrating odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like the +smell of pine, though it made him think of pine-trees. + +“Ha! that's good!” said Naab, expanding his great chest. “That's air for +you, my lad. Can you taste it? Well, here's camp, your home for many a +day, Jack. There's Piute--how do? how're the sheep?” + +A short, squat Indian, good-humored of face, shook his black head till +the silver rings danced in his ears, and replied: “Bad--damn coyotee!” + +“Piute--shake with Jack. Him shoot coyote--got big gun,” said Naab. + +“How-do-Jack?” replied Piute, extending his hand, and then straightway +began examining the new rifle. “Damn--heap big gun!” + +“Jack, you'll find this Indian one you can trust, for all he's a Piute +outcast,” went on August. “I've had him with me ever since Mescal found +him on the Coconina Trail five years ago. What Piute doesn't know about +this side of Coconina isn't worth learning.” + +In a depression sheltered from the wind lay the camp. A fire burned in +the centre; a conical tent, like a tepee in shape, hung suspended from a +cedar branch and was staked at its four points; a leaning slab of rock +furnished shelter for camp supplies and for the Indian, and at one end a +spring gushed out. A gray-sheathed cedar-tree marked the entrance to +this hollow glade, and under it August began preparing Hare's bed. + +“Here's the place you're to sleep, rain or shine or snow,” he said. “Now +I've spent my life sleeping on the ground, and mother earth makes the +best bed. I'll dig out a little pit in this soft mat of needles; that's +for your hips. Then the tarpaulin so; a blanket so. Now the other +blankets. Your feet must be a little higher than your head; you really +sleep down hill, which breaks the wind. So you never catch cold. All you +need do is to change your position according to the direction of the +wind. Pull up the blankets, and then the long end of the tarpaulin. If +it rains or snows cover your head, and sleep, my lad, sleep to the song +of the wind!” + +From where Hare lay, resting a weary body, he could see down into the +depression which his position guarded. Naab built up the fire; Piute +peeled potatoes with deliberate care; Mescal, on her knees, her brown +arms bare, kneaded dough in a basin; Wolf crouched on the ground, and +watched his mistress; Black Bolly tossed her head, elevating the bag on +her nose so as to get all the grain. + +Naab called him to supper, and when Hare set to with a will on the bacon +and eggs, and hot biscuits, he nodded approvingly. “That's what I want +to see,” he said approvingly. “You must eat. Piute will get deer, or you +may shoot them yourself; eat all the venison you can. Remember what +Scarbreast said. Then rest. That's the secret. If you eat and rest you +will gain strength.” + +The edge of the wall was not a hundred paces from the camp; and when +Hare strolled out to it after supper, the sun had dipped the under side +of its red disc behind the desert. He watched it sink, while the golden- +red flood of light grew darker and darker. Thought seemed remote from +him then; he watched, and watched, until he saw the last spark of fire +die from the snow-slopes of Coconina. The desert became dimmer and +dimmer; the oasis lost its outline in a bottomless purple pit, except +for a faint light, like a star. + +The bleating of sheep aroused him and he returned to camp. The fire was +still bright. Wolf slept close to Mescal's tent; Piute was not in sight; +and Naab had rolled himself in blankets. Crawling into his bed, Hare +stretched aching legs and lay still, as if he would never move again. +Tired as he was, the bleating of the sheep, the clear ring of the bell +on Black Bolly, and the faint tinkle of lighter bells on some of the +rams, drove away sleep for a while. Accompanied by the sough of the wind +through the cedars the music of the bells was sweet, and he listened +till he heard no more. + +A thin coating of frost crackled on his bed when he awakened; and out +from under the shelter of the cedar all the ground was hoar-white. As he +slipped from his blankets the same strong smell of black sage and +juniper smote him, almost like a blow. His nostrils seemed glued +together by some rich piny pitch; and when he opened his lips to breathe +a sudden pain, as of a knife-thrust, pierced his lungs. The thought +following was as sharp as the pain. Pneumonia! What he had long +expected! He sank against the cedar, overcome by the shock. But he +rallied presently, for with the reestablishment of the old settled +bitterness, which had been forgotten in the interest of his situation, +he remembered that he had given up hope. Still, he could not get back at +once to his former resignation. He hated to acknowledge that the +wildness of this desert canyon country, and the spirit it sought to +instil in him, had wakened a desire to live. For it meant only more to +give up. And after one short instant of battle he was himself again. He +put his hand under his flannel shirt and felt of the soreness of his +lungs. He found it not at the apex of the right lung, always the one +sensitive spot, but all through his breast. Little panting breaths did +not hurt; but the deep inhalation, which alone satisfied him filled his +whole chest with thousands of pricking needles. In the depth of his +breast was a hollow that burned. + +When he had pulled on his boots and coat, and had washed himself in the +runway of the spring, his hands were so numb with cold they refused to +hold his comb and brush; and he presented himself at the roaring fire +half-frozen, dishevelled, trembling, but cheerful. He would not tell +Naab. If he had to die to-day, to-morrow or next week, he would lie down +under a cedar and die; he could not whine about it to this man. + +“Up with the sun!” was Naab's greeting. His cheerfulness was as +impelling as his splendid virility. Following the wave of his hand Hare +saw the sun, a pale-pink globe through a misty blue, rising between the +golden crags of the eastern wall. + +Mescal had a shy “good-morning” for him, and Piute a broad smile, and +familiar “how-do”; the peon slave, who had finished breakfast and was +about to depart, moved his lips in friendly greeting that had no sound. + +“Did you hear the coyotes last night?” inquired August. “No! Well, of +all the choruses I ever heard. There must be a thousand on the bench. +Jack, I wish I could spare the time to stay up here with you and shoot +some. You'll have practice with the rifle, but don't neglect the Colt. +Practice particularly the draw I taught you. Piute has a carbine, and he +shoots at the coyotes, but who ever saw an Indian that could hit +anything?” + +“Damn--gun no good!” growled Piute, who evidently understood English +pretty well. Naab laughed, and while Hare ate breakfast he talked of the +sheep. The flock he had numbered three thousand. They were a goodly part +of them Navajo stock: small, hardy sheep that could live on anything but +cactus, and needed little water. This flock had grown from a small +number to its present size in a few years. Being remarkably free from +the diseases and pests which retard increase in low countries, the sheep +had multiplied almost one for one for every year. But for the ravages of +wild beasts Naab believed he could raise a flock of many thousands and +in a brief time be rich in sheep alone. In the winter he drove them down +into the oasis; the other seasons he herded them on the high ranges +where the cattle could not climb. There was grass enough on this plateau +for a million sheep. After the spring thaw in early March, occasional +snows fell till the end of May, and frost hung on until early summer; +then the July rains made the plateau a garden. + +“Get the forty-four,” concluded Naab, “and we'll go out and break it +in.” + +With the long rifle in the hollow of his arm Jack forgot that he was a +sick man. When he came within gunshot of the flock the smell of sheep +effectually smothered the keen, tasty odor of black sage and juniper. +Sheep ranged everywhere under the low cedars. They browsed with noses in +the frost, and from all around came the tinkle of tiny bells on the +curly-horned rams, and an endless variety of bleats. + +“They're spread now,” said August. “Mescal drives them on every little +while and Piute goes ahead to pick out the best browse. Watch the dog, +Jack; he's all but human. His mother was a big shepherd dog that I got +in Lund. She must have had a strain of wild blood. Once while I was +hunting deer on Coconina she ran off with timber wolves and we thought +she was killed. But she came back, and had a litter of three puppies. +Two were white, the other black. I think she killed the black one. And +she neglected the others. One died, and Mescal raised the other. We +called him Wolf. He loves Mescal, and loves the sheep, and hates a wolf. +Mescal puts a bell on him when she is driving, and the sheep know the +bell. I think it would be a good plan for her to tie something red round +his neck--a scarf, so as to keep you from shooting him for a wolf.” + +Nimble, alert, the big white dog was not still a moment. His duty was to +keep the flock compact, to head the stragglers and turn them back; and +he knew his part perfectly. There was dash and fire in his work. He +never barked. As he circled the flock the small Navajo sheep, edging +ever toward forbidden ground, bleated their way back to the fold, the +larger ones wheeled reluctantly, and the old belled rams squared +themselves, lowering their massive horns as if to butt him. Never, +however, did they stand their ground when he reached them, for there was +a decision about Wolf which brooked no opposition. At times when he was +working on one side a crafty sheep on the other would steal out into the +thicket. Then Mescal called and Wolf flashed back to her, lifting his +proud head, eager, spirited, ready to take his order. A word, a wave of +her whip sufficed for the dog to rout out the recalcitrant sheep and +send him bleating to his fellows. + +“He manages them easily now,” said Naab, “but when the lambs come they +can't be kept in. The coyotes and wolves hang out in the thickets and +pick up the stragglers. The worst enemy of sheep, though, is the old +grizzly bear. Usually he is grouchy, and dangerous to hunt. He comes +into the herd, kills the mother sheep, and eats the milk-bag--no more! +He will kill forty sheep in a night. Piute saw the tracks of one up on +the high range, and believes this bear is following the flock. Let's get +off into the woods some little way, into the edge of the thickets--for +Piute always keeps to the glades--and see if we can pick off a few +coyotes.” + +August cautioned Jack to step stealthily, and slip from cedar to cedar, +to use every bunch of sage and juniper to hide his advance. + +“Watch sharp, Jack. I've seen two already. Look for moving things. Don't +try to see one quiet, for you can't till after your eye catches him +moving. They are gray, gray as the cedars, the grass, the ground. Good! +Yes, I see him, but don't shoot. That's too far. Wait. They sneak away, +but they return. You can afford to make sure. Here now, by that stone-- +aim low and be quick.” + +In the course of a mile, without keeping the sheep near at hand, they +saw upward of twenty coyotes, five of which Jack killed in as many +shots. + +“You've got the hang of it,” said Naab, rubbing his hands. “You'll kill +the varmints. Piute will skin and salt the pelts. Now I'm going up on +the high range to look for bear sign. Go ahead, on your own hook.” + +Hare was regardless of time while he stole under the cedars and through +the thickets, spying out the cunning coyotes. Then Naab's yell pealing +out claimed his attention; he answered and returned. When they met he +recounted his adventures in mingled excitement and disappointment. + +“Are you tired?” asked Naab. + +“Tired? No,” replied Jack. + +“Well, you mustn't overdo the very first day. I've news for you. There +are some wild horses on the high range. I didn't see them, but found +tracks everywhere. If they come down here you send Piute to close the +trail at the upper end of the bench, and you close the one where we came +up. There are only two trails where even a deer can get off this +plateau, and both are narrow splits in the wall, which can be barred by +the gates. We made the gates to keep the sheep in, and they'll serve a +turn. If you get the wild horses on the bench send Piute for me at +once.” + +They passed the Indian herding the sheep into a corral built against an +uprising ridge of stone. Naab dispatched him to look for the dead +coyotes. The three burros were in camp, two wearing empty pack-saddles, +and Noddle, for once not asleep, was eating from Mescal's hand. + +“Mescal, hadn't I better take Black Bolly home?” asked August. + +“Mayn't I keep her?” + +“She's yours. But you run a risk. There are wild horses on the range. +Will you keep her hobbled?” + +“Yes,” replied Mescal, reluctantly. “Though I don't believe Bolly would +run off from me.” + +“Look out she doesn't go, hobbles and all. Jack, here's the other bit of +news I have for you. There's a big grizzly camping on the trail of our +sheep. Now what I want to know is--shall I leave him to you, or put off +work and come up here to wait for him myself?” + +“Why--” said Jack, slowly, “whatever you say. If you think you can +safely leave him to me--I'm willing.” + +“A grizzly won't be pleasant to face. I never knew one of those sheep- +killers that wouldn't run at a man, if wounded.” + +“Tell me what to do.” + +“If he comes down it's more than likely to be after dark. Don't risk +hunting him then. Wait till morning, and put Wolf on his trail. He'll be +up in the rocks, and by holding in the dog you may find him asleep in a +cave. However, if you happen to meet him by day do this. Don't waste any +shots. Climb a ledge or tree if one be handy. If not, stand your ground. +Get down on your knee and shoot and let him come. Mind you, he'll grunt +when he's hit, and start for you, and keep coming till he's dead. Have +confidence in yourself and your gun, for you can kill him. Aim low, and +shoot steady. If he keeps on coming there's always a fatal shot, and +that is when he rises. You'll see a bare spot on his breast. Put a +forty-four into that, and he'll go down.” + +August had spoken so easily, quite as if he were explaining how to shear +a yearling sheep, that Jack's feelings fluctuated between amazement and +laughter. Verily this desert man was stripped of all the false fears of +civilization. + +“Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out for +him.... So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!” And with many a cheery word and +slap he urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall form +soon disappeared among the trees. + +Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he could +scarcely be seen under the gray pile. With a fervent “damn” he tumbled +them under a cedar, and trotted back into the forest for another load. +Jack insisted on assuming his share of the duties about camp; and Mescal +assigned him to the task of gathering firewood, breaking red-hot sticks +of wood into small pieces, and raking them into piles of live coals. +Then they ate, these two alone. Jack did not do justice to the supper; +excitement had robbed him of appetite. He told Mescal how he had crept +upon the coyotes, how so many had eluded him, how he had missed a gray +wolf. He plied her with questions about the sheep, and wanted to know if +there would be more wolves, and if she thought the “silvertip” would +come. He was quite carried away by the events of the day. + +The sunset drew him to the rim. Dark clouds were mantling the desert +like rolling smoke from a prairie-fire. He almost stumbled over Mescal, +who sat with her back to a stone. Wolf lay with his head in her lap, and +he growled. + +“There's a storm on the desert,” she said. “Those smoky streaks are +flying sand. We may have snow to-night. It's colder, and the wind is +north. See, I've a blanket. You had better get one.” + +He thanked her and went for it. Piute was eating his supper, and the +peon had just come in. The bright campfire was agreeable, yet Hare did +not feel cold. But he wrapped himself in a blanket and returned to +Mescal and sat beside her. The desert lay indistinct in the foreground, +inscrutable beyond; the canyon lost its line in gloom. The solemnity of +the scene stilled his unrest, the strange freedom of longings unleashed +that day. What had come over him? He shook his head; but with the +consciousness of self returned a feeling of fatigue, the burning pain in +his chest, the bitter-sweet smell of black sage and juniper. + +“You love this outlook?” he asked. + +“Yes.” + +“Do you sit here often?” + +“Every evening.” + +“Is it the sunset that you care for, the roar of the river, just being +here high above it all?” + +“It's that last, perhaps; I don't know.” + +“Haven't you been lonely?” + +“No.” + +“You'd rather be here with the sheep than be in Lund, or Salt Lake City, +as Esther and Judith want to be?” + +“Yes.” + +Any other reply from her would not have been consistent with the +impression she was making on him. As yet he had hardly regarded her as a +young girl; she had been part of this beautiful desert-land. But he +began to see in her a responsive being, influenced by his presence. If +the situation was wonderful to him what must it be for her? Like a shy, +illusive creature, unused to men, she was troubled by questions, fearful +of the sound of her own voice. Yet in repose, as she watched the lights +and shadows, she was serene, unconscious; her dark, quiet glance was +dreamy and sad, and in it was the sombre, brooding strength of the +desert. + +Twilight and falling dew sent them back to the camp. Piute and Peon were +skinning coyotes by the blaze of the fire. The night wind had not yet +risen; the sheep were quiet; there was no sound save the crackle of +burning cedar sticks. Jack began to talk; he had to talk, so, addressing +Piute and the dumb peon, he struck at random into speech, and words +flowed with a rush. Piute approved, for he said “damn” whenever his +intelligence grasped a meaning, and the peon twisted his lips and fixed +his diamond eyes upon Hare in rapt gaze. The sound of a voice was +welcome to the sentinels of that lonely sheep-range. Jack talked of +cities, of ships, of people, of simple things in the life he had left, +and he discovered that Mescal listened. Not only did she listen; she +became absorbed; it was romance to her, fulfilment of her vague dreams. +Nor did she seek her tent till he ceased; then with a startled “good- +night” she was gone. + +From under the snugness of his warm blankets Jack watched out the last +wakeful moments of that day of days. A star peeped through the fringe of +cedar foliage. The wind sighed, and rose steadily, to sweep over him +with breath of ice, with the fragrance of juniper and black sage and a +tang of cedar. + +But that day was only the beginning of eventful days, of increasing +charm, of forgetfulness of self, of time that passed unnoted. Every +succeeding day was like its predecessor, only richer. Every day the +hoar-frost silvered the dawn; the sheep browsed; the coyotes skulked in +the thickets; the rifle spoke truer and truer. Every sunset Mescal's +changing eyes mirrored the desert. Every twilight Jack sat beside her in +the silence; every night, in the camp-fire flare, he talked to Piute and +the peon. + +The Indians were appreciative listeners, whether they understood Jack or +not, but his talk with them was only a presence. He wished to reveal the +outside world to Mescal, and he saw with pleasure that every day she +grew more interested. + +One evening he was telling of New York City, of the monster buildings +where men worked, and of the elevated railways, for the time was the +late seventies and they were still a novelty. Then something +unprecedented occurred, inasmuch as Piute earnestly and vigorously +interrupted Jack, demanding to have this last strange story made more +clear. Jack did his best in gesture and speech, but he had to appeal to +Mescal to translate his meaning to the Indian. This Mescal did with +surprising fluency. The result, however, was that Piute took exception +to the story of trains carrying people through the air. He lost his grin +and regarded Jack with much disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the +bitterness of misplaced trust. + +“Heap damn lie!” he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into the +gloom. + +Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, for +Mescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had brought +them closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well of +joyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal. +The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet +more and more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn +of cities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how they +lived, and all that life meant to them. + +The sweetest thing which had ever come to Hare was the teaching of this +desert girl. How naive in her questions and how quick to grasp she was! +The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidently +the Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn. + +But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now, +liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth. + +Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew no +rest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the +howling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in +a day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and +filled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after +their mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth--and the +carnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and +many lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always +near; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not +at all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night. +Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them +lie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands. +His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their +tracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth. + +One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds +rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold +wind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect. + +“Wolf!” called Mescal. + +The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told +of an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence. + +“Chus--chus!” exclaimed Piute. + +Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars. +The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an +uproar. + +“Bear! Bear!” cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle. + +“Don't go,” she implored, her hand on his arm. “Not at night--remember +Father Naab said not.” + +“Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree--quick!” + +“No--no--” + +“Do as I say!” It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the rifle, +and swung her up. “Climb!” + +“No--don't go--Jack!” + +With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness. + + + + + + +VI. THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + +PIUTE'S Indian sense of the advantage of position in attack stood Jack +in good stead; he led him up the ledge which overhung one end of the +corral. In the pale starlight the sheep could be seen running in bands, +massing together, crowding the fence; their cries made a deafening din. + +The Indian shouted, but Jack could not understand him. A large black +object was visible in the shade of the ledge. Piute fired his carbine. +Before Jack could bring his rifle up the black thing moved into +startlingly rapid flight. Then spouts of red flame illumined the corral. +As he shot, Jack got fleeting glimpses of the bear moving like a dark +streak against a blur of white. For all he could tell no bullet took +effect. + +When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the +corral. He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their +surprise, found none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken +it with him; and estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in +the fence, he could easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the +break and returned to camp. + +“He's gone, Mescal. Come down,” called Jack into the cedar. “Let me help +you--there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the flashes from +the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how fast he could +run.” + +Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws. + +“He nipped the brute, that's sure,” said Jack. “Good dog! Maybe he kept +the bear from-- Why Mescal! you're white--you're shaking. There's no +danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf.” + +Mescal went silently into her tent. + +The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The +dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up, +hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow +whitened the cedars. After breakfast Jack tried to get Wolf to take the +track of the grizzly, but the scent had cooled. + +Next day Mescal drove the sheep eastward toward the crags, and about the +middle of the afternoon reached the edge of the slope. Grass grew +luxuriantly and it was easy to keep the sheep in. Moreover, that part of +the forest had fewer trees, and scarcely any sage or thickets, so that +the lambs were safer, barring danger which might lurk in the seamed and +cracked cliffs overshadowing the open grassy plots. Piute's task at the +moment was to drag dead coyotes to the rim, near at hand, and throw them +over. Mescal rested on a stone, and Wolf reclined at her feet. + +Jack presently found a fresh deer track, and trailed it into the cedars, +then up the slope to where the huge rocks massed. + +Suddenly a cry from Mescal halted him; another, a piercing scream of +mortal fright, sent him flying down the slope. He bounded out of the +cedars into the open. + +The white, well-bunched flock had spread, and streams of jumping sheep +fled frantically from an enormous silver-backed bear. + +As the bear struck right and left, a brute-engine of destruction, Jack +sent a bullet into him at long range. Stung, the grizzly whirled, bit at +his side, and then reared with a roar of fury. + +But he did not see Jack. He dropped down and launched his huge bulk for +Mescal. The blood rushed back to Jack's heart, and his empty veins +seemed to freeze. + +The grizzly hurdled the streams of sheep. Terror for Mescal dominated +Jack; if he had possessed wings he could not have flown quickly enough +to head the bear. Checking himself with a suddenness that fetched him to +his knees, he levelled the rifle. It waved as if it were a stick of +willow. The bead-sight described a blurred curve round the bear. Yet he +shot--in vain--again--in vain. + +Above the bleat of sheep and trample of many hoofs rang out Mescal's +cry, despairing. + +She had turned, her hands over her breast. Wolf spread his legs before +her and crouched to spring, mane erect, jaws wide. + +By some lightning flash of memory, August Naab's words steadied Jack's +shaken nerves. He aimed low and ahead of the running bear. Down the +beast went in a sliding sprawl with a muffled roar of rage. Up he +sprang, dangling a useless leg, yet leaping swiftly forward. One blow +sent the attacking dog aside. Jack fired again. The bear became a +wrestling, fiery demon, death-stricken, but full of savage fury. Jack +aimed low and shot again. + +Slowly now the grizzly reared, his frosted coat blood-flecked, his great +head swaying. Another shot. There was one wide sweep of the huge paw, +and then the bear sank forward, drooping slowly, and stretched all his +length as if to rest. + +Mescal, recalled to life, staggered backward. Between her and the +outstretched paw was the distance of one short stride. + +Jack, bounding up, made sure the bear was dead before he looked at +Mescal. She was faint. Wolf whined about her. Piute came running from +the cedars. Her eyes were still fixed in a look of fear. + +“I couldn't run--I couldn't move,” she said, shuddering. A blush drove +the white from her cheeks as she raised her face to Jack. “He'd soon +have reached me.” + +Piute added his encomium: “Damn--heap big bear-- Jack kill um--big +chief!” + +Hare laughed away his own fear and turned their attention to the +stampeded sheep. It was dark before they got the flock together again, +and they never knew whether they had found them all. Supper-time was +unusually quiet that night. Piute was jovial, but no one appeared +willing to talk save the peon, and he could only grimace. The reaction +of feeling following Mescal's escape had robbed Jack of strength of +voice; he could scarcely whisper. Mescal spoke no word; her black lashes +hid her eyes; she was silent, but there was that in her silence which +was eloquent. Wolf, always indifferent save to Mescal, reacted to the +subtle change, and as if to make amends laid his head on Jack's knees. +The quiet hour round the camp-fire passed, and sleep claimed them. +Another day dawned, awakening them fresh, faithful to their duties, +regardless of what had gone before. + +So the days slipped by. June came, with more leisure for the shepherds, +better grazing for the sheep, heavier dews, lighter frosts, snow-squalls +half rain, and bursting blossoms on the prickly thorns, wild-primrose +patches in every shady spot, and bluebells lifting wan azure faces to +the sun. + +The last snow-storm of June threatened all one morning; hung menacing +over the yellow crags, in dull lead clouds waiting for the wind. Then +like ships heaving anchor to a single command they sailed down off the +heights; and the cedar forest became the centre of a blinding, eddying +storm. The flakes were as large as feathers, moist, almost warm. The low +cedars changed to mounds of white; the sheep became drooping curves of +snow; the little lambs were lost in the color of their own pure fleece. +Though the storm had been long in coming it was brief in passing. Wind- +driven toward the desert, it moaned its last in the cedars, and swept +away, a sheeted pall. Out over the Canyon it floated, trailing long +veils of white that thinned out, darkened, and failed far above the +golden desert. The winding columns of snow merged into straight lines of +leaden rain; the rain flowed into vapory mist, and the mist cleared in +the gold-red glare of endless level and slope. No moisture reached the +parched desert. + +Jack marched into camp with a snowy burden over his shoulder. He flung +it down, disclosing a small deer; then he shook the white mantle from +his coat, and whistling, kicked the fire-logs, and looked abroad at the +silver cedars, now dripping under the sun, at the rainbows in the +settling mists, at the rapidly melting snow on the ground. + +“Got lost in that squall. Fine! Fine!” he exclaimed, and threw wide his +arms. + +“Jack!” said Mescal. “Jack!” Memory had revived some forgotten thing. +The dark olive of her skin crimsoned; her eyes dilated and shadowed with +a rare change of emotion. + +“Jack,” she repeated. + +“Well?” he replied, in surprise. + +“To look at you!--I never dreamed--I'd forgotten--” + +“What's the matter with me?” demanded Jack. + +Wonderingly, her mind on the past, she replied: “You were dying when we +found you at White Sage.” + +He drew himself up with a sharp catch in his breath, and stared at her +as if he saw a ghost. + +“Oh--Jack! You're going to get well!” + +Her lips curved in a smile. + +For an instant Jack Hare spent his soul in searching her face for truth. +While waiting for death he had utterly forgotten it; he remembered now, +when life gleamed in the girl's dark eyes. Passionate joy flooded his +heart. + +“Mescal--Mescal!” he cried, brokenly. The eyes were true that shed this +sudden light on him; glad and sweet were the lips that bade him hope and +live again. Blindly, instinctively he kissed them--a kiss unutterably +grateful; then he fled into the forest, running without aim. + +That flight ended in sheer exhaustion on the far rim of the plateau. The +spreading cedars seemed to have eyes; and he shunned eyes in this hour. +“God! to think I cared so much,” he whispered. “What has happened?” With +time relief came to limbs, to labored breast and lungs, but not to mind. +In doubt that would not die, he looked at himself. The leanness of arms, +the flat chest, the hollows were gone. He did not recognize his own +body. He breathed to the depths of his lungs. No pain--only +exhilaration! He pounded his chest--no pain! He dug his trembling +fingers into the firm flesh over the apex of his right lung--the place +of his torture--no pain! + +“I wanted to live!” he cried. He buried his face in the fragrant +juniper; he rolled on the soft brown mat of earth and hugged it close; +he cooled his hot cheeks in the primrose clusters. He opened his eyes to +new bright green of cedar, to sky of a richer blue, to a desert, +strange, beckoning, enthralling as life itself. He counted backward a +month, two months, and marvelled at the swiftness of time. He counted +time forward, he looked into the future, and all was beautiful--long +days, long hunts, long rides, service to his friend, freedom on the wild +steppes, blue-white dawns upon the eastern crags, red-gold sunsets over +the lilac mountains of the desert. He saw himself in triumphant health +and strength, earning day by day the spirit of this wilderness, coming +to fight for it, to live for it, and in far-off time, when he had won +his victory, to die for it. + +Suddenly his mind was illumined. The lofty plateau with its healing +breath of sage and juniper had given back strength to him; the silence +and solitude and strife of his surroundings had called to something deep +within him; but it was Mescal who made this wild life sweet and +significant. It was Mescal, the embodiment of the desert spirit. Like a +man facing a great light Hare divined his love. Through all the days on +the plateau, living with her the natural free life of Indians, close to +the earth, his unconscious love had ripened. He understood now her charm +for him; he knew now the lure of her wonderful eyes, flashing fire, +desert-trained, like the falcon eyes of her Indian grandfather. The +knowledge of what she had become to him dawned with a mounting desire +that thrilled all his blood. + +Twilight had enfolded the plateau when Hare traced his way back to camp. +Mescal was not there. His supper awaited him; Piute hummed a song; the +peon sat grimacing at the fire. Hare told them to eat, and moved away +toward the rim. + +Mescal was at her favorite seat, with the white dog beside her; and she +watched the desert where the last glow of sunset gilded the mesas. How +cold and calm was her face! How strange to him in this new character! + +“Mescal, I didn't know I loved you--then--but I know it now.” + +Her face dropped quickly from its level poise, hiding the brooding eyes; +her hand trembled on Wolf's head. + +“You spoke the truth. I'll get well. I'd rather have had it from your +lips than from any in the world. I mean to live my life here where these +wonderful things have come to me. The friendship of the good man who +saved me, this wild, free desert, the glory of new hope, strength, life- +-and love.” + +He took her hand in his and whispered, “For I love you. Do you care for +me? Mescal! It must be complete. Do you care--a little?” + +The wind blew her dusky hair; he could not see her face; he tried gently +to turn her to him. The hand he had taken lay warm and trembling in his, +but it was not withdrawn. As he waited, in fear, in hope, it became +still. Her slender form, rigid within his arm, gradually relaxed, and +yielded to him; her face sank on his breast, and her dark hair loosened +from its band, covered her, and blew across his lips. That was his +answer. + +The wind sang in the cedars. No longer a sigh, sad as thoughts of a past +forever flown, but a song of what had come to him, of hope, of life, of +Mescal's love, of the things to be! + + + + + + +VII. SILVERMANE + +LITTLE dew fell on the night of July first; the dawn brightened without +mists; a hot sun rose; the short summer of the plateau had begun. + +As Hare rose, refreshed and happy from his breakfast, his whistle was +cut short by the Indian. + +“Ugh!” exclaimed Piute, lifting a dark finger. Black Bolly had thrown +her nose-bag and slipped her halter, and she moved toward the opening in +the cedars, her head high, her black ears straight up. + +“Bolly!” called Mescal. The mare did not stop. + +“What the deuce?” Hare ran forward to catch her. + +“I never knew Bolly to act that way,” said Mescal. “See--she didn't eat +half the oats. Well, Bolly--Jack! look at Wolf!” + +The white dog had risen and stood warily shifting his nose. He sniffed +the wind, turned round and round, and slowly stiffened with his head +pointed toward the eastern rise of the plateau. + +“Hold, Wolf, hold!” called Mescal, as the dog appeared to be about to +dash away. + +“Ugh!” grunted Piute. + +“Listen, Jack; did you hear?” whispered the girl. + +“Hear what?” + +“Listen.” + +The warm breeze came down in puffs from the crags; it rustled in the +cedars and blew fragrant whiffs of camp-fire smoke into his face; and +presently it bore a low, prolonged whistle. He had never before heard +its like. The sound broke the silence again, clearer, a keen, sharp +whistle. + +“What is it?” he queried, reaching for his rifle. + +“Wild mustangs,” said Mescal. + +“No,” corrected Piute, vehemently shaking his head. “Clea, Clea.” + +“Jack, he says 'horse, horse.' It's a wild horse.” + +A third time the whistle rang down from the ridge, splitting the air, +strong and trenchant, the fiery, shrill challenge of a stallion. + +Black Bolly reared straight up. + +Jack ran to the rise of ground above the camp, and looked over the +cedars. “Oh!” he cried, and beckoned for Mescal. She ran to him, and +Piute, tying Black Bolly, hurried after. “Look! look!” cried Jack. He +pointed to a ridge rising to the left of the yellow crags. On the bare +summit stood a splendid stallion clearly silhouetted against the ruddy +morning sky. He was an iron-gray, wild and proud, with long silver-white +mane waving in the wind. + +“Silvermane! Silvermane!” exclaimed Mescal. + +“What a magnificent animal!” Jack stared at the splendid picture for the +moment before the horse moved back along the ridge and disappeared. +Other horses, blacks and bays, showed above the sage for a moment, and +they, too, passed out of sight. + +“He's got some of his band with him,” said Jack, thrilled with +excitement. “Mescal, they're down off the upper range, and grazing along +easy. The wind favors us. That whistle was just plain fight, judging +from what Naab told me of wild stallions. He came to the hilltop, and +whistled down defiance to any horse, wild or tame, that might be below. +I'll slip round through the cedars, and block the trail leading up to +the other range, and you and Piute close the gate of our trail at this +end. Then send Piute down to tell Naab we've got Silvermane.” + +Jack chose the lowest edge of the plateau rim where the cedars were +thickest for his detour to get behind the wild band; he ran from tree to +tree, avoiding the open places, taking advantage of the thickets, +keeping away from the ridge. He had never gone so far as the gate, but, +knowing where the trail led into a split in the crags, he climbed the +slope, and threaded a way over masses of fallen cliff, until he reached +the base of the wall. The tracks of the wildhorse band were very fresh +and plain in the yellow trail. Four stout posts guarded the opening, and +a number of bars lay ready to be pushed into place. He put them up, +making a gate ten feet high, an impregnable barrier. This done, he +hurried back to camp. + +“Jack, Bolly will need more watching to-day than the sheep, unless I let +her loose. Why, she pulls and strains so she'll break that halter.” + +“She wants to go with the band; isn't that it?” + +“I don't like to think so. But Father Naab doesn't trust Bolly, though +she's the best mustang he ever broke.” + +“Better keep her in,” replied Jack, remembering Naab's warning. “I'll +hobble her, so if she does break loose she can't go far.” + +When Mescal and Jack drove in the sheep that afternoon, rather earlier +than usual, Piute had returned with August Naab, Dave, and Billy, a +string of mustangs and a pack-train of burros. + +“Hello, Mescal,” cheerily called August, as they came into camp. “Well +Jack--bless me! Why, my lad, how fine and brown--and yes, how you've +filled out!” He crushed Jack's hand in his broad palm, and his gray eyes +beamed. “I've not the gift of revelation--but, Jack, you're going to get +well.” + +“Yes, I--” He had difficulty with his enunciation, but he thumped his +breast significantly and smiled. + +“Black sage and juniper!” exclaimed August. “In this air if a man +doesn't go off quickly with pneumonia, he'll get well. I never had a +doubt for you, Jack--and thank God!” + +He questioned Piute and Mescal about the sheep, and was greatly pleased +with their report. He shook his head when Jack spread out the grizzly- +pelt, and asked for the story of the killing. Jack made a poor showing +with the tale and slighted his share in it, but Mescal told it as it +actually happened. And Naab's great hand resounded from Jack's shoulder. +Then, catching sight of the pile of coyote skins under the stone shelf, +he gave vent to his surprise and delight. Then he came back to the +object of his trip upon the plateau. + +“So you've corralled Silvermane? Well, Jack, if he doesn't jump over the +cliff he's ours. He can't get off any other way. How many horses with +him?” + +“We had no chance to count. I saw at least twelve.” + +“Good! He's out with his picked band. Weren't they all blacks and bays?” + +“Yes.” + +“Jack, the history of that stallion wouldn't make you proud of him. +We've corralled him by a lucky chance. If I don't miss my guess he's +after Bolly. He has been a lot of trouble to ranchers all the way from +the Nevada line across Utah. The stallions he's killed, the mares he's +led off! Well, Dave, shall we thirst him out, or line up a long corral?” + +“Better have a look around to-morrow,” replied Dave. “It'll take a lot +of chasing to run him down, but there's not a spring on the bench where +we can throw up a trap-corral. We'll have to chase him.” + +“Mescal, has Bolly been good since Silvermane came down?” + +“No, she hasn't,” declared Mescal, and told of the circumstance. + +“Bolly's all right,” said Billy Naab. “Any mustang will do that. Keep +her belled and hobbled.” + +“Silvermane would care a lot about that, if he wanted Bolly, wouldn't +he?” queried Dave in quiet scorn. “Keep her roped and haltered, I say.” + +“Dave's right,” said August. “You can't trust a wild mustang any more +than a wild horse.” + +August was right. Black Bolly broke her halter about midnight and +escaped into the forest, hobbled as she was. The Indian heard her first, +and he awoke August, who aroused the others. + +“Don't make any noise,” he said, as Jack came up, throwing on his coat. +“There's likely to be some fun here presently. Bolly's loose, broke her +rope, and I think Silvermane is close. Listen sharp now.” + +The slight breeze favored them, the camp-fire was dead, and the night +was clear and starlit. They had not been quiet many moments when the +shrill neigh of a mustang rang out. The Naabs raised themselves and +looked at one another in the starlight. + +“Now what do you think of that?” whispered Billy. + +“No more than I expected. It was Bolly,” replied Dave. + +“Bolly it was, confound her black hide!” added August. “Now, boys, did +she whistle for Silvermane, or to warn him, which?” + +“No telling,” answered Billy. “Let's lie low, and take a chance on him +coming close. It proves one thing--you can't break a wild mare. That +spirit may sleep in her blood, maybe for years, but some time it'll +answer to--” + +“Shut up--listen,” interrupted Dave. + +Jack strained his hearing, yet caught no sound, except the distant yelp +of a coyote. Moments went by. + +“There!” whispered Dave. + +From the direction of the ridge came the faint rattling of stones. + +“They're coming,” put in Billy. + +Presently sharp clicks preceded the rattles, and the sounds began to +merge into a regular rhythmic tramp. It softened at intervals, probably +when the horses were under the cedars, and strengthened as they came out +on the harder ground of the open. + +“I see them,” whispered Dave. + +A black, undulating line wound out of the cedars, a line of horses +approaching with drooping heads, hurrying a little as they neared the +spring. + +“Twenty-odd, all blacks and bays,” said August, “and some of them are +mustangs. But where's Silvermane?--hark!” + +Out among the cedars rose the peculiar halting thump of a hobbled horse +trying to cover ground, followed by snorts and crashings of brush and +the pound of plunging hoofs. The long black line stopped short and began +to stamp. Then into the starlit glade below moved two shadows, the first +a great gray horse with snowy mane; the second, a small, shiny, black +mustang. + +“Silvermane and Bolly!” exclaimed August, “and now she's broken her +hobbles.” + +The stallion, in the fulfilment of a conquest such as had made him king +of the wild ranges, was magnificent in action. Wheeling about her, +neighing, and plunging, he arched his splendid neck and pushed his head +against her. His action was that of a master. Suddenly Black Bolly +snorted and whirled down the glade. Silvermane whistled one blast of +anger or terror and thundered after her. They vanished in the gloom of +the cedars, and the band of frightened horses and mustangs clattered +after them. + +“It's one on me,” remarked Billy. “That little mare played us at the +finish. Caught when she was a yearling, broken better than any mustang +we ever had, she has helped us run down many a stallion, and now she +runs off with that big white-maned brute!” + +“They'll make a team, and if they get out of here we'll have to chase +them to the Great Salt Basin,” replied Dave. + +“Mescal, that's a well-behaved mustang of yours,” said August; “not only +did she break loose, but she whistled an alarm to Silvermane and his +band. Well, roll in now, everybody, and sleep.” + +At breakfast the following day the Naabs fell into a discussion upon the +possibility of there being other means of exit from the plateau than the +two trails already closed. They had never run any mustangs on the +plateau, and in the case of a wild horse like Silvermane, who would take +desperate chances, it was advisable to know the ground exactly. Billy +and Dave taking their mounts from the sheep-corral, where they had put +them up for the night, rode in opposite directions around the rim of the +plateau. It was triangular in shape, and some six or seven miles in +circumference; and the brothers rode around it in less than an hour. + +“Corralled,” said Dave, laconically. + +“Good! Did you see him? What kind of a bunch has he with him?” asked his +father. + +“If we get the pick of the lot it will be worth two weeks' work,” + replied Dave. “I saw him, and Bolly, too. I believe we can catch her +easily. She was off from the bunch, and it looks as though the mares +were jealous. I think we can run her into a cove under the wall, and get +her. Then Mescal can help us run down the stallion. And you can look out +on this end for the best level stretch to drop the line of cedars and +make our trap.” + +The brothers, at their father's nod, rode off into the forest. Naab had +detained the peon, and now gave him orders and sent him off. + +“To-night you can stand on the rim here, and watch him signal across to +the top of Echo Cliffs to the Navajos,” explained August to Jack. “I've +sent for the best breaker of wild mustangs on the desert. Dave can break +mustangs, and Piute is very good; but I want the best man in the +country, because this is a grand horse, and I intend to give him to +you.” + +“To me!” exclaimed Hare. + +“Yes, and if he's broken right at the start, he'll serve you faithfully, +and not try to bite your arm off every day, or kick your brains out. No +white man can break a wild mustang to the best advantage.” + +“Why is that?” + +“I don't know. To be truthful, I have an idea it's bad temper and lack +of patience. Just wait till you see this Navajo go at Silvermane!” + +After Mescal and Piute drove down the sheep, Jack accompanied Naab to +the corral. + +“I've brought up your saddle,” said Naab, “and you can put it on any +mustang here.” + +What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength +to remain there! He rode with August all over the western end of the +plateau. They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the +bordering forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and +when August had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction. + +“Fine, better than I hoped for! This stretch is about a mile long, and +narrow at this end. Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, +this side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it +curves in a half circle, which will save us work. We'll cut cedars, drag +them in line, and make a big corral against the rock. From the opening +in the corral we'll build two fences of trees; then we'll chase +Silvermane till he's done, run him down into this level, and turn him +inside the fence. No horse can break through a close line of cedars. +He'll run till he's in the corral, and then we'll rope him.” + +“Great!” said Jack, all enthusiasm. “But isn't it going to take a lot of +work?” + +“Rather,” said August, dryly. “It'll take a week to cut and drag the +cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion. When the finish comes +you want to be on that ledge where we'll have the corral.” + +They returned to camp and prepared supper. Mescal and Piute soon +arrived, and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs. Black Bolly +limped behind, stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, +foam-stained coat and hanging head. + +“Not bad,” said August, examining the lame leg. “She'll be fit in a few +days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane. Bring the +liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral to- +night.” + +Mescal's love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out +the crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck. + +“Bolly, to think you'd do it!” And Bolly dropped her head as though +really ashamed. + +When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals. A fire +blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and +flamed higher. + +“Ugh!” said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs. + +“Of course he'd see it first,” laughed Naab. “Dave, have you caught it +yet? Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs.” + +“No, I don't see any light, except that white star. Have you seen it?” + +“Long ago,” replied Naab. “Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your +eyes down.” + +“I believe I see it--yes, I'm sure.” + +“Good. How about you, Mescal?” + +“Yes,” she replied. + +Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, +and Billy claimed priority to all of them. To these men bred on the +desert keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts. + +“Jack, look sharp!” said August. “Peon is blanketing his fire. See the +flicker? One, two--one, two--one. Now for the answer.” + +Jack peered out into the shadowy space, star-studded above, ebony below. +Far across the depths shone a pinpoint of steady light. The Indian +grunted again, August vented his “ha!” and then Jack saw the light blink +like a star, go out for a second, and blink again. + +“That's what I like to see,” said August. “We're answered. Now all's +over but the work.” + +Work it certainly was, as Jack discovered next day. He helped the +brothers cut down cedars while August hauled them into line with his +roan. What with this labor and the necessary camp duties nearly a week +passed, and in the mean time Black Bolly recovered from her lameness. + +Twice the workers saw Silvermane standing on open high ridges, restive +and suspicious, with his silver mane flying, and his head turned over +his shoulder, watching, always watching. + +“It'd be worth something to find out how long that stallion could go +without water,” commented Dave. “But we'll make his tongue hang out to- +morrow. It'd serve him right to break him with Black Bolly.” + +Daylight came warm and misty; veils unrolled from the desert; a purple +curtain lifted from the eastern crags; then the red sun burned. + +Dave and Billy Naab mounted their mustangs, and each led another mount +by a halter. + +“We'll go to the ridge, cut Silvermane out of his band and warm him up; +then we'll drive him down to this end.” + +Hare, in his eagerness, found the time very tedious while August delayed +about camp, punching new holes in his saddle-girth, shortening his +stirrups, and smoothing kinks out of his lasso. At last he saddled the +roan, and also Black Bolly. Mescal came out of her tent ready for the +chase; she wore a short skirt of buckskin, and leggings of the same +material. Her hair, braided, and fastened at the back, was bound by a +double band closely fitting her black head. Hare walked, leading two +mustangs by the halters, and Naab and Mescal rode, each of them followed +by two other spare mounts. August tied three mustangs at one point along +the level stretch, and three at another. Then he led Mescal and Jack to +the top of the stone wall above the corral, where they had good view of +a considerable part of the plateau. + +The eastern rise of ground, a sage and juniper slope, was in plain +sight. Hare saw a white flash; then Silvermane broke out of the cedars +into the sage. One of the brothers raced him half the length of the +slope, and then the other coming out headed him off down toward the +forest. Soon the pounding of hoofs sounded through the trees nearer and +nearer. Silvermane came out straight ahead on the open level. He was +running easily. + +“He hasn't opened up yet,” said August. + +Hare watched the stallion with sheer fascination; He ran seemingly +without effort. What a stride he had. How beautifully his silver mane +waved in the wind! He veered off to the left, out of sight in the brush, +while Dave and Billy galloped up to the spot where August had tied the +first three mustangs. Here they dismounted, changed saddles to fresh +horses, and were off again. + +The chase now was close and all down-hill for the watchers. Silvermane +twinkled in and out among the cedars, and suddenly stopped short on the +rim. He wheeled and coursed away toward the crags, and vanished. But +soon he reappeared, for Billy had cut across and faced him about. Again +he struck the level stretch. Dave was there in front of him. He shot +away to the left, and flashed through the glades beyond. The brothers +saved their steeds, content to keep him cornered in that end of the +plateau. Then August spurred his roan into the scene of action. +Silvermane came out on the one piece of rising ground beyond the level, +and stood looking backward toward the brothers. When the great roan +crashed through the thickets into his sight he leaped as if he had been +stung, and plunged away. + +The Naabs had hemmed him in a triangle, Dave and Billy at the broad end, +August at the apex, and now the real race began. August chased him up +and down, along the rim, across to the long line of cedars, always in +the end heading him for the open stretch. Down this he fled with flying +mane, only to be checked by the relentless brothers. To cover this broad +end of the open required riding the like of which Hare had never dreamed +of. The brothers, taking advantage of the brief periods when the +stallion was going toward August, changed their tired mustangs for fresh +ones. + +“Ho! Mescal!” rolled out August's voice. That was the call for Mescal to +put Black Bolly after Silvermane. Her fleetness made the other mustangs +seem slow. All in a flash she was round the corral, with Silvermane +between her and the long fence of cedars. Uttering a piercing snort of +terror the gray stallion lunged out, for the first time panic-stricken, +and lengthened his stride in a wonderful way. He raced down the stretch +with his head over his shoulder watching the little black. Seeing her +gaining, he burst into desperate headlong flight. He saved nothing; he +had found his match; he won that first race down the level but it had +cost him his best. If he had been fresh he might have left Black Bolly +far behind, but now he could not elude her. + +August Naab let him run this time, and Silvermane, keeping close to the +fence, passed the gate, ran down to the rim, and wheeled. The black +mustang was on him again, holding him in close to the fence, driving him +back down the stretch. + +The brothers remorselessly turned him, and now Mescal, forcing the +running, caught him, lashed his haunches with her whip, and drove him +into the gate of the corral. + +August and his two sons were close behind, and blocked the gate. +Silvermane's race was nearly run. + +“Hold here, boys,” said August. “I'll go in and drive him round and +round till he's done, then, when I yell, you stand aside and rope him as +he comes out.” + +Silvermane ran round the corral, tore at the steep scaly walls, fell +back and began his weary round again and yet again. Then as sense and +courage yielded gradually to unreasoning terror, he ran blindly; every +time he passed the guarded gateway his eyes were wilder, and his stride +more labored. + +“Now!” yelled August Naab. + +Mescal drew out of the opening, and Dave and Billy pulled away, one on +each side, their lassoes swinging loosely. + +Silvermane sprang for the opening with something of his old speed. As he +went through, yellow loops flashed in the sun, circling, narrowing, and +he seemed to run straight into them. One loop whipped close round his +glossy neck; the other caught his head. Dave's mustang staggered under +the violent shock, went to his knees, struggled up and held firmly. +Bill's mount slid on his haunches and spilled his rider from the saddle. +Silvermane seemed to be climbing into the air. Then August Naab, darting +through the gate in a cloud of dust, shot his lasso, catching the right +foreleg. Silvermane landed hard, his hoofs striking fire from the +stones; and for an instant strained in convulsive struggle; then fell +heaving and groaning. In a twinkling Billy loosened his lasso over a +knot, making of it a halter, and tied the end to a cedar stump. + +The Naabs stood back and gazed at their prize. + +Silvermane was badly spent; he was wet with foam, but no fleck of blood +marred his mane; his superb coat showed scratches, but none cut into the +flesh. After a while he rose, panting heavily, and trembling in every +muscle. He was a beaten horse; the noble head was bowed; yet he showed +no viciousness, only the fear of a trapped animal. He eyed Black Bolly +and then the halter, as though he had divined the fatal connection +between them. + + + + +VIII. THE BREAKER OF WILD MUSTANGS + +FOR a few days after the capture of Silvermane, a time full to the brim +of excitement for Hare, he had no word with Mescal, save for morning and +evening greetings. When he did come to seek her, with a purpose which +had grown more impelling since August Naab's arrival, he learned to his +bewilderment that she avoided him. She gave him no chance to speak with +her alone; her accustomed resting-place on the rim at sunset knew her no +more; early after supper she retired to her tent. + +Hare nursed a grievance for forty-eight hours, and then, taking +advantage of Piute's absence on an errand down to the farm, and of the +Naabs' strenuous day with four vicious wild horses in the corral at one +time, he walked out to the pasture where Mescal shepherded the flock. + +“Mescal, why are you avoiding me?” he asked. “What has happened?” + +She looked tired and unhappy, and her gaze, instead of meeting his, +wandered to the crags. + +“Nothing,” she replied. + +“But there must be something. You have given me no chance to talk to +you, and I wanted to know if you'd let me speak to Father Naab.” + +“To Father Naab? Why--what about?” + +“About you, of course--and me--that I love you and want to marry you.” + +She turned white. “No--no!” + +Hare paused blankly, not so much at her refusal as at the unmistakable +fear in her face. + +“Why--not?” he asked presently, with an odd sense of trouble. There was +more here than Mescal's habitual shyness. + +“Because he'll be terribly angry.” + +“Angry--I don't understand. Why angry?” + +The girl did not answer, and looked so forlorn that Hare attempted to +take her in his arms. She resisted and broke from him. + +“You must never--never do that again.” + +Hare drew back sharply. + +“Why not? What's wrong? You must tell me, Mescal.” + +“I remembered.” She hung her head. + +“Remembered--what?” + +“I am pledged to marry Father Naab's eldest son.” + +For a moment Hare did not understand. He stared at her unbelievingly. + +“What did you say?” he asked, slowly. + +Mescal repeated her words in a whisper. + +“But--but Mescal--I love you. You let me kiss you,” said Hare stupidly, +as if he did not grasp her meaning. “You let me kiss you,” he repeated. + +“Oh, Jack, I forgot,” she wailed. “It was so new, so strange, to have +you up here. It was like a kind of dream. And after--after you kissed me +I--I found out--” + +“What, Mescal?” + +Her silence answered him. + +“But, Mescal, if you really love me you can't marry any one else,” said +Hare. It was the simple persistence of a simple swain. + +“Oh, you don't know, you don't know. It's impossible!” + +“Impossible!” Hare's anger flared up. “You let me believe I had won you. +What kind of a girl are you? You were not true. Your actions were lies.” + +“Not lies,” she faltered, and turned her face from him. + +With no gentle hand he grasped her arm and forced her to look at him. +But the misery in her eyes overcame him, and he roughly threw his arms +around her and held her close. + +“It can't be a lie. You do care for me--love me. Look at me.” He drew +her head back from his breast. Her face was pale and drawn; her eyes +closed tight, with tears forcing a way out under the long lashes; her +lips were parted. He bowed to their sweet nearness; he kissed them again +and again, while the shade of the cedars seemed to whirl about him. “I +love you, Mescal. You are mine--I will have you--I will keep you--I will +not let him have you!” + +She vibrated to that like a keen strung wire under a strong touch. All +in a flash the trembling, shame-stricken girl was transformed. She +leaned back in his arms, supple, pliant with quivering life, and for the +first time gave him wide-open level eyes, in which there were now no +tears, no shyness, no fear, but a dark smouldering fire. + +“You do love me, Mescal?” + +“I--I couldn't help it.” + +There was a pause, tense with feeling. + +“Mescal, tell me--about your being pledged,” he said, at last. + +“I gave him my promise because there was nothing else to do. I was +pledged to--to him in the church at White Sage. It can't be changed. +I've got to marry--Father Naab's eldest son.” + +“Eldest son?” echoed Jack, suddenly mindful of the implication. “Why! +that's Snap Naab. Ah! I begin to see light. That--Mescal--” + +“I hate him.” + +“You hate him and you're pledged to marry him!... God! Mescal, I'd +utterly forgotten Snap Naab already has a wife.” + +“You've also forgotten that we're Mormons.” + +“Are you a Mormon?” he queried bluntly. + +“I've been raised as one.” + +“That's not an answer. Are you one? Do you believe any man under God's +sky ought to have more than one wife at a time?” + +“No. But I've been taught that it gave woman greater glory in heaven. +There have been men here before you, men who talked to me, and I doubted +before I ever saw you. And afterward--I knew.” + +“Would not Father Naab release you?” + +“Release me? Why, he would have taken me as a wife for himself but for +Mother Mary. She hates me. So he pledged me to Snap.” + +“Does August Naab love you?” + +“Love me? No. Not in the way you mean--perhaps as a daughter. But +Mormons teach duty to church first, and say such love comes--to the +wives--afterward. But it doesn't--not in the women I've seen. There's +Mother Ruth--her heart is broken. She loves me, and I can tell.” + +“When was this--this marriage to be?” + +“I don't know. Father Naab promised me to his son when he came home from +the Navajo range. It would be soon if they found out that you and I-- +Jack, Snap Naab would kill you!” + +The sudden thought startled the girl. Her eyes betrayed her terror. + +“I mightn't be so easy to kill,” said Hare, darkly. The words came +unbidden, his first answer to the wild influences about him. “Mescal, +I'm sorry--maybe I've brought you unhappiness.” + +“No. No. To be with you has been like sitting there on the rim watching +the desert, the greatest happiness I have ever known. I used to love to +be with the children, but Mother Mary forbade. When I am down there, +which is seldom, I'm not allowed to play with the children any more.” + +“What can I do?” asked Hare, passionately. + +“Don't speak to Father Naab. Don't let him guess. Don't leave me here +alone,” she answered low. It was not the Navajo speaking in her now. +Love had sounded depths hitherto unplumbed; a quick, soft impulsiveness +made the contrast sharp and vivid. + +“How can I help but leave you if he wants me on the cattle ranges?” + +“I don't know. You must think. He has been so pleased with what you've +done. He's had Mormons up here, and two men not of his Church, and they +did nothing. You've been ill, besides you're different. He will keep me +with the sheep as long as he can, for two reasons--because I drive them +best, he says, and because Snap Naab's wife must be persuaded to welcome +me in her home.” + +“I'll stay, if I have to get a relapse and go down on my back again,” + declared Jack. “I hate to deceive him, but Mescal, pledged or not--I +love you, and I won't give up hope.” + +Her hands flew to her face again and tried to hide the dark blush. + +“Mescal, there's one question I wish you'd answer. Does August Naab +think he'll make a Mormon of me? Is that the secret of his wonderful +kindness?” + +“Of course he believes he'll make a Mormon of you. That's his religion. +He's felt that way over all the strangers who ever came out here. But +he'd be the same to them without his hopes. I don't know the secret of +his kindness, but I think he loves everybody and everything. And Jack, +he's so good. I owe him all my life. He would not let the Navajos take +me; he raised me, kept me, taught me. I can't break my promise to him. +He's been a father to me, and I love him.” + +“I think I love him, too,” replied Hare, simply. + +With an effort he left her at last and mounted the grassy slope and +climbed high up among the tottering yellow crags; and there he battled +with himself. Whatever the charm of Mescal's surrender, and the +insistence of his love, stern hammer-strokes of fairness, duty, honor, +beat into his brain his debt to the man who had saved him. It was a +long-drawn-out battle not to be won merely by saying right was right. He +loved Mescal, she loved him; and something born in him with his new +health, with the breath of this sage and juniper forest, with the sight +of purple canyons and silent beckoning desert, made him fiercely +tenacious of all that life had come to mean for him. He could not give +her up--and yet-- + +Twilight forced Hare from his lofty retreat, and he trod his way +campward, weary and jaded, but victorious over himself. He thought he +had renounced his hope of Mescal; he returned with a resolve to be true +to August, and to himself; bitterness he would not allow himself to +feel. And yet he feared the rising in him of a new spirit akin to that +of the desert itself, intractable and free. + +“Well, Jack, we rode down the last of Silvermane's band,” said August, +at supper. “The Navajos came up and helped us out. To-morrow you'll see +some fun, when we start to break Silvermane. As soon as that's done I'll +go, leaving the Indians to bring the horses down when they're broken.” + +“Are you going to leave Silvermane with me?” asked Jack. + +“Surely. Why, in three days, if I don't lose my guess, he'll be like a +lamb. Those desert stallions can be made into the finest kind of saddle- +horses. I've seen one or two. I want you to stay up here with the sheep. +You're getting well, you'll soon be a strapping big fellow. Then when we +drive the sheep down in the fall you can begin life on the cattle +ranges, driving wild steers. There's where you'll grow lean and hard, +like an iron bar. You'll need that horse, too, my lad.” + +“Why--because he's fast?” queried Jack, quickly answering to the implied +suggestion. + +August nodded gloomily. “I haven't the gift of revelation, but I've come +to believe Martin Cole. Holderness is building an outpost for his riders +close to Seeping Springs. He has no water. If he tries to pipe my water- +-” The pause was not a threat; it implied the Mormon's doubt of himself. +“Then Dene is on the march this way. He's driven some of Marshall's +cattle from the range next to mine. Dene got away with about a hundred +head. The barefaced robber sold them in Lund to a buying company from +Salt Lake.” + +“Is he openly an outlaw, a rustler?” inquired Hare. + +“Everybody knows it, and he's finding White Sage and vicinity warmer +than it was. Every time he comes in he and his band shoot up things +pretty lively. Now the Mormons are slow to wrath. But they are +awakening. All the way from Salt Lake to the border outlaws have come +in. They'll never get the power on this desert that they had in the +places from which they've been driven. Men of the Holderness type are +more to be dreaded. He's a rancher, greedy, unscrupulous, but hard to +corner in dishonesty. Dene is only a bad man, a gun-fighter. He and all +his ilk will get run out of Utah. Did you ever hear of Plummer, John +Slade, Boone Helm, any of those bad men?” + +“No.” + +“Well, they were men to fear. Plummer was a sheriff in Idaho, a man high +in the estimation of his townspeople, but he was the leader of the most +desperate band of criminals ever known in the West; and he instigated +the murder of, or killed outright, more than one hundred men. Slade was +a bad man, fatal on the draw. Helm was a killing machine. These men all +tried Utah, and had to get out. So will Dene have to get out. But I'm +afraid there'll be warm times before that happens. When you get in the +thick of it you'll appreciate Silvermane.” + +“I surely will. But I can't see that wild stallion with a saddle and a +bridle, eating oats like any common horse, and being led to water.” + +“Well, he'll come to your whistle, presently, if I'm not greatly +mistaken. You must make him love you, Jack. It can be done with any wild +creature. Be gentle, but firm. Teach him to obey the slightest touch of +rein, to stand when you throw your bridle on the ground, to come at your +whistle. Always remember this. He's a desert-bred horse; he can live on +scant browse and little water. Never break him of those best virtues in +a horse. Never feed him grain if you can find a little patch of browse; +never give him a drink till he needs it. That's one-tenth as often as a +tame horse. Some day you'll be caught in the desert, and with these +qualities of endurance Silvermane will carry you out.” + +Silvermane snorted defiance from the cedar corral next morning when the +Naabs, and Indians, and Hare appeared. A half-naked sinewy Navajo with a +face as changeless as a bronze mask sat astride August's blindfolded +roan, Charger. He rode bareback except for a blanket strapped upon the +horse; he carried only a long, thick halter, with a loop and a knot. +When August opened the improvised gate, with its sharp bayonet-like +branches of cedar, the Indian rode into the corral. The watchers climbed +to the knoll. Silvermane snorted a blast of fear and anger. August's +huge roan showed uneasiness; he stamped, and shook his head, as if to +rid himself of the blinders. + +Into the farthest corner of densely packed cedar boughs Silvermane +pressed himself and watched. The Indian rode around the corral, circling +closer and closer, yet appearing not to see the stallion. Many rounds he +made; closer he got, and always with the same steady gait. Silvermane +left his corner and tried another. The old unwearying round brought +Charger and the Navajo close by him. Silvermane pranced out of his +thicket of boughs; he whistled; he wheeled with his shiny hoofs lifting. +In an hour the Indian was edging the outer circle of the corral, with +the stallion pivoting in the centre, ears laid back, eyes shooting +sparks, fight in every line of him. And the circle narrowed inward. + +Suddenly the Navajo sent the roan at Silvermane and threw his halter. It +spread out like a lasso, and the loop went over the head of the +stallion, slipped to the knot and held fast, while the rope tightened. +Silvermane leaped up, forehoofs pawing the air, and his long shrill cry +was neither whistle, snort, nor screech, but all combined. He came down, +missing Charger with his hoofs, sliding off his haunches. The Indian, +his bronze muscles rippling, close-hauled on the rope, making half +hitches round his bony wrist. + +In a whirl of dust the roan drew closer to the gray, and Silvermane +began a mad race around the corral. The roan ran with him nose to nose. +When Silvermane saw he could not shake him, he opened his jaws, rolled +back his lip in an ugly snarl, his white teeth glistening, and tried to +bite. But the Indian's moccasined foot shot up under the stallion's ear +and pressed him back. Then the roan hugged Silvermane so close that half +the time the Navajo virtually rode two horses. But for the rigidity of +his arms, and the play and sudden tension of his leg-muscles, the +Indian's work would have appeared commonplace, so dexterous was he, so +perfectly at home in his dangerous seat. Suddenly he whooped and August +Naab hauled back the gate, and the two horses, neck and neck, thundered +out upon the level stretch. + +“Good!” cried August. “Let him rip now, Navvy. All over but the work, +Jack. I feared Silvermane would spear himself on some of those dead +cedar spikes in the corral. He's safe now.” + +Jack watched the horses plunge at breakneck speed down the stretch, +circle at the forest edge, and come tearing back. Silvermane was pulling +the roan faster than he had ever gone in his life, but the dark Indian +kept his graceful seat. The speed slackened on the second turn, and +decreased as, mile after mile, the imperturbable Indian held roan and +gray side to side and let them run. + +The time passed, but Hare's interest in the breaking of the stallion +never flagged. He began to understand the Indian, and to feel what the +restraint and drag must be to the horse. Never for a moment could +Silvermane elude the huge roan, the tight halter, the relentless Navajo. +Gallop fell to trot, and trot to jog, and jog to walk; and hour by hour, +without whip or spur or word, the breaker of desert mustangs drove the +wild stallion. If there were cruelty it was in his implacable slow +patience, his farsighted purpose. Silvermane would have killed himself +in an hour; he would have cut himself to pieces in one headlong dash, +but that steel arm suffered him only to wear himself out. Late that +afternoon the Navajo led a dripping, drooping, foam-lashed stallion into +the corral, tied him with the halter, and left him. + +Later Silvermane drank of the water poured into the corral trough, and +had not the strength or spirit to resent the Navajo's caressing hand on +his mane. + +Next morning the Indian rode again into the corral on blindfolded +Charger. Again he dragged Silvermane out on the level and drove him up +and down with remorseless, machine-like persistence. At noon he took him +back, tied him up, and roped him fast. Silvermane tried to rear and +kick, but the saddle went on, strapped with a flash of the dark-skinned +hands. Then again Silvermane ran the level stretch beside the giant +roan, only he carried a saddle now. At the first, he broke out with free +wild stride as if to run forever from under the hateful thing. But as +the afternoon waned he crept weariedly back to the corral. + +On the morning of the third day the Navajo went into the corral without +Charger, and roped the gray, tied him fast, and saddled him. Then he +loosed the lassoes except the one around Silvermane's neck, which he +whipped under his foreleg to draw him down. Silvermane heaved a groan +which plainly said he never wanted to rise again. Swiftly the Indian +knelt on the stallion's head; his hands flashed; there was a scream, a +click of steel on bone; and proud Silvermane jumped to his feet with a +bit between his teeth. + +The Navajo, firmly in the saddle, rose with him, and Silvermane leaped +through the corral gate, and out upon the stretch, lengthening out with +every stride, and settling into a wild, despairing burst of speed. The +white mane waved in the wind; the half-naked Navajo swayed to the +motion. Horse and rider disappeared in the cedars. + +They were gone all day. Toward night they appeared on the stretch. The +Indian rode into camp and, dismounting, handed the bridle-rein to Naab. +He spoke no word; his dark impassiveness invited no comment. Silvermane +was dust-covered and sweat-stained. His silver crest had the same proud +beauty, his neck still the splendid arch, his head the noble outline, +but his was a broken spirit. + +“Here, my lad,” said August Naab, throwing the bridle-rein over Hare's +arm. “What did I say once about seeing you on a great gray horse? Ah! +Well, take him and know this: you've the swiftest horse in this desert +country.” + + + + + + +IX. THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + +SOON the shepherds were left to a quiet unbroken by the whistle of wild +mustangs, the whoop of hunters, the ring of iron-shod hoofs on the +stones. The scream of an eagle, the bleating of sheep, the bark of a +coyote were once more the only familiar sounds accentuating the silence +of the plateau. For Hare, time seemed to stand still. He thought but +little; his whole life was a matter of feeling from without. He rose at +dawn, never failing to see the red sun tip the eastern crags; he glowed +with the touch of cold spring-water and the morning air; he trailed +Silvermane under the cedars and thrilled when the stallion, answering +his call, thumped the ground with hobbled feet and came his way, +learning day by day to be glad at sight of his master. He rode with +Mescal behind the flock; he hunted hour by hour, crawling over the +fragrant brown mats of cedar, through the sage and juniper, up the +grassy slopes. He rode back to camp beside Mescal, drove the sheep, and +put Silvermane to his fleetest to beat Black Bolly down the level +stretch where once the gray, even with freedom at stake, had lost to the +black. Then back to camp and fire and curling blue smoke, a supper that +testified to busy Piute's farmward trips, sunset on the rim, endless +changing desert, the wind in the cedars, bright stars in the blue, and +sleep--so time stood still. + +Mescal and Hare were together, or never far apart, from dawn to night. +Until the sheep were in the corral, every moment had its duty, from +camp-work and care of horses to the many problems of the flock, so that +they earned the rest on the rim-wall at sundown. Only a touch of hands +bridged the chasm between them. They never spoke of their love, of +Mescal's future, of Jack's return to hearth; a glance and a smile, +scarcely sad yet not altogether happy, was the substance of their dream. +Where Jack had once talked about the canyon and desert, he now seldom +spoke at all. From watching Mescal he had learned that to see was +enough. But there were moments when some association recalled the past +and the strangeness of the present faced him. Then he was wont to +question Mescal. + +“What are you thinking of?” he asked, curiously, interrupting their +silence. She leaned against the rocks and kept a changeless, tranquil, +unseeing gaze on the desert. The level eyes were full of thought, of +sadness, of mystery; they seemed to look afar. + +Then she turned to him with puzzled questioning look and enigmatical +reply. “Thinking?” asked her eyes. “I wasn't thinking,” were her words. + +“I fancied--I don't know exactly what,” he went on. “You looked so +earnest. Do you ever think of going to the Navajos?” + +“No.” + +“Or across that Painted Desert to find some place you seem to know, or +see?” + +“No.” + +“I don't know why, but, Mescal, sometimes I have the queerest ideas when +I catch your eyes watching, watching. You look at once happy and sad. +You see something out there that I can't see. Your eyes are haunted. +I've a feeling that if I'd look into them I'd see the sun setting, the +clouds coloring, the twilight shadows changing; and then back of that +the secret of it all--of you--Oh! I can't explain, but it seems so.” + +“I never had a secret, except the one you know,” she answered. “You ask +me so often what I think about, and you always ask me when we're here.” + She was silent for a pause. “I don't think at all till you make me. It's +beautiful out there. But that's not what it is to me. I can't tell you. +When I sit down here all within me is--is somehow stilled. I watch--and +it's different from what it is now, since you've made me think. Then I +watch, and I see, that's all.” + +It came to Hare afterward with a little start of surprise that Mescal's +purposeless, yet all-satisfying, watchful gaze had come to be part of +his own experience. It was inscrutable to him, but he got from it a +fancy, which he tried in vain to dispel, that something would happen to +them out there on the desert. + +And then he realized that when they returned to the camp-fire they +seemed freed from this spell of the desert. The blaze-lit circle was +shut in by the darkness; and the immensity of their wild environment, +because for the hour it could not be seen, lost its paralyzing effect. +Hare fell naturally into a talkative mood. Mescal had developed a +vivacity, an ambition which contrasted strongly with her silent moods; +she became alive and curious, human like the girls he had known in the +East, and she fascinated him the more for this complexity. + +The July rains did not come; the mists failed; the dews no longer +freshened the grass, and the hot sun began to tell on shepherds and +sheep. Both sought the shade. The flowers withered first--all the blue- +bells and lavender patches of primrose, and pale-yellow lilies, and +white thistle-blossoms. Only the deep magenta of cactus and vermilion of +Indian paint-brush, flowers of the sun, survived the heat. Day by day +the shepherds scanned the sky for storm-clouds that did not appear. The +spring ran lower and lower. At last the ditch that carried water to the +corral went dry, and the margin of the pool began to retreat. Then +Mescal sent Piute down for August Naab. + +He arrived at the plateau the next day with Dave and at once ordered the +breaking up of camp. + +“It will rain some time,” he said, “but we can't wait any longer. Dave, +when did you last see the Blue Star waterhole?” + +“On the trip in from Silver Cup, ten days ago. The waterhole was full +then.” + +“Will there be water enough now?” + +“We've got to chance it. There's no water here, and no springs on the +upper range where we can drive sheep; we've got to go round under the +Star.” + +“That's so,” replied August. His fears needed confirmation, because his +hopes always influenced his judgment till no hope was left. “I wish I +had brought Zeke and George. It'll be a hard drive, though we've got +Jack and Mescal to help.” + +Hot as it was August Naab lost no time in the start. Piute led the train +on foot, and the flock, used to following him, got under way readily. +Dave and Mescal rode along the sides, and August with Jack came behind, +with the pack-burros bringing up the rear. Wolf circled them all, +keeping the flanks close in, heading the lambs that strayed, and, ever +vigilant, made the drive orderly and rapid. + +The trail to the upper range was wide and easy of ascent, the first of +it winding under crags, the latter part climbing long slopes. It forked +before the summit, where dark pine trees showed against the sky, one +fork ascending, the other, which Piute took, beginning to go down. It +admitted of no extended view, being shut in for the most part on the +left, but there were times when Hare could see a curving stream of sheep +on half a mile of descending trail. Once started down the flock could +not be stopped, that was as plain as Piute's hard task. There were times +when Hare could have tossed a pebble on the Indian just below him, yet +there were more than three thousand sheep, strung out in line between +them. Clouds of dust rolled up, sheets of gravel and shale rattled down +the inclines, the clatter, clatter, clatter of little hoofs, the steady +baa-baa-baa filled the air. Save for the crowding of lambs off the +trail, and a jamming of sheep in the corners, the drive went on without +mishap. Hare was glad to see the lambs scramble back bleating for their +mothers, and to note that, though peril threatened at every steep turn, +the steady down-flow always made space for the sheep behind. He was +glad, too, when through a wide break ahead his eye followed the face of +a vast cliff down to the red ground below, and he knew the flock would +soon be safe on the level. + +A blast as from a furnace smote Hare from this open break in the wall. +The air was dust-laden, and carried besides the smell of dust and the +warm breath of desert growths, a dank odor that was unpleasant. + +The sheep massed in a flock on the level, and the drivers spread to +their places. The route lay under projecting red cliffs, between the +base and enormous sections of wall that had broken off and fallen far +out. There was no weathering slope; the wind had carried away the +smaller stones and particles, and had cut the huge pieces of pinnacle +and tower into hollowed forms. This zone of rim merged into another of +strange contrast, the sloping red stream of sand which flowed from the +wall of the canyon. + +Piute swung the flock up to the left into an amphitheatre, and there +halted. The sheep formed a densely packed mass in the curve of the wall. +Dave Naab galloped back toward August and Hare, and before he reached +them shouted out: “The waterhole's plugged!” + +“What?” yelled his father. + +“Plugged, filled with stone and sand.” + +“Was it a cave-in?” + +“I reckon not. There's been no rain.” + +August spurred his roan after Dave, and Hare kept close behind them, +till they reined in on a muddy bank. What had once been a waterhole was +a red and yellow heap of shale, fragments of stones, gravel, and sand. +There was no water, and the sheep were bleating. August dismounted and +climbed high above the hole to examine the slope; soon he strode down +with giant steps, his huge fists clinched, shaking his gray mane like a +lion. + +“I've found the tracks! Somebody climbed up and rolled the stones, +started the cave-in. Who?” + +“Holderness's men. They did the same for Martin Cole's waterhole at +Rocky Point. How old are the tracks?” + +“Two days, perhaps. We can't follow them. What can be done?” + +“Some of Holderness's men are Mormons, and others are square fellows. +They wouldn't stand for such work as this, and somebody ought to ride in +there and tell them.” + +“And get shot up by the men paid to do the dirty work. No. I won't hear +of it. This amounts to nothing; we seldom use this hole, only twice a +year when driving the flock. But it makes me fear for Silver Cup and +Seeping Springs.” + +“It makes me fear for the sheep, if this wind doesn't change.” + +“Ah! I had forgotten the river scent. It's not strong to-night. We might +venture if it wasn't for the strip of sand. We'll camp here and start +the drive at dawn.” + +The sun went down under a crimson veil; a dull glow spread, fan-shaped, +upward; twilight faded to darkness with the going down of the wind. +August Naab paced to and fro before his tired and thirsty flock. + +“I'd like to know,” said Hare to Dave, “why those men filled up this +waterhole.” + +“Holderness wants to cut us off from Silver Cup Spring, and this was a +half-way waterhole. Probably he didn't know we had the sheep upland, but +he wouldn't have cared. He's set himself to get our cattle range and +he'll stop at nothing. Prospects look black for us. Father never gives +up. He doesn't believe yet that we can lose our water. He prays and +hopes, and sees good and mercy in his worst enemies.” + +“If Holderness works as far as Silver Cup, how will he go to work to +steal another man's range and water?” + +“He'll throw up a cabin, send in his men, drive in ten thousand steers.” + +“Well, will his men try to keep you away from your own water, or your +cattle?” + +“Not openly. They'll pretend to welcome us, and drive our cattle away in +our absence. You see there are only five of us to ride the ranges, and +we'd need five times five to watch all the stock.” + +“Then you can't stop this outrage?” + +“There's only one way,” said Dave, significantly tapping the black +handle of his Colt. “Holderness thinks he pulls the wool over our eyes +by talking of the cattle company that employs him. He's the company +himself, and he's hand and glove with Dene.” + +“And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to +Holderness's newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a +fight.” + +“We'd never reach him now, that is, if we went together. One of us alone +might get to see him, especially in White Sage. If we all rode over to +his ranch we'd have to fight his men before we reached the corrals. You +yourself will find it pretty warm when you go out with us on the ranges, +and if you make White Sage you'll find it hot. You're called 'Dene's +spy' there, and the rustlers are still looking for you. I wouldn't worry +about it, though.” + +“Why not, I'd like to know?” inquired Hare, with a short laugh. + +“Well, if you're like the other Gentiles who have come into Utah you +won't have scruples about drawing on a man. Father says the draw comes +natural to you, and you're as quick as he is. Then he says you can beat +any rifle shot he ever saw, and that long-barrelled gun you've got will +shoot a mile. So if it comes to shooting--why, you can shoot. If you +want to run--who's going to catch you on that white-maned stallion? We +talked about you, George and I; we're mighty glad you're well and can +ride with us.” + +Long into the night Jack Hare thought over this talk. It opened up a +vista of the range-life into which he was soon to enter. He tried to +silence the voice within that cried out, eager and reckless, for the +long rides on the windy open. The years of his illness returned in +fancy, the narrow room with the lamp and the book, and the tears over +stories and dreams of adventure never to be for such as he. And now how +wonderful was life! It was, after all, to be full for him. It was +already full. Already he slept on the ground, open to the sky. He looked +up at a wild black cliff, mountain-high, with its windworn star of blue; +he felt himself on the threshold of the desert, with that subtle mystery +waiting; he knew himself to be close to strenuous action on the ranges, +companion of these sombre Mormons, exposed to their peril, making their +cause his cause, their life his life. What of their friendship, their +confidence? Was he worthy? Would he fail at the pinch? What a man he +must become to approach their simple estimate of him! Because he had +found health and strength, because he could shoot, because he had the +fleetest horse on the desert, were these reasons for their friendship? +No, these were only reasons for their trust. August Naab loved him. +Mescal loved him; Dave and George made of him a brother. “They shall +have my life,” he muttered. + +The bleating of the sheep heralded another day. With the brightening +light began the drive over the sand. Under the cliff the shade was cool +and fresh; there was no wind; the sheep made good progress. But the +broken line of shade crept inward toward the flock, and passed it. The +sun beat down, and the wind arose. A red haze of fine sand eddied about +the toiling sheep and shepherds. Piute trudged ahead leading the king- +ram, old Socker, the leader of the flock; Mescal and Hare rode at the +right, turning their faces from the sand-filled puffs of wind; August +and Dave drove behind; Wolf, as always, took care of the stragglers. An +hour went by without signs of distress; and with half the five-mile trip +at his back August Naab's voice gathered cheer. The sun beat hotter. +Another hour told a different story--the sheep labored; they had to be +forced by urge of whip, by knees of horses, by Wolf's threatening bark. +They stopped altogether during the frequent hot sand-blasts, and could +not be driven. So time dragged. The flock straggled out to a long +irregular line; rams refused to budge till they were ready; sheep lay +down to rest; lambs fell. But there was an end to the belt of sand, and +August Naab at last drove the lagging trailers out upon the stony bench. + +The sun was about two hours past the meridian; the red walls of the +desert were closing in; the V-shaped split where the Colorado cut +through was in sight. The trail now was wide and unobstructed and the +distance short, yet August Naab ever and anon turned to face the canyon +and shook his head in anxious foreboding. + +It quickly dawned upon Hare that the sheep were behaving in a way new +and singular to him. They packed densely now, crowding forward, many +raising their heads over the haunches of others and bleating. They were +not in their usual calm pattering hurry, but nervous, excited, and +continually facing west toward the canyon, noses up. + +On the top of the next little ridge Hare heard Silvermane snort as he +did when led to drink. There was a scent of water on the wind. Hare +caught it, a damp, muggy smell. The sheep had noticed it long before, +and now under its nearer, stronger influence began to bleat wildly, to +run faster, to crowd without aim. + +“There's work ahead. Keep them packed and going. Turn the wheelers,” + ordered August. + +What had been a drive became a flight. And it was well so long as the +sheep headed straight up the trail. Piute had to go to the right to +avoid being run down. Mescal rode up to fill his place. Hare took his +cue from Dave, and rode along the flank, crowding the sheep inward. +August cracked his whip behind. For half a mile the flock kept to the +trail, then, as if by common consent, they sheered off to the right. +With this move August and Dave were transformed from quiet almost to +frenzy. They galloped to the fore, and into the very faces of the +turning sheep, and drove them back. Then the rear-guard of the flock +curved outward. + +“Drive them in!” roared August. + +Hare sent Silvermane at the deflecting sheep and frightened them into +line. + +Wolf no longer had power to chase the stragglers; they had to be turned +by a horse. All along the flank noses pointed outward; here and there +sheep wilder than the others leaped forward to lead a widening wave of +bobbing woolly backs. Mescal engaged one point, Hare another, Dave +another, and August Naab's roan thundered up and down the constantly +broken line. All this while as the shepherds fought back the sheep, the +flight continued faster eastward, farther canyonward. Each side gained, +but the flock gained more toward the canyon than the drivers gained +toward the oasis. + +By August's hoarse yells, by Dave's stern face and ceaseless swift +action, by the increasing din, Hare knew terrible danger hung over the +flock; what it was he could not tell. He heard the roar of the river +rapids, and it seemed that the sheep heard it with him. They plunged +madly; they had gone wild from the scent and sound of water. Their eyes +gleamed red; their tongues flew out. There was no aim to the rush of the +great body of sheep, but they followed the leaders and the leaders +followed the scent. And the drivers headed them off, rode them down, +ceaselessly, riding forward to check one outbreak, wheeling backward to +check another. + +The flight became a rout. Hare was in the thick of dust and din, of the +terror-stricken jumping mob, of the ever-starting, ever-widening streams +of sheep; he rode and yelled and fired his Colt. The dust choked him, +the sun burned him, the flying pebbles cut his cheek. Once he had a +glimpse of Black Bolly in a melee of dust and sheep; Dave's mustang +blurred in his sight; August's roan seemed to be double. Then +Silvermane, of his own accord, was out before them all. + +The sheep had almost gained the victory; their keen noses were pointed +toward the water; nothing could stop their flight; but still the drivers +dashed at them, ever fighting, never wearying, never ceasing. + +At the last incline, where a gentle slope led down to a dark break in +the desert, the rout became a stampede. Left and right flanks swung +round, the line lengthened, and round the struggling horses, knee-deep +in woolly backs, split the streams to flow together beyond in one +resistless river of sheep. Mescal forced Bolly out of danger; Dave +escaped the right flank, August and Hare swept on with the flood, till +the horses, sighting the dark canyon, halted to stand like rocks. + +“Will they run over the rim?” yelled Hare, horrified. His voice came to +him as a whisper. August Naab, sweat-stained in red dust, haggard, gray +locks streaming in the wind, raised his arms above his head, hopeless. + +The long nodding line of woolly forms, lifting like the crest of a +yellow wave, plunged out and down in rounded billow over the canyon rim. +With din of hoofs and bleats the sheep spilled themselves over the +precipice, and an awful deafening roar boomed up from the river, like +the spreading thunderous crash of an avalanche. + +How endless seemed that fatal plunge! The last line of sheep, pressing +close to those gone before, and yet impelled by the strange instinct of +life, turned their eyes too late on the brink, carried over by their own +momentum. + +The sliding roar ceased; its echo, muffled and hollow, pealed from the +cliffs, then rumbled down the canyon to merge at length in the sullen, +dull, continuous sound of the rapids. + +Hare turned at last from that narrow iron-walled cleft, the depth of +which he had not seen, and now had no wish to see; and his eyes fell +upon a little Navajo lamb limping in the trail of the flock, headed for +the canyon, as sure as its mother in purpose. He dismounted and seized +it to find, to his infinite wonder and gladness, that it wore a string +and bell round its neck. It was Mescal's pet. + + + + + + +X. RIDING THE RANGES + +THE shepherds were home in the oasis that evening, and next day the +tragedy of the sheep was a thing of the past. No other circumstance of +Hare's four months with the Naabs had so affected him as this swift +inevitable sweeping away of the flock; nothing else had so vividly told +him the nature of this country of abrupt heights and depths. He +remembered August Naab's magnificent gesture of despair; and now the man +was cheerful again; he showed no sign of his great loss. His tasks were +many, and when one was done, he went on to the next. If Hare had not had +many proofs of this Mormon's feeling he would have thought him callous. +August Naab trusted God and men, loved animals, did what he had to do +with all his force, and accepted fate. The tragedy of the sheep had been +only an incident in a tragical life--that Hare divined with awe. + +Mescal sorrowed, and Wolf mourned in sympathy with her, for their +occupation was gone, but both brightened when August made known his +intention to cross the river to the Navajo range, to trade with the +Indians for another flock. He began his preparations immediately. The +snow-freshets had long run out of the river, the water was low, and he +wanted to fetch the sheep down before the summer rains. He also wanted +to find out what kept his son Snap so long among the Navajos. + +“I'll take Billy and go at once. Dave, you join George and Zeke out on +the Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can +before the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid +Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for +their doings.” + +It was a relief to Hare that Snap Naab had not yet returned to the +oasis, for he felt a sense of freedom which otherwise would have been +lacking. He spent the whole of a long calm summer day in the orchard and +the vineyard. The fruit season was at its height. Grapes, plums, pears, +melons were ripe and luscious. Midsummer was vacationtime for the +children, and they flocked into the trees like birds. The girls were +picking grapes; Mother Ruth enlisted Jack in her service at the pear- +trees; Mescal came, too, and caught the golden pears he threw down, and +smiled up at him; Wolf was there, and Noddle; Black Bolly pushed her +black nose over the fence, and whinnied for apples; the turkeys +strutted, the peafowls preened their beautiful plumage, the guinea-hens +ran like quail. Save for those frowning red cliffs Hare would have +forgotten where he was; the warm sun, the yellow fruit, the merry +screams of children, the joyous laughter of girls, were pleasant +reminders of autumn picnic days long gone. But, in the face of those +dominating wind-scarred walls, he could not forget. + +That night Hare endeavored to see Mescal alone for a few moments, to see +her once more with unguarded eyes, to whisper a few words, to say good- +bye; but it was impossible. + +On the morrow he rode out of the red cliff gate with Dave and the pack- +horses, a dull ache in his heart; for amid the cheering crowd of +children and women who bade them good-bye he had caught the wave of +Mescal's hand and a look of her eyes that would be with him always. What +might happen before he returned, if he ever did return! For he knew now, +as well as he could feel Silvermane's easy stride, that out there under +the white glare of desert, the white gleam of the slopes of Coconina, +was wild life awaiting him. And he shut his teeth, and narrowed his +eyes, and faced it with an eager joy that was in strange contrast to the +pang in his breast. + +That morning the wind dipped down off the Vermillion Cliffs and whipped +west; there was no scent of river-water, and Hare thought of the +fatality of the sheep-drive, when, for one day out of the year, a +moistened dank breeze had met the flock on the narrow bench. Soon the +bench lay far behind them, and the strip of treacherous sand, and the +maze of sculptured cliff under the Blue Star, and the hummocky low +ridges beyond, with their dry white washes. Silvermane kept on in front. +Already Hare had learned that the gray would have no horse before him. +His pace was swift, steady, tireless. Dave was astride his Navajo mount, +an Indian-bred horse, half mustang, which had to be held in with a firm +rein. The pack train strung out far behind, trotting faithfully along, +with the white packs, like the humps of camels, nodding up and down. +Jack and Dave slackened their gait at the foot of the stony divide. It +was an ascent of miles, so long that it did not appear steep. Here the +pack-train caught up, and thereafter hung at the heels of the riders. + +From the broad bare summit Jack saw the Silver Cup valley-range with +eyes which seemed to magnify the winding trail, the long red wall, the +green slopes, the dots of sage and cattle. Then he made allowance for +months of unobstructed vision; he had learned to see; his eyes had +adjusted themselves to distance and dimensions. + +Silver Cup Spring lay in a bright green spot close under a break in the +rocky slope that soon lost its gray cliff in the shaggy cedared side of +Coconina. + +The camp of the brothers was situated upon this cliff in a split between +two sections of wall. Well sheltered from the north and west winds was a +grassy plot which afforded a good survey of the valley and the trails. +Dave and Jack received glad greetings from Zeke and George, and +Silvermane was an object of wonder and admiration. Zeke, who had often +seen the gray and chased him too, walked round and round him, stroking +the silver mane, feeling the great chest muscles, slapping his flanks. + +“Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle +and bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare! +Never will be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that +horse he'll chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast +horses. He's from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he +sees one.” + +“How are things?” queried Dave. + +“We can't complain much,” replied Zeke, “though we've wasted some time +on old Whitefoot. He's been chasing our horses. It's been pretty hot and +dry. Most of the cattle are on the slopes; fair browse yet. There's a +bunch of steers gone up on the mountain, and some more round toward the +Saddle or the canyon.” + +“Been over Seeping Springs way?” + +“Yes. No change since your trip. Holderness's cattle are ranging in the +upper valley. George found tracks near the spring. We believe somebody +was watching there and made off when we came up.” + +“We'll see Holderness's men when we get to riding out,” put in George. +“And some of Dene's too. Zeke met Two-Spot Chance and Culver below at +the spring one day, sort of surprised them.” + +“What day was that?” + +“Let's see, this's Friday. It was last Monday.” + +“What were they doing over here?” + +“Said they were tracking a horse that had broken his hobbles. But they +seemed uneasy, and soon rode off.” + +“Did either of them ride a horse with one shoe shy?” + +“Now I think of it, yes. Zeke noticed the track at the spring.” + +“Well, Chance and Culver had been out our way,” declared Dave. “I saw +their tracks, and they filled up the Blue Star waterhole--and cost us +three thousand sheep.” + +Then he related the story of the drive of the sheep, the finding of the +plugged waterhole, the scent of the Colorado, and the plunge of the +sheep into the canyon. + +“We've saved one, Mescal's belled lamb,” he concluded. + +Neither Zeke nor George had a word in reply. Hare thought their silence +unnatural. Neither did the mask-like stillness of their faces change. +But Hare saw in their eyes a pointed clear flame, vibrating like a +compass-needle, a mere glimmering spark. + +“I'd like to know,” continued Dave, calmly poking the fire, “who hired +Dene's men to plug the waterhole. Dene couldn't do that. He loves a +horse, and any man who loves a horse couldn't fill a waterhole in this +desert.” + +Hare entered upon his new duties as a range-rider with a zeal that +almost made up for his lack of experience; he bade fair to develop into +a right-hand man for Dave, under whose watchful eye he worked. His +natural qualifications were soon shown; he could ride, though his seat +was awkward and clumsy compared to that of the desert rangers, a fault +that Dave said would correct itself as time fitted him close to the +saddle and to the swing of his horse. His sight had become +extraordinarily keen for a new-comer on the ranges, and when experience +had taught him the land-marks, the trails, the distances, the difference +between smoke and dust and haze, when he could distinguish a band of +mustangs from cattle, and range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a +word, when he had learned to know what it was that he saw, to trust his +judgment, he would have acquired the basic feature of a rider's +training. But he showed no gift for the lasso, that other essential +requirement of his new calling. + +“It's funny,” said Dave, patiently, “you can't get the hang of it. Maybe +it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some +fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as +quick as you can throw your gun!” + +Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when +he missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed +altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try +roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was +beautiful and fleet. The horse learned rapidly the agile turns and +sudden stops necessary, and as for free running he never got enough. Out +on the range Silvermane always had his head up and watched; his life had +been spent in watching; he saw cattle, riders, mustangs, deer, coyotes, +every moving thing. So that Hare, in the chasing of a cow, had but to +start Silvermane, and then he could devote himself to the handling of +his rope. It took him ten times longer to lasso the cow than it took +Silvermane to head the animal. Dave laughed at some of Jack's exploits, +encouraged him often, praised his intent if not his deed; and always +after a run nodded at Silvermane in mute admiration. + +Branding the cows and yearlings and tame steers which watered at Silver +Cup, and never wandered far away, was play according to Dave's version. +“Wait till we get after the wild steers up on the mountain and in the +canyons,” he would say when Jack dropped like a log at supper. Work it +certainly was for him. At night he was so tired that he could scarcely +crawl into bed; his back felt as if it were broken; his legs were raw, +and his bones ached. Many mornings he thought it impossible to arise, +but always he crawled out, grim and haggard, and hobbled round the camp- +fire to warm his sore and bruised muscles. Then when Zeke and George +rode in with the horses the day's work began. During these weeks of his +“hardening up,” as Dave called it, Hare bore much pain, but he continued +well and never missed a day. At the most trying time when for a few days +he had to be helped on and off Silvermane--for he insisted that he would +not stay in camp--the brothers made his work as light as possible. They +gave him the branding outfit to carry, a running-iron and a little pot +with charcoal and bellows; and with these he followed the riders at a +convenient distance and leisurely pace. + +Some days they branded one hundred cattle. By October they had August +Naab's crudely fashioned cross on thousands of cows and steers. Still +the stock kept coming down from the mountain, driven to the valley by +cold weather and snow-covered grass. It was well into November before +the riders finished at Silver Cup, and then arose a question as to +whether it would be advisable to go to Seeping Springs or to the canyons +farther west along the slope of Coconina. George favored the former, but +Dave overruled him. + +“Father's orders,” he said. “He wants us to ride Seeping Springs last +because he'll be with us then, and Snap too. We're going to have trouble +over there.” + +“How's this branding stock going to help the matter any, I'd like to +know?” inquired George. “We Mormons never needed it.” + +“Father says we'll all have to come to it. Holderness's stock is +branded. Perhaps he's marked a good many steers of ours. We can't tell. +But if we have our own branded we'll know what's ours. If he drives our +stock we'll know it; if Dene steals, it can be proved that he steals.” + +“Well, what then? Do you think he'll care for that, or Holderness +either?” + +“No, only it makes this difference: both things will then be barefaced +robbery. We've never been able to prove anything, though we boys know; +we don't need any proof. Father gives these men the benefit of a doubt. +We've got to stand by him. I know, George, your hand's begun to itch for +your gun. So does mine. But we've orders to obey.” + +Many gullies and canyons headed up on the slope of Coconina west of +Silver Cup, and ran down to open wide on the flat desert. They contained +plots of white sage and bunches of rich grass and cold springs. The +steers that ranged these ravines were wild as wolves, and in the tangled +thickets of juniper and manzanita and jumbles of weathered cliff they +were exceedingly difficult to catch. + +Well it was that Hare had received his initiation and had become inured +to rough, incessant work, for now he came to know the real stuff of +which these Mormons were made. No obstacle barred them. They penetrated +the gullies to the last step; they rode weathered slopes that were +difficult for deer to stick upon; they thrashed the bayonet-guarded +manzanita copses; they climbed into labyrinthine fastnesses, penetrating +to every nook where a steer could hide. Miles of sliding slope and +marble-bottomed streambeds were ascended on foot, for cattle could climb +where a horse could not. Climbing was arduous enough, yet the hardest +and most perilous toil began when a wild steer was cornered. They roped +the animals on moving slopes of weathered stone, and branded them on the +edges of precipices. + +The days and weeks passed, how many no one counted or cared. The circle +of the sun daily lowered over the south end of Coconina; and the black +snow-clouds crept down the slopes. Frost whitened the ground at dawn, +and held half the day in the shade. Winter was close at the heels of the +long autumn. + +As for Hare, true to August Naab's assertion, he had lost flesh and +suffered, and though the process was heartbreaking in its severity, he +hung on till he hardened into a leather lunged, wire-muscled man, +capable of keeping pace with his companions. + +He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated +tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in +the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his +step as he went down the slope for his horse. He no longer feared that +Silvermane would run away. The gray's bell could always be heard near +camp in the mornings, and when Hare whistled there came always the +answering thump of hobbled feet. When Silvermane saw him striding +through the cedars or across the grassy belt of the valley he would +neigh his gladness. Hare had come to love Silvermane and talked to him +and treated him as if he were human. + +When the mustangs were brought into camp the day's work began, the same +work as that of yesterday, and yet with endless variety, with ever- +changing situations that called for quick wits, steel arms, stout +hearts, and unflagging energies. The darkening blue sky and the sun- +tipped crags of Vermillion Cliffs were signals to start for camp. They +ate like wolves, sat for a while around the camp-fire, a ragged, weary, +silent group; and soon lay down, their dark faces in the shadow of the +cedars. + +In the beginning of this toil-filled time Hare had resolutely set +himself to forget Mescal, and he had succeeded at least for a time, when +he was so sore and weary that he scarcely thought at all. But she came +back to him, and then there was seldom an hour that was not hers. The +long months which seemed years since he had seen her, the change in him +wrought by labor and peril, the deepening friendship between him and +Dave, even the love he bore Silvermane--these, instead of making dim the +memory of the dark-eyed girl, only made him tenderer in his thought of +her. + +Snow drove the riders from the canyon-camp down to Silver Cup, where +they found August Naab and Snap, who had ridden in the day before. + +“Now you couldn't guess how many cattle are back there in the canyons,” + said Dave to his father. + +“I haven't any idea,” answered August, dubiously. + +“Five thousand head.” + +“Dave!” His father's tone was incredulous. + +“Yes. You know we haven't been back in there for years. The stock has +multiplied rapidly in spite of the lions and wolves. Not only that, but +they're safe from the winter, and are not likely to be found by Dene or +anybody else.” + +“How do you make that out?” + +“The first cattle we drove in used to come back here to Silver Cup to +winter. Then they stopped coming, and we almost forgot them. Well, +they've got a trail round under the Saddle, and they go down and winter +in the canyon. In summer they head up those rocky gullies, but they +can't get up on the mountain. So it isn't likely any one will ever +discover them. They are wild as deer and fatter than any stock on the +ranges.” + +“Good! That's the best news I've had in many a day. Now, boys, we'll +ride the mountain slope toward Seeping Springs, drive the cattle down, +and finish up this branding. Somebody ought to go to White Sage. I'd +like to know what's going on, what Holderness is up to, what Dene is +doing, if there's any stock being driven to Lund.” + +“I told you I'd go,” said Snap Naab. + +“I don't want you to,” replied his father. “I guess it can wait till +spring, then we'll all go in. I might have thought to bring you boys out +some clothes and boots. You're pretty ragged. Jack there, especially, +looks like a scarecrow. Has he worked as hard as he looks?” + +“Father, he never lost a day,” replied Dave, warmly, “and you know what +riding is in these canyons.” + +August Naab looked at Hare and laughed. “It'd be funny, wouldn't it, if +Holderness tried to slap you now? I always knew you'd do, Jack, and now +you're one of us, and you'll have a share with my sons in the cattle.” + +But the generous promise failed to offset the feeling aroused by the +presence of Snap Naab. With the first sight of Snap's sharp face and +strange eyes Hare became conscious of an inward heat, which he had felt +before, but never as now, when there seemed to be an actual flame within +his breast. Yet Snap seemed greatly changed; the red flush, the swollen +lines no longer showed in his face; evidently in his absence on the +Navajo desert he had had no liquor; he was good-natured, lively, much +inclined to joking, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten his +animosity toward Hare. It was easy for Hare to see that the man's evil +nature was in the ascendancy only when he was under the dominance of +drink. But he could not forgive; he could not forget. Mescal's dark, +beautiful eyes haunted him. Even now she might be married to this man. +Perhaps that was why Snap appeared to be in such cheerful spirits. +Suspense added its burdensome insistent question, but he could not bring +himself to ask August if the marriage had taken place. For a day he +fought to resign himself to the inevitability of the Mormon custom, to +forget Mescal, and then he gave up trying. This surrender he felt to be +something crucial in his life, though he could not wholly understand it. +It was the darkening of his spirit; the death of boyish gentleness; the +concluding step from youth into a forced manhood. The desert +regeneration had not stopped at turning weak lungs, vitiated blood, and +flaccid muscles into a powerful man; it was at work on his mind, his +heart, his soul. They answered more and more to the call of some +outside, ever-present, fiercely subtle thing. + +Thenceforth he no longer vexed himself by trying to forget Mescal; if +she came to mind he told himself the truth, that the weeks and months +had only added to his love. And though it was bitter-sweet there was +relief in speaking the truth to himself. He no longer blinded himself by +hoping, striving to have generous feelings toward Snap Naab; he called +the inward fire by its real name--jealousy--and knew that in the end it +would become hatred. + +On the third morning after leaving Silver Cup the riders were working +slowly along the slope of Coconina; and Hare having driven down a bunch +of cattle, found himself on an open ridge near the temporary camp. +Happening to glance up the valley he saw what appeared to be smoke +hanging over Seeping Springs. + +“That can't be dust,” he soliloquized. “Looks blue to me.” + +He studied the hazy bluish cloud for some time, but it was so many miles +away that he could not be certain whether it was smoke or not, so he +decided to ride over and make sure. None of the Naabs was in camp, and +there was no telling when they would return, so he set off alone. He +expected to get back before dark, but it was of little consequence +whether he did or not, for he had his blanket under the saddle, and +grain for Silvermane and food for himself in the saddle-bags. + +Long before Silvermane's easy trot had covered half the distance Hare +recognized the cloud that had made him curious. It was smoke. He thought +that range-riders were camping at the springs, and he meant to see what +they were about. After three hours of brisk travel he reached the top of +a low rolling knoll that hid Seeping Springs. He remembered the springs +were up under the red wall, and that the pool where the cattle drank was +lower down in a clump of cedars. He saw smoke rising in a column from +the cedars, and he heard the lowing of cattle. + +“Something wrong here,” he muttered. Following the trail, he rode +through the cedars to come upon the dry hole where the pool had once +been. There was no water in the flume. The bellowing cattle came from +beyond the cedars, down the other side of the ridge. He was not long in +reaching the open, and then one glance made all clear. + +A new pool, large as a little lake, shone in the sunlight, and round it +a jostling horned mass of cattle were pressing against a high corral. +The flume that fed water to the pool was fenced all the way up to the +springs. + +Jack slowly rode down the ridge with eyes roving under the cedars and up +to the wall. Not a man was in sight. + +When he got to the fire he saw that it was not many hours old and was +surrounded by fresh boot and horse tracks in the dust. Piles of slender +pine logs, trimmed flat on one side, were proof of somebody's intention +to erect a cabin. In a rage he flung himself from the saddle. It was not +many moments' work for him to push part of the fire under the fence, and +part of it against the pile of logs. The pitch-pines went off like +rockets, driving the thirsty cattle back. + +“I'm going to trail those horse-tracks,” said Hare. + +He tore down a portion of the fence enclosing the flume, and gave +Silvermane a drink, then put him to a fast trot on the white trail. The +tracks he had resolved to follow were clean-cut. A few inches of snow +had fallen in the valley, and melting, had softened the hard ground. +Silvermane kept to his gait with the tirelessness of a desert horse. +August Naab had once said fifty miles a day would be play for the +stallion. All the afternoon Hare watched the trail speed toward him and +the end of Coconina rise above him. Long before sunset he had reached +the slope of the mountain and had begun the ascent. Half way up he came +to the snow and counted the tracks of three horses. At twilight he rode +into the glade where August Naab had waited for his Navajo friends. +There, in a sheltered nook among the rocks, he unsaddled Silvermane, +covered and fed him, built a fire, ate sparingly of his meat and bread, +and rolling up in his blanket, was soon asleep. + +He was up and off before sunrise, and he came out on the western slope +of Coconina just as the shadowy valley awakened from its misty sleep +into daylight. Soon the Pink Cliffs leaned out, glimmering and vast, to +change from gloomy gray to rosy glow, and then to brighten and to redden +in the morning sun. + +The snow thinned and failed, but the iron-cut horsetracks showed plainly +in the trail. At the foot of the mountain the tracks left the White Sage +trail and led off to the north toward the cliffs. Hare searched the red +sage-spotted waste for Holderness's ranch. He located it, a black patch +on the rising edge of the valley under the wall, and turned Silvermane +into the tracks that pointed straight toward it. + +The sun cleared Coconina and shone warm on his back; the Pink Cliffs +lifted higher and higher before him. From the ridge-tops he saw the +black patch grow into cabins and corrals. As he neared the ranch he came +into rolling pasture-land where the bleached grass shone white and the +cattle were ranging in the thousands. This range had once belonged to +Martin Cole, and Hare thought of the bitter Mormon as he noted the snug +cabins for the riders, the rambling, picturesque ranch-house, the large +corrals, and the long flume that ran down from the cliff. There was a +corral full of shaggy horses, and another full of steers, and two lines +of cattle, one going into a pond-corral, and one coming out. The air was +gray with dust. A bunch of yearlings were licking at huge lumps of brown +rock-salt. A wagonful of cowhides stood before the ranch-house. + +Hare reined in at the door and helloed. + +A red-faced ranger with sandy hair and twinkling eyes appeared. + +“Hello, stranger, get down an' come in,” he said. + +“Is Holderness here?” asked Hare. + +“No. He's been to Lund with a bunch of steers. I reckon he'll be in +White Sage by now. I'm Snood, the foreman. Is it a job ridin' you want?” + +“No.” + +“Say! thet hoss--” he exclaimed. His gaze of friendly curiosity had +moved from Hare to Silvermane. “You can corral me if it ain't thet +Sevier range stallion!” + +“Yes,” said Hare. + +Snood's whoop brought three riders to the door, and when he pointed to +the horse, they stepped out with good-natured grins and admiring eyes. + +“I never seen him but onc't,” said one. + +“Lordy, what a hoss!” Snood walked round Silvermane. “If I owned this +ranch I'd trade it for that stallion. I know Silvermane. He an' I hed +some chases over in Nevada. An', stranger, who might you be?” + +“I'm one of August Naab's riders.” + +“Dene's spy!” Snood looked Hare over carefully, with much interest, and +without any show of ill-will. “I've heerd of you. An' what might one of +Naab's riders want of Holderness?” + +“I rode in to Seeping Springs yesterday,” said Hare, eying the foreman. +“There was a new pond, fenced in. Our cattle couldn't drink. There were +a lot of trimmed logs. Somebody was going to build a cabin. I burned the +corrals and logs--and I trailed fresh tracks from Seeping Springs to +this ranch.” + +“The h--l you did!” shouted Snood, and his face flamed. “See here, +stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such +dirty tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till +this minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't +know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no +man's water. Is thet good with you?” + +Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at +his pipe. Hare offered his hand. + +“Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but +you weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told +me.” + +“Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now. I've +no more to say, except I never hired them.” + +“I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry.” + +With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of +the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it. +He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that +he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode +in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard, +where he put up his horse. Then he went to the house. It was necessary +to introduce himself for none of the Bishop's family recognized in him +the young man they had once befriended. The old Bishop prayed and +reminded him of the laying on of hands. The women served him with food, +the young men brought him new boots and garments to replace those that +had been worn to tatters. Then they plied him with questions about the +Naabs, whom they had not seen for nearly a year. They rejoiced at his +recovered health; they welcomed him with warm words. + +Later Hare sought an interview alone with the Bishop's sons, and he told +them of the loss of the sheep, of the burning of the new corrals, of the +tracks leading to Holderness's ranch. In turn they warned him of his +danger, and gave him information desired by August Naab. Holderness's +grasp on the outlying ranges and water-rights had slowly and surely +tightened; every month he acquired new territory; he drove cattle +regularly to Lund, and it was no secret that much of the stock came from +the eastern slope of Coconina. He could not hire enough riders to do his +work. A suspicion that he was not a cattle-man but a rustler had slowly +gained ground; it was scarcely hinted, but it was believed. His +friendship with Dene had become offensive to the Mormons, who had +formerly been on good footing with him. Dene's killing of Martin Cole +was believed to have been at Holderness's instigation. Cole had +threatened Holderness. Then Dene and Cole had met in the main street of +White Sage. Cole's death ushered in the bloody time that he had +prophesied. Dene's band had grown; no man could say how many men he had +or who they were. Chance and Culver were openly his lieutenants, and +whenever they came into the village there was shooting. There were ugly +rumors afloat in regard to their treatment of Mormon women. The wives +and daughters of once peaceful White Sage dared no longer venture out- +of-doors after nightfall. There was more money in coin and more whiskey +than ever before in the village. Lund and the few villages northward +were terrorized as well as White Sage. It was a bitter story. + +The Bishop and his sons tried to persuade Hare next morning to leave the +village without seeing Holderness, urging the futility of such a +meeting. + +“I will see him,” said Hare. He spent the morning at the cottage, and +when it came time to take his leave he smiled into the anxious faces. +“If I weren't able to take care of myself August Naab would never have +said so.” + +Had Hare asked himself what he intended to do when he faced Holderness +he could not have told. His feelings were pent-in, bound, but at the +bottom something rankled. His mind seemed steeped in still thunderous +atmosphere. + +How well he remembered the quaint wide street, the gray church! As he +rode many persons stopped to gaze at Silvermane. He turned the corner +into the main thoroughfare. A new building had been added to the several +stores. Mustangs stood, bridles down, before the doors; men lounged +along the railings. + +As he dismounted he heard the loungers speak of his horse, and he saw +their leisurely manner quicken. He stepped into the store to meet more +men, among them August Naab's friend Abe. Hare might never have been in +White Sage for all the recognition he found, but he excited something +keener than curiosity. He asked for spurs, a clasp-knife and some other +necessaries, and he contrived, when momentarily out of sight behind a +pile of boxes, to whisper his identity to Abe. The Mormon was +dumbfounded. When he came out of his trance he showed his gladness, and +at a question of Hare's he silently pointed toward the saloon. + +Hare faced the open door. The room had been enlarged; it was now on a +level with the store floor, and was blue with smoke, foul with the fumes +of rum, and noisy with the voices of dark, rugged men. + +A man in the middle of the room was dancing a jig. + +“Hello, who's this?” he said, straightening up. + +It might have been the stopping of the dance or the quick spark in +Hare's eyes that suddenly quieted the room. Hare had once vowed to +himself that he would never forget the scarred face; it belonged to the +outlaw Chance. + +The sight of it flashed into the gulf of Hare's mind like a meteor into +black night. A sudden madness raced through his veins. + +“Hello, Don't you know me?” he said, with a long step that brought him +close to Chance. + +The outlaw stood irresolute. Was this an old friend or an enemy? His +beady eyes scintillated and twitched as if they sought to look him over, +yet dared not because it was only in the face that intention could be +read. + +The stillness of the room broke to a hoarse whisper from some one. + +“Look how he packs his gun.” + +Another man answering whispered: “There's not six men in Utah who pack a +gun thet way.” + +Chance heard these whispers, for his eye shifted downward the merest +fraction of a second. The brick color of his face turned a dirty white. + +“Do you know me?” demanded Hare. + +Chance's answer was a spasmodic jerking of his hand toward his hip. +Hare's arm moved quicker, and Chance's Colt went spinning to the floor. + +“Too slow,” said Hare. Then he flung Chance backward and struck him +blows that sent his head with sodden thuds against the log wall. Chance +sank to the floor in a heap. + +Hare kicked the outlaw's gun out of the way, and wheeled to the crowd. +Holderness stood foremost, his tall form leaning against the bar, his +clear eyes shining like light on ice. + +“Do you know me?” asked Hare, curtly. + +Holderness started slightly. “I certainly don't,” he replied. + +“You slapped my face once.” Hare leaned close to the rancher. “Slap it +now--you rustler!” + +In the slow, guarded instant when Hare's gaze held Holderness and the +other men, a low murmuring ran through the room. + +“Dene's spy!” suddenly burst out Holderness. + +Hare slapped his face. Then he backed a few paces with his right arm +held before him almost as high as his shoulder, the wrist rigid, the +fingers quivering. + +“Don't try to draw, Holderness. Thet's August Naab's trick with a gun,” + whispered a man, hurriedly. + +“Holderness, I made a bonfire over at Seeping Springs,” said Hare. “I +burned the new corrals your men built, and I tracked them to your ranch. +Snood threw up his job when he heard it. He's an honest man, and no +honest man will work for a water-thief, a cattle-rustler, a sheep- +killer. You're shown up, Holderness. Leave the country before some one +kills you--understand, before some one kills you!” + +Holderness stood motionless against the bar, his eyes fierce with +passionate hate. + +Hare backed step by step to the outside door, his right hand still high, +his look holding the crowd bound to the last instant. Then he slipped +out, scattered the group round Silvermane, and struck hard with the +spurs. + +The gray, never before spurred, broke down the road into his old wild +speed. + +Men were crossing from the corner of the green square. One, a compact +little fellow, swarthy, his dark hair long and flowing, with jaunty and +alert air, was Dene, the outlaw leader. He stopped, with his companions, +to let the horse cross. + +Hare guided the thundering stallion slightly to the left. Silvermane +swerved and in two mighty leaps bore down on the outlaw. Dene saved +himself by quickly leaping aside, but even as he moved Silvermane struck +him with his left fore-leg, sending him into the dust. + +At the street corner Hare glanced back. Yelling men were rushing from +the saloon and some of them fired after him. The bullets whistled +harmlessly behind Hare. Then the corner house shut off his view. + +Silvermane lengthened out and stretched lower with his white mane flying +and his nose pointed level for the desert. + + + + + + +XI. THE DESERT-HAWK + +TOWARD the close of the next day Jack Hare arrived at Seeping Springs. A +pile of gray ashes marked the spot where the trimmed logs had lain. +Round the pool ran a black circle hard packed into the ground by many +hoofs. Even the board flume had been burned to a level with the glancing +sheet of water. Hare was slipping Silvermane's bit to let him drink when +he heard a halloo. Dave Naab galloped out of the cedars, and presently +August Naab and his other sons appeared with a pack-train. + +“Now you've played bob!” exclaimed Dave. He swung out of his saddle and +gripped Hare with both hands. “I know what you've done; I know where +you've been. Father will be furious, but don't you care.” + +The other Naabs trotted down the slope and lined their horses before the +pool. The sons stared in blank astonishment; the father surveyed the +scene slowly, and then fixed wrathful eyes on Hare. + +“What does this mean?” he demanded, with the sonorous roll of his angry +voice. + +Hare told all that had happened. + +August Naab's gloomy face worked, and his eagle-gaze had in it a strange +far-seeing light; his mind was dwelling upon his mystic power of +revelation. + +“I see--I see,” he said haltingly. + +“Ki--yi-i-i!” yelled Dave Naab with all the power of his lungs. His head +was back, his mouth wide open, his face red, his neck corded and swollen +with the intensity of his passion. + +“Be still--boy!” ordered his father. “Hare, this was madness--but tell +me what you learned.” + +Briefly Hare repeated all that he had been told at the Bishop's, and +concluded with the killing of Martin Cole by Dene. + +August Naab bowed his head and his giant frame shook under the force of +his emotion. Martin Cole was the last of his life-long friends. + +“This--this outlaw--you say you ran him down?” asked Naab, rising +haggard and shaken out of his grief. + +“Yes. He didn't recognize me or know what was coming till Silvermane was +on him. But he was quick, and fell sidewise. Silvermane's knee sent him +sprawling.” + +“What will it all lead to?” asked August Naab, and in his extremity he +appealed to his eldest son. + +“The bars are down,” said Snap Naab, with a click of his long teeth. + +“Father,” began Dave Naab earnestly, “Jack has done a splendid thing. +The news will fly over Utah like wildfire. Mormons are slow. They need a +leader. But they can follow and they will. We can't cure these evils by +hoping and praying. We've got to fight!” + +“Dave's right, dad, it means fight,” cried George, with his fist +clinched high. + +“You've been wrong, father, in holding back,” said Zeke Naab, his lean +jaw bulging. “This Holderness will steal the water and meat out of our +children's mouths. We've got to fight!” + +“Let's ride to White Sage,” put in Snap Naab, and the little flecks in +his eyes were dancing. “I'll throw a gun on Dene. I can get to him. +We've been tolerable friends. He's wanted me to join his band. I'll kill +him.” + +He laughed as he raised his right hand and swept it down to his left +side; the blue Colt lay on his outstretched palm. Dene's life and +Holderness's, too, hung in the balance between two deadly snaps of this +desert-wolf's teeth. He was one of the Naabs, and yet apart from them, +for neither religion, nor friendship, nor life itself mattered to him. + +August Naab's huge bulk shook again, not this time with grief, but in +wrestling effort to withstand the fiery influence of this unholy +fighting spirit among his sons. + +“I am forbidden.” + +His answer was gentle, but its very gentleness breathed of his battle +over himself, of allegiance to something beyond earthly duty. “We'll +drive the cattle to Silver Cup,” he decided, “and then go home. I give +up Seeping Springs. Perhaps this valley and water will content +Holderness.” + +When they reached the oasis Hare was surprised to find that it was the +day before Christmas. The welcome given the long-absent riders was like +a celebration. Much to Hare's disappointment Mescal did not appear; the +homecoming was not joyful to him because it lacked her welcoming smile. + +Christmas Day ushered in the short desert winter; ice formed in the +ditches and snow fell, but neither long resisted the reflection of the +sun from the walls. The early morning hours were devoted to religious +services. At midday dinner was served in the big room of August Naab's +cabin. At one end was a stone fireplace where logs blazed and crackled. + +In all his days Hare had never seen such a bountiful board. Yet he was +unable to appreciate it, to share in the general thanksgiving. +Dominating all other feeling was the fear that Mescal would come in and +take a seat by Snap Naab's side. When Snap seated himself opposite with +his pale little wife Hare found himself waiting for Mescal with an +intensity that made him dead to all else. The girls, Judith, Esther, +Rebecca, came running gayly in, clad in their best dresses, with bright +ribbons to honor the occasion. Rebecca took the seat beside Snap, and +Hare gulped with a hard contraction of his throat. Mescal was not yet a +Mormon's wife! He seemed to be lifted upward, to grow light-headed with +the blessed assurance. Then Mescal entered and took the seat next to +him. She smiled and spoke, and the blood beat thick in his ears. + +That moment was happy, but it was as nothing to its successor. Under the +table-cover Mescal's hand found his, and pressed it daringly and gladly. +Her hand lingered in his all the time August Naab spent in carving the +turkey--lingered there even though Snap Naab's hawk eyes were never far +away. In the warm touch of her hand, in some subtle thing that radiated +from her Hare felt a change in the girl he loved. A few months had +wrought in her some indefinable difference, even as they had increased +his love to its full volume and depth. Had his absence brought her to +the realization of her woman's heart? + +In the afternoon Hare left the house and spent a little while with +Silvermane; then he wandered along the wall to the head of the oasis, +and found a seat on the fence. The next few weeks presented to him a +situation that would be difficult to endure. He would be near Mescal, +but only to have the truth forced cruelly home to him every sane moment- +-that she was not for him. Out on the ranges he had abandoned himself to +dreams of her; they had been beautiful; they had made the long hours +seem like minutes; but they had forged chains that could not be broken, +and now he was hopelessly fettered. + +The clatter of hoofs roused him from a reverie which was half sad, half +sweet. Mescal came tearing down the level on Black Bolly. She pulled in +the mustang and halted beside Hare to hold out shyly a red scarf +embroidered with Navajo symbols in white and red beads. + +“I've wanted a chance to give you this,” she said, “a little Christmas +present.” + +For a few seconds Hare could find no words. + +“Did you make it for me, Mescal?” he finally asked. “How good of you! +I'll keep it always.” + +“Put it on now--let me tie it--there!” + +“But, child. Suppose he--they saw it?” + +“I don't care who sees it.” + +She met him with clear, level eyes. Her curt, crisp speech was full of +meaning. He looked long at her, with a yearning denied for many a day. +Her face was the same, yet wonderfully changed; the same in line and +color, but different in soul and spirit. The old sombre shadow lay deep +in the eyes, but to it had been added gleam of will and reflection of +thought. The whole face had been refined and transformed. + +“Mescal! What's happened? You're not the same. You seem almost happy. +Have you--has he--given you up?” + +“Don't you know Mormons better than that? The thing is the same--so far +as they're concerned.” + +“But Mescal--are you going to marry him? For God's sake, tell me.” + +“Never.” It was a woman's word, instant, inflexible, desperate. With a +deep breath Hare realized where the girl had changed. + +“Still you're promised, pledged to him! How'll you get out of it?” + +“I don't know how. But I'll cut out my tongue, and be dumb as my poor +peon before I'll speak the word that'll make me Snap Naab's wife.” + +There was a long silence. Mescal smoothed out Bolly's mane, and Hare +gazed up at the walls with eyes that did not see them. + +Presently he spoke. “I'm afraid for you. Snap watched us to-day at +dinner.” + +“He's jealous.” + +“Suppose he sees this scarf?” + +Mescal laughed defiantly. It was bewildering for Hare to hear her. + +“He'll--Mescal, I may yet come to this.” Hare's laugh echoed Mescal's as +he pointed to the enclosure under the wall, where the graves showed bare +and rough. + +Her warm color fled, but it flooded back, rich, mantling brow and cheek +and neck. + +“Snap Naab will never kill you,” she said impulsively. + +“Mescal.” + +She swiftly turned her face away as his hand closed on hers. + +“Mescal, do you love me?” + +The trembling of her fingers and the heaving of her bosom lent his hope +conviction. “Mescal,” he went on, “these past months have been years, +years of toiling, thinking, changing, but always loving. I'm not the man +you knew. I'm wild-- I'm starved for a sight of you. I love you! Mescal, +my desert flower!” + +She raised her free hand to his shoulder and swayed toward him. He held +her a moment, clasped tight, and then released her. + +“I'm quite mad!” he exclaimed, in a passion of self-reproach. “What a +risk I'm putting on you! But I couldn't help it. Look at me-- Just once- +-please-- Mescal, just one look.... Now go.” + +The drama of the succeeding days was of absorbing interest. Hare had +liberty; there was little work for him to do save to care for +Silvermane. He tried to hunt foxes in the caves and clefts; he rode up +and down the broad space under the walls; he sought the open desert only +to be driven in by the bitter, biting winds. Then he would return to the +big living-room of the Naabs and sit before the burning logs. This +spacious room was warm, light, pleasant, and was used by every one in +leisure hours. Mescal spent most of her time there. She was engaged upon +a new frock of buckskin, and over this she bent with her needle and +beads. When there was a chance Hare talked with her, speaking one +language with his tongue, a far different one with his eyes. When she +was not present he looked into the glowing red fire and dreamed of her. + +In the evenings when Snap came in to his wooing and drew Mescal into a +corner, Hare watched with covert glance and smouldering jealousy. +Somehow he had come to see all things and all people in the desert +glass, and his symbol for Snap Naab was the desert-hawk. Snap's eyes +were as wild and piercing as those of a hawk; his nose and mouth were as +the beak of a hawk; his hands resembled the claws of a hawk; and the +spurs he wore, always bloody, were still more significant of his +ruthless nature. Then Snap's courting of the girl, the cool assurance, +the unhastening ease, were like the slow rise, the sail, and the poise +of a desert-hawk before the downward lightning-swift swoop on his +quarry. + +It was intolerable for Hare to sit there in the evenings, to try to play +with the children who loved him, to talk to August Naab when his eye +seemed ever drawn to the quiet couple in the corner, and his ear was +unconsciously strained to catch a passing word. That hour was a +miserable one for him, yet he could not bring himself to leave the room. +He never saw Snap touch her; he never heard Mescal's voice; he believed +that she spoke very little. When the hour was over and Mescal rose to +pass to her room, then his doubt, his fear, his misery, were as though +they had never been, for as Mescal said good-night she would give him +one look, swift as a flash, and in it were womanliness and purity, and +something beyond his comprehension. Her Indian serenity and mysticism +veiled yet suggested some secret, some power by which she might yet +escape the iron band of this Mormon rule. Hare could not fathom it. In +that good-night glance was a meaning for him alone, if meaning ever +shone in woman's eyes, and it said: “I will be true to you and to +myself!” + +Once the idea struck him that as soon as spring returned it would be an +easy matter, and probably wise, for him to leave the oasis and go up +into Utah, far from the desert-canyon country. But the thought refused +to stay before his consciousness a moment. New life had flushed his +veins here. He loved the dreamy, sleepy oasis with its mellow sunshine +always at rest on the glistening walls; he loved the cedar-scented +plateau where hope had dawned, and the wind-swept sand-strips, where +hard out-of-door life and work had renewed his wasting youth; he loved +the canyon winding away toward Coconina, opening into wide abyss; and +always, more than all, he loved the Painted Desert, with its ever- +changing pictures, printed in sweeping dust and bare peaks and purple +haze. He loved the beauty of these places, and the wildness in them had +an affinity with something strange and untamed in him. He would never +leave them. When his blood had cooled, when this tumultuous thrill and +swell had worn themselves out, happiness would come again. + +Early in the winter Snap Naab had forced his wife to visit his father's +house with him; and she had remained in the room, white-faced, +passionately jealous, while he wooed Mescal. Then had come a scene. Hare +had not been present, but he knew its results. Snap had been furious, +his father grave, Mescal tearful and ashamed. The wife found many ways +to interrupt her husband's lovemaking. She sent the children for him; +she was taken suddenly ill; she discovered that the corral gate was open +and his cream-colored pinto, dearest to his heart, was running loose; +she even set her cottage on fire. + +One Sunday evening just before twilight Hare was sitting on the porch +with August Naab and Dave, when their talk was interrupted by Snap's +loud calling for his wife. At first the sounds came from inside his +cabin. Then he put his head out of a window and yelled. Plainly he was +both impatient and angry. It was nearly time for him to make his Sunday +call upon Mescal. + +“Something's wrong,” muttered Dave. + +“Hester! Hester!” yelled Snap. + +Mother Ruth came out and said that Hester was not there. + +“Where is she?” Snap banged on the window-sill with his fists. “Find +her, somebody--Hester!” + +“Son, this is the Sabbath,” called Father Naab, gravely. “Lower your +voice. Now what's the matter?” + +“Matter!” bawled Snap, giving way to rage. “When I was asleep Hester +stole all my clothes. She's hid them--she's run off--there's not a d--n +thing for me to put on! I'll--” + +The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the +speech. Hare managed to stifle his own mirth. Snap pulled in his head +and slammed the window shut. + +“Jack,” said August, “even among Mormons the course of true love never +runs smooth.” + +Hare finally forgot his bitter humor in pity for the wife. Snap came to +care not at all for her messages and tricks, and he let nothing +interfere with his evening beside Mescal. It was plain that he had gone +far on the road of love. Whatever he had been in the beginning of the +betrothal, he was now a lover, eager, importunate. His hawk's eyes were +softer than Hare had ever seen them; he was obliging, kind, gay, an +altogether different Snap Naab. He groomed himself often, and wore clean +scarfs, and left off his bloody spurs. For eight months he had not +touched the bottle. When spring approached he was madly in love with +Mescal. And the marriage was delayed because his wife would not have +another woman in her home. + +Once Hare heard Snap remonstrating with his father. + +“If she don't come to time soon I'll keep the kids and send her back to +her father.” + +“Don't be hasty, son. Let her have time,” replied August. “Women must be +humored. I'll wager she'll give in before the cottonwood blows, and +that's not long.” + +It was Hare's habit, as the days grew warmer, to walk a good deal, and +one evening, as twilight shadowed the oasis and grew black under the +towering walls, he strolled out toward the fields. While passing Snap's +cottage Hare heard a woman's voice in passionate protest and a man's in +strident anger. Later as he stood with his arm on Silvermane, a woman's +scream, at first high-pitched, then suddenly faint and smothered, caused +him to grow rigid, and his hand clinched tight. When he went back by the +cottage a low moaning confirmed his suspicion. + +That evening Snap appeared unusually bright and happy; and he asked his +father to name the day for the wedding. August did so in a loud voice +and with evident relief. Then the quaint Mormon congratulations were +offered to Mescal. To Hare, watching the strange girl with the +distressingly keen intuition of an unfortunate lover, she appeared as +pleased as any of them that the marriage was settled. But there was no +shyness, no blushing confusion. When Snap bent to kiss her--his first +kiss--she slightly turned her face, so that his lips brushed her cheek, +yet even then her self-command did not break for an instant. It was a +task for Hare to pretend to congratulate her; nevertheless he mumbled +something. She lifted her long lashes, and there, deep beneath the +shadows, was unutterable anguish. It gave him a shock. He went to his +room, convinced that she had yielded; and though he could not blame her, +and he knew she was helpless, he cried out in reproach and resentment. +She had failed him, as he had known she must fail. He tossed on his bed +and thought; he lay quiet, wide-open eyes staring into the darkness, and +his mind burned and seethed. Through the hours of that long night he +learned what love had cost him. + +With the morning light came some degree of resignation. Several days +went slowly by, bringing the first of April, which was to be the +wedding-day. August Naab had said it would come before the cottonwoods +shed their white floss; and their buds had just commenced to open. The +day was not a holiday, and George and Zeke and Dave began to pack for +the ranges, yet there was an air of jollity and festivity. Snap Naab had +a springy step and jaunty mien. Once he regarded Hare with a slow smile. + +Piute prepared to drive his new flock up on the plateau. The women of +the household were busy and excited; the children romped. + +The afternoon waned into twilight, and Hare sought the quiet shadows +under the wall near the river trail. He meant to stay there until August +Naab had pronounced his son and Mescal man and wife. The dull roar of +the rapids borne on a faint puff of westerly breeze was lulled into a +soothing murmur. A radiant white star peeped over the black rim of the +wall. The solitude and silence were speaking to Hare's heart, easing his +pain, when a soft patter of moccasined feet brought him bolt upright. + +A slender form rounded the corner wall. It was Mescal. The white dog +Wolf hung close by her side. Swiftly she reached Hare. + +“Mescal!” he exclaimed. + +“Hush! Speak softly,” she whispered fearfully. Her hands were clinging +to his. + +“Jack, do you love me still?” + +More than woman's sweetness was in the whisper; the portent of +indefinable motive made Hare tremble like a shaking leaf. + +“Good heavens! You are to be married in a few minutes--What do you mean? +Where are you going? this buckskin suit--and Wolf with you--Mescal!” + +“There's no time--only a word--hurry--do you love me still?” she panted, +with great shining eyes close to his. + +“Love you? With all my soul!” + +“Listen,” she whispered, and leaned against him. A fresh breeze bore the +boom of the river. She caught her breath quickly: “I love you!--I love +you!--Good-bye!” + +She kissed him and broke from his clasp. Then silently, like a shadow, +with the white dog close beside her, she disappeared in the darkness of +the river trail. + +She was gone before he came out of his bewilderment. He rushed down the +trail; he called her name. The gloom had swallowed her, and only the +echo of his voice made answer. + + + + + + +XII. ECHO CLIFFS + +WHEN thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake +he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any +knowledge of it. + +With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the +gloomy shade, and felt his way to a point beyond the twinkling lights. +Then, peering through the gloom until assured he was safe from +observation, and taking the dark side of the house, he gained the hall, +and his room. He threw himself on his bed, and endeavored to compose +himself, to quiet his vibrating nerves, to still the triumphant bell- +beat of his heart. For a while all his being swung to the palpitating +consciousness of joy--Mescal had taken her freedom. She had escaped the +swoop of the hawk. + +While Hare lay there, trying to gather his shattered senses, the merry +sound of voices and the music of an accordion hummed from the big +living-room next to his. Presently heavy boots thumped on the floor of +the hall; then a hand rapped on his door. + +“Jack, are you there?” called August Naab. + +“Yes.” + +“Come along then.” + +Hare rose, opened the door and followed August. The room was bright with +lights; the table was set, and the Naabs, large and small, were standing +expectantly. As Hare found a place behind them Snap Naab entered with +his wife. She was as pale as if she were in her shroud. Hare caught +Mother Ruth's pitying subdued glance as she drew the frail little woman +to her side. When August Naab began fingering his Bible the whispering +ceased. + +“Why don't they fetch her?” he questioned. + +“Judith, Esther, bring her in,” said Mother Mary, calling into the +hallway. + +Quick footsteps, and the girls burst in impetuously, exclaiming: +“Mescal's not there!” + +“Where is she, then?” demanded August Naab, going to the door. “Mescal!” + he called. + +Succeeding his authoritative summons only the cheery sputter of the +wood-fire broke the silence. + +“She hadn't put on her white frock,” went on Judith. + +“Her buckskins aren't hanging where they always are,” continued Esther. + +August Naab laid his Bible on the table. “I always feared it,” he said +simply. + +“She's gone!” cried Snap Naab. He ran into the hall, into Mescal's room, +and returned trailing the white wedding-dress. “The time we thought she +spent to put this on she's been--” + +He choked over the words, and sank into a chair, face convulsed, hands +shaking, weak in the grip of a grief that he had never before known. +Suddenly he flung the dress into the fire. His wife fell to the floor in +a dead faint. Then the desert-hawk showed his claws. His hands tore at +the close scarf round his throat as if to liberate a fury that was +stifling him; his face lost all semblance to anything human. He began to +howl, to rave, to curse; and his father circled him with iron arm and +dragged him from the room. + +The children were whimpering, the wives lamenting. The quiet men +searched the house and yard and corrals and fields. But they found no +sign of Mescal. After long hours the excitement subsided and all sought +their beds. + +Morning disclosed the facts of Mescal's flight. She had dressed for the +trail; a knapsack was missing and food enough to fill it; Wolf was gone; +Noddle was not in his corral; the peon slave had not slept in his shack; +there were moccasin-tracks and burro-tracks and dog-tracks in the sand +at the river crossing, and one of the boats was gone. This boat was not +moored to the opposite shore. Questions arose. Had the boat sunk? Had +the fugitives crossed safely or had they drifted into the canyon? Dave +Naab rode out along the river and saw the boat, a mile below the rapids, +bottom side up and lodged on a sand-bar. + +“She got across, and then set the boat loose,” said August. “That's the +Indian of her. If she went up on the cliffs to the Navajos maybe we'll +find her. If she went into the Painted Desert--” a grave shake of his +shaggy head completed his sentence. + +Morning also disclosed Snap Naab once more in the clutch of his demon, +drunk and unconscious, lying like a log on the porch of his cottage. + +“This means ruin to him,” said his father. “He had one chance; he was +mad over Mescal, and if he had got her, he might have conquered his +thirst for rum.” + +He gave orders for the sheep to be driven up on the plateau, and for his +sons to ride out to the cattle ranges. He bade Hare pack and get in +readiness to accompany him to the Navajo cliffs, there to search for +Mescal. + +The river was low, as the spring thaws had not yet set in, and the +crossing promised none of the hazard so menacing at a later period. +Billy Naab rowed across with the saddle and packs. Then August had to +crowd the lazy burros into the water. Silvermane went in with a rush, +and Charger took to the river like an old duck. August and Jack sat in +the stern of the boat, while Billy handled the oars. They crossed +swiftly and safely. The three burros were then loaded, two with packs, +the other with a heavy water-bag. + +“See there,” said August, pointing to tracks in the sand. The imprints +of little moccasins reassured Hare, for he had feared the possibility +suggested by the upturned boat. “Perhaps it'll be better if I never find +her,” continued Naab. “If I bring her back Snap's as likely to kill her +as to marry her. But I must try to find her. Only what to do with her--” + +“Give her to me,” interrupted Jack. + +“Hare!” + +“I love her!” + +Naab's stern face relaxed. “Well, I'm beat! Though I don't see why you +should be different from all the others. It was that time you spent with +her on the plateau. I thought you too sick to think of a woman!” + +“Mescal cares for me,” said Hare. + +“Ah! That accounts. Hare, did you play me fair?” + +“We tried to, though we couldn't help loving.” + +“She would have married Snap but for you.” + +“Yes. But I couldn't help that. You brought me out here, and saved my +life. I know what I owe you. Mescal meant to marry your son when I left +for the range last fall. But she's a true woman and couldn't. August +Naab, if we ever find her will you marry her to him--now?” + +“That depends. Did you know she intended to run?” + +“I never dreamed of it. I learned it only at the last moment. I met her +on the river trail.” + +“You should have stopped her.” + +Hare maintained silence. + +“You should have told me,” went on Naab. + +“I couldn't. I'm only human.” + +“Well, well, I'm not blaming you, Hare. I had hot blood once. But I'm +afraid the desert will not be large enough for you and Snap. She's +pledged to him. You can't change the Mormon Church. For the sake of +peace I'd give you Mescal, if I could. Snap will either have her or kill +her. I'm going to hunt this desert in advance of him, because he'll +trail her like a hound. It would be better to marry her to him than to +see her dead.” + +“I'm not so sure of that.” + +“Hare, your nose is on a blood scent, like a wolf's. I can see--I've +always seen--well, remember, it's man to man between you now.” + +During this talk they were winding under Echo Cliffs, gradually +climbing, and working up to a level with the desert, which they +presently attained at a point near the head of the canyon. The trail +swerved to the left following the base of the cliffs. The tracks of +Noddle and Wolf were plainly visible in the dust. Hare felt that if they +ever led out into the immense airy space of the desert all hope of +finding Mescal must be abandoned. + +They trailed the tracks of the dog and burro to Bitter Seeps, a shallow +spring of alkali, and there lost all track of them. The path up the +cliffs to the Navajo ranges was bare, time-worn in solid rock, and +showed only the imprint of age. Desertward the ridges of shale, the +washes of copper earth, baked in the sun, gave no sign of the fugitives' +course. August Naab shrugged his broad shoulders and pointed his horse +to the cliff. It was dusk when they surmounted it. + +They camped in the lee of an uplifting crag. When the wind died down the +night was no longer unpleasantly cool; and Hare, finding August Naab +uncommunicative and sleepy, strolled along the rim of the cliff, as he +had been wont to do in the sheep-herding days. He could scarcely +dissociate them from the present, for the bitter-sweet smell of tree and +bush, the almost inaudible sigh of breeze, the opening and shutting of +the great white stars in the blue dome, the silence, the sense of the +invisible void beneath him--all were thought-provoking parts of that +past of which nothing could ever be forgotten. And it was a silence +which brought much to the ear that could hear. It was a silence +penetrated by faint and distant sounds, by mourning wolf, or moan of +wind in a splintered crag. Weird and low, an inarticulate voice, it +wailed up from the desert, winding along the hollow trail, freeing +itself in the wide air, and dying away. He had often heard the scream of +lion and cry of wildcat, but this was the strange sound of which August +Naab had told him, the mysterious call of canyon and desert night. + +Daylight showed Echo Cliffs to be of vastly greater range than the +sister plateau across the river. The roll of cedar level, the heave of +craggy ridge, the dip of white-sage valley gave this side a diversity +widely differing from the two steps of the Vermillion tableland. August +Naab followed a trail leading back toward the river. For the most part +thick cedars hid the surroundings from Hare's view; occasionally, +however, he had a backward glimpse from a high point, or a wide prospect +below, where the trail overlooked an oval hemmed-in valley. + +About midday August Naab brushed through a thicket, and came abruptly on +a declivity. He turned to his companion with a wave of his hand. + +“The Navajo camp,” he said. “Eschtah has lived there for many years. +It's the only permanent Navajo camp I know. These Indians are nomads. +Most of them live wherever the sheep lead them. This plateau ranges for +a hundred miles, farther than any white man knows, and everywhere, in +the valleys and green nooks, will be found Navajo hogans. That's why we +may never find Mescal.” + +Hare's gaze travelled down over the tips of cedar and crag to a pleasant +vale, dotted with round mound-like white-streaked hogans, from which +lazy floating columns of blue smoke curled upward. Mustangs and burros +and sheep browsed on the white patches of grass. Bright-red blankets +blazed on the cedar branches. There was slow colorful movement of +Indians, passing in and out of their homes. The scene brought +irresistibly to Hare the thought of summer, of long warm afternoons, of +leisure that took no stock of time. + +On the way down the trail they encountered a flock of sheep driven by a +little Navajo boy on a brown burro. It was difficult to tell which was +the more surprised, the long-eared burro, which stood stock-still, or +the boy, who first kicked and pounded his shaggy steed, and then jumped +off and ran with black locks flying. Farther down Indian girls started +up from their tasks, and darted silently into the shade of the cedars. +August Naab whooped when he reached the valley, and Indian braves +appeared, to cluster round him, shake his hand and Hare's, and lead them +toward the centre of the encampment. + +The hogans where these desert savages dwelt were all alike; only the +chief's was larger. From without it resembled a mound of clay with a few +white logs, half imbedded, shining against the brick red. August Naab +drew aside a blanket hanging over a door, and entered, beckoning his +companion to follow. Inured as Hare had become to the smell and smart of +wood-smoke, for a moment he could not see, or scarcely breathe, so thick +was the atmosphere. A fire, the size of which attested the desert +Indian's love of warmth, blazed in the middle of the hogan, and sent +part of its smoke upward through a round hole in the roof. Eschtah, with +blanket over his shoulders, his lean black head bent, sat near the fire. +He noted the entrance of his visitors, but immediately resumed his +meditative posture, and appeared to be unaware of their presence. + +Hare followed August's example, sitting down and speaking no word. His +eyes, however, roved discreetly to and fro. Eschtah's three wives +presented great differences in age and appearance. The eldest was a +wrinkled, parchment-skinned old hag who sat sightless before the fire; +the next was a solid square squaw, employed in the task of combing a +naked boy's hair with a comb made of stiff thin roots tied tightly in a +round bunch. Judging from the youngster's actions and grimaces, this +combing process was not a pleasant one. The third wife, much younger, +had a comely face, and long braids of black hair, of which, evidently, +she was proud. She leaned on her knees over a flat slab of rock, and +holding in her hands a long oval stone, she rolled and mashed corn into +meal. There were young braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way, +with bands binding their straight thick hair, silver rings in their +ears, silver bracelets on their wrists, silver buttons on their +moccasins. There were girls who looked up from their blanket-weaving +with shy curiosity, and then turned to their frames strung with long +threads. Under their nimble fingers the wool-carrying needles slipped in +and out, and the colored stripes grew apace. Then there were younger +boys and girls, all bright-eyed and curious; and babies sleeping on +blankets. Where the walls and ceiling were not covered with buckskin +garments, weapons and blankets, Hare saw the white wood-ribs of the +hogan structure. It was a work of art, this circular house of forked +logs and branches, interwoven into a dome, arched and strong, and all +covered and cemented with clay. + +At a touch of August's hand Hare turned to the old chief; and awaited +his speech. It came with the uplifting of Eschtah's head, and the +offering of his hand in the white man's salute. August's replies were +slow and labored; he could not speak the Navajo language fluently, but +he understood it. + +“The White Prophet is welcome,” was the chief's greeting. “Does he come +for sheep or braves or to honor the Navajo in his home?” + +“Eschtah, he seeks the Flower of the Desert,” replied August Naab. +“Mescal has left him. Her trail leads to the bitter waters under the +cliff, and then is as a bird's.” + +“Eschtah has waited, yet Mescal has not come to him.” + +“She has not been here?” + +“Mescal's shadow has not gladdened the Navajo's door.” + +“She has climbed the crags or wandered into the canyons. The white +father loves her; he must find her.” + +“Eschtah's braves and mustangs are for his friend's use. The Navajo will +find her if she is not as the grain of drifting sand. But is the White +Prophet wise in his years? Let the Flower of the Desert take root in the +soil of her forefathers.” + +“Eschtah's wisdom is great, but he thinks only of Indian blood. Mescal +is half white, and her ways have been the ways of the white man. Nor +does Eschtah think of the white man's love.” + +“The desert has called. Where is the White Prophet's vision? White blood +and red blood will not mix. The Indian's blood pales in the white man's +stream; or it burns red for the sun and the waste and the wild. +Eschtah's forefathers, sleeping here in the silence, have called the +Desert Flower.” + +“It is true. But the white man is bound; he cannot be as the Indian; he +does not content himself with life as it is; he hopes and prays for +change; he believes in the progress of his race on earth. Therefore +Eschtah's white friend smelts Mescal; he has brought her up as his own; +he wants to take her home, to love her better, to trust to the future.” + +“The white man's ways are white man's ways. Eschtah understands. He +remembers his daughter lying here. He closed her dead eyes and sent word +to his white friend. He named this child for the flower that blows in +the wind of silent places. Eschtah gave his granddaughter to his friend. +She has been the bond between them. Now she is flown and the White +Father seeks the Navajo. Let him command. Eschtah has spoken.” + +Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the +guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every +waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the +river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, +ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into +the thickets and caves. From Eschtah's encampment westward the hogans +diminished in number till only one here and there was discovered, hidden +under a yellow wall, or amid a clump of cedars. All the Indians met with +were sternly questioned by the chiefs, their dwellings were searched, +and the ground about their waterholes was closely examined. Mile after +mile the plateau was covered by these Indians, who beat the brush and +penetrated the fastnesses with a hunting instinct that left scarcely a +rabbit-burrow unrevealed. The days sped by; the circle of the sun arched +higher; the patches of snow in high places disappeared; and the search +proceeded westward. They camped where the night overtook them, sometimes +near water and grass, sometimes in bare dry places. To the westward the +plateau widened. Rugged ridges rose here and there, and seared crags +split the sky like sharp sawteeth. And after many miles of wild up- +ranging they reached a divide which marked the line of Eschtah's domain. + +Naab's dogged persistence and the Navajos' faithfulness carried them +into the country of the Moki Indians, a tribe classed as slaves by the +proud race of Eschtah. Here they searched the villages and ancient tombs +and ruins, but of Mescal there was never a trace. + +Hare rode as diligently and searched as indefatigably as August, but he +never had any real hope of finding the girl. To hunt for her, however, +despite its hopelessness, was a melancholy satisfaction, for never was +she out of his mind. + +Nor was the month's hard riding with the Navajos without profit. He made +friends with the Indians, and learned to speak many of their words. Then +a whole host of desert tricks became part of his accumulating knowledge. +In climbing the crags, in looking for water and grass, in loosing +Silvermane at night and searching for him at dawn, in marking tracks on +hard ground, in all the sight and feeling and smell of desert things he +learned much from the Navajos. The whole outward life of the Indian was +concerned with the material aspect of Nature--dust, rock, air, wind, +smoke, the cedars, the beasts of the desert. These things made up the +Indians' day. The Navajos were worshippers of the physical; the sun was +their supreme god. In the mornings when the gray of dawn flushed to rosy +red they began their chant to the sun. At sunset the Navajos were +watchful and silent with faces westward. The Moki Indians also, Hare +observed, had their morning service to the great giver of light. In the +gloom of early dawn, before the pink appeared in the east, and all was +whitening gray, the Mokis emerged from their little mud and stone huts +and sat upon the roofs with blanketed and drooping heads. + +One day August Naab showed in few words how significant a factor the sun +was in the lives of desert men. + +“We've got to turn back,” he said to Hare. “The sun's getting hot and +the snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we +can't cross.” + +They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received +them in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of +departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, +which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs. +It was the Navajos' outlook over the Painted Desert. + +“Mescal is there,” said August Naab. “She's there with the slave Eschtah +gave her. He leads Mescal. Who can follow him there?” + +The old chieftain reined in his horse, beside the time-hollowed trail, +and the same hand that waved his white friend downward swept up in slow +stately gesture toward the illimitable expanse. It was a warrior's +salute to an unconquered world. Hare saw in his falcon eyes the still +gleam, the brooding fire, the mystical passion that haunted the eyes of +Mescal. + +“The slave without a tongue is a wolf. He scents the trails and the +waters. Eschtah's eyes have grown old watching here, but he has seen no +Indian who could follow Mescal's slave. Eschtah will lie there, but no +Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is +lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. Look!” + +To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored +dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and +dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a veritable +rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred Hare--he saw +the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of alkali and +washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and dust- +encumbered ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of the +flat tableland rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the eye +beyond to veils and vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line of +level lanes, and so on, and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare +grasped a little of its meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed +world. Here was deep and majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But +it was only through Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its +terrifying desolateness, its sleeping death. + +When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere +speech, the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner +being seemed to shrink. + +“The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him,” said Eschtah. +“The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand.” + + + + + + +XIII. THE SOMBRE LINE + +AUGUST NAAB hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to +Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy +faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's +flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had +followed. + +Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy. +For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself +in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his +almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his +wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave +Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had +ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since. + +The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the +life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as +to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, +gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August +Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to +the range, and tell his sons that he would come later. + +It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and +made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars +toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of +the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab. + +“Hello, Jack,” called Dave Naab, into the dark. “I knew that was you. +Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you +and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you +clear to the Little Colorado.” + +Hare told the story of the fruitless search. + +“It's no more than we expected,” said Dave. “The man doesn't live who +can trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped +her halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn +into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, +for she's a good girl, too good for Snap.” + +“What's your news?” inquired Hare. + +“Oh, nothing much,” replied Dave, with a short laugh. “The cattle +wintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke and +I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping Springs. +We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's. He's with +Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the corrals at +the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen riders +there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He finished +up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you.” + +“About me!” + +“Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for +it. Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's +going too far--he is--” Dave did not conclude his remark, and the +silence was more significant than any utterance. + +“What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap's killing Snood?” + +“They've said a lot. This even-break business goes all right among gun- +fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed Culver, +and Snap will be outlawed next.” + +“Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert too small for him +and me?” + +“Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak to you about it. +Snap will ride in here some day and then--” Dave's pause was not +reassuring. + +And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding +down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and +saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a +tall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and +Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught +sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars. +While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail. + +“It's Snap and Holderness,” he called out, sharply. “What's Snap doing +with Holderness? What's he bringing him here for?” + +“I don't like the looks of it,” replied Zeke, deliberately. + +“Jack, what'll you do?” asked Dave, suddenly. + +“Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit +from men who don't like me.” + +“It might be wisest.” + +“Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?” + +“No.” The dull red came to Dave's cheek. “But will you draw on him?” + +“Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother.” + +“Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on +Holderness, then?” + +“For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you,” replied Hare, pacing the +trail. “Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd +draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull +too late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap +or Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would +either of them shoot an unarmed man?” + +“Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun.” + +Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over +the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats +near the camp-fire. + +“There they come,” whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by +George. + +“Steady, you fellows,” said Dave, with a warning glance. “I'll do the +talking.” + +Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the +glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood +directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside. + +“Howdy, boys?” called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a +gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, +their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the +cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed his +brother. + +“Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?” + +“I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round,” replied Snap. +The hard lines, the sullen shade, the hawk-beak cruelty had returned +tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame. + +“New foreman!” exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared in +amazement. “No--you can't mean that--you're drunk!” + +“That's what I said,” growled Snap. + +“You're a liar!” shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown on +his cheeks. He jumped off the ground in his fury. + +“It's true, Naab; he's my new foreman,” put in Holderness, suavely. “A +hundred a month--in gold--and I've got as good a place for you.” + +“Well, by G--d!” Dave's arms came down and his face blanched to his +lips. “Holderness!” + +“I know what you'd say,” interrupted the ranchman. + +“But stop it. I know you're game. And what's the use of fighting? I'm +talking business. I'll--” + +“You can't talk business or anything else to me,” said Dave Naab, and he +veered sharply toward his brother. “Say it again, Snap Naab. You've +hired out to ride for this man?” + +“That's it.” + +“You're going against your father, your brothers, your own flesh and +blood?” + +“I can't see it that way.” + +“Then you're a drunken, easily-led fool. This man's no rancher. He's a +rustler. He ruined Martin Cole, the father of your first wife. He's +stolen our cattle; he's jumped our water-rights. He's trying to break +us. For God's sake, ain't you a man?” + +“Things have gone bad for me,” replied Snap, sullenly, shifting in his +saddle. “I reckon I'll do better to cut out alone for myself.” + +“You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I always +knew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace the +Naabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here? Be +quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. You can't +even water your horses. Out with it!” + +At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenly +felt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of his +breast. The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemed +instantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Hare +dodged, but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave place +to a tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a +bloody hand fumbling at his breast. + +Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt, +held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick +which made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was +nearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone. + +“Cool down, there!” ordered Zeke. “He's done for.” + +“My God--my God!” cried Dave, in a broken voice. “Not--not dead?” + +“Shot through the heart!” + +Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse. “D--n you! run, or +I'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again--you +draw!” He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. They +plunged out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing the +cedars, disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers. + +“Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my friend!... Who's to +tell father?” + +Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bare +shoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. “Cheer +up, Dave. I'm not dead yet.” + +“Sure he's not,” said Zeke. “He ducked none too soon, or too late, and +caught the bullet high up in the shoulder.” + +Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on +Hare's knee shook a little. + +“When I saw George go for his gun,” went on Zeke, “I knew there'd be a +lively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack was +dead.” + +“Do you think they came over to get me?” asked Hare. + +“No doubt,” replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from his +brow. “I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's going +over to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snap +edging over till too late.” + +“Listen, I hear horses,” said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare's +wound. + +“It's Billy, up on the home trail,” added George. “Yes, and there's +father with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?” + +“Some one must tell him,” answered Dave. + +“That'll be you, then. You always do the talking.” + +August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the +saddle. “I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?--Hare! Why--lad--how +is it with you?” + +“Not bad,” rejoined Hare. + +“Let me see,” August thrust Zeke aside. “A bullet-hole--just missed the +bone--not serious. Tie it up tight. I'll take him home to-morrow.... +Hare, who's been here?” + +“Snap rode in and left his respects.” + +“Snap! Already? Yet I knew it--I saw it. You had Providence with you, +lad, for this wound is not bad. Snap surprised you, then?” + +“No. I knew it was coming.” + +“Jack hung his belt and gun on Silvermane's saddle,” said Dave. “He +didn't feel as if he could draw on either Snap or Holderness--” + +“Holderness!” + +“Yes. Snap rode in with Holderness. Hare thought if he was unarmed they +wouldn't draw. But Snap did.” + +“Was he drunk?” + +“No. They came over to kill Hare.” Dave went on to recount the incident +in full. “And--and see here, dad--that's not all. Snap's gone to the +bad.” + +Dave Naab hid his face while he told of his brother's treachery; the +others turned away, and Hare closed his eyes. + +For long moments there was silence broken only by the tramp of the old +man as he strode heavily to and fro. At last the footsteps ceased, and +Hare opened his eyes to see Naab's tall form erect, his arms uplifted, +his shaggy head rigid. + +“Hare,” began August, presently. “I'm responsible for this cowardly +attack on you. I brought you out here. This is the second one. Beware of +the third! I see--but tell me, do you remember that I said you must meet +Snap as man to man?” + +“Yes.” + +“Don't you want to live?” + +“Of course.” + +“You hold to no Mormon creed?” + +“Why, no,” Hare replied, wonderingly. + +“What was the reason I taught you my trick with a gun?” + +“I suppose it was to help me to defend myself.” + +“Then why do you let yourself be shot down in cold blood? Why did you +hang up your gun? Why didn't you draw on Snap? Was it because of his +father, his brothers, his family?” + +“Partly, but not altogether,” replied Hare, slowly. “I didn't know +before what I know now. My flesh sickened at the thought of killing a +man, even to save my own life; and to kill--your son--” + +“No son of mine!” thundered Naab. “Remember that when next you meet. I +don't want your blood on my hands. Don't stand to be killed like a +sheep! If you have felt duty to me, I release you.” + +Zeke finished bandaging the wound. Making a bed of blankets he lifted +Hare into it, and covered him, cautioning him to lie still. Hare had a +sensation of extreme lassitude, a deep drowsiness which permeated even +to his bones. There were intervals of oblivion, then a time when the +stars blinked in his eyes; he heard the wind, Silvermane's bell, the +murmur of voices, yet all seemed remote from him, intangible as things +in a dream. + +He rode home next day, drooping in the saddle and fainting at the end of +the trail, with the strong arm of August Naab upholding him. His wound +was dressed and he was put to bed, where he lay sleeping most of the +time, brooding the rest. + +In three weeks he was in the saddle again, riding out over the red strip +of desert toward the range. During his convalescence he had learned that +he had come to the sombre line of choice. Either he must deliberately +back away, and show his unfitness to survive in the desert, or he must +step across into its dark wilds. The stern question haunted him. Yet he +knew a swift decision waited on the crucial moment. + +He sought lonely rides more than ever, and, like Silvermane, he was +always watching and listening. His duties carried him half way to +Seeping Springs, across the valley to the red wall, up the slope of +Coconina far into the forest of stately pines. What with Silvermane's +wonderful scent and sight, and his own constant watchfulness, there were +never range-riders or wild horses nor even deer near him without his +knowledge. + +The days flew by; spring had long since given place to summer; the blaze +of sun and blast of flying sand were succeeded by the cooling breezes +from the mountain; October brought the flurries of snow and November the +dark storm-clouds. + +Hare was the last of the riders to be driven off the mountain. The +brothers were waiting for him at Silver Cup, and they at once packed and +started for home. + +August Naab listened to the details of the range-riding since his +absence, with silent surprise. Holderness and Snap had kept away from +Silver Cup after the supposed killing of Hare. Occasionally a group of +horsemen rode across the valley or up a trail within sight of Dave and +his followers, but there was never a meeting. Not a steer had been +driven off the range that summer and fall; and except for the menace +always hanging in the blue smoke over Seeping Springs the range-riding +had passed without unusual incident. + +So for Hare the months had gone by swiftly; though when he looked back +afterward they seemed years. The winter at the oasis he filled as best +he could, with the children playing in the yard, with Silvermane under +the sunny lee of the great red wall, with any work that offered itself. +It was during the long evenings, when he could not be active, that time +oppressed him, and the memories of the past hurt him. A glimpse of the +red sunset through the cliff-gate toward the west would start the train +of thought; he both loved and hated the Painted Desert. Mescal was there +in the purple shadows. He dreamed of her in the glowing embers of the +log-fire. He saw her on Black Bolly with hair flying free to the wind. +And he could not shut out the picture of her sitting in the corner of +the room, silent, with bowed head, while the man to whom she was pledged +hung close over her. That memory had a sting. It was like a spark of +fire dropped on the wound in his breast where the desert-hawk had struck +him. It was like a light gleaming on the sombre line he was waiting to +cross. + + + + + + +XIV. WOLF + +ON the anniversary of the night Mescal disappeared the mysterious voice +which had called to Hare so often and so strangely again pierced his +slumber, and brought him bolt upright in his bed shuddering and +listening. The dark room was as quiet as a tomb. He fell back into his +blankets trembling with emotion. Sleep did not close his eyes again that +night; he lay in a fever waiting for the dawn, and when the gray gloom +lightened he knew what he must do. + +After breakfast he sought August Naab. “May I go across the river?” he +asked. + +The old man looked up from his carpenter's task and fastened his glance +on Hare. “Mescal?” + +“Yes.” + +“I saw it long ago.” He shook his head and spread his great hands. +“There's no use for me to say what the desert is. If you ever come back +you'll bring her. Yes, you may go. It's a man's deed. God keep you!” + +Hare spoke to no other person; he filled one saddle-bag with grain, +another with meat, bread, and dried fruits, strapped a five-gallon +leather water-sack back of Silvermane's saddle, and set out toward the +river. At the crossing-bar he removed Silvermane's equipments and placed +them in the boat. At that moment a long howl, as of a dog baying the +moon, startled him from his musings, and his eyes sought the river-bank, +up and down, and then the opposite side. An animal, which at first he +took to be a gray timber-wolf, was running along the sand-bar of the +landing. + +“Pretty white for a wolf,” he muttered. “Might be a Navajo dog.” + +The beast sat down on his haunches and, lifting a lean head, sent up a +doleful howl. Then he began trotting along the bar, every few paces +stepping to the edge of the water. Presently he spied Hare, and he began +to bark furiously. + +“It's a dog all right; wants to get across,” said Hare. “Where have I +seen him?” + +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. “He's like +Mescal's Wolf!” He looked closer, his heart beginning to thump, and then +he yelled: “Ki-yi! Wolf! Hyer! Hyer!” + +The dog leaped straight up in the air, and coming down, began to dash +back and forth along the sand with piercing yelps. + +“It's Wolf! Mescal must be near,” cried Hare. A veil obscured his sight, +and every vein was like a hot cord. “Wolf! Wolf! I'm coming!” + +With trembling hands he tied Silvermane's bridle to the stern seat of +the boat and pushed off. In his eagerness he rowed too hard, dragging +Silvermane's nose under water, and he had to check himself. Time and +again he turned to call to the dog. At length the bow grated on the +sand, and Silvermane emerged with a splash and a snort. + +“Wolf, old fellow!” cried Hare. “Where's Mescal? Wolf, where is she?” He +threw his arms around the dog. Wolf whined, licked Hare's face, and +breaking away, ran up the sandy trail, and back again. But he barked no +more; he waited to see if Hare was following. + +“All right, Wolf--coming.” Never had Hare saddled so speedily, nor +mounted so quickly. He sent Silvermane into the willow-skirted trail +close behind the dog, up on the rocky bench, and then under the bulging +wall. Wolf reached the level between the canyon and Echo Cliffs, and +then started straight west toward the Painted Desert. He trotted a few +rods and turned to see if the man was coming. + +Doubt, fear, uncertainty ceased for Hare. With the first blast of dust- +scented air in his face he knew Wolf was leading him to Mescal. He knew +that the cry he had heard in his dream was hers, that the old mysterious +promise of the desert had at last begun its fulfilment. He gave one +sharp exultant answer to that call. The horizon, ever-widening, lay +before him, and the treeless plains, the sun-scorched slopes, the sandy +stretches, the massed blocks of black mesas, all seemed to welcome him; +his soul sang within him. + +For Mescal was there. Far away she must be, a mere grain of sand in all +that world of drifting sands, perhaps ill, perhaps hurt, but alive, +waiting for him, calling for him, crying out with a voice that no +distance could silence. He did not see the sharp peaks as pitiless +barriers, nor the mesas and domes as black-faced death, nor the +moisture-drinking sands as life-sucking foes to plant and beast and man. +That painted wonderland had sheltered Mescal for a year. He had loved it +for its color, its change, its secrecy; he loved it now because it had +not been a grave for Mescal, but a home. Therefore he laughed at the +deceiving yellow distances in the foreground of glistening mesas, at the +deceiving purple distances of the far-off horizon. The wind blew a song +in his ears; the dry desert odors were fragrance in his nostrils; the +sand tasted sweet between his teeth, and the quivering heat-waves, +veiling the desert in transparent haze, framed beautiful pictures for +his eyes. + +Wolf kept to the fore for some thirty paces, and though he had ceased to +stop, he still looked back to see if the horse and man were following. +Hare had noted the dog occasionally in the first hours of travel, but he +had given his eyes mostly to the broken line of sky and desert in the +west, to the receding contour of Echo Cliffs, to the spread and break of +the desert near at hand. Here and there life showed itself in a gaunt +coyote sneaking into the cactus, or a horned toad huddling down in the +dust, or a jewel-eyed lizard sunning himself upon a stone. It was only +when his excited fancy had cooled that Hare came to look closely at +Wolf. But for the dog's color he could not have been distinguished from +a real wolf. His head and ears and tail drooped, and he was lame in his +right front paw. + +Hare halted in the shade of a stone, dismounted and called the dog to +him. Wolf returned without quickness, without eagerness, without any of +the old-time friendliness of shepherding days. His eyes were sad and +strange. Hare felt a sudden foreboding, but rejected it with passionate +force. Yet a chill remained. Lifting Wolf's paw he discovered that the +ball of the foot was worn through; whereupon he called into service a +piece of buckskin, and fashioning a rude moccasin he tied it round the +foot. Wolf licked his hand, but there was no change in the sad light of +his eyes. He turned toward the west as if anxious to be off. + +“All right, old fellow,” said Hare, “only go slow. From the look of that +foot I think you've turned back on a long trail.” + +Again they faced the west, dog leading, man following, and addressed +themselves to a gradual ascent. When it had been surmounted Hare +realized that his ride so far had brought him only through an anteroom; +the real portal now stood open to the Painted Desert. The immensity of +the thing seemed to reach up to him with a thousand lines, ridges, +canyons, all ascending out of a purple gulf. The arms of the desert +enveloped him, a chill beneath their warmth. + +As he descended into the valley, keeping close to Wolf, he marked a +straight course in line with a volcanic spur. He was surprised when the +dog, though continually threading jumbles of rock, heading canyons, +crossing deep washes, and going round obstructions, always veered back +to this bearing as true as a compass-needle to its magnet. + +Hare felt the air growing warmer and closer as he continued the descent. +By mid-afternoon, when he had travelled perhaps thirty miles, he was +moist from head to foot, and Silvermane's coat was wet. Looking backward +Hare had a blank feeling of loss; the sweeping line of Echo Cliffs had +retreated behind the horizon. There was no familiar landmark left. + +Sunset brought him to a standstill, as much from its sudden glorious +gathering of brilliant crimsons splashed with gold, as from its warning +that the day was done. Hare made his camp beside a stone which would +serve as a wind-break. He laid his saddle for a pillow and his blanket +for a bed. He gave Silvermane a nose-bag full of water and then one of +grain; he fed the dog, and afterward attended to his own needs. When his +task was done the desert brightness had faded to gray; the warm air had +blown away on a cool breeze, and night approached. He scooped out a +little hollow in the sand for his hips, took a last look at Silvermane +haltered to the rock, and calling Wolf to his side stretched himself to +rest. He was used to lying on the ground, under the open sky, out where +the wind blew and the sand seeped in, yet all these were different on +this night. He was in the Painted Desert; Wolf crept close to him; +Mescal lay somewhere under the blue-white stars. + +He awakened and arose before any color of dawn hinted of the day. While +he fed his four-footed companions the sky warmed and lightened. A tinge +of rose gathered in the east. The air was cool and transparent. He tried +to cheer Wolf out of his sad-eyed forlornness, and failed. + +Hare vaulted into the saddle. The day had its possibilities, and while +he had sobered down from his first unthinking exuberance, there was +still a ring in his voice as he called to the dog: + +“On, Wolf, on, old boy!” + +Out of the east burst the sun, and the gray curtain was lifted by shafts +of pink and white and gold, flashing westward long trails of color. + +When they started the actions of the dog showed Hare that Wolf was not +tracking a back-trail, but travelling by instinct. There were draws +which necessitated a search for a crossing, and areas of broken rock +which had to be rounded, and steep flat mesas rising in the path, and +strips of deep sand and canyons impassable for long distances. But the +dog always found a way and always came back to a line with the black +spur that Hare had marked. It still stood in sharp relief, no nearer +than before, receding with every step, an illusive landmark, which Hare +began to distrust. + +Then quite suddenly it vanished in the ragged blue mass of the Ghost +Mountains. Hare had seen them several times, though never so distinctly. +The purple tips, the bold rock-ribs, the shadowed canyons, so sharp and +clear in the morning light--how impossible to believe that these were +only the deceit of the desert mirage! Yet so they were; even for the +Navajos they were spirit-mountains. + +The splintered desert-floor merged into an area of sand. Wolf slowed his +trot, and Silvermane's hoofs sunk deep. Dismounting Hare labored beside +him, and felt the heat steal through his boots and burn the soles of his +feet. Hare plodded onward, stopping once to tie another moccasin on +Wolf's worn paw, this time the left one; and often he pulled the stopper +from the water-bag and cooled his parching lips and throat. The waves of +the sand-dunes were as the waves of the ocean. He did not look backward, +dreading to see what little progress he had made. Ahead were miles on +miles of graceful heaps, swelling mounds, crested ridges, all different, +yet regular and rhythmical, drift on drift, dune on dune, in endless +waves. Wisps of sand were whipped from their summits in white ribbons +and wreaths, and pale clouds of sand shrouded little hollows. The +morning breeze, rising out of the west, approached in a rippling lines +like the crest of an inflowing tide. + +Silvermane snorted, lifted his ears and looked westward toward a yellow +pall which swooped up from the desert. + +“Sand-storm,” said Hare, and calling Wolf he made for the nearest rock +that was large enough to shelter them. The whirling sand-cloud +mushroomed into an enormous desert covering, engulfing the dunes, +obscuring the light. The sunlight failed; the day turned to gloom. Then +an eddying fog of sand and dust enveloped Hare. His last glimpse before +he covered his face with a silk handkerchief was of sheets of sand +streaming past his shelter. The storm came with a low, soft, hissing +roar, like the sound in a sea-shell magnified. Breathing through the +handkerchief Hare avoided inhaling the sand which beat against his face, +but the finer dust particles filtered through and stifled him. At first +he felt that he would suffocate, and he coughed and gasped; but +presently, when the thicker sand-clouds had passed, he managed to get +air enough to breathe. Then he waited patiently while the steady seeping +rustle swept by, and the band of his hat sagged heavier, and the load on +his shoulders had to be continually shaken off, and the weighty trap +round his feet crept upward. When the light, fine touch ceased he +removed the covering from his face to see himself standing nearly to his +knees in sand, and Silvermane's back and the saddle burdened with it. +The storm was moving eastward, a dull red now with the sun faintly +showing through it like a ball of fire. + +“Well, Wolf, old boy, how many storms like that will we have to +weather?” asked Hare, in a cheery tone which he had to force. He knew +these sand-storms were but vagaries of the desert-wind. Before the hour +closed he had to seek the cover of a stone and wait for another to pass. +Then he was caught in the open, with not a shelter in sight. He was +compelled to turn his back to a third storm, the worst of all, and to +bear as best he could the heavy impact of the first blow, and the +succeeding rush and flow of sand. After that his head drooped and he +wearily trudged beside Silvermane, dreading the interminable distance he +must cover before once more gaining hard ground. But he discovered that +it was useless to try to judge distance on the desert. What had appeared +miles at his last look turned out to be only rods. + +It was good to get into the saddle again and face clear air. Far away +the black spur again loomed up, now surrounded by groups of mesas with +sage-slopes tinged with green. That surely meant the end of this long +trail; the faint spots of green lent suggestion of a desert waterhole; +there Mescal must be, hidden in some shady canyon. Hare built his hopes +anew. + +So he pressed on down a plain of bare rock dotted by huge bowlders; and +out upon a level floor of scant sage and greasewood where a few living +creatures, a desert-hawk sailing low, lizards darting into holes, and a +swiftly running ground-bird, emphasized the lack of life in the waste. +He entered a zone of clay-dunes of violet and heliotrope hues; and then +a belt of lava and cactus. Reddish points studded the desert, and here +and there were meagre patches of white grass. Far away myriads of cactus +plants showed like a troop of distorted horsemen. As he went on the +grass failed, and streams of jagged lava flowed downward. Beds of +cinders told of the fury of a volcanic fire. Soon Hare had to dismount +to make moccasins for Wolf's hind feet; and to lead Silvermane carefully +over the cracked lava. For a while there were strips of ground bare of +lava and harboring only an occasional bunch of cactus, but soon every +foot free of the reddish iron bore a projecting mass of fierce spikes +and thorns. The huge barrel-shaped cacti, and thickets of slender dark- +green rods with bayonet points, and broad leaves with yellow spines, +drove Hare and his sore-footed fellow-travellers to the lava. + +Hare thought there must be an end to it some time, yet it seemed as +though he were never to cross that black forbidding inferno. Blistered +by the heat, pierced by the thorns, lame from long toil on the lava, he +was sorely spent when once more he stepped out upon the bare desert. On +pitching camp he made the grievous discovery that the water-bag had +leaked or the water had evaporated, for there was only enough left for +one more day. He ministered to thirsty dog and horse in silence, his +mind revolving the grim fact of his situation. + +His little fire of greasewood threw a wan circle into the surrounding +blackness. Not a sound hinted of life. He longed for even the bark of a +coyote. Silvermane stooped motionless with tired head. Wolf stretched +limply on the sand. Hare rolled into his blanket and stretched out with +slow aching relief. + +He dreamed he was a boy roaming over the green hills of the old farm, +wading through dewy clover-fields, and fishing in the Connecticut River. +It was the long vacationtime, an endless freedom. Then he was at the +swimming-hole, and playmates tied his clothes in knots, and with shouts +of glee ran up the bank leaving him there to shiver. + +When he awakened the blazing globe of the sun had arisen over the +eastern horizon, and the red of the desert swathed all the reach of +valley. + +Hare pondered whether he should use his water at once or dole it out. +That ball of fire in the sky, a glazed circle, like iron at white heat, +decided for him. The sun would be hot and would evaporate such water as +leakage did not claim, and so he shared alike with Wolf, and gave the +rest to Silvermane. + +For an hour the mocking lilac mountains hung in the air and then paled +in the intense light. The day was soundless and windless, and the heat- +waves rose from the desert like smoke. For Hare the realities were the +baked clay flats, where Silvermane broke through at every step; the beds +of alkali, which sent aloft clouds of powdered dust; the deep gullies +full of round bowlders; thickets of mesquite and prickly thorn which +tore at his legs; the weary detour to head the canyons; the climb to get +between two bridging mesas; and always the haunting presence of the sad- +eyed dog. His unrealities were the shimmering sheets of water in every +low place; the baseless mountains floating in the air; the green slopes +rising close at hand; beautiful buttes of dark blue riding the open +sand, like monstrous barks at sea; the changing outlines of desert +shapes in pink haze and veils of purple and white lustre--all illusions, +all mysterious tricks of the mirage. + +In the heat of midday Hare yielded to its influence and reined in his +horse under a slate-bank where there was shade. His face was swollen and +peeling, and his lips had begun to dry and crack and taste of alkali. +Then Wolf pattered on; Silvermane kept at his heels; Hare dozed in the +saddle. His eyes burned in their sockets from the glare, and it was a +relief to shut out the barren reaches. So the afternoon waned. + +Silvermane stumbled, jolting Hare out of his stupid lethargy. Before him +spread a great field of bowlders with not a slope or a ridge or a mesa +or an escarpment. Not even a tip of a spur rose in the background. He +rubbed his sore eyes. Was this another illusion? + +When Silvermane started onward Hare thought of the Navajos' custom to +trust horse and dog in such an emergency. They were desert-bred; beyond +human understanding were their sight and scent. He was at the mercy now +of Wolf's instinct and Silvermane's endurance. Resignation brought him a +certain calmness of soul, cold as the touch of an icy hand on fevered +cheek. He remembered the desert secret in Mescal's eyes; he was about to +solve it. He remembered August Naab's words: “It's a man's deed!” If so, +he had achieved the spirit of it, if not the letter. He remembered +Eschtah's tribute to the wilderness of painted wastes: “There is the +grave of the Navajo, and no one knows the trail to the place of his +sleep!” He remembered the something evermore about to be, the unknown +always subtly calling; now it was revealed in the stone-fettering grip +of the desert. It had opened wide to him, bright with its face of +danger, beautiful with its painted windows, inscrutable with its +alluring call. Bidding him enter, it had closed behind him; now he +looked upon it in its iron order, its strange ruins racked by fire, its +inevitable remorselessness. + + + + + + +XV. DESERT NIGHT + +THE gray stallion, finding the rein loose on his neck, trotted forward +and overtook the dog, and thereafter followed at his heels. With the +setting of the sun a slight breeze stirred, and freshened as twilight +fell, rolling away the sultry atmosphere. Then the black desert night +mantled the plain. + +For a while this blackness soothed the pain of Hare's sun-blinded eyes. +It was a relief to have the unattainable horizon line blotted out. But +by-and-by the opaque gloom brought home to him, as the day had never +done, the reality of his solitude. He was alone in this immense place of +barrenness, and his dumb companions were the world to him. Wolf pattered +onward, a silent guide; and Silvermane followed, never lagging, sure- +footed in the dark, faithful to his master. All the love Hare had borne +the horse was as nothing to that which came to him on this desert night. +In and out, round and round, ever winding, ever zigzagging, Silvermane +hung close to Wolf, and the sandy lanes between the bowlders gave forth +no sound. Dog and horse, free to choose their trail, trotted onward +miles and miles into the night. + +A pale light in the east turned to a glow, then to gold, and the round +disc of the moon silhouetted the black bowlders on the horizon. It +cleared the dotted line and rose, an oval orange-hued strange moon, not +mellow nor silvery nor gloriously brilliant as Hare had known it in the +past, but a vast dead-gold melancholy orb, rising sadly over the desert. +To Hare it was the crowning reminder of lifelessness; it fitted this +world of dull gleaming stones. + +Silvermane went lame and slackened his trot, causing Hare to rein in and +dismount. He lifted the right forefoot, the one the horse had favored, +and found a stone imbedded tightly in the cloven hoof. He pried it out +with his knife and mounted again. Wolf shone faintly far ahead, and +presently he uttered a mournful cry which sent a chill to the rider's +heart. The silence had been oppressive before; now it was terrible. It +was not a silence of life. It had been broken suddenly by Wolf's howl, +and had closed sharply after it, without echo; it was a silence of +death. + +Hare took care not to fall behind Wolf again, he had no wish to hear +that cry repeated. The dog moved onward with silent feet; the horse +wound after him with hoofs padded in the sand; the moon lifted and the +desert gleamed; the bowlders grew larger and the lanes wider. So the +night wore on, and Hare's eyelids grew heavy, and his whole weary body +cried out for rest and forgetfulness. He nodded until he swayed in the +saddle; then righted himself, only to doze again. The east gave birth to +the morning star. The whitening sky was the harbinger of day. Hare could +not bring himself to face the light and heat, and he stopped at a wind- +worn cave under a shelving rock. He was asleep when he rolled out on the +sand-strewn floor. Once he awoke and it was still day, for his eyes +quickly shut upon the glare. He lay sweltering till once more slumber +claimed him. The dog awakened him, with cold nose and low whine. Another +twilight had fallen. Hare crawled out, stiff and sore, hungry and +parching with thirst. He made an attempt to eat, but it was a failure. +There was a dry burning in his throat, a dizzy feeling in his brain, and +there were red flashes before his eyes. Wolf refused meat, and +Silvermane turned from the grain, and lowered his head to munch a few +blades of desert grass. + +Then the journey began, and the night fell black. A cool wind blew from +the west, the white stars blinked, the weird moon rose with its ghastly +glow. Huge bowlders rose before him in grotesque shapes, tombs and +pillars and statues of Nature's dead, carved by wind and sand. But some +had life in Hare's disordered fancy. They loomed and towered over him, +and stalked abroad and peered at him with deep-set eyes. + +Hare fought with all his force against this mood of gloom. Wolf was not +a phantom; he trotted forward with unerring instinct; and he would find +water, and that meant life. Silvermane, desert-steeled, would travel to +the furthermost corner of this hell of sand-swept stone. Hare tried to +collect all his spirit, all his energies, but the battle seemed to be +going against him. All about him was silence, breathless silence, +insupportable silence of ages. Desert spectres danced in the darkness. +The worn-out moon gleamed golden over the worn-out waste. Desolation +lurked under the sable shadows. + +Hare rode on into the night, tumbled from his saddle in the gray of dawn +to sleep, and stumbled in the twilight to his drooping horse. His eyes +were blind now to the desert shapes, his brain burned and his tongue +filled his mouth. Silvermane trod ever upon Wolf's heels; he had come +into the kingdom of his desert-strength; he lifted his drooping head and +lengthened his stride; weariness had gone and he snorted his welcome to +something on the wind. Then he passed the limping dog and led the way. + +Hare held to the pommel and bent dizzily forward in the saddle. +Silvermane was going down, step by step, with metallic clicks upon +flinty rock. Whether he went down or up was all the same to Hare; he +held on with closed eyes and whispered to himself. Down and down, step +by step, cracking the stones with iron-shod hoofs, the gray stallion +worked his perilous way, sure-footed as a mountain-sheep. Then he +stopped with a great slow heave and bent his head. + +The black bulge of a canyon rim blurred in Hare's hot eyes. A trickling +sound penetrated his tired brain. His ears had grown like his eyes-- +false. Only another delusion! As he had been tortured with the sight of +lake and stream now he was to be tortured with the sound of running +water. Yet he listened, for it was sweet even in its mockery. What a +clear musical tinkle, like silver bells tossing on the wind! He +listened. Soft murmuring flow, babble and gurgle, little hollow fall and +splash! + +Suddenly Silvermane, lifting his head, broke the silence of the canyon +with a great sigh of content. It pierced the dull fantasy of Hare's +mind; it burst the gloomy spell. The sigh and the snort which followed +were Silvermane's triumphant signals when he had drunk his fill. + +Hare fell from the saddle. The gray dog lay stretched low in the +darkness. Hare crawled beside him and reached out with his hot hands. +Smooth cool marble rock, growing slippery, then wet, led into running +water. He slid forward on his face and wonderful cold thrills quivered +over his burning skin. He drank and drank until he could drink no more. +Then he lay back upon the rock; the madness of his brain went out with +the light of the stars, and he slept. + +When he awoke red canyon walls leaned far above him to a gap spanned by +blue sky. A song of rushing water murmured near his ears. He looked +down; a spring gushed from a crack in the wall; Silvermane cropped green +bushes, and Wolf sat on his haunches waiting, but no longer with sad +eyes and strange mien. Hare raised himself, looking again and again, and +slowly gathered his wits. The crimson blur had gone from his eyes and +the burning from his skin, and the painful swelling from his tongue. + +He drank long and deeply, and rising with clearing thoughts and thankful +heart, he kissed Wolf's white head, and laid his arms round Silvermane's +neck. He fed them, and ate himself, not without difficulty, for his lips +were puffed and his tongue felt like a piece of rope. When he had eaten, +his strength came back. + +At a word Wolf, with a wag of his tail, splashed into the gravelly +stream bed. Hare followed on foot, leading Silvermane. There were little +beds of pebbles and beaches of sand and short steps down which the water +babbled. The canyon was narrow and tortuous; Hare could not see ahead or +below, for the projecting red cliffs, growing higher as he descended, +walled out the view. The blue stream of sky above grew bluer and the +light and shade less bright. For an hour he went down steadily without a +check, and the farther down the rougher grew the way. Bowlders wedged in +narrow places made foaming waterfalls. Silvermane clicked down +confidently. + +The slender stream of water, swelled by seeping springs and little +rills, gained the dignity of a brook; it began to dash merrily and +hurriedly downward. The depth of the falls, the height of cliffs, and +the size of the bowlders increased in the descent. Wolf splashed on +unmindful; there was a new spirit in his movements; and when he looked +back for his laboring companions there was friendly protest in his eyes. +Silvermane's mien plainly showed that where a dog could go he could +follow. Silvermane's blood was heated; the desert was an old story to +him; it had only tired him and parched his throat; this canyon of +downward steps and falls, with ever-deepening drops, was new to him, and +roused his mettle; and from his long training in the wilds he had gained +a marvellous sure-footedness. + +The canyon narrowed as it deepened; the jutting walls leaned together, +shutting out the light; the sky above was now a ribbon of blue, only to +be seen when Hare threw back his head and stared straight up. + +“It'll be easier climbing up, Silvermane,” he panted--“if we ever get +the chance.” + +The sand and gravel and shale had disappeared; all was bare clean-washed +rock. In many places the brook failed as a trail, for it leaped down in +white sheets over mossy cliffs. Hare faced these walls in despair. But +Wolf led on over the ledges and Silvermane followed, nothing daunted. At +last Hare shrank back from a hole which defied him utterly. Even Wolf +hesitated. The canyon was barely twenty feet wide; the floor ended in a +precipice; the stream leaped out and fell into a dark cleft from which +no sound arose. On the right there was a shelf of rock; it was scarce +half a foot broad at the narrowest and then apparently vanished +altogether. Hare stared helplessly up at the slanting shut-in walls. + +While he hesitated Wolf pattered out upon the ledge and Silvermane +stamped restlessly. With a desperate fear of losing his beloved horse +Hare let go the bridle and stepped upon the ledge. He walked rapidly, +for a slow step meant uncertainty and a false one meant death. He heard +the sharp ring of Silvermane's shoes, and he listened in agonized +suspense for the slip, the snort, the crash that he feared must come. +But it did not come. Seeing nothing except the narrow ledge, yet feeling +the blue abyss beneath him, he bent all his mind to his task, and +finally walked out into lighter space upon level rock. To his infinite +relief Silvermane appeared rounding a corner out of the dark passage, +and was soon beside him. + +Hare cried aloud in welcome. + +The canyon widened; there was a clear demarcation where the red walls +gave place to yellow; the brook showed no outlet from its subterranean +channel. Sheer exhaustion made Hare almost forget his mission; the +strength of his resolve had gone into mechanical toil; he kept on, +conscious only of the smart of bruised hands and feet and the ache of +laboring lungs. + +Time went on and the sun hung in the midst of the broadening belt of +blue sky. A long slant of yellow slope led down to a sage-covered level, +which Hare crossed, pleased to see blooming cacti and wondering at their +slender lofty green stems shining with gold flowers. He descended into a +ravine which became precipitous. Here he made only slow advance. At the +bottom he found himself in a wonderful lane with an almost level floor; +here flowed a shallow stream bordered by green willows. Wolf took the +direction of the flowing water. Hare's thoughts were all of Mescal, and +his hopes began to mount, his heart to beat high. + +He gazed ahead with straining eyes. Presently there was not a break in +the walls. A drowsy hum of falling water came to Hare, strange reminder +of the oasis, the dull roar of the Colorado, and of Mescal. + +His flagging energies leaped into life with the canyon suddenly opening +to bright light and blue sky and beautiful valley, white and gold in +blossom, green with grass and cottonwood. On a flower-scented wind +rushed that muffled roar again, like distant thunder. + +Wolf dashed into the cottonwoods. Silvermane whistled with satisfaction +and reached for the long grass. + +For Hare the light held something more than beauty, the breeze something +more than sweet scent of water and blossom. Both were charged with +meaning--with suspense. + +Wolf appeared in the open leaping upon a slender brown-garbed form. + +“Mescal!” cried Hare. + +With a cry she ran to him, her arms outstretched, her hair flying in the +wind, her dark eyes wild with joy. + + + + + + +XVI. THUNDER RIVER + +FOR an instant Hare's brain reeled, and Mescal's broken murmurings were +meaningless. Then his faculties grew steady and acute; he held the girl +as if he intended never to let her go. Mescal clung to him with a +wildness that gave him anxiety for her reason; there was something +almost fierce in the tension of her arms, in the blind groping for his +face. + +“Mescal! It's Jack, safe and well,” he said. “Let me look at you.” + +At the sound of his voice all her rigid strength changed to a yielding +weakness; she leaned back supported by his arms and looked at him. Hare +trembled before the dusky level glance he remembered so well, and as +tears began to flow he drew her head to his shoulder. He had forgotten +to prepare himself for a different Mescal. Despite the quivering smile +of happiness, her eyes were strained with pain. The oval contour, the +rich bloom of her face had gone; beauty was there still, but it was the +ghost of the old beauty. + +“Jack--is it--really you?” she asked. + +He answered with a kiss. + +She slipped out of his arms breathless and scarlet. “Tell me all--” + +“There's much to tell, but not before you kiss me. It has been more than +a year.” + +“Only a year! Have I been gone only a year?” + +“Yes, a year. But it's past now. Kiss me, Mescal. One kiss will pay for +that long year, though it broke my heart.” + +Shyly she raised her hands to his shoulders and put her lips to his. +“Yes, you've found me, Jack, thank God! just in time!” + +“Mescal! What's wrong? Aren't you well?” + +“Pretty well. But if you had not come soon I should have starved.” + +“Starved? Let me get my saddle-bags--I have bread and meat.” + +“Wait. I'm not so hungry now. I mean very soon I should not have had any +food at all.” + +“But your peon--the dumb Indian? Surely he could find something to eat. +What of him? Where is he?” + +“My peon is dead. He has been dead for months, I don't know how many.” + +“Dead! What was the matter with him?” + +“I never knew. I found him dead one morning and I buried him in the +sand.” + +Mescal led Hare under the cottonwoods and pointed to the Indian's grave, +now green with grass. Farther on in a circle of trees stood a little +hogan skilfully constructed out of brush; the edge of a red blanket +peeped from the door; a burnt-out fire smoked on a stone fireplace, and +blackened earthen vessels lay near. The white seeds of the cottonwoods +were flying light as feathers; plum-trees were pink in blossom; there +were vines twining all about; through the openings in the foliage shone +the blue of sky and red of cliff. Patches of blossoming Bowers were here +and there lit to brilliance by golden shafts of sunlight. The twitter of +birds and hum of bees were almost drowned in the soft roar of water. + +“Is that the Colorado I hear?” asked Hare. + +“No, that's Thunder River. The Colorado is farther down in the Grand +Canyon.” + +“Farther down! Mescal, I must have come a mile from the rim. Where are +we?” + +“We are almost at the Colorado, and directly under the head of Coconina. +We can see the mountain from the break in the valley below.” + +“Come sit by me here under this tree. Tell me--how did you ever get +here?” + +Then Mescal told him how the peon had led her on a long trail from +Bitter Seeps, how they had camped at desert waterholes, and on the +fourth day descended to Thunder River. + +“I was quite happy at first. It's always summer down here. There were +rabbits, birds, beaver, and fruit--we had enough to eat. I explored the +valley with Wolf or rode Noddle up and down the canyon. Then my peon +died, and I had to shift for myself. There came a time when the beaver +left the valley, and Wolf and I had to make a rabbit serve for days. I +knew then I'd have to get across the desert to the Navajos or starve in +the canyon. I hesitated about climbing out into the desert, for I wasn't +sure of the trail to the waterholes. Noddle wandered off up the canyon +and never came back. After he was gone and I knew I couldn't get out I +grew homesick. The days weren't so bad because I was always hunting for +something to eat, but the nights were lonely. I couldn't sleep. I lay +awake listening to the river, and at last I could hear whispering and +singing and music, and strange sounds, and low thunder, always low +thunder. I wasn't really frightened, only lonely, and the canyon was so +black and full of mutterings. Sometimes I'd dream I was back on the +plateau with you, Jack, and Bolly and the sheep, and when I'd awake in +the loneliness I'd cry right out--” + +“Mescal, I heard those cries,” said Hare. + +“It was strange--the way I felt. I believe if I'd never known and--and +loved you, Jack, I'd have forgotten home. After I'd been here a while, I +seemed to be drifting, drifting. It was as if I had lived in the canyon +long before, and was remembering. The feeling was strong, but always +thoughts of you, and of the big world, brought me back to the present +with its loneliness and fear of starvation. Then I wanted you, and I'd +cry out. I knew I must send Wolf home. How hard it was to make him go! +But at last he trotted off, looking backward, and I--waited and waited.” + +She leaned against him. The hand which had plucked at his sleeve dropped +to his fingers and clung there. Hare knew how her story had slighted the +perils and privations of that long year. She had grown lonely in the +canyon darkness; she had sent Wolf away and had waited--all was said in +that. But more than any speech, the look of her, and the story told in +the thin brown hands touched his heart. Not for an instant since his +arrival had she altogether let loose of his fingers, or coat, or arm. +She had lived so long alone in this weird world of silence and moving +shadows and murmuring water, that she needed to feel the substance of +her hopes, to assure herself of the reality of the man she loved. + +“My mustang--Bolly--tell me of her,” said Mescal. + +“Bolly's fine. Sleek and fat and lazy! She's been in the fields ever +since you left. Not a bridle on her. Many times have I seen her poke her +black muzzle over the fence and look down the lane. She'd never forget +you, Mescal.” + +“Oh! how I want to see her! Tell me--everything.” + +“Wait a little. Let me fetch Silvermane and we'll make a fire and eat. +Then--” + +“Tell me now.” + +“Well, Mescal, it's soon told.” Then came the story of events growing +out of her flight. When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal +rose with heaving bosom and blazing eyes. + +“It was nothing--I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We saw +no more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's wife +died.” + +“Oh, I am sorry--sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the cause +of it all! But I couldn't stay--I couldn't marry Snap.” + +“Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you had +married him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer. +But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snap +would have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's a +rustler, if not worse.” + +“Then those men think Snap killed you?” + +“Yes.” + +“What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?” + +“Somebody will be surprised,” replied Hare, with a laugh. + +“Jack, it's no laughing matter.” She fastened her hands in the lapels of +his coat and her eyes grew sad. “You can never hang up your gun again.” + +“No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's. Mescal, +you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run.” + +“I haven't forgotten. He can run, but he can't beat Bolly.” She said +this with a hint of her old spirit. “Jack--you want to take me back +home?” + +“Of course. What did you expect when you sent Wolf?” + +“I didn't expect. I just wanted to see you, or somebody, and I thought +of the Navajos. Couldn't I live with them? Why can't we stay here or in +a canyon across the Colorado where there's plenty of game?” + +“I'm going to take you home and Father Naab shall marry you--to--to me.” + +Startled, Mescal fell back upon his shoulder and did not stir nor speak +for a long time. “Did--did you tell him?” + +“Yes.” + +“What did he say? Was he angry? Tell me.” + +“He was kind and good as he always is. He said if I found you, then the +issue would be between Snap and me, as man to man. You are still pledged +to Snap in the Mormon Church and that can't be changed. I don't suppose +even if he's outlawed that it could be changed.” + +“Snap will not let any grass grow in the trails to the oasis,” said +Mescal. “Once he finds I've come back to life he'll have me. You don't +know him, Jack. I'm afraid to go home.” + +“My dear, there's no other place for us to go. We can't live the life of +Indians.” + +“But Jack, think of me watching you ride out from home! Think of me +always looking for Snap! I couldn't endure it. I've grown weak in this +year of absence.” + +“Mescal, look at me.” His voice rang as he held her face to face. “We +must decide everything. Now--say you love me!” + +“Yes--yes.” + +“Say it.” + +“I--love you--Jack.” + +“Say you'll marry me!” + +“I will marry you.” + +“Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. You are +mine and I'll keep you.” He held her tightly with strong arms; his face +paled, his eyes darkened. “I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shall try +to keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now. Your +happiness--perhaps your life--depends on me. That makes a difference. +Understand!” + +Silvermane walked into the glade with a saddle-girth so tight that his +master unbuckled it only by dint of repeated effort. Evidently the rich +grass of Thunder River Canyon appealed strongly to the desert stallion. + +“Here, Silver, how do you expect to carry us out if you eat and drink +like that?” Hare removed the saddle and tethered the gray to one of the +cottonwoods. Wolf came trotting into camp proudly carrying a rabbit. + +“Mescal, can we get across the Colorado and find a way up over +Coconina?” asked Hare. + +“Yes, I'm sure we can. My peon never made a mistake about directions. +There's no trail, but Navajos have crossed the river at this season, and +worked up a canyon.” + +The shadows had gathered under the cliffs, and the rosy light high up on +the ramparts had chilled and waned when Hare and Mescal sat down to +their meal. Wolf lay close to the girl and begged for morsels. Then in +the twilight they sat together content to be silent, listening to the +low thunder of the river. Long after Mescal had retired into her hogan +Hare lay awake before her door with his head in his saddle and listened +to the low roll, the dull burr, the dreamy hum of the tumbling waters. +The place was like the oasis, only infinitely more hidden under the +cliffs. A few stars twinkled out of the dark blue, and one hung, +beaconlike, on the crest of a noble crag. There were times when he +imagined the valley was as silent as the desert night, and other times +when he imagined he heard the thundering roll of avalanches and the +tramp of armies. Then the voices of Mescal's solitude spoke to him-- +glorious laughter and low sad wails of woe, sweet songs and whispers and +murmurs. His last waking thoughts were of the haunting sound of Thunder +River, and that he had come to bear Mescal away from its loneliness. + +He bestirred himself at the first glimpse of day, and when the gray +mists had lifted to wreathe the crags it was light enough to begin the +journey. Mescal shed tears at the grave of the faithful peon. “He loved +this canyon,” she said, softly. Hare lifted her upon Silvermane. He +walked beside the horse and Wolf trotted on before. They travelled +awhile under the flowering cottonwoods on a trail bordered with green +tufts of grass and great star-shaped lilies. The river was still hidden, +but it filled the grove with its soft thunder. Gradually the trees +thinned out, hard stony ground encroached upon the sand, bowlders +appeared in the way; and presently, when Silvermane stepped out of the +shade of the cottonwoods, Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its +ragged vent. + +“Look back!” said Mescal. + +Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two white +streams which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous +cascade. Step by step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a +broken, foaming raceway, and at the lower end of the valley it took its +final leap into a blue abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, +hidden underground. + +The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted long +after the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in the +close air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stones +cracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollow +sound and echo. Silvermane clattered down the easy trail at a gait which +urged Hare now and then from walk to run. Soon the gully opened out upon +a plateau through the centre of which, in a black gulf, wound the red +Colorado, sullen-voiced, booming, never silent nor restful. Here were +distances by which Hare could begin to comprehend the immensity of the +canyon, and he felt lost among the great terraces leading up to mesas +that dwarfed the Echo Cliffs. All was bare rock of many hues burning +under the sun. + +“Jack, this is mescal,” said the girl, pointing to some towering plants. + +All over the sunny slopes cacti lifted slender shafts, unfolding in +spiral leaves as they shot upward and bursting at the top into plumes of +yellow flowers. The blossoming stalks waved in the wind, and black bees +circled round them. + +“Mescal, I've always wanted to see the Flower of the Desert from which +you're named. It's beautiful.” + +Hare broke a dead stalk of the cactus and was put to instant flight by a +stream of bees pouring with angry buzz from the hollow centre. Two big +fellows were so persistent that he had to beat them off with his hat. + +“You shouldn't despoil their homes,” said Mescal, with a peal of +laughter. + +“I'll break another stalk and get stung, if you'll laugh again,” replied +Hare. + +They traversed the remaining slope of the plateau, and entering the head +of a ravine, descended a steep cleft of flinty rock, rock so hard that +Silvermane's iron hoofs not so much as scratched it. Then reaching a +level, they passed out to rounded sand and the river. + +“It's a little high,” said Hare dubiously. “Mescal, I don't like the +looks of those rapids.” + +Only a few hundred rods of the river could be seen. In front of Hare the +current was swift but not broken. Above, where the canyon turned, the +river sheered out with a majestic roll and falling in a wide smooth +curve suddenly narrowed into a leaping crest of reddish waves. Below +Hare was a smaller rapid where the broken water turned toward the nearer +side of the river, but with an accompaniment of twisting swirls and +vicious waves. + +“I guess we'd better risk it,” said Hare, grimly recalling the hot rock, +the sand, and lava of the desert. + +“It's safe, if Silvermane is a good swimmer,” replied Mescal. “We can +take the river above and cut across so the current will help.” + +“Silvermane loves the water. He'll make this crossing easily. But he +can't carry us both, and it's impossible to make two trips. I'll have to +swim.” + +Without wasting more words and time over a task which would only grow +more formidable with every look and thought, Hare led Silvermane up the +sand-bar to its limit. He removed his coat and strapped it behind the +saddle; his belt and revolver and boots he hung over the pommel. + +“How about Wolf? I'd forgotten him.” + +“Never fear for him! He'll stick close to me.” + +“Now, Mescal, there's the point we want to make, that bar; see it?” + +“Surely we can land above that.” + +“I'll be satisfied if we get even there. You guide him for it. And, +Mescal, here's my gun. Try to keep it from getting wet. Balance it on +the pommel--so. Come, Silver; come, Wolf.” + +“Keep up-stream,” called Mescal as Hare plunged in. “Don't drift below +us.” + +In two steps Silvermane went in to his saddle, and he rolled with a +splash and a snort, sinking Mescal to her hips. His nose level with the +water, mane and tail floating, he swam powerfully with the current. + +For Hare the water was just cold enough to be delightful after the long +hot descent, but its quality was strange. Keeping up-stream of the horse +and even with Mescal, he swam with long regular strokes for perhaps one- +quarter of the distance. But when they reached the swirling eddies he +found that he was tiring. The water was thick and heavy; it compressed +his lungs and dragged at his feet. He whirled round and round in the +eddies and saw Silvermane doing the same. Only by main force could he +breast his way out of these whirlpools. When a wave slapped his face he +tasted sand, and then he knew what the strange feeling meant. There was +sand here as on the desert. Even in the depths of the canyon he could +not escape it. As the current grew rougher he began to feel that he +could scarcely spread his arms in the wide stroke. Changing the stroke +he discovered that he could not keep up with Silvermane, and he changed +back again. Gradually his feet sank lower and lower, the water pressed +tighter round him, his arms seemed to grow useless. Then he remembered a +saying of August Naab that the Navajos did not attempt to swim the river +when it was in flood and full of sand. He ceased to struggle, and +drifting with the current, soon was close to Silvermane, and grasped a +saddle strap. + +“Not there!” called Mescal. “He might strike you. Hang to his tail!” + +Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly. The +stallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped at +Mescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down out +of line with the black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescal +lifted the rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright. +The roar of the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died +in the splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal +turned to him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she +shouted: + +“Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids. +Hang on!” + +In the swelling din Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As he +held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane +dipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing +water of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond +was a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal +crouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one white +flash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went out +of sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into the +backlash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost tore +his arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane's +tail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him from +wave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stinging +blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention of +waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he +could breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally, +his feet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his +eyes of the sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river on +Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar. Hare staggered up +and fell on the sand. + +“Jack, are you all right?” inquired Mescal. + +“All right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand. +How about you?” + +“I don't think I ever was any wetter,” replied Mescal, laughing. “It was +hard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me. +I was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep. +Silvermane is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and was +waiting for us when we landed.” + +Hare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding +himself little the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the +water from the long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a +tint of color showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short +skirt clung tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture +and appeared so little affected by the peril they had just passed +through that Hare, yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, +kissed the pink cheeks till they flamed. + +“All wet,” said he, “you and I, clothes, food, guns--everything.” + +“It's hot and we'll soon dry,” returned Mescal. “Here's the canyon and +creek we must follow up to Coconina. My peon mapped them in the sand for +me one day. It'll probably be a long climb.” + +Hare poured the water out of his boots, pulled them on, and helping +Mescal to mount Silvermane, he took the bridle over his arm and led the +way into a black-mouthed canyon, through which flowed a stream of clear +water. Wolf splashed and pattered along beside him. Beyond the marble +rock this canyon opened out to great breadth and wonderful walls. Hare +had eyes only for the gravelly bars and shallow levels of the creek; +intent on finding the easy going for his horse he strode on and on +thoughtless of time. Nor did he talk to Mescal, for the work was hard, +and he needed his breath. Splashing the water, hammering the stones, +Silvermane ever kept his nose at Hare's elbow. They climbed little +ridges, making short cuts from point to point, they threaded miles of +narrow winding creek floor, and passed under ferny cliffs and over +grassy banks and through thickets of yellow willow. As they wound along +the course of the creek, always up and up, the great walls imperceptibly +lowered their rims. The warm sun soared to the zenith. Jumble of +bowlders, stretches of white gravel, ridges of sage, blocks of granite, +thickets of manzanita, long yellow slopes, crumbling crags, clumps of +cedar and lines of pinon--all were passed in the persistent plodding +climb. The canon grew narrower toward its source; the creek lost its +volume; patches of snow gleamed in sheltered places. At last the yellow- +streaked walls edged out upon a grassy hollow and the great dark pines +of Coconina shadowed the snow. + +“We're up,” panted Hare. “What a climb! Five hours! One more day--then +home!” + +Silvermane's ears shot up and Wolf barked. Two gray deer loped out of a +thicket and turned inquisitively. Reaching for his rifle Hare threw back +the lever, but the action clogged, it rasped with the sound of crunching +sand, and the cartridge could not be pressed into the chamber or +ejected. He fumbled about the breach of the gun and his brow clouded. + +“Sand! Out of commission!” he exclaimed. “Mescal, I don't like that.” + +“Use your Colt,” suggested Mescal. + +The distance was too great. Hare missed, and the deer bounded away into +the forest. + +Hare built a fire under a sheltering pine where no snow covered the soft +mat of needles, and while Mescal dried the blankets and roasted the last +portion of meat he made a wind-break of spruce boughs. When they had +eaten, not forgetting to give Wolf a portion, Hare fed Silvermane the +last few handfuls of grain, and tied him with a long halter on the +grassy bank. The daylight failed and darkness came on apace. The old +familiar roar of the wind in the pines was disturbing; it might mean +only the lull and crash of the breaking night-gusts, and it might mean +the north wind, storm, and snow. It whooped down the hollow, scattering +the few scrub-oak leaves; it whirled the red embers of the fire away +into the dark to sputter in the snow, and blew the burning logs into a +white glow. Mescal slept in the shelter of the spruce boughs with Wolf +snug and warm beside her. Hare stretched his tired limbs in the heat of +the blaze. + +When he awakened the fire was low and he was numb with cold. He took +care to put on logs enough to last until morning; then he lay down once +more, but did not sleep. The dawn came with a gray shade in the forest; +it was a cloud, and it rolled over him soft, tangible, moist, and cool, +and passed away under the pines. With its vanishing the dawn lightened. +“Mescal, if we're on the spur of Coconina, it's only ten miles or so to +Silver Cup,” said Hare, as he saddled Silvermane. “Mount now and we'll +go up out of the hollow and get our bearings.” + +While ascending the last step to the rim Hare revolved in his mind the +probabilities of marking a straight course to Silver Cup. + +“Oh! Jack!” exclaimed Mescal, suddenly. “Vermillion Cliffs and home!” + +“I've travelled in a circle!” replied Hare. + +Mescal was enraptured at the scene. Vermillion Cliffs shone red as a +rose. The split in the wall marking the oasis defined its outlines +sharply against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight. Hare +knew he stood on the highest point of Coconina overhanging the Grand +Canyon and the Painted Desert, thousands of feet below. He noted the +wondrous abyss sleeping in blue mist at his feet, while he gazed across +to the desert awakening in the first red rays of the rising sun. + +“Mescal, your Thunder River Canyon is only one little crack in the +rocks. It is lost in this chasm,” said Hare. + +“It's lost, surely. I can't even see the tip of the peak that stood so +high over the valley.” + +Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the Vermillion +Cliffs, and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculating +his bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow and +the soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermane +often sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they made +better time, for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave +way to the brown dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of +Mescal, and put the stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding +they struck a bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to +the spring. In another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, +and saw the familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of +gray sage patches down through the pines. + +“I smell smoke,” said Hare. + +“The boys must be at the spring,” rejoined Mescal. + +“Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip +down through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home +side of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it.” + +With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a +diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached +the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turned +toward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringe +of cedars. + +“Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley,” he said, looking at +her significantly. + +“They can't all be ours, that's sure,” she replied. “What do you think?” + +“Holderness!” With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on, +cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breaking +brush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so worked +his way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress was +checked by the bulging wall of rock. + +“Only cattle in the valley, no horses,” he said. “I've a good chance to +cut across this curve and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up +and see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't +believe Dave and the boys are there.” + +He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed +the gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He +felt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks. + +“Jack, look at that brand,” said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked +steer. “There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a +new brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!” + +“Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil to +brand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added the +bar, making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive a +child.” + +They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniff +suspiciously at the wind. + +“Look!” whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. “Look! +A new corral!” + +Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked through +a network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther up +were piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a new +cabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermane +off the trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passed +the old pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be brought +suddenly to a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointing +to the left, and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heard +the stamping of hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fully +determined the direction from which the sound came three horses and a +man stepped from the shade into a sunlit space. + +As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick +cedar; and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he +chose to take it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare +felt Mescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure +her. Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves +leading the horses--a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man--Dene! The +blood beat hotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his +Colt. It seemed a fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He +was whistling; he had two halters in one hand and with the other he led +his bay horse by the mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was +unarmed; on the horses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare +dropped his Colt back into its holster. + +Dene sauntered on, whistling “Dixie.” When he reached the trail, instead +of crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down. + +Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane +a stinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash of +brush and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. But +the outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It +was not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting +eyes was the terror of the supernatural. + +The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning +out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then +rise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the +cabin. + + + + + + +XVII. THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + +“JACK! the saddle's slipping!” cried Mescal, clinging closer to him. +“What luck!” Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on +the bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the +sawing bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: “Whoa there, Silver! +Whoa--slow now--whoa--easy!” and finally halted him. Hare swung down, +and as he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground. + +“Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried +out.” Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that +he found in a saddle-bag. + +“Listen! Hear the yells! Oh! hurry!” cried Mescal. + +“I've never ridden bareback. Suppose you go ahead with Silver, and I'll +hide in the cedars till dark, then walk home!” + +“No--No. There's time, but hurry.” + +“It's got to be strong,” muttered Hare, holding the strap over his knee +and pulling the laced knot with all his strength, “for we'll have to +ride some. If it comes loose--Good-bye!” + +Silvermane's broad chest muscles rippled and he stamped restlessly. The +dog whined and looked back. Mescal had the blanket smooth on the gray +when Hare threw the saddle over him. The yells had ceased, but +clattering hoofs on the stony trail were a greater menace. While Hare's +brown hands worked swiftly over buckle and strap Mescal climbed to a +seat behind the saddle. + +“Get into the saddle,” said Hare, leaping astride and pressing forward +over the pommel. “Slip down--there! and hold to me. Go! Silver!” + +The rapid pounding of the stallion's hoofs drowned the clatter coming up +the trail. A backward glance relieved Hare, for dust-clouds some few +hundred yards in the rear showed the position of the pursuing horsemen. +He held in Silvermane to a steady gallop. The trail was up-hill, and +steep enough to wind even a desert racer, if put to his limit. + +“Look back!” cried Mescal. “Can you see them? Is Snap with them?” + +“I can't see for trees,” replied Hare, over his shoulder. “There's dust- +-we're far in the lead--never fear, Mescal. The lead's all we want.” + +Cedars grew thickly all the way up the steeper part of the divide, and +ended abruptly at a pathway of stone, where the ascent became gradual. +When Silvermane struck out of the grove upon this slope Hare kept +turning keen glances rearward. The dust cloud rolled to the edge of the +cedars, and out of it trooped half-a-dozen horsemen who began to shoot +as soon as they had reached the open. Bullets zipped along the red +stone, cutting little puffs of red dust, and sung through the air. + +“Good God!” cried Hare. “They're firing on us! They'd shoot a woman!” + +“Has it taken you so long to learn that?” + +Hare slashed his steed with the switch. But Silvermane needed no goad or +spur; he had been shot at before, and the whistle of one bullet was +sufficient to stretch his gallop into a run. Then distance between him +and his pursuers grew wider and wider and soon he was out of range. The +yells of the rustlers seemed at first to come from baffled rage, but +Mescal's startled cry showed their meaning. Other horsemen appeared +ahead and to the right of him, tearing down the ridge to the divide. +Evidently they had been returning from the western curve of Coconina. + +The direction in which Silvermane was stretching was the only possible +one for Hare. If he swerved off the trail to the left it would be upon +rough rising ground. Not only must he outride this second band to the +point where the trail went down on the other side of the divide, but +also he must get beyond it before they came within rifle range. + +“Now! Silver! Go! Go!” Fast as the noble stallion was speeding he +answered to the call. He was in the open now, free of stones and brush, +with the spang of rifles in the air. The wind rushed into Hare's ears, +filling them with a hollow roar; the ground blurred by in reddish +sheets. The horsemen cut down the half mile to a quarter, lessened that, +swept closer and closer, till Hare recognized Chance and Culver, and +Snap Naab on his cream-colored pinto. Seeing that they could not head +the invincible stallion they sheered more to the right. But Silvermane +thundered on, crossing the line ahead of them a full three hundred +yards, and went over the divide, drawing them in behind him. + +Then, at the sharp crack of the rifles, leaden messengers whizzed high +in the air over horse and riders, and skipped along the red shale in +front of the running dog. + +“Oh--Silvermane!” cried Hare. It was just a call, as if the horse were +human, and knew what that pace meant to his master. The stern business +of the race had ceased to rest on Hare. Silvermane was out to the front! +He was like a level-rushing thunderbolt. Hare felt the instantaneous +pause between his long low leaps, the gather of mighty muscles, the +strain, the tension, then the quivering expulsion of force. It was a +perilous ride down that red slope, not so much from the hissing bullets +as from the washes and gullies which Silvermane sailed over in +magnificent leaps. Hare thrilled with savage delight in the wonderful +prowess of his desert king, in the primal instinct of joy at escaping +with the woman he loved. + +“Outrun!” he cried, with blazing eyes. Mescal's white face was pressed +close to his shoulder. “Silver has beaten them. They'll hang on till we +reach the sand-strip, hoping the slow-down will let them come up in +time. But they'll be far too late.” + +The rustlers continued on the trail, firing desultorily, till Silvermane +so far distanced them that even the necessary lapse into a walk in the +red sand placed him beyond range when they arrived at the strip. + +“They've turned back, Mescal. We're safe. Why, you look as you did the +day the bear ran for you.” + +“I'd rather a bear got me than Snap. Jack, did you see him?” + +“See him? Rather! I'll bet he nearly killed his pinto. Mescal, what do +you think of Silvermane now? Can he run? Can he outrun Bolly?” + +“Yes--yes. Oh! Jack! how I'll love him! Look back again. Are we safe? +Will we ever be safe?” + +It was still daylight when they rounded the portal of the oasis and +entered the lane with the familiar wall on one side, the peeled fence- +pickets on the other. Wolf dashed on ahead, and presently a chorus of +barks announced that he had been met by the other dogs. Silvermane +neighed shrilly, and the horses and mustangs in the corrals trooped +noisily to the lower sides and hung inquisitive heads over the top bars. + +A Navajo whom Hare remembered stared with axe idle by the woodpile, then +Judith Naab dropped a bundle of sticks and with a cry of gladness ran +from the house. Before Silvermane had come to a full stop Mescal was +off. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then she left +Judith to dart to the corral where a little black mustang had begun to +whistle and stamp and try to climb over the bars. + +August Naab, bareheaded, with shaggy locks shaking at every step, strode +off the porch and his great hands lifted Hare from the saddle. + +“Every day I've watched the river for you,” he said. His eyes were warm +and his grasp like a vise. + +“Mescal--child!” he continued, as she came running to him. “Safe and +well. He's brought you back. Thank the Lord!” He took her to his breast +and bent his gray head over her. + +Then the crowd of big and little Naabs burst from the house and came +under the cottonwoods to offer noisy welcome to Mescal and Hare. + +“Jack, you look done up,” said Dave Naab solicitously, when the first +greetings had been spoken, and Mother Ruth had led Mescal indoors. +“Silvermane, too--he's wet and winded. He's been running?” + +“Yes, a little,” replied Hare, as he removed the saddle from the weary +horse. + +“Ah! What's this?” questioned August Naab, with his hand on Silvermane's +flank. He touched a raw groove, and the stallion flinched. “Hare, a +bullet made that!” + +“Yes.” + +“Then you didn't ride in by the Navajo crossing?” + +“No. I came by Silver Cup.” + +“Silver Cup? How on earth did you get down there?” + +“We climbed out of the canyon up over Coconina, and so made the spring.” + +Naab whistled in surprise and he flashed another keen glance over Hare +and his horse. “Your story can wait. I know about what it is--after you +reached Silver Cup. Come in, come in, Dave will look out for the +stallion.” + +But Hare would allow no one else to attend to Silvermane. He rubbed the +tired gray, gave him a drink at the trough, led him to the corral, and +took leave of him with a caress like Mescal's. Then he went to his room +and bathed himself and changed his clothes, afterward presenting himself +at the supper-table to eat like one famished. Mescal and he ate alone, +as they had been too late for the regular hour. The women-folk waited +upon them as if they could not do enough. There were pleasant words and +smiles; but in spite of them something sombre attended the meal. There +was a shadow in each face, each step was slow, each voice subdued. Naab +and his sons were waiting for Hare when he entered the sitting room, and +after his entrance the door was closed. They were all quiet and stern, +especially the father. “Tell us all,” said Naab, simply. + +While Hare was telling his adventures not a word or a move interrupted +him till he spoke of Silvermane's running Dene down. + +“That's the second time!” rolled out Naab. “The stallion will kill him +yet!” + +Hare finished his story. + +“What don't you owe to that whirlwind of a horse!” exclaimed Dave Naab. +No other comment on Hare or Silvermane was offered by the Naabs. + +“You knew Holderness had taken in Silver Cup?” inquired Hare. + +August Naab nodded gloomily. + +“I guess we knew it,” replied Dave for him. “While I was in White Sage +and the boys were here at home, Holderness rode to the spring and took +possession. I called to see him on my way back, but he wasn't around. +Snap was there, the boss of a bunch of riders. Dene, too, was there.” + +“Did you go right into camp?” asked Hare. + +“Sure. I was looking for Holderness. There were eighteen or twenty +riders in the bunch. I talked to several of them, Mormons, good fellows, +they used to be. Also I had some words with Dene. He said: 'I shore was +sorry Snap got to my spy first. I wanted him bad, an' I'm shore goin' to +have his white horse.' Snap and Dene, all of them, thought you were +number thirty-one in dad's cemetery.” + +“Not yet,” said Hare. “Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when +Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all +there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new brand +on all your stock proves that.” + +“Such a trick we never heard of,” replied August Naab. “If we had we +might have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock.” + +“But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt.” + +“It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness +has stolen my water and my stock.” + +“They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that.” + +“Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?” interposed Dave, curiously. + +“I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about +cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running +too fast.” + +“Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life,” said August Naab. +“My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. +I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. +Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. +Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected +sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely +a day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of +Lund finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others +out. Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now +has a strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I +see it. I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow +to wrath. But--” + +The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words. + +“They need a leader,” replied Hare, sharply. + +August Naab rose with haggard face and his eyes had the look of a man +accused. + +“Dad figures this way,” put in Dave. “On the one hand we lose our water +and stock without bloodshed. We have a living in the oasis. There's +little here to attract rustlers, so we may live in peace if we give up +our rights. On the other hand, suppose Dad gets the Navajos down here +and we join them and go after Holderness and his gang. There's going to +be an all-fired bloody fight. Of course we'd wipe out the rustlers, but +some of us would get killed--and there are the wives and kids. See!” + +The force of August Naab's argument for peace, entirely aside from his +Christian repugnance to the shedding of blood, was plainly unassailable. + +“Remember what Snap said?” asked Hare, suddenly. “One man to kill Dene! +Therefore one man to kill Holderness! That would break the power of this +band.” + +“Ah! you've said it,” replied Dave, raising a tense arm. “It's a one-man +job. D--n Snap! He could have done it, if he hadn't gone to the bad. But +it won't be easy. I tried to get Holderness. He was wise, and his men +politely said they had enjoyed my call, but I wasn't to come again.” + +“One man to kill Holderness!” repeated Hare. + +August Naab cast at the speaker one of his far-seeing glances; then he +shook himself, as if to throw off the grip of something hard and +inevitable. “I'm still master here,” he said, and his voice showed the +conquest of his passions. + +“I give up Silver Cup and my stock. Maybe that will content Holderness.” + +Some days went by pleasantly for Hare, as he rested from his long +exertions. Naab's former cheer and that of his family reasserted itself +once the decision was made, and the daily life went on as usual. The +sons worked in the fields by day, and in the evening played at pitching +horseshoes on the bare circle where the children romped. The women went +on baking, sewing, and singing. August Naab's prayers were more fervent +than ever, and he even prayed for the soul of the man who had robbed +him. Mescal's cheeks soon rounded out to their old contour and her eyes +shone with a happier light than Hare had ever seen there. The races +between Silvermane and Black Bolly were renewed on the long stretch +under the wall, and Mescal forgot that she had once acknowledged the +superiority of the gray. The cottonwoods showered silken floss till the +cabins and grass were white; the birds returned to the oasis; the sun +kissed warm color into the cherries, and the distant noise of the river +seemed like the humming of a swarm of bees. + +“Here, Jack,” said August Naab, one morning, “get a spade and come with +me. There's a break somewhere in the ditch.” + +Hare went with him out along the fence by the alfalfa fields, and round +the corner of red wall toward the irrigating dam. + +“Well, Jack, I suppose you'll be asking me for Mescal one of these +days,” said Naab. + +“Yes,” replied Hare. + +“There's a little story to tell you about Mescal, when the day comes.” + +“Tell it now.” + +“No. Not yet. I'm glad you found her. I never knew her to be so happy, +not even when she was a child. But somehow there's a better feeling +between her and my womenfolk. The old antagonism is gone. Well, well, +life is so. I pray that things may turn out well for you and her. But I +fear--I seem to see--Hare, I'm a poor man once more. I can't do for you +what I'd like. Still we'll see, we'll hope.” + +Hare was perfectly happy. The old Mormon's hint did not disturb him; +even the thought of Snap Naab did not return to trouble his contentment. +The full present was sufficient for Hare, and his joy bubbled over, +bringing smiles to August's grave face. Never had a summer afternoon in +the oasis been so fair. The green fields, the red walls, the blue sky, +all seemed drenched in deeper, richer hues. The wind-song in the crags, +the river-murmur from the canyon, filled Hare's ears with music. To be +alive, to feel the sun, to see the colors, to hear the sounds, was +beautiful; and to know that Mescal awaited him, was enough. + +Work on the washed-out bank of the ditch had not gone far when Naab +raised his head as if listening. + +“Did you hear anything?” he asked. + +“No,” replied Hare. + +“The roar of the river is heavy here. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I +heard shots.” Then he went on spading clay into the break, but he +stopped every moment or so, uneasily, as if he could not get rid of some +disturbing thought. Suddenly he dropped the spade and his eyes flashed. + +“Judith! Judith! Here!” he called. Wheeling with a sudden premonition of +evil Hare saw the girl running along the wall toward them. Her face was +white as death; she wrung her hands and her cries rose above the sound +of the river. Naab sprang toward her and Hare ran at his heels. + +“Father!-- Father!” she panted. “Come--quick--the rustlers!--the +rustlers! Snap!--Dene--Oh--hurry! They've killed Dave--they've got +Mescal!” + +Death itself shuddered through Hare's veins and then a raging flood of +fire. He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm. + +“Fool! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through the +fields, under the trees.” + +Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the +alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when +he could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill. + +They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The +screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread. + +“I see only the women--the children--no--there's a man--Zeke,” said +Hare, bending low to gaze under the branches. + +“Go slow,” muttered Naab. + +“The rustlers rode off--after Mescal--she's gone!” panted Judith. + +Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, +cast caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's +heavy steps thudded behind him. + +In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a +heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the +steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was +trying to calm the women. + +“My God! Dave!” cried Hare. “You're not hard hit? Don't say it!” + +“Hard hit--Jack--old fellow,” replied Dave, with a pale smile. His face +was white and clammy. + +August Naab looked once at him and groaned, “My son! My son!” + +“Dad--I got Chance and Culver--there they lie in the road--not bungled, +either!” + +Hare saw the inert forms of two men lying near the gate; one rested on +his face, arm outstretched with a Colt gripped in the stiff hand; the +other lay on his back, his spurs deep in the ground, as if driven there +in his last convulsion. + +August Naab and Zeke carried the injured man into the house. The women +and children followed, and Hare, with Billy and George, entered last. + +“Dad--I'm shot clean through--low down,” said Dave, as they laid him on +a couch. “It's just as well I--as any one--somebody had to--start this +fight.” + +Naab got the children and the girls out of the room. The women were +silent now, except Dave's wife, who clung to him with low moans. He +smiled upon all with a quick intent smile, then he held out a hand to +Hare. + +“Jack, we got--to be--good friends. Don't forget--that--when you meet-- +Holderness. He shot me--from behind Chance and Culver--and after I fell- +-I killed them both--trying to get him. You--won't hang up--your gun-- +again--will you?” + +Hare wrung the cold hand clasping his so feebly. “No! Dave, no!” Then he +fled from the room. For an hour he stood on the porch waiting in dumb +misery. George and Zeke came noiselessly out, followed by their father. + +“It's all over, Hare.” Another tragedy had passed by this man of the +desert, and left his strength unshaken, but his deadly quiet and the +gloom of his iron face were more terrible to see than any grief. + +“Father, and you, Hare, come out into the road,” said George. + +Another motionless form lay beyond Chance and Culver. It was that of a +slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the +dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody +curve. + +“Dene!” burst from Hare, in a whisper. + +“Killed by a horse!” exclaimed August Naab. “Ah! What horse?” + +“Silvermane!” replied George. + +“Who rode my horse--tell me--quick!” cried Hare, in a frenzy. + +“It was Mescal. Listen. Let me tell you how it all happened. I was out +at the forge when I heard a bunch of horses coming up the lane. I wasn't +packing my gun, but I ran anyway. When I got to the house there was Dave +facing Snap, Dene, and a bunch of rustlers. I saw Chance at first, but +not Holderness. There must have been twenty men. + +“'I came after Mescal, that's what,' Snap was saying. + +“'You can't have her,' Dave answered. + +“'We'll shore take her, an' we want Silvermane, too,' said Dene. + +“'So you're a horse-thief as well as a rustler?' asked Dave. + +“'Naab, I ain't in any mind to fool. Snap wants the girl, an' I want +Silvermane, an' that damned spy that come back to life.' + +“Then Holderness spoke from the back of the crowd: 'Naab, you'd better +hurry, if you don't want the house burned!' + +“Dave drew and Holderness fired from behind the men. Dave fell, raised +up and shot Chance and Culver, then dropped his gun. + +“With that the women in the house began to scream, and Mescal ran out +saying she'd go with Snap if they'd do no more harm. + +“'All right,' said Snap, 'get a horse, hurry--hurry!' + +“Then Dene dismounted and went toward the corral saying, 'I shore want +Silvermane.' + +“Mescal reached the gate ahead of Dene. 'Let me get Silvermane. He's +wild; he doesn't know you; he'll kick you if you go near him.' She +dropped the bars and went up to the horse. He was rearing and snorting. +She coaxed him down and then stepped up on the fence to untie him. When +she had him loose she leaped off the fence to his back, screaming as she +hit him with the halter. Silvermane snorted and jumped, and in three +jumps he was going like a bullet. Dene tried to stop him, and was +knocked twenty feet. He was raising up when the stallion ran over him. +He never moved again. Once in the lane Silvermane got going--Lord! how +he did run! Mescal hung low over his neck like an Indian. He was gone in +a cloud of dust before Snap and the rustlers knew what had happened. +Snap came to first and, yelling and waving his gun, spurred down the +lane. The rest of the rustlers galloped after him.” + +August Naab placed a sympathetic hand on Hare's shaking shoulder. + +“You see, lad, things are never so bad as they seem at first. Snap might +as well try to catch a bird as Silvermane.” + + + + + + +XVIII. THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +“MESCAL'S far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare,” went on +Naab. “That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane +into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop +will take care of her. She'll be safe for the present in White Sage. Now +we must bury these men. To-morrow--my son. Then--” + +“What then?” Hare straightened up. + +Unutterable pain darkened the flame in the Mormon's gaze. For an instant +his face worked spasmodically, only to stiffen into a stony mask. It was +the old conflict once more, the never-ending war between flesh and +spirit. And now the flesh had prevailed. + +“The time has come!” said George Naab. + +“Yes,” replied his father, harshly. + +A great calm settled over Hare; his blood ceased to race, his mind to +riot; in August Naab's momentous word he knew the old man had found +himself. At last he had learned the lesson of the desert--to strike +first and hard. + +“Zeke, hitch up a team,” said August Naab. “No--wait a moment. Here +comes Piute. Let's hear what he has to say.” + +Piute appeared on the zigzag cliff-trail, driving a burro at dangerous +speed. + +“He's sighted Silvermane and the rustlers,” suggested George, as the +shepherd approached. + +Naab translated the excited Indian's mingling of Navajo and Piute +languages to mean just what George had said. “Snap ahead of riders-- +Silvermane far, far ahead of Snap--running fast--damn!” + +“Mescal's pushing him hard to make the sand-strip,” said George. + +“Piute--three fires to-night--Lookout Point!” This order meant the +execution of August Naab's hurry-signal for the Navajos, and after he +had given it, he waved the Indian toward the cliff, and lapsed into a +silence which no one dared to break. + +Naab consigned the bodies of the rustlers to the famous cemetery under +the red wall. He laid Dene in grave thirty-one. It was the grave that +the outlaw had promised as the last resting-place of Dene's spy. Chance +and Culver he buried together. It was noteworthy that no Mormon rites +were conferred on Culver, once a Mormon in good standing, nor were any +prayers spoken over the open graves. + +What did August Naab intend to do? That was the question in Hare's mind +as he left the house. It was a silent day, warm as summer, though the +sun was overcast with gray clouds; the birds were quiet in the trees; +there was no bray of burro or clarion-call of peacock, even the hum of +the river had fallen into silence. Hare wandered over the farm and down +the red lane, brooding over the issue. Naab's few words had been full of +meaning; the cold gloom so foreign to his nature, had been even more +impressive. His had been the revolt of the meek. The gentle, the loving, +the administering, the spiritual uses of his life had failed. + +Hare recalled what the desert had done to his own nature, how it had +bred in him its impulse to fight, to resist, to survive. If he, a +stranger of a few years, could be moulded in the flaming furnace of its +fiery life, what then must be the cast of August Naab, born on the +desert, and sleeping five nights out of seven on the sands for sixty +years? + +The desert! Hare trembled as he grasped all its meaning. Then he slowly +resolved that meaning. There were the measureless distances to narrow +the eye and teach restraint; the untrodden trails, the shifting sands, +the thorny brakes, the broken lava to pierce the flesh; the heights and +depths, unscalable and unplumbed. And over all the sun, red and burning. + +The parched plants of the desert fought for life, growing far apart, +sending enormous roots deep to pierce the sand and split the rock for +moisture, arming every leaf with a barbed thorn or poisoned sap, never +thriving and ever thirsting. + +The creatures of the desert endured the sun and lived without water, and +were at endless war. The hawk had a keener eye than his fellow of more +fruitful lands, sharper beak, greater spread of wings, and claws of +deeper curve. For him there was little to eat, a rabbit now, a rock-rat +then; nature made his swoop like lightning and it never missed its aim. +The gaunt wolf never failed in his sure scent, in his silent hunt. The +lizard flicked an invisible tongue into the heart of a flower; and the +bee he caught stung with a poisoned sting. The battle of life went to +the strong. + +So the desert trained each of its wild things to survive. No eye of the +desert but burned with the flame of the sun. To kill or to escape death- +-that was the dominant motive. To fight barrenness and heat--that was +stern enough, but each creature must fight his fellow. + +What then of the men who drifted into the desert and survived? They must +of necessity endure the wind and heat, the drouth and famine; they must +grow lean and hard, keen-eyed and silent. The weak, the humble, the +sacrificing must be winnowed from among them. As each man developed he +took on some aspect of the desert--Holderness had the amber clearness of +its distances in his eyes, its deceit in his soul; August Naab, the +magnificence of the desert-pine in his giant form, its strength in his +heart; Snap Naab, the cast of the hawk-beak in his face, its cruelty in +his nature. But all shared alike in the common element of survival-- +ferocity. August Naab had subdued his to the promptings of a Christ-like +spirit; yet did not his very energy, his wonderful tirelessness, his +will to achieve, his power to resist, partake of that fierceness? +Moreover, after many struggles, he too had been overcome by the desert's +call for blood. His mystery was no longer a mystery. Always in those +moments of revelation which he disclaimed, he had seen himself as +faithful to the desert in the end. + +Hare's slumbers that night were broken. He dreamed of a great gray horse +leaping in the sky from cloud to cloud with the lightning and the +thunder under his hoofs, the storm-winds sweeping from his silver mane. +He dreamed of Mescal's brooding eyes. They were dark gateways of the +desert open only to him, and he entered to chase the alluring stars deep +into the purple distance. He dreamed of himself waiting in serene +confidence for some unknown thing to pass. He awakened late in the +morning and found the house hushed. The day wore on in a repose +unstirred by breeze and sound, in accord with the mourning of August +Naab. At noon a solemn procession wended its slow course to the shadow +of the red cliff, and as solemnly returned. + +Then a long-drawn piercing Indian whoop broke the midday hush. It +heralded the approach of the Navajos. In single-file they rode up the +lane, and when the falcon-eyed Eschtah dismounted before his white +friend, the line of his warriors still turned the corner of the red +wall. Next to the chieftain rode Scarbreast, the grim war-lord of the +Navajos. His followers trailed into the grove. Their sinewy bronze +bodies, almost naked, glistened wet from the river. Full a hundred +strong were they, a silent, lean-limbed desert troop. + +“The White Prophet's fires burned bright,” said the chieftain. “Eschtah +is here.” + +“The Navajo is a friend,” replied Naab. “The white man needs counsel and +help. He has fallen upon evil days.” + +“Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend.” + +“War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we +shall speak.” + +A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors. +Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the +burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods. When the afternoon waned +and the shade from the western wall crept into the oasis, August Naab +came from his cabin clad in buckskins, with a large blue Colt swinging +handle outward from his left hip. He ordered his sons to replenish the +fire which had been built in the circle, and when the fierce-eyed +Indians gathered round the blaze he called to his women to bring meat +and drink. + +Hare's unnatural calmness had prevailed until he saw Naab stride out to +front the waiting Indians. Then a ripple of cold passed over him. He +leaned against a tree in the shadow and watched the gray-faced giant +stalking to and fro before his Indian friends. A long while he strode in +the circle of light to pause at length before the chieftains and to +break the impressive silence with his deep voice. + +“Eschtah sees before him a friend stung to his heart. Men of his own +color have long injured him, yet have lived. The Mormon loved his +fellows and forgave. Five sons he laid in their graves, yet his heart +was not hardened. His first-born went the trail of the fire-water and is +an outcast from his people. Many enemies has he and one is a chief. He +has killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water. +To-day the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the +chief? Would he not crush the scorpion that stung him?” + +The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, was as stately +as the Mormon's. + +“Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise. The White +Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks +too much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the +lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah +grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's +friend has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his +springs. Only a few can live on the desert. Let him who has found the +springs and the trails keep them for his own. Let him who came too late +go away to find for himself, to prove himself a warrior, or let his +bones whiten in the sand. The Navajo counsels his white friend to kill.” + +“The great Eschtah speaks wise words,” said Naab. “The White Prophet is +richer for them. He will lay aside the prayers to his unseeing God, and +will seek his foe.” + +“It is well.” + +“The white man's foe is strong,” went on the Mormon; “he has many men, +they will fight. If Eschtah sends his braves with his friend there will +be war. Many braves will fall. The White Prophet wishes to save them if +he can. He will go forth alone to kill his foe. If the sun sets four +times and the white man is not here, then Eschtah will send his great +war-chief and his warriors. They will kill whom they find at the white +man's springs. And thereafter half of all the white man's cattle that +were stolen shall be Eschtah's, so that he watch over the water and +range.” + +“Eschtah greets a chief,” answered the Indian. “The White Prophet knows +he will kill his enemy, but he is not sure he will return. He is not +sure that the little braves of his foe will fly like the winds, yet he +hopes. So he holds the Navajo back to the last. Eschtah will watch the +sun set four times. If his white friend returns he will rejoice. If he +does not return the Navajo will send his warriors on the trail.” + +August Naab walked swiftly from the circle of light into the darkness; +his heavy steps sounded on the porch, and in the hallway. His three sons +went toward their cabins with bowed heads and silent tongues. Eschtah +folded his blanket about him and stalked off into the gloom of the +grove, followed by his warriors. + +Hare remained in the shadow of the cottonwood where he had stood +unnoticed. He had not moved a muscle since he had heard August Naab's +declaration. That one word of Naab's intention, “Alone!” had arrested +him. For it had struck into his heart and mind. It had paralyzed him +with the revelation it brought; for Hare now knew as he had never known +anything before, that he would forestall August Naab, avenge the death +of Dave, and kill the rustler Holderness. Through blinding shock he +passed slowly into cold acceptance of his heritage from the desert. + +The two long years of his desert training were as an open page to Hare's +unveiled eyes. The life he owed to August Naab, the strength built up by +the old man's knowledge of the healing power of plateau and range--these +lay in a long curve between the day Naab had lifted him out of the White +Sage trail and this day of the Mormon's extremity. A long curve with +Holderness's insulting blow at the beginning, his murder of a beloved +friend at the end! For Hare remembered the blow, and never would he +forget Dave's last words. Yet unforgetable as these were, it was duty +rather than revenge that called him. This was August Naab's hour of +need. Hare knew himself to be the tool of inscrutable fate; he was the +one to fight the old desert-scarred Mormon's battle. Hare recalled how +humbly he had expressed his gratitude to Naab, and the apparent +impossibility of ever repaying him, and then Naab's reply: “Lad, you can +never tell how one man may repay another.” Hare could pay his own debt +and that of the many wanderers who had drifted across the sands to find +a home with the Mormon. These men stirred in their graves, and from out +the shadow of the cliff whispered the voice of Mescal's nameless father: +“Is there no one to rise up for this old hero of the desert?” + +Softly Hare slipped into his room. Putting on coat and belt and catching +up his rifle he stole out again stealthily, like an Indian. In the +darkness of the wagon-shed he felt for his saddle, and finding it, he +groped with eager hands for the grain-box; raising the lid he filled a +measure with grain, and emptied it into his saddle-bag. Then lifting the +saddle he carried it out of the yard, through the gate and across the +lane to the corrals. The wilder mustangs in the far corral began to kick +and snort, and those in the corral where Black Bolly was kept trooped +noisily to the bars. Bolly whinnied and thrust her black muzzle over the +fence. Hare placed a caressing hand on her while he waited listening and +watching. It was not unusual for the mustangs to get restless at any +time, and Hare was confident that this would pass without investigation. + +Gradually the restless stampings and suspicious snortings ceased, and +Hare, letting down the bars, led Bolly out into the lane. It was the +work of a moment to saddle her; his bridle hung where he always kept it, +on the pommel, and with nimble fingers he shortened the several straps +to fit Bolly's head, and slipped the bit between her teeth. Then he put +up the bars of the gate. + +Before mounting he stood a moment thinking coolly, deliberately +numbering the several necessities he must not forget--grain for Bolly, +food for himself, his Colt and Winchester, cartridges, canteen, matches, +knife. He inserted a hand into one of his saddle-bags expecting to find +some strips of meat. The bag was empty. He felt in the other one, and +under the grain he found what he sought. The canteen lay in the coil of +his lasso tied to the saddle, and its heavy canvas covering was damp to +his touch. With that he thrust the long Winchester into its saddle- +sheath, and swung his leg over the mustang. + +The house of the Naabs was dark and still. The dying council-fire cast +flickering shadows under the black cottonwoods where the Navajos slept. +The faint breeze that rustled the leaves brought the low sullen roar of +the river. + +Hare guided Bolly into the thick dust of the lane, laid the bridle +loosely on her neck for her to choose the trail, and silently rode out +into the lonely desert night. + + + + + + +XIX. UNLEASHED + +HARE, listening breathlessly, rode on toward the gateway of the cliffs, +and when he had passed the corner of the wall he sighed in relief. +Spurring Bolly into a trot he rode forward with a strange elation. He +had slipped out of the oasis unheard, and it would be morning before +August Naab discovered his absence, perhaps longer before he divined his +purpose. Then Hare would have a long start. He thrilled with something +akin to fear when he pictured the old man's rage, and wondered what +change it would make in his plans. Hare saw in mind Naab and his sons, +and the Navajos sweeping in pursuit to save him from the rustlers. + +But the future must take care of itself, and he addressed all the +faculties at his command to cool consideration of the present. The strip +of sand under the Blue Star had to be crossed at night--a feat which +even the Navajos did not have to their credit. Yet Hare had no +shrinking; he had no doubt; he must go on. As he had been drawn to the +Painted Desert by a voiceless call, so now he was urged forward by +something nameless. + +In the blackness of the night it seemed as if he were riding through a +vaulted hall swept by a current of air. The night had turned cold, the +stars had brightened icily, the rumble of the river had died away when +Bolly's ringing trot suddenly changed to a noiseless floundering walk. +She had come upon the sand. Hare saw the Blue Star in the cliff, and +once more loosed the rein on Bolly's neck. She stopped and champed her +bit, and turned her black head to him as if to intimate that she wanted +the guidance of a sure arm. But as it was not forthcoming she stepped +onward into the yielding sand. + +With hands resting idly on the pommel Hare sat at ease in the saddle. +The billowy dunes reflected the pale starlight and fell away from him to +darken in obscurity. So long as the Blue Star remained in sight he kept +his sense of direction; when it had disappeared he felt himself lost. +Bolly's course seemed as crooked as the jagged outline of the cliffs. +She climbed straight up little knolls, descended them at an angle, +turned sharply at wind-washed gullies, made winding detours, zigzagged +levels that shone like a polished floor; and at last (so it seemed to +Hare) she doubled back on her trail. The black cliff receded over the +waves of sand; the stars changed positions, travelled round in the blue +dome, and the few that he knew finally sank below the horizon. Bolly +never lagged; she was like the homeward-bound horse, indifferent to +direction because sure of it, eager to finish the journey because now it +was short. Hare was glad though not surprised when she snorted and +cracked her iron-shod hoof on a stone at the edge of the sand. He smiled +with tightening lips as he rode into the shadow of a rock which he +recognized. Bolly had crossed the treacherous belt of dunes and washes +and had struck the trail on the other side. + +The long level of wind-carved rocks under the cliffs, the ridges of the +desert, the miles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual +descent to the cedars--these stretches of his journey took the night +hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile of +Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on +Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the +trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the +right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone or +snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was no +sound other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp, he +caught the dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements +became as guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn +broke over the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring. + +He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the +wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket +encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit +Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and, +after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from +below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope. + +Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he +struck the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At +last he reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent +so many days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness. +He stole down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The +sun, red as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the soft +mists of the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in +toward the spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone, +Hare descended the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every +step. Soon the edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower +level of cedars. While resting he listened. Then he marked his course +down the last bit of slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the +valley. This space was open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar +brush--a difficult place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his +choice of steps, very slow in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which +satisfied even his intent ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew +slowly into the circle of his downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a +slight trembling in all his limbs. There was a thick bush on the edge of +the cliff; in three steps he could reach it and, unseen himself, look +down upon the camp. + +A little cloud or smoke rose lazily and capped a slender column of blue. +Sounds were wafted softly upward, the low voices of men in conversation, +a merry whistle, and then the humming of a tune. Hare's mouth was dry +and his temples throbbed as he asked himself what it was best to do. The +answer came instantaneously as though it had lain just below the level +of his conscious thought. “I'll watch till Holderness walks out into +sight, jump up with a yell when he comes, give him time to see me, to +draw his gun--then kill him!” + +Hare slipped to the bush, drew in a deep long breath that stilled his +agitation, and peered over the cliff. The crude shingles of the cabin +first rose into sight; then beyond he saw the corral with a number of +shaggy mustangs and a great gray horse. Hare stared blankly. As in a +dream he saw the proud arch of a splendid neck, the graceful wave of a +white-crested mane. + +“Silvermane!... My God!” he gasped, suddenly. “They caught him--after +all!” + +He fell backward upon the cliff and lay there with hands clinching his +rifle, shudderingly conscious of a blow, trying to comprehend its +meaning. + +“Silvermane!... they caught him--after all!” he kept repeating; then in +a flash of agonized understanding he whispered: “Mescal... Mescal!” + +He rolled upon his face, shutting out the blue sky; his body stretched +stiff as a bent spring released from its compress, and his nails dented +the stock of his rifle. Then this rigidity softened to sobs that shook +him from head to foot. He sat up, haggard and wild-eyed. + +Silvermane had been captured, probably by rustlers waiting at the +western edge of the sand-strip. Mescal had fallen into the hands of Snap +Naab. But Mescal was surely alive and Snap was there to be killed; his +long career of unrestrained cruelty was in its last day--something told +Hare that this thing must and should be. The stern deliberation of his +intent to kill Holderness, the passion of his purpose to pay his debt to +August Naab, were as nothing compared to the gathering might of this new +resolve; suddenly he felt free and strong as an untamed lion broken free +from his captors. + +From the cover of the bush he peered again over the cliff. The cabin +with its closed door facing him was scarcely two hundred feet down from +his hiding-place. One of the rustlers sang as he bent over the camp-fire +and raked the coals around the pots; others lounged on a bench waiting +for breakfast; some rolled out of their blankets; they stretched and +yawned, and pulling on their boots made for the spring. The last man to +rise was Snap Naab, and he had slept with his head on the threshold of +the door. Evidently Snap had made Mescal a prisoner in the cabin, and no +one could go in or out without stepping upon him. The rustler-foreman of +Holderness's company had slept with his belt containing two Colts, nor +had he removed his boots. Hare noted these details with grim humor. Now +the tall Holderness, face shining, gold-red beard agleam, rounded the +cabin whistling. Hare watched the rustlers sit down to breakfast, and +here and there caught a loud-spoken word, and marked their leisurely +care-free manner. Snap Naab took up a pan of food and a cup of coffee, +carried them into the cabin, and came out, shutting the door. + +After breakfast most of the rustlers set themselves to their various +tasks. Hare watched them with the eyes of a lynx watching deer. Several +men were arranging articles for packing, and their actions were slow to +the point of laziness; others trooped down toward the corral. Holderness +rolled a cigarette and stooped over the campfire to reach a burning +stick. Snap Naab stalked to and fro before the door of the cabin. He +alone of the rustler's band showed restlessness, and more than once he +glanced up the trail that led over the divide toward his father's oasis. +Holderness sent expectant glances in the other direction toward Seeping +Springs. Once his clear voice rang out: + +“I tell you, Naab, there's no hurry. We'll ride in tomorrow.” + +A thousand thoughts flitted through Hare's mind--a steady stream of +questions and answers. Why did Snap look anxiously along the oasis +trail? It was not that he feared his father or his brothers alone, but +there was always the menace of the Navajos. Why was Holderness in no +hurry to leave Silver Cup? Why did he lag at the spring when, if he +expected riders from his ranch, he could have gone on to meet them, +obviously saving time and putting greater distance between him and the +men he had wronged? Was it utter fearlessness or only a deep-played +game? Holderness and his rustlers, all except the gloomy Naab, were +blind to the peril that lay beyond the divide. How soon would August +Naab strike out on the White Sage trail? Would he come alone? Whether he +came alone or at the head of his hard-riding Navajos he would arrive too +late. Holderness's life was not worth a pinch of the ashes he flecked so +carelessly from his cigarette. Snap Naab's gloom, his long stride, his +nervous hand always on or near the butt of his Colt, spoke the keenness +of his desert instinct. For him the sun had arisen red over the red +wall. Had he harmed Mescal? Why did he keep the cabin door shut and +guard it so closely? + +While Hare watched and thought the hours sped by. Holderness lounged +about and Snap kept silent guard. The rustlers smoked, slept, and moved +about; the day waned, and the shadow of the cliff crept over the cabin. +To Hare the time had been as a moment; he was amazed to find the sun had +gone down behind Coconina. If August Naab had left the oasis at dawn he +must now be near the divide, unless he had been delayed by a wind-storm +at the strip of sand. Hare longed to see the roan charger come up over +the crest; he longed to see a file of Navajos, plumes waving, dark +mustangs gleaming in the red light, sweep down the stony ridge toward +the cedars. “If they come,” he whispered, “I'll kill Holderness and Snap +and any man who tries to open that cabin door.” + +So he waited in tense watchfulness, his gaze alternating between the +wavy line of the divide and the camp glade. Out in the valley it was +still daylight, but under the cliff twilight had fallen. All day Hare +had strained his ears to hear the talk of the rustlers, and it now +occurred to him that if he climbed down through the split in the cliff +to the bench where Dave and George had always hidden to watch the spring +he would be just above the camp. This descent involved risk, but since +it would enable him to see the cabin door when darkness set in, he +decided to venture. The moment was propitious, for the rustlers were +bustling around, cooking dinner, unrolling blankets, and moving to and +fro from spring and corral. Hare crawled back a few yards and along the +cliff until he reached the split. It was a narrow steep crack which he +well remembered. Going down was attended with two dangers--losing his +hold, and the possible rattling of stones. Face foremost he slipped +downward with the gliding, sinuous movement of a snake, and reaching the +grassy bench he lay quiet. Jesting voices and loud laughter from below +reassured him. He had not been heard. His new position afforded every +chance to see and hear, and also gave means of rapid, noiseless retreat +along the bench to the cedars. Lying flat he crawled stealthily to the +bushy fringe of the bench. + +A bright fire blazed under the cliff. Men were moving and laughing. The +cabin door was open. Mescal stood leaning back from Snap Naab, +struggling to release her hands. + +“Let me untie them, I say,” growled Snap. + +Mescal tore loose from him and stepped back. Her hands were bound before +her, and twisting them outward, she warded him off. Her dishevelled hair +almost hid her dark eyes. They burned in a level glance of hate and +defiance. She was a little lioness, quivering with fiery life, fight in +every line of her form. + +“All right, don't eat then--starve!” said Snap. + +“I'll starve before I eat what you give me.” + +The rustlers laughed. Holderness blew out a puff of smoke and smiled. +Snap glowered upon Mescal and then upon his amiable companions. One of +them, a ruddy-faced fellow, walked toward Mescal. + +“Cool down, Snap, cool down,” he said. “We're not goin' to stand for a +girl starvin'. She ain't eat a bite yet. Here, Miss, let me untie your +hands--there. . . . Say! Naab, d--n you, her wrists are black an' blue!” + +“Look out! Your gun!” yelled Snap. + +With a swift movement Mescal snatched the man's Colt from its holster +and was raising it when he grasped her arm. She winced and dropped the +weapon. + +“You little Indian devil!” exclaimed the rustler, in a rapt admiration. +“Sorry to hurt you, an' more'n sorry to spoil your aim. Thet wasn't kind +to throw my own gun on me, jest after I'd played the gentleman, now, was +it?” + +“I didn't--intend--to shoot--you,” panted Mescal. + +“Naab, if this's your Mormon kind of wife--excuse me! Though I ain't +denyin' she's the sassiest an' sweetest little cat I ever seen!” + +“We Mormons don't talk about our women or hear any talk,” returned Snap, +a dancing fury in his pale eyes. “You're from Nebraska?” + +“Yep, jest a plain Nebraska rustler, cattle-thief, an' all round no-good +customer, though I ain't taken to houndin' women yet.” + +For answer Snap Naab's right hand slowly curved upward before him and +stopped taut and inflexible, while his strange eyes seemed to shoot +sparks. + +“See here, Naab, why do you want to throw a gun on me?” asked the +rustler, coolly. “Haven't you shot enough of your friends yet? I reckon +I've no right to interfere in your affairs. I was only protestin' +friendly like, for the little lady. She's game, an' she's called your +hand. An' it's not a straight hand. Thet's all, an' d--n if I care +whether you are a Mormon or not. I'll bet a hoss Holderness will back me +up.” + +“Snap, he's right,” put in Holderness, smoothly. “You needn't be so +touchy about Mescal. She's showed what little use she's got for you. If +you must rope her around like you do a mustang, be easy about it. Let's +have supper. Now, Mescal, you sit here on the bench and behave yourself. +I don't want you shooting up my camp.” + +Snap turned sullenly aside while Holderness seated Mescal near the door +and fetched her food and drink. The rustlers squatted round the camp- +fire, and conversation ceased in the business of the meal. + +To Hare the scene had brought a storm of emotions. Joy at the sight of +Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting +spirit--these came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska +rustler, strange deepening insight into Holderness's game, +unextinguishable white-hot hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the +ever-mounting will to rescue Mescal, which was held in check by an +inexorable judgment; he must continue to wait. And he did wait with +blind faith in the something to be, keeping ever in mind the last +resort--the rifle he clutched with eager hands. Meanwhile the darkness +descended, the fire sent forth a brighter blaze, and the rustlers +finished their supper. Mescal arose and stepped across the threshold of +the cabin door. + +“Hold on!” ordered Snap, as he approached with swift strides. “Stick out +your hands!” + +Some of the rustlers grumbled; and one blurted out: “Aw no, Snap, don't +tie her up--no!” + +“Who says no?” hissed the Mormon, with snapping teeth. As he wheeled +upon them his Colt seemed to leap forward, and suddenly quivered at +arm's-length, gleaming in the ruddy fire-rays. + +Holderness laughed in the muzzle of the weapon. “Go ahead, Snap, tie up +your lady love. What a tame little wife she's going to make you! Tie her +up, but do it without hurting her.” + +The rustlers growled or laughed at their leader's order. Snap turned to +his task. Mescal stood in the doorway and shrinkingly extended her +clasped hands. Holderness whirled to the fire with a look which betrayed +his game. Snap bound Mescal's hands securely, thrust her inside the +cabin, and after hesitating for a long moment, finally shut the door. + +“It's funny about a woman, now, ain't it?” said Nebraska, +confidentially, to a companion. “One minnit she'll snatch you bald- +headed; the next, she'll melt in your mouth like sugar. An' I'll be +darned if the changeablest one ain't the kind to hold a feller longest. +But it's h--l. I was married onct. Not any more for mine! A pal I had +used to say thet whiskey riled him, thet rattlesnake pisen het up his +blood some, but it took a woman to make him plumb bad. D--n if it ain't +so. When there's a woman around there's somethin' allus comin' off.” + +But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness +suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals +from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side +of the door, his narrow gaze cunningly studying the rustlers before him. +More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk +he could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half +opening it while he faced the men. + +“Stop!” commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had +come from another man. “You don't go in there!” + +“I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage,” replied Naab, in +slow deliberation. + +“Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her. +You tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or +something'll happen.” + +“There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't +interfere now, I'm going.” + +“Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!” + +Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him. + +“So-ho!” he exclaimed, sneeringly. “That's why you've made me foreman, +eh?” His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale +eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The +rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic +smile. + +“Naab, you don't get the girl.” + +“Maybe you'll get her?” hissed Snap. + +“I always intended to.” + +Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His +Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click! Click! Click! The hammer +fell upon empty chambers. + +“H--l!” he shrieked. + +Holderness laughed sarcastically. + +“That's where you're going!” he cried. “Here's to Naab's trick with a +gun--Bah!” And he shot his foreman through the heart. + +Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling +wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread +convulsively, straightened, and sank limp. + +Holderness called through the door of the cabin. “Mescal, I've rid you +of your would-be husband. Cheer-up!” Then, pointing to the fallen man, +he said to the nearest bystanders: “Some of you drag that out for the +coyotes.” + +The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler, +and he curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up. “No +shells!” he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and +unbreeched that. “No shells! Well, d--n me!” He surveyed the group of +grim men, not one of whom had any reply. + +Holderness again laughed harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened +the door with a lasso. + +It was a long time before Hare recovered from the startling revelation +of the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap +Naab had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely +preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position +and settled himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour +Holderness and his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching +doom. Hare's strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these +men had received its first verification in the sudden taking off of Snap +Naab. The deep-scheming Holderness, confident that his strong band meant +sure protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had +not caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested warning. Yet somewhere +out on the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of +life to the lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind +him waited a troop of Navajos, swift as eagles, merciless as wolves, +desert warriors with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins. +As Hare waited and watched with all his inner being cold, he could +almost feel pity for Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the +rustler chief had sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, +Hare had covered him with the rifle, waiting, waiting for the step upon +the threshold. But Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's +finger eased its pressure upon the trigger. + +The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no starlight; the +wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled +in their blankets and all dropped into slumber while the camp-fire +slowly burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the +breeze and the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes. + +Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man +raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked +long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he +softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do. +Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening +intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep. Gently +he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and guarded +of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between the +rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's, +and he went toward the cabin door. + +He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting six- +shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached the +door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy movements, +his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom hovered over +the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that this softly +stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the woman +pledged in his creed. He meant to free Mescal. + +If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band +awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in the +flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a +sound. + +Hare whispered: “Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake +Holderness--then I must shoot--I must!” + +But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth. + +“Hist!” he whispered into the cabin. “Hist!” + +Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning +of that low whisper, for silently she appeared in the doorway, silently +she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed +into the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a flitting +shadow Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary, +unhurried steps back to his bed and rolled in his blankets. + +Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed +to have but one issue--the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be +upon Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there +would be no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler +while he was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to +his men the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing +down on the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever +his power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the +temptation from him. To ward off pursuit as long as possible, to aid +Mescal in every way to some safe hiding-place, and then to seek +Holderness--that was the forethought of a man who had learned to wait. + +Under the dark projection of the upper cliff Hare felt his way to the +cedar slope, and the trail, and then he went swiftly down into the +little hollow where he had left Bolly. The darkness of the forest +hindered him, but he came at length to the edge of the aspen thicket; he +penetrated it, and guided toward Bolly by a suspicious stamp and neigh, +he found her and quieted her with a word. He rode down the hollow, out +upon the level valley. + +The clouds had broken somewhat, letting pale light down through rifts. +All about him cattle were lying in a thick gloom. It was penetrable for +only a few rods. The ground was like a cushion under Bolly's hoofs, +giving forth no sound. The mustang threw up her head, causing Hare to +peer into the night-fog. Rapid hoof-beats broke the silence, a vague +gray shadow moved into sight. He saw Silvermane and called as loudly as +he dared. The stallion melted into the misty curtain, the beating of +hoofs softened and ceased. Hare spurred Bolly to her fleetest. He had a +long, silent chase, but it was futile, and unnecessarily hard on the +mustang; so he pulled her in to a trot. + +Hare kept Bolly to this gait the remainder of the night, and when the +eastern sky lightened he found the trail and reached Seeping Springs at +dawn. Silvermane's tracks were deep in the clay at the drinking-trough. +He rested a few moments, gave Bolly sparingly of grain and water, and +once more took to the trail. + +From the ridge below the spring he saw Silvermane beyond the valley, +miles ahead of him. This day seemed shorter than the foregoing one; it +passed while he watched Silvermane grow smaller and smaller and +disappear on the looming slope of Coconina. Hare's fear that Mescal +would run into the riders Holderness expected from his ranch grew less +and less after she had reached the cover of the cedars. That she would +rest the stallion at the Navajo pool on the mountain he made certain. +Late in the night he came to the camping spot and found no trace to +prove that she had halted there even to let Silvermane drink. So he tied +the tired mustang and slept until daylight. + +He crossed the plateau and began the descent. Before he was half-way +down the warm bright sun had cleared the valley of vapor and shadow. Far +along the winding white trail shone a speck. It was Silvermane almost +out of sight. + +“Ten miles--fifteen, more maybe,” said Hare. “Mescal will soon be in the +village.” + +Again hours of travel flew by like winged moments. Thoughts of time, +distance, monotony, fatigue, purpose, were shut out from his mind. A +rushing kaleidoscopic dance of images filled his consciousness, but they +were all of Mescal. Safety for her had unsealed the fountain of +happiness. + +It was near sundown when he rode Black Bolly into White Sage, and took +the back road, and the pasture lane to Bishop Caldwell's cottage. John, +one of the Bishop's sons, was in the barn-yard and ran to open the gate. + +“Mescal!” cried Hare. + +“Safe,” replied the Mormon. + +“Have you hidden her?” + +“She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men +know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe.” + +“Thank God!... then that's settled.” Hare drew a long, deep breath. + +“Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and +escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?” + +“Silvermane killed him.” + +“Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here +in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap +Naab?” + +“Yes.” + +“What of old Naab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons +against the rustlers?” + +“He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail +alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he +failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his +plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him.” + +“For what? Mescal?” + +“No. For Holderness.” + +“You'll kill him!” + +“Yes.” + +“He'll be coming soon?--When?” + +“To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance Naab +may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it.” + +“May I know your plan?” The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face +flashed with daring inspiration. “I--I've a good reason.” + +“Plan?-- Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in the +orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little--for I'm dead tired- +-and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his men, +perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use +strategy. I'll meet him when he comes--that's all.” + +“It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now. +You need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the +arbor.” + +Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival +following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed +repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell +did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table +before finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the +open window. + +Darkness found Hare wrapped in a blanket under the trees. He needed +sleep that would loose the strange deadlock of his thoughts, clear the +blur from his eyes, ease the pain in his head and weariness of limbs-- +all these weaknesses of which he had suddenly become conscious. Time and +again he had almost wooed slumber to him when soft footsteps on the +gravel paths, low voices, the gentle closing of the gate, brought him +back to the unreal listening wakefulness. The sounds continued late into +the night, and when he did fall asleep he dreamed of them. He awoke to a +dawn clearer than the light from the noonday sun. In his ears was the +ringing of a bell. He could not stand still, and his movements were +subtle and swift. His hands took a peculiar, tenacious, hold of +everything he chanced to touch. He paced his hidden walk behind the +arbor, at every turn glancing sharply up and down the road. Thoughts +came to him clearly, yet one was dominant. The morning was curiously +quiet, the sons of the Bishop had strangely disappeared--a sense of +imminent catastrophe was in the air. + +A band of horsemen closely grouped turned into the road and trotted +forward. Some of the men wore black masks. Holderness rode at the front, +his red-gold beard shining in the sunlight. The steady clip-clop of +hoofs and clinking of iron stirrups broke the morning quiet. Holderness, +with two of his men, dismounted before the Bishop's gate; the others of +the band trotted on down the road. The ring of Holderness's laugh +preceded the snap of the gate-latch. + +Hare stood calm and cold behind his green covert watching the three men +stroll up the garden path. Holderness took a cigarette from his lips as +he neared the porch and blew out circles of white smoke. Bishop Caldwell +tottered from the cottage rapping the porch-floor with his cane. + +“Good-morning, Bishop,” greeted Holderness, blandly, baring his head. + +“To you, sir,” quavered the old man, with his wavering blue eyes fixed +on the spurred and belted rustler. Holderness stepped out in front of +his companions, a superb man, courteous, smiling, entirely at his ease. + +“I rode in to--” + +Hare leaped from his hiding-place. + +“Holderness!” + +The rustler pivoted on whirling heels. + +“Dene's spy!” he exclaimed, aghast. Swift changes swept his mobile +features. Fear flickered in his eyes as he faced his foe; then came +wonder, a glint of amusement, dark anger, and the terrible instinct of +death impending. + +“Naab's trick!” hissed Hare, with his hand held high. The suggestion in +his words, the meaning in his look, held the three rustlers transfixed. +The surprise was his strength. + +In Holderness's amber eyes shone his desperate calculation of chances. +Hare's fateful glance, impossible to elude, his strung form slightly +crouched, his cold deliberate mention of Naab's trick, and more than all +the poise of that quivering hand, filled the rustler with a terror that +he could not hide. + +He had been bidden to draw and he could not summon the force. + +“Naab's trick!” repeated Hare, mockingly. + +Suddenly Holderness reached for his gun. + +Hare's hand leapt like a lightning stroke. Gleam of blue--spurt of red-- +crash! + +Holderness swayed with blond head swinging backward; the amber of his +eyes suddenly darkened; the life in them glazed; like a log he fell +clutching the weapon he had half drawn. + + + + + + +XX. THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + +“TAKE Holderness away--quick!” ordered Hare. A thin curl of blue smoke +floated from the muzzle of his raised weapon. + +The rustlers started out of their statue-like immobility, and lifting +their dead leader dragged him down the garden path with his spurs +clinking on the gravel and ploughing little furrows. + +“Bishop, go in now. They may return,” said Hare. He hurried up the steps +to place his arm round the tottering old man. + +“Was that Holderness?” + +“Yes,” replied Hare. + +“The deeds of the wicked return unto them! God's will!” + +Hare led the Bishop indoors. The sitting-room was full of wailing women +and crying children. None of the young men were present. Again Hare made +note of their inexplicable absence. He spoke soothingly to the +frightened family. The little boys and girls yielded readily to his +persuasion, but the women took no heed of him. + +“Where are your sons?” asked Hare. + +“I don't know,” replied the Bishop. “They should be here to stand by +you. It's strange. I don't understand. Last night my sons were visited +by many men, coming and going in twos and threes till late. They didn't +sleep in their beds. I know not what to think.” + +Hare remembered John Caldwell's enigmatic face. + +“Have the rustlers really come?” asked a young woman, whose eyes were +red and cheeks tear-stained. + +“They have. Nineteen in all. I counted them,” answered Hare. + +The young woman burst out weeping afresh, and the wailing of the others +answered her. Hare left the cottage. He picked up his rifle and went +down through the orchard to the hiding-place of the horses. Silvermane +pranced and snorted his gladness at sight of his master. The desert king +was fit for a grueling race. Black Bolly quietly cropped the long grass. +Hare saddled the stallion to have him in instant readiness, and then +returned to the front of the yard. + +He heard the sound of a gun down the road, then another, and several +shots following in quick succession. A distant angry murmuring and +trampling of many feet drew Hare to the gate. Riderless mustangs were +galloping down the road; several frightened boys were fleeing across the +square; not a man was in sight. Three more shots cracked, and the low +murmur and trampling swelled into a hoarse uproar. Hare had heard that +sound before; it was the tumult of mob-violence. A black dense throng of +men appeared crowding into the main street, and crossing toward the +square. The procession had some order; it was led and flanked by mounted +men. But the upflinging of many arms, the craning of necks, and the +leaping of men on the outskirts of the mass, the pressure inward and the +hideous roar, proclaimed its real character. + +“By Heaven!” exclaimed Hare. “The Mormons have risen against the +rustlers. I understand now. John Caldwell spent last night in secretly +rousing his neighbors. They have surprised the rustlers. Now what?” + +Hare vaulted the fence and ran down the road. A compact mob of men, a +hundred or more, had halted in the village under the wide-spreading +cottonwoods. Hare suddenly grasped the terrible significance of those +outstretched branches, and out of the thought grew another which made +him run at bursting break-neck speed. + +“Open up! Let me in!” he yelled to the thickly thronged circle. Right +and left he flung men. “Make way!” His piercing voice stilled the angry +murmur. Fierce men with weapons held aloft fell back from his face. + +“Dene's spy!” they cried. + +The circle opened and closed upon him. He saw bound rustlers under armed +guard. Four still forms were on the ground. Holderness lay outstretched, +a dark-red blot staining his gray shirt. Flinty-faced Mormons, ruthless +now as they had once been mild, surrounded the rustlers. John Caldwell +stood foremost, with ashen lips breaking bitterly into speech: + +“Mormons, this is Dene's spy, the man who killed Holderness!” + +The listeners burst into the short stern shout of men proclaiming a +leader in war. + +“What's the game?” demanded Hare. + +“A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope,” replied John Caldwell. The +low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again. + +“There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them +hanged.” + +“Pick them out!” A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in +John Caldwell's hard face. + +Hare eyed the prisoners. + +“Nebraska, step out here,” said he. + +“I reckon you're mistaken,” replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently +on Hare. “I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to +cheat the man you mean.” + +“I saw you untie the girl's hands.” + +“You did? Well, d--n me!” + +“Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You +weren't cut out for a thief.” + +“Will I? D--n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin' +for you, stranger, an' prove it.” + +“Cut him loose from the others,” said Hare. He scrutinized the line of +rustlers. Several were masked in black. “Take off those masks!” + +“No! Those men go to their graves masked.” Again the strange twinge of +pain crossed John Caldwell's face. + +“Ah, I see,” exclaimed Hare. Then quickly: “I couldn't recognize the +other man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her +and I'll save him. But how?” + +Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent, +clamored that he was the one to be saved. + +“Hurry back home,” said Caldwell in Hare's ear. “Tell them to fetch +Mescal. Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are wavering. +You've got only a few minutes.” + +Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the +run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family. + +“No danger--don't be alarmed--all's well,” he panted. “The rustlers are +captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, somebody.” + +One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a +latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone, and +dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly +pattering footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall, +black hair flying, dark eyes beaming. + +“My darling!” Oblivious of the Mormons he swung her up and held her in +his arms. “Mescal! Mescal!” + +When he raised his face from the tumbling mass of her black hair, the +Bishop and his family had left the room. + +“Listen, Mescal. Be calm. I'm safe. The rustlers are prisoners. One of +them released you from Holderness. Tell me which one?” + +“I don't know,” replied Mescal. “I've tried to think. I didn't see his +face; I can't remember his voice.” + +“Think! Think! He'll be hanged if you don't recall something to identify +him. He deserves a chance. Holderness's crowd are thieves, murderers. +But two were not all bad. That showed the night you were at Silver Cup. +I saved Nebraska--” + +“Were you at Silver Cup? Jack!” + +“Hush! don't interrupt me. We must save this man who saved you. Think! +Mescal! Think!” + +“Oh! I can't. What--how shall I remember?” + +“Something about him. Think of his coat, his sleeve. You must remember +something. Did you see his hands?” + +“Yes, I did--when he was loosing the cords,” said Mescal, eagerly. +“Long, strong fingers. I felt them too. He has a sharp rough wart on one +hand, I don't know which. He wears a leather wristband.” + +“That's enough!” Hare bounded out upon the garden walk and raced back to +the crowded square. The uneasy circle stirred and opened for him to +enter. He stumbled over a pile of lassoes which had not been there when +he left. The stony Mormons waited; the rustlers coughed and shifted +their feet. John Caldwell turned a gray face. Hare bent over the three +dead rustlers lying with Holderness, and after a moment of anxious +scrutiny he rose to confront the line of prisoners. + +“Hold out your hands.” + +One by one they complied. The sixth rustler in the line, a tall fellow, +completely masked, refused to do as he was bidden. Twice Hare spoke. The +rustler twisted his bound hands under his coat. + +“Let's see them,” said Hare, quickly. He grasped the fellow's arm and +received a violent push that almost knocked him over. Grappling with the +rustler, he pulled up the bound hands, in spite of fierce resistance, +and there were the long fingers, the sharp wart, the laced wristband. +“Here's my man!” he said. + +“No,” hoarsely mumbled the rustler. The perspiration ran down his corded +neck; his breast heaved convulsively. + +“You fool!” cried Hare, dumfounded and resentful. “I recognized you. +Would you rather hang than live? What's your secret?” + +He snatched off the black mask. The Bishop's eldest son stood revealed. + +“Good God!” cried Hare, recoiling from that convulsed face. + +“Brother! Oh! I feared this,” groaned John Caldwell. + +The rustlers broke out into curses and harsh laughter. + +“--- --- you Mormons! See him! Paul Caldwell! Son of a Bishop! Thought +he was shepherdin' sheep?” + +“D--n you, Hare!” shouted the guilty Mormon, in passionate fury and +shame. “Why didn't you hang me? Why didn't you bury me unknown?” + +“Caldwell! I can't believe it,” cried Hare, slowly coming to himself. +“But you don't hang. Here, come out of the crowd. Make way, men!” + +The silent crowd of Mormons with lowered and averted eyes made passage +for Hare and Caldwell. Then cold, stern voices in sharp questions and +orders went on with the grim trial. Leading the bowed and stricken +Mormon, Hare drew off to the side of the town-hall and turned his back +upon the crowd. The constant trampling of many feet, the harsh medley of +many voices swelled into one dreadful sound. It passed away, and a long +hush followed. But this in turn was suddenly broken by an outcry: + +“The Navajos! The Navajos!” + +Hare thrilled at that cry and his glance turned to the eastern end of +the village road where a column of mounted Indians, four abreast, was +riding toward the square. + +“Naab and his Indians,” shouted Hare. “Naab and his Indians! No fear!” + His call was timely, for the aroused Mormons, ignorant of Naab's +pursuit, fearful of hostile Navajos, were handling their guns ominously. + +But there came a cry of recognition--“August Naab!” + +Onward came the band, Naab in the lead on his spotted roan. The mustangs +were spent and lashed with foam. Naab reined in his charger and the +keen-eyed Navajos closed in behind him. The old Mormon's eagle glance +passed over the dark forms dangling from the cottonwoods to the files of +waiting men. + +“Where is he?” + +“There!” answered John Caldwell, pointing to the body of Holderness. + +“Who robbed me of my vengeance? Who killed the rustler?” Naab's +stentorian voice rolled over the listening multitude. In it was a hunger +of thwarted hate that held men mute. He bent a downward gaze at the dead +Holderness as if to make sure of the ghastly reality. Then he seemed to +rise in his saddle, and his broad chest to expand. “I know--I saw it +all--blind I was not to believe my own eyes! Where is he? Where is +Hare?” + +Some one pointed Hare out. Naab swung from his saddle and scattered the +men before him as if they had been sheep. His shaggy gray head and +massive shoulders towered above the tallest there. + +Hare felt again a cold sense of fear. He grew weak in all his being. He +reeled when the gray shaggy giant laid a huge hand on his shoulder and +with one pull dragged him close. Was this his kind Mormon benefactor, +this man with the awful eyes? + +“You killed Holderness?” roared Naab. + +“Yes,” whispered Hare. + +“You heard me say I'd go alone? You forestalled me? You took upon +yourself my work?... Speak.” + +“I--did.” + +“By what right?” + +“My debt--duty--your family--Dave!” + +“Boy! Boy! You've robbed me.” Naab waved his arm from the gaping crowd +to the swinging rustlers. “You've led these white-livered Mormons to do +my work. How can I avenge my sons--seven sons?” + +His was the rage of the old desert-lion. He loosed Hare and strode in +magnificent wrath over Holderness and raised his brawny fists. + +“Eighteen years I prayed for wicked men,” he rolled out. “One by one I +buried my sons. I gave my springs and my cattle. Then I yielded to the +lust for blood. I renounced my religion. I paid my soul to everlasting +hell for the life of my foe. But he's dead! Killed by a wild boy! I sold +myself to the devil for nothing!” + +August Naab raved out his unnatural rage amid awed silence. His revolt +was the flood of years undammed at the last. The ferocity of the desert +spirit spoke silently in the hanging rustlers, in the ruthlessness of +the vigilantes who had destroyed them, but it spoke truest in the +sonorous roll of the old Mormon's wrath. + +“August, young Hare saved two of the rustlers,” spoke up an old friend, +hoping to divert the angry flood. “Paul Caldwell there, he was one of +them. The other's gone.” + +Naab loomed over him. “What!” he roared. His friend edged away, +repeating his words and jerking his thumb backward toward the Bishop's +son. + +“Judas Iscariot!” thundered Naab. “False to thyself, thy kin, and thy +God! Thrice traitor!... Why didn't you get yourself killed? ... Why are +you left? Ah-h! for me--a rustler for me to kill--with my own hands!--A +rope there--a rope!” + +“I wanted them to hang me,” hoarsely cried Caldwell, writhing in Naab's +grasp. + +Hare threw all his weight and strength upon the Mormon's iron arm. +“Naab! Naab! For God's sake, hear! He saved Mescal. This man, thief, +traitor, false Mormon--whatever he is--he saved Mescal.” + +August Naab's eyes were bloodshot. One shake of his great body flung +Hare off. He dragged Paul Caldwell across the grass toward the +cottonwood as easily as if he were handling an empty grain-sack. + +Hare suddenly darted after him. “August! August!--look! look!” he cried. +He pointed a shaking finger down the square. The old Bishop came +tottering over the grass, leaning on his cane, shading his eyes with his +hand. “August. See, the Bishop's coming. Paul's father! Do you hear?” + +Hare's appeal pierced Naab's frenzied brain. The Mormon Elder saw his +old Bishop pause and stare at the dark shapes suspended from the +cottonwoods and hold up his hands in horror. + +Naab loosed his hold. His frame seemed wrenched as though by the passing +of an evil spirit, and the reaction left his face transfigured. + +“Paul, it's your father, the Bishop,” he said, brokenly. “Be a man. He +must never know.” Naab spread wide his arms to the crowd. “Men, listen,” + he said. “Of all of us Mormons I have lost most, suffered most. Then +hear me. Bishop Caldwell must never know of his son's guilt. He would +sink under it. Keep the secret. Paul will be a man again. I know. I see. +For, Mormons, August Naab has the gift of revelation!” + + + + + + +XXI. MESCAL + +SUMMER gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls of +the oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea, +darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke were +wafted far above the cottonwoods and floated in the still air. The +desert-red color of Navajo blankets brightened the grove. + +Half-naked bronze Indians lolled in the shade, lounged on the cabin +porches and stood about the sunny glade in idle groups. They wore the +dress of peace. A single black-tipped white eagle feather waved above +the band binding each black head. They watched the merry children tumble +round the playground. Silvermane browsed where he listed under the shady +trees, and many a sinewy red hand caressed his flowing mane. Black Bolly +neighed her jealous displeasure from the corral, and the other mustangs +trampled and kicked and whistled defiance across the bars. The peacocks +preened their gorgeous plumage and uttered their clarion calls. The +belligerent turkey-gobblers sidled about ruffling their feathers. The +blackbirds and swallows sang and twittered their happiness to find old +nests in the branches and under the eaves. Over all boomed the dull roar +of the Colorado in flood. + +It was the morning of Mescal's wedding-day. + +August Naab, for once without a task, sat astride a peeled log of +driftwood in the lane, and Hare stood beside him. + +“Five thousand steers, lad! Why do you refuse them? They're worth ten +dollars a head to-day in Salt Lake City. A good start for a young man.” + +“No, I'm still in your debt.” + +“Then share alike with my sons in work and profit?” + +“Yes, I can accept that.” + +“Good! Jack, I see happiness and prosperity for you. Do you remember +that night on the White Sage trail? Ah! Well, the worst is over. We can +look forward to better times. It's not likely the rustlers will ride +into Utah again. But this desert will never be free from strife.” + +“Tell me of Mescal,” said Hare. + +“Ah! Yes, I'm coming to that.” Naab bent his head over the log and +chipped off little pieces with his knife. “Jack, will you come into the +Mormon Church?” + +Long had Hare shrunk from this question which he felt must inevitably +come, and now he met it as bravely as he could, knowing he would pain +his friend. + +“No, August, I can't,” he replied. “I feel--differently from Mormons +about--about women. If it wasn't for that! I look upon you as a father. +I'll do anything for you, except that. No one could pray to be a better +man than you. Your work, your religion, your life-- Why! I've no words +to say what I feel. Teach me what little you can of them, August, but +don't ask me--that.” + +“Well, well,” sighed Naab. The gray clearness of his eagle eyes grew +shadowed and his worn face was sad. It was the look of a strong wise man +who seemed to hear doubt and failure knocking at the gate of his creed. +But he loved life too well to be unhappy; he saw it too clearly not to +know there was nothing wholly good, wholly perfect, wholly without +error. The shade passed from his face like the cloud-shadow from the +sunlit lane. + +“You ask about Mescal,” he mused. “There's little more to tell.” + +“But her father--can you tell me more of him?” + +“Little more than I've already told. He was evidently a man of some +rank. I suspected that he ruined his life and became an adventurer. His +health was shattered when I brought him here, but he got well after a +year or so. He was a splendid, handsome fellow. He spoke very seldom and +I don't remember ever seeing him smile. His favorite walk was the river +trail. I came upon him there one day, and found him dying. He asked me +to have a care of Mescal. And he died muttering a Spanish word, a +woman's name, I think.” + +“I'll cherish Mescal the more,” said Hare. + +“Cherish her, yes. My Bible will this day give her a name. We know she +has the blood of a great chief. Beautiful she is and good. I raised her +for the Mormon Church, but God disposes after all, and I--” + +A shrill screeching sound split the warm stillness, the long-drawn-out +bray of a burro. + +“Jack, look down the lane. If it isn't Noddle!” + +Under the shady line of the red wall a little gray burro came trotting +leisurely along with one long brown ear standing straight up, the other +hanging down over his nose. + +“By George! it's Noddle!” exclaimed Hare. “He's climbed out of the +canyon. Won't this please Mescal?” + +“Hey, Mother Mary,” called Naab toward the cabin. “Send Mescal out. +Here's a wedding-present.” + +With laughing wonder the women-folk flocked out into the yard. Mescal +hung back shy-eyed, roses dyeing the brown of her cheeks. + +“Mescal's wedding-present from Thunder River. Just arrived!” called Naab +cheerily, yet deep-voiced with the happiness he knew the tidings would +give. “A dusty, dirty, shaggy, starved, lop-eared, lazy burro--Noddle!” + +Mescal flew out into the lane, and with a strange broken cry of joy that +was half a sob she fell upon her knees and clasped the little burro's +neck. Noddle wearily flapped his long brown ears, wearily nodded his +white nose; then evidently considering the incident closed, he went +lazily to sleep. + +“Noddle! dear old Noddle!” murmured Mescal, with far-seeing, thought- +mirroring eyes. “For you to come back to-day from our canyon! ... Oh! +The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonely +voices!... they come back to me.... Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the same +faithful old Noddle!” + +August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of the +cottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them. +The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed an +attentive circle around them. The ceremony was brief. At its close the +Mormon lifted his face and arms in characteristic invocation. + +“Almighty God, we entreat Thy blessing upon this marriage. Many and +inscrutable are Thy ways; strange are the workings of Thy will; wondrous +the purpose with which Thou hast brought this man and this woman +together. Watch over them in the new path they are to tread, help them +in the trials to come; and in Thy good time, when they have reached the +fulness of days, when they have known the joy of life and rendered their +service, gather them to Thy bosom in that eternal home where we all pray +to meet Thy chosen ones of good; yea, and the evil ones purified in Thy +mercy. Amen.” + +Happy congratulations of the Mormon family, a merry romp of children +flinging flowers, marriage-dance of singing Navajos--these, with the +feast spread under the cottonwoods, filled the warm noon-hours of the +day. + +Then the chief Eschtah raised his lofty form, and turned his eyes upon +the bride and groom. + +“Eschtah's hundred summers smile in the face of youth. The arm of the +White Chief is strong; the kiss of the Flower of the Desert is sweet. +Let Mescal and Jack rest their heads on one pillow, and sleep under the +trees, and chant when the dawn brightens in the east. Out of his wise +years the Navajo bids them love while they may. Daughter of my race, +take the blessing of the Navajo.” + +Jack lifted Mescal upon Black Bolly and mounted Silvermane. Piute +grinned till he shook his earrings and started the pack burros toward +the plateau trail. Wolf pattered on before, turning his white head, +impatient of delay. Amid tears and waving of hands and cheers they began +the zigzag ascent. + +When they reached the old camp on the plateau the sun was setting behind +the Painted Desert. With hands closely interwoven they watched the color +fade and the mustering of purple shadows. + +Twilight fell. Piute raked the red coals from the glowing centre of the +camp-fire. Wolf crouched all his long white length, his sharp nose on +his paws, watching Mescal. Hare watched her, too. The night shone in her +eyes, the light of the fire, the old brooding mystic desert-spirit, and +something more. The thump of Silvermane's hobbled hoofs was heard in the +darkness; Bolly's bell jangled musically. The sheep were bleating. A +lonesome coyote barked. The white stars blinked out of the blue and the +night breeze whispered softly among the cedars. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heritage of the Desert, by +Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 1262-0.txt or 1262-0.zip ***** This and +all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/1262/ + +Produced by Bill Brewer, Rick Fane, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Heritage of the Desert + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: August 21, 2008 [EBook #1262] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer, Rick Fane, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + </h1> + <h2> + A NOVEL + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Zane Grey + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. </a> THE SIGN OF THE + SUNSET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. </a> WHITE + SAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III. </a> THE TRAIL + OF THE RED WALL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV. </a> THE + OASIS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V. </a> BLACK SAGE + AND JUNIPER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI. </a> THE + WIND IN THE CEDARS <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII. </a> SILVERMANE + <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2H_4_0007B"> VIII. </a> THE BREAKER OF WILD MUSTANGS + <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IX. </a> THE SCENT OF + DESERT-WATER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> X. </a> RIDING + THE RANGES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> XI. </a> THE + DESERT-HAWK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XII. </a> ECHO + CLIFFS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XIII. </a> THE + SOMBRE LINE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIV. </a> WOLF + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XV. </a> DESERT NIGHT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XVI. </a> THUNDER RIVER + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVII. </a> THE SWOOP OF + THE HAWK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVIII. </a> THE + HERITAGE OF THE DESERT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIX. </a> UNLEASHED + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XX. </a> THE RAGE OF THE + OLD LION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XXI. </a> MESCAL + <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I. THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET + </h2> + <p> + “BUT the man's almost dead.” + </p> + <p> + The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his eyes. + The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that had + overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a sombre + group of men. + </p> + <p> + “Leave him here,” said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. “He's the + fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. He's all but + dead. Dene's outlaws are after him. Don't cross Dene.” + </p> + <p> + The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a + follower of Cromwell. + </p> + <p> + “Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or any + other man. You forget your religion. I see my duty to God.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, August Naab, I know,” replied the little man, bitterly. “You would + cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who went down + from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. But I've suffered enough + at the hands of Dene.” + </p> + <p> + The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving Hare + that he was still in the land of the Mormons. As he lay there the strange + words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few days with + the stern reality of the present. + </p> + <p> + “Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers,” replied Naab, like one + reading from the Old Testament. “They came into this desert land to + worship and multiply in peace. They conquered the desert; they prospered + with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all + hostile to their religion and their livelihood. Nor did they ever fail to + succor the sick and unfortunate. What are our toils and perils compared to + theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn from mercy + because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the times, but I am + a Mormon; I trust in God.” + </p> + <p> + “August Naab, I am a Mormon too,” returned Cole, “but my hands are stained + with blood. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and your + cattle. Yes, I know. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far off in + your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, guarded by your + Navajo friends. But Holderness is creeping slowly on you. He'll ignore + your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will steal cattle under + your very eyes. Don't make them enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't pass by this helpless man,” rolled out August Naab's sonorous + voice. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward. “There! + Dene and his band! See, under the red wall; see the dust, not ten miles + away. See them?” + </p> + <p> + The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to the + west. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched the waste, and followed the red + mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional in its + craggy sweep, shut out the north. Far away little puffs of dust rose above + the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace. + </p> + <p> + “See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for my + prophecy,” cried Cole, fanatically. “The red sunset—the sign of the + times—blood!” + </p> + <p> + A broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme + west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several clouds of + striking color and shape. They alone, in all that expanse, were dyed in + the desert's sunset crimson. The largest projected from behind the dark + cloud-bank in the shape of a huge fist, and the others, small and round, + floated below. To Cole it seemed a giant hand, clutching, with inexorable + strength, a bleeding heart. His terror spread to his companions as they + stared. + </p> + <p> + Then, as light surrendered to shade, the sinister color faded; the tracing + of the closed hand softened; flush and glow paled, leaving the sky purple, + as if mirroring the desert floor. One golden shaft shot up, to be blotted + out by sudden darkening change, and the sun had set. + </p> + <p> + “That may be God's will,” said August Naab. “So be it. Martin Cole, take + your men and go.” + </p> + <p> + There was a word, half oath, half prayer, and then rattle of stirrups, the + creak of saddles, and clink of spurs, followed by the driving rush of + fiery horses. Cole and his men disappeared in a pall of yellow dust. + </p> + <p> + A wan smile lightened John Hare's face as he spoke weakly: “I fear your—generous + act—can't save me... may bring you harm. I'd rather you left me—seeing + you have women in your party.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't try to talk yet,” said August Naab. “You're faint. Here—drink.” + He stooped to Hare, who was leaning against a sage-bush, and held a flask + to his lips. Rising, he called to his men: “Make camp, sons. We've an hour + before the outlaws come up, and if they don't go round the sand-dune we'll + have longer.” + </p> + <p> + Hare's flagging senses rallied, and he forgot himself in wonder. While the + bustle went on, unhitching of wagon-teams, hobbling and feeding of horses, + unpacking of camp-supplies, Naab appeared to be lost in deep meditation or + prayer. Not once did he glance backward over the trail on which peril was + fast approaching. His gaze was fastened on a ridge to the east where + desert line, fringed by stunted cedars, met the pale-blue sky, and for a + long time he neither spoke nor stirred. At length he turned to the + camp-fire; he raked out red coals, and placed the iron pots in position, + by way of assistance to the women who were preparing the evening meal. + </p> + <p> + A cool wind blew in from the desert, rustling the sage, sifting the sand, + fanning the dull coals to burning opals. Twilight failed and night fell; + one by one great stars shone out, cold and bright. From the zone of + blackness surrounding the camp burst the short bark, the hungry whine, the + long-drawn-out wail of desert wolves. + </p> + <p> + “Supper, sons,” called Naab, as he replenished the fire with an armful of + grease-wood. + </p> + <p> + Naab's sons had his stature, though not his bulk. They were wiry, rangy + men, young, yet somehow old. The desert had multiplied their years. Hare + could not have told one face from another, the bronze skin and steel eye + and hard line of each were so alike. The women, one middle-aged, the + others young, were of comely, serious aspect. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal,” called the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + A slender girl slipped from one of the covered wagons; she was dark, + supple, straight as an Indian. + </p> + <p> + August Naab dropped to his knees, and, as the members of his family bowed + their heads, he extended his hands over them and over the food laid on the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, we kneel in humble thanksgiving. Bless this food to our use. + Strengthen us, guide us, keep us as Thou hast in the past. Bless this + stranger within our gates. Help us to help him. Teach us Thy ways, O Lord—Amen.” + </p> + <p> + Hare found himself flushing and thrilling, found himself unable to control + a painful binding in his throat. In forty-eight hours he had learned to + hate the Mormons unutterably; here, in the presence of this austere man, + he felt that hatred wrenched from his heart, and in its place stirred + something warm and living. He was glad, for if he had to die, as he + believed, either from the deed of evil men, or from this last struggle of + his wasted body, he did not want to die in bitterness. That simple prayer + recalled the home he had long since left in Connecticut, and the time when + he used to tease his sister and anger his father and hurt his mother while + grace was being said at the breakfast-table. Now he was alone in the + world, sick and dependent upon the kindness of these strangers. But they + were really friends—it was a wonderful thought. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, wait on the stranger,” said August Naab, and the girl knelt + beside him, tendering meat and drink. His nerveless fingers refused to + hold the cup, and she put it to his lips while he drank. Hot coffee + revived him; he ate and grew stronger, and readily began to talk when the + Mormon asked for his story. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't much to tell. My name is Hare. I am twenty-four. My parents + are dead. I came West because the doctors said I couldn't live in the + East. At first I got better. But my money gave out and work became a + necessity. I tramped from place to place, ending up ill in Salt Lake City. + People were kind to me there. Some one got me a job with a big cattle + company, and sent me to Marysvale, southward over the bleak plains. It was + cold; I was ill when I reached Lund. Before I even knew what my duties + were for at Lund I was to begin work—men called me a spy. A fellow + named Chance threatened me. An innkeeper led me out the back way, gave me + bread and water, and said: 'Take this road to Bane; it's sixteen miles. If + you make it some one'll give you a lift North.' I walked all night, and + all the next day. Then I wandered on till I dropped here where you found + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You missed the road to Bane,” said Naab. “This is the trail to White + Sage. It's a trail of sand and stone that leaves no tracks, a lucky thing + for you. Dene wasn't in Lund while you were there—else you wouldn't + be here. He hasn't seen you, and he can't be certain of your trail. Maybe + he rode to Bane, but still we may find a way—” + </p> + <p> + One of his sons whistled low, causing Naab to rise slowly, to peer into + the darkness, to listen intently. + </p> + <p> + “Here, get up,” he said, extending a hand to Hare. “Pretty shaky, eh? Can + you walk? Give me a hold—there.... Mescal, come.” The slender girl + obeyed, gliding noiselessly like a shadow. “Take his arm.” Between them + they led Hare to a jumble of stones on the outer edge of the circle of + light. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't do to hide,” continued Naab, lowering his voice to a swift + whisper, “that might be fatal. You're in sight from the camp-fire, but + indistinct. By-and-by the outlaws will get here, and if any of them prowl + around close, you and Mescal must pretend to be sweethearts. Understand? + They'll pass by Mormon love-making without a second look. Now, lad, + courage... Mescal, it may save his life.” + </p> + <p> + Naab returned to the fire, his shadow looming in gigantic proportions on + the white canopy of a covered wagon. Fitful gusts of wind fretted the + blaze; it roared and crackled and sputtered, now illuminating the still + forms, then enveloping them in fantastic obscurity. Hare shivered, perhaps + from the cold air, perhaps from growing dread. Westward lay the desert, an + impenetrable black void; in front, the gloomy mountain wall lifted jagged + peaks close to the stars; to the right rose the ridge, the rocks and + stunted cedars of its summit standing in weird relief. Suddenly Hare's + fugitive glance descried a dark object; he watched intently as it moved + and rose from behind the summit of the ridge to make a bold black figure + silhouetted against the cold clearness of sky. He saw it distinctly, + realized it was close, and breathed hard as the wind-swept mane and tail, + the lean, wild shape and single plume resolved themselves into the + unmistakable outline of an Indian mustang and rider. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he whispered to the girl. “See, a mounted Indian, there on the + ridge—there, he's gone—no, I see him again. But that's + another. Look! there are more.” He ceased in breathless suspense and + stared fearfully at a line of mounted Indians moving in single file over + the ridge to become lost to view in the intervening blackness. A faint + rattling of gravel and the peculiar crack of unshod hoof on stone gave + reality to that shadowy train. + </p> + <p> + “Navajos,” said Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “Navajos!” he echoed. “I heard of them at Lund; 'desert hawks' the men + called them, worse than Piutes. Must we not alarm the men?—You—aren't + you afraid? + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But they are hostile.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to him.” She pointed at the stalwart figure standing against the + firelight. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I remember. The man Cole spoke of friendly Navajos. They must be + close by. What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure. I think they are out there in the cedars, waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting! For what?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps for a signal.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they were expected?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I only guess. We used to ride often to White Sage and Lund; + now we go seldom, and when we do there seem to be Navajos near the camp at + night, and riding the ridges by day. I believe Father Naab knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father's risking much for me. He's good. I wish I could show my + gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “I call him Father Naab, but he is not my father.” + </p> + <p> + “A niece or granddaughter, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm no relation. Father Naab raised me in his family. My mother was a + Navajo, my father a Spaniard.” + </p> + <p> + “Why!” exclaimed Hare. “When you came out of the wagon I took you for an + Indian girl. But the moment you spoke—you talk so well—no one + would dream—” + </p> + <p> + “Mormons are well educated and teach the children they raise,” she said, + as he paused in embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to ask if she were a Mormon by religion, but the question seemed + curious and unnecessary. His interest was aroused; he realized suddenly + that he had found pleasure in her low voice; it was new and strange, + unlike any woman's voice he had ever heard; and he regarded her closely. + He had only time for a glance at her straight, clean-cut profile, when she + turned startled eyes on him, eyes black as the night. And they were eyes + that looked through and beyond him. She held up a hand, slowly bent toward + the wind, and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + Hare heard nothing save the barking of coyotes and the breeze in the sage. + He saw, however, the men rise from round the camp-fire to face the north, + and the women climb into the wagon, and close the canvas flaps. And he + prepared himself, with what fortitude he could command for the approach of + the outlaws. He waited, straining to catch a sound. His heart throbbed + audibly, like a muffled drum, and for an endless moment his ears seemed + deadened to aught else. Then a stronger puff of wind whipped in, banging + the rhythmic beat of flying hoofs. Suspense ended. Hare felt the easing of + a weight upon him. Whatever was to be his fate, it would be soon decided. + The sound grew into a clattering roar. A black mass hurled itself over the + border of opaque circle, plunged into the light, and halted. + </p> + <p> + August Naab deliberately threw a bundle of grease-wood upon the camp-fire. + A blaze leaped up, sending abroad a red flare. “Who comes?” he called. + </p> + <p> + “Friends, Mormons, friends,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Get down—friends—and come to the fire.” + </p> + <p> + Three horsemen advanced to the foreground; others, a troop of eight or + ten, remained in the shadow, a silent group. + </p> + <p> + Hare sank back against the stone. He knew the foremost of those horsemen + though he had never seen him. + </p> + <p> + “Dene,” whispered Mescal, and confirmed his instinctive fear. + </p> + <p> + Hare was nervously alive to the handsome presence of the outlaw. Glimpses + that he had caught of “bad” men returned vividly as he noted the + clean-shaven face, the youthful, supple body, the cool, careless mien. + Dene's eyes glittered as he pulled off his gauntlets and beat the sand out + of them; and but for that quick fierce glance his leisurely friendly + manner would have disarmed suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the Mormon Naab?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “August Naab, I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Dry camp, eh? Hosses tired, I reckon. Shore it's a sandy trail. Where's + the rest of you fellers?” + </p> + <p> + “Cole and his men were in a hurry to make White Sage to-night. They were + travelling light; I've heavy wagons.” + </p> + <p> + “Naab, I reckon you shore wouldn't tell a lie?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never lied.” + </p> + <p> + “Heerd of a young feller thet was in Lund—pale chap—lunger, + we'd call him back West?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard that he had been mistaken for a spy at Lund and had fled toward + Bane.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't seen nothin' of him this side of Lund?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Seen any Navvies?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The outlaw stared hard at him. Apparently he was about to speak of the + Navajos, for his quick uplift of head at Naab's blunt affirmative + suggested the impulse. But he checked himself and slowly drew on his + gloves. + </p> + <p> + “Naab, I'm shore comin' to visit you some day. Never been over thet range. + Heerd you hed fine water, fine cattle. An' say, I seen thet little Navajo + girl you have, an' I wouldn't mind seein' her again.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab kicked the fire into brighter blaze. “Yes fine range,” he + presently replied, his gaze fixed on Dene. “Fine water, fine cattle, fine + browse. I've a fine graveyard, too; thirty graves, and not one a woman's. + Fine place for graves, the canyon country. You don't have to dig. There's + one grave the Indians never named; it's three thousand feet deep.” + </p> + <p> + “Thet must be in hell,” replied Dene, with a smile, ignoring the covert + meaning. He leisurely surveyed Naab's four sons, the wagons and horses, + till his eye fell upon Hare and Mescal. With that he swung in his saddle + as if to dismount. + </p> + <p> + “I shore want a look around.” + </p> + <p> + “Get down, get down,” returned the Mormon. The deep voice, unwelcoming, + vibrant with an odd ring, would have struck a less suspicious man than + Dene. The outlaw wrung his leg back over the pommel, sagged in the saddle, + and appeared to be pondering the question. Plainly he was uncertain of his + ground. But his indecision was brief. + </p> + <p> + “Two-Spot, you look 'em over,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + The third horseman dismounted and went toward the wagons. + </p> + <p> + Hare, watching this scene, became conscious that his fear had intensified + with the recognition of Two-Spot as Chance, the outlaw whom he would not + soon forget. In his excitement he moved against Mescal and felt her + trembling violently. + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of Dene.” + </p> + <p> + The outlaw rummaged in one of the wagons, pulled aside the canvas flaps of + the other, laughed harshly, and then with clinking spurs tramped through + the camp, kicking the beds, overturning a pile of saddles, and making + disorder generally, till he spied the couple sitting on the stone in the + shadow. + </p> + <p> + As the outlaw lurched that way, Hare, with a start of recollection, took + Mescal in his arms and leaned his head against hers. He felt one of her + hands lightly brush his shoulder and rest there, trembling. + </p> + <p> + Shuffling footsteps scraped the sand, sounded nearer and nearer, slowed + and paused. + </p> + <p> + “Sparkin'! Dead to the world. Ham! Haw! Haw!” + </p> + <p> + The coarse laugh gave place to moving footsteps. The rattling clink of + stirrup and spur mingled with the restless stamp of horse. Chance had + mounted. Dene's voice drawled out: “Good-bye, Naab, I shore will see you + all some day.” The heavy thuds of many hoofs evened into a roar that + diminished as it rushed away. + </p> + <p> + In unutterable relief Hare realized his deliverance. He tried to rise, but + power of movement had gone from him. + </p> + <p> + He was fainting, yet his sensations were singularly acute. Mescal's hand + dropped from his shoulder; her cheek, that had been cold against his, grew + hot; she quivered through all her slender length. Confusion claimed his + senses. Gratitude and hope flooded his soul. Something sweet and + beautiful, the touch of this desert girl, rioted in his blood; his heart + swelled in exquisite agony. Then he was whirling in darkness; and he knew + no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. WHITE SAGE + </h2> + <p> + THE night was as a blank to Hare; the morning like a drifting of hazy + clouds before his eyes. He felt himself moving; and when he awakened + clearly to consciousness he lay upon a couch on the vine-covered porch of + a cottage. He saw August Naab open a garden gate to admit Martin Cole. + They met as friends; no trace of scorn marred August's greeting, and + Martin was not the same man who had shown fear on the desert. His welcome + was one of respectful regard for his superior. + </p> + <p> + “Elder, I heard you were safe in,” he said, fervently. “We feared—I + know not what. I was distressed till I got the news of your arrival. How's + the young man?” + </p> + <p> + “He's very ill. But while there's life there's hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the Bishop administer to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Gladly, if the young man's willing. Come, let's go in.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, August,” said Cole. “Did you know your son Snap was in the + village?” + </p> + <p> + “My son here!” August Naab betrayed anxiety. “I left him home with work. + He shouldn't have come. Is—is he—” + </p> + <p> + “He's drinking and in an ugly mood. It seems he traded horses with Jeff + Larsen, and got the worst of the deal. There's pretty sure to be a fight.” + </p> + <p> + “He always hated Larsen.” + </p> + <p> + “Small wonder. Larsen is mean; he's as bad as we've got and that's saying + a good deal. Snap has done worse things than fight with Larsen. He's doing + a worse thing now, August—he's too friendly with Dene.” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard—I've heard it before. But, Martin, what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do? God knows. What can any of us do? Times have changed, August. Dene is + here in White Sage, free, welcome in many homes. Some of our neighbors, + perhaps men we trust, are secret members of this rustler's band.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Cole. There are Mormons who are cattle-thieves. To my + eternal shame I confess it. Under cover of night they ride with Dene, and + here in our midst they meet him in easy tolerance. Driven from Montana he + comes here to corrupt our young men. God's mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “August, some of our young men need no one to corrupt them. Dene had no + great task to win them. He rode in here with a few outlaws and now he has + a strong band. We've got to face it. We haven't any law, but he can be + killed. Some one must kill him. Yet bad as Dene is, he doesn't threaten + our living as Holderness does. Dene steals a few cattle, kills a man here + and there. Holderness reaches out and takes our springs. Because we've no + law to stop him, he steals the blood of our life—water—water—God's + gift to the desert! Some one must kill Holderness, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Martin, this lust to kill is a fearful thing. Come in, you must pray with + the Bishop.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not prayer I need, Elder,” replied Cole, stubbornly. “I'm still + a good Mormon. What I want is the stock I've lost, and my fields green + again.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab had no answer for his friend. A very old man with snow-white + hair and beard came out on the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Bishop, brother Martin is railing again,” said Naab, as Cole bared his + head. + </p> + <p> + “Martin, my son, unbosom thyself,” rejoined the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Black doubt and no light,” said Cole, despondently. “I'm of the younger + generation of Mormons, and faith is harder for me. I see signs you can't + see. I've had trials hard to bear. I was rich in cattle, sheep, and water. + These Gentiles, this rancher Holderness and this outlaw Dene, have driven + my cattle, killed my sheep, piped my water off my fields. I don't like the + present. We are no longer in the old days. Our young men are drifting + away, and the few who return come with ideas opposed to Mormonism. Our + girls and boys are growing up influenced by the Gentiles among us. They + intermarry, and that's a death-blow to our creed.” + </p> + <p> + “Martin, cast out this poison from your heart. Return to your faith. The + millennium will come. Christ will reign on earth again. The ten tribes of + Israel will be restored. The Book of Mormon is the Word of God. The creed + will live. We may suffer here and die, but our spirits will go marching + on; and the City of Zion will be builded over our graves.” + </p> + <p> + Cole held up his hands in a meekness that signified hope if not faith. + </p> + <p> + August Naab bent over Hare. “I would like to have the Bishop administer to + you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “A Mormon custom, 'the laying on of hands.' We know its efficacy in + trouble and illness. A Bishop of the Mormon Church has the gift of + tongues, of prophecy, of revelation, of healing. Let him administer to + you. It entails no obligation. Accept it as a prayer.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm willing,” replied the young man. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Naab spoke a few low words to some one through the open door. + Voices ceased; soft footsteps sounded without; women crossed the + threshold, followed by tall young men and rosy-checked girls and + round-eyed children. A white-haired old woman came forward with solemn + dignity. She carried a silver bowl which she held for the Bishop as he + stood close by Hare's couch. The Bishop put his hands into the bowl, + anointing them with fragrant oil; then he placed them on the young man's + head, and offered up a brief prayer, beautiful in its simplicity and + tremulous utterance. + </p> + <p> + The ceremony ended, the onlookers came forward with pleasant words on + their lips, pleasant smiles on their faces. The children filed by his + couch, bashful yet sympathetic; the women murmured, the young men grasped + his hand. Mescal flitted by with downcast eye, with shy smile, but no + word. + </p> + <p> + “Your fever is gone,” said August Naab, with his hand on Hare's cheek. + </p> + <p> + “It comes and goes suddenly,” replied Hare. “I feel better now, only I'm + oppressed. I can't breathe freely. I want air, and I'm hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Mary, the lad's hungry. Judith, Esther, where are your wits? Help + your mother. Mescal, wait on him, see to his comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Mescal brought a little table and a pillow, and the other girls soon + followed with food and drink; then they hovered about, absorbed in caring + for him. + </p> + <p> + “They said I fell among thieves,” mused Hare, when he was once more alone. + “I've fallen among saints as well.” He felt that he could never repay this + August Naab. “If only I might live!” he ejaculated. How restful was this + cottage garden! The green sward was a balm to his eyes. Flowers new to + him, though of familiar springtime hue, lifted fresh faces everywhere; + fruit-trees, with branches intermingling, blended the white and pink of + blossoms. There was the soft laughter of children in the garden. Strange + birds darted among the trees. Their notes were new, but their song was the + old delicious monotone—the joy of living and love of spring. A + green-bowered irrigation ditch led by the porch and unseen water flowed + gently, with gurgle and tinkle, with music in its hurry. Innumerable bees + murmured amid the blossoms. + </p> + <p> + Hare fell asleep. Upon returning drowsily to consciousness he caught + through half-open eyes the gleam of level shafts of gold sunlight low down + in the trees; then he felt himself being carried into the house to be laid + upon a bed. Some one gently unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, removed his + shoes, and covered him with a blanket. Before he had fully awakened he was + left alone, and quiet settled over the house. A languorous sense of ease + and rest lulled him to sleep again. In another moment, it seemed to him, + he was awake; bright daylight streamed through the window, and a morning + breeze stirred the faded curtain. + </p> + <p> + The drag in his breathing which was always a forerunner of a + coughing-spell warned him now; he put on coat and shoes and went outside, + where his cough attacked him, had its sway, and left him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning,” sang out August Naab's cheery voice. “Sixteen hours of + sleep, my lad!” + </p> + <p> + “I did sleep, didn't I? No wonder I feel well this morning. A peculiarity + of my illness is that one day I'm down, the next day up.” + </p> + <p> + “With the goodness of God, my lad, we'll gradually increase the days up. + Go in to breakfast. Afterward I want to talk to you. This'll be a busy day + for me, shoeing the horses and packing supplies. I want to start for home + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Hare pondered over Naab's words while he ate. The suggestion in them, + implying a relation to his future, made him wonder if the good Mormon + intended to take him to his desert home. He hoped so, and warmed anew to + this friend. But he had no enthusiasm for himself; his future seemed + hopeless. + </p> + <p> + Naab was waiting for him on the porch, and drew him away from the cottage + down the path toward the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to go home with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You're kind—I'm only a sort of beggar—I've no strength left + to work my way. I'll go—though it's only to die.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't the gift of revelation—yet somehow I see that you won't + die of this illness. You will come home with me. It's a beautiful place, + my Navajo oasis. The Indians call it the Garden of Eschtah. If you can get + well anywhere it'll be there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go but I ought not. What can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No man can ever tell what he may do for another. The time may come—well, + John, is it settled?” He offered his huge broad hand. + </p> + <p> + “It's settled—I—” Hare faltered as he put his hand in Naab's. + The Mormon's grip straightened his frame and braced him. Strength and + simplicity flowed from the giant's toil-hardened palm. Hare swallowed his + thanks along with his emotion, and for what he had intended to say he + substituted: “No one ever called me John. I don't know the name. Call me + Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Jack, and now let's see. You'll need some things from the + store. Can you come with me? It's not far.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely. And now what I need most is a razor to scrape the alkali and + stubble off my face.” + </p> + <p> + The wide street, bordered by cottages peeping out of green and white + orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which led + up to the Pink Cliffs. A green square enclosed a gray church, a + school-house and public hall. Farther down the main thoroughfare were + several weather-boarded whitewashed stores. Two dusty men were riding + along, one on each side of the wildest, most vicious little horse Hare had + ever seen. It reared and bucked and kicked, trying to escape from two + lassoes. In front of the largest store were a number of mustangs all + standing free, with bridles thrown over their heads and trailing on the + ground. The loungers leaning against the railing and about the doors were + lank brown men very like Naab's sons. Some wore sheepskin “chaps,” some + blue overalls; all wore boots and spurs, wide soft hats, and in their + belts, far to the back, hung large Colt's revolvers. + </p> + <p> + “We'll buy what you need, just as if you expected to ride the ranges for + me to-morrow,” said Naab. “The first thing we ask a new man is, can he + ride? Next, can he shoot?” + </p> + <p> + “I could ride before I got so weak. I've never handled a revolver, but I + can shoot a rifle. Never shot at anything except targets, and it seemed to + come natural for me to hit them.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. We'll show you some targets—lions, bears, deer, cats, wolves. + There's a fine forty-four Winchester here that my friend Abe has been + trying to sell. It has a long barrel and weighs eight pounds. Our desert + riders like the light carbines that go easy on a saddle. Most of the + mustangs aren't weight-carriers. This rifle has a great range; I've shot + it, and it's just the gun for you to use on wolves and coyotes. You'll + need a Colt and a saddle, too.” + </p> + <p> + “By-the-way,” he went on, as they mounted the store steps, “here's the + kind of money we use in this country.” He handed Hare a slip of blue + paper, a written check for a sum of money, signed, but without register of + bank or name of firm. “We don't use real money,” he added. “There's very + little coin or currency in southern Utah. Most of the Gentiles lately come + in have money, and some of us Mormons have a bag or two of gold, but + scarcely any of it gets into circulation. We use these checks, which go + from man to man sometimes for six months. The roundup of a check means + sheep, cattle, horses, grain, merchandise or labor. Every man gets his + real money's value without paying out an actual cent.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a system at least means honest men,” said Hare, laughing his + surprise. + </p> + <p> + They went into a wide door to tread a maze of narrow aisles between boxes + and barrels, stacks of canned vegetables, and piles of harness and dry + goods; they entered an open space where several men leaned on a counter. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Abe,” said Naab; “seen anything of Snap?” + </p> + <p> + “Hello, August. Yes, Snap's inside. So's Holderness. Says he rode in off + the range on purpose to see you.” Abe designated an open doorway from + which issued loud voices. Hare glanced into a long narrow room full of + smoke and the fumes of rum. Through the haze he made out a crowd of men at + a rude bar. Abe went to the door and called out: “Hey, Snap, your dad + wants you. Holderness, here's August Naab.” + </p> + <p> + A man staggered up the few steps leading to the store and swayed in. His + long face had a hawkish cast, and it was gray, not with age, but with the + sage-gray of the desert. His eyes were of the same hue, cold yet burning + with little fiery flecks in their depths. He appeared short of stature + because of a curvature of the spine, but straightened up he would have + been tall. He wore a blue flannel shirt, and blue overalls; round his lean + hips was a belt holding two Colt's revolvers, their heavy, dark butts + projecting outward, and he had on high boots with long, cruel spurs. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, father?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I'm packing to-day,” returned August Naab. “We ride out to-morrow. I need + your help.” + </p> + <p> + “All-l right. When I get my pinto from Larsen.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind Larsen. If he got the better of you let the matter drop.” + </p> + <p> + “Jeff got my pinto for a mustang with three legs. If I hadn't been drunk + I'd never have traded. So I'm looking for Jeff.” + </p> + <p> + He bit out the last words with a peculiar snap of his long teeth, a + circumstance which caused Hare instantly to associate the savage clicking + with the name he had heard given this man. August Naab looked at him with + gloomy eyes and stern shut mouth, an expression of righteous anger, + helplessness and grief combined, the look of a man to whom obstacles had + been nothing, at last confronted with crowning defeat. Hare realized that + this son was Naab's first-born, best-loved, a thorn in his side, a black + sheep. + </p> + <p> + “Say, father, is that the spy you found on the trail?” Snap's pale eyes + gleamed on Hare and the little flames seemed to darken and leap. + </p> + <p> + “This is John Hare, the young man I found. But he's not a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't make any one believe that. He's down as a spy. Dene's spy! His + name's gone over the ranges as a counter of unbranded stock. Dene has + named him and Dene has marked him. Don't take him home, as you've taken so + many sick and hunted men before. What's the good of it? You never made a + Mormon of one of them yet. Don't take him—unless you want another + grave for your cemetery. Ha! Ha!” + </p> + <p> + Hare recoiled with a shock. Snap Naab swayed to the door, and stepped + down, all the time with his face over his shoulder, his baleful glance on + Hare; then the blue haze swallowed him. + </p> + <p> + The several loungers went out; August engaged the storekeeper in + conversation, introducing Hare and explaining their wants. They inspected + the various needs of a range-rider, selecting, in the end, not the few + suggested by Hare, but the many chosen by Naab. The last purchase was the + rifle Naab had talked about. It was a beautiful weapon, finely polished + and carved, entirely out of place among the plain coarse-sighted and + coarse-stocked guns in the rack. + </p> + <p> + “Never had a chance to sell it,” said Abe. “Too long and heavy for the + riders. I'll let it go cheap, half price, and the cartridges also, two + thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Taken,” replied Naab, quickly, with a satisfaction which showed he liked + a bargain. + </p> + <p> + “August, you must be going to shoot some?” queried Abe. “Something bigger + than rabbits and coyotes. Its about time—even if you are an Elder. + We Mormons must—” he broke off, continuing in a low tone: “Here's + Holderness now.” + </p> + <p> + Hare wheeled with the interest that had gathered with the reiteration of + this man's name. A new-comer stooped to get in the door. He out-topped + even Naab in height, and was a superb blond-bearded man, striding with the + spring of a mountaineer. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day to you, Naab,” he said. “Is this the young fellow you picked + up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Jack Hare,” rejoined Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Hare, I'm Holderness. You'll recall my name. You were sent to Lund + by men interested in my ranges. I expected to see you in Lund, but + couldn't get over.” + </p> + <p> + Hare met the proffered hand with his own, and as he had recoiled from Snap + Naab so now he received another shock, different indeed but impelling in + its power, instinctive of some great portent. Hare was impressed by an + indefinable subtlety, a nameless distrust, as colorless as the clear + penetrating amber lightness of the eyes that bent upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Holderness, will you right the story about Hare?” inquired Naab. + </p> + <p> + “You mean about his being a spy? Well, Naab, the truth is that was his + job. I advised against sending a man down here for that sort of work. It + won't do. These Mormons will steal each other's cattle, and they've got to + get rid of them; so they won't have a man taking account of stock, brands, + and all that. If the Mormons would stand for it the rustlers wouldn't. + I'll take Hare out to the ranch and give him work, if he wants. But he'd + do best to leave Utah.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no,” replied Hare, decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “He's going with me,” said August Naab. + </p> + <p> + Holderness accepted this with an almost imperceptible nod, and he swept + Hare with eyes that searched and probed for latent possibilities. It was + the keen intelligence of a man who knew what development meant on the + desert; not in any sense an interest in the young man at present. Then he + turned his back. + </p> + <p> + Hare, feeling that Holderness wished to talk with Naab, walked to the + counter, and began assorting his purchases, but he could not help hearing + what was said. + </p> + <p> + “Lungs bad?” queried Holderness. + </p> + <p> + “One of them,” replied Naab. + </p> + <p> + “He's all in. Better send him out of the country. He's got the name of + Dene's spy and he'll never get another on this desert. Dene will kill him. + This isn't good judgment, Naab, to take him with you. Even your friends + don't like it, and it means trouble for you.” + </p> + <p> + “We've settled it,” said Naab, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, remember, I've warned you. I've tried to be friendly with you, + Naab, but you won't have it. Anyway, I've wanted to see you lately to find + out how we stand.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “How we stand on several things—to begin with, there Mescal.” + </p> + <p> + “You asked me several times for Mescal, and I said no.” + </p> + <p> + “But I never said I'd marry her. Now I want her, and I will marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” rejoined Naab, adding brevity to his coldness. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” demanded Holderness. “Oh, well, I can't take that as an insult. + I know there's not enough money in Utah to get a girl away from a + Mormon.... About the offer for the water-rights—how do we stand? + I'll give you ten thousand dollars for the rights to Seeping Springs and + Silver Cup.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand!” ejaculated Naab. “Holderness, I wouldn't take a hundred + thousand. You might as well ask to buy my home, my stock, my range, twenty + years of toil, for ten thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + “You refuse? All right. I think I've made you a fair proposition,” said + Holderness, in a smooth, quick tone. “The land is owned by the Government, + and though your ranges are across the Arizona line they really figure as + Utah land. My company's spending big money, and the Government won't let + you have a monopoly. No one man can control the water-supply of a hundred + miles of range. Times are changing. You want to see that. You ought to + protect yourself before it's too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Holderness, this is a desert. No men save Mormons could ever have made it + habitable. The Government scarcely knows of its existence. It'll be fifty + years before man can come in here to take our water.” + </p> + <p> + “Why can't he? The water doesn't belong to any one. Why can't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of the unwritten law of the desert. No Mormon would refuse you or + your horse a drink, or even a reasonable supply for your stock. But you + can't come in here and take our water for your own use, to supplant us, to + parch our stock. Why, even an Indian respects desert law!” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! I'm not a Mormon or an Indian. I'm a cattleman. It's plain business + with me. Once more I make you the offer.” + </p> + <p> + Naab scorned to reply. The men faced each other for a silent moment, their + glances scintillating. Then Holderness whirled on his heel, jostling into + Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of my way,” said the rancher, in the disgust of intense + irritation. He swung his arm, and his open hand sent Hare reeling against + the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” said Naab, breathing hard, “Holderness showed his real self + to-day. I always knew it, yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt.... For + him to strike you! I've not the gift of revelation, but I see—let us + go.” + </p> + <p> + On the return to the Bishop's cottage Naab did not speak once; the + transformation which had begun with the appearance of his drunken son had + reached a climax of gloomy silence after the clash with Holderness. Naab + went directly to the Bishop, and presently the quavering voice of the old + minister rose in prayer. + </p> + <p> + Hare dropped wearily into the chair on the porch; and presently fell into + a doze, from which he awakened with a start. Naab's sons, with Martin Cole + and several other men, were standing in the yard. Naab himself was gently + crowding the women into the house. When he got them all inside he closed + the door and turned to Cole. + </p> + <p> + “Was it a fair fight?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an even break. They met in front of Abe's. I saw the meeting. + Neither was surprised. They stood for a moment watching each other. Then + they drew—only Snap was quicker. Larsen's gun went off as he fell. + That trick you taught Snap saved his life again. Larsen was no slouch on + the draw.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Snap now?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone after his pinto. He was sober. Said he'd pack at once. Larsen's + friends are ugly. Snap said to tell you to hurry out of the village with + young Hare, if you want to take him at all. Dene has ridden in; he swears + you won't take Hare away.” + </p> + <p> + “We're all packed and ready to hitch up,” returned Naab. “We could start + at once, only until dark I'd rather take chances here than out on the + trail.” + </p> + <p> + “Snap said Dene would ride right into the Bishop's after Hare.” + </p> + <p> + “No. He wouldn't dare.” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” Dave Naab spoke sharply from where he stood high on a grassy + bank. “Here's Dene now, riding up with Culver, and some man I don't know. + They're coming in. Dene's jumped the fence! Look out!” + </p> + <p> + A clatter of hoofs and rattling of gravel preceded the appearance of a + black horse in the garden path. His rider bent low to dodge the vines of + the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with + the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant. + </p> + <p> + “What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?” challenged August Naab, + planting his broad bulk square before Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Dene's spy!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?” repeated Naab. + </p> + <p> + “I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about,” returned + Dene, his smile slowly fading. + </p> + <p> + “No speech could be a lie to an outlaw.” + </p> + <p> + “I want him, you Mormon preacher!” + </p> + <p> + “You can't have him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll shore get him.” + </p> + <p> + In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene. + </p> + <p> + The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and back + again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act was even + quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the outlaw cried as + his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp. + </p> + <p> + Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching + companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip. + </p> + <p> + August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there + with brawny arm. + </p> + <p> + “Whelp of an evil breed!” he thundered, shaking his gray head. “Do you + think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!” He released + Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved, quicker + than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He dropped + it back into the holster. “Let that teach you never to draw on me again.” + He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes. “One blow would + crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it? Because, you + mindless hell-hound, because there's a higher law than man's—God's + law—Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave me and + mine alone from this day. Now go!” + </p> + <p> + He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions. + </p> + <p> + “Out with you!” said Dave Naab. “Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not so + particular about God as Dad is!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + </h2> + <p> + AFTER the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White + Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade him + to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely met + in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole said, + unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the trail in + the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and the women + shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open wagon, one + that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain. When it grew so + dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man vaulted the cottage + fence. + </p> + <p> + “Dave, where are the boys?” asked Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Not so loud! The boys are coming,” replied Dave in a whisper. “Dene is + wild. I guess you snapped a bone in his arm. He swears he'll kill us all. + But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've time to + reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle.” + </p> + <p> + “Any news of Snap?” + </p> + <p> + “He rode out before sundown.” + </p> + <p> + Three more forms emerged from the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead.” + </p> + <p> + Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate; the + first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving in the + darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his seat on + the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and climbed + over the tail-board of the wagon. + </p> + <p> + A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the sound + made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the right + low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and there lights + twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked. + </p> + <p> + Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels + cracked and crunched the stones. + </p> + <p> + Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of poplar-trees; + he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and rider, just a shade + blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant they vanished, and the + rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his eyes had not deceived + him. + </p> + <p> + “Getup,” growled Naab to his horses. “Jack, did you see that fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What was he doing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts.” + </p> + <p> + “Will Dene—” + </p> + <p> + One of Naab's sons came trotting back. “Think that was Larsen's pal. He + was laying in wait for Snap.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he was a scout for Dene,” replied August. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he's that too.” + </p> + <p> + “Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively. They've + had a week's rest.” + </p> + <p> + Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, like + Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the huge + windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet + transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under the + blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a + polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed it + under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening on + the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round + head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where + Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop + to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent insistence, + disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given him a man's part + to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his self-abasement; once more + he felt himself a man. + </p> + <p> + Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he + endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his + eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he could + not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his face, + the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady trot of + horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him, recalled the + actuality of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had been covered, + how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in the trail, and + whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped the team and, + climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt sure that Dene + was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the horses and the + rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could hear. Naab returned + to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a trot; they were + climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which he could hear the + slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he awoke to raise himself + and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he discovered that the black + night had changed to gray; dawn was not far distant; he dozed and awakened + to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay far below and to the eastward; the + intervening descent was like a rolling sea with league-long swells. + </p> + <p> + “Glad you slept some,” was Naab's greeting. “No sign of Dene yet. If we + can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain + in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it runs + far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred miles of + the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona line now.” + </p> + <p> + Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to his + inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble + proportions. + </p> + <p> + “Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while,” said Naab, + reading Hare's expression. “They'd only have to be made over as soon as + you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a + mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're lucky. + There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? Look sharp. + Good! That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from here. Nine Mile + Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole. Holderness stole + it. And he's begun to range over the divide.” + </p> + <p> + The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the increased + height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in color. The + first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the half-way + mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of other + cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length Hare, tired + of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his eyes. The + wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored; Naab's + “Getup” was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then hot; and + the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his lethargy. The + wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with outstretched arm. + George and Dave were close by their mustangs, and Snap Naab, mounted on a + cream-colored pinto, reined him under August's arm, and faced the valley + below. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you'll make them out,” said August. “I can't, and I've watched + those dust-clouds for hours. George can't decide, either.” + </p> + <p> + Hare, looking at Snap, was attracted by the eyes from which his father and + brothers expected so much. If ever a human being had the eyes of a hawk + Snap Naab had them. The little brown flecks danced in clear pale yellow. + Evidently Snap had not located the perplexing dust-clouds, for his glance + drifted. Suddenly the remarkable vibration of his pupils ceased, and his + glance grew fixed, steely, certain. + </p> + <p> + “That's a bunch of wild mustangs,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Hare gazed till his eyes hurt, but could see neither clouds of dust nor + moving objects. No more was said. The sons wheeled their mustangs and rode + to the fore; August Naab reseated himself and took up the reins; the + ascent proceeded. + </p> + <p> + But it proceeded leisurely, with more frequent rests. At the end of an + hour the horses toiled over the last rise to the summit and entered a + level forest of cedars; in another hour they were descending gradually. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are at the tanks,” said Naab. + </p> + <p> + Hare saw that they had come up with the other wagons. George Naab was + leading a team down a rocky declivity to a pool of yellow water. The other + boys were unharnessing and unsaddling. + </p> + <p> + “About three,” said Naab, looking at the sun. “We're in good time. Jack, + get out and stretch yourself. We camp here. There's the Coconina Trail + where the Navajos go in after deer.” + </p> + <p> + It was not a pretty spot, this little rock-strewn glade where the white + hard trail forked with the road. The yellow water with its green scum made + Hare sick. The horses drank with loud gulps. Naab and his sons drank of + it. The women filled a pail and portioned it out in basins and washed + their faces and hands with evident pleasure. Dave Naab whistled as he + wielded an axe vigorously on a cedar. It came home to Hare that the + tension of the past night and morning had relaxed. Whether to attribute + that fact to the distance from White Sage or to the arrival at the + water-hole he could not determine. But the certainty was shown in August's + cheerful talk to the horses as he slipped bags of grain over their noses, + and in the subdued laughter of the women. Hare sent up an unspoken + thanksgiving that these good Mormons had apparently escaped from the + dangers incurred for his sake. He sat with his back to a cedar and watched + the kindling of fires, the deft manipulating of biscuit dough in a basin, + and the steaming of pots. The generous meal was spread on a canvas cloth, + around which men and women sat cross-legged, after the fashion of Indians. + Hare found it hard to adapt his long legs to the posture, and he wondered + how these men, whose legs were longer than his, could sit so easily. It + was the crown of a cheerful dinner after hours of anxiety and abstinence + to have Snap Naab speak civilly to him, and to see him bow his head meekly + as his father asked the blessing. Snap ate as though he had utterly + forgotten that he had recently killed a man; to hear the others talk to + him one would suppose that they had forgotten it also. + </p> + <p> + All had finished eating, except Snap and Dave Naab, when one of the + mustangs neighed shrilly. Hare would not have noticed it but for looks + exchanged among the men. The glances were explained a few minutes later + when a pattering of hoofs came from the cedar forest, and a stream of + mounted Indians poured into the glade. + </p> + <p> + The ugly glade became a place of color and action. The Navajos rode wiry, + wild-looking mustangs and drove ponies and burros carrying packs, most of + which consisted of deer-hides. Each Indian dismounted, and unstrapping the + blanket which had served as a saddle headed his mustang for the water-hole + and gave him a slap. Then the hides and packs were slipped from the + pack-train, and soon the pool became a kicking, splashing melee. Every + cedar-tree circling the glade and every branch served as a peg for deer + meat. Some of it was in the haunch, the bulk in dark dried strips. The + Indians laid their weapons aside. Every sagebush and low stone held a + blanket. A few of these blankets were of solid color, most of them had + bars of white and gray and red, the last color predominating. The mustangs + and burros filed out among the cedars, nipping at the sage and the + scattered tufts of spare grass. A group of fires, sending up curling + columns of blue smoke, and surrounded by a circle of lean, half-naked, + bronze-skinned Indians, cooking and eating, completed a picture which + afforded Hare the satisfying fulfilment of boyish dreams. What a contrast + to the memory of a camp-site on the Connecticut shore, with boy friends + telling tales in the glow of the fire, and the wash of the waves on the + beach! + </p> + <p> + The sun sank low in the west, sending gleams through the gnarled branches + of the cedars, and turning the green into gold. At precisely the moment of + sunset, the Mormon women broke into soft song which had the element of + prayer; and the lips of the men moved in silent harmony. Dave Naab, the + only one who smoked, removed his pipe for the moment's grace to dying day. + </p> + <p> + This simple ceremony over, one of the boys put wood on the fire, and Snap + took a jews'-harp out of his pocket and began to extract doleful discords + from it, for which George kicked at him in disgust, finally causing him to + leave the circle and repair to the cedars, where he twanged with supreme + egotism. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” said August Naab, “our friends the Navajo chiefs, Scarbreast and + Eschtah, are coming to visit us. Take no notice of them at first. They've + great dignity, and if you entered their hogans they'd sit for some moments + before appearing to see you. Scarbreast is a war-chief. Eschtah is the + wise old chief of all the Navajos on the Painted Desert. It may interest + you to know he is Mescal's grandfather. Some day I'll tell you the story.” + </p> + <p> + Hare tried very hard to appear unconscious when two tall Indians stalked + into the circle of Mormons; he set his eyes on the white heart of the + camp-fire and waited. For several minutes no one spoke or even moved. The + Indians remained standing for a time; then seated themselves. Presently + August Naab greeted them in the Navajo language. This was a signal for + Hare to use his eyes and ears. Another interval of silence followed before + they began to talk. Hare could see only their blanketed shoulders and + black heads. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, come round here,” said Naab at length. “I've been telling them + about you. These Indians do not like the whites, except my own family. I + hope you'll make friends with them.” + </p> + <p> + “How do?” said the chief whom Naab had called Eschtah, a stately, + keen-eyed warrior, despite his age. + </p> + <p> + The next Navajo greeted him with a guttural word. This was a warrior whose + name might well have been Scarface, for the signs of conflict were there. + It was a face like a bronze mask, cast in the one expression of untamed + desert fierceness. + </p> + <p> + Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were + doubtful, yet not unfriendly. + </p> + <p> + “Shake,” finally said Eschtah, offering his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm. + </p> + <p> + This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies + of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf. In his ensuing speech, + which was plentifully emphasized with gestures, he lapsed often into + English, saying “weak—no strong” when he placed his hand on Hare's + legs, and “bad” when he touched the young man's chest, concluding with the + words “sick—sick.” + </p> + <p> + Scarbreast regarded Hare with great earnestness, and when Naab had + finished he said: “Chineago—ping!” and rubbed his hand over his + stomach. + </p> + <p> + “He says you need meat—lots of deer-meat,” translated Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Sick,” repeated Eschtah, whose English was intelligible. He appeared to + be casting about in his mind for additional words to express his knowledge + of the white man's tongue, and, failing, continued in Navajo: “Tohodena—moocha—malocha.” + </p> + <p> + Hare was nonplussed at the roar of laughter from the Mormons. August shook + like a mountain in an earthquake. + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah says, 'you hurry, get many squaws—many wives.'” + </p> + <p> + Other Indians, russet-skinned warriors, with black hair held close by + bands round their foreheads, joined the circle, and sitting before the + fire clasped their knees and talked. Hare listened awhile, and then, being + fatigued, he sought the cedar-tree where he had left his blankets. The dry + mat of needles made an odorous bed. He placed a sack of grain for a + pillow, and doubling up one blanket to lie upon, he pulled the others over + him. Then he watched and listened. The cedar-wood burned with a clear + flame, and occasionally snapped out a red spark. The voices of the + Navajos, scarcely audible, sounded “toa's” and “taa's”—syllables he + soon learned were characteristic and dominant—in low, deep murmurs. + It reminded Hare of something that before had been pleasant to his ear. + Then it came to mind: a remembrance of Mescal's sweet voice, and that + recalled the kinship between her and the Navajo chieftain. He looked + about, endeavoring to find her in the ring of light, for he felt in her a + fascination akin to the charm of this twilight hour. Dusky forms passed to + and fro under the trees; the tinkle of bells on hobbled mustangs rang from + the forest; coyotes had begun their night quest with wild howls; the + camp-fire burned red, and shadows flickered on the blanketed Indians; the + wind now moaned, now lulled in the cedars. + </p> + <p> + Hare lay back in his blankets and saw lustrous stars through the network + of branches. With their light in his face and the cold wind waving his + hair on his brow he thought of the strangeness of it all, of its + remoteness from anything ever known to him before, of its inexpressible + wildness. And a rush of emotion he failed wholly to stifle proved to him + that he could have loved this life if—if he had not of late come to + believe that he had not long to live. Still Naab's influence exorcised + even that one sad thought; and he flung it from him in resentment. + </p> + <p> + Sleep did not come so readily; he was not very well this night; the flush + of fever was on his cheek, and the heat of feverish blood burned his body. + He raised himself and, resolutely seeking for distraction, once more + stared at the camp-fire. Some time must have passed during his dreaming, + for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was bowed and his + head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat Eschtah beside a + slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized Mescal. Surprise + claimed him, not more for her presence there than for the white band + binding her smooth black tresses. She had not worn such an ornament + before. That slender band lent her the one touch which made her a Navajo. + Was it worn in respect to her aged grandfather? What did this mean for a + girl reared with Christian teaching? Was it desert blood? Hare had no + answers for these questions. They only increased the mystery and romance. + He fell asleep with the picture in his mind of Eschtah and Mescal, sitting + in the glow of the fire, and of August Naab, nodding silently. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, Jack, wake up.” The words broke dully into his slumbers; wearily he + opened his eyes. August Naab bent over him, shaking him gently. + </p> + <p> + “Not so well this morning, eh? Here's a cup of coffee. We're all packed + and starting. Drink now, and climb aboard. We expect to make Seeping + Springs to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Hare rose presently and, laboring into the wagon, lay down on the sacks. + He had one of his blind, sickening headaches. The familiar lumbering of + wheels began, and the clanking of the wagon-chain. Despite jar and jolt he + dozed at times, awakening to the scrape of the wheel on the leathern + brake. After a while the rapid descent of the wagon changed to a roll, + without the irritating rattle. He saw a narrow valley; on one side the + green, slow-swelling cedar slope of the mountain; on the other the + perpendicular red wall, with its pinnacles like spears against the sky. + All day this backward outlook was the same, except that each time he + opened aching eyes the valley had lengthened, the red wall and green slope + had come closer together in the distance. By and by there came a halt, the + din of stamping horses and sharp commands, the bustle and confusion of + camp. Naab spoke kindly to him, but he refused any food, lay still and + went to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Daylight brought him the relief of a clear head and cooled blood. The camp + had been pitched close under the red wall. A lichen-covered cliff, wet + with dripping water, overhung a round pool. A ditch led the water down the + ridge to a pond. Cattle stood up to their knees drinking; others lay on + the yellow clay, which was packed as hard as stone; still others were + climbing the ridge and passing down on both sides. + </p> + <p> + “You look as if you enjoyed that water,” remarked Naab, when Hare + presented himself at the fire. “Well, it's good, only a little salty. + Seeping Springs this is, and it's mine. This ridge we call The Saddle; you + see it dips between wall and mountain and separates two valleys. This + valley we go through to-day is where my cattle range. At the other end is + Silver Cup Spring, also mine. Keep your eyes open now, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + How different was the beginning of this day! The sky was as blue as the + sea; the valley snuggled deep in the embrace of wall and mountain. Hare + took a place on the seat beside Naab and faced the descent. The line of + Navajos, a graceful straggling curve of color on the trail, led the way + for the white-domed wagons. + </p> + <p> + Naab pointed to a little calf lying half hidden under a bunch of sage. + “That's what I hate to see. There's a calf, just born; its mother has gone + in for water. Wolves and lions range this valley. We lose hundreds of + calves that way.” + </p> + <p> + As far as Hare could see red and white and black cattle speckled the + valley. + </p> + <p> + “If not overstocked, this range is the best in Utah,” said Naab. “I say + Utah, but it's really Arizona. The Grand Canyon seems to us Mormons to + mark the line. There's enough browse here to feed a hundred thousand + cattle. But water's the thing. In some seasons the springs go almost dry, + though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle.” + </p> + <p> + Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth; + evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to + support only one tuft. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black bobbing + borders. + </p> + <p> + “Wild mustangs,” replied Naab. “There are perhaps five thousand on the + mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad as + sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a range + once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too plentiful. There + are also several bands of wild horses.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in + here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally + wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at + Silvermane or Whitefoot.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the most + beautiful horse I ever saw. Whitefoot's an old black shaggy demon, with + one white foot. Both stallions ought to be killed. They fight my horses + and lead off the mares. I had a chance to shoot Silvermane on the way over + this trip, but he looked so splendid that I just laid down my rifle.” + </p> + <p> + “Can they run?” asked Hare eagerly, with the eyes of a man who loved a + horse. + </p> + <p> + “Run? Whew! Just you wait till you see Silvermane cover ground! He can + look over his shoulder at you and beat any horse in this country. The + Navajos have given up catching him as a bad job. Why—here! Jack! + quick, get out your rifle—coyotes!” + </p> + <p> + Naab pulled on the reins, and pointed to one side. Hare discerned three + grayish sharp-nosed beasts sneaking off in the sage, and he reached back + for the rifle. Naab whistled, stopping the coyotes; then Hare shot. The + ball cut a wisp of dust above and beyond them. They loped away into the + sage. + </p> + <p> + “How that rifle spangs!” exclaimed Naab. “It's good to hear it. Jack, you + shot high. That's the trouble with men who have never shot at game. They + can't hold low enough. Aim low, lower than you want. Ha! There's another—this + side—hold ahead of him and low, quick!—too high again.” + </p> + <p> + It was in this way that August and Hare fell far behind the other wagons. + The nearer Naab got to his home the more genial he became. When he was not + answering Hare's queries he was giving information of his own accord, + telling about the cattle and the range, the mustangs, the Navajos, and the + desert. Naab liked to talk; he had said he had not the gift of revelation, + but he certainly had the gift of tongues. + </p> + <p> + The sun was in the west when they began to climb a ridge. A short ascent, + and a long turn to the right brought them under a bold spur of the + mountain which shut out the northwest. Camp had been pitched in a grove of + trees of a species new to Hare. From under a bowlder gushed the sparkling + spring, a grateful sight and sound to desert travellers. In a niche of the + rock hung a silver cup. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, no man knows how old this cup is, or anything about it. We named + the spring after it—Silver Cup. The strange thing is that the cup + has never been lost nor stolen. But—could any desert man, or outlaw, + or Indian, take it away, after drinking here?” + </p> + <p> + The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on the + bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood. + </p> + <p> + That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap Naab + buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger braves + to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing, + “hoya-heeya-howya,” as they moved in and out of the firelight. + </p> + <p> + Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and + repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a + curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward motions + and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him and fought for + possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous for its + welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the clamor of a + delighted circle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew so strenuous in + his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the Navajos about like + shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, sought to break away. + But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to the ground, and calmly sat + astride him while they went through his pockets. August Naab roared his + merriment and Hare laughed till he cried. The incident was as surprising + to him as it was amusing. These serious Mormons and silent Navajos were + capable of mirth. + </p> + <p> + Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying to + him, “Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!” sent him off to his blankets, + where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager to + know what the day would bring. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said August, soberly. + </p> + <p> + They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare had + not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses + climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonous ascent. There was + nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the + summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable + place on the sacks. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jack,” said August. + </p> + <p> + Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood. Red + scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a vast + irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath. To + the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a black-timbered + plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped vent in + the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earth-riven line + lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reaching vision of white wastes, + of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the shimmering + dust-veiled desert. + </p> + <p> + “Here we come to the real thing,” explained Naab. “This is Windy Slope; + that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side is the + Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows his flat + head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the Vermillion + Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be able to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles—watch out for your eyes!” + </p> + <p> + Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians + trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white wagons + disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which justified + Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once more he could + see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his eyes with dust + difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the wind. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of + Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died. + </p> + <p> + “Five miles of red sand,” said Naab. “Here's what kills the horses. + Getup.” + </p> + <p> + There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels, + dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels ploughed + deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab trudged on + foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also, soon tired, + and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again. Twilight came + with the horses still toiling. + </p> + <p> + “There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that + trailless waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun it + after dark. We'll be home soon. There's my sign. See? Night or day we call + it the Blue Star.” + </p> + <p> + High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky + through. + </p> + <p> + There was cheer in Naab's “Getup,” now, and the horses quickened with it. + Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. “Easy, easy—soho!” + cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the shelving cliff + they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner. Lights twinkled in + Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water, dampened his cheek, and a + hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant thunder, filled his ears. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's the + roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. THE OASIS + </h2> + <p> + AUGUST NAAB'S oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with leaf + and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of vivid + vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the red walls + from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, remote as of + some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was east a dreamy + hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the cottonwoods; when no + wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of serene plain or mountain + fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and breathless. Safe from the + storms of the elements as well as of the world was this Garden of Eschtah. + </p> + <p> + Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but routed + him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of + cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow. A grove of gray-barked trees + spread green canopy overhead, and through the intricate web shone crimson + walls, soaring with resistless onsweep up and up to shut out all but a + blue lake of sky. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to see the Navajos cross the river,” said Naab. + </p> + <p> + Hare accompanied him out through the grove to a road that flanked the + first rise of the red wall; they followed this for half a mile, and + turning a corner came into an unobstructed view. A roar of rushing waters + had prepared Hare, but the river that he saw appalled him. It was red and + swift; it slid onward like an enormous slippery snake; its constricted + head raised a crest of leaping waves, and disappeared in a dark chasm, + whence came a bellow and boom. + </p> + <p> + “That opening where she jumps off is the head of the Grand Canyon,” said + Naab. “It's five hundred feet deep there, and thirty miles below it's five + thousand. Oh, once in, she tears in a hurry! Come, we turn up the bank + here.” + </p> + <p> + Hare could find no speech, and he felt immeasurably small. All that he had + seen in reaching this isolated spot was dwarfed in comparison. This + “Crossing of the Fathers,” as Naab called it, was the gateway of the + desert. This roar of turbulent waters was the sinister monotone of the + mighty desert symphony of great depths, great heights, great reaches. + </p> + <p> + On a sandy strip of bank the Navajos had halted. This was as far as they + could go, for above the wall jutted out into the river. From here the head + of the Canyon was not visible, and the roar of the rapids was accordingly + lessened in volume. But even in this smooth water the river spoke a + warning. + </p> + <p> + “The Navajos go in here and swim their mustangs across to that sand bar,” + explained Naab. “The current helps when she's high, and there's a + three-foot raise on now.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't believe it possible. What danger they must run—those little + mustangs!” exclaimed Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Danger? Yes, I suppose so,” replied Naab, as if it were a new idea. “My + lad, the Mormons crossed here by the hundreds. Many were drowned. This + trail and crossing were unknown except to Indians before the Mormon + exodus.” + </p> + <p> + The mustangs had to be driven into the water. Scarbreast led, and his + mustang, after many kicks and reluctant steps, went over his depth, + wetting the stalwart chief to the waist. Bare-legged Indians waded in and + urged their pack-ponies. Shouts, shrill cries, blows mingled with snorts + and splashes. + </p> + <p> + Dave and George Naab in flat boats rowed slowly on the down-stream side of + the Indians. Presently all the mustangs and ponies were in, the procession + widening out in a triangle from Scarbreast, the leader. The pack-ponies + appeared to swim better than the mounted mustangs, or else the packs of + deer-pelts made them more buoyant. When one-third way across the head of + the swimming train met the current, and the line of progress broke. + Mustang after mustang swept down with a rapidity which showed the power of + the current. Yet they swam steadily with flanks shining, tails sometimes + afloat, sometimes under, noses up, and riders holding weapons aloft. But + the pack-ponies labored when the current struck them, and whirling about, + they held back the Indians who were leading them, and blocked those + behind. The orderly procession of the start became a broken line, and then + a rout. Here and there a Navajo slipped into the water and swam, leading + his mustang; others pulled on pack-ponies and beat their mounts; + strong-swimming mustangs forged ahead; weak ones hung back, and all obeyed + the downward will of the current. + </p> + <p> + While Hare feared for the lives of some of the Navajos, and pitied the + laden ponies, he could not but revel in the scene, in its vivid action and + varying color, in the cries and shrill whoops of the Indians, and the + snorts of the frightened mustangs, in Naab's hoarse yells to his sons, and + the ever-present menacing roar from around the bend. The wildness of it + all, the necessity of peril and calm acceptance of it, stirred within Hare + the call, the awakening, the spirit of the desert. + </p> + <p> + August Naab's stentorian voice rolled out over the river. “Ho! Dave—the + yellow pinto—pull him loose—George, back this way—there's + a pack slipping—down now, downstream, turn that straggler in—Dave, + in that tangle—quick! There's a boy drowning—his foot's caught—he's + been kicked—Hurry! Hurry!—pull him in the boat—There's a + pony under—Too late, George, let that one go—let him go, I + tell you!” + </p> + <p> + So the crossing of the Navajos proceeded, never an instant free from + danger in that churning current. The mustangs and ponies floundered + somewhat on the sand-bar and then parted the willows and appeared on a + trail skirting the red wall. Dave Naab moored his boat on that side of the + river, and returned with George. + </p> + <p> + “We'll look over my farm,” said August, as they retraced their steps. He + led Hare through fields of alfalfa, in all stages of growth, explaining + that it yielded six crops a year. Into one ten-acre lot pigs and cows had + been turned to feed at will. Everywhere the ground was soggy; little + streams of water trickled down ditches. Next to the fields was an orchard, + where cherries were ripe, apricots already large, plum-trees shedding + their blossoms, and apple-trees just opening into bloom. Naab explained + that the products of his oasis were abnormal; the ground was exceedingly + rich and could be kept always wet; the reflection of the sun from the + walls robbed even winter of any rigor, and the spring, summer, and autumn + were tropical. He pointed to grape-vines as large as a man's thigh and + told of bunches of grapes four feet long; he showed sprouting plants on + which watermelons and pumpkins would grow so large that one man could not + lift them; he told of one pumpkin that held a record of taking two men to + roll it. + </p> + <p> + “I can raise any kind of fruit in such abundance that it can't be used. My + garden is prodigal. But we get little benefit, except for our own use, for + we cannot transport things across the desert.” + </p> + <p> + The water which was the prime factor in all this richness came from a + small stream which Naab, by making a dam and tunnelling a corner of cliff, + had diverted from its natural course into his oasis. + </p> + <p> + Between the fence and the red wall there was a wide bare plain which + stretched to the house. At its farthest end was a green enclosure, which + Hare recognized as the cemetery mentioned by Snap. Hare counted thirty + graves, a few with crude monuments of stone, the others marked by wooden + head-pieces. + </p> + <p> + “I've the reputation of doctoring the women, and letting the men die,” + said Naab, with a smile. “I hardly think it's fair. But the fact is no + women are buried here. Some graves are of men I fished out of the river; + others of those who drifted here, and who were killed or died keeping + their secrets. I've numbered those unknown graves and have kept a + description of the men, so, if the chance ever comes, I may tell some one + where a father or brother lies buried. Five sons of mine, not one of whom + died a natural death, found graves here—God rest them! Here's the + grave of Mescal's father, a Spaniard. He was an adventurer. I helped him + over in Nevada when he was ill; he came here with me, got well, and lived + nine years, and he died without speaking one word of himself or telling + his name.” + </p> + <p> + “What strange ends men come to!” mused Hare. Well, a grave was a grave, + wherever it lay. He wondered if he would come to rest in that quiet nook, + with its steady light, its simple dignity of bare plain graves fitting the + brevity of life, the littleness of man. + </p> + <p> + “We break wild mustangs along this stretch,” said Naab, drawing Hare away. + “It's a fine run. Wait till you see Mescal on Black Bolly tearing up the + dust! She's a Navajo for riding.” + </p> + <p> + Three huge corrals filled a wide curved space in the wall. In one corral + were the teams that had hauled the wagons from White Sage; in another + upward of thirty burros, drooping, lazy little fellows half asleep; in the + third a dozen or more mustangs and some horses which delighted Hare. Snap + Naab's cream pinto, a bay, and a giant horse of mottled white attracted + him most. + </p> + <p> + “Our best stock is out on the range,” said Naab. “The white is Charger, my + saddle-horse. When he was a yearling he got away and ran wild for three + years. But we caught him. He's a weight-carrier and he can run some. + You're fond of a horse—I can see that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned Hare, “but I—I'll never ride again.” He said it + brightly, smiling the while; still the look in his eyes belied the + cheerful resignation. + </p> + <p> + “I've not the gift of revelation, yet I seem to see you on a big gray + horse with a shining mane.” Naab appeared to be gazing far away. + </p> + <p> + The cottonwood grove, at the western curve of the oasis, shaded the five + log huts where August's grown sons lived with their wives, and his own + cabin, which was of considerable dimensions. It had a covered porch on one + side, an open one on the other, a shingle roof, and was a roomy and + comfortable habitation. + </p> + <p> + Naab was pointing out the school-house when he was interrupted by childish + laughter, shrieks of glee, and the rush of little feet. + </p> + <p> + “It's recess-time,” he said. + </p> + <p> + A frantic crowd of tousled-headed little ones were running from the log + school-house to form a circle under the trees. There were fourteen of + them, from four years of age up to ten or twelve. Such sturdy, glad-eyed + children Hare had never seen. In a few moments, as though their happy + screams were signals, the shady circle was filled with hounds, and a + string of puppies stepping on their long ears, and ruffling + turkey-gobblers, that gobbled and gobbled, and guinea-hens with their + shrill cries, and cackling chickens, and a lame wild goose that hobbled + along alone. Then there were shiny peafowls screeching clarion calls from + the trees overhead, and flocks of singing blackbirds, and pigeons hovering + over and alighting upon the house. Last to approach were a woolly sheep + that added his baa-baa to the din, and a bald-faced burro that walked in + his sleep. These two became the centre of clamor. After many tumbles four + chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others, with loud acclaim, + shouting, “Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!” endeavored to make him go. But + Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then an ambitious urchin of + six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and essayed to climb to his + back. Willing hands assisted him. “Ride him, Billy, ride him. Getup, + Navvy, getup!” + </p> + <p> + Navvy evidently had never been ridden, for he began a fair imitation of a + bucking bronco. Billy held on, but the smile vanished and the corners of + his mouth drew down. + </p> + <p> + “Hang on, Billy, hang on,” cried August Naab, in delight. Billy hung on a + moment longer, and then Navvy, bewildered by the pestering crowd about + him, launched out and, butting into Noddle, spilled the four youngsters + and Billy also into a wriggling heap. + </p> + <p> + This recess-time completed Hare's introduction to the Naabs. There were + Mother Mary, and Judith and Esther, whom he knew, and Mother Ruth and her + two daughters very like their sisters. Mother Ruth, August's second wife, + was younger than Mother Mary, more comely of face, and more sad and + serious of expression. The wives of the five sons, except Snap Naab's + frail bride, were stalwart women, fit to make homes and rear children. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jack, things are moving all right,” said August. “For the present + you must eat and rest. Walk some, but don't tire yourself. We'll practice + shooting a little every day; that's one thing I'll spare time for. I've a + trick with a gun to teach you. And if you feel able, take a burro and + ride. Anyway, make yourself at home.” + </p> + <p> + Hare found eating and resting to be matters of profound enjoyment. Before + he had fallen in with these good people it had been a year since he had + sat down to a full meal; longer still since he had eaten wholesome food. + And now he had come to a “land overflowing with milk and honey,” as Mother + Ruth smilingly said. He could not choose between roast beef and chicken, + and so he waived the question by taking both; and what with the biscuits + and butter, apple-sauce and blackberry jam, cherry pie and milk like + cream, there was danger of making himself ill. He told his friends that he + simply could not help it, which shameless confession brought a hearty + laugh from August and beaming smiles from his women-folk. + </p> + <p> + For several days Hare was remarkably well, for an invalid. He won golden + praise from August at the rifle practice, and he began to take lessons in + the quick drawing and rapid firing of a Colt revolver. Naab was + wonderfully proficient in the use of both firearms; and his skill in + drawing the smaller weapon, in which his movement was quicker than the + eye, astonished Hare. “My lad,” said August, “it doesn't follow because + I'm a Christian that I don't know how to handle a gun. Besides, I like to + shoot.” + </p> + <p> + In these few days Hare learned what conquering the desert made of a man. + August Naab was close to threescore years; his chest was wide as a door, + his arm like the branch of an oak. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, a + carpenter, a cooper, a potter. At his forge and in his shop, everywhere, + were crude tools, wagons, farming implements, sets of buckskin harness, + odds and ends of nameless things, eloquent and pregnant proof of the fact + that necessity is the mother of invention. He was a mason; the levee that + buffeted back the rage of the Colorado in flood, the wall that turned the + creek, the irrigation tunnel, the zigzag trail cut on the face of the + cliff—all these attested his eye for line, his judgment of distance, + his strength in toil. He was a farmer, a cattle man, a grafter of + fruit-trees, a breeder of horses, a herder of sheep, a preacher, a + physician. Best and strangest of all in this wonderful man was the + instinct and the heart to heal. “I don't combat the doctrine of the Mormon + church,” he said, “but I administer a little medicine with my healing. I + learned that from the Navajos.” The children ran to him with bruised + heads, and cut fingers, and stubbed toes; and his blacksmith's hands were + as gentle as a woman's. A mustang with a lame leg claimed his serious + attention; a sick sheep gave him an anxious look; a steer with a gored + skin sent him running for a bucket of salve. He could not pass by a + crippled quail. The farm was overrun by Navajo sheep which he had found + strayed and lost on the desert. Anything hurt or helpless had in August + Naab a friend. Hare found himself looking up to a great and luminous + figure, and he loved this man. + </p> + <p> + As the days passed Hare learned many other things. For a while illness + confined him to his bed on the porch. At night he lay listening to the + roar of the river, and watching the stars. Twice he heard a distant crash + and rumble, heavy as thunder, and he knew that somewhere along the cliffs + avalanches were slipping. By day he watched the cotton snow down upon him, + and listened to the many birds, and waited for the merry show at + recess-time. After a short time the children grew less shy and came + readily to him. They were the most wholesome children he had ever known. + Hare wondered about it, and decided it was not so much Mormon teaching as + isolation from the world. These children had never been out of their + cliff-walled home, and civilization was for them as if it were not. He + told them stories, and after school hours they would race to him and climb + on his bed, and beg for more. + </p> + <p> + He exhausted his supply of fairy-stories and animal stories; and had begun + to tell about the places and cities which he had visited when the + eager-eyed children were peremptorily called within by Mother Mary. This + pained him and he was at a loss to understand it. Enlightenment came, + however, in the way of an argument between Naab and Mother Mary which he + overheard. The elder wife said that the stranger was welcome to the + children, but she insisted that they hear nothing of the outside world, + and that they be kept to the teachings of the Mormon geography—which + made all the world outside Utah an untrodden wilderness. August Naab did + not hold to the letter of the Mormon law; he argued that if the children + could not be raised as Mormons with a full knowledge of the world, they + would only be lost in the end to the Church. + </p> + <p> + Other developments surprised Hare. The house of this good Mormon was + divided against itself. Precedence was given to the first and elder wife—Mother + Mary; Mother Ruth's life was not without pain. The men were out on the + ranges all day, usually two or more of them for several days at a time, + and this left the women alone. One daughter taught the school, the other + daughters did all the chores about the house, from feeding the stock to + chopping wood. The work was hard, and the girls would rather have been in + White Sage or Lund. They disliked Mescal, and said things inspired by + jealousy. Snap Naab's wife was vindictive, and called Mescal “that + Indian!” + </p> + <p> + It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal. What had + become of her? Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal's with the sheep,” piped Billy. + </p> + <p> + That she was a shepherdess pleased Hare, and he thought of her as free on + the open range, with the wind blowing her hair. + </p> + <p> + One day when Hare felt stronger he took his walk round the farm with new + zest. Upon his return to the house he saw Snap's cream pinto in the yard, + and Dave's mustang cropping the grass near by. A dusty pack lay on the + ground. Hare walked down the avenue of cottonwoods and was about to turn + the corner of the old forge when he stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Now mind you, I'll take a bead on this white-faced spy if you send him up + there.” + </p> + <p> + It was Snap Naab's voice, and his speech concluded with the click of teeth + characteristic of him in anger. + </p> + <p> + “Stand there!” August Naab exclaimed in wrath. “Listen. You have been + drinking again or you wouldn't talk of killing a man. I warned you. I + won't do this thing you ask of me till I have your promise. Why won't you + leave the bottle alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll promise,” came the sullen reply. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Then pack and go across to Bitter Seeps.” + </p> + <p> + “That job'll take all summer,” growled Snap. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. When you come home I'll keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + Hare moved away silently; the shock of Snap's first words had kept him + fast in his tracks long enough to hear the conversation. Why did Snap + threaten him? Where was August Naab going to send him? Hare had no means + of coming to an understanding of either question. He was disturbed in mind + and resolved to keep out of Snap's way. He went to the orchard, but his + stay of an hour availed nothing, for on his return, after threading the + maze of cottonwoods, he came face to face with the man he wanted to avoid. + </p> + <p> + Snap Naab, at the moment of meeting, had a black bottle tipped high above + his lips. + </p> + <p> + With a curse he threw the bottle at Hare, missing him narrowly. He was + drunk. His eyes were bloodshot. + </p> + <p> + “If you tell father you saw me drinking I'll kill you!” he hissed, and + rattling his Colt in its holster, he walked away. + </p> + <p> + Hare walked back to his bed, where he lay for a long time with his whole + inner being in a state of strife. It gradually wore off as he strove for + calm. The playground was deserted; no one had seen Snap's action, and for + that he was glad. Then his attention was diverted by a clatter of ringing + hoofs on the road; a mustang and a cloud of dust were approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal and Black Bolly!” he exclaimed, and sat up quickly. The mustang + turned in the gate, slid to a stop, and stood quivering, restive, tossing + its thoroughbred head, black as a coal, with freedom and fire in every + line. Mescal leaped off lightly. A gray form flashed in at the gate, fell + at her feet and rose to leap about her. It was a splendid dog, huge in + frame, almost white, wild as the mustang. + </p> + <p> + This was the Mescal whom he remembered, yet somehow different. The sombre + homespun garments had given place to fringed and beaded buckskin. + </p> + <p> + “I've come for you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For me?” he asked, wonderingly, as she approached with the bridle of the + black over her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Down, Wolf!” she cried to the leaping dog. “Yes. Didn't you know? Father + Naab says you're to help me tend the sheep. Are you better? I hope so— + You're quite pale.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm not so well,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her, at the black sweep of her hair under the white band, + at her eyes, like jet; and suddenly realized, with a gladness new and + strange to him, that he liked to look at her, that she was beautiful. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + </h2> + <p> + AUGUST NAAB appeared on the path leading from his fields. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, here you are,” he greeted. “How about the sheep?” + </p> + <p> + “Piute's driving them down to the lower range. There are a thousand + coyotes hanging about the flock.” + </p> + <p> + “That's bad,” rejoined August. “Jack, there's evidently some real shooting + in store for you. We'll pack to-day and get an early start to-morrow. I'll + put you on Noddle; he's slow, but the easiest climber I ever owned. He's + like riding... What's the matter with you? What's happened to make you + angry?” + </p> + <p> + One of his long strides spanned the distance between them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing,” said Hare, flushing. + </p> + <p> + “Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie. You've met Snap.” + </p> + <p> + Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August's + stern face showed the uselessness of it. He kept silent. + </p> + <p> + “Drink makes my son unnatural,” said Naab. He breathed heavily as one in + conflict with wrath. “We'll not wait till to-morrow to go up on the + plateau; we'll go at once.” + </p> + <p> + Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal's eyes; he + caught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a glow + of an emotion half pleasure, half pain. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal,” went on August, “go into the house, and keep out of Snap's way. + Jack, watch me pack. You need to learn these things. I could put all this + outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack might bump + a burro off. Let's see, I've got all your stuff but the saddle; that we'll + leave till we get a horse for you. Well, all's ready.” + </p> + <p> + Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward the + cliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her. Hare bestrode Noddle. August, + waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burros after + Mescal. + </p> + <p> + How they would be able to climb the face of that steep cliff puzzled Hare. + Upon nearer view he discovered the yard-wide trail curving upward in + cork-screw fashion round a projecting corner of cliff. The stone was a + soft red shale, and the trail had been cut in it at a steep angle. It was + so steep that the burros appeared to be climbing straight up. Noddle + pattered into it, dropped his head and his long ears and slackened his + pace to patient plodding. August walked in the rear. + </p> + <p> + The first thing that struck Hare was the way the burros in front of him + stopped at the curves in the trail, and turned in a space so small that + their four feet were close together; yet as they swung their packs they + scarcely scraped the wall. At every turn they were higher than he was, + going in the opposite direction, yet he could reach out and touch them. He + glanced up to see Mescal right above him, leaning forward with her brown + hands clasping the pommel. Then he looked out and down; already the green + cluster of cottonwoods lay far below. After that sensations pressed upon + him. Round and round, up and up, steadily, surely, the beautiful mustang + led the train; there were sounds of rattling stones, and click of hoofs, + and scrape of pack. On one side towered the iron-stained cliff, not smooth + or glistening at close range, but of dull, dead, rotting rock. The trail + changed to a zigzag along a seamed and cracked buttress where ledges + leaned outward waiting to fall. Then a steeper incline, where the burros + crept upward warily, led to a level ledge heading to the left. + </p> + <p> + Mescal halted on a promontory. She, with her windblown hair, the gleam of + white band about her head, and a dash of red along the fringed leggings, + gave inexpressible life and beauty to that wild, jagged point of rock, + sharp against the glaring sky. + </p> + <p> + “This is Lookout Point,” said Naab. “I keep an Indian here all the time + during daylight. He's a peon, a Navajo slave. He can't talk, as he was + born without a tongue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of any + Indian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing, the + Navajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the Navajos + signal to me, and also the White Sage Trail.” + </p> + <p> + The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with its rising + roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To the right + white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across the Canyon line + opened the many-hued desert. + </p> + <p> + “With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised,” said Naab. + “That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've never had + anything to fear from across the river.” + </p> + <p> + Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the greeting + he could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians resembled each + other. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not differing in + blanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze skin, but in the + bird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of his glittering eyes. + Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a few words in Navajo, + and then slapped the burros into the trail. + </p> + <p> + The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trail now + led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones had changed + from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places. Hare's + judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that he gave up + trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell on his + strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to stay longer + upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sun was yet + an hour high, his fingers were numb. + </p> + <p> + “Hang on, Jack,” cheered August. “We're almost up.” + </p> + <p> + At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by one, + then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw a gray-green + cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, and a rush of + cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could not get his + breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply trying to + overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble was not + with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweet penetrating + odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like the smell of pine, + though it made him think of pine-trees. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! that's good!” said Naab, expanding his great chest. “That's air for + you, my lad. Can you taste it? Well, here's camp, your home for many a + day, Jack. There's Piute—how do? how're the sheep?” + </p> + <p> + A short, squat Indian, good-humored of face, shook his black head till the + silver rings danced in his ears, and replied: “Bad—damn coyotee!” + </p> + <p> + “Piute—shake with Jack. Him shoot coyote—got big gun,” said + Naab. + </p> + <p> + “How-do-Jack?” replied Piute, extending his hand, and then straightway + began examining the new rifle. “Damn—heap big gun!” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you'll find this Indian one you can trust, for all he's a Piute + outcast,” went on August. “I've had him with me ever since Mescal found + him on the Coconina Trail five years ago. What Piute doesn't know about + this side of Coconina isn't worth learning.” + </p> + <p> + In a depression sheltered from the wind lay the camp. A fire burned in the + centre; a conical tent, like a tepee in shape, hung suspended from a cedar + branch and was staked at its four points; a leaning slab of rock furnished + shelter for camp supplies and for the Indian, and at one end a spring + gushed out. A gray-sheathed cedar-tree marked the entrance to this hollow + glade, and under it August began preparing Hare's bed. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the place you're to sleep, rain or shine or snow,” he said. “Now + I've spent my life sleeping on the ground, and mother earth makes the best + bed. I'll dig out a little pit in this soft mat of needles; that's for + your hips. Then the tarpaulin so; a blanket so. Now the other blankets. + Your feet must be a little higher than your head; you really sleep down + hill, which breaks the wind. So you never catch cold. All you need do is + to change your position according to the direction of the wind. Pull up + the blankets, and then the long end of the tarpaulin. If it rains or snows + cover your head, and sleep, my lad, sleep to the song of the wind!” + </p> + <p> + From where Hare lay, resting a weary body, he could see down into the + depression which his position guarded. Naab built up the fire; Piute + peeled potatoes with deliberate care; Mescal, on her knees, her brown arms + bare, kneaded dough in a basin; Wolf crouched on the ground, and watched + his mistress; Black Bolly tossed her head, elevating the bag on her nose + so as to get all the grain. + </p> + <p> + Naab called him to supper, and when Hare set to with a will on the bacon + and eggs, and hot biscuits, he nodded approvingly. “That's what I want to + see,” he said approvingly. “You must eat. Piute will get deer, or you may + shoot them yourself; eat all the venison you can. Remember what Scarbreast + said. Then rest. That's the secret. If you eat and rest you will gain + strength.” + </p> + <p> + The edge of the wall was not a hundred paces from the camp; and when Hare + strolled out to it after supper, the sun had dipped the under side of its + red disc behind the desert. He watched it sink, while the golden-red flood + of light grew darker and darker. Thought seemed remote from him then; he + watched, and watched, until he saw the last spark of fire die from the + snow-slopes of Coconina. The desert became dimmer and dimmer; the oasis + lost its outline in a bottomless purple pit, except for a faint light, + like a star. + </p> + <p> + The bleating of sheep aroused him and he returned to camp. The fire was + still bright. Wolf slept close to Mescal's tent; Piute was not in sight; + and Naab had rolled himself in blankets. Crawling into his bed, Hare + stretched aching legs and lay still, as if he would never move again. + Tired as he was, the bleating of the sheep, the clear ring of the bell on + Black Bolly, and the faint tinkle of lighter bells on some of the rams, + drove away sleep for a while. Accompanied by the sough of the wind through + the cedars the music of the bells was sweet, and he listened till he heard + no more. + </p> + <p> + A thin coating of frost crackled on his bed when he awakened; and out from + under the shelter of the cedar all the ground was hoar-white. As he + slipped from his blankets the same strong smell of black sage and juniper + smote him, almost like a blow. His nostrils seemed glued together by some + rich piny pitch; and when he opened his lips to breathe a sudden pain, as + of a knife-thrust, pierced his lungs. The thought following was as sharp + as the pain. Pneumonia! What he had long expected! He sank against the + cedar, overcome by the shock. But he rallied presently, for with the + reestablishment of the old settled bitterness, which had been forgotten in + the interest of his situation, he remembered that he had given up hope. + Still, he could not get back at once to his former resignation. He hated + to acknowledge that the wildness of this desert canyon country, and the + spirit it sought to instil in him, had wakened a desire to live. For it + meant only more to give up. And after one short instant of battle he was + himself again. He put his hand under his flannel shirt and felt of the + soreness of his lungs. He found it not at the apex of the right lung, + always the one sensitive spot, but all through his breast. Little panting + breaths did not hurt; but the deep inhalation, which alone satisfied him + filled his whole chest with thousands of pricking needles. In the depth of + his breast was a hollow that burned. + </p> + <p> + When he had pulled on his boots and coat, and had washed himself in the + runway of the spring, his hands were so numb with cold they refused to + hold his comb and brush; and he presented himself at the roaring fire + half-frozen, dishevelled, trembling, but cheerful. He would not tell Naab. + If he had to die to-day, to-morrow or next week, he would lie down under a + cedar and die; he could not whine about it to this man. + </p> + <p> + “Up with the sun!” was Naab's greeting. His cheerfulness was as impelling + as his splendid virility. Following the wave of his hand Hare saw the sun, + a pale-pink globe through a misty blue, rising between the golden crags of + the eastern wall. + </p> + <p> + Mescal had a shy “good-morning” for him, and Piute a broad smile, and + familiar “how-do”; the peon slave, who had finished breakfast and was + about to depart, moved his lips in friendly greeting that had no sound. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear the coyotes last night?” inquired August. “No! Well, of all + the choruses I ever heard. There must be a thousand on the bench. Jack, I + wish I could spare the time to stay up here with you and shoot some. + You'll have practice with the rifle, but don't neglect the Colt. Practice + particularly the draw I taught you. Piute has a carbine, and he shoots at + the coyotes, but who ever saw an Indian that could hit anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Damn—gun no good!” growled Piute, who evidently understood English + pretty well. Naab laughed, and while Hare ate breakfast he talked of the + sheep. The flock he had numbered three thousand. They were a goodly part + of them Navajo stock: small, hardy sheep that could live on anything but + cactus, and needed little water. This flock had grown from a small number + to its present size in a few years. Being remarkably free from the + diseases and pests which retard increase in low countries, the sheep had + multiplied almost one for one for every year. But for the ravages of wild + beasts Naab believed he could raise a flock of many thousands and in a + brief time be rich in sheep alone. In the winter he drove them down into + the oasis; the other seasons he herded them on the high ranges where the + cattle could not climb. There was grass enough on this plateau for a + million sheep. After the spring thaw in early March, occasional snows fell + till the end of May, and frost hung on until early summer; then the July + rains made the plateau a garden. + </p> + <p> + “Get the forty-four,” concluded Naab, “and we'll go out and break it in.” + </p> + <p> + With the long rifle in the hollow of his arm Jack forgot that he was a + sick man. When he came within gunshot of the flock the smell of sheep + effectually smothered the keen, tasty odor of black sage and juniper. + Sheep ranged everywhere under the low cedars. They browsed with noses in + the frost, and from all around came the tinkle of tiny bells on the + curly-horned rams, and an endless variety of bleats. + </p> + <p> + “They're spread now,” said August. “Mescal drives them on every little + while and Piute goes ahead to pick out the best browse. Watch the dog, + Jack; he's all but human. His mother was a big shepherd dog that I got in + Lund. She must have had a strain of wild blood. Once while I was hunting + deer on Coconina she ran off with timber wolves and we thought she was + killed. But she came back, and had a litter of three puppies. Two were + white, the other black. I think she killed the black one. And she + neglected the others. One died, and Mescal raised the other. We called him + Wolf. He loves Mescal, and loves the sheep, and hates a wolf. Mescal puts + a bell on him when she is driving, and the sheep know the bell. I think it + would be a good plan for her to tie something red round his neck—a + scarf, so as to keep you from shooting him for a wolf.” + </p> + <p> + Nimble, alert, the big white dog was not still a moment. His duty was to + keep the flock compact, to head the stragglers and turn them back; and he + knew his part perfectly. There was dash and fire in his work. He never + barked. As he circled the flock the small Navajo sheep, edging ever toward + forbidden ground, bleated their way back to the fold, the larger ones + wheeled reluctantly, and the old belled rams squared themselves, lowering + their massive horns as if to butt him. Never, however, did they stand + their ground when he reached them, for there was a decision about Wolf + which brooked no opposition. At times when he was working on one side a + crafty sheep on the other would steal out into the thicket. Then Mescal + called and Wolf flashed back to her, lifting his proud head, eager, + spirited, ready to take his order. A word, a wave of her whip sufficed for + the dog to rout out the recalcitrant sheep and send him bleating to his + fellows. + </p> + <p> + “He manages them easily now,” said Naab, “but when the lambs come they + can't be kept in. The coyotes and wolves hang out in the thickets and pick + up the stragglers. The worst enemy of sheep, though, is the old grizzly + bear. Usually he is grouchy, and dangerous to hunt. He comes into the + herd, kills the mother sheep, and eats the milk-bag—no more! He will + kill forty sheep in a night. Piute saw the tracks of one up on the high + range, and believes this bear is following the flock. Let's get off into + the woods some little way, into the edge of the thickets—for Piute + always keeps to the glades—and see if we can pick off a few + coyotes.” + </p> + <p> + August cautioned Jack to step stealthily, and slip from cedar to cedar, to + use every bunch of sage and juniper to hide his advance. + </p> + <p> + “Watch sharp, Jack. I've seen two already. Look for moving things. Don't + try to see one quiet, for you can't till after your eye catches him + moving. They are gray, gray as the cedars, the grass, the ground. Good! + Yes, I see him, but don't shoot. That's too far. Wait. They sneak away, + but they return. You can afford to make sure. Here now, by that stone—aim + low and be quick.” + </p> + <p> + In the course of a mile, without keeping the sheep near at hand, they saw + upward of twenty coyotes, five of which Jack killed in as many shots. + </p> + <p> + “You've got the hang of it,” said Naab, rubbing his hands. “You'll kill + the varmints. Piute will skin and salt the pelts. Now I'm going up on the + high range to look for bear sign. Go ahead, on your own hook.” + </p> + <p> + Hare was regardless of time while he stole under the cedars and through + the thickets, spying out the cunning coyotes. Then Naab's yell pealing out + claimed his attention; he answered and returned. When they met he + recounted his adventures in mingled excitement and disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Are you tired?” asked Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Tired? No,” replied Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you mustn't overdo the very first day. I've news for you. There are + some wild horses on the high range. I didn't see them, but found tracks + everywhere. If they come down here you send Piute to close the trail at + the upper end of the bench, and you close the one where we came up. There + are only two trails where even a deer can get off this plateau, and both + are narrow splits in the wall, which can be barred by the gates. We made + the gates to keep the sheep in, and they'll serve a turn. If you get the + wild horses on the bench send Piute for me at once.” + </p> + <p> + They passed the Indian herding the sheep into a corral built against an + uprising ridge of stone. Naab dispatched him to look for the dead coyotes. + The three burros were in camp, two wearing empty pack-saddles, and Noddle, + for once not asleep, was eating from Mescal's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, hadn't I better take Black Bolly home?” asked August. + </p> + <p> + “Mayn't I keep her?” + </p> + <p> + “She's yours. But you run a risk. There are wild horses on the range. Will + you keep her hobbled?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Mescal, reluctantly. “Though I don't believe Bolly would + run off from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Look out she doesn't go, hobbles and all. Jack, here's the other bit of + news I have for you. There's a big grizzly camping on the trail of our + sheep. Now what I want to know is—shall I leave him to you, or put + off work and come up here to wait for him myself?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—” said Jack, slowly, “whatever you say. If you think you can + safely leave him to me—I'm willing.” + </p> + <p> + “A grizzly won't be pleasant to face. I never knew one of those + sheep-killers that wouldn't run at a man, if wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “If he comes down it's more than likely to be after dark. Don't risk + hunting him then. Wait till morning, and put Wolf on his trail. He'll be + up in the rocks, and by holding in the dog you may find him asleep in a + cave. However, if you happen to meet him by day do this. Don't waste any + shots. Climb a ledge or tree if one be handy. If not, stand your ground. + Get down on your knee and shoot and let him come. Mind you, he'll grunt + when he's hit, and start for you, and keep coming till he's dead. Have + confidence in yourself and your gun, for you can kill him. Aim low, and + shoot steady. If he keeps on coming there's always a fatal shot, and that + is when he rises. You'll see a bare spot on his breast. Put a forty-four + into that, and he'll go down.” + </p> + <p> + August had spoken so easily, quite as if he were explaining how to shear a + yearling sheep, that Jack's feelings fluctuated between amazement and + laughter. Verily this desert man was stripped of all the false fears of + civilization. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out for him.... + So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!” And with many a cheery word and slap he + urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall form soon + disappeared among the trees. + </p> + <p> + Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he could + scarcely be seen under the gray pile. With a fervent “damn” he tumbled + them under a cedar, and trotted back into the forest for another load. + Jack insisted on assuming his share of the duties about camp; and Mescal + assigned him to the task of gathering firewood, breaking red-hot sticks of + wood into small pieces, and raking them into piles of live coals. Then + they ate, these two alone. Jack did not do justice to the supper; + excitement had robbed him of appetite. He told Mescal how he had crept + upon the coyotes, how so many had eluded him, how he had missed a gray + wolf. He plied her with questions about the sheep, and wanted to know if + there would be more wolves, and if she thought the “silvertip” would come. + He was quite carried away by the events of the day. + </p> + <p> + The sunset drew him to the rim. Dark clouds were mantling the desert like + rolling smoke from a prairie-fire. He almost stumbled over Mescal, who sat + with her back to a stone. Wolf lay with his head in her lap, and he + growled. + </p> + <p> + “There's a storm on the desert,” she said. “Those smoky streaks are flying + sand. We may have snow to-night. It's colder, and the wind is north. See, + I've a blanket. You had better get one.” + </p> + <p> + He thanked her and went for it. Piute was eating his supper, and the peon + had just come in. The bright campfire was agreeable, yet Hare did not feel + cold. But he wrapped himself in a blanket and returned to Mescal and sat + beside her. The desert lay indistinct in the foreground, inscrutable + beyond; the canyon lost its line in gloom. The solemnity of the scene + stilled his unrest, the strange freedom of longings unleashed that day. + What had come over him? He shook his head; but with the consciousness of + self returned a feeling of fatigue, the burning pain in his chest, the + bitter-sweet smell of black sage and juniper. + </p> + <p> + “You love this outlook?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you sit here often?” + </p> + <p> + “Every evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it the sunset that you care for, the roar of the river, just being + here high above it all?” + </p> + <p> + “It's that last, perhaps; I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you been lonely?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd rather be here with the sheep than be in Lund, or Salt Lake City, + as Esther and Judith want to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Any other reply from her would not have been consistent with the + impression she was making on him. As yet he had hardly regarded her as a + young girl; she had been part of this beautiful desert-land. But he began + to see in her a responsive being, influenced by his presence. If the + situation was wonderful to him what must it be for her? Like a shy, + illusive creature, unused to men, she was troubled by questions, fearful + of the sound of her own voice. Yet in repose, as she watched the lights + and shadows, she was serene, unconscious; her dark, quiet glance was + dreamy and sad, and in it was the sombre, brooding strength of the desert. + </p> + <p> + Twilight and falling dew sent them back to the camp. Piute and Peon were + skinning coyotes by the blaze of the fire. The night wind had not yet + risen; the sheep were quiet; there was no sound save the crackle of + burning cedar sticks. Jack began to talk; he had to talk, so, addressing + Piute and the dumb peon, he struck at random into speech, and words flowed + with a rush. Piute approved, for he said “damn” whenever his intelligence + grasped a meaning, and the peon twisted his lips and fixed his diamond + eyes upon Hare in rapt gaze. The sound of a voice was welcome to the + sentinels of that lonely sheep-range. Jack talked of cities, of ships, of + people, of simple things in the life he had left, and he discovered that + Mescal listened. Not only did she listen; she became absorbed; it was + romance to her, fulfilment of her vague dreams. Nor did she seek her tent + till he ceased; then with a startled “good-night” she was gone. + </p> + <p> + From under the snugness of his warm blankets Jack watched out the last + wakeful moments of that day of days. A star peeped through the fringe of + cedar foliage. The wind sighed, and rose steadily, to sweep over him with + breath of ice, with the fragrance of juniper and black sage and a tang of + cedar. + </p> + <p> + But that day was only the beginning of eventful days, of increasing charm, + of forgetfulness of self, of time that passed unnoted. Every succeeding + day was like its predecessor, only richer. Every day the hoar-frost + silvered the dawn; the sheep browsed; the coyotes skulked in the thickets; + the rifle spoke truer and truer. Every sunset Mescal's changing eyes + mirrored the desert. Every twilight Jack sat beside her in the silence; + every night, in the camp-fire flare, he talked to Piute and the peon. + </p> + <p> + The Indians were appreciative listeners, whether they understood Jack or + not, but his talk with them was only a presence. He wished to reveal the + outside world to Mescal, and he saw with pleasure that every day she grew + more interested. + </p> + <p> + One evening he was telling of New York City, of the monster buildings + where men worked, and of the elevated railways, for the time was the late + seventies and they were still a novelty. Then something unprecedented + occurred, inasmuch as Piute earnestly and vigorously interrupted Jack, + demanding to have this last strange story made more clear. Jack did his + best in gesture and speech, but he had to appeal to Mescal to translate + his meaning to the Indian. This Mescal did with surprising fluency. The + result, however, was that Piute took exception to the story of trains + carrying people through the air. He lost his grin and regarded Jack with + much disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the bitterness of misplaced + trust. + </p> + <p> + “Heap damn lie!” he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into the + gloom. + </p> + <p> + Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, for + Mescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had brought + them closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well of + joyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal. + The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet more + and more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn of + cities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how they lived, + and all that life meant to them. + </p> + <p> + The sweetest thing which had ever come to Hare was the teaching of this + desert girl. How naive in her questions and how quick to grasp she was! + The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidently + the Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn. + </p> + <p> + But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now, + liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth. + </p> + <p> + Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew no + rest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the howling + of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in a day, + seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and filled the + forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after their mothers, + gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth—and the carnage began. + Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and many lambs never + returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always near; the great + timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not at all, and the + dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night. Jack hung up + fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them lie, seventy in + number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands. His aim grew + unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their tracks. Many a + gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth. + </p> + <p> + One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds + rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold wind, + and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect. + </p> + <p> + “Wolf!” called Mescal. + </p> + <p> + The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told of + an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence. + </p> + <p> + “Chus—chus!” exclaimed Piute. + </p> + <p> + Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars. + The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an + uproar. + </p> + <p> + “Bear! Bear!” cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go,” she implored, her hand on his arm. “Not at night—remember + Father Naab said not.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree—quick!” + </p> + <p> + “No—no—” + </p> + <p> + “Do as I say!” It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the rifle, + and swung her up. “Climb!” + </p> + <p> + “No—don't go—Jack!” + </p> + <p> + With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + </h2> + <p> + PIUTE'S Indian sense of the advantage of position in attack stood Jack in + good stead; he led him up the ledge which overhung one end of the corral. + In the pale starlight the sheep could be seen running in bands, massing + together, crowding the fence; their cries made a deafening din. + </p> + <p> + The Indian shouted, but Jack could not understand him. A large black + object was visible in the shade of the ledge. Piute fired his carbine. + Before Jack could bring his rifle up the black thing moved into + startlingly rapid flight. Then spouts of red flame illumined the corral. + As he shot, Jack got fleeting glimpses of the bear moving like a dark + streak against a blur of white. For all he could tell no bullet took + effect. + </p> + <p> + When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the corral. + He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their surprise, found + none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken it with him; and + estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in the fence, he could + easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the break and returned to + camp. + </p> + <p> + “He's gone, Mescal. Come down,” called Jack into the cedar. “Let me help + you—there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the flashes + from the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how fast he could + run.” + </p> + <p> + Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws. + </p> + <p> + “He nipped the brute, that's sure,” said Jack. “Good dog! Maybe he kept + the bear from— Why Mescal! you're white—you're shaking. + There's no danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf.” + </p> + <p> + Mescal went silently into her tent. + </p> + <p> + The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The + dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up, + hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow + whitened the cedars. After breakfast Jack tried to get Wolf to take the + track of the grizzly, but the scent had cooled. + </p> + <p> + Next day Mescal drove the sheep eastward toward the crags, and about the + middle of the afternoon reached the edge of the slope. Grass grew + luxuriantly and it was easy to keep the sheep in. Moreover, that part of + the forest had fewer trees, and scarcely any sage or thickets, so that the + lambs were safer, barring danger which might lurk in the seamed and + cracked cliffs overshadowing the open grassy plots. Piute's task at the + moment was to drag dead coyotes to the rim, near at hand, and throw them + over. Mescal rested on a stone, and Wolf reclined at her feet. + </p> + <p> + Jack presently found a fresh deer track, and trailed it into the cedars, + then up the slope to where the huge rocks massed. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a cry from Mescal halted him; another, a piercing scream of + mortal fright, sent him flying down the slope. He bounded out of the + cedars into the open. + </p> + <p> + The white, well-bunched flock had spread, and streams of jumping sheep + fled frantically from an enormous silver-backed bear. + </p> + <p> + As the bear struck right and left, a brute-engine of destruction, Jack + sent a bullet into him at long range. Stung, the grizzly whirled, bit at + his side, and then reared with a roar of fury. + </p> + <p> + But he did not see Jack. He dropped down and launched his huge bulk for + Mescal. The blood rushed back to Jack's heart, and his empty veins seemed + to freeze. + </p> + <p> + The grizzly hurdled the streams of sheep. Terror for Mescal dominated + Jack; if he had possessed wings he could not have flown quickly enough to + head the bear. Checking himself with a suddenness that fetched him to his + knees, he levelled the rifle. It waved as if it were a stick of willow. + The bead-sight described a blurred curve round the bear. Yet he shot—in + vain—again—in vain. + </p> + <p> + Above the bleat of sheep and trample of many hoofs rang out Mescal's cry, + despairing. + </p> + <p> + She had turned, her hands over her breast. Wolf spread his legs before her + and crouched to spring, mane erect, jaws wide. + </p> + <p> + By some lightning flash of memory, August Naab's words steadied Jack's + shaken nerves. He aimed low and ahead of the running bear. Down the beast + went in a sliding sprawl with a muffled roar of rage. Up he sprang, + dangling a useless leg, yet leaping swiftly forward. One blow sent the + attacking dog aside. Jack fired again. The bear became a wrestling, fiery + demon, death-stricken, but full of savage fury. Jack aimed low and shot + again. + </p> + <p> + Slowly now the grizzly reared, his frosted coat blood-flecked, his great + head swaying. Another shot. There was one wide sweep of the huge paw, and + then the bear sank forward, drooping slowly, and stretched all his length + as if to rest. + </p> + <p> + Mescal, recalled to life, staggered backward. Between her and the + outstretched paw was the distance of one short stride. + </p> + <p> + Jack, bounding up, made sure the bear was dead before he looked at Mescal. + She was faint. Wolf whined about her. Piute came running from the cedars. + Her eyes were still fixed in a look of fear. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't run—I couldn't move,” she said, shuddering. A blush + drove the white from her cheeks as she raised her face to Jack. “He'd soon + have reached me.” + </p> + <p> + Piute added his encomium: “Damn—heap big bear— Jack kill um—big + chief!” + </p> + <p> + Hare laughed away his own fear and turned their attention to the stampeded + sheep. It was dark before they got the flock together again, and they + never knew whether they had found them all. Supper-time was unusually + quiet that night. Piute was jovial, but no one appeared willing to talk + save the peon, and he could only grimace. The reaction of feeling + following Mescal's escape had robbed Jack of strength of voice; he could + scarcely whisper. Mescal spoke no word; her black lashes hid her eyes; she + was silent, but there was that in her silence which was eloquent. Wolf, + always indifferent save to Mescal, reacted to the subtle change, and as if + to make amends laid his head on Jack's knees. The quiet hour round the + camp-fire passed, and sleep claimed them. Another day dawned, awakening + them fresh, faithful to their duties, regardless of what had gone before. + </p> + <p> + So the days slipped by. June came, with more leisure for the shepherds, + better grazing for the sheep, heavier dews, lighter frosts, snow-squalls + half rain, and bursting blossoms on the prickly thorns, wild-primrose + patches in every shady spot, and bluebells lifting wan azure faces to the + sun. + </p> + <p> + The last snow-storm of June threatened all one morning; hung menacing over + the yellow crags, in dull lead clouds waiting for the wind. Then like + ships heaving anchor to a single command they sailed down off the heights; + and the cedar forest became the centre of a blinding, eddying storm. The + flakes were as large as feathers, moist, almost warm. The low cedars + changed to mounds of white; the sheep became drooping curves of snow; the + little lambs were lost in the color of their own pure fleece. Though the + storm had been long in coming it was brief in passing. Wind-driven toward + the desert, it moaned its last in the cedars, and swept away, a sheeted + pall. Out over the Canyon it floated, trailing long veils of white that + thinned out, darkened, and failed far above the golden desert. The winding + columns of snow merged into straight lines of leaden rain; the rain flowed + into vapory mist, and the mist cleared in the gold-red glare of endless + level and slope. No moisture reached the parched desert. + </p> + <p> + Jack marched into camp with a snowy burden over his shoulder. He flung it + down, disclosing a small deer; then he shook the white mantle from his + coat, and whistling, kicked the fire-logs, and looked abroad at the silver + cedars, now dripping under the sun, at the rainbows in the settling mists, + at the rapidly melting snow on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Got lost in that squall. Fine! Fine!” he exclaimed, and threw wide his + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Jack!” said Mescal. “Jack!” Memory had revived some forgotten thing. The + dark olive of her skin crimsoned; her eyes dilated and shadowed with a + rare change of emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he replied, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “To look at you!—I never dreamed—I'd forgotten—” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with me?” demanded Jack. + </p> + <p> + Wonderingly, her mind on the past, she replied: “You were dying when we + found you at White Sage.” + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up with a sharp catch in his breath, and stared at her as + if he saw a ghost. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—Jack! You're going to get well!” + </p> + <p> + Her lips curved in a smile. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Jack Hare spent his soul in searching her face for truth. + While waiting for death he had utterly forgotten it; he remembered now, + when life gleamed in the girl's dark eyes. Passionate joy flooded his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal—Mescal!” he cried, brokenly. The eyes were true that shed + this sudden light on him; glad and sweet were the lips that bade him hope + and live again. Blindly, instinctively he kissed them—a kiss + unutterably grateful; then he fled into the forest, running without aim. + </p> + <p> + That flight ended in sheer exhaustion on the far rim of the plateau. The + spreading cedars seemed to have eyes; and he shunned eyes in this hour. + “God! to think I cared so much,” he whispered. “What has happened?” With + time relief came to limbs, to labored breast and lungs, but not to mind. + In doubt that would not die, he looked at himself. The leanness of arms, + the flat chest, the hollows were gone. He did not recognize his own body. + He breathed to the depths of his lungs. No pain—only exhilaration! + He pounded his chest—no pain! He dug his trembling fingers into the + firm flesh over the apex of his right lung—the place of his torture—no + pain! + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to live!” he cried. He buried his face in the fragrant juniper; + he rolled on the soft brown mat of earth and hugged it close; he cooled + his hot cheeks in the primrose clusters. He opened his eyes to new bright + green of cedar, to sky of a richer blue, to a desert, strange, beckoning, + enthralling as life itself. He counted backward a month, two months, and + marvelled at the swiftness of time. He counted time forward, he looked + into the future, and all was beautiful—long days, long hunts, long + rides, service to his friend, freedom on the wild steppes, blue-white + dawns upon the eastern crags, red-gold sunsets over the lilac mountains of + the desert. He saw himself in triumphant health and strength, earning day + by day the spirit of this wilderness, coming to fight for it, to live for + it, and in far-off time, when he had won his victory, to die for it. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his mind was illumined. The lofty plateau with its healing breath + of sage and juniper had given back strength to him; the silence and + solitude and strife of his surroundings had called to something deep + within him; but it was Mescal who made this wild life sweet and + significant. It was Mescal, the embodiment of the desert spirit. Like a + man facing a great light Hare divined his love. Through all the days on + the plateau, living with her the natural free life of Indians, close to + the earth, his unconscious love had ripened. He understood now her charm + for him; he knew now the lure of her wonderful eyes, flashing fire, + desert-trained, like the falcon eyes of her Indian grandfather. The + knowledge of what she had become to him dawned with a mounting desire that + thrilled all his blood. + </p> + <p> + Twilight had enfolded the plateau when Hare traced his way back to camp. + Mescal was not there. His supper awaited him; Piute hummed a song; the + peon sat grimacing at the fire. Hare told them to eat, and moved away + toward the rim. + </p> + <p> + Mescal was at her favorite seat, with the white dog beside her; and she + watched the desert where the last glow of sunset gilded the mesas. How + cold and calm was her face! How strange to him in this new character! + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, I didn't know I loved you—then—but I know it now.” + </p> + <p> + Her face dropped quickly from its level poise, hiding the brooding eyes; + her hand trembled on Wolf's head. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke the truth. I'll get well. I'd rather have had it from your lips + than from any in the world. I mean to live my life here where these + wonderful things have come to me. The friendship of the good man who saved + me, this wild, free desert, the glory of new hope, strength, life—and + love.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand in his and whispered, “For I love you. Do you care for + me? Mescal! It must be complete. Do you care—a little?” + </p> + <p> + The wind blew her dusky hair; he could not see her face; he tried gently + to turn her to him. The hand he had taken lay warm and trembling in his, + but it was not withdrawn. As he waited, in fear, in hope, it became still. + Her slender form, rigid within his arm, gradually relaxed, and yielded to + him; her face sank on his breast, and her dark hair loosened from its + band, covered her, and blew across his lips. That was his answer. + </p> + <p> + The wind sang in the cedars. No longer a sigh, sad as thoughts of a past + forever flown, but a song of what had come to him, of hope, of life, of + Mescal's love, of the things to be! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. SILVERMANE + </h2> + <p> + LITTLE dew fell on the night of July first; the dawn brightened without + mists; a hot sun rose; the short summer of the plateau had begun. + </p> + <p> + As Hare rose, refreshed and happy from his breakfast, his whistle was cut + short by the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” exclaimed Piute, lifting a dark finger. Black Bolly had thrown her + nose-bag and slipped her halter, and she moved toward the opening in the + cedars, her head high, her black ears straight up. + </p> + <p> + “Bolly!” called Mescal. The mare did not stop. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce?” Hare ran forward to catch her. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew Bolly to act that way,” said Mescal. “See—she didn't + eat half the oats. Well, Bolly—Jack! look at Wolf!” + </p> + <p> + The white dog had risen and stood warily shifting his nose. He sniffed the + wind, turned round and round, and slowly stiffened with his head pointed + toward the eastern rise of the plateau. + </p> + <p> + “Hold, Wolf, hold!” called Mescal, as the dog appeared to be about to dash + away. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” grunted Piute. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Jack; did you hear?” whispered the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Hear what?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + The warm breeze came down in puffs from the crags; it rustled in the + cedars and blew fragrant whiffs of camp-fire smoke into his face; and + presently it bore a low, prolonged whistle. He had never before heard its + like. The sound broke the silence again, clearer, a keen, sharp whistle. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he queried, reaching for his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Wild mustangs,” said Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “No,” corrected Piute, vehemently shaking his head. “Clea, Clea.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, he says 'horse, horse.' It's a wild horse.” + </p> + <p> + A third time the whistle rang down from the ridge, splitting the air, + strong and trenchant, the fiery, shrill challenge of a stallion. + </p> + <p> + Black Bolly reared straight up. + </p> + <p> + Jack ran to the rise of ground above the camp, and looked over the cedars. + “Oh!” he cried, and beckoned for Mescal. She ran to him, and Piute, tying + Black Bolly, hurried after. “Look! look!” cried Jack. He pointed to a + ridge rising to the left of the yellow crags. On the bare summit stood a + splendid stallion clearly silhouetted against the ruddy morning sky. He + was an iron-gray, wild and proud, with long silver-white mane waving in + the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane! Silvermane!” exclaimed Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “What a magnificent animal!” Jack stared at the splendid picture for the + moment before the horse moved back along the ridge and disappeared. Other + horses, blacks and bays, showed above the sage for a moment, and they, + too, passed out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “He's got some of his band with him,” said Jack, thrilled with excitement. + “Mescal, they're down off the upper range, and grazing along easy. The + wind favors us. That whistle was just plain fight, judging from what Naab + told me of wild stallions. He came to the hilltop, and whistled down + defiance to any horse, wild or tame, that might be below. I'll slip round + through the cedars, and block the trail leading up to the other range, and + you and Piute close the gate of our trail at this end. Then send Piute + down to tell Naab we've got Silvermane.” + </p> + <p> + Jack chose the lowest edge of the plateau rim where the cedars were + thickest for his detour to get behind the wild band; he ran from tree to + tree, avoiding the open places, taking advantage of the thickets, keeping + away from the ridge. He had never gone so far as the gate, but, knowing + where the trail led into a split in the crags, he climbed the slope, and + threaded a way over masses of fallen cliff, until he reached the base of + the wall. The tracks of the wildhorse band were very fresh and plain in + the yellow trail. Four stout posts guarded the opening, and a number of + bars lay ready to be pushed into place. He put them up, making a gate ten + feet high, an impregnable barrier. This done, he hurried back to camp. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, Bolly will need more watching to-day than the sheep, unless I let + her loose. Why, she pulls and strains so she'll break that halter.” + </p> + <p> + “She wants to go with the band; isn't that it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to think so. But Father Naab doesn't trust Bolly, though + she's the best mustang he ever broke.” + </p> + <p> + “Better keep her in,” replied Jack, remembering Naab's warning. “I'll + hobble her, so if she does break loose she can't go far.” + </p> + <p> + When Mescal and Jack drove in the sheep that afternoon, rather earlier + than usual, Piute had returned with August Naab, Dave, and Billy, a string + of mustangs and a pack-train of burros. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Mescal,” cheerily called August, as they came into camp. “Well + Jack—bless me! Why, my lad, how fine and brown—and yes, how + you've filled out!” He crushed Jack's hand in his broad palm, and his gray + eyes beamed. “I've not the gift of revelation—but, Jack, you're + going to get well.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I—” He had difficulty with his enunciation, but he thumped his + breast significantly and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Black sage and juniper!” exclaimed August. “In this air if a man doesn't + go off quickly with pneumonia, he'll get well. I never had a doubt for + you, Jack—and thank God!” + </p> + <p> + He questioned Piute and Mescal about the sheep, and was greatly pleased + with their report. He shook his head when Jack spread out the + grizzly-pelt, and asked for the story of the killing. Jack made a poor + showing with the tale and slighted his share in it, but Mescal told it as + it actually happened. And Naab's great hand resounded from Jack's + shoulder. Then, catching sight of the pile of coyote skins under the stone + shelf, he gave vent to his surprise and delight. Then he came back to the + object of his trip upon the plateau. + </p> + <p> + “So you've corralled Silvermane? Well, Jack, if he doesn't jump over the + cliff he's ours. He can't get off any other way. How many horses with + him?” + </p> + <p> + “We had no chance to count. I saw at least twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! He's out with his picked band. Weren't they all blacks and bays?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, the history of that stallion wouldn't make you proud of him. We've + corralled him by a lucky chance. If I don't miss my guess he's after + Bolly. He has been a lot of trouble to ranchers all the way from the + Nevada line across Utah. The stallions he's killed, the mares he's led + off! Well, Dave, shall we thirst him out, or line up a long corral?” + </p> + <p> + “Better have a look around to-morrow,” replied Dave. “It'll take a lot of + chasing to run him down, but there's not a spring on the bench where we + can throw up a trap-corral. We'll have to chase him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, has Bolly been good since Silvermane came down?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she hasn't,” declared Mescal, and told of the circumstance. + </p> + <p> + “Bolly's all right,” said Billy Naab. “Any mustang will do that. Keep her + belled and hobbled.” + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane would care a lot about that, if he wanted Bolly, wouldn't he?” + queried Dave in quiet scorn. “Keep her roped and haltered, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Dave's right,” said August. “You can't trust a wild mustang any more than + a wild horse.” + </p> + <p> + August was right. Black Bolly broke her halter about midnight and escaped + into the forest, hobbled as she was. The Indian heard her first, and he + awoke August, who aroused the others. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make any noise,” he said, as Jack came up, throwing on his coat. + “There's likely to be some fun here presently. Bolly's loose, broke her + rope, and I think Silvermane is close. Listen sharp now.” + </p> + <p> + The slight breeze favored them, the camp-fire was dead, and the night was + clear and starlit. They had not been quiet many moments when the shrill + neigh of a mustang rang out. The Naabs raised themselves and looked at one + another in the starlight. + </p> + <p> + “Now what do you think of that?” whispered Billy. + </p> + <p> + “No more than I expected. It was Bolly,” replied Dave. + </p> + <p> + “Bolly it was, confound her black hide!” added August. “Now, boys, did she + whistle for Silvermane, or to warn him, which?” + </p> + <p> + “No telling,” answered Billy. “Let's lie low, and take a chance on him + coming close. It proves one thing—you can't break a wild mare. That + spirit may sleep in her blood, maybe for years, but some time it'll answer + to—” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up—listen,” interrupted Dave. + </p> + <p> + Jack strained his hearing, yet caught no sound, except the distant yelp of + a coyote. Moments went by. + </p> + <p> + “There!” whispered Dave. + </p> + <p> + From the direction of the ridge came the faint rattling of stones. + </p> + <p> + “They're coming,” put in Billy. + </p> + <p> + Presently sharp clicks preceded the rattles, and the sounds began to merge + into a regular rhythmic tramp. It softened at intervals, probably when the + horses were under the cedars, and strengthened as they came out on the + harder ground of the open. + </p> + <p> + “I see them,” whispered Dave. + </p> + <p> + A black, undulating line wound out of the cedars, a line of horses + approaching with drooping heads, hurrying a little as they neared the + spring. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-odd, all blacks and bays,” said August, “and some of them are + mustangs. But where's Silvermane?—hark!” + </p> + <p> + Out among the cedars rose the peculiar halting thump of a hobbled horse + trying to cover ground, followed by snorts and crashings of brush and the + pound of plunging hoofs. The long black line stopped short and began to + stamp. Then into the starlit glade below moved two shadows, the first a + great gray horse with snowy mane; the second, a small, shiny, black + mustang. + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane and Bolly!” exclaimed August, “and now she's broken her + hobbles.” + </p> + <p> + The stallion, in the fulfilment of a conquest such as had made him king of + the wild ranges, was magnificent in action. Wheeling about her, neighing, + and plunging, he arched his splendid neck and pushed his head against her. + His action was that of a master. Suddenly Black Bolly snorted and whirled + down the glade. Silvermane whistled one blast of anger or terror and + thundered after her. They vanished in the gloom of the cedars, and the + band of frightened horses and mustangs clattered after them. + </p> + <p> + “It's one on me,” remarked Billy. “That little mare played us at the + finish. Caught when she was a yearling, broken better than any mustang we + ever had, she has helped us run down many a stallion, and now she runs off + with that big white-maned brute!” + </p> + <p> + “They'll make a team, and if they get out of here we'll have to chase them + to the Great Salt Basin,” replied Dave. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, that's a well-behaved mustang of yours,” said August; “not only + did she break loose, but she whistled an alarm to Silvermane and his band. + Well, roll in now, everybody, and sleep.” + </p> + <p> + At breakfast the following day the Naabs fell into a discussion upon the + possibility of there being other means of exit from the plateau than the + two trails already closed. They had never run any mustangs on the plateau, + and in the case of a wild horse like Silvermane, who would take desperate + chances, it was advisable to know the ground exactly. Billy and Dave + taking their mounts from the sheep-corral, where they had put them up for + the night, rode in opposite directions around the rim of the plateau. It + was triangular in shape, and some six or seven miles in circumference; and + the brothers rode around it in less than an hour. + </p> + <p> + “Corralled,” said Dave, laconically. + </p> + <p> + “Good! Did you see him? What kind of a bunch has he with him?” asked his + father. + </p> + <p> + “If we get the pick of the lot it will be worth two weeks' work,” replied + Dave. “I saw him, and Bolly, too. I believe we can catch her easily. She + was off from the bunch, and it looks as though the mares were jealous. I + think we can run her into a cove under the wall, and get her. Then Mescal + can help us run down the stallion. And you can look out on this end for + the best level stretch to drop the line of cedars and make our trap.” + </p> + <p> + The brothers, at their father's nod, rode off into the forest. Naab had + detained the peon, and now gave him orders and sent him off. + </p> + <p> + “To-night you can stand on the rim here, and watch him signal across to + the top of Echo Cliffs to the Navajos,” explained August to Jack. “I've + sent for the best breaker of wild mustangs on the desert. Dave can break + mustangs, and Piute is very good; but I want the best man in the country, + because this is a grand horse, and I intend to give him to you.” + </p> + <p> + “To me!” exclaimed Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and if he's broken right at the start, he'll serve you faithfully, + and not try to bite your arm off every day, or kick your brains out. No + white man can break a wild mustang to the best advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. To be truthful, I have an idea it's bad temper and lack of + patience. Just wait till you see this Navajo go at Silvermane!” + </p> + <p> + After Mescal and Piute drove down the sheep, Jack accompanied Naab to the + corral. + </p> + <p> + “I've brought up your saddle,” said Naab, “and you can put it on any + mustang here.” + </p> + <p> + What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength to + remain there! He rode with August all over the western end of the plateau. + They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the bordering + forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and when August + had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Fine, better than I hoped for! This stretch is about a mile long, and + narrow at this end. Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, this + side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it curves + in a half circle, which will save us work. We'll cut cedars, drag them in + line, and make a big corral against the rock. From the opening in the + corral we'll build two fences of trees; then we'll chase Silvermane till + he's done, run him down into this level, and turn him inside the fence. No + horse can break through a close line of cedars. He'll run till he's in the + corral, and then we'll rope him.” + </p> + <p> + “Great!” said Jack, all enthusiasm. “But isn't it going to take a lot of + work?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather,” said August, dryly. “It'll take a week to cut and drag the + cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion. When the finish comes + you want to be on that ledge where we'll have the corral.” + </p> + <p> + They returned to camp and prepared supper. Mescal and Piute soon arrived, + and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs. Black Bolly limped behind, + stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, foam-stained coat + and hanging head. + </p> + <p> + “Not bad,” said August, examining the lame leg. “She'll be fit in a few + days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane. Bring the + liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Mescal's love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out the + crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck. + </p> + <p> + “Bolly, to think you'd do it!” And Bolly dropped her head as though really + ashamed. + </p> + <p> + When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals. A fire + blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and + flamed higher. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he'd see it first,” laughed Naab. “Dave, have you caught it + yet? Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't see any light, except that white star. Have you seen it?” + </p> + <p> + “Long ago,” replied Naab. “Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your + eyes down.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I see it—yes, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. How about you, Mescal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, + and Billy claimed priority to all of them. To these men bred on the desert + keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, look sharp!” said August. “Peon is blanketing his fire. See the + flicker? One, two—one, two—one. Now for the answer.” + </p> + <p> + Jack peered out into the shadowy space, star-studded above, ebony below. + Far across the depths shone a pinpoint of steady light. The Indian grunted + again, August vented his “ha!” and then Jack saw the light blink like a + star, go out for a second, and blink again. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I like to see,” said August. “We're answered. Now all's over + but the work.” + </p> + <p> + Work it certainly was, as Jack discovered next day. He helped the brothers + cut down cedars while August hauled them into line with his roan. What + with this labor and the necessary camp duties nearly a week passed, and in + the mean time Black Bolly recovered from her lameness. + </p> + <p> + Twice the workers saw Silvermane standing on open high ridges, restive and + suspicious, with his silver mane flying, and his head turned over his + shoulder, watching, always watching. + </p> + <p> + “It'd be worth something to find out how long that stallion could go + without water,” commented Dave. “But we'll make his tongue hang out + to-morrow. It'd serve him right to break him with Black Bolly.” + </p> + <p> + Daylight came warm and misty; veils unrolled from the desert; a purple + curtain lifted from the eastern crags; then the red sun burned. + </p> + <p> + Dave and Billy Naab mounted their mustangs, and each led another mount by + a halter. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go to the ridge, cut Silvermane out of his band and warm him up; + then we'll drive him down to this end.” + </p> + <p> + Hare, in his eagerness, found the time very tedious while August delayed + about camp, punching new holes in his saddle-girth, shortening his + stirrups, and smoothing kinks out of his lasso. At last he saddled the + roan, and also Black Bolly. Mescal came out of her tent ready for the + chase; she wore a short skirt of buckskin, and leggings of the same + material. Her hair, braided, and fastened at the back, was bound by a + double band closely fitting her black head. Hare walked, leading two + mustangs by the halters, and Naab and Mescal rode, each of them followed + by two other spare mounts. August tied three mustangs at one point along + the level stretch, and three at another. Then he led Mescal and Jack to + the top of the stone wall above the corral, where they had good view of a + considerable part of the plateau. + </p> + <p> + The eastern rise of ground, a sage and juniper slope, was in plain sight. + Hare saw a white flash; then Silvermane broke out of the cedars into the + sage. One of the brothers raced him half the length of the slope, and then + the other coming out headed him off down toward the forest. Soon the + pounding of hoofs sounded through the trees nearer and nearer. Silvermane + came out straight ahead on the open level. He was running easily. + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't opened up yet,” said August. + </p> + <p> + Hare watched the stallion with sheer fascination; He ran seemingly without + effort. What a stride he had. How beautifully his silver mane waved in the + wind! He veered off to the left, out of sight in the brush, while Dave and + Billy galloped up to the spot where August had tied the first three + mustangs. Here they dismounted, changed saddles to fresh horses, and were + off again. + </p> + <p> + The chase now was close and all down-hill for the watchers. Silvermane + twinkled in and out among the cedars, and suddenly stopped short on the + rim. He wheeled and coursed away toward the crags, and vanished. But soon + he reappeared, for Billy had cut across and faced him about. Again he + struck the level stretch. Dave was there in front of him. He shot away to + the left, and flashed through the glades beyond. The brothers saved their + steeds, content to keep him cornered in that end of the plateau. Then + August spurred his roan into the scene of action. Silvermane came out on + the one piece of rising ground beyond the level, and stood looking + backward toward the brothers. When the great roan crashed through the + thickets into his sight he leaped as if he had been stung, and plunged + away. + </p> + <p> + The Naabs had hemmed him in a triangle, Dave and Billy at the broad end, + August at the apex, and now the real race began. August chased him up and + down, along the rim, across to the long line of cedars, always in the end + heading him for the open stretch. Down this he fled with flying mane, only + to be checked by the relentless brothers. To cover this broad end of the + open required riding the like of which Hare had never dreamed of. The + brothers, taking advantage of the brief periods when the stallion was + going toward August, changed their tired mustangs for fresh ones. + </p> + <p> + “Ho! Mescal!” rolled out August's voice. That was the call for Mescal to + put Black Bolly after Silvermane. Her fleetness made the other mustangs + seem slow. All in a flash she was round the corral, with Silvermane + between her and the long fence of cedars. Uttering a piercing snort of + terror the gray stallion lunged out, for the first time panic-stricken, + and lengthened his stride in a wonderful way. He raced down the stretch + with his head over his shoulder watching the little black. Seeing her + gaining, he burst into desperate headlong flight. He saved nothing; he had + found his match; he won that first race down the level but it had cost him + his best. If he had been fresh he might have left Black Bolly far behind, + but now he could not elude her. + </p> + <p> + August Naab let him run this time, and Silvermane, keeping close to the + fence, passed the gate, ran down to the rim, and wheeled. The black + mustang was on him again, holding him in close to the fence, driving him + back down the stretch. + </p> + <p> + The brothers remorselessly turned him, and now Mescal, forcing the + running, caught him, lashed his haunches with her whip, and drove him into + the gate of the corral. + </p> + <p> + August and his two sons were close behind, and blocked the gate. + Silvermane's race was nearly run. + </p> + <p> + “Hold here, boys,” said August. “I'll go in and drive him round and round + till he's done, then, when I yell, you stand aside and rope him as he + comes out.” + </p> + <p> + Silvermane ran round the corral, tore at the steep scaly walls, fell back + and began his weary round again and yet again. Then as sense and courage + yielded gradually to unreasoning terror, he ran blindly; every time he + passed the guarded gateway his eyes were wilder, and his stride more + labored. + </p> + <p> + “Now!” yelled August Naab. + </p> + <p> + Mescal drew out of the opening, and Dave and Billy pulled away, one on + each side, their lassoes swinging loosely. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane sprang for the opening with something of his old speed. As he + went through, yellow loops flashed in the sun, circling, narrowing, and he + seemed to run straight into them. One loop whipped close round his glossy + neck; the other caught his head. Dave's mustang staggered under the + violent shock, went to his knees, struggled up and held firmly. Bill's + mount slid on his haunches and spilled his rider from the saddle. + Silvermane seemed to be climbing into the air. Then August Naab, darting + through the gate in a cloud of dust, shot his lasso, catching the right + foreleg. Silvermane landed hard, his hoofs striking fire from the stones; + and for an instant strained in convulsive struggle; then fell heaving and + groaning. In a twinkling Billy loosened his lasso over a knot, making of + it a halter, and tied the end to a cedar stump. + </p> + <p> + The Naabs stood back and gazed at their prize. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane was badly spent; he was wet with foam, but no fleck of blood + marred his mane; his superb coat showed scratches, but none cut into the + flesh. After a while he rose, panting heavily, and trembling in every + muscle. He was a beaten horse; the noble head was bowed; yet he showed no + viciousness, only the fear of a trapped animal. He eyed Black Bolly and + then the halter, as though he had divined the fatal connection between + them. + </p> +<p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007B" id="link2H_4_0007B"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE BREAKER OF WILD MUSTANGS + </h2> + <p> + FOR a few days after the capture of Silvermane, a time full to the brim of + excitement for Hare, he had no word with Mescal, save for morning and + evening greetings. When he did come to seek her, with a purpose which had + grown more impelling since August Naab's arrival, he learned to his + bewilderment that she avoided him. She gave him no chance to speak with + her alone; her accustomed resting-place on the rim at sunset knew her no + more; early after supper she retired to her tent. + </p> + <p> + Hare nursed a grievance for forty-eight hours, and then, taking advantage + of Piute's absence on an errand down to the farm, and of the Naabs' + strenuous day with four vicious wild horses in the corral at one time, he + walked out to the pasture where Mescal shepherded the flock. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, why are you avoiding me?” he asked. “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + She looked tired and unhappy, and her gaze, instead of meeting his, + wandered to the crags. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “But there must be something. You have given me no chance to talk to you, + and I wanted to know if you'd let me speak to Father Naab.” + </p> + <p> + “To Father Naab? Why—what about?” + </p> + <p> + “About you, of course—and me—that I love you and want to marry + you.” + </p> + <p> + She turned white. “No—no!” + </p> + <p> + Hare paused blankly, not so much at her refusal as at the unmistakable + fear in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Why—not?” he asked presently, with an odd sense of trouble. There + was more here than Mescal's habitual shyness. + </p> + <p> + “Because he'll be terribly angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Angry—I don't understand. Why angry?” + </p> + <p> + The girl did not answer, and looked so forlorn that Hare attempted to take + her in his arms. She resisted and broke from him. + </p> + <p> + “You must never—never do that again.” + </p> + <p> + Hare drew back sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? What's wrong? You must tell me, Mescal.” + </p> + <p> + “I remembered.” She hung her head. + </p> + <p> + “Remembered—what?” + </p> + <p> + “I am pledged to marry Father Naab's eldest son.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Hare did not understand. He stared at her unbelievingly. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” he asked, slowly. + </p> + <p> + Mescal repeated her words in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “But—but Mescal—I love you. You let me kiss you,” said Hare + stupidly, as if he did not grasp her meaning. “You let me kiss you,” he + repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack, I forgot,” she wailed. “It was so new, so strange, to have you + up here. It was like a kind of dream. And after—after you kissed me + I—I found out—” + </p> + <p> + “What, Mescal?” + </p> + <p> + Her silence answered him. + </p> + <p> + “But, Mescal, if you really love me you can't marry any one else,” said + Hare. It was the simple persistence of a simple swain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't know, you don't know. It's impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” Hare's anger flared up. “You let me believe I had won you. + What kind of a girl are you? You were not true. Your actions were lies.” + </p> + <p> + “Not lies,” she faltered, and turned her face from him. + </p> + <p> + With no gentle hand he grasped her arm and forced her to look at him. But + the misery in her eyes overcame him, and he roughly threw his arms around + her and held her close. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be a lie. You do care for me—love me. Look at me.” He drew + her head back from his breast. Her face was pale and drawn; her eyes + closed tight, with tears forcing a way out under the long lashes; her lips + were parted. He bowed to their sweet nearness; he kissed them again and + again, while the shade of the cedars seemed to whirl about him. “I love + you, Mescal. You are mine—I will have you—I will keep you—I + will not let him have you!” + </p> + <p> + She vibrated to that like a keen strung wire under a strong touch. All in + a flash the trembling, shame-stricken girl was transformed. She leaned + back in his arms, supple, pliant with quivering life, and for the first + time gave him wide-open level eyes, in which there were now no tears, no + shyness, no fear, but a dark smouldering fire. + </p> + <p> + “You do love me, Mescal?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I couldn't help it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, tense with feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, tell me—about your being pledged,” he said, at last. + </p> + <p> + “I gave him my promise because there was nothing else to do. I was pledged + to—to him in the church at White Sage. It can't be changed. I've got + to marry—Father Naab's eldest son.” + </p> + <p> + “Eldest son?” echoed Jack, suddenly mindful of the implication. “Why! + that's Snap Naab. Ah! I begin to see light. That—Mescal—” + </p> + <p> + “I hate him.” + </p> + <p> + “You hate him and you're pledged to marry him!... God! Mescal, I'd utterly + forgotten Snap Naab already has a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You've also forgotten that we're Mormons.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a Mormon?” he queried bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “I've been raised as one.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not an answer. Are you one? Do you believe any man under God's sky + ought to have more than one wife at a time?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I've been taught that it gave woman greater glory in heaven. + There have been men here before you, men who talked to me, and I doubted + before I ever saw you. And afterward—I knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Would not Father Naab release you?” + </p> + <p> + “Release me? Why, he would have taken me as a wife for himself but for + Mother Mary. She hates me. So he pledged me to Snap.” + </p> + <p> + “Does August Naab love you?” + </p> + <p> + “Love me? No. Not in the way you mean—perhaps as a daughter. But + Mormons teach duty to church first, and say such love comes—to the + wives—afterward. But it doesn't—not in the women I've seen. + There's Mother Ruth—her heart is broken. She loves me, and I can + tell.” + </p> + <p> + “When was this—this marriage to be?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Father Naab promised me to his son when he came home from + the Navajo range. It would be soon if they found out that you and I—Jack, + Snap Naab would kill you!” + </p> + <p> + The sudden thought startled the girl. Her eyes betrayed her terror. + </p> + <p> + “I mightn't be so easy to kill,” said Hare, darkly. The words came + unbidden, his first answer to the wild influences about him. “Mescal, I'm + sorry—maybe I've brought you unhappiness.” + </p> + <p> + “No. No. To be with you has been like sitting there on the rim watching + the desert, the greatest happiness I have ever known. I used to love to be + with the children, but Mother Mary forbade. When I am down there, which is + seldom, I'm not allowed to play with the children any more.” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” asked Hare, passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak to Father Naab. Don't let him guess. Don't leave me here + alone,” she answered low. It was not the Navajo speaking in her now. Love + had sounded depths hitherto unplumbed; a quick, soft impulsiveness made + the contrast sharp and vivid. + </p> + <p> + “How can I help but leave you if he wants me on the cattle ranges?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. You must think. He has been so pleased with what you've + done. He's had Mormons up here, and two men not of his Church, and they + did nothing. You've been ill, besides you're different. He will keep me + with the sheep as long as he can, for two reasons—because I drive + them best, he says, and because Snap Naab's wife must be persuaded to + welcome me in her home.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay, if I have to get a relapse and go down on my back again,” + declared Jack. “I hate to deceive him, but Mescal, pledged or not—I + love you, and I won't give up hope.” + </p> + <p> + Her hands flew to her face again and tried to hide the dark blush. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, there's one question I wish you'd answer. Does August Naab think + he'll make a Mormon of me? Is that the secret of his wonderful kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he believes he'll make a Mormon of you. That's his religion. + He's felt that way over all the strangers who ever came out here. But he'd + be the same to them without his hopes. I don't know the secret of his + kindness, but I think he loves everybody and everything. And Jack, he's so + good. I owe him all my life. He would not let the Navajos take me; he + raised me, kept me, taught me. I can't break my promise to him. He's been + a father to me, and I love him.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I love him, too,” replied Hare, simply. + </p> + <p> + With an effort he left her at last and mounted the grassy slope and + climbed high up among the tottering yellow crags; and there he battled + with himself. Whatever the charm of Mescal's surrender, and the insistence + of his love, stern hammer-strokes of fairness, duty, honor, beat into his + brain his debt to the man who had saved him. It was a long-drawn-out + battle not to be won merely by saying right was right. He loved Mescal, + she loved him; and something born in him with his new health, with the + breath of this sage and juniper forest, with the sight of purple canyons + and silent beckoning desert, made him fiercely tenacious of all that life + had come to mean for him. He could not give her up—and yet— + </p> + <p> + Twilight forced Hare from his lofty retreat, and he trod his way campward, + weary and jaded, but victorious over himself. He thought he had renounced + his hope of Mescal; he returned with a resolve to be true to August, and + to himself; bitterness he would not allow himself to feel. And yet he + feared the rising in him of a new spirit akin to that of the desert + itself, intractable and free. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jack, we rode down the last of Silvermane's band,” said August, at + supper. “The Navajos came up and helped us out. To-morrow you'll see some + fun, when we start to break Silvermane. As soon as that's done I'll go, + leaving the Indians to bring the horses down when they're broken.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to leave Silvermane with me?” asked Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Surely. Why, in three days, if I don't lose my guess, he'll be like a + lamb. Those desert stallions can be made into the finest kind of + saddle-horses. I've seen one or two. I want you to stay up here with the + sheep. You're getting well, you'll soon be a strapping big fellow. Then + when we drive the sheep down in the fall you can begin life on the cattle + ranges, driving wild steers. There's where you'll grow lean and hard, like + an iron bar. You'll need that horse, too, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—because he's fast?” queried Jack, quickly answering to the + implied suggestion. + </p> + <p> + August nodded gloomily. “I haven't the gift of revelation, but I've come + to believe Martin Cole. Holderness is building an outpost for his riders + close to Seeping Springs. He has no water. If he tries to pipe my water—” + The pause was not a threat; it implied the Mormon's doubt of himself. + “Then Dene is on the march this way. He's driven some of Marshall's cattle + from the range next to mine. Dene got away with about a hundred head. The + barefaced robber sold them in Lund to a buying company from Salt Lake.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he openly an outlaw, a rustler?” inquired Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody knows it, and he's finding White Sage and vicinity warmer than + it was. Every time he comes in he and his band shoot up things pretty + lively. Now the Mormons are slow to wrath. But they are awakening. All the + way from Salt Lake to the border outlaws have come in. They'll never get + the power on this desert that they had in the places from which they've + been driven. Men of the Holderness type are more to be dreaded. He's a + rancher, greedy, unscrupulous, but hard to corner in dishonesty. Dene is + only a bad man, a gun-fighter. He and all his ilk will get run out of + Utah. Did you ever hear of Plummer, John Slade, Boone Helm, any of those + bad men?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they were men to fear. Plummer was a sheriff in Idaho, a man high + in the estimation of his townspeople, but he was the leader of the most + desperate band of criminals ever known in the West; and he instigated the + murder of, or killed outright, more than one hundred men. Slade was a bad + man, fatal on the draw. Helm was a killing machine. These men all tried + Utah, and had to get out. So will Dene have to get out. But I'm afraid + there'll be warm times before that happens. When you get in the thick of + it you'll appreciate Silvermane.” + </p> + <p> + “I surely will. But I can't see that wild stallion with a saddle and a + bridle, eating oats like any common horse, and being led to water.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he'll come to your whistle, presently, if I'm not greatly mistaken. + You must make him love you, Jack. It can be done with any wild creature. + Be gentle, but firm. Teach him to obey the slightest touch of rein, to + stand when you throw your bridle on the ground, to come at your whistle. + Always remember this. He's a desert-bred horse; he can live on scant + browse and little water. Never break him of those best virtues in a horse. + Never feed him grain if you can find a little patch of browse; never give + him a drink till he needs it. That's one-tenth as often as a tame horse. + Some day you'll be caught in the desert, and with these qualities of + endurance Silvermane will carry you out.” + </p> + <p> + Silvermane snorted defiance from the cedar corral next morning when the + Naabs, and Indians, and Hare appeared. A half-naked sinewy Navajo with a + face as changeless as a bronze mask sat astride August's blindfolded roan, + Charger. He rode bareback except for a blanket strapped upon the horse; he + carried only a long, thick halter, with a loop and a knot. When August + opened the improvised gate, with its sharp bayonet-like branches of cedar, + the Indian rode into the corral. The watchers climbed to the knoll. + Silvermane snorted a blast of fear and anger. August's huge roan showed + uneasiness; he stamped, and shook his head, as if to rid himself of the + blinders. + </p> + <p> + Into the farthest corner of densely packed cedar boughs Silvermane pressed + himself and watched. The Indian rode around the corral, circling closer + and closer, yet appearing not to see the stallion. Many rounds he made; + closer he got, and always with the same steady gait. Silvermane left his + corner and tried another. The old unwearying round brought Charger and the + Navajo close by him. Silvermane pranced out of his thicket of boughs; he + whistled; he wheeled with his shiny hoofs lifting. In an hour the Indian + was edging the outer circle of the corral, with the stallion pivoting in + the centre, ears laid back, eyes shooting sparks, fight in every line of + him. And the circle narrowed inward. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Navajo sent the roan at Silvermane and threw his halter. It + spread out like a lasso, and the loop went over the head of the stallion, + slipped to the knot and held fast, while the rope tightened. Silvermane + leaped up, forehoofs pawing the air, and his long shrill cry was neither + whistle, snort, nor screech, but all combined. He came down, missing + Charger with his hoofs, sliding off his haunches. The Indian, his bronze + muscles rippling, close-hauled on the rope, making half hitches round his + bony wrist. + </p> + <p> + In a whirl of dust the roan drew closer to the gray, and Silvermane began + a mad race around the corral. The roan ran with him nose to nose. When + Silvermane saw he could not shake him, he opened his jaws, rolled back his + lip in an ugly snarl, his white teeth glistening, and tried to bite. But + the Indian's moccasined foot shot up under the stallion's ear and pressed + him back. Then the roan hugged Silvermane so close that half the time the + Navajo virtually rode two horses. But for the rigidity of his arms, and + the play and sudden tension of his leg-muscles, the Indian's work would + have appeared commonplace, so dexterous was he, so perfectly at home in + his dangerous seat. Suddenly he whooped and August Naab hauled back the + gate, and the two horses, neck and neck, thundered out upon the level + stretch. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” cried August. “Let him rip now, Navvy. All over but the work, + Jack. I feared Silvermane would spear himself on some of those dead cedar + spikes in the corral. He's safe now.” + </p> + <p> + Jack watched the horses plunge at breakneck speed down the stretch, circle + at the forest edge, and come tearing back. Silvermane was pulling the roan + faster than he had ever gone in his life, but the dark Indian kept his + graceful seat. The speed slackened on the second turn, and decreased as, + mile after mile, the imperturbable Indian held roan and gray side to side + and let them run. + </p> + <p> + The time passed, but Hare's interest in the breaking of the stallion never + flagged. He began to understand the Indian, and to feel what the restraint + and drag must be to the horse. Never for a moment could Silvermane elude + the huge roan, the tight halter, the relentless Navajo. Gallop fell to + trot, and trot to jog, and jog to walk; and hour by hour, without whip or + spur or word, the breaker of desert mustangs drove the wild stallion. If + there were cruelty it was in his implacable slow patience, his farsighted + purpose. Silvermane would have killed himself in an hour; he would have + cut himself to pieces in one headlong dash, but that steel arm suffered + him only to wear himself out. Late that afternoon the Navajo led a + dripping, drooping, foam-lashed stallion into the corral, tied him with + the halter, and left him. + </p> + <p> + Later Silvermane drank of the water poured into the corral trough, and had + not the strength or spirit to resent the Navajo's caressing hand on his + mane. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the Indian rode again into the corral on blindfolded Charger. + Again he dragged Silvermane out on the level and drove him up and down + with remorseless, machine-like persistence. At noon he took him back, tied + him up, and roped him fast. Silvermane tried to rear and kick, but the + saddle went on, strapped with a flash of the dark-skinned hands. Then + again Silvermane ran the level stretch beside the giant roan, only he + carried a saddle now. At the first, he broke out with free wild stride as + if to run forever from under the hateful thing. But as the afternoon waned + he crept weariedly back to the corral. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the third day the Navajo went into the corral without + Charger, and roped the gray, tied him fast, and saddled him. Then he + loosed the lassoes except the one around Silvermane's neck, which he + whipped under his foreleg to draw him down. Silvermane heaved a groan + which plainly said he never wanted to rise again. Swiftly the Indian knelt + on the stallion's head; his hands flashed; there was a scream, a click of + steel on bone; and proud Silvermane jumped to his feet with a bit between + his teeth. + </p> + <p> + The Navajo, firmly in the saddle, rose with him, and Silvermane leaped + through the corral gate, and out upon the stretch, lengthening out with + every stride, and settling into a wild, despairing burst of speed. The + white mane waved in the wind; the half-naked Navajo swayed to the motion. + Horse and rider disappeared in the cedars. + </p> + <p> + They were gone all day. Toward night they appeared on the stretch. The + Indian rode into camp and, dismounting, handed the bridle-rein to Naab. He + spoke no word; his dark impassiveness invited no comment. Silvermane was + dust-covered and sweat-stained. His silver crest had the same proud + beauty, his neck still the splendid arch, his head the noble outline, but + his was a broken spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Here, my lad,” said August Naab, throwing the bridle-rein over Hare's + arm. “What did I say once about seeing you on a great gray horse? Ah! + Well, take him and know this: you've the swiftest horse in this desert + country.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + </h2> + <p> + SOON the shepherds were left to a quiet unbroken by the whistle of wild + mustangs, the whoop of hunters, the ring of iron-shod hoofs on the stones. + The scream of an eagle, the bleating of sheep, the bark of a coyote were + once more the only familiar sounds accentuating the silence of the + plateau. For Hare, time seemed to stand still. He thought but little; his + whole life was a matter of feeling from without. He rose at dawn, never + failing to see the red sun tip the eastern crags; he glowed with the touch + of cold spring-water and the morning air; he trailed Silvermane under the + cedars and thrilled when the stallion, answering his call, thumped the + ground with hobbled feet and came his way, learning day by day to be glad + at sight of his master. He rode with Mescal behind the flock; he hunted + hour by hour, crawling over the fragrant brown mats of cedar, through the + sage and juniper, up the grassy slopes. He rode back to camp beside + Mescal, drove the sheep, and put Silvermane to his fleetest to beat Black + Bolly down the level stretch where once the gray, even with freedom at + stake, had lost to the black. Then back to camp and fire and curling blue + smoke, a supper that testified to busy Piute's farmward trips, sunset on + the rim, endless changing desert, the wind in the cedars, bright stars in + the blue, and sleep—so time stood still. + </p> + <p> + Mescal and Hare were together, or never far apart, from dawn to night. + Until the sheep were in the corral, every moment had its duty, from + camp-work and care of horses to the many problems of the flock, so that + they earned the rest on the rim-wall at sundown. Only a touch of hands + bridged the chasm between them. They never spoke of their love, of + Mescal's future, of Jack's return to hearth; a glance and a smile, + scarcely sad yet not altogether happy, was the substance of their dream. + Where Jack had once talked about the canyon and desert, he now seldom + spoke at all. From watching Mescal he had learned that to see was enough. + But there were moments when some association recalled the past and the + strangeness of the present faced him. Then he was wont to question Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of?” he asked, curiously, interrupting their + silence. She leaned against the rocks and kept a changeless, tranquil, + unseeing gaze on the desert. The level eyes were full of thought, of + sadness, of mystery; they seemed to look afar. + </p> + <p> + Then she turned to him with puzzled questioning look and enigmatical + reply. “Thinking?” asked her eyes. “I wasn't thinking,” were her words. + </p> + <p> + “I fancied—I don't know exactly what,” he went on. “You looked so + earnest. Do you ever think of going to the Navajos?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Or across that Painted Desert to find some place you seem to know, or + see?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why, but, Mescal, sometimes I have the queerest ideas when I + catch your eyes watching, watching. You look at once happy and sad. You + see something out there that I can't see. Your eyes are haunted. I've a + feeling that if I'd look into them I'd see the sun setting, the clouds + coloring, the twilight shadows changing; and then back of that the secret + of it all—of you—Oh! I can't explain, but it seems so.” + </p> + <p> + “I never had a secret, except the one you know,” she answered. “You ask me + so often what I think about, and you always ask me when we're here.” She + was silent for a pause. “I don't think at all till you make me. It's + beautiful out there. But that's not what it is to me. I can't tell you. + When I sit down here all within me is—is somehow stilled. I watch—and + it's different from what it is now, since you've made me think. Then I + watch, and I see, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + It came to Hare afterward with a little start of surprise that Mescal's + purposeless, yet all-satisfying, watchful gaze had come to be part of his + own experience. It was inscrutable to him, but he got from it a fancy, + which he tried in vain to dispel, that something would happen to them out + there on the desert. + </p> + <p> + And then he realized that when they returned to the camp-fire they seemed + freed from this spell of the desert. The blaze-lit circle was shut in by + the darkness; and the immensity of their wild environment, because for the + hour it could not be seen, lost its paralyzing effect. Hare fell naturally + into a talkative mood. Mescal had developed a vivacity, an ambition which + contrasted strongly with her silent moods; she became alive and curious, + human like the girls he had known in the East, and she fascinated him the + more for this complexity. + </p> + <p> + The July rains did not come; the mists failed; the dews no longer + freshened the grass, and the hot sun began to tell on shepherds and sheep. + Both sought the shade. The flowers withered first—all the blue-bells + and lavender patches of primrose, and pale-yellow lilies, and white + thistle-blossoms. Only the deep magenta of cactus and vermilion of Indian + paint-brush, flowers of the sun, survived the heat. Day by day the + shepherds scanned the sky for storm-clouds that did not appear. The spring + ran lower and lower. At last the ditch that carried water to the corral + went dry, and the margin of the pool began to retreat. Then Mescal sent + Piute down for August Naab. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the plateau the next day with Dave and at once ordered the + breaking up of camp. + </p> + <p> + “It will rain some time,” he said, “but we can't wait any longer. Dave, + when did you last see the Blue Star waterhole?” + </p> + <p> + “On the trip in from Silver Cup, ten days ago. The waterhole was full + then.” + </p> + <p> + “Will there be water enough now?” + </p> + <p> + “We've got to chance it. There's no water here, and no springs on the + upper range where we can drive sheep; we've got to go round under the + Star.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” replied August. His fears needed confirmation, because his + hopes always influenced his judgment till no hope was left. “I wish I had + brought Zeke and George. It'll be a hard drive, though we've got Jack and + Mescal to help.” + </p> + <p> + Hot as it was August Naab lost no time in the start. Piute led the train + on foot, and the flock, used to following him, got under way readily. Dave + and Mescal rode along the sides, and August with Jack came behind, with + the pack-burros bringing up the rear. Wolf circled them all, keeping the + flanks close in, heading the lambs that strayed, and, ever vigilant, made + the drive orderly and rapid. + </p> + <p> + The trail to the upper range was wide and easy of ascent, the first of it + winding under crags, the latter part climbing long slopes. It forked + before the summit, where dark pine trees showed against the sky, one fork + ascending, the other, which Piute took, beginning to go down. It admitted + of no extended view, being shut in for the most part on the left, but + there were times when Hare could see a curving stream of sheep on half a + mile of descending trail. Once started down the flock could not be + stopped, that was as plain as Piute's hard task. There were times when + Hare could have tossed a pebble on the Indian just below him, yet there + were more than three thousand sheep, strung out in line between them. + Clouds of dust rolled up, sheets of gravel and shale rattled down the + inclines, the clatter, clatter, clatter of little hoofs, the steady + baa-baa-baa filled the air. Save for the crowding of lambs off the trail, + and a jamming of sheep in the corners, the drive went on without mishap. + Hare was glad to see the lambs scramble back bleating for their mothers, + and to note that, though peril threatened at every steep turn, the steady + down-flow always made space for the sheep behind. He was glad, too, when + through a wide break ahead his eye followed the face of a vast cliff down + to the red ground below, and he knew the flock would soon be safe on the + level. + </p> + <p> + A blast as from a furnace smote Hare from this open break in the wall. The + air was dust-laden, and carried besides the smell of dust and the warm + breath of desert growths, a dank odor that was unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + The sheep massed in a flock on the level, and the drivers spread to their + places. The route lay under projecting red cliffs, between the base and + enormous sections of wall that had broken off and fallen far out. There + was no weathering slope; the wind had carried away the smaller stones and + particles, and had cut the huge pieces of pinnacle and tower into hollowed + forms. This zone of rim merged into another of strange contrast, the + sloping red stream of sand which flowed from the wall of the canyon. + </p> + <p> + Piute swung the flock up to the left into an amphitheatre, and there + halted. The sheep formed a densely packed mass in the curve of the wall. + Dave Naab galloped back toward August and Hare, and before he reached them + shouted out: “The waterhole's plugged!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” yelled his father. + </p> + <p> + “Plugged, filled with stone and sand.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it a cave-in?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon not. There's been no rain.” + </p> + <p> + August spurred his roan after Dave, and Hare kept close behind them, till + they reined in on a muddy bank. What had once been a waterhole was a red + and yellow heap of shale, fragments of stones, gravel, and sand. There was + no water, and the sheep were bleating. August dismounted and climbed high + above the hole to examine the slope; soon he strode down with giant steps, + his huge fists clinched, shaking his gray mane like a lion. + </p> + <p> + “I've found the tracks! Somebody climbed up and rolled the stones, started + the cave-in. Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Holderness's men. They did the same for Martin Cole's waterhole at Rocky + Point. How old are the tracks?” + </p> + <p> + “Two days, perhaps. We can't follow them. What can be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Some of Holderness's men are Mormons, and others are square fellows. They + wouldn't stand for such work as this, and somebody ought to ride in there + and tell them.” + </p> + <p> + “And get shot up by the men paid to do the dirty work. No. I won't hear of + it. This amounts to nothing; we seldom use this hole, only twice a year + when driving the flock. But it makes me fear for Silver Cup and Seeping + Springs.” + </p> + <p> + “It makes me fear for the sheep, if this wind doesn't change.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I had forgotten the river scent. It's not strong to-night. We might + venture if it wasn't for the strip of sand. We'll camp here and start the + drive at dawn.” + </p> + <p> + The sun went down under a crimson veil; a dull glow spread, fan-shaped, + upward; twilight faded to darkness with the going down of the wind. August + Naab paced to and fro before his tired and thirsty flock. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know,” said Hare to Dave, “why those men filled up this + waterhole.” + </p> + <p> + “Holderness wants to cut us off from Silver Cup Spring, and this was a + half-way waterhole. Probably he didn't know we had the sheep upland, but + he wouldn't have cared. He's set himself to get our cattle range and he'll + stop at nothing. Prospects look black for us. Father never gives up. He + doesn't believe yet that we can lose our water. He prays and hopes, and + sees good and mercy in his worst enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “If Holderness works as far as Silver Cup, how will he go to work to steal + another man's range and water?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll throw up a cabin, send in his men, drive in ten thousand steers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, will his men try to keep you away from your own water, or your + cattle?” + </p> + <p> + “Not openly. They'll pretend to welcome us, and drive our cattle away in + our absence. You see there are only five of us to ride the ranges, and + we'd need five times five to watch all the stock.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can't stop this outrage?” + </p> + <p> + “There's only one way,” said Dave, significantly tapping the black handle + of his Colt. “Holderness thinks he pulls the wool over our eyes by talking + of the cattle company that employs him. He's the company himself, and he's + hand and glove with Dene.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to + Holderness's newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a + fight.” + </p> + <p> + “We'd never reach him now, that is, if we went together. One of us alone + might get to see him, especially in White Sage. If we all rode over to his + ranch we'd have to fight his men before we reached the corrals. You + yourself will find it pretty warm when you go out with us on the ranges, + and if you make White Sage you'll find it hot. You're called 'Dene's spy' + there, and the rustlers are still looking for you. I wouldn't worry about + it, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, I'd like to know?” inquired Hare, with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you're like the other Gentiles who have come into Utah you won't + have scruples about drawing on a man. Father says the draw comes natural + to you, and you're as quick as he is. Then he says you can beat any rifle + shot he ever saw, and that long-barrelled gun you've got will shoot a + mile. So if it comes to shooting—why, you can shoot. If you want to + run—who's going to catch you on that white-maned stallion? We talked + about you, George and I; we're mighty glad you're well and can ride with + us.” + </p> + <p> + Long into the night Jack Hare thought over this talk. It opened up a vista + of the range-life into which he was soon to enter. He tried to silence the + voice within that cried out, eager and reckless, for the long rides on the + windy open. The years of his illness returned in fancy, the narrow room + with the lamp and the book, and the tears over stories and dreams of + adventure never to be for such as he. And now how wonderful was life! It + was, after all, to be full for him. It was already full. Already he slept + on the ground, open to the sky. He looked up at a wild black cliff, + mountain-high, with its windworn star of blue; he felt himself on the + threshold of the desert, with that subtle mystery waiting; he knew himself + to be close to strenuous action on the ranges, companion of these sombre + Mormons, exposed to their peril, making their cause his cause, their life + his life. What of their friendship, their confidence? Was he worthy? Would + he fail at the pinch? What a man he must become to approach their simple + estimate of him! Because he had found health and strength, because he + could shoot, because he had the fleetest horse on the desert, were these + reasons for their friendship? No, these were only reasons for their trust. + August Naab loved him. Mescal loved him; Dave and George made of him a + brother. “They shall have my life,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + The bleating of the sheep heralded another day. With the brightening light + began the drive over the sand. Under the cliff the shade was cool and + fresh; there was no wind; the sheep made good progress. But the broken + line of shade crept inward toward the flock, and passed it. The sun beat + down, and the wind arose. A red haze of fine sand eddied about the toiling + sheep and shepherds. Piute trudged ahead leading the king-ram, old Socker, + the leader of the flock; Mescal and Hare rode at the right, turning their + faces from the sand-filled puffs of wind; August and Dave drove behind; + Wolf, as always, took care of the stragglers. An hour went by without + signs of distress; and with half the five-mile trip at his back August + Naab's voice gathered cheer. The sun beat hotter. Another hour told a + different story—the sheep labored; they had to be forced by urge of + whip, by knees of horses, by Wolf's threatening bark. They stopped + altogether during the frequent hot sand-blasts, and could not be driven. + So time dragged. The flock straggled out to a long irregular line; rams + refused to budge till they were ready; sheep lay down to rest; lambs fell. + But there was an end to the belt of sand, and August Naab at last drove + the lagging trailers out upon the stony bench. + </p> + <p> + The sun was about two hours past the meridian; the red walls of the desert + were closing in; the V-shaped split where the Colorado cut through was in + sight. The trail now was wide and unobstructed and the distance short, yet + August Naab ever and anon turned to face the canyon and shook his head in + anxious foreboding. + </p> + <p> + It quickly dawned upon Hare that the sheep were behaving in a way new and + singular to him. They packed densely now, crowding forward, many raising + their heads over the haunches of others and bleating. They were not in + their usual calm pattering hurry, but nervous, excited, and continually + facing west toward the canyon, noses up. + </p> + <p> + On the top of the next little ridge Hare heard Silvermane snort as he did + when led to drink. There was a scent of water on the wind. Hare caught it, + a damp, muggy smell. The sheep had noticed it long before, and now under + its nearer, stronger influence began to bleat wildly, to run faster, to + crowd without aim. + </p> + <p> + “There's work ahead. Keep them packed and going. Turn the wheelers,” + ordered August. + </p> + <p> + What had been a drive became a flight. And it was well so long as the + sheep headed straight up the trail. Piute had to go to the right to avoid + being run down. Mescal rode up to fill his place. Hare took his cue from + Dave, and rode along the flank, crowding the sheep inward. August cracked + his whip behind. For half a mile the flock kept to the trail, then, as if + by common consent, they sheered off to the right. With this move August + and Dave were transformed from quiet almost to frenzy. They galloped to + the fore, and into the very faces of the turning sheep, and drove them + back. Then the rear-guard of the flock curved outward. + </p> + <p> + “Drive them in!” roared August. + </p> + <p> + Hare sent Silvermane at the deflecting sheep and frightened them into + line. + </p> + <p> + Wolf no longer had power to chase the stragglers; they had to be turned by + a horse. All along the flank noses pointed outward; here and there sheep + wilder than the others leaped forward to lead a widening wave of bobbing + woolly backs. Mescal engaged one point, Hare another, Dave another, and + August Naab's roan thundered up and down the constantly broken line. All + this while as the shepherds fought back the sheep, the flight continued + faster eastward, farther canyonward. Each side gained, but the flock + gained more toward the canyon than the drivers gained toward the oasis. + </p> + <p> + By August's hoarse yells, by Dave's stern face and ceaseless swift action, + by the increasing din, Hare knew terrible danger hung over the flock; what + it was he could not tell. He heard the roar of the river rapids, and it + seemed that the sheep heard it with him. They plunged madly; they had gone + wild from the scent and sound of water. Their eyes gleamed red; their + tongues flew out. There was no aim to the rush of the great body of sheep, + but they followed the leaders and the leaders followed the scent. And the + drivers headed them off, rode them down, ceaselessly, riding forward to + check one outbreak, wheeling backward to check another. + </p> + <p> + The flight became a rout. Hare was in the thick of dust and din, of the + terror-stricken jumping mob, of the ever-starting, ever-widening streams + of sheep; he rode and yelled and fired his Colt. The dust choked him, the + sun burned him, the flying pebbles cut his cheek. Once he had a glimpse of + Black Bolly in a melee of dust and sheep; Dave's mustang blurred in his + sight; August's roan seemed to be double. Then Silvermane, of his own + accord, was out before them all. + </p> + <p> + The sheep had almost gained the victory; their keen noses were pointed + toward the water; nothing could stop their flight; but still the drivers + dashed at them, ever fighting, never wearying, never ceasing. + </p> + <p> + At the last incline, where a gentle slope led down to a dark break in the + desert, the rout became a stampede. Left and right flanks swung round, the + line lengthened, and round the struggling horses, knee-deep in woolly + backs, split the streams to flow together beyond in one resistless river + of sheep. Mescal forced Bolly out of danger; Dave escaped the right flank, + August and Hare swept on with the flood, till the horses, sighting the + dark canyon, halted to stand like rocks. + </p> + <p> + “Will they run over the rim?” yelled Hare, horrified. His voice came to + him as a whisper. August Naab, sweat-stained in red dust, haggard, gray + locks streaming in the wind, raised his arms above his head, hopeless. + </p> + <p> + The long nodding line of woolly forms, lifting like the crest of a yellow + wave, plunged out and down in rounded billow over the canyon rim. With din + of hoofs and bleats the sheep spilled themselves over the precipice, and + an awful deafening roar boomed up from the river, like the spreading + thunderous crash of an avalanche. + </p> + <p> + How endless seemed that fatal plunge! The last line of sheep, pressing + close to those gone before, and yet impelled by the strange instinct of + life, turned their eyes too late on the brink, carried over by their own + momentum. + </p> + <p> + The sliding roar ceased; its echo, muffled and hollow, pealed from the + cliffs, then rumbled down the canyon to merge at length in the sullen, + dull, continuous sound of the rapids. + </p> + <p> + Hare turned at last from that narrow iron-walled cleft, the depth of which + he had not seen, and now had no wish to see; and his eyes fell upon a + little Navajo lamb limping in the trail of the flock, headed for the + canyon, as sure as its mother in purpose. He dismounted and seized it to + find, to his infinite wonder and gladness, that it wore a string and bell + round its neck. It was Mescal's pet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. RIDING THE RANGES + </h2> + <p> + THE shepherds were home in the oasis that evening, and next day the + tragedy of the sheep was a thing of the past. No other circumstance of + Hare's four months with the Naabs had so affected him as this swift + inevitable sweeping away of the flock; nothing else had so vividly told + him the nature of this country of abrupt heights and depths. He remembered + August Naab's magnificent gesture of despair; and now the man was cheerful + again; he showed no sign of his great loss. His tasks were many, and when + one was done, he went on to the next. If Hare had not had many proofs of + this Mormon's feeling he would have thought him callous. August Naab + trusted God and men, loved animals, did what he had to do with all his + force, and accepted fate. The tragedy of the sheep had been only an + incident in a tragical life—that Hare divined with awe. + </p> + <p> + Mescal sorrowed, and Wolf mourned in sympathy with her, for their + occupation was gone, but both brightened when August made known his + intention to cross the river to the Navajo range, to trade with the + Indians for another flock. He began his preparations immediately. The + snow-freshets had long run out of the river, the water was low, and he + wanted to fetch the sheep down before the summer rains. He also wanted to + find out what kept his son Snap so long among the Navajos. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take Billy and go at once. Dave, you join George and Zeke out on the + Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can before + the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid + Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for their + doings.” + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to Hare that Snap Naab had not yet returned to the oasis, + for he felt a sense of freedom which otherwise would have been lacking. He + spent the whole of a long calm summer day in the orchard and the vineyard. + The fruit season was at its height. Grapes, plums, pears, melons were ripe + and luscious. Midsummer was vacationtime for the children, and they + flocked into the trees like birds. The girls were picking grapes; Mother + Ruth enlisted Jack in her service at the pear-trees; Mescal came, too, and + caught the golden pears he threw down, and smiled up at him; Wolf was + there, and Noddle; Black Bolly pushed her black nose over the fence, and + whinnied for apples; the turkeys strutted, the peafowls preened their + beautiful plumage, the guinea-hens ran like quail. Save for those frowning + red cliffs Hare would have forgotten where he was; the warm sun, the + yellow fruit, the merry screams of children, the joyous laughter of girls, + were pleasant reminders of autumn picnic days long gone. But, in the face + of those dominating wind-scarred walls, he could not forget. + </p> + <p> + That night Hare endeavored to see Mescal alone for a few moments, to see + her once more with unguarded eyes, to whisper a few words, to say + good-bye; but it was impossible. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow he rode out of the red cliff gate with Dave and the + pack-horses, a dull ache in his heart; for amid the cheering crowd of + children and women who bade them good-bye he had caught the wave of + Mescal's hand and a look of her eyes that would be with him always. What + might happen before he returned, if he ever did return! For he knew now, + as well as he could feel Silvermane's easy stride, that out there under + the white glare of desert, the white gleam of the slopes of Coconina, was + wild life awaiting him. And he shut his teeth, and narrowed his eyes, and + faced it with an eager joy that was in strange contrast to the pang in his + breast. + </p> + <p> + That morning the wind dipped down off the Vermillion Cliffs and whipped + west; there was no scent of river-water, and Hare thought of the fatality + of the sheep-drive, when, for one day out of the year, a moistened dank + breeze had met the flock on the narrow bench. Soon the bench lay far + behind them, and the strip of treacherous sand, and the maze of sculptured + cliff under the Blue Star, and the hummocky low ridges beyond, with their + dry white washes. Silvermane kept on in front. Already Hare had learned + that the gray would have no horse before him. His pace was swift, steady, + tireless. Dave was astride his Navajo mount, an Indian-bred horse, half + mustang, which had to be held in with a firm rein. The pack train strung + out far behind, trotting faithfully along, with the white packs, like the + humps of camels, nodding up and down. Jack and Dave slackened their gait + at the foot of the stony divide. It was an ascent of miles, so long that + it did not appear steep. Here the pack-train caught up, and thereafter + hung at the heels of the riders. + </p> + <p> + From the broad bare summit Jack saw the Silver Cup valley-range with eyes + which seemed to magnify the winding trail, the long red wall, the green + slopes, the dots of sage and cattle. Then he made allowance for months of + unobstructed vision; he had learned to see; his eyes had adjusted + themselves to distance and dimensions. + </p> + <p> + Silver Cup Spring lay in a bright green spot close under a break in the + rocky slope that soon lost its gray cliff in the shaggy cedared side of + Coconina. + </p> + <p> + The camp of the brothers was situated upon this cliff in a split between + two sections of wall. Well sheltered from the north and west winds was a + grassy plot which afforded a good survey of the valley and the trails. + Dave and Jack received glad greetings from Zeke and George, and Silvermane + was an object of wonder and admiration. Zeke, who had often seen the gray + and chased him too, walked round and round him, stroking the silver mane, + feeling the great chest muscles, slapping his flanks. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle and + bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare! Never will + be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that horse he'll + chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast horses. He's + from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he sees one.” + </p> + <p> + “How are things?” queried Dave. + </p> + <p> + “We can't complain much,” replied Zeke, “though we've wasted some time on + old Whitefoot. He's been chasing our horses. It's been pretty hot and dry. + Most of the cattle are on the slopes; fair browse yet. There's a bunch of + steers gone up on the mountain, and some more round toward the Saddle or + the canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Been over Seeping Springs way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. No change since your trip. Holderness's cattle are ranging in the + upper valley. George found tracks near the spring. We believe somebody was + watching there and made off when we came up.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll see Holderness's men when we get to riding out,” put in George. + “And some of Dene's too. Zeke met Two-Spot Chance and Culver below at the + spring one day, sort of surprised them.” + </p> + <p> + “What day was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Let's see, this's Friday. It was last Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “What were they doing over here?” + </p> + <p> + “Said they were tracking a horse that had broken his hobbles. But they + seemed uneasy, and soon rode off.” + </p> + <p> + “Did either of them ride a horse with one shoe shy?” + </p> + <p> + “Now I think of it, yes. Zeke noticed the track at the spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Chance and Culver had been out our way,” declared Dave. “I saw + their tracks, and they filled up the Blue Star waterhole—and cost us + three thousand sheep.” + </p> + <p> + Then he related the story of the drive of the sheep, the finding of the + plugged waterhole, the scent of the Colorado, and the plunge of the sheep + into the canyon. + </p> + <p> + “We've saved one, Mescal's belled lamb,” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + Neither Zeke nor George had a word in reply. Hare thought their silence + unnatural. Neither did the mask-like stillness of their faces change. But + Hare saw in their eyes a pointed clear flame, vibrating like a + compass-needle, a mere glimmering spark. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know,” continued Dave, calmly poking the fire, “who hired + Dene's men to plug the waterhole. Dene couldn't do that. He loves a horse, + and any man who loves a horse couldn't fill a waterhole in this desert.” + </p> + <p> + Hare entered upon his new duties as a range-rider with a zeal that almost + made up for his lack of experience; he bade fair to develop into a + right-hand man for Dave, under whose watchful eye he worked. His natural + qualifications were soon shown; he could ride, though his seat was awkward + and clumsy compared to that of the desert rangers, a fault that Dave said + would correct itself as time fitted him close to the saddle and to the + swing of his horse. His sight had become extraordinarily keen for a + new-comer on the ranges, and when experience had taught him the + land-marks, the trails, the distances, the difference between smoke and + dust and haze, when he could distinguish a band of mustangs from cattle, + and range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a word, when he had learned + to know what it was that he saw, to trust his judgment, he would have + acquired the basic feature of a rider's training. But he showed no gift + for the lasso, that other essential requirement of his new calling. + </p> + <p> + “It's funny,” said Dave, patiently, “you can't get the hang of it. Maybe + it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some + fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as + quick as you can throw your gun!” + </p> + <p> + Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when he + missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed + altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try + roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was + beautiful and fleet. The horse learned rapidly the agile turns and sudden + stops necessary, and as for free running he never got enough. Out on the + range Silvermane always had his head up and watched; his life had been + spent in watching; he saw cattle, riders, mustangs, deer, coyotes, every + moving thing. So that Hare, in the chasing of a cow, had but to start + Silvermane, and then he could devote himself to the handling of his rope. + It took him ten times longer to lasso the cow than it took Silvermane to + head the animal. Dave laughed at some of Jack's exploits, encouraged him + often, praised his intent if not his deed; and always after a run nodded + at Silvermane in mute admiration. + </p> + <p> + Branding the cows and yearlings and tame steers which watered at Silver + Cup, and never wandered far away, was play according to Dave's version. + “Wait till we get after the wild steers up on the mountain and in the + canyons,” he would say when Jack dropped like a log at supper. Work it + certainly was for him. At night he was so tired that he could scarcely + crawl into bed; his back felt as if it were broken; his legs were raw, and + his bones ached. Many mornings he thought it impossible to arise, but + always he crawled out, grim and haggard, and hobbled round the camp-fire + to warm his sore and bruised muscles. Then when Zeke and George rode in + with the horses the day's work began. During these weeks of his “hardening + up,” as Dave called it, Hare bore much pain, but he continued well and + never missed a day. At the most trying time when for a few days he had to + be helped on and off Silvermane—for he insisted that he would not + stay in camp—the brothers made his work as light as possible. They + gave him the branding outfit to carry, a running-iron and a little pot + with charcoal and bellows; and with these he followed the riders at a + convenient distance and leisurely pace. + </p> + <p> + Some days they branded one hundred cattle. By October they had August + Naab's crudely fashioned cross on thousands of cows and steers. Still the + stock kept coming down from the mountain, driven to the valley by cold + weather and snow-covered grass. It was well into November before the + riders finished at Silver Cup, and then arose a question as to whether it + would be advisable to go to Seeping Springs or to the canyons farther west + along the slope of Coconina. George favored the former, but Dave overruled + him. + </p> + <p> + “Father's orders,” he said. “He wants us to ride Seeping Springs last + because he'll be with us then, and Snap too. We're going to have trouble + over there.” + </p> + <p> + “How's this branding stock going to help the matter any, I'd like to + know?” inquired George. “We Mormons never needed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Father says we'll all have to come to it. Holderness's stock is branded. + Perhaps he's marked a good many steers of ours. We can't tell. But if we + have our own branded we'll know what's ours. If he drives our stock we'll + know it; if Dene steals, it can be proved that he steals.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then? Do you think he'll care for that, or Holderness either?” + </p> + <p> + “No, only it makes this difference: both things will then be barefaced + robbery. We've never been able to prove anything, though we boys know; we + don't need any proof. Father gives these men the benefit of a doubt. We've + got to stand by him. I know, George, your hand's begun to itch for your + gun. So does mine. But we've orders to obey.” + </p> + <p> + Many gullies and canyons headed up on the slope of Coconina west of Silver + Cup, and ran down to open wide on the flat desert. They contained plots of + white sage and bunches of rich grass and cold springs. The steers that + ranged these ravines were wild as wolves, and in the tangled thickets of + juniper and manzanita and jumbles of weathered cliff they were exceedingly + difficult to catch. + </p> + <p> + Well it was that Hare had received his initiation and had become inured to + rough, incessant work, for now he came to know the real stuff of which + these Mormons were made. No obstacle barred them. They penetrated the + gullies to the last step; they rode weathered slopes that were difficult + for deer to stick upon; they thrashed the bayonet-guarded manzanita + copses; they climbed into labyrinthine fastnesses, penetrating to every + nook where a steer could hide. Miles of sliding slope and marble-bottomed + streambeds were ascended on foot, for cattle could climb where a horse + could not. Climbing was arduous enough, yet the hardest and most perilous + toil began when a wild steer was cornered. They roped the animals on + moving slopes of weathered stone, and branded them on the edges of + precipices. + </p> + <p> + The days and weeks passed, how many no one counted or cared. The circle of + the sun daily lowered over the south end of Coconina; and the black + snow-clouds crept down the slopes. Frost whitened the ground at dawn, and + held half the day in the shade. Winter was close at the heels of the long + autumn. + </p> + <p> + As for Hare, true to August Naab's assertion, he had lost flesh and + suffered, and though the process was heartbreaking in its severity, he + hung on till he hardened into a leather lunged, wire-muscled man, capable + of keeping pace with his companions. + </p> + <p> + He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated + tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in + the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his + step as he went down the slope for his horse. He no longer feared that + Silvermane would run away. The gray's bell could always be heard near camp + in the mornings, and when Hare whistled there came always the answering + thump of hobbled feet. When Silvermane saw him striding through the cedars + or across the grassy belt of the valley he would neigh his gladness. Hare + had come to love Silvermane and talked to him and treated him as if he + were human. + </p> + <p> + When the mustangs were brought into camp the day's work began, the same + work as that of yesterday, and yet with endless variety, with + ever-changing situations that called for quick wits, steel arms, stout + hearts, and unflagging energies. The darkening blue sky and the sun-tipped + crags of Vermillion Cliffs were signals to start for camp. They ate like + wolves, sat for a while around the camp-fire, a ragged, weary, silent + group; and soon lay down, their dark faces in the shadow of the cedars. + </p> + <p> + In the beginning of this toil-filled time Hare had resolutely set himself + to forget Mescal, and he had succeeded at least for a time, when he was so + sore and weary that he scarcely thought at all. But she came back to him, + and then there was seldom an hour that was not hers. The long months which + seemed years since he had seen her, the change in him wrought by labor and + peril, the deepening friendship between him and Dave, even the love he + bore Silvermane—these, instead of making dim the memory of the + dark-eyed girl, only made him tenderer in his thought of her. + </p> + <p> + Snow drove the riders from the canyon-camp down to Silver Cup, where they + found August Naab and Snap, who had ridden in the day before. + </p> + <p> + “Now you couldn't guess how many cattle are back there in the canyons,” + said Dave to his father. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any idea,” answered August, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand head.” + </p> + <p> + “Dave!” His father's tone was incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You know we haven't been back in there for years. The stock has + multiplied rapidly in spite of the lions and wolves. Not only that, but + they're safe from the winter, and are not likely to be found by Dene or + anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you make that out?” + </p> + <p> + “The first cattle we drove in used to come back here to Silver Cup to + winter. Then they stopped coming, and we almost forgot them. Well, they've + got a trail round under the Saddle, and they go down and winter in the + canyon. In summer they head up those rocky gullies, but they can't get up + on the mountain. So it isn't likely any one will ever discover them. They + are wild as deer and fatter than any stock on the ranges.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! That's the best news I've had in many a day. Now, boys, we'll ride + the mountain slope toward Seeping Springs, drive the cattle down, and + finish up this branding. Somebody ought to go to White Sage. I'd like to + know what's going on, what Holderness is up to, what Dene is doing, if + there's any stock being driven to Lund.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I'd go,” said Snap Naab. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want you to,” replied his father. “I guess it can wait till + spring, then we'll all go in. I might have thought to bring you boys out + some clothes and boots. You're pretty ragged. Jack there, especially, + looks like a scarecrow. Has he worked as hard as he looks?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, he never lost a day,” replied Dave, warmly, “and you know what + riding is in these canyons.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab looked at Hare and laughed. “It'd be funny, wouldn't it, if + Holderness tried to slap you now? I always knew you'd do, Jack, and now + you're one of us, and you'll have a share with my sons in the cattle.” + </p> + <p> + But the generous promise failed to offset the feeling aroused by the + presence of Snap Naab. With the first sight of Snap's sharp face and + strange eyes Hare became conscious of an inward heat, which he had felt + before, but never as now, when there seemed to be an actual flame within + his breast. Yet Snap seemed greatly changed; the red flush, the swollen + lines no longer showed in his face; evidently in his absence on the Navajo + desert he had had no liquor; he was good-natured, lively, much inclined to + joking, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten his animosity toward + Hare. It was easy for Hare to see that the man's evil nature was in the + ascendancy only when he was under the dominance of drink. But he could not + forgive; he could not forget. Mescal's dark, beautiful eyes haunted him. + Even now she might be married to this man. Perhaps that was why Snap + appeared to be in such cheerful spirits. Suspense added its burdensome + insistent question, but he could not bring himself to ask August if the + marriage had taken place. For a day he fought to resign himself to the + inevitability of the Mormon custom, to forget Mescal, and then he gave up + trying. This surrender he felt to be something crucial in his life, though + he could not wholly understand it. It was the darkening of his spirit; the + death of boyish gentleness; the concluding step from youth into a forced + manhood. The desert regeneration had not stopped at turning weak lungs, + vitiated blood, and flaccid muscles into a powerful man; it was at work on + his mind, his heart, his soul. They answered more and more to the call of + some outside, ever-present, fiercely subtle thing. + </p> + <p> + Thenceforth he no longer vexed himself by trying to forget Mescal; if she + came to mind he told himself the truth, that the weeks and months had only + added to his love. And though it was bitter-sweet there was relief in + speaking the truth to himself. He no longer blinded himself by hoping, + striving to have generous feelings toward Snap Naab; he called the inward + fire by its real name—jealousy—and knew that in the end it + would become hatred. + </p> + <p> + On the third morning after leaving Silver Cup the riders were working + slowly along the slope of Coconina; and Hare having driven down a bunch of + cattle, found himself on an open ridge near the temporary camp. Happening + to glance up the valley he saw what appeared to be smoke hanging over + Seeping Springs. + </p> + <p> + “That can't be dust,” he soliloquized. “Looks blue to me.” + </p> + <p> + He studied the hazy bluish cloud for some time, but it was so many miles + away that he could not be certain whether it was smoke or not, so he + decided to ride over and make sure. None of the Naabs was in camp, and + there was no telling when they would return, so he set off alone. He + expected to get back before dark, but it was of little consequence whether + he did or not, for he had his blanket under the saddle, and grain for + Silvermane and food for himself in the saddle-bags. + </p> + <p> + Long before Silvermane's easy trot had covered half the distance Hare + recognized the cloud that had made him curious. It was smoke. He thought + that range-riders were camping at the springs, and he meant to see what + they were about. After three hours of brisk travel he reached the top of a + low rolling knoll that hid Seeping Springs. He remembered the springs were + up under the red wall, and that the pool where the cattle drank was lower + down in a clump of cedars. He saw smoke rising in a column from the + cedars, and he heard the lowing of cattle. + </p> + <p> + “Something wrong here,” he muttered. Following the trail, he rode through + the cedars to come upon the dry hole where the pool had once been. There + was no water in the flume. The bellowing cattle came from beyond the + cedars, down the other side of the ridge. He was not long in reaching the + open, and then one glance made all clear. + </p> + <p> + A new pool, large as a little lake, shone in the sunlight, and round it a + jostling horned mass of cattle were pressing against a high corral. The + flume that fed water to the pool was fenced all the way up to the springs. + </p> + <p> + Jack slowly rode down the ridge with eyes roving under the cedars and up + to the wall. Not a man was in sight. + </p> + <p> + When he got to the fire he saw that it was not many hours old and was + surrounded by fresh boot and horse tracks in the dust. Piles of slender + pine logs, trimmed flat on one side, were proof of somebody's intention to + erect a cabin. In a rage he flung himself from the saddle. It was not many + moments' work for him to push part of the fire under the fence, and part + of it against the pile of logs. The pitch-pines went off like rockets, + driving the thirsty cattle back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to trail those horse-tracks,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + He tore down a portion of the fence enclosing the flume, and gave + Silvermane a drink, then put him to a fast trot on the white trail. The + tracks he had resolved to follow were clean-cut. A few inches of snow had + fallen in the valley, and melting, had softened the hard ground. + Silvermane kept to his gait with the tirelessness of a desert horse. + August Naab had once said fifty miles a day would be play for the + stallion. All the afternoon Hare watched the trail speed toward him and + the end of Coconina rise above him. Long before sunset he had reached the + slope of the mountain and had begun the ascent. Half way up he came to the + snow and counted the tracks of three horses. At twilight he rode into the + glade where August Naab had waited for his Navajo friends. There, in a + sheltered nook among the rocks, he unsaddled Silvermane, covered and fed + him, built a fire, ate sparingly of his meat and bread, and rolling up in + his blanket, was soon asleep. + </p> + <p> + He was up and off before sunrise, and he came out on the western slope of + Coconina just as the shadowy valley awakened from its misty sleep into + daylight. Soon the Pink Cliffs leaned out, glimmering and vast, to change + from gloomy gray to rosy glow, and then to brighten and to redden in the + morning sun. + </p> + <p> + The snow thinned and failed, but the iron-cut horsetracks showed plainly + in the trail. At the foot of the mountain the tracks left the White Sage + trail and led off to the north toward the cliffs. Hare searched the red + sage-spotted waste for Holderness's ranch. He located it, a black patch on + the rising edge of the valley under the wall, and turned Silvermane into + the tracks that pointed straight toward it. + </p> + <p> + The sun cleared Coconina and shone warm on his back; the Pink Cliffs + lifted higher and higher before him. From the ridge-tops he saw the black + patch grow into cabins and corrals. As he neared the ranch he came into + rolling pasture-land where the bleached grass shone white and the cattle + were ranging in the thousands. This range had once belonged to Martin + Cole, and Hare thought of the bitter Mormon as he noted the snug cabins + for the riders, the rambling, picturesque ranch-house, the large corrals, + and the long flume that ran down from the cliff. There was a corral full + of shaggy horses, and another full of steers, and two lines of cattle, one + going into a pond-corral, and one coming out. The air was gray with dust. + A bunch of yearlings were licking at huge lumps of brown rock-salt. A + wagonful of cowhides stood before the ranch-house. + </p> + <p> + Hare reined in at the door and helloed. + </p> + <p> + A red-faced ranger with sandy hair and twinkling eyes appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, stranger, get down an' come in,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Is Holderness here?” asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “No. He's been to Lund with a bunch of steers. I reckon he'll be in White + Sage by now. I'm Snood, the foreman. Is it a job ridin' you want?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Say! thet hoss—” he exclaimed. His gaze of friendly curiosity had + moved from Hare to Silvermane. “You can corral me if it ain't thet Sevier + range stallion!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + Snood's whoop brought three riders to the door, and when he pointed to the + horse, they stepped out with good-natured grins and admiring eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I never seen him but onc't,” said one. + </p> + <p> + “Lordy, what a hoss!” Snood walked round Silvermane. “If I owned this + ranch I'd trade it for that stallion. I know Silvermane. He an' I hed some + chases over in Nevada. An', stranger, who might you be?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm one of August Naab's riders.” + </p> + <p> + “Dene's spy!” Snood looked Hare over carefully, with much interest, and + without any show of ill-will. “I've heerd of you. An' what might one of + Naab's riders want of Holderness?” + </p> + <p> + “I rode in to Seeping Springs yesterday,” said Hare, eying the foreman. + “There was a new pond, fenced in. Our cattle couldn't drink. There were a + lot of trimmed logs. Somebody was going to build a cabin. I burned the + corrals and logs—and I trailed fresh tracks from Seeping Springs to + this ranch.” + </p> + <p> + “The h—l you did!” shouted Snood, and his face flamed. “See here, + stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such dirty + tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till this + minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't know + of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no man's + water. Is thet good with you?” + </p> + <p> + Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at + his pipe. Hare offered his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but you + weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now. I've + no more to say, except I never hired them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of + the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it. He + walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that he + reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode in as + August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard, where + he put up his horse. Then he went to the house. It was necessary to + introduce himself for none of the Bishop's family recognized in him the + young man they had once befriended. The old Bishop prayed and reminded him + of the laying on of hands. The women served him with food, the young men + brought him new boots and garments to replace those that had been worn to + tatters. Then they plied him with questions about the Naabs, whom they had + not seen for nearly a year. They rejoiced at his recovered health; they + welcomed him with warm words. + </p> + <p> + Later Hare sought an interview alone with the Bishop's sons, and he told + them of the loss of the sheep, of the burning of the new corrals, of the + tracks leading to Holderness's ranch. In turn they warned him of his + danger, and gave him information desired by August Naab. Holderness's + grasp on the outlying ranges and water-rights had slowly and surely + tightened; every month he acquired new territory; he drove cattle + regularly to Lund, and it was no secret that much of the stock came from + the eastern slope of Coconina. He could not hire enough riders to do his + work. A suspicion that he was not a cattle-man but a rustler had slowly + gained ground; it was scarcely hinted, but it was believed. His friendship + with Dene had become offensive to the Mormons, who had formerly been on + good footing with him. Dene's killing of Martin Cole was believed to have + been at Holderness's instigation. Cole had threatened Holderness. Then + Dene and Cole had met in the main street of White Sage. Cole's death + ushered in the bloody time that he had prophesied. Dene's band had grown; + no man could say how many men he had or who they were. Chance and Culver + were openly his lieutenants, and whenever they came into the village there + was shooting. There were ugly rumors afloat in regard to their treatment + of Mormon women. The wives and daughters of once peaceful White Sage dared + no longer venture out-of-doors after nightfall. There was more money in + coin and more whiskey than ever before in the village. Lund and the few + villages northward were terrorized as well as White Sage. It was a bitter + story. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop and his sons tried to persuade Hare next morning to leave the + village without seeing Holderness, urging the futility of such a meeting. + </p> + <p> + “I will see him,” said Hare. He spent the morning at the cottage, and when + it came time to take his leave he smiled into the anxious faces. “If I + weren't able to take care of myself August Naab would never have said so.” + </p> + <p> + Had Hare asked himself what he intended to do when he faced Holderness he + could not have told. His feelings were pent-in, bound, but at the bottom + something rankled. His mind seemed steeped in still thunderous atmosphere. + </p> + <p> + How well he remembered the quaint wide street, the gray church! As he rode + many persons stopped to gaze at Silvermane. He turned the corner into the + main thoroughfare. A new building had been added to the several stores. + Mustangs stood, bridles down, before the doors; men lounged along the + railings. + </p> + <p> + As he dismounted he heard the loungers speak of his horse, and he saw + their leisurely manner quicken. He stepped into the store to meet more + men, among them August Naab's friend Abe. Hare might never have been in + White Sage for all the recognition he found, but he excited something + keener than curiosity. He asked for spurs, a clasp-knife and some other + necessaries, and he contrived, when momentarily out of sight behind a pile + of boxes, to whisper his identity to Abe. The Mormon was dumbfounded. When + he came out of his trance he showed his gladness, and at a question of + Hare's he silently pointed toward the saloon. + </p> + <p> + Hare faced the open door. The room had been enlarged; it was now on a + level with the store floor, and was blue with smoke, foul with the fumes + of rum, and noisy with the voices of dark, rugged men. + </p> + <p> + A man in the middle of the room was dancing a jig. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, who's this?” he said, straightening up. + </p> + <p> + It might have been the stopping of the dance or the quick spark in Hare's + eyes that suddenly quieted the room. Hare had once vowed to himself that + he would never forget the scarred face; it belonged to the outlaw Chance. + </p> + <p> + The sight of it flashed into the gulf of Hare's mind like a meteor into + black night. A sudden madness raced through his veins. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Don't you know me?” he said, with a long step that brought him + close to Chance. + </p> + <p> + The outlaw stood irresolute. Was this an old friend or an enemy? His beady + eyes scintillated and twitched as if they sought to look him over, yet + dared not because it was only in the face that intention could be read. + </p> + <p> + The stillness of the room broke to a hoarse whisper from some one. + </p> + <p> + “Look how he packs his gun.” + </p> + <p> + Another man answering whispered: “There's not six men in Utah who pack a + gun thet way.” + </p> + <p> + Chance heard these whispers, for his eye shifted downward the merest + fraction of a second. The brick color of his face turned a dirty white. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know me?” demanded Hare. + </p> + <p> + Chance's answer was a spasmodic jerking of his hand toward his hip. Hare's + arm moved quicker, and Chance's Colt went spinning to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Too slow,” said Hare. Then he flung Chance backward and struck him blows + that sent his head with sodden thuds against the log wall. Chance sank to + the floor in a heap. + </p> + <p> + Hare kicked the outlaw's gun out of the way, and wheeled to the crowd. + Holderness stood foremost, his tall form leaning against the bar, his + clear eyes shining like light on ice. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know me?” asked Hare, curtly. + </p> + <p> + Holderness started slightly. “I certainly don't,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “You slapped my face once.” Hare leaned close to the rancher. “Slap it now—you + rustler!” + </p> + <p> + In the slow, guarded instant when Hare's gaze held Holderness and the + other men, a low murmuring ran through the room. + </p> + <p> + “Dene's spy!” suddenly burst out Holderness. + </p> + <p> + Hare slapped his face. Then he backed a few paces with his right arm held + before him almost as high as his shoulder, the wrist rigid, the fingers + quivering. + </p> + <p> + “Don't try to draw, Holderness. Thet's August Naab's trick with a gun,” + whispered a man, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Holderness, I made a bonfire over at Seeping Springs,” said Hare. “I + burned the new corrals your men built, and I tracked them to your ranch. + Snood threw up his job when he heard it. He's an honest man, and no honest + man will work for a water-thief, a cattle-rustler, a sheep-killer. You're + shown up, Holderness. Leave the country before some one kills you—understand, + before some one kills you!” + </p> + <p> + Holderness stood motionless against the bar, his eyes fierce with + passionate hate. + </p> + <p> + Hare backed step by step to the outside door, his right hand still high, + his look holding the crowd bound to the last instant. Then he slipped out, + scattered the group round Silvermane, and struck hard with the spurs. + </p> + <p> + The gray, never before spurred, broke down the road into his old wild + speed. + </p> + <p> + Men were crossing from the corner of the green square. One, a compact + little fellow, swarthy, his dark hair long and flowing, with jaunty and + alert air, was Dene, the outlaw leader. He stopped, with his companions, + to let the horse cross. + </p> + <p> + Hare guided the thundering stallion slightly to the left. Silvermane + swerved and in two mighty leaps bore down on the outlaw. Dene saved + himself by quickly leaping aside, but even as he moved Silvermane struck + him with his left fore-leg, sending him into the dust. + </p> + <p> + At the street corner Hare glanced back. Yelling men were rushing from the + saloon and some of them fired after him. The bullets whistled harmlessly + behind Hare. Then the corner house shut off his view. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane lengthened out and stretched lower with his white mane flying + and his nose pointed level for the desert. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. THE DESERT-HAWK + </h2> + <p> + TOWARD the close of the next day Jack Hare arrived at Seeping Springs. A + pile of gray ashes marked the spot where the trimmed logs had lain. Round + the pool ran a black circle hard packed into the ground by many hoofs. + Even the board flume had been burned to a level with the glancing sheet of + water. Hare was slipping Silvermane's bit to let him drink when he heard a + halloo. Dave Naab galloped out of the cedars, and presently August Naab + and his other sons appeared with a pack-train. + </p> + <p> + “Now you've played bob!” exclaimed Dave. He swung out of his saddle and + gripped Hare with both hands. “I know what you've done; I know where + you've been. Father will be furious, but don't you care.” + </p> + <p> + The other Naabs trotted down the slope and lined their horses before the + pool. The sons stared in blank astonishment; the father surveyed the scene + slowly, and then fixed wrathful eyes on Hare. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he demanded, with the sonorous roll of his angry + voice. + </p> + <p> + Hare told all that had happened. + </p> + <p> + August Naab's gloomy face worked, and his eagle-gaze had in it a strange + far-seeing light; his mind was dwelling upon his mystic power of + revelation. + </p> + <p> + “I see—I see,” he said haltingly. + </p> + <p> + “Ki—yi-i-i!” yelled Dave Naab with all the power of his lungs. His + head was back, his mouth wide open, his face red, his neck corded and + swollen with the intensity of his passion. + </p> + <p> + “Be still—boy!” ordered his father. “Hare, this was madness—but + tell me what you learned.” + </p> + <p> + Briefly Hare repeated all that he had been told at the Bishop's, and + concluded with the killing of Martin Cole by Dene. + </p> + <p> + August Naab bowed his head and his giant frame shook under the force of + his emotion. Martin Cole was the last of his life-long friends. + </p> + <p> + “This—this outlaw—you say you ran him down?” asked Naab, + rising haggard and shaken out of his grief. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He didn't recognize me or know what was coming till Silvermane was + on him. But he was quick, and fell sidewise. Silvermane's knee sent him + sprawling.” + </p> + <p> + “What will it all lead to?” asked August Naab, and in his extremity he + appealed to his eldest son. + </p> + <p> + “The bars are down,” said Snap Naab, with a click of his long teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” began Dave Naab earnestly, “Jack has done a splendid thing. The + news will fly over Utah like wildfire. Mormons are slow. They need a + leader. But they can follow and they will. We can't cure these evils by + hoping and praying. We've got to fight!” + </p> + <p> + “Dave's right, dad, it means fight,” cried George, with his fist clinched + high. + </p> + <p> + “You've been wrong, father, in holding back,” said Zeke Naab, his lean jaw + bulging. “This Holderness will steal the water and meat out of our + children's mouths. We've got to fight!” + </p> + <p> + “Let's ride to White Sage,” put in Snap Naab, and the little flecks in his + eyes were dancing. “I'll throw a gun on Dene. I can get to him. We've been + tolerable friends. He's wanted me to join his band. I'll kill him.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed as he raised his right hand and swept it down to his left side; + the blue Colt lay on his outstretched palm. Dene's life and Holderness's, + too, hung in the balance between two deadly snaps of this desert-wolf's + teeth. He was one of the Naabs, and yet apart from them, for neither + religion, nor friendship, nor life itself mattered to him. + </p> + <p> + August Naab's huge bulk shook again, not this time with grief, but in + wrestling effort to withstand the fiery influence of this unholy fighting + spirit among his sons. + </p> + <p> + “I am forbidden.” + </p> + <p> + His answer was gentle, but its very gentleness breathed of his battle over + himself, of allegiance to something beyond earthly duty. “We'll drive the + cattle to Silver Cup,” he decided, “and then go home. I give up Seeping + Springs. Perhaps this valley and water will content Holderness.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the oasis Hare was surprised to find that it was the day + before Christmas. The welcome given the long-absent riders was like a + celebration. Much to Hare's disappointment Mescal did not appear; the + homecoming was not joyful to him because it lacked her welcoming smile. + </p> + <p> + Christmas Day ushered in the short desert winter; ice formed in the + ditches and snow fell, but neither long resisted the reflection of the sun + from the walls. The early morning hours were devoted to religious + services. At midday dinner was served in the big room of August Naab's + cabin. At one end was a stone fireplace where logs blazed and crackled. + </p> + <p> + In all his days Hare had never seen such a bountiful board. Yet he was + unable to appreciate it, to share in the general thanksgiving. Dominating + all other feeling was the fear that Mescal would come in and take a seat + by Snap Naab's side. When Snap seated himself opposite with his pale + little wife Hare found himself waiting for Mescal with an intensity that + made him dead to all else. The girls, Judith, Esther, Rebecca, came + running gayly in, clad in their best dresses, with bright ribbons to honor + the occasion. Rebecca took the seat beside Snap, and Hare gulped with a + hard contraction of his throat. Mescal was not yet a Mormon's wife! He + seemed to be lifted upward, to grow light-headed with the blessed + assurance. Then Mescal entered and took the seat next to him. She smiled + and spoke, and the blood beat thick in his ears. + </p> + <p> + That moment was happy, but it was as nothing to its successor. Under the + table-cover Mescal's hand found his, and pressed it daringly and gladly. + Her hand lingered in his all the time August Naab spent in carving the + turkey—lingered there even though Snap Naab's hawk eyes were never + far away. In the warm touch of her hand, in some subtle thing that + radiated from her Hare felt a change in the girl he loved. A few months + had wrought in her some indefinable difference, even as they had increased + his love to its full volume and depth. Had his absence brought her to the + realization of her woman's heart? + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon Hare left the house and spent a little while with + Silvermane; then he wandered along the wall to the head of the oasis, and + found a seat on the fence. The next few weeks presented to him a situation + that would be difficult to endure. He would be near Mescal, but only to + have the truth forced cruelly home to him every sane moment—that she + was not for him. Out on the ranges he had abandoned himself to dreams of + her; they had been beautiful; they had made the long hours seem like + minutes; but they had forged chains that could not be broken, and now he + was hopelessly fettered. + </p> + <p> + The clatter of hoofs roused him from a reverie which was half sad, half + sweet. Mescal came tearing down the level on Black Bolly. She pulled in + the mustang and halted beside Hare to hold out shyly a red scarf + embroidered with Navajo symbols in white and red beads. + </p> + <p> + “I've wanted a chance to give you this,” she said, “a little Christmas + present.” + </p> + <p> + For a few seconds Hare could find no words. + </p> + <p> + “Did you make it for me, Mescal?” he finally asked. “How good of you! I'll + keep it always.” + </p> + <p> + “Put it on now—let me tie it—there!” + </p> + <p> + “But, child. Suppose he—they saw it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care who sees it.” + </p> + <p> + She met him with clear, level eyes. Her curt, crisp speech was full of + meaning. He looked long at her, with a yearning denied for many a day. Her + face was the same, yet wonderfully changed; the same in line and color, + but different in soul and spirit. The old sombre shadow lay deep in the + eyes, but to it had been added gleam of will and reflection of thought. + The whole face had been refined and transformed. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal! What's happened? You're not the same. You seem almost happy. Have + you—has he—given you up?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know Mormons better than that? The thing is the same—so + far as they're concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mescal—are you going to marry him? For God's sake, tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” It was a woman's word, instant, inflexible, desperate. With a + deep breath Hare realized where the girl had changed. + </p> + <p> + “Still you're promised, pledged to him! How'll you get out of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how. But I'll cut out my tongue, and be dumb as my poor peon + before I'll speak the word that'll make me Snap Naab's wife.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. Mescal smoothed out Bolly's mane, and Hare gazed + up at the walls with eyes that did not see them. + </p> + <p> + Presently he spoke. “I'm afraid for you. Snap watched us to-day at + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “He's jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he sees this scarf?” + </p> + <p> + Mescal laughed defiantly. It was bewildering for Hare to hear her. + </p> + <p> + “He'll—Mescal, I may yet come to this.” Hare's laugh echoed Mescal's + as he pointed to the enclosure under the wall, where the graves showed + bare and rough. + </p> + <p> + Her warm color fled, but it flooded back, rich, mantling brow and cheek + and neck. + </p> + <p> + “Snap Naab will never kill you,” she said impulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal.” + </p> + <p> + She swiftly turned her face away as his hand closed on hers. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + The trembling of her fingers and the heaving of her bosom lent his hope + conviction. “Mescal,” he went on, “these past months have been years, + years of toiling, thinking, changing, but always loving. I'm not the man + you knew. I'm wild— I'm starved for a sight of you. I love you! + Mescal, my desert flower!” + </p> + <p> + She raised her free hand to his shoulder and swayed toward him. He held + her a moment, clasped tight, and then released her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm quite mad!” he exclaimed, in a passion of self-reproach. “What a risk + I'm putting on you! But I couldn't help it. Look at me— Just once—please— + Mescal, just one look.... Now go.” + </p> + <p> + The drama of the succeeding days was of absorbing interest. Hare had + liberty; there was little work for him to do save to care for Silvermane. + He tried to hunt foxes in the caves and clefts; he rode up and down the + broad space under the walls; he sought the open desert only to be driven + in by the bitter, biting winds. Then he would return to the big + living-room of the Naabs and sit before the burning logs. This spacious + room was warm, light, pleasant, and was used by every one in leisure + hours. Mescal spent most of her time there. She was engaged upon a new + frock of buckskin, and over this she bent with her needle and beads. When + there was a chance Hare talked with her, speaking one language with his + tongue, a far different one with his eyes. When she was not present he + looked into the glowing red fire and dreamed of her. + </p> + <p> + In the evenings when Snap came in to his wooing and drew Mescal into a + corner, Hare watched with covert glance and smouldering jealousy. Somehow + he had come to see all things and all people in the desert glass, and his + symbol for Snap Naab was the desert-hawk. Snap's eyes were as wild and + piercing as those of a hawk; his nose and mouth were as the beak of a + hawk; his hands resembled the claws of a hawk; and the spurs he wore, + always bloody, were still more significant of his ruthless nature. Then + Snap's courting of the girl, the cool assurance, the unhastening ease, + were like the slow rise, the sail, and the poise of a desert-hawk before + the downward lightning-swift swoop on his quarry. + </p> + <p> + It was intolerable for Hare to sit there in the evenings, to try to play + with the children who loved him, to talk to August Naab when his eye + seemed ever drawn to the quiet couple in the corner, and his ear was + unconsciously strained to catch a passing word. That hour was a miserable + one for him, yet he could not bring himself to leave the room. He never + saw Snap touch her; he never heard Mescal's voice; he believed that she + spoke very little. When the hour was over and Mescal rose to pass to her + room, then his doubt, his fear, his misery, were as though they had never + been, for as Mescal said good-night she would give him one look, swift as + a flash, and in it were womanliness and purity, and something beyond his + comprehension. Her Indian serenity and mysticism veiled yet suggested some + secret, some power by which she might yet escape the iron band of this + Mormon rule. Hare could not fathom it. In that good-night glance was a + meaning for him alone, if meaning ever shone in woman's eyes, and it said: + “I will be true to you and to myself!” + </p> + <p> + Once the idea struck him that as soon as spring returned it would be an + easy matter, and probably wise, for him to leave the oasis and go up into + Utah, far from the desert-canyon country. But the thought refused to stay + before his consciousness a moment. New life had flushed his veins here. He + loved the dreamy, sleepy oasis with its mellow sunshine always at rest on + the glistening walls; he loved the cedar-scented plateau where hope had + dawned, and the wind-swept sand-strips, where hard out-of-door life and + work had renewed his wasting youth; he loved the canyon winding away + toward Coconina, opening into wide abyss; and always, more than all, he + loved the Painted Desert, with its ever-changing pictures, printed in + sweeping dust and bare peaks and purple haze. He loved the beauty of these + places, and the wildness in them had an affinity with something strange + and untamed in him. He would never leave them. When his blood had cooled, + when this tumultuous thrill and swell had worn themselves out, happiness + would come again. + </p> + <p> + Early in the winter Snap Naab had forced his wife to visit his father's + house with him; and she had remained in the room, white-faced, + passionately jealous, while he wooed Mescal. Then had come a scene. Hare + had not been present, but he knew its results. Snap had been furious, his + father grave, Mescal tearful and ashamed. The wife found many ways to + interrupt her husband's lovemaking. She sent the children for him; she was + taken suddenly ill; she discovered that the corral gate was open and his + cream-colored pinto, dearest to his heart, was running loose; she even set + her cottage on fire. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday evening just before twilight Hare was sitting on the porch with + August Naab and Dave, when their talk was interrupted by Snap's loud + calling for his wife. At first the sounds came from inside his cabin. Then + he put his head out of a window and yelled. Plainly he was both impatient + and angry. It was nearly time for him to make his Sunday call upon Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “Something's wrong,” muttered Dave. + </p> + <p> + “Hester! Hester!” yelled Snap. + </p> + <p> + Mother Ruth came out and said that Hester was not there. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” Snap banged on the window-sill with his fists. “Find her, + somebody—Hester!” + </p> + <p> + “Son, this is the Sabbath,” called Father Naab, gravely. “Lower your + voice. Now what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter!” bawled Snap, giving way to rage. “When I was asleep Hester stole + all my clothes. She's hid them—she's run off—there's not a d—n + thing for me to put on! I'll—” + </p> + <p> + The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the speech. + Hare managed to stifle his own mirth. Snap pulled in his head and slammed + the window shut. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” said August, “even among Mormons the course of true love never + runs smooth.” + </p> + <p> + Hare finally forgot his bitter humor in pity for the wife. Snap came to + care not at all for her messages and tricks, and he let nothing interfere + with his evening beside Mescal. It was plain that he had gone far on the + road of love. Whatever he had been in the beginning of the betrothal, he + was now a lover, eager, importunate. His hawk's eyes were softer than Hare + had ever seen them; he was obliging, kind, gay, an altogether different + Snap Naab. He groomed himself often, and wore clean scarfs, and left off + his bloody spurs. For eight months he had not touched the bottle. When + spring approached he was madly in love with Mescal. And the marriage was + delayed because his wife would not have another woman in her home. + </p> + <p> + Once Hare heard Snap remonstrating with his father. + </p> + <p> + “If she don't come to time soon I'll keep the kids and send her back to + her father.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be hasty, son. Let her have time,” replied August. “Women must be + humored. I'll wager she'll give in before the cottonwood blows, and that's + not long.” + </p> + <p> + It was Hare's habit, as the days grew warmer, to walk a good deal, and one + evening, as twilight shadowed the oasis and grew black under the towering + walls, he strolled out toward the fields. While passing Snap's cottage + Hare heard a woman's voice in passionate protest and a man's in strident + anger. Later as he stood with his arm on Silvermane, a woman's scream, at + first high-pitched, then suddenly faint and smothered, caused him to grow + rigid, and his hand clinched tight. When he went back by the cottage a low + moaning confirmed his suspicion. + </p> + <p> + That evening Snap appeared unusually bright and happy; and he asked his + father to name the day for the wedding. August did so in a loud voice and + with evident relief. Then the quaint Mormon congratulations were offered + to Mescal. To Hare, watching the strange girl with the distressingly keen + intuition of an unfortunate lover, she appeared as pleased as any of them + that the marriage was settled. But there was no shyness, no blushing + confusion. When Snap bent to kiss her—his first kiss—she + slightly turned her face, so that his lips brushed her cheek, yet even + then her self-command did not break for an instant. It was a task for Hare + to pretend to congratulate her; nevertheless he mumbled something. She + lifted her long lashes, and there, deep beneath the shadows, was + unutterable anguish. It gave him a shock. He went to his room, convinced + that she had yielded; and though he could not blame her, and he knew she + was helpless, he cried out in reproach and resentment. She had failed him, + as he had known she must fail. He tossed on his bed and thought; he lay + quiet, wide-open eyes staring into the darkness, and his mind burned and + seethed. Through the hours of that long night he learned what love had + cost him. + </p> + <p> + With the morning light came some degree of resignation. Several days went + slowly by, bringing the first of April, which was to be the wedding-day. + August Naab had said it would come before the cottonwoods shed their white + floss; and their buds had just commenced to open. The day was not a + holiday, and George and Zeke and Dave began to pack for the ranges, yet + there was an air of jollity and festivity. Snap Naab had a springy step + and jaunty mien. Once he regarded Hare with a slow smile. + </p> + <p> + Piute prepared to drive his new flock up on the plateau. The women of the + household were busy and excited; the children romped. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon waned into twilight, and Hare sought the quiet shadows under + the wall near the river trail. He meant to stay there until August Naab + had pronounced his son and Mescal man and wife. The dull roar of the + rapids borne on a faint puff of westerly breeze was lulled into a soothing + murmur. A radiant white star peeped over the black rim of the wall. The + solitude and silence were speaking to Hare's heart, easing his pain, when + a soft patter of moccasined feet brought him bolt upright. + </p> + <p> + A slender form rounded the corner wall. It was Mescal. The white dog Wolf + hung close by her side. Swiftly she reached Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Speak softly,” she whispered fearfully. Her hands were clinging to + his. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, do you love me still?” + </p> + <p> + More than woman's sweetness was in the whisper; the portent of indefinable + motive made Hare tremble like a shaking leaf. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! You are to be married in a few minutes—What do you + mean? Where are you going? this buckskin suit—and Wolf with you—Mescal!” + </p> + <p> + “There's no time—only a word—hurry—do you love me + still?” she panted, with great shining eyes close to his. + </p> + <p> + “Love you? With all my soul!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she whispered, and leaned against him. A fresh breeze bore the + boom of the river. She caught her breath quickly: “I love you!—I + love you!—Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + She kissed him and broke from his clasp. Then silently, like a shadow, + with the white dog close beside her, she disappeared in the darkness of + the river trail. + </p> + <p> + She was gone before he came out of his bewilderment. He rushed down the + trail; he called her name. The gloom had swallowed her, and only the echo + of his voice made answer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. ECHO CLIFFS + </h2> + <p> + WHEN thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake + he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any + knowledge of it. + </p> + <p> + With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the gloomy + shade, and felt his way to a point beyond the twinkling lights. Then, + peering through the gloom until assured he was safe from observation, and + taking the dark side of the house, he gained the hall, and his room. He + threw himself on his bed, and endeavored to compose himself, to quiet his + vibrating nerves, to still the triumphant bell-beat of his heart. For a + while all his being swung to the palpitating consciousness of joy—Mescal + had taken her freedom. She had escaped the swoop of the hawk. + </p> + <p> + While Hare lay there, trying to gather his shattered senses, the merry + sound of voices and the music of an accordion hummed from the big + living-room next to his. Presently heavy boots thumped on the floor of the + hall; then a hand rapped on his door. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, are you there?” called August Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along then.” + </p> + <p> + Hare rose, opened the door and followed August. The room was bright with + lights; the table was set, and the Naabs, large and small, were standing + expectantly. As Hare found a place behind them Snap Naab entered with his + wife. She was as pale as if she were in her shroud. Hare caught Mother + Ruth's pitying subdued glance as she drew the frail little woman to her + side. When August Naab began fingering his Bible the whispering ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't they fetch her?” he questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Judith, Esther, bring her in,” said Mother Mary, calling into the + hallway. + </p> + <p> + Quick footsteps, and the girls burst in impetuously, exclaiming: “Mescal's + not there!” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, then?” demanded August Naab, going to the door. “Mescal!” + he called. + </p> + <p> + Succeeding his authoritative summons only the cheery sputter of the + wood-fire broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “She hadn't put on her white frock,” went on Judith. + </p> + <p> + “Her buckskins aren't hanging where they always are,” continued Esther. + </p> + <p> + August Naab laid his Bible on the table. “I always feared it,” he said + simply. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone!” cried Snap Naab. He ran into the hall, into Mescal's room, + and returned trailing the white wedding-dress. “The time we thought she + spent to put this on she's been—” + </p> + <p> + He choked over the words, and sank into a chair, face convulsed, hands + shaking, weak in the grip of a grief that he had never before known. + Suddenly he flung the dress into the fire. His wife fell to the floor in a + dead faint. Then the desert-hawk showed his claws. His hands tore at the + close scarf round his throat as if to liberate a fury that was stifling + him; his face lost all semblance to anything human. He began to howl, to + rave, to curse; and his father circled him with iron arm and dragged him + from the room. + </p> + <p> + The children were whimpering, the wives lamenting. The quiet men searched + the house and yard and corrals and fields. But they found no sign of + Mescal. After long hours the excitement subsided and all sought their + beds. + </p> + <p> + Morning disclosed the facts of Mescal's flight. She had dressed for the + trail; a knapsack was missing and food enough to fill it; Wolf was gone; + Noddle was not in his corral; the peon slave had not slept in his shack; + there were moccasin-tracks and burro-tracks and dog-tracks in the sand at + the river crossing, and one of the boats was gone. This boat was not + moored to the opposite shore. Questions arose. Had the boat sunk? Had the + fugitives crossed safely or had they drifted into the canyon? Dave Naab + rode out along the river and saw the boat, a mile below the rapids, bottom + side up and lodged on a sand-bar. + </p> + <p> + “She got across, and then set the boat loose,” said August. “That's the + Indian of her. If she went up on the cliffs to the Navajos maybe we'll + find her. If she went into the Painted Desert—” a grave shake of his + shaggy head completed his sentence. + </p> + <p> + Morning also disclosed Snap Naab once more in the clutch of his demon, + drunk and unconscious, lying like a log on the porch of his cottage. + </p> + <p> + “This means ruin to him,” said his father. “He had one chance; he was mad + over Mescal, and if he had got her, he might have conquered his thirst for + rum.” + </p> + <p> + He gave orders for the sheep to be driven up on the plateau, and for his + sons to ride out to the cattle ranges. He bade Hare pack and get in + readiness to accompany him to the Navajo cliffs, there to search for + Mescal. + </p> + <p> + The river was low, as the spring thaws had not yet set in, and the + crossing promised none of the hazard so menacing at a later period. Billy + Naab rowed across with the saddle and packs. Then August had to crowd the + lazy burros into the water. Silvermane went in with a rush, and Charger + took to the river like an old duck. August and Jack sat in the stern of + the boat, while Billy handled the oars. They crossed swiftly and safely. + The three burros were then loaded, two with packs, the other with a heavy + water-bag. + </p> + <p> + “See there,” said August, pointing to tracks in the sand. The imprints of + little moccasins reassured Hare, for he had feared the possibility + suggested by the upturned boat. “Perhaps it'll be better if I never find + her,” continued Naab. “If I bring her back Snap's as likely to kill her as + to marry her. But I must try to find her. Only what to do with her—” + </p> + <p> + “Give her to me,” interrupted Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Hare!” + </p> + <p> + “I love her!” + </p> + <p> + Naab's stern face relaxed. “Well, I'm beat! Though I don't see why you + should be different from all the others. It was that time you spent with + her on the plateau. I thought you too sick to think of a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal cares for me,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! That accounts. Hare, did you play me fair?” + </p> + <p> + “We tried to, though we couldn't help loving.” + </p> + <p> + “She would have married Snap but for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I couldn't help that. You brought me out here, and saved my + life. I know what I owe you. Mescal meant to marry your son when I left + for the range last fall. But she's a true woman and couldn't. August Naab, + if we ever find her will you marry her to him—now?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends. Did you know she intended to run?” + </p> + <p> + “I never dreamed of it. I learned it only at the last moment. I met her on + the river trail.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have stopped her.” + </p> + <p> + Hare maintained silence. + </p> + <p> + “You should have told me,” went on Naab. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't. I'm only human.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, I'm not blaming you, Hare. I had hot blood once. But I'm + afraid the desert will not be large enough for you and Snap. She's pledged + to him. You can't change the Mormon Church. For the sake of peace I'd give + you Mescal, if I could. Snap will either have her or kill her. I'm going + to hunt this desert in advance of him, because he'll trail her like a + hound. It would be better to marry her to him than to see her dead.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Hare, your nose is on a blood scent, like a wolf's. I can see—I've + always seen—well, remember, it's man to man between you now.” + </p> + <p> + During this talk they were winding under Echo Cliffs, gradually climbing, + and working up to a level with the desert, which they presently attained + at a point near the head of the canyon. The trail swerved to the left + following the base of the cliffs. The tracks of Noddle and Wolf were + plainly visible in the dust. Hare felt that if they ever led out into the + immense airy space of the desert all hope of finding Mescal must be + abandoned. + </p> + <p> + They trailed the tracks of the dog and burro to Bitter Seeps, a shallow + spring of alkali, and there lost all track of them. The path up the cliffs + to the Navajo ranges was bare, time-worn in solid rock, and showed only + the imprint of age. Desertward the ridges of shale, the washes of copper + earth, baked in the sun, gave no sign of the fugitives' course. August + Naab shrugged his broad shoulders and pointed his horse to the cliff. It + was dusk when they surmounted it. + </p> + <p> + They camped in the lee of an uplifting crag. When the wind died down the + night was no longer unpleasantly cool; and Hare, finding August Naab + uncommunicative and sleepy, strolled along the rim of the cliff, as he had + been wont to do in the sheep-herding days. He could scarcely dissociate + them from the present, for the bitter-sweet smell of tree and bush, the + almost inaudible sigh of breeze, the opening and shutting of the great + white stars in the blue dome, the silence, the sense of the invisible void + beneath him—all were thought-provoking parts of that past of which + nothing could ever be forgotten. And it was a silence which brought much + to the ear that could hear. It was a silence penetrated by faint and + distant sounds, by mourning wolf, or moan of wind in a splintered crag. + Weird and low, an inarticulate voice, it wailed up from the desert, + winding along the hollow trail, freeing itself in the wide air, and dying + away. He had often heard the scream of lion and cry of wildcat, but this + was the strange sound of which August Naab had told him, the mysterious + call of canyon and desert night. + </p> + <p> + Daylight showed Echo Cliffs to be of vastly greater range than the sister + plateau across the river. The roll of cedar level, the heave of craggy + ridge, the dip of white-sage valley gave this side a diversity widely + differing from the two steps of the Vermillion tableland. August Naab + followed a trail leading back toward the river. For the most part thick + cedars hid the surroundings from Hare's view; occasionally, however, he + had a backward glimpse from a high point, or a wide prospect below, where + the trail overlooked an oval hemmed-in valley. + </p> + <p> + About midday August Naab brushed through a thicket, and came abruptly on a + declivity. He turned to his companion with a wave of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “The Navajo camp,” he said. “Eschtah has lived there for many years. It's + the only permanent Navajo camp I know. These Indians are nomads. Most of + them live wherever the sheep lead them. This plateau ranges for a hundred + miles, farther than any white man knows, and everywhere, in the valleys + and green nooks, will be found Navajo hogans. That's why we may never find + Mescal.” + </p> + <p> + Hare's gaze travelled down over the tips of cedar and crag to a pleasant + vale, dotted with round mound-like white-streaked hogans, from which lazy + floating columns of blue smoke curled upward. Mustangs and burros and + sheep browsed on the white patches of grass. Bright-red blankets blazed on + the cedar branches. There was slow colorful movement of Indians, passing + in and out of their homes. The scene brought irresistibly to Hare the + thought of summer, of long warm afternoons, of leisure that took no stock + of time. + </p> + <p> + On the way down the trail they encountered a flock of sheep driven by a + little Navajo boy on a brown burro. It was difficult to tell which was the + more surprised, the long-eared burro, which stood stock-still, or the boy, + who first kicked and pounded his shaggy steed, and then jumped off and ran + with black locks flying. Farther down Indian girls started up from their + tasks, and darted silently into the shade of the cedars. August Naab + whooped when he reached the valley, and Indian braves appeared, to cluster + round him, shake his hand and Hare's, and lead them toward the centre of + the encampment. + </p> + <p> + The hogans where these desert savages dwelt were all alike; only the + chief's was larger. From without it resembled a mound of clay with a few + white logs, half imbedded, shining against the brick red. August Naab drew + aside a blanket hanging over a door, and entered, beckoning his companion + to follow. Inured as Hare had become to the smell and smart of wood-smoke, + for a moment he could not see, or scarcely breathe, so thick was the + atmosphere. A fire, the size of which attested the desert Indian's love of + warmth, blazed in the middle of the hogan, and sent part of its smoke + upward through a round hole in the roof. Eschtah, with blanket over his + shoulders, his lean black head bent, sat near the fire. He noted the + entrance of his visitors, but immediately resumed his meditative posture, + and appeared to be unaware of their presence. + </p> + <p> + Hare followed August's example, sitting down and speaking no word. His + eyes, however, roved discreetly to and fro. Eschtah's three wives + presented great differences in age and appearance. The eldest was a + wrinkled, parchment-skinned old hag who sat sightless before the fire; the + next was a solid square squaw, employed in the task of combing a naked + boy's hair with a comb made of stiff thin roots tied tightly in a round + bunch. Judging from the youngster's actions and grimaces, this combing + process was not a pleasant one. The third wife, much younger, had a comely + face, and long braids of black hair, of which, evidently, she was proud. + She leaned on her knees over a flat slab of rock, and holding in her hands + a long oval stone, she rolled and mashed corn into meal. There were young + braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way, with bands binding their + straight thick hair, silver rings in their ears, silver bracelets on their + wrists, silver buttons on their moccasins. There were girls who looked up + from their blanket-weaving with shy curiosity, and then turned to their + frames strung with long threads. Under their nimble fingers the + wool-carrying needles slipped in and out, and the colored stripes grew + apace. Then there were younger boys and girls, all bright-eyed and + curious; and babies sleeping on blankets. Where the walls and ceiling were + not covered with buckskin garments, weapons and blankets, Hare saw the + white wood-ribs of the hogan structure. It was a work of art, this + circular house of forked logs and branches, interwoven into a dome, arched + and strong, and all covered and cemented with clay. + </p> + <p> + At a touch of August's hand Hare turned to the old chief; and awaited his + speech. It came with the uplifting of Eschtah's head, and the offering of + his hand in the white man's salute. August's replies were slow and + labored; he could not speak the Navajo language fluently, but he + understood it. + </p> + <p> + “The White Prophet is welcome,” was the chief's greeting. “Does he come + for sheep or braves or to honor the Navajo in his home?” + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah, he seeks the Flower of the Desert,” replied August Naab. “Mescal + has left him. Her trail leads to the bitter waters under the cliff, and + then is as a bird's.” + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah has waited, yet Mescal has not come to him.” + </p> + <p> + “She has not been here?” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal's shadow has not gladdened the Navajo's door.” + </p> + <p> + “She has climbed the crags or wandered into the canyons. The white father + loves her; he must find her.” + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah's braves and mustangs are for his friend's use. The Navajo will + find her if she is not as the grain of drifting sand. But is the White + Prophet wise in his years? Let the Flower of the Desert take root in the + soil of her forefathers.” + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah's wisdom is great, but he thinks only of Indian blood. Mescal is + half white, and her ways have been the ways of the white man. Nor does + Eschtah think of the white man's love.” + </p> + <p> + “The desert has called. Where is the White Prophet's vision? White blood + and red blood will not mix. The Indian's blood pales in the white man's + stream; or it burns red for the sun and the waste and the wild. Eschtah's + forefathers, sleeping here in the silence, have called the Desert Flower.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. But the white man is bound; he cannot be as the Indian; he + does not content himself with life as it is; he hopes and prays for + change; he believes in the progress of his race on earth. Therefore + Eschtah's white friend smelts Mescal; he has brought her up as his own; he + wants to take her home, to love her better, to trust to the future.” + </p> + <p> + “The white man's ways are white man's ways. Eschtah understands. He + remembers his daughter lying here. He closed her dead eyes and sent word + to his white friend. He named this child for the flower that blows in the + wind of silent places. Eschtah gave his granddaughter to his friend. She + has been the bond between them. Now she is flown and the White Father + seeks the Navajo. Let him command. Eschtah has spoken.” + </p> + <p> + Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the + guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every + waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the + river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, + ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into the + thickets and caves. From Eschtah's encampment westward the hogans + diminished in number till only one here and there was discovered, hidden + under a yellow wall, or amid a clump of cedars. All the Indians met with + were sternly questioned by the chiefs, their dwellings were searched, and + the ground about their waterholes was closely examined. Mile after mile + the plateau was covered by these Indians, who beat the brush and + penetrated the fastnesses with a hunting instinct that left scarcely a + rabbit-burrow unrevealed. The days sped by; the circle of the sun arched + higher; the patches of snow in high places disappeared; and the search + proceeded westward. They camped where the night overtook them, sometimes + near water and grass, sometimes in bare dry places. To the westward the + plateau widened. Rugged ridges rose here and there, and seared crags split + the sky like sharp sawteeth. And after many miles of wild up-ranging they + reached a divide which marked the line of Eschtah's domain. + </p> + <p> + Naab's dogged persistence and the Navajos' faithfulness carried them into + the country of the Moki Indians, a tribe classed as slaves by the proud + race of Eschtah. Here they searched the villages and ancient tombs and + ruins, but of Mescal there was never a trace. + </p> + <p> + Hare rode as diligently and searched as indefatigably as August, but he + never had any real hope of finding the girl. To hunt for her, however, + despite its hopelessness, was a melancholy satisfaction, for never was she + out of his mind. + </p> + <p> + Nor was the month's hard riding with the Navajos without profit. He made + friends with the Indians, and learned to speak many of their words. Then a + whole host of desert tricks became part of his accumulating knowledge. In + climbing the crags, in looking for water and grass, in loosing Silvermane + at night and searching for him at dawn, in marking tracks on hard ground, + in all the sight and feeling and smell of desert things he learned much + from the Navajos. The whole outward life of the Indian was concerned with + the material aspect of Nature—dust, rock, air, wind, smoke, the + cedars, the beasts of the desert. These things made up the Indians' day. + The Navajos were worshippers of the physical; the sun was their supreme + god. In the mornings when the gray of dawn flushed to rosy red they began + their chant to the sun. At sunset the Navajos were watchful and silent + with faces westward. The Moki Indians also, Hare observed, had their + morning service to the great giver of light. In the gloom of early dawn, + before the pink appeared in the east, and all was whitening gray, the + Mokis emerged from their little mud and stone huts and sat upon the roofs + with blanketed and drooping heads. + </p> + <p> + One day August Naab showed in few words how significant a factor the sun + was in the lives of desert men. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to turn back,” he said to Hare. “The sun's getting hot and the + snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we can't + cross.” + </p> + <p> + They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received them + in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of + departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, + which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs. It + was the Navajos' outlook over the Painted Desert. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal is there,” said August Naab. “She's there with the slave Eschtah + gave her. He leads Mescal. Who can follow him there?” + </p> + <p> + The old chieftain reined in his horse, beside the time-hollowed trail, and + the same hand that waved his white friend downward swept up in slow + stately gesture toward the illimitable expanse. It was a warrior's salute + to an unconquered world. Hare saw in his falcon eyes the still gleam, the + brooding fire, the mystical passion that haunted the eyes of Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “The slave without a tongue is a wolf. He scents the trails and the + waters. Eschtah's eyes have grown old watching here, but he has seen no + Indian who could follow Mescal's slave. Eschtah will lie there, but no + Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is + lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. Look!” + </p> + <p> + To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored + dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and + dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a veritable + rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred Hare—he + saw the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of alkali and + washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and dust-encumbered + ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of the flat tableland + rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the eye beyond to veils and + vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line of level lanes, and so on, + and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare grasped a little of its + meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed world. Here was deep and + majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But it was only through + Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its terrifying + desolateness, its sleeping death. + </p> + <p> + When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere speech, + the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner being seemed + to shrink. + </p> + <p> + “The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him,” said Eschtah. + “The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE SOMBRE LINE + </h2> + <p> + AUGUST NAAB hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to + Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy faces + presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's flight + had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had followed. + </p> + <p> + Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy. + For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself + in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his + almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his + wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave + Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had + ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since. + </p> + <p> + The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the + life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as to + her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, gentleness, + and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August Naab. He bade + Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to the range, and + tell his sons that he would come later. + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and + made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars + toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of + the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Jack,” called Dave Naab, into the dark. “I knew that was you. + Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you + and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you clear + to the Little Colorado.” + </p> + <p> + Hare told the story of the fruitless search. + </p> + <p> + “It's no more than we expected,” said Dave. “The man doesn't live who can + trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped her + halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn into a + stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, for she's a + good girl, too good for Snap.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your news?” inquired Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing much,” replied Dave, with a short laugh. “The cattle wintered + well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke and I chased + old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping Springs. We met Joe + Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's. He's with Holderness now, + and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the corrals at the spring; also he + has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen riders there. Stube told us + Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He finished up by killing Snood. + They got into an argument about you.” + </p> + <p> + “About me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for it. + Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's going too + far—he is—” Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence + was more significant than any utterance. + </p> + <p> + “What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap's killing Snood?” + </p> + <p> + “They've said a lot. This even-break business goes all right among + gun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed + Culver, and Snap will be outlawed next.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert too small for him and + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak to you about it. + Snap will ride in here some day and then—” Dave's pause was not + reassuring. + </p> + <p> + And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding + down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and + saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a tall + man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and Zeke + what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught sight + of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars. While they + were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail. + </p> + <p> + “It's Snap and Holderness,” he called out, sharply. “What's Snap doing with + Holderness? What's he bringing him here for?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like the looks of it,” replied Zeke, deliberately. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, what'll you do?” asked Dave, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit + from men who don't like me.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be wisest.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” The dull red came to Dave's cheek. “But will you draw on him?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on + Holderness, then?” + </p> + <p> + “For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you,” replied Hare, pacing the + trail. “Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd + draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull too + late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap or + Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would either of + them shoot an unarmed man?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun.” + </p> + <p> + Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over + the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats near + the camp-fire. + </p> + <p> + “There they come,” whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by + George. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, you fellows,” said Dave, with a warning glance. “I'll do the + talking.” + </p> + <p> + Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the + glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood + directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, boys?” called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a gleam + of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, their gaze + contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the cattle-man with + cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed his brother. + </p> + <p> + “Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round,” replied Snap. + The hard lines, the sullen shade, the hawk-beak cruelty had returned + tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame. + </p> + <p> + “New foreman!” exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared in amazement. + “No—you can't mean that—you're drunk!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said,” growled Snap. + </p> + <p> + “You're a liar!” shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown on + his cheeks. He jumped off the ground in his fury. + </p> + <p> + “It's true, Naab; he's my new foreman,” put in Holderness, suavely. “A + hundred a month—in gold—and I've got as good a place for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, by G—d!” Dave's arms came down and his face blanched to his + lips. “Holderness!” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you'd say,” interrupted the ranchman. + </p> + <p> + “But stop it. I know you're game. And what's the use of fighting? I'm + talking business. I'll—” + </p> + <p> + “You can't talk business or anything else to me,” said Dave Naab, and he + veered sharply toward his brother. “Say it again, Snap Naab. You've hired + out to ride for this man?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it.” + </p> + <p> + “You're going against your father, your brothers, your own flesh and + blood?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see it that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're a drunken, easily-led fool. This man's no rancher. He's a + rustler. He ruined Martin Cole, the father of your first wife. He's stolen + our cattle; he's jumped our water-rights. He's trying to break us. For + God's sake, ain't you a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Things have gone bad for me,” replied Snap, sullenly, shifting in his + saddle. “I reckon I'll do better to cut out alone for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I always + knew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace the + Naabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here? Be + quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. You can't + even water your horses. Out with it!” + </p> + <p> + At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenly + felt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of his + breast. The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemed + instantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Hare dodged, + but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave place to a + tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a bloody + hand fumbling at his breast. + </p> + <p> + Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt, held + Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick which + made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was nearly + unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone. + </p> + <p> + “Cool down, there!” ordered Zeke. “He's done for.” + </p> + <p> + “My God—my God!” cried Dave, in a broken voice. “Not—not + dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Shot through the heart!” + </p> + <p> + Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse. “D—n you! run, + or I'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again—you + draw!” He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. They plunged + out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing the cedars, + disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers. + </p> + <p> + “Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my friend!... Who's to + tell father?” + </p> + <p> + Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bare + shoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. “Cheer up, + Dave. I'm not dead yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure he's not,” said Zeke. “He ducked none too soon, or too late, and + caught the bullet high up in the shoulder.” + </p> + <p> + Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on Hare's + knee shook a little. + </p> + <p> + “When I saw George go for his gun,” went on Zeke, “I knew there'd be a + lively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack was + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they came over to get me?” asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from his + brow. “I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's going over + to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snap edging + over till too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, I hear horses,” said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare's + wound. + </p> + <p> + “It's Billy, up on the home trail,” added George. “Yes, and there's father + with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?” + </p> + <p> + “Some one must tell him,” answered Dave. + </p> + <p> + “That'll be you, then. You always do the talking.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the saddle. + “I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?—Hare! Why—lad—how + is it with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not bad,” rejoined Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” August thrust Zeke aside. “A bullet-hole—just missed + the bone—not serious. Tie it up tight. I'll take him home + to-morrow.... Hare, who's been here?” + </p> + <p> + “Snap rode in and left his respects.” + </p> + <p> + “Snap! Already? Yet I knew it—I saw it. You had Providence with you, + lad, for this wound is not bad. Snap surprised you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I knew it was coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack hung his belt and gun on Silvermane's saddle,” said Dave. “He didn't + feel as if he could draw on either Snap or Holderness—” + </p> + <p> + “Holderness!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Snap rode in with Holderness. Hare thought if he was unarmed they + wouldn't draw. But Snap did.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “No. They came over to kill Hare.” Dave went on to recount the incident in + full. “And—and see here, dad—that's not all. Snap's gone to + the bad.” + </p> + <p> + Dave Naab hid his face while he told of his brother's treachery; the + others turned away, and Hare closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + For long moments there was silence broken only by the tramp of the old man + as he strode heavily to and fro. At last the footsteps ceased, and Hare + opened his eyes to see Naab's tall form erect, his arms uplifted, his + shaggy head rigid. + </p> + <p> + “Hare,” began August, presently. “I'm responsible for this cowardly attack + on you. I brought you out here. This is the second one. Beware of the + third! I see—but tell me, do you remember that I said you must meet + Snap as man to man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to live?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “You hold to no Mormon creed?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” Hare replied, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “What was the reason I taught you my trick with a gun?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it was to help me to defend myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you let yourself be shot down in cold blood? Why did you hang + up your gun? Why didn't you draw on Snap? Was it because of his father, + his brothers, his family?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly, but not altogether,” replied Hare, slowly. “I didn't know before + what I know now. My flesh sickened at the thought of killing a man, even + to save my own life; and to kill—your son—” + </p> + <p> + “No son of mine!” thundered Naab. “Remember that when next you meet. I + don't want your blood on my hands. Don't stand to be killed like a sheep! + If you have felt duty to me, I release you.” + </p> + <p> + Zeke finished bandaging the wound. Making a bed of blankets he lifted Hare + into it, and covered him, cautioning him to lie still. Hare had a + sensation of extreme lassitude, a deep drowsiness which permeated even to + his bones. There were intervals of oblivion, then a time when the stars + blinked in his eyes; he heard the wind, Silvermane's bell, the murmur of + voices, yet all seemed remote from him, intangible as things in a dream. + </p> + <p> + He rode home next day, drooping in the saddle and fainting at the end of + the trail, with the strong arm of August Naab upholding him. His wound was + dressed and he was put to bed, where he lay sleeping most of the time, + brooding the rest. + </p> + <p> + In three weeks he was in the saddle again, riding out over the red strip + of desert toward the range. During his convalescence he had learned that + he had come to the sombre line of choice. Either he must deliberately back + away, and show his unfitness to survive in the desert, or he must step + across into its dark wilds. The stern question haunted him. Yet he knew a + swift decision waited on the crucial moment. + </p> + <p> + He sought lonely rides more than ever, and, like Silvermane, he was always + watching and listening. His duties carried him half way to Seeping + Springs, across the valley to the red wall, up the slope of Coconina far + into the forest of stately pines. What with Silvermane's wonderful scent + and sight, and his own constant watchfulness, there were never + range-riders or wild horses nor even deer near him without his knowledge. + </p> + <p> + The days flew by; spring had long since given place to summer; the blaze + of sun and blast of flying sand were succeeded by the cooling breezes from + the mountain; October brought the flurries of snow and November the dark + storm-clouds. + </p> + <p> + Hare was the last of the riders to be driven off the mountain. The + brothers were waiting for him at Silver Cup, and they at once packed and + started for home. + </p> + <p> + August Naab listened to the details of the range-riding since his absence, + with silent surprise. Holderness and Snap had kept away from Silver Cup + after the supposed killing of Hare. Occasionally a group of horsemen rode + across the valley or up a trail within sight of Dave and his followers, + but there was never a meeting. Not a steer had been driven off the range + that summer and fall; and except for the menace always hanging in the blue + smoke over Seeping Springs the range-riding had passed without unusual + incident. + </p> + <p> + So for Hare the months had gone by swiftly; though when he looked back + afterward they seemed years. The winter at the oasis he filled as best he + could, with the children playing in the yard, with Silvermane under the + sunny lee of the great red wall, with any work that offered itself. It was + during the long evenings, when he could not be active, that time oppressed + him, and the memories of the past hurt him. A glimpse of the red sunset + through the cliff-gate toward the west would start the train of thought; + he both loved and hated the Painted Desert. Mescal was there in the purple + shadows. He dreamed of her in the glowing embers of the log-fire. He saw + her on Black Bolly with hair flying free to the wind. And he could not + shut out the picture of her sitting in the corner of the room, silent, + with bowed head, while the man to whom she was pledged hung close over + her. That memory had a sting. It was like a spark of fire dropped on the + wound in his breast where the desert-hawk had struck him. It was like a + light gleaming on the sombre line he was waiting to cross. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. WOLF + </h2> + <p> + ON the anniversary of the night Mescal disappeared the mysterious voice + which had called to Hare so often and so strangely again pierced his + slumber, and brought him bolt upright in his bed shuddering and listening. + The dark room was as quiet as a tomb. He fell back into his blankets + trembling with emotion. Sleep did not close his eyes again that night; he + lay in a fever waiting for the dawn, and when the gray gloom lightened he + knew what he must do. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he sought August Naab. “May I go across the river?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + The old man looked up from his carpenter's task and fastened his glance on + Hare. “Mescal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it long ago.” He shook his head and spread his great hands. + “There's no use for me to say what the desert is. If you ever come back + you'll bring her. Yes, you may go. It's a man's deed. God keep you!” + </p> + <p> + Hare spoke to no other person; he filled one saddle-bag with grain, + another with meat, bread, and dried fruits, strapped a five-gallon leather + water-sack back of Silvermane's saddle, and set out toward the river. At + the crossing-bar he removed Silvermane's equipments and placed them in the + boat. At that moment a long howl, as of a dog baying the moon, startled + him from his musings, and his eyes sought the river-bank, up and down, and + then the opposite side. An animal, which at first he took to be a gray + timber-wolf, was running along the sand-bar of the landing. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty white for a wolf,” he muttered. “Might be a Navajo dog.” + </p> + <p> + The beast sat down on his haunches and, lifting a lean head, sent up a + doleful howl. Then he began trotting along the bar, every few paces + stepping to the edge of the water. Presently he spied Hare, and he began + to bark furiously. + </p> + <p> + “It's a dog all right; wants to get across,” said Hare. “Where have I seen + him?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he sprang to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. “He's like + Mescal's Wolf!” He looked closer, his heart beginning to thump, and then + he yelled: “Ki-yi! Wolf! Hyer! Hyer!” + </p> + <p> + The dog leaped straight up in the air, and coming down, began to dash back + and forth along the sand with piercing yelps. + </p> + <p> + “It's Wolf! Mescal must be near,” cried Hare. A veil obscured his sight, + and every vein was like a hot cord. “Wolf! Wolf! I'm coming!” + </p> + <p> + With trembling hands he tied Silvermane's bridle to the stern seat of the + boat and pushed off. In his eagerness he rowed too hard, dragging + Silvermane's nose under water, and he had to check himself. Time and again + he turned to call to the dog. At length the bow grated on the sand, and + Silvermane emerged with a splash and a snort. + </p> + <p> + “Wolf, old fellow!” cried Hare. “Where's Mescal? Wolf, where is she?” He + threw his arms around the dog. Wolf whined, licked Hare's face, and + breaking away, ran up the sandy trail, and back again. But he barked no + more; he waited to see if Hare was following. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Wolf—coming.” Never had Hare saddled so speedily, nor + mounted so quickly. He sent Silvermane into the willow-skirted trail close + behind the dog, up on the rocky bench, and then under the bulging wall. + Wolf reached the level between the canyon and Echo Cliffs, and then + started straight west toward the Painted Desert. He trotted a few rods and + turned to see if the man was coming. + </p> + <p> + Doubt, fear, uncertainty ceased for Hare. With the first blast of + dust-scented air in his face he knew Wolf was leading him to Mescal. He + knew that the cry he had heard in his dream was hers, that the old + mysterious promise of the desert had at last begun its fulfilment. He gave + one sharp exultant answer to that call. The horizon, ever-widening, lay + before him, and the treeless plains, the sun-scorched slopes, the sandy + stretches, the massed blocks of black mesas, all seemed to welcome him; + his soul sang within him. + </p> + <p> + For Mescal was there. Far away she must be, a mere grain of sand in all + that world of drifting sands, perhaps ill, perhaps hurt, but alive, + waiting for him, calling for him, crying out with a voice that no distance + could silence. He did not see the sharp peaks as pitiless barriers, nor + the mesas and domes as black-faced death, nor the moisture-drinking sands + as life-sucking foes to plant and beast and man. That painted wonderland + had sheltered Mescal for a year. He had loved it for its color, its + change, its secrecy; he loved it now because it had not been a grave for + Mescal, but a home. Therefore he laughed at the deceiving yellow distances + in the foreground of glistening mesas, at the deceiving purple distances + of the far-off horizon. The wind blew a song in his ears; the dry desert + odors were fragrance in his nostrils; the sand tasted sweet between his + teeth, and the quivering heat-waves, veiling the desert in transparent + haze, framed beautiful pictures for his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Wolf kept to the fore for some thirty paces, and though he had ceased to + stop, he still looked back to see if the horse and man were following. + Hare had noted the dog occasionally in the first hours of travel, but he + had given his eyes mostly to the broken line of sky and desert in the + west, to the receding contour of Echo Cliffs, to the spread and break of + the desert near at hand. Here and there life showed itself in a gaunt + coyote sneaking into the cactus, or a horned toad huddling down in the + dust, or a jewel-eyed lizard sunning himself upon a stone. It was only + when his excited fancy had cooled that Hare came to look closely at Wolf. + But for the dog's color he could not have been distinguished from a real + wolf. His head and ears and tail drooped, and he was lame in his right + front paw. + </p> + <p> + Hare halted in the shade of a stone, dismounted and called the dog to him. + Wolf returned without quickness, without eagerness, without any of the + old-time friendliness of shepherding days. His eyes were sad and strange. + Hare felt a sudden foreboding, but rejected it with passionate force. Yet + a chill remained. Lifting Wolf's paw he discovered that the ball of the + foot was worn through; whereupon he called into service a piece of + buckskin, and fashioning a rude moccasin he tied it round the foot. Wolf + licked his hand, but there was no change in the sad light of his eyes. He + turned toward the west as if anxious to be off. + </p> + <p> + “All right, old fellow,” said Hare, “only go slow. From the look of that + foot I think you've turned back on a long trail.” + </p> + <p> + Again they faced the west, dog leading, man following, and addressed + themselves to a gradual ascent. When it had been surmounted Hare realized + that his ride so far had brought him only through an anteroom; the real + portal now stood open to the Painted Desert. The immensity of the thing + seemed to reach up to him with a thousand lines, ridges, canyons, all + ascending out of a purple gulf. The arms of the desert enveloped him, a + chill beneath their warmth. + </p> + <p> + As he descended into the valley, keeping close to Wolf, he marked a + straight course in line with a volcanic spur. He was surprised when the + dog, though continually threading jumbles of rock, heading canyons, + crossing deep washes, and going round obstructions, always veered back to + this bearing as true as a compass-needle to its magnet. + </p> + <p> + Hare felt the air growing warmer and closer as he continued the descent. + By mid-afternoon, when he had travelled perhaps thirty miles, he was moist + from head to foot, and Silvermane's coat was wet. Looking backward Hare + had a blank feeling of loss; the sweeping line of Echo Cliffs had + retreated behind the horizon. There was no familiar landmark left. + </p> + <p> + Sunset brought him to a standstill, as much from its sudden glorious + gathering of brilliant crimsons splashed with gold, as from its warning + that the day was done. Hare made his camp beside a stone which would serve + as a wind-break. He laid his saddle for a pillow and his blanket for a + bed. He gave Silvermane a nose-bag full of water and then one of grain; he + fed the dog, and afterward attended to his own needs. When his task was + done the desert brightness had faded to gray; the warm air had blown away + on a cool breeze, and night approached. He scooped out a little hollow in + the sand for his hips, took a last look at Silvermane haltered to the + rock, and calling Wolf to his side stretched himself to rest. He was used + to lying on the ground, under the open sky, out where the wind blew and + the sand seeped in, yet all these were different on this night. He was in + the Painted Desert; Wolf crept close to him; Mescal lay somewhere under + the blue-white stars. + </p> + <p> + He awakened and arose before any color of dawn hinted of the day. While he + fed his four-footed companions the sky warmed and lightened. A tinge of + rose gathered in the east. The air was cool and transparent. He tried to + cheer Wolf out of his sad-eyed forlornness, and failed. + </p> + <p> + Hare vaulted into the saddle. The day had its possibilities, and while he + had sobered down from his first unthinking exuberance, there was still a + ring in his voice as he called to the dog: + </p> + <p> + “On, Wolf, on, old boy!” + </p> + <p> + Out of the east burst the sun, and the gray curtain was lifted by shafts + of pink and white and gold, flashing westward long trails of color. + </p> + <p> + When they started the actions of the dog showed Hare that Wolf was not + tracking a back-trail, but travelling by instinct. There were draws which + necessitated a search for a crossing, and areas of broken rock which had + to be rounded, and steep flat mesas rising in the path, and strips of deep + sand and canyons impassable for long distances. But the dog always found a + way and always came back to a line with the black spur that Hare had + marked. It still stood in sharp relief, no nearer than before, receding + with every step, an illusive landmark, which Hare began to distrust. + </p> + <p> + Then quite suddenly it vanished in the ragged blue mass of the Ghost + Mountains. Hare had seen them several times, though never so distinctly. + The purple tips, the bold rock-ribs, the shadowed canyons, so sharp and + clear in the morning light—how impossible to believe that these were + only the deceit of the desert mirage! Yet so they were; even for the + Navajos they were spirit-mountains. + </p> + <p> + The splintered desert-floor merged into an area of sand. Wolf slowed his + trot, and Silvermane's hoofs sunk deep. Dismounting Hare labored beside + him, and felt the heat steal through his boots and burn the soles of his + feet. Hare plodded onward, stopping once to tie another moccasin on Wolf's + worn paw, this time the left one; and often he pulled the stopper from the + water-bag and cooled his parching lips and throat. The waves of the + sand-dunes were as the waves of the ocean. He did not look backward, + dreading to see what little progress he had made. Ahead were miles on + miles of graceful heaps, swelling mounds, crested ridges, all different, + yet regular and rhythmical, drift on drift, dune on dune, in endless + waves. Wisps of sand were whipped from their summits in white ribbons and + wreaths, and pale clouds of sand shrouded little hollows. The morning + breeze, rising out of the west, approached in a rippling lines like the + crest of an inflowing tide. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane snorted, lifted his ears and looked westward toward a yellow + pall which swooped up from the desert. + </p> + <p> + “Sand-storm,” said Hare, and calling Wolf he made for the nearest rock + that was large enough to shelter them. The whirling sand-cloud mushroomed + into an enormous desert covering, engulfing the dunes, obscuring the + light. The sunlight failed; the day turned to gloom. Then an eddying fog + of sand and dust enveloped Hare. His last glimpse before he covered his + face with a silk handkerchief was of sheets of sand streaming past his + shelter. The storm came with a low, soft, hissing roar, like the sound in + a sea-shell magnified. Breathing through the handkerchief Hare avoided + inhaling the sand which beat against his face, but the finer dust + particles filtered through and stifled him. At first he felt that he would + suffocate, and he coughed and gasped; but presently, when the thicker + sand-clouds had passed, he managed to get air enough to breathe. Then he + waited patiently while the steady seeping rustle swept by, and the band of + his hat sagged heavier, and the load on his shoulders had to be + continually shaken off, and the weighty trap round his feet crept upward. + When the light, fine touch ceased he removed the covering from his face to + see himself standing nearly to his knees in sand, and Silvermane's back + and the saddle burdened with it. The storm was moving eastward, a dull red + now with the sun faintly showing through it like a ball of fire. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Wolf, old boy, how many storms like that will we have to weather?” + asked Hare, in a cheery tone which he had to force. He knew these + sand-storms were but vagaries of the desert-wind. Before the hour closed + he had to seek the cover of a stone and wait for another to pass. Then he + was caught in the open, with not a shelter in sight. He was compelled to + turn his back to a third storm, the worst of all, and to bear as best he + could the heavy impact of the first blow, and the succeeding rush and flow + of sand. After that his head drooped and he wearily trudged beside + Silvermane, dreading the interminable distance he must cover before once + more gaining hard ground. But he discovered that it was useless to try to + judge distance on the desert. What had appeared miles at his last look + turned out to be only rods. + </p> + <p> + It was good to get into the saddle again and face clear air. Far away the + black spur again loomed up, now surrounded by groups of mesas with + sage-slopes tinged with green. That surely meant the end of this long + trail; the faint spots of green lent suggestion of a desert waterhole; + there Mescal must be, hidden in some shady canyon. Hare built his hopes + anew. + </p> + <p> + So he pressed on down a plain of bare rock dotted by huge bowlders; and + out upon a level floor of scant sage and greasewood where a few living + creatures, a desert-hawk sailing low, lizards darting into holes, and a + swiftly running ground-bird, emphasized the lack of life in the waste. He + entered a zone of clay-dunes of violet and heliotrope hues; and then a + belt of lava and cactus. Reddish points studded the desert, and here and + there were meagre patches of white grass. Far away myriads of cactus + plants showed like a troop of distorted horsemen. As he went on the grass + failed, and streams of jagged lava flowed downward. Beds of cinders told + of the fury of a volcanic fire. Soon Hare had to dismount to make + moccasins for Wolf's hind feet; and to lead Silvermane carefully over the + cracked lava. For a while there were strips of ground bare of lava and + harboring only an occasional bunch of cactus, but soon every foot free of + the reddish iron bore a projecting mass of fierce spikes and thorns. The + huge barrel-shaped cacti, and thickets of slender dark-green rods with + bayonet points, and broad leaves with yellow spines, drove Hare and his + sore-footed fellow-travellers to the lava. + </p> + <p> + Hare thought there must be an end to it some time, yet it seemed as though + he were never to cross that black forbidding inferno. Blistered by the + heat, pierced by the thorns, lame from long toil on the lava, he was + sorely spent when once more he stepped out upon the bare desert. On + pitching camp he made the grievous discovery that the water-bag had leaked + or the water had evaporated, for there was only enough left for one more + day. He ministered to thirsty dog and horse in silence, his mind revolving + the grim fact of his situation. + </p> + <p> + His little fire of greasewood threw a wan circle into the surrounding + blackness. Not a sound hinted of life. He longed for even the bark of a + coyote. Silvermane stooped motionless with tired head. Wolf stretched + limply on the sand. Hare rolled into his blanket and stretched out with + slow aching relief. + </p> + <p> + He dreamed he was a boy roaming over the green hills of the old farm, + wading through dewy clover-fields, and fishing in the Connecticut River. + It was the long vacationtime, an endless freedom. Then he was at the + swimming-hole, and playmates tied his clothes in knots, and with shouts of + glee ran up the bank leaving him there to shiver. + </p> + <p> + When he awakened the blazing globe of the sun had arisen over the eastern + horizon, and the red of the desert swathed all the reach of valley. + </p> + <p> + Hare pondered whether he should use his water at once or dole it out. That + ball of fire in the sky, a glazed circle, like iron at white heat, decided + for him. The sun would be hot and would evaporate such water as leakage + did not claim, and so he shared alike with Wolf, and gave the rest to + Silvermane. + </p> + <p> + For an hour the mocking lilac mountains hung in the air and then paled in + the intense light. The day was soundless and windless, and the heat-waves + rose from the desert like smoke. For Hare the realities were the baked + clay flats, where Silvermane broke through at every step; the beds of + alkali, which sent aloft clouds of powdered dust; the deep gullies full of + round bowlders; thickets of mesquite and prickly thorn which tore at his + legs; the weary detour to head the canyons; the climb to get between two + bridging mesas; and always the haunting presence of the sad-eyed dog. His + unrealities were the shimmering sheets of water in every low place; the + baseless mountains floating in the air; the green slopes rising close at + hand; beautiful buttes of dark blue riding the open sand, like monstrous + barks at sea; the changing outlines of desert shapes in pink haze and + veils of purple and white lustre—all illusions, all mysterious + tricks of the mirage. + </p> + <p> + In the heat of midday Hare yielded to its influence and reined in his + horse under a slate-bank where there was shade. His face was swollen and + peeling, and his lips had begun to dry and crack and taste of alkali. Then + Wolf pattered on; Silvermane kept at his heels; Hare dozed in the saddle. + His eyes burned in their sockets from the glare, and it was a relief to + shut out the barren reaches. So the afternoon waned. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane stumbled, jolting Hare out of his stupid lethargy. Before him + spread a great field of bowlders with not a slope or a ridge or a mesa or + an escarpment. Not even a tip of a spur rose in the background. He rubbed + his sore eyes. Was this another illusion? + </p> + <p> + When Silvermane started onward Hare thought of the Navajos' custom to + trust horse and dog in such an emergency. They were desert-bred; beyond + human understanding were their sight and scent. He was at the mercy now of + Wolf's instinct and Silvermane's endurance. Resignation brought him a + certain calmness of soul, cold as the touch of an icy hand on fevered + cheek. He remembered the desert secret in Mescal's eyes; he was about to + solve it. He remembered August Naab's words: “It's a man's deed!” If so, + he had achieved the spirit of it, if not the letter. He remembered + Eschtah's tribute to the wilderness of painted wastes: “There is the grave + of the Navajo, and no one knows the trail to the place of his sleep!” He + remembered the something evermore about to be, the unknown always subtly + calling; now it was revealed in the stone-fettering grip of the desert. It + had opened wide to him, bright with its face of danger, beautiful with its + painted windows, inscrutable with its alluring call. Bidding him enter, it + had closed behind him; now he looked upon it in its iron order, its + strange ruins racked by fire, its inevitable remorselessness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. DESERT NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + THE gray stallion, finding the rein loose on his neck, trotted forward and + overtook the dog, and thereafter followed at his heels. With the setting + of the sun a slight breeze stirred, and freshened as twilight fell, + rolling away the sultry atmosphere. Then the black desert night mantled + the plain. + </p> + <p> + For a while this blackness soothed the pain of Hare's sun-blinded eyes. It + was a relief to have the unattainable horizon line blotted out. But + by-and-by the opaque gloom brought home to him, as the day had never done, + the reality of his solitude. He was alone in this immense place of + barrenness, and his dumb companions were the world to him. Wolf pattered + onward, a silent guide; and Silvermane followed, never lagging, + sure-footed in the dark, faithful to his master. All the love Hare had + borne the horse was as nothing to that which came to him on this desert + night. In and out, round and round, ever winding, ever zigzagging, + Silvermane hung close to Wolf, and the sandy lanes between the bowlders + gave forth no sound. Dog and horse, free to choose their trail, trotted + onward miles and miles into the night. + </p> + <p> + A pale light in the east turned to a glow, then to gold, and the round + disc of the moon silhouetted the black bowlders on the horizon. It cleared + the dotted line and rose, an oval orange-hued strange moon, not mellow nor + silvery nor gloriously brilliant as Hare had known it in the past, but a + vast dead-gold melancholy orb, rising sadly over the desert. To Hare it + was the crowning reminder of lifelessness; it fitted this world of dull + gleaming stones. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane went lame and slackened his trot, causing Hare to rein in and + dismount. He lifted the right forefoot, the one the horse had favored, and + found a stone imbedded tightly in the cloven hoof. He pried it out with + his knife and mounted again. Wolf shone faintly far ahead, and presently + he uttered a mournful cry which sent a chill to the rider's heart. The + silence had been oppressive before; now it was terrible. It was not a + silence of life. It had been broken suddenly by Wolf's howl, and had + closed sharply after it, without echo; it was a silence of death. + </p> + <p> + Hare took care not to fall behind Wolf again, he had no wish to hear that + cry repeated. The dog moved onward with silent feet; the horse wound after + him with hoofs padded in the sand; the moon lifted and the desert gleamed; + the bowlders grew larger and the lanes wider. So the night wore on, and + Hare's eyelids grew heavy, and his whole weary body cried out for rest and + forgetfulness. He nodded until he swayed in the saddle; then righted + himself, only to doze again. The east gave birth to the morning star. The + whitening sky was the harbinger of day. Hare could not bring himself to + face the light and heat, and he stopped at a wind-worn cave under a + shelving rock. He was asleep when he rolled out on the sand-strewn floor. + Once he awoke and it was still day, for his eyes quickly shut upon the + glare. He lay sweltering till once more slumber claimed him. The dog + awakened him, with cold nose and low whine. Another twilight had fallen. + Hare crawled out, stiff and sore, hungry and parching with thirst. He made + an attempt to eat, but it was a failure. There was a dry burning in his + throat, a dizzy feeling in his brain, and there were red flashes before + his eyes. Wolf refused meat, and Silvermane turned from the grain, and + lowered his head to munch a few blades of desert grass. + </p> + <p> + Then the journey began, and the night fell black. A cool wind blew from + the west, the white stars blinked, the weird moon rose with its ghastly + glow. Huge bowlders rose before him in grotesque shapes, tombs and pillars + and statues of Nature's dead, carved by wind and sand. But some had life + in Hare's disordered fancy. They loomed and towered over him, and stalked + abroad and peered at him with deep-set eyes. + </p> + <p> + Hare fought with all his force against this mood of gloom. Wolf was not a + phantom; he trotted forward with unerring instinct; and he would find + water, and that meant life. Silvermane, desert-steeled, would travel to + the furthermost corner of this hell of sand-swept stone. Hare tried to + collect all his spirit, all his energies, but the battle seemed to be + going against him. All about him was silence, breathless silence, + insupportable silence of ages. Desert spectres danced in the darkness. The + worn-out moon gleamed golden over the worn-out waste. Desolation lurked + under the sable shadows. + </p> + <p> + Hare rode on into the night, tumbled from his saddle in the gray of dawn + to sleep, and stumbled in the twilight to his drooping horse. His eyes + were blind now to the desert shapes, his brain burned and his tongue + filled his mouth. Silvermane trod ever upon Wolf's heels; he had come into + the kingdom of his desert-strength; he lifted his drooping head and + lengthened his stride; weariness had gone and he snorted his welcome to + something on the wind. Then he passed the limping dog and led the way. + </p> + <p> + Hare held to the pommel and bent dizzily forward in the saddle. Silvermane + was going down, step by step, with metallic clicks upon flinty rock. + Whether he went down or up was all the same to Hare; he held on with + closed eyes and whispered to himself. Down and down, step by step, + cracking the stones with iron-shod hoofs, the gray stallion worked his + perilous way, sure-footed as a mountain-sheep. Then he stopped with a + great slow heave and bent his head. + </p> + <p> + The black bulge of a canyon rim blurred in Hare's hot eyes. A trickling + sound penetrated his tired brain. His ears had grown like his eyes—false. + Only another delusion! As he had been tortured with the sight of lake and + stream now he was to be tortured with the sound of running water. Yet he + listened, for it was sweet even in its mockery. What a clear musical + tinkle, like silver bells tossing on the wind! He listened. Soft murmuring + flow, babble and gurgle, little hollow fall and splash! + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Silvermane, lifting his head, broke the silence of the canyon + with a great sigh of content. It pierced the dull fantasy of Hare's mind; + it burst the gloomy spell. The sigh and the snort which followed were + Silvermane's triumphant signals when he had drunk his fill. + </p> + <p> + Hare fell from the saddle. The gray dog lay stretched low in the darkness. + Hare crawled beside him and reached out with his hot hands. Smooth cool + marble rock, growing slippery, then wet, led into running water. He slid + forward on his face and wonderful cold thrills quivered over his burning + skin. He drank and drank until he could drink no more. Then he lay back + upon the rock; the madness of his brain went out with the light of the + stars, and he slept. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke red canyon walls leaned far above him to a gap spanned by + blue sky. A song of rushing water murmured near his ears. He looked down; + a spring gushed from a crack in the wall; Silvermane cropped green bushes, + and Wolf sat on his haunches waiting, but no longer with sad eyes and + strange mien. Hare raised himself, looking again and again, and slowly + gathered his wits. The crimson blur had gone from his eyes and the burning + from his skin, and the painful swelling from his tongue. + </p> + <p> + He drank long and deeply, and rising with clearing thoughts and thankful + heart, he kissed Wolf's white head, and laid his arms round Silvermane's + neck. He fed them, and ate himself, not without difficulty, for his lips + were puffed and his tongue felt like a piece of rope. When he had eaten, + his strength came back. + </p> + <p> + At a word Wolf, with a wag of his tail, splashed into the gravelly stream + bed. Hare followed on foot, leading Silvermane. There were little beds of + pebbles and beaches of sand and short steps down which the water babbled. + The canyon was narrow and tortuous; Hare could not see ahead or below, for + the projecting red cliffs, growing higher as he descended, walled out the + view. The blue stream of sky above grew bluer and the light and shade less + bright. For an hour he went down steadily without a check, and the farther + down the rougher grew the way. Bowlders wedged in narrow places made + foaming waterfalls. Silvermane clicked down confidently. + </p> + <p> + The slender stream of water, swelled by seeping springs and little rills, + gained the dignity of a brook; it began to dash merrily and hurriedly + downward. The depth of the falls, the height of cliffs, and the size of + the bowlders increased in the descent. Wolf splashed on unmindful; there + was a new spirit in his movements; and when he looked back for his + laboring companions there was friendly protest in his eyes. Silvermane's + mien plainly showed that where a dog could go he could follow. + Silvermane's blood was heated; the desert was an old story to him; it had + only tired him and parched his throat; this canyon of downward steps and + falls, with ever-deepening drops, was new to him, and roused his mettle; + and from his long training in the wilds he had gained a marvellous + sure-footedness. + </p> + <p> + The canyon narrowed as it deepened; the jutting walls leaned together, + shutting out the light; the sky above was now a ribbon of blue, only to be + seen when Hare threw back his head and stared straight up. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be easier climbing up, Silvermane,” he panted—“if we ever get + the chance.” + </p> + <p> + The sand and gravel and shale had disappeared; all was bare clean-washed + rock. In many places the brook failed as a trail, for it leaped down in + white sheets over mossy cliffs. Hare faced these walls in despair. But + Wolf led on over the ledges and Silvermane followed, nothing daunted. At + last Hare shrank back from a hole which defied him utterly. Even Wolf + hesitated. The canyon was barely twenty feet wide; the floor ended in a + precipice; the stream leaped out and fell into a dark cleft from which no + sound arose. On the right there was a shelf of rock; it was scarce half a + foot broad at the narrowest and then apparently vanished altogether. Hare + stared helplessly up at the slanting shut-in walls. + </p> + <p> + While he hesitated Wolf pattered out upon the ledge and Silvermane stamped + restlessly. With a desperate fear of losing his beloved horse Hare let go + the bridle and stepped upon the ledge. He walked rapidly, for a slow step + meant uncertainty and a false one meant death. He heard the sharp ring of + Silvermane's shoes, and he listened in agonized suspense for the slip, the + snort, the crash that he feared must come. But it did not come. Seeing + nothing except the narrow ledge, yet feeling the blue abyss beneath him, + he bent all his mind to his task, and finally walked out into lighter + space upon level rock. To his infinite relief Silvermane appeared rounding + a corner out of the dark passage, and was soon beside him. + </p> + <p> + Hare cried aloud in welcome. + </p> + <p> + The canyon widened; there was a clear demarcation where the red walls gave + place to yellow; the brook showed no outlet from its subterranean channel. + Sheer exhaustion made Hare almost forget his mission; the strength of his + resolve had gone into mechanical toil; he kept on, conscious only of the + smart of bruised hands and feet and the ache of laboring lungs. + </p> + <p> + Time went on and the sun hung in the midst of the broadening belt of blue + sky. A long slant of yellow slope led down to a sage-covered level, which + Hare crossed, pleased to see blooming cacti and wondering at their slender + lofty green stems shining with gold flowers. He descended into a ravine + which became precipitous. Here he made only slow advance. At the bottom he + found himself in a wonderful lane with an almost level floor; here flowed + a shallow stream bordered by green willows. Wolf took the direction of the + flowing water. Hare's thoughts were all of Mescal, and his hopes began to + mount, his heart to beat high. + </p> + <p> + He gazed ahead with straining eyes. Presently there was not a break in the + walls. A drowsy hum of falling water came to Hare, strange reminder of the + oasis, the dull roar of the Colorado, and of Mescal. + </p> + <p> + His flagging energies leaped into life with the canyon suddenly opening to + bright light and blue sky and beautiful valley, white and gold in blossom, + green with grass and cottonwood. On a flower-scented wind rushed that + muffled roar again, like distant thunder. + </p> + <p> + Wolf dashed into the cottonwoods. Silvermane whistled with satisfaction + and reached for the long grass. + </p> + <p> + For Hare the light held something more than beauty, the breeze something + more than sweet scent of water and blossom. Both were charged with meaning—with + suspense. + </p> + <p> + Wolf appeared in the open leaping upon a slender brown-garbed form. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal!” cried Hare. + </p> + <p> + With a cry she ran to him, her arms outstretched, her hair flying in the + wind, her dark eyes wild with joy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. THUNDER RIVER + </h2> + <p> + FOR an instant Hare's brain reeled, and Mescal's broken murmurings were + meaningless. Then his faculties grew steady and acute; he held the girl as + if he intended never to let her go. Mescal clung to him with a wildness + that gave him anxiety for her reason; there was something almost fierce in + the tension of her arms, in the blind groping for his face. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal! It's Jack, safe and well,” he said. “Let me look at you.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his voice all her rigid strength changed to a yielding + weakness; she leaned back supported by his arms and looked at him. Hare + trembled before the dusky level glance he remembered so well, and as tears + began to flow he drew her head to his shoulder. He had forgotten to + prepare himself for a different Mescal. Despite the quivering smile of + happiness, her eyes were strained with pain. The oval contour, the rich + bloom of her face had gone; beauty was there still, but it was the ghost + of the old beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Jack—is it—really you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He answered with a kiss. + </p> + <p> + She slipped out of his arms breathless and scarlet. “Tell me all—” + </p> + <p> + “There's much to tell, but not before you kiss me. It has been more than a + year.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a year! Have I been gone only a year?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a year. But it's past now. Kiss me, Mescal. One kiss will pay for + that long year, though it broke my heart.” + </p> + <p> + Shyly she raised her hands to his shoulders and put her lips to his. “Yes, + you've found me, Jack, thank God! just in time!” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal! What's wrong? Aren't you well?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well. But if you had not come soon I should have starved.” + </p> + <p> + “Starved? Let me get my saddle-bags—I have bread and meat.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait. I'm not so hungry now. I mean very soon I should not have had any + food at all.” + </p> + <p> + “But your peon—the dumb Indian? Surely he could find something to + eat. What of him? Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “My peon is dead. He has been dead for months, I don't know how many.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead! What was the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never knew. I found him dead one morning and I buried him in the sand.” + </p> + <p> + Mescal led Hare under the cottonwoods and pointed to the Indian's grave, + now green with grass. Farther on in a circle of trees stood a little hogan + skilfully constructed out of brush; the edge of a red blanket peeped from + the door; a burnt-out fire smoked on a stone fireplace, and blackened + earthen vessels lay near. The white seeds of the cottonwoods were flying + light as feathers; plum-trees were pink in blossom; there were vines + twining all about; through the openings in the foliage shone the blue of + sky and red of cliff. Patches of blossoming Bowers were here and there lit + to brilliance by golden shafts of sunlight. The twitter of birds and hum + of bees were almost drowned in the soft roar of water. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the Colorado I hear?” asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “No, that's Thunder River. The Colorado is farther down in the Grand + Canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Farther down! Mescal, I must have come a mile from the rim. Where are + we?” + </p> + <p> + “We are almost at the Colorado, and directly under the head of Coconina. + We can see the mountain from the break in the valley below.” + </p> + <p> + “Come sit by me here under this tree. Tell me—how did you ever get + here?” + </p> + <p> + Then Mescal told him how the peon had led her on a long trail from Bitter + Seeps, how they had camped at desert waterholes, and on the fourth day + descended to Thunder River. + </p> + <p> + “I was quite happy at first. It's always summer down here. There were + rabbits, birds, beaver, and fruit—we had enough to eat. I explored + the valley with Wolf or rode Noddle up and down the canyon. Then my peon + died, and I had to shift for myself. There came a time when the beaver + left the valley, and Wolf and I had to make a rabbit serve for days. I + knew then I'd have to get across the desert to the Navajos or starve in + the canyon. I hesitated about climbing out into the desert, for I wasn't + sure of the trail to the waterholes. Noddle wandered off up the canyon and + never came back. After he was gone and I knew I couldn't get out I grew + homesick. The days weren't so bad because I was always hunting for + something to eat, but the nights were lonely. I couldn't sleep. I lay + awake listening to the river, and at last I could hear whispering and + singing and music, and strange sounds, and low thunder, always low + thunder. I wasn't really frightened, only lonely, and the canyon was so + black and full of mutterings. Sometimes I'd dream I was back on the + plateau with you, Jack, and Bolly and the sheep, and when I'd awake in the + loneliness I'd cry right out—” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, I heard those cries,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + “It was strange—the way I felt. I believe if I'd never known and—and + loved you, Jack, I'd have forgotten home. After I'd been here a while, I + seemed to be drifting, drifting. It was as if I had lived in the canyon + long before, and was remembering. The feeling was strong, but always + thoughts of you, and of the big world, brought me back to the present with + its loneliness and fear of starvation. Then I wanted you, and I'd cry out. + I knew I must send Wolf home. How hard it was to make him go! But at last + he trotted off, looking backward, and I—waited and waited.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned against him. The hand which had plucked at his sleeve dropped + to his fingers and clung there. Hare knew how her story had slighted the + perils and privations of that long year. She had grown lonely in the + canyon darkness; she had sent Wolf away and had waited—all was said + in that. But more than any speech, the look of her, and the story told in + the thin brown hands touched his heart. Not for an instant since his + arrival had she altogether let loose of his fingers, or coat, or arm. She + had lived so long alone in this weird world of silence and moving shadows + and murmuring water, that she needed to feel the substance of her hopes, + to assure herself of the reality of the man she loved. + </p> + <p> + “My mustang—Bolly—tell me of her,” said Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “Bolly's fine. Sleek and fat and lazy! She's been in the fields ever since + you left. Not a bridle on her. Many times have I seen her poke her black + muzzle over the fence and look down the lane. She'd never forget you, + Mescal.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how I want to see her! Tell me—everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little. Let me fetch Silvermane and we'll make a fire and eat. + Then—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mescal, it's soon told.” Then came the story of events growing out + of her flight. When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal rose + with heaving bosom and blazing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It was nothing—I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We + saw no more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's + wife died.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sorry—sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the + cause of it all! But I couldn't stay—I couldn't marry Snap.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you had + married him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer. + But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snap would + have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's a rustler, if + not worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Then those men think Snap killed you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody will be surprised,” replied Hare, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, it's no laughing matter.” She fastened her hands in the lapels of + his coat and her eyes grew sad. “You can never hang up your gun again.” + </p> + <p> + “No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's. Mescal, + you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't forgotten. He can run, but he can't beat Bolly.” She said this + with a hint of her old spirit. “Jack—you want to take me back home?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. What did you expect when you sent Wolf?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't expect. I just wanted to see you, or somebody, and I thought of + the Navajos. Couldn't I live with them? Why can't we stay here or in a + canyon across the Colorado where there's plenty of game?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to take you home and Father Naab shall marry you—to—to + me.” + </p> + <p> + Startled, Mescal fell back upon his shoulder and did not stir nor speak + for a long time. “Did—did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say? Was he angry? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “He was kind and good as he always is. He said if I found you, then the + issue would be between Snap and me, as man to man. You are still pledged + to Snap in the Mormon Church and that can't be changed. I don't suppose + even if he's outlawed that it could be changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Snap will not let any grass grow in the trails to the oasis,” said + Mescal. “Once he finds I've come back to life he'll have me. You don't + know him, Jack. I'm afraid to go home.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, there's no other place for us to go. We can't live the life of + Indians.” + </p> + <p> + “But Jack, think of me watching you ride out from home! Think of me always + looking for Snap! I couldn't endure it. I've grown weak in this year of + absence.” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, look at me.” His voice rang as he held her face to face. “We must + decide everything. Now—say you love me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Say it.” + </p> + <p> + “I—love you—Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Say you'll marry me!” + </p> + <p> + “I will marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. You are + mine and I'll keep you.” He held her tightly with strong arms; his face + paled, his eyes darkened. “I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shall try to + keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now. Your + happiness—perhaps your life—depends on me. That makes a + difference. Understand!” + </p> + <p> + Silvermane walked into the glade with a saddle-girth so tight that his + master unbuckled it only by dint of repeated effort. Evidently the rich + grass of Thunder River Canyon appealed strongly to the desert stallion. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Silver, how do you expect to carry us out if you eat and drink like + that?” Hare removed the saddle and tethered the gray to one of the + cottonwoods. Wolf came trotting into camp proudly carrying a rabbit. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, can we get across the Colorado and find a way up over Coconina?” + asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm sure we can. My peon never made a mistake about directions. + There's no trail, but Navajos have crossed the river at this season, and + worked up a canyon.” + </p> + <p> + The shadows had gathered under the cliffs, and the rosy light high up on + the ramparts had chilled and waned when Hare and Mescal sat down to their + meal. Wolf lay close to the girl and begged for morsels. Then in the + twilight they sat together content to be silent, listening to the low + thunder of the river. Long after Mescal had retired into her hogan Hare + lay awake before her door with his head in his saddle and listened to the + low roll, the dull burr, the dreamy hum of the tumbling waters. The place + was like the oasis, only infinitely more hidden under the cliffs. A few + stars twinkled out of the dark blue, and one hung, beaconlike, on the + crest of a noble crag. There were times when he imagined the valley was as + silent as the desert night, and other times when he imagined he heard the + thundering roll of avalanches and the tramp of armies. Then the voices of + Mescal's solitude spoke to him—glorious laughter and low sad wails + of woe, sweet songs and whispers and murmurs. His last waking thoughts + were of the haunting sound of Thunder River, and that he had come to bear + Mescal away from its loneliness. + </p> + <p> + He bestirred himself at the first glimpse of day, and when the gray mists + had lifted to wreathe the crags it was light enough to begin the journey. + Mescal shed tears at the grave of the faithful peon. “He loved this + canyon,” she said, softly. Hare lifted her upon Silvermane. He walked + beside the horse and Wolf trotted on before. They travelled awhile under + the flowering cottonwoods on a trail bordered with green tufts of grass + and great star-shaped lilies. The river was still hidden, but it filled + the grove with its soft thunder. Gradually the trees thinned out, hard + stony ground encroached upon the sand, bowlders appeared in the way; and + presently, when Silvermane stepped out of the shade of the cottonwoods, + Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its ragged vent. + </p> + <p> + “Look back!” said Mescal. + </p> + <p> + Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two white streams + which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous cascade. Step by + step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a broken, foaming raceway, + and at the lower end of the valley it took its final leap into a blue + abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, hidden underground. + </p> + <p> + The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted long + after the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in the + close air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stones + cracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollow + sound and echo. Silvermane clattered down the easy trail at a gait which + urged Hare now and then from walk to run. Soon the gully opened out upon a + plateau through the centre of which, in a black gulf, wound the red + Colorado, sullen-voiced, booming, never silent nor restful. Here were + distances by which Hare could begin to comprehend the immensity of the + canyon, and he felt lost among the great terraces leading up to mesas that + dwarfed the Echo Cliffs. All was bare rock of many hues burning under the + sun. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, this is mescal,” said the girl, pointing to some towering plants. + </p> + <p> + All over the sunny slopes cacti lifted slender shafts, unfolding in spiral + leaves as they shot upward and bursting at the top into plumes of yellow + flowers. The blossoming stalks waved in the wind, and black bees circled + round them. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, I've always wanted to see the Flower of the Desert from which + you're named. It's beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + Hare broke a dead stalk of the cactus and was put to instant flight by a + stream of bees pouring with angry buzz from the hollow centre. Two big + fellows were so persistent that he had to beat them off with his hat. + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't despoil their homes,” said Mescal, with a peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I'll break another stalk and get stung, if you'll laugh again,” replied + Hare. + </p> + <p> + They traversed the remaining slope of the plateau, and entering the head + of a ravine, descended a steep cleft of flinty rock, rock so hard that + Silvermane's iron hoofs not so much as scratched it. Then reaching a + level, they passed out to rounded sand and the river. + </p> + <p> + “It's a little high,” said Hare dubiously. “Mescal, I don't like the looks + of those rapids.” + </p> + <p> + Only a few hundred rods of the river could be seen. In front of Hare the + current was swift but not broken. Above, where the canyon turned, the + river sheered out with a majestic roll and falling in a wide smooth curve + suddenly narrowed into a leaping crest of reddish waves. Below Hare was a + smaller rapid where the broken water turned toward the nearer side of the + river, but with an accompaniment of twisting swirls and vicious waves. + </p> + <p> + “I guess we'd better risk it,” said Hare, grimly recalling the hot rock, + the sand, and lava of the desert. + </p> + <p> + “It's safe, if Silvermane is a good swimmer,” replied Mescal. “We can take + the river above and cut across so the current will help.” + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane loves the water. He'll make this crossing easily. But he can't + carry us both, and it's impossible to make two trips. I'll have to swim.” + </p> + <p> + Without wasting more words and time over a task which would only grow more + formidable with every look and thought, Hare led Silvermane up the + sand-bar to its limit. He removed his coat and strapped it behind the + saddle; his belt and revolver and boots he hung over the pommel. + </p> + <p> + “How about Wolf? I'd forgotten him.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear for him! He'll stick close to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mescal, there's the point we want to make, that bar; see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely we can land above that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be satisfied if we get even there. You guide him for it. And, + Mescal, here's my gun. Try to keep it from getting wet. Balance it on the + pommel—so. Come, Silver; come, Wolf.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep up-stream,” called Mescal as Hare plunged in. “Don't drift below + us.” + </p> + <p> + In two steps Silvermane went in to his saddle, and he rolled with a splash + and a snort, sinking Mescal to her hips. His nose level with the water, + mane and tail floating, he swam powerfully with the current. + </p> + <p> + For Hare the water was just cold enough to be delightful after the long + hot descent, but its quality was strange. Keeping up-stream of the horse + and even with Mescal, he swam with long regular strokes for perhaps + one-quarter of the distance. But when they reached the swirling eddies he + found that he was tiring. The water was thick and heavy; it compressed his + lungs and dragged at his feet. He whirled round and round in the eddies + and saw Silvermane doing the same. Only by main force could he breast his + way out of these whirlpools. When a wave slapped his face he tasted sand, + and then he knew what the strange feeling meant. There was sand here as on + the desert. Even in the depths of the canyon he could not escape it. As + the current grew rougher he began to feel that he could scarcely spread + his arms in the wide stroke. Changing the stroke he discovered that he + could not keep up with Silvermane, and he changed back again. Gradually + his feet sank lower and lower, the water pressed tighter round him, his + arms seemed to grow useless. Then he remembered a saying of August Naab + that the Navajos did not attempt to swim the river when it was in flood + and full of sand. He ceased to struggle, and drifting with the current, + soon was close to Silvermane, and grasped a saddle strap. + </p> + <p> + “Not there!” called Mescal. “He might strike you. Hang to his tail!” + </p> + <p> + Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly. The + stallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped at + Mescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down out of + line with the black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescal + lifted the rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright. + The roar of the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died in + the splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal turned + to him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids. Hang + on!” + </p> + <p> + In the swelling din Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As he + held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane dipped + over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing water of an + incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond was a chaos of + curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal crouching low, shoulders + narrowed and head bent; then, with one white flash of the stallion's mane + against her flying black hair, she went out of sight in leaping waves and + spray. Hare was thrown forward into the backlash of the wave. The shock + blinded him, stunned him, almost tore his arms from his body, but his + hands were so twisted in Silvermane's tail that even this could not loosen + them. The current threw him from wave to wave. He was dragged through a + caldron, blind from stinging blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then + the fierce contention of waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents + straightened, and he could breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him + steadily; and, finally, his feet touched the ground. He could scarcely + see, so full were his eyes of the sandy water, but he made out Mescal + rising from the river on Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a + bar. Hare staggered up and fell on the sand. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, are you all right?” inquired Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “All right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand. How + about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I ever was any wetter,” replied Mescal, laughing. “It was + hard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me. I + was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep. Silvermane + is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and was waiting for us when + we landed.” + </p> + <p> + Hare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding himself + little the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the water from the + long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a tint of color + showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short skirt clung + tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture and appeared so + little affected by the peril they had just passed through that Hare, + yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, kissed the pink cheeks + till they flamed. + </p> + <p> + “All wet,” said he, “you and I, clothes, food, guns—everything.” + </p> + <p> + “It's hot and we'll soon dry,” returned Mescal. “Here's the canyon and + creek we must follow up to Coconina. My peon mapped them in the sand for + me one day. It'll probably be a long climb.” + </p> + <p> + Hare poured the water out of his boots, pulled them on, and helping Mescal + to mount Silvermane, he took the bridle over his arm and led the way into + a black-mouthed canyon, through which flowed a stream of clear water. Wolf + splashed and pattered along beside him. Beyond the marble rock this canyon + opened out to great breadth and wonderful walls. Hare had eyes only for + the gravelly bars and shallow levels of the creek; intent on finding the + easy going for his horse he strode on and on thoughtless of time. Nor did + he talk to Mescal, for the work was hard, and he needed his breath. + Splashing the water, hammering the stones, Silvermane ever kept his nose + at Hare's elbow. They climbed little ridges, making short cuts from point + to point, they threaded miles of narrow winding creek floor, and passed + under ferny cliffs and over grassy banks and through thickets of yellow + willow. As they wound along the course of the creek, always up and up, the + great walls imperceptibly lowered their rims. The warm sun soared to the + zenith. Jumble of bowlders, stretches of white gravel, ridges of sage, + blocks of granite, thickets of manzanita, long yellow slopes, crumbling + crags, clumps of cedar and lines of pinon—all were passed in the + persistent plodding climb. The canon grew narrower toward its source; the + creek lost its volume; patches of snow gleamed in sheltered places. At + last the yellow-streaked walls edged out upon a grassy hollow and the + great dark pines of Coconina shadowed the snow. + </p> + <p> + “We're up,” panted Hare. “What a climb! Five hours! One more day—then + home!” + </p> + <p> + Silvermane's ears shot up and Wolf barked. Two gray deer loped out of a + thicket and turned inquisitively. Reaching for his rifle Hare threw back + the lever, but the action clogged, it rasped with the sound of crunching + sand, and the cartridge could not be pressed into the chamber or ejected. + He fumbled about the breach of the gun and his brow clouded. + </p> + <p> + “Sand! Out of commission!” he exclaimed. “Mescal, I don't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Use your Colt,” suggested Mescal. + </p> + <p> + The distance was too great. Hare missed, and the deer bounded away into + the forest. + </p> + <p> + Hare built a fire under a sheltering pine where no snow covered the soft + mat of needles, and while Mescal dried the blankets and roasted the last + portion of meat he made a wind-break of spruce boughs. When they had + eaten, not forgetting to give Wolf a portion, Hare fed Silvermane the last + few handfuls of grain, and tied him with a long halter on the grassy bank. + The daylight failed and darkness came on apace. The old familiar roar of + the wind in the pines was disturbing; it might mean only the lull and + crash of the breaking night-gusts, and it might mean the north wind, + storm, and snow. It whooped down the hollow, scattering the few scrub-oak + leaves; it whirled the red embers of the fire away into the dark to + sputter in the snow, and blew the burning logs into a white glow. Mescal + slept in the shelter of the spruce boughs with Wolf snug and warm beside + her. Hare stretched his tired limbs in the heat of the blaze. + </p> + <p> + When he awakened the fire was low and he was numb with cold. He took care + to put on logs enough to last until morning; then he lay down once more, + but did not sleep. The dawn came with a gray shade in the forest; it was a + cloud, and it rolled over him soft, tangible, moist, and cool, and passed + away under the pines. With its vanishing the dawn lightened. “Mescal, if + we're on the spur of Coconina, it's only ten miles or so to Silver Cup,” + said Hare, as he saddled Silvermane. “Mount now and we'll go up out of the + hollow and get our bearings.” + </p> + <p> + While ascending the last step to the rim Hare revolved in his mind the + probabilities of marking a straight course to Silver Cup. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Jack!” exclaimed Mescal, suddenly. “Vermillion Cliffs and home!” + </p> + <p> + “I've travelled in a circle!” replied Hare. + </p> + <p> + Mescal was enraptured at the scene. Vermillion Cliffs shone red as a rose. + The split in the wall marking the oasis defined its outlines sharply + against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight. Hare knew he + stood on the highest point of Coconina overhanging the Grand Canyon and + the Painted Desert, thousands of feet below. He noted the wondrous abyss + sleeping in blue mist at his feet, while he gazed across to the desert + awakening in the first red rays of the rising sun. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, your Thunder River Canyon is only one little crack in the rocks. + It is lost in this chasm,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + “It's lost, surely. I can't even see the tip of the peak that stood so + high over the valley.” + </p> + <p> + Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the Vermillion Cliffs, + and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculating his + bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow and the + soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermane often + sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they made better time, + for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave way to the brown + dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of Mescal, and put the + stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding they struck a + bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to the spring. In + another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, and saw the + familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of gray sage + patches down through the pines. + </p> + <p> + “I smell smoke,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + “The boys must be at the spring,” rejoined Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip down + through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home side + of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it.” + </p> + <p> + With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a + diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached + the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turned + toward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringe + of cedars. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley,” he said, looking at her + significantly. + </p> + <p> + “They can't all be ours, that's sure,” she replied. “What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Holderness!” With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on, + cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breaking + brush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so worked + his way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress was + checked by the bulging wall of rock. + </p> + <p> + “Only cattle in the valley, no horses,” he said. “I've a good chance to + cut across this curve and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up and + see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't believe + Dave and the boys are there.” + </p> + <p> + He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed the + gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He felt no + surprise to see the H brand on their flanks. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, look at that brand,” said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked + steer. “There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a new + brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil to + brand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added the bar, + making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive a child.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniff + suspiciously at the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. “Look! A + new corral!” + </p> + <p> + Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked through a + network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther up were + piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a new cabin + with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermane off the + trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passed the old + pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be brought suddenly to + a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointing to the left, + and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heard the stamping of + hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fully determined the direction + from which the sound came three horses and a man stepped from the shade + into a sunlit space. + </p> + <p> + As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick cedar; + and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he chose to + take it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare felt + Mescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure her. + Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves leading the + horses—a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man—Dene! The blood + beat hotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his Colt. It + seemed a fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He was + whistling; he had two halters in one hand and with the other he led his + bay horse by the mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was unarmed; + on the horses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare dropped his + Colt back into its holster. + </p> + <p> + Dene sauntered on, whistling “Dixie.” When he reached the trail, instead + of crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down. + </p> + <p> + Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane a + stinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash of brush + and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. But the outlaw + paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It was not fear + of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting eyes was the + terror of the supernatural. + </p> + <p> + The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning + out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then rise + unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the cabin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + </h2> + <p> + “JACK! the saddle's slipping!” cried Mescal, clinging closer to him. “What + luck!” Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on the + bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the sawing + bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: “Whoa there, Silver! Whoa—slow + now—whoa—easy!” and finally halted him. Hare swung down, and + as he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried out.” + Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that he + found in a saddle-bag. + </p> + <p> + “Listen! Hear the yells! Oh! hurry!” cried Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “I've never ridden bareback. Suppose you go ahead with Silver, and I'll + hide in the cedars till dark, then walk home!” + </p> + <p> + “No—No. There's time, but hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “It's got to be strong,” muttered Hare, holding the strap over his knee + and pulling the laced knot with all his strength, “for we'll have to ride + some. If it comes loose—Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + Silvermane's broad chest muscles rippled and he stamped restlessly. The + dog whined and looked back. Mescal had the blanket smooth on the gray when + Hare threw the saddle over him. The yells had ceased, but clattering hoofs + on the stony trail were a greater menace. While Hare's brown hands worked + swiftly over buckle and strap Mescal climbed to a seat behind the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Get into the saddle,” said Hare, leaping astride and pressing forward + over the pommel. “Slip down—there! and hold to me. Go! Silver!” + </p> + <p> + The rapid pounding of the stallion's hoofs drowned the clatter coming up + the trail. A backward glance relieved Hare, for dust-clouds some few + hundred yards in the rear showed the position of the pursuing horsemen. He + held in Silvermane to a steady gallop. The trail was up-hill, and steep + enough to wind even a desert racer, if put to his limit. + </p> + <p> + “Look back!” cried Mescal. “Can you see them? Is Snap with them?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see for trees,” replied Hare, over his shoulder. “There's dust—we're + far in the lead—never fear, Mescal. The lead's all we want.” + </p> + <p> + Cedars grew thickly all the way up the steeper part of the divide, and + ended abruptly at a pathway of stone, where the ascent became gradual. + When Silvermane struck out of the grove upon this slope Hare kept turning + keen glances rearward. The dust cloud rolled to the edge of the cedars, + and out of it trooped half-a-dozen horsemen who began to shoot as soon as + they had reached the open. Bullets zipped along the red stone, cutting + little puffs of red dust, and sung through the air. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” cried Hare. “They're firing on us! They'd shoot a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Has it taken you so long to learn that?” + </p> + <p> + Hare slashed his steed with the switch. But Silvermane needed no goad or + spur; he had been shot at before, and the whistle of one bullet was + sufficient to stretch his gallop into a run. Then distance between him and + his pursuers grew wider and wider and soon he was out of range. The yells + of the rustlers seemed at first to come from baffled rage, but Mescal's + startled cry showed their meaning. Other horsemen appeared ahead and to + the right of him, tearing down the ridge to the divide. Evidently they had + been returning from the western curve of Coconina. + </p> + <p> + The direction in which Silvermane was stretching was the only possible one + for Hare. If he swerved off the trail to the left it would be upon rough + rising ground. Not only must he outride this second band to the point + where the trail went down on the other side of the divide, but also he + must get beyond it before they came within rifle range. + </p> + <p> + “Now! Silver! Go! Go!” Fast as the noble stallion was speeding he answered + to the call. He was in the open now, free of stones and brush, with the + spang of rifles in the air. The wind rushed into Hare's ears, filling them + with a hollow roar; the ground blurred by in reddish sheets. The horsemen + cut down the half mile to a quarter, lessened that, swept closer and + closer, till Hare recognized Chance and Culver, and Snap Naab on his + cream-colored pinto. Seeing that they could not head the invincible + stallion they sheered more to the right. But Silvermane thundered on, + crossing the line ahead of them a full three hundred yards, and went over + the divide, drawing them in behind him. + </p> + <p> + Then, at the sharp crack of the rifles, leaden messengers whizzed high in + the air over horse and riders, and skipped along the red shale in front of + the running dog. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—Silvermane!” cried Hare. It was just a call, as if the horse + were human, and knew what that pace meant to his master. The stern + business of the race had ceased to rest on Hare. Silvermane was out to the + front! He was like a level-rushing thunderbolt. Hare felt the + instantaneous pause between his long low leaps, the gather of mighty + muscles, the strain, the tension, then the quivering expulsion of force. + It was a perilous ride down that red slope, not so much from the hissing + bullets as from the washes and gullies which Silvermane sailed over in + magnificent leaps. Hare thrilled with savage delight in the wonderful + prowess of his desert king, in the primal instinct of joy at escaping with + the woman he loved. + </p> + <p> + “Outrun!” he cried, with blazing eyes. Mescal's white face was pressed + close to his shoulder. “Silver has beaten them. They'll hang on till we + reach the sand-strip, hoping the slow-down will let them come up in time. + But they'll be far too late.” + </p> + <p> + The rustlers continued on the trail, firing desultorily, till Silvermane + so far distanced them that even the necessary lapse into a walk in the red + sand placed him beyond range when they arrived at the strip. + </p> + <p> + “They've turned back, Mescal. We're safe. Why, you look as you did the day + the bear ran for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather a bear got me than Snap. Jack, did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “See him? Rather! I'll bet he nearly killed his pinto. Mescal, what do you + think of Silvermane now? Can he run? Can he outrun Bolly?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes. Oh! Jack! how I'll love him! Look back again. Are we safe? + Will we ever be safe?” + </p> + <p> + It was still daylight when they rounded the portal of the oasis and + entered the lane with the familiar wall on one side, the peeled + fence-pickets on the other. Wolf dashed on ahead, and presently a chorus + of barks announced that he had been met by the other dogs. Silvermane + neighed shrilly, and the horses and mustangs in the corrals trooped + noisily to the lower sides and hung inquisitive heads over the top bars. + </p> + <p> + A Navajo whom Hare remembered stared with axe idle by the woodpile, then + Judith Naab dropped a bundle of sticks and with a cry of gladness ran from + the house. Before Silvermane had come to a full stop Mescal was off. She + put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then she left Judith to dart + to the corral where a little black mustang had begun to whistle and stamp + and try to climb over the bars. + </p> + <p> + August Naab, bareheaded, with shaggy locks shaking at every step, strode + off the porch and his great hands lifted Hare from the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Every day I've watched the river for you,” he said. His eyes were warm + and his grasp like a vise. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal—child!” he continued, as she came running to him. “Safe and + well. He's brought you back. Thank the Lord!” He took her to his breast + and bent his gray head over her. + </p> + <p> + Then the crowd of big and little Naabs burst from the house and came under + the cottonwoods to offer noisy welcome to Mescal and Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you look done up,” said Dave Naab solicitously, when the first + greetings had been spoken, and Mother Ruth had led Mescal indoors. + “Silvermane, too—he's wet and winded. He's been running?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little,” replied Hare, as he removed the saddle from the weary + horse. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! What's this?” questioned August Naab, with his hand on Silvermane's + flank. He touched a raw groove, and the stallion flinched. “Hare, a bullet + made that!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn't ride in by the Navajo crossing?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I came by Silver Cup.” + </p> + <p> + “Silver Cup? How on earth did you get down there?” + </p> + <p> + “We climbed out of the canyon up over Coconina, and so made the spring.” + </p> + <p> + Naab whistled in surprise and he flashed another keen glance over Hare and + his horse. “Your story can wait. I know about what it is—after you + reached Silver Cup. Come in, come in, Dave will look out for the + stallion.” + </p> + <p> + But Hare would allow no one else to attend to Silvermane. He rubbed the + tired gray, gave him a drink at the trough, led him to the corral, and + took leave of him with a caress like Mescal's. Then he went to his room + and bathed himself and changed his clothes, afterward presenting himself + at the supper-table to eat like one famished. Mescal and he ate alone, as + they had been too late for the regular hour. The women-folk waited upon + them as if they could not do enough. There were pleasant words and smiles; + but in spite of them something sombre attended the meal. There was a + shadow in each face, each step was slow, each voice subdued. Naab and his + sons were waiting for Hare when he entered the sitting room, and after his + entrance the door was closed. They were all quiet and stern, especially + the father. “Tell us all,” said Naab, simply. + </p> + <p> + While Hare was telling his adventures not a word or a move interrupted him + till he spoke of Silvermane's running Dene down. + </p> + <p> + “That's the second time!” rolled out Naab. “The stallion will kill him + yet!” + </p> + <p> + Hare finished his story. + </p> + <p> + “What don't you owe to that whirlwind of a horse!” exclaimed Dave Naab. No + other comment on Hare or Silvermane was offered by the Naabs. + </p> + <p> + “You knew Holderness had taken in Silver Cup?” inquired Hare. + </p> + <p> + August Naab nodded gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “I guess we knew it,” replied Dave for him. “While I was in White Sage and + the boys were here at home, Holderness rode to the spring and took + possession. I called to see him on my way back, but he wasn't around. Snap + was there, the boss of a bunch of riders. Dene, too, was there.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you go right into camp?” asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. I was looking for Holderness. There were eighteen or twenty riders + in the bunch. I talked to several of them, Mormons, good fellows, they + used to be. Also I had some words with Dene. He said: 'I shore was sorry + Snap got to my spy first. I wanted him bad, an' I'm shore goin' to have + his white horse.' Snap and Dene, all of them, thought you were number + thirty-one in dad's cemetery.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” said Hare. “Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when + Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all + there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new brand + on all your stock proves that.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a trick we never heard of,” replied August Naab. “If we had we might + have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock.” + </p> + <p> + “But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness has + stolen my water and my stock.” + </p> + <p> + “They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?” interposed Dave, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about + cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running too + fast.” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life,” said August Naab. + “My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. + I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. + Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. + Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected + sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely a + day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of Lund + finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others out. + Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now has a + strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I see it. + I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow to wrath. + But—” + </p> + <p> + The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words. + </p> + <p> + “They need a leader,” replied Hare, sharply. + </p> + <p> + August Naab rose with haggard face and his eyes had the look of a man + accused. + </p> + <p> + “Dad figures this way,” put in Dave. “On the one hand we lose our water + and stock without bloodshed. We have a living in the oasis. There's little + here to attract rustlers, so we may live in peace if we give up our + rights. On the other hand, suppose Dad gets the Navajos down here and we + join them and go after Holderness and his gang. There's going to be an + all-fired bloody fight. Of course we'd wipe out the rustlers, but some of + us would get killed—and there are the wives and kids. See!” + </p> + <p> + The force of August Naab's argument for peace, entirely aside from his + Christian repugnance to the shedding of blood, was plainly unassailable. + </p> + <p> + “Remember what Snap said?” asked Hare, suddenly. “One man to kill Dene! + Therefore one man to kill Holderness! That would break the power of this + band.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you've said it,” replied Dave, raising a tense arm. “It's a one-man + job. D—n Snap! He could have done it, if he hadn't gone to the bad. + But it won't be easy. I tried to get Holderness. He was wise, and his men + politely said they had enjoyed my call, but I wasn't to come again.” + </p> + <p> + “One man to kill Holderness!” repeated Hare. + </p> + <p> + August Naab cast at the speaker one of his far-seeing glances; then he + shook himself, as if to throw off the grip of something hard and + inevitable. “I'm still master here,” he said, and his voice showed the + conquest of his passions. + </p> + <p> + “I give up Silver Cup and my stock. Maybe that will content Holderness.” + </p> + <p> + Some days went by pleasantly for Hare, as he rested from his long + exertions. Naab's former cheer and that of his family reasserted itself + once the decision was made, and the daily life went on as usual. The sons + worked in the fields by day, and in the evening played at pitching + horseshoes on the bare circle where the children romped. The women went on + baking, sewing, and singing. August Naab's prayers were more fervent than + ever, and he even prayed for the soul of the man who had robbed him. + Mescal's cheeks soon rounded out to their old contour and her eyes shone + with a happier light than Hare had ever seen there. The races between + Silvermane and Black Bolly were renewed on the long stretch under the + wall, and Mescal forgot that she had once acknowledged the superiority of + the gray. The cottonwoods showered silken floss till the cabins and grass + were white; the birds returned to the oasis; the sun kissed warm color + into the cherries, and the distant noise of the river seemed like the + humming of a swarm of bees. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Jack,” said August Naab, one morning, “get a spade and come with + me. There's a break somewhere in the ditch.” + </p> + <p> + Hare went with him out along the fence by the alfalfa fields, and round + the corner of red wall toward the irrigating dam. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jack, I suppose you'll be asking me for Mescal one of these days,” + said Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Hare. + </p> + <p> + “There's a little story to tell you about Mescal, when the day comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell it now.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not yet. I'm glad you found her. I never knew her to be so happy, not + even when she was a child. But somehow there's a better feeling between + her and my womenfolk. The old antagonism is gone. Well, well, life is so. + I pray that things may turn out well for you and her. But I fear—I + seem to see—Hare, I'm a poor man once more. I can't do for you what + I'd like. Still we'll see, we'll hope.” + </p> + <p> + Hare was perfectly happy. The old Mormon's hint did not disturb him; even + the thought of Snap Naab did not return to trouble his contentment. The + full present was sufficient for Hare, and his joy bubbled over, bringing + smiles to August's grave face. Never had a summer afternoon in the oasis + been so fair. The green fields, the red walls, the blue sky, all seemed + drenched in deeper, richer hues. The wind-song in the crags, the + river-murmur from the canyon, filled Hare's ears with music. To be alive, + to feel the sun, to see the colors, to hear the sounds, was beautiful; and + to know that Mescal awaited him, was enough. + </p> + <p> + Work on the washed-out bank of the ditch had not gone far when Naab raised + his head as if listening. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear anything?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Hare. + </p> + <p> + “The roar of the river is heavy here. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I + heard shots.” Then he went on spading clay into the break, but he stopped + every moment or so, uneasily, as if he could not get rid of some + disturbing thought. Suddenly he dropped the spade and his eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Judith! Judith! Here!” he called. Wheeling with a sudden premonition of + evil Hare saw the girl running along the wall toward them. Her face was + white as death; she wrung her hands and her cries rose above the sound of + the river. Naab sprang toward her and Hare ran at his heels. + </p> + <p> + “Father!— Father!” she panted. “Come—quick—the rustlers!—the + rustlers! Snap!—Dene—Oh—hurry! They've killed Dave—they've + got Mescal!” + </p> + <p> + Death itself shuddered through Hare's veins and then a raging flood of + fire. He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Fool! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through the + fields, under the trees.” + </p> + <p> + Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the + alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when he + could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill. + </p> + <p> + They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The + screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread. + </p> + <p> + “I see only the women—the children—no—there's a man—Zeke,” + said Hare, bending low to gaze under the branches. + </p> + <p> + “Go slow,” muttered Naab. + </p> + <p> + “The rustlers rode off—after Mescal—she's gone!” panted + Judith. + </p> + <p> + Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, cast + caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's heavy steps + thudded behind him. + </p> + <p> + In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a + heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the + steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was + trying to calm the women. + </p> + <p> + “My God! Dave!” cried Hare. “You're not hard hit? Don't say it!” + </p> + <p> + “Hard hit—Jack—old fellow,” replied Dave, with a pale smile. + His face was white and clammy. + </p> + <p> + August Naab looked once at him and groaned, “My son! My son!” + </p> + <p> + “Dad—I got Chance and Culver—there they lie in the road—not + bungled, either!” + </p> + <p> + Hare saw the inert forms of two men lying near the gate; one rested on his + face, arm outstretched with a Colt gripped in the stiff hand; the other + lay on his back, his spurs deep in the ground, as if driven there in his + last convulsion. + </p> + <p> + August Naab and Zeke carried the injured man into the house. The women and + children followed, and Hare, with Billy and George, entered last. + </p> + <p> + “Dad—I'm shot clean through—low down,” said Dave, as they laid + him on a couch. “It's just as well I—as any one—somebody had + to—start this fight.” + </p> + <p> + Naab got the children and the girls out of the room. The women were silent + now, except Dave's wife, who clung to him with low moans. He smiled upon + all with a quick intent smile, then he held out a hand to Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, we got—to be—good friends. Don't forget—that—when + you meet—Holderness. He shot me—from behind Chance and Culver—and + after I fell—I killed them both—trying to get him. You—won't + hang up—your gun—again—will you?” + </p> + <p> + Hare wrung the cold hand clasping his so feebly. “No! Dave, no!” Then he + fled from the room. For an hour he stood on the porch waiting in dumb + misery. George and Zeke came noiselessly out, followed by their father. + </p> + <p> + “It's all over, Hare.” Another tragedy had passed by this man of the + desert, and left his strength unshaken, but his deadly quiet and the gloom + of his iron face were more terrible to see than any grief. + </p> + <p> + “Father, and you, Hare, come out into the road,” said George. + </p> + <p> + Another motionless form lay beyond Chance and Culver. It was that of a + slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the + dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody + curve. + </p> + <p> + “Dene!” burst from Hare, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Killed by a horse!” exclaimed August Naab. “Ah! What horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane!” replied George. + </p> + <p> + “Who rode my horse—tell me—quick!” cried Hare, in a frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “It was Mescal. Listen. Let me tell you how it all happened. I was out at + the forge when I heard a bunch of horses coming up the lane. I wasn't + packing my gun, but I ran anyway. When I got to the house there was Dave + facing Snap, Dene, and a bunch of rustlers. I saw Chance at first, but not + Holderness. There must have been twenty men. + </p> + <p> + “'I came after Mescal, that's what,' Snap was saying. + </p> + <p> + “'You can't have her,' Dave answered. + </p> + <p> + “'We'll shore take her, an' we want Silvermane, too,' said Dene. + </p> + <p> + “'So you're a horse-thief as well as a rustler?' asked Dave. + </p> + <p> + “'Naab, I ain't in any mind to fool. Snap wants the girl, an' I want + Silvermane, an' that damned spy that come back to life.' + </p> + <p> + “Then Holderness spoke from the back of the crowd: 'Naab, you'd better + hurry, if you don't want the house burned!' + </p> + <p> + “Dave drew and Holderness fired from behind the men. Dave fell, raised up + and shot Chance and Culver, then dropped his gun. + </p> + <p> + “With that the women in the house began to scream, and Mescal ran out + saying she'd go with Snap if they'd do no more harm. + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' said Snap, 'get a horse, hurry—hurry!' + </p> + <p> + “Then Dene dismounted and went toward the corral saying, 'I shore want + Silvermane.' + </p> + <p> + “Mescal reached the gate ahead of Dene. 'Let me get Silvermane. He's wild; + he doesn't know you; he'll kick you if you go near him.' She dropped the + bars and went up to the horse. He was rearing and snorting. She coaxed him + down and then stepped up on the fence to untie him. When she had him loose + she leaped off the fence to his back, screaming as she hit him with the + halter. Silvermane snorted and jumped, and in three jumps he was going + like a bullet. Dene tried to stop him, and was knocked twenty feet. He was + raising up when the stallion ran over him. He never moved again. Once in + the lane Silvermane got going—Lord! how he did run! Mescal hung low + over his neck like an Indian. He was gone in a cloud of dust before Snap + and the rustlers knew what had happened. Snap came to first and, yelling + and waving his gun, spurred down the lane. The rest of the rustlers + galloped after him.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab placed a sympathetic hand on Hare's shaking shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You see, lad, things are never so bad as they seem at first. Snap might + as well try to catch a bird as Silvermane.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + </h2> + <p> + “MESCAL'S far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare,” went on + Naab. “That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane + into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop + will take care of her. She'll be safe for the present in White Sage. Now + we must bury these men. To-morrow—my son. Then—” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” Hare straightened up. + </p> + <p> + Unutterable pain darkened the flame in the Mormon's gaze. For an instant + his face worked spasmodically, only to stiffen into a stony mask. It was + the old conflict once more, the never-ending war between flesh and spirit. + And now the flesh had prevailed. + </p> + <p> + “The time has come!” said George Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied his father, harshly. + </p> + <p> + A great calm settled over Hare; his blood ceased to race, his mind to + riot; in August Naab's momentous word he knew the old man had found + himself. At last he had learned the lesson of the desert—to strike + first and hard. + </p> + <p> + “Zeke, hitch up a team,” said August Naab. “No—wait a moment. Here + comes Piute. Let's hear what he has to say.” + </p> + <p> + Piute appeared on the zigzag cliff-trail, driving a burro at dangerous + speed. + </p> + <p> + “He's sighted Silvermane and the rustlers,” suggested George, as the + shepherd approached. + </p> + <p> + Naab translated the excited Indian's mingling of Navajo and Piute + languages to mean just what George had said. “Snap ahead of riders—Silvermane + far, far ahead of Snap—running fast—damn!” + </p> + <p> + “Mescal's pushing him hard to make the sand-strip,” said George. + </p> + <p> + “Piute—three fires to-night—Lookout Point!” This order meant + the execution of August Naab's hurry-signal for the Navajos, and after he + had given it, he waved the Indian toward the cliff, and lapsed into a + silence which no one dared to break. + </p> + <p> + Naab consigned the bodies of the rustlers to the famous cemetery under the + red wall. He laid Dene in grave thirty-one. It was the grave that the + outlaw had promised as the last resting-place of Dene's spy. Chance and + Culver he buried together. It was noteworthy that no Mormon rites were + conferred on Culver, once a Mormon in good standing, nor were any prayers + spoken over the open graves. + </p> + <p> + What did August Naab intend to do? That was the question in Hare's mind as + he left the house. It was a silent day, warm as summer, though the sun was + overcast with gray clouds; the birds were quiet in the trees; there was no + bray of burro or clarion-call of peacock, even the hum of the river had + fallen into silence. Hare wandered over the farm and down the red lane, + brooding over the issue. Naab's few words had been full of meaning; the + cold gloom so foreign to his nature, had been even more impressive. His + had been the revolt of the meek. The gentle, the loving, the + administering, the spiritual uses of his life had failed. + </p> + <p> + Hare recalled what the desert had done to his own nature, how it had bred + in him its impulse to fight, to resist, to survive. If he, a stranger of a + few years, could be moulded in the flaming furnace of its fiery life, what + then must be the cast of August Naab, born on the desert, and sleeping + five nights out of seven on the sands for sixty years? + </p> + <p> + The desert! Hare trembled as he grasped all its meaning. Then he slowly + resolved that meaning. There were the measureless distances to narrow the + eye and teach restraint; the untrodden trails, the shifting sands, the + thorny brakes, the broken lava to pierce the flesh; the heights and + depths, unscalable and unplumbed. And over all the sun, red and burning. + </p> + <p> + The parched plants of the desert fought for life, growing far apart, + sending enormous roots deep to pierce the sand and split the rock for + moisture, arming every leaf with a barbed thorn or poisoned sap, never + thriving and ever thirsting. + </p> + <p> + The creatures of the desert endured the sun and lived without water, and + were at endless war. The hawk had a keener eye than his fellow of more + fruitful lands, sharper beak, greater spread of wings, and claws of deeper + curve. For him there was little to eat, a rabbit now, a rock-rat then; + nature made his swoop like lightning and it never missed its aim. The + gaunt wolf never failed in his sure scent, in his silent hunt. The lizard + flicked an invisible tongue into the heart of a flower; and the bee he + caught stung with a poisoned sting. The battle of life went to the strong. + </p> + <p> + So the desert trained each of its wild things to survive. No eye of the + desert but burned with the flame of the sun. To kill or to escape death—that + was the dominant motive. To fight barrenness and heat—that was stern + enough, but each creature must fight his fellow. + </p> + <p> + What then of the men who drifted into the desert and survived? They must + of necessity endure the wind and heat, the drouth and famine; they must + grow lean and hard, keen-eyed and silent. The weak, the humble, the + sacrificing must be winnowed from among them. As each man developed he + took on some aspect of the desert—Holderness had the amber clearness + of its distances in his eyes, its deceit in his soul; August Naab, the + magnificence of the desert-pine in his giant form, its strength in his + heart; Snap Naab, the cast of the hawk-beak in his face, its cruelty in + his nature. But all shared alike in the common element of survival—ferocity. + August Naab had subdued his to the promptings of a Christ-like spirit; yet + did not his very energy, his wonderful tirelessness, his will to achieve, + his power to resist, partake of that fierceness? Moreover, after many + struggles, he too had been overcome by the desert's call for blood. His + mystery was no longer a mystery. Always in those moments of revelation + which he disclaimed, he had seen himself as faithful to the desert in the + end. + </p> + <p> + Hare's slumbers that night were broken. He dreamed of a great gray horse + leaping in the sky from cloud to cloud with the lightning and the thunder + under his hoofs, the storm-winds sweeping from his silver mane. He dreamed + of Mescal's brooding eyes. They were dark gateways of the desert open only + to him, and he entered to chase the alluring stars deep into the purple + distance. He dreamed of himself waiting in serene confidence for some + unknown thing to pass. He awakened late in the morning and found the house + hushed. The day wore on in a repose unstirred by breeze and sound, in + accord with the mourning of August Naab. At noon a solemn procession + wended its slow course to the shadow of the red cliff, and as solemnly + returned. + </p> + <p> + Then a long-drawn piercing Indian whoop broke the midday hush. It heralded + the approach of the Navajos. In single-file they rode up the lane, and + when the falcon-eyed Eschtah dismounted before his white friend, the line + of his warriors still turned the corner of the red wall. Next to the + chieftain rode Scarbreast, the grim war-lord of the Navajos. His followers + trailed into the grove. Their sinewy bronze bodies, almost naked, + glistened wet from the river. Full a hundred strong were they, a silent, + lean-limbed desert troop. + </p> + <p> + “The White Prophet's fires burned bright,” said the chieftain. “Eschtah is + here.” + </p> + <p> + “The Navajo is a friend,” replied Naab. “The white man needs counsel and + help. He has fallen upon evil days.” + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we + shall speak.” + </p> + <p> + A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors. + Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the + burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods. When the afternoon waned + and the shade from the western wall crept into the oasis, August Naab came + from his cabin clad in buckskins, with a large blue Colt swinging handle + outward from his left hip. He ordered his sons to replenish the fire which + had been built in the circle, and when the fierce-eyed Indians gathered + round the blaze he called to his women to bring meat and drink. + </p> + <p> + Hare's unnatural calmness had prevailed until he saw Naab stride out to + front the waiting Indians. Then a ripple of cold passed over him. He + leaned against a tree in the shadow and watched the gray-faced giant + stalking to and fro before his Indian friends. A long while he strode in + the circle of light to pause at length before the chieftains and to break + the impressive silence with his deep voice. + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah sees before him a friend stung to his heart. Men of his own color + have long injured him, yet have lived. The Mormon loved his fellows and + forgave. Five sons he laid in their graves, yet his heart was not + hardened. His first-born went the trail of the fire-water and is an + outcast from his people. Many enemies has he and one is a chief. He has + killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water. To-day + the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the chief? Would + he not crush the scorpion that stung him?” + </p> + <p> + The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, was as stately + as the Mormon's. + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise. The White + Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks too + much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the + lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah + grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's friend + has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his springs. + Only a few can live on the desert. Let him who has found the springs and + the trails keep them for his own. Let him who came too late go away to + find for himself, to prove himself a warrior, or let his bones whiten in + the sand. The Navajo counsels his white friend to kill.” + </p> + <p> + “The great Eschtah speaks wise words,” said Naab. “The White Prophet is + richer for them. He will lay aside the prayers to his unseeing God, and + will seek his foe.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well.” + </p> + <p> + “The white man's foe is strong,” went on the Mormon; “he has many men, + they will fight. If Eschtah sends his braves with his friend there will be + war. Many braves will fall. The White Prophet wishes to save them if he + can. He will go forth alone to kill his foe. If the sun sets four times + and the white man is not here, then Eschtah will send his great war-chief + and his warriors. They will kill whom they find at the white man's + springs. And thereafter half of all the white man's cattle that were + stolen shall be Eschtah's, so that he watch over the water and range.” + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah greets a chief,” answered the Indian. “The White Prophet knows he + will kill his enemy, but he is not sure he will return. He is not sure + that the little braves of his foe will fly like the winds, yet he hopes. + So he holds the Navajo back to the last. Eschtah will watch the sun set + four times. If his white friend returns he will rejoice. If he does not + return the Navajo will send his warriors on the trail.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab walked swiftly from the circle of light into the darkness; his + heavy steps sounded on the porch, and in the hallway. His three sons went + toward their cabins with bowed heads and silent tongues. Eschtah folded + his blanket about him and stalked off into the gloom of the grove, + followed by his warriors. + </p> + <p> + Hare remained in the shadow of the cottonwood where he had stood + unnoticed. He had not moved a muscle since he had heard August Naab's + declaration. That one word of Naab's intention, “Alone!” had arrested him. + For it had struck into his heart and mind. It had paralyzed him with the + revelation it brought; for Hare now knew as he had never known anything + before, that he would forestall August Naab, avenge the death of Dave, and + kill the rustler Holderness. Through blinding shock he passed slowly into + cold acceptance of his heritage from the desert. + </p> + <p> + The two long years of his desert training were as an open page to Hare's + unveiled eyes. The life he owed to August Naab, the strength built up by + the old man's knowledge of the healing power of plateau and range—these + lay in a long curve between the day Naab had lifted him out of the White + Sage trail and this day of the Mormon's extremity. A long curve with + Holderness's insulting blow at the beginning, his murder of a beloved + friend at the end! For Hare remembered the blow, and never would he forget + Dave's last words. Yet unforgetable as these were, it was duty rather than + revenge that called him. This was August Naab's hour of need. Hare knew + himself to be the tool of inscrutable fate; he was the one to fight the + old desert-scarred Mormon's battle. Hare recalled how humbly he had + expressed his gratitude to Naab, and the apparent impossibility of ever + repaying him, and then Naab's reply: “Lad, you can never tell how one man + may repay another.” Hare could pay his own debt and that of the many + wanderers who had drifted across the sands to find a home with the Mormon. + These men stirred in their graves, and from out the shadow of the cliff + whispered the voice of Mescal's nameless father: “Is there no one to rise + up for this old hero of the desert?” + </p> + <p> + Softly Hare slipped into his room. Putting on coat and belt and catching + up his rifle he stole out again stealthily, like an Indian. In the + darkness of the wagon-shed he felt for his saddle, and finding it, he + groped with eager hands for the grain-box; raising the lid he filled a + measure with grain, and emptied it into his saddle-bag. Then lifting the + saddle he carried it out of the yard, through the gate and across the lane + to the corrals. The wilder mustangs in the far corral began to kick and + snort, and those in the corral where Black Bolly was kept trooped noisily + to the bars. Bolly whinnied and thrust her black muzzle over the fence. + Hare placed a caressing hand on her while he waited listening and + watching. It was not unusual for the mustangs to get restless at any time, + and Hare was confident that this would pass without investigation. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the restless stampings and suspicious snortings ceased, and + Hare, letting down the bars, led Bolly out into the lane. It was the work + of a moment to saddle her; his bridle hung where he always kept it, on the + pommel, and with nimble fingers he shortened the several straps to fit + Bolly's head, and slipped the bit between her teeth. Then he put up the + bars of the gate. + </p> + <p> + Before mounting he stood a moment thinking coolly, deliberately numbering + the several necessities he must not forget—grain for Bolly, food for + himself, his Colt and Winchester, cartridges, canteen, matches, knife. He + inserted a hand into one of his saddle-bags expecting to find some strips + of meat. The bag was empty. He felt in the other one, and under the grain + he found what he sought. The canteen lay in the coil of his lasso tied to + the saddle, and its heavy canvas covering was damp to his touch. With that + he thrust the long Winchester into its saddle-sheath, and swung his leg + over the mustang. + </p> + <p> + The house of the Naabs was dark and still. The dying council-fire cast + flickering shadows under the black cottonwoods where the Navajos slept. + The faint breeze that rustled the leaves brought the low sullen roar of + the river. + </p> + <p> + Hare guided Bolly into the thick dust of the lane, laid the bridle loosely + on her neck for her to choose the trail, and silently rode out into the + lonely desert night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. UNLEASHED + </h2> + <p> + HARE, listening breathlessly, rode on toward the gateway of the cliffs, + and when he had passed the corner of the wall he sighed in relief. + Spurring Bolly into a trot he rode forward with a strange elation. He had + slipped out of the oasis unheard, and it would be morning before August + Naab discovered his absence, perhaps longer before he divined his purpose. + Then Hare would have a long start. He thrilled with something akin to fear + when he pictured the old man's rage, and wondered what change it would + make in his plans. Hare saw in mind Naab and his sons, and the Navajos + sweeping in pursuit to save him from the rustlers. + </p> + <p> + But the future must take care of itself, and he addressed all the + faculties at his command to cool consideration of the present. The strip + of sand under the Blue Star had to be crossed at night—a feat which + even the Navajos did not have to their credit. Yet Hare had no shrinking; + he had no doubt; he must go on. As he had been drawn to the Painted Desert + by a voiceless call, so now he was urged forward by something nameless. + </p> + <p> + In the blackness of the night it seemed as if he were riding through a + vaulted hall swept by a current of air. The night had turned cold, the + stars had brightened icily, the rumble of the river had died away when + Bolly's ringing trot suddenly changed to a noiseless floundering walk. She + had come upon the sand. Hare saw the Blue Star in the cliff, and once more + loosed the rein on Bolly's neck. She stopped and champed her bit, and + turned her black head to him as if to intimate that she wanted the + guidance of a sure arm. But as it was not forthcoming she stepped onward + into the yielding sand. + </p> + <p> + With hands resting idly on the pommel Hare sat at ease in the saddle. The + billowy dunes reflected the pale starlight and fell away from him to + darken in obscurity. So long as the Blue Star remained in sight he kept + his sense of direction; when it had disappeared he felt himself lost. + Bolly's course seemed as crooked as the jagged outline of the cliffs. She + climbed straight up little knolls, descended them at an angle, turned + sharply at wind-washed gullies, made winding detours, zigzagged levels + that shone like a polished floor; and at last (so it seemed to Hare) she + doubled back on her trail. The black cliff receded over the waves of sand; + the stars changed positions, travelled round in the blue dome, and the few + that he knew finally sank below the horizon. Bolly never lagged; she was + like the homeward-bound horse, indifferent to direction because sure of + it, eager to finish the journey because now it was short. Hare was glad + though not surprised when she snorted and cracked her iron-shod hoof on a + stone at the edge of the sand. He smiled with tightening lips as he rode + into the shadow of a rock which he recognized. Bolly had crossed the + treacherous belt of dunes and washes and had struck the trail on the other + side. + </p> + <p> + The long level of wind-carved rocks under the cliffs, the ridges of the + desert, the miles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual + descent to the cedars—these stretches of his journey took the night + hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile of + Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on + Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the + trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the + right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone or + snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was no sound + other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp, he caught the + dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements became as + guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn broke over + the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring. + </p> + <p> + He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the + wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket + encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit + Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and, + after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from + below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope. + </p> + <p> + Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he struck + the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At last he + reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent so many + days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness. He stole + down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The sun, red + as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the soft mists of + the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in toward the + spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone, Hare descended + the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every step. Soon the + edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower level of cedars. + While resting he listened. Then he marked his course down the last bit of + slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the valley. This space was + open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar brush—a difficult + place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his choice of steps, very slow + in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which satisfied even his intent + ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew slowly into the circle of his + downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a slight trembling in all his + limbs. There was a thick bush on the edge of the cliff; in three steps he + could reach it and, unseen himself, look down upon the camp. + </p> + <p> + A little cloud or smoke rose lazily and capped a slender column of blue. + Sounds were wafted softly upward, the low voices of men in conversation, a + merry whistle, and then the humming of a tune. Hare's mouth was dry and + his temples throbbed as he asked himself what it was best to do. The + answer came instantaneously as though it had lain just below the level of + his conscious thought. “I'll watch till Holderness walks out into sight, + jump up with a yell when he comes, give him time to see me, to draw his + gun—then kill him!” + </p> + <p> + Hare slipped to the bush, drew in a deep long breath that stilled his + agitation, and peered over the cliff. The crude shingles of the cabin + first rose into sight; then beyond he saw the corral with a number of + shaggy mustangs and a great gray horse. Hare stared blankly. As in a dream + he saw the proud arch of a splendid neck, the graceful wave of a + white-crested mane. + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane!... My God!” he gasped, suddenly. “They caught him—after + all!” + </p> + <p> + He fell backward upon the cliff and lay there with hands clinching his + rifle, shudderingly conscious of a blow, trying to comprehend its meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane!... they caught him—after all!” he kept repeating; then + in a flash of agonized understanding he whispered: “Mescal... Mescal!” + </p> + <p> + He rolled upon his face, shutting out the blue sky; his body stretched + stiff as a bent spring released from its compress, and his nails dented + the stock of his rifle. Then this rigidity softened to sobs that shook him + from head to foot. He sat up, haggard and wild-eyed. + </p> + <p> + Silvermane had been captured, probably by rustlers waiting at the western + edge of the sand-strip. Mescal had fallen into the hands of Snap Naab. But + Mescal was surely alive and Snap was there to be killed; his long career + of unrestrained cruelty was in its last day—something told Hare that + this thing must and should be. The stern deliberation of his intent to + kill Holderness, the passion of his purpose to pay his debt to August + Naab, were as nothing compared to the gathering might of this new resolve; + suddenly he felt free and strong as an untamed lion broken free from his + captors. + </p> + <p> + From the cover of the bush he peered again over the cliff. The cabin with + its closed door facing him was scarcely two hundred feet down from his + hiding-place. One of the rustlers sang as he bent over the camp-fire and + raked the coals around the pots; others lounged on a bench waiting for + breakfast; some rolled out of their blankets; they stretched and yawned, + and pulling on their boots made for the spring. The last man to rise was + Snap Naab, and he had slept with his head on the threshold of the door. + Evidently Snap had made Mescal a prisoner in the cabin, and no one could + go in or out without stepping upon him. The rustler-foreman of + Holderness's company had slept with his belt containing two Colts, nor had + he removed his boots. Hare noted these details with grim humor. Now the + tall Holderness, face shining, gold-red beard agleam, rounded the cabin + whistling. Hare watched the rustlers sit down to breakfast, and here and + there caught a loud-spoken word, and marked their leisurely care-free + manner. Snap Naab took up a pan of food and a cup of coffee, carried them + into the cabin, and came out, shutting the door. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast most of the rustlers set themselves to their various + tasks. Hare watched them with the eyes of a lynx watching deer. Several + men were arranging articles for packing, and their actions were slow to + the point of laziness; others trooped down toward the corral. Holderness + rolled a cigarette and stooped over the campfire to reach a burning stick. + Snap Naab stalked to and fro before the door of the cabin. He alone of the + rustler's band showed restlessness, and more than once he glanced up the + trail that led over the divide toward his father's oasis. Holderness sent + expectant glances in the other direction toward Seeping Springs. Once his + clear voice rang out: + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Naab, there's no hurry. We'll ride in tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + A thousand thoughts flitted through Hare's mind—a steady stream of + questions and answers. Why did Snap look anxiously along the oasis trail? + It was not that he feared his father or his brothers alone, but there was + always the menace of the Navajos. Why was Holderness in no hurry to leave + Silver Cup? Why did he lag at the spring when, if he expected riders from + his ranch, he could have gone on to meet them, obviously saving time and + putting greater distance between him and the men he had wronged? Was it + utter fearlessness or only a deep-played game? Holderness and his + rustlers, all except the gloomy Naab, were blind to the peril that lay + beyond the divide. How soon would August Naab strike out on the White Sage + trail? Would he come alone? Whether he came alone or at the head of his + hard-riding Navajos he would arrive too late. Holderness's life was not + worth a pinch of the ashes he flecked so carelessly from his cigarette. + Snap Naab's gloom, his long stride, his nervous hand always on or near the + butt of his Colt, spoke the keenness of his desert instinct. For him the + sun had arisen red over the red wall. Had he harmed Mescal? Why did he + keep the cabin door shut and guard it so closely? + </p> + <p> + While Hare watched and thought the hours sped by. Holderness lounged about + and Snap kept silent guard. The rustlers smoked, slept, and moved about; + the day waned, and the shadow of the cliff crept over the cabin. To Hare + the time had been as a moment; he was amazed to find the sun had gone down + behind Coconina. If August Naab had left the oasis at dawn he must now be + near the divide, unless he had been delayed by a wind-storm at the strip + of sand. Hare longed to see the roan charger come up over the crest; he + longed to see a file of Navajos, plumes waving, dark mustangs gleaming in + the red light, sweep down the stony ridge toward the cedars. “If they + come,” he whispered, “I'll kill Holderness and Snap and any man who tries + to open that cabin door.” + </p> + <p> + So he waited in tense watchfulness, his gaze alternating between the wavy + line of the divide and the camp glade. Out in the valley it was still + daylight, but under the cliff twilight had fallen. All day Hare had + strained his ears to hear the talk of the rustlers, and it now occurred to + him that if he climbed down through the split in the cliff to the bench + where Dave and George had always hidden to watch the spring he would be + just above the camp. This descent involved risk, but since it would enable + him to see the cabin door when darkness set in, he decided to venture. The + moment was propitious, for the rustlers were bustling around, cooking + dinner, unrolling blankets, and moving to and fro from spring and corral. + Hare crawled back a few yards and along the cliff until he reached the + split. It was a narrow steep crack which he well remembered. Going down + was attended with two dangers—losing his hold, and the possible + rattling of stones. Face foremost he slipped downward with the gliding, + sinuous movement of a snake, and reaching the grassy bench he lay quiet. + Jesting voices and loud laughter from below reassured him. He had not been + heard. His new position afforded every chance to see and hear, and also + gave means of rapid, noiseless retreat along the bench to the cedars. + Lying flat he crawled stealthily to the bushy fringe of the bench. + </p> + <p> + A bright fire blazed under the cliff. Men were moving and laughing. The + cabin door was open. Mescal stood leaning back from Snap Naab, struggling + to release her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Let me untie them, I say,” growled Snap. + </p> + <p> + Mescal tore loose from him and stepped back. Her hands were bound before + her, and twisting them outward, she warded him off. Her dishevelled hair + almost hid her dark eyes. They burned in a level glance of hate and + defiance. She was a little lioness, quivering with fiery life, fight in + every line of her form. + </p> + <p> + “All right, don't eat then—starve!” said Snap. + </p> + <p> + “I'll starve before I eat what you give me.” + </p> + <p> + The rustlers laughed. Holderness blew out a puff of smoke and smiled. Snap + glowered upon Mescal and then upon his amiable companions. One of them, a + ruddy-faced fellow, walked toward Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “Cool down, Snap, cool down,” he said. “We're not goin' to stand for a + girl starvin'. She ain't eat a bite yet. Here, Miss, let me untie your + hands—there. . . . Say! Naab, d—n you, her wrists are black + an' blue!” + </p> + <p> + “Look out! Your gun!” yelled Snap. + </p> + <p> + With a swift movement Mescal snatched the man's Colt from its holster and + was raising it when he grasped her arm. She winced and dropped the weapon. + </p> + <p> + “You little Indian devil!” exclaimed the rustler, in a rapt admiration. + “Sorry to hurt you, an' more'n sorry to spoil your aim. Thet wasn't kind + to throw my own gun on me, jest after I'd played the gentleman, now, was + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't—intend—to shoot—you,” panted Mescal. + </p> + <p> + “Naab, if this's your Mormon kind of wife—excuse me! Though I ain't + denyin' she's the sassiest an' sweetest little cat I ever seen!” + </p> + <p> + “We Mormons don't talk about our women or hear any talk,” returned Snap, a + dancing fury in his pale eyes. “You're from Nebraska?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep, jest a plain Nebraska rustler, cattle-thief, an' all round no-good + customer, though I ain't taken to houndin' women yet.” + </p> + <p> + For answer Snap Naab's right hand slowly curved upward before him and + stopped taut and inflexible, while his strange eyes seemed to shoot + sparks. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Naab, why do you want to throw a gun on me?” asked the rustler, + coolly. “Haven't you shot enough of your friends yet? I reckon I've no + right to interfere in your affairs. I was only protestin' friendly like, + for the little lady. She's game, an' she's called your hand. An' it's not + a straight hand. Thet's all, an' d—n if I care whether you are a + Mormon or not. I'll bet a hoss Holderness will back me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Snap, he's right,” put in Holderness, smoothly. “You needn't be so touchy + about Mescal. She's showed what little use she's got for you. If you must + rope her around like you do a mustang, be easy about it. Let's have + supper. Now, Mescal, you sit here on the bench and behave yourself. I + don't want you shooting up my camp.” + </p> + <p> + Snap turned sullenly aside while Holderness seated Mescal near the door + and fetched her food and drink. The rustlers squatted round the camp-fire, + and conversation ceased in the business of the meal. + </p> + <p> + To Hare the scene had brought a storm of emotions. Joy at the sight of + Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting spirit—these + came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska rustler, strange + deepening insight into Holderness's game, unextinguishable white-hot + hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the ever-mounting will to rescue + Mescal, which was held in check by an inexorable judgment; he must + continue to wait. And he did wait with blind faith in the something to be, + keeping ever in mind the last resort—the rifle he clutched with + eager hands. Meanwhile the darkness descended, the fire sent forth a + brighter blaze, and the rustlers finished their supper. Mescal arose and + stepped across the threshold of the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” ordered Snap, as he approached with swift strides. “Stick out + your hands!” + </p> + <p> + Some of the rustlers grumbled; and one blurted out: “Aw no, Snap, don't + tie her up—no!” + </p> + <p> + “Who says no?” hissed the Mormon, with snapping teeth. As he wheeled upon + them his Colt seemed to leap forward, and suddenly quivered at + arm's-length, gleaming in the ruddy fire-rays. + </p> + <p> + Holderness laughed in the muzzle of the weapon. “Go ahead, Snap, tie up + your lady love. What a tame little wife she's going to make you! Tie her + up, but do it without hurting her.” + </p> + <p> + The rustlers growled or laughed at their leader's order. Snap turned to + his task. Mescal stood in the doorway and shrinkingly extended her clasped + hands. Holderness whirled to the fire with a look which betrayed his game. + Snap bound Mescal's hands securely, thrust her inside the cabin, and after + hesitating for a long moment, finally shut the door. + </p> + <p> + “It's funny about a woman, now, ain't it?” said Nebraska, confidentially, + to a companion. “One minnit she'll snatch you bald-headed; the next, + she'll melt in your mouth like sugar. An' I'll be darned if the + changeablest one ain't the kind to hold a feller longest. But it's h—l. + I was married onct. Not any more for mine! A pal I had used to say thet + whiskey riled him, thet rattlesnake pisen het up his blood some, but it + took a woman to make him plumb bad. D—n if it ain't so. When there's + a woman around there's somethin' allus comin' off.” + </p> + <p> + But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness + suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals + from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side + of the door, his narrow gaze cunningly studying the rustlers before him. + More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk he + could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half opening it + while he faced the men. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had + come from another man. “You don't go in there!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage,” replied Naab, in slow + deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her. You + tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or + something'll happen.” + </p> + <p> + “There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't + interfere now, I'm going.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go ahead—but you won't take the girl!” + </p> + <p> + Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “So-ho!” he exclaimed, sneeringly. “That's why you've made me foreman, + eh?” His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale + eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The + rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Naab, you don't get the girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you'll get her?” hissed Snap. + </p> + <p> + “I always intended to.” + </p> + <p> + Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His Colt + gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click! Click! Click! The hammer fell upon + empty chambers. + </p> + <p> + “H—l!” he shrieked. + </p> + <p> + Holderness laughed sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “That's where you're going!” he cried. “Here's to Naab's trick with a gun—Bah!” + And he shot his foreman through the heart. + </p> + <p> + Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling + wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread + convulsively, straightened, and sank limp. + </p> + <p> + Holderness called through the door of the cabin. “Mescal, I've rid you of + your would-be husband. Cheer-up!” Then, pointing to the fallen man, he + said to the nearest bystanders: “Some of you drag that out for the + coyotes.” + </p> + <p> + The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler, + and he curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up. “No + shells!” he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and + unbreeched that. “No shells! Well, d—n me!” He surveyed the group of + grim men, not one of whom had any reply. + </p> + <p> + Holderness again laughed harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened + the door with a lasso. + </p> + <p> + It was a long time before Hare recovered from the startling revelation of + the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap Naab + had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely + preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position and + settled himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour Holderness and + his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching doom. Hare's + strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these men had + received its first verification in the sudden taking off of Snap Naab. The + deep-scheming Holderness, confident that his strong band meant sure + protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had not + caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested warning. Yet somewhere out on + the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of life to the + lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind him waited a + troop of Navajos, swift as eagles, merciless as wolves, desert warriors + with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins. As Hare waited and + watched with all his inner being cold, he could almost feel pity for + Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the rustler chief had + sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, Hare had covered him + with the rifle, waiting, waiting for the step upon the threshold. But + Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's finger eased its + pressure upon the trigger. + </p> + <p> + The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no starlight; the + wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled in + their blankets and all dropped into slumber while the camp-fire slowly + burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the breeze and + the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes. + </p> + <p> + Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man + raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked + long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he softly + lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do. Presently he + again lifted his head and turned it as if listening intently. His + companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep. Gently he slipped + aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and guarded of movement; + it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between the rustlers with + stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's, and he went toward + the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting + six-shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached the + door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy movements, his + passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom hovered over the + rustler chief. If he stirred!—Hare knew instantly that this softly + stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the woman pledged + in his creed. He meant to free Mescal. + </p> + <p> + If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band + awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in the + flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a + sound. + </p> + <p> + Hare whispered: “Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake + Holderness—then I must shoot—I must!” + </p> + <p> + But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth. + </p> + <p> + “Hist!” he whispered into the cabin. “Hist!” + </p> + <p> + Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning + of that low whisper, for silently she appeared in the doorway, silently + she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed into + the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a flitting shadow + Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary, unhurried steps + back to his bed and rolled in his blankets. + </p> + <p> + Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed to + have but one issue—the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be + upon Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there + would be no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler + while he was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to + his men the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing down + on the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever his + power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the temptation + from him. To ward off pursuit as long as possible, to aid Mescal in every + way to some safe hiding-place, and then to seek Holderness—that was + the forethought of a man who had learned to wait. + </p> + <p> + Under the dark projection of the upper cliff Hare felt his way to the + cedar slope, and the trail, and then he went swiftly down into the little + hollow where he had left Bolly. The darkness of the forest hindered him, + but he came at length to the edge of the aspen thicket; he penetrated it, + and guided toward Bolly by a suspicious stamp and neigh, he found her and + quieted her with a word. He rode down the hollow, out upon the level + valley. + </p> + <p> + The clouds had broken somewhat, letting pale light down through rifts. All + about him cattle were lying in a thick gloom. It was penetrable for only a + few rods. The ground was like a cushion under Bolly's hoofs, giving forth + no sound. The mustang threw up her head, causing Hare to peer into the + night-fog. Rapid hoof-beats broke the silence, a vague gray shadow moved + into sight. He saw Silvermane and called as loudly as he dared. The + stallion melted into the misty curtain, the beating of hoofs softened and + ceased. Hare spurred Bolly to her fleetest. He had a long, silent chase, + but it was futile, and unnecessarily hard on the mustang; so he pulled her + in to a trot. + </p> + <p> + Hare kept Bolly to this gait the remainder of the night, and when the + eastern sky lightened he found the trail and reached Seeping Springs at + dawn. Silvermane's tracks were deep in the clay at the drinking-trough. He + rested a few moments, gave Bolly sparingly of grain and water, and once + more took to the trail. + </p> + <p> + From the ridge below the spring he saw Silvermane beyond the valley, miles + ahead of him. This day seemed shorter than the foregoing one; it passed + while he watched Silvermane grow smaller and smaller and disappear on the + looming slope of Coconina. Hare's fear that Mescal would run into the + riders Holderness expected from his ranch grew less and less after she had + reached the cover of the cedars. That she would rest the stallion at the + Navajo pool on the mountain he made certain. Late in the night he came to + the camping spot and found no trace to prove that she had halted there + even to let Silvermane drink. So he tied the tired mustang and slept until + daylight. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the plateau and began the descent. Before he was half-way down + the warm bright sun had cleared the valley of vapor and shadow. Far along + the winding white trail shone a speck. It was Silvermane almost out of + sight. + </p> + <p> + “Ten miles—fifteen, more maybe,” said Hare. “Mescal will soon be in + the village.” + </p> + <p> + Again hours of travel flew by like winged moments. Thoughts of time, + distance, monotony, fatigue, purpose, were shut out from his mind. A + rushing kaleidoscopic dance of images filled his consciousness, but they + were all of Mescal. Safety for her had unsealed the fountain of happiness. + </p> + <p> + It was near sundown when he rode Black Bolly into White Sage, and took the + back road, and the pasture lane to Bishop Caldwell's cottage. John, one of + the Bishop's sons, was in the barn-yard and ran to open the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal!” cried Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Safe,” replied the Mormon. + </p> + <p> + “Have you hidden her?” + </p> + <p> + “She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men + know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!... then that's settled.” Hare drew a long, deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and + escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Silvermane killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here + in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap Naab?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What of old Naab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons against + the rustlers?” + </p> + <p> + “He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail alone + and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he failed to + return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his plan must be + changed, for I came ahead of him.” + </p> + <p> + “For what? Mescal?” + </p> + <p> + “No. For Holderness.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll kill him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be coming soon?—When?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance Naab + may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “May I know your plan?” The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face + flashed with daring inspiration. “I—I've a good reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Plan?— Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in + the orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little—for I'm dead + tired—and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his + men, perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use + strategy. I'll meet him when he comes—that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now. You + need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the arbor.” + </p> + <p> + Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival + following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed + repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell + did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table before + finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the open + window. + </p> + <p> + Darkness found Hare wrapped in a blanket under the trees. He needed sleep + that would loose the strange deadlock of his thoughts, clear the blur from + his eyes, ease the pain in his head and weariness of limbs—all these + weaknesses of which he had suddenly become conscious. Time and again he + had almost wooed slumber to him when soft footsteps on the gravel paths, + low voices, the gentle closing of the gate, brought him back to the unreal + listening wakefulness. The sounds continued late into the night, and when + he did fall asleep he dreamed of them. He awoke to a dawn clearer than the + light from the noonday sun. In his ears was the ringing of a bell. He + could not stand still, and his movements were subtle and swift. His hands + took a peculiar, tenacious, hold of everything he chanced to touch. He + paced his hidden walk behind the arbor, at every turn glancing sharply up + and down the road. Thoughts came to him clearly, yet one was dominant. The + morning was curiously quiet, the sons of the Bishop had strangely + disappeared—a sense of imminent catastrophe was in the air. + </p> + <p> + A band of horsemen closely grouped turned into the road and trotted + forward. Some of the men wore black masks. Holderness rode at the front, + his red-gold beard shining in the sunlight. The steady clip-clop of hoofs + and clinking of iron stirrups broke the morning quiet. Holderness, with + two of his men, dismounted before the Bishop's gate; the others of the + band trotted on down the road. The ring of Holderness's laugh preceded the + snap of the gate-latch. + </p> + <p> + Hare stood calm and cold behind his green covert watching the three men + stroll up the garden path. Holderness took a cigarette from his lips as he + neared the porch and blew out circles of white smoke. Bishop Caldwell + tottered from the cottage rapping the porch-floor with his cane. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Bishop,” greeted Holderness, blandly, baring his head. + </p> + <p> + “To you, sir,” quavered the old man, with his wavering blue eyes fixed on + the spurred and belted rustler. Holderness stepped out in front of his + companions, a superb man, courteous, smiling, entirely at his ease. + </p> + <p> + “I rode in to—” + </p> + <p> + Hare leaped from his hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + “Holderness!” + </p> + <p> + The rustler pivoted on whirling heels. + </p> + <p> + “Dene's spy!” he exclaimed, aghast. Swift changes swept his mobile + features. Fear flickered in his eyes as he faced his foe; then came + wonder, a glint of amusement, dark anger, and the terrible instinct of + death impending. + </p> + <p> + “Naab's trick!” hissed Hare, with his hand held high. The suggestion in + his words, the meaning in his look, held the three rustlers transfixed. + The surprise was his strength. + </p> + <p> + In Holderness's amber eyes shone his desperate calculation of chances. + Hare's fateful glance, impossible to elude, his strung form slightly + crouched, his cold deliberate mention of Naab's trick, and more than all + the poise of that quivering hand, filled the rustler with a terror that he + could not hide. + </p> + <p> + He had been bidden to draw and he could not summon the force. + </p> + <p> + “Naab's trick!” repeated Hare, mockingly. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Holderness reached for his gun. + </p> + <p> + Hare's hand leapt like a lightning stroke. Gleam of blue—spurt of + red—crash! + </p> + <p> + Holderness swayed with blond head swinging backward; the amber of his eyes + suddenly darkened; the life in them glazed; like a log he fell clutching + the weapon he had half drawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + </h2> + <p> + “TAKE Holderness away—quick!” ordered Hare. A thin curl of blue + smoke floated from the muzzle of his raised weapon. + </p> + <p> + The rustlers started out of their statue-like immobility, and lifting + their dead leader dragged him down the garden path with his spurs clinking + on the gravel and ploughing little furrows. + </p> + <p> + “Bishop, go in now. They may return,” said Hare. He hurried up the steps + to place his arm round the tottering old man. + </p> + <p> + “Was that Holderness?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Hare. + </p> + <p> + “The deeds of the wicked return unto them! God's will!” + </p> + <p> + Hare led the Bishop indoors. The sitting-room was full of wailing women + and crying children. None of the young men were present. Again Hare made + note of their inexplicable absence. He spoke soothingly to the frightened + family. The little boys and girls yielded readily to his persuasion, but + the women took no heed of him. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your sons?” asked Hare. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied the Bishop. “They should be here to stand by you. + It's strange. I don't understand. Last night my sons were visited by many + men, coming and going in twos and threes till late. They didn't sleep in + their beds. I know not what to think.” + </p> + <p> + Hare remembered John Caldwell's enigmatic face. + </p> + <p> + “Have the rustlers really come?” asked a young woman, whose eyes were red + and cheeks tear-stained. + </p> + <p> + “They have. Nineteen in all. I counted them,” answered Hare. + </p> + <p> + The young woman burst out weeping afresh, and the wailing of the others + answered her. Hare left the cottage. He picked up his rifle and went down + through the orchard to the hiding-place of the horses. Silvermane pranced + and snorted his gladness at sight of his master. The desert king was fit + for a grueling race. Black Bolly quietly cropped the long grass. Hare + saddled the stallion to have him in instant readiness, and then returned + to the front of the yard. + </p> + <p> + He heard the sound of a gun down the road, then another, and several shots + following in quick succession. A distant angry murmuring and trampling of + many feet drew Hare to the gate. Riderless mustangs were galloping down + the road; several frightened boys were fleeing across the square; not a + man was in sight. Three more shots cracked, and the low murmur and + trampling swelled into a hoarse uproar. Hare had heard that sound before; + it was the tumult of mob-violence. A black dense throng of men appeared + crowding into the main street, and crossing toward the square. The + procession had some order; it was led and flanked by mounted men. But the + upflinging of many arms, the craning of necks, and the leaping of men on + the outskirts of the mass, the pressure inward and the hideous roar, + proclaimed its real character. + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven!” exclaimed Hare. “The Mormons have risen against the rustlers. + I understand now. John Caldwell spent last night in secretly rousing his + neighbors. They have surprised the rustlers. Now what?” + </p> + <p> + Hare vaulted the fence and ran down the road. A compact mob of men, a + hundred or more, had halted in the village under the wide-spreading + cottonwoods. Hare suddenly grasped the terrible significance of those + outstretched branches, and out of the thought grew another which made him + run at bursting break-neck speed. + </p> + <p> + “Open up! Let me in!” he yelled to the thickly thronged circle. Right and + left he flung men. “Make way!” His piercing voice stilled the angry + murmur. Fierce men with weapons held aloft fell back from his face. + </p> + <p> + “Dene's spy!” they cried. + </p> + <p> + The circle opened and closed upon him. He saw bound rustlers under armed + guard. Four still forms were on the ground. Holderness lay outstretched, a + dark-red blot staining his gray shirt. Flinty-faced Mormons, ruthless now + as they had once been mild, surrounded the rustlers. John Caldwell stood + foremost, with ashen lips breaking bitterly into speech: + </p> + <p> + “Mormons, this is Dene's spy, the man who killed Holderness!” + </p> + <p> + The listeners burst into the short stern shout of men proclaiming a leader + in war. + </p> + <p> + “What's the game?” demanded Hare. + </p> + <p> + “A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope,” replied John Caldwell. The + low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again. + </p> + <p> + “There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “Pick them out!” A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in John + Caldwell's hard face. + </p> + <p> + Hare eyed the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “Nebraska, step out here,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you're mistaken,” replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently on + Hare. “I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to cheat + the man you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you untie the girl's hands.” + </p> + <p> + “You did? Well, d—n me!” + </p> + <p> + “Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You weren't + cut out for a thief.” + </p> + <p> + “Will I? D—n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin' + for you, stranger, an' prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “Cut him loose from the others,” said Hare. He scrutinized the line of + rustlers. Several were masked in black. “Take off those masks!” + </p> + <p> + “No! Those men go to their graves masked.” Again the strange twinge of + pain crossed John Caldwell's face. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see,” exclaimed Hare. Then quickly: “I couldn't recognize the other + man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her and I'll + save him. But how?” + </p> + <p> + Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent, clamored + that he was the one to be saved. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry back home,” said Caldwell in Hare's ear. “Tell them to fetch Mescal. + Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are wavering. You've + got only a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the + run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family. + </p> + <p> + “No danger—don't be alarmed—all's well,” he panted. “The + rustlers are captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, + somebody.” + </p> + <p> + One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a + latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone, and + dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly pattering + footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall, black hair + flying, dark eyes beaming. + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” Oblivious of the Mormons he swung her up and held her in his + arms. “Mescal! Mescal!” + </p> + <p> + When he raised his face from the tumbling mass of her black hair, the + Bishop and his family had left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Mescal. Be calm. I'm safe. The rustlers are prisoners. One of + them released you from Holderness. Tell me which one?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied Mescal. “I've tried to think. I didn't see his + face; I can't remember his voice.” + </p> + <p> + “Think! Think! He'll be hanged if you don't recall something to identify + him. He deserves a chance. Holderness's crowd are thieves, murderers. But + two were not all bad. That showed the night you were at Silver Cup. I + saved Nebraska—” + </p> + <p> + “Were you at Silver Cup? Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! don't interrupt me. We must save this man who saved you. Think! + Mescal! Think!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I can't. What—how shall I remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Something about him. Think of his coat, his sleeve. You must remember + something. Did you see his hands?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did—when he was loosing the cords,” said Mescal, eagerly. + “Long, strong fingers. I felt them too. He has a sharp rough wart on one + hand, I don't know which. He wears a leather wristband.” + </p> + <p> + “That's enough!” Hare bounded out upon the garden walk and raced back to + the crowded square. The uneasy circle stirred and opened for him to enter. + He stumbled over a pile of lassoes which had not been there when he left. + The stony Mormons waited; the rustlers coughed and shifted their feet. + John Caldwell turned a gray face. Hare bent over the three dead rustlers + lying with Holderness, and after a moment of anxious scrutiny he rose to + confront the line of prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “Hold out your hands.” + </p> + <p> + One by one they complied. The sixth rustler in the line, a tall fellow, + completely masked, refused to do as he was bidden. Twice Hare spoke. The + rustler twisted his bound hands under his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see them,” said Hare, quickly. He grasped the fellow's arm and + received a violent push that almost knocked him over. Grappling with the + rustler, he pulled up the bound hands, in spite of fierce resistance, and + there were the long fingers, the sharp wart, the laced wristband. “Here's + my man!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” hoarsely mumbled the rustler. The perspiration ran down his corded + neck; his breast heaved convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” cried Hare, dumfounded and resentful. “I recognized you. Would + you rather hang than live? What's your secret?” + </p> + <p> + He snatched off the black mask. The Bishop's eldest son stood revealed. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” cried Hare, recoiling from that convulsed face. + </p> + <p> + “Brother! Oh! I feared this,” groaned John Caldwell. + </p> + <p> + The rustlers broke out into curses and harsh laughter. + </p> + <p> + “—- —- you Mormons! See him! Paul Caldwell! Son of a Bishop! + Thought he was shepherdin' sheep?” + </p> + <p> + “D—n you, Hare!” shouted the guilty Mormon, in passionate fury and + shame. “Why didn't you hang me? Why didn't you bury me unknown?” + </p> + <p> + “Caldwell! I can't believe it,” cried Hare, slowly coming to himself. “But + you don't hang. Here, come out of the crowd. Make way, men!” + </p> + <p> + The silent crowd of Mormons with lowered and averted eyes made passage for + Hare and Caldwell. Then cold, stern voices in sharp questions and orders + went on with the grim trial. Leading the bowed and stricken Mormon, Hare + drew off to the side of the town-hall and turned his back upon the crowd. + The constant trampling of many feet, the harsh medley of many voices + swelled into one dreadful sound. It passed away, and a long hush followed. + But this in turn was suddenly broken by an outcry: + </p> + <p> + “The Navajos! The Navajos!” + </p> + <p> + Hare thrilled at that cry and his glance turned to the eastern end of the + village road where a column of mounted Indians, four abreast, was riding + toward the square. + </p> + <p> + “Naab and his Indians,” shouted Hare. “Naab and his Indians! No fear!” His + call was timely, for the aroused Mormons, ignorant of Naab's pursuit, + fearful of hostile Navajos, were handling their guns ominously. + </p> + <p> + But there came a cry of recognition—“August Naab!” + </p> + <p> + Onward came the band, Naab in the lead on his spotted roan. The mustangs + were spent and lashed with foam. Naab reined in his charger and the + keen-eyed Navajos closed in behind him. The old Mormon's eagle glance + passed over the dark forms dangling from the cottonwoods to the files of + waiting men. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “There!” answered John Caldwell, pointing to the body of Holderness. + </p> + <p> + “Who robbed me of my vengeance? Who killed the rustler?” Naab's stentorian + voice rolled over the listening multitude. In it was a hunger of thwarted + hate that held men mute. He bent a downward gaze at the dead Holderness as + if to make sure of the ghastly reality. Then he seemed to rise in his + saddle, and his broad chest to expand. “I know—I saw it all—blind + I was not to believe my own eyes! Where is he? Where is Hare?” + </p> + <p> + Some one pointed Hare out. Naab swung from his saddle and scattered the + men before him as if they had been sheep. His shaggy gray head and massive + shoulders towered above the tallest there. + </p> + <p> + Hare felt again a cold sense of fear. He grew weak in all his being. He + reeled when the gray shaggy giant laid a huge hand on his shoulder and + with one pull dragged him close. Was this his kind Mormon benefactor, this + man with the awful eyes? + </p> + <p> + “You killed Holderness?” roared Naab. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” whispered Hare. + </p> + <p> + “You heard me say I'd go alone? You forestalled me? You took upon yourself + my work?... Speak.” + </p> + <p> + “I—did.” + </p> + <p> + “By what right?” + </p> + <p> + “My debt—duty—your family—Dave!” + </p> + <p> + “Boy! Boy! You've robbed me.” Naab waved his arm from the gaping crowd to + the swinging rustlers. “You've led these white-livered Mormons to do my + work. How can I avenge my sons—seven sons?” + </p> + <p> + His was the rage of the old desert-lion. He loosed Hare and strode in + magnificent wrath over Holderness and raised his brawny fists. + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen years I prayed for wicked men,” he rolled out. “One by one I + buried my sons. I gave my springs and my cattle. Then I yielded to the + lust for blood. I renounced my religion. I paid my soul to everlasting + hell for the life of my foe. But he's dead! Killed by a wild boy! I sold + myself to the devil for nothing!” + </p> + <p> + August Naab raved out his unnatural rage amid awed silence. His revolt was + the flood of years undammed at the last. The ferocity of the desert spirit + spoke silently in the hanging rustlers, in the ruthlessness of the + vigilantes who had destroyed them, but it spoke truest in the sonorous + roll of the old Mormon's wrath. + </p> + <p> + “August, young Hare saved two of the rustlers,” spoke up an old friend, + hoping to divert the angry flood. “Paul Caldwell there, he was one of + them. The other's gone.” + </p> + <p> + Naab loomed over him. “What!” he roared. His friend edged away, repeating + his words and jerking his thumb backward toward the Bishop's son. + </p> + <p> + “Judas Iscariot!” thundered Naab. “False to thyself, thy kin, and thy God! + Thrice traitor!... Why didn't you get yourself killed? ... Why are you + left? Ah-h! for me—a rustler for me to kill—with my own hands!—A + rope there—a rope!” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted them to hang me,” hoarsely cried Caldwell, writhing in Naab's + grasp. + </p> + <p> + Hare threw all his weight and strength upon the Mormon's iron arm. “Naab! + Naab! For God's sake, hear! He saved Mescal. This man, thief, traitor, + false Mormon—whatever he is—he saved Mescal.” + </p> + <p> + August Naab's eyes were bloodshot. One shake of his great body flung Hare + off. He dragged Paul Caldwell across the grass toward the cottonwood as + easily as if he were handling an empty grain-sack. + </p> + <p> + Hare suddenly darted after him. “August! August!—look! look!” he + cried. He pointed a shaking finger down the square. The old Bishop came + tottering over the grass, leaning on his cane, shading his eyes with his + hand. “August. See, the Bishop's coming. Paul's father! Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Hare's appeal pierced Naab's frenzied brain. The Mormon Elder saw his old + Bishop pause and stare at the dark shapes suspended from the cottonwoods + and hold up his hands in horror. + </p> + <p> + Naab loosed his hold. His frame seemed wrenched as though by the passing + of an evil spirit, and the reaction left his face transfigured. + </p> + <p> + “Paul, it's your father, the Bishop,” he said, brokenly. “Be a man. He + must never know.” Naab spread wide his arms to the crowd. “Men, listen,” + he said. “Of all of us Mormons I have lost most, suffered most. Then hear + me. Bishop Caldwell must never know of his son's guilt. He would sink + under it. Keep the secret. Paul will be a man again. I know. I see. For, + Mormons, August Naab has the gift of revelation!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. MESCAL + </h2> + <p> + SUMMER gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls of + the oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea, + darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke were + wafted far above the cottonwoods and floated in the still air. The + desert-red color of Navajo blankets brightened the grove. + </p> + <p> + Half-naked bronze Indians lolled in the shade, lounged on the cabin + porches and stood about the sunny glade in idle groups. They wore the + dress of peace. A single black-tipped white eagle feather waved above the + band binding each black head. They watched the merry children tumble round + the playground. Silvermane browsed where he listed under the shady trees, + and many a sinewy red hand caressed his flowing mane. Black Bolly neighed + her jealous displeasure from the corral, and the other mustangs trampled + and kicked and whistled defiance across the bars. The peacocks preened + their gorgeous plumage and uttered their clarion calls. The belligerent + turkey-gobblers sidled about ruffling their feathers. The blackbirds and + swallows sang and twittered their happiness to find old nests in the + branches and under the eaves. Over all boomed the dull roar of the + Colorado in flood. + </p> + <p> + It was the morning of Mescal's wedding-day. + </p> + <p> + August Naab, for once without a task, sat astride a peeled log of + driftwood in the lane, and Hare stood beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand steers, lad! Why do you refuse them? They're worth ten + dollars a head to-day in Salt Lake City. A good start for a young man.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm still in your debt.” + </p> + <p> + “Then share alike with my sons in work and profit?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can accept that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Jack, I see happiness and prosperity for you. Do you remember that + night on the White Sage trail? Ah! Well, the worst is over. We can look + forward to better times. It's not likely the rustlers will ride into Utah + again. But this desert will never be free from strife.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me of Mescal,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Yes, I'm coming to that.” Naab bent his head over the log and chipped + off little pieces with his knife. “Jack, will you come into the Mormon + Church?” + </p> + <p> + Long had Hare shrunk from this question which he felt must inevitably + come, and now he met it as bravely as he could, knowing he would pain his + friend. + </p> + <p> + “No, August, I can't,” he replied. “I feel—differently from Mormons + about—about women. If it wasn't for that! I look upon you as a + father. I'll do anything for you, except that. No one could pray to be a + better man than you. Your work, your religion, your life— Why! I've + no words to say what I feel. Teach me what little you can of them, August, + but don't ask me—that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” sighed Naab. The gray clearness of his eagle eyes grew + shadowed and his worn face was sad. It was the look of a strong wise man + who seemed to hear doubt and failure knocking at the gate of his creed. + But he loved life too well to be unhappy; he saw it too clearly not to + know there was nothing wholly good, wholly perfect, wholly without error. + The shade passed from his face like the cloud-shadow from the sunlit lane. + </p> + <p> + “You ask about Mescal,” he mused. “There's little more to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “But her father—can you tell me more of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Little more than I've already told. He was evidently a man of some rank. + I suspected that he ruined his life and became an adventurer. His health + was shattered when I brought him here, but he got well after a year or so. + He was a splendid, handsome fellow. He spoke very seldom and I don't + remember ever seeing him smile. His favorite walk was the river trail. I + came upon him there one day, and found him dying. He asked me to have a + care of Mescal. And he died muttering a Spanish word, a woman's name, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll cherish Mescal the more,” said Hare. + </p> + <p> + “Cherish her, yes. My Bible will this day give her a name. We know she has + the blood of a great chief. Beautiful she is and good. I raised her for + the Mormon Church, but God disposes after all, and I—” + </p> + <p> + A shrill screeching sound split the warm stillness, the long-drawn-out + bray of a burro. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, look down the lane. If it isn't Noddle!” + </p> + <p> + Under the shady line of the red wall a little gray burro came trotting + leisurely along with one long brown ear standing straight up, the other + hanging down over his nose. + </p> + <p> + “By George! it's Noddle!” exclaimed Hare. “He's climbed out of the canyon. + Won't this please Mescal?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Mother Mary,” called Naab toward the cabin. “Send Mescal out. Here's + a wedding-present.” + </p> + <p> + With laughing wonder the women-folk flocked out into the yard. Mescal hung + back shy-eyed, roses dyeing the brown of her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Mescal's wedding-present from Thunder River. Just arrived!” called Naab + cheerily, yet deep-voiced with the happiness he knew the tidings would + give. “A dusty, dirty, shaggy, starved, lop-eared, lazy burro—Noddle!” + </p> + <p> + Mescal flew out into the lane, and with a strange broken cry of joy that + was half a sob she fell upon her knees and clasped the little burro's + neck. Noddle wearily flapped his long brown ears, wearily nodded his white + nose; then evidently considering the incident closed, he went lazily to + sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Noddle! dear old Noddle!” murmured Mescal, with far-seeing, + thought-mirroring eyes. “For you to come back to-day from our canyon! ... + Oh! The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonely + voices!... they come back to me.... Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the same + faithful old Noddle!” + </p> + <p> + August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of the + cottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them. + The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed an + attentive circle around them. The ceremony was brief. At its close the + Mormon lifted his face and arms in characteristic invocation. + </p> + <p> + “Almighty God, we entreat Thy blessing upon this marriage. Many and + inscrutable are Thy ways; strange are the workings of Thy will; wondrous + the purpose with which Thou hast brought this man and this woman together. + Watch over them in the new path they are to tread, help them in the trials + to come; and in Thy good time, when they have reached the fulness of days, + when they have known the joy of life and rendered their service, gather + them to Thy bosom in that eternal home where we all pray to meet Thy + chosen ones of good; yea, and the evil ones purified in Thy mercy. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + Happy congratulations of the Mormon family, a merry romp of children + flinging flowers, marriage-dance of singing Navajos—these, with the + feast spread under the cottonwoods, filled the warm noon-hours of the day. + </p> + <p> + Then the chief Eschtah raised his lofty form, and turned his eyes upon the + bride and groom. + </p> + <p> + “Eschtah's hundred summers smile in the face of youth. The arm of the + White Chief is strong; the kiss of the Flower of the Desert is sweet. Let + Mescal and Jack rest their heads on one pillow, and sleep under the trees, + and chant when the dawn brightens in the east. Out of his wise years the + Navajo bids them love while they may. Daughter of my race, take the + blessing of the Navajo.” + </p> + <p> + Jack lifted Mescal upon Black Bolly and mounted Silvermane. Piute grinned + till he shook his earrings and started the pack burros toward the plateau + trail. Wolf pattered on before, turning his white head, impatient of + delay. Amid tears and waving of hands and cheers they began the zigzag + ascent. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the old camp on the plateau the sun was setting behind + the Painted Desert. With hands closely interwoven they watched the color + fade and the mustering of purple shadows. + </p> + <p> + Twilight fell. Piute raked the red coals from the glowing centre of the + camp-fire. Wolf crouched all his long white length, his sharp nose on his + paws, watching Mescal. Hare watched her, too. The night shone in her eyes, + the light of the fire, the old brooding mystic desert-spirit, and + something more. The thump of Silvermane's hobbled hoofs was heard in the + darkness; Bolly's bell jangled musically. The sheep were bleating. A + lonesome coyote barked. The white stars blinked out of the blue and the + night breeze whispered softly among the cedars. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heritage of the Desert, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 1262-h.htm or 1262-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/1262/ + +Produced by Bill Brewer, Rick Fane, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it +under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Heritage of the Desert + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: August 21, 2008 [EBook #1262] Last Updated: March 27, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Brewer and Rick Fane + + + + + + + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A NOVEL + +By Zane Grey + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET + +II. WHITE SAGE + +III. THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + +IV. THE OASIS + +V. BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + +VI. THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + +VII. SILVERMANE + +IX. THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + +X. RIDING THE RANGES + +XI. THE DESERT-HAWK + +XII. ECHO CLIFFS + +XIII. THE SOMBRE LINE + +XIV. WOLF + +XV. DESERT NIGHT + +XVI. THUNDER RIVER + +XVII. THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + +XVIII. THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +XIX. UNLEASHED + +XX. THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + +XXI. MESCAL + + + + + + + + + +I. THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET + +"BUT the man's almost dead." + +The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his +eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that +had overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a +sombre group of men. + +"Leave him here," said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. "He's the +fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. He's all +but dead. Dene's outlaws are after him. Don't cross Dene." + +The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a +follower of Cromwell. + +"Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or +any other man. You forget your religion. I see my duty to God." + +"Yes, August Naab, I know," replied the little man, bitterly. "You would +cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who went down +from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. But I've suffered +enough at the hands of Dene." + +The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving +Hare that he was still in the land of the Mormons. As he lay there the +strange words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few +days with the stern reality of the present. + +"Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers," replied Naab, like +one reading from the Old Testament. "They came into this desert land to +worship and multiply in peace. They conquered the desert; they prospered +with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all +hostile to their religion and their livelihood. Nor did they ever fail +to succor the sick and unfortunate. What are our toils and perils +compared to theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn +from mercy because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the +times, but I am a Mormon; I trust in God." + +"August Naab, I am a Mormon too," returned Cole, "but my hands are +stained with blood. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and +your cattle. Yes, I know. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far +off in your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, +guarded by your Navajo friends. But Holderness is creeping slowly on +you. He'll ignore your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will +steal cattle under your very eyes. Don't make them enemies." + +"I can't pass by this helpless man," rolled out August Naab's sonorous +voice. + +Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward. +"There! Dene and his band! See, under the red wall; see the dust, not +ten miles away. See them?" + +The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to +the west. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched the waste, and followed +the red mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional +in its craggy sweep, shut out the north. Far away little puffs of dust +rose above the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace. + +"See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for my +prophecy," cried Cole, fanatically. "The red sunset--the sign of the +times--blood!" + +A broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme +west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several clouds of +striking color and shape. They alone, in all that expanse, were dyed in +the desert's sunset crimson. The largest projected from behind the dark +cloud-bank in the shape of a huge fist, and the others, small and round, +floated below. To Cole it seemed a giant hand, clutching, with +inexorable strength, a bleeding heart. His terror spread to his +companions as they stared. + +Then, as light surrendered to shade, the sinister color faded; the +tracing of the closed hand softened; flush and glow paled, leaving the +sky purple, as if mirroring the desert floor. One golden shaft shot up, +to be blotted out by sudden darkening change, and the sun had set. + +"That may be God's will," said August Naab. "So be it. Martin Cole, take +your men and go." + +There was a word, half oath, half prayer, and then rattle of stirrups, +the creak of saddles, and clink of spurs, followed by the driving rush +of fiery horses. Cole and his men disappeared in a pall of yellow dust. + +A wan smile lightened John Hare's face as he spoke weakly: "I fear your- +-generous act--can't save me... may bring you harm. I'd rather you left +me--seeing you have women in your party." + +"Don't try to talk yet," said August Naab. "You're faint. Here--drink." +He stooped to Hare, who was leaning against a sage-bush, and held a +flask to his lips. Rising, he called to his men: "Make camp, sons. We've +an hour before the outlaws come up, and if they don't go round the sand- +dune we'll have longer." + +Hare's flagging senses rallied, and he forgot himself in wonder. While +the bustle went on, unhitching of wagon-teams, hobbling and feeding of +horses, unpacking of camp-supplies, Naab appeared to be lost in deep +meditation or prayer. Not once did he glance backward over the trail on +which peril was fast approaching. His gaze was fastened on a ridge to +the east where desert line, fringed by stunted cedars, met the pale-blue +sky, and for a long time he neither spoke nor stirred. At length he +turned to the camp-fire; he raked out red coals, and placed the iron +pots in position, by way of assistance to the women who were preparing +the evening meal. + +A cool wind blew in from the desert, rustling the sage, sifting the +sand, fanning the dull coals to burning opals. Twilight failed and night +fell; one by one great stars shone out, cold and bright. From the zone +of blackness surrounding the camp burst the short bark, the hungry +whine, the long-drawn-out wail of desert wolves. + +"Supper, sons," called Naab, as he replenished the fire with an armful +of grease-wood. + +Naab's sons had his stature, though not his bulk. They were wiry, rangy +men, young, yet somehow old. The desert had multiplied their years. Hare +could not have told one face from another, the bronze skin and steel eye +and hard line of each were so alike. The women, one middle-aged, the +others young, were of comely, serious aspect. + +"Mescal," called the Mormon. + +A slender girl slipped from one of the covered wagons; she was dark, +supple, straight as an Indian. + +August Naab dropped to his knees, and, as the members of his family +bowed their heads, he extended his hands over them and over the food +laid on the ground. + +"Lord, we kneel in humble thanksgiving. Bless this food to our use. +Strengthen us, guide us, keep us as Thou hast in the past. Bless this +stranger within our gates. Help us to help him. Teach us Thy ways, O +Lord--Amen." + +Hare found himself flushing and thrilling, found himself unable to +control a painful binding in his throat. In forty-eight hours he had +learned to hate the Mormons unutterably; here, in the presence of this +austere man, he felt that hatred wrenched from his heart, and in its +place stirred something warm and living. He was glad, for if he had to +die, as he believed, either from the deed of evil men, or from this last +struggle of his wasted body, he did not want to die in bitterness. That +simple prayer recalled the home he had long since left in Connecticut, +and the time when he used to tease his sister and anger his father and +hurt his mother while grace was being said at the breakfast-table. Now +he was alone in the world, sick and dependent upon the kindness of these +strangers. But they were really friends--it was a wonderful thought. + +"Mescal, wait on the stranger," said August Naab, and the girl knelt +beside him, tendering meat and drink. His nerveless fingers refused to +hold the cup, and she put it to his lips while he drank. Hot coffee +revived him; he ate and grew stronger, and readily began to talk when +the Mormon asked for his story. + +"There isn't much to tell. My name is Hare. I am twenty-four. My parents +are dead. I came West because the doctors said I couldn't live in the +East. At first I got better. But my money gave out and work became a +necessity. I tramped from place to place, ending up ill in Salt Lake +City. People were kind to me there. Some one got me a job with a big +cattle company, and sent me to Marysvale, southward over the bleak +plains. It was cold; I was ill when I reached Lund. Before I even knew +what my duties were for at Lund I was to begin work--men called me a +spy. A fellow named Chance threatened me. An innkeeper led me out the +back way, gave me bread and water, and said: 'Take this road to Bane; +it's sixteen miles. If you make it some one'll give you a lift North.' I +walked all night, and all the next day. Then I wandered on till I +dropped here where you found me." + +"You missed the road to Bane," said Naab. "This is the trail to White +Sage. It's a trail of sand and stone that leaves no tracks, a lucky +thing for you. Dene wasn't in Lund while you were there--else you +wouldn't be here. He hasn't seen you, and he can't be certain of your +trail. Maybe he rode to Bane, but still we may find a way--" + +One of his sons whistled low, causing Naab to rise slowly, to peer into +the darkness, to listen intently. + +"Here, get up," he said, extending a hand to Hare. "Pretty shaky, eh? +Can you walk? Give me a hold--there.... Mescal, come." The slender girl +obeyed, gliding noiselessly like a shadow. "Take his arm." Between them +they led Hare to a jumble of stones on the outer edge of the circle of +light. + +"It wouldn't do to hide," continued Naab, lowering his voice to a swift +whisper, "that might be fatal. You're in sight from the camp-fire, but +indistinct. By-and-by the outlaws will get here, and if any of them +prowl around close, you and Mescal must pretend to be sweethearts. +Understand? They'll pass by Mormon love-making without a second look. +Now, lad, courage... Mescal, it may save his life." + +Naab returned to the fire, his shadow looming in gigantic proportions on +the white canopy of a covered wagon. Fitful gusts of wind fretted the +blaze; it roared and crackled and sputtered, now illuminating the still +forms, then enveloping them in fantastic obscurity. Hare shivered, +perhaps from the cold air, perhaps from growing dread. Westward lay the +desert, an impenetrable black void; in front, the gloomy mountain wall +lifted jagged peaks close to the stars; to the right rose the ridge, the +rocks and stunted cedars of its summit standing in weird relief. +Suddenly Hare's fugitive glance descried a dark object; he watched +intently as it moved and rose from behind the summit of the ridge to +make a bold black figure silhouetted against the cold clearness of sky. +He saw it distinctly, realized it was close, and breathed hard as the +wind-swept mane and tail, the lean, wild shape and single plume resolved +themselves into the unmistakable outline of an Indian mustang and rider. + +"Look!" he whispered to the girl. "See, a mounted Indian, there on the +ridge--there, he's gone--no, I see him again. But that's another. Look! +there are more." He ceased in breathless suspense and stared fearfully +at a line of mounted Indians moving in single file over the ridge to +become lost to view in the intervening blackness. A faint rattling of +gravel and the peculiar crack of unshod hoof on stone gave reality to +that shadowy train. + +"Navajos," said Mescal. + +"Navajos!" he echoed. "I heard of them at Lund; 'desert hawks' the men +called them, worse than Piutes. Must we not alarm the men?--You--aren't +you afraid? + +"No." + +"But they are hostile." + +"Not to him." She pointed at the stalwart figure standing against the +firelight. + +"Ah! I remember. The man Cole spoke of friendly Navajos. They must be +close by. What does it mean?" + +"I'm not sure. I think they are out there in the cedars, waiting." + +"Waiting! For what?" + +"Perhaps for a signal." + +"Then they were expected?" + +"I don't know; I only guess. We used to ride often to White Sage and +Lund; now we go seldom, and when we do there seem to be Navajos near the +camp at night, and riding the ridges by day. I believe Father Naab +knows." + +"Your father's risking much for me. He's good. I wish I could show my +gratitude." + +"I call him Father Naab, but he is not my father." + +"A niece or granddaughter, then?" + +"I'm no relation. Father Naab raised me in his family. My mother was a +Navajo, my father a Spaniard." + +"Why!" exclaimed Hare. "When you came out of the wagon I took you for an +Indian girl. But the moment you spoke--you talk so well--no one would +dream--" + +"Mormons are well educated and teach the children they raise," she said, +as he paused in embarrassment. + +He wanted to ask if she were a Mormon by religion, but the question +seemed curious and unnecessary. His interest was aroused; he realized +suddenly that he had found pleasure in her low voice; it was new and +strange, unlike any woman's voice he had ever heard; and he regarded her +closely. He had only time for a glance at her straight, clean-cut +profile, when she turned startled eyes on him, eyes black as the night. +And they were eyes that looked through and beyond him. She held up a +hand, slowly bent toward the wind, and whispered: + +"Listen." + +Hare heard nothing save the barking of coyotes and the breeze in the +sage. He saw, however, the men rise from round the camp-fire to face the +north, and the women climb into the wagon, and close the canvas flaps. +And he prepared himself, with what fortitude he could command for the +approach of the outlaws. He waited, straining to catch a sound. His +heart throbbed audibly, like a muffled drum, and for an endless moment +his ears seemed deadened to aught else. Then a stronger puff of wind +whipped in, banging the rhythmic beat of flying hoofs. Suspense ended. +Hare felt the easing of a weight upon him. Whatever was to be his fate, +it would be soon decided. The sound grew into a clattering roar. A black +mass hurled itself over the border of opaque circle, plunged into the +light, and halted. + +August Naab deliberately threw a bundle of grease-wood upon the camp- +fire. A blaze leaped up, sending abroad a red flare. "Who comes?" he +called. + +"Friends, Mormons, friends," was the answer. + +"Get down--friends--and come to the fire." + +Three horsemen advanced to the foreground; others, a troop of eight or +ten, remained in the shadow, a silent group. + +Hare sank back against the stone. He knew the foremost of those horsemen +though he had never seen him. + +"Dene," whispered Mescal, and confirmed his instinctive fear. + +Hare was nervously alive to the handsome presence of the outlaw. +Glimpses that he had caught of "bad" men returned vividly as he noted +the clean-shaven face, the youthful, supple body, the cool, careless +mien. Dene's eyes glittered as he pulled off his gauntlets and beat the +sand out of them; and but for that quick fierce glance his leisurely +friendly manner would have disarmed suspicion. + +"Are you the Mormon Naab?" he queried. + +"August Naab, I am." + +"Dry camp, eh? Hosses tired, I reckon. Shore it's a sandy trail. Where's +the rest of you fellers?" + +"Cole and his men were in a hurry to make White Sage to-night. They were +travelling light; I've heavy wagons." + +"Naab, I reckon you shore wouldn't tell a lie?" + +"I have never lied." + +"Heerd of a young feller thet was in Lund--pale chap--lunger, we'd call +him back West?" + +"I heard that he had been mistaken for a spy at Lund and had fled toward +Bane." + +"Hadn't seen nothin' of him this side of Lund?" + +"No." + +"Seen any Navvies?" + +"Yes." + +The outlaw stared hard at him. Apparently he was about to speak of the +Navajos, for his quick uplift of head at Naab's blunt affirmative +suggested the impulse. But he checked himself and slowly drew on his +gloves. + +"Naab, I'm shore comin' to visit you some day. Never been over thet +range. Heerd you hed fine water, fine cattle. An' say, I seen thet +little Navajo girl you have, an' I wouldn't mind seein' her again." + +August Naab kicked the fire into brighter blaze. "Yes fine range," he +presently replied, his gaze fixed on Dene. "Fine water, fine cattle, +fine browse. I've a fine graveyard, too; thirty graves, and not one a +woman's. Fine place for graves, the canyon country. You don't have to +dig. There's one grave the Indians never named; it's three thousand feet +deep." + +"Thet must be in hell," replied Dene, with a smile, ignoring the covert +meaning. He leisurely surveyed Naab's four sons, the wagons and horses, +till his eye fell upon Hare and Mescal. With that he swung in his saddle +as if to dismount. + +"I shore want a look around." + +"Get down, get down," returned the Mormon. The deep voice, unwelcoming, +vibrant with an odd ring, would have struck a less suspicious man than +Dene. The outlaw wrung his leg back over the pommel, sagged in the +saddle, and appeared to be pondering the question. Plainly he was +uncertain of his ground. But his indecision was brief. + +"Two-Spot, you look 'em over," he ordered. + +The third horseman dismounted and went toward the wagons. + +Hare, watching this scene, became conscious that his fear had +intensified with the recognition of Two-Spot as Chance, the outlaw whom +he would not soon forget. In his excitement he moved against Mescal and +felt her trembling violently. + +"Are you afraid?" he whispered. + +"Yes, of Dene." + +The outlaw rummaged in one of the wagons, pulled aside the canvas flaps +of the other, laughed harshly, and then with clinking spurs tramped +through the camp, kicking the beds, overturning a pile of saddles, and +making disorder generally, till he spied the couple sitting on the stone +in the shadow. + +As the outlaw lurched that way, Hare, with a start of recollection, took +Mescal in his arms and leaned his head against hers. He felt one of her +hands lightly brush his shoulder and rest there, trembling. + +Shuffling footsteps scraped the sand, sounded nearer and nearer, slowed +and paused. + +"Sparkin'! Dead to the world. Ham! Haw! Haw!" + +The coarse laugh gave place to moving footsteps. The rattling clink of +stirrup and spur mingled with the restless stamp of horse. Chance had +mounted. Dene's voice drawled out: "Good-bye, Naab, I shore will see you +all some day." The heavy thuds of many hoofs evened into a roar that +diminished as it rushed away. + +In unutterable relief Hare realized his deliverance. He tried to rise, +but power of movement had gone from him. + +He was fainting, yet his sensations were singularly acute. Mescal's hand +dropped from his shoulder; her cheek, that had been cold against his, +grew hot; she quivered through all her slender length. Confusion claimed +his senses. Gratitude and hope flooded his soul. Something sweet and +beautiful, the touch of this desert girl, rioted in his blood; his heart +swelled in exquisite agony. Then he was whirling in darkness; and he +knew no more. + + + + + + +II. WHITE SAGE + +THE night was as a blank to Hare; the morning like a drifting of hazy +clouds before his eyes. He felt himself moving; and when he awakened +clearly to consciousness he lay upon a couch on the vine-covered porch +of a cottage. He saw August Naab open a garden gate to admit Martin +Cole. They met as friends; no trace of scorn marred August's greeting, +and Martin was not the same man who had shown fear on the desert. His +welcome was one of respectful regard for his superior. + +"Elder, I heard you were safe in," he said, fervently. "We feared--I +know not what. I was distressed till I got the news of your arrival. +How's the young man?" + +"He's very ill. But while there's life there's hope." + +"Will the Bishop administer to him?" + +"Gladly, if the young man's willing. Come, let's go in." + +"Wait, August," said Cole. "Did you know your son Snap was in the +village?" + +"My son here!" August Naab betrayed anxiety. "I left him home with work. +He shouldn't have come. Is--is he--" + +"He's drinking and in an ugly mood. It seems he traded horses with Jeff +Larsen, and got the worst of the deal. There's pretty sure to be a +fight." + +"He always hated Larsen." + +"Small wonder. Larsen is mean; he's as bad as we've got and that's +saying a good deal. Snap has done worse things than fight with Larsen. +He's doing a worse thing now, August--he's too friendly with Dene." + +"I've heard--I've heard it before. But, Martin, what can I do?" + +"Do? God knows. What can any of us do? Times have changed, August. Dene +is here in White Sage, free, welcome in many homes. Some of our +neighbors, perhaps men we trust, are secret members of this rustler's +band." + +"You're right, Cole. There are Mormons who are cattle-thieves. To my +eternal shame I confess it. Under cover of night they ride with Dene, +and here in our midst they meet him in easy tolerance. Driven from +Montana he comes here to corrupt our young men. God's mercy!" + +"August, some of our young men need no one to corrupt them. Dene had no +great task to win them. He rode in here with a few outlaws and now he +has a strong band. We've got to face it. We haven't any law, but he can +be killed. Some one must kill him. Yet bad as Dene is, he doesn't +threaten our living as Holderness does. Dene steals a few cattle, kills +a man here and there. Holderness reaches out and takes our springs. +Because we've no law to stop him, he steals the blood of our life-- +water--water--God's gift to the desert! Some one must kill Holderness, +too!" + +"Martin, this lust to kill is a fearful thing. Come in, you must pray +with the Bishop." + +"No, it's not prayer I need, Elder," replied Cole, stubbornly. "I'm +still a good Mormon. What I want is the stock I've lost, and my fields +green again." + +August Naab had no answer for his friend. A very old man with snow-white +hair and beard came out on the porch. + +"Bishop, brother Martin is railing again," said Naab, as Cole bared his +head. + +"Martin, my son, unbosom thyself," rejoined the Bishop. + +"Black doubt and no light," said Cole, despondently. "I'm of the younger +generation of Mormons, and faith is harder for me. I see signs you can't +see. I've had trials hard to bear. I was rich in cattle, sheep, and +water. These Gentiles, this rancher Holderness and this outlaw Dene, +have driven my cattle, killed my sheep, piped my water off my fields. I +don't like the present. We are no longer in the old days. Our young men +are drifting away, and the few who return come with ideas opposed to +Mormonism. Our girls and boys are growing up influenced by the Gentiles +among us. They intermarry, and that's a death-blow to our creed." + +"Martin, cast out this poison from your heart. Return to your faith. The +millennium will come. Christ will reign on earth again. The ten tribes +of Israel will be restored. The Book of Mormon is the Word of God. The +creed will live. We may suffer here and die, but our spirits will go +marching on; and the City of Zion will be builded over our graves." + +Cole held up his hands in a meekness that signified hope if not faith. + +August Naab bent over Hare. "I would like to have the Bishop administer +to you," he said. + +"What's that?" asked Hare. + +"A Mormon custom, 'the laying on of hands.' We know its efficacy in +trouble and illness. A Bishop of the Mormon Church has the gift of +tongues, of prophecy, of revelation, of healing. Let him administer to +you. It entails no obligation. Accept it as a prayer." + +"I'm willing," replied the young man. + +Thereupon Naab spoke a few low words to some one through the open door. +Voices ceased; soft footsteps sounded without; women crossed the +threshold, followed by tall young men and rosy-checked girls and round- +eyed children. A white-haired old woman came forward with solemn +dignity. She carried a silver bowl which she held for the Bishop as he +stood close by Hare's couch. The Bishop put his hands into the bowl, +anointing them with fragrant oil; then he placed them on the young man's +head, and offered up a brief prayer, beautiful in its simplicity and +tremulous utterance. + +The ceremony ended, the onlookers came forward with pleasant words on +their lips, pleasant smiles on their faces. The children filed by his +couch, bashful yet sympathetic; the women murmured, the young men +grasped his hand. Mescal flitted by with downcast eye, with shy smile, +but no word. + +"Your fever is gone," said August Naab, with his hand on Hare's cheek. + +"It comes and goes suddenly," replied Hare. "I feel better now, only I'm +oppressed. I can't breathe freely. I want air, and I'm hungry." + +"Mother Mary, the lad's hungry. Judith, Esther, where are your wits? +Help your mother. Mescal, wait on him, see to his comfort." + +Mescal brought a little table and a pillow, and the other girls soon +followed with food and drink; then they hovered about, absorbed in +caring for him. + +"They said I fell among thieves," mused Hare, when he was once more +alone. "I've fallen among saints as well." He felt that he could never +repay this August Naab. "If only I might live!" he ejaculated. How +restful was this cottage garden! The green sward was a balm to his eyes. +Flowers new to him, though of familiar springtime hue, lifted fresh +faces everywhere; fruit-trees, with branches intermingling, blended the +white and pink of blossoms. There was the soft laughter of children in +the garden. Strange birds darted among the trees. Their notes were new, +but their song was the old delicious monotone--the joy of living and +love of spring. A green-bowered irrigation ditch led by the porch and +unseen water flowed gently, with gurgle and tinkle, with music in its +hurry. Innumerable bees murmured amid the blossoms. + +Hare fell asleep. Upon returning drowsily to consciousness he caught +through half-open eyes the gleam of level shafts of gold sunlight low +down in the trees; then he felt himself being carried into the house to +be laid upon a bed. Some one gently unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, +removed his shoes, and covered him with a blanket. Before he had fully +awakened he was left alone, and quiet settled over the house. A +languorous sense of ease and rest lulled him to sleep again. In another +moment, it seemed to him, he was awake; bright daylight streamed through +the window, and a morning breeze stirred the faded curtain. + +The drag in his breathing which was always a forerunner of a coughing- +spell warned him now; he put on coat and shoes and went outside, where +his cough attacked him, had its sway, and left him. + +"Good-morning," sang out August Naab's cheery voice. "Sixteen hours of +sleep, my lad!" + +"I did sleep, didn't I? No wonder I feel well this morning. A +peculiarity of my illness is that one day I'm down, the next day up." + +"With the goodness of God, my lad, we'll gradually increase the days up. +Go in to breakfast. Afterward I want to talk to you. This'll be a busy +day for me, shoeing the horses and packing supplies. I want to start for +home to-morrow." + +Hare pondered over Naab's words while he ate. The suggestion in them, +implying a relation to his future, made him wonder if the good Mormon +intended to take him to his desert home. He hoped so, and warmed anew to +this friend. But he had no enthusiasm for himself; his future seemed +hopeless. + +Naab was waiting for him on the porch, and drew him away from the +cottage down the path toward the gate. + +"I want you to go home with me." + +"You're kind--I'm only a sort of beggar--I've no strength left to work +my way. I'll go--though it's only to die." + +"I haven't the gift of revelation--yet somehow I see that you won't die +of this illness. You will come home with me. It's a beautiful place, my +Navajo oasis. The Indians call it the Garden of Eschtah. If you can get +well anywhere it'll be there." + +"I'll go but I ought not. What can I do for you?" + +"No man can ever tell what he may do for another. The time may come-- +well, John, is it settled?" He offered his huge broad hand. + +"It's settled--I--" Hare faltered as he put his hand in Naab's. The +Mormon's grip straightened his frame and braced him. Strength and +simplicity flowed from the giant's toil-hardened palm. Hare swallowed +his thanks along with his emotion, and for what he had intended to say +he substituted: "No one ever called me John. I don't know the name. Call +me Jack." + +"Very well, Jack, and now let's see. You'll need some things from the +store. Can you come with me? It's not far." + +"Surely. And now what I need most is a razor to scrape the alkali and +stubble off my face." + +The wide street, bordered by cottages peeping out of green and white +orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which +led up to the Pink Cliffs. A green square enclosed a gray church, a +school-house and public hall. Farther down the main thoroughfare were +several weather-boarded whitewashed stores. Two dusty men were riding +along, one on each side of the wildest, most vicious little horse Hare +had ever seen. It reared and bucked and kicked, trying to escape from +two lassoes. In front of the largest store were a number of mustangs all +standing free, with bridles thrown over their heads and trailing on the +ground. The loungers leaning against the railing and about the doors +were lank brown men very like Naab's sons. Some wore sheepskin "chaps," +some blue overalls; all wore boots and spurs, wide soft hats, and in +their belts, far to the back, hung large Colt's revolvers. + +"We'll buy what you need, just as if you expected to ride the ranges for +me to-morrow," said Naab. "The first thing we ask a new man is, can he +ride? Next, can he shoot?" + +"I could ride before I got so weak. I've never handled a revolver, but I +can shoot a rifle. Never shot at anything except targets, and it seemed +to come natural for me to hit them." + +"Good. We'll show you some targets--lions, bears, deer, cats, wolves. +There's a fine forty-four Winchester here that my friend Abe has been +trying to sell. It has a long barrel and weighs eight pounds. Our desert +riders like the light carbines that go easy on a saddle. Most of the +mustangs aren't weight-carriers. This rifle has a great range; I've shot +it, and it's just the gun for you to use on wolves and coyotes. You'll +need a Colt and a saddle, too." + +"By-the-way," he went on, as they mounted the store steps, "here's the +kind of money we use in this country." He handed Hare a slip of blue +paper, a written check for a sum of money, signed, but without register +of bank or name of firm. "We don't use real money," he added. "There's +very little coin or currency in southern Utah. Most of the Gentiles +lately come in have money, and some of us Mormons have a bag or two of +gold, but scarcely any of it gets into circulation. We use these checks, +which go from man to man sometimes for six months. The roundup of a +check means sheep, cattle, horses, grain, merchandise or labor. Every +man gets his real money's value without paying out an actual cent." + +"Such a system at least means honest men," said Hare, laughing his +surprise. + +They went into a wide door to tread a maze of narrow aisles between +boxes and barrels, stacks of canned vegetables, and piles of harness and +dry goods; they entered an open space where several men leaned on a +counter. + +"Hello, Abe," said Naab; "seen anything of Snap?" + +"Hello, August. Yes, Snap's inside. So's Holderness. Says he rode in off +the range on purpose to see you." Abe designated an open doorway from +which issued loud voices. Hare glanced into a long narrow room full of +smoke and the fumes of rum. Through the haze he made out a crowd of men +at a rude bar. Abe went to the door and called out: "Hey, Snap, your dad +wants you. Holderness, here's August Naab." + +A man staggered up the few steps leading to the store and swayed in. His +long face had a hawkish cast, and it was gray, not with age, but with +the sage-gray of the desert. His eyes were of the same hue, cold yet +burning with little fiery flecks in their depths. He appeared short of +stature because of a curvature of the spine, but straightened up he +would have been tall. He wore a blue flannel shirt, and blue overalls; +round his lean hips was a belt holding two Colt's revolvers, their +heavy, dark butts projecting outward, and he had on high boots with +long, cruel spurs. + +"Howdy, father?" he said. + +"I'm packing to-day," returned August Naab. "We ride out to-morrow. I +need your help." + +"All-l right. When I get my pinto from Larsen." + +"Never mind Larsen. If he got the better of you let the matter drop." + +"Jeff got my pinto for a mustang with three legs. If I hadn't been drunk +I'd never have traded. So I'm looking for Jeff." + +He bit out the last words with a peculiar snap of his long teeth, a +circumstance which caused Hare instantly to associate the savage +clicking with the name he had heard given this man. August Naab looked +at him with gloomy eyes and stern shut mouth, an expression of righteous +anger, helplessness and grief combined, the look of a man to whom +obstacles had been nothing, at last confronted with crowning defeat. +Hare realized that this son was Naab's first-born, best-loved, a thorn +in his side, a black sheep. + +"Say, father, is that the spy you found on the trail?" Snap's pale eyes +gleamed on Hare and the little flames seemed to darken and leap. + +"This is John Hare, the young man I found. But he's not a spy." + +"You can't make any one believe that. He's down as a spy. Dene's spy! +His name's gone over the ranges as a counter of unbranded stock. Dene +has named him and Dene has marked him. Don't take him home, as you've +taken so many sick and hunted men before. What's the good of it? You +never made a Mormon of one of them yet. Don't take him--unless you want +another grave for your cemetery. Ha! Ha!" + +Hare recoiled with a shock. Snap Naab swayed to the door, and stepped +down, all the time with his face over his shoulder, his baleful glance +on Hare; then the blue haze swallowed him. + +The several loungers went out; August engaged the storekeeper in +conversation, introducing Hare and explaining their wants. They +inspected the various needs of a range-rider, selecting, in the end, not +the few suggested by Hare, but the many chosen by Naab. The last +purchase was the rifle Naab had talked about. It was a beautiful weapon, +finely polished and carved, entirely out of place among the plain +coarse-sighted and coarse-stocked guns in the rack. + +"Never had a chance to sell it," said Abe. "Too long and heavy for the +riders. I'll let it go cheap, half price, and the cartridges also, two +thousand." + +"Taken," replied Naab, quickly, with a satisfaction which showed he +liked a bargain. + +"August, you must be going to shoot some?" queried Abe. "Something +bigger than rabbits and coyotes. Its about time--even if you are an +Elder. We Mormons must--" he broke off, continuing in a low tone: +"Here's Holderness now." + +Hare wheeled with the interest that had gathered with the reiteration of +this man's name. A new-comer stooped to get in the door. He out-topped +even Naab in height, and was a superb blond-bearded man, striding with +the spring of a mountaineer. + +"Good-day to you, Naab," he said. "Is this the young fellow you picked +up?" + +"Yes. Jack Hare," rejoined Naab. + +"Well, Hare, I'm Holderness. You'll recall my name. You were sent to +Lund by men interested in my ranges. I expected to see you in Lund, but +couldn't get over." + +Hare met the proffered hand with his own, and as he had recoiled from +Snap Naab so now he received another shock, different indeed but +impelling in its power, instinctive of some great portent. Hare was +impressed by an indefinable subtlety, a nameless distrust, as colorless +as the clear penetrating amber lightness of the eyes that bent upon him. + +"Holderness, will you right the story about Hare?" inquired Naab. + +"You mean about his being a spy? Well, Naab, the truth is that was his +job. I advised against sending a man down here for that sort of work. It +won't do. These Mormons will steal each other's cattle, and they've got +to get rid of them; so they won't have a man taking account of stock, +brands, and all that. If the Mormons would stand for it the rustlers +wouldn't. I'll take Hare out to the ranch and give him work, if he +wants. But he'd do best to leave Utah." + +"Thank you, no," replied Hare, decidedly. + +"He's going with me," said August Naab. + +Holderness accepted this with an almost imperceptible nod, and he swept +Hare with eyes that searched and probed for latent possibilities. It was +the keen intelligence of a man who knew what development meant on the +desert; not in any sense an interest in the young man at present. Then +he turned his back. + +Hare, feeling that Holderness wished to talk with Naab, walked to the +counter, and began assorting his purchases, but he could not help +hearing what was said. + +"Lungs bad?" queried Holderness. + +"One of them," replied Naab. + +"He's all in. Better send him out of the country. He's got the name of +Dene's spy and he'll never get another on this desert. Dene will kill +him. This isn't good judgment, Naab, to take him with you. Even your +friends don't like it, and it means trouble for you." + +"We've settled it," said Naab, coldly. + +"Well, remember, I've warned you. I've tried to be friendly with you, +Naab, but you won't have it. Anyway, I've wanted to see you lately to +find out how we stand." + +"What do you mean?" + +"How we stand on several things--to begin with, there Mescal." + +"You asked me several times for Mescal, and I said no." + +"But I never said I'd marry her. Now I want her, and I will marry her." + +"No," rejoined Naab, adding brevity to his coldness. + +"Why not?" demanded Holderness. "Oh, well, I can't take that as an +insult. I know there's not enough money in Utah to get a girl away from +a Mormon.... About the offer for the water-rights--how do we stand? I'll +give you ten thousand dollars for the rights to Seeping Springs and +Silver Cup." + +"Ten thousand!" ejaculated Naab. "Holderness, I wouldn't take a hundred +thousand. You might as well ask to buy my home, my stock, my range, +twenty years of toil, for ten thousand dollars!" + +"You refuse? All right. I think I've made you a fair proposition," said +Holderness, in a smooth, quick tone. "The land is owned by the +Government, and though your ranges are across the Arizona line they +really figure as Utah land. My company's spending big money, and the +Government won't let you have a monopoly. No one man can control the +water-supply of a hundred miles of range. Times are changing. You want +to see that. You ought to protect yourself before it's too late." + +"Holderness, this is a desert. No men save Mormons could ever have made +it habitable. The Government scarcely knows of its existence. It'll be +fifty years before man can come in here to take our water." + +"Why can't he? The water doesn't belong to any one. Why can't he?" + +"Because of the unwritten law of the desert. No Mormon would refuse you +or your horse a drink, or even a reasonable supply for your stock. But +you can't come in here and take our water for your own use, to supplant +us, to parch our stock. Why, even an Indian respects desert law!" + +"Bah! I'm not a Mormon or an Indian. I'm a cattleman. It's plain +business with me. Once more I make you the offer." + +Naab scorned to reply. The men faced each other for a silent moment, +their glances scintillating. Then Holderness whirled on his heel, +jostling into Hare. + +"Get out of my way," said the rancher, in the disgust of intense +irritation. He swung his arm, and his open hand sent Hare reeling +against the counter. + +"Jack," said Naab, breathing hard, "Holderness showed his real self to- +day. I always knew it, yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt.... For +him to strike you! I've not the gift of revelation, but I see--let us +go." + +On the return to the Bishop's cottage Naab did not speak once; the +transformation which had begun with the appearance of his drunken son +had reached a climax of gloomy silence after the clash with Holderness. +Naab went directly to the Bishop, and presently the quavering voice of +the old minister rose in prayer. + +Hare dropped wearily into the chair on the porch; and presently fell +into a doze, from which he awakened with a start. Naab's sons, with +Martin Cole and several other men, were standing in the yard. Naab +himself was gently crowding the women into the house. When he got them +all inside he closed the door and turned to Cole. + +"Was it a fair fight?" + +"Yes, an even break. They met in front of Abe's. I saw the meeting. +Neither was surprised. They stood for a moment watching each other. Then +they drew--only Snap was quicker. Larsen's gun went off as he fell. That +trick you taught Snap saved his life again. Larsen was no slouch on the +draw." + +"Where's Snap now?" + +"Gone after his pinto. He was sober. Said he'd pack at once. Larsen's +friends are ugly. Snap said to tell you to hurry out of the village with +young Hare, if you want to take him at all. Dene has ridden in; he +swears you won't take Hare away." + +"We're all packed and ready to hitch up," returned Naab. "We could start +at once, only until dark I'd rather take chances here than out on the +trail." + +"Snap said Dene would ride right into the Bishop's after Hare." + +"No. He wouldn't dare." + +"Father!" Dave Naab spoke sharply from where he stood high on a grassy +bank. "Here's Dene now, riding up with Culver, and some man I don't +know. They're coming in. Dene's jumped the fence! Look out!" + +A clatter of hoofs and rattling of gravel preceded the appearance of a +black horse in the garden path. His rider bent low to dodge the vines of +the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with +the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant. + +"What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" challenged August Naab, +planting his broad bulk square before Hare. + +"Dene's spy!" + +"What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" repeated Naab. + +"I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about," returned +Dene, his smile slowly fading. + +"No speech could be a lie to an outlaw." + +"I want him, you Mormon preacher!" + +"You can't have him." + +"I'll shore get him." + +In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene. + +The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and +back again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act +was even quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the +outlaw cried as his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp. + +Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching +companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip. + +August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there +with brawny arm. + +"Whelp of an evil breed!" he thundered, shaking his gray head. "Do you +think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!" He released +Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved, +quicker than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He +dropped it back into the holster. "Let that teach you never to draw on +me again." He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes. +"One blow would crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it? +Because, you mindless hell-hound, because there's a higher law than +man's--God's law--Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave +me and mine alone from this day. Now go!" + +He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions. + +"Out with you!" said Dave Naab. "Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not +so particular about God as Dad is!" + + + + + + +III. THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + +AFTER the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White +Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade +him to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely +met in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole +said, unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the +trail in the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and +the women shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open +wagon, one that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain. +When it grew so dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man +vaulted the cottage fence. + +"Dave, where are the boys?" asked Naab. + +"Not so loud! The boys are coming," replied Dave in a whisper. "Dene is +wild. I guess you snapped a bone in his arm. He swears he'll kill us +all. But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've +time to reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle." + +"Any news of Snap?" + +"He rode out before sundown." + +Three more forms emerged from the gloom. + +"All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead." + +Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate; +the first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving +in the darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his +seat on the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and +climbed over the tail-board of the wagon. + +A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the +sound made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the +right low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and +there lights twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked. + +Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels +cracked and crunched the stones. + +Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of poplar- +trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and rider, just +a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant they vanished, +and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his eyes had not +deceived him. + +"Getup," growled Naab to his horses. "Jack, did you see that fellow?" + +"Yes. What was he doing there?" + +"Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts." + +"Will Dene--" + +One of Naab's sons came trotting back. "Think that was Larsen's pal. He +was laying in wait for Snap." + +"I thought he was a scout for Dene," replied August. + +"Maybe he's that too." + +"Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively. They've +had a week's rest." + +Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, +like Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the +huge windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet +transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under the +blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a +polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed it +under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening on +the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round +head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where +Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop +to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent +insistence, disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given him +a man's part to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his self- +abasement; once more he felt himself a man. + +Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he +endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his +eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he could +not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his +face, the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady +trot of horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him, +recalled the actuality of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had +been covered, how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in +the trail, and whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped +the team and, climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt +sure that Dene was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the +horses and the rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could +hear. Naab returned to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a +trot; they were climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which +he could hear the slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he +awoke to raise himself and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he +discovered that the black night had changed to gray; dawn was not far +distant; he dozed and awakened to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay +far below and to the eastward; the intervening descent was like a +rolling sea with league-long swells. + +"Glad you slept some," was Naab's greeting. "No sign of Dene yet. If we +can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain +in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it +runs far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred +miles of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona +line now." + +Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to +his inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble +proportions. + +"Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while," said Naab, +reading Hare's expression. "They'd only have to be made over as soon as +you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a +mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're +lucky. There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? +Look sharp. Good! That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from +here. Nine Mile Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole. +Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide." + +The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the +increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in +color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the +half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of +other cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length +Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his +eyes. The wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored; +Naab's "Getup" was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then +hot; and the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his +lethargy. The wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with +outstretched arm. George and Dave were close by their mustangs, and Snap +Naab, mounted on a cream-colored pinto, reined him under August's arm, +and faced the valley below. + +"Maybe you'll make them out," said August. "I can't, and I've watched +those dust-clouds for hours. George can't decide, either." + +Hare, looking at Snap, was attracted by the eyes from which his father +and brothers expected so much. If ever a human being had the eyes of a +hawk Snap Naab had them. The little brown flecks danced in clear pale +yellow. Evidently Snap had not located the perplexing dust-clouds, for +his glance drifted. Suddenly the remarkable vibration of his pupils +ceased, and his glance grew fixed, steely, certain. + +"That's a bunch of wild mustangs," he said. + +Hare gazed till his eyes hurt, but could see neither clouds of dust nor +moving objects. No more was said. The sons wheeled their mustangs and +rode to the fore; August Naab reseated himself and took up the reins; +the ascent proceeded. + +But it proceeded leisurely, with more frequent rests. At the end of an +hour the horses toiled over the last rise to the summit and entered a +level forest of cedars; in another hour they were descending gradually. + +"Here we are at the tanks," said Naab. + +Hare saw that they had come up with the other wagons. George Naab was +leading a team down a rocky declivity to a pool of yellow water. The +other boys were unharnessing and unsaddling. + +"About three," said Naab, looking at the sun. "We're in good time. Jack, +get out and stretch yourself. We camp here. There's the Coconina Trail +where the Navajos go in after deer." + +It was not a pretty spot, this little rock-strewn glade where the white +hard trail forked with the road. The yellow water with its green scum +made Hare sick. The horses drank with loud gulps. Naab and his sons +drank of it. The women filled a pail and portioned it out in basins and +washed their faces and hands with evident pleasure. Dave Naab whistled +as he wielded an axe vigorously on a cedar. It came home to Hare that +the tension of the past night and morning had relaxed. Whether to +attribute that fact to the distance from White Sage or to the arrival at +the water-hole he could not determine. But the certainty was shown in +August's cheerful talk to the horses as he slipped bags of grain over +their noses, and in the subdued laughter of the women. Hare sent up an +unspoken thanksgiving that these good Mormons had apparently escaped +from the dangers incurred for his sake. He sat with his back to a cedar +and watched the kindling of fires, the deft manipulating of biscuit +dough in a basin, and the steaming of pots. The generous meal was spread +on a canvas cloth, around which men and women sat cross-legged, after +the fashion of Indians. Hare found it hard to adapt his long legs to the +posture, and he wondered how these men, whose legs were longer than his, +could sit so easily. It was the crown of a cheerful dinner after hours +of anxiety and abstinence to have Snap Naab speak civilly to him, and to +see him bow his head meekly as his father asked the blessing. Snap ate +as though he had utterly forgotten that he had recently killed a man; to +hear the others talk to him one would suppose that they had forgotten it +also. + +All had finished eating, except Snap and Dave Naab, when one of the +mustangs neighed shrilly. Hare would not have noticed it but for looks +exchanged among the men. The glances were explained a few minutes later +when a pattering of hoofs came from the cedar forest, and a stream of +mounted Indians poured into the glade. + +The ugly glade became a place of color and action. The Navajos rode +wiry, wild-looking mustangs and drove ponies and burros carrying packs, +most of which consisted of deer-hides. Each Indian dismounted, and +unstrapping the blanket which had served as a saddle headed his mustang +for the water-hole and gave him a slap. Then the hides and packs were +slipped from the pack-train, and soon the pool became a kicking, +splashing melee. Every cedar-tree circling the glade and every branch +served as a peg for deer meat. Some of it was in the haunch, the bulk in +dark dried strips. The Indians laid their weapons aside. Every sagebush +and low stone held a blanket. A few of these blankets were of solid +color, most of them had bars of white and gray and red, the last color +predominating. The mustangs and burros filed out among the cedars, +nipping at the sage and the scattered tufts of spare grass. A group of +fires, sending up curling columns of blue smoke, and surrounded by a +circle of lean, half-naked, bronze-skinned Indians, cooking and eating, +completed a picture which afforded Hare the satisfying fulfilment of +boyish dreams. What a contrast to the memory of a camp-site on the +Connecticut shore, with boy friends telling tales in the glow of the +fire, and the wash of the waves on the beach! + +The sun sank low in the west, sending gleams through the gnarled +branches of the cedars, and turning the green into gold. At precisely +the moment of sunset, the Mormon women broke into soft song which had +the element of prayer; and the lips of the men moved in silent harmony. +Dave Naab, the only one who smoked, removed his pipe for the moment's +grace to dying day. + +This simple ceremony over, one of the boys put wood on the fire, and +Snap took a jews'-harp out of his pocket and began to extract doleful +discords from it, for which George kicked at him in disgust, finally +causing him to leave the circle and repair to the cedars, where he +twanged with supreme egotism. + +"Jack," said August Naab, "our friends the Navajo chiefs, Scarbreast and +Eschtah, are coming to visit us. Take no notice of them at first. +They've great dignity, and if you entered their hogans they'd sit for +some moments before appearing to see you. Scarbreast is a war-chief. +Eschtah is the wise old chief of all the Navajos on the Painted Desert. +It may interest you to know he is Mescal's grandfather. Some day I'll +tell you the story." + +Hare tried very hard to appear unconscious when two tall Indians stalked +into the circle of Mormons; he set his eyes on the white heart of the +camp-fire and waited. For several minutes no one spoke or even moved. +The Indians remained standing for a time; then seated themselves. +Presently August Naab greeted them in the Navajo language. This was a +signal for Hare to use his eyes and ears. Another interval of silence +followed before they began to talk. Hare could see only their blanketed +shoulders and black heads. + +"Jack, come round here," said Naab at length. "I've been telling them +about you. These Indians do not like the whites, except my own family. I +hope you'll make friends with them." + +"How do?" said the chief whom Naab had called Eschtah, a stately, keen- +eyed warrior, despite his age. + +The next Navajo greeted him with a guttural word. This was a warrior +whose name might well have been Scarface, for the signs of conflict were +there. It was a face like a bronze mask, cast in the one expression of +untamed desert fierceness. + +Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were +doubtful, yet not unfriendly. + +"Shake," finally said Eschtah, offering his hand. + +"Ugh!" exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm. + +This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies +of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf. In his ensuing +speech, which was plentifully emphasized with gestures, he lapsed often +into English, saying "weak--no strong" when he placed his hand on Hare's +legs, and "bad" when he touched the young man's chest, concluding with +the words "sick--sick." + +Scarbreast regarded Hare with great earnestness, and when Naab had +finished he said: "Chineago--ping!" and rubbed his hand over his +stomach. + +"He says you need meat--lots of deer-meat," translated Naab. + +"Sick," repeated Eschtah, whose English was intelligible. He appeared to +be casting about in his mind for additional words to express his +knowledge of the white man's tongue, and, failing, continued in Navajo: +"Tohodena--moocha--malocha." + +Hare was nonplussed at the roar of laughter from the Mormons. August +shook like a mountain in an earthquake. + +"Eschtah says, 'you hurry, get many squaws--many wives.'" + +Other Indians, russet-skinned warriors, with black hair held close by +bands round their foreheads, joined the circle, and sitting before the +fire clasped their knees and talked. Hare listened awhile, and then, +being fatigued, he sought the cedar-tree where he had left his blankets. +The dry mat of needles made an odorous bed. He placed a sack of grain +for a pillow, and doubling up one blanket to lie upon, he pulled the +others over him. Then he watched and listened. The cedar-wood burned +with a clear flame, and occasionally snapped out a red spark. The voices +of the Navajos, scarcely audible, sounded "toa's" and "taa's"--syllables +he soon learned were characteristic and dominant--in low, deep murmurs. +It reminded Hare of something that before had been pleasant to his ear. +Then it came to mind: a remembrance of Mescal's sweet voice, and that +recalled the kinship between her and the Navajo chieftain. He looked +about, endeavoring to find her in the ring of light, for he felt in her +a fascination akin to the charm of this twilight hour. Dusky forms +passed to and fro under the trees; the tinkle of bells on hobbled +mustangs rang from the forest; coyotes had begun their night quest with +wild howls; the camp-fire burned red, and shadows flickered on the +blanketed Indians; the wind now moaned, now lulled in the cedars. + +Hare lay back in his blankets and saw lustrous stars through the network +of branches. With their light in his face and the cold wind waving his +hair on his brow he thought of the strangeness of it all, of its +remoteness from anything ever known to him before, of its inexpressible +wildness. And a rush of emotion he failed wholly to stifle proved to him +that he could have loved this life if--if he had not of late come to +believe that he had not long to live. Still Naab's influence exorcised +even that one sad thought; and he flung it from him in resentment. + +Sleep did not come so readily; he was not very well this night; the +flush of fever was on his cheek, and the heat of feverish blood burned +his body. He raised himself and, resolutely seeking for distraction, +once more stared at the camp-fire. Some time must have passed during his +dreaming, for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was +bowed and his head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat +Eschtah beside a slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized +Mescal. Surprise claimed him, not more for her presence there than for +the white band binding her smooth black tresses. She had not worn such +an ornament before. That slender band lent her the one touch which made +her a Navajo. Was it worn in respect to her aged grandfather? What did +this mean for a girl reared with Christian teaching? Was it desert +blood? Hare had no answers for these questions. They only increased the +mystery and romance. He fell asleep with the picture in his mind of +Eschtah and Mescal, sitting in the glow of the fire, and of August Naab, +nodding silently. + +"Jack, Jack, wake up." The words broke dully into his slumbers; wearily +he opened his eyes. August Naab bent over him, shaking him gently. + +"Not so well this morning, eh? Here's a cup of coffee. We're all packed +and starting. Drink now, and climb aboard. We expect to make Seeping +Springs to-night." + +Hare rose presently and, laboring into the wagon, lay down on the sacks. +He had one of his blind, sickening headaches. The familiar lumbering of +wheels began, and the clanking of the wagon-chain. Despite jar and jolt +he dozed at times, awakening to the scrape of the wheel on the leathern +brake. After a while the rapid descent of the wagon changed to a roll, +without the irritating rattle. He saw a narrow valley; on one side the +green, slow-swelling cedar slope of the mountain; on the other the +perpendicular red wall, with its pinnacles like spears against the sky. +All day this backward outlook was the same, except that each time he +opened aching eyes the valley had lengthened, the red wall and green +slope had come closer together in the distance. By and by there came a +halt, the din of stamping horses and sharp commands, the bustle and +confusion of camp. Naab spoke kindly to him, but he refused any food, +lay still and went to sleep. + +Daylight brought him the relief of a clear head and cooled blood. The +camp had been pitched close under the red wall. A lichen-covered cliff, +wet with dripping water, overhung a round pool. A ditch led the water +down the ridge to a pond. Cattle stood up to their knees drinking; +others lay on the yellow clay, which was packed as hard as stone; still +others were climbing the ridge and passing down on both sides. + +"You look as if you enjoyed that water," remarked Naab, when Hare +presented himself at the fire. "Well, it's good, only a little salty. +Seeping Springs this is, and it's mine. This ridge we call The Saddle; +you see it dips between wall and mountain and separates two valleys. +This valley we go through to-day is where my cattle range. At the other +end is Silver Cup Spring, also mine. Keep your eyes open now, my lad." + +How different was the beginning of this day! The sky was as blue as the +sea; the valley snuggled deep in the embrace of wall and mountain. Hare +took a place on the seat beside Naab and faced the descent. The line of +Navajos, a graceful straggling curve of color on the trail, led the way +for the white-domed wagons. + +Naab pointed to a little calf lying half hidden under a bunch of sage. +"That's what I hate to see. There's a calf, just born; its mother has +gone in for water. Wolves and lions range this valley. We lose hundreds +of calves that way." + +As far as Hare could see red and white and black cattle speckled the +valley. + +"If not overstocked, this range is the best in Utah," said Naab. "I say +Utah, but it's really Arizona. The Grand Canyon seems to us Mormons to +mark the line. There's enough browse here to feed a hundred thousand +cattle. But water's the thing. In some seasons the springs go almost +dry, though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle." + +Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth; +evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to +support only one tuft. + +"What's that?" he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black +bobbing borders. + +"Wild mustangs," replied Naab. "There are perhaps five thousand on the +mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad +as sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a +range once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too +plentiful. There are also several bands of wild horses." + +"What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?" + +"I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in +here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally +wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at +Silvermane or Whitefoot." + +"What are they?" + +"Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the +most beautiful horse I ever saw. Whitefoot's an old black shaggy demon, +with one white foot. Both stallions ought to be killed. They fight my +horses and lead off the mares. I had a chance to shoot Silvermane on the +way over this trip, but he looked so splendid that I just laid down my +rifle." + +"Can they run?" asked Hare eagerly, with the eyes of a man who loved a +horse. + +"Run? Whew! Just you wait till you see Silvermane cover ground! He can +look over his shoulder at you and beat any horse in this country. The +Navajos have given up catching him as a bad job. Why--here! Jack! quick, +get out your rifle--coyotes!" + +Naab pulled on the reins, and pointed to one side. Hare discerned three +grayish sharp-nosed beasts sneaking off in the sage, and he reached back +for the rifle. Naab whistled, stopping the coyotes; then Hare shot. The +ball cut a wisp of dust above and beyond them. They loped away into the +sage. + +"How that rifle spangs!" exclaimed Naab. "It's good to hear it. Jack, +you shot high. That's the trouble with men who have never shot at game. +They can't hold low enough. Aim low, lower than you want. Ha! There's +another--this side--hold ahead of him and low, quick!--too high again." + +It was in this way that August and Hare fell far behind the other +wagons. The nearer Naab got to his home the more genial he became. When +he was not answering Hare's queries he was giving information of his own +accord, telling about the cattle and the range, the mustangs, the +Navajos, and the desert. Naab liked to talk; he had said he had not the +gift of revelation, but he certainly had the gift of tongues. + +The sun was in the west when they began to climb a ridge. A short +ascent, and a long turn to the right brought them under a bold spur of +the mountain which shut out the northwest. Camp had been pitched in a +grove of trees of a species new to Hare. From under a bowlder gushed the +sparkling spring, a grateful sight and sound to desert travellers. In a +niche of the rock hung a silver cup. + +"Jack, no man knows how old this cup is, or anything about it. We named +the spring after it--Silver Cup. The strange thing is that the cup has +never been lost nor stolen. But--could any desert man, or outlaw, or +Indian, take it away, after drinking here?" + +The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on the +bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood. + +That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap Naab +buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger braves +to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing, "hoya-heeya- +howya," as they moved in and out of the firelight. + +Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and +repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a +curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward +motions and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him and +fought for possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous +for its welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the +clamor of a delighted circle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew +so strenuous in his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the +Navajos about like shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, +sought to break away. But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to +the ground, and calmly sat astride him while they went through his +pockets. August Naab roared his merriment and Hare laughed till he +cried. The incident was as surprising to him as it was amusing. These +serious Mormons and silent Navajos were capable of mirth. + +Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying to +him, "Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!" sent him off to his blankets, +where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager to +know what the day would bring. + +"Wait," said August, soberly. + +They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare +had not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses +climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonous ascent. There was +nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the +summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable +place on the sacks. + +"Now, Jack," said August. + +Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood. Red +scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a vast +irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath. +To the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a black-timbered +plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped vent +in the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earth-riven +line lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reaching vision of white +wastes, of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the +shimmering dust-veiled desert. + +"Here we come to the real thing," explained Naab. "This is Windy Slope; +that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side is the +Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows his flat +head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the +Vermillion Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be +able to see." + +"Why?" + +"Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles--watch out for your eyes!" + +Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians +trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white +wagons disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which +justified Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once +more he could see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his +eyes with dust difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the +wind. + +The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of +Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died. + +"Five miles of red sand," said Naab. "Here's what kills the horses. +Getup." + +There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels, +dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels +ploughed deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab +trudged on foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also, +soon tired, and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again. +Twilight came with the horses still toiling. + +"There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that +trailless waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun +it after dark. We'll be home soon. There's my sign. See? Night or day we +call it the Blue Star." + +High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky +through. + +There was cheer in Naab's "Getup," now, and the horses quickened with +it. Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. "Easy, easy-- +soho!" cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the +shelving cliff they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner. +Lights twinkled in Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water, +dampened his cheek, and a hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant +thunder, filled his ears. + +"What's that?" he asked. + +"That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's +the roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon." + + + + + + +IV. THE OASIS + +AUGUST NAAB'S oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with +leaf and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of +vivid vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the +red walls from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, +remote as of some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was +east a dreamy hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the +cottonwoods; when no wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of +serene plain or mountain fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and +breathless. Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world +was this Garden of Eschtah. + +Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but +routed him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of +cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow. A grove of gray-barked trees +spread green canopy overhead, and through the intricate web shone +crimson walls, soaring with resistless onsweep up and up to shut out all +but a blue lake of sky. + +"I want you to see the Navajos cross the river," said Naab. + +Hare accompanied him out through the grove to a road that flanked the +first rise of the red wall; they followed this for half a mile, and +turning a corner came into an unobstructed view. A roar of rushing +waters had prepared Hare, but the river that he saw appalled him. It was +red and swift; it slid onward like an enormous slippery snake; its +constricted head raised a crest of leaping waves, and disappeared in a +dark chasm, whence came a bellow and boom. + +"That opening where she jumps off is the head of the Grand Canyon," said +Naab. "It's five hundred feet deep there, and thirty miles below it's +five thousand. Oh, once in, she tears in a hurry! Come, we turn up the +bank here." + +Hare could find no speech, and he felt immeasurably small. All that he +had seen in reaching this isolated spot was dwarfed in comparison. This +"Crossing of the Fathers," as Naab called it, was the gateway of the +desert. This roar of turbulent waters was the sinister monotone of the +mighty desert symphony of great depths, great heights, great reaches. + +On a sandy strip of bank the Navajos had halted. This was as far as they +could go, for above the wall jutted out into the river. From here the +head of the Canyon was not visible, and the roar of the rapids was +accordingly lessened in volume. But even in this smooth water the river +spoke a warning. + +"The Navajos go in here and swim their mustangs across to that sand +bar," explained Naab. "The current helps when she's high, and there's a +three-foot raise on now." + +"I can't believe it possible. What danger they must run--those little +mustangs!" exclaimed Hare. + +"Danger? Yes, I suppose so," replied Naab, as if it were a new idea. "My +lad, the Mormons crossed here by the hundreds. Many were drowned. This +trail and crossing were unknown except to Indians before the Mormon +exodus." + +The mustangs had to be driven into the water. Scarbreast led, and his +mustang, after many kicks and reluctant steps, went over his depth, +wetting the stalwart chief to the waist. Bare-legged Indians waded in +and urged their pack-ponies. Shouts, shrill cries, blows mingled with +snorts and splashes. + +Dave and George Naab in flat boats rowed slowly on the down-stream side +of the Indians. Presently all the mustangs and ponies were in, the +procession widening out in a triangle from Scarbreast, the leader. The +pack-ponies appeared to swim better than the mounted mustangs, or else +the packs of deer-pelts made them more buoyant. When one-third way +across the head of the swimming train met the current, and the line of +progress broke. Mustang after mustang swept down with a rapidity which +showed the power of the current. Yet they swam steadily with flanks +shining, tails sometimes afloat, sometimes under, noses up, and riders +holding weapons aloft. But the pack-ponies labored when the current +struck them, and whirling about, they held back the Indians who were +leading them, and blocked those behind. The orderly procession of the +start became a broken line, and then a rout. Here and there a Navajo +slipped into the water and swam, leading his mustang; others pulled on +pack-ponies and beat their mounts; strong-swimming mustangs forged +ahead; weak ones hung back, and all obeyed the downward will of the +current. + +While Hare feared for the lives of some of the Navajos, and pitied the +laden ponies, he could not but revel in the scene, in its vivid action +and varying color, in the cries and shrill whoops of the Indians, and +the snorts of the frightened mustangs, in Naab's hoarse yells to his +sons, and the ever-present menacing roar from around the bend. The +wildness of it all, the necessity of peril and calm acceptance of it, +stirred within Hare the call, the awakening, the spirit of the desert. + +August Naab's stentorian voice rolled out over the river. "Ho! Dave--the +yellow pinto--pull him loose--George, back this way--there's a pack +slipping--down now, downstream, turn that straggler in--Dave, in that +tangle--quick! There's a boy drowning--his foot's caught--he's been +kicked--Hurry! Hurry!--pull him in the boat--There's a pony under--Too +late, George, let that one go--let him go, I tell you!" + +So the crossing of the Navajos proceeded, never an instant free from +danger in that churning current. The mustangs and ponies floundered +somewhat on the sand-bar and then parted the willows and appeared on a +trail skirting the red wall. Dave Naab moored his boat on that side of +the river, and returned with George. + +"We'll look over my farm," said August, as they retraced their steps. He +led Hare through fields of alfalfa, in all stages of growth, explaining +that it yielded six crops a year. Into one ten-acre lot pigs and cows +had been turned to feed at will. Everywhere the ground was soggy; little +streams of water trickled down ditches. Next to the fields was an +orchard, where cherries were ripe, apricots already large, plum-trees +shedding their blossoms, and apple-trees just opening into bloom. Naab +explained that the products of his oasis were abnormal; the ground was +exceedingly rich and could be kept always wet; the reflection of the sun +from the walls robbed even winter of any rigor, and the spring, summer, +and autumn were tropical. He pointed to grape-vines as large as a man's +thigh and told of bunches of grapes four feet long; he showed sprouting +plants on which watermelons and pumpkins would grow so large that one +man could not lift them; he told of one pumpkin that held a record of +taking two men to roll it. + +"I can raise any kind of fruit in such abundance that it can't be used. +My garden is prodigal. But we get little benefit, except for our own +use, for we cannot transport things across the desert." + +The water which was the prime factor in all this richness came from a +small stream which Naab, by making a dam and tunnelling a corner of +cliff, had diverted from its natural course into his oasis. + +Between the fence and the red wall there was a wide bare plain which +stretched to the house. At its farthest end was a green enclosure, which +Hare recognized as the cemetery mentioned by Snap. Hare counted thirty +graves, a few with crude monuments of stone, the others marked by wooden +head-pieces. + +"I've the reputation of doctoring the women, and letting the men die," +said Naab, with a smile. "I hardly think it's fair. But the fact is no +women are buried here. Some graves are of men I fished out of the river; +others of those who drifted here, and who were killed or died keeping +their secrets. I've numbered those unknown graves and have kept a +description of the men, so, if the chance ever comes, I may tell some +one where a father or brother lies buried. Five sons of mine, not one of +whom died a natural death, found graves here--God rest them! Here's the +grave of Mescal's father, a Spaniard. He was an adventurer. I helped him +over in Nevada when he was ill; he came here with me, got well, and +lived nine years, and he died without speaking one word of himself or +telling his name." + +"What strange ends men come to!" mused Hare. Well, a grave was a grave, +wherever it lay. He wondered if he would come to rest in that quiet +nook, with its steady light, its simple dignity of bare plain graves +fitting the brevity of life, the littleness of man. + +"We break wild mustangs along this stretch," said Naab, drawing Hare +away. "It's a fine run. Wait till you see Mescal on Black Bolly tearing +up the dust! She's a Navajo for riding." + +Three huge corrals filled a wide curved space in the wall. In one corral +were the teams that had hauled the wagons from White Sage; in another +upward of thirty burros, drooping, lazy little fellows half asleep; in +the third a dozen or more mustangs and some horses which delighted Hare. +Snap Naab's cream pinto, a bay, and a giant horse of mottled white +attracted him most. + +"Our best stock is out on the range," said Naab. "The white is Charger, +my saddle-horse. When he was a yearling he got away and ran wild for +three years. But we caught him. He's a weight-carrier and he can run +some. You're fond of a horse--I can see that." + +"Yes," returned Hare, "but I--I'll never ride again." He said it +brightly, smiling the while; still the look in his eyes belied the +cheerful resignation. + +"I've not the gift of revelation, yet I seem to see you on a big gray +horse with a shining mane." Naab appeared to be gazing far away. + +The cottonwood grove, at the western curve of the oasis, shaded the five +log huts where August's grown sons lived with their wives, and his own +cabin, which was of considerable dimensions. It had a covered porch on +one side, an open one on the other, a shingle roof, and was a roomy and +comfortable habitation. + +Naab was pointing out the school-house when he was interrupted by +childish laughter, shrieks of glee, and the rush of little feet. + +"It's recess-time," he said. + +A frantic crowd of tousled-headed little ones were running from the log +school-house to form a circle under the trees. There were fourteen of +them, from four years of age up to ten or twelve. Such sturdy, glad-eyed +children Hare had never seen. In a few moments, as though their happy +screams were signals, the shady circle was filled with hounds, and a +string of puppies stepping on their long ears, and ruffling turkey- +gobblers, that gobbled and gobbled, and guinea-hens with their shrill +cries, and cackling chickens, and a lame wild goose that hobbled along +alone. Then there were shiny peafowls screeching clarion calls from the +trees overhead, and flocks of singing blackbirds, and pigeons hovering +over and alighting upon the house. Last to approach were a woolly sheep +that added his baa-baa to the din, and a bald-faced burro that walked in +his sleep. These two became the centre of clamor. After many tumbles +four chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others, with loud +acclaim, shouting, "Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!" endeavored to make +him go. But Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then an +ambitious urchin of six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and +essayed to climb to his back. Willing hands assisted him. "Ride him, +Billy, ride him. Getup, Navvy, getup!" + +Navvy evidently had never been ridden, for he began a fair imitation of +a bucking bronco. Billy held on, but the smile vanished and the corners +of his mouth drew down. + +"Hang on, Billy, hang on," cried August Naab, in delight. Billy hung on +a moment longer, and then Navvy, bewildered by the pestering crowd about +him, launched out and, butting into Noddle, spilled the four youngsters +and Billy also into a wriggling heap. + +This recess-time completed Hare's introduction to the Naabs. There were +Mother Mary, and Judith and Esther, whom he knew, and Mother Ruth and +her two daughters very like their sisters. Mother Ruth, August's second +wife, was younger than Mother Mary, more comely of face, and more sad +and serious of expression. The wives of the five sons, except Snap +Naab's frail bride, were stalwart women, fit to make homes and rear +children. + +"Now, Jack, things are moving all right," said August. "For the present +you must eat and rest. Walk some, but don't tire yourself. We'll +practice shooting a little every day; that's one thing I'll spare time +for. I've a trick with a gun to teach you. And if you feel able, take a +burro and ride. Anyway, make yourself at home." + +Hare found eating and resting to be matters of profound enjoyment. +Before he had fallen in with these good people it had been a year since +he had sat down to a full meal; longer still since he had eaten +wholesome food. And now he had come to a "land overflowing with milk and +honey," as Mother Ruth smilingly said. He could not choose between roast +beef and chicken, and so he waived the question by taking both; and what +with the biscuits and butter, apple-sauce and blackberry jam, cherry pie +and milk like cream, there was danger of making himself ill. He told his +friends that he simply could not help it, which shameless confession +brought a hearty laugh from August and beaming smiles from his women- +folk. + +For several days Hare was remarkably well, for an invalid. He won golden +praise from August at the rifle practice, and he began to take lessons +in the quick drawing and rapid firing of a Colt revolver. Naab was +wonderfully proficient in the use of both firearms; and his skill in +drawing the smaller weapon, in which his movement was quicker than the +eye, astonished Hare. "My lad," said August, "it doesn't follow because +I'm a Christian that I don't know how to handle a gun. Besides, I like +to shoot." + +In these few days Hare learned what conquering the desert made of a man. +August Naab was close to threescore years; his chest was wide as a door, +his arm like the branch of an oak. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, a +carpenter, a cooper, a potter. At his forge and in his shop, everywhere, +were crude tools, wagons, farming implements, sets of buckskin harness, +odds and ends of nameless things, eloquent and pregnant proof of the +fact that necessity is the mother of invention. He was a mason; the +levee that buffeted back the rage of the Colorado in flood, the wall +that turned the creek, the irrigation tunnel, the zigzag trail cut on +the face of the cliff--all these attested his eye for line, his judgment +of distance, his strength in toil. He was a farmer, a cattle man, a +grafter of fruit-trees, a breeder of horses, a herder of sheep, a +preacher, a physician. Best and strangest of all in this wonderful man +was the instinct and the heart to heal. "I don't combat the doctrine of +the Mormon church," he said, "but I administer a little medicine with my +healing. I learned that from the Navajos." The children ran to him with +bruised heads, and cut fingers, and stubbed toes; and his blacksmith's +hands were as gentle as a woman's. A mustang with a lame leg claimed his +serious attention; a sick sheep gave him an anxious look; a steer with a +gored skin sent him running for a bucket of salve. He could not pass by +a crippled quail. The farm was overrun by Navajo sheep which he had +found strayed and lost on the desert. Anything hurt or helpless had in +August Naab a friend. Hare found himself looking up to a great and +luminous figure, and he loved this man. + +As the days passed Hare learned many other things. For a while illness +confined him to his bed on the porch. At night he lay listening to the +roar of the river, and watching the stars. Twice he heard a distant +crash and rumble, heavy as thunder, and he knew that somewhere along the +cliffs avalanches were slipping. By day he watched the cotton snow down +upon him, and listened to the many birds, and waited for the merry show +at recess-time. After a short time the children grew less shy and came +readily to him. They were the most wholesome children he had ever known. +Hare wondered about it, and decided it was not so much Mormon teaching +as isolation from the world. These children had never been out of their +cliff-walled home, and civilization was for them as if it were not. He +told them stories, and after school hours they would race to him and +climb on his bed, and beg for more. + +He exhausted his supply of fairy-stories and animal stories; and had +begun to tell about the places and cities which he had visited when the +eager-eyed children were peremptorily called within by Mother Mary. This +pained him and he was at a loss to understand it. Enlightenment came, +however, in the way of an argument between Naab and Mother Mary which he +overheard. The elder wife said that the stranger was welcome to the +children, but she insisted that they hear nothing of the outside world, +and that they be kept to the teachings of the Mormon geography--which +made all the world outside Utah an untrodden wilderness. August Naab did +not hold to the letter of the Mormon law; he argued that if the children +could not be raised as Mormons with a full knowledge of the world, they +would only be lost in the end to the Church. + +Other developments surprised Hare. The house of this good Mormon was +divided against itself. Precedence was given to the first and elder +wife--Mother Mary; Mother Ruth's life was not without pain. The men were +out on the ranges all day, usually two or more of them for several days +at a time, and this left the women alone. One daughter taught the +school, the other daughters did all the chores about the house, from +feeding the stock to chopping wood. The work was hard, and the girls +would rather have been in White Sage or Lund. They disliked Mescal, and +said things inspired by jealousy. Snap Naab's wife was vindictive, and +called Mescal "that Indian!" + +It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal. What had +become of her? Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her. + +"Mescal's with the sheep," piped Billy. + +That she was a shepherdess pleased Hare, and he thought of her as free +on the open range, with the wind blowing her hair. + +One day when Hare felt stronger he took his walk round the farm with new +zest. Upon his return to the house he saw Snap's cream pinto in the +yard, and Dave's mustang cropping the grass near by. A dusty pack lay on +the ground. Hare walked down the avenue of cottonwoods and was about to +turn the corner of the old forge when he stopped short. + +"Now mind you, I'll take a bead on this white-faced spy if you send him +up there." + +It was Snap Naab's voice, and his speech concluded with the click of +teeth characteristic of him in anger. + +"Stand there!" August Naab exclaimed in wrath. "Listen. You have been +drinking again or you wouldn't talk of killing a man. I warned you. I +won't do this thing you ask of me till I have your promise. Why won't +you leave the bottle alone?" + +"I'll promise," came the sullen reply. + +"Very well. Then pack and go across to Bitter Seeps." + +"That job'll take all summer," growled Snap. + +"So much the better. When you come home I'll keep my promise." + +Hare moved away silently; the shock of Snap's first words had kept him +fast in his tracks long enough to hear the conversation. Why did Snap +threaten him? Where was August Naab going to send him? Hare had no means +of coming to an understanding of either question. He was disturbed in +mind and resolved to keep out of Snap's way. He went to the orchard, but +his stay of an hour availed nothing, for on his return, after threading +the maze of cottonwoods, he came face to face with the man he wanted to +avoid. + +Snap Naab, at the moment of meeting, had a black bottle tipped high +above his lips. + +With a curse he threw the bottle at Hare, missing him narrowly. He was +drunk. His eyes were bloodshot. + +"If you tell father you saw me drinking I'll kill you!" he hissed, and +rattling his Colt in its holster, he walked away. + +Hare walked back to his bed, where he lay for a long time with his whole +inner being in a state of strife. It gradually wore off as he strove for +calm. The playground was deserted; no one had seen Snap's action, and +for that he was glad. Then his attention was diverted by a clatter of +ringing hoofs on the road; a mustang and a cloud of dust were +approaching. + +"Mescal and Black Bolly!" he exclaimed, and sat up quickly. The mustang +turned in the gate, slid to a stop, and stood quivering, restive, +tossing its thoroughbred head, black as a coal, with freedom and fire in +every line. Mescal leaped off lightly. A gray form flashed in at the +gate, fell at her feet and rose to leap about her. It was a splendid +dog, huge in frame, almost white, wild as the mustang. + +This was the Mescal whom he remembered, yet somehow different. The +sombre homespun garments had given place to fringed and beaded buckskin. + +"I've come for you," she said. + +"For me?" he asked, wonderingly, as she approached with the bridle of +the black over her arm. + +"Down, Wolf!" she cried to the leaping dog. "Yes. Didn't you know? +Father Naab says you're to help me tend the sheep. Are you better? I +hope so-- You're quite pale." + +"I--I'm not so well," said Hare. + +He looked up at her, at the black sweep of her hair under the white +band, at her eyes, like jet; and suddenly realized, with a gladness new +and strange to him, that he liked to look at her, that she was +beautiful. + + + + + + +V. BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + +AUGUST NAAB appeared on the path leading from his fields. + +"Mescal, here you are," he greeted. "How about the sheep?" + +"Piute's driving them down to the lower range. There are a thousand +coyotes hanging about the flock." + +"That's bad," rejoined August. "Jack, there's evidently some real +shooting in store for you. We'll pack to-day and get an early start to- +morrow. I'll put you on Noddle; he's slow, but the easiest climber I +ever owned. He's like riding... What's the matter with you? What's +happened to make you angry?" + +One of his long strides spanned the distance between them. + +"Oh, nothing," said Hare, flushing. + +"Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie. You've met Snap." + +Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August's +stern face showed the uselessness of it. He kept silent. + +"Drink makes my son unnatural," said Naab. He breathed heavily as one in +conflict with wrath. "We'll not wait till to-morrow to go up on the +plateau; we'll go at once." + +Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal's eyes; +he caught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a +glow of an emotion half pleasure, half pain. + +"Mescal," went on August, "go into the house, and keep out of Snap's +way. Jack, watch me pack. You need to learn these things. I could put +all this outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack +might bump a burro off. Let's see, I've got all your stuff but the +saddle; that we'll leave till we get a horse for you. Well, all's +ready." + +Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward the +cliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her. Hare bestrode Noddle. August, +waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burros after +Mescal. + +How they would be able to climb the face of that steep cliff puzzled +Hare. Upon nearer view he discovered the yard-wide trail curving upward +in cork-screw fashion round a projecting corner of cliff. The stone was +a soft red shale, and the trail had been cut in it at a steep angle. It +was so steep that the burros appeared to be climbing straight up. Noddle +pattered into it, dropped his head and his long ears and slackened his +pace to patient plodding. August walked in the rear. + +The first thing that struck Hare was the way the burros in front of him +stopped at the curves in the trail, and turned in a space so small that +their four feet were close together; yet as they swung their packs they +scarcely scraped the wall. At every turn they were higher than he was, +going in the opposite direction, yet he could reach out and touch them. +He glanced up to see Mescal right above him, leaning forward with her +brown hands clasping the pommel. Then he looked out and down; already +the green cluster of cottonwoods lay far below. After that sensations +pressed upon him. Round and round, up and up, steadily, surely, the +beautiful mustang led the train; there were sounds of rattling stones, +and click of hoofs, and scrape of pack. On one side towered the iron- +stained cliff, not smooth or glistening at close range, but of dull, +dead, rotting rock. The trail changed to a zigzag along a seamed and +cracked buttress where ledges leaned outward waiting to fall. Then a +steeper incline, where the burros crept upward warily, led to a level +ledge heading to the left. + +Mescal halted on a promontory. She, with her windblown hair, the gleam +of white band about her head, and a dash of red along the fringed +leggings, gave inexpressible life and beauty to that wild, jagged point +of rock, sharp against the glaring sky. + +"This is Lookout Point," said Naab. "I keep an Indian here all the time +during daylight. He's a peon, a Navajo slave. He can't talk, as he was +born without a tongue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of +any Indian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing, +the Navajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the +Navajos signal to me, and also the White Sage Trail." + +The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with its +rising roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To the +right white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across the +Canyon line opened the many-hued desert. + +"With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised," said +Naab. "That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've +never had anything to fear from across the river." + +Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the +greeting he could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians +resembled each other. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not +differing in blanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze +skin, but in the bird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of +his glittering eyes. Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a +few words in Navajo, and then slapped the burros into the trail. + +The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trail +now led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones had +changed from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places. +Hare's judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that he +gave up trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell on +his strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to stay +longer upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sun +was yet an hour high, his fingers were numb. + +"Hang on, Jack," cheered August. "We're almost up." + +At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by +one, then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw a +gray-green cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, and +a rush of cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could not +get his breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply trying +to overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble was +not with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweet +penetrating odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like the +smell of pine, though it made him think of pine-trees. + +"Ha! that's good!" said Naab, expanding his great chest. "That's air for +you, my lad. Can you taste it? Well, here's camp, your home for many a +day, Jack. There's Piute--how do? how're the sheep?" + +A short, squat Indian, good-humored of face, shook his black head till +the silver rings danced in his ears, and replied: "Bad--damn coyotee!" + +"Piute--shake with Jack. Him shoot coyote--got big gun," said Naab. + +"How-do-Jack?" replied Piute, extending his hand, and then straightway +began examining the new rifle. "Damn--heap big gun!" + +"Jack, you'll find this Indian one you can trust, for all he's a Piute +outcast," went on August. "I've had him with me ever since Mescal found +him on the Coconina Trail five years ago. What Piute doesn't know about +this side of Coconina isn't worth learning." + +In a depression sheltered from the wind lay the camp. A fire burned in +the centre; a conical tent, like a tepee in shape, hung suspended from a +cedar branch and was staked at its four points; a leaning slab of rock +furnished shelter for camp supplies and for the Indian, and at one end a +spring gushed out. A gray-sheathed cedar-tree marked the entrance to +this hollow glade, and under it August began preparing Hare's bed. + +"Here's the place you're to sleep, rain or shine or snow," he said. "Now +I've spent my life sleeping on the ground, and mother earth makes the +best bed. I'll dig out a little pit in this soft mat of needles; that's +for your hips. Then the tarpaulin so; a blanket so. Now the other +blankets. Your feet must be a little higher than your head; you really +sleep down hill, which breaks the wind. So you never catch cold. All you +need do is to change your position according to the direction of the +wind. Pull up the blankets, and then the long end of the tarpaulin. If +it rains or snows cover your head, and sleep, my lad, sleep to the song +of the wind!" + +From where Hare lay, resting a weary body, he could see down into the +depression which his position guarded. Naab built up the fire; Piute +peeled potatoes with deliberate care; Mescal, on her knees, her brown +arms bare, kneaded dough in a basin; Wolf crouched on the ground, and +watched his mistress; Black Bolly tossed her head, elevating the bag on +her nose so as to get all the grain. + +Naab called him to supper, and when Hare set to with a will on the bacon +and eggs, and hot biscuits, he nodded approvingly. "That's what I want +to see," he said approvingly. "You must eat. Piute will get deer, or you +may shoot them yourself; eat all the venison you can. Remember what +Scarbreast said. Then rest. That's the secret. If you eat and rest you +will gain strength." + +The edge of the wall was not a hundred paces from the camp; and when +Hare strolled out to it after supper, the sun had dipped the under side +of its red disc behind the desert. He watched it sink, while the golden- +red flood of light grew darker and darker. Thought seemed remote from +him then; he watched, and watched, until he saw the last spark of fire +die from the snow-slopes of Coconina. The desert became dimmer and +dimmer; the oasis lost its outline in a bottomless purple pit, except +for a faint light, like a star. + +The bleating of sheep aroused him and he returned to camp. The fire was +still bright. Wolf slept close to Mescal's tent; Piute was not in sight; +and Naab had rolled himself in blankets. Crawling into his bed, Hare +stretched aching legs and lay still, as if he would never move again. +Tired as he was, the bleating of the sheep, the clear ring of the bell +on Black Bolly, and the faint tinkle of lighter bells on some of the +rams, drove away sleep for a while. Accompanied by the sough of the wind +through the cedars the music of the bells was sweet, and he listened +till he heard no more. + +A thin coating of frost crackled on his bed when he awakened; and out +from under the shelter of the cedar all the ground was hoar-white. As he +slipped from his blankets the same strong smell of black sage and +juniper smote him, almost like a blow. His nostrils seemed glued +together by some rich piny pitch; and when he opened his lips to breathe +a sudden pain, as of a knife-thrust, pierced his lungs. The thought +following was as sharp as the pain. Pneumonia! What he had long +expected! He sank against the cedar, overcome by the shock. But he +rallied presently, for with the reestablishment of the old settled +bitterness, which had been forgotten in the interest of his situation, +he remembered that he had given up hope. Still, he could not get back at +once to his former resignation. He hated to acknowledge that the +wildness of this desert canyon country, and the spirit it sought to +instil in him, had wakened a desire to live. For it meant only more to +give up. And after one short instant of battle he was himself again. He +put his hand under his flannel shirt and felt of the soreness of his +lungs. He found it not at the apex of the right lung, always the one +sensitive spot, but all through his breast. Little panting breaths did +not hurt; but the deep inhalation, which alone satisfied him filled his +whole chest with thousands of pricking needles. In the depth of his +breast was a hollow that burned. + +When he had pulled on his boots and coat, and had washed himself in the +runway of the spring, his hands were so numb with cold they refused to +hold his comb and brush; and he presented himself at the roaring fire +half-frozen, dishevelled, trembling, but cheerful. He would not tell +Naab. If he had to die to-day, to-morrow or next week, he would lie down +under a cedar and die; he could not whine about it to this man. + +"Up with the sun!" was Naab's greeting. His cheerfulness was as +impelling as his splendid virility. Following the wave of his hand Hare +saw the sun, a pale-pink globe through a misty blue, rising between the +golden crags of the eastern wall. + +Mescal had a shy "good-morning" for him, and Piute a broad smile, and +familiar "how-do"; the peon slave, who had finished breakfast and was +about to depart, moved his lips in friendly greeting that had no sound. + +"Did you hear the coyotes last night?" inquired August. "No! Well, of +all the choruses I ever heard. There must be a thousand on the bench. +Jack, I wish I could spare the time to stay up here with you and shoot +some. You'll have practice with the rifle, but don't neglect the Colt. +Practice particularly the draw I taught you. Piute has a carbine, and he +shoots at the coyotes, but who ever saw an Indian that could hit +anything?" + +"Damn--gun no good!" growled Piute, who evidently understood English +pretty well. Naab laughed, and while Hare ate breakfast he talked of the +sheep. The flock he had numbered three thousand. They were a goodly part +of them Navajo stock: small, hardy sheep that could live on anything but +cactus, and needed little water. This flock had grown from a small +number to its present size in a few years. Being remarkably free from +the diseases and pests which retard increase in low countries, the sheep +had multiplied almost one for one for every year. But for the ravages of +wild beasts Naab believed he could raise a flock of many thousands and +in a brief time be rich in sheep alone. In the winter he drove them down +into the oasis; the other seasons he herded them on the high ranges +where the cattle could not climb. There was grass enough on this plateau +for a million sheep. After the spring thaw in early March, occasional +snows fell till the end of May, and frost hung on until early summer; +then the July rains made the plateau a garden. + +"Get the forty-four," concluded Naab, "and we'll go out and break it +in." + +With the long rifle in the hollow of his arm Jack forgot that he was a +sick man. When he came within gunshot of the flock the smell of sheep +effectually smothered the keen, tasty odor of black sage and juniper. +Sheep ranged everywhere under the low cedars. They browsed with noses in +the frost, and from all around came the tinkle of tiny bells on the +curly-horned rams, and an endless variety of bleats. + +"They're spread now," said August. "Mescal drives them on every little +while and Piute goes ahead to pick out the best browse. Watch the dog, +Jack; he's all but human. His mother was a big shepherd dog that I got +in Lund. She must have had a strain of wild blood. Once while I was +hunting deer on Coconina she ran off with timber wolves and we thought +she was killed. But she came back, and had a litter of three puppies. +Two were white, the other black. I think she killed the black one. And +she neglected the others. One died, and Mescal raised the other. We +called him Wolf. He loves Mescal, and loves the sheep, and hates a wolf. +Mescal puts a bell on him when she is driving, and the sheep know the +bell. I think it would be a good plan for her to tie something red round +his neck--a scarf, so as to keep you from shooting him for a wolf." + +Nimble, alert, the big white dog was not still a moment. His duty was to +keep the flock compact, to head the stragglers and turn them back; and +he knew his part perfectly. There was dash and fire in his work. He +never barked. As he circled the flock the small Navajo sheep, edging +ever toward forbidden ground, bleated their way back to the fold, the +larger ones wheeled reluctantly, and the old belled rams squared +themselves, lowering their massive horns as if to butt him. Never, +however, did they stand their ground when he reached them, for there was +a decision about Wolf which brooked no opposition. At times when he was +working on one side a crafty sheep on the other would steal out into the +thicket. Then Mescal called and Wolf flashed back to her, lifting his +proud head, eager, spirited, ready to take his order. A word, a wave of +her whip sufficed for the dog to rout out the recalcitrant sheep and +send him bleating to his fellows. + +"He manages them easily now," said Naab, "but when the lambs come they +can't be kept in. The coyotes and wolves hang out in the thickets and +pick up the stragglers. The worst enemy of sheep, though, is the old +grizzly bear. Usually he is grouchy, and dangerous to hunt. He comes +into the herd, kills the mother sheep, and eats the milk-bag--no more! +He will kill forty sheep in a night. Piute saw the tracks of one up on +the high range, and believes this bear is following the flock. Let's get +off into the woods some little way, into the edge of the thickets--for +Piute always keeps to the glades--and see if we can pick off a few +coyotes." + +August cautioned Jack to step stealthily, and slip from cedar to cedar, +to use every bunch of sage and juniper to hide his advance. + +"Watch sharp, Jack. I've seen two already. Look for moving things. Don't +try to see one quiet, for you can't till after your eye catches him +moving. They are gray, gray as the cedars, the grass, the ground. Good! +Yes, I see him, but don't shoot. That's too far. Wait. They sneak away, +but they return. You can afford to make sure. Here now, by that stone-- +aim low and be quick." + +In the course of a mile, without keeping the sheep near at hand, they +saw upward of twenty coyotes, five of which Jack killed in as many +shots. + +"You've got the hang of it," said Naab, rubbing his hands. "You'll kill +the varmints. Piute will skin and salt the pelts. Now I'm going up on +the high range to look for bear sign. Go ahead, on your own hook." + +Hare was regardless of time while he stole under the cedars and through +the thickets, spying out the cunning coyotes. Then Naab's yell pealing +out claimed his attention; he answered and returned. When they met he +recounted his adventures in mingled excitement and disappointment. + +"Are you tired?" asked Naab. + +"Tired? No," replied Jack. + +"Well, you mustn't overdo the very first day. I've news for you. There +are some wild horses on the high range. I didn't see them, but found +tracks everywhere. If they come down here you send Piute to close the +trail at the upper end of the bench, and you close the one where we came +up. There are only two trails where even a deer can get off this +plateau, and both are narrow splits in the wall, which can be barred by +the gates. We made the gates to keep the sheep in, and they'll serve a +turn. If you get the wild horses on the bench send Piute for me at +once." + +They passed the Indian herding the sheep into a corral built against an +uprising ridge of stone. Naab dispatched him to look for the dead +coyotes. The three burros were in camp, two wearing empty pack-saddles, +and Noddle, for once not asleep, was eating from Mescal's hand. + +"Mescal, hadn't I better take Black Bolly home?" asked August. + +"Mayn't I keep her?" + +"She's yours. But you run a risk. There are wild horses on the range. +Will you keep her hobbled?" + +"Yes," replied Mescal, reluctantly. "Though I don't believe Bolly would +run off from me." + +"Look out she doesn't go, hobbles and all. Jack, here's the other bit of +news I have for you. There's a big grizzly camping on the trail of our +sheep. Now what I want to know is--shall I leave him to you, or put off +work and come up here to wait for him myself?" + +"Why--" said Jack, slowly, "whatever you say. If you think you can +safely leave him to me--I'm willing." + +"A grizzly won't be pleasant to face. I never knew one of those sheep- +killers that wouldn't run at a man, if wounded." + +"Tell me what to do." + +"If he comes down it's more than likely to be after dark. Don't risk +hunting him then. Wait till morning, and put Wolf on his trail. He'll be +up in the rocks, and by holding in the dog you may find him asleep in a +cave. However, if you happen to meet him by day do this. Don't waste any +shots. Climb a ledge or tree if one be handy. If not, stand your ground. +Get down on your knee and shoot and let him come. Mind you, he'll grunt +when he's hit, and start for you, and keep coming till he's dead. Have +confidence in yourself and your gun, for you can kill him. Aim low, and +shoot steady. If he keeps on coming there's always a fatal shot, and +that is when he rises. You'll see a bare spot on his breast. Put a +forty-four into that, and he'll go down." + +August had spoken so easily, quite as if he were explaining how to shear +a yearling sheep, that Jack's feelings fluctuated between amazement and +laughter. Verily this desert man was stripped of all the false fears of +civilization. + +"Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out for +him.... So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!" And with many a cheery word and +slap he urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall form +soon disappeared among the trees. + +Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he could +scarcely be seen under the gray pile. With a fervent "damn" he tumbled +them under a cedar, and trotted back into the forest for another load. +Jack insisted on assuming his share of the duties about camp; and Mescal +assigned him to the task of gathering firewood, breaking red-hot sticks +of wood into small pieces, and raking them into piles of live coals. +Then they ate, these two alone. Jack did not do justice to the supper; +excitement had robbed him of appetite. He told Mescal how he had crept +upon the coyotes, how so many had eluded him, how he had missed a gray +wolf. He plied her with questions about the sheep, and wanted to know if +there would be more wolves, and if she thought the "silvertip" would +come. He was quite carried away by the events of the day. + +The sunset drew him to the rim. Dark clouds were mantling the desert +like rolling smoke from a prairie-fire. He almost stumbled over Mescal, +who sat with her back to a stone. Wolf lay with his head in her lap, and +he growled. + +"There's a storm on the desert," she said. "Those smoky streaks are +flying sand. We may have snow to-night. It's colder, and the wind is +north. See, I've a blanket. You had better get one." + +He thanked her and went for it. Piute was eating his supper, and the +peon had just come in. The bright campfire was agreeable, yet Hare did +not feel cold. But he wrapped himself in a blanket and returned to +Mescal and sat beside her. The desert lay indistinct in the foreground, +inscrutable beyond; the canyon lost its line in gloom. The solemnity of +the scene stilled his unrest, the strange freedom of longings unleashed +that day. What had come over him? He shook his head; but with the +consciousness of self returned a feeling of fatigue, the burning pain in +his chest, the bitter-sweet smell of black sage and juniper. + +"You love this outlook?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Do you sit here often?" + +"Every evening." + +"Is it the sunset that you care for, the roar of the river, just being +here high above it all?" + +"It's that last, perhaps; I don't know." + +"Haven't you been lonely?" + +"No." + +"You'd rather be here with the sheep than be in Lund, or Salt Lake City, +as Esther and Judith want to be?" + +"Yes." + +Any other reply from her would not have been consistent with the +impression she was making on him. As yet he had hardly regarded her as a +young girl; she had been part of this beautiful desert-land. But he +began to see in her a responsive being, influenced by his presence. If +the situation was wonderful to him what must it be for her? Like a shy, +illusive creature, unused to men, she was troubled by questions, fearful +of the sound of her own voice. Yet in repose, as she watched the lights +and shadows, she was serene, unconscious; her dark, quiet glance was +dreamy and sad, and in it was the sombre, brooding strength of the +desert. + +Twilight and falling dew sent them back to the camp. Piute and Peon were +skinning coyotes by the blaze of the fire. The night wind had not yet +risen; the sheep were quiet; there was no sound save the crackle of +burning cedar sticks. Jack began to talk; he had to talk, so, addressing +Piute and the dumb peon, he struck at random into speech, and words +flowed with a rush. Piute approved, for he said "damn" whenever his +intelligence grasped a meaning, and the peon twisted his lips and fixed +his diamond eyes upon Hare in rapt gaze. The sound of a voice was +welcome to the sentinels of that lonely sheep-range. Jack talked of +cities, of ships, of people, of simple things in the life he had left, +and he discovered that Mescal listened. Not only did she listen; she +became absorbed; it was romance to her, fulfilment of her vague dreams. +Nor did she seek her tent till he ceased; then with a startled "good- +night" she was gone. + +From under the snugness of his warm blankets Jack watched out the last +wakeful moments of that day of days. A star peeped through the fringe of +cedar foliage. The wind sighed, and rose steadily, to sweep over him +with breath of ice, with the fragrance of juniper and black sage and a +tang of cedar. + +But that day was only the beginning of eventful days, of increasing +charm, of forgetfulness of self, of time that passed unnoted. Every +succeeding day was like its predecessor, only richer. Every day the +hoar-frost silvered the dawn; the sheep browsed; the coyotes skulked in +the thickets; the rifle spoke truer and truer. Every sunset Mescal's +changing eyes mirrored the desert. Every twilight Jack sat beside her in +the silence; every night, in the camp-fire flare, he talked to Piute and +the peon. + +The Indians were appreciative listeners, whether they understood Jack or +not, but his talk with them was only a presence. He wished to reveal the +outside world to Mescal, and he saw with pleasure that every day she +grew more interested. + +One evening he was telling of New York City, of the monster buildings +where men worked, and of the elevated railways, for the time was the +late seventies and they were still a novelty. Then something +unprecedented occurred, inasmuch as Piute earnestly and vigorously +interrupted Jack, demanding to have this last strange story made more +clear. Jack did his best in gesture and speech, but he had to appeal to +Mescal to translate his meaning to the Indian. This Mescal did with +surprising fluency. The result, however, was that Piute took exception +to the story of trains carrying people through the air. He lost his grin +and regarded Jack with much disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the +bitterness of misplaced trust. + +"Heap damn lie!" he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into the +gloom. + +Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, for +Mescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had brought +them closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well of +joyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal. +The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet +more and more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn +of cities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how they +lived, and all that life meant to them. + +The sweetest thing which had ever come to Hare was the teaching of this +desert girl. How naive in her questions and how quick to grasp she was! +The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidently +the Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn. + +But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now, +liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth. + +Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew no +rest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the +howling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in +a day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and +filled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after +their mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth--and the +carnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and +many lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always +near; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not +at all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night. +Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them +lie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands. +His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their +tracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth. + +One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds +rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold +wind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect. + +"Wolf!" called Mescal. + +The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told +of an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence. + +"Chus--chus!" exclaimed Piute. + +Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars. +The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an +uproar. + +"Bear! Bear!" cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle. + +"Don't go," she implored, her hand on his arm. "Not at night--remember +Father Naab said not." + +"Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree--quick!" + +"No--no--" + +"Do as I say!" It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the rifle, +and swung her up. "Climb!" + +"No--don't go--Jack!" + +With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness. + + + + + + +VI. THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + +PIUTE'S Indian sense of the advantage of position in attack stood Jack +in good stead; he led him up the ledge which overhung one end of the +corral. In the pale starlight the sheep could be seen running in bands, +massing together, crowding the fence; their cries made a deafening din. + +The Indian shouted, but Jack could not understand him. A large black +object was visible in the shade of the ledge. Piute fired his carbine. +Before Jack could bring his rifle up the black thing moved into +startlingly rapid flight. Then spouts of red flame illumined the corral. +As he shot, Jack got fleeting glimpses of the bear moving like a dark +streak against a blur of white. For all he could tell no bullet took +effect. + +When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the +corral. He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their +surprise, found none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken +it with him; and estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in +the fence, he could easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the +break and returned to camp. + +"He's gone, Mescal. Come down," called Jack into the cedar. "Let me help +you--there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the flashes from +the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how fast he could +run." + +Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws. + +"He nipped the brute, that's sure," said Jack. "Good dog! Maybe he kept +the bear from-- Why Mescal! you're white--you're shaking. There's no +danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf." + +Mescal went silently into her tent. + +The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The +dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up, +hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow +whitened the cedars. After breakfast Jack tried to get Wolf to take the +track of the grizzly, but the scent had cooled. + +Next day Mescal drove the sheep eastward toward the crags, and about the +middle of the afternoon reached the edge of the slope. Grass grew +luxuriantly and it was easy to keep the sheep in. Moreover, that part of +the forest had fewer trees, and scarcely any sage or thickets, so that +the lambs were safer, barring danger which might lurk in the seamed and +cracked cliffs overshadowing the open grassy plots. Piute's task at the +moment was to drag dead coyotes to the rim, near at hand, and throw them +over. Mescal rested on a stone, and Wolf reclined at her feet. + +Jack presently found a fresh deer track, and trailed it into the cedars, +then up the slope to where the huge rocks massed. + +Suddenly a cry from Mescal halted him; another, a piercing scream of +mortal fright, sent him flying down the slope. He bounded out of the +cedars into the open. + +The white, well-bunched flock had spread, and streams of jumping sheep +fled frantically from an enormous silver-backed bear. + +As the bear struck right and left, a brute-engine of destruction, Jack +sent a bullet into him at long range. Stung, the grizzly whirled, bit at +his side, and then reared with a roar of fury. + +But he did not see Jack. He dropped down and launched his huge bulk for +Mescal. The blood rushed back to Jack's heart, and his empty veins +seemed to freeze. + +The grizzly hurdled the streams of sheep. Terror for Mescal dominated +Jack; if he had possessed wings he could not have flown quickly enough +to head the bear. Checking himself with a suddenness that fetched him to +his knees, he levelled the rifle. It waved as if it were a stick of +willow. The bead-sight described a blurred curve round the bear. Yet he +shot--in vain--again--in vain. + +Above the bleat of sheep and trample of many hoofs rang out Mescal's +cry, despairing. + +She had turned, her hands over her breast. Wolf spread his legs before +her and crouched to spring, mane erect, jaws wide. + +By some lightning flash of memory, August Naab's words steadied Jack's +shaken nerves. He aimed low and ahead of the running bear. Down the +beast went in a sliding sprawl with a muffled roar of rage. Up he +sprang, dangling a useless leg, yet leaping swiftly forward. One blow +sent the attacking dog aside. Jack fired again. The bear became a +wrestling, fiery demon, death-stricken, but full of savage fury. Jack +aimed low and shot again. + +Slowly now the grizzly reared, his frosted coat blood-flecked, his great +head swaying. Another shot. There was one wide sweep of the huge paw, +and then the bear sank forward, drooping slowly, and stretched all his +length as if to rest. + +Mescal, recalled to life, staggered backward. Between her and the +outstretched paw was the distance of one short stride. + +Jack, bounding up, made sure the bear was dead before he looked at +Mescal. She was faint. Wolf whined about her. Piute came running from +the cedars. Her eyes were still fixed in a look of fear. + +"I couldn't run--I couldn't move," she said, shuddering. A blush drove +the white from her cheeks as she raised her face to Jack. "He'd soon +have reached me." + +Piute added his encomium: "Damn--heap big bear-- Jack kill um--big +chief!" + +Hare laughed away his own fear and turned their attention to the +stampeded sheep. It was dark before they got the flock together again, +and they never knew whether they had found them all. Supper-time was +unusually quiet that night. Piute was jovial, but no one appeared +willing to talk save the peon, and he could only grimace. The reaction +of feeling following Mescal's escape had robbed Jack of strength of +voice; he could scarcely whisper. Mescal spoke no word; her black lashes +hid her eyes; she was silent, but there was that in her silence which +was eloquent. Wolf, always indifferent save to Mescal, reacted to the +subtle change, and as if to make amends laid his head on Jack's knees. +The quiet hour round the camp-fire passed, and sleep claimed them. +Another day dawned, awakening them fresh, faithful to their duties, +regardless of what had gone before. + +So the days slipped by. June came, with more leisure for the shepherds, +better grazing for the sheep, heavier dews, lighter frosts, snow-squalls +half rain, and bursting blossoms on the prickly thorns, wild-primrose +patches in every shady spot, and bluebells lifting wan azure faces to +the sun. + +The last snow-storm of June threatened all one morning; hung menacing +over the yellow crags, in dull lead clouds waiting for the wind. Then +like ships heaving anchor to a single command they sailed down off the +heights; and the cedar forest became the centre of a blinding, eddying +storm. The flakes were as large as feathers, moist, almost warm. The low +cedars changed to mounds of white; the sheep became drooping curves of +snow; the little lambs were lost in the color of their own pure fleece. +Though the storm had been long in coming it was brief in passing. Wind- +driven toward the desert, it moaned its last in the cedars, and swept +away, a sheeted pall. Out over the Canyon it floated, trailing long +veils of white that thinned out, darkened, and failed far above the +golden desert. The winding columns of snow merged into straight lines of +leaden rain; the rain flowed into vapory mist, and the mist cleared in +the gold-red glare of endless level and slope. No moisture reached the +parched desert. + +Jack marched into camp with a snowy burden over his shoulder. He flung +it down, disclosing a small deer; then he shook the white mantle from +his coat, and whistling, kicked the fire-logs, and looked abroad at the +silver cedars, now dripping under the sun, at the rainbows in the +settling mists, at the rapidly melting snow on the ground. + +"Got lost in that squall. Fine! Fine!" he exclaimed, and threw wide his +arms. + +"Jack!" said Mescal. "Jack!" Memory had revived some forgotten thing. +The dark olive of her skin crimsoned; her eyes dilated and shadowed with +a rare change of emotion. + +"Jack," she repeated. + +"Well?" he replied, in surprise. + +"To look at you!--I never dreamed--I'd forgotten--" + +"What's the matter with me?" demanded Jack. + +Wonderingly, her mind on the past, she replied: "You were dying when we +found you at White Sage." + +He drew himself up with a sharp catch in his breath, and stared at her +as if he saw a ghost. + +"Oh--Jack! You're going to get well!" + +Her lips curved in a smile. + +For an instant Jack Hare spent his soul in searching her face for truth. +While waiting for death he had utterly forgotten it; he remembered now, +when life gleamed in the girl's dark eyes. Passionate joy flooded his +heart. + +"Mescal--Mescal!" he cried, brokenly. The eyes were true that shed this +sudden light on him; glad and sweet were the lips that bade him hope and +live again. Blindly, instinctively he kissed them--a kiss unutterably +grateful; then he fled into the forest, running without aim. + +That flight ended in sheer exhaustion on the far rim of the plateau. The +spreading cedars seemed to have eyes; and he shunned eyes in this hour. +"God! to think I cared so much," he whispered. "What has happened?" With +time relief came to limbs, to labored breast and lungs, but not to mind. +In doubt that would not die, he looked at himself. The leanness of arms, +the flat chest, the hollows were gone. He did not recognize his own +body. He breathed to the depths of his lungs. No pain--only +exhilaration! He pounded his chest--no pain! He dug his trembling +fingers into the firm flesh over the apex of his right lung--the place +of his torture--no pain! + +"I wanted to live!" he cried. He buried his face in the fragrant +juniper; he rolled on the soft brown mat of earth and hugged it close; +he cooled his hot cheeks in the primrose clusters. He opened his eyes to +new bright green of cedar, to sky of a richer blue, to a desert, +strange, beckoning, enthralling as life itself. He counted backward a +month, two months, and marvelled at the swiftness of time. He counted +time forward, he looked into the future, and all was beautiful--long +days, long hunts, long rides, service to his friend, freedom on the wild +steppes, blue-white dawns upon the eastern crags, red-gold sunsets over +the lilac mountains of the desert. He saw himself in triumphant health +and strength, earning day by day the spirit of this wilderness, coming +to fight for it, to live for it, and in far-off time, when he had won +his victory, to die for it. + +Suddenly his mind was illumined. The lofty plateau with its healing +breath of sage and juniper had given back strength to him; the silence +and solitude and strife of his surroundings had called to something deep +within him; but it was Mescal who made this wild life sweet and +significant. It was Mescal, the embodiment of the desert spirit. Like a +man facing a great light Hare divined his love. Through all the days on +the plateau, living with her the natural free life of Indians, close to +the earth, his unconscious love had ripened. He understood now her charm +for him; he knew now the lure of her wonderful eyes, flashing fire, +desert-trained, like the falcon eyes of her Indian grandfather. The +knowledge of what she had become to him dawned with a mounting desire +that thrilled all his blood. + +Twilight had enfolded the plateau when Hare traced his way back to camp. +Mescal was not there. His supper awaited him; Piute hummed a song; the +peon sat grimacing at the fire. Hare told them to eat, and moved away +toward the rim. + +Mescal was at her favorite seat, with the white dog beside her; and she +watched the desert where the last glow of sunset gilded the mesas. How +cold and calm was her face! How strange to him in this new character! + +"Mescal, I didn't know I loved you--then--but I know it now." + +Her face dropped quickly from its level poise, hiding the brooding eyes; +her hand trembled on Wolf's head. + +"You spoke the truth. I'll get well. I'd rather have had it from your +lips than from any in the world. I mean to live my life here where these +wonderful things have come to me. The friendship of the good man who +saved me, this wild, free desert, the glory of new hope, strength, life- +-and love." + +He took her hand in his and whispered, "For I love you. Do you care for +me? Mescal! It must be complete. Do you care--a little?" + +The wind blew her dusky hair; he could not see her face; he tried gently +to turn her to him. The hand he had taken lay warm and trembling in his, +but it was not withdrawn. As he waited, in fear, in hope, it became +still. Her slender form, rigid within his arm, gradually relaxed, and +yielded to him; her face sank on his breast, and her dark hair loosened +from its band, covered her, and blew across his lips. That was his +answer. + +The wind sang in the cedars. No longer a sigh, sad as thoughts of a past +forever flown, but a song of what had come to him, of hope, of life, of +Mescal's love, of the things to be! + + + + + + +VII. SILVERMANE + +LITTLE dew fell on the night of July first; the dawn brightened without +mists; a hot sun rose; the short summer of the plateau had begun. + +As Hare rose, refreshed and happy from his breakfast, his whistle was +cut short by the Indian. + +"Ugh!" exclaimed Piute, lifting a dark finger. Black Bolly had thrown +her nose-bag and slipped her halter, and she moved toward the opening in +the cedars, her head high, her black ears straight up. + +"Bolly!" called Mescal. The mare did not stop. + +"What the deuce?" Hare ran forward to catch her. + +"I never knew Bolly to act that way," said Mescal. "See--she didn't eat +half the oats. Well, Bolly--Jack! look at Wolf!" + +The white dog had risen and stood warily shifting his nose. He sniffed +the wind, turned round and round, and slowly stiffened with his head +pointed toward the eastern rise of the plateau. + +"Hold, Wolf, hold!" called Mescal, as the dog appeared to be about to +dash away. + +"Ugh!" grunted Piute. + +"Listen, Jack; did you hear?" whispered the girl. + +"Hear what?" + +"Listen." + +The warm breeze came down in puffs from the crags; it rustled in the +cedars and blew fragrant whiffs of camp-fire smoke into his face; and +presently it bore a low, prolonged whistle. He had never before heard +its like. The sound broke the silence again, clearer, a keen, sharp +whistle. + +"What is it?" he queried, reaching for his rifle. + +"Wild mustangs," said Mescal. + +"No," corrected Piute, vehemently shaking his head. "Clea, Clea." + +"Jack, he says 'horse, horse.' It's a wild horse." + +A third time the whistle rang down from the ridge, splitting the air, +strong and trenchant, the fiery, shrill challenge of a stallion. + +Black Bolly reared straight up. + +Jack ran to the rise of ground above the camp, and looked over the +cedars. "Oh!" he cried, and beckoned for Mescal. She ran to him, and +Piute, tying Black Bolly, hurried after. "Look! look!" cried Jack. He +pointed to a ridge rising to the left of the yellow crags. On the bare +summit stood a splendid stallion clearly silhouetted against the ruddy +morning sky. He was an iron-gray, wild and proud, with long silver-white +mane waving in the wind. + +"Silvermane! Silvermane!" exclaimed Mescal. + +"What a magnificent animal!" Jack stared at the splendid picture for the +moment before the horse moved back along the ridge and disappeared. +Other horses, blacks and bays, showed above the sage for a moment, and +they, too, passed out of sight. + +"He's got some of his band with him," said Jack, thrilled with +excitement. "Mescal, they're down off the upper range, and grazing along +easy. The wind favors us. That whistle was just plain fight, judging +from what Naab told me of wild stallions. He came to the hilltop, and +whistled down defiance to any horse, wild or tame, that might be below. +I'll slip round through the cedars, and block the trail leading up to +the other range, and you and Piute close the gate of our trail at this +end. Then send Piute down to tell Naab we've got Silvermane." + +Jack chose the lowest edge of the plateau rim where the cedars were +thickest for his detour to get behind the wild band; he ran from tree to +tree, avoiding the open places, taking advantage of the thickets, +keeping away from the ridge. He had never gone so far as the gate, but, +knowing where the trail led into a split in the crags, he climbed the +slope, and threaded a way over masses of fallen cliff, until he reached +the base of the wall. The tracks of the wildhorse band were very fresh +and plain in the yellow trail. Four stout posts guarded the opening, and +a number of bars lay ready to be pushed into place. He put them up, +making a gate ten feet high, an impregnable barrier. This done, he +hurried back to camp. + +"Jack, Bolly will need more watching to-day than the sheep, unless I let +her loose. Why, she pulls and strains so she'll break that halter." + +"She wants to go with the band; isn't that it?" + +"I don't like to think so. But Father Naab doesn't trust Bolly, though +she's the best mustang he ever broke." + +"Better keep her in," replied Jack, remembering Naab's warning. "I'll +hobble her, so if she does break loose she can't go far." + +When Mescal and Jack drove in the sheep that afternoon, rather earlier +than usual, Piute had returned with August Naab, Dave, and Billy, a +string of mustangs and a pack-train of burros. + +"Hello, Mescal," cheerily called August, as they came into camp. "Well +Jack--bless me! Why, my lad, how fine and brown--and yes, how you've +filled out!" He crushed Jack's hand in his broad palm, and his gray eyes +beamed. "I've not the gift of revelation--but, Jack, you're going to get +well." + +"Yes, I--" He had difficulty with his enunciation, but he thumped his +breast significantly and smiled. + +"Black sage and juniper!" exclaimed August. "In this air if a man +doesn't go off quickly with pneumonia, he'll get well. I never had a +doubt for you, Jack--and thank God!" + +He questioned Piute and Mescal about the sheep, and was greatly pleased +with their report. He shook his head when Jack spread out the grizzly- +pelt, and asked for the story of the killing. Jack made a poor showing +with the tale and slighted his share in it, but Mescal told it as it +actually happened. And Naab's great hand resounded from Jack's shoulder. +Then, catching sight of the pile of coyote skins under the stone shelf, +he gave vent to his surprise and delight. Then he came back to the +object of his trip upon the plateau. + +"So you've corralled Silvermane? Well, Jack, if he doesn't jump over the +cliff he's ours. He can't get off any other way. How many horses with +him?" + +"We had no chance to count. I saw at least twelve." + +"Good! He's out with his picked band. Weren't they all blacks and bays?" + +"Yes." + +"Jack, the history of that stallion wouldn't make you proud of him. +We've corralled him by a lucky chance. If I don't miss my guess he's +after Bolly. He has been a lot of trouble to ranchers all the way from +the Nevada line across Utah. The stallions he's killed, the mares he's +led off! Well, Dave, shall we thirst him out, or line up a long corral?" + +"Better have a look around to-morrow," replied Dave. "It'll take a lot +of chasing to run him down, but there's not a spring on the bench where +we can throw up a trap-corral. We'll have to chase him." + +"Mescal, has Bolly been good since Silvermane came down?" + +"No, she hasn't," declared Mescal, and told of the circumstance. + +"Bolly's all right," said Billy Naab. "Any mustang will do that. Keep +her belled and hobbled." + +"Silvermane would care a lot about that, if he wanted Bolly, wouldn't +he?" queried Dave in quiet scorn. "Keep her roped and haltered, I say." + +"Dave's right," said August. "You can't trust a wild mustang any more +than a wild horse." + +August was right. Black Bolly broke her halter about midnight and +escaped into the forest, hobbled as she was. The Indian heard her first, +and he awoke August, who aroused the others. + +"Don't make any noise," he said, as Jack came up, throwing on his coat. +"There's likely to be some fun here presently. Bolly's loose, broke her +rope, and I think Silvermane is close. Listen sharp now." + +The slight breeze favored them, the camp-fire was dead, and the night +was clear and starlit. They had not been quiet many moments when the +shrill neigh of a mustang rang out. The Naabs raised themselves and +looked at one another in the starlight. + +"Now what do you think of that?" whispered Billy. + +"No more than I expected. It was Bolly," replied Dave. + +"Bolly it was, confound her black hide!" added August. "Now, boys, did +she whistle for Silvermane, or to warn him, which?" + +"No telling," answered Billy. "Let's lie low, and take a chance on him +coming close. It proves one thing--you can't break a wild mare. That +spirit may sleep in her blood, maybe for years, but some time it'll +answer to--" + +"Shut up--listen," interrupted Dave. + +Jack strained his hearing, yet caught no sound, except the distant yelp +of a coyote. Moments went by. + +"There!" whispered Dave. + +From the direction of the ridge came the faint rattling of stones. + +"They're coming," put in Billy. + +Presently sharp clicks preceded the rattles, and the sounds began to +merge into a regular rhythmic tramp. It softened at intervals, probably +when the horses were under the cedars, and strengthened as they came out +on the harder ground of the open. + +"I see them," whispered Dave. + +A black, undulating line wound out of the cedars, a line of horses +approaching with drooping heads, hurrying a little as they neared the +spring. + +"Twenty-odd, all blacks and bays," said August, "and some of them are +mustangs. But where's Silvermane?--hark!" + +Out among the cedars rose the peculiar halting thump of a hobbled horse +trying to cover ground, followed by snorts and crashings of brush and +the pound of plunging hoofs. The long black line stopped short and began +to stamp. Then into the starlit glade below moved two shadows, the first +a great gray horse with snowy mane; the second, a small, shiny, black +mustang. + +"Silvermane and Bolly!" exclaimed August, "and now she's broken her +hobbles." + +The stallion, in the fulfilment of a conquest such as had made him king +of the wild ranges, was magnificent in action. Wheeling about her, +neighing, and plunging, he arched his splendid neck and pushed his head +against her. His action was that of a master. Suddenly Black Bolly +snorted and whirled down the glade. Silvermane whistled one blast of +anger or terror and thundered after her. They vanished in the gloom of +the cedars, and the band of frightened horses and mustangs clattered +after them. + +"It's one on me," remarked Billy. "That little mare played us at the +finish. Caught when she was a yearling, broken better than any mustang +we ever had, she has helped us run down many a stallion, and now she +runs off with that big white-maned brute!" + +"They'll make a team, and if they get out of here we'll have to chase +them to the Great Salt Basin," replied Dave. + +"Mescal, that's a well-behaved mustang of yours," said August; "not only +did she break loose, but she whistled an alarm to Silvermane and his +band. Well, roll in now, everybody, and sleep." + +At breakfast the following day the Naabs fell into a discussion upon the +possibility of there being other means of exit from the plateau than the +two trails already closed. They had never run any mustangs on the +plateau, and in the case of a wild horse like Silvermane, who would take +desperate chances, it was advisable to know the ground exactly. Billy +and Dave taking their mounts from the sheep-corral, where they had put +them up for the night, rode in opposite directions around the rim of the +plateau. It was triangular in shape, and some six or seven miles in +circumference; and the brothers rode around it in less than an hour. + +"Corralled," said Dave, laconically. + +"Good! Did you see him? What kind of a bunch has he with him?" asked his +father. + +"If we get the pick of the lot it will be worth two weeks' work," +replied Dave. "I saw him, and Bolly, too. I believe we can catch her +easily. She was off from the bunch, and it looks as though the mares +were jealous. I think we can run her into a cove under the wall, and get +her. Then Mescal can help us run down the stallion. And you can look out +on this end for the best level stretch to drop the line of cedars and +make our trap." + +The brothers, at their father's nod, rode off into the forest. Naab had +detained the peon, and now gave him orders and sent him off. + +"To-night you can stand on the rim here, and watch him signal across to +the top of Echo Cliffs to the Navajos," explained August to Jack. "I've +sent for the best breaker of wild mustangs on the desert. Dave can break +mustangs, and Piute is very good; but I want the best man in the +country, because this is a grand horse, and I intend to give him to +you." + +"To me!" exclaimed Hare. + +"Yes, and if he's broken right at the start, he'll serve you faithfully, +and not try to bite your arm off every day, or kick your brains out. No +white man can break a wild mustang to the best advantage." + +"Why is that?" + +"I don't know. To be truthful, I have an idea it's bad temper and lack +of patience. Just wait till you see this Navajo go at Silvermane!" + +After Mescal and Piute drove down the sheep, Jack accompanied Naab to +the corral. + +"I've brought up your saddle," said Naab, "and you can put it on any +mustang here." + +What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength +to remain there! He rode with August all over the western end of the +plateau. They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the +bordering forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and +when August had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction. + +"Fine, better than I hoped for! This stretch is about a mile long, and +narrow at this end. Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, +this side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it +curves in a half circle, which will save us work. We'll cut cedars, drag +them in line, and make a big corral against the rock. From the opening +in the corral we'll build two fences of trees; then we'll chase +Silvermane till he's done, run him down into this level, and turn him +inside the fence. No horse can break through a close line of cedars. +He'll run till he's in the corral, and then we'll rope him." + +"Great!" said Jack, all enthusiasm. "But isn't it going to take a lot of +work?" + +"Rather," said August, dryly. "It'll take a week to cut and drag the +cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion. When the finish comes +you want to be on that ledge where we'll have the corral." + +They returned to camp and prepared supper. Mescal and Piute soon +arrived, and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs. Black Bolly +limped behind, stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, +foam-stained coat and hanging head. + +"Not bad," said August, examining the lame leg. "She'll be fit in a few +days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane. Bring the +liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral to- +night." + +Mescal's love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out +the crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck. + +"Bolly, to think you'd do it!" And Bolly dropped her head as though +really ashamed. + +When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals. A fire +blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and +flamed higher. + +"Ugh!" said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs. + +"Of course he'd see it first," laughed Naab. "Dave, have you caught it +yet? Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs." + +"No, I don't see any light, except that white star. Have you seen it?" + +"Long ago," replied Naab. "Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your +eyes down." + +"I believe I see it--yes, I'm sure." + +"Good. How about you, Mescal?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, +and Billy claimed priority to all of them. To these men bred on the +desert keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts. + +"Jack, look sharp!" said August. "Peon is blanketing his fire. See the +flicker? One, two--one, two--one. Now for the answer." + +Jack peered out into the shadowy space, star-studded above, ebony below. +Far across the depths shone a pinpoint of steady light. The Indian +grunted again, August vented his "ha!" and then Jack saw the light blink +like a star, go out for a second, and blink again. + +"That's what I like to see," said August. "We're answered. Now all's +over but the work." + +Work it certainly was, as Jack discovered next day. He helped the +brothers cut down cedars while August hauled them into line with his +roan. What with this labor and the necessary camp duties nearly a week +passed, and in the mean time Black Bolly recovered from her lameness. + +Twice the workers saw Silvermane standing on open high ridges, restive +and suspicious, with his silver mane flying, and his head turned over +his shoulder, watching, always watching. + +"It'd be worth something to find out how long that stallion could go +without water," commented Dave. "But we'll make his tongue hang out to- +morrow. It'd serve him right to break him with Black Bolly." + +Daylight came warm and misty; veils unrolled from the desert; a purple +curtain lifted from the eastern crags; then the red sun burned. + +Dave and Billy Naab mounted their mustangs, and each led another mount +by a halter. + +"We'll go to the ridge, cut Silvermane out of his band and warm him up; +then we'll drive him down to this end." + +Hare, in his eagerness, found the time very tedious while August delayed +about camp, punching new holes in his saddle-girth, shortening his +stirrups, and smoothing kinks out of his lasso. At last he saddled the +roan, and also Black Bolly. Mescal came out of her tent ready for the +chase; she wore a short skirt of buckskin, and leggings of the same +material. Her hair, braided, and fastened at the back, was bound by a +double band closely fitting her black head. Hare walked, leading two +mustangs by the halters, and Naab and Mescal rode, each of them followed +by two other spare mounts. August tied three mustangs at one point along +the level stretch, and three at another. Then he led Mescal and Jack to +the top of the stone wall above the corral, where they had good view of +a considerable part of the plateau. + +The eastern rise of ground, a sage and juniper slope, was in plain +sight. Hare saw a white flash; then Silvermane broke out of the cedars +into the sage. One of the brothers raced him half the length of the +slope, and then the other coming out headed him off down toward the +forest. Soon the pounding of hoofs sounded through the trees nearer and +nearer. Silvermane came out straight ahead on the open level. He was +running easily. + +"He hasn't opened up yet," said August. + +Hare watched the stallion with sheer fascination; He ran seemingly +without effort. What a stride he had. How beautifully his silver mane +waved in the wind! He veered off to the left, out of sight in the brush, +while Dave and Billy galloped up to the spot where August had tied the +first three mustangs. Here they dismounted, changed saddles to fresh +horses, and were off again. + +The chase now was close and all down-hill for the watchers. Silvermane +twinkled in and out among the cedars, and suddenly stopped short on the +rim. He wheeled and coursed away toward the crags, and vanished. But +soon he reappeared, for Billy had cut across and faced him about. Again +he struck the level stretch. Dave was there in front of him. He shot +away to the left, and flashed through the glades beyond. The brothers +saved their steeds, content to keep him cornered in that end of the +plateau. Then August spurred his roan into the scene of action. +Silvermane came out on the one piece of rising ground beyond the level, +and stood looking backward toward the brothers. When the great roan +crashed through the thickets into his sight he leaped as if he had been +stung, and plunged away. + +The Naabs had hemmed him in a triangle, Dave and Billy at the broad end, +August at the apex, and now the real race began. August chased him up +and down, along the rim, across to the long line of cedars, always in +the end heading him for the open stretch. Down this he fled with flying +mane, only to be checked by the relentless brothers. To cover this broad +end of the open required riding the like of which Hare had never dreamed +of. The brothers, taking advantage of the brief periods when the +stallion was going toward August, changed their tired mustangs for fresh +ones. + +"Ho! Mescal!" rolled out August's voice. That was the call for Mescal to +put Black Bolly after Silvermane. Her fleetness made the other mustangs +seem slow. All in a flash she was round the corral, with Silvermane +between her and the long fence of cedars. Uttering a piercing snort of +terror the gray stallion lunged out, for the first time panic-stricken, +and lengthened his stride in a wonderful way. He raced down the stretch +with his head over his shoulder watching the little black. Seeing her +gaining, he burst into desperate headlong flight. He saved nothing; he +had found his match; he won that first race down the level but it had +cost him his best. If he had been fresh he might have left Black Bolly +far behind, but now he could not elude her. + +August Naab let him run this time, and Silvermane, keeping close to the +fence, passed the gate, ran down to the rim, and wheeled. The black +mustang was on him again, holding him in close to the fence, driving him +back down the stretch. + +The brothers remorselessly turned him, and now Mescal, forcing the +running, caught him, lashed his haunches with her whip, and drove him +into the gate of the corral. + +August and his two sons were close behind, and blocked the gate. +Silvermane's race was nearly run. + +"Hold here, boys," said August. "I'll go in and drive him round and +round till he's done, then, when I yell, you stand aside and rope him as +he comes out." + +Silvermane ran round the corral, tore at the steep scaly walls, fell +back and began his weary round again and yet again. Then as sense and +courage yielded gradually to unreasoning terror, he ran blindly; every +time he passed the guarded gateway his eyes were wilder, and his stride +more labored. + +"Now!" yelled August Naab. + +Mescal drew out of the opening, and Dave and Billy pulled away, one on +each side, their lassoes swinging loosely. + +Silvermane sprang for the opening with something of his old speed. As he +went through, yellow loops flashed in the sun, circling, narrowing, and +he seemed to run straight into them. One loop whipped close round his +glossy neck; the other caught his head. Dave's mustang staggered under +the violent shock, went to his knees, struggled up and held firmly. +Bill's mount slid on his haunches and spilled his rider from the saddle. +Silvermane seemed to be climbing into the air. Then August Naab, darting +through the gate in a cloud of dust, shot his lasso, catching the right +foreleg. Silvermane landed hard, his hoofs striking fire from the +stones; and for an instant strained in convulsive struggle; then fell +heaving and groaning. In a twinkling Billy loosened his lasso over a +knot, making of it a halter, and tied the end to a cedar stump. + +The Naabs stood back and gazed at their prize. + +Silvermane was badly spent; he was wet with foam, but no fleck of blood +marred his mane; his superb coat showed scratches, but none cut into the +flesh. After a while he rose, panting heavily, and trembling in every +muscle. He was a beaten horse; the noble head was bowed; yet he showed +no viciousness, only the fear of a trapped animal. He eyed Black Bolly +and then the halter, as though he had divined the fatal connection +between them. + + + + +VIII. THE BREAKER OF WILD MUSTANGS + +FOR a few days after the capture of Silvermane, a time full to the brim +of excitement for Hare, he had no word with Mescal, save for morning and +evening greetings. When he did come to seek her, with a purpose which +had grown more impelling since August Naab's arrival, he learned to his +bewilderment that she avoided him. She gave him no chance to speak with +her alone; her accustomed resting-place on the rim at sunset knew her no +more; early after supper she retired to her tent. + +Hare nursed a grievance for forty-eight hours, and then, taking +advantage of Piute's absence on an errand down to the farm, and of the +Naabs' strenuous day with four vicious wild horses in the corral at one +time, he walked out to the pasture where Mescal shepherded the flock. + +"Mescal, why are you avoiding me?" he asked. "What has happened?" + +She looked tired and unhappy, and her gaze, instead of meeting his, +wandered to the crags. + +"Nothing," she replied. + +"But there must be something. You have given me no chance to talk to +you, and I wanted to know if you'd let me speak to Father Naab." + +"To Father Naab? Why--what about?" + +"About you, of course--and me--that I love you and want to marry you." + +She turned white. "No--no!" + +Hare paused blankly, not so much at her refusal as at the unmistakable +fear in her face. + +"Why--not?" he asked presently, with an odd sense of trouble. There was +more here than Mescal's habitual shyness. + +"Because he'll be terribly angry." + +"Angry--I don't understand. Why angry?" + +The girl did not answer, and looked so forlorn that Hare attempted to +take her in his arms. She resisted and broke from him. + +"You must never--never do that again." + +Hare drew back sharply. + +"Why not? What's wrong? You must tell me, Mescal." + +"I remembered." She hung her head. + +"Remembered--what?" + +"I am pledged to marry Father Naab's eldest son." + +For a moment Hare did not understand. He stared at her unbelievingly. + +"What did you say?" he asked, slowly. + +Mescal repeated her words in a whisper. + +"But--but Mescal--I love you. You let me kiss you," said Hare stupidly, +as if he did not grasp her meaning. "You let me kiss you," he repeated. + +"Oh, Jack, I forgot," she wailed. "It was so new, so strange, to have +you up here. It was like a kind of dream. And after--after you kissed me +I--I found out--" + +"What, Mescal?" + +Her silence answered him. + +"But, Mescal, if you really love me you can't marry any one else," said +Hare. It was the simple persistence of a simple swain. + +"Oh, you don't know, you don't know. It's impossible!" + +"Impossible!" Hare's anger flared up. "You let me believe I had won you. +What kind of a girl are you? You were not true. Your actions were lies." + +"Not lies," she faltered, and turned her face from him. + +With no gentle hand he grasped her arm and forced her to look at him. +But the misery in her eyes overcame him, and he roughly threw his arms +around her and held her close. + +"It can't be a lie. You do care for me--love me. Look at me." He drew +her head back from his breast. Her face was pale and drawn; her eyes +closed tight, with tears forcing a way out under the long lashes; her +lips were parted. He bowed to their sweet nearness; he kissed them again +and again, while the shade of the cedars seemed to whirl about him. "I +love you, Mescal. You are mine--I will have you--I will keep you--I will +not let him have you!" + +She vibrated to that like a keen strung wire under a strong touch. All +in a flash the trembling, shame-stricken girl was transformed. She +leaned back in his arms, supple, pliant with quivering life, and for the +first time gave him wide-open level eyes, in which there were now no +tears, no shyness, no fear, but a dark smouldering fire. + +"You do love me, Mescal?" + +"I--I couldn't help it." + +There was a pause, tense with feeling. + +"Mescal, tell me--about your being pledged," he said, at last. + +"I gave him my promise because there was nothing else to do. I was +pledged to--to him in the church at White Sage. It can't be changed. +I've got to marry--Father Naab's eldest son." + +"Eldest son?" echoed Jack, suddenly mindful of the implication. "Why! +that's Snap Naab. Ah! I begin to see light. That--Mescal--" + +"I hate him." + +"You hate him and you're pledged to marry him!... God! Mescal, I'd +utterly forgotten Snap Naab already has a wife." + +"You've also forgotten that we're Mormons." + +"Are you a Mormon?" he queried bluntly. + +"I've been raised as one." + +"That's not an answer. Are you one? Do you believe any man under God's +sky ought to have more than one wife at a time?" + +"No. But I've been taught that it gave woman greater glory in heaven. +There have been men here before you, men who talked to me, and I doubted +before I ever saw you. And afterward--I knew." + +"Would not Father Naab release you?" + +"Release me? Why, he would have taken me as a wife for himself but for +Mother Mary. She hates me. So he pledged me to Snap." + +"Does August Naab love you?" + +"Love me? No. Not in the way you mean--perhaps as a daughter. But +Mormons teach duty to church first, and say such love comes--to the +wives--afterward. But it doesn't--not in the women I've seen. There's +Mother Ruth--her heart is broken. She loves me, and I can tell." + +"When was this--this marriage to be?" + +"I don't know. Father Naab promised me to his son when he came home from +the Navajo range. It would be soon if they found out that you and I-- +Jack, Snap Naab would kill you!" + +The sudden thought startled the girl. Her eyes betrayed her terror. + +"I mightn't be so easy to kill," said Hare, darkly. The words came +unbidden, his first answer to the wild influences about him. "Mescal, +I'm sorry--maybe I've brought you unhappiness." + +"No. No. To be with you has been like sitting there on the rim watching +the desert, the greatest happiness I have ever known. I used to love to +be with the children, but Mother Mary forbade. When I am down there, +which is seldom, I'm not allowed to play with the children any more." + +"What can I do?" asked Hare, passionately. + +"Don't speak to Father Naab. Don't let him guess. Don't leave me here +alone," she answered low. It was not the Navajo speaking in her now. +Love had sounded depths hitherto unplumbed; a quick, soft impulsiveness +made the contrast sharp and vivid. + +"How can I help but leave you if he wants me on the cattle ranges?" + +"I don't know. You must think. He has been so pleased with what you've +done. He's had Mormons up here, and two men not of his Church, and they +did nothing. You've been ill, besides you're different. He will keep me +with the sheep as long as he can, for two reasons--because I drive them +best, he says, and because Snap Naab's wife must be persuaded to welcome +me in her home." + +"I'll stay, if I have to get a relapse and go down on my back again," +declared Jack. "I hate to deceive him, but Mescal, pledged or not--I +love you, and I won't give up hope." + +Her hands flew to her face again and tried to hide the dark blush. + +"Mescal, there's one question I wish you'd answer. Does August Naab +think he'll make a Mormon of me? Is that the secret of his wonderful +kindness?" + +"Of course he believes he'll make a Mormon of you. That's his religion. +He's felt that way over all the strangers who ever came out here. But +he'd be the same to them without his hopes. I don't know the secret of +his kindness, but I think he loves everybody and everything. And Jack, +he's so good. I owe him all my life. He would not let the Navajos take +me; he raised me, kept me, taught me. I can't break my promise to him. +He's been a father to me, and I love him." + +"I think I love him, too," replied Hare, simply. + +With an effort he left her at last and mounted the grassy slope and +climbed high up among the tottering yellow crags; and there he battled +with himself. Whatever the charm of Mescal's surrender, and the +insistence of his love, stern hammer-strokes of fairness, duty, honor, +beat into his brain his debt to the man who had saved him. It was a +long-drawn-out battle not to be won merely by saying right was right. He +loved Mescal, she loved him; and something born in him with his new +health, with the breath of this sage and juniper forest, with the sight +of purple canyons and silent beckoning desert, made him fiercely +tenacious of all that life had come to mean for him. He could not give +her up--and yet-- + +Twilight forced Hare from his lofty retreat, and he trod his way +campward, weary and jaded, but victorious over himself. He thought he +had renounced his hope of Mescal; he returned with a resolve to be true +to August, and to himself; bitterness he would not allow himself to +feel. And yet he feared the rising in him of a new spirit akin to that +of the desert itself, intractable and free. + +"Well, Jack, we rode down the last of Silvermane's band," said August, +at supper. "The Navajos came up and helped us out. To-morrow you'll see +some fun, when we start to break Silvermane. As soon as that's done I'll +go, leaving the Indians to bring the horses down when they're broken." + +"Are you going to leave Silvermane with me?" asked Jack. + +"Surely. Why, in three days, if I don't lose my guess, he'll be like a +lamb. Those desert stallions can be made into the finest kind of saddle- +horses. I've seen one or two. I want you to stay up here with the sheep. +You're getting well, you'll soon be a strapping big fellow. Then when we +drive the sheep down in the fall you can begin life on the cattle +ranges, driving wild steers. There's where you'll grow lean and hard, +like an iron bar. You'll need that horse, too, my lad." + +"Why--because he's fast?" queried Jack, quickly answering to the implied +suggestion. + +August nodded gloomily. "I haven't the gift of revelation, but I've come +to believe Martin Cole. Holderness is building an outpost for his riders +close to Seeping Springs. He has no water. If he tries to pipe my water- +-" The pause was not a threat; it implied the Mormon's doubt of himself. +"Then Dene is on the march this way. He's driven some of Marshall's +cattle from the range next to mine. Dene got away with about a hundred +head. The barefaced robber sold them in Lund to a buying company from +Salt Lake." + +"Is he openly an outlaw, a rustler?" inquired Hare. + +"Everybody knows it, and he's finding White Sage and vicinity warmer +than it was. Every time he comes in he and his band shoot up things +pretty lively. Now the Mormons are slow to wrath. But they are +awakening. All the way from Salt Lake to the border outlaws have come +in. They'll never get the power on this desert that they had in the +places from which they've been driven. Men of the Holderness type are +more to be dreaded. He's a rancher, greedy, unscrupulous, but hard to +corner in dishonesty. Dene is only a bad man, a gun-fighter. He and all +his ilk will get run out of Utah. Did you ever hear of Plummer, John +Slade, Boone Helm, any of those bad men?" + +"No." + +"Well, they were men to fear. Plummer was a sheriff in Idaho, a man high +in the estimation of his townspeople, but he was the leader of the most +desperate band of criminals ever known in the West; and he instigated +the murder of, or killed outright, more than one hundred men. Slade was +a bad man, fatal on the draw. Helm was a killing machine. These men all +tried Utah, and had to get out. So will Dene have to get out. But I'm +afraid there'll be warm times before that happens. When you get in the +thick of it you'll appreciate Silvermane." + +"I surely will. But I can't see that wild stallion with a saddle and a +bridle, eating oats like any common horse, and being led to water." + +"Well, he'll come to your whistle, presently, if I'm not greatly +mistaken. You must make him love you, Jack. It can be done with any wild +creature. Be gentle, but firm. Teach him to obey the slightest touch of +rein, to stand when you throw your bridle on the ground, to come at your +whistle. Always remember this. He's a desert-bred horse; he can live on +scant browse and little water. Never break him of those best virtues in +a horse. Never feed him grain if you can find a little patch of browse; +never give him a drink till he needs it. That's one-tenth as often as a +tame horse. Some day you'll be caught in the desert, and with these +qualities of endurance Silvermane will carry you out." + +Silvermane snorted defiance from the cedar corral next morning when the +Naabs, and Indians, and Hare appeared. A half-naked sinewy Navajo with a +face as changeless as a bronze mask sat astride August's blindfolded +roan, Charger. He rode bareback except for a blanket strapped upon the +horse; he carried only a long, thick halter, with a loop and a knot. +When August opened the improvised gate, with its sharp bayonet-like +branches of cedar, the Indian rode into the corral. The watchers climbed +to the knoll. Silvermane snorted a blast of fear and anger. August's +huge roan showed uneasiness; he stamped, and shook his head, as if to +rid himself of the blinders. + +Into the farthest corner of densely packed cedar boughs Silvermane +pressed himself and watched. The Indian rode around the corral, circling +closer and closer, yet appearing not to see the stallion. Many rounds he +made; closer he got, and always with the same steady gait. Silvermane +left his corner and tried another. The old unwearying round brought +Charger and the Navajo close by him. Silvermane pranced out of his +thicket of boughs; he whistled; he wheeled with his shiny hoofs lifting. +In an hour the Indian was edging the outer circle of the corral, with +the stallion pivoting in the centre, ears laid back, eyes shooting +sparks, fight in every line of him. And the circle narrowed inward. + +Suddenly the Navajo sent the roan at Silvermane and threw his halter. It +spread out like a lasso, and the loop went over the head of the +stallion, slipped to the knot and held fast, while the rope tightened. +Silvermane leaped up, forehoofs pawing the air, and his long shrill cry +was neither whistle, snort, nor screech, but all combined. He came down, +missing Charger with his hoofs, sliding off his haunches. The Indian, +his bronze muscles rippling, close-hauled on the rope, making half +hitches round his bony wrist. + +In a whirl of dust the roan drew closer to the gray, and Silvermane +began a mad race around the corral. The roan ran with him nose to nose. +When Silvermane saw he could not shake him, he opened his jaws, rolled +back his lip in an ugly snarl, his white teeth glistening, and tried to +bite. But the Indian's moccasined foot shot up under the stallion's ear +and pressed him back. Then the roan hugged Silvermane so close that half +the time the Navajo virtually rode two horses. But for the rigidity of +his arms, and the play and sudden tension of his leg-muscles, the +Indian's work would have appeared commonplace, so dexterous was he, so +perfectly at home in his dangerous seat. Suddenly he whooped and August +Naab hauled back the gate, and the two horses, neck and neck, thundered +out upon the level stretch. + +"Good!" cried August. "Let him rip now, Navvy. All over but the work, +Jack. I feared Silvermane would spear himself on some of those dead +cedar spikes in the corral. He's safe now." + +Jack watched the horses plunge at breakneck speed down the stretch, +circle at the forest edge, and come tearing back. Silvermane was pulling +the roan faster than he had ever gone in his life, but the dark Indian +kept his graceful seat. The speed slackened on the second turn, and +decreased as, mile after mile, the imperturbable Indian held roan and +gray side to side and let them run. + +The time passed, but Hare's interest in the breaking of the stallion +never flagged. He began to understand the Indian, and to feel what the +restraint and drag must be to the horse. Never for a moment could +Silvermane elude the huge roan, the tight halter, the relentless Navajo. +Gallop fell to trot, and trot to jog, and jog to walk; and hour by hour, +without whip or spur or word, the breaker of desert mustangs drove the +wild stallion. If there were cruelty it was in his implacable slow +patience, his farsighted purpose. Silvermane would have killed himself +in an hour; he would have cut himself to pieces in one headlong dash, +but that steel arm suffered him only to wear himself out. Late that +afternoon the Navajo led a dripping, drooping, foam-lashed stallion into +the corral, tied him with the halter, and left him. + +Later Silvermane drank of the water poured into the corral trough, and +had not the strength or spirit to resent the Navajo's caressing hand on +his mane. + +Next morning the Indian rode again into the corral on blindfolded +Charger. Again he dragged Silvermane out on the level and drove him up +and down with remorseless, machine-like persistence. At noon he took him +back, tied him up, and roped him fast. Silvermane tried to rear and +kick, but the saddle went on, strapped with a flash of the dark-skinned +hands. Then again Silvermane ran the level stretch beside the giant +roan, only he carried a saddle now. At the first, he broke out with free +wild stride as if to run forever from under the hateful thing. But as +the afternoon waned he crept weariedly back to the corral. + +On the morning of the third day the Navajo went into the corral without +Charger, and roped the gray, tied him fast, and saddled him. Then he +loosed the lassoes except the one around Silvermane's neck, which he +whipped under his foreleg to draw him down. Silvermane heaved a groan +which plainly said he never wanted to rise again. Swiftly the Indian +knelt on the stallion's head; his hands flashed; there was a scream, a +click of steel on bone; and proud Silvermane jumped to his feet with a +bit between his teeth. + +The Navajo, firmly in the saddle, rose with him, and Silvermane leaped +through the corral gate, and out upon the stretch, lengthening out with +every stride, and settling into a wild, despairing burst of speed. The +white mane waved in the wind; the half-naked Navajo swayed to the +motion. Horse and rider disappeared in the cedars. + +They were gone all day. Toward night they appeared on the stretch. The +Indian rode into camp and, dismounting, handed the bridle-rein to Naab. +He spoke no word; his dark impassiveness invited no comment. Silvermane +was dust-covered and sweat-stained. His silver crest had the same proud +beauty, his neck still the splendid arch, his head the noble outline, +but his was a broken spirit. + +"Here, my lad," said August Naab, throwing the bridle-rein over Hare's +arm. "What did I say once about seeing you on a great gray horse? Ah! +Well, take him and know this: you've the swiftest horse in this desert +country." + + + + + + +IX. THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + +SOON the shepherds were left to a quiet unbroken by the whistle of wild +mustangs, the whoop of hunters, the ring of iron-shod hoofs on the +stones. The scream of an eagle, the bleating of sheep, the bark of a +coyote were once more the only familiar sounds accentuating the silence +of the plateau. For Hare, time seemed to stand still. He thought but +little; his whole life was a matter of feeling from without. He rose at +dawn, never failing to see the red sun tip the eastern crags; he glowed +with the touch of cold spring-water and the morning air; he trailed +Silvermane under the cedars and thrilled when the stallion, answering +his call, thumped the ground with hobbled feet and came his way, +learning day by day to be glad at sight of his master. He rode with +Mescal behind the flock; he hunted hour by hour, crawling over the +fragrant brown mats of cedar, through the sage and juniper, up the +grassy slopes. He rode back to camp beside Mescal, drove the sheep, and +put Silvermane to his fleetest to beat Black Bolly down the level +stretch where once the gray, even with freedom at stake, had lost to the +black. Then back to camp and fire and curling blue smoke, a supper that +testified to busy Piute's farmward trips, sunset on the rim, endless +changing desert, the wind in the cedars, bright stars in the blue, and +sleep--so time stood still. + +Mescal and Hare were together, or never far apart, from dawn to night. +Until the sheep were in the corral, every moment had its duty, from +camp-work and care of horses to the many problems of the flock, so that +they earned the rest on the rim-wall at sundown. Only a touch of hands +bridged the chasm between them. They never spoke of their love, of +Mescal's future, of Jack's return to hearth; a glance and a smile, +scarcely sad yet not altogether happy, was the substance of their dream. +Where Jack had once talked about the canyon and desert, he now seldom +spoke at all. From watching Mescal he had learned that to see was +enough. But there were moments when some association recalled the past +and the strangeness of the present faced him. Then he was wont to +question Mescal. + +"What are you thinking of?" he asked, curiously, interrupting their +silence. She leaned against the rocks and kept a changeless, tranquil, +unseeing gaze on the desert. The level eyes were full of thought, of +sadness, of mystery; they seemed to look afar. + +Then she turned to him with puzzled questioning look and enigmatical +reply. "Thinking?" asked her eyes. "I wasn't thinking," were her words. + +"I fancied--I don't know exactly what," he went on. "You looked so +earnest. Do you ever think of going to the Navajos?" + +"No." + +"Or across that Painted Desert to find some place you seem to know, or +see?" + +"No." + +"I don't know why, but, Mescal, sometimes I have the queerest ideas when +I catch your eyes watching, watching. You look at once happy and sad. +You see something out there that I can't see. Your eyes are haunted. +I've a feeling that if I'd look into them I'd see the sun setting, the +clouds coloring, the twilight shadows changing; and then back of that +the secret of it all--of you--Oh! I can't explain, but it seems so." + +"I never had a secret, except the one you know," she answered. "You ask +me so often what I think about, and you always ask me when we're here." +She was silent for a pause. "I don't think at all till you make me. It's +beautiful out there. But that's not what it is to me. I can't tell you. +When I sit down here all within me is--is somehow stilled. I watch--and +it's different from what it is now, since you've made me think. Then I +watch, and I see, that's all." + +It came to Hare afterward with a little start of surprise that Mescal's +purposeless, yet all-satisfying, watchful gaze had come to be part of +his own experience. It was inscrutable to him, but he got from it a +fancy, which he tried in vain to dispel, that something would happen to +them out there on the desert. + +And then he realized that when they returned to the camp-fire they +seemed freed from this spell of the desert. The blaze-lit circle was +shut in by the darkness; and the immensity of their wild environment, +because for the hour it could not be seen, lost its paralyzing effect. +Hare fell naturally into a talkative mood. Mescal had developed a +vivacity, an ambition which contrasted strongly with her silent moods; +she became alive and curious, human like the girls he had known in the +East, and she fascinated him the more for this complexity. + +The July rains did not come; the mists failed; the dews no longer +freshened the grass, and the hot sun began to tell on shepherds and +sheep. Both sought the shade. The flowers withered first--all the blue- +bells and lavender patches of primrose, and pale-yellow lilies, and +white thistle-blossoms. Only the deep magenta of cactus and vermilion of +Indian paint-brush, flowers of the sun, survived the heat. Day by day +the shepherds scanned the sky for storm-clouds that did not appear. The +spring ran lower and lower. At last the ditch that carried water to the +corral went dry, and the margin of the pool began to retreat. Then +Mescal sent Piute down for August Naab. + +He arrived at the plateau the next day with Dave and at once ordered the +breaking up of camp. + +"It will rain some time," he said, "but we can't wait any longer. Dave, +when did you last see the Blue Star waterhole?" + +"On the trip in from Silver Cup, ten days ago. The waterhole was full +then." + +"Will there be water enough now?" + +"We've got to chance it. There's no water here, and no springs on the +upper range where we can drive sheep; we've got to go round under the +Star." + +"That's so," replied August. His fears needed confirmation, because his +hopes always influenced his judgment till no hope was left. "I wish I +had brought Zeke and George. It'll be a hard drive, though we've got +Jack and Mescal to help." + +Hot as it was August Naab lost no time in the start. Piute led the train +on foot, and the flock, used to following him, got under way readily. +Dave and Mescal rode along the sides, and August with Jack came behind, +with the pack-burros bringing up the rear. Wolf circled them all, +keeping the flanks close in, heading the lambs that strayed, and, ever +vigilant, made the drive orderly and rapid. + +The trail to the upper range was wide and easy of ascent, the first of +it winding under crags, the latter part climbing long slopes. It forked +before the summit, where dark pine trees showed against the sky, one +fork ascending, the other, which Piute took, beginning to go down. It +admitted of no extended view, being shut in for the most part on the +left, but there were times when Hare could see a curving stream of sheep +on half a mile of descending trail. Once started down the flock could +not be stopped, that was as plain as Piute's hard task. There were times +when Hare could have tossed a pebble on the Indian just below him, yet +there were more than three thousand sheep, strung out in line between +them. Clouds of dust rolled up, sheets of gravel and shale rattled down +the inclines, the clatter, clatter, clatter of little hoofs, the steady +baa-baa-baa filled the air. Save for the crowding of lambs off the +trail, and a jamming of sheep in the corners, the drive went on without +mishap. Hare was glad to see the lambs scramble back bleating for their +mothers, and to note that, though peril threatened at every steep turn, +the steady down-flow always made space for the sheep behind. He was +glad, too, when through a wide break ahead his eye followed the face of +a vast cliff down to the red ground below, and he knew the flock would +soon be safe on the level. + +A blast as from a furnace smote Hare from this open break in the wall. +The air was dust-laden, and carried besides the smell of dust and the +warm breath of desert growths, a dank odor that was unpleasant. + +The sheep massed in a flock on the level, and the drivers spread to +their places. The route lay under projecting red cliffs, between the +base and enormous sections of wall that had broken off and fallen far +out. There was no weathering slope; the wind had carried away the +smaller stones and particles, and had cut the huge pieces of pinnacle +and tower into hollowed forms. This zone of rim merged into another of +strange contrast, the sloping red stream of sand which flowed from the +wall of the canyon. + +Piute swung the flock up to the left into an amphitheatre, and there +halted. The sheep formed a densely packed mass in the curve of the wall. +Dave Naab galloped back toward August and Hare, and before he reached +them shouted out: "The waterhole's plugged!" + +"What?" yelled his father. + +"Plugged, filled with stone and sand." + +"Was it a cave-in?" + +"I reckon not. There's been no rain." + +August spurred his roan after Dave, and Hare kept close behind them, +till they reined in on a muddy bank. What had once been a waterhole was +a red and yellow heap of shale, fragments of stones, gravel, and sand. +There was no water, and the sheep were bleating. August dismounted and +climbed high above the hole to examine the slope; soon he strode down +with giant steps, his huge fists clinched, shaking his gray mane like a +lion. + +"I've found the tracks! Somebody climbed up and rolled the stones, +started the cave-in. Who?" + +"Holderness's men. They did the same for Martin Cole's waterhole at +Rocky Point. How old are the tracks?" + +"Two days, perhaps. We can't follow them. What can be done?" + +"Some of Holderness's men are Mormons, and others are square fellows. +They wouldn't stand for such work as this, and somebody ought to ride in +there and tell them." + +"And get shot up by the men paid to do the dirty work. No. I won't hear +of it. This amounts to nothing; we seldom use this hole, only twice a +year when driving the flock. But it makes me fear for Silver Cup and +Seeping Springs." + +"It makes me fear for the sheep, if this wind doesn't change." + +"Ah! I had forgotten the river scent. It's not strong to-night. We might +venture if it wasn't for the strip of sand. We'll camp here and start +the drive at dawn." + +The sun went down under a crimson veil; a dull glow spread, fan-shaped, +upward; twilight faded to darkness with the going down of the wind. +August Naab paced to and fro before his tired and thirsty flock. + +"I'd like to know," said Hare to Dave, "why those men filled up this +waterhole." + +"Holderness wants to cut us off from Silver Cup Spring, and this was a +half-way waterhole. Probably he didn't know we had the sheep upland, but +he wouldn't have cared. He's set himself to get our cattle range and +he'll stop at nothing. Prospects look black for us. Father never gives +up. He doesn't believe yet that we can lose our water. He prays and +hopes, and sees good and mercy in his worst enemies." + +"If Holderness works as far as Silver Cup, how will he go to work to +steal another man's range and water?" + +"He'll throw up a cabin, send in his men, drive in ten thousand steers." + +"Well, will his men try to keep you away from your own water, or your +cattle?" + +"Not openly. They'll pretend to welcome us, and drive our cattle away in +our absence. You see there are only five of us to ride the ranges, and +we'd need five times five to watch all the stock." + +"Then you can't stop this outrage?" + +"There's only one way," said Dave, significantly tapping the black +handle of his Colt. "Holderness thinks he pulls the wool over our eyes +by talking of the cattle company that employs him. He's the company +himself, and he's hand and glove with Dene." + +"And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to +Holderness's newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a +fight." + +"We'd never reach him now, that is, if we went together. One of us alone +might get to see him, especially in White Sage. If we all rode over to +his ranch we'd have to fight his men before we reached the corrals. You +yourself will find it pretty warm when you go out with us on the ranges, +and if you make White Sage you'll find it hot. You're called 'Dene's +spy' there, and the rustlers are still looking for you. I wouldn't worry +about it, though." + +"Why not, I'd like to know?" inquired Hare, with a short laugh. + +"Well, if you're like the other Gentiles who have come into Utah you +won't have scruples about drawing on a man. Father says the draw comes +natural to you, and you're as quick as he is. Then he says you can beat +any rifle shot he ever saw, and that long-barrelled gun you've got will +shoot a mile. So if it comes to shooting--why, you can shoot. If you +want to run--who's going to catch you on that white-maned stallion? We +talked about you, George and I; we're mighty glad you're well and can +ride with us." + +Long into the night Jack Hare thought over this talk. It opened up a +vista of the range-life into which he was soon to enter. He tried to +silence the voice within that cried out, eager and reckless, for the +long rides on the windy open. The years of his illness returned in +fancy, the narrow room with the lamp and the book, and the tears over +stories and dreams of adventure never to be for such as he. And now how +wonderful was life! It was, after all, to be full for him. It was +already full. Already he slept on the ground, open to the sky. He looked +up at a wild black cliff, mountain-high, with its windworn star of blue; +he felt himself on the threshold of the desert, with that subtle mystery +waiting; he knew himself to be close to strenuous action on the ranges, +companion of these sombre Mormons, exposed to their peril, making their +cause his cause, their life his life. What of their friendship, their +confidence? Was he worthy? Would he fail at the pinch? What a man he +must become to approach their simple estimate of him! Because he had +found health and strength, because he could shoot, because he had the +fleetest horse on the desert, were these reasons for their friendship? +No, these were only reasons for their trust. August Naab loved him. +Mescal loved him; Dave and George made of him a brother. "They shall +have my life," he muttered. + +The bleating of the sheep heralded another day. With the brightening +light began the drive over the sand. Under the cliff the shade was cool +and fresh; there was no wind; the sheep made good progress. But the +broken line of shade crept inward toward the flock, and passed it. The +sun beat down, and the wind arose. A red haze of fine sand eddied about +the toiling sheep and shepherds. Piute trudged ahead leading the king- +ram, old Socker, the leader of the flock; Mescal and Hare rode at the +right, turning their faces from the sand-filled puffs of wind; August +and Dave drove behind; Wolf, as always, took care of the stragglers. An +hour went by without signs of distress; and with half the five-mile trip +at his back August Naab's voice gathered cheer. The sun beat hotter. +Another hour told a different story--the sheep labored; they had to be +forced by urge of whip, by knees of horses, by Wolf's threatening bark. +They stopped altogether during the frequent hot sand-blasts, and could +not be driven. So time dragged. The flock straggled out to a long +irregular line; rams refused to budge till they were ready; sheep lay +down to rest; lambs fell. But there was an end to the belt of sand, and +August Naab at last drove the lagging trailers out upon the stony bench. + +The sun was about two hours past the meridian; the red walls of the +desert were closing in; the V-shaped split where the Colorado cut +through was in sight. The trail now was wide and unobstructed and the +distance short, yet August Naab ever and anon turned to face the canyon +and shook his head in anxious foreboding. + +It quickly dawned upon Hare that the sheep were behaving in a way new +and singular to him. They packed densely now, crowding forward, many +raising their heads over the haunches of others and bleating. They were +not in their usual calm pattering hurry, but nervous, excited, and +continually facing west toward the canyon, noses up. + +On the top of the next little ridge Hare heard Silvermane snort as he +did when led to drink. There was a scent of water on the wind. Hare +caught it, a damp, muggy smell. The sheep had noticed it long before, +and now under its nearer, stronger influence began to bleat wildly, to +run faster, to crowd without aim. + +"There's work ahead. Keep them packed and going. Turn the wheelers," +ordered August. + +What had been a drive became a flight. And it was well so long as the +sheep headed straight up the trail. Piute had to go to the right to +avoid being run down. Mescal rode up to fill his place. Hare took his +cue from Dave, and rode along the flank, crowding the sheep inward. +August cracked his whip behind. For half a mile the flock kept to the +trail, then, as if by common consent, they sheered off to the right. +With this move August and Dave were transformed from quiet almost to +frenzy. They galloped to the fore, and into the very faces of the +turning sheep, and drove them back. Then the rear-guard of the flock +curved outward. + +"Drive them in!" roared August. + +Hare sent Silvermane at the deflecting sheep and frightened them into +line. + +Wolf no longer had power to chase the stragglers; they had to be turned +by a horse. All along the flank noses pointed outward; here and there +sheep wilder than the others leaped forward to lead a widening wave of +bobbing woolly backs. Mescal engaged one point, Hare another, Dave +another, and August Naab's roan thundered up and down the constantly +broken line. All this while as the shepherds fought back the sheep, the +flight continued faster eastward, farther canyonward. Each side gained, +but the flock gained more toward the canyon than the drivers gained +toward the oasis. + +By August's hoarse yells, by Dave's stern face and ceaseless swift +action, by the increasing din, Hare knew terrible danger hung over the +flock; what it was he could not tell. He heard the roar of the river +rapids, and it seemed that the sheep heard it with him. They plunged +madly; they had gone wild from the scent and sound of water. Their eyes +gleamed red; their tongues flew out. There was no aim to the rush of the +great body of sheep, but they followed the leaders and the leaders +followed the scent. And the drivers headed them off, rode them down, +ceaselessly, riding forward to check one outbreak, wheeling backward to +check another. + +The flight became a rout. Hare was in the thick of dust and din, of the +terror-stricken jumping mob, of the ever-starting, ever-widening streams +of sheep; he rode and yelled and fired his Colt. The dust choked him, +the sun burned him, the flying pebbles cut his cheek. Once he had a +glimpse of Black Bolly in a melee of dust and sheep; Dave's mustang +blurred in his sight; August's roan seemed to be double. Then +Silvermane, of his own accord, was out before them all. + +The sheep had almost gained the victory; their keen noses were pointed +toward the water; nothing could stop their flight; but still the drivers +dashed at them, ever fighting, never wearying, never ceasing. + +At the last incline, where a gentle slope led down to a dark break in +the desert, the rout became a stampede. Left and right flanks swung +round, the line lengthened, and round the struggling horses, knee-deep +in woolly backs, split the streams to flow together beyond in one +resistless river of sheep. Mescal forced Bolly out of danger; Dave +escaped the right flank, August and Hare swept on with the flood, till +the horses, sighting the dark canyon, halted to stand like rocks. + +"Will they run over the rim?" yelled Hare, horrified. His voice came to +him as a whisper. August Naab, sweat-stained in red dust, haggard, gray +locks streaming in the wind, raised his arms above his head, hopeless. + +The long nodding line of woolly forms, lifting like the crest of a +yellow wave, plunged out and down in rounded billow over the canyon rim. +With din of hoofs and bleats the sheep spilled themselves over the +precipice, and an awful deafening roar boomed up from the river, like +the spreading thunderous crash of an avalanche. + +How endless seemed that fatal plunge! The last line of sheep, pressing +close to those gone before, and yet impelled by the strange instinct of +life, turned their eyes too late on the brink, carried over by their own +momentum. + +The sliding roar ceased; its echo, muffled and hollow, pealed from the +cliffs, then rumbled down the canyon to merge at length in the sullen, +dull, continuous sound of the rapids. + +Hare turned at last from that narrow iron-walled cleft, the depth of +which he had not seen, and now had no wish to see; and his eyes fell +upon a little Navajo lamb limping in the trail of the flock, headed for +the canyon, as sure as its mother in purpose. He dismounted and seized +it to find, to his infinite wonder and gladness, that it wore a string +and bell round its neck. It was Mescal's pet. + + + + + + +X. RIDING THE RANGES + +THE shepherds were home in the oasis that evening, and next day the +tragedy of the sheep was a thing of the past. No other circumstance of +Hare's four months with the Naabs had so affected him as this swift +inevitable sweeping away of the flock; nothing else had so vividly told +him the nature of this country of abrupt heights and depths. He +remembered August Naab's magnificent gesture of despair; and now the man +was cheerful again; he showed no sign of his great loss. His tasks were +many, and when one was done, he went on to the next. If Hare had not had +many proofs of this Mormon's feeling he would have thought him callous. +August Naab trusted God and men, loved animals, did what he had to do +with all his force, and accepted fate. The tragedy of the sheep had been +only an incident in a tragical life--that Hare divined with awe. + +Mescal sorrowed, and Wolf mourned in sympathy with her, for their +occupation was gone, but both brightened when August made known his +intention to cross the river to the Navajo range, to trade with the +Indians for another flock. He began his preparations immediately. The +snow-freshets had long run out of the river, the water was low, and he +wanted to fetch the sheep down before the summer rains. He also wanted +to find out what kept his son Snap so long among the Navajos. + +"I'll take Billy and go at once. Dave, you join George and Zeke out on +the Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can +before the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid +Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for +their doings." + +It was a relief to Hare that Snap Naab had not yet returned to the +oasis, for he felt a sense of freedom which otherwise would have been +lacking. He spent the whole of a long calm summer day in the orchard and +the vineyard. The fruit season was at its height. Grapes, plums, pears, +melons were ripe and luscious. Midsummer was vacationtime for the +children, and they flocked into the trees like birds. The girls were +picking grapes; Mother Ruth enlisted Jack in her service at the pear- +trees; Mescal came, too, and caught the golden pears he threw down, and +smiled up at him; Wolf was there, and Noddle; Black Bolly pushed her +black nose over the fence, and whinnied for apples; the turkeys +strutted, the peafowls preened their beautiful plumage, the guinea-hens +ran like quail. Save for those frowning red cliffs Hare would have +forgotten where he was; the warm sun, the yellow fruit, the merry +screams of children, the joyous laughter of girls, were pleasant +reminders of autumn picnic days long gone. But, in the face of those +dominating wind-scarred walls, he could not forget. + +That night Hare endeavored to see Mescal alone for a few moments, to see +her once more with unguarded eyes, to whisper a few words, to say good- +bye; but it was impossible. + +On the morrow he rode out of the red cliff gate with Dave and the pack- +horses, a dull ache in his heart; for amid the cheering crowd of +children and women who bade them good-bye he had caught the wave of +Mescal's hand and a look of her eyes that would be with him always. What +might happen before he returned, if he ever did return! For he knew now, +as well as he could feel Silvermane's easy stride, that out there under +the white glare of desert, the white gleam of the slopes of Coconina, +was wild life awaiting him. And he shut his teeth, and narrowed his +eyes, and faced it with an eager joy that was in strange contrast to the +pang in his breast. + +That morning the wind dipped down off the Vermillion Cliffs and whipped +west; there was no scent of river-water, and Hare thought of the +fatality of the sheep-drive, when, for one day out of the year, a +moistened dank breeze had met the flock on the narrow bench. Soon the +bench lay far behind them, and the strip of treacherous sand, and the +maze of sculptured cliff under the Blue Star, and the hummocky low +ridges beyond, with their dry white washes. Silvermane kept on in front. +Already Hare had learned that the gray would have no horse before him. +His pace was swift, steady, tireless. Dave was astride his Navajo mount, +an Indian-bred horse, half mustang, which had to be held in with a firm +rein. The pack train strung out far behind, trotting faithfully along, +with the white packs, like the humps of camels, nodding up and down. +Jack and Dave slackened their gait at the foot of the stony divide. It +was an ascent of miles, so long that it did not appear steep. Here the +pack-train caught up, and thereafter hung at the heels of the riders. + +From the broad bare summit Jack saw the Silver Cup valley-range with +eyes which seemed to magnify the winding trail, the long red wall, the +green slopes, the dots of sage and cattle. Then he made allowance for +months of unobstructed vision; he had learned to see; his eyes had +adjusted themselves to distance and dimensions. + +Silver Cup Spring lay in a bright green spot close under a break in the +rocky slope that soon lost its gray cliff in the shaggy cedared side of +Coconina. + +The camp of the brothers was situated upon this cliff in a split between +two sections of wall. Well sheltered from the north and west winds was a +grassy plot which afforded a good survey of the valley and the trails. +Dave and Jack received glad greetings from Zeke and George, and +Silvermane was an object of wonder and admiration. Zeke, who had often +seen the gray and chased him too, walked round and round him, stroking +the silver mane, feeling the great chest muscles, slapping his flanks. + +"Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle +and bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare! +Never will be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that +horse he'll chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast +horses. He's from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he +sees one." + +"How are things?" queried Dave. + +"We can't complain much," replied Zeke, "though we've wasted some time +on old Whitefoot. He's been chasing our horses. It's been pretty hot and +dry. Most of the cattle are on the slopes; fair browse yet. There's a +bunch of steers gone up on the mountain, and some more round toward the +Saddle or the canyon." + +"Been over Seeping Springs way?" + +"Yes. No change since your trip. Holderness's cattle are ranging in the +upper valley. George found tracks near the spring. We believe somebody +was watching there and made off when we came up." + +"We'll see Holderness's men when we get to riding out," put in George. +"And some of Dene's too. Zeke met Two-Spot Chance and Culver below at +the spring one day, sort of surprised them." + +"What day was that?" + +"Let's see, this's Friday. It was last Monday." + +"What were they doing over here?" + +"Said they were tracking a horse that had broken his hobbles. But they +seemed uneasy, and soon rode off." + +"Did either of them ride a horse with one shoe shy?" + +"Now I think of it, yes. Zeke noticed the track at the spring." + +"Well, Chance and Culver had been out our way," declared Dave. "I saw +their tracks, and they filled up the Blue Star waterhole--and cost us +three thousand sheep." + +Then he related the story of the drive of the sheep, the finding of the +plugged waterhole, the scent of the Colorado, and the plunge of the +sheep into the canyon. + +"We've saved one, Mescal's belled lamb," he concluded. + +Neither Zeke nor George had a word in reply. Hare thought their silence +unnatural. Neither did the mask-like stillness of their faces change. +But Hare saw in their eyes a pointed clear flame, vibrating like a +compass-needle, a mere glimmering spark. + +"I'd like to know," continued Dave, calmly poking the fire, "who hired +Dene's men to plug the waterhole. Dene couldn't do that. He loves a +horse, and any man who loves a horse couldn't fill a waterhole in this +desert." + +Hare entered upon his new duties as a range-rider with a zeal that +almost made up for his lack of experience; he bade fair to develop into +a right-hand man for Dave, under whose watchful eye he worked. His +natural qualifications were soon shown; he could ride, though his seat +was awkward and clumsy compared to that of the desert rangers, a fault +that Dave said would correct itself as time fitted him close to the +saddle and to the swing of his horse. His sight had become +extraordinarily keen for a new-comer on the ranges, and when experience +had taught him the land-marks, the trails, the distances, the difference +between smoke and dust and haze, when he could distinguish a band of +mustangs from cattle, and range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a +word, when he had learned to know what it was that he saw, to trust his +judgment, he would have acquired the basic feature of a rider's +training. But he showed no gift for the lasso, that other essential +requirement of his new calling. + +"It's funny," said Dave, patiently, "you can't get the hang of it. Maybe +it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some +fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as +quick as you can throw your gun!" + +Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when +he missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed +altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try +roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was +beautiful and fleet. The horse learned rapidly the agile turns and +sudden stops necessary, and as for free running he never got enough. Out +on the range Silvermane always had his head up and watched; his life had +been spent in watching; he saw cattle, riders, mustangs, deer, coyotes, +every moving thing. So that Hare, in the chasing of a cow, had but to +start Silvermane, and then he could devote himself to the handling of +his rope. It took him ten times longer to lasso the cow than it took +Silvermane to head the animal. Dave laughed at some of Jack's exploits, +encouraged him often, praised his intent if not his deed; and always +after a run nodded at Silvermane in mute admiration. + +Branding the cows and yearlings and tame steers which watered at Silver +Cup, and never wandered far away, was play according to Dave's version. +"Wait till we get after the wild steers up on the mountain and in the +canyons," he would say when Jack dropped like a log at supper. Work it +certainly was for him. At night he was so tired that he could scarcely +crawl into bed; his back felt as if it were broken; his legs were raw, +and his bones ached. Many mornings he thought it impossible to arise, +but always he crawled out, grim and haggard, and hobbled round the camp- +fire to warm his sore and bruised muscles. Then when Zeke and George +rode in with the horses the day's work began. During these weeks of his +"hardening up," as Dave called it, Hare bore much pain, but he continued +well and never missed a day. At the most trying time when for a few days +he had to be helped on and off Silvermane--for he insisted that he would +not stay in camp--the brothers made his work as light as possible. They +gave him the branding outfit to carry, a running-iron and a little pot +with charcoal and bellows; and with these he followed the riders at a +convenient distance and leisurely pace. + +Some days they branded one hundred cattle. By October they had August +Naab's crudely fashioned cross on thousands of cows and steers. Still +the stock kept coming down from the mountain, driven to the valley by +cold weather and snow-covered grass. It was well into November before +the riders finished at Silver Cup, and then arose a question as to +whether it would be advisable to go to Seeping Springs or to the canyons +farther west along the slope of Coconina. George favored the former, but +Dave overruled him. + +"Father's orders," he said. "He wants us to ride Seeping Springs last +because he'll be with us then, and Snap too. We're going to have trouble +over there." + +"How's this branding stock going to help the matter any, I'd like to +know?" inquired George. "We Mormons never needed it." + +"Father says we'll all have to come to it. Holderness's stock is +branded. Perhaps he's marked a good many steers of ours. We can't tell. +But if we have our own branded we'll know what's ours. If he drives our +stock we'll know it; if Dene steals, it can be proved that he steals." + +"Well, what then? Do you think he'll care for that, or Holderness +either?" + +"No, only it makes this difference: both things will then be barefaced +robbery. We've never been able to prove anything, though we boys know; +we don't need any proof. Father gives these men the benefit of a doubt. +We've got to stand by him. I know, George, your hand's begun to itch for +your gun. So does mine. But we've orders to obey." + +Many gullies and canyons headed up on the slope of Coconina west of +Silver Cup, and ran down to open wide on the flat desert. They contained +plots of white sage and bunches of rich grass and cold springs. The +steers that ranged these ravines were wild as wolves, and in the tangled +thickets of juniper and manzanita and jumbles of weathered cliff they +were exceedingly difficult to catch. + +Well it was that Hare had received his initiation and had become inured +to rough, incessant work, for now he came to know the real stuff of +which these Mormons were made. No obstacle barred them. They penetrated +the gullies to the last step; they rode weathered slopes that were +difficult for deer to stick upon; they thrashed the bayonet-guarded +manzanita copses; they climbed into labyrinthine fastnesses, penetrating +to every nook where a steer could hide. Miles of sliding slope and +marble-bottomed streambeds were ascended on foot, for cattle could climb +where a horse could not. Climbing was arduous enough, yet the hardest +and most perilous toil began when a wild steer was cornered. They roped +the animals on moving slopes of weathered stone, and branded them on the +edges of precipices. + +The days and weeks passed, how many no one counted or cared. The circle +of the sun daily lowered over the south end of Coconina; and the black +snow-clouds crept down the slopes. Frost whitened the ground at dawn, +and held half the day in the shade. Winter was close at the heels of the +long autumn. + +As for Hare, true to August Naab's assertion, he had lost flesh and +suffered, and though the process was heartbreaking in its severity, he +hung on till he hardened into a leather lunged, wire-muscled man, +capable of keeping pace with his companions. + +He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated +tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in +the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his +step as he went down the slope for his horse. He no longer feared that +Silvermane would run away. The gray's bell could always be heard near +camp in the mornings, and when Hare whistled there came always the +answering thump of hobbled feet. When Silvermane saw him striding +through the cedars or across the grassy belt of the valley he would +neigh his gladness. Hare had come to love Silvermane and talked to him +and treated him as if he were human. + +When the mustangs were brought into camp the day's work began, the same +work as that of yesterday, and yet with endless variety, with ever- +changing situations that called for quick wits, steel arms, stout +hearts, and unflagging energies. The darkening blue sky and the sun- +tipped crags of Vermillion Cliffs were signals to start for camp. They +ate like wolves, sat for a while around the camp-fire, a ragged, weary, +silent group; and soon lay down, their dark faces in the shadow of the +cedars. + +In the beginning of this toil-filled time Hare had resolutely set +himself to forget Mescal, and he had succeeded at least for a time, when +he was so sore and weary that he scarcely thought at all. But she came +back to him, and then there was seldom an hour that was not hers. The +long months which seemed years since he had seen her, the change in him +wrought by labor and peril, the deepening friendship between him and +Dave, even the love he bore Silvermane--these, instead of making dim the +memory of the dark-eyed girl, only made him tenderer in his thought of +her. + +Snow drove the riders from the canyon-camp down to Silver Cup, where +they found August Naab and Snap, who had ridden in the day before. + +"Now you couldn't guess how many cattle are back there in the canyons," +said Dave to his father. + +"I haven't any idea," answered August, dubiously. + +"Five thousand head." + +"Dave!" His father's tone was incredulous. + +"Yes. You know we haven't been back in there for years. The stock has +multiplied rapidly in spite of the lions and wolves. Not only that, but +they're safe from the winter, and are not likely to be found by Dene or +anybody else." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"The first cattle we drove in used to come back here to Silver Cup to +winter. Then they stopped coming, and we almost forgot them. Well, +they've got a trail round under the Saddle, and they go down and winter +in the canyon. In summer they head up those rocky gullies, but they +can't get up on the mountain. So it isn't likely any one will ever +discover them. They are wild as deer and fatter than any stock on the +ranges." + +"Good! That's the best news I've had in many a day. Now, boys, we'll +ride the mountain slope toward Seeping Springs, drive the cattle down, +and finish up this branding. Somebody ought to go to White Sage. I'd +like to know what's going on, what Holderness is up to, what Dene is +doing, if there's any stock being driven to Lund." + +"I told you I'd go," said Snap Naab. + +"I don't want you to," replied his father. "I guess it can wait till +spring, then we'll all go in. I might have thought to bring you boys out +some clothes and boots. You're pretty ragged. Jack there, especially, +looks like a scarecrow. Has he worked as hard as he looks?" + +"Father, he never lost a day," replied Dave, warmly, "and you know what +riding is in these canyons." + +August Naab looked at Hare and laughed. "It'd be funny, wouldn't it, if +Holderness tried to slap you now? I always knew you'd do, Jack, and now +you're one of us, and you'll have a share with my sons in the cattle." + +But the generous promise failed to offset the feeling aroused by the +presence of Snap Naab. With the first sight of Snap's sharp face and +strange eyes Hare became conscious of an inward heat, which he had felt +before, but never as now, when there seemed to be an actual flame within +his breast. Yet Snap seemed greatly changed; the red flush, the swollen +lines no longer showed in his face; evidently in his absence on the +Navajo desert he had had no liquor; he was good-natured, lively, much +inclined to joking, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten his +animosity toward Hare. It was easy for Hare to see that the man's evil +nature was in the ascendancy only when he was under the dominance of +drink. But he could not forgive; he could not forget. Mescal's dark, +beautiful eyes haunted him. Even now she might be married to this man. +Perhaps that was why Snap appeared to be in such cheerful spirits. +Suspense added its burdensome insistent question, but he could not bring +himself to ask August if the marriage had taken place. For a day he +fought to resign himself to the inevitability of the Mormon custom, to +forget Mescal, and then he gave up trying. This surrender he felt to be +something crucial in his life, though he could not wholly understand it. +It was the darkening of his spirit; the death of boyish gentleness; the +concluding step from youth into a forced manhood. The desert +regeneration had not stopped at turning weak lungs, vitiated blood, and +flaccid muscles into a powerful man; it was at work on his mind, his +heart, his soul. They answered more and more to the call of some +outside, ever-present, fiercely subtle thing. + +Thenceforth he no longer vexed himself by trying to forget Mescal; if +she came to mind he told himself the truth, that the weeks and months +had only added to his love. And though it was bitter-sweet there was +relief in speaking the truth to himself. He no longer blinded himself by +hoping, striving to have generous feelings toward Snap Naab; he called +the inward fire by its real name--jealousy--and knew that in the end it +would become hatred. + +On the third morning after leaving Silver Cup the riders were working +slowly along the slope of Coconina; and Hare having driven down a bunch +of cattle, found himself on an open ridge near the temporary camp. +Happening to glance up the valley he saw what appeared to be smoke +hanging over Seeping Springs. + +"That can't be dust," he soliloquized. "Looks blue to me." + +He studied the hazy bluish cloud for some time, but it was so many miles +away that he could not be certain whether it was smoke or not, so he +decided to ride over and make sure. None of the Naabs was in camp, and +there was no telling when they would return, so he set off alone. He +expected to get back before dark, but it was of little consequence +whether he did or not, for he had his blanket under the saddle, and +grain for Silvermane and food for himself in the saddle-bags. + +Long before Silvermane's easy trot had covered half the distance Hare +recognized the cloud that had made him curious. It was smoke. He thought +that range-riders were camping at the springs, and he meant to see what +they were about. After three hours of brisk travel he reached the top of +a low rolling knoll that hid Seeping Springs. He remembered the springs +were up under the red wall, and that the pool where the cattle drank was +lower down in a clump of cedars. He saw smoke rising in a column from +the cedars, and he heard the lowing of cattle. + +"Something wrong here," he muttered. Following the trail, he rode +through the cedars to come upon the dry hole where the pool had once +been. There was no water in the flume. The bellowing cattle came from +beyond the cedars, down the other side of the ridge. He was not long in +reaching the open, and then one glance made all clear. + +A new pool, large as a little lake, shone in the sunlight, and round it +a jostling horned mass of cattle were pressing against a high corral. +The flume that fed water to the pool was fenced all the way up to the +springs. + +Jack slowly rode down the ridge with eyes roving under the cedars and up +to the wall. Not a man was in sight. + +When he got to the fire he saw that it was not many hours old and was +surrounded by fresh boot and horse tracks in the dust. Piles of slender +pine logs, trimmed flat on one side, were proof of somebody's intention +to erect a cabin. In a rage he flung himself from the saddle. It was not +many moments' work for him to push part of the fire under the fence, and +part of it against the pile of logs. The pitch-pines went off like +rockets, driving the thirsty cattle back. + +"I'm going to trail those horse-tracks," said Hare. + +He tore down a portion of the fence enclosing the flume, and gave +Silvermane a drink, then put him to a fast trot on the white trail. The +tracks he had resolved to follow were clean-cut. A few inches of snow +had fallen in the valley, and melting, had softened the hard ground. +Silvermane kept to his gait with the tirelessness of a desert horse. +August Naab had once said fifty miles a day would be play for the +stallion. All the afternoon Hare watched the trail speed toward him and +the end of Coconina rise above him. Long before sunset he had reached +the slope of the mountain and had begun the ascent. Half way up he came +to the snow and counted the tracks of three horses. At twilight he rode +into the glade where August Naab had waited for his Navajo friends. +There, in a sheltered nook among the rocks, he unsaddled Silvermane, +covered and fed him, built a fire, ate sparingly of his meat and bread, +and rolling up in his blanket, was soon asleep. + +He was up and off before sunrise, and he came out on the western slope +of Coconina just as the shadowy valley awakened from its misty sleep +into daylight. Soon the Pink Cliffs leaned out, glimmering and vast, to +change from gloomy gray to rosy glow, and then to brighten and to redden +in the morning sun. + +The snow thinned and failed, but the iron-cut horsetracks showed plainly +in the trail. At the foot of the mountain the tracks left the White Sage +trail and led off to the north toward the cliffs. Hare searched the red +sage-spotted waste for Holderness's ranch. He located it, a black patch +on the rising edge of the valley under the wall, and turned Silvermane +into the tracks that pointed straight toward it. + +The sun cleared Coconina and shone warm on his back; the Pink Cliffs +lifted higher and higher before him. From the ridge-tops he saw the +black patch grow into cabins and corrals. As he neared the ranch he came +into rolling pasture-land where the bleached grass shone white and the +cattle were ranging in the thousands. This range had once belonged to +Martin Cole, and Hare thought of the bitter Mormon as he noted the snug +cabins for the riders, the rambling, picturesque ranch-house, the large +corrals, and the long flume that ran down from the cliff. There was a +corral full of shaggy horses, and another full of steers, and two lines +of cattle, one going into a pond-corral, and one coming out. The air was +gray with dust. A bunch of yearlings were licking at huge lumps of brown +rock-salt. A wagonful of cowhides stood before the ranch-house. + +Hare reined in at the door and helloed. + +A red-faced ranger with sandy hair and twinkling eyes appeared. + +"Hello, stranger, get down an' come in," he said. + +"Is Holderness here?" asked Hare. + +"No. He's been to Lund with a bunch of steers. I reckon he'll be in +White Sage by now. I'm Snood, the foreman. Is it a job ridin' you want?" + +"No." + +"Say! thet hoss--" he exclaimed. His gaze of friendly curiosity had +moved from Hare to Silvermane. "You can corral me if it ain't thet +Sevier range stallion!" + +"Yes," said Hare. + +Snood's whoop brought three riders to the door, and when he pointed to +the horse, they stepped out with good-natured grins and admiring eyes. + +"I never seen him but onc't," said one. + +"Lordy, what a hoss!" Snood walked round Silvermane. "If I owned this +ranch I'd trade it for that stallion. I know Silvermane. He an' I hed +some chases over in Nevada. An', stranger, who might you be?" + +"I'm one of August Naab's riders." + +"Dene's spy!" Snood looked Hare over carefully, with much interest, and +without any show of ill-will. "I've heerd of you. An' what might one of +Naab's riders want of Holderness?" + +"I rode in to Seeping Springs yesterday," said Hare, eying the foreman. +"There was a new pond, fenced in. Our cattle couldn't drink. There were +a lot of trimmed logs. Somebody was going to build a cabin. I burned the +corrals and logs--and I trailed fresh tracks from Seeping Springs to +this ranch." + +"The h--l you did!" shouted Snood, and his face flamed. "See here, +stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such +dirty tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till +this minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't +know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no +man's water. Is thet good with you?" + +Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at +his pipe. Hare offered his hand. + +"Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but +you weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told +me." + +"Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now. I've +no more to say, except I never hired them." + +"I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry." + +With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of +the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it. +He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that +he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode +in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard, +where he put up his horse. Then he went to the house. It was necessary +to introduce himself for none of the Bishop's family recognized in him +the young man they had once befriended. The old Bishop prayed and +reminded him of the laying on of hands. The women served him with food, +the young men brought him new boots and garments to replace those that +had been worn to tatters. Then they plied him with questions about the +Naabs, whom they had not seen for nearly a year. They rejoiced at his +recovered health; they welcomed him with warm words. + +Later Hare sought an interview alone with the Bishop's sons, and he told +them of the loss of the sheep, of the burning of the new corrals, of the +tracks leading to Holderness's ranch. In turn they warned him of his +danger, and gave him information desired by August Naab. Holderness's +grasp on the outlying ranges and water-rights had slowly and surely +tightened; every month he acquired new territory; he drove cattle +regularly to Lund, and it was no secret that much of the stock came from +the eastern slope of Coconina. He could not hire enough riders to do his +work. A suspicion that he was not a cattle-man but a rustler had slowly +gained ground; it was scarcely hinted, but it was believed. His +friendship with Dene had become offensive to the Mormons, who had +formerly been on good footing with him. Dene's killing of Martin Cole +was believed to have been at Holderness's instigation. Cole had +threatened Holderness. Then Dene and Cole had met in the main street of +White Sage. Cole's death ushered in the bloody time that he had +prophesied. Dene's band had grown; no man could say how many men he had +or who they were. Chance and Culver were openly his lieutenants, and +whenever they came into the village there was shooting. There were ugly +rumors afloat in regard to their treatment of Mormon women. The wives +and daughters of once peaceful White Sage dared no longer venture out- +of-doors after nightfall. There was more money in coin and more whiskey +than ever before in the village. Lund and the few villages northward +were terrorized as well as White Sage. It was a bitter story. + +The Bishop and his sons tried to persuade Hare next morning to leave the +village without seeing Holderness, urging the futility of such a +meeting. + +"I will see him," said Hare. He spent the morning at the cottage, and +when it came time to take his leave he smiled into the anxious faces. +"If I weren't able to take care of myself August Naab would never have +said so." + +Had Hare asked himself what he intended to do when he faced Holderness +he could not have told. His feelings were pent-in, bound, but at the +bottom something rankled. His mind seemed steeped in still thunderous +atmosphere. + +How well he remembered the quaint wide street, the gray church! As he +rode many persons stopped to gaze at Silvermane. He turned the corner +into the main thoroughfare. A new building had been added to the several +stores. Mustangs stood, bridles down, before the doors; men lounged +along the railings. + +As he dismounted he heard the loungers speak of his horse, and he saw +their leisurely manner quicken. He stepped into the store to meet more +men, among them August Naab's friend Abe. Hare might never have been in +White Sage for all the recognition he found, but he excited something +keener than curiosity. He asked for spurs, a clasp-knife and some other +necessaries, and he contrived, when momentarily out of sight behind a +pile of boxes, to whisper his identity to Abe. The Mormon was +dumbfounded. When he came out of his trance he showed his gladness, and +at a question of Hare's he silently pointed toward the saloon. + +Hare faced the open door. The room had been enlarged; it was now on a +level with the store floor, and was blue with smoke, foul with the fumes +of rum, and noisy with the voices of dark, rugged men. + +A man in the middle of the room was dancing a jig. + +"Hello, who's this?" he said, straightening up. + +It might have been the stopping of the dance or the quick spark in +Hare's eyes that suddenly quieted the room. Hare had once vowed to +himself that he would never forget the scarred face; it belonged to the +outlaw Chance. + +The sight of it flashed into the gulf of Hare's mind like a meteor into +black night. A sudden madness raced through his veins. + +"Hello, Don't you know me?" he said, with a long step that brought him +close to Chance. + +The outlaw stood irresolute. Was this an old friend or an enemy? His +beady eyes scintillated and twitched as if they sought to look him over, +yet dared not because it was only in the face that intention could be +read. + +The stillness of the room broke to a hoarse whisper from some one. + +"Look how he packs his gun." + +Another man answering whispered: "There's not six men in Utah who pack a +gun thet way." + +Chance heard these whispers, for his eye shifted downward the merest +fraction of a second. The brick color of his face turned a dirty white. + +"Do you know me?" demanded Hare. + +Chance's answer was a spasmodic jerking of his hand toward his hip. +Hare's arm moved quicker, and Chance's Colt went spinning to the floor. + +"Too slow," said Hare. Then he flung Chance backward and struck him +blows that sent his head with sodden thuds against the log wall. Chance +sank to the floor in a heap. + +Hare kicked the outlaw's gun out of the way, and wheeled to the crowd. +Holderness stood foremost, his tall form leaning against the bar, his +clear eyes shining like light on ice. + +"Do you know me?" asked Hare, curtly. + +Holderness started slightly. "I certainly don't," he replied. + +"You slapped my face once." Hare leaned close to the rancher. "Slap it +now--you rustler!" + +In the slow, guarded instant when Hare's gaze held Holderness and the +other men, a low murmuring ran through the room. + +"Dene's spy!" suddenly burst out Holderness. + +Hare slapped his face. Then he backed a few paces with his right arm +held before him almost as high as his shoulder, the wrist rigid, the +fingers quivering. + +"Don't try to draw, Holderness. Thet's August Naab's trick with a gun," +whispered a man, hurriedly. + +"Holderness, I made a bonfire over at Seeping Springs," said Hare. "I +burned the new corrals your men built, and I tracked them to your ranch. +Snood threw up his job when he heard it. He's an honest man, and no +honest man will work for a water-thief, a cattle-rustler, a sheep- +killer. You're shown up, Holderness. Leave the country before some one +kills you--understand, before some one kills you!" + +Holderness stood motionless against the bar, his eyes fierce with +passionate hate. + +Hare backed step by step to the outside door, his right hand still high, +his look holding the crowd bound to the last instant. Then he slipped +out, scattered the group round Silvermane, and struck hard with the +spurs. + +The gray, never before spurred, broke down the road into his old wild +speed. + +Men were crossing from the corner of the green square. One, a compact +little fellow, swarthy, his dark hair long and flowing, with jaunty and +alert air, was Dene, the outlaw leader. He stopped, with his companions, +to let the horse cross. + +Hare guided the thundering stallion slightly to the left. Silvermane +swerved and in two mighty leaps bore down on the outlaw. Dene saved +himself by quickly leaping aside, but even as he moved Silvermane struck +him with his left fore-leg, sending him into the dust. + +At the street corner Hare glanced back. Yelling men were rushing from +the saloon and some of them fired after him. The bullets whistled +harmlessly behind Hare. Then the corner house shut off his view. + +Silvermane lengthened out and stretched lower with his white mane flying +and his nose pointed level for the desert. + + + + + + +XI. THE DESERT-HAWK + +TOWARD the close of the next day Jack Hare arrived at Seeping Springs. A +pile of gray ashes marked the spot where the trimmed logs had lain. +Round the pool ran a black circle hard packed into the ground by many +hoofs. Even the board flume had been burned to a level with the glancing +sheet of water. Hare was slipping Silvermane's bit to let him drink when +he heard a halloo. Dave Naab galloped out of the cedars, and presently +August Naab and his other sons appeared with a pack-train. + +"Now you've played bob!" exclaimed Dave. He swung out of his saddle and +gripped Hare with both hands. "I know what you've done; I know where +you've been. Father will be furious, but don't you care." + +The other Naabs trotted down the slope and lined their horses before the +pool. The sons stared in blank astonishment; the father surveyed the +scene slowly, and then fixed wrathful eyes on Hare. + +"What does this mean?" he demanded, with the sonorous roll of his angry +voice. + +Hare told all that had happened. + +August Naab's gloomy face worked, and his eagle-gaze had in it a strange +far-seeing light; his mind was dwelling upon his mystic power of +revelation. + +"I see--I see," he said haltingly. + +"Ki--yi-i-i!" yelled Dave Naab with all the power of his lungs. His head +was back, his mouth wide open, his face red, his neck corded and swollen +with the intensity of his passion. + +"Be still--boy!" ordered his father. "Hare, this was madness--but tell +me what you learned." + +Briefly Hare repeated all that he had been told at the Bishop's, and +concluded with the killing of Martin Cole by Dene. + +August Naab bowed his head and his giant frame shook under the force of +his emotion. Martin Cole was the last of his life-long friends. + +"This--this outlaw--you say you ran him down?" asked Naab, rising +haggard and shaken out of his grief. + +"Yes. He didn't recognize me or know what was coming till Silvermane was +on him. But he was quick, and fell sidewise. Silvermane's knee sent him +sprawling." + +"What will it all lead to?" asked August Naab, and in his extremity he +appealed to his eldest son. + +"The bars are down," said Snap Naab, with a click of his long teeth. + +"Father," began Dave Naab earnestly, "Jack has done a splendid thing. +The news will fly over Utah like wildfire. Mormons are slow. They need a +leader. But they can follow and they will. We can't cure these evils by +hoping and praying. We've got to fight!" + +"Dave's right, dad, it means fight," cried George, with his fist +clinched high. + +"You've been wrong, father, in holding back," said Zeke Naab, his lean +jaw bulging. "This Holderness will steal the water and meat out of our +children's mouths. We've got to fight!" + +"Let's ride to White Sage," put in Snap Naab, and the little flecks in +his eyes were dancing. "I'll throw a gun on Dene. I can get to him. +We've been tolerable friends. He's wanted me to join his band. I'll kill +him." + +He laughed as he raised his right hand and swept it down to his left +side; the blue Colt lay on his outstretched palm. Dene's life and +Holderness's, too, hung in the balance between two deadly snaps of this +desert-wolf's teeth. He was one of the Naabs, and yet apart from them, +for neither religion, nor friendship, nor life itself mattered to him. + +August Naab's huge bulk shook again, not this time with grief, but in +wrestling effort to withstand the fiery influence of this unholy +fighting spirit among his sons. + +"I am forbidden." + +His answer was gentle, but its very gentleness breathed of his battle +over himself, of allegiance to something beyond earthly duty. "We'll +drive the cattle to Silver Cup," he decided, "and then go home. I give +up Seeping Springs. Perhaps this valley and water will content +Holderness." + +When they reached the oasis Hare was surprised to find that it was the +day before Christmas. The welcome given the long-absent riders was like +a celebration. Much to Hare's disappointment Mescal did not appear; the +homecoming was not joyful to him because it lacked her welcoming smile. + +Christmas Day ushered in the short desert winter; ice formed in the +ditches and snow fell, but neither long resisted the reflection of the +sun from the walls. The early morning hours were devoted to religious +services. At midday dinner was served in the big room of August Naab's +cabin. At one end was a stone fireplace where logs blazed and crackled. + +In all his days Hare had never seen such a bountiful board. Yet he was +unable to appreciate it, to share in the general thanksgiving. +Dominating all other feeling was the fear that Mescal would come in and +take a seat by Snap Naab's side. When Snap seated himself opposite with +his pale little wife Hare found himself waiting for Mescal with an +intensity that made him dead to all else. The girls, Judith, Esther, +Rebecca, came running gayly in, clad in their best dresses, with bright +ribbons to honor the occasion. Rebecca took the seat beside Snap, and +Hare gulped with a hard contraction of his throat. Mescal was not yet a +Mormon's wife! He seemed to be lifted upward, to grow light-headed with +the blessed assurance. Then Mescal entered and took the seat next to +him. She smiled and spoke, and the blood beat thick in his ears. + +That moment was happy, but it was as nothing to its successor. Under the +table-cover Mescal's hand found his, and pressed it daringly and gladly. +Her hand lingered in his all the time August Naab spent in carving the +turkey--lingered there even though Snap Naab's hawk eyes were never far +away. In the warm touch of her hand, in some subtle thing that radiated +from her Hare felt a change in the girl he loved. A few months had +wrought in her some indefinable difference, even as they had increased +his love to its full volume and depth. Had his absence brought her to +the realization of her woman's heart? + +In the afternoon Hare left the house and spent a little while with +Silvermane; then he wandered along the wall to the head of the oasis, +and found a seat on the fence. The next few weeks presented to him a +situation that would be difficult to endure. He would be near Mescal, +but only to have the truth forced cruelly home to him every sane moment- +-that she was not for him. Out on the ranges he had abandoned himself to +dreams of her; they had been beautiful; they had made the long hours +seem like minutes; but they had forged chains that could not be broken, +and now he was hopelessly fettered. + +The clatter of hoofs roused him from a reverie which was half sad, half +sweet. Mescal came tearing down the level on Black Bolly. She pulled in +the mustang and halted beside Hare to hold out shyly a red scarf +embroidered with Navajo symbols in white and red beads. + +"I've wanted a chance to give you this," she said, "a little Christmas +present." + +For a few seconds Hare could find no words. + +"Did you make it for me, Mescal?" he finally asked. "How good of you! +I'll keep it always." + +"Put it on now--let me tie it--there!" + +"But, child. Suppose he--they saw it?" + +"I don't care who sees it." + +She met him with clear, level eyes. Her curt, crisp speech was full of +meaning. He looked long at her, with a yearning denied for many a day. +Her face was the same, yet wonderfully changed; the same in line and +color, but different in soul and spirit. The old sombre shadow lay deep +in the eyes, but to it had been added gleam of will and reflection of +thought. The whole face had been refined and transformed. + +"Mescal! What's happened? You're not the same. You seem almost happy. +Have you--has he--given you up?" + +"Don't you know Mormons better than that? The thing is the same--so far +as they're concerned." + +"But Mescal--are you going to marry him? For God's sake, tell me." + +"Never." It was a woman's word, instant, inflexible, desperate. With a +deep breath Hare realized where the girl had changed. + +"Still you're promised, pledged to him! How'll you get out of it?" + +"I don't know how. But I'll cut out my tongue, and be dumb as my poor +peon before I'll speak the word that'll make me Snap Naab's wife." + +There was a long silence. Mescal smoothed out Bolly's mane, and Hare +gazed up at the walls with eyes that did not see them. + +Presently he spoke. "I'm afraid for you. Snap watched us to-day at +dinner." + +"He's jealous." + +"Suppose he sees this scarf?" + +Mescal laughed defiantly. It was bewildering for Hare to hear her. + +"He'll--Mescal, I may yet come to this." Hare's laugh echoed Mescal's as +he pointed to the enclosure under the wall, where the graves showed bare +and rough. + +Her warm color fled, but it flooded back, rich, mantling brow and cheek +and neck. + +"Snap Naab will never kill you," she said impulsively. + +"Mescal." + +She swiftly turned her face away as his hand closed on hers. + +"Mescal, do you love me?" + +The trembling of her fingers and the heaving of her bosom lent his hope +conviction. "Mescal," he went on, "these past months have been years, +years of toiling, thinking, changing, but always loving. I'm not the man +you knew. I'm wild-- I'm starved for a sight of you. I love you! Mescal, +my desert flower!" + +She raised her free hand to his shoulder and swayed toward him. He held +her a moment, clasped tight, and then released her. + +"I'm quite mad!" he exclaimed, in a passion of self-reproach. "What a +risk I'm putting on you! But I couldn't help it. Look at me-- Just once- +-please-- Mescal, just one look.... Now go." + +The drama of the succeeding days was of absorbing interest. Hare had +liberty; there was little work for him to do save to care for +Silvermane. He tried to hunt foxes in the caves and clefts; he rode up +and down the broad space under the walls; he sought the open desert only +to be driven in by the bitter, biting winds. Then he would return to the +big living-room of the Naabs and sit before the burning logs. This +spacious room was warm, light, pleasant, and was used by every one in +leisure hours. Mescal spent most of her time there. She was engaged upon +a new frock of buckskin, and over this she bent with her needle and +beads. When there was a chance Hare talked with her, speaking one +language with his tongue, a far different one with his eyes. When she +was not present he looked into the glowing red fire and dreamed of her. + +In the evenings when Snap came in to his wooing and drew Mescal into a +corner, Hare watched with covert glance and smouldering jealousy. +Somehow he had come to see all things and all people in the desert +glass, and his symbol for Snap Naab was the desert-hawk. Snap's eyes +were as wild and piercing as those of a hawk; his nose and mouth were as +the beak of a hawk; his hands resembled the claws of a hawk; and the +spurs he wore, always bloody, were still more significant of his +ruthless nature. Then Snap's courting of the girl, the cool assurance, +the unhastening ease, were like the slow rise, the sail, and the poise +of a desert-hawk before the downward lightning-swift swoop on his +quarry. + +It was intolerable for Hare to sit there in the evenings, to try to play +with the children who loved him, to talk to August Naab when his eye +seemed ever drawn to the quiet couple in the corner, and his ear was +unconsciously strained to catch a passing word. That hour was a +miserable one for him, yet he could not bring himself to leave the room. +He never saw Snap touch her; he never heard Mescal's voice; he believed +that she spoke very little. When the hour was over and Mescal rose to +pass to her room, then his doubt, his fear, his misery, were as though +they had never been, for as Mescal said good-night she would give him +one look, swift as a flash, and in it were womanliness and purity, and +something beyond his comprehension. Her Indian serenity and mysticism +veiled yet suggested some secret, some power by which she might yet +escape the iron band of this Mormon rule. Hare could not fathom it. In +that good-night glance was a meaning for him alone, if meaning ever +shone in woman's eyes, and it said: "I will be true to you and to +myself!" + +Once the idea struck him that as soon as spring returned it would be an +easy matter, and probably wise, for him to leave the oasis and go up +into Utah, far from the desert-canyon country. But the thought refused +to stay before his consciousness a moment. New life had flushed his +veins here. He loved the dreamy, sleepy oasis with its mellow sunshine +always at rest on the glistening walls; he loved the cedar-scented +plateau where hope had dawned, and the wind-swept sand-strips, where +hard out-of-door life and work had renewed his wasting youth; he loved +the canyon winding away toward Coconina, opening into wide abyss; and +always, more than all, he loved the Painted Desert, with its ever- +changing pictures, printed in sweeping dust and bare peaks and purple +haze. He loved the beauty of these places, and the wildness in them had +an affinity with something strange and untamed in him. He would never +leave them. When his blood had cooled, when this tumultuous thrill and +swell had worn themselves out, happiness would come again. + +Early in the winter Snap Naab had forced his wife to visit his father's +house with him; and she had remained in the room, white-faced, +passionately jealous, while he wooed Mescal. Then had come a scene. Hare +had not been present, but he knew its results. Snap had been furious, +his father grave, Mescal tearful and ashamed. The wife found many ways +to interrupt her husband's lovemaking. She sent the children for him; +she was taken suddenly ill; she discovered that the corral gate was open +and his cream-colored pinto, dearest to his heart, was running loose; +she even set her cottage on fire. + +One Sunday evening just before twilight Hare was sitting on the porch +with August Naab and Dave, when their talk was interrupted by Snap's +loud calling for his wife. At first the sounds came from inside his +cabin. Then he put his head out of a window and yelled. Plainly he was +both impatient and angry. It was nearly time for him to make his Sunday +call upon Mescal. + +"Something's wrong," muttered Dave. + +"Hester! Hester!" yelled Snap. + +Mother Ruth came out and said that Hester was not there. + +"Where is she?" Snap banged on the window-sill with his fists. "Find +her, somebody--Hester!" + +"Son, this is the Sabbath," called Father Naab, gravely. "Lower your +voice. Now what's the matter?" + +"Matter!" bawled Snap, giving way to rage. "When I was asleep Hester +stole all my clothes. She's hid them--she's run off--there's not a d--n +thing for me to put on! I'll--" + +The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the +speech. Hare managed to stifle his own mirth. Snap pulled in his head +and slammed the window shut. + +"Jack," said August, "even among Mormons the course of true love never +runs smooth." + +Hare finally forgot his bitter humor in pity for the wife. Snap came to +care not at all for her messages and tricks, and he let nothing +interfere with his evening beside Mescal. It was plain that he had gone +far on the road of love. Whatever he had been in the beginning of the +betrothal, he was now a lover, eager, importunate. His hawk's eyes were +softer than Hare had ever seen them; he was obliging, kind, gay, an +altogether different Snap Naab. He groomed himself often, and wore clean +scarfs, and left off his bloody spurs. For eight months he had not +touched the bottle. When spring approached he was madly in love with +Mescal. And the marriage was delayed because his wife would not have +another woman in her home. + +Once Hare heard Snap remonstrating with his father. + +"If she don't come to time soon I'll keep the kids and send her back to +her father." + +"Don't be hasty, son. Let her have time," replied August. "Women must be +humored. I'll wager she'll give in before the cottonwood blows, and +that's not long." + +It was Hare's habit, as the days grew warmer, to walk a good deal, and +one evening, as twilight shadowed the oasis and grew black under the +towering walls, he strolled out toward the fields. While passing Snap's +cottage Hare heard a woman's voice in passionate protest and a man's in +strident anger. Later as he stood with his arm on Silvermane, a woman's +scream, at first high-pitched, then suddenly faint and smothered, caused +him to grow rigid, and his hand clinched tight. When he went back by the +cottage a low moaning confirmed his suspicion. + +That evening Snap appeared unusually bright and happy; and he asked his +father to name the day for the wedding. August did so in a loud voice +and with evident relief. Then the quaint Mormon congratulations were +offered to Mescal. To Hare, watching the strange girl with the +distressingly keen intuition of an unfortunate lover, she appeared as +pleased as any of them that the marriage was settled. But there was no +shyness, no blushing confusion. When Snap bent to kiss her--his first +kiss--she slightly turned her face, so that his lips brushed her cheek, +yet even then her self-command did not break for an instant. It was a +task for Hare to pretend to congratulate her; nevertheless he mumbled +something. She lifted her long lashes, and there, deep beneath the +shadows, was unutterable anguish. It gave him a shock. He went to his +room, convinced that she had yielded; and though he could not blame her, +and he knew she was helpless, he cried out in reproach and resentment. +She had failed him, as he had known she must fail. He tossed on his bed +and thought; he lay quiet, wide-open eyes staring into the darkness, and +his mind burned and seethed. Through the hours of that long night he +learned what love had cost him. + +With the morning light came some degree of resignation. Several days +went slowly by, bringing the first of April, which was to be the +wedding-day. August Naab had said it would come before the cottonwoods +shed their white floss; and their buds had just commenced to open. The +day was not a holiday, and George and Zeke and Dave began to pack for +the ranges, yet there was an air of jollity and festivity. Snap Naab had +a springy step and jaunty mien. Once he regarded Hare with a slow smile. + +Piute prepared to drive his new flock up on the plateau. The women of +the household were busy and excited; the children romped. + +The afternoon waned into twilight, and Hare sought the quiet shadows +under the wall near the river trail. He meant to stay there until August +Naab had pronounced his son and Mescal man and wife. The dull roar of +the rapids borne on a faint puff of westerly breeze was lulled into a +soothing murmur. A radiant white star peeped over the black rim of the +wall. The solitude and silence were speaking to Hare's heart, easing his +pain, when a soft patter of moccasined feet brought him bolt upright. + +A slender form rounded the corner wall. It was Mescal. The white dog +Wolf hung close by her side. Swiftly she reached Hare. + +"Mescal!" he exclaimed. + +"Hush! Speak softly," she whispered fearfully. Her hands were clinging +to his. + +"Jack, do you love me still?" + +More than woman's sweetness was in the whisper; the portent of +indefinable motive made Hare tremble like a shaking leaf. + +"Good heavens! You are to be married in a few minutes--What do you mean? +Where are you going? this buckskin suit--and Wolf with you--Mescal!" + +"There's no time--only a word--hurry--do you love me still?" she panted, +with great shining eyes close to his. + +"Love you? With all my soul!" + +"Listen," she whispered, and leaned against him. A fresh breeze bore the +boom of the river. She caught her breath quickly: "I love you!--I love +you!--Good-bye!" + +She kissed him and broke from his clasp. Then silently, like a shadow, +with the white dog close beside her, she disappeared in the darkness of +the river trail. + +She was gone before he came out of his bewilderment. He rushed down the +trail; he called her name. The gloom had swallowed her, and only the +echo of his voice made answer. + + + + + + +XII. ECHO CLIFFS + +WHEN thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake +he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any +knowledge of it. + +With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the +gloomy shade, and felt his way to a point beyond the twinkling lights. +Then, peering through the gloom until assured he was safe from +observation, and taking the dark side of the house, he gained the hall, +and his room. He threw himself on his bed, and endeavored to compose +himself, to quiet his vibrating nerves, to still the triumphant bell- +beat of his heart. For a while all his being swung to the palpitating +consciousness of joy--Mescal had taken her freedom. She had escaped the +swoop of the hawk. + +While Hare lay there, trying to gather his shattered senses, the merry +sound of voices and the music of an accordion hummed from the big +living-room next to his. Presently heavy boots thumped on the floor of +the hall; then a hand rapped on his door. + +"Jack, are you there?" called August Naab. + +"Yes." + +"Come along then." + +Hare rose, opened the door and followed August. The room was bright with +lights; the table was set, and the Naabs, large and small, were standing +expectantly. As Hare found a place behind them Snap Naab entered with +his wife. She was as pale as if she were in her shroud. Hare caught +Mother Ruth's pitying subdued glance as she drew the frail little woman +to her side. When August Naab began fingering his Bible the whispering +ceased. + +"Why don't they fetch her?" he questioned. + +"Judith, Esther, bring her in," said Mother Mary, calling into the +hallway. + +Quick footsteps, and the girls burst in impetuously, exclaiming: +"Mescal's not there!" + +"Where is she, then?" demanded August Naab, going to the door. "Mescal!" +he called. + +Succeeding his authoritative summons only the cheery sputter of the +wood-fire broke the silence. + +"She hadn't put on her white frock," went on Judith. + +"Her buckskins aren't hanging where they always are," continued Esther. + +August Naab laid his Bible on the table. "I always feared it," he said +simply. + +"She's gone!" cried Snap Naab. He ran into the hall, into Mescal's room, +and returned trailing the white wedding-dress. "The time we thought she +spent to put this on she's been--" + +He choked over the words, and sank into a chair, face convulsed, hands +shaking, weak in the grip of a grief that he had never before known. +Suddenly he flung the dress into the fire. His wife fell to the floor in +a dead faint. Then the desert-hawk showed his claws. His hands tore at +the close scarf round his throat as if to liberate a fury that was +stifling him; his face lost all semblance to anything human. He began to +howl, to rave, to curse; and his father circled him with iron arm and +dragged him from the room. + +The children were whimpering, the wives lamenting. The quiet men +searched the house and yard and corrals and fields. But they found no +sign of Mescal. After long hours the excitement subsided and all sought +their beds. + +Morning disclosed the facts of Mescal's flight. She had dressed for the +trail; a knapsack was missing and food enough to fill it; Wolf was gone; +Noddle was not in his corral; the peon slave had not slept in his shack; +there were moccasin-tracks and burro-tracks and dog-tracks in the sand +at the river crossing, and one of the boats was gone. This boat was not +moored to the opposite shore. Questions arose. Had the boat sunk? Had +the fugitives crossed safely or had they drifted into the canyon? Dave +Naab rode out along the river and saw the boat, a mile below the rapids, +bottom side up and lodged on a sand-bar. + +"She got across, and then set the boat loose," said August. "That's the +Indian of her. If she went up on the cliffs to the Navajos maybe we'll +find her. If she went into the Painted Desert--" a grave shake of his +shaggy head completed his sentence. + +Morning also disclosed Snap Naab once more in the clutch of his demon, +drunk and unconscious, lying like a log on the porch of his cottage. + +"This means ruin to him," said his father. "He had one chance; he was +mad over Mescal, and if he had got her, he might have conquered his +thirst for rum." + +He gave orders for the sheep to be driven up on the plateau, and for his +sons to ride out to the cattle ranges. He bade Hare pack and get in +readiness to accompany him to the Navajo cliffs, there to search for +Mescal. + +The river was low, as the spring thaws had not yet set in, and the +crossing promised none of the hazard so menacing at a later period. +Billy Naab rowed across with the saddle and packs. Then August had to +crowd the lazy burros into the water. Silvermane went in with a rush, +and Charger took to the river like an old duck. August and Jack sat in +the stern of the boat, while Billy handled the oars. They crossed +swiftly and safely. The three burros were then loaded, two with packs, +the other with a heavy water-bag. + +"See there," said August, pointing to tracks in the sand. The imprints +of little moccasins reassured Hare, for he had feared the possibility +suggested by the upturned boat. "Perhaps it'll be better if I never find +her," continued Naab. "If I bring her back Snap's as likely to kill her +as to marry her. But I must try to find her. Only what to do with her--" + +"Give her to me," interrupted Jack. + +"Hare!" + +"I love her!" + +Naab's stern face relaxed. "Well, I'm beat! Though I don't see why you +should be different from all the others. It was that time you spent with +her on the plateau. I thought you too sick to think of a woman!" + +"Mescal cares for me," said Hare. + +"Ah! That accounts. Hare, did you play me fair?" + +"We tried to, though we couldn't help loving." + +"She would have married Snap but for you." + +"Yes. But I couldn't help that. You brought me out here, and saved my +life. I know what I owe you. Mescal meant to marry your son when I left +for the range last fall. But she's a true woman and couldn't. August +Naab, if we ever find her will you marry her to him--now?" + +"That depends. Did you know she intended to run?" + +"I never dreamed of it. I learned it only at the last moment. I met her +on the river trail." + +"You should have stopped her." + +Hare maintained silence. + +"You should have told me," went on Naab. + +"I couldn't. I'm only human." + +"Well, well, I'm not blaming you, Hare. I had hot blood once. But I'm +afraid the desert will not be large enough for you and Snap. She's +pledged to him. You can't change the Mormon Church. For the sake of +peace I'd give you Mescal, if I could. Snap will either have her or kill +her. I'm going to hunt this desert in advance of him, because he'll +trail her like a hound. It would be better to marry her to him than to +see her dead." + +"I'm not so sure of that." + +"Hare, your nose is on a blood scent, like a wolf's. I can see--I've +always seen--well, remember, it's man to man between you now." + +During this talk they were winding under Echo Cliffs, gradually +climbing, and working up to a level with the desert, which they +presently attained at a point near the head of the canyon. The trail +swerved to the left following the base of the cliffs. The tracks of +Noddle and Wolf were plainly visible in the dust. Hare felt that if they +ever led out into the immense airy space of the desert all hope of +finding Mescal must be abandoned. + +They trailed the tracks of the dog and burro to Bitter Seeps, a shallow +spring of alkali, and there lost all track of them. The path up the +cliffs to the Navajo ranges was bare, time-worn in solid rock, and +showed only the imprint of age. Desertward the ridges of shale, the +washes of copper earth, baked in the sun, gave no sign of the fugitives' +course. August Naab shrugged his broad shoulders and pointed his horse +to the cliff. It was dusk when they surmounted it. + +They camped in the lee of an uplifting crag. When the wind died down the +night was no longer unpleasantly cool; and Hare, finding August Naab +uncommunicative and sleepy, strolled along the rim of the cliff, as he +had been wont to do in the sheep-herding days. He could scarcely +dissociate them from the present, for the bitter-sweet smell of tree and +bush, the almost inaudible sigh of breeze, the opening and shutting of +the great white stars in the blue dome, the silence, the sense of the +invisible void beneath him--all were thought-provoking parts of that +past of which nothing could ever be forgotten. And it was a silence +which brought much to the ear that could hear. It was a silence +penetrated by faint and distant sounds, by mourning wolf, or moan of +wind in a splintered crag. Weird and low, an inarticulate voice, it +wailed up from the desert, winding along the hollow trail, freeing +itself in the wide air, and dying away. He had often heard the scream of +lion and cry of wildcat, but this was the strange sound of which August +Naab had told him, the mysterious call of canyon and desert night. + +Daylight showed Echo Cliffs to be of vastly greater range than the +sister plateau across the river. The roll of cedar level, the heave of +craggy ridge, the dip of white-sage valley gave this side a diversity +widely differing from the two steps of the Vermillion tableland. August +Naab followed a trail leading back toward the river. For the most part +thick cedars hid the surroundings from Hare's view; occasionally, +however, he had a backward glimpse from a high point, or a wide prospect +below, where the trail overlooked an oval hemmed-in valley. + +About midday August Naab brushed through a thicket, and came abruptly on +a declivity. He turned to his companion with a wave of his hand. + +"The Navajo camp," he said. "Eschtah has lived there for many years. +It's the only permanent Navajo camp I know. These Indians are nomads. +Most of them live wherever the sheep lead them. This plateau ranges for +a hundred miles, farther than any white man knows, and everywhere, in +the valleys and green nooks, will be found Navajo hogans. That's why we +may never find Mescal." + +Hare's gaze travelled down over the tips of cedar and crag to a pleasant +vale, dotted with round mound-like white-streaked hogans, from which +lazy floating columns of blue smoke curled upward. Mustangs and burros +and sheep browsed on the white patches of grass. Bright-red blankets +blazed on the cedar branches. There was slow colorful movement of +Indians, passing in and out of their homes. The scene brought +irresistibly to Hare the thought of summer, of long warm afternoons, of +leisure that took no stock of time. + +On the way down the trail they encountered a flock of sheep driven by a +little Navajo boy on a brown burro. It was difficult to tell which was +the more surprised, the long-eared burro, which stood stock-still, or +the boy, who first kicked and pounded his shaggy steed, and then jumped +off and ran with black locks flying. Farther down Indian girls started +up from their tasks, and darted silently into the shade of the cedars. +August Naab whooped when he reached the valley, and Indian braves +appeared, to cluster round him, shake his hand and Hare's, and lead them +toward the centre of the encampment. + +The hogans where these desert savages dwelt were all alike; only the +chief's was larger. From without it resembled a mound of clay with a few +white logs, half imbedded, shining against the brick red. August Naab +drew aside a blanket hanging over a door, and entered, beckoning his +companion to follow. Inured as Hare had become to the smell and smart of +wood-smoke, for a moment he could not see, or scarcely breathe, so thick +was the atmosphere. A fire, the size of which attested the desert +Indian's love of warmth, blazed in the middle of the hogan, and sent +part of its smoke upward through a round hole in the roof. Eschtah, with +blanket over his shoulders, his lean black head bent, sat near the fire. +He noted the entrance of his visitors, but immediately resumed his +meditative posture, and appeared to be unaware of their presence. + +Hare followed August's example, sitting down and speaking no word. His +eyes, however, roved discreetly to and fro. Eschtah's three wives +presented great differences in age and appearance. The eldest was a +wrinkled, parchment-skinned old hag who sat sightless before the fire; +the next was a solid square squaw, employed in the task of combing a +naked boy's hair with a comb made of stiff thin roots tied tightly in a +round bunch. Judging from the youngster's actions and grimaces, this +combing process was not a pleasant one. The third wife, much younger, +had a comely face, and long braids of black hair, of which, evidently, +she was proud. She leaned on her knees over a flat slab of rock, and +holding in her hands a long oval stone, she rolled and mashed corn into +meal. There were young braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way, +with bands binding their straight thick hair, silver rings in their +ears, silver bracelets on their wrists, silver buttons on their +moccasins. There were girls who looked up from their blanket-weaving +with shy curiosity, and then turned to their frames strung with long +threads. Under their nimble fingers the wool-carrying needles slipped in +and out, and the colored stripes grew apace. Then there were younger +boys and girls, all bright-eyed and curious; and babies sleeping on +blankets. Where the walls and ceiling were not covered with buckskin +garments, weapons and blankets, Hare saw the white wood-ribs of the +hogan structure. It was a work of art, this circular house of forked +logs and branches, interwoven into a dome, arched and strong, and all +covered and cemented with clay. + +At a touch of August's hand Hare turned to the old chief; and awaited +his speech. It came with the uplifting of Eschtah's head, and the +offering of his hand in the white man's salute. August's replies were +slow and labored; he could not speak the Navajo language fluently, but +he understood it. + +"The White Prophet is welcome," was the chief's greeting. "Does he come +for sheep or braves or to honor the Navajo in his home?" + +"Eschtah, he seeks the Flower of the Desert," replied August Naab. +"Mescal has left him. Her trail leads to the bitter waters under the +cliff, and then is as a bird's." + +"Eschtah has waited, yet Mescal has not come to him." + +"She has not been here?" + +"Mescal's shadow has not gladdened the Navajo's door." + +"She has climbed the crags or wandered into the canyons. The white +father loves her; he must find her." + +"Eschtah's braves and mustangs are for his friend's use. The Navajo will +find her if she is not as the grain of drifting sand. But is the White +Prophet wise in his years? Let the Flower of the Desert take root in the +soil of her forefathers." + +"Eschtah's wisdom is great, but he thinks only of Indian blood. Mescal +is half white, and her ways have been the ways of the white man. Nor +does Eschtah think of the white man's love." + +"The desert has called. Where is the White Prophet's vision? White blood +and red blood will not mix. The Indian's blood pales in the white man's +stream; or it burns red for the sun and the waste and the wild. +Eschtah's forefathers, sleeping here in the silence, have called the +Desert Flower." + +"It is true. But the white man is bound; he cannot be as the Indian; he +does not content himself with life as it is; he hopes and prays for +change; he believes in the progress of his race on earth. Therefore +Eschtah's white friend smelts Mescal; he has brought her up as his own; +he wants to take her home, to love her better, to trust to the future." + +"The white man's ways are white man's ways. Eschtah understands. He +remembers his daughter lying here. He closed her dead eyes and sent word +to his white friend. He named this child for the flower that blows in +the wind of silent places. Eschtah gave his granddaughter to his friend. +She has been the bond between them. Now she is flown and the White +Father seeks the Navajo. Let him command. Eschtah has spoken." + +Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the +guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every +waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the +river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, +ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into +the thickets and caves. From Eschtah's encampment westward the hogans +diminished in number till only one here and there was discovered, hidden +under a yellow wall, or amid a clump of cedars. All the Indians met with +were sternly questioned by the chiefs, their dwellings were searched, +and the ground about their waterholes was closely examined. Mile after +mile the plateau was covered by these Indians, who beat the brush and +penetrated the fastnesses with a hunting instinct that left scarcely a +rabbit-burrow unrevealed. The days sped by; the circle of the sun arched +higher; the patches of snow in high places disappeared; and the search +proceeded westward. They camped where the night overtook them, sometimes +near water and grass, sometimes in bare dry places. To the westward the +plateau widened. Rugged ridges rose here and there, and seared crags +split the sky like sharp sawteeth. And after many miles of wild up- +ranging they reached a divide which marked the line of Eschtah's domain. + +Naab's dogged persistence and the Navajos' faithfulness carried them +into the country of the Moki Indians, a tribe classed as slaves by the +proud race of Eschtah. Here they searched the villages and ancient tombs +and ruins, but of Mescal there was never a trace. + +Hare rode as diligently and searched as indefatigably as August, but he +never had any real hope of finding the girl. To hunt for her, however, +despite its hopelessness, was a melancholy satisfaction, for never was +she out of his mind. + +Nor was the month's hard riding with the Navajos without profit. He made +friends with the Indians, and learned to speak many of their words. Then +a whole host of desert tricks became part of his accumulating knowledge. +In climbing the crags, in looking for water and grass, in loosing +Silvermane at night and searching for him at dawn, in marking tracks on +hard ground, in all the sight and feeling and smell of desert things he +learned much from the Navajos. The whole outward life of the Indian was +concerned with the material aspect of Nature--dust, rock, air, wind, +smoke, the cedars, the beasts of the desert. These things made up the +Indians' day. The Navajos were worshippers of the physical; the sun was +their supreme god. In the mornings when the gray of dawn flushed to rosy +red they began their chant to the sun. At sunset the Navajos were +watchful and silent with faces westward. The Moki Indians also, Hare +observed, had their morning service to the great giver of light. In the +gloom of early dawn, before the pink appeared in the east, and all was +whitening gray, the Mokis emerged from their little mud and stone huts +and sat upon the roofs with blanketed and drooping heads. + +One day August Naab showed in few words how significant a factor the sun +was in the lives of desert men. + +"We've got to turn back," he said to Hare. "The sun's getting hot and +the snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we +can't cross." + +They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received +them in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of +departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, +which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs. +It was the Navajos' outlook over the Painted Desert. + +"Mescal is there," said August Naab. "She's there with the slave Eschtah +gave her. He leads Mescal. Who can follow him there?" + +The old chieftain reined in his horse, beside the time-hollowed trail, +and the same hand that waved his white friend downward swept up in slow +stately gesture toward the illimitable expanse. It was a warrior's +salute to an unconquered world. Hare saw in his falcon eyes the still +gleam, the brooding fire, the mystical passion that haunted the eyes of +Mescal. + +"The slave without a tongue is a wolf. He scents the trails and the +waters. Eschtah's eyes have grown old watching here, but he has seen no +Indian who could follow Mescal's slave. Eschtah will lie there, but no +Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is +lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. Look!" + +To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored +dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and +dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a veritable +rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred Hare--he saw +the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of alkali and +washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and dust- +encumbered ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of the +flat tableland rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the eye +beyond to veils and vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line of +level lanes, and so on, and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare +grasped a little of its meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed +world. Here was deep and majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But +it was only through Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its +terrifying desolateness, its sleeping death. + +When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere +speech, the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner +being seemed to shrink. + +"The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him," said Eschtah. +"The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand." + + + + + + +XIII. THE SOMBRE LINE + +AUGUST NAAB hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to +Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy +faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's +flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had +followed. + +Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy. +For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself +in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his +almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his +wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave +Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had +ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since. + +The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the +life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as +to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, +gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August +Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to +the range, and tell his sons that he would come later. + +It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and +made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars +toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of +the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab. + +"Hello, Jack," called Dave Naab, into the dark. "I knew that was you. +Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you +and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you +clear to the Little Colorado." + +Hare told the story of the fruitless search. + +"It's no more than we expected," said Dave. "The man doesn't live who +can trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped +her halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn +into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, +for she's a good girl, too good for Snap." + +"What's your news?" inquired Hare. + +"Oh, nothing much," replied Dave, with a short laugh. "The cattle +wintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke and +I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping Springs. +We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's. He's with +Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the corrals at +the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen riders +there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He finished +up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you." + +"About me!" + +"Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for +it. Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's +going too far--he is--" Dave did not conclude his remark, and the +silence was more significant than any utterance. + +"What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap's killing Snood?" + +"They've said a lot. This even-break business goes all right among gun- +fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed Culver, +and Snap will be outlawed next." + +"Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert too small for him +and me?" + +"Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak to you about it. +Snap will ride in here some day and then--" Dave's pause was not +reassuring. + +And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding +down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and +saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a +tall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and +Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught +sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars. +While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail. + +"It's Snap and Holderness," he called out, sharply. "What's Snap doing +with Holderness? What's he bringing him here for?" + +"I don't like the looks of it," replied Zeke, deliberately. + +"Jack, what'll you do?" asked Dave, suddenly. + +"Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit +from men who don't like me." + +"It might be wisest." + +"Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?" + +"No." The dull red came to Dave's cheek. "But will you draw on him?" + +"Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother." + +"Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on +Holderness, then?" + +"For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you," replied Hare, pacing the +trail. "Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd +draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull +too late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap +or Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would +either of them shoot an unarmed man?" + +"Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun." + +Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over +the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats +near the camp-fire. + +"There they come," whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by +George. + +"Steady, you fellows," said Dave, with a warning glance. "I'll do the +talking." + +Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the +glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood +directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside. + +"Howdy, boys?" called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a +gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, +their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the +cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed his +brother. + +"Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?" + +"I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round," replied Snap. +The hard lines, the sullen shade, the hawk-beak cruelty had returned +tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame. + +"New foreman!" exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared in +amazement. "No--you can't mean that--you're drunk!" + +"That's what I said," growled Snap. + +"You're a liar!" shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown on +his cheeks. He jumped off the ground in his fury. + +"It's true, Naab; he's my new foreman," put in Holderness, suavely. "A +hundred a month--in gold--and I've got as good a place for you." + +"Well, by G--d!" Dave's arms came down and his face blanched to his +lips. "Holderness!" + +"I know what you'd say," interrupted the ranchman. + +"But stop it. I know you're game. And what's the use of fighting? I'm +talking business. I'll--" + +"You can't talk business or anything else to me," said Dave Naab, and he +veered sharply toward his brother. "Say it again, Snap Naab. You've +hired out to ride for this man?" + +"That's it." + +"You're going against your father, your brothers, your own flesh and +blood?" + +"I can't see it that way." + +"Then you're a drunken, easily-led fool. This man's no rancher. He's a +rustler. He ruined Martin Cole, the father of your first wife. He's +stolen our cattle; he's jumped our water-rights. He's trying to break +us. For God's sake, ain't you a man?" + +"Things have gone bad for me," replied Snap, sullenly, shifting in his +saddle. "I reckon I'll do better to cut out alone for myself." + +"You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I always +knew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace the +Naabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here? Be +quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. You can't +even water your horses. Out with it!" + +At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenly +felt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of his +breast. The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemed +instantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Hare +dodged, but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave place +to a tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a +bloody hand fumbling at his breast. + +Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt, +held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick +which made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was +nearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone. + +"Cool down, there!" ordered Zeke. "He's done for." + +"My God--my God!" cried Dave, in a broken voice. "Not--not dead?" + +"Shot through the heart!" + +Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse. "D--n you! run, or +I'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again--you +draw!" He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. They +plunged out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing the +cedars, disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers. + +"Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my friend!... Who's to +tell father?" + +Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bare +shoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. "Cheer +up, Dave. I'm not dead yet." + +"Sure he's not," said Zeke. "He ducked none too soon, or too late, and +caught the bullet high up in the shoulder." + +Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on +Hare's knee shook a little. + +"When I saw George go for his gun," went on Zeke, "I knew there'd be a +lively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack was +dead." + +"Do you think they came over to get me?" asked Hare. + +"No doubt," replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from his +brow. "I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's going +over to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snap +edging over till too late." + +"Listen, I hear horses," said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare's +wound. + +"It's Billy, up on the home trail," added George. "Yes, and there's +father with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?" + +"Some one must tell him," answered Dave. + +"That'll be you, then. You always do the talking." + +August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the +saddle. "I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?--Hare! Why--lad--how +is it with you?" + +"Not bad," rejoined Hare. + +"Let me see," August thrust Zeke aside. "A bullet-hole--just missed the +bone--not serious. Tie it up tight. I'll take him home to-morrow.... +Hare, who's been here?" + +"Snap rode in and left his respects." + +"Snap! Already? Yet I knew it--I saw it. You had Providence with you, +lad, for this wound is not bad. Snap surprised you, then?" + +"No. I knew it was coming." + +"Jack hung his belt and gun on Silvermane's saddle," said Dave. "He +didn't feel as if he could draw on either Snap or Holderness--" + +"Holderness!" + +"Yes. Snap rode in with Holderness. Hare thought if he was unarmed they +wouldn't draw. But Snap did." + +"Was he drunk?" + +"No. They came over to kill Hare." Dave went on to recount the incident +in full. "And--and see here, dad--that's not all. Snap's gone to the +bad." + +Dave Naab hid his face while he told of his brother's treachery; the +others turned away, and Hare closed his eyes. + +For long moments there was silence broken only by the tramp of the old +man as he strode heavily to and fro. At last the footsteps ceased, and +Hare opened his eyes to see Naab's tall form erect, his arms uplifted, +his shaggy head rigid. + +"Hare," began August, presently. "I'm responsible for this cowardly +attack on you. I brought you out here. This is the second one. Beware of +the third! I see--but tell me, do you remember that I said you must meet +Snap as man to man?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't you want to live?" + +"Of course." + +"You hold to no Mormon creed?" + +"Why, no," Hare replied, wonderingly. + +"What was the reason I taught you my trick with a gun?" + +"I suppose it was to help me to defend myself." + +"Then why do you let yourself be shot down in cold blood? Why did you +hang up your gun? Why didn't you draw on Snap? Was it because of his +father, his brothers, his family?" + +"Partly, but not altogether," replied Hare, slowly. "I didn't know +before what I know now. My flesh sickened at the thought of killing a +man, even to save my own life; and to kill--your son--" + +"No son of mine!" thundered Naab. "Remember that when next you meet. I +don't want your blood on my hands. Don't stand to be killed like a +sheep! If you have felt duty to me, I release you." + +Zeke finished bandaging the wound. Making a bed of blankets he lifted +Hare into it, and covered him, cautioning him to lie still. Hare had a +sensation of extreme lassitude, a deep drowsiness which permeated even +to his bones. There were intervals of oblivion, then a time when the +stars blinked in his eyes; he heard the wind, Silvermane's bell, the +murmur of voices, yet all seemed remote from him, intangible as things +in a dream. + +He rode home next day, drooping in the saddle and fainting at the end of +the trail, with the strong arm of August Naab upholding him. His wound +was dressed and he was put to bed, where he lay sleeping most of the +time, brooding the rest. + +In three weeks he was in the saddle again, riding out over the red strip +of desert toward the range. During his convalescence he had learned that +he had come to the sombre line of choice. Either he must deliberately +back away, and show his unfitness to survive in the desert, or he must +step across into its dark wilds. The stern question haunted him. Yet he +knew a swift decision waited on the crucial moment. + +He sought lonely rides more than ever, and, like Silvermane, he was +always watching and listening. His duties carried him half way to +Seeping Springs, across the valley to the red wall, up the slope of +Coconina far into the forest of stately pines. What with Silvermane's +wonderful scent and sight, and his own constant watchfulness, there were +never range-riders or wild horses nor even deer near him without his +knowledge. + +The days flew by; spring had long since given place to summer; the blaze +of sun and blast of flying sand were succeeded by the cooling breezes +from the mountain; October brought the flurries of snow and November the +dark storm-clouds. + +Hare was the last of the riders to be driven off the mountain. The +brothers were waiting for him at Silver Cup, and they at once packed and +started for home. + +August Naab listened to the details of the range-riding since his +absence, with silent surprise. Holderness and Snap had kept away from +Silver Cup after the supposed killing of Hare. Occasionally a group of +horsemen rode across the valley or up a trail within sight of Dave and +his followers, but there was never a meeting. Not a steer had been +driven off the range that summer and fall; and except for the menace +always hanging in the blue smoke over Seeping Springs the range-riding +had passed without unusual incident. + +So for Hare the months had gone by swiftly; though when he looked back +afterward they seemed years. The winter at the oasis he filled as best +he could, with the children playing in the yard, with Silvermane under +the sunny lee of the great red wall, with any work that offered itself. +It was during the long evenings, when he could not be active, that time +oppressed him, and the memories of the past hurt him. A glimpse of the +red sunset through the cliff-gate toward the west would start the train +of thought; he both loved and hated the Painted Desert. Mescal was there +in the purple shadows. He dreamed of her in the glowing embers of the +log-fire. He saw her on Black Bolly with hair flying free to the wind. +And he could not shut out the picture of her sitting in the corner of +the room, silent, with bowed head, while the man to whom she was pledged +hung close over her. That memory had a sting. It was like a spark of +fire dropped on the wound in his breast where the desert-hawk had struck +him. It was like a light gleaming on the sombre line he was waiting to +cross. + + + + + + +XIV. WOLF + +ON the anniversary of the night Mescal disappeared the mysterious voice +which had called to Hare so often and so strangely again pierced his +slumber, and brought him bolt upright in his bed shuddering and +listening. The dark room was as quiet as a tomb. He fell back into his +blankets trembling with emotion. Sleep did not close his eyes again that +night; he lay in a fever waiting for the dawn, and when the gray gloom +lightened he knew what he must do. + +After breakfast he sought August Naab. "May I go across the river?" he +asked. + +The old man looked up from his carpenter's task and fastened his glance +on Hare. "Mescal?" + +"Yes." + +"I saw it long ago." He shook his head and spread his great hands. +"There's no use for me to say what the desert is. If you ever come back +you'll bring her. Yes, you may go. It's a man's deed. God keep you!" + +Hare spoke to no other person; he filled one saddle-bag with grain, +another with meat, bread, and dried fruits, strapped a five-gallon +leather water-sack back of Silvermane's saddle, and set out toward the +river. At the crossing-bar he removed Silvermane's equipments and placed +them in the boat. At that moment a long howl, as of a dog baying the +moon, startled him from his musings, and his eyes sought the river-bank, +up and down, and then the opposite side. An animal, which at first he +took to be a gray timber-wolf, was running along the sand-bar of the +landing. + +"Pretty white for a wolf," he muttered. "Might be a Navajo dog." + +The beast sat down on his haunches and, lifting a lean head, sent up a +doleful howl. Then he began trotting along the bar, every few paces +stepping to the edge of the water. Presently he spied Hare, and he began +to bark furiously. + +"It's a dog all right; wants to get across," said Hare. "Where have I +seen him?" + +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. "He's like +Mescal's Wolf!" He looked closer, his heart beginning to thump, and then +he yelled: "Ki-yi! Wolf! Hyer! Hyer!" + +The dog leaped straight up in the air, and coming down, began to dash +back and forth along the sand with piercing yelps. + +"It's Wolf! Mescal must be near," cried Hare. A veil obscured his sight, +and every vein was like a hot cord. "Wolf! Wolf! I'm coming!" + +With trembling hands he tied Silvermane's bridle to the stern seat of +the boat and pushed off. In his eagerness he rowed too hard, dragging +Silvermane's nose under water, and he had to check himself. Time and +again he turned to call to the dog. At length the bow grated on the +sand, and Silvermane emerged with a splash and a snort. + +"Wolf, old fellow!" cried Hare. "Where's Mescal? Wolf, where is she?" He +threw his arms around the dog. Wolf whined, licked Hare's face, and +breaking away, ran up the sandy trail, and back again. But he barked no +more; he waited to see if Hare was following. + +"All right, Wolf--coming." Never had Hare saddled so speedily, nor +mounted so quickly. He sent Silvermane into the willow-skirted trail +close behind the dog, up on the rocky bench, and then under the bulging +wall. Wolf reached the level between the canyon and Echo Cliffs, and +then started straight west toward the Painted Desert. He trotted a few +rods and turned to see if the man was coming. + +Doubt, fear, uncertainty ceased for Hare. With the first blast of dust- +scented air in his face he knew Wolf was leading him to Mescal. He knew +that the cry he had heard in his dream was hers, that the old mysterious +promise of the desert had at last begun its fulfilment. He gave one +sharp exultant answer to that call. The horizon, ever-widening, lay +before him, and the treeless plains, the sun-scorched slopes, the sandy +stretches, the massed blocks of black mesas, all seemed to welcome him; +his soul sang within him. + +For Mescal was there. Far away she must be, a mere grain of sand in all +that world of drifting sands, perhaps ill, perhaps hurt, but alive, +waiting for him, calling for him, crying out with a voice that no +distance could silence. He did not see the sharp peaks as pitiless +barriers, nor the mesas and domes as black-faced death, nor the +moisture-drinking sands as life-sucking foes to plant and beast and man. +That painted wonderland had sheltered Mescal for a year. He had loved it +for its color, its change, its secrecy; he loved it now because it had +not been a grave for Mescal, but a home. Therefore he laughed at the +deceiving yellow distances in the foreground of glistening mesas, at the +deceiving purple distances of the far-off horizon. The wind blew a song +in his ears; the dry desert odors were fragrance in his nostrils; the +sand tasted sweet between his teeth, and the quivering heat-waves, +veiling the desert in transparent haze, framed beautiful pictures for +his eyes. + +Wolf kept to the fore for some thirty paces, and though he had ceased to +stop, he still looked back to see if the horse and man were following. +Hare had noted the dog occasionally in the first hours of travel, but he +had given his eyes mostly to the broken line of sky and desert in the +west, to the receding contour of Echo Cliffs, to the spread and break of +the desert near at hand. Here and there life showed itself in a gaunt +coyote sneaking into the cactus, or a horned toad huddling down in the +dust, or a jewel-eyed lizard sunning himself upon a stone. It was only +when his excited fancy had cooled that Hare came to look closely at +Wolf. But for the dog's color he could not have been distinguished from +a real wolf. His head and ears and tail drooped, and he was lame in his +right front paw. + +Hare halted in the shade of a stone, dismounted and called the dog to +him. Wolf returned without quickness, without eagerness, without any of +the old-time friendliness of shepherding days. His eyes were sad and +strange. Hare felt a sudden foreboding, but rejected it with passionate +force. Yet a chill remained. Lifting Wolf's paw he discovered that the +ball of the foot was worn through; whereupon he called into service a +piece of buckskin, and fashioning a rude moccasin he tied it round the +foot. Wolf licked his hand, but there was no change in the sad light of +his eyes. He turned toward the west as if anxious to be off. + +"All right, old fellow," said Hare, "only go slow. From the look of that +foot I think you've turned back on a long trail." + +Again they faced the west, dog leading, man following, and addressed +themselves to a gradual ascent. When it had been surmounted Hare +realized that his ride so far had brought him only through an anteroom; +the real portal now stood open to the Painted Desert. The immensity of +the thing seemed to reach up to him with a thousand lines, ridges, +canyons, all ascending out of a purple gulf. The arms of the desert +enveloped him, a chill beneath their warmth. + +As he descended into the valley, keeping close to Wolf, he marked a +straight course in line with a volcanic spur. He was surprised when the +dog, though continually threading jumbles of rock, heading canyons, +crossing deep washes, and going round obstructions, always veered back +to this bearing as true as a compass-needle to its magnet. + +Hare felt the air growing warmer and closer as he continued the descent. +By mid-afternoon, when he had travelled perhaps thirty miles, he was +moist from head to foot, and Silvermane's coat was wet. Looking backward +Hare had a blank feeling of loss; the sweeping line of Echo Cliffs had +retreated behind the horizon. There was no familiar landmark left. + +Sunset brought him to a standstill, as much from its sudden glorious +gathering of brilliant crimsons splashed with gold, as from its warning +that the day was done. Hare made his camp beside a stone which would +serve as a wind-break. He laid his saddle for a pillow and his blanket +for a bed. He gave Silvermane a nose-bag full of water and then one of +grain; he fed the dog, and afterward attended to his own needs. When his +task was done the desert brightness had faded to gray; the warm air had +blown away on a cool breeze, and night approached. He scooped out a +little hollow in the sand for his hips, took a last look at Silvermane +haltered to the rock, and calling Wolf to his side stretched himself to +rest. He was used to lying on the ground, under the open sky, out where +the wind blew and the sand seeped in, yet all these were different on +this night. He was in the Painted Desert; Wolf crept close to him; +Mescal lay somewhere under the blue-white stars. + +He awakened and arose before any color of dawn hinted of the day. While +he fed his four-footed companions the sky warmed and lightened. A tinge +of rose gathered in the east. The air was cool and transparent. He tried +to cheer Wolf out of his sad-eyed forlornness, and failed. + +Hare vaulted into the saddle. The day had its possibilities, and while +he had sobered down from his first unthinking exuberance, there was +still a ring in his voice as he called to the dog: + +"On, Wolf, on, old boy!" + +Out of the east burst the sun, and the gray curtain was lifted by shafts +of pink and white and gold, flashing westward long trails of color. + +When they started the actions of the dog showed Hare that Wolf was not +tracking a back-trail, but travelling by instinct. There were draws +which necessitated a search for a crossing, and areas of broken rock +which had to be rounded, and steep flat mesas rising in the path, and +strips of deep sand and canyons impassable for long distances. But the +dog always found a way and always came back to a line with the black +spur that Hare had marked. It still stood in sharp relief, no nearer +than before, receding with every step, an illusive landmark, which Hare +began to distrust. + +Then quite suddenly it vanished in the ragged blue mass of the Ghost +Mountains. Hare had seen them several times, though never so distinctly. +The purple tips, the bold rock-ribs, the shadowed canyons, so sharp and +clear in the morning light--how impossible to believe that these were +only the deceit of the desert mirage! Yet so they were; even for the +Navajos they were spirit-mountains. + +The splintered desert-floor merged into an area of sand. Wolf slowed his +trot, and Silvermane's hoofs sunk deep. Dismounting Hare labored beside +him, and felt the heat steal through his boots and burn the soles of his +feet. Hare plodded onward, stopping once to tie another moccasin on +Wolf's worn paw, this time the left one; and often he pulled the stopper +from the water-bag and cooled his parching lips and throat. The waves of +the sand-dunes were as the waves of the ocean. He did not look backward, +dreading to see what little progress he had made. Ahead were miles on +miles of graceful heaps, swelling mounds, crested ridges, all different, +yet regular and rhythmical, drift on drift, dune on dune, in endless +waves. Wisps of sand were whipped from their summits in white ribbons +and wreaths, and pale clouds of sand shrouded little hollows. The +morning breeze, rising out of the west, approached in a rippling lines +like the crest of an inflowing tide. + +Silvermane snorted, lifted his ears and looked westward toward a yellow +pall which swooped up from the desert. + +"Sand-storm," said Hare, and calling Wolf he made for the nearest rock +that was large enough to shelter them. The whirling sand-cloud +mushroomed into an enormous desert covering, engulfing the dunes, +obscuring the light. The sunlight failed; the day turned to gloom. Then +an eddying fog of sand and dust enveloped Hare. His last glimpse before +he covered his face with a silk handkerchief was of sheets of sand +streaming past his shelter. The storm came with a low, soft, hissing +roar, like the sound in a sea-shell magnified. Breathing through the +handkerchief Hare avoided inhaling the sand which beat against his face, +but the finer dust particles filtered through and stifled him. At first +he felt that he would suffocate, and he coughed and gasped; but +presently, when the thicker sand-clouds had passed, he managed to get +air enough to breathe. Then he waited patiently while the steady seeping +rustle swept by, and the band of his hat sagged heavier, and the load on +his shoulders had to be continually shaken off, and the weighty trap +round his feet crept upward. When the light, fine touch ceased he +removed the covering from his face to see himself standing nearly to his +knees in sand, and Silvermane's back and the saddle burdened with it. +The storm was moving eastward, a dull red now with the sun faintly +showing through it like a ball of fire. + +"Well, Wolf, old boy, how many storms like that will we have to +weather?" asked Hare, in a cheery tone which he had to force. He knew +these sand-storms were but vagaries of the desert-wind. Before the hour +closed he had to seek the cover of a stone and wait for another to pass. +Then he was caught in the open, with not a shelter in sight. He was +compelled to turn his back to a third storm, the worst of all, and to +bear as best he could the heavy impact of the first blow, and the +succeeding rush and flow of sand. After that his head drooped and he +wearily trudged beside Silvermane, dreading the interminable distance he +must cover before once more gaining hard ground. But he discovered that +it was useless to try to judge distance on the desert. What had appeared +miles at his last look turned out to be only rods. + +It was good to get into the saddle again and face clear air. Far away +the black spur again loomed up, now surrounded by groups of mesas with +sage-slopes tinged with green. That surely meant the end of this long +trail; the faint spots of green lent suggestion of a desert waterhole; +there Mescal must be, hidden in some shady canyon. Hare built his hopes +anew. + +So he pressed on down a plain of bare rock dotted by huge bowlders; and +out upon a level floor of scant sage and greasewood where a few living +creatures, a desert-hawk sailing low, lizards darting into holes, and a +swiftly running ground-bird, emphasized the lack of life in the waste. +He entered a zone of clay-dunes of violet and heliotrope hues; and then +a belt of lava and cactus. Reddish points studded the desert, and here +and there were meagre patches of white grass. Far away myriads of cactus +plants showed like a troop of distorted horsemen. As he went on the +grass failed, and streams of jagged lava flowed downward. Beds of +cinders told of the fury of a volcanic fire. Soon Hare had to dismount +to make moccasins for Wolf's hind feet; and to lead Silvermane carefully +over the cracked lava. For a while there were strips of ground bare of +lava and harboring only an occasional bunch of cactus, but soon every +foot free of the reddish iron bore a projecting mass of fierce spikes +and thorns. The huge barrel-shaped cacti, and thickets of slender dark- +green rods with bayonet points, and broad leaves with yellow spines, +drove Hare and his sore-footed fellow-travellers to the lava. + +Hare thought there must be an end to it some time, yet it seemed as +though he were never to cross that black forbidding inferno. Blistered +by the heat, pierced by the thorns, lame from long toil on the lava, he +was sorely spent when once more he stepped out upon the bare desert. On +pitching camp he made the grievous discovery that the water-bag had +leaked or the water had evaporated, for there was only enough left for +one more day. He ministered to thirsty dog and horse in silence, his +mind revolving the grim fact of his situation. + +His little fire of greasewood threw a wan circle into the surrounding +blackness. Not a sound hinted of life. He longed for even the bark of a +coyote. Silvermane stooped motionless with tired head. Wolf stretched +limply on the sand. Hare rolled into his blanket and stretched out with +slow aching relief. + +He dreamed he was a boy roaming over the green hills of the old farm, +wading through dewy clover-fields, and fishing in the Connecticut River. +It was the long vacationtime, an endless freedom. Then he was at the +swimming-hole, and playmates tied his clothes in knots, and with shouts +of glee ran up the bank leaving him there to shiver. + +When he awakened the blazing globe of the sun had arisen over the +eastern horizon, and the red of the desert swathed all the reach of +valley. + +Hare pondered whether he should use his water at once or dole it out. +That ball of fire in the sky, a glazed circle, like iron at white heat, +decided for him. The sun would be hot and would evaporate such water as +leakage did not claim, and so he shared alike with Wolf, and gave the +rest to Silvermane. + +For an hour the mocking lilac mountains hung in the air and then paled +in the intense light. The day was soundless and windless, and the heat- +waves rose from the desert like smoke. For Hare the realities were the +baked clay flats, where Silvermane broke through at every step; the beds +of alkali, which sent aloft clouds of powdered dust; the deep gullies +full of round bowlders; thickets of mesquite and prickly thorn which +tore at his legs; the weary detour to head the canyons; the climb to get +between two bridging mesas; and always the haunting presence of the sad- +eyed dog. His unrealities were the shimmering sheets of water in every +low place; the baseless mountains floating in the air; the green slopes +rising close at hand; beautiful buttes of dark blue riding the open +sand, like monstrous barks at sea; the changing outlines of desert +shapes in pink haze and veils of purple and white lustre--all illusions, +all mysterious tricks of the mirage. + +In the heat of midday Hare yielded to its influence and reined in his +horse under a slate-bank where there was shade. His face was swollen and +peeling, and his lips had begun to dry and crack and taste of alkali. +Then Wolf pattered on; Silvermane kept at his heels; Hare dozed in the +saddle. His eyes burned in their sockets from the glare, and it was a +relief to shut out the barren reaches. So the afternoon waned. + +Silvermane stumbled, jolting Hare out of his stupid lethargy. Before him +spread a great field of bowlders with not a slope or a ridge or a mesa +or an escarpment. Not even a tip of a spur rose in the background. He +rubbed his sore eyes. Was this another illusion? + +When Silvermane started onward Hare thought of the Navajos' custom to +trust horse and dog in such an emergency. They were desert-bred; beyond +human understanding were their sight and scent. He was at the mercy now +of Wolf's instinct and Silvermane's endurance. Resignation brought him a +certain calmness of soul, cold as the touch of an icy hand on fevered +cheek. He remembered the desert secret in Mescal's eyes; he was about to +solve it. He remembered August Naab's words: "It's a man's deed!" If so, +he had achieved the spirit of it, if not the letter. He remembered +Eschtah's tribute to the wilderness of painted wastes: "There is the +grave of the Navajo, and no one knows the trail to the place of his +sleep!" He remembered the something evermore about to be, the unknown +always subtly calling; now it was revealed in the stone-fettering grip +of the desert. It had opened wide to him, bright with its face of +danger, beautiful with its painted windows, inscrutable with its +alluring call. Bidding him enter, it had closed behind him; now he +looked upon it in its iron order, its strange ruins racked by fire, its +inevitable remorselessness. + + + + + + +XV. DESERT NIGHT + +THE gray stallion, finding the rein loose on his neck, trotted forward +and overtook the dog, and thereafter followed at his heels. With the +setting of the sun a slight breeze stirred, and freshened as twilight +fell, rolling away the sultry atmosphere. Then the black desert night +mantled the plain. + +For a while this blackness soothed the pain of Hare's sun-blinded eyes. +It was a relief to have the unattainable horizon line blotted out. But +by-and-by the opaque gloom brought home to him, as the day had never +done, the reality of his solitude. He was alone in this immense place of +barrenness, and his dumb companions were the world to him. Wolf pattered +onward, a silent guide; and Silvermane followed, never lagging, sure- +footed in the dark, faithful to his master. All the love Hare had borne +the horse was as nothing to that which came to him on this desert night. +In and out, round and round, ever winding, ever zigzagging, Silvermane +hung close to Wolf, and the sandy lanes between the bowlders gave forth +no sound. Dog and horse, free to choose their trail, trotted onward +miles and miles into the night. + +A pale light in the east turned to a glow, then to gold, and the round +disc of the moon silhouetted the black bowlders on the horizon. It +cleared the dotted line and rose, an oval orange-hued strange moon, not +mellow nor silvery nor gloriously brilliant as Hare had known it in the +past, but a vast dead-gold melancholy orb, rising sadly over the desert. +To Hare it was the crowning reminder of lifelessness; it fitted this +world of dull gleaming stones. + +Silvermane went lame and slackened his trot, causing Hare to rein in and +dismount. He lifted the right forefoot, the one the horse had favored, +and found a stone imbedded tightly in the cloven hoof. He pried it out +with his knife and mounted again. Wolf shone faintly far ahead, and +presently he uttered a mournful cry which sent a chill to the rider's +heart. The silence had been oppressive before; now it was terrible. It +was not a silence of life. It had been broken suddenly by Wolf's howl, +and had closed sharply after it, without echo; it was a silence of +death. + +Hare took care not to fall behind Wolf again, he had no wish to hear +that cry repeated. The dog moved onward with silent feet; the horse +wound after him with hoofs padded in the sand; the moon lifted and the +desert gleamed; the bowlders grew larger and the lanes wider. So the +night wore on, and Hare's eyelids grew heavy, and his whole weary body +cried out for rest and forgetfulness. He nodded until he swayed in the +saddle; then righted himself, only to doze again. The east gave birth to +the morning star. The whitening sky was the harbinger of day. Hare could +not bring himself to face the light and heat, and he stopped at a wind- +worn cave under a shelving rock. He was asleep when he rolled out on the +sand-strewn floor. Once he awoke and it was still day, for his eyes +quickly shut upon the glare. He lay sweltering till once more slumber +claimed him. The dog awakened him, with cold nose and low whine. Another +twilight had fallen. Hare crawled out, stiff and sore, hungry and +parching with thirst. He made an attempt to eat, but it was a failure. +There was a dry burning in his throat, a dizzy feeling in his brain, and +there were red flashes before his eyes. Wolf refused meat, and +Silvermane turned from the grain, and lowered his head to munch a few +blades of desert grass. + +Then the journey began, and the night fell black. A cool wind blew from +the west, the white stars blinked, the weird moon rose with its ghastly +glow. Huge bowlders rose before him in grotesque shapes, tombs and +pillars and statues of Nature's dead, carved by wind and sand. But some +had life in Hare's disordered fancy. They loomed and towered over him, +and stalked abroad and peered at him with deep-set eyes. + +Hare fought with all his force against this mood of gloom. Wolf was not +a phantom; he trotted forward with unerring instinct; and he would find +water, and that meant life. Silvermane, desert-steeled, would travel to +the furthermost corner of this hell of sand-swept stone. Hare tried to +collect all his spirit, all his energies, but the battle seemed to be +going against him. All about him was silence, breathless silence, +insupportable silence of ages. Desert spectres danced in the darkness. +The worn-out moon gleamed golden over the worn-out waste. Desolation +lurked under the sable shadows. + +Hare rode on into the night, tumbled from his saddle in the gray of dawn +to sleep, and stumbled in the twilight to his drooping horse. His eyes +were blind now to the desert shapes, his brain burned and his tongue +filled his mouth. Silvermane trod ever upon Wolf's heels; he had come +into the kingdom of his desert-strength; he lifted his drooping head and +lengthened his stride; weariness had gone and he snorted his welcome to +something on the wind. Then he passed the limping dog and led the way. + +Hare held to the pommel and bent dizzily forward in the saddle. +Silvermane was going down, step by step, with metallic clicks upon +flinty rock. Whether he went down or up was all the same to Hare; he +held on with closed eyes and whispered to himself. Down and down, step +by step, cracking the stones with iron-shod hoofs, the gray stallion +worked his perilous way, sure-footed as a mountain-sheep. Then he +stopped with a great slow heave and bent his head. + +The black bulge of a canyon rim blurred in Hare's hot eyes. A trickling +sound penetrated his tired brain. His ears had grown like his eyes-- +false. Only another delusion! As he had been tortured with the sight of +lake and stream now he was to be tortured with the sound of running +water. Yet he listened, for it was sweet even in its mockery. What a +clear musical tinkle, like silver bells tossing on the wind! He +listened. Soft murmuring flow, babble and gurgle, little hollow fall and +splash! + +Suddenly Silvermane, lifting his head, broke the silence of the canyon +with a great sigh of content. It pierced the dull fantasy of Hare's +mind; it burst the gloomy spell. The sigh and the snort which followed +were Silvermane's triumphant signals when he had drunk his fill. + +Hare fell from the saddle. The gray dog lay stretched low in the +darkness. Hare crawled beside him and reached out with his hot hands. +Smooth cool marble rock, growing slippery, then wet, led into running +water. He slid forward on his face and wonderful cold thrills quivered +over his burning skin. He drank and drank until he could drink no more. +Then he lay back upon the rock; the madness of his brain went out with +the light of the stars, and he slept. + +When he awoke red canyon walls leaned far above him to a gap spanned by +blue sky. A song of rushing water murmured near his ears. He looked +down; a spring gushed from a crack in the wall; Silvermane cropped green +bushes, and Wolf sat on his haunches waiting, but no longer with sad +eyes and strange mien. Hare raised himself, looking again and again, and +slowly gathered his wits. The crimson blur had gone from his eyes and +the burning from his skin, and the painful swelling from his tongue. + +He drank long and deeply, and rising with clearing thoughts and thankful +heart, he kissed Wolf's white head, and laid his arms round Silvermane's +neck. He fed them, and ate himself, not without difficulty, for his lips +were puffed and his tongue felt like a piece of rope. When he had eaten, +his strength came back. + +At a word Wolf, with a wag of his tail, splashed into the gravelly +stream bed. Hare followed on foot, leading Silvermane. There were little +beds of pebbles and beaches of sand and short steps down which the water +babbled. The canyon was narrow and tortuous; Hare could not see ahead or +below, for the projecting red cliffs, growing higher as he descended, +walled out the view. The blue stream of sky above grew bluer and the +light and shade less bright. For an hour he went down steadily without a +check, and the farther down the rougher grew the way. Bowlders wedged in +narrow places made foaming waterfalls. Silvermane clicked down +confidently. + +The slender stream of water, swelled by seeping springs and little +rills, gained the dignity of a brook; it began to dash merrily and +hurriedly downward. The depth of the falls, the height of cliffs, and +the size of the bowlders increased in the descent. Wolf splashed on +unmindful; there was a new spirit in his movements; and when he looked +back for his laboring companions there was friendly protest in his eyes. +Silvermane's mien plainly showed that where a dog could go he could +follow. Silvermane's blood was heated; the desert was an old story to +him; it had only tired him and parched his throat; this canyon of +downward steps and falls, with ever-deepening drops, was new to him, and +roused his mettle; and from his long training in the wilds he had gained +a marvellous sure-footedness. + +The canyon narrowed as it deepened; the jutting walls leaned together, +shutting out the light; the sky above was now a ribbon of blue, only to +be seen when Hare threw back his head and stared straight up. + +"It'll be easier climbing up, Silvermane," he panted--"if we ever get +the chance." + +The sand and gravel and shale had disappeared; all was bare clean-washed +rock. In many places the brook failed as a trail, for it leaped down in +white sheets over mossy cliffs. Hare faced these walls in despair. But +Wolf led on over the ledges and Silvermane followed, nothing daunted. At +last Hare shrank back from a hole which defied him utterly. Even Wolf +hesitated. The canyon was barely twenty feet wide; the floor ended in a +precipice; the stream leaped out and fell into a dark cleft from which +no sound arose. On the right there was a shelf of rock; it was scarce +half a foot broad at the narrowest and then apparently vanished +altogether. Hare stared helplessly up at the slanting shut-in walls. + +While he hesitated Wolf pattered out upon the ledge and Silvermane +stamped restlessly. With a desperate fear of losing his beloved horse +Hare let go the bridle and stepped upon the ledge. He walked rapidly, +for a slow step meant uncertainty and a false one meant death. He heard +the sharp ring of Silvermane's shoes, and he listened in agonized +suspense for the slip, the snort, the crash that he feared must come. +But it did not come. Seeing nothing except the narrow ledge, yet feeling +the blue abyss beneath him, he bent all his mind to his task, and +finally walked out into lighter space upon level rock. To his infinite +relief Silvermane appeared rounding a corner out of the dark passage, +and was soon beside him. + +Hare cried aloud in welcome. + +The canyon widened; there was a clear demarcation where the red walls +gave place to yellow; the brook showed no outlet from its subterranean +channel. Sheer exhaustion made Hare almost forget his mission; the +strength of his resolve had gone into mechanical toil; he kept on, +conscious only of the smart of bruised hands and feet and the ache of +laboring lungs. + +Time went on and the sun hung in the midst of the broadening belt of +blue sky. A long slant of yellow slope led down to a sage-covered level, +which Hare crossed, pleased to see blooming cacti and wondering at their +slender lofty green stems shining with gold flowers. He descended into a +ravine which became precipitous. Here he made only slow advance. At the +bottom he found himself in a wonderful lane with an almost level floor; +here flowed a shallow stream bordered by green willows. Wolf took the +direction of the flowing water. Hare's thoughts were all of Mescal, and +his hopes began to mount, his heart to beat high. + +He gazed ahead with straining eyes. Presently there was not a break in +the walls. A drowsy hum of falling water came to Hare, strange reminder +of the oasis, the dull roar of the Colorado, and of Mescal. + +His flagging energies leaped into life with the canyon suddenly opening +to bright light and blue sky and beautiful valley, white and gold in +blossom, green with grass and cottonwood. On a flower-scented wind +rushed that muffled roar again, like distant thunder. + +Wolf dashed into the cottonwoods. Silvermane whistled with satisfaction +and reached for the long grass. + +For Hare the light held something more than beauty, the breeze something +more than sweet scent of water and blossom. Both were charged with +meaning--with suspense. + +Wolf appeared in the open leaping upon a slender brown-garbed form. + +"Mescal!" cried Hare. + +With a cry she ran to him, her arms outstretched, her hair flying in the +wind, her dark eyes wild with joy. + + + + + + +XVI. THUNDER RIVER + +FOR an instant Hare's brain reeled, and Mescal's broken murmurings were +meaningless. Then his faculties grew steady and acute; he held the girl +as if he intended never to let her go. Mescal clung to him with a +wildness that gave him anxiety for her reason; there was something +almost fierce in the tension of her arms, in the blind groping for his +face. + +"Mescal! It's Jack, safe and well," he said. "Let me look at you." + +At the sound of his voice all her rigid strength changed to a yielding +weakness; she leaned back supported by his arms and looked at him. Hare +trembled before the dusky level glance he remembered so well, and as +tears began to flow he drew her head to his shoulder. He had forgotten +to prepare himself for a different Mescal. Despite the quivering smile +of happiness, her eyes were strained with pain. The oval contour, the +rich bloom of her face had gone; beauty was there still, but it was the +ghost of the old beauty. + +"Jack--is it--really you?" she asked. + +He answered with a kiss. + +She slipped out of his arms breathless and scarlet. "Tell me all--" + +"There's much to tell, but not before you kiss me. It has been more than +a year." + +"Only a year! Have I been gone only a year?" + +"Yes, a year. But it's past now. Kiss me, Mescal. One kiss will pay for +that long year, though it broke my heart." + +Shyly she raised her hands to his shoulders and put her lips to his. +"Yes, you've found me, Jack, thank God! just in time!" + +"Mescal! What's wrong? Aren't you well?" + +"Pretty well. But if you had not come soon I should have starved." + +"Starved? Let me get my saddle-bags--I have bread and meat." + +"Wait. I'm not so hungry now. I mean very soon I should not have had any +food at all." + +"But your peon--the dumb Indian? Surely he could find something to eat. +What of him? Where is he?" + +"My peon is dead. He has been dead for months, I don't know how many." + +"Dead! What was the matter with him?" + +"I never knew. I found him dead one morning and I buried him in the +sand." + +Mescal led Hare under the cottonwoods and pointed to the Indian's grave, +now green with grass. Farther on in a circle of trees stood a little +hogan skilfully constructed out of brush; the edge of a red blanket +peeped from the door; a burnt-out fire smoked on a stone fireplace, and +blackened earthen vessels lay near. The white seeds of the cottonwoods +were flying light as feathers; plum-trees were pink in blossom; there +were vines twining all about; through the openings in the foliage shone +the blue of sky and red of cliff. Patches of blossoming Bowers were here +and there lit to brilliance by golden shafts of sunlight. The twitter of +birds and hum of bees were almost drowned in the soft roar of water. + +"Is that the Colorado I hear?" asked Hare. + +"No, that's Thunder River. The Colorado is farther down in the Grand +Canyon." + +"Farther down! Mescal, I must have come a mile from the rim. Where are +we?" + +"We are almost at the Colorado, and directly under the head of Coconina. +We can see the mountain from the break in the valley below." + +"Come sit by me here under this tree. Tell me--how did you ever get +here?" + +Then Mescal told him how the peon had led her on a long trail from +Bitter Seeps, how they had camped at desert waterholes, and on the +fourth day descended to Thunder River. + +"I was quite happy at first. It's always summer down here. There were +rabbits, birds, beaver, and fruit--we had enough to eat. I explored the +valley with Wolf or rode Noddle up and down the canyon. Then my peon +died, and I had to shift for myself. There came a time when the beaver +left the valley, and Wolf and I had to make a rabbit serve for days. I +knew then I'd have to get across the desert to the Navajos or starve in +the canyon. I hesitated about climbing out into the desert, for I wasn't +sure of the trail to the waterholes. Noddle wandered off up the canyon +and never came back. After he was gone and I knew I couldn't get out I +grew homesick. The days weren't so bad because I was always hunting for +something to eat, but the nights were lonely. I couldn't sleep. I lay +awake listening to the river, and at last I could hear whispering and +singing and music, and strange sounds, and low thunder, always low +thunder. I wasn't really frightened, only lonely, and the canyon was so +black and full of mutterings. Sometimes I'd dream I was back on the +plateau with you, Jack, and Bolly and the sheep, and when I'd awake in +the loneliness I'd cry right out--" + +"Mescal, I heard those cries," said Hare. + +"It was strange--the way I felt. I believe if I'd never known and--and +loved you, Jack, I'd have forgotten home. After I'd been here a while, I +seemed to be drifting, drifting. It was as if I had lived in the canyon +long before, and was remembering. The feeling was strong, but always +thoughts of you, and of the big world, brought me back to the present +with its loneliness and fear of starvation. Then I wanted you, and I'd +cry out. I knew I must send Wolf home. How hard it was to make him go! +But at last he trotted off, looking backward, and I--waited and waited." + +She leaned against him. The hand which had plucked at his sleeve dropped +to his fingers and clung there. Hare knew how her story had slighted the +perils and privations of that long year. She had grown lonely in the +canyon darkness; she had sent Wolf away and had waited--all was said in +that. But more than any speech, the look of her, and the story told in +the thin brown hands touched his heart. Not for an instant since his +arrival had she altogether let loose of his fingers, or coat, or arm. +She had lived so long alone in this weird world of silence and moving +shadows and murmuring water, that she needed to feel the substance of +her hopes, to assure herself of the reality of the man she loved. + +"My mustang--Bolly--tell me of her," said Mescal. + +"Bolly's fine. Sleek and fat and lazy! She's been in the fields ever +since you left. Not a bridle on her. Many times have I seen her poke her +black muzzle over the fence and look down the lane. She'd never forget +you, Mescal." + +"Oh! how I want to see her! Tell me--everything." + +"Wait a little. Let me fetch Silvermane and we'll make a fire and eat. +Then--" + +"Tell me now." + +"Well, Mescal, it's soon told." Then came the story of events growing +out of her flight. When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal +rose with heaving bosom and blazing eyes. + +"It was nothing--I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We saw +no more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's wife +died." + +"Oh, I am sorry--sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the cause +of it all! But I couldn't stay--I couldn't marry Snap." + +"Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you had +married him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer. +But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snap +would have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's a +rustler, if not worse." + +"Then those men think Snap killed you?" + +"Yes." + +"What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?" + +"Somebody will be surprised," replied Hare, with a laugh. + +"Jack, it's no laughing matter." She fastened her hands in the lapels of +his coat and her eyes grew sad. "You can never hang up your gun again." + +"No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's. Mescal, +you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run." + +"I haven't forgotten. He can run, but he can't beat Bolly." She said +this with a hint of her old spirit. "Jack--you want to take me back +home?" + +"Of course. What did you expect when you sent Wolf?" + +"I didn't expect. I just wanted to see you, or somebody, and I thought +of the Navajos. Couldn't I live with them? Why can't we stay here or in +a canyon across the Colorado where there's plenty of game?" + +"I'm going to take you home and Father Naab shall marry you--to--to me." + +Startled, Mescal fell back upon his shoulder and did not stir nor speak +for a long time. "Did--did you tell him?" + +"Yes." + +"What did he say? Was he angry? Tell me." + +"He was kind and good as he always is. He said if I found you, then the +issue would be between Snap and me, as man to man. You are still pledged +to Snap in the Mormon Church and that can't be changed. I don't suppose +even if he's outlawed that it could be changed." + +"Snap will not let any grass grow in the trails to the oasis," said +Mescal. "Once he finds I've come back to life he'll have me. You don't +know him, Jack. I'm afraid to go home." + +"My dear, there's no other place for us to go. We can't live the life of +Indians." + +"But Jack, think of me watching you ride out from home! Think of me +always looking for Snap! I couldn't endure it. I've grown weak in this +year of absence." + +"Mescal, look at me." His voice rang as he held her face to face. "We +must decide everything. Now--say you love me!" + +"Yes--yes." + +"Say it." + +"I--love you--Jack." + +"Say you'll marry me!" + +"I will marry you." + +"Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. You are +mine and I'll keep you." He held her tightly with strong arms; his face +paled, his eyes darkened. "I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shall try +to keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now. Your +happiness--perhaps your life--depends on me. That makes a difference. +Understand!" + +Silvermane walked into the glade with a saddle-girth so tight that his +master unbuckled it only by dint of repeated effort. Evidently the rich +grass of Thunder River Canyon appealed strongly to the desert stallion. + +"Here, Silver, how do you expect to carry us out if you eat and drink +like that?" Hare removed the saddle and tethered the gray to one of the +cottonwoods. Wolf came trotting into camp proudly carrying a rabbit. + +"Mescal, can we get across the Colorado and find a way up over +Coconina?" asked Hare. + +"Yes, I'm sure we can. My peon never made a mistake about directions. +There's no trail, but Navajos have crossed the river at this season, and +worked up a canyon." + +The shadows had gathered under the cliffs, and the rosy light high up on +the ramparts had chilled and waned when Hare and Mescal sat down to +their meal. Wolf lay close to the girl and begged for morsels. Then in +the twilight they sat together content to be silent, listening to the +low thunder of the river. Long after Mescal had retired into her hogan +Hare lay awake before her door with his head in his saddle and listened +to the low roll, the dull burr, the dreamy hum of the tumbling waters. +The place was like the oasis, only infinitely more hidden under the +cliffs. A few stars twinkled out of the dark blue, and one hung, +beaconlike, on the crest of a noble crag. There were times when he +imagined the valley was as silent as the desert night, and other times +when he imagined he heard the thundering roll of avalanches and the +tramp of armies. Then the voices of Mescal's solitude spoke to him-- +glorious laughter and low sad wails of woe, sweet songs and whispers and +murmurs. His last waking thoughts were of the haunting sound of Thunder +River, and that he had come to bear Mescal away from its loneliness. + +He bestirred himself at the first glimpse of day, and when the gray +mists had lifted to wreathe the crags it was light enough to begin the +journey. Mescal shed tears at the grave of the faithful peon. "He loved +this canyon," she said, softly. Hare lifted her upon Silvermane. He +walked beside the horse and Wolf trotted on before. They travelled +awhile under the flowering cottonwoods on a trail bordered with green +tufts of grass and great star-shaped lilies. The river was still hidden, +but it filled the grove with its soft thunder. Gradually the trees +thinned out, hard stony ground encroached upon the sand, bowlders +appeared in the way; and presently, when Silvermane stepped out of the +shade of the cottonwoods, Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its +ragged vent. + +"Look back!" said Mescal. + +Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two white +streams which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous +cascade. Step by step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a +broken, foaming raceway, and at the lower end of the valley it took its +final leap into a blue abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, +hidden underground. + +The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted long +after the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in the +close air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stones +cracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollow +sound and echo. Silvermane clattered down the easy trail at a gait which +urged Hare now and then from walk to run. Soon the gully opened out upon +a plateau through the centre of which, in a black gulf, wound the red +Colorado, sullen-voiced, booming, never silent nor restful. Here were +distances by which Hare could begin to comprehend the immensity of the +canyon, and he felt lost among the great terraces leading up to mesas +that dwarfed the Echo Cliffs. All was bare rock of many hues burning +under the sun. + +"Jack, this is mescal," said the girl, pointing to some towering plants. + +All over the sunny slopes cacti lifted slender shafts, unfolding in +spiral leaves as they shot upward and bursting at the top into plumes of +yellow flowers. The blossoming stalks waved in the wind, and black bees +circled round them. + +"Mescal, I've always wanted to see the Flower of the Desert from which +you're named. It's beautiful." + +Hare broke a dead stalk of the cactus and was put to instant flight by a +stream of bees pouring with angry buzz from the hollow centre. Two big +fellows were so persistent that he had to beat them off with his hat. + +"You shouldn't despoil their homes," said Mescal, with a peal of +laughter. + +"I'll break another stalk and get stung, if you'll laugh again," replied +Hare. + +They traversed the remaining slope of the plateau, and entering the head +of a ravine, descended a steep cleft of flinty rock, rock so hard that +Silvermane's iron hoofs not so much as scratched it. Then reaching a +level, they passed out to rounded sand and the river. + +"It's a little high," said Hare dubiously. "Mescal, I don't like the +looks of those rapids." + +Only a few hundred rods of the river could be seen. In front of Hare the +current was swift but not broken. Above, where the canyon turned, the +river sheered out with a majestic roll and falling in a wide smooth +curve suddenly narrowed into a leaping crest of reddish waves. Below +Hare was a smaller rapid where the broken water turned toward the nearer +side of the river, but with an accompaniment of twisting swirls and +vicious waves. + +"I guess we'd better risk it," said Hare, grimly recalling the hot rock, +the sand, and lava of the desert. + +"It's safe, if Silvermane is a good swimmer," replied Mescal. "We can +take the river above and cut across so the current will help." + +"Silvermane loves the water. He'll make this crossing easily. But he +can't carry us both, and it's impossible to make two trips. I'll have to +swim." + +Without wasting more words and time over a task which would only grow +more formidable with every look and thought, Hare led Silvermane up the +sand-bar to its limit. He removed his coat and strapped it behind the +saddle; his belt and revolver and boots he hung over the pommel. + +"How about Wolf? I'd forgotten him." + +"Never fear for him! He'll stick close to me." + +"Now, Mescal, there's the point we want to make, that bar; see it?" + +"Surely we can land above that." + +"I'll be satisfied if we get even there. You guide him for it. And, +Mescal, here's my gun. Try to keep it from getting wet. Balance it on +the pommel--so. Come, Silver; come, Wolf." + +"Keep up-stream," called Mescal as Hare plunged in. "Don't drift below +us." + +In two steps Silvermane went in to his saddle, and he rolled with a +splash and a snort, sinking Mescal to her hips. His nose level with the +water, mane and tail floating, he swam powerfully with the current. + +For Hare the water was just cold enough to be delightful after the long +hot descent, but its quality was strange. Keeping up-stream of the horse +and even with Mescal, he swam with long regular strokes for perhaps one- +quarter of the distance. But when they reached the swirling eddies he +found that he was tiring. The water was thick and heavy; it compressed +his lungs and dragged at his feet. He whirled round and round in the +eddies and saw Silvermane doing the same. Only by main force could he +breast his way out of these whirlpools. When a wave slapped his face he +tasted sand, and then he knew what the strange feeling meant. There was +sand here as on the desert. Even in the depths of the canyon he could +not escape it. As the current grew rougher he began to feel that he +could scarcely spread his arms in the wide stroke. Changing the stroke +he discovered that he could not keep up with Silvermane, and he changed +back again. Gradually his feet sank lower and lower, the water pressed +tighter round him, his arms seemed to grow useless. Then he remembered a +saying of August Naab that the Navajos did not attempt to swim the river +when it was in flood and full of sand. He ceased to struggle, and +drifting with the current, soon was close to Silvermane, and grasped a +saddle strap. + +"Not there!" called Mescal. "He might strike you. Hang to his tail!" + +Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly. The +stallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped at +Mescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down out +of line with the black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescal +lifted the rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright. +The roar of the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died +in the splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal +turned to him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she +shouted: + +"Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids. +Hang on!" + +In the swelling din Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As he +held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane +dipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing +water of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond +was a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal +crouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one white +flash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went out +of sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into the +backlash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost tore +his arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane's +tail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him from +wave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stinging +blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention of +waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he +could breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally, +his feet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his +eyes of the sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river on +Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar. Hare staggered up +and fell on the sand. + +"Jack, are you all right?" inquired Mescal. + +"All right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand. +How about you?" + +"I don't think I ever was any wetter," replied Mescal, laughing. "It was +hard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me. +I was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep. +Silvermane is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and was +waiting for us when we landed." + +Hare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding +himself little the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the +water from the long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a +tint of color showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short +skirt clung tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture +and appeared so little affected by the peril they had just passed +through that Hare, yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, +kissed the pink cheeks till they flamed. + +"All wet," said he, "you and I, clothes, food, guns--everything." + +"It's hot and we'll soon dry," returned Mescal. "Here's the canyon and +creek we must follow up to Coconina. My peon mapped them in the sand for +me one day. It'll probably be a long climb." + +Hare poured the water out of his boots, pulled them on, and helping +Mescal to mount Silvermane, he took the bridle over his arm and led the +way into a black-mouthed canyon, through which flowed a stream of clear +water. Wolf splashed and pattered along beside him. Beyond the marble +rock this canyon opened out to great breadth and wonderful walls. Hare +had eyes only for the gravelly bars and shallow levels of the creek; +intent on finding the easy going for his horse he strode on and on +thoughtless of time. Nor did he talk to Mescal, for the work was hard, +and he needed his breath. Splashing the water, hammering the stones, +Silvermane ever kept his nose at Hare's elbow. They climbed little +ridges, making short cuts from point to point, they threaded miles of +narrow winding creek floor, and passed under ferny cliffs and over +grassy banks and through thickets of yellow willow. As they wound along +the course of the creek, always up and up, the great walls imperceptibly +lowered their rims. The warm sun soared to the zenith. Jumble of +bowlders, stretches of white gravel, ridges of sage, blocks of granite, +thickets of manzanita, long yellow slopes, crumbling crags, clumps of +cedar and lines of pinon--all were passed in the persistent plodding +climb. The canon grew narrower toward its source; the creek lost its +volume; patches of snow gleamed in sheltered places. At last the yellow- +streaked walls edged out upon a grassy hollow and the great dark pines +of Coconina shadowed the snow. + +"We're up," panted Hare. "What a climb! Five hours! One more day--then +home!" + +Silvermane's ears shot up and Wolf barked. Two gray deer loped out of a +thicket and turned inquisitively. Reaching for his rifle Hare threw back +the lever, but the action clogged, it rasped with the sound of crunching +sand, and the cartridge could not be pressed into the chamber or +ejected. He fumbled about the breach of the gun and his brow clouded. + +"Sand! Out of commission!" he exclaimed. "Mescal, I don't like that." + +"Use your Colt," suggested Mescal. + +The distance was too great. Hare missed, and the deer bounded away into +the forest. + +Hare built a fire under a sheltering pine where no snow covered the soft +mat of needles, and while Mescal dried the blankets and roasted the last +portion of meat he made a wind-break of spruce boughs. When they had +eaten, not forgetting to give Wolf a portion, Hare fed Silvermane the +last few handfuls of grain, and tied him with a long halter on the +grassy bank. The daylight failed and darkness came on apace. The old +familiar roar of the wind in the pines was disturbing; it might mean +only the lull and crash of the breaking night-gusts, and it might mean +the north wind, storm, and snow. It whooped down the hollow, scattering +the few scrub-oak leaves; it whirled the red embers of the fire away +into the dark to sputter in the snow, and blew the burning logs into a +white glow. Mescal slept in the shelter of the spruce boughs with Wolf +snug and warm beside her. Hare stretched his tired limbs in the heat of +the blaze. + +When he awakened the fire was low and he was numb with cold. He took +care to put on logs enough to last until morning; then he lay down once +more, but did not sleep. The dawn came with a gray shade in the forest; +it was a cloud, and it rolled over him soft, tangible, moist, and cool, +and passed away under the pines. With its vanishing the dawn lightened. +"Mescal, if we're on the spur of Coconina, it's only ten miles or so to +Silver Cup," said Hare, as he saddled Silvermane. "Mount now and we'll +go up out of the hollow and get our bearings." + +While ascending the last step to the rim Hare revolved in his mind the +probabilities of marking a straight course to Silver Cup. + +"Oh! Jack!" exclaimed Mescal, suddenly. "Vermillion Cliffs and home!" + +"I've travelled in a circle!" replied Hare. + +Mescal was enraptured at the scene. Vermillion Cliffs shone red as a +rose. The split in the wall marking the oasis defined its outlines +sharply against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight. Hare +knew he stood on the highest point of Coconina overhanging the Grand +Canyon and the Painted Desert, thousands of feet below. He noted the +wondrous abyss sleeping in blue mist at his feet, while he gazed across +to the desert awakening in the first red rays of the rising sun. + +"Mescal, your Thunder River Canyon is only one little crack in the +rocks. It is lost in this chasm," said Hare. + +"It's lost, surely. I can't even see the tip of the peak that stood so +high over the valley." + +Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the Vermillion +Cliffs, and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculating +his bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow and +the soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermane +often sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they made +better time, for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave +way to the brown dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of +Mescal, and put the stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding +they struck a bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to +the spring. In another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, +and saw the familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of +gray sage patches down through the pines. + +"I smell smoke," said Hare. + +"The boys must be at the spring," rejoined Mescal. + +"Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip +down through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home +side of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it." + +With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a +diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached +the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turned +toward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringe +of cedars. + +"Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley," he said, looking at +her significantly. + +"They can't all be ours, that's sure," she replied. "What do you think?" + +"Holderness!" With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on, +cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breaking +brush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so worked +his way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress was +checked by the bulging wall of rock. + +"Only cattle in the valley, no horses," he said. "I've a good chance to +cut across this curve and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up +and see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't +believe Dave and the boys are there." + +He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed +the gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He +felt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks. + +"Jack, look at that brand," said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked +steer. "There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a +new brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!" + +"Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil to +brand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added the +bar, making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive a +child." + +They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniff +suspiciously at the wind. + +"Look!" whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. "Look! +A new corral!" + +Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked through +a network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther up +were piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a new +cabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermane +off the trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passed +the old pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be brought +suddenly to a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointing +to the left, and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heard +the stamping of hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fully +determined the direction from which the sound came three horses and a +man stepped from the shade into a sunlit space. + +As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick +cedar; and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he +chose to take it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare +felt Mescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure +her. Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves +leading the horses--a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man--Dene! The +blood beat hotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his +Colt. It seemed a fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He +was whistling; he had two halters in one hand and with the other he led +his bay horse by the mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was +unarmed; on the horses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare +dropped his Colt back into its holster. + +Dene sauntered on, whistling "Dixie." When he reached the trail, instead +of crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down. + +Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane +a stinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash of +brush and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. But +the outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It +was not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting +eyes was the terror of the supernatural. + +The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning +out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then +rise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the +cabin. + + + + + + +XVII. THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + +"JACK! the saddle's slipping!" cried Mescal, clinging closer to him. +"What luck!" Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on +the bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the +sawing bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: "Whoa there, Silver! +Whoa--slow now--whoa--easy!" and finally halted him. Hare swung down, +and as he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground. + +"Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried +out." Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that +he found in a saddle-bag. + +"Listen! Hear the yells! Oh! hurry!" cried Mescal. + +"I've never ridden bareback. Suppose you go ahead with Silver, and I'll +hide in the cedars till dark, then walk home!" + +"No--No. There's time, but hurry." + +"It's got to be strong," muttered Hare, holding the strap over his knee +and pulling the laced knot with all his strength, "for we'll have to +ride some. If it comes loose--Good-bye!" + +Silvermane's broad chest muscles rippled and he stamped restlessly. The +dog whined and looked back. Mescal had the blanket smooth on the gray +when Hare threw the saddle over him. The yells had ceased, but +clattering hoofs on the stony trail were a greater menace. While Hare's +brown hands worked swiftly over buckle and strap Mescal climbed to a +seat behind the saddle. + +"Get into the saddle," said Hare, leaping astride and pressing forward +over the pommel. "Slip down--there! and hold to me. Go! Silver!" + +The rapid pounding of the stallion's hoofs drowned the clatter coming up +the trail. A backward glance relieved Hare, for dust-clouds some few +hundred yards in the rear showed the position of the pursuing horsemen. +He held in Silvermane to a steady gallop. The trail was up-hill, and +steep enough to wind even a desert racer, if put to his limit. + +"Look back!" cried Mescal. "Can you see them? Is Snap with them?" + +"I can't see for trees," replied Hare, over his shoulder. "There's dust- +-we're far in the lead--never fear, Mescal. The lead's all we want." + +Cedars grew thickly all the way up the steeper part of the divide, and +ended abruptly at a pathway of stone, where the ascent became gradual. +When Silvermane struck out of the grove upon this slope Hare kept +turning keen glances rearward. The dust cloud rolled to the edge of the +cedars, and out of it trooped half-a-dozen horsemen who began to shoot +as soon as they had reached the open. Bullets zipped along the red +stone, cutting little puffs of red dust, and sung through the air. + +"Good God!" cried Hare. "They're firing on us! They'd shoot a woman!" + +"Has it taken you so long to learn that?" + +Hare slashed his steed with the switch. But Silvermane needed no goad or +spur; he had been shot at before, and the whistle of one bullet was +sufficient to stretch his gallop into a run. Then distance between him +and his pursuers grew wider and wider and soon he was out of range. The +yells of the rustlers seemed at first to come from baffled rage, but +Mescal's startled cry showed their meaning. Other horsemen appeared +ahead and to the right of him, tearing down the ridge to the divide. +Evidently they had been returning from the western curve of Coconina. + +The direction in which Silvermane was stretching was the only possible +one for Hare. If he swerved off the trail to the left it would be upon +rough rising ground. Not only must he outride this second band to the +point where the trail went down on the other side of the divide, but +also he must get beyond it before they came within rifle range. + +"Now! Silver! Go! Go!" Fast as the noble stallion was speeding he +answered to the call. He was in the open now, free of stones and brush, +with the spang of rifles in the air. The wind rushed into Hare's ears, +filling them with a hollow roar; the ground blurred by in reddish +sheets. The horsemen cut down the half mile to a quarter, lessened that, +swept closer and closer, till Hare recognized Chance and Culver, and +Snap Naab on his cream-colored pinto. Seeing that they could not head +the invincible stallion they sheered more to the right. But Silvermane +thundered on, crossing the line ahead of them a full three hundred +yards, and went over the divide, drawing them in behind him. + +Then, at the sharp crack of the rifles, leaden messengers whizzed high +in the air over horse and riders, and skipped along the red shale in +front of the running dog. + +"Oh--Silvermane!" cried Hare. It was just a call, as if the horse were +human, and knew what that pace meant to his master. The stern business +of the race had ceased to rest on Hare. Silvermane was out to the front! +He was like a level-rushing thunderbolt. Hare felt the instantaneous +pause between his long low leaps, the gather of mighty muscles, the +strain, the tension, then the quivering expulsion of force. It was a +perilous ride down that red slope, not so much from the hissing bullets +as from the washes and gullies which Silvermane sailed over in +magnificent leaps. Hare thrilled with savage delight in the wonderful +prowess of his desert king, in the primal instinct of joy at escaping +with the woman he loved. + +"Outrun!" he cried, with blazing eyes. Mescal's white face was pressed +close to his shoulder. "Silver has beaten them. They'll hang on till we +reach the sand-strip, hoping the slow-down will let them come up in +time. But they'll be far too late." + +The rustlers continued on the trail, firing desultorily, till Silvermane +so far distanced them that even the necessary lapse into a walk in the +red sand placed him beyond range when they arrived at the strip. + +"They've turned back, Mescal. We're safe. Why, you look as you did the +day the bear ran for you." + +"I'd rather a bear got me than Snap. Jack, did you see him?" + +"See him? Rather! I'll bet he nearly killed his pinto. Mescal, what do +you think of Silvermane now? Can he run? Can he outrun Bolly?" + +"Yes--yes. Oh! Jack! how I'll love him! Look back again. Are we safe? +Will we ever be safe?" + +It was still daylight when they rounded the portal of the oasis and +entered the lane with the familiar wall on one side, the peeled fence- +pickets on the other. Wolf dashed on ahead, and presently a chorus of +barks announced that he had been met by the other dogs. Silvermane +neighed shrilly, and the horses and mustangs in the corrals trooped +noisily to the lower sides and hung inquisitive heads over the top bars. + +A Navajo whom Hare remembered stared with axe idle by the woodpile, then +Judith Naab dropped a bundle of sticks and with a cry of gladness ran +from the house. Before Silvermane had come to a full stop Mescal was +off. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then she left +Judith to dart to the corral where a little black mustang had begun to +whistle and stamp and try to climb over the bars. + +August Naab, bareheaded, with shaggy locks shaking at every step, strode +off the porch and his great hands lifted Hare from the saddle. + +"Every day I've watched the river for you," he said. His eyes were warm +and his grasp like a vise. + +"Mescal--child!" he continued, as she came running to him. "Safe and +well. He's brought you back. Thank the Lord!" He took her to his breast +and bent his gray head over her. + +Then the crowd of big and little Naabs burst from the house and came +under the cottonwoods to offer noisy welcome to Mescal and Hare. + +"Jack, you look done up," said Dave Naab solicitously, when the first +greetings had been spoken, and Mother Ruth had led Mescal indoors. +"Silvermane, too--he's wet and winded. He's been running?" + +"Yes, a little," replied Hare, as he removed the saddle from the weary +horse. + +"Ah! What's this?" questioned August Naab, with his hand on Silvermane's +flank. He touched a raw groove, and the stallion flinched. "Hare, a +bullet made that!" + +"Yes." + +"Then you didn't ride in by the Navajo crossing?" + +"No. I came by Silver Cup." + +"Silver Cup? How on earth did you get down there?" + +"We climbed out of the canyon up over Coconina, and so made the spring." + +Naab whistled in surprise and he flashed another keen glance over Hare +and his horse. "Your story can wait. I know about what it is--after you +reached Silver Cup. Come in, come in, Dave will look out for the +stallion." + +But Hare would allow no one else to attend to Silvermane. He rubbed the +tired gray, gave him a drink at the trough, led him to the corral, and +took leave of him with a caress like Mescal's. Then he went to his room +and bathed himself and changed his clothes, afterward presenting himself +at the supper-table to eat like one famished. Mescal and he ate alone, +as they had been too late for the regular hour. The women-folk waited +upon them as if they could not do enough. There were pleasant words and +smiles; but in spite of them something sombre attended the meal. There +was a shadow in each face, each step was slow, each voice subdued. Naab +and his sons were waiting for Hare when he entered the sitting room, and +after his entrance the door was closed. They were all quiet and stern, +especially the father. "Tell us all," said Naab, simply. + +While Hare was telling his adventures not a word or a move interrupted +him till he spoke of Silvermane's running Dene down. + +"That's the second time!" rolled out Naab. "The stallion will kill him +yet!" + +Hare finished his story. + +"What don't you owe to that whirlwind of a horse!" exclaimed Dave Naab. +No other comment on Hare or Silvermane was offered by the Naabs. + +"You knew Holderness had taken in Silver Cup?" inquired Hare. + +August Naab nodded gloomily. + +"I guess we knew it," replied Dave for him. "While I was in White Sage +and the boys were here at home, Holderness rode to the spring and took +possession. I called to see him on my way back, but he wasn't around. +Snap was there, the boss of a bunch of riders. Dene, too, was there." + +"Did you go right into camp?" asked Hare. + +"Sure. I was looking for Holderness. There were eighteen or twenty +riders in the bunch. I talked to several of them, Mormons, good fellows, +they used to be. Also I had some words with Dene. He said: 'I shore was +sorry Snap got to my spy first. I wanted him bad, an' I'm shore goin' to +have his white horse.' Snap and Dene, all of them, thought you were +number thirty-one in dad's cemetery." + +"Not yet," said Hare. "Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when +Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all +there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new brand +on all your stock proves that." + +"Such a trick we never heard of," replied August Naab. "If we had we +might have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock." + +"But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt." + +"It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness +has stolen my water and my stock." + +"They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that." + +"Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?" interposed Dave, curiously. + +"I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about +cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running +too fast." + +"Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life," said August Naab. +"My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. +I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. +Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. +Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected +sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely +a day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of +Lund finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others +out. Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now +has a strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I +see it. I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow +to wrath. But--" + +The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words. + +"They need a leader," replied Hare, sharply. + +August Naab rose with haggard face and his eyes had the look of a man +accused. + +"Dad figures this way," put in Dave. "On the one hand we lose our water +and stock without bloodshed. We have a living in the oasis. There's +little here to attract rustlers, so we may live in peace if we give up +our rights. On the other hand, suppose Dad gets the Navajos down here +and we join them and go after Holderness and his gang. There's going to +be an all-fired bloody fight. Of course we'd wipe out the rustlers, but +some of us would get killed--and there are the wives and kids. See!" + +The force of August Naab's argument for peace, entirely aside from his +Christian repugnance to the shedding of blood, was plainly unassailable. + +"Remember what Snap said?" asked Hare, suddenly. "One man to kill Dene! +Therefore one man to kill Holderness! That would break the power of this +band." + +"Ah! you've said it," replied Dave, raising a tense arm. "It's a one-man +job. D--n Snap! He could have done it, if he hadn't gone to the bad. But +it won't be easy. I tried to get Holderness. He was wise, and his men +politely said they had enjoyed my call, but I wasn't to come again." + +"One man to kill Holderness!" repeated Hare. + +August Naab cast at the speaker one of his far-seeing glances; then he +shook himself, as if to throw off the grip of something hard and +inevitable. "I'm still master here," he said, and his voice showed the +conquest of his passions. + +"I give up Silver Cup and my stock. Maybe that will content Holderness." + +Some days went by pleasantly for Hare, as he rested from his long +exertions. Naab's former cheer and that of his family reasserted itself +once the decision was made, and the daily life went on as usual. The +sons worked in the fields by day, and in the evening played at pitching +horseshoes on the bare circle where the children romped. The women went +on baking, sewing, and singing. August Naab's prayers were more fervent +than ever, and he even prayed for the soul of the man who had robbed +him. Mescal's cheeks soon rounded out to their old contour and her eyes +shone with a happier light than Hare had ever seen there. The races +between Silvermane and Black Bolly were renewed on the long stretch +under the wall, and Mescal forgot that she had once acknowledged the +superiority of the gray. The cottonwoods showered silken floss till the +cabins and grass were white; the birds returned to the oasis; the sun +kissed warm color into the cherries, and the distant noise of the river +seemed like the humming of a swarm of bees. + +"Here, Jack," said August Naab, one morning, "get a spade and come with +me. There's a break somewhere in the ditch." + +Hare went with him out along the fence by the alfalfa fields, and round +the corner of red wall toward the irrigating dam. + +"Well, Jack, I suppose you'll be asking me for Mescal one of these +days," said Naab. + +"Yes," replied Hare. + +"There's a little story to tell you about Mescal, when the day comes." + +"Tell it now." + +"No. Not yet. I'm glad you found her. I never knew her to be so happy, +not even when she was a child. But somehow there's a better feeling +between her and my womenfolk. The old antagonism is gone. Well, well, +life is so. I pray that things may turn out well for you and her. But I +fear--I seem to see--Hare, I'm a poor man once more. I can't do for you +what I'd like. Still we'll see, we'll hope." + +Hare was perfectly happy. The old Mormon's hint did not disturb him; +even the thought of Snap Naab did not return to trouble his contentment. +The full present was sufficient for Hare, and his joy bubbled over, +bringing smiles to August's grave face. Never had a summer afternoon in +the oasis been so fair. The green fields, the red walls, the blue sky, +all seemed drenched in deeper, richer hues. The wind-song in the crags, +the river-murmur from the canyon, filled Hare's ears with music. To be +alive, to feel the sun, to see the colors, to hear the sounds, was +beautiful; and to know that Mescal awaited him, was enough. + +Work on the washed-out bank of the ditch had not gone far when Naab +raised his head as if listening. + +"Did you hear anything?" he asked. + +"No," replied Hare. + +"The roar of the river is heavy here. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I +heard shots." Then he went on spading clay into the break, but he +stopped every moment or so, uneasily, as if he could not get rid of some +disturbing thought. Suddenly he dropped the spade and his eyes flashed. + +"Judith! Judith! Here!" he called. Wheeling with a sudden premonition of +evil Hare saw the girl running along the wall toward them. Her face was +white as death; she wrung her hands and her cries rose above the sound +of the river. Naab sprang toward her and Hare ran at his heels. + +"Father!-- Father!" she panted. "Come--quick--the rustlers!--the +rustlers! Snap!--Dene--Oh--hurry! They've killed Dave--they've got +Mescal!" + +Death itself shuddered through Hare's veins and then a raging flood of +fire. He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm. + +"Fool! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through the +fields, under the trees." + +Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the +alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when +he could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill. + +They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The +screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread. + +"I see only the women--the children--no--there's a man--Zeke," said +Hare, bending low to gaze under the branches. + +"Go slow," muttered Naab. + +"The rustlers rode off--after Mescal--she's gone!" panted Judith. + +Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, +cast caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's +heavy steps thudded behind him. + +In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a +heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the +steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was +trying to calm the women. + +"My God! Dave!" cried Hare. "You're not hard hit? Don't say it!" + +"Hard hit--Jack--old fellow," replied Dave, with a pale smile. His face +was white and clammy. + +August Naab looked once at him and groaned, "My son! My son!" + +"Dad--I got Chance and Culver--there they lie in the road--not bungled, +either!" + +Hare saw the inert forms of two men lying near the gate; one rested on +his face, arm outstretched with a Colt gripped in the stiff hand; the +other lay on his back, his spurs deep in the ground, as if driven there +in his last convulsion. + +August Naab and Zeke carried the injured man into the house. The women +and children followed, and Hare, with Billy and George, entered last. + +"Dad--I'm shot clean through--low down," said Dave, as they laid him on +a couch. "It's just as well I--as any one--somebody had to--start this +fight." + +Naab got the children and the girls out of the room. The women were +silent now, except Dave's wife, who clung to him with low moans. He +smiled upon all with a quick intent smile, then he held out a hand to +Hare. + +"Jack, we got--to be--good friends. Don't forget--that--when you meet-- +Holderness. He shot me--from behind Chance and Culver--and after I fell- +-I killed them both--trying to get him. You--won't hang up--your gun-- +again--will you?" + +Hare wrung the cold hand clasping his so feebly. "No! Dave, no!" Then he +fled from the room. For an hour he stood on the porch waiting in dumb +misery. George and Zeke came noiselessly out, followed by their father. + +"It's all over, Hare." Another tragedy had passed by this man of the +desert, and left his strength unshaken, but his deadly quiet and the +gloom of his iron face were more terrible to see than any grief. + +"Father, and you, Hare, come out into the road," said George. + +Another motionless form lay beyond Chance and Culver. It was that of a +slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the +dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody +curve. + +"Dene!" burst from Hare, in a whisper. + +"Killed by a horse!" exclaimed August Naab. "Ah! What horse?" + +"Silvermane!" replied George. + +"Who rode my horse--tell me--quick!" cried Hare, in a frenzy. + +"It was Mescal. Listen. Let me tell you how it all happened. I was out +at the forge when I heard a bunch of horses coming up the lane. I wasn't +packing my gun, but I ran anyway. When I got to the house there was Dave +facing Snap, Dene, and a bunch of rustlers. I saw Chance at first, but +not Holderness. There must have been twenty men. + +"'I came after Mescal, that's what,' Snap was saying. + +"'You can't have her,' Dave answered. + +"'We'll shore take her, an' we want Silvermane, too,' said Dene. + +"'So you're a horse-thief as well as a rustler?' asked Dave. + +"'Naab, I ain't in any mind to fool. Snap wants the girl, an' I want +Silvermane, an' that damned spy that come back to life.' + +"Then Holderness spoke from the back of the crowd: 'Naab, you'd better +hurry, if you don't want the house burned!' + +"Dave drew and Holderness fired from behind the men. Dave fell, raised +up and shot Chance and Culver, then dropped his gun. + +"With that the women in the house began to scream, and Mescal ran out +saying she'd go with Snap if they'd do no more harm. + +"'All right,' said Snap, 'get a horse, hurry--hurry!' + +"Then Dene dismounted and went toward the corral saying, 'I shore want +Silvermane.' + +"Mescal reached the gate ahead of Dene. 'Let me get Silvermane. He's +wild; he doesn't know you; he'll kick you if you go near him.' She +dropped the bars and went up to the horse. He was rearing and snorting. +She coaxed him down and then stepped up on the fence to untie him. When +she had him loose she leaped off the fence to his back, screaming as she +hit him with the halter. Silvermane snorted and jumped, and in three +jumps he was going like a bullet. Dene tried to stop him, and was +knocked twenty feet. He was raising up when the stallion ran over him. +He never moved again. Once in the lane Silvermane got going--Lord! how +he did run! Mescal hung low over his neck like an Indian. He was gone in +a cloud of dust before Snap and the rustlers knew what had happened. +Snap came to first and, yelling and waving his gun, spurred down the +lane. The rest of the rustlers galloped after him." + +August Naab placed a sympathetic hand on Hare's shaking shoulder. + +"You see, lad, things are never so bad as they seem at first. Snap might +as well try to catch a bird as Silvermane." + + + + + + +XVIII. THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +"MESCAL'S far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare," went on +Naab. "That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane +into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop +will take care of her. She'll be safe for the present in White Sage. Now +we must bury these men. To-morrow--my son. Then--" + +"What then?" Hare straightened up. + +Unutterable pain darkened the flame in the Mormon's gaze. For an instant +his face worked spasmodically, only to stiffen into a stony mask. It was +the old conflict once more, the never-ending war between flesh and +spirit. And now the flesh had prevailed. + +"The time has come!" said George Naab. + +"Yes," replied his father, harshly. + +A great calm settled over Hare; his blood ceased to race, his mind to +riot; in August Naab's momentous word he knew the old man had found +himself. At last he had learned the lesson of the desert--to strike +first and hard. + +"Zeke, hitch up a team," said August Naab. "No--wait a moment. Here +comes Piute. Let's hear what he has to say." + +Piute appeared on the zigzag cliff-trail, driving a burro at dangerous +speed. + +"He's sighted Silvermane and the rustlers," suggested George, as the +shepherd approached. + +Naab translated the excited Indian's mingling of Navajo and Piute +languages to mean just what George had said. "Snap ahead of riders-- +Silvermane far, far ahead of Snap--running fast--damn!" + +"Mescal's pushing him hard to make the sand-strip," said George. + +"Piute--three fires to-night--Lookout Point!" This order meant the +execution of August Naab's hurry-signal for the Navajos, and after he +had given it, he waved the Indian toward the cliff, and lapsed into a +silence which no one dared to break. + +Naab consigned the bodies of the rustlers to the famous cemetery under +the red wall. He laid Dene in grave thirty-one. It was the grave that +the outlaw had promised as the last resting-place of Dene's spy. Chance +and Culver he buried together. It was noteworthy that no Mormon rites +were conferred on Culver, once a Mormon in good standing, nor were any +prayers spoken over the open graves. + +What did August Naab intend to do? That was the question in Hare's mind +as he left the house. It was a silent day, warm as summer, though the +sun was overcast with gray clouds; the birds were quiet in the trees; +there was no bray of burro or clarion-call of peacock, even the hum of +the river had fallen into silence. Hare wandered over the farm and down +the red lane, brooding over the issue. Naab's few words had been full of +meaning; the cold gloom so foreign to his nature, had been even more +impressive. His had been the revolt of the meek. The gentle, the loving, +the administering, the spiritual uses of his life had failed. + +Hare recalled what the desert had done to his own nature, how it had +bred in him its impulse to fight, to resist, to survive. If he, a +stranger of a few years, could be moulded in the flaming furnace of its +fiery life, what then must be the cast of August Naab, born on the +desert, and sleeping five nights out of seven on the sands for sixty +years? + +The desert! Hare trembled as he grasped all its meaning. Then he slowly +resolved that meaning. There were the measureless distances to narrow +the eye and teach restraint; the untrodden trails, the shifting sands, +the thorny brakes, the broken lava to pierce the flesh; the heights and +depths, unscalable and unplumbed. And over all the sun, red and burning. + +The parched plants of the desert fought for life, growing far apart, +sending enormous roots deep to pierce the sand and split the rock for +moisture, arming every leaf with a barbed thorn or poisoned sap, never +thriving and ever thirsting. + +The creatures of the desert endured the sun and lived without water, and +were at endless war. The hawk had a keener eye than his fellow of more +fruitful lands, sharper beak, greater spread of wings, and claws of +deeper curve. For him there was little to eat, a rabbit now, a rock-rat +then; nature made his swoop like lightning and it never missed its aim. +The gaunt wolf never failed in his sure scent, in his silent hunt. The +lizard flicked an invisible tongue into the heart of a flower; and the +bee he caught stung with a poisoned sting. The battle of life went to +the strong. + +So the desert trained each of its wild things to survive. No eye of the +desert but burned with the flame of the sun. To kill or to escape death- +-that was the dominant motive. To fight barrenness and heat--that was +stern enough, but each creature must fight his fellow. + +What then of the men who drifted into the desert and survived? They must +of necessity endure the wind and heat, the drouth and famine; they must +grow lean and hard, keen-eyed and silent. The weak, the humble, the +sacrificing must be winnowed from among them. As each man developed he +took on some aspect of the desert--Holderness had the amber clearness of +its distances in his eyes, its deceit in his soul; August Naab, the +magnificence of the desert-pine in his giant form, its strength in his +heart; Snap Naab, the cast of the hawk-beak in his face, its cruelty in +his nature. But all shared alike in the common element of survival-- +ferocity. August Naab had subdued his to the promptings of a Christ-like +spirit; yet did not his very energy, his wonderful tirelessness, his +will to achieve, his power to resist, partake of that fierceness? +Moreover, after many struggles, he too had been overcome by the desert's +call for blood. His mystery was no longer a mystery. Always in those +moments of revelation which he disclaimed, he had seen himself as +faithful to the desert in the end. + +Hare's slumbers that night were broken. He dreamed of a great gray horse +leaping in the sky from cloud to cloud with the lightning and the +thunder under his hoofs, the storm-winds sweeping from his silver mane. +He dreamed of Mescal's brooding eyes. They were dark gateways of the +desert open only to him, and he entered to chase the alluring stars deep +into the purple distance. He dreamed of himself waiting in serene +confidence for some unknown thing to pass. He awakened late in the +morning and found the house hushed. The day wore on in a repose +unstirred by breeze and sound, in accord with the mourning of August +Naab. At noon a solemn procession wended its slow course to the shadow +of the red cliff, and as solemnly returned. + +Then a long-drawn piercing Indian whoop broke the midday hush. It +heralded the approach of the Navajos. In single-file they rode up the +lane, and when the falcon-eyed Eschtah dismounted before his white +friend, the line of his warriors still turned the corner of the red +wall. Next to the chieftain rode Scarbreast, the grim war-lord of the +Navajos. His followers trailed into the grove. Their sinewy bronze +bodies, almost naked, glistened wet from the river. Full a hundred +strong were they, a silent, lean-limbed desert troop. + +"The White Prophet's fires burned bright," said the chieftain. "Eschtah +is here." + +"The Navajo is a friend," replied Naab. "The white man needs counsel and +help. He has fallen upon evil days." + +"Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend." + +"War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we +shall speak." + +A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors. +Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the +burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods. When the afternoon waned +and the shade from the western wall crept into the oasis, August Naab +came from his cabin clad in buckskins, with a large blue Colt swinging +handle outward from his left hip. He ordered his sons to replenish the +fire which had been built in the circle, and when the fierce-eyed +Indians gathered round the blaze he called to his women to bring meat +and drink. + +Hare's unnatural calmness had prevailed until he saw Naab stride out to +front the waiting Indians. Then a ripple of cold passed over him. He +leaned against a tree in the shadow and watched the gray-faced giant +stalking to and fro before his Indian friends. A long while he strode in +the circle of light to pause at length before the chieftains and to +break the impressive silence with his deep voice. + +"Eschtah sees before him a friend stung to his heart. Men of his own +color have long injured him, yet have lived. The Mormon loved his +fellows and forgave. Five sons he laid in their graves, yet his heart +was not hardened. His first-born went the trail of the fire-water and is +an outcast from his people. Many enemies has he and one is a chief. He +has killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water. +To-day the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the +chief? Would he not crush the scorpion that stung him?" + +The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, was as stately +as the Mormon's. + +"Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise. The White +Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks +too much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the +lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah +grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's +friend has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his +springs. Only a few can live on the desert. Let him who has found the +springs and the trails keep them for his own. Let him who came too late +go away to find for himself, to prove himself a warrior, or let his +bones whiten in the sand. The Navajo counsels his white friend to kill." + +"The great Eschtah speaks wise words," said Naab. "The White Prophet is +richer for them. He will lay aside the prayers to his unseeing God, and +will seek his foe." + +"It is well." + +"The white man's foe is strong," went on the Mormon; "he has many men, +they will fight. If Eschtah sends his braves with his friend there will +be war. Many braves will fall. The White Prophet wishes to save them if +he can. He will go forth alone to kill his foe. If the sun sets four +times and the white man is not here, then Eschtah will send his great +war-chief and his warriors. They will kill whom they find at the white +man's springs. And thereafter half of all the white man's cattle that +were stolen shall be Eschtah's, so that he watch over the water and +range." + +"Eschtah greets a chief," answered the Indian. "The White Prophet knows +he will kill his enemy, but he is not sure he will return. He is not +sure that the little braves of his foe will fly like the winds, yet he +hopes. So he holds the Navajo back to the last. Eschtah will watch the +sun set four times. If his white friend returns he will rejoice. If he +does not return the Navajo will send his warriors on the trail." + +August Naab walked swiftly from the circle of light into the darkness; +his heavy steps sounded on the porch, and in the hallway. His three sons +went toward their cabins with bowed heads and silent tongues. Eschtah +folded his blanket about him and stalked off into the gloom of the +grove, followed by his warriors. + +Hare remained in the shadow of the cottonwood where he had stood +unnoticed. He had not moved a muscle since he had heard August Naab's +declaration. That one word of Naab's intention, "Alone!" had arrested +him. For it had struck into his heart and mind. It had paralyzed him +with the revelation it brought; for Hare now knew as he had never known +anything before, that he would forestall August Naab, avenge the death +of Dave, and kill the rustler Holderness. Through blinding shock he +passed slowly into cold acceptance of his heritage from the desert. + +The two long years of his desert training were as an open page to Hare's +unveiled eyes. The life he owed to August Naab, the strength built up by +the old man's knowledge of the healing power of plateau and range--these +lay in a long curve between the day Naab had lifted him out of the White +Sage trail and this day of the Mormon's extremity. A long curve with +Holderness's insulting blow at the beginning, his murder of a beloved +friend at the end! For Hare remembered the blow, and never would he +forget Dave's last words. Yet unforgetable as these were, it was duty +rather than revenge that called him. This was August Naab's hour of +need. Hare knew himself to be the tool of inscrutable fate; he was the +one to fight the old desert-scarred Mormon's battle. Hare recalled how +humbly he had expressed his gratitude to Naab, and the apparent +impossibility of ever repaying him, and then Naab's reply: "Lad, you can +never tell how one man may repay another." Hare could pay his own debt +and that of the many wanderers who had drifted across the sands to find +a home with the Mormon. These men stirred in their graves, and from out +the shadow of the cliff whispered the voice of Mescal's nameless father: +"Is there no one to rise up for this old hero of the desert?" + +Softly Hare slipped into his room. Putting on coat and belt and catching +up his rifle he stole out again stealthily, like an Indian. In the +darkness of the wagon-shed he felt for his saddle, and finding it, he +groped with eager hands for the grain-box; raising the lid he filled a +measure with grain, and emptied it into his saddle-bag. Then lifting the +saddle he carried it out of the yard, through the gate and across the +lane to the corrals. The wilder mustangs in the far corral began to kick +and snort, and those in the corral where Black Bolly was kept trooped +noisily to the bars. Bolly whinnied and thrust her black muzzle over the +fence. Hare placed a caressing hand on her while he waited listening and +watching. It was not unusual for the mustangs to get restless at any +time, and Hare was confident that this would pass without investigation. + +Gradually the restless stampings and suspicious snortings ceased, and +Hare, letting down the bars, led Bolly out into the lane. It was the +work of a moment to saddle her; his bridle hung where he always kept it, +on the pommel, and with nimble fingers he shortened the several straps +to fit Bolly's head, and slipped the bit between her teeth. Then he put +up the bars of the gate. + +Before mounting he stood a moment thinking coolly, deliberately +numbering the several necessities he must not forget--grain for Bolly, +food for himself, his Colt and Winchester, cartridges, canteen, matches, +knife. He inserted a hand into one of his saddle-bags expecting to find +some strips of meat. The bag was empty. He felt in the other one, and +under the grain he found what he sought. The canteen lay in the coil of +his lasso tied to the saddle, and its heavy canvas covering was damp to +his touch. With that he thrust the long Winchester into its saddle- +sheath, and swung his leg over the mustang. + +The house of the Naabs was dark and still. The dying council-fire cast +flickering shadows under the black cottonwoods where the Navajos slept. +The faint breeze that rustled the leaves brought the low sullen roar of +the river. + +Hare guided Bolly into the thick dust of the lane, laid the bridle +loosely on her neck for her to choose the trail, and silently rode out +into the lonely desert night. + + + + + + +XIX. UNLEASHED + +HARE, listening breathlessly, rode on toward the gateway of the cliffs, +and when he had passed the corner of the wall he sighed in relief. +Spurring Bolly into a trot he rode forward with a strange elation. He +had slipped out of the oasis unheard, and it would be morning before +August Naab discovered his absence, perhaps longer before he divined his +purpose. Then Hare would have a long start. He thrilled with something +akin to fear when he pictured the old man's rage, and wondered what +change it would make in his plans. Hare saw in mind Naab and his sons, +and the Navajos sweeping in pursuit to save him from the rustlers. + +But the future must take care of itself, and he addressed all the +faculties at his command to cool consideration of the present. The strip +of sand under the Blue Star had to be crossed at night--a feat which +even the Navajos did not have to their credit. Yet Hare had no +shrinking; he had no doubt; he must go on. As he had been drawn to the +Painted Desert by a voiceless call, so now he was urged forward by +something nameless. + +In the blackness of the night it seemed as if he were riding through a +vaulted hall swept by a current of air. The night had turned cold, the +stars had brightened icily, the rumble of the river had died away when +Bolly's ringing trot suddenly changed to a noiseless floundering walk. +She had come upon the sand. Hare saw the Blue Star in the cliff, and +once more loosed the rein on Bolly's neck. She stopped and champed her +bit, and turned her black head to him as if to intimate that she wanted +the guidance of a sure arm. But as it was not forthcoming she stepped +onward into the yielding sand. + +With hands resting idly on the pommel Hare sat at ease in the saddle. +The billowy dunes reflected the pale starlight and fell away from him to +darken in obscurity. So long as the Blue Star remained in sight he kept +his sense of direction; when it had disappeared he felt himself lost. +Bolly's course seemed as crooked as the jagged outline of the cliffs. +She climbed straight up little knolls, descended them at an angle, +turned sharply at wind-washed gullies, made winding detours, zigzagged +levels that shone like a polished floor; and at last (so it seemed to +Hare) she doubled back on her trail. The black cliff receded over the +waves of sand; the stars changed positions, travelled round in the blue +dome, and the few that he knew finally sank below the horizon. Bolly +never lagged; she was like the homeward-bound horse, indifferent to +direction because sure of it, eager to finish the journey because now it +was short. Hare was glad though not surprised when she snorted and +cracked her iron-shod hoof on a stone at the edge of the sand. He smiled +with tightening lips as he rode into the shadow of a rock which he +recognized. Bolly had crossed the treacherous belt of dunes and washes +and had struck the trail on the other side. + +The long level of wind-carved rocks under the cliffs, the ridges of the +desert, the miles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual +descent to the cedars--these stretches of his journey took the night +hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile of +Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on +Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the +trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the +right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone or +snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was no +sound other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp, he +caught the dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements +became as guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn +broke over the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring. + +He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the +wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket +encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit +Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and, +after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from +below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope. + +Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he +struck the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At +last he reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent +so many days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness. +He stole down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The +sun, red as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the soft +mists of the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in +toward the spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone, +Hare descended the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every +step. Soon the edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower +level of cedars. While resting he listened. Then he marked his course +down the last bit of slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the +valley. This space was open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar +brush--a difficult place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his +choice of steps, very slow in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which +satisfied even his intent ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew +slowly into the circle of his downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a +slight trembling in all his limbs. There was a thick bush on the edge of +the cliff; in three steps he could reach it and, unseen himself, look +down upon the camp. + +A little cloud or smoke rose lazily and capped a slender column of blue. +Sounds were wafted softly upward, the low voices of men in conversation, +a merry whistle, and then the humming of a tune. Hare's mouth was dry +and his temples throbbed as he asked himself what it was best to do. The +answer came instantaneously as though it had lain just below the level +of his conscious thought. "I'll watch till Holderness walks out into +sight, jump up with a yell when he comes, give him time to see me, to +draw his gun--then kill him!" + +Hare slipped to the bush, drew in a deep long breath that stilled his +agitation, and peered over the cliff. The crude shingles of the cabin +first rose into sight; then beyond he saw the corral with a number of +shaggy mustangs and a great gray horse. Hare stared blankly. As in a +dream he saw the proud arch of a splendid neck, the graceful wave of a +white-crested mane. + +"Silvermane!... My God!" he gasped, suddenly. "They caught him--after +all!" + +He fell backward upon the cliff and lay there with hands clinching his +rifle, shudderingly conscious of a blow, trying to comprehend its +meaning. + +"Silvermane!... they caught him--after all!" he kept repeating; then in +a flash of agonized understanding he whispered: "Mescal... Mescal!" + +He rolled upon his face, shutting out the blue sky; his body stretched +stiff as a bent spring released from its compress, and his nails dented +the stock of his rifle. Then this rigidity softened to sobs that shook +him from head to foot. He sat up, haggard and wild-eyed. + +Silvermane had been captured, probably by rustlers waiting at the +western edge of the sand-strip. Mescal had fallen into the hands of Snap +Naab. But Mescal was surely alive and Snap was there to be killed; his +long career of unrestrained cruelty was in its last day--something told +Hare that this thing must and should be. The stern deliberation of his +intent to kill Holderness, the passion of his purpose to pay his debt to +August Naab, were as nothing compared to the gathering might of this new +resolve; suddenly he felt free and strong as an untamed lion broken free +from his captors. + +From the cover of the bush he peered again over the cliff. The cabin +with its closed door facing him was scarcely two hundred feet down from +his hiding-place. One of the rustlers sang as he bent over the camp-fire +and raked the coals around the pots; others lounged on a bench waiting +for breakfast; some rolled out of their blankets; they stretched and +yawned, and pulling on their boots made for the spring. The last man to +rise was Snap Naab, and he had slept with his head on the threshold of +the door. Evidently Snap had made Mescal a prisoner in the cabin, and no +one could go in or out without stepping upon him. The rustler-foreman of +Holderness's company had slept with his belt containing two Colts, nor +had he removed his boots. Hare noted these details with grim humor. Now +the tall Holderness, face shining, gold-red beard agleam, rounded the +cabin whistling. Hare watched the rustlers sit down to breakfast, and +here and there caught a loud-spoken word, and marked their leisurely +care-free manner. Snap Naab took up a pan of food and a cup of coffee, +carried them into the cabin, and came out, shutting the door. + +After breakfast most of the rustlers set themselves to their various +tasks. Hare watched them with the eyes of a lynx watching deer. Several +men were arranging articles for packing, and their actions were slow to +the point of laziness; others trooped down toward the corral. Holderness +rolled a cigarette and stooped over the campfire to reach a burning +stick. Snap Naab stalked to and fro before the door of the cabin. He +alone of the rustler's band showed restlessness, and more than once he +glanced up the trail that led over the divide toward his father's oasis. +Holderness sent expectant glances in the other direction toward Seeping +Springs. Once his clear voice rang out: + +"I tell you, Naab, there's no hurry. We'll ride in tomorrow." + +A thousand thoughts flitted through Hare's mind--a steady stream of +questions and answers. Why did Snap look anxiously along the oasis +trail? It was not that he feared his father or his brothers alone, but +there was always the menace of the Navajos. Why was Holderness in no +hurry to leave Silver Cup? Why did he lag at the spring when, if he +expected riders from his ranch, he could have gone on to meet them, +obviously saving time and putting greater distance between him and the +men he had wronged? Was it utter fearlessness or only a deep-played +game? Holderness and his rustlers, all except the gloomy Naab, were +blind to the peril that lay beyond the divide. How soon would August +Naab strike out on the White Sage trail? Would he come alone? Whether he +came alone or at the head of his hard-riding Navajos he would arrive too +late. Holderness's life was not worth a pinch of the ashes he flecked so +carelessly from his cigarette. Snap Naab's gloom, his long stride, his +nervous hand always on or near the butt of his Colt, spoke the keenness +of his desert instinct. For him the sun had arisen red over the red +wall. Had he harmed Mescal? Why did he keep the cabin door shut and +guard it so closely? + +While Hare watched and thought the hours sped by. Holderness lounged +about and Snap kept silent guard. The rustlers smoked, slept, and moved +about; the day waned, and the shadow of the cliff crept over the cabin. +To Hare the time had been as a moment; he was amazed to find the sun had +gone down behind Coconina. If August Naab had left the oasis at dawn he +must now be near the divide, unless he had been delayed by a wind-storm +at the strip of sand. Hare longed to see the roan charger come up over +the crest; he longed to see a file of Navajos, plumes waving, dark +mustangs gleaming in the red light, sweep down the stony ridge toward +the cedars. "If they come," he whispered, "I'll kill Holderness and Snap +and any man who tries to open that cabin door." + +So he waited in tense watchfulness, his gaze alternating between the +wavy line of the divide and the camp glade. Out in the valley it was +still daylight, but under the cliff twilight had fallen. All day Hare +had strained his ears to hear the talk of the rustlers, and it now +occurred to him that if he climbed down through the split in the cliff +to the bench where Dave and George had always hidden to watch the spring +he would be just above the camp. This descent involved risk, but since +it would enable him to see the cabin door when darkness set in, he +decided to venture. The moment was propitious, for the rustlers were +bustling around, cooking dinner, unrolling blankets, and moving to and +fro from spring and corral. Hare crawled back a few yards and along the +cliff until he reached the split. It was a narrow steep crack which he +well remembered. Going down was attended with two dangers--losing his +hold, and the possible rattling of stones. Face foremost he slipped +downward with the gliding, sinuous movement of a snake, and reaching the +grassy bench he lay quiet. Jesting voices and loud laughter from below +reassured him. He had not been heard. His new position afforded every +chance to see and hear, and also gave means of rapid, noiseless retreat +along the bench to the cedars. Lying flat he crawled stealthily to the +bushy fringe of the bench. + +A bright fire blazed under the cliff. Men were moving and laughing. The +cabin door was open. Mescal stood leaning back from Snap Naab, +struggling to release her hands. + +"Let me untie them, I say," growled Snap. + +Mescal tore loose from him and stepped back. Her hands were bound before +her, and twisting them outward, she warded him off. Her dishevelled hair +almost hid her dark eyes. They burned in a level glance of hate and +defiance. She was a little lioness, quivering with fiery life, fight in +every line of her form. + +"All right, don't eat then--starve!" said Snap. + +"I'll starve before I eat what you give me." + +The rustlers laughed. Holderness blew out a puff of smoke and smiled. +Snap glowered upon Mescal and then upon his amiable companions. One of +them, a ruddy-faced fellow, walked toward Mescal. + +"Cool down, Snap, cool down," he said. "We're not goin' to stand for a +girl starvin'. She ain't eat a bite yet. Here, Miss, let me untie your +hands--there. . . . Say! Naab, d--n you, her wrists are black an' blue!" + +"Look out! Your gun!" yelled Snap. + +With a swift movement Mescal snatched the man's Colt from its holster +and was raising it when he grasped her arm. She winced and dropped the +weapon. + +"You little Indian devil!" exclaimed the rustler, in a rapt admiration. +"Sorry to hurt you, an' more'n sorry to spoil your aim. Thet wasn't kind +to throw my own gun on me, jest after I'd played the gentleman, now, was +it?" + +"I didn't--intend--to shoot--you," panted Mescal. + +"Naab, if this's your Mormon kind of wife--excuse me! Though I ain't +denyin' she's the sassiest an' sweetest little cat I ever seen!" + +"We Mormons don't talk about our women or hear any talk," returned Snap, +a dancing fury in his pale eyes. "You're from Nebraska?" + +"Yep, jest a plain Nebraska rustler, cattle-thief, an' all round no-good +customer, though I ain't taken to houndin' women yet." + +For answer Snap Naab's right hand slowly curved upward before him and +stopped taut and inflexible, while his strange eyes seemed to shoot +sparks. + +"See here, Naab, why do you want to throw a gun on me?" asked the +rustler, coolly. "Haven't you shot enough of your friends yet? I reckon +I've no right to interfere in your affairs. I was only protestin' +friendly like, for the little lady. She's game, an' she's called your +hand. An' it's not a straight hand. Thet's all, an' d--n if I care +whether you are a Mormon or not. I'll bet a hoss Holderness will back me +up." + +"Snap, he's right," put in Holderness, smoothly. "You needn't be so +touchy about Mescal. She's showed what little use she's got for you. If +you must rope her around like you do a mustang, be easy about it. Let's +have supper. Now, Mescal, you sit here on the bench and behave yourself. +I don't want you shooting up my camp." + +Snap turned sullenly aside while Holderness seated Mescal near the door +and fetched her food and drink. The rustlers squatted round the camp- +fire, and conversation ceased in the business of the meal. + +To Hare the scene had brought a storm of emotions. Joy at the sight of +Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting +spirit--these came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska +rustler, strange deepening insight into Holderness's game, +unextinguishable white-hot hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the +ever-mounting will to rescue Mescal, which was held in check by an +inexorable judgment; he must continue to wait. And he did wait with +blind faith in the something to be, keeping ever in mind the last +resort--the rifle he clutched with eager hands. Meanwhile the darkness +descended, the fire sent forth a brighter blaze, and the rustlers +finished their supper. Mescal arose and stepped across the threshold of +the cabin door. + +"Hold on!" ordered Snap, as he approached with swift strides. "Stick out +your hands!" + +Some of the rustlers grumbled; and one blurted out: "Aw no, Snap, don't +tie her up--no!" + +"Who says no?" hissed the Mormon, with snapping teeth. As he wheeled +upon them his Colt seemed to leap forward, and suddenly quivered at +arm's-length, gleaming in the ruddy fire-rays. + +Holderness laughed in the muzzle of the weapon. "Go ahead, Snap, tie up +your lady love. What a tame little wife she's going to make you! Tie her +up, but do it without hurting her." + +The rustlers growled or laughed at their leader's order. Snap turned to +his task. Mescal stood in the doorway and shrinkingly extended her +clasped hands. Holderness whirled to the fire with a look which betrayed +his game. Snap bound Mescal's hands securely, thrust her inside the +cabin, and after hesitating for a long moment, finally shut the door. + +"It's funny about a woman, now, ain't it?" said Nebraska, +confidentially, to a companion. "One minnit she'll snatch you bald- +headed; the next, she'll melt in your mouth like sugar. An' I'll be +darned if the changeablest one ain't the kind to hold a feller longest. +But it's h--l. I was married onct. Not any more for mine! A pal I had +used to say thet whiskey riled him, thet rattlesnake pisen het up his +blood some, but it took a woman to make him plumb bad. D--n if it ain't +so. When there's a woman around there's somethin' allus comin' off." + +But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness +suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals +from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side +of the door, his narrow gaze cunningly studying the rustlers before him. +More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk +he could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half +opening it while he faced the men. + +"Stop!" commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had +come from another man. "You don't go in there!" + +"I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage," replied Naab, in +slow deliberation. + +"Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her. +You tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or +something'll happen." + +"There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't +interfere now, I'm going." + +"Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!" + +Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him. + +"So-ho!" he exclaimed, sneeringly. "That's why you've made me foreman, +eh?" His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale +eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The +rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic +smile. + +"Naab, you don't get the girl." + +"Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap. + +"I always intended to." + +Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His +Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click! Click! Click! The hammer +fell upon empty chambers. + +"H--l!" he shrieked. + +Holderness laughed sarcastically. + +"That's where you're going!" he cried. "Here's to Naab's trick with a +gun--Bah!" And he shot his foreman through the heart. + +Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling +wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread +convulsively, straightened, and sank limp. + +Holderness called through the door of the cabin. "Mescal, I've rid you +of your would-be husband. Cheer-up!" Then, pointing to the fallen man, +he said to the nearest bystanders: "Some of you drag that out for the +coyotes." + +The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler, +and he curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up. "No +shells!" he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and +unbreeched that. "No shells! Well, d--n me!" He surveyed the group of +grim men, not one of whom had any reply. + +Holderness again laughed harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened +the door with a lasso. + +It was a long time before Hare recovered from the startling revelation +of the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap +Naab had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely +preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position +and settled himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour +Holderness and his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching +doom. Hare's strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these +men had received its first verification in the sudden taking off of Snap +Naab. The deep-scheming Holderness, confident that his strong band meant +sure protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had +not caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested warning. Yet somewhere +out on the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of +life to the lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind +him waited a troop of Navajos, swift as eagles, merciless as wolves, +desert warriors with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins. +As Hare waited and watched with all his inner being cold, he could +almost feel pity for Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the +rustler chief had sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, +Hare had covered him with the rifle, waiting, waiting for the step upon +the threshold. But Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's +finger eased its pressure upon the trigger. + +The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no starlight; the +wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled +in their blankets and all dropped into slumber while the camp-fire +slowly burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the +breeze and the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes. + +Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man +raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked +long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he +softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do. +Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening +intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep. Gently +he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and guarded +of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between the +rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's, +and he went toward the cabin door. + +He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting six- +shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached the +door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy movements, +his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom hovered over +the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that this softly +stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the woman +pledged in his creed. He meant to free Mescal. + +If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band +awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in the +flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a +sound. + +Hare whispered: "Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake +Holderness--then I must shoot--I must!" + +But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth. + +"Hist!" he whispered into the cabin. "Hist!" + +Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning +of that low whisper, for silently she appeared in the doorway, silently +she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed +into the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a flitting +shadow Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary, +unhurried steps back to his bed and rolled in his blankets. + +Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed +to have but one issue--the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be +upon Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there +would be no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler +while he was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to +his men the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing +down on the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever +his power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the +temptation from him. To ward off pursuit as long as possible, to aid +Mescal in every way to some safe hiding-place, and then to seek +Holderness--that was the forethought of a man who had learned to wait. + +Under the dark projection of the upper cliff Hare felt his way to the +cedar slope, and the trail, and then he went swiftly down into the +little hollow where he had left Bolly. The darkness of the forest +hindered him, but he came at length to the edge of the aspen thicket; he +penetrated it, and guided toward Bolly by a suspicious stamp and neigh, +he found her and quieted her with a word. He rode down the hollow, out +upon the level valley. + +The clouds had broken somewhat, letting pale light down through rifts. +All about him cattle were lying in a thick gloom. It was penetrable for +only a few rods. The ground was like a cushion under Bolly's hoofs, +giving forth no sound. The mustang threw up her head, causing Hare to +peer into the night-fog. Rapid hoof-beats broke the silence, a vague +gray shadow moved into sight. He saw Silvermane and called as loudly as +he dared. The stallion melted into the misty curtain, the beating of +hoofs softened and ceased. Hare spurred Bolly to her fleetest. He had a +long, silent chase, but it was futile, and unnecessarily hard on the +mustang; so he pulled her in to a trot. + +Hare kept Bolly to this gait the remainder of the night, and when the +eastern sky lightened he found the trail and reached Seeping Springs at +dawn. Silvermane's tracks were deep in the clay at the drinking-trough. +He rested a few moments, gave Bolly sparingly of grain and water, and +once more took to the trail. + +From the ridge below the spring he saw Silvermane beyond the valley, +miles ahead of him. This day seemed shorter than the foregoing one; it +passed while he watched Silvermane grow smaller and smaller and +disappear on the looming slope of Coconina. Hare's fear that Mescal +would run into the riders Holderness expected from his ranch grew less +and less after she had reached the cover of the cedars. That she would +rest the stallion at the Navajo pool on the mountain he made certain. +Late in the night he came to the camping spot and found no trace to +prove that she had halted there even to let Silvermane drink. So he tied +the tired mustang and slept until daylight. + +He crossed the plateau and began the descent. Before he was half-way +down the warm bright sun had cleared the valley of vapor and shadow. Far +along the winding white trail shone a speck. It was Silvermane almost +out of sight. + +"Ten miles--fifteen, more maybe," said Hare. "Mescal will soon be in the +village." + +Again hours of travel flew by like winged moments. Thoughts of time, +distance, monotony, fatigue, purpose, were shut out from his mind. A +rushing kaleidoscopic dance of images filled his consciousness, but they +were all of Mescal. Safety for her had unsealed the fountain of +happiness. + +It was near sundown when he rode Black Bolly into White Sage, and took +the back road, and the pasture lane to Bishop Caldwell's cottage. John, +one of the Bishop's sons, was in the barn-yard and ran to open the gate. + +"Mescal!" cried Hare. + +"Safe," replied the Mormon. + +"Have you hidden her?" + +"She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men +know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe." + +"Thank God!... then that's settled." Hare drew a long, deep breath. + +"Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and +escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?" + +"Silvermane killed him." + +"Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here +in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap +Naab?" + +"Yes." + +"What of old Naab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons +against the rustlers?" + +"He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail +alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he +failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his +plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him." + +"For what? Mescal?" + +"No. For Holderness." + +"You'll kill him!" + +"Yes." + +"He'll be coming soon?--When?" + +"To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance Naab +may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it." + +"May I know your plan?" The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face +flashed with daring inspiration. "I--I've a good reason." + +"Plan?-- Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in the +orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little--for I'm dead tired- +-and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his men, +perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use +strategy. I'll meet him when he comes--that's all." + +"It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now. +You need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the +arbor." + +Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival +following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed +repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell +did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table +before finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the +open window. + +Darkness found Hare wrapped in a blanket under the trees. He needed +sleep that would loose the strange deadlock of his thoughts, clear the +blur from his eyes, ease the pain in his head and weariness of limbs-- +all these weaknesses of which he had suddenly become conscious. Time and +again he had almost wooed slumber to him when soft footsteps on the +gravel paths, low voices, the gentle closing of the gate, brought him +back to the unreal listening wakefulness. The sounds continued late into +the night, and when he did fall asleep he dreamed of them. He awoke to a +dawn clearer than the light from the noonday sun. In his ears was the +ringing of a bell. He could not stand still, and his movements were +subtle and swift. His hands took a peculiar, tenacious, hold of +everything he chanced to touch. He paced his hidden walk behind the +arbor, at every turn glancing sharply up and down the road. Thoughts +came to him clearly, yet one was dominant. The morning was curiously +quiet, the sons of the Bishop had strangely disappeared--a sense of +imminent catastrophe was in the air. + +A band of horsemen closely grouped turned into the road and trotted +forward. Some of the men wore black masks. Holderness rode at the front, +his red-gold beard shining in the sunlight. The steady clip-clop of +hoofs and clinking of iron stirrups broke the morning quiet. Holderness, +with two of his men, dismounted before the Bishop's gate; the others of +the band trotted on down the road. The ring of Holderness's laugh +preceded the snap of the gate-latch. + +Hare stood calm and cold behind his green covert watching the three men +stroll up the garden path. Holderness took a cigarette from his lips as +he neared the porch and blew out circles of white smoke. Bishop Caldwell +tottered from the cottage rapping the porch-floor with his cane. + +"Good-morning, Bishop," greeted Holderness, blandly, baring his head. + +"To you, sir," quavered the old man, with his wavering blue eyes fixed +on the spurred and belted rustler. Holderness stepped out in front of +his companions, a superb man, courteous, smiling, entirely at his ease. + +"I rode in to--" + +Hare leaped from his hiding-place. + +"Holderness!" + +The rustler pivoted on whirling heels. + +"Dene's spy!" he exclaimed, aghast. Swift changes swept his mobile +features. Fear flickered in his eyes as he faced his foe; then came +wonder, a glint of amusement, dark anger, and the terrible instinct of +death impending. + +"Naab's trick!" hissed Hare, with his hand held high. The suggestion in +his words, the meaning in his look, held the three rustlers transfixed. +The surprise was his strength. + +In Holderness's amber eyes shone his desperate calculation of chances. +Hare's fateful glance, impossible to elude, his strung form slightly +crouched, his cold deliberate mention of Naab's trick, and more than all +the poise of that quivering hand, filled the rustler with a terror that +he could not hide. + +He had been bidden to draw and he could not summon the force. + +"Naab's trick!" repeated Hare, mockingly. + +Suddenly Holderness reached for his gun. + +Hare's hand leapt like a lightning stroke. Gleam of blue--spurt of red-- +crash! + +Holderness swayed with blond head swinging backward; the amber of his +eyes suddenly darkened; the life in them glazed; like a log he fell +clutching the weapon he had half drawn. + + + + + + +XX. THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + +"TAKE Holderness away--quick!" ordered Hare. A thin curl of blue smoke +floated from the muzzle of his raised weapon. + +The rustlers started out of their statue-like immobility, and lifting +their dead leader dragged him down the garden path with his spurs +clinking on the gravel and ploughing little furrows. + +"Bishop, go in now. They may return," said Hare. He hurried up the steps +to place his arm round the tottering old man. + +"Was that Holderness?" + +"Yes," replied Hare. + +"The deeds of the wicked return unto them! God's will!" + +Hare led the Bishop indoors. The sitting-room was full of wailing women +and crying children. None of the young men were present. Again Hare made +note of their inexplicable absence. He spoke soothingly to the +frightened family. The little boys and girls yielded readily to his +persuasion, but the women took no heed of him. + +"Where are your sons?" asked Hare. + +"I don't know," replied the Bishop. "They should be here to stand by +you. It's strange. I don't understand. Last night my sons were visited +by many men, coming and going in twos and threes till late. They didn't +sleep in their beds. I know not what to think." + +Hare remembered John Caldwell's enigmatic face. + +"Have the rustlers really come?" asked a young woman, whose eyes were +red and cheeks tear-stained. + +"They have. Nineteen in all. I counted them," answered Hare. + +The young woman burst out weeping afresh, and the wailing of the others +answered her. Hare left the cottage. He picked up his rifle and went +down through the orchard to the hiding-place of the horses. Silvermane +pranced and snorted his gladness at sight of his master. The desert king +was fit for a grueling race. Black Bolly quietly cropped the long grass. +Hare saddled the stallion to have him in instant readiness, and then +returned to the front of the yard. + +He heard the sound of a gun down the road, then another, and several +shots following in quick succession. A distant angry murmuring and +trampling of many feet drew Hare to the gate. Riderless mustangs were +galloping down the road; several frightened boys were fleeing across the +square; not a man was in sight. Three more shots cracked, and the low +murmur and trampling swelled into a hoarse uproar. Hare had heard that +sound before; it was the tumult of mob-violence. A black dense throng of +men appeared crowding into the main street, and crossing toward the +square. The procession had some order; it was led and flanked by mounted +men. But the upflinging of many arms, the craning of necks, and the +leaping of men on the outskirts of the mass, the pressure inward and the +hideous roar, proclaimed its real character. + +"By Heaven!" exclaimed Hare. "The Mormons have risen against the +rustlers. I understand now. John Caldwell spent last night in secretly +rousing his neighbors. They have surprised the rustlers. Now what?" + +Hare vaulted the fence and ran down the road. A compact mob of men, a +hundred or more, had halted in the village under the wide-spreading +cottonwoods. Hare suddenly grasped the terrible significance of those +outstretched branches, and out of the thought grew another which made +him run at bursting break-neck speed. + +"Open up! Let me in!" he yelled to the thickly thronged circle. Right +and left he flung men. "Make way!" His piercing voice stilled the angry +murmur. Fierce men with weapons held aloft fell back from his face. + +"Dene's spy!" they cried. + +The circle opened and closed upon him. He saw bound rustlers under armed +guard. Four still forms were on the ground. Holderness lay outstretched, +a dark-red blot staining his gray shirt. Flinty-faced Mormons, ruthless +now as they had once been mild, surrounded the rustlers. John Caldwell +stood foremost, with ashen lips breaking bitterly into speech: + +"Mormons, this is Dene's spy, the man who killed Holderness!" + +The listeners burst into the short stern shout of men proclaiming a +leader in war. + +"What's the game?" demanded Hare. + +"A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope," replied John Caldwell. The +low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again. + +"There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them +hanged." + +"Pick them out!" A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in +John Caldwell's hard face. + +Hare eyed the prisoners. + +"Nebraska, step out here," said he. + +"I reckon you're mistaken," replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently +on Hare. "I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to +cheat the man you mean." + +"I saw you untie the girl's hands." + +"You did? Well, d--n me!" + +"Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You +weren't cut out for a thief." + +"Will I? D--n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin' +for you, stranger, an' prove it." + +"Cut him loose from the others," said Hare. He scrutinized the line of +rustlers. Several were masked in black. "Take off those masks!" + +"No! Those men go to their graves masked." Again the strange twinge of +pain crossed John Caldwell's face. + +"Ah, I see," exclaimed Hare. Then quickly: "I couldn't recognize the +other man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her +and I'll save him. But how?" + +Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent, +clamored that he was the one to be saved. + +"Hurry back home," said Caldwell in Hare's ear. "Tell them to fetch +Mescal. Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are wavering. +You've got only a few minutes." + +Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the +run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family. + +"No danger--don't be alarmed--all's well," he panted. "The rustlers are +captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, somebody." + +One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a +latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone, and +dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly +pattering footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall, +black hair flying, dark eyes beaming. + +"My darling!" Oblivious of the Mormons he swung her up and held her in +his arms. "Mescal! Mescal!" + +When he raised his face from the tumbling mass of her black hair, the +Bishop and his family had left the room. + +"Listen, Mescal. Be calm. I'm safe. The rustlers are prisoners. One of +them released you from Holderness. Tell me which one?" + +"I don't know," replied Mescal. "I've tried to think. I didn't see his +face; I can't remember his voice." + +"Think! Think! He'll be hanged if you don't recall something to identify +him. He deserves a chance. Holderness's crowd are thieves, murderers. +But two were not all bad. That showed the night you were at Silver Cup. +I saved Nebraska--" + +"Were you at Silver Cup? Jack!" + +"Hush! don't interrupt me. We must save this man who saved you. Think! +Mescal! Think!" + +"Oh! I can't. What--how shall I remember?" + +"Something about him. Think of his coat, his sleeve. You must remember +something. Did you see his hands?" + +"Yes, I did--when he was loosing the cords," said Mescal, eagerly. +"Long, strong fingers. I felt them too. He has a sharp rough wart on one +hand, I don't know which. He wears a leather wristband." + +"That's enough!" Hare bounded out upon the garden walk and raced back to +the crowded square. The uneasy circle stirred and opened for him to +enter. He stumbled over a pile of lassoes which had not been there when +he left. The stony Mormons waited; the rustlers coughed and shifted +their feet. John Caldwell turned a gray face. Hare bent over the three +dead rustlers lying with Holderness, and after a moment of anxious +scrutiny he rose to confront the line of prisoners. + +"Hold out your hands." + +One by one they complied. The sixth rustler in the line, a tall fellow, +completely masked, refused to do as he was bidden. Twice Hare spoke. The +rustler twisted his bound hands under his coat. + +"Let's see them," said Hare, quickly. He grasped the fellow's arm and +received a violent push that almost knocked him over. Grappling with the +rustler, he pulled up the bound hands, in spite of fierce resistance, +and there were the long fingers, the sharp wart, the laced wristband. +"Here's my man!" he said. + +"No," hoarsely mumbled the rustler. The perspiration ran down his corded +neck; his breast heaved convulsively. + +"You fool!" cried Hare, dumfounded and resentful. "I recognized you. +Would you rather hang than live? What's your secret?" + +He snatched off the black mask. The Bishop's eldest son stood revealed. + +"Good God!" cried Hare, recoiling from that convulsed face. + +"Brother! Oh! I feared this," groaned John Caldwell. + +The rustlers broke out into curses and harsh laughter. + +"--- --- you Mormons! See him! Paul Caldwell! Son of a Bishop! Thought +he was shepherdin' sheep?" + +"D--n you, Hare!" shouted the guilty Mormon, in passionate fury and +shame. "Why didn't you hang me? Why didn't you bury me unknown?" + +"Caldwell! I can't believe it," cried Hare, slowly coming to himself. +"But you don't hang. Here, come out of the crowd. Make way, men!" + +The silent crowd of Mormons with lowered and averted eyes made passage +for Hare and Caldwell. Then cold, stern voices in sharp questions and +orders went on with the grim trial. Leading the bowed and stricken +Mormon, Hare drew off to the side of the town-hall and turned his back +upon the crowd. The constant trampling of many feet, the harsh medley of +many voices swelled into one dreadful sound. It passed away, and a long +hush followed. But this in turn was suddenly broken by an outcry: + +"The Navajos! The Navajos!" + +Hare thrilled at that cry and his glance turned to the eastern end of +the village road where a column of mounted Indians, four abreast, was +riding toward the square. + +"Naab and his Indians," shouted Hare. "Naab and his Indians! No fear!" +His call was timely, for the aroused Mormons, ignorant of Naab's +pursuit, fearful of hostile Navajos, were handling their guns ominously. + +But there came a cry of recognition--"August Naab!" + +Onward came the band, Naab in the lead on his spotted roan. The mustangs +were spent and lashed with foam. Naab reined in his charger and the +keen-eyed Navajos closed in behind him. The old Mormon's eagle glance +passed over the dark forms dangling from the cottonwoods to the files of +waiting men. + +"Where is he?" + +"There!" answered John Caldwell, pointing to the body of Holderness. + +"Who robbed me of my vengeance? Who killed the rustler?" Naab's +stentorian voice rolled over the listening multitude. In it was a hunger +of thwarted hate that held men mute. He bent a downward gaze at the dead +Holderness as if to make sure of the ghastly reality. Then he seemed to +rise in his saddle, and his broad chest to expand. "I know--I saw it +all--blind I was not to believe my own eyes! Where is he? Where is +Hare?" + +Some one pointed Hare out. Naab swung from his saddle and scattered the +men before him as if they had been sheep. His shaggy gray head and +massive shoulders towered above the tallest there. + +Hare felt again a cold sense of fear. He grew weak in all his being. He +reeled when the gray shaggy giant laid a huge hand on his shoulder and +with one pull dragged him close. Was this his kind Mormon benefactor, +this man with the awful eyes? + +"You killed Holderness?" roared Naab. + +"Yes," whispered Hare. + +"You heard me say I'd go alone? You forestalled me? You took upon +yourself my work?... Speak." + +"I--did." + +"By what right?" + +"My debt--duty--your family--Dave!" + +"Boy! Boy! You've robbed me." Naab waved his arm from the gaping crowd +to the swinging rustlers. "You've led these white-livered Mormons to do +my work. How can I avenge my sons--seven sons?" + +His was the rage of the old desert-lion. He loosed Hare and strode in +magnificent wrath over Holderness and raised his brawny fists. + +"Eighteen years I prayed for wicked men," he rolled out. "One by one I +buried my sons. I gave my springs and my cattle. Then I yielded to the +lust for blood. I renounced my religion. I paid my soul to everlasting +hell for the life of my foe. But he's dead! Killed by a wild boy! I sold +myself to the devil for nothing!" + +August Naab raved out his unnatural rage amid awed silence. His revolt +was the flood of years undammed at the last. The ferocity of the desert +spirit spoke silently in the hanging rustlers, in the ruthlessness of +the vigilantes who had destroyed them, but it spoke truest in the +sonorous roll of the old Mormon's wrath. + +"August, young Hare saved two of the rustlers," spoke up an old friend, +hoping to divert the angry flood. "Paul Caldwell there, he was one of +them. The other's gone." + +Naab loomed over him. "What!" he roared. His friend edged away, +repeating his words and jerking his thumb backward toward the Bishop's +son. + +"Judas Iscariot!" thundered Naab. "False to thyself, thy kin, and thy +God! Thrice traitor!... Why didn't you get yourself killed? ... Why are +you left? Ah-h! for me--a rustler for me to kill--with my own hands!--A +rope there--a rope!" + +"I wanted them to hang me," hoarsely cried Caldwell, writhing in Naab's +grasp. + +Hare threw all his weight and strength upon the Mormon's iron arm. +"Naab! Naab! For God's sake, hear! He saved Mescal. This man, thief, +traitor, false Mormon--whatever he is--he saved Mescal." + +August Naab's eyes were bloodshot. One shake of his great body flung +Hare off. He dragged Paul Caldwell across the grass toward the +cottonwood as easily as if he were handling an empty grain-sack. + +Hare suddenly darted after him. "August! August!--look! look!" he cried. +He pointed a shaking finger down the square. The old Bishop came +tottering over the grass, leaning on his cane, shading his eyes with his +hand. "August. See, the Bishop's coming. Paul's father! Do you hear?" + +Hare's appeal pierced Naab's frenzied brain. The Mormon Elder saw his +old Bishop pause and stare at the dark shapes suspended from the +cottonwoods and hold up his hands in horror. + +Naab loosed his hold. His frame seemed wrenched as though by the passing +of an evil spirit, and the reaction left his face transfigured. + +"Paul, it's your father, the Bishop," he said, brokenly. "Be a man. He +must never know." Naab spread wide his arms to the crowd. "Men, listen," +he said. "Of all of us Mormons I have lost most, suffered most. Then +hear me. Bishop Caldwell must never know of his son's guilt. He would +sink under it. Keep the secret. Paul will be a man again. I know. I see. +For, Mormons, August Naab has the gift of revelation!" + + + + + + +XXI. MESCAL + +SUMMER gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls of +the oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea, +darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke were +wafted far above the cottonwoods and floated in the still air. The +desert-red color of Navajo blankets brightened the grove. + +Half-naked bronze Indians lolled in the shade, lounged on the cabin +porches and stood about the sunny glade in idle groups. They wore the +dress of peace. A single black-tipped white eagle feather waved above +the band binding each black head. They watched the merry children tumble +round the playground. Silvermane browsed where he listed under the shady +trees, and many a sinewy red hand caressed his flowing mane. Black Bolly +neighed her jealous displeasure from the corral, and the other mustangs +trampled and kicked and whistled defiance across the bars. The peacocks +preened their gorgeous plumage and uttered their clarion calls. The +belligerent turkey-gobblers sidled about ruffling their feathers. The +blackbirds and swallows sang and twittered their happiness to find old +nests in the branches and under the eaves. Over all boomed the dull roar +of the Colorado in flood. + +It was the morning of Mescal's wedding-day. + +August Naab, for once without a task, sat astride a peeled log of +driftwood in the lane, and Hare stood beside him. + +"Five thousand steers, lad! Why do you refuse them? They're worth ten +dollars a head to-day in Salt Lake City. A good start for a young man." + +"No, I'm still in your debt." + +"Then share alike with my sons in work and profit?" + +"Yes, I can accept that." + +"Good! Jack, I see happiness and prosperity for you. Do you remember +that night on the White Sage trail? Ah! Well, the worst is over. We can +look forward to better times. It's not likely the rustlers will ride +into Utah again. But this desert will never be free from strife." + +"Tell me of Mescal," said Hare. + +"Ah! Yes, I'm coming to that." Naab bent his head over the log and +chipped off little pieces with his knife. "Jack, will you come into the +Mormon Church?" + +Long had Hare shrunk from this question which he felt must inevitably +come, and now he met it as bravely as he could, knowing he would pain +his friend. + +"No, August, I can't," he replied. "I feel--differently from Mormons +about--about women. If it wasn't for that! I look upon you as a father. +I'll do anything for you, except that. No one could pray to be a better +man than you. Your work, your religion, your life-- Why! I've no words +to say what I feel. Teach me what little you can of them, August, but +don't ask me--that." + +"Well, well," sighed Naab. The gray clearness of his eagle eyes grew +shadowed and his worn face was sad. It was the look of a strong wise man +who seemed to hear doubt and failure knocking at the gate of his creed. +But he loved life too well to be unhappy; he saw it too clearly not to +know there was nothing wholly good, wholly perfect, wholly without +error. The shade passed from his face like the cloud-shadow from the +sunlit lane. + +"You ask about Mescal," he mused. "There's little more to tell." + +"But her father--can you tell me more of him?" + +"Little more than I've already told. He was evidently a man of some +rank. I suspected that he ruined his life and became an adventurer. His +health was shattered when I brought him here, but he got well after a +year or so. He was a splendid, handsome fellow. He spoke very seldom and +I don't remember ever seeing him smile. His favorite walk was the river +trail. I came upon him there one day, and found him dying. He asked me +to have a care of Mescal. And he died muttering a Spanish word, a +woman's name, I think." + +"I'll cherish Mescal the more," said Hare. + +"Cherish her, yes. My Bible will this day give her a name. We know she +has the blood of a great chief. Beautiful she is and good. I raised her +for the Mormon Church, but God disposes after all, and I--" + +A shrill screeching sound split the warm stillness, the long-drawn-out +bray of a burro. + +"Jack, look down the lane. If it isn't Noddle!" + +Under the shady line of the red wall a little gray burro came trotting +leisurely along with one long brown ear standing straight up, the other +hanging down over his nose. + +"By George! it's Noddle!" exclaimed Hare. "He's climbed out of the +canyon. Won't this please Mescal?" + +"Hey, Mother Mary," called Naab toward the cabin. "Send Mescal out. +Here's a wedding-present." + +With laughing wonder the women-folk flocked out into the yard. Mescal +hung back shy-eyed, roses dyeing the brown of her cheeks. + +"Mescal's wedding-present from Thunder River. Just arrived!" called Naab +cheerily, yet deep-voiced with the happiness he knew the tidings would +give. "A dusty, dirty, shaggy, starved, lop-eared, lazy burro--Noddle!" + +Mescal flew out into the lane, and with a strange broken cry of joy that +was half a sob she fell upon her knees and clasped the little burro's +neck. Noddle wearily flapped his long brown ears, wearily nodded his +white nose; then evidently considering the incident closed, he went +lazily to sleep. + +"Noddle! dear old Noddle!" murmured Mescal, with far-seeing, thought- +mirroring eyes. "For you to come back to-day from our canyon! ... Oh! +The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonely +voices!... they come back to me.... Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the same +faithful old Noddle!" + +August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of the +cottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them. +The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed an +attentive circle around them. The ceremony was brief. At its close the +Mormon lifted his face and arms in characteristic invocation. + +"Almighty God, we entreat Thy blessing upon this marriage. Many and +inscrutable are Thy ways; strange are the workings of Thy will; wondrous +the purpose with which Thou hast brought this man and this woman +together. Watch over them in the new path they are to tread, help them +in the trials to come; and in Thy good time, when they have reached the +fulness of days, when they have known the joy of life and rendered their +service, gather them to Thy bosom in that eternal home where we all pray +to meet Thy chosen ones of good; yea, and the evil ones purified in Thy +mercy. Amen." + +Happy congratulations of the Mormon family, a merry romp of children +flinging flowers, marriage-dance of singing Navajos--these, with the +feast spread under the cottonwoods, filled the warm noon-hours of the +day. + +Then the chief Eschtah raised his lofty form, and turned his eyes upon +the bride and groom. + +"Eschtah's hundred summers smile in the face of youth. The arm of the +White Chief is strong; the kiss of the Flower of the Desert is sweet. +Let Mescal and Jack rest their heads on one pillow, and sleep under the +trees, and chant when the dawn brightens in the east. Out of his wise +years the Navajo bids them love while they may. Daughter of my race, +take the blessing of the Navajo." + +Jack lifted Mescal upon Black Bolly and mounted Silvermane. Piute +grinned till he shook his earrings and started the pack burros toward +the plateau trail. Wolf pattered on before, turning his white head, +impatient of delay. Amid tears and waving of hands and cheers they began +the zigzag ascent. + +When they reached the old camp on the plateau the sun was setting behind +the Painted Desert. With hands closely interwoven they watched the color +fade and the mustering of purple shadows. + +Twilight fell. Piute raked the red coals from the glowing centre of the +camp-fire. Wolf crouched all his long white length, his sharp nose on +his paws, watching Mescal. Hare watched her, too. The night shone in her +eyes, the light of the fire, the old brooding mystic desert-spirit, and +something more. The thump of Silvermane's hobbled hoofs was heard in the +darkness; Bolly's bell jangled musically. The sheep were bleating. A +lonesome coyote barked. The white stars blinked out of the blue and the +night breeze whispered softly among the cedars. + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Heritage of the Desert, by +Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 1262.txt or 1262.zip ***** This and +all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/6/1262/ + +Produced by Bill Brewer, Rick Fane, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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He opened his +eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that +had overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a +sombre group of men. + +"Leave him here," said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. "He's the +fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. He's all +but dead. Dene's outlaws are after him. Don't cross Dene." + +The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a +follower of Cromwell. + +"Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or +any other man. You forget your religion. I see my duty to God." + +"Yes, August Naab, I know," replied the little man, bitterly. "You would +cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who went down +from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. But I've suffered +enough at the hands of Dene." + +The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving Hare +that he was still in the land of the Mormons. As he lay there the +strange words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few +days with the stern reality of the present. + +"Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers," replied Naab, like +one reading from the Old Testament. "They came into this desert land to +worship and multiply in peace. They conquered the desert; they prospered +with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all +hostile to their religion and their livelihood. Nor did they ever fail +to succor the sick and unfortunate. What are our toils and perils +compared to theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn +from mercy because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the +times, but I am a Mormon; I trust in God." + +"August Naab, I am a Mormon too," returned Cole, "but my hands are +stained with blood. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and +your cattle. Yes, I know. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far +off in your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, guarded +by your Navajo friends. But Holderness is creeping slowly on you. He'll +ignore your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will steal +cattle under your very eyes. Don't make them enemies." + +"I can't pass by this helpless man," rolled out August Naab's sonorous +voice. + +Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward." +There! Dene and his band! See, under the red wall; see the dust, not ten +miles away. See them?" + +The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to the +west. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched die waste, and followed the +red mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional in its +craggy sweep, shut out the north. Far away little puffs of dust rose +above the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace. + +"See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for my +prophecy," cried Cole, fanatically. "The red sunset--the sign of the +times--blood!" + +A broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme +west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several clouds of +striking color and shape. They alone, in all that expanse, were dyed in +the desert's sunset crimson. The largest projected from behind the dark +cloud-bank in the shape of a huge fist, and the others, small and round, +floated below. To Cole it seemed a giant hand, clutching, with +inexorable strength, a bleeding heart. His terror spread to his +companions as they stared. + +Then, as light surrendered to shade, the sinister color faded; the +tracing of the closed hand softened; flush and glow paled, leaving the +sky purple, as if mirroring the desert floor. One golden shaft shot up, +to be blotted out by sudden darkening change, and the sun had set. + +"That may be God's will," said August Naab. "So be it. Martin Cole, +take your men and go." + +There was a word, half oath, half prayer, and then rattle of stirrups, +the creak of saddles, and clink of spurs, followed by the driving rush of +fiery horses. Cole and his men disappeared in a pall of yellow dust. + +A wan smile lightened John Hare's face as he spoke weakly: "I fear your-- +generous act--can't save me... may bring you harm. I'd rather you left +me--seeing you have women in your party." + +"Don't try to talk yet," said August Naab. "You're faint. Here--drink." +He stooped to Hare, who was leaning against a sage-bush, and held a flask +to his lips. Rising, he called to his men: "Make camp, sons. We've an +hour before the outlaws come up, and if they don't go round the sand-dune +we'll have longer." + +Hare's flagging senses rallied, and he forgot himself in wonder. While +the bustle went on, unhitching of wagon-teams, hobbling and feeding of +horses, unpacking of camp-supplies, Naab appeared to be lost in deep +meditation or prayer. Not once did he glance backward over the trail on +which peril was fast approaching. His gaze was fastened on a ridge to +the east where desert line, fringed by stunted cedars, met the pale-blue +sky, and for a long time he neither spoke nor stirred. At length he +turned to the camp-fire; he raked out red coals, and placed the iron pots
+in position, by way of assistance to the women who were preparing the +evening meal. + +A cool wind blew in from the desert, rustling the sage, sifting the sand, +fanning the dull coals to burning opals. Twilight failed and night fell; +one by one great stars shone out, cold and bright. From the zone of +blackness surrounding the camp burst the short bark, the hungry Rhine, +the long-drawn-out wail of desert wolves. + +"Supper, sons," called Naab, as he replenished the fire with an armful of +grease-wood. + +Naab's sons had his stature, though not his bulk. They were wiry, rangy +men, young' yet somehow old. The desert had multiplied their years. +Hare could not have told one face from another, the bronze skin and steel +eye and hard line of each were so alike. The women, one middle-aged, the +others young, were of comely, serious aspect. + +"Mescal," called the Mormon. + +A slender girl slipped from one of the covered wagons; she was dark, +supple, straight as an Indian. + +August Naab dropped to his knees, and, as the members of his family bowed +their heads, he extended his hands over them and over the food laid on +the ground. + +"Lord, we kneel in humble thanksgiving. Bless this food to our use. +Strengthen us, guide us, keep us as Thou hast in the past. Bless this +stranger within our gates. Help us to help him. Teach us Thy ways, O +Lord--Amen." + +Hare found himself flushing and thrilling, found himself unable to +control a painful binding in his throat. In forty-eight hours he had +learned to hate the Mormons unutterably; here, in the presence of this +austere man, he felt that hatred wrenched from his heart, and in its +place stirred something warm and living. He was glad, for if he had to +die, as he believed, either from the deed of evil men, or from this last +struggle of his wasted body, he did not want to die in bitterness. That +simple prayer recalled the home he had long since left in Connecticut, +and the time when he used to tease his sister and anger his father and +hurt his mother while grace was being said at the breakfast-table. Now +he was alone in the world, sick and dependent upon the kindness of these +strangers. But they were really friends--it was a wonderful thought. + +"Mescal, wait on the stranger," said August Naab, and the girl knelt +beside him, tendering meat and drink. His nerveless fingers refused to +hold the cup, and she put it to his lips while he drank. Hot coffee +revived him; he ate and grew stronger, and readily began to talk when the +Mormon asked for his story. + +"There isn't much to tell. My name is Hare. I am twenty-four. My +parents are dead. I came West because the doctors said I couldn't live +in the East. At first I got better. But my money gave out and work +became a necessity. I tramped from place to place, ending up ill in Salt +Lake City. People were kind to me there. Some one got me a job with a +big cattle company, and sent me to Marysvale, southward over the bleak +plains. It was cold; I was ill when I reached Lund. Before I even knew +what my duties were for at Lund I was to begin work--men called me a spy. +A fellow named Chance threatened me. An innkeeper led me out the back +way, gave me bread and water, and said: 'Take this road to Bane; it's +sixteen miles. If you make it some one'll give you a lift North.' I +walked all night, and all the next day. Then I wandered on till I +dropped here where you found me." + +"You missed the road to Bane," said Naab." This is the trail to White +Sage. It's a trail of sand and stone that leaves no tracks, a lucky +thing for you. Dene wasn't in Lund while you were there--else you +wouldn't be here. He hasn't seen you, and he can't be certain of your +trail. Maybe he rode to Bane, but still we may find a way--" + +One of his sons whistled low, causing Naab to rise slowly, to peer into +the darkness, to listen intently. + +"Here, get up," he said, extending a hand to Hare. "Pretty shaky, eh? +Can you walk? Give me a hold--there.... Mescal, come." The slender +girl obeyed, gliding noiselessly like a shadow. "Take his arm." Between +them they led Hare to a jumble of stones on the outer edge of the circle +of light. + +"It wouldn't do to hide," continued Naab, lowering his voice to a swift +whisper, "that might be fatal. You're in sight from the camp-fire, but +indistinct. By-and-by the outlaws will get here, and if any of them +prowl around close, you and Mescal must pretend to be sweethearts. +Understand? They'll pass by Mormon love-makin without a second look. +Now, lad, courage...Mescal, it may save his life." + +Naab returned to the fire, his shadow looming in gigantic proportions on +the white canopy of a covered wagon. Fitful gusts of wind fretted the +blaze; it roared and crackled and sputtered, now illuminating the still +forms, then enveloping them in fantastic obscurity. Hare shivered, per- +haps from the cold air, perhaps from growing dread. Westward lay the +desert, an impenetrable black void; in front, the gloomy mountain wall +lifted jagged peaks close to the stars; to the right rose the ridge, the +rocks and stunted cedars of its summit standing in weird relief. +Suddenly Hare's fugitive glance descried a dark object; he watched +intently as it moved and rose from behind the summit of the ridge to mane +a bold black figure silhouetted against the cold clearness of sky. He +saw it distinctly, realized it was close, and breathed hard as the +wind-swept mane and tail, the lean, wild shape and single plume resolved +themselves into the unmistakable outline of an Indian mustang and rider. + +"Look!" he whispered to the girl." See, a mounted Indian, there on the +ridge--there, he's gone--no, I see him agate. But that's another. Look! +there are more." He ceased in breathless suspense and stared fearfully +at a line of mounted Indians moving in single file over the ridge to +become lost to view in the intervening blackness. A faint rattling of +gravel and the peculiar crack of unshod hoof on stone gave reality to +that shadowy train. + +"Navajos," said Mescal. + +"Navajos!" he echoed. "I heard of them at Lund; 'desert hawks' the men +called them, worse than Piutes. Must we not alarm the men?--You--aren't +you afraid? + +"No." + +"But they are hostile." + +"Not to him." She pointed at the stalwart figure standing against the +firelight. + +"Ah! I remember. The man Cole spoke of friendly Navajos. They must be +close by. What does it mean?" + +"I'm not sure. I think they are out there in the cedars, waiting." + +"Waiting! For what?" + +"Perhaps for a signal." + +"Then they were expected? + +"I don't know; I only guess. We used to ride often to White Sage and +Lund; now we go seldom, and when we do there seem to be Navajos near the +camp at night, and riding the ridges by day. I believe Father Naab +knows. + +"Your father's risking much for me. He's good. I wish I could show my +gratitude." + +"I call him Father Naab, but he is not my father. + +"A niece or granddaughter, then? + +"I'm no relation. Father Naab raised me in his family. My mother was a +Navajo, my father a Spaniard. ' + +"Why!" exclaimed Hare. "When you came out of the wagon I took you for an +Indian girl. But the moment you spoke--you talk so well--no one would +dream--" + +"Mormons are well educated and teach the children they raise," she said, +as he paused in embarrassment. + +He Ranted to ask if she were a Mormon by religion, but the question +seemed curious and unnecessary. His interest was aroused; he realized +suddenly that he had found pleasure in her low voice; it was new and +strange, unlike any woman's voice he had ever heard; and he regarded her +closely. He had only time for a glance at her straight, dean-cut +profile, when she turned startled eyes on him, eyes black as the night. +And they were eyes that looked through and beyond him. She held up a +hand, slowly bent toward the wind, and whispered: + +"Listen." + +Hare heard nothing save the barking of coyotes and the breeze in the +sage. He saw, however, the men rise from round the camp-fire to face the +north, and the women climb into the wagon, and close the canvas flaps. +And he prepared himself, with what fortitude he could command for the +approach of the outlaws. He waited, straining to catch a sound. His +heart throbbed audibly, like a muffled bum, and for an endless moment his +ears seemed deadened to aught else. Then a stronger puff of wind whipped +in, banging the rhythmic beat of flying hoofs. Suspense ended. Hare +felt the easing of a weight upon him Whatever was to be his fate, it +would be soon decided The sound grew into a clattering roar. A black +mass hurled itself over the border of opaque circle, plunged into tile +light, and halted. + +August Naab deliberately threw a bundle of grease-wood upon the +camp-fire. A blaze leaped up, sending abroad a red flare. "Who comes?" +he called. + +"Friends, Mormons, friends," was the answer. + +"Get down--friends--and come to the fire." + +Three horsemen advanced to the foreground; others, a troop of eight or +ten, remained in the shadow, a silent group. + +Hare sank back against the stone. He knew the foremost of those horsemen +though he had never seen him. + +"Dene," whispered Mescal, and confirmed his instinctive fear. + +Hare was nervously alive to the handsome presence of the outlaw. +Glimpses that he had caught of "bad" men returned vividly as he noted the +clean-shaven face, the youthful, supple body, the cool, careless mien. +Dene's eyes glittered as he pulled off his gauntlets and beat the sand +out of them; and but for that quick fierce glance his leisurely friendly +manner would have disarmed suspicion. + +"Are you the Mormon Naab?" he queried. + +"August Naab, I am." + +"Dry camp, eh? Hosses tired, I reckon. Shore it's a sandy trail. +Where's the rest of you fellers?" + +"Cole and his men were in a hurry to make White Sage to-night. They were +travelling light; I've heavy wagons." + +"Naab, I reckon you shore wouldn't tell a lie?" + +"I have never lied." + +"Heerd of a young feller thet was in Lund--pale chap--lunger, we'd call +him back West?" + +"I heard that he had been mistaken for a spy at Lund and had fled toward +Bane." + +"Hadn't seen nothin' of him this side of Lund?" + +"No." + +"Seen any Navvies?" + +"Yes." + +The outlaw stared hard at him. Apparently he was about to speak of the +Navajos, for his quick uplift of head at Naab's blunt affirmative +suggested the impulse. But he checked himself and slowly drew on his +gloves. + +"Naab, I'm shore comin' to visit you some day. Never been over thet +range. Heerd you hed fine water, fine cattle. An' say, I seen thet +little Navajo girl you have, an' I wouldn't mind seein' her again." + +August Naab kicked the fire into brighter blaze. "Yes fine range," he +presently replied, his gaze fixed on Dene. "Fine water, fine cattle, +fine browse. I've a fine graveyard, too; thirty graves, and not one a +woman's. Fine place for graves, the canyon country. You don't have to +dig. There's one grave the Indians never named; it's three thousand feet +deep." + +"Thet must be in hell," replied Dene, with a smile, Ignoring the covert +meaning. He leisurely surveyed Naab's four sons, the wagons and horses, +till his eye fell upon Hare and Mescal. With that he swung in his saddle +as if to dismount. + +"I shore want a look around." + +"Get down, get down," returned the Mormon. The deep voice, unwelcoming, +vibrant with an odd ring, would have struck a less suspicious man than +Dene. The outlaw wrung his leg back over the pommel, sagged in the +saddle, and appeared to be pondering the question. Plainly he was +uncertain of his ground. But his indecision was brief. + +"Two-Spot, you look 'em over," he ordered. +The third horseman dismounted and went toward the wagons. + +Hare, watching this scene, became conscious that his fear had intensified +with the recognition of Two-Spot as Chance, the outlaw whom he would not +soon forget. In his excitement he moved against Mescal and felt her +trembling violently. + +"Are you afraid?" he whispered. + +"Yes, of Dene." + +The outlaw rummaged in one of the wagons, pulled aside the canvas flaps +of the other, laughed harshly, and then with clinking spurs tramped +through the camp, kicking the beds, overturning a pile of saddles, and +making disorder generally, till he spied the couple sitting on the stone +in the shadow. + +As the outlaw lurched that way, Hare, with a start of recollection, took +Mescal in his arms and leaned his head against hers. He felt one of her +hands lightly brush his shoulder and rest there, trembling. + +Shuffling footsteps scraped the sand, sounded nearer and nearer, slowed +and paused. + +"Sparkin'! Dead to the world. Ham! Haw! Haw!" + +The coarse laugh gave place to moving footsteps. The rattling clink of +stirrup and spur mingled with the restless stamp of horse. Chance had +mounted. Dene's voice drawled out: "Good-bye, Naab, I shore will see you +all some day." The heavy thuds of many hoofs evened into a roar that +diminished as it rushed away. + +In unutterable relief Hare realized his deliverance. He tried to rise, +but power of movement had gone from him. + +He was fainting, yet his sensations were singularly acute. Mescal's hand +dropped from his shoulder; her cheek, that had been cold against his, +grew hot; she quivered through all her slender length. Confusion claimed +his senses. Gratitude and hope flooded his soul. Something sweet and +beautiful, the touch of this desert girl, rioted in his blood; his heart +swelled in exquisite agony. Then he was whirling in darkness; and he +knew no more. + + + +II +WHITE SAGE + + +THE night was as a blank to Hare; the morning like a drifting of hazy +clouds before his eyes. He felt himself moving; and when he awakened +clearly to consciousness he lay upon a couch on the vine-covered porch of +a cottage. He saw August Naab open a garden gate to admit Martin Cole. +They met as friends; no trace of scorn marred August's greeting, and +Martin was not the same man who had shown fear on the desert. His +welcome was one of respectful regard for his superior. + +"Elder, I heard you were safe in," he said, fervently. "We feared--I +know not what. I was distressed till I got the news of your arrival. +How's the young man?" + +"He's very ill. But while there's life there's hope." + +"Will the Bishop administer to him?" + +"Gladly, if the young man's willing. Come, let's go in." + +"Wait, August," said Cole." Did you know your son Snap was in the +village?" + +"My son here!" August Naab betrayed anxiety. 'I left him home with work. +He shouldn't have come. Is--is he--" + +"He's drinking and in an ugly mood. It seems he traded horses with Jeff +Larsen, and got the worst of the deal. There's pretty sure to be a +fight." + +"He always hated Larsen." + +"Small wonder. Larsen is mean; he's as bad as we've got and that's +saying a good deal. Snap has done worse things than fight with Larsen. +He's doing a worse thing now, August--he's too friendly with Dene." + +"I've heard--I've heard it before. But, Martin, what can I do?" + +"Do? God knows. What can any of us do? Times have changed, August. +Dene is here in White Sage, free, welcome in many homes. Some of our +neighbors, perhaps men we trust, are secret members of this rustler's +band." + +"You're right, Cole. There are Mormons who are cattle-thieves. To my +eternal shame I confess it. Under cover of night they ride with Dene, +and here in our midst they meet him in easy tolerance. Driven from +Montana he comes here to corrupt our young men. God's mercy!" + +"August, some of our young men need no one to corrupt them. Dene had no +great task to win them. He rode in here with a few outlaws and now he +has a strong band. We've got to face it. We haven't any law, but he can +be killed. Some one must kill him. Yet bad as Dene is, he doesn't +threaten our living as Holderness does. Dene steals a few cattle, kills +a man here and there. Holderness teaches out and takes our springs. +Because we've no law to stop him, he steals the blood of our life--water-- +water--God's gift to the desert! Some one must kill Holderness, too!" + +"Martin, this lust to kill is a fearful thing. Come in, you must pray +with the Bishop." + +"No, it's not prayer I need, Elder," replied Cole, stubbornly. "I'm still +a good Mormon. What I want is the stock I've lost, and my fields green +again." + +August Naab had no answer for his friend. A very old man with snow-white +hair and beard came out on the porch. + +"Bishop, brother Martin is railing again," said Naab, as Cole bared his +head. + +"Martin, my son, unbosom thyself," rejoined the Bishop. + +"Black doubt and no light," said Cole, despondently. "I'm of the younger +generation of Mormons, and faith is harder for me. I see signs you can't +see. I've had trials hard to bear. I was rich in cattle, sheep, and +water. These Gentiles, this rancher Holderness and this outlaw Dene, +have driven my cattle, killed my sheep, piped my water off my fields. I +don't like the present. We are no longer in the old days. Our young men +are drifting away, and the few who return come with ideas opposed to +Mormonism. Our girls and boys are growing up influenced by the Gentiles +among us. They intermarry, and that's a death-blow to our creed." + +"Martin, cast out this poison from your heart. Return to your faith. +The millennium will come. Christ will reign on earth again. The ten +tribes of Israel will be restored. The Book of Mormon is the Word of +God. The creed will live. We may suffer here and die, but our spirits +will go marching on; and the Ciy of Zion will be builded over our +graves." + +Cole held up his hands in a meekness that signified hope if not faith. + +August Naab bent over Hare. "I would like to have the Bishop administer +to you," he said. + +"What's that?" asked Hare. + +"A Mormon custom, 'the laying on of hands.' We know its efficacy in +trouble and illness. A Bishop of the Mormon Church has the gift of +tongues, of prophecy, of revelation, of healing. Let him administer to +you. It entails no obligation. Accept it as a prayer." + +"I'm willing." replied the young man. + +Thereupon Naab spoke a few low words to some one through the open door. +Voices ceased; soft footsteps sounded without; women crossed the +threshold, followed by tall young men and rosy-checked girls and +round-eyed children. A white-haired old woman came forward with solemn +dignity. She carried a silver bowl which she held for the Bishop as he +stood close by Hare's couch. The Bishop put his hands into the bowl, +anointing them with fragrant oil; then he placed them on the young man's +head, and offered up a brief prayer, beautiful in its simplicty and +tremulous utterance. + +The ceremony ended, the onlookers came forward with pleasant words on +their lips, pleasant smiles on their faces. The children filed by his +couch, bashful yet sympathetic; the women murmured, the young men grasped +his hand. Mescal flitted by with downcast eye, with shy smile, but no +word. + +"Your fever is gone," said August Naab, with his hand on Hare's cheek. + +"It comes and goes suddenly," replied Hare. "I feel better now, only I'm +oppressed. I can't breathe freely. I rant air, and I'm hungry." + +"Mother Mary, the lad's hungry. Judith, Esther, where are your wits? +Help your mother. Mescal, wait on him, roe to his comfort." + +Mescal brought a little table and a pillow, and the other girls soon +followed with food and drink; then they hovered about, absorbed in caring +for him. + +"They said I fell among thieves," mused Hare, when he was once more +alone. "I've fallen among saints as well." He felt that he could never +repay this August Naab. "If only I might live!" he ejaculated. How +restful was this cottage garden! The green sward was a balm to his eyes. +Flowers new to him, though of familiar springtime hue, lifted fresh faces +everywhere; fruit-trees, with branches intermingling, blended the white +and pink of blossoms. There was the soft laughter of children in the +garden. Strange birds darted among the trees. Their notes were new, but +their song was the old delicious monotone--the joy of living and love of +spring. A green-bowered irrigation ditch led by the porch and unseen +water flowed gently, with gurgle and tinkle, with music in its hurry. +Innumerable bees murmured amid the blossoms. + +Hare fell asleep. Upon returning drowsily to consciousness he caught +through half-open eyes the gleam of level shafts of gold sunlight low +down in the trees; then he felt himself being carried into the house to +be laid upon a bed. Some one gently unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, +removed his shoes, and covered him with a blanket. Before he had fully +awakened he was left alone, and quiet settled over the house. A +languorous sense of ease and rest lulled him to sleep again. In another +moment, it seemed to him, he was awake; bright daylight streamed through +the window, and a morning breeze stirred the faded curtain. + +The drag in his breathing which was always a forerunner of a +coughing-spell warned him now; he put on coat and shoes and went outside, +where his cough attacked him, had its sway, and left him. + +"Good-morning," sang out August Naab's cheery voice. "Sixteen hours of +sleep, my lad!" + +"I did sleep, didn't I? No wonder I feel well this morning. A +peculiarity of my illness is that one day I'm down, the next day up." + +"With the goodness of God, my lad, we'll gradually increase the days up. +Go in to breakfast. Afterward I want to talk to you. This'll be a busy +day for me, shoeing the horses and packing supplies. I want to start for +home to-morrow." + +Hare pondered over Naab's words while he ate. The suggestion in them, +implying a relation to his future, made him wonder if the good Mormon +intended to take him to his desert home. He hoped so, and warmed anew to +this friend. But he had no enthusiasm for himself; his future seemed +hopeless. + +Naab was waiting for him on the porch, and drew him away from the cottage +down the path toward the gate + +"I want you to go home with me." + +"You're kind--I'm only a sort of beggar--I've no strength left to work my +way. I'll go--though it's only to die." + +"I haven't the gift of revelation--yet somehow I see that you won't die +of this illness. You will come home with me. It's a beautiful place, my +Navajo oasis. The Indians call it the Garden of Eschtah. If you can get +well anywhere it'll be there." + +"I'll go but I ought not. What can I do for you? + +"No man can ever tell what he may do for another. The time may come-- +well, John, is it settled?" He offered his huge broad hand. + +"It's settled--I--" Hare faltered as he put his hand in Naab's. The +Mormon's grip straightened his frame and braced him. Strength and +simplicity flowed from the giant's toil-hardened palm. Hare swallowed +his thanks along with his emotion, and for what he had intended to say he +substituted: "No one ever called me John. I don't know the name. Call +me Jack." + +"Very well, Jack, and now let's see. You'll need some things from the +store. Can you come with me? It's not far." + +"Surely. And now what I need most is a razor to scrape the alkali and +stubble off my face." + +The wide street, bordered by cottages peeping out of green and white +orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which +led up to the Pink Cliffs. A green square enclosed a gray church, a +school-house and public hall. Farther down the main thoroughfare were +several weather-boarded whitewashed stores. Two dusty men were riding +along, one on each side of the wildest, most vicious little horse Hare +had ever seen. It reared and bucked and kicked, trying to escape from +two lassoes. In front of the largest store were a number of mustangs all +standing free, with bridles thrown over their heads and trailing on the +ground. The loungers leaning against the railing and about the doors +were lank brown men very like Naab's sons. Some wore sheepskin "chaps," +some blue overalls; all wore boots and spurs, wide soft hats, and in +their belts, far to the back, hung large Colt's revolvers. + +'We'll buy what you need, just as if you expected to ride the ranges for +me to-morrow," said Naab. "The first thing we ask a new man is, can he +ride? Next, can he shoot?" + +"I could ride before I got so weak. I've never handled a revolver, but I +can shoot a rifle. Never shot at anything except targets, and it seemed +to come natural for me to hit them." + +"Good. We'll show you some targets--lions, bears, deer, cats, wolves. +There's a fine forty-four Winchester here that my friend Abe has been +trying to sell. It has a long barrel and weighs eight pounds. Our +desert riders like the light carbines that go easy on a saddle. Most of +the mustangs aren't weight-carriers. This rifle has a great range; I've +shot it, and it's just the gun for you to use on wolves and coyotes. +You'll need a Colt and a saddle, too." + +"By-the-way," he went on, as they mounted the store steps, "here's the +kind of money we use in this country." He handed Hare a slip of blue +paper, a written check for a sum of money, signed, but without register +of bank or name of firm. "We don't use real money," he added. "There's +very little coin or currency in southern Utah. Mast of the Gentiles +lately come in have money, and some of us Mormons have a bag or two of +gold, but scarcely any + +it gets into circulation. We use these checks, which go from man to man +sometimes for six months. The roundup of a check means sheep, cattle, +horses, grain, merchandise or labor. Every man gets his real money's +value - without paying out an actual cent." + +"Such a system at least means honest men," said Hare, laughing his +surprise. + +They went into a wide door to tread a maze of narrow aisles between boxes +and barrels, stacks of canned vegetables, and piles of harness and dry +goods; they entered an open space where several men leaned on a counter. + +"Hello, Abe," said Naab; "seen anything of Snap?" + +"Hello, August. Yes, Snap's inside. So's Holderness. Says he rode in +off the range on purpose to see you." Abe designated an open doorway from +which issued loud voices. Hare glanced into a long narrow room full of +smoke and the fumes of rum. Through the haze he made out a crowd of men +at a rude bar. Abe went to the door and called out: "Hey, Snap, your dad +wants you. Holderness, here's August Naab." + +A man staggered up the few steps leading to the store and swayed in. His +long face had a hawkish cast, and it was gray, not with age, but with the +sage-gray of the desert. His eyes were of the same hue, cold yet burning +with little fiery flecks in their depths. He appeared short of stature +because of a curvature of the spine, but straightened up he would have +been tall. He wore a blue flannel shirt, and blue overalls; round his +lean hips was a belt holding two Colt's revolvers, their heavy, dark +butts projecting outward, and he had on high boots with long, cruel +spurs. + +"Howdy, father?" he said. + +"I'm packing to-day," returned August Naab. "We ride out to-morrow. I +need your help." + +"All right. When I get my pinto from Larsen." + +"Never mind Larsen. If he got the better of you let the matter drop." + +"Jeff got my pinto for a mustang with three legs. If I hadn't been drunk +I'd never have traded. So I'm looking for Jeff." He bit out the last +words with a peculiar snap of his long teeth, a circumstance which caused +Hare instantly to associate the savage clicking with the name he had +heard given this man. August Naab looked at him with gloomy eyes and +stern shut mouth, an expression of righteous anger, helplessness and +grief combined, the look of a man to whom obstacles had been nothing, at +last confronted with crowning defeat. Hare realized that this son was +Naab's first-born, best-loved, a thorn in his side, a black sheep. + +"Say, father, is that the spy you found on the trail?" Snap's pale eyes +gleamed on Hare and the little flames seemed to darken and leap. + +"This is John Hare, the young man I found. But he's not a spy." + +"You can't make any one believe that. He's down as a spy. Dene's spy! +His name's gone over the ranges as a counter of unbranded stock. Dene +has named him and Dene has marked him. Don't take him home, as you've +taken so many sick and hunted men before. What's the good of it? You +never made a Mormon of one of them yet Don't take him--unless you want +another grave for your cemetery. Ha! Ha!" + +Hare recoiled with a shock. Snap Naab swayed to the door, and stepped +down, all the time with his face over his shoulder, his baleful glance on +Hare; then the blue haze swallowed him, + +The several loungers went out; August engaged the storekeeper in +conversation, introducing Hare and explaining their wants. They +inspected the various needs of a range-rider, selecting, in the end, not +the few suggested by Hare, but the many chosen by Naab. The last +purchase was the rifle Naab had talked about. It was a beautiful weapon, +finely polished and carved, entirely out of place among the plain +coarse-sighted and coarse-stocked guns in the rack. + +"Never had a chance to sell it," said Abe. "Too long and heavy for the +riders. I'll let it go cheap, half price, and the cartridges also, two +thousand." + +"Taken," replied Naab, quickly, with a satisfaction which showed he liked +a bargain. + +"August, you must be going to shoot some?" queried Abe. "Something +bigger than rabbits and coyotes. Its about time--even if you are an +Elder. We Mormons must--" he broke off, continuing in a low tone: here s +Holderness now." + +Hare wheeled with the interest that had gathered with the reiteration of +this man's name. A new-comer stooped to get in the door. He out-topped +even Naab in height, and was a superb blond-bearded man, striding with +the spring of a mountaineer. + +"Good-day to you, Naab," he said. "Is this the young fellow you picked +up?" + +"Yes. Jack Hare," rejoined Naab. + +"Well, Hare, I'm Holderness. You'll AII my name. You were sent to Lund +by men interested in my ranges. I expected to see you in Lund, but +couldn't get over." + +Hare met the proffered hand with his own, and as he had recoiled from +Snap Naab so now he received another shock, different indeed but +impelling in its power, instinctive of some great portent. Hare was +impressed by an indefinable subtlety, a nameless distrust, as colorless +as the clear penetrating amber lightness of the eyes that bent upon him. + +"Holderness, will you right the story about Hare?" inquired Naab. + +"You mean about his being a spy? Well, Naab, the truth is that was his +job. I advised against sending a man down here for that sort of work. +It won't do. These Mormons will steal each other s cattle, and they've +got to get rid of them; so they won't have a man taking account of stock, +brands, and all that. If the Mormons would stand for it the rustlers +wouldn't. I'll take Hare out to the ranch and give him work, if he +wants. But he'd do best to leave Utah." + +"Thank you, no," replied Hare, decidedly. + +"He's going with me," said August Naab. + +Holderness accepted this with an almost imperceptible nod, and he swept +Hare with eyes that searched and probed for latent possibilities. It was +the keen intelligence of a man who knew what development meant on the +desert; not in any sense an interest in the young man at present. Then +he turned his back. + +Hare, feeling that Holderness wished to talk with Naab, walked to the +counter, and began assorting his purchases, but he could not help hearing +what was said. + +"Lungs bad?" queried Holderness. + +"One of them," replied Naab. + +"He's all in. Better send him out of the country. He's got the name of +Dene's spy and he'll never get another on this desert. Dene will kill +him. This isn't good judgment, Naab, to take him with you. Even your +friends don't like t, and it means trouble for you." + +"We've settled it," said Naab, coldly. + +"Well, remember, I've warned you. I've tried to be friendly with you, +Naab, but you won't have it. Anyway, I've wanted to see you lately to +find out how eve stand. + +"What do you mean?" + +"How we stand on several things--to begin with, there Mescal." + +"You asked me several times for Mescal, and I said no." + +"But I never said I'd marry her. Now I want her, and I will marry her." + +"No," rejoined Naab, adding brevity to his coldness. + +"Why not?" demanded Holderness. "Oh, well, I can't take that as an +insult. I know there's not enough money in Utah to get a girl away from +a Mormon.... About the offer for the water-rights--how do we stand? +I'll give you ten thousand dollars for the rights to Seeping Springs and +Silver Cup." + +"Ten thousand!" ejaculated Naab. "Holderness, I wouldn't take a hundred +thousand. You might as well ask to buy my home, my stock, my range, +twenty years of toil, for ten thousand dollars!" + +"You refuse? All right. I think I've made you a fair proposition," said +Holderness, in a smooth, quick tone. "The land is owned by the +Government, and though your ranges are across the Arizona line they +really figure as Utah land. My company's spending big money, and the +Government won't let you have a monopoly. No one man can control the +water-supply of a hundred miles of range. Times are changing. You want +to see that. You ought to protect yourself before it's too late." + +"Holderness, this is a desert. No men save Mormons could ever have made +it habitable. The Government scarcely knows of its existence. It'll be +fifty years before man can come in here to take our water." + +"Why can't he? The water doesn't belong to any one Why can't he?" + +"Because of the unwritten law of the desert. No Mormon would refuse you +or your horse a drink, or even a reasonable supply for your stock. But +you can't come in here and take our water for your own use, to supplant +us, to parch our stock. Why, even an Indian respects desert law!" + +"Bah! I'm not a Mormon or an Indian. I'm a cattleman. It's plain +business with me. Once more I make you the offer." + +Naab scorned to reply. The men faced each other for a silent moment, +their glances scintillating. Then Holderness whirled on his heel, +jostling into Hare. + +"Get out of my way," said the rancher, in the disgust of intense +irritation. He swung his arm, and his open hand sent Hare reeling +against the counter. + +"Jack," said Naab, breathing hard, "Holderness showed his real self +to-day. I always knew it, yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt.... +For him to strike you! I've not the gift of revelation, but I see--let us +go." + +On the return to the Bishop's cottage Naab did not speak once; the +transformation which had begun with the appearance of his drunken son had +reached a climax of gloomy silence after the clash with Holderness. Naab +went directly to the Bishop, and presently the quavering voice of the old +minister rose in prayer. + +Hare dropped wearily into the chair on the porch; and presently fell into +a doze, from which he awakened with a start. Nanb's sons, with Martin +Cole and several other men, were standing in the yard. Naab himself was +gently crowding the women into the house. When he got them all inside he +closed the door and turned to Cole. + +"Was it a fair fight?" + +"Yes, an even break. They met in front of Abe's. I saw the meeting. +Neither was surprised. They stood for a moment watching each other. +Then they drew--only Snap was quicker. Larsen's gun went off as he fell. +That trick you taught Snap saved his life again. Larsen was no slouch on +the draw." + +"Where's Snap now?" + +"Gone after his pinto. He was sober. Said he'd pack at once. Larsen's +friends are ugly. Snap said to tell you to hurry out of the village with +young Hare, if you want to take him at all. Dene has ridden in; he +swears you won't take Hare away." + +"We're all packed and ready to hitch up," returned Naab. "We could start +at once, only until dark I'd rather take chances here than out on the +trail." + +"Snap said Dene would ride right into the Bishop's after Hare." +"No. He wouldn't dare." + +"Father!" Dave Naab spoke sharply from where he stood high on a grassy +bank. "Here's Dene now, riding up with Culver, and some man I don't +know. They're coming in. Dene's jumped the fence! Look out!" + +A clatter of hoofs and rattling of gravel preceded the appearance of a +black horse in the garden path. His rider bent low to dodge the vines of +the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with +the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant. + +"What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" challenged August Naab, +planting his broad bulk square before Hare. + +"Dene's spy!" + +"What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" repeated Naab. + +"I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about," returned +Dene, his smile slowly fading. + +"No speech could be a lie to an outlaw." + +"I want him, you Mormon preacher!" + +"You can't have him." + +"I'll shore get him." + +In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene. + +The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and back +again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act was +even quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the outlaw +cried as his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp + +Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching +companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip. + +August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there +with brawny arm. + +"Whelp of an evil breed!" he thundered, shaking his gray head. "Do you +think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!" He released +Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved, +quicker than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He +dropped it back into the holster." Let that teach you never to draw on me +again." He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes."One +blow would crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it? +Because, you mindless hell-hound, because there s a higher law than +man's--God's law--Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave +me and mine alone from this day. Now go!" + +He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions. + +"Out with you!" said Dave Naab." Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not +so particular about God as Dad is!" + + + +III +THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + + +After the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White +Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade +him to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely +met in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole +said, unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the +trail in the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and +the women shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open +wagon, one that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain. +When it grew so dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man vaulted +the cottage fence. + +"Dave, where are the boys?" asked Naab. + +"Not so loud! The boys are coming," replied Dave in a whisper. "Dene is +wild. I guess you snapped a bone in his arm. He swears he'll kill us +all. But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've +time to reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle." + +"Any news of Snap?" + +"He rode out before sundown." + +Three more forms emerged from the gloom." + +All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead." + +Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate; +the first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving in +the darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his +seat on the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and +climbed over the tail-board of the wagon. + +A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the sound +made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the right +low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and there +lights twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked. + +Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels +cracked and crunched the stones. + +Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of +poplar-trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and +rider, just a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant +they vanished, and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his +eyes had not deceived him. + +"Getup," growled Naab to his horses. "Jack, did you see that fellow?" + +"Yes. What was he doing there?" + +"Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts." + +"Will Dene--" + +One of Naab's sons came trotting back. "Think that was Larsen's pal. He +was laying in wait for Snap." + +"I thought he was a scout for Dene," replied August. + +"Maybe he's that too." + +"Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively. +They've had a week's rest." + +Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, like +Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the huge +windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet +transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under +the blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a +polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed +it under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening +on the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round +head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where +Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop +to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent +insistence, disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given hen +a man's part to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his +self-abasement; once more he felt himself a man. + +Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he +endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his +eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he +could not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his +face, the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady +trot of horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him, +recalled the actually of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had +been covered, how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in +the trail, and whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped +the team and, climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt +sure that Dene was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the +horses and the rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could hear. + +Naab returned to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a trot; +they were climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which he +could hear the slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he awoke +to raise himself and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he +discovered that the black night had changed to gray; dawn was not far +distant; he dozed and awakened to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay +far below and to the eastward; the intervening descent was like a rolling +sea with league-long swells. + +"Glad you slept some," was Naab's greeting." No sign of Dene yet. If we +can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain +in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it +runs far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred +miles of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona +line now." + +Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to +his inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble +proportions. + +"Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while," said Naab, +reading Hare's expression. "They'd only have to be made over as soon as +you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a +mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're lucky. +There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? Look +sharp. Good I That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from here. +Nine Mile Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole. +Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide." + +The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the +increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in +color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the +half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of +other cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length +Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his +eyes. The wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored; +Naab's "Getup" was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then +hot; and the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his +lethargy. The wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with +outstretched arm. George and Dave were close by their mustangs, and Snap +Naab, mounted on a cream-colored pinto, reined him under August's arm, +and faced the valley below. + +"Maybe you'll make them out," said August." I can't, and I've watched +those dust-clouds for hours. George can't decide, either." + +Hare, looking at Snap, was attracted by the eyes from which his father +and brothers expected so much. If ever a human being had the eyes of a +hawk Snap Naab had them. The little brown flecks danced in clear pale +yellow. Evidently Snap had not located the perplexing dust-clouds, for +his glance drifted. Suddenly the remarkable vibration of his pupils +ceased, and his glance grew fixed, steely, certain. + +"That's a bunch of wild mustangs," he said. + +Hare gazed till his eyes hurt, but could see neither clouds of dust nor +moving objects. No more was said. The sons wheeled their mustangs and +rode to the fore; August Naab reseated himself and took up the reins; the +ascent proceeded. + +But it proceeded leisurely, with more frequent rests. At the end of an +hour the horses toiled over the last rise to the summit and entered a +level forest of cedars; in another hour they were descending gradually. + +"Here we are at the tanks," said Naab. + +Hare saw that they had come up with the other wagons. George Naab was +leading a team down a rocky declivity to a pool of yellow water. The +other boys were unharnessing and unsaddling. + +"About three," said Naab, looking at the sun. "We're in good time. +Jack, get out and stretch yourself. We camp here. There's the Coconina +Trail where the Navajos go in after deer." + +It was not a pretty spot, this little rock-strewn glade where the white +hard trail forked with the road. The yellow water with its green scum +made Hare sick. The horses drank with loud gulps. Naub and his sons +drank of it. The women filled a pail and portioned it out in basins and +washed their faces and hands with evident pleasure. Dave Naab whistled +as he wielded an axe vigorously on a cedar. It came home to Hare that +the tension of the past night and morning had relaxed. Whether to +attribute that fact to the distance from White Sage or to the arrival at +the water-hole he could not determine. But the certainty was shown in +August's cheerful talk to the horses as he slipped bags of grain over +their noses, and in the subdued laughter of the women. Hare sent up an +unspoken thanksgiving that these good Mormons had apparently escaped from +the dangers incurred for his sake. He sat with his back to a cedar and +watched the kindling of fires, the deft manipulating of biscuit dough in +a basin, and the steaming of pots. The generous meal was spread on a +canvas cloth, around which men and women sat cross-legged, after the +fashion of Indians. Hare found it hard to adapt his long legs to the +posture, and he wondered how these men, whose legs were longer than his, +could sit so easily. It was the crown of a cheerful dinner after hours +of anxiety and abstinence to have Snap Naab speak civilly to him, and to +see him bow his head meekly as his father asked the blessing. Snap ate +as though he had utterly forgotten that he had recently killed a man; to +hear the others talk to him one would suppose that they had forgotten it +also. + +All had finished eating, except Snap and Dave Naab, when one of the +mustangs neighed shrilly. Hare would not have noticed it but for looks +exchanged among the men The glances were explained a few minutes later +when a pattering of hoofs came from the cedar forest, and a stream of +mounted Indians poured into the glade. + +The ugly glade became a place of color and action. The Navajos rode
+wiry, wild-looking mustangs and drove ponies and burros carrying packs, +most of which consisted of deer-hides. Each Indian dismounted, and +unstrapping the blanket which had served as a saddle headed his mustang +for the water-hole and gave him a slap. Then the hides and packs were +slipped from the pack-train, and soon the pool became a kicking, +splashing melee. Every cedar - tree circling the glade and every branch +served as a peg for deer meat. Some of it was in the haunch, the bulk in +dark dried strips. The Indians laid their weapons aside. Every sagebush +and low stone held a blanket. A few of these blankets were of solid +color, most of them had bars of white and gray and red, the last color +predominating. The mustangs and burros filed out among the cedars, +nipping at the sage and the scattered tufts of spare grass. A group of +fires, sending up curling columns of blue smoke, and surrounded by a +circle of lean, half-naked, bronze-skinned Indians, cooking and eating, +completed a picture which afforded Hare the satisfying fulfilment of +boyish dreams. What a contrast to the memory of a camp-site on the +Connecticut shore, with boy friends telling tales in the glow of the +fire, and the wash of the waves on the beach! + +The sun sank low in the west, sending gleams through the gnarled branches +of the cedars, and turning the green into gold. At precisely the moment +of sunset, the Mormon women broke into soft song which had the element of +prayer; and the lips of the men moved in silent harmony. Dave Naab, the +only one who smoked, removed his pipe for the moment's grace to dying +day. + +This simple ceremony over, one of the boys put wood on the fire, and Snap +took a jews'-harp out of his pocket and began to extract doleful discords +from it, for which George kicked at him in disgust, finally causing him +to leave the circle and repair to the cedars, where he twanged with +supreme egotism. + +"Jack," said August Naab, "our friends the Navajo chiefs, Scarbreast and +Eschtah, are coming to visit us. Take no notice of them at first. +They've great dignity, and if you entered their hogans they'd sit for +some moments before appearing to see you. Scarbreast is a war-chief. +Eschtah is the wise old chief of all the Navajos on the Painted Desert. +It may interest you to know he is Mescal's grandfather. Some day I'll +tell you the story." + +Hare tried very hard to appear unconscious when two tall Indians stalked +into the circle of Mormons; he set his eyes on the white heart of the +camp-fire and waited. For several minutes no one spoke or even moved. +The Indians remained standing for a time; then seated themselves. +Presently August Naab greeted them in the Navajo language. This was a +signal for Hare to use his eyes and ears. Another interval of silence +followed before they began to talk. Hare could see only their blanketed +shoulders and black heads. + +"Jack, come round here," said Naab at length. "I've been telling them +about you. These Indians do not like the whites, except my own family. +I hope you'll make friends with them." + +"How do?" said the chief whom Naab had called Eschtah, a stately, +keen-eyed warrior, despite his age. + +The next Navajo greeted him with a guttural word. This was a warrior +whose name might well have been Scarface, for the signs of conflict were +there. It was a face like a bronze mask, cast m the one expression of +untamed desert fierceness. + +Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were +doubtful, yet not unfriendly. + +"Shake," finally said Eschtah, offering his hand. + +"Ugh!" exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm. + +This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies +of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf. In his ensuing +speech, which was plentifully emphasized with gestures, he lapsed often +into English, saying weak--no strong" when he placed his hand on Hare's +legs, and "bad" when he touched the young man's chest, concluding with +the words "sick--sick." + +Scarbreast regarded Hare with great earnestness, and when Naab had +finished he said: "Chineago--ping!" and rubbed his hand over his stomach. + +"He says you need meat--lots of deer-meat," translated Naab. + +"Sick," repeated Eschtah, whose English was intelligible. + +He appeared to be casting about in his mind for additional words to +express his knowledge of the white man's tongue, and, failing, continued +in Navajo: "Tohodena--moocha--malocha." + +Hare was nonplussed at the roar of laughter from the Mormons. August +shook like a mountain in an earthquake. + +"Eschtah says, 'you hurry, get many squaws_many wives. + +Other Indians, russet-skinned warriors, with black hair held close by +bands round their foreheads, joined the circle, and sitting before the +fire clasped their knees and talked. Hare listened awhile, and then, +being fatigued, he sought the cedar-tree where he had left his blankets. +The dry mat of needles made an odorous bed. He placed a sack of grain +for a pillow, and doubling up one blanket to lie upon, he pulled the +others over him. Then he watched and listened. The cedar-wood burned +with a clear flame, and occasionally snapped out a red spark. The voices +of the Navajos, scarcely audible, sounded "toa's" and taa's"--syllables +he soon learned were characteristic and dominant--in low, deep murmurs. +It reminded Hare of something that before had been pleasant to his ear. +Then it came to mind: a remembrance of Mescal's sweet voice, and that +recalled the kinship between her and the Navajo chieftain. He looked +about, endeavoring to find her in the ring of light, for he felt in her a +fascination akin to the charm of this twilight hour. Dusky forms passed +to and fro under the trees; the tinkle of bells on hobbled mustangs rang +from the forest; coyotes had begun their night quest with wild howls; the +camp-fire burned red, and shadows flickered on the blanketed Indians; the +wind now moaned, now lulled in the cedars. + +Hare lay back in his blankets and saw lustrous stars through the network +of branches. With their light in his face and the cold wind waving his +hair on his brow he thought of the strangeness of it all, of its +remoteness from anything ever known to him before, of its inexpressible +wildness. And a rush of emotion he failed wholly to stifle proved to him +that he could have loved this life if--if he had not of late come to +believe that he had not long to live. Still Naab's influence exorcised +even that one sad thought; and he flung it from him in resentment. + +Sleep did not come so readily; he was not very well this night; the flush +of fever was on his cheek, and the heat of feverish blood burned his +body. He raised himself and, resolutely seeking for distraction, once +more stared at the camp-fire. Some time must have passed during his +dreaming, for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was +bowed and his head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat +Eschtah beside a slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized +Mescal. Surprise claimed him, not more for her presence there than for +the white band binding her smooth black tresses. She had not worn such +an ornament before. That slender band lent her the one touch which made +her a Navajo. Was it worn in respect to her aged grandfather? What did +this mean for a girl reared with Christian teaching? Was it desert +blood? Hare had no answers for these questions. They only increased the +mystery and romance. He fell asleep with the picture in his mind of +Eschtah and Mescal, sitting in the glow of the fire, and of August Naab, +nodding silently. + +"Jack, Jack, wake up." The words broke dully into his slumbers; wearily +he opened his eyes. August Naab bent over him, shaking him gently. + +"Not so well this morning, eh? Here's a cup of coffee. We're all packed +and starting. Drink now, and climb aboard. We expect to make Seeping +Springs to-night." + +Hare rose presently and, laboring into the wagon, lay down on the sacks. +He had one of his blind, sickening headaches. The familiar lumbering of +wheels began, and the clanking of the wagon-chain. Despite jar and jolt +he dozed at times, awakening to the scrape of the wheel on the leathern +brake. After a while the rapid descent of the wagon changed to a roll, +without the irritating rattle. He saw a narrow valley; on one side the +green, slow-swelling cedar slope of the mountain; on the other the +perpendicular red wall, with its pinnacles like spears against the sky. +All day this backward outlook was the same, except that each time he +opened aching eyes the valley had lengthened, the red wall and green +slope had come closer together in the distance. By and by there came a +halt, the din of stamping horses and sharp commands, the bustle and +confusion of camp. Naab spoke kindly to him, but he refused any food, +lay still and went to sleep. + +Daylight brought him the relief of a clear head and cooled blood. The +camp had been pitched close under the red wall. A lichen-covered cliff, +wet with dripping water, overhung a round pool. A ditch led the water +down the ridge to a pond. Cattle stood up to their knees drinking; +others lay on the yellow clay, which was packed as hard as stone; still +others were climbing the ridge and passing down on both sides. + +"You look as if you enjoyed that water," remarked Naab, when Hare +presented himself at the fire. "Well, it's good, only a little salty. +Seeping Springs this is, and it's mine. This ridge we call The Saddle; +you see it dips between wall and mountain and separates two valleys. +This valley we go through to-day is where my cattle range. At the other +end is Silver Cup Spring, also mine. Keep your eyes open now, my lad." + +How different was the beginning of this day! The sky was as blue as the +sea; the valley snuggled deep in the embrace of wall and mountain. Hare +took a place on the seat beside Naab and faced the descent. The line of +Navajos, a graceful straggling curve of color on the trail, led the way +for the white-domed wagons. + +Naab pointed to a little calf lying half hidden under a bunch of sage. +"That's what I hate to see. There's a calf, just born; its mother has +gone in for water. Wolves and lions range this valley. We lose hundreds +of calves that way." + +As far as Hare could see red and white and black cattle speckled the +valley. + +"If not overstocked, this range is the best in Utah," said Naab. "I say +Utah, but it's really Arizona. The Grand Canyon seems to us Mormons to +mark the line. There's enough browse here to feed a hundred thousand +cattle. But water's the thing. In some seasons the springs go almost +dry, though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle." + +Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth; +evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to +support only one tuft. + +"What's that?" he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black +bobbing borders. + +"Wild mustangs," replied Naab. "There are perhaps five thousand on the +mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad +as sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a +range once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too +plentiful. There are also several bands of wild horses." + +"What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?" + +"I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in +here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally +wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at +Silvermane or Whitefoot." + +"What are they?" + +"Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the +most beautiful horse I ever saw. Whitefoot's an old black shaggy demon, +with one white foot. Both stallions ought to be killed. They fight my +horses and lead off the mares. I had a chance to shoot Silvermane on the +way over this trip, but he looked so splendid that I just laid down my +rifle." + +"Can they run?" asked Hare eagerly, with the eyes of a man who loved a +horse. + +"Run? Whew! Just you wait till you see Silvermane cover ground! He can +look over his shoulder at you and beat any horse in this country. The +Navajos have given up catching him as a bad job. Why--here! Jack! quick, +get out your rifle--coyotes!" + +Naab pulled on the reins, and pointed to one side. Hare discerned three +grayish sharp-nosed beasts sneaking off in the sage, and he reached back +for the rifle. Naab whistled, stopping the coyotes; then Hare shot. The +ball cut a wisp of dust above and beyond them. They loped away into the +sage. + +"How that rifle spangs!" exclaimed Naab." It's good to hear it. Jack, +you shot high. That's the trouble with men who have never shot at game. +They can't hold low enough. Aim low, lower than you want. Ha! There's +another--this side--hold ahead of him and low, quick!--too high again." + +It was in this way that August and Hare fell far behind the other wagons. +The nearer Naab got to his home the more genial he became. When he was +not answering Hare's queries he was giving information of his own accord, +telling about the cattle and the range, the mustangs, the Navajos, and +the desert Naab liked to talk; he had said he had not the gift of +revelation, but he certainly had the gift of tongues. + +The sun was in the west when they began to climb a ridge. A short +ascent, and a long turn to the right brought them under a bold spur of +the mountain which shut out the northwest. Camp had been pitched in a +grove of trees of a species new to Hare. From under a bowlder gushed the +sparkling spring, a grateful sight and sound to desert travellers. In a +niche of the rock hung a silver cup. + +"Jack, no man knows how old this cup is, or anything about it. We named +the spring after it--Silver Cup. The strange thing is that the cup has +never been lost nor stolen. But--could any desert man, or outlaw, or +Indian, take it away, after drinking here?" + +The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on the +bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood. + +That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap Naab +buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger braves +to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing, "hoya-heeya- +howya," as they moved in and out of the firelight. + +Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and +repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a +curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward +motions and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him and +fought for possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous +for its welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the +clamor of a delighted circle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew +so strenuous in his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the Navajos +about like shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, sought to +break away. But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to the ground, +and calmly sat astride him while they went through his pockets. August +Naab roared his merriment and Hare laughed till he cried. The incident +was as surprising to him as it was amusing. These serious Mormons and +silent Navajos were capable of mirth. + +Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying to +him, "Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!" sent him off to his blankets, +where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager to +know what the day would bring. + +"Wait," said August, soberly. + +They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare +had not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses +climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonous ascent. There was +nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the +summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable +place on the sacks. + +"Now, Jack," said August. + +Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood. Red +scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a vast +irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath. +To the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a black-timbered +plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped vent +in the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earth-riven +line lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reaching vision of white +wastes, of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the +shimmering dust-veiled desert. + +"Here we come to the real thing," explained Naab. "This is Windy Slope; +that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side is the +Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows his flat +head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the Vermillion +Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be able to +see." + +"Why?" + +"Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles--watch out for your eyes!" + +Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians +trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white +wagons disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which +justified Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once +more he could see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his +eyes with dust difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the +wind. + +The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of +Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died. + +"Five miles of red sand," said Naab." Here's what kills the horses. +Getup." + +There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels, +dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels +ploughed deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab +trudged on foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also, +soon tired, and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again. +Twilight came with the horses still toiling. + +"There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that +trailless waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun +it after dark. We'll be home sooth. There's my sign. See? Night or +day we call it the Blue Star." + +High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky +through. + +There was cheer in Naab's "Getup," now, and the horses quickened with it. +Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. "Easy, easy-- +soho!" cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the +shelving cliff they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner. +Lights twinkled in Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water, +dampened his cheek, and a hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant +thunder, filled his ears. + +"What's that?" he asked. + +"That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's +the roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon." + + + +IV +THE OASIS + + +August Naab's oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with leaf +and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of vivid +vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the red +walls from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, remote +as of some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was east a +dreamy hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the cottonwoods; +when no wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of serene plain or +mountain fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and breathless. +Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world was this +Garden of Eschtah. + +Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but routed +him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of +cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow. A grove of gray-barked trees +spread green canopy overhead, and through the intricate web shone crimson +walls, soaring with resistless onsweep up and up to shut out all but a +blue lake of sky. + +"I want you to see the Navajos cross the river," said Naab. + +Hare accompanied him out through the grove to a road that flanked the +first rise of the red wall; they followed this for half a mile, and +turning a corner came into an unobstructed view. A roar of rushing +waters had prepared Hare, but the river that he saw appalled him. It was +red and swift; it slid onward like an enormous slippery snake; its +constricted head raised a crest of leaping waves, and disappeared in a +dark chasm, whence came a bellow and boom. + +"That opening where she jumps off is the head of the Grand Canyon," said +Naab. "It's five hundred feet deep there, and thirty miles below it's +five thousand. Oh, once in, she tears in a hurry! Come, we turn up the +bank here." + +Hare could find no speech, and he felt immeasurably small. All that he +had seen in reaching this isolated spot was dwarfed in comparison. This +"Crossing of the Fathers," as Naab called it, was the gateway of the +desert. This roar of turbulent waters was the sinister monotone of the +mighty desert symphony of great depths, great heights, great reaches. + +On a sandy strip of bank the Navajos had halted. This was as far as they +could go, for above the wall jutted out into the river. From here the +head of the Canyon was not visible, and the roar of the rapids was +accordingly lessened in volume. But even in this smooth water the river +spoke a warning. + +"The Navajos go in here and swim their mustangs across to that sand bar," +explained Naab. "The current helps when she's high, and there's a +three-foot raise on now." + +"I can't believe it possible. What danger they must run--those little +mustangs!" exclaimed Hare. + +"Danger? Yes, I suppose so," replied Naab, as if it were a new idea. +"My lad, the Mormons crossed here by the hundreds. Many were drowned. +This trail and crossing were unknown except to Indians before the Mormon +exodus." + +The mustangs had to be driven into the water. Scarbreast led, and his +mustang, after many kicks and reluctant steps, went over his depth, +wetting the stalwart chief to the waist. Bare-legged Indians waded in +and urged their pack-ponies. Shouts, shrill cries, blows mingled with +snorts and splashes. + +Dave and George Naab in flat boats rowed slowly on the down-stream side +of the Indians. Presently all the mustangs and ponies were in, the +procession widening out in a triangle from Scarbreast, the leader. The +pack - ponies appeared to swim better than the mounted mustangs, or else +the packs of deer-pelts made them more buoyant. When one-third way +across the head of the swimming train met the current, and the line of +progress broke. Mustang after mustang swept down with a rapidity which +showed the power of the current. Yet they swam steadily with flanks +shining, tails sometimes afloat, sometimes under, noses up, and riders +holding weapons aloft. But the pack-ponies labored when the current +struck them, and whirling about, they held back the Indians who were +leading them, and blocked those behind. The orderly procession of the +start became a broken line, and then a rout. Here and there a Navajo +slipped into the water and swam, leading his mustang; others pulled on +pack-ponies and beat their mounts; strong-swimming mustangs forged ahead; +weak ones hung back, and all obeyed the downward will of the current. + +While Hare feared for the lives of some of the Navajos, and pitied the +laden ponies, he could not but revel in the scene, in its vivid action +and varying color, in the cries and shrill whoops of the Indians, and the +snorts of the frightened mustangs, in Naab's hoarse yells to his sons, +and the ever-present menacing roar from around the bend. The wildness of +it all, the necessity of peril and calm acceptance of it, stirred within +Hare the call, the awakening, the spirit of the desert. + +August Naab's stentorian voice rolled out over the river. "Ho! Dave--the +yellow pinto--pull him loose--George, back this way--there's a pack +slipping--down now, downstream, turn that straggler in--Dave, in that +tangle--quick! There's a boy drowning-- his foot's caught-- he's been +kicked-- Hurry! Hurry!-- pull him in the boat-- There's a pony under-- +Too late, George, let that one go-- let him go, I tell you!" + +So the crossing of the Navajos proceeded, never an instant free from +danger in that churning current. The mustangs and ponies floundered +somewhat on the sand-bar and then parted the willows and appeared on a +trail skirting the red wall. Dave Naab moored his boat on that side of +the river, and returned with George. + +"We'll look over my farm," said August, as they retraced their steps. He +led Hare through fields of alfalfa, in all stages of growth, explaining +that it yielded six crops a year. Into one ten-acre lot pigs and cows +had been turned to feed at will. Everywhere the ground was soggy; little +streams of water trickled down ditches. Next to the fields was an +orchard, where cherries were ripe, apricots already large, plum-trees +shedding their blossoms, and apple-trees just opening into bloom. Naab +explained that the products of his oasis were abnormal; the ground was +exceedingly rich and could be kept always wet; the reflection of the sun +from the walls robbed even winter of any rigor, and the spring, summer, +and autumn were tropical. He pointed to grape-vines as large as a man's +thigh and told of bunches of grapes four feet long; he showed sprouting +plants on which watermelons and pumpkins would grow so large that one man +could not lift them; he told of one pumpkin that held a record of taking +two men to roll it. + +"I can raise any kind of fruit in such abundance that it can't be used. +My garden is prodigal. But we get little benefit, except for our own +use, for we cannot transport things across the desert." + +The water which was the prime factor in all this richness came from a +small stream which Naab, by making a dam and tunnelling a corner of +cliff, had diverted from its natural course into his oasis. + +Between the fence and the red wall there was a wide bare plain which +stretched to the house. At its farthest end was a green enclosure, which +Hare recognized as the cemetery mentioned by Snap. Hare counted thirty +graves, a few with crude monuments of stone, the others marked by wooden +head-pieces. + +"I've the reputation of doctoring the women, and letting the men die," +said Naab, with a smile." I hardly think it's fair. But the fact is no +women are buried here. Some graves are of men I fished out of the river; +others of those who drifted here, and who were killed or died keeping +their secrets. I've numbered those unknown graves and have kept a +description of the men, so, if the chance ever comes, I may tell some one +where a father or brother lies buried. Five sons of mine, not one of +whom died a natural death, found graves here--God rest them! Here's the +grave of Mescal's father, a Spaniard. He was an adventurer. I helped +him over in Nevada when he was ill; he came here with me, got well, and +lived nine years, and he died without speaking one word of himself or +telling his name." + +"What strange ends men come to!" mused Hare. Well, a grave was a grave, +wherever it lay. He wondered if he would come to rest in that quiet +nook, with its steady light, its simple dignity of bare plain graves +fitting the brevity of life, the littleness of man. + +"We break wild mustangs along this stretch," said Naab, drawing Hare +away. "It's a fine run. Wait till you see Mescal on Black Bolly tearing +up the dust! She's a Navajo for riding." + +Three huge corrals filled a wide curved space in the wall. In one corral +were the teams that had hauled the wagons from White Sage; in another +upward of thirty burros, drooping, lazy little fellows half asleep; in +the third a dozen or more mustangs and some horses which delighted Hare. +Snap Naab's cream pinto, a bay, and a giant horse of mottled white +attracted him most. + +"Our best stock is out on the range," said Naab. "The white is Charger, +my saddle-horse. When he was a yearling he got away and ran wild for +three years. But we caught him. He's a weight-carrier and he can run +some. You're fond of a horse--I can see that." + +"Yes," returned Hare, "but I--I'll never ride again." He said it +brightly, smiling the while; still the look in his eyes belied the +cheerful resignation. + +"I've not the gift of revelation, yet I seem to see you on a big gray +horse with a shining mane." Naab appeared to be gazing far away. + +The cottonwood grove, at the western curve of the oasis, shaded the five +log huts where August's grown sons lived with their wives, and his own +cabin, which was of considerable dimensions. It had a covered porch on +one side, an open one on the other, a shingle roof, and was a roomy and +comfortable habitation. + +Naab was pointing out the school-house when he was interrupted by +childish laughter, shrieks of glee, and the rush of little feet. + +"It's recess-time," he said. + +A frantic crowd of tousled-headed little ones were running from the log +school-house to form a circle under the trees. There were fourteen of +them, from four years of age up to ten or twelve. Such sturdy, glad-eyed +children Hare had never seen. In a few moments, as though their happy +screams were signals, the shady circle was filled with hounds, and a +string of puppies stepping on their long ears, and ruffling +turkey-gobblers, that gobbled and gobbled, and guinea-hens with their +shrill cries, and cackling chickens, and a lame wild goose that hobbled +along alone. Then there were shiny peafowls screeching clarion calls +from the trees overhead, and flocks of singing blackbirds, and pigeons +hovering over and alighting upon the house. Last to approach were a +woolly sheep that added his baa-baa to the din, and a bald-faced burro +that walked in his sleep. These two became the centre of clamor. After +many tumbles four chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others, +with loud acclaim, shouting, "Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!" endeavored +to make him go. But Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then +an ambitious urchin of Six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and +essayed to climb to his back. Willing hands assisted him. "Ride him, +Billy, ride him. Getup, Navvy, getup!" + +Navvy evidently had never been ridden, for he began a fair imitation of a +bucking bronco. Billy held on, but the smile vanished and he corners of +his mouth drew down + +"Hang on, Billy, hang on," cried August Naab, in delight. Billy hung on +a moment longer, and then Navvy, bewildered by the pestering crowd about +him, launched out and, butting into Noddle, spilled the four youngsters +and Billy also into a wriggling heap. + +This recess-time completed Hare's introduction to the Naabs. There were +Mother Mary, and Judith and Esther, whom he knew, and Mother Ruth and her +two daughters very like their sisters. Mother Ruth, August's second +wife, was younger than Mother Mary, more comely of face, and more sad and +serious of expression. The wives of the five sons, except Snap Naab's +frail bride, were stalwart women, fit to make homes and rear children. + +"Now, Jack, things are moving all right," said August. For the present +you must eat and rest. Walk some, but don't tire yourself. We'll +practice shooting a little every day; that's one thing I'll spare time +for. I've a trick with a gun to teach you. And if you feel able, take a +burro and ride. Anyway, make yourself at home." + +Hare found eating and resting to be matters of profound enjoyment. +Before he had fallen in with these good people it had been a year since +he had sat down to a full meal; longer still since he had eaten whole +some food. And now he had come to a "land overflowing with milk and +honey," as Mother Ruth smilingly said. He could not choose between roast +beef and chicken, and so he waived the question by taking both; and what +with the biscuits and butter, apple-sauce and blackberry jam, cherry pie +and milk like cream, there was danger of making himself ill. He told his +friends that he simply could not help it, which shameless confession +brought a hearty laugh from August and beaming smiles from his +women-folk. + +For several days Hare was remarkably well, for an invalid. He won golden +praise from August at the rifle practice, and he began to take lessons in +the quick drawing and rapid firing of a Colt revolver. Naab was +wonderfully proficient in the use of both firearms; and his skill in +drawing the smaller weapon, in which his movement was quicker than the +eye, astonished Hare. "My lad," said August, "it doesn't follow because +I'm a Christian that I don't know how to handle a gun. Besides, I like +to shoot." + +In these few days Hare learned what conquering the desert made of a man. +August Naab was close to threescore years; his chest was wide as a door, +his arm like the branch of an oak. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, a +carpenter, a cooper, a potter. At his forge and in his shop, everywhere, +were crude tools, wagons, farming implements, sets of buckskin harness, +odds and ends of nameless things, eloquent and pregnant proof of the fact +that necessity is the mother of invention. He was a mason; the levee +that buffeted back the rage of the Colorado in flood, the wall that +turned the creek, the irrigation tunnel, the zigzag trail cut on the face +of the cliff--all these attested his eye for line, his judgment of +distance, his strength in toil. He was a farmer, a cattle man, a grafter +of fruit-trees, a breeder of horses, a herder of sheep, a preacher, a +physician. Best and strangest of all in this wonderful man was the +instinct and the heart to heal." I don't combat the doctrine of the +Mormon church," he said, "but I administer a little medicine with my +healing. I learned that from the Navajos." The children ran to him with +bruised heads, and cut fingers, and stubbed toes; and his blacksmith's +hands were as gentle as a woman's. A mustang with a lame leg claimed his +serious attention; a sick sheep gave him an anxious look; a steer with a +gored skin sent him running for a bucket of salve. He could not pass by +a crippled quail. The farm was overrun by Navajo sheep which he had +found strayed and lost on the desert. Anything hurt or helpless had in +August Naab a friend. Hare found himself looking up to a great and +luminous figure, and he loved this man. + +As the days passed Hare learned many other things. For a while illness +confined him to his bed on the porch. At night he lay listening to the +roar of the river, and watching the stars. Twice he heard a distant +crash and rumble, heavy as thunder, and he knew that somewhere along the +cliffs avalanches were slipping. By day he watched the cotton snow down +upon him, and listened to the many birds, and waited for the merry show +at recess-time. After a short time the children grew less shy and came +readily to him. They were the most wholesome children he had ever +letdown. Hare wondered about it, and decided it was not so much Mormon +teaching as isolation from the world. These children had never been out +of their cliff-walled home, and civilization was for them as if it were +not. He told them stories, and after school hours they would race to him +and climb on his bed, and beg for more. + +He exhausted his supply of fairy-stories and animal stories; and had
+begun to tell about the places and cities which he had visited when the +eager-eyed children were peremptorily called within by Mother Mary. This +pained him and he was at a loss to understand it. Enlightenment came, +however, in the way of an argument between Naab and Mother Mary which he +overheard. The elder wife said that the stranger was welcome to the +children, but she insisted that they hear nothing of the outside world, +and that they be kept to the teachings of the Mormon geography--which +made all the world outside Utah an untrodden wilderness. August Naab did +not hold to the letter of the Mormon law; he argued that if the children +could not be raised as Mormons with a full knowledge of the world, they +would only be lost in the end to the Church. + +Other developments surprised Hare. The house of this good Mormon was +divided against itself. Precedence was given to the first and elder +wife--Mother Mary; Mother Ruth's life was not without pain. The men were +out on the ranges all day, usually two or more of them for several days +at a time, and this left the women alone. One daughter taught the +school, the other daughters did all the chores about the house, from +feeding the stock to chopping wood. The work was hard, and the girls +would rather have been in White Sage or Lund. They disliked Mescal, and +said things inspired by jealousy. Snap Naab's wife was vindictive, and +called Mescal "that Indian!" + +It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal. What had +become of her? Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her. + +"Mescal's with the sheep," piped Billy. + +That she was a shepherdess pleased Hare, and he thought of her as free on +the open range, with the wind blowing her hair. + +One day when Hare felt stronger he took his walk round the farm with new +zest. Upon his return to the house he saw Snap's cream pinto in the +yard, and Dave's mustang cropping the grass near by. A dusty pack lay on +the ground. Hare walked down the avenue of cottonwoods and was about to +turn the corner of the old forge when he stopped short. + +"Now mind you, I'll take a bead on this white-faced spy if you send him +up there." + +It was Snap Naab's voice, and his speech concluded with the click of +teeth characteristic of him in anger. + +"Stand there!" August Naab exclaimed in wrath. "Listen. You have been +drinking again or you wouldn't talk of frilling a man. I warned you. I +won't do this thing you ask of me till I have your promise. Why won't +you leave the bottle alone?" + +"I'll promise," came the sullen reply. + +"Very well. Then pack and go across to Bitter Seeps." + +"That job'll take all summer," growled Snap. + +"So much the better. When you come home I'll keep my promise. + +Hare moved away silently; the shock of Snap's first words had kept him +fast in his tracks long enough to hear the conversation. Why did Snap +threaten him? Where was August Naab going to send him? Hare had no +means of coming to an understanding of either question. He was disturbed +in mind and resolved to keep out of Snap's way. He went to the orchard, +but his stay of an hour availed nothing, for on his return, after +threading the maze of cottonwoods, he came face to face with the man he +wanted to avoid. + +Snap Naab, at the moment of meeting, had a black bottle tipped high above +his lips. + +With a curse he threw the bottle at Hare, missing him narrowly. He was +drunk. His eyes were bloodshot. + +"If you tell father you saw me drinking I'll kill you!" he hissed, and +rattling his Colt in its holster, he walked away. + +Hare walked back to his bed, where he lay for a long time with his whole +inner being in a state of strife. It gradually wore off as he strove for +calm. The playground was deserted; no one had seen Snap's action, and +for that he was glad. Then his attention was diverted by a clatter of +ringing hoofs on the road; a mustang and a cloud of dust were +approaching. + +"Mescal and Black Bolly!" he exclaimed, and sat up quickly. The mustang +turned in the gate, slid to a stop, and stood quivering, restive, tossing +its thoroughbred head, black as a coal, with freedom and fire in every +line. Mescal leaped off lightly. A gray form flashed in at the gate, +fell at her feet and rose to leap about her. It was a splendid dog, huge +in frame, almost white, wild as the mustang. + +This was the Mescal whom he remembered, yet somehow different. The +sombre homespun garments had given place to fringed and beaded buckskin. + +"I've come for you," she said. + +"For me?" he asked, wonderingly, as she approached with the bridle of the +black over her arm. + +"Down, Wolf!" she cried to the leaping dog. "Yes. Didn't you know? +Father Naab says you're to help me tend the sheep. Are you better? I +hope so-- You're quite pale." + +"I--I'm not so well," said Hare. + +He looked up at her, at the black sweep of her hair under the white band, +at her eyes, like jet; and suddenly realized, with a gladness new and +strange to him, that he liked to look at her, that she was beautiful. + + + +V +BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + + +August Naab appeared on the path leading from his fields. + +"Mescal, here you are," he greeted. "How about the sheep?" + +"Piute's driving them down to the lower range. There are a thousand +coyotes hanging about the flock." + +"That's bad," rejoined August." Jack, there's evidently some real +shooting in store for you. We'll pack to-day and get an early start +to-morrow. I'll put you on Noddle; he's slow, but the easiest climber I +ever owned. He's like riding + +what's the matter with you? What's happened to make you angry?" + +One of his long strides spanned the distance between them. + +"Oh, nothing," said Hare, flushing. + +"Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie. You've met Snap." + +Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August's +stern face showed the uselessness of it. He kept silent. + +"Drink makes my son unnatural," said Naab. He breathed heavily as one in +conflict with wrath. "We'll not wait till to-morrow to go up on the +plateau; we'll go at once." + +Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal's eyes; he +caught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a glow +of an emotion half pleasure, half pain. + +"Mescal," went on August, "go into the house, and keep out of Snap's way. +Jack, watch me pack. You need to learn these things. I could put all +this outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack might +bump a burro off. Let's see, I've got all your stuff but the saddle; +that we'll leave till we get a horse for you. Well, all's ready. + +Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward the +cliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her. Hare bestrode Noddle. +August, waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burros +after Mescal. + +How they would be able to climb the face of that steep cliff puzzled +Hare. Upon nearer view he discovered the yard-wide trail curving upward +in cork-screw fashion round a projecting corner of cliff. The stone was +a soft red shale, and the trail had been cut in it at a steep angle. It +was so steep that the burros appeared to be climbing straight up. Noddle +pattered into it, dropped his head and his long ears and slackened his +pace to patient plodding. August walked in the rear. + +The first thing that struck Hare was the way the burros in front of him +stopped at the curves in the trail, and turned in a space so small that +their four feet were close together; yet as they swung their packs they +scarcely scraped the wall. At every turn they were higher than he was, +going in the opposite direction, yet he could reach out and touch them. +He glanced up to see Mescal right above him, leaning forward with her +brown hands clasping the pommel. Then he looked out and down; already +the green cluster of cottonwoods lay far below. After that sensations +pressed upon him. Round and round, up and up, steadily, surely, the +beautiful mustang led the train; there were sounds of rattling stones, +and click of hoofs, and scrape of pack. On one side towered the +iron-stained cliff, not smooth or glistening at close range, but of dull, +dead, rotting rock. The trail changed to a zigzag along a seamed and +cracked buttress where ledges leaned outward waiting to fall. Then a +steeper incline, where the burros crept upward warily, led to a level +ledge heading to the left. + +Mescal halted on a promontory. She, with her windblown hair, the gleam +of white band about her head, and a dash of red along the fringed +leggings, gave inexpressible life and beauty to that wild, jagged point +of rock, sharp against the glaring sky. + +"This is Lookout Point," said Naab. "I keep an Indian here all the time +during daylight. He's a peon, a Navajo slave. He can't talk, as he was +born without a tongue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of any +Indian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing, the +Navajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the Navajos +signal to me, and also the White Sage Trail." + +The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with its +rising roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To the +right white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across the +Canyon line opened the many-hued desert. + +"With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised," said Naab. +"That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've never +had anything to fear from across the river." + +Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the greeting +he could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians resembled each +other. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not differing in +blanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze skin, but in the +bird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of his glittering +eyes. Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a few words in +Navajo, and then slapped the burros into the trail. + +The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trail +now led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones had +changed from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places. +Hare's judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that he +gave up trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell on +his strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to stay +longer upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sun +was yet an hour high, his fingers were numb. + +"Hang on, Jack," cheered August. "We're almost up." + +At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by one, +then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw a +gray-green cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, and +a rush of cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could not +get his breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply trying +to overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble was +not with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweet +penetrating odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like the +smell of pine, though it made him think of pine-trees. + +"Ha! that's good!" said Naab, expanding his great chest. "That's air for +you, my lad. Can you taste it? Well, here's camp, your home for many a +day, Jack. There's Piute--how do? how're the sheep?" + +A short, squat Indian, good-humored of face, shook his black head till +the silver rings danced in his ears, and replied: "Bad--damn coyotee!" + +"Piute--shake with Jack. Him shoot coyote--got big gun," said Naab. + +"How-do-Jack?" replied Piute, extending his hand, and then straightway +began examining the new rifle." Damn--heap big gun!" + +"Jack, you'll find this Indian one you can trust, for all he's a Piute +outcast," went on August. "I've had him with me ever since Mescal found +him on the Coconina Trail five years ago. What Piute doesn't know about +this side of Coconina isn't worth learning." + +In a depression sheltered from the wind lay the camp. A fire burned in +the centre; a conical tent, like a tepee in shape, hung suspended from a +cedar branch and was staked at its four points; a leaning slab of rock +furnished shelter for camp supplies and for the Indian, and at one end a +spring gushed out. A gray-sheathed cedar-tree marked the entrance to +this hollow glade, and under it August began preparing Hare's bed. + +"Here's the place you're to sleep, rain or shine or snow," he said. "Now +I've spent my life sleeping on the ground, and mother earth makes the +best bed. I'll dig out a little pit in this soft mat of needles; that's +for your hips. Then the tarpaulin so; a blanket so. Now the other +blankets. Your feet must be a little higher than your head; you really +sleep down hill, which breaks the wind. So you never catch cold. All +you need do is to change your position according to the direction of the +wind. Pull up the blankets, and then the long end of the tarpaulin. If +it rains or snows cover your head, and sleep, my lad, sleep to the song +of the wind!" + +>From where Hare lay, resting a weary body, he could see down into the +depression which his position guarded. Naab built up the fire; Piute +peeled potatoes with deliberate care; Mescal, on her knees, her brown +arms bare, kneaded dough in a basin; Wolf crouched on the ground, and +watched his mistress; Black Bolly tossed her head, elevating the bag on +her nose so as to get all the grain. + +Naab called him to supper, and when Hare set to with a will on the bacon +and eggs, and hot biscuits, he nodded approvingly." That's what I want to +see," he said approvingly. "You must eat. Piute will get deer, or you +may shoot them yourself; eat all the venison you can. Remember what +Scarbreast said. Then rest. That's the secret. If you eat and rest you +will gain strength." + +The edge of the wall was not a hundred paces from the camp; and when Hare +strolled out to it after supper, the sun had dipped the under side of its +red disc behind the desert. He watched it sink, while the golden-red +flood of light grew darker and darker. Thought seemed remote from him +then; he watched, and watched, until he saw the last spark of fire die +from the snow-slopes of Coconina. The desert became dimmer and dimmer; +the oasis lost its outline in a bottomless purple pit, except for a faint +light, like a star. + +The bleating of sheep aroused him and he returned to camp. The fire was +still bright. Wolf slept close to Mescal's tent; Piute was not in sight; +and Naab had rolled himself in blankets. Crawling into his bed, Hare +stretched aching legs and lay still, as if he would never move again. +Tired as he was, the bleating of the sheep, the clear ring of the bell on +Black Bolly, and the faint tinkle of lighter bells on some of the rams, +drove away sleep for a while. Accompanied by the sough of the wind +through the cedars the music of the bells was sweet, and he listened till +he heard no more. + +A thin coating of frost crackled on his bed when he awakened; and out +from under the shelter of the cedar all the ground was hoar-white. As he +slipped from his blankets the same strong smell of black sage and juniper +smote him, almost like a blow. His nostrils seemed glued together by +some rich piny pitch; and when he opened his lips to breathe a sudden +pain, as of a knife-thrust, pierced his lungs. The thought following was +as sharp as the pain. Pneumonia! What he had long expected! He sank +against the cedar, overcome by the shock. But he rallied presently, for +with the reestablishment of the old settled bitterness, which had been +forgotten in the interest of his situation, he remembered that he had +given up hope. Still, he could not get back at once to his former +resignation. He hated to acknowledge that the wildness of this desert +canyon country, and the spirit it sought to instil in him, had wakened a +desire to live. For it meant only more to give up. And after one short +instant of battle he was himself again. He put his hand under his +flannel shirt and felt of the soreness of his lungs. He found it not at +the apex of the right lung, always the one sensitive spot, but all +through his breast. Little panting breaths did not hurt; but the deep +inhalation, which alone satisfied him filled his whole chest with +thousands of pricking needles. In the depth of his breast was a hollow +that burned. + +When he had pulled on his boots and coat, and had washed himself in the +runway of the spring, his hands were so numb with cold they refused to +hold his comb and brush; and he presented himself at the roaring fire +half-frozen, dishevelled, trembling, but cheerful. He would not tell +Naab. If he had to die to-day, to-morrow or next week, he would lie down +under a cedar and die; he could not whine about it to this man. + +"Up with the sun!" was Naab's greeting. His cheerfulness was as +impelling as his splendid virility. Following the wave of his hand Hare +saw the sun, a pale-pink globe through a misty blue, rising between the +golden crags of the eastern wall. + +Mescal had a shy "good-morning" for him, and Piute a broad smile, and +familiar "how-do"; the peon slave, who had finished breakfast and was +about to depart, moved his lips in friendly greeting that had no sound. + +"Did you hear the coyotes last night?" inquired August "No! Well, of all +the choruses I ever heard. There must be a thousand on the bench. Jack, +I wish I could spare the time to stay up here with you and shoot some. +You'll have practice with the rifle, but don't neglect the Colt. +Practice particularly the draw I taught you. Piute has a carbine, and he +shoots at the coyotes, but who ever saw an Indian that could hit +anything?" + +"Damn--gun no good!" growled Piute, who evidently understood English +pretty well. Naab laughed, and while Hare ate breakfast he talked of the +sheep. The flock he had numbered three thousand. They were a goodly +part of them Navajo stock: small, hardy sheep that could live on anything +but cactus, and needed little water. This flock had grown from a small +number to its present size in a few years. Being remarkably free from +the diseases and pests which retard increase in low countries, the sheep +had multiplied almost one for one for every year. But for the ravages of +wild beasts Naab believed he could raise a flock of many thousands and in +a brief time be rich in sheep alone. In the winter he drove them down +into the oasis; the other seasons he herded them on the high ranges where +the cattle could not climb. There was grass enough on this plateau for a +million sheep. After the spring thaw in early March, occasional snows +fell till the end of May, and frost hung on until early summer; then the +July rains made the plateau a garden. + +"Get the forty-four," concluded Naab, "and we'll go out and break it in." + +With the long rifle in the hollow of his arm Jack forgot that he was a +sick man. When he came within gunshot of the flock the smell of sheep +effectually smothered the keen, tasty odor of black sage and juniper. +Sheep ranged everywhere under the low cedars. They browsed with noses in +the frost, and from all around came the tinkle of tiny bells on the +curly-horned rams, and an endless variety of bleats. + +"They're spread now," said August. "Mescal drives them on every little +while and Piute goes ahead to pick out the best browse. Watch the dog, +Jack; he's all but human. His mother was a big shepherd dog that I got +in Lund.She must have had a strain of wild blood. Once while I was +hunting deer on Coconina she ran off with timber wolves and we thought +she was killed. But she came back, and had a litter of three puppies. +Two were white, the other black. I think she killed the black one. And +she neglected the others. One died, and Mescal raised the other. We +called him Wolf. He loves Mescal, and loves the sheep, and hates a wolf. +Mescal puts a bell on him when she is driving, and the sheep know the +bell. I think it would be a good plan for her to tie something red round +his neck--a scarf, so as to keep you from shooting him for a wolf." + +Nimble, alert, the big white dog was not still a moment. His duty was to +keep the flock compact, to head the stragglers and turn them back; and he +knew his part perfectly. There was dash and fire in his work. He never +barked. As he circled the flock the small Navajo sheep, edging ever +toward forbidden ground, bleated their way back to the fold, the larger +ones wheeled reluctantly, and the old belled rams squared themselves, +lowering their massive horns as if to butt him. Never, however, did they +stand their ground when he reached them, for there was a decision about +Wolf which brooked no opposition. At times when he was working on one +side a crafty sheep on the other would steal out into the thicket. Then +Mescal called and Wolf flashed back to her, lifting his proud head, +eager, spirited, ready to take his order. A word, a wave of her whip +sufficed for the dog to rout out the recalcitrant sheep and send him +bleating to his fellows. + +"He manages them easily now," said Naab, "but when the lambs come they +can't be kept in. The coyotes and wolves hang out in the thickets and +pick up the stragglers. The worst enemy of sheep, though, is the old +grizzly bear. Usually he is grouchy, and dangerous to hunt. He comes +into the herd, kills the mother sheep, and eats the milk-bag--no more! +He will kill forty sheep in a night. Piute saw the tracks of one up on +the high range, and believes this bear is following the flock. Let's get +off into the woods some little way, into the edge of the thickets--for +Piute always keeps to the glades--and see if we can pick off a few +coyotes." + +August cautioned Jack to step stealthily, and slip from cedar to cedar, +to use every bunch of sage and juniper to hide his advance. + +"Watch sharp, Jack. I've seen two already. Look for moving things. +Don't try to see one quiet, for you can't till after your eye catches him +moving. They are gray, gray as the cedars, the grass, the ground. Good! +Yes, I see him, but don't shoot. That's too far. Wait. They sneak +away, but they return. You can afford to make sure. Here now, by that +stone--aim low and be quick." + +In the course of a mile, without keeping the sheep near at hand, they saw +upward of twenty coyotes, five of which Jack killed in as many shots. + +"You've got the hang of it," said Naab, rubbing his hands. "You'll kill +the varmints. Piute will skin and salt the pelts. Now I'm going up on +the high range to look for bear sign. Go ahead, on your own hook." + +Hare was regardless of time while he stole under the cedars and through +the thickets, spying out the cunning coyotes. Then Naab's yell pealing +out claimed his attention; he answered and returned. When they met he +recounted his adventures in mingled excitement and disappointment. + +"Are you tired?" asked Naab. + +"Tired? No," replied Jack. + +"Well, you mustn't overdo the very first day. I've news for you. There +are some wild horses on the high range. I didn't see them, but found +tracks everywhere. If they come down here you send Piute to close the +trail at the upper end of the bench, and you close the one where we came +up. There are only two trails where even a deer can get off this +plateau, and both are narrow splits in the wall, which can be barred by +the gates. We made the gates to keep the sheep in, and they'll serve a +turn. If you get the wild horses on the bench send Piute for me at +once." + +They passed the Indian herding the sheep into a corral built against an +uprising ridge of stone. Naab dispatched him to look for the dead +coyotes. The three burros were in camp, two wearing empty pack-saddles, +and Noddle, for once not asleep, was eating from Mescal's hand. + +"Mescal, hadn't I better take Black Bolly home?" asked August. + +"Mayn't I keep her?" + +"She's yours. But you run a risk. There are wild horses on the range. +Will you keep her hobbled?" + +"Yes," replied Mescal, reluctantly. "Though I don't believe Bolly would +run off from me." + +"Look out she doesn't go, hobbles and all. Jack, here's the other bit of +news I have for you. There's a big grizzly camping on the trail of our +sheep. Now what I want to know is--shall I leave him to you, or put off +work and come up here to wait for him myself?" + +"Why--" said Jack, slowly, "whatever you say. If you think you can +safely leave him to me--I'm willing." + +"A grizzly won't be pleasant to face. I never knew one of those +sheep-killers that wouldn't run at a man, if wounded." + +"Tell me what to do." + +"If he comes down it's more than likely to be after dark. Don't risk +hunting him then. Wait till morning, and put Wolf on his trail. He'll +be up in the rocks, and by holding in the dog you may find him asleep in +a cave. However, if you happen to meet him by day do this. Don't waste +any shots. Climb a ledge or tree if one be handy. If not, stand your +ground. Get down on your knee and shoot and let him come. Mind you, +he'll grunt when he's hit, and start for you, and keep coming till he's +dead. Have confidence in yourself and your gun, for you can kill him. +Aim low, and shoot steady. If he keeps on coming there's always a fatal +shot, and that is when he rises. You'll see a bare spot on his breast. +Put a forty-four into that, and he'll go down." + +August had spoken so easily, quite as if he were explaining how to shear +a yearling sheep, that Jack's feelings fluctuated between amazement and +laughter. Verily this desert man was stripped of all the false fears of +civilization. + +"Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out for +him.... So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!" And with many a cheery word and +slap he urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall form +soon disappeared among the trees. + +Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he could +scarcely be seen under the gray pile.With a fervent "damn" he tumbled +them under a cedar, and trotted back into the forest for another load. +Jack insisted on assuming his share of the duties about camp; and Mescal +assigned him to the task of gathering firewood, breaking red-hot sticks +of wood into small pieces, and raking them into piles of live coals. +Then they ate, these two alone. Jack did not do justice to the supper; +excitement had robbed him of appetite. He told Mescal how he had crept +upon the coyotes, how so many had eluded him, how he had missed a gray +wolf. He plied her with questions about the sheep, and wanted to know if +there would be more wolves, and if she thought the "silvertip" would +come. He was quite carried away by the events of the day. + +The sunset drew him to the rim. Dark clouds were mantling the desert +like rolling smoke from a prairie-fire. He almost stumbled over Mescal, +who sat with her back to a stone. Wolf lay with his head in her lap, and +he growled. + +"There's a storm on the desert," she said." Those smoky streaks are +flying sand. We may have snow to-night. It's colder, and the wind is +north. See, I've a blanket. You had better get one." + +He thanked her and went for it. Piute was eating his supper, and the +peon had just come in. The bright campfire was agreeable, yet Hare did +not feel cold. But he wrapped himself in a blanket and returned to +Mescal and sat beside her. The desert lay indistinct in the foreground, +inscrutable beyond; the canyon lost its line in gloom. The solemnity of +the scene stilled his unrest, the strange freedom of longings unleashed +that day. What had come over him? He shook his head; but with the +consciousness of self returned a feeling of fatigue, the burning pain in +his chest, the bitter-sweet smell of black sage and juniper. + +"You love this outlook?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Do you sit here often?" + +"Every evening." + +"Is it the sunset that you care for, the roar of the river, just being +here high above it all?" + +"It's that last, perhaps; I don't know." + +"Haven't you been lonely?" + +"No." + +"You'd rather be here with the sheep than be in Lund, or Salt Lake City, +as Esther and Judith want to be?" + +"Yes." + +Any other reply from her would not have been consistent with the +impression she was making on him. As yet he had hardly regarded her as a +young girl; she had been part of this beautiful desert-land. But he +began to see in her a responsive being, influenced by his presence. If +the situation was wonderful to him what must it be for her? Like a shy, +illusive creature, unused to men, she was troubled by questions, fearful +of the sound of her own voice. Yet in repose, as she watched the lights +and shadows, she was serene, unconscious; her dark, quiet glance was +dreamy and sad, and in it was the sombre, brooding strength of the +desert. + +Twilight and falling dew sent them back to the camp. Piute and Peon were +skinning coyotes by the blaze of the fire. The night wind had not yet +risen; the sheep were quiet; there was no sound save the crackle of +burning cedar sticks. Jack began to talk; he had to talk, so, addressing +Piute and the dumb peon, he struck at random into speech, and words +flowed with a rush. Piute approved, for he said "damn" whenever his +intelligence grasped a meaning, and the peon twisted his lips and fixed +his diamond eyes upon Hare in rapt gaze. The sound of a voice was +welcome to the sentinels of that lonely sheep-range. Jack talked of +cities, of ships, of people, of simple things in the life he had left, +and he discovered that Mescal listened. Not only did she listen; she +became absorbed; it was romance to her, fulfilment of her vague dreams. +Nor did she seek her tent till he ceased; then with a startled +"good-night" she was gone. + +>From under the snugness of his warm blankets Jack watched out the last +wakeful moments of that day of days. A star peeped through the fringe of +cedar foliage. The wind sighed, and rose steadily, to sweep over him +with breath of ice, with the fragrance of juniper and black sage and a +tang of cedar. + +But that day was only the beginning of eventful days, of increasing +charm, of forgetfulness of self, of time that passed unnoted. Every +succeeding day was like its predecessor, only richer. Every day the +hoar- frost silvered the dawn; the sheep browsed; the coyotes skulked in +the thickets; the rifle spoke truer and truer. Every sunset Mescal's +changing eyes mirrored the desert. Every twilight Jack sat beside her in +the silence; every night, in the camp-fire flare, he talked to Piute and +the peon. + +The Indians were appreciative listeners, whether they understood Jack or +not, but his talk with them was only a presence. He wished to reveal the +outside world to Mescal, and he saw with pleasure that every day she grew +more interested. + +One evening he was telling of New York City, of the monster buildings +where men worked, and of the elevated railways, for the time was the late +seventies and they were still a novelty. Then something unprecedented +occurred, inasmuch as Piute earnestly and vigorously interrupted Jack, +demanding to have this last strange story made more clear. Jack did his +best in gesture and speech, but he had to appeal to Mescal to translate +his meaning to the Indian. This Mescal did with surprising fluency. The +result, however, was that Piute took exception to the story of trains +carrying people through the air. He lost his grin and regarded Jack with +much disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the bitterness of misplaced +trust. + +"Heap damn lie!" he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into the +gloom. + +Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, for +Mescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had brought +them closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well of +joyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal. +The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet more +and more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn of +cities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how they +lived, and all that life meant to them. + +The sweetest thing which had ever come to Hare was the teaching of this +desert girl. How naive in her questions and how quick to grasp she was! +The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidently +the Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn. + +But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now, +liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth. + +Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew no +rest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the +howling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in +a day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and +filled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after +their mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth--and the +carnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and +many lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always +near; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not +at all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night. +Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them +lie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands. +His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their +tracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth. + +One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds +rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold +wind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect. + +"Wolf!" called Mescal. + +The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told +of an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence. + +"Chus--chus!" exclaimed Piute. + +Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars. +The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an +uproar. + +"Bear! Bear!" cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle. + +"Don't go," she implored, her hand on his arm. "Not at night--remember +Father Naab said not." + +"Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree--quick!" + +"No--no--" + +"Do as I say!" It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the +rifle, and swung her up. "Climb!" + +"No--don't go--Jack!" + +With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness. + + + +VI +THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + + +Piute's Indian sense of the advantage of position in attack stood Jack in +good stead; he led him up the ledge which overhung one end of the corral. +In the pale starlight the sheep could be seen running in bands, massing +together, crowding the fence; their cries made a deafening dm. + +The Indian shouted, but Jack could not understand him. A large black +object was visible in the shade of the ledge. Piute fired his carbine. +Before Jack could bring his rifle up the black thing moved into +startlingly rapid flight. Then spouts of red flame illumined the corral. +As he shot, Jack got fleeting glimpses of the bear moving like a dark +streak against a blur of white. For all he could tell no bullet took +effect. + +When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the +corral. He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their +surprise, found none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken +it with him; and estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in +the fence, he could easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the +break and returned to camp. + +"He's gone, Mescal. Come down," called Jack into the cedar. "Let me +help you--there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the +flashes from the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how +fast he could run." + +Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws. + +"He nipped the brute, that's sure," said Jack. "Good dog! Maybe he kept +the bear from-- Why Mescal! you're white--you're shaking. There's no +danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf." + +Mescal went silently into her tent. + +The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The +dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up, +hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow +whitened the cedars. After breakfast Jack tried to get Wolf to take the +track of the grizzly, but the scent had cooled. + +Next day Mescal drove the sheep eastward toward the crags, and about the +middle of the afternoon reached the edge of the slope. Grass grew +luxuriantly and it was easy to keep the sheep in. Moreover, that part of +the forest had fewer trees, and scarcely any sage or thickets, so that +the lambs were safer, barring danger which might lurk in the seamed and +cracked cliffs overshadowing the open grassy plots. Piute's task at the +moment was to drag dead coyotes to the rim, near at hand, and throw them +over. Mescal rested on a stone, and Wolf reclined at her feet. + +Jack presently found a fresh deer track, and trailed it into the cedars, +then up the slope to where the huge rocks massed. + +Suddenly a cry from Mescal halted him; another, a piercing scream of +mortal fright, sent him flying down the slope. He bounded out of the +cedars into the open. + +The white, well-bunched flock had spread, and streams of jumping sheep +fled frantically from an enormous silver-backed bear. + +As the bear struck right and left, a brute-engine of destruction, Jack +sent a bullet into him at long range. Stung, the grizzly whirled, bit at +his side, and then reared with a roar of fury. + +But he did not see Jack. He dropped down and launched his huge bulk for +Mescal. The blood rushed back to Jack's heart, and his empty veins +seemed to freeze. + +The grizzly hurdled the streams of sheep. Terror for Mescal dominated +Jack; if he had possessed wings he could not have flown quickly enough to +head the bear. Checking himself with a suddenness that fetched him to +his knees, he levelled the rifle. It waved as if it were a stick of +willow. The bead-sight described a blurred curve round the bear. Yet he +shot--in vain--again--in vain. + +Above the bleat of sheep and trample of many hoofs rang out Mescal's cry, +despairing. + +She had turned, her hands over her breast. Wolf spread his legs before +her and crouched to spring, mane erect, jaws wide. + +By some lightning flash of memory, August Naab's words steadied Jack's +shaken nerves. He aimed low and ahead of the running bear. Down the +beast went in a sliding sprawl with a muffled roar of rage. Up he +sprang, dangling a useless leg, yet leaping swiftly forward. One blow +sent the attacking dog aside. Jack fired again. The bear became a +wrestling, fiery demon, death-stricken, but full of savage fury. Jack +aimed low and shot again. + +Slowly now the grizzly reared, his frosted coat blood-flecked, his great +head swaying. Another shot. There was one wide sweep of the huge paw, +and then the bear sank forward, drooping slowly, and stretched all his +length as if to rest. + +Mescal, recalled to life, staggered backward. Between her and the +outstretched paw was the distance of one short stride. + +Jack, bounding up, made sure the bear was dead before he looked at +Mescal. She was faint. Wolf whined about her. Piute came running from +the cedars. Her eyes were still fixed in a look of fear. + +"I couldn't run--I couldn't move," she said, shuddering. A blush drove +the white from her cheeks as she raised her face to Jack." He'd soon +have reached me." + +Piute added his encomium: "Damn--heap big bear-- Jack kill um--big +chief!" + +Hare laughed away his own fear and turned their attention to the +stampeded sheep. It was dark before they got the flock together again, +and they never knew whether they had found them all. Supper-time was +unusually quiet that night. Piute was jovial, but no one appeared +willing to talk save the peon, and he could only grimace. The reaction +of feeling following Mescal's escape had robbed Jack of strength of +voice; he could scarcely whisper. Mescal spoke no word; her black lashes +hid her eyes; she was silent, but there was that in her silence which was +eloquent. Wolf, always indifferent save to Mescal, reacted to the subtle +change, and as if to make amends laid his head on Jack's knees. The +quiet hour round the camp-fire passed, and sleep claimed them. Another +day dawned, awakening them fresh, faithful to their duties, regardless of +what had gone before. + +So the days slipped by. June came, with more leisure for the shepherds, +better grazing for the sheep, heavier dews, lighter frosts, snow-squalls +half rain, and bursting blossoms on the prickly thorns, wild-primrose +patches in every shady spot, and bluebells lifting wan azure faces to the +sun. + +The last snow-storm of June threatened all one morning; hung menacing +over the yellow crags, in dull lead clouds waiting for the wind. Then +like ships heaving anchor to a single command they sailed down off the +heights; and the cedar forest became the centre of a blinding, eddying +storm. The flakes were as large as feathers, moist, almost warm. The +low cedars changed to mounds of white; the sheep became drooping curves +of snow; the little lambs were lost in the color of their own pure +fleece. Though the storm had been long in coming it was brief in +passing. Wind-driven toward the desert, it moaned its last in the +cedars, and swept away, a sheeted pall. Out over the Canyon it floated, +trailing long veils of white that thinned out, darkened, and failed far +above the golden desert. The winding columns of snow merged into +straight lines of leaden rain; the rain flowed into vapory mist, and the +mist cleared in the gold-red glare of endless level and slope. No +moisture reached the parched desert. + +Jack marched into camp with a snowy burden over his shoulder. He flung +it down, disclosing a small deer; then he shook the white mantle from his +coat, and whistling, kicked the fire-logs, and looked abroad at the +silver cedars, now dripping under the sun, at the rainbows in the +settling mists, at the rapidly melting snow on the ground. + +"Got lost in that squall. Fine! Fine!" he exclaimed, and threw wide his +arms. + +"Jack!" said Mescal. "Jack!" Memory had revived some forgotten thing. +The dark olive of her skin crimsoned; her eyes dilated and shadowed with +a rare change of emotion. + +"Jack," she repeated. + +"Well?" he replied, in surprise. + +"To look at you!--I never dreamed--I'd forgotten--" + +"What's the matter with me?" demanded Jack. + +Wonderingly, her mind on the past, she replied: "You were dying when we +found you at White Sage." + +He drew himself up with a sharp catch in his breath, and stared at her as +if he saw a ghost. + +"Oh--Jack! You're going to get well!" + +Her lips curved in a smile. + +For an instant Jack Hare spent his soul in searching her face for truth. +While waiting for death he had utterly forgotten it; he remembered now, +when life gleamed in the girl's dark eyes. Passionate joy flooded his +heart. + +"Mescal--Mescal!" he cried, brokenly. The eyes were true that shed this +sudden light on him; glad and sweet were the lips that bade him hope and +live again. Blindly, instinctively he kissed them--a kiss unutterably +grateful; then he fled into the forest, running without aim. + +That flight ended in sheer exhaustion on the far rim of the plateau. The +spreading cedars seemed to have eyes; and he shunned eyes in this hour. +"God! to think I cared so much," he whispered. "What has happened?" With +time relief came to limbs, to labored breast and lungs, but not to mind. +In doubt that would not die, he looked at himself. The leanness of arms, +the flat chest, the hollows were gone. He did not recognize his own +body. He breathed to the depths of his lungs. No pain--only ex- +hilaration! He pounded his chest--no pain! He dug his trembling fingers +into the firm flesh over the apex of his right lung--the place of his +torture--no pain! + +"I wanted to live!" he cried. He buried his face in the fragrant +juniper; he rolled on the soft brown mat of earth and hugged it close; he +cooled his hot cheeks in the primrose clusters. He opened his eyes to +new bright green of cedar, to sky of a richer blue, to a desert, strange, +beckoning, enthralling as life itself. He counted backward a month, two +months, and marvelled at the swiftness of time. He counted time forward, +he looked into the future, and all was beautiful--long days, long hunts, +long rides, service to his friend, freedom on the wild steppes, +blue-white dawns upon the eastern crags, red-gold sunsets over the lilac +mountains of the desert. He saw himself in triumphant health and +strength, earning day by day the spirit of this wilderness, coming to +fight for it, to live for it, and in far-off time, when he had won his +victory, to die for it. + +Suddenly his mind was illumined. The lofty plateau with its healing +breath of sage and juniper had given back strength to him; the silence +and solitude and strife of his surroundings had called to something deep +within him; but it was Mescal who made this wild life sweet and +significant. It was Mescal, the embodiment of the desert spirit. Like a +man facing a great light Hare divined his love. Through all the days on +the plateau, living with her the natural free life of Indians, close to +the earth, his unconscious love had ripened. He understood now her charm +for him; he knew now the lure of her wonderful eyes, flashing fire, +desert-trained, like the falcon eyes of her Indian grandfather. The +knowledge of what she had become to him dawned with a mounting desire +that thrilled all his blood. + +Twilight had enfolded the plateau when Hare traced his way back to camp. +Mescal was not there. His supper awaited him; Piute hummed a song; the +peon sat grimacing at the fire. Hare told them to eat, and moved away +toward the rim. + +Mescal was at her favorite seat, with the white dog beside her; and she +watched the desert where the last glow of sunset gilded the mesas. How +cold and calm was her face! How strange to him in this new character! + +"Mescal, I didn't know I loved you--then--but I know it now." + +Her face dropped quickly from its level poise, hiding the brooding eyes; +her hand trembled on Wolf's head. + +"You spoke the truth. I'll get well. I'd rather have had it from your +lips than from any in the world. I mean to live my life here where these +wonderful things have come to me. The friendship of the good man who +saved me, this wild, free desert, the glory of new hope, strength, life-- +and love." + +He took her hand in his and whispered, "For I love you. Do you care for +me? Mescal! It must be complete. Do you care--a little?" + +The wind blew her dusky hair; he could not see her face; he tried gently +to turn her to him. The hand he had taken lay warm and trembling in his, +but it was not withdrawn. As he waited, in fear, in hope, it became +still. Her slender form, rigid within his arm, gradually relaxed, and +yielded to him; her face sank on his breast, and her dark hair loosened +from its band, covered her, and blew across his lips. That was his +answer. + +The wind sang in the cedars. No longer a sigh, sad as thoughts of a past +forever flown, but a song of what had come to him, of hope, of life, of +Mescal's love, of the things to be! + + + +VII +SILVERMANE + + +Little dew fell on the night of July first; the dawn brightened without +mists; a hot sun rose; the short summer of the plateau had begun. + +As Hare rose, refreshed and happy from his breakfast, his whistle was cut +short by the Indian. + +"Ugh!" exclaimed Piute, lifting a dark finger. Black Bolly had thrown +her nose-bag and slipped her halter, and she moved toward the opening in +the cedars, her head high, her black ears straight up. + +"Bolly!" called Mescal. The mare did not stop. + +"What the deuce?" Hare ran forward to catch her. + +"I never knew Bolly to act that way," said Mescal. "See--she didn't eat +half the oats. Well, Bolly--Jack! look at Wolfl" + +The white dog had risen and stood warily shifting his nose. He sniffed +the wind, turned round and round, and slowly stiffened with his head +pointed toward the eastern rise of the plateau. + +"Hold, Wolf, hold!" called Mescal, as the dog appeared to be about to +dash away. + +"Ugh!" grunted Piute. + +"Listen, Jack; did you hear?" whispered the girl. + +"Hear what?" + +"Listen." + +The warm breeze came down in puffs from the crags; it rustled in the +cedars and blew fragrant whiffs of camp-fire smoke into his face; and +presently it bore a low, prolonged whistle. He had never before heard +its like. The sound broke the silence again, clearer, a keen, sharp +whistle. + +"What is it?" he queried, reaching for his rifle. + +"Wild mustangs," said Mescal. + +"No," corrected Piute, vehemently shaking his head. "Clea, Clea." + +"Jack, he says 'horse, horse.' It's a wild horse." + +A third time the whistle rang down from the ridge, splitting the air, +strong and trenchant, the fiery, shrill challenge of a stallion. + +Black Bolly reared straight up. + +Jack ran to the rise of ground above the camp, and looked over the +cedars." Oh!" he cried, and beckoned for Mescal. She ran to him, and +Piute, tying Black Bolly, hurried after. "Look! look!" cried Jack. He +pointed to a ridge rising to the left of the yellow crags. On the bare +summit stood a splendid stallion clearly silhouetted against the ruddy +morning sky. He was an iron-gray, wild and proud, with long silver-white +mane waving in the wind. + +"Silvermane! Silvermane!" exclaimed Mescal. + +"What a magnificent animal!" Jack stared at the splendid picture for the +moment before the horse moved back along the ridge and disappeared. +Other horses, blacks and bays, showed above the sage for a moment, and +they, too, passed out of sight. + +"He's got some of his band with him," said Jack, thrilled with +excitement. "Mescal, they're down off the upper range, and grazing along +easy. The wind favors us. That whistle was just plain fight, judging +from what Naab told me of wild stallions. He came to the hilltop, and +whistled down defiance to any horse, wild or tame, that might be below. +I'll slip round through the cedars, and block the trail leading up to the +other range, and you and Piute close the gate of our trail at this end. +Then send Piute down to tell Naab we've got Silvermane." + +Jack chose the lowest edge of the plateau rim where the cedars were +thickest for his detour to get behind the wild band; he ran from tree to +tree, avoiding the open places, taking advantage of the thickets, keeping +away from the ridge. He had never gone so far as the gate, but, knowing +where the trail led into a split in the crags, he climbed the slope, and +threaded a way over masses of fallen cliff, until he reached the base of +the wall. The tracks of the wildhorse band were very fresh and plain in +the yellow trail. Four stout posts guarded the opening, and a number of +bars lay ready to be pushed into place. He put them up, making a gate +ten feet high, an impregnable barrier. This done, he hurried back to +camp. + +"Jack, Bolly will need more watching to-day than the sheep, unless I let +her loose. Why, she pulls and strains so she'll break that halter." + +"She wants to go with the band; isn't that it?" + +"I don't like to think so. But Father Naab doesn't trust Bolly, though +she's the best mustang he ever broke." + +"Better keep her in," replied Jack, remembering Naab's warning. "I'll +hobble her, so if she does break loose she can't go far." + +When Mescal and Jack drove in the sheep that afternoon, rather earlier +than usual, Piute had returned with August Naab, Dave, and Billy, a +string of mustangs and a pack-train of burros. + +"Hello, Mescal," cheerily called August, as they came into camp. "Well +Jack--bless me! Why, my lad, how fine and brown--and yes, how you've +filled out!" He crushed Jack's hand in his broad palm, and his gray eyes +beamed. "I've not the gift of revelation--but, Jack, you're going to get +well." + +"Yes, I--" He had difficulty with his enunciation, but he thumped his +breast significantly and smiled. + +"Black sage and juniper!" exclaimed August. "In this air if a man +doesn't go off quickly with pneumonia, he'll get well. I never had a +doubt for you, Jack--and thank God!" + +He questioned Piute and Mescal about the sheep, and was greatly pleased +with their report. He shook his head when Jack spread out the +grizzly-pelt, and asked for the story of the killing. Jack made a poor +showing with the tale and slighted his share in it, but Mescal told it as +it actually happened. And Naab's great hand resounded from Jack's +shoulder. Then, catching sight of the pile of coyote skins under the +stone shelf, he gave vent to his surprise and delight. Then he came back +to the object of his trip upon the plateau. + +"So you've corralled Silvermane? Well, Jack, if he doesn't jump over the +cliff he's ours. He can't get off any other way. How many horses with +him?" + +"We had no chance to count. I saw at least twelve." + +"Good! He's out with his picked band. Weren't they all blacks and +bays?" + +"Yes." + +"Jack, the history of that stallion wouldn't make you proud of him. +We've corralled him by a lucky chance. If I don't miss my guess he's +after Bolly. He has been a lot of trouble to ranchers all the way from +the Nevada line across Utah. The stallions he's killed, the mares he's +led off! Well, Dave, shall we thirst him out, or line up a long corral?" + +"Better have a look around to-morrow," replied Dave." It '11 take a lot +of chasing to run him down, but there's not a spring on the bench where +we can throw up a trap-corral. We'll have to chase him." + +"Mescal, has Bolly been good since Silvermane came down?" + +"No, she hasn't," declared Mescal, and told of the circumstance. + +"Bolly's all right," said Billy Naab." Any mustang will do that. Keep +her belled and hobbled." + +"Silvermane would care a lot about that, if he wanted Bolly, wouldn't +he?" queried Dave in quiet scorn." Keep her roped and haltered, I say." + +"Dave's right," said August. "You can't trust a wild mustang any more +than a wild horse." + +August was right. Black Bolly broke her halter about midnight and +escaped into the forest, hobbled as she was. The Indian heard her first, +and he awoke August, who aroused the others. + +"Don't make any noise," he said, as Jack came up, throwing on his coat. +"There's likely to be some fun here presently. Bolly's loose, broke her +rope, and I think Silvermane is close. Listen sharp now." + +The slight breeze favored them, the camp-fire was dead, and the night was +clear and starlit. They had not been quiet many moments when the shrill +neigh of a mustang rang out. The Naabs raised themselves and looked at +one another in the starlight. + +"Now what do you think of that?" whispered Billy. + +"No more than I expected. It was Bolly," replied Dave. + +"Bolly it was, confound her black hide!" added August. "Now, boys, did +she whistle for Silvermane, or to warn him, which?" + +"No telling," answered Billy. "Let's lie low, and take a chance on him +coming close. It proves one thing--you can't break a wild mare. That +spirit may sleep in her blood, maybe for years, but some time it'11 +answer to--" + +"Shut up--listen," interrupted Dave. + +Jack strained his hearing, yet caught no sound, except the distant yelp +of a coyote. Moments went by. + +"There!" whispered Dave. + +>From the direction of the ridge came the faint rattling of stones. + +"They're coming," put in Billy. + +Presently sharp clicks preceded the rattles, and the sounds began to +merge into a regular rhythmic tramp. It softened at intervals, probably +when the horses were under the cedars, and strengthened as they came out +on the harder ground of the open. + +"I see them," whispered Dave. + +A black, undulating line wound out of the cedars, a line of horses +approaching with drooping heads, hurrying a little as they neared the +spring. + +"Twenty-odd, all blacks and bays," said August, "and some of them are +mustangs. But where's Silvermane?-- hark!" + +Out among the cedars rose the peculiar halting thump of a hobbled horse +trying to cover ground, followed by snorts and crashings of brush and the +pound of plunging hoofs. The long black line stopped short and began to +stamp. Then into the starlit glade below moved two shadows, the first a +great gray horse with snowy mane; the second, a small, shiny, black +mustang. + +"Silvermane and Bolly!" exclaimed August, "and now she's broken her +hobbles." + +The stallion, in the fulfilment of a conquest such as had made him king +of the wild ranges, was magnificent in action. Wheeling about her, +neighing, and plunging, he arched his splendid neck and pushed his head +against her. His action was that of a master. Suddenly Black Bolly +snorted and whirled down the glade. Silvermane whistled one blast of +anger or terror and thundered after her. They vanished in the gloom of +the cedars, and the band of frightened horses and mustangs clattered +after them. + +"It's one on me," remarked Billy. "That little mare played us at the +finish. Caught when she was a yearling, broken better than any mustang +we ever had, she has helped us run down many a stallion, and now she runs +off with that big white-maned brute!" + +"They'll make a team, and if they get out of here we'll have to chase +them to the Great Salt Basin," replied Dave. + +"Mescal, that's a well-behaved mustang of yours," said August; "not only +did she break loose, but she whistled an alarm to Silvermane and his +band. Well, roll in now, everybody, and sleep." + +At breakfast the following day the Naabs fell into a discussion upon the +possibility of there being other means of exit from the plateau than the +two trails already closed. They had never run any mustangs on the +plateau, and in the case of a wild horse like Silvermane, who would take +desperate chances, it was advisable to know the ground exactly. Billy +and Dave taking their mounts from the sheep-corral, where they had put +them up for the night, rode in opposite directions around the rim of the +plateau. It was triangular in shape, and some six or seven miles in +circumference; and the brothers rode around it in less than an hour. + +"Corralled," said Dave, laconically. + +"Good! Did you see him? What kind of a bunch has he with him?" asked his +father. + +"If we get the pick of the lot it will be worth two weeks' work," replied +Dave." I saw him, and Bolly, too. I believe we can catch her easily. +She was off from the bunch, and it looks as though the mares were +jealous. I think we can run her into a cove under the wall, and get her. +Then Mescal can help us run down the stallion. And you can look out on +this end for the best level stretch to drop the line of cedars and make +our trap." + +The brothers, at their father's nod, rode off into the forest. Naab had +detained the peon, and now gave him orders and sent him off. + +"To-night you can stand on the rim here, and watch him signal across to +the top of Echo Cliffs to the Navajos," explained August to Jack. "I've +sent for the best breaker of wild mustangs on the desert. Dave can break +mustangs, and Piute is very good; but I want the best man in the country, +because this is a grand horse, and I intend to give him to you." + +"To me!" exclaimed Hare. + +"Yes, and if he's broken right at the start, he'll serve you faithfully, +and not try to bite your arm off every day, or kick your brains out. No +white man can break a wild mustang to the best advantage." + +"Why is that?" + +"I don't know. To be truthful, I have an idea it's bad temper and lack +of patience. Just wait till you see this Navajo go at Silvermane!" + +After Mescal and Piute drove down the sheep, Jack accompanied Naab to the +corral. + +"I've brought up your saddle," said Naab, "and you can put it on any +mustang here." + +What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength to +remain there! He rode with August all over the western end of the +plateau. They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the +bordering forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and +when August had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction. + +"Fine, better than I hoped for! This stretch is about a mile long, and +narrow at this end. Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, +this side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it +curves in a half circle, which will save us work. We'll cut cedars, drag +them in line, and make a big corral against the rock. From the opening +in the corral we'll build two fences of trees; then we'll chase +Silvermane till he's done, run him down into this level, and turn him +inside the fence. No horse can break through a close line of cedars. +He'll run till he's m the corral, and then we'll rope him." + +"Great!" said Jack, all enthusiasm. "But isn't it going to take a lot of +work?" + +"Rather," said August, dryly. "It'll take a week to cut and drag the +cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion. When the finish comes +you want to be on that ledge where we'll have the corral." + +They returned to camp and prepared supper. Mescal and Piute soon +arrived, and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs. Black Bolly +limped behind, stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, +foam-stained coat and hanging head. + +"Not bad," said August, examining the lame leg." She'll be fit in a few +days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane. Bring the +liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral +to-night." + +Mescal's love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out +the crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck. + +"Bolly, to think you'd do it!" And Bolly dropped her head as though +really ashamed. + +When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals. A fire +blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and +flamed higher. + +"Ugh!" said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs. + +"Of course he'd see it first," laughed Naab. "Dave, have you caught it +yet? Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs." + +"No, I don't see any light, except that white star. Have you seen it?" + +"Long ago," replied Naab. "Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your +eyes down." + +"I believe I see it--yes, I'm sure." + +"Good. How about you, Mescal?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, +and Billy claimed priority to all of them. To these men bred on the +desert keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts. + +"Jack, look sharp!" said August. "Peon is blanketing his fire. See the +flicker? One, two--one, two--one. Now for the answer." + +Jack peered out into the shadowy space, star-studded above, ebony below. +Far across the depths shone a pinpoint of steady light. The Indian +grunted again, August vented his "ha!" and then Jack saw the light blink +like a star, go out for a second, and blink again. + +"That's what I like to see," said August. "We're answered. Now all's +over but the work." + +Work it certainly was, as Jack discovered next day. He helped the +brothers cut down cedars while August hauled them into line with his +roan. What with this labor and the necessary camp duties nearly a week +passed, and in the mean time Black Bolly recovered from her lameness. + +Twice the workers saw Silvermane standing on open high ridges, restive +and suspicious, with his silver mane flying, and his head turned over his +shoulder, watching, always watching. + +"It'd be worth something to find out how long that stallion could go +without water," commented Dave. "But we'll make his tongue hang out +to-morrow. It'd serve him right to break him with Black Bolly." + +Daylight came warm and misty; veils unrolled from the desert; a purple +curtain lifted from the eastern crags; then the red sun burned. + +Dave and Billy Naab mounted their mustangs, and each led another mount by +a halter. + +"We'll go to the ridge, cut Silvermane out of his band and warm him up; +then we'll drive him down to this end." + +Hare, in his eagerness, found the time very tedious while August delayed +about camp, punching new holes in his saddle-girth, shortening his +stirrups, and smoothing kinks out of his lasso. At last he saddled the +roan, and also Black Bolly. Mescal came out of her tent ready for the +chase; she wore a short skirt of buckskin, and leggings of the same +material. Her hair, braided, and fastened at the back, was bound by a +double band closely fitting her black head. Hare walked, leading two +mustangs by the halters, and Naab and Mescal rode, each of them followed +by two other spare mounts. August tied three mustangs at one point along +the level stretch, and three at another. Then he led Mescal and Jack to +the top of the stone wall above the corral, where they had good view of a +considerable part of the plateau. + +The eastern rise of ground, a sage and juniper slope, was in plain sight. +Hare saw a white flash; then Silvermane broke out of the cedars into the +sage. One of the brothers raced him half the length of the slope, and +then the other coming out headed him off down toward the forest. Soon +the pounding of hoofs sounded through the trees nearer and nearer. +Silvermane came out straight ahead on the open level. He was running +easily. + +"He hasn't opened up yet," said August. + +Hare watched the stallion with sheer fascination; He ran seemingly +without effort. What a stride he had. how beautifully his silver mane +waved in the wind! He veered off to the left, out of sight in the brush, +while Dave and Billy galloped up to the spot where August had tied the +first three mustangs. Here they dismounted, changed saddles to fresh +horses, and were off again. + +The chase now was close and all down-hill for the watchers. Silvermane +twinkled in and out among the cedars, and suddenly stopped short on the +rim. He wheeled and coursed away toward the crags, and vanished. But +soon he reappeared, for Billy had cut across and faced him about. Again +he struck the level stretch. Dave was there in front of him. He shot +away to the left, and flashed through the glades beyond. The brothers +saved their steeds, content to keep him cornered in that end of the +plateau. Then August spurred his roan into the scene of action. +Silvermane came out on the one piece of rising ground beyond the level, +and stood looking backward toward the brothers. When the great roan +crashed through the thickets into his sight he leaped as if he had been +stung, and plunged away. + +The Naabs had hemmed him in a triangle, Dave and Billy at the broad end, +August at the apex, and now the real race began. August chased him up +and down, along the rim, across to the long line of cedars, always in the +end heading him for the open stretch. Down this he fled with flying +mane, only to be checked by the relentless brothers. To cover this broad +end of the open required riding the like of which Hare had never dreamed +of. The brothers, taking advantage of the brief periods when the +stallion was going toward August, changed their tired mustangs for fresh +ones. + +"Ho! Mescal!" rolled out August's voice. That was the call for Mescal to +put Black Bolly after Silvermane. Her fleetness made the other mustangs +seem slow. All in a flash she was round the corral, with Silvermane +between her and the long fence of cedars. Uttering a piercing snort of +terror the gray stallion lunged out, for the first time panic-stricken, +and lengthened his stride in a wonderful way. He raced down the stretch +with his head over his shoulder watching the little black. Seeing her +gaining, he burst into desperate headlong flight. He saved nothing; he +had found his match; he won that first race down the level but it had +cost him his best. If he had been fresh he might have left Black Bolly +far behind, but now he could not elude her. + +August Naab let him run this time, and Silvermane, keeping close to the +fence, passed the gate, ran down to the rim, and wheeled. The black +mustang was on him again, holding him in close to the fence, driving him +back down the stretch. + +The brothers remorselessly turned him, and now Mescal, forcing the +running, caught him, lashed his haunches with her whip, and drove him +into the gate of the corral. + +August and his two sons were close behind, and blocked the gate. +Silvermane's race was nearly run. + +"Hold here, boys," said August. "I'll go in and drive him round and +round till he's done, then, when I yell, you stand aside and rope him as +he comes out." + +Silvermane ran round the corral, tore at the steep scaly walls, fell back +and began his weary round again and yet again. Then as sense and courage +yielded gradually to unreasoning terror, he ran blindly; every time he +passed the guarded gateway his eyes were wilder, and his stride more +labored. + +"Now!" yelled August Naab. + +Mescal drew out of the opening, and Dave and Billy pulled away, one on +each side, their lassoes swinging loosely. + +Silvermane sprang for the opening with something of his old speed. As he +went through, yellow loops flashed in the sun, circling, narrowing, and +he seemed to run straight into them. One loop whipped close round his +glossy neck; the other caught his head. Dave's mustang staggered under +the violent shock, went to his knees, struggled up and held firmly. +Bill's mount slid on his haunches and spilled his rider from the saddle. +Silvermane seemed to be climbing into the air. Then August Naab, darting +through the gate in a cloud of dust, shot his lasso, catching the right +foreleg. Silvermane landed hard, his hoofs striking fire from the +stones; and for an instant strained in convulsive struggle; then fell +heaving and groaning. In a twinkling Billy loosened his lasso over a +knot, making of it a halter, and tied the end to a cedar stump. + +The Naabs stood back and gazed at their prize. + +Silvermane was badly spent; he was wet with foam, but no fleck of blood +marred his mane; his superb coat showed scratches, but none cut into the +flesh. After a while he rose, panting heavily, and trembling in every +muscle. He was a beaten horse; the noble head was bowed; yet he showed +no viciousness, only the fear of a trapped animal. He eyed Black Bolly +and then the halter, as though he had divined the fatal connection +between them. +
+ +VIII +THE BREAKER OF WILD MUSTANGS + + +FOR a few days after the capture of Silvermane, a time full to the brim +of excitement for Hare, he had no word with Mescal, save for morning and +evening greetings. When he did come to seek her, with a purpose which +had grown more impelling since August Naab's arrival, he learned to his +bewilderment that she avoided him. She gave him no chance to speak with +her alone; her accustomed resting-place on the rim at sunset knew her no +more; early after supper she retired to her tent. + +Hare nursed a grievance for forty-eight hours, and then, taking advantage +of Piute's absence on an errand down to the farm, and of the Naabs' +strenuous day with four vicious wild horses in the corral at one time, he +walked out to the pasture where Mescal shepherded the flock. + +"Mescal, why are you avoiding me?" he asked. "What has happened?" + +She looked tired and unhappy, and her gaze, instead of meeting his, +wandered to the crags. + +"Nothing," she replied. + +"But there must be something. You have given me no chance to talk to +you, and I wanted to know if you'd let me speak to Father Naab." + +"To Father Naab? Why--what about?" + +"About you, of course--and me--that I love you and want to marry you." + +She turned white. "No--no!" + +Hare paused blankly, not so much at her refusal as at the unmistakable +fear in her face. + +"Why--not?" he asked presently, with an odd sense of trouble. There was +more here than Mescal's habitual shyness. + +"Because he'll be terribly angry." + +"Angry--I don't understand. Why angry?" + +The girl did not answer, and looked so forlorn that Hare attempted to +take her in his arms. She resisted and broke from him. + +"You must never--never do that again." + +Hare drew back sharply. + +"Why not? What's wrong? You must tell me, Mescal." + +"I remembered." She hung her head. + +"Remembered--what?" + +"I am pledged to marry Father Naab's eldest son." + +For a moment Hare did not understand. He stared at her unbelievingly. + +"What did you say?" he asked, slowly. + +Mescal repeated her words in a whisper. + +"But--but Mescal--I love you. You let me kiss you," said Hare stupidly, +as if he did not grasp her meaning. "You let me kiss you," he repeated. + +"Oh, Jack, I forgot," she wailed. "It was so new, so strange, to have +you up here. It was like a kind of dream. And after--after you kissed +me I--I found out--" + +"What, Mescal?" + +Her silence answered him. + +"But, Mescal, if you really love me you can't marry any one else," said +Hare. It was the simple persistence of a simple swain. + +"Oh, you don't know, you don't know. It's impossible!" + +"Impossible!" Hare's anger flared up. "You let me believe I had won you. +What kind of a girl are you? You were not true. Your actions were +lies." + +"Not lies," she faltered, and turned her face from him. + +With no gentle hand he grasped her arm and forced her to look at him. +But the misery in her eyes overcame him, and he roughly threw his arms +around her and held her close. + +"It can't be a lie. You do care for me--love me. Look at me." He drew +her head back from his breast. Her face was pale and drawn; her eyes +closed tight, with tears forcing a way out under the long lashes; her +lips were parted. He bowed to their sweet nearness; he kissed them again +and again, while the shade of the cedars seemed to whirl about him. "I +love you, Mescal. You are mine--I will have you--I will keep you--I will +not let him have you!" + +She vibrated to that like a keen strung wire under a strong touch. All +in a flash the trembling, shame-stricken girl was transformed. She +leaned back in his arms, supple, pliant with quivering life, and for the +first time gave him wide-open level eyes, in which there were now no +tears, no shyness, no fear, but a dark smouldering fire. + +"You do love me, Mescal?" + +"I--I couldn't help it." + +There was a pause, tense with feeling. + +"Mescal, tell me--about your being pledged," he said, at last. + +"I gave him my promise because there was nothing else to do. I was +pledged to--to him in the church at White Sage. It can't be changed. +I've got to marry--Father Naab's eldest son." + +"Eldest son?" echoed Jack, suddenly mindful of the implication. "Why! +that's Snap Naab. Ah! I begin to see light. That--Mescal--" + +"I hate him." + +"You hate him and you're pledged to marry him! ... God! Mescal, I'd +utterly forgotten Snap Naab already has a wife." + +"You've also forgotten that we're Mormons." + +"Are you a Mormon?" he queried bluntly. + +"I've been raised as one." + +"That's not an answer. Are you one? Do you believe any man under God's
+sky ought to have more than one wife at a time?" + +"No. But I've been taught that it gave woman greater glory in heaven. +There have been men here before you, men who talked to me, and I doubted +before I ever saw you. And afterward--I knew." + +"Would not Father Naab release you?" + +"Release me? Why, he would have taken me as a wife for himself but for +Mother Mary. She hates me. So he pledged me to Snap." + +"Does August Naab love you?" + +"Love me? No. Not in the way you mean--perhaps as a daughter. But +Mormons teach duty to church first, and say such love comes--to the +wives--afterward. But it doesn't--not in the women I've seen. There's +Mother Ruth--her heart is broken. She loves me, and I can tell." + +"When was this--this marriage to be?" + +"I don't know. Father Naab promised me to his son when he came home from +the Navajo range. It would be soon if they found out that you and I-- +Jack, Snap Naab would kill you!" + +The sudden thought startled the girl. Her eyes betrayed her terror. + +"I mightn't be so easy to kill," said Hare, darkly. The words came +unbidden, his first answer to the wild influences about him. "Mescal, +I'm sorry--maybe I've brought you unhappiness. + +"No. No. To be with you has been like sitting there on the rim watching +the desert, the greatest happiness I have ever known. I used to love to +be with the children, but Mother Mary forbade. When I am down there, +which is seldom, I'm not allowed to play with the children any more.' + +"What can I do?" asked Hare, passionately. + +"Don't speak to Father Naab. Don't let him guess. Don't leave me here +alone," she answered low. It was not the Navajo speaking in her now. +Love had sounded depths hitherto unplumbed; a quick, soft impulsiveness +made the contrast sharp and vivid. + +"How can I help but leave you if he wants me on the cattle ranges?" + +"I don't know. You must think. He has been so pleased with what you've +done. He's had Mormons up here, and two men not of his Church, and they +did nothing. You've been ill, besides you're different. He will keep me +with the sheep as long as he can, for two reasons--because I drive them +best, he says, and because Snap Naab's wife must be persuaded to welcome +me in her home." + +"I'll stay, if I have to get a relapse and go down on my back again," +declared Jack. "I hate to deceive him, but Mescal, pledged or not--I +love you, and I won't give up hope." + +Her hands flew to her face again and tried to hide the dark blush. + +"Mescal, there's one question I wish you'd answer. Does August Naab +think he'll make a Mormon of me? Is that the secret of his wonderful +kindness?" + +"Of course he believes he'll make a Mormon of you. That's his religion. +He's felt that way over all the strangers who ever came out here. But +he'd be the same to them without his hopes. I don't know the secret of +his kindness, but I think he loves everybody and everything. And Jack, +he's so good. I owe him all my life. He would not let the Navajos take +me; he raised me, kept me, taught me. I can't break my promise to him. +He's been a father to me, and I love him." + +"I think I love him, too," replied Hare, simply. + +With an effort he left her at last and mounted the grassy slope and +climbed high up among the tottering yellow crags; and there he battled +with himself. Whatever the charm of Mescal's surrender, and the +insistence of his love, stern hammer-strokes of fairness, duty, honor, +beat into his brain his debt to the man who had saved him. It was a +long-drawn-out battle not to be won merely by saying right was right. He +loved Mescal, she loved him; and something born in him with his new +health, with the breath of this sage and juniper forest, with the sight +of purple canyons and silent beckoning desert, made him fiercely tena- +cious of all that life had come to mean for him. He could not give her +up--and yet-- + +Twilight forced Hare from his lofty retreat, and he trod his way +campward, weary and jaded, but victorious over himself. He thought he +had renounced his hope of Mescal; he returned with a resolve to be true +to August, and to himself; bitterness he would not allow himself to feel. +And yet he feared the rising in him of a new spirit akin to that of the +desert itself, intractable and free. + +"Well, Jack, we rode down the last of Silvermane's band," said August, at +supper. "The Navajos came up and helped us out. To-morrow you'll see +some fun, when we start to break Silvermane. As soon as that's done I'll +go, leaving the Indians to bring the horses down when they're broken." + +"Are you going to leave Silvermane with me?" asked Jack. + +"Surely. Why, in three days, if I don't lose my guess, he'll be like a +lamb. Those desert stallions can be made into the finest kind of +saddle-horses. I've seen one or two. I want you to stay up here with +the sheep. You're getting well, you'll soon be a strapping big fellow. +Then when we drive the sheep down in the fall you can begin life on the +cattle ranges, driving wild steers. There's where you'll grow lean and +hard, like an iron bar. You'll need that horse, too, my lad." + +"Why--because he's fast?" queried Jack, quickly answering to the implied +suggestion. + +August nodded gloomily. "I haven't the gift of revelation, but I've come +to believe Martin Cole. Holderness is building an outpost for his riders +close to Seeping Springs. He has no water. If he tries to pipe my +wafer--" The pause was not a threat; it implied the Mormon's doubt of +himself. "Then Dene is on the march this way. He's driven some of +Marshall's cattle from the range next to mine. Dene got away with about +a hundred head. The barefaced robber sold them in Lund to a buying +company from Salt Lake." + +"Is he openly an outlaw, a rustler?" inquired Hare. + +"Everybody knows it, and he's finding White Sage and vicinity warmer than +it was. Every time he comes in he and his band shoot up things pretty +lively. Now the Mormons are slow to wrath. But they are awakening. All +the way from Salt Lake to the border outlaws have come in. They'll never +get the power on this desert that they had in the places from which +they've been driven. Men of the Holderness type are more to be dreaded. +He's a rancher, greedy, unscrupulous, but hard to corner in dishonesty. +Dene is only a bad man, a gun-fighter. He and all his ilk will get run +out of Utah. Did you ever hear of Plummer, John Slade, Boone Helm, any +of those bad men?"
"No."
+ +"Well, they were men to fear. Plummer was a sheriff in Idaho, a man high +in the estimation of his townspeople, but he was the leader of the most +desperate band of criminals ever known in the West; and he instigated the +murder of, or killed outright, more than one hundred men. Slade was a +bad man, fatal on the draw. Helm was a killing machine. These men all +tried Utah, and had to get out. So will Dene have to get out. But I'm +afraid there'll be warm times before that happens. When you get in the +thick of it you'll appreciate Silvermane." + +"I surely will. But I can't see that wild stallion with a saddle and a +bridle, eating oats like any common horse, and being led to water." + +"Well, he'll come to your whistle, presently, if I'm not greatly +mistaken. You must make him love you, Jack. It can be done with any +wild creature. Be gentle, but firm. Teach him to obey the slightest +touch of rein, to stand when you throw your bridle on the ground, to come +at your whistle. Always remember this. He's a desert-bred horse; he can +live on scant browse and little water. Never break him of those best +virtues in a horse. Never feed him grain if you can find a little patch +of browse; never give him a drink till he needs it. That's one-tenth as +often as a tame horse. Some day you'll be caught in the desert, and with +these qualities of endurance Silvermane will carry you out." + +Silvermane snorted defiance from the cedar corral next morning when the +Naabs, and Indians, and Hare appeared. A half-naked sinewy Navajo with a +face as changeless as a bronze mask sat astride August's blindfolded +roan, Charger. He rode bareback except for a blanket strapped upon the +horse; he carried only a long, thick halter, with a loop and a knot. +When August opened the improvised gate, with its sharp bayonet-like +branches of cedar, the Indian rode into the corral. The watchers climbed +to the knoll. Silvermane snorted a blast of fear and anger. August's +huge roan showed uneasiness; he stamped, and shook his head, as if to rid +himself of the blinders. + +Into the farthest corner of densely packed cedar boughs Silvermane +pressed himself and watched. The Indian rode around the corral, circling +closer and closer, yet appearing not to see the stallion. Many rounds he +made; closer he got, and always with the same steady gait. Silvermane +left his corner and tried another. The old unwearying round brought +Charger and the Navajo close by him. Silvermane pranced out of his +thicket of boughs; he whistled; he wheeled with his shiny hoofs lifting. +In an hour the Indian was edging the outer circle of the corral, with the +stallion pivoting in the centre, ears laid back, eyes shooting sparks, +fight in every line of him. And the circle narrowed inward. + +Suddenly the Navajo sent the roan at Silvermane and threw his halter. It +spread out like a lasso, and the loop went over the head of the stallion, +slipped to the knot and held fast, while the rope tightened. Silvermane +leaped up, forehoofs pawing the air, and his long shrill cry was neither +whistle, snort, nor screech, but all combined. He came down, missing +Charger with his hoofs, sliding off his haunches. The Indian, his bronze +muscles rippling, close-hauled on the rope, making half hitches round his +bony wrist. + +In a whirl of dust the roan drew closer to the gray, and Silvermane began +a mad race around the corral. The roan ran with him nose to nose. When +Silvermane saw he could not shake him, he opened his jaws, rolled back +his lip in an ugly snarl, his white teeth glistening, and tried to bite. +But the Indian's moccasined foot shot up under the stallion's ear and +pressed him back. Then the roan hugged Silvermane so close that half the +time the Navajo virtually rode two horses. But for the rigidity of his +arms, and the play and sudden tension of his leg-muscles, the Indian's +work would have appeared commonplace, so dexterous was he, so perfectly +at home in his dangerous seat. Suddenly he whooped and August Naab +hauled back the gate, and the two horses, neck and neck, thundered out +upon the level stretch. + +"Good!" cried August. "Let him rip now, Navvy. All over but the work, +Jack. I feared Silvermane would spear himself on some of those dead +cedar spikes in the corral. He's safe now." + +Jack watched the horses plunge at breakneck speed down the stretch, +circle at the forest edge, and come tearing back. Silvermane was pulling +the roan faster than he had ever gone in his life, but the dark Indian +kept his graceful seat. The speed slackened on the second turn, and de- +creased as, mile after mile, the imperturbable Indian held roan and gray +side to side and let them run. + +The time passed, but Hare's interest in the breaking of the stallion +never flagged. He began to understand the Indian, and to feel what the +restraint and drag must be to the horse. Never for a moment could +Silvermane elude the huge roan, the tight halter, the relentless Navajo. +Gallop fell to trot, and trot to jog, and jog to walk; and hour by hour, +without whip or spur or word, the breaker of desert mustangs drove the +wild stallion. If there were cruelty it was in his implacable slow +patience, his farsighted purpose. Silvermane would have killed himself +in an hour; he would have cut himself to pieces in one headlong dash, but +that steel arm suffered him only to wear himself out. Late that +afternoon the Navajo led a dripping, drooping, foam-lashed stallion into +the corral, tied him with the halter, and left him. + +Later Silvermane drank of the water poured into the corral trough, and +had not the strength or spirit to resent the Navajo's caressing hand on +his mane. + +Next morning the Indian rode again into the corral on blindfolded +Charger. Again he dragged Silvermane out on the level and drove him up +and down with remorseless, machine-like persistence. At noon he took him +back, tied him up, and roped him fast. Silvermane tried to rear and +kick, but the saddle went on, strapped with a flash of the dark-skinned +hands. Then again Silvermane ran the level stretch beside the giant +roan, only he carried a saddle now. At the first, he broke out with free +wild stride as if to run forever from under the hateful thing. But as +the afternoon waned he crept weariedly back to the corral. + +On the morning of the third day the Navajo went into the corral without +Charger, and roped the gray, tied him fast, and saddled him. Then he +loosed the lassoes except the one around Silvermane's neck, which he +whipped under his foreleg to draw him down. Silvermane heaved a groan +which plainly said he never wanted to rise again. Swiftly the Indian +knelt on the stallion's head; his hands flashed; there was a scream, a +click of steel on bone; and proud Silvermane jumped to his feet with a +bit between his teeth. + +The Navajo, firmly in the saddle, rose with him, and Silvermane leaped +through the corral gate, and out upon the stretch, lengthening out with +every stride, and settling into a wild, despairing burst of speed. The +white mane waved in the wind; the half-naked Navajo swayed to the motion. +Horse and rider disappeared in the cedars. + +They were gone all day. Toward night they appeared on the stretch. The +Indian rode into camp and, dismounting, handed the bridle-rein to Naab. +He spoke no word; his dark impassiveness invited no comment. Silvermane +was dust-covered and sweat-stained. His silver crest had the same proud +beauty, his neck still the splendid arch, his head the noble outline, but +his was a broken spirit. + +"Here, my lad," said August Naab, throwing the bridle-rein over Hare's +arm. "What did I say once about seeing you on a great gray horse? Ah! + +Well, take him and know this: you've the swiftest horse in this desert +country." + + + +IX +THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + + +Soon the shepherds were left to a quiet unbroken by the whistle of wild +mustangs, the whoop of hunters, the ring of iron-shod hoofs on the +stones. The scream of an eagle, the bleating of sheep, the bark of a +coyote were once more the only familiar sounds accentuating the silence +of the plateau. For Hare, time seemed to stand still. He thought but +little; his whole life was a matter of feeling from without. He rose at +dawn, never failing to see the red sun tip the eastern crags; he glowed +with the touch of cold spring-water and the morning air; he trailed +Silvermane under the cedars and thrilled when the stallion, answering his +call, thumped the ground with hobbled feet and came his way, learning day +by day to be glad at sight of his master. He rode with Mescal behind the +flock; he hunted hour by hour, crawling over the fragrant brown mats of +cedar, through the sage and juniper, up the grassy slopes. He rode back +to camp beside Mescal, drove the sheep, and put Silvermane to his +fleetest to beat Black Bolly down the level stretch where once the gray, +even with freedom at stake, had lost to the black. Then back to camp and +fire and curling blue smoke, a supper that testified to busy Piute's +farmward trips, sunset on the rim, endless changing desert, the wind in +the cedars, bright stars in the blue, and sleep--so time stood still. + +Mescal and Hare were together, or never far apart, from dawn to night. +Until the sheep were in the corral, every moment had its duty, from +camp-work and care of horses to the many problems of the flock, so that +they earned the rest on the rim-wall at sundown. Only a touch of hands +bridged the chasm between them. They never spoke of their love, of +Mescal's future, of Jack's return to hearth; a glance and a smile, +scarcely sad yet not altogether happy, was the substance of their dream. +Where Jack had once talked about the canyon and desert, he now seldom +spoke at all. From watching Mescal he had learned that to see was +enough. But there were moments when some association recalled the past +and the strangeness of the present faced him. Then he was wont to +question Mescal. + +"What are you thinking of?" he asked, curiously, interrupting their +silence. She leaned against the rocks and kept a changeless, tranquil, +unseeing gaze on the desert. The level eyes were full of thought, of +sadness, of mystery; they seemed to look afar. + +Then she turned to him with puzzled questioning look and enigmatical +reply. "Thinking?" asked her eyes. "I wasn't thinking," were her words. + +"I fancied--I don't know exactly what," he went on. "You looked so +earnest. Do you ever think of going to the Navajos?" + +"No." + +"Or across that Painted Desert to find some place you seem to know, or +see?" + +"No." + +"I don't know why, but, Mescal, sometimes I have the queerest ideas when +I catch your eyes watching, watching. You look at once happy and sad. +You see something out there that I can't see. Your eyes are haunted. +I've a feeling that if I'd look into them I'd see the sun setting, the +clouds coloring, the twilight shadows changing; and then back of that the +secret of it all--of you--Oh! I can't explain, but it seems so." + +"I never had a secret, except the one you know," she answered." You ask +me so often what I think about, and you always ask me when we're here." +She was silent for a pause. "I don't think at all tilt you make me. +It's beautiful out there. But that's not what it is to me. I can't tell +you. When I sit down here all within me is--is somehow stilled. I +watch--and it's different from what it is now, since you've made me +think. Then I watch, and I see, that's all." + +It came to Hare afterward with a little start of surprise that Mescal's +purposeless, yet all-satisfying, watchful gaze had come to be part of his +own experience. It was inscrutable to him, but he got from it a fancy, +which he tried in vain to dispel, that something would happen to them out +there on the desert. + +And then he realized that when they returned to the camp - fire they +seemed freed from this spell of the desert. The blaze-lit circle was +shut in by the darkness; and the immensity of their wild environment, +because for the hour it could not be seen, lost its paralyzing effect. +Hare fell naturally into a talkative mood. Mescal had developed a +vivacity, an ambition which contrasted strongly with her silent moods; +she became alive and curious, human like the girls he had known in the +East, and she fascinated him the more for this complexity. + +The July rains did not come; the mists failed; the dews no longer +freshened the grass, and the hot sun began to tell on shepherds and +sheep. Both sought the shade. The flowers withered first--all the +blue-bells and lavender patches of primrose, and pale-yellow lilies, and +white thistle-blossoms. Only the deep magenta of cactus and vermilion of +Indian paint-brush, flowers of the sun, survived the heat. Day by day +the shepherds scanned the sky for storm-clouds that did not appear. The +spring ran lower and lower. At last the ditch that carried water to the +corral went dry, and the margin of the pool began to retreat. Then +Mescal sent Piute down for August Naab. + +He arrived at the plateau the next day with Dave and at once ordered the +breaking up of camp. + +"It will rain some time," he said, "but we can't wait any longer. Dave, +when did you last see the Blue Star waterhole?" + +"On the trip in from Silver Cup, ten days ago. The waterhole was full +then." + +"Will there be water enough now?" + +"We've got to chance it. There's no water here, and no springs on the +upper range where we can drive sheep; we've got to go round under the +Star." + +"That's so," replied August. His fears needed confirmation, because his +hopes always influenced his judgment till no hope was left. "I wish I had +brought Zeke and George. It'll be a hard drive, though we've got Jack +and Mescal to help." + +Hot as it was August Naab lost no time in the start. Piute led the train +on foot, and the flock, used to following him, got under way readily. +Dave and Mescal rode along the sides, and August with Jack came behind, +with the pack-burros bringing up the rear. Wolf circled them all, +keeping the flanks close in, heading the lambs that strayed, and, ever +vigilant, made the drive orderly and rapid. + +The trail to the upper range was wide and easy of ascent, the first of it +winding under crags, the latter part climbing long slopes. It forked +before the summit, where dark pine trees showed against the sky, one fork +ascending, the other, which Piute took, beginning to go down. It +admitted of no extended view, being shut in for the most part on the +left, but there were times when Hare could see a curving stream of sheep +on half a mile of descending trail. Once started down the flock could +not be stopped, that was as plain as Piute's hard task. There were times +when Hare could have tossed a pebble on the Indian just below him, yet +there were more than three thousand sheep, strung out in line between +them. Clouds of dust rolled up, sheets of gravel and shale rattled down +the inclines, the clatter, clatter, clatter of little hoofs, the steady +baa-baa-baa filled the air. Save for the crowding of lambs off the +trail, and a jamming of sheep in the corners, the drive went on without +mishap. Hare was glad to see the lambs scramble back bleating for their +mothers, and to note that, though peril threatened at every steep turn, +the steady down-flow always made space for the sheep behind. He was +glad, too, when through a wide break ahead his eye followed the face of a +vast cliff down to the red ground below, and he knew the flock would soon +be safe on the level. + +A blast as from a furnace smote Hare from this open break in the wall. +The air was dust-laden, and carried besides the smell of dust and the +warm breath of desert growths, a dank odor that was unpleasant. + +The sheep massed in a flock on the level, and the drivers spread to their +places. The route lay under projecting red cliffs, between the base and +enormous sections of wall that had broken off and fallen far out. There +was no weathering slope; the wind had carried away the smaller stones and +particles, and had cut the huge pieces of pinnacle and tower into +hollowed forms. This zone of rim merged into another of strange +contrast, the sloping red stream of sand which flowed from the wall of +the canyon. + +Piute swung the flock up to the left into an amphitheatre, and there +halted. The sheep formed a densely packed mass in the curve of the wall. +Dave Naab galloped back toward August and Hare, and before he reached +them shouted out: "The waterhole's plugged!" + +"What?" yelled his father. + +"Plugged, filled with stone and sand." + +"Was it a cave-in?" + +"I reckon not. There's been no rain." + +August spurred his roan after Dave, and Hare kept close behind them, till +they reined in on a muddy bank. What had once been a waterhole was a red +and yellow heap of shale, fragments of stones, gravel, and sand. There +was no water, and the sheep were bleating. August dismounted and climbed +high above the hole to examine the slope; soon he strode down with giant +steps, his huge fists clinched, shaking his gray mane like a lion. + +"I've found the tracks! Somebody climbed up and rolled the stones, +started the cave-in. Who?" + +"Holderness's men. They did the same for Martin Cole's waterhole at +Rocky Point. How old are the tracks?" + +"Two days, perhaps. We can't follow them. What can be done?" + +"Some of Holderness's men are Mormons, and others are square fellows. +They wouldn't stand for such work as this, and somebody ought to ride in +there and tell them." + +"And get shot up by the men paid to do the dirty work. No. I won't hear +of it. This amounts to nothing; we seldom use this hole, only twice a +year when driving the flock. But it makes me fear for Silver Cup and +Seeping Springs." + +"It makes me fear for the sheep, if this wind doesn't change." + +"Ah! I had forgotten the river scent. It's not strong to-night. We +might venture if it wasn't for the strip of sand. We'll camp here and +start the drive at dawn." + +The sun went down under a crimson veil; a dull glow spread, fan-shaped, +upward; twilight faded to darkness with the going down of the wind. +August Naab paced to and fro before his tired and thirsty flock. + +"I'd like to know," said Hare to Dave, "why those men filled up this +waterhole." + +"Holderness wants to cut us off from Silver Cup Spring, and this was a +half-way waterhole. Probably he didn't know we had the sheep upland, but +he wouldn't have cared. He's set himself to get our cattle range and +he'll stop at nothing. Prospects look black for us. Father never gives +up. He doesn't believe yet that we can lose our water. He prays and +hopes, and sees good and mercy in his worst enemies." + +"If Holderness works as far as Silver Cup, how will he go to work to +steal another man's range and water?" + +"He'll throw up a cabin, send in his men, drive in ten thousand steers." + +"Well, will his men try to keep you away from your own water, or your +cattle?" + +"Not openly. They'll pretend to welcome us, and drive our cattle away in +our absence. You see there are only five of us to ride the ranges, and +we'd need five times five to watch all the stock." + +"Then you can't stop this outrage?" + +"There's only one way," said Dave, significantly tapping the black handle +of his Colt. "Holderness thinks he pulls the wool over our eyes by +talking of the cattle company that employs him. He's the company +himself, and he's hand and glove with Dene." + +"And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to +Holderness's newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a +fight." + +"We'd never reach him now, that is, if we went together. One of us alone +might get to see him, especially in White Sage. If we all rode over to +his ranch we'd have to fight his men before we reached the corrals. You +yourself will find it pretty warm when you go out with us on the ranges, +and if you make White Sage you'll find it hot. You're called 'Dene's +spy' there, and the rustlers are still looking for you. I wouldn't worry +about it, though." + +"Why not, I'd like to know?" inquired Hare, with a short laugh. + +"Well, if you're like the other Gentiles who have come into Utah you +won't have scruples about drawing on a man. Father says the draw comes +natural to you, and you're as quick as he is. Then he says you can beat +any rifle shot he ever saw, and that long-barrelled gun you've got will +shoot a mile. So if it comes to shooting--why, you can shoot. If you +want to run--who's going to catch you on that white-maned stallion? We +talked about you, George and I; we're mighty glad you're well and can +ride with us." Long into the night Jack Hare thought over this talk. It +opened up a vista of the range-life into which he was soon to enter. He +tried to silence the voice within that cried out, eager and reckless, for +the long rides on the windy open. The years of his illness returned in +fancy, the narrow room with the lamp and the book, and the tears over +stories and dreams of adventure never to be for such as he. And now how +wonderful was life! It was, after all, to be full for him. It was +already full. Already he slept on the ground, open to the sky. He +looked up at a wild black cliff, mountain-high, with its windworn star of +blue; he felt himself on the threshold of the desert, with that subtle +mystery waiting; he knew himself to be close to strenuous action on the +ranges, companion of these sombre Mormons, exposed to their peril, making +their cause his cause, their life his life. What of their friendship, +their confidence? Was he worthy? Would he fail at the pinch? What a +man he must become to approach their simple estimate of him! Because he +had found health and strength, because he could shoot, because he had the +fleetest horse on the desert, were these reasons for their friendship? +No, these were only reasons for their trust. August Naab loved him. +Mescal loved him; Dave and George made of him a brother. 'They shall +have my life," he muttered. + +The bleating of the sheep heralded another day. With the brightening +light began the drive over the sand. Under the cliff the shade was cool +and fresh; there was no wind; the sheep made good progress. But the +broken line of shade crept inward toward the flock, and passed it. The +sun beat down, and the wind arose. A red haze of fine sand eddied about +the toiling sheep and shepherds. Piute trudged ahead leading the +king-ram, old Socker, the leader of the flock; Mescal and Hare rode at +the right, turning their faces from the sand-filled puffs of wind; August +and Dave drove behind; Wolf, as always, took care of the stragglers. An +hour went by without signs of distress; and with half the five-mile trip +at his back August Naab's voice gathered cheer. The sun beat hotter. +Another hour told a different story--the sheep labored; they had to be +forced by urge of whip, by knees of horses, by Wolf's threatening bark. +They stopped altogether during the frequent hot sand-blasts, and could +not be driven. So time dragged. The flock straggled out to a long +irregular line; rams refused to budge till they were ready; sheep lay +down to rest; lambs fell. But there was an end to the belt of sand, and +August Naab at last drove the lagging trailers out upon the stony bench. + +The sun was about two hours past the meridian; the red walls of the +desert were closing in; the V-shaped split where the Colorado cut through +was in sight. The trail now was wide and unobstructed and the distance +short, yet August Naab ever and anon turned to face the canyon and shook +his head in anxious foreboding. + +It quickly dawned upon Hare that the sheep were behaving in a way new and +singular to him. They packed densely now, crowding forward, many raising +their heads over the haunches of others and bleating. They were not in +their usual calm pattering hurry, but nervous, excited, and continually +facing west toward the canyon, noses up. + +On the top of the next little ridge Hare heard Silvermane snort as he did +when led to drink. There was a scent of water on the wind. Hare caught +it, a damp, muggy smell. The sheep had noticed it long before, and now +under its nearer, stronger influence began to bleat wildly, to run +faster, to crowd without aim. + +"There's work ahead. Keep them packed and going. Turn the wheelers," +ordered August. + +What had been a drive became a flight. And it was well so long as the +sheep headed straight up the trail. Piute had to go to the right to +avoid being run down. Mescal rode up to fill his place. Hare took his +cue from Dave, and rode along the flank, crowding the sheep inward. +August cracked his whip behind. For half a mile the flock kept to the +trail, then, as if by common consent, they sheered off to the right. +With this move August and Dave were transformed from quiet almost to +frenzy. They galloped to the fore, and into the very faces of the +turning sheep, and drove them back. Then the rear-guard of the flock +curved outward. + +"Drive them in!" roared August. + +Hare sent Silvermane at the deflecting sheep and frightened them into +line. + +Wolf no longer had power to chase the stragglers; they had to be turned +by a horse. All along the flank noses pointed outward; here and there +sheep wilder than the others leaped forward to lead a widening wave of +bobbing woolly backs. Mescal engaged one point, Hare another, Dave +another, and August Naab's roan thundered up and down the constantly +broken line. All this while as the shepherds fought back the sheep, the +flight continued faster eastward, farther canyonward. Each side gained, +but the flock gained more toward the canyon than the drivers gained +toward the oasis. + +By August's hoarse yells, by Dave's stern face and ceaseless swift +action, by the increasing din, Hare knew terrible danger hung over the +flock; what it was he could not tell. He heard the roar of the river +rapids, and it seemed that the sheep heard it with him. They plunged +madly; they had gone wild from the scent and sound of water. Their eyes +gleamed red; their tongues flew out. There was no aim to the rush of the +great body of sheep, but they followed the leaders and the leaders +followed the scent. And the drivers headed them off, rode them down, +ceaselessly, riding forward to check one outbreak, wheeling backward to +check another. + +The flight became a rout. Hare was in the thick of dust and din, of the +terror-stricken jumping mob, of the ever-starting, ever-widening streams +of sheep; he rode and yelled and fired his Colt. The dust choked him, +the sun burned him, the flying pebbles cut his cheek. Once he had a +glimpse of Black Bolly in a melee of dust and sheep; Dave's mustang +blurred in his sight; August's roan seemed to be double. Then +Silvermane, of his own accord, was out before them all. + +The sheep had almost gained the victory; their keen noses were pointed +toward the water; nothing could stop their flight; but still the drivers +dashed at them, ever fighting, never wearying, never ceasing. + +At the last incline, where a gentle slope led down to a dark break in the +desert, the rout became a stampede. Left and right flanks swung round, +the line lengthened, and round the struggling horses, knee-deep in woolly +backs, split the streams to flow together beyond in one resistless river +of sheep. Mescal forced Bolly out of danger; Dave escaped the right +flank, August and Hare swept on with the flood, till the horses, sighting +the dark canyon, halted to stand like rocks. + +"Will they run over the rim ?" yelled Hare, horrified. His voice came to +him as a whisper. August Naab, sweat-stained in red dust, haggard, gray +locks streaming in the wind, raised his arms above his head, hopeless. + +The long nodding line of woolly forms, lifting like the crest of a yellow +wave, plunged out and down in rounded billow over the canyon rim. With +din of hoofs and bleats the sheep spilled themselves over the precipice, +and an awful deafening roar boomed up from the river, like the spreading +thunderous crash of an avalanche. + +How endless seemed that fatal plunge! The last line of sheep, pressing +close to those gone before, and yet impelled by the strange instinct of +life, turned their eyes too late on the brink, carried over by their own +momentum. + +The sliding roar ceased; its echo, muffled and hollow, pealed from the +cliffs, then rumbled down the canyon to merge at length in the sullen, +dull, continuous sound of the rapids. + +Hare turned at last from that narrow iron-walled cleft, the depth of +which he had not seen, and now had no wish to see; and his eyes fell upon +a little Navajo lamb limping in the trail of the flock, headed for the +canyon, as sure as its mother in purpose. He dismounted and seized it to +find, to his infinite wonder and gladness, that it wore a string and bell +round its neck. It was Mescal's pet. + + + +X +RIDING THE RANGES + + +The shepherds were home in the oasis that evening, and next day the +tragedy of the sheep was a thing of the past. No other circumstance of +Hare's four months with the Naabs had so affected him as this swift +inevitable sweeping away of the flock; nothing else had so vividly told +him the nature of this country of abrupt heights and depths. He +remembered August Naab's magnificent gesture of despair; and now the man +was cheerful again; he showed no sign of his great loss. His tasks were +many, and when one was done, he went on to the next. If Hare had not had +many proofs of this Mormon's feeling he would have thought him callous. +August Naab trusted God and men, loved animals, did what he had to do +with all his force, and accepted fate. The tragedy of the sheep had been +only an incident in a tragical life--that Hare divined with awe. + +Mescal sorrowed, and Wolf mourned in sympathy with her, for their +occupation was gone, but both brightened when August made known his +intention to cross the river to the Navajo range, to trade with the +Indians for another flock. He began his preparations immediately. The +snow-freshets had long run out of the river, the water was low, and he +wanted to fetch the sheep down before the summer rains. He also wanted +to find out what kept his son Snap so long among the Navajos. + +"I'll take Billy and go at once. Dave, you join George and Zeke out on +the Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can +before the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid +Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for +their doings." + +It was a relief to Hare that Snap Naab had not yet returned to the oasis, +for he felt a sense of freedom which otherwise would have been lacking. +He spent the whole of a long calm summer day in the orchard and the +vineyard. The fruit season was at its height. Grapes, plums, pears, +melons were ripe and luscious. Midsummer was vacationtime for the +children, and they flocked into the trees like birds. The girls were +picking grapes; Mother Ruth enlisted Jack in her service at the +pear-trees; Mescal came, too, and caught the golden pears he threw down, +and smiled up at him; Wolf was there, and Noddle; Black Bolly pushed her +black nose over the fence, and whinnied for apples; the turkeys strutted, +the peafowls preened their beautiful plumage, the guinea-hens ran like +quail. Save for those frowning red cliffs Hare would have forgotten +where he was; the warm sun, the yellow fruit, the merry screams of +children, the joyous laughter of girls, were pleasant reminders of autumn +picnic days long gone. But, in the face of those dominating wind-scarred +walls, he could not forget. + +That night Hare endeavored to see Mescal alone for a few moments, to see +her once more with unguarded eyes, to whisper a few words, to say +good-bye; but it was impossible.On the morrow he rode out of the red +cliff gate with Dave and the pack-horses, a dull ache in his heart; for +amid the cheering crowd of children and women who bade them good-bye he +had caught the wave of Mescal's hand and a look of her eyes that would be +with him always. What might happen before he returned, if he ever did +return! For he knew now, as well as he could feel Silvermane's easy +stride, that out there under the white glare of desert, the white gleam +of the slopes of Coconina, was wild life awaiting him. And he shut his +teeth, and narrowed his eyes, and faced it with an eager joy that was in +strange contrast to the pang in his breast. + +That morning the wind dipped down off the Vermillion Cliffs and whipped +west; there was no scent of river-water, and Hare thought of the fatality +of the sheep-drive, when, for one day out of the year, a moistened dank +breeze had met the flock on the narrow bench. Soon the bench lay far +behind them, and the strip of treacherous sand, and the maze of +sculptured cliff under the Blue Star, and the hummocky low ridges beyond, +with their dry white washes. Silvermane kept on in front. Already Hare +had learned that the gray would have no horse before him. His pace was +swift, steady, tireless. Dave was astride his Navajo mount, an +Indian-bred horse, half mustang, which had to be held in with a firm +rein. The pack train strung out far behind, trotting faithfully along, +with the white packs, like the humps of camels, nodding up and down. +Jack and Dave slackened their gait at the foot of the stony divide. It +was an ascent of miles, so long that it did not appear steep. Here the +pack-train caught up, and thereafter hung at the heels of the riders. + +>From the broad bare summit Jack saw the Silver Cup valley -range with +eyes which seemed to magnify the winding trail, the long red wall, the +green slopes, the dots of sage and cattle. Then he made allowance for +months of unobstructed vision; he had learned to see; his eyes had +adjusted themselves to distance and dimensions. + +Silver Cup Spring lay in a bright green spot close under a break in the +rocky slope that soon lost its gray cliff in the shaggy cedared side of +Coconina. + +The camp of the brothers was situated upon this cliff in a split between +two sections of wall. Well sheltered from the north and west winds was a +grassy plot which afforded a good survey of the valley and the trails. +Dave and Jack received glad greetings from Zeke and George, and +Silvermane was an object of wonder and admiration. Zeke, who had often +seen the gray and chased him too, walked round and round him, stroking +the silver mane, feeling the great chest muscles, slapping his flanks. + +"Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle +and bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare! +Never will be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that +horse he'll chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast +horses. He's from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he +sees one." + +"How are things?" queried Dave. + +"We can't complain much," replied Zeke, "though we've wasted some time on +old Whitefoot. He's been chasing our horses. It's been pretty hot and +dry. Most of the cattle are on the slopes; fair browse yet. There's a +bunch of steers gone up on the mountain, and some more round toward the +Saddle or the canyon." + +"Been over Seeping Springs way?" + +"Yes. No change since your trip. Holderness's cattle are ranging in the +upper valley. George found tracks near the spring. We believe somebody +was watching there and made off when we came up." + +"We'll see Holderness's men when we get to riding out," put in George. +"And some of Dene's too. Zeke met Two-Spot Chance and Culver below at the +spring one day, sort of surprised them." + +"What day was that?" + +"Let's see, this's Friday. It was last Monday." + +"What were they doing over here?" + +"Said they were tracking a horse that had broken his hobbles. But they +seemed uneasy, and soon rode off." + +"Did either of them ride a horse with one shoe shy?" + +"Now I think of it, yes. Zeke noticed the track at the spring." + +"Well, Chance and Culver had been out our way," declared Dave." I saw +their tracks, and they filled up the Blue Star waterhole--and cost us +three thousand sheep." + +Then he related the story of the drive of the sheep, the finding of the +plugged waterhole, the scent of the Colorado, and the plunge of the sheep +into the canyon. + +"We've saved one, Mescal's belled lamb," he concluded. + +Neither Zeke nor George had a word in reply. Hare thought their silence +unnatural. Neither did the mask-like stillness of their faces change. +But Hare saw in their eyes a pointed clear flame, vibrating like a +compass-needle, a mere glimmering spark. + +"I'd like to know," continued Dave, calmly poking the fire, "who hired +Dene's men to plug the waterhole. Dene couldn't do that. He loves a +horse, and any man who loves a horse couldn't fill a waterhole in this +desert." + +Hare entered upon his new duties as a range-rider with a zeal that almost +made up for his lack of experience; he bade fair to develop into a +right-hand man for Dave, under whose watchful eye he worked. His natural +qualifications were soon shown; he could ride, though his seat was awk- +ward and clumsy compared to that of the desert rangers, a fault that Dave +said would correct itself as time fitted him close to the saddle and to +the swing of his horse. His sight had become extraordinarily keen for a +new-comer on the ranges, and when experience had taught him the land- +marks, the trails, the distances, the difference between smoke and dust +and haze, when he could distinguish a band of mustangs from cattle, and +range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a word, when he had learned to +know what it was that he saw, to trust his judgment, he would have +acquired the basic feature of a rider's training. But he showed no gift +for the lasso, that other essential requirement of his new calling. + +"It's funny," said Dave, patiently, "you can't get the hang of it. Maybe +it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some +fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as +quick as you can throw your gun!" + +Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when he +missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed +altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try +roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was +beautiful and fleet. The horse learned rapidly the agile turns and +sudden stops necessary, and as for free running he never got enough. Out +on the range Silvermane always had his head up and watched; his life had +been spent in watching; he saw cattle, riders, mustangs, deer, coyotes, +every moving thing. So that Hare, in the chasing of a cow, had but to +start Silvermane, and then he could devote himself to the handling of his +rope. It took him ten times longer to lasso the cow than it took +Silvermane to head the animal. Dave laughed at some of Jack's exploits, +encouraged him often, praised his intent if not his deed; and always +after a run nodded at Silvermane in mute admiration. + +Branding the cows and yearlings and tame steers which watered at Silver +Cup, and never wandered far away, was play according to Dave's version. +"Wait till we get after the wild steers up on the mountain and in the +canyons," he would say when Jack dropped like a log at supper. Work it +certainly was for him. At night he was so tired that he could scarcely +crawl into bed; his back felt as if it were broken; his legs were raw, +and his bones ached. Many mornings he thought it impossible to arise, +but always he crawled out, grim and haggard, and hobbled round the +camp-fire to warm his sore and bruised muscles. Then when Zeke and +George rode in with the horses the day's work began. During these weeks +of his "hardening up," as Dave called it, Hare bore much pain, but he +continued well and never missed a day. At the most trying time when for +a few days he had to be helped on and off Silvermane--for he insisted +that he would not stay in camp--the brothers made his work as light as +possible. They gave him the branding outfit to carry, a running-iron and +a little pot with charcoal and bellows; and with these he followed the +riders at a convenient distance and leisurely pace. + +Some days they branded one hundred cattle. By October they had August +Naab's crudely fashioned cross on thousands of cows and steers. Still +the stock kept coming down from the mountain, driven to the valley by +cold weather and snow-covered grass. It was well into November before +the riders finished at Silver Cup, and then arose a question as to +whether it would be advisable to go to Seeping Springs or to the canyons +farther west along the slope of Coconina. George favored the former, but +Dave overruled him. + +"Father's orders," he said." He wants us to ride Seeping Springs last +because he'll be with us then, and Snap too. We're going to have trouble +over there." + +"How's this branding stock going to help the matter any, I'd like to +know?" inquired George."We Mormons never needed it." + +"Father says we'll all have to come to it. Holderness's stock is +branded. Perhaps he's marked a good many steers of ours. We can't tell. +But if we have our own branded we'll know what's ours. If he drives our +stock we'll know it; if Dene steals, it can be proved that he steals." + +"Well, what then? Do you think he'll care for that, or Holderness +either?" + +"No, only it makes this difference: both things will then be barefaced +robbery. We've never been able to prove anything, though we boys know; +we don't need any proof. Father gives these men the benefit of a doubt. +We've got to stand by him. I know, George, your hand's begun to itch for +your gun. So does mine. But we ve orders to obey." + +Many gullies and canyons headed up on the slope of Coconina west of +Silver Cup, and ran down to open wide on the flat desert. They contained +plots of white sage and bunches of rich grass and cold springs. The +steers that ranged these ravines were wild as wolves, and in the tangled +thickets of juniper and manzanita and jumbles of weathered cliff they +were exceedingly difficult to catch. + +Well it was that Hare had received his initiation and had become inured +to rough, incessant work, for now he came to know the real stuff of which +these Mormons were made. No obstacle barred them. They penetrated the +gullies to the last step; they rode weathered slopes that were difficult +for deer to stick upon; they thrashed the bayonet-guarded manzanita +copses; they climbed into labyrinthine fastnesses, penetrating to every +nook where a steer could hide. Miles of sliding slope and +marble-bottomed streambeds were ascended on foot, for cattle could climb +where a horse could not. Climbing was arduous enough, yet the hardest +and most perilous toil began when a wild steer was cornered. They roped +the animals on moving slopes of weathered stone, and branded them on the +edges of precipices. + +The days and weeks passed, how many no one counted or cared. The circle +of the sun daily lowered over the south end of Coconina; and the black +snow-clouds crept down the slopes. Frost whitened the ground at dawn, +and held half the day in the shade. Winter was close at the heels of the +long autumn. + +As for Hare, true to August Naab's assertion, he had lost flesh and +suffered, and though the process was heartbreaking in its severity, he +hung on till he hardened into a leather lunged, wire-muscled man, capable +of keeping pace with his companions. + +He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated +tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in +the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his +step as he went down the slope for his horse. He no longer feared that +Silvermane would run away. The gray's bell could always be heard near +camp in the mornings, and when Hare whistled there came always the +answering thump of hobbled feet. When Silvermane saw him striding +through the cedars or across the grassy belt of the valley he would neigh +his gladness. Hare had come to love Silvermane and talked to him and +treated him as if he were human. + +When the mustangs were brought into camp the day's work began, the same +work as that of yesterday, and yet with endless variety, with +ever-changing situations that called for quick wits, steel arms, stout +hearts, and unflagging energies. The darkening blue sky and the +sun-tipped crags of Vermillion Cliffs were signals to start for camp. +They ate like wolves, sat for a while around the camp-fire, a ragged, +weary, silent group; and soon lay down, their dark faces in the shadow of +the cedars. + +In the beginning of this toil-filled time Hare had resolutely set himself +to forget Mescal, and he had succeeded at least for a time, when he was +so sore and weary that he scarcely thought at all. But she came back to +him, and then there was seldom an hour that was not hers. The long +months which seemed years since he had seen her, the change in him +wrought by labor and peril, the deepening friendship between him and +Dave, even the love he bore Silvermane--these, instead of making dim the +memory of the dark-eyed girl, only made him tenderer in his thought of +her. + +Snow drove the riders from the canyon-camp down to Silver Cup, where they +found August Naab and Snap, who had ridden in the day before. + +"Now you couldn't guess how many cattle are back there in the canyons," +said Dave to his father. + +"I haven't any idea," answered August, dubiously. + +"Five thousand head." + +"Dave!" His father's tone was incredulous. + +"Yes. You know we haven't been back in there for years. The stock has +multiplied rapidly in spite of the lions and wolves. Not only that, but +they're safe from the winter, and are not likely to be found by Dene or +anybody else." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"The first cattle we drove in used to come back here to Silver Cup to +winter. Then they stopped coming, and we almost forgot them. Well, +they've got a trail round under the Saddle, and they go down and winter +in the canyon. In summer they head up those rocky gullies, but they +can't get up on the mountain. So it isn't likely any one will ever +discover them. They are wild as deer and fatter than any stock on the +ranges." + +"Good! That's the best news I've had in many a day. Now, boys, we'll +ride the mountain slope toward Seeping Springs, drive the cattle down, +and finish up this branding. Somebody ought to go to White Sage. I'd +like to know what's going on, what Holderness is up to, what Dene is +doing, if there's any stock being driven to Lund." + +"I told you I'd go," said Snap Naab. + +"I don't want you to," replied his father."I guess it can wait till +spring, then we'll all go in. I might have thought to bring you boys out +some clothes and boots. You're pretty ragged. Jack there, especially, +looks like a scarecrow. Has he worked as hard as he looks?" + +"Father, he never lost a day," replied Dave, warmly, "and you know what +riding is in these canyons." + +August Naab looked at Hare and laughed. "It'd be funny, wouldn't it, if +Holderness tried to slap you now? I always knew you'd do, Jack, and now +you're one of us, and you'll have a share with my sons in the cattle." + +But the generous promise failed to offset the feeling aroused by the +presence of Snap Naab. With the first sight of Snap's sharp face and +strange eyes Hare became conscious of an inward heat, which he had felt +before, but never as now, when there seemed to be an actual flame within +his breast. Yet Snap seemed greatly changed; the red flush, the swollen +lines no longer showed in his face; evidently in his absence on the +Navajo desert he had had no liquor; he was good-natured, lively, much +inclined to joking, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten his ani- +mosity toward Hare. It was easy for Hare to see that the man's evil +nature was in the ascendancy only when he was under the dominance of +drink. But he could not forgive; he could not forget. Mescal's dark, +beautiful eyes haunted him. Even now she might be married to this man. +Perhaps that was why Snap appeared to be in such cheerful spirits. +Suspense added its burdensome insistent question, but he could not bring +himself to ask August if the marriage had taken place. For a day he +fought to resign himself to the inevitability of the Mormon custom, to +forget Mescal, and then he gave up trying. This surrender he felt to be +something crucial in his life, though he could not w holly understand it. +It was the darkening of his spirit; the death of boyish gentleness; the +concluding step from youth into a forced manhood. The desert +regeneration had not stopped at turning weak lungs, vitiated blood, and +flaccid muscles into a powerful man; it was at work on his mind, his +heart, his soul. They answered more and more to the call of some +outside, ever-present, fiercely subtle thing. + +Thenceforth he no longer vexed himself by trying to forget Mescal; if she +came to mind he told himself the truth, that the weeks and months had +only added to his love. And though it was bitter-sweet there was relief +in speaking the truth to himself. He no longer blinded himself by +hoping, striving to have generous feelings toward Snap Naab; he called +the inward fire by its real name--jealousy--and knew that in the end it +would become hatred. + +On the third morning after leaving Silver Cup the riders were working
+slowly along the slope of Coconina; and Hare having driven down a bunch +of cattle, found himself on an open ridge near the temporary camp. +Happening to glance up the valley he saw what appeared to be smoke +hanging over Seeping Springs. + +"That can't be dust," he soliloquized. "Looks blue to me." + +He studied the hazy bluish cloud for some time, but it was so many miles +away that he could not be certain whether it was smoke or not, so he +decided to ride over and make sure. None of the Naabs was in camp, and +there was no telling when they would return, so he set off alone. He +expected to get back before dark, but it was of little consequence +whether he did or not, for he had his blanket under the saddle, and grain +for Silvermane and food for himself in the saddle-bags. + +Long before Silvermane's easy trot had covered half the distance Hare +recognized the cloud that had made him curious. It was smoke. He +thought that range-riders were camping at the springs, and he meant to +see what they were about. After three hours of brisk travel he reached +the top of a low rolling knoll that hid Seeping Springs. He remembered +the springs were up under the red wall, and that the pool where the +cattle drank was lower down in a clump of cedars. He saw smoke rising in +a column from the cedars, and he heard the lowing of cattle. + +"Something wrong here," he muttered. Following the trail, he rode +through the cedars to come upon the dry hole where the pool had once +been. There was no water in the flume. The bellowing cattle came from +beyond the cedars, down the other side of the ridge. He was not long in +reaching the open, and then one glance made all clear. + +A new pool, large as a little lake, shone in the sunlight, and round it a +jostling horned mass of cattle were pressing against a high corral. The +flume that fed water to the pool was fenced all the way up to the +springs. + +Jack slowly rode down the ridge with eyes roving under the cedars and up +to the wall. Not a man was in sight. + +When he got to the fire he saw that it was not many hours old and was +surrounded by fresh boot and horse tracks in the dust. Piles of slender +pine logs, trimmed flat on one side, were proof of somebody's intention +to erect a cabin. In a rage he flung himself from the saddle. It was +not many moments' work for him to push part of the fire under the fence, +and part of it against the pile of logs. The pitch-pines went off like +rockets, driving the thirsty cattle back. + +"I'm going to trail those horse-tracks," said Hare. + +He tore down a portion of the fence enclosing the flume, and gave +Silvermane a drink, then put him to a fast trot on the white trail. The +tracks he had resolved to follow were clean-cut. A few inches of snow +had fallen in the valley, and melting, had softened the hard ground. +Silvermane kept to his gait with the tirelessness of a desert horse. +August Naab had once said fifty miles a day would be play for the +stallion. All the afternoon Hare watched the trail speed toward him and +the end of Coconina rise above him. Long before sunset he had reached +the slope of the mountain and had begun the ascent. Half way up he came +to the snow and counted the tracks of three horses. At twilight he rode +into the glade where August Naab had waited for his Navajo friends. +There, in a sheltered nook among the rocks, he unsaddled Silvermane, +covered and fed him, built a fire, ate sparingly of his meat and bread, +and rolling up in his blanket, was soon asleep. + +He was up and off before sunrise, and he came out on the western slope of +Coconina just as the shadowy valley awakened from its misty sleep into +daylight. Soon the Pink Cliffs leaned out, glimmering and vast, to +change from gloomy gray to rosy glow, and then to brighten and to redden +in the morning sun. + +The snow thinned and failed, but the iron-cut horsetracks showed plainly +in the trail. At the foot of the mountain the tracks left the White Sage +trail and led off to the north toward the cliffs. Hare searched the red +sagespotted waste for Holderness's ranch. He located it, a black patch +on the rising edge of the valley under the wall, and turned Silvermane +into the tracks that pointed straight toward it. + +The sun cleared Cocomna and shone warm on his back; the Pink Cliffs +lifted higher and higher before him. From the ridge-tops he saw the +black patch grow into cabins and corrals. As he neared the ranch he came +into rolling pasture-land where the bleached grass shone white and the +cattle were ranging in the thousands. This range had once belonged to +Martin Cole, and Hare thought of the bitter Mormon as he noted the snug +cabins for the riders, the rambling, picturesque ranch-house, the large +corrals, and the long flume that ran down from the cliff. There was a +corral full of shaggy horses, and another full of steers, and two lines +of cattle, one going into a pond-corral, and one coming out. The air was +gray with dust. A bunch of yearlings were licking at huge lumps of brown +rock-salt. A wagonful of cowhides stood before the ranch-house. + +Hare reined in at the door and helloed. + +A red-faced ranger with sandy hair and twinkling eyes appeared. + +"Hello, stranger, get down an' come in," he said. + +"Is Holderness here?" asked Hare. + +"No. He's been to Lund with a bunch of steers. I reckon he'll be in +White Sage by now. I'm Snood, the foreman. Is it a job ridin' you +want?" + +"No." + +"Say! thet hoss--" he exclaimed. His gaze of friendly curiosity had +moved from Hare to Silvermane. "You can corral me if it ain't thet +Sevier range stallion!" + +"Yes," said Hare. + +Snood's whoop brought three riders to the door, and when he pointed to +the horse, they stepped out with good-natured grins and admiring eyes. + +"I never seen him but onc't," said one. + +"Lordy, what a boss!" Snood walked round Silvermane. "If I owned this +ranch I'd trade it for that stallion. I know Silvermane. He an' I bed +some chases over in Nevada. An', stranger, who might you be?" + +"I'm one of August Naab's riders." + +"Dene's spy!" Snood looked Hare over carefully, with much interest, and +without any show of ill-will." I've heerd of you. An' what might one of +Naab's riders want of Holderness?" + +"I rode in to Seeping Springs yesterday," said Hare, eying the foreman. +"There was a new pond, fenced in. Our cattle couldn't drink. There were +a lot of trimmed logs. Somebody was going to build a cabin. I burned +the corrals and logs--and I trailed fresh tracks from Seeping Springs to +this ranch." + +"The h--l you did!" shouted Snood, and his face flamed. "See here, +stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such dirty +tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till this +-minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't +know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no +man's water. Is thet good with you?" + +Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at +his pipe. Hare offered his hand. + +"Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but +you weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told +me." + +"Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now. +I've no more to say, except I never hired them.' + +"I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry." + +With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of +the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it. +He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that +he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode +in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard, +where he put up his horse. Then he went to the house. It was necessary +to introduce himself for none of the Bishop's family recognized in him +the young man they had once befriended. The old Bishop prayed and +reminded him of the laying on of hands. The women served him with food, +the young men brought him new boots and garments to replace those that +had been worn to tatters. Then they plied him with questions about the +Naabs, whom they had not seen for nearly a year. They rejoiced at his +recovered health; they welcomed him with warm words. + +Later Hare sought an interview alone with the Bishop's sons, and he told +them of the loss of the sheep, of the burning of the new corrals, of the +tracks leading to Holderness's ranch. In turn they warned him of his +danger, and gave him information desired by August Naab. Holderness's +grasp on the outlying ranges and water-rights had slowly and surely +tightened; every month he acquired new territory; he drove cattle +regularly to Lund, and it was no secret that much of the stock came from +the eastern slope of Coconina. He could not hire enough riders to do his +work. A suspicion that he was not a cattle-man but a rustler had slowly +gained ground; it was scarcely hinted, but it was believed. His +friendship with Dene had become offensive to the Mormons, who had +formerly been on good footing with him. Dene's killing of Martin Cole +was believed to have been at Holderness's instigation. Cole had +threatened Holderness. Then Dene and Cole had met in the main street of +White Sage. Cole's death ushered in the bloody time that he had +prophesied. Dene's band had grown; no man could say how many men he had +or who they were. Chance and Culver were openly his lieutenants, and +whenever they came into the village there was shooting. There were ugly +rumors afloat in regard to their treatment of Mormon women. The wives +and daughters of once peaceful White Sage dared no longer venture +out-of-doors after nightfall. There was more money in coin and more +whiskey than ever before in the village. Lund and the few villages +northward were terrorized as well as White Sage. It was a bitter story. + +The Bishop and his sons tried to persuade Hare next morning to leave the +village without seeing Holderness, urging the futility of such a meeting. + +"I will see him," said Hare. He spent the morning at the cottage, and +when it came time to take his leave he smiled into the anxious faces." If +I weren't able to take care of myself August Naab would never have said +so.' + +Had Hare asked himself what he intended to do when he faced Holderness he +could not have told. His feelings were pent-in, bound, but at the bottom +something rankled. His mind seemed steeped in still thunderous +atmosphere. + +How well he remembered the quaint wide street, the gray church! As he +rode many persons stopped to gaze at Silvermane. He turned the corner +into the main thoroughfare A new building had been added to the several +stores. Mustangs stood, bridles down, before the doors; men lounged +along the railings. + +As he dismounted he heard the loungers speak of his horse, and he saw +their leisurely manner quicken. He stepped into the store to meet more +men, among them August Naab's friend Abe. Hare might never have been in +White Sage for all the recognition he found, but he excited something +keener than curiosity. He asked for spurs, a clasp-knife and some other +necessaries, and he contrived, when momentarily out of sight behind a +pile of boxes, to whisper his identity to Abe. The Mormon was +dumbfounded. When he came out of his trance he showed his gladness, and +at a question of Hare's he silently pointed toward the saloon. + +Hare faced the open door. The room had been enlarged; it was now on a +level with the store floor, and was blue with smoke, foul with the fumes +of rum, and noisy with the voices of dark, rugged men. + +A man in the middle of the room was dancing a jig. + +"Hello, who's this?" he said, straightening up. + +It might have been the stopping of the dance or the quick spark in Hare's +eyes that suddenly quieted the room. Hare had once vowed to himself that +he would never forget the scarred face; it belonged to the outlaw Chance. + +The sight of it flashed into the gulf of Hare's mind like a meteor into +black night. A sudden madness raced through his veins. + +"Hello' Don't you know me?" he said, with a long step that brought him +close to Chance. + +The outlaw stood irresolute. Was this an old friend or an enemy? His +beady eyes scintillated and twitched as if they sought to look him over, +yet dared not because it was only in the face that intention could be +read. + +The stillness of the room broke to a hoarse whisper from some one. + +"Look how he packs his gun." + +Another man answering whispered: "There's not six men in Utah who pack a +gun thet way." + +Chance heard these whispers, for his eye shifted downward the merest +fraction of a second. The brick color of his face turned a dirty white. + +"Do you know me?" demanded Hare. + +Chance's answer was a spasmodic jerking of his hand toward his hip. +Hare's arm moved quicker, and Chance's Colt went spinning to the floor. + +"Too slow," said Hare. Then he flung Chance backward and struck him +blows that sent his head with sodden thuds against the log wall. Chance +sank to the floor in a heap. + +Hare kicked the outlaw's gun out of the way, and wheeled to the crowd. +Holderness stood foremost, his tall form leaning against the bar, his +clear eyes shining like light on ice. + +"Do you know me?" asked Hare, curtly. + +HolderDess started slightly. "I certainly don't," he replied. + +"You slapped my face once." Hare leaned close to the rancher. "Slap it +now--you rustler!" + +In the slow, guarded instant when Hare's gaze held Holderness and the +other men, a low murmuring ran through the room. + +"Dene's spy!" suddenly burst out Holderness. + +Hare slapped his face. Then he backed a few paces with his right arm +held before him almost as high as his shoulder, the wrist rigid, the +fingers quivering. + +"Don't try to draw, Holderness. Thet's August Naab's trick with a gun," +whispered a man, hurriedly. + +"Holderness, I made a bonfire over at Seeping Springs," said Hare." I +burned the new corrals your men built, and I tracked them to your ranch. +Snood threw up his job when he heard it. He's an honest man, and no +honest man will work for a water-thief, a cattle-rustler, a sheep-killer. +You're shown up, Holderness. Leave the country before some one kills +you--understand, before some one kills you!" + +Holderness stood motionless against the bar, his eyes fierce with +passionate hate. + +Hare backed step by step to the outside door, his right hand still high, +his look holding the crowd bound to the last instant. Then he slipped +out, scattered the group round Silvermane, and struck hard with the +spurs. + +The gray, never before spurred, broke down the road into his old wild +speed. + +Men were crossing from the corner of the green square. One, a compact +little fellow, swarthy, his dark hair long and flowing, with jaunty and +alert air, was Dene, the outlaw leader. He stopped, with his companions, +to let the horse cross. + +Hare guided the thundering stallion slightly to the left. Silvermane +swerved and in two mighty leaps bore down on the outlaw. Dene saved +himself by quickly leaping aside, but even as he moved Silvermane struck +him with his left fore-leg, sending him into the dust. + +At the street corner Hare glanced back. Yelling men were rushing from +the saloon and some of them fired after him. The bullets whistled +harmlessly behind Hare. Then the corner house shut off his view. + +Silvermane lengthened out and stretched lower with his white mane flying +and his nose pointed level for the desert. + + + +XI +THE DESERT-HAWK + + +Toward the close of the next day Jack Hare arrived at Seeping Springs. A +pile of gray ashes marked the spot where the trimmed logs had lain. +Round the pool ran a black circle hard packed into the ground by many +hoofs. Even the board flume had been burned to a level with the glancing +sheet of water. Hare was slipping Silvermane's bit to let him drink when +he heard a halloo. Dave Naab galloped out of the cedars, and presently +August Naab and his other sons appeared with a pack-train. + +"Now you've played bob!" exclaimed Dave. He swung out of his saddle and +gripped Hare with both hands. "I know what you've done; I know where +you've been. Father will be furious, but don't you care." + +The other Naabs trotted down the slope and lined their horses before the +pool. The sons stared in blank astonishment; the father surveyed the +scene slowly, and then fixed wrathful eyes on Hare. + +"What does this mean?" he demanded, with the sonorous roll of his angry +voice. + +Hare told all that had happened. + +August Naab's gloomy face worked, and his eagle-gaze had in it a strange +far-seeing light; his mind was dwelling upon his mystic power of +revelation. + +"I see--I see," he said haltingly. + +"Ki--yi-i-i!" yelled Dave Naab with all the power of his lungs. His head +was back, his mouth wide open, his face red, his neck corded and swollen +with the intensity of his passion. + +"Be still--boy!" ordered his father." Hare, this was madness--but tell me +what you learned." + +Briefly Hare repeated all that he had been told at the Bishop's, and +concluded with the killing of Martin Cole by Dene. + +August Naab bowed his head and his giant frame shook under the force of +his emotion. Martin Cole was the last of his life-long friends. + +"This--this outlaw--you say you ran him down?" asked Naab, rising haggard +and shaken out of his grief. + +"Yes. He didn't recognize me or know what was coming till Silvermane was +on him. But he was quick, and fell sidewise. Silvermane's knee sent him +sprawling." + +"What will it all lead to?" asked August Naab, and in his extremity he +appealed to his eldest son. + +"The bars are down," said Snap Naab, with a click of his long teeth. + +"Father," began Dave Naab earnestly, "Jack has done a splendid thing. +The news will fly over Utah like wildfire. Mormons are slow. They need +a leader. But they can follow and they will. We can't cure these evils +by hoping and praying. We've got to fight!" + +"Dave's right, dad, it means fight," cried George, with his fist clinched +high. + +"You've been wrong, father, in holding back," said Make Naab, his lean +jaw bulging. "This Holderness will steal the water and meat out of our +children's mouths. We've got to fight!" + +"Let's ride to White Sage," put in Snap Naub, and the little flecks in +his eyes were dancing. "I'll throw a gun on Dene. I can get to him. +We've been tolerable friends. He's wanted me to join his band. I'll +kill him." + +He laughed as he raised his right hand and swept it down to his left +side; the blue Colt lay on his outstretched palm. Dene's life and +Holderness's, too, hung in the balance between two deadly snaps of this +desert-wolf's teeth. He was one of the Naabs, and yet apart from them, +for neither religion, nor friendship, nor life itself mattered to him. + +August Naab's huge bulk shook again, not this time with grief, but in +wrestling effort to withstand the fiery influence of this unholy fighting +spirit among his sons. + +"I am forbidden." + +His answer was gentle, but its very gentleness breathed of his battle +over himself, of allegiance to something beyond earthly duty. "We'll +drive the cattle to Silver Cup," he decided, "and then go home. I give +up Seeping Springs. Perhaps this valley and water will content +Holderness." + +When they reached the oasis Hare was surprised to find that it was the +day before Christmas. The welcome given the long-absent riders was like +a celebration. Much to Hare's disappointment Mescal did not appear; the +homecoming was not joyful to him because it lacked her welcoming smile. + +Christmas Day ushered in the short desert winter; ice formed in the +ditches and snow fell, but neither long resisted the reflection of the +sun from the walls. The early morning hours were devoted to religious +services. At midday dinner was served in the big room of August Naab's +cabin. At one end was a stone fireplace where logs blazed and crackled. + +In all his days Hare had never seen such a bountiful board. Yet he was +unable to appreciate it, to share in the general thanksgiving. +Dominating all other feeling was the fear that Mescal would come in and +take a seat by Snap Naab's side. When Snap seated himself opposite with +his pale little wife Hare found himself waiting for Mescal with an +intensity that made him dead to all else. The girls, Judith, Esther, +Rebecca, came running gayly in, clad in their best dresses, with bright +ribbons to honor the occasion. Rebecca took the seat beside Snap, and +Hare gulped with a hard contraction of his throat. Mescal was not yet a +Mormon's wife! He seemed to be lifted upward, to grow light-headed with +the blessed assurance. Then Mescal entered and took the seat next to +him. She smiled and spoke, and the blood beat thick in his ears. + +That moment was happy, but it was as nothing to its successor. Under the +table-cover Mescal's hand found his, and pressed it daringly and gladly. +Her hand lingered in his all the time August Naab spent in carving the +turkey--lingered there even though Snap Naab's hawk eyes were never far +away. In the warm touch of her hand, in some subtle thing that radiated +from her Hare felt a change in the girl he loved. A few months had +wrought in her some indefinable difference, even as they had increased +his love to its full volume and depth. Had his absence brought her to +the realization of her woman's heart? + +In the afternoon Hare left the house and spent a little while with +Silvermane; then he wandered along the wall to the head of the oasis, and +found a seat on the fence. The next few weeks presented to him a +situation that would be difficult to endure. He would be near Mescal, +but only to have the truth forced cruelly home to him every sane moment-- +that she was not for him. Out on the ranges he had abandoned himself to +dreams of her; they had been beautiful; they had made the long hours seem +like minutes; but they had forged chains that could not be broken, and +now he was hopelessly fettered. + +The clatter of hoofs roused him from a reverie which was half sad, half +sweet. Mescal came tearing down the level on Black Bolly. She pulled in +the mustang and halted beside Hare to hold out shyly a red scarf +embroidered with Navajo symbols in white and red beads. + +"I've wanted a chance to give you this," she said, "a little Christmas +present." + +For a few seconds Hare could find no words. + +"Did you make it for me, Mescal?" he finally asked. "How good of you! +I'll keep it always." + +"Put it on now--let me tie it--there!" + +"But, child. Suppose he--they saw it?" + +"I don't care who sees it." + +She met him with clear, level eyes. Her curt, crisp speech was full of +meaning. He looked long at her, with a yearning denied for many a day. +Her face was the same, yet wonderfully changed; the same in line and +color, but different in soul and spirit. The old sombre shadow lay deep +in the eyes, but to it had been added gleam of will and reflection of +thought. The whole face had been refined and transformed. + +"Mescal! What's happened? You're not the same. You seem almost happy. +Have you--has heaven you up?" + +"Don't you know Mormons better than that? The thing is the same--so far +as they're concerned." + +"But Mescal--are you going to marry him? For God's sake, tell me." + +"Never." It was a woman's word, instant, inflexible, desperate. With a +deep breath Hare realized where the girl had changed. + +"Still you're promised, pledged to him! How'll you get out of it?" + +"I don't know how. But I'll cut out my tongue, and be dumb as my poor +peon before I'll speak the word that'll make me Snap Naab's wife." + +There was a long silence. Mescal smoothed out Bolly's mane, and Hare +gazed up at the walls with eyes that did not see them. + +Presently he spoke." I'm afraid for you. Snap watched us to-day at +dinner." + +"He's jealous." + +"Suppose he sees this scarf?" + +Mescal laughed defiantly. It was bewildering for Hare to hear her. + +"He'll--Mescal, I may yet come to this." Hare's laugh echoed Mescal's as +he pointed to the enclosure under the wall, where the graves showed bare +and rough. + +Her warm color fled, but it flooded back, rich, mantling brow and cheek +and neck. + +"Snap Naab will never kill you," she said impulsively. + +"Mescal." + +She swiftly turned her face away as his hand closed on hers. + +"Mescal, do you love me?" + +The trembling of her fingers and the heaving of her bosom lent his hope +conviction. "Mescal," he went on, "these past months have been years, +years of toiling, thinking, changing, but always loving. I'm not the man +you knew. I'm wild-- I'm starved for a sight of you. I love you! Mescal, +my desert flower!" + +She raised her free hand to his shoulder and swayed toward him. He held +her a moment, clasped tight, and then released her. + +"I'm quite mad!" he exclaimed, in a passion of self-reproach." What a +risk I'm putting on you! But I couldn't help it. Look at me-- Just +once--please-- Mescal, just one look. ... Now go." + +The drama of the succeeding days was of absorbing interest. Hare had +liberty; there was little work for him to do save to care for Silvermane. +He tried to hunt foxes in the caves and clefts; he rode up and down the +broad space under the walls; he sought the open desert only to be driven +in by the bitter, biting winds. Then he would return to the big +living-room of the Naabs and sit before the burning logs. This spacious +room was warm, light, pleasant, and was used by every one in leisure +hours. Mescal spent most of her time there. She was engaged upon a new +frock of buckskin, and over this she bent with her needle and beads. +When there was a chance Hare talked with her, speaking one language with +his tongue, a far different one with his eyes. When she was not present +he looked into the glowing red fire and dreamed of her. + +In the evenings when Snap came in to his wooing and drew Mescal into a +corner, Hare watched with covert glance and smouldering jealousy. +Somehow he had come to see all things and all people in the desert glass, +and his symbol for Snap Garb was the desert-hawk. Snap's eyes were as +wild and piercing as those of a hawk; his nose and mouth were as the beak +of a hawk; his hands resembled the claws of a hawk; and the spurs he +wore, always bloody, were still more significant of his ruthless nature. +Then Snap's courting of the girl, the cool assurance, the unhastening +ease, were like the slow rise, the sail, and the poise of a desert-hawk +before the downward lightning-swift swoop on his quarry. + +It was intolerable for Hare to sit there in the evenings, to try to play +with the children who loved him, to talk to August Naab when his eye +seemed ever drawn to the quiet couple in the corner, and his ear was +unconsciously strained to catch a passing word. That hour was a +miserable one for him, yet he could not bring himself to leave the room. +He never saw Snap touch her; he never heard Mescal's voice; he believed +that she spoke very little. When the hour was over and Mescal rose to +pass to her room, then his doubt, his fear, his misery, were as though +they had never been, for as Mescal said good-night she would give him one +look, swift as a flash, and in it were womanliness and purity, and some- +thing beyond his comprehension. Her Indian serenity and mysticism veiled +yet suggested some secret, some power by which she might yet escape the +iron band of this Mormon rule. Hare could not fathom it. In that +good-night glance was a meaning for him alone, if meaning ever shone in +woman's eyes, and it said: "I will be true to you and to myself!" + +Once the idea struck him that as soon as spring returned it would be an +easy matter, and probably wise, for him to leave the oasis and go up into +Utah, far from the desert-canyon country. But the thought refused to +stay before his consciousness a moment. New life had flushed his veins +here. He loved the dreamy, sleepy oasis with its mellow sunshine always +at rest on the glistening walls; he loved the cedar-scented plateau where +hope had dawned, and the wind-swept sand-strips, where hard out-of-door +life and work had renewed his wasting youth; he loved the canyon winding +away toward Coconina, opening into wide abyss; and always, more than all, +he loved the Painted Desert, with its ever-changing pictures, printed in +sweeping dust and bare peaks and purple haze. He loved the beauty of +these places, and the wildness in them had an affinity with something +strange and untamed in him. He would never leave them. When his blood +had cooled, when this tumultuous thrill and swell had worn themselves +out, happiness would come again. + +Early in the winter Snap Naab had forced his wife to visit his father's +house with him; and she had remained in the room, white-faced, +passionately jealous, while he wooed Mescal. Then had come a scene. +Hare had not been present, but he knew its results. Snap had been +furious, his father grave, Mescal tearful and ashamed. The wife found +many ways to interrupt her husband's lovemaking. She sent the children +for him; she was taken suddenly ill; she discovered that the corral gate +was open and his cream-colored pinto, dearest to his heart, was running +loose; she even set her cottage on fire. + +One Sunday evening just before twilight Hare was sitting on the porch +with August Naab and Dave, when their talk was interrupted by Snap's loud +calling for his wife. At first the sounds came from inside his cabin. +Then he put his head out of a window and yelled. Plainly he was both +impatient and angry. It was nearly time for him to make his Sunday call +upon Mescal. + +"Something's wrong," muttered Dave. + +"Hester! Hester!" yelled Snap. + +Mother Ruth came out and said that Hester was not there. + +"Where is she?" Snap banged on the window-sill with his fists. "Find +her, somebody--Hester!" + +"Son, this is the Sabbath," called Father Naab, gravely. "Lower your +voice. Now what's the matter?" + +"Matter!" bawled Snap, giving way to rage. "When I was asleep Hester +stole all my clothes. She's hid them--she's run off--there's not a +d--n thing for me to put on! I'll--" + +The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the speech. +Hare managed to stifle his own mirth. Snap pulled in his head and +slammed the window shut. + +"Jack," said August, "even among Mormons the course of true love never +runs smooth." + +Hare finally forgot his bitter humor in pity for the wife. Snap came to +care not at all for her messages and tricks, and he let nothing interfere +with his evening beside Mescal. It was plain that he had gone far on the +road of love. Whatever he had been in the beginning of the betrothal, he +was now a lover, eager, importunate. His hawk's eyes were softer than +Hare had ever seen them; he was obliging, kind, gay, an altogether +different Snap Naab. He groomed himself often, and wore clean scares, +and left off his bloody spurs. For eight months he had not touched the +bottle. When spring approached he was madly in love with Mescal. And +the marriage was delayed because his wife would not have another woman in +her home. + +Once Hare heard Snap remonstrating with his father. + +"If she don't come to time soon I'll keep the kids and send her back to +her father." + +"Don't be hasty, son. Let her have time," replied August. "Women must +be humored. I'll wager she'll give in before the cottonwood blows, and +that's not long." + +It was Hare's habit, as the days grew warmer, to walk a good deal, and +one evening, as twilight shadowed the oasis and grew black under the +towering walls, he strolled out toward the fields. While passing Snap's +cottage Hare heard a woman's voice in passionate protest and a man's in +strident anger Later as he stood with his arm on Silvermane, a woman's +scream, at first high-pitched, then suddenly faint and smothered, caused +him to grow rigid, and his hand clinched tight. When he went back by the +cottage a low moaning confirmed his suspicion. + +That evening Snap appeared unusually bright and happy; and he asked his +father to name the day for the wedding. August did so in a loud voice +and with evident relief. Then the quaint Mormon congratulations were +offered to Mescal. To Hare, watching the strange girl with the +distressingly keen intuition of an unfortunate lover, she appeared as +pleased as any of them that the marriage was settled. But there was no +shyness, no blushing confusion. When Snap bent to kiss her--his first +kiss--she slightly turned her face, so that his lips brushed her cheek, +yet even then her self-command did not break for an instant. It was a +task for Hare to pretend to congratulate her; nevertheless he mumbled +something. She lifted her long lashes, and there, deep beneath the +shadows, was unutterable anguish. It gave him a shock. He went to his +room, convinced that she had yielded; and though he could not blame her, +and he knew she was helpless, he cried out in reproach and resentment. +She had failed him, as he had known she must fail. He tossed on his bed +and thought; he lay quiet, wide-open eyes staring into the darkness, and +his mind burned and seethed. Through the hours of that long night he +learned what love had cost him. + +With the morning light came some degree of resignation. Several days +went slowly by, bringing the first of April, which was to be the +wedding-day. August Naab had said it would come before the cottonwoods +shed their white floss; and their buds had just commenced to open. The +day was not a holiday, and George and Zeke and Dave began to pack for the +ranges, yet there was an air of jollity and festivity. Snap Naab had a +springy step and jaunty mien. Once he regarded Hare with a slow smile. + +Piute prepared to drive his new flock up on the plateau. The women of +the household were busy and excited; the children romped. + +The afternoon waned into twilight, and Hare sought the quiet shadows +under the wall near the river trail. He meant to stay there until August +Naab had pronounced his son and Mescal man and wife. The dull roar of +the rapids borne on a faint puff of westerly breeze was lulled into a +soothing murmur. A radiant white star peeped over the black rim of the +wall. The solitude and silence were speaking to Hare's heart, easing his +pain, when a soft patter of moccasined feet brought him bolt upright. + +A slender form rounded the corner wall. It was Mescal. The white dog +Wolf hung close by her side. Swiftly she reached Hare. + +"Mescal!" he exclaimed. + +"Hush! Speak softly," she whispered fearfully. Her hands were clinging +to his. + +"Jack, do you love me still?" + +More than woman's sweetness was in the whisper; the portent of +indefinable motive made Hare tremble like a shaking leaf. + +"Good heavens! You are to be married in a few minutes--What do you mean? +Where are you going? this buckskin suit--and Wolf with you_Mescal!" + +"There's no time--only a word--hurry--do you love me still?" she panted, +with great shining eyes close to his. + +"Love you? With all my soul!" + +"Listen," she whispered, and leaned against him. A fresh breeze bore the +boom of the river. She caught her breath quickly: "I love you!--I love +you!--Good-bye!" + +She kissed him and broke from his clasp. Then silently, like a shadow, +with the white dog close beside her, she disappeared in the darkness of +the river trail. + +She was gone before he came out of his bewilderment. He rushed down the +trail; he called her name. The gloom had swallowed her, and only the +echo of his voice made answer. + + + +XII +ECHO CLIFFS + + +When thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake +he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any +knowledge of it. + +With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the +gloomy shade, and felt his way to a point beyond the twinkling lights. +Then, peering through the gloom until assured he was safe from +observation, and taking the dark side of the house, he gained the hall, +and his room. He threw himself on his bed, and endeavored to compose +himself, to quiet his vibrating nerves, to still the triumphant bell-beat +of his heart. For a while all his being swung to the palpitating +consciousness of joy--Mescal had taken her freedom. She had escaped the +swoop of the hawk. + +While Hare lay there, trying to gather his shattered senses, the merry +sound of voices and the music of an accordion hummed from the big +living-room next to his. Presently heavy boots thumped on the floor of +the hall; then a hand rapped on his door. + +"Jack, are you there?" called August Naab. + +"Yes." + +"Come along then." + +Hare rose, opened the door and followed August. The room was bright with +lights; the table was set, and the Naabs, large and small, were standing +expectantly. As Hare found a place behind them Snap Naab entered with +his wife. She was as pale as if she were in her shroud. Hare caught +Mother Ruth's pitying subdued glance as she drew the frail little woman +to her side. When August Naab began fingering his Bible the whispering +ceased. + +"Why don't they fetch her?" he questioned. + +"Judith, Esther, bring her in," said Mother Mary, calling into the +hallway. + +Quick footsteps, and the girls burst in impetuously, exclaiming: +"Mescal's not there!" + +"Where is she, then?" demanded August Naab, going to the door. "Mescal!" +he called. + +Succeeding his authoritative summons only the cheery sputter of the +wood-fire broke the silence. + +"She hadn't put on her white frock," went on Judith. + +"Her buckskins aren't hanging where they always are," continued Esther. + +August Naab laid his Bible on the table." I always feared it," he said +simply. + +"She's gone!" cried Snap Naab. He ran into the hall, into Mescal's room, +and returned trailing the white wedding-dress. "The time we thought she +spent to put this on she's been--" + +He choked over the words, and sank into a chair, face convulsed, hands +shaking, weak in the grip of a grief that he had never before known. +Suddenly he flung the dress into the fire. His wife fell to the floor in +a dead faint. Then the desert-hawk showed his claws. His hands tore at +the close scarf round his throat as if to liberate a fury that was +stifling him; his face lost all semblance to anything human. He began to +howl, to rave, to curse; and his father circled him with iron arm and +dragged him from the room. + +The children were whimpering, the wives lamenting. The quiet men +searched the house and yard and corrals and fields. But they found no +sign of Mescal. After long hours the excitement subsided and all sought +their beds. + +Morning disclosed the facts of Mescal's flight. She had dressed for the +trail; a knapsack was missing and food enough to fill it; Wolf was gone; +Noddle was not in his corral; the peon slave had not slept in his shack; +there were moccasin-tracks and burro-tracks and dog-tracks in the sand at +the river crossing, and one of the boats was gone. This boat was not +moored to the opposite shore. Questions arose. Had the boat sunk? Had +the fugitives crossed safely or had they drifted into the canyon? Dave +Naab rode out along the river and saw the boat, a mile below the rapids, +bottom side up and lodged on a sand-bar. + +"She got across, and then set the boat loose," said August. "That's the +Indian of her. If she went up on the cliffs to the Navajos maybe we'll +find her. If she went into the Painted Desert--" a grave shake of his +shaggy head completed his sentence. + +Morning also disclosed Snap Naab once more in the clutch of his demon, +drunk and unconscious, lying like a log on the porch of his cottage. + +"This means ruin to him," said his father. "He had one chance; he was +mad over Mescal, and if he had got her, he might have conquered his +thirst for rum." + +He gave orders for the sheep to be driven up on the plateau, and for his +sons to ride out to the cattle ranges. He bade Hare pack and get in +readiness to accompany him to the Navajo cliffs, there to search for +Mescal. + +The river was low, as the spring thaws had not yet set in, and the +crossing promised none of the hazard so menacing at a later period. +Billy Naab rowed across with the saddle and packs. Then August had to +crowd the lazy burros into the water. Silvermane went in with a rush, +and Charger took to the river like an old duck. August and Jack sat in +the stern of the boat, while Billy handled the oars. They crossed +swiftly and safely. The three burros were then loaded, two with packs, +the other with a heavy water-bag. + +"See there," said August, pointing to tracks in the sand. The imprints +of little moccasins reassured Hare, for he had feared the possibility +suggested by the upturned boat." Perhaps it'll be better if I never find +her," continued Naab. "If I bring her back Snap's as likely to kill her +as to marry her. But I must try to find her. Only what to do with her-- +" + +"Give her to me," interrupted Jack. + +"Hare!" + +"I love her!" + +Naab's stern face relaxed. "Well, I'm beat! Though + +I don't see why you should be different from all the others. + +It was that time you spent with her on the plateau. I + +thought you too sick to think of a woman!" + +"Mescal cares for me," said Hare. + +"Ah! That accounts. Hare, did you play me fair?" + +"We tried to, though we couldn't help loving." + +"She would have married Snap but for you." + +"Yes. But I couldn't help that. You brought me out here, and saved my +life. I know what I owe you. Mescal meant to marry your son when I left +for the range last fall. But she's a true woman and couldn't. August +Naab, if we ever find her will you marry her to him--now?" + +"That depends. Did you know she intended to run?" + +"I never dreamed of it. I learned it only at the last moment. I met her +on the river trail." + +"You should have stopped her." + +Hare maintained silence. + +"You should have told me," went on Naab. + +"I couldn't. I'm only human." + +"Well, well, I'm not blaming you, Hare. I had hot blood once. But I'm +afraid the desert will not be large enough for you and Snap. She's +pledged to him. You can't change the Mormon Church. For the sake of +peace I'd give you Mescal, if I could. Snap will either have her or kill +her. I'm going to hunt this desert in advance of him, because he'll +trail her like a hound. It would be better to marry her to him than to +see her dead." + +"I'm not so sure of that." + +"Hare, your nose is on a blood scent, like a wolf's. I can see--I've +always seen--well, remember, it's man to man between you now." + +During this talk they were winding under Echo Cliffs, gradually climbing, +and working up to a level with the desert, which they presently attained +at a point near the head of the canyon. The trail swerved to the left +following the base of the cliffs. The tracks of Noddle and Wolf were +plainly visible in the dust. Hare felt that if they ever led out into +the immense airy space of the desert all hope of finding Mescal must be +abandoned. + +They trailed the tracks of the dog and burro to Bitter Seeps, a shallow +spring of alkali, and there lost all track of them. The path up the +cliffs to the Navajo ranges was bare, time-worn in solid rock, and showed +only the imprint of age. Desertward the ridges of shale, the washes of +copper earth, baked in the sun, gave no sign of the fugitives' course. +August Naab shrugged his broad shoulders and pointed his horse to the +cliff. It was dusk when they surmounted it. + +They camped in the lee of an uplifting crag. When the wind died down the +night was no longer unpleasantly cool; and Hare, finding August Naab +uncommunicative and sleepy, strolled along the rim of the cliff, as he +had been wont to do in the sheep-herding days. He could scarcely +dissociate them from the present, for the bitter-sweet smell of tree and +bush, the almost inaudible sigh of breeze, the opening and shutting of +the great white stars in the blue dome, the silence, the sense of the +invisible void beneath him--all were thought-provoking parts of that past +of which nothing could ever be forgotten. And it was a silence which +brought much to the ear that could hear. It was a silence penetrated by +faint and distant sounds, by mourning wolf, or moan of wind in a +splintered crag. Weird and low, an inarticulate voice, it wailed up from +the desert, winding along the hollow trail, freeing itself in the wide +air, and dying away. He had often heard the scream of lion and cry of +wildcat, but this was the strange sound of which August Naab had told +him, the mysterious call of canyon and desert night. + +Daylight showed Echo Cliffs to be of vastly greater range than the sister +plateau across the river. The roll of cedar level, the heave of craggy +ridge, the dip of white-sage valley gave this side a diversity widely +differing from the two steps of the Vermillion tableland. August Naab +followed a trail leading back toward the river. For the most part thick +cedars hid the surroundings from Hare's view; occasionally, however, he +had a backward glimpse from a high point, or a wide prospect below, where +the trail overlooked an oval hemmed-in valley. + +About midday August Naab brushed through a thicket, and came abruptly on +a declivity. He turned to his companion with a wave of his hand. + +"The Navajo camp," he said. "Eschtah has lived there for many years. +It's the only permanent Navajo camp I know. These Indians are nomads. +Most of them live wherever the sheep lead them. This plateau ranges for +a hundred miles, farther than any white man knows, and everywhere, in the +valleys and green nooks, will be found Navajo hogans. That's why we may +never find Mescal." + +Hare's gaze travelled down over the tips of cedar and crag to a pleasant +vale, dotted with round mound-like white-streaked hogans, from which lazy +floating columns of blue smoke curled upward. Mustangs and burros and +sheep browsed on the white patches of grass. Bright-red blankets blazed +on the cedar branches. There was slow colorful movement of Indians, +passing in and out of their homes. The scene brought irresistibly to +Hare the thought of summer, of long warm afternoons, of leisure that took +no stock of time. + +On the way down the trail they encountered a flock of sheep driven by a +little Navajo boy on a brown burro. It was difficult to tell which was +the more surprised, the long-eared burro, which stood stock-still, or the +boy, who first kicked and pounded his shaggy steed, and then jumped off +and ran with black locks flying. Farther down Indian girls started up +from their tasks, and darted silently into the shade of the cedars. +August Naab whooped when he reached the valley, and Indian braves +appeared, to cluster round him, shake his hand and Hare's, and lead them +toward the centre of the encampment. + +The hogans where these desert savages dwelt were all alike; only the +chief's was larger. From without it resembled a mound of clay with a few +white logs, half imbedded, shining against the brick red. August Naab +drew aside a blanket hanging over a door, and entered, beckoning his +companion to follow. Inured as Hare had become to the smell and smart of +wood-smoke, for a moment he could not see, or scarcely breathe, so thick +was the atmosphere. A fire, the size of which attested the desert +Indian's love of warmth, blazed in the middle of the hogan, and sent part +of its smoke upward through a round hole in the roof. Eschtah, with +blanket over his shoulders, his lean black head bent, sat near the fire. +He noted the entrance of his visitors, but immediately resumed his +meditative posture, and appeared to be unaware of their presence. + +Hare followed August's example, sitting down and speaking no word. His +eyes, however, roved discreetly to and fro. Eschtah's three wives +presented great differences in age and appearance. The eldest was a +wrinkled, parchment-skinned old hag who sat sightless before the fire; +the next was a solid square squaw, employed in the task of combing a +naked boy's hair with a comb made of stiff thin roots tied tightly in a +round bunch. Judging from the youngster's actions and grimaces, this +combing process was not a pleasant one. The third wife, much younger, +had a comely face, and long braids of black hair, of which, evidently, +she was proud. She leaned on her knees over a flat slab of rock, and +holding in her hands a long oval stone, she rolled and mashed corn into +meal. There were young braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way, +with bands binding their straight thick hair, silver rings in their ears, +silver bracelets on their wrists, silver buttons on their moccasins. +There were girls who looked up from their blanket-weaving with shy +curiosity, and then turned to their frames strung with long threads. +Under their nimble fingers the wool-carrying needles slipped in and out, +and the colored stripes grew apace. Then there were younger boys and +girls, all bright-eyed and curious; and babies sleeping on blankets. +Where the walls and ceiling were not covered with buckskin garments, +weapons and blankets, Hare saw the white wood-ribs of the hogan +structure. It was a work of art, this circular house of forked logs and +branches, interwoven into a dome, arched and strong, and all covered and +cemented with clay. + +At a touch of August's hand Hare turned to the old chief; and awaited his +speech. It came with the uplifting of Eschtah's head, and the offering +of his hand in the white man's salute. August's replies were slow and +labored; he could not speak the Navajo language fluently, but he +understood it. + +"The White Prophet is welcome," was the chief's greeting. "Does he come +for sheep or braves or to honor the Navajo in his home?" + +"Eschtah, he see' s the Flower of the Desert," replied August Naab. +"Mescal has left him. Her trail leads to the bitter waters under the +cliff, and then is as a bird's." + +"Eschtah has waited, yet Mescal has not come to him." + +"She has not been here?" + +"Mescal's shadow has not gladdened the Navajo's door." + +"She has climbed the crags or wandered into the canyons. The white +father loves her; he must find her." + +"Eschtah's braves and mustangs are for his friend's use. The Navajo will +find her if she is not as the grain of drifting sand. But is the White +Prophet wise in his years? Let the Flower of the Desert take root in the +soil of her forefathers." + +"Eschtah's wisdom is great, but he thinks only of Indian blood. Mescal +is half white, and her ways have been the ways of the white man. Nor +does Eschtah think of the white man's love." + +"The desert has called. Where is the White Prophet's vision? White +blood and red blood will not mix. The Indian's blood pales in the white +man's stream; or it burns red for the sun and the waste and the wild. +Eschtah's forefathers, sleeping here in the silence, have called the +Desert Flower." + +"It is true. But the white man is bound; he cannot be as the Indian; he +does not content himself with life as it is; he hopes and prays for +change; he believes in the progress of his race on earth. Therefore +Eschtah's white friend smelts Mescal; he has brought her up as his own; +he wants to take her home, to love her better, to trust to the future." + +"The white man's ways are white man's ways. Eschtah understands. He +remembers his daughter lying here. He closed her dead eyes and sent word +to his white friend. He named this child for the flower that blows in +the wind of silent places. Eschtah gave his granddaughter to his friend. +She has been the bond between them. Now she is flown and the White +Father seeks the Navajo. Let him command. Eschtah has spoken." + +Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the +guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every +waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the +river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, +ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into +the thickets and caves. From Eschtah's encampment westward the hogans +diminished in number till only one here and there was discovered, hidden +under a yellow wall, or amid a clump of cedars. All the Indians met with +were sternly questioned by the chiefs, their dwellings were searched, and +the ground about their waterholes was closely examined. Mile after mile +the plateau was covered by these Indians, who beat the brush and +penetrated the fastnesses with a hunting instinct that left scarcely a +rabbit-burrow unrevealed. The days sped by; the circle of the sun arched +higher; the patches of snow in high places disappeared; and the search +proceeded westward. They camped where the night overtook them, sometimes +near water and grass, sometimes in bare dry places. To the westward the +plateau widened. Rugged ridges rose here and there, and seared crags +split the sky like sharp sawteeth. And after many miles of wild +up-ranging they reached a divide which marked the line of Eschtah's +domain. + +Naab's dogged persistence and the Navajos' faithfulness carried them into +the country of the Moki Indians, a tribe classed as slaves by the proud +race of Eschtah. Here they searched the villages and ancient tombs and +ruins, but of Mescal there was never a trace. + +Hare rode as diligently and searched as indefatigably as August, but he +never had any real hope of finding the girl. To hunt for her, however, +despite its hopelessness, was a melancholy satisfaction, for never was +she out of his mind. + +Nor was the month's hard riding with the Navajos without profit. He made +friends with the Indians, and learned to speak many of their words. Then +a whole host of desert tricks became part of his accumulating knowledge. +In climbing the crags, in looking for water and grass, in loosing +Silvermane at night and searching for him at dawn, in marking tracks on +hard ground, in all the sight and feeling and smell of desert things he +learned much from the Navajos. The whole outward life of the Indian was +concerned with the material aspect of Nature--dust, rock, air, wind, +smoke, the cedars, the beasts of the desert. These things made up the +Indians' day. The Navajos were worshippers of the physical; the sun was +their supreme god. In the mornings when the gray of dawn flushed to rosy +red they began their chant to the sun. At sunset the Navajos were +watchful and silent with faces westward. The Moki Indians also, Hare +observed, had their morning service to the great giver of light. In the +gloom of early dawn, before the pink appeared in the east, and all was +whitening gray, the Mokis emerged from their little mud and stone huts +and sat upon the roofs with blanketed and drooping heads. + +One day August Naab showed in few words how significant a factor the sun +was in the lives of desert men. + +"We've got to turn back," he said to Hare. "The sun's getting hot and +the snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we +can't cross." + +They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received +them in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of +departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, +which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs. +It was the Navajos' outlook over the Painted Desert. + +"Mescal is there," said August Naab." She's there with the slave Eschtah +gave her. He leads Mescal. Who can follow him there?" + +The old chieftain reined in his horse, beside the time-hollowed trail, +and the same hand that waved his white friend downward swept up in slow +stately gesture toward the illimitable expanse. It was a warrior's +salute to an unconquered world. Hare saw in his falcon eyes the still +gleam, the brooding fire, the mystical passion that haunted the eyes of +Mescal. + +"The slave without a tongue is a wolf. He scents the trails and the +waters. Eschtah's eyes have grown old watching here, but he has seen no +Indian who could follow Mescal's slave. Eschtah will lie there, but no +Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is +lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. +Look!" + +To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored +dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and +dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a +veritable rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred +Hare--he saw the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of +alkali and washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and +dust-encumbered ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of the +flat tableland rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the eye +beyond to veils and vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line of +level lanes, and so on, and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare +grasped a little of its meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed +world. Here was deep and majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But +it was only through Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its +terrifying desolateness, its sleeping death. + +When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere speech, +the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner being seemed +to shrink. + +"The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him," said Eschtah. +"The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand." + + + +XIII +THE SOMBRE LINE + + +August Naab hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to +Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy +faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's +flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had +followed. + +Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy. +For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself +in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his +almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his +wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave +Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had +ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since. + +The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the +life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as +to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, +gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August +Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to +the range, and tell his sons that he would come later. + +It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and +made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars +toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of +the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab. + +"Hello, Jack," called Dave Naab, into the dark. "I knew that was you. +Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you +and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you +clear to the Little Colorado." + +Hare told the story of the fruitless search. + +"It's no more than we expected," said Dave. "The man doesn't live who +can trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped +her halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn +into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, +for she's a good girl, too good for Snap." + +"What's your news?" inquired Hare. + +"Oh, nothing much," replied Dave, with a short laugh. "The cattle +wintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke +and I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping +Springs. We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's. +He's with Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the +corrals at the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen +riders there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He +finished up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you." + +"About me!" + +"Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for it. +Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's going +too far--he is--" + +Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence was more significant +than any utterance. + +"What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap' killing Snood?" + +"They've said a lot. This even-break business goes al right among +gun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed +Culver, and Snap will be outlawed next." + +"Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert tot small for him and +me?" + +"Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak tc you about it. +Snap will ride in here some day and then--' Dave's pause was not +reassuring. + +And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding +down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and +saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a +tall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and +Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught +sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars. +While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail. + +"It's Snap and Holderness," he called out, sharply "What's Snap doing +with Holderness? What's he bring ing him here for?" + +"I don't like the looks of it," replied Zeke, deliberately. + +"Jack, what well you do?" asked Dave, suddenly + +"Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit +from men who don't like me." + +"It might be wisest." + +"Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?" + +"No." The dull red came to Dave's cheek."But will you draw on him?" + +"Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother." + +"Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on +Holderness, then?" + +"For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you," replied Hare, pacing the +trail. "Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd +draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull +too late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap +or Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would +either of them shoot an unarmed man?" + +"Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun." + +Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over +the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats near +the camp-fire. + +"There they come," whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by +George. + +"Steady, you fellows," said Dave, with a warning glance. "I'll do the +talking." + +Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the +glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood +directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside. + +"Howdy, boys?" called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a +gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, +their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the +cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed hi +brother. + +"Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?" + +"I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round," replied Snap. +The hard lines, the sullen shade the hawk-beak cruelty had returned +tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame. + +"New foreman!" exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared in +amazement. "No--you can't mean that--you're drunk!" + +"That's what I said," growled Snap. + +"You're a liar!" shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown on +his cheeks. He jumped off the ground m his fury. + +"It's true, Naab; he's my new foreman," put in Holderness, suavely. "A +hundred a month--in gold--and I've got as good a place for you." + +"Well, by G--d!" Dave's arms came down and his face blanched to his lips. +"Holderness!" + +"I know what you'd say," interrupted the ranchman. + +"But stop it. I know you're game. And what's the use of fighting? I'm +talking business. I'll--" + +"You can't talk business or anything else to me," said Dave Naab, and he +veered sharply toward his brother. 'Say it again, Snap Naab. You've +hired out to ride for this man?" + +"That's it." + +"You're going against your father, your brothers, your own flesh and +blood?" + +"I can't see it that way." + +"Then you're a drunken, easily-led fool. This man's no rancher. He's a +rustler. He ruined Martin Cole, the father of your first wife. He's +stolen our cattle; he's jumped our water-rights. He's trying to break +us. For God's salce, ain't you a man?" + +"Things have gone bad for me," replied Snap, sullenly, shifting in his +saddle. "I reckon I'll do better to cut out alone for myself." + +"You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I always +knew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace the +Naabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here? +Be quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. You +can't even water your horses. Out with it!" + +At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenly +felt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of his +breast. ,The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemed +instantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Hare +dodged, but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave place +to a tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a +bloody hand fumbling at his breast. + +Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt, +held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick +which made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was +nearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone. + +"Cool down, there!" ordered Zeke. "He's done for." + +"My God--my God!" cried Dave, in a broken voice. "Not--not dead?" + +"Shot through the heart!" + +Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse."D n you! run, or +I'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again--you +draw!" He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. They +plunged out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing the +cedars, disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers. + +"Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my fries! . . . +Who's to tell father?" + +Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bare +shoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. "Cheer +up, Dave. I'm not dead yet." + +"Sure he's not," said Zeke. "He ducked none too soon, or too late, and +caught the bullet high up in the shoulder." + +Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on Hare's +knee shook a little. + +"When I saw George go for his gun," went on Zeke, "I knew there'd be a +lively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack was +dead." + +"Do you think they came over to get me?" asked Hare. + +"No doubt," replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from his +brow. "I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's going +over to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snap +edging over till too late." + +"Listen, I hear horses," said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare's +wound. + +"It's Billy, up on the home trail," added George "Yes, and there's father +with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?" + +"Some one must tell him," answered Dave. + +"That '11 be you, then. You always do the talking." + +August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the saddle. +"I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?--Hare! Why--lad--how is it +with you?" + +"Not bad," rejoined Hare. + +"Let me see," August thrust Zeke aside. "A bullet-hole--just missed the +bone--not serious. Tie it up tight. I'll take him home to-morrow. ... +Hare, who's been here?" + +"Snap rode in and left his respects." + +"Snap! Already? Yet I knew it--I saw it. You had Providence with you, +lad, for this wound is not bad. Snap surprised you, then?" + +"No. I knew it was coming." + +"Jack hung his belt and gun on Silvermane's saddle," said Dave. "He +didn't feel as if he could draw on either Snap or Holderness--" + +"Holderness!" + +"Yes. Snap rode in with Holderness. Hare thought if he was unarmed they +wouldn't draw. But Snap did." + +"Was he drunk?" + +"No. They came over to kill Hare." Dave went on to recount the incident +in full. "And--and see here, dad--that's not all. Snap's gone to the +bad." + +Dave Naab hid his face while he told of his brother's treachery; the +others turned away, and Hare closes his eyes. + +For long moments there was silence broken only by the tramp of the old +man as he strode heavily to and fro. At last the footsteps ceased, and +Hare opened his eyes to see Naab's tall form erect, his arms uplifted, +his shaggy head rigid. + +"Hare," began August, presently. "I'm responsible for this cowardly +attack on you. I brought you out here. This is the second one. Beware +of the third! I see--but tell me, do you remember that I said you must +meet Snap as man to man?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't you want to live?" + +"Of course." + +"You hold to no Mormon creed?" + +"Why, no," Hare replied, wonderingly. + +"What was the reason I taught you my trick with a gun?" + +"I suppose it was to help me to defend myself." + +"Then why do you let yourself be shot down in cold blood? Why did you +hang up your gun? Why didn't you draw on Snap? Was it because of his +father, his brothers, his family?" + +"Partly, but not altogether," replied Hare, slowly. "I didn't know +before what I know now. My flesh sickened at the thought of killing a +man, even to save my own life; and to kill--your son--" + +"No son of mine!" thundered Naab. "Remember that when next you meet. I +don't want your blood on my hands. Don't stand to be killed like a +sheep! If you have felt duty to me, I release you." + +Zeke finished bandaging the wound. Making a bed of blankets he lifted +Hare into it, and covered him, cautioning him to lie still. Hare had a +sensation of extreme lassitude, a deep drowsiness which permeated even to +his bones. There were intervals of oblivion, then a time when the stars +blinked in his eyes; he heard the wind, Silvermane's bell, the murmur of +voices, yet all seemed remote from him, intangible as things in a dream. + +He rode home next day, drooping in the saddle and fainting at the end of +the trail, with the strong arm of August Naab upholding him. His wound +was dressed and he was put to bed, where he lay sleeping most of the +time, brooding the rest. + +In three weeks he was in the saddle again, riding out over the red strip +of desert toward the range. During his convalescence he had learned that +he had come to the sombre line of choice. Either he must deliberately +back away, and show his unfitness to survive in the desert, or he must +step across into its dark wilds. The stern question haunted him. Yet he +knew a swift decision waited on the crucial moment. + +He sought lonely rides more than ever, and, like Silvermane, he was +always watching and listening. His duties carried him half way to +Seeping Springs, across the valley to the red wall, up the slope of +Cocnina far into the forest of stately pines. What with Silvermane's +wonderful scent and sight, and his own constant watchfulness, there were +never range-riders or wild horses nor even deer near him without his +knowledge. + +The days flew by; spring had long since given place to summer; the blaze +of sun and blast of flying sand were succeeded by the cooling breezes +from the mountain; October brought the flurries of snow and November the +dark storm-clouds. + +Hare was the last of the riders to be driven off the mountain. The +brothers were waiting for him at Silver Cup, and they at once packed and +started for home. + +August Naab listened to the details of the range-riding since his +absence, with silent surprise. Holderness and Snap had kept away from +Silver Cup after the supposed killing of Hare. Occasionally a group of +horsemen rode across the valley or up a trail within sight of Dave and +his followers, but there was never a meeting. Not a steer had been +driven off the range that summer and fall; and except for the menace +always hanging in the blue smoke over Seeping Springs the range-riding +had passed without unusual incident. + +So for Hare the months had gone by swiftly; though when he looked back +afterward they seemed years. The winter at the oasis he filled as best +he could, with the children playing in the yard, with Silvermane under +the sunny lee of the great red wall, with any work that offered itself. +It was during the long evenings, when he could not be active, that time +oppressed him, and the memories of the past hurt him. A glimpse of the +red sunset through the cliff-gate toward the west would start the train +of thought; he both loved and hated the Painted Desert. Mescal was there +in the purple shadows. He dreamed of her in the glowing embers of the +log-fire. He saw her on Black Bolly with hair flying free to the wind. +And he could not shut out the picture of her sitting in the corner of the +room, silent, with bowed head, while the man to whom she was pledged hung +close over her. That memory had a sting. It was like a spark of fire +dropped on the wound in his breast where the desert-hawk had struck him. +It was like a light gleaming on the sombre line he was waiting to cross. + + + +XIV +WOLF + + +ON the anniversary of the night Mescal disappeared the mysterious voice +which had called to Hare so often and so strangely again pierced his +slumber, and brought him bolt upright in his bed shuddering and +listening. The dark room was as quiet as a tomb. He fell back into his +blankets trembling with emotion. Sleep did not close his eyes again that +night; he lay in a fever waiting for the dawn, and when the gray gloom +lightened he knew what he must do. + +After breakfast he sought August Naab. "May I go across the river?" he +asked. + +The old man looked up from his carpenter's task and fastened his glance +on Hare. "Mescal?" + +"Yes." + +"I saw it long ago." He shook his head and spread his great hands." +There's no use for me to say what the desert is. If you ever come back +you'll bring her. Yes, you may go. It's a man's deed. God keep you!" + +Hare spoke to no other person; he filled one saddle-bag with grain, +another with meat, bread, and dried fruits, strapped a five-gallon +leather water-sack back of Silvermane's saddle, and set out toward the +river. At the crossing-bar he removed Silvermane's equipments and placed +them in the boat. At that moment a long howl, as of a dog baying the + +moon, startled him from his musings, and his eyes sought the river-bank, +up and down, and then the opposite side. An animal, which at first he +took to be a gray timber -wolf, was running along the sand-bar of the +landing. + +"Pretty white for a wolf," he muttered. "Might be a Navajo dog." + +The beast sat down on his haunches and, lifting a lean head, sent up a +doleful howl. Then he began trotting along the bar, every few paces +stepping to the edge of the water. Presently he spied Hare, and he began +to bark furiously. + +"It's a dog all right; wants to get across," said Hare. "Where have I +seen him?" + +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. "He's like +Mescal's Wolf!" He looked closer, his heart beginning to thump, and then +he yelled: "Ki-yi! Wolf! Hyer! Hyer!" + +The dog leaped straight up in the air, and coming down, began to dash +back and forth along the sand with piercing yelps. + +"It's Wolf! Mescal must be near," cried Hare. A veil obscured his sight, +and every vein was like a hot cord. "Wolf! Wolf! I'm coming!" + +With trembling hands he tied Silvermane's bridle to the stern seat of the +boat and pushed off. In his eagerness he rowed too hard, dragging +Silvermane's nose under water, and he had to check himself. Time and +again he turned to call to the dog. At length the bow grated on the +sand, and Silvermane emerged with a splash and a snort. + +"Wolf, old fellow!" cried Hare. "Where's Mescal? Wolf, where is she?" +He threw his arms around the dog. Wolfwhined, licked Hare's face, and +breaking away, ran up the sandy trail, and back again. But he barked no +more; he waited to see if Hare was following. + +"All right, Wolf--coming." Never had Hare saddled so speedily, nor +mounted so quickly. He sent Silvermane into the willow-skirted trail +close behind the dog, up on the rocky bench, and then under the bulging +wall. Wolf reached the level between the canyon and Echo Cliffs, and +then started straight west toward the Painted Desert. He trotted a few +rods and turned to see if the man was coming. + +Doubt, fear, uncertainty ceased for Hare. With the first blast of +dust-scented air in his face he knew Wolf was leading him to Mescal. He +knew that the cry he had heard in his dream was hers, that the old +mysterious promise of the desert had at last begun its fulfilment. He +gave one sharp exultant answer to that call. The horizon, ever-widening, +lay before him, and the treeless plains, the sun-scorched slopes, the +sandy stretches, the massed blocks of black mesas, all seemed to welcome +him; his soul sang within him. + +For Mescal was there. Far away she must be, a mere grain of sand in all +that world of drifting sands, perhaps ill, perhaps hurt, but alive, +waiting for him, calling for him, crying out with a voice that no +distance could silence. He did not see the sharp peaks as pitiless +barriers, nor the mesas and domes as black-faced death, nor the +moisture-drinking sands as life-sucking foes to plant and beast and man. +That painted wonderland had sheltered Mescal for a year. He had loved it +for its color, its change, its secrecy; he loved it now because it had +not been a grave for Mescal, but a home. Therefore he laughed at the +deceiving yellow distances in the foreground of glistening mesas, at the +deceiving purple distances of the far-off horizon. The wind blew a song +in his ears; the dry desert odors were fragrance in his nostrils; the +sand tasted sweet between his teeth, and the quivering heat-waves, +veiling the desert in transparent haze, framed beautiful pictures for his +eyes. + +Wolf kept to the fore for some thirty paces, and though he had ceased to +stop, he stir; looked back to see if the horse and man were following. +Hare had noted the dog occasionally in the first hours of travel, but he +had given his eyes mostly to the broken line of sky and desert in the +west, to the receding contour of Echo Cliffs, to the spread and break of +the desert near at hand. Here and there life showed itself in a gaunt +coyote sneaking into the cactus, or a horned toad huddling down in the +dust, or a jewel-eyed lizard sunning himself upon a stone. It was only +when his excited fancy had cooled that Hare came to look closely at Wolf. +But for the dog's color he could not have been distinguished from a real +wolf. His head and ears and tad; drooped, and he was lame in his right +front paw. + +Hare halted in the shade of a stone, dismounted and called the dog to +him. Wolf returned without quickness, without eagerness, without any of +the old-time friendliness of shepherding days. His eyes were sad and +strange. Hare felt a sudden foreboding, but rejected it with passionate +force. Yet a chill remained. Lifting Wolf's paw he discovered that the +ball of the foot was worn through; whereupon he called into service a +piece of buckskin, and fashioning a rude moccasin he tied it round the +foot. Wolf licked his hand, but there was no change in the sad light of +his eyes. He turned toward the west as if anxious to be off. + +"All right, old fellow," said Hare, "only go slow. From the look of that +foot I think you've turned back on a long trail." + +Again they faced the west, dog leading, man following, and addressed +themselves to a gradual ascent. When it had been surmounted Hare +realized that his ride so far had brought him only through an anteroom; +the real portal now stood open to the Painted Desert. The immensity of +the thing seemed to reach up to him with a thousand lines, ridges, +canyons, all ascending out of a purple gulf. The arms of the desert +enveloped him, a chill beneath their warmth. + +As he descended into the valley, keeping close to Wolf, he marked a +straight course in line with a volcanic spur. He was surprised when the +dog, though continually threading jumbles of rock, heading canyons, +crossing deep washes, and going round obstructions, always veered back to +this bearing as true as a compass-needle to its magnet. + +Hare felt the air growing warmer and closer as he continued the descent. +By mid-afternoon, when he had travelled perhaps thirty miles, he was +moist from head to foot, and Silvermane's coat was wet. Looking backward +Hare had a blank feeling of loss; the sweeping line of Echo Cliffs had +retreated behind the horizon. There was no familiar landmark left. + +Sunset brought him to a standstill, as much from its sudden glorious +gathering of brilliant crimsons splashed with gold, as from its warning +that the day was done. Hare made his camp beside a stone which would +serve as a wind-break. He laid his saddle for a pillow and his blanket +for a bed. He gave Silvermane a nose-bag full of water and then one of +grain; he fed the dog, and afterward attended to his own needs. When his +task was done the desert brightness had faded to gray; the warm air had +blown away on a cool breeze, and night approached. He scooped out a +little hollow in the sand for his hips, took a last look at Silvermane +haltered to the rock, and calling Wolf to his side stretched himself to +rest. He was used to lying on the ground, under the open sky, out where +the wind blew and the sand seeped in, yet all these were different on +this night. He was in the Painted Desert; Wolf crept close to him; +Mescal lay somewhere under the blue-white stars. + +He awakened and arose before any color of dawn hinted of the day. While +he fed his four-footed companions the sky warmed and lightened. A tinge +of rose gathered in the east. The air was cool and transparent. He +tried to cheer Wolf out of his sad-eyed forlornness, and failed. + +Hare vaulted into the saddle. The day had its possibilities, and while +he had sobered down from his first unthinking exuberance, there was still +a ring in his voice as he called to the dog: + +"On, Wolf, on, old boy!" + +Out of the east burst the sun, and the gray curtain was lifted by shafts +of pink and white and gold, flashing westward long trails of color. + +When they started the actions of the dog showed Hare that Wolf was not +tracking a back-trail, but travelling by instinct. There were draws +which necessitated a search for a crossing, and areas of broken rock +which had to be rounded, and steep flat mesas rising in the path, and +strips of deep sand and canyons impassable for long distances. But the +dog always found a way and always came back to a line with the black spur +that Hare had marked. It still stood in sharp relief, no nearer than +before, receding with every step, an illusive landmark, which Hare began +to distrust. + +Then quite suddenly it vanished in the ragged blue mass of the Ghost +Mountains. Hare had seen them several times, though never so distinctly. +The purple tips, the bold rock-ribs, the shadowed canyons, so sharp and +clear in the morning light--how impossible to believe that these were +only the deceit of the desert mirage! Yet so they were; even for the +Navajos they were spirit-mountains. + +The splintered desert-floor merged into an area of sand. Wolf slowed his +trot, and Silvermane's hoofs sunk deep. Dismounting Hare labored beside +him, and felt the heat steal through his boots and burn the soles of his +feet. Hare plodded onward, stopping once to tie another moccasin on +Wolf's worn paw, this time the left one; and often he pulled the stopper +from the water-bag and cooled his parching lips and throat. The waves of +the sand-dunes were as the waves of the ocean. He did not look backward, +dreading to see what little progress he had made. Ahead were miles on +miles of graceful heaps, swelling mounds, crested ridges, all different, +yet regular and rhythmical, drift on drift, dune on dune, in endless +waves. Wisps of sand were whipped from their summits in white ribbons +and wreaths, and pale clouds of sand shrouded little hollows. The +morning breeze, rising out of the west, approached in a rippling lines +like the crest of an inflowing tide. + +Silvermane snorted, lifted his ears and looked westward toward a yellow +pall which swooped up from the desert. + +"Sand-storm," said Hare, and calling Wolf he made for the nearest rock +that was large enough to shelter them. The whirling sand-cloud +mushroomed into an enormous desert covering, engulfing the dunes, +obscuring the light. The sunlight failed; the day turned to gloom. Then +an eddying fog of sand and dust enveloped Hare.,. His last glimpse be- +fore he covered his face with a silk handkerchief was of sheets of sand +streaming past his shelter. The storm came with a low, soft, hissing +roar, like the sound in a sea-shell magnified. Breathing through the +handkerchief Hare avoided inhaling the sand which beat against his face, +but the finer dust particles filtered through and stifled him. At first +he felt that he would suffocate, and he coughed and gasped; but +presently, when the thicker sand-clouds had passed, he managed to get air +enough to breathe. Then he waited patiently while the steady seeping +rustle swept by, and the band of his hat sagged heavier, and the load on +his shoulders had to be continually shaken off, and the weighty trap +round his feet crept upward. When the light, fine touch ceased he +removed the covering from his face to see himself standing nearly to his +knees in sand, and Silvermane's back and the saddle burdened with it. +The storm was moving eastward, a dull red now with the sun faintly +showing through it like a ball of fire. + +"Well, Wolf, old boy, how many storms like that will we have to weather?" +asked Hare, in a cheery tone which he had to force. He knew these +sand-storms were but vagaries of the desert-wind. Before the hour closed +he had to seek the cover of a stone and wait for another to pass. Then +he was caught in the open, with not a shelter in sight. He was compelled +to turn his back to a third storm, the worst of all, and to bear as best +he could the heavy impact of the first blow, and the succeeding rush and +flow of sand. After that his head drooped and he wearily trudged beside +Silvermane, dreading the interminable distance he must cover before once +more gaining hard ground. But he discovered that it was useless to try +to judge distance on the desert. What had appeared miles at his last +look turned out to be only rods. + +It was good to get into the saddle again and face clear air. Far away +the black spur again loomed up, now surrounded by groups of mesas with +sage-slopes tinged with green. That surely meant the end of this long +trail; the faint spots of green lent suggestion of a desert waterhole; +there Mescal must be, hidden in some shady canyon. Hare built his hopes +anew. + +So he pressed on down a plain of bare rock dotted by huge bowlders; and +out upon a level floor of scant sage and greasewood where a few living +creatures, a desert-hawk sailing low, lizards darting into holes, and a +swiftly running ground-bird, emphasized the lack of life in the waste. +He entered a zone of clay-dunes of violet and heliotrope hues; and then a +belt of lava and cactus. Reddish points studded the desert, and here and +there were meagre patches of white grass. Far away myriads of cactus +plants showed like a troop of distorted horsemen. As he went on the +grass failed, and streams of jagged lava- flowed downward. Beds of +cinders told of the fury of a volcanic fire. Soon Hare had to dismount +to make moccasins for Wolf's hind feet; and to lead Silvermane carefully +over the cracked lava. For a while there were strips of ground bare of +lava and harboring only an occasional bunch of cactus, but soon every +foot free of the reddish iron bore a projecting mass of fierce spikes and +thorns. The huge barrel-shaped cacti, and thickets of slender dark-green +rods with bayonet points, and broad leaves with yellow spines, drove Hare +and his sore-footed fellow-travellers to the lava. + +Hare thought there must be an end to it some time, yet it seemed as +though he were never to cross that black forbidding inferno. Blistered +by the heat, pierced by the thorns, lame from long toil on the lava, he +was sorely spent when once more he stepped out upon the bare desert. On +pitching camp he made the grievous discovery that the water-bag had +leaked or the water had evaporated, for there was only enough left for +one more day. He ministered to thirsty dog and horse in silence, his +mind revolving the grim fact of his situation. + +His little fire of greasewood threw a wan circle into the surrounding +blackness. Not a sound hinted of life. He longed for even the bark of a +coyote. Silvermane stooped motionless with tired head. Wolf stretched +limply on the sand. Hare rolled into his blanket and stretched out with +slow aching relief. + +He dreamed he was a boy roaming over the green hills of the old farm, +wading through dewy clover-fields, and fishing in the Connecticut River. +It was the long vacationtime, an endless freedom. Then he was at the +swimming-hole, and playmates tied his clothes in knots, and with shouts +of glee ran up the bank leaving him there to shiver. + +When he awakened the blazing globe of the sun had arisen over the eastern +horizon, and the red of the desert swathed all the reach of valley. + +Hare pondered whether he should use his water at once or dole it out. +That ball of fire in the sky, a glazed circle, like iron at white heat, +decided for him. The sun would be hot and would evaporate such water as +leakage did not claim, and so he shared alike with Wolf, and gave the +rest to Silvermane. + +For an hour the mocking lilac mountains hung in the air and then paled in +the intense light. The day was soundless and windless, and the +heat-waves rose from the desert like smoke. For Hare the realities were +the baked clay flats, where Silvermane broke through at every step; the +beds of alkali, which sent aloft clouds of powdered dust; the deep +gullies full of round bowlders; thickets of mesquite and prickly thorn +which tore at his legs; the weary detour to head the canyons; the climb +to get between two bridging mesas; and always the haunting presence of +the sad-eyed dog. His unrealities were the shimmering sheets of water in +every low place; the baseless mountains floating in the air; the green +slopes rising close at hand; beautiful buttes of dark blue riding the +open sand, like monstrous barks at sea; the changing outlines of desert +shapes in pink haze and veils of purple and white lustre--all illusions, +all mysterious tricks of the mirage. + +In the heat of midday Hare yielded to its influence and reined in his +horse under a slate -bank where there was shade. His face was swollen +and peeling, and his lips had begun to dry and crack and taste of alkali. +Then Wolf pattered on; Silvermane kept at his heels; Hare dozed in the +saddle. His eyes burned in their sockets from the glare, and it was a +relief to shut out the barren reaches. So the afternoon waned. + +Silvermane stumbled, jolting Hare out of his stupid lethargy. Before him +spread a great field of bowlders with not a slope or a ridge or a mesa or +an escarpment. Not even a tip of a spur rose in the background. He +rubbed his sore eyes. Was this another illusion? + +When Silvermane started onward Hare thought of the Navajos' custom to +trust horse and dog in such an emergency. They were desert-bred; beyond +human understanding were their sight and scent. He was at the mercy now +of Wolf's instinct and Silvermane's endurance. Resignation brought him a +certain calmness of soul, cold as the touch of an icy hand on fevered +cheek. He remembered the desert secret in Mescal's eyes; he was about to +solve it. He remembered August Naab's words: "It's a man's deed!" If so, +he had achieved the spirit of it, if not the letter. He remembered +Eschtah's tribute to the wilderness of painted wastes: "There is the +grave of the Navajo, and no one knows the trail to the place of his +sleep!" He remembered the something evermore about to be, the unknown +always subtly calling; now it was revealed in the stone-fettering grip of +the desert. It had opened wide to him, bright with its face of danger, +beautiful with its painted windows, inscrutable with its alluring call. +Bidding him enter, it had closed behind him; now he looked upon it in its +iron order, its strange ruins racked by fire, its inevitable +remorselessness. + + + +XV +DESERT NIGHT + + +The gray stallion, finding the rein loose on his neck, trotted forward +and overtook the dog, and thereafter followed at his heels. With the +setting of the sun a slight breeze stirred, and freshened as twilight +fell, rolling away the sultry atmosphere. Then the black desert night +mantled the plain. + +For a while this blackness soothed the pain of Hare's sun-blinded eyes. +It was a relief to have the unattainable horizon line blotted out. But +by-and-by the opaque gloom brought home to him, as the day had never +done, the reality of his solitude. He was alone in this immense place of +barrenness, and his dumb companions were the world to him. Wolf pattered +onward, a silent guide; and Silvermane followed, never lagging, +sure-footed in the dark, faithful to his master. All the love Hare had +borne the horse was as nothing to that which came to him on this desert +night. In and out, round and round, ever winding, ever zigzagging, +Silvermane hung close to Wolf, and the sandy lanes between the bowlders +gave forth no sound. Dog and horse, free to choose their trail, trotted +onward miles and miles into the night. + +A pale light in the east turned to a glow, then to gold, and the round +disc of the moon silhouetted the black bowlders on the horizon. It +cleared the dotted line and rose, an oval orange-hued strange moon, not +mellow nor silvery nor gloriously brilliant as Hare had known it in the +past, but a vast dead-gold melancholy orb, rising sadly over the desert. +To Hare it was the crowning reminder of lifelessness; it fitted this +world of dull gleaming stones. + +Silvermane went lame and slackened his trot, causing Hare to rein in and +dismount. He lifted the right forefoot, the one the horse had favored, +and found a stone imbedded tightly in the cloven hoof. He pried it out +with his knife and mounted again. Wolf shone faintly far ahead, and +presently he uttered a mournful cry which sent a chill to the rider's +heart. The silence had been oppressive before; now it was terrible. It +was not a silence of life. It had been broken suddenly by Wolf's howl, +and had closed sharply after it, without echo; it was a silence of death. + +Hare took care not to fall behind Wolf again, he had no wish to hear that +cry repeated. The dog moved onward with silent feet; the horse wound +after him with hoofs padded in the sand; the moon lifted and the desert +gleamed; the bowlders grew larger and the lanes wider. So the night wore +on, and Hare's eyelids grew heavy, and his whole weary body cried out for +rest and forgetfulness. He nodded until he swayed in the saddle; then +righted himself, only to doze again The east gave birth to the morning +star. The whitening sky was the harbinger of day. Hare could not bring +himself to face the light and heat, and he stopped at a wind-worn cave +under a shelving rock. He was asleep when he rolled out on the +sand-strewn floor. Once he awoke and it was still day, for his eyes +quickly shut upon the glare. He lay sweltering till once more slumber +claimed him.The dog awakened him, with cold nose and low whine. Another +twilight had fallen. Hare crawled out, stiff and sore, hungry and +parching with thirst. He made an attempt to eat, but it was a failure. +There was a dry burning in his throat, a dizzy feeling in his brain, and +there were red flashes before his eyes. Wolf refused meat, and Silver- +mane turned from the grain, and lowered his head to munch a few blades of +desert grass. + +Then the journey began, and the night fell black. A cool wind blew from +the west, the white stars blinked, the weird moon rose with its ghastly +glow. Huge bowlders rose before him in grotesque shapes, tombs and +pillars and statues of Nature's dead, carved by wind and sand. But some +had life in Hare's disordered fancy. They loomed and towered over him, +and stalked abroad and peered at him with deep-set eyes. + +Hare fought with all his force against this mood of gloom. Waif eras not +a phantom; he trotted forward with unerring instinct; and he would find +water, and that meant life. Silvermane, desert-steeled, would travel to +the furthermost corner of this hell of sand-swept stone. Hare tried to +collect all his spirit, all his energies, but the battle seemed to be +going against him. All about him was silence, breathless silence, +insupportable silence of ages. Desert spectres danced in the darkness. +The worn-out moon gleamed golden over the worn-out waste. Desolation +lurked under the sable shadows. + +Hare rode on into the night, tumbled from his saddle in the gray of dawn +to sleep, and stumbled in the twilight to his drooping horse. His eyes +were blind now to the desert shapes, his brain burned and his tongue +filled his mouth.Silvermane trod ever upon Wolf's heels; he had come into +the kingdom of his desert-strength; he lifted his drooping head and +lengthened his stride; weariness had gone and he snorted his welcome to +something on the wind. Then he passed the limping dog and led the way. + +Hare held to the pommel and bent dizzily forward in the saddle. +Silvermane was going down, step by step, with metallic clicks upon flinty +rock. Whether he went down or up was all the same to Hare; he held on +with closed eyes and whispered to himself. Down and down, step by step, +cracking the stones with iron-shod hoofs, the gray stallion worked his +perilous way, sure-footed as a mountain-sheep. Then he stopped with a +great slow heave and bent his head. + +The black bulge of a canyon rim blurred in Hare's hot eyes. A trickling +sound penetrated his tired brain. His ears had grown like his eyes-- +false. Only another delusion! As he had been tortured with the sight of +lake and stream now he was to be tortured with the sound of running +water. Yet he listened, for it was sweet even in its mockery. What a +clear musical tinkle, like silver bells tossing on the wind! He listened. +Soft murmuring flow, babble and gurgle, little hollow fall and splash! + +Suddenly Silvermane, lifting his head, broke the silence of the canyon +with a great sigh of content. It pierced the dull fantasy of Hare's +mind; it burst the gloomy spell. The sigh and the snort which followed +were Silvermane's triumphant signals when he had drunk his fill. + +Hare fell from the saddle. The gray dog lay stretched low in the +darkness. Hare crawled beside him and reached out with his hot hands. +Smooth cool marble rock, growing slippery, then wet, led into running +water. He slid forward on his face and wonderful cold thrills quivered +over his burning skin. He drank and drank until he could drink no more. +Then he lay back upon the rock; the madness of his brain went out with +the light of the stars, and he slept. + +When he awoke red canyon walls leaned far above him to a gap spanned by +blue sky. A song of rushing water murmured near his ears. He looked +down; a spring gushed from a crack in the wall; Silvermane cropped green +bushes, and Wolf sat on his haunches waiting, but no longer with sad eyes +and strange mien. Hare raised himself, looking again and again, and +slowly gathered his wits. The crimson blur had gone from his eyes and +the burning from his skin, and the painful swelling from his tongue. + +He drank long and deeply, and rising with clearing thoughts and thankful +heart, he kissed Wolf's white head, and laid his arms round Silvermane's +neck. He fed them, and ate himself, not without difficulty, for his lips +were puffed and his tongue felt like a piece of rope. When he had eaten, +his strength came back. + +At a word Wolf, with a wag of his tail, splashed into the gravelly stream +bed. Hare followed on foot, leading Silvermane. There were little beds +of pebbles and beaches of sand and short steps down which the water +babbled. The canyon was narrow and tortuous; Hare could not see ahead or +below, for the projecting red cliffs, growing higher as he descended, +walled out the view. The blue stream of sky above grew bluer and the +light and shade less bright. For an hour he went down steadily without a +check, and the farther down the rougher grew the way. Bowlders wedged in +narrow places made foaming waterfalls. Silvermane clicked down +confidently. + +The slender stream of water, swelled by seeping springs and little rills, +gained the dignity of a brook; it began to dash merrily and hurriedly +downward. The depth of the falls, the height of cliffs, and the size of +the bowlders increased in the descent. Wolf splashed on unmindful; there +was a new spirit in his movements; and when he looked back for his +laboring companions there was friendly protest in his eyes. Silvermane's +mien plainly showed that where a dog could go he could follow. +Silvermane's blood was heated; the desert was an old story to him; it had +only tired him and parched his throat; this canyon of downward steps and +falls, with ever-deepening drops, was new to him, and roused his mettle; +and from his long training in the wilds he had gained a marvellous +sure-footedness. + +The canyon narrowed as it deepened; the jutting walls leaned together, +shutting out the light; the sky above was now a ribbon of blue, only to +be seen when Hare threw back his head and stared straight up. + +"It'll be easier climbing up, Silvermane," he panted--"if we ever get +the chance." + +The sand and gravel and shale had disappeared; all was bare clean-washed +rock. In many places the brook failed as a trail, for it leaped down in +white sheets over mossy cliffs. Hare faced these walls in despair. But +Wolf led on over the ledges and Silvermane followed, nothing daunted. At +last Hare shrank back from a hole which defied him utterly. Even Wolf +hesitated. The canyon was barely twenty feet wide; the floor ended in a +precipice; the stream leaped out and fell into a dark cleft from which no +sound arose. On the right there was a shelf of rock; it was scarce half +a foot broad at the narrowest and then apparently vanished altogether. +Hare stared helplessly up at the slanting shut-in walls. + +While he hesitated Wolf pattered out upon the ledge and Silvermane +stamped restlessly. With a desperate fear of losing his beloved horse +Hare let go the bridle and stepped upon the ledge. He walked rapidly, +for a slow step meant uncertainty and a false one meant death. He heard +the sharp ring of Silvermane's shoes, and he listened in agonized +suspense for the slip, the snort, the crash that he feared must come. +But it did not come. Seeing nothing except the narrow ledge, yet feeling +the blue abyss beneath him, he bent all his mind to his task, and finally +walked out into lighter space upon level rock. To his infinite relief +Silvermane appeared rounding a corner out of the dark passage, and was +soon beside him. + +Hare cried aloud in welcome. + +The canyon widened; there was a clear demarcation where the red walls +gave place to yellow; the brook showed no outlet from its subterranean +channel. Sheer exhaustion made Hare almost forget his mission; the +strength of his resolve had gone into mechanical toil; he kept on, +conscious only of the smart of bruised hands and feet and the ache of +laboring lungs. + +Time went on and the sun hung in the midst of the broadening belt of blue +sky. A long slant of yellow slope led down to a sage-covered level, +which Hare crossed, pleased to see blooming cacti and wondering at their +slender lofty green stems shining with gold flowers. He descended into a +ravine which became precipitous. Here he made only slow advance. At the +bottom he found himself in a wonderful lane with an almost level floor; +here flowed a shallow stream bordered by green willows. Wolf took the +direction of the flowing water. Hare's thoughts were all of Mescal, and +his hopes began to mount, his heart to beat high. + +He gazed ahead with straining eyes. Presently there was not a break in +the walls. A drowsy hum of falling water came to Hare, strange reminder +of the oasis, the dull roar of the Colorado, and of Mescal. + +His flagging energies leaped into life with the canyon suddenly opening +to bright light and blue sky and beautiful valley, white and gold in +blossom, green with grass and cottonwood. On a flower-scented wind +rushed that muffled roar again, like distant thunder. + +Wolf dashed into the cottonwoods. Silvermane whistled with satisfaction +and reached for the long grass. + +For Hare the light held something more than beauty, the breeze something +more than sweet scent of water and blossom. Both were charged with +meaning--with suspense. + +Wolf appeared in the open leaping upon a slender brown-garbed form. + +"Mescal!" cried Hare. + +With a cry she ran to him, her arms outstretched, her hair flying in the +wind, her dark eyes wild with joy. + + + +XVI +THUNDER RIVER + + +For an instant Hare's brain reeled, and Mescal's broken murmurings were +meaningless Then his faculties grew steady and acute; he held the girl as +if he intended never to let her go. Mescal clung to him with a wildness +that gave him anxiety for her reason; there was something almost fierce +in the tension of her arms, in the blind groping for his face. + +"Mescal! It's Jack, safe and well," he said. "Let me look at you." + +At the sound of his voice all her rigid strength changed to a yielding +weakness; she leaned back supported by his arms and looked at him. Hare +trembled before the dusky level glance he remembered so well, and as +tears began to flow he drew her head to his shoulder. He had forgotten +to prepare himself for a different Mescal. Despite the quivering smile +of happiness, her eyes were strained with pain. The oval contour, the +rich bloom of her face had gone; beauty was there still, but it was the +ghost of the old beauty. + +"Jack--is it--really you?" she asked. + +He answered with a kiss. + +She slipped out of his arms breathless and scarlet. "Tell me all--" + +"There's much to tell, but not before you kiss me. It has been more than +a year." + +"Only a year! Have I been gone only a year?" + +"Yes, a year. But it's past now. Kiss me, Mescal. One kiss will pay +for that long year, though it broke my heart." + +Shyly she raised her hands to his shoulders and put her lips to his. +"Yes, you've found me, Jack, thank God! just in time!" + +"Mescal! What's wrong? Aren't you well?" + +"Pretty well. But if you had not come soon I should have starved." + +"Starved? Let me get my saddle-bags--I have bread and meat." + +"Wait. I'm not so hungry now. I mean very soon I should not have had +any food at all." + +"But your peon--the dumb Indian? Surely he could find something to eat. +What of him? Where is he?" + +"My peon is dead. He has been dead for months, I don't know how many." + +"Dead! What was the matter with him?" + +"I never knew. I found him dead one morning and I buried him in the +sand." + +Mescal led Hare under the cottonwoods and pointed to the Indian's grave, +now green with grass. Farther on in a circle of trees stood a little +hogan skilfully constructed out of brush; the edge of a red blanket +peeped from the door; a burnt-out fire smoked on a stone fireplace, and +blackened earthen vessels lay near. The white seeds of the cottonwoods +were flying light as feathers; plum-trees were pink in blossom; there +were vines twining all about; through the openings in the foliage shone +the blue of sky and red of cliff Patches of blossoming Bowers were here +and there lit to brilliance by golden shafts of sunlight. The twitter of +birds and hum of bees were almost drowned in the soft roar of water. + +"Is that the Colorado I hear?" asked Hare. + +"No, that's Thunder River. The Colorado is farther down in the Grand +Canyon." + +"Farther down! Mescal, I must have come a mile from the rim. Where are +we?" + +"We are almost at the Colorado, and directly under the head of Coconina. +We can see the mountain from the break in the valley below." + +"Come sit by me here under this tree. Tell me--how did you ever get +here?" + +Then Mescal told him how the peon had led her on a long trail from Bitter +Seeps, how they had camped at desert waterholes, and on the fourth day +descended to Thunder River. + +"I was quite happy at first. It's always summer down here. There were +rabbits, birds, beaver, and fruit--we had enough to eat I explored the +valley with Wolf or rode Noddle up and down the canyon. Then my peon +died, and I had to shift for myself. There came a time when the beaver +left the valley, and Wolf and I had to make a rabbit serve for days. I +knew then I'd have to get across the desert to the Navajos or starve in +the canyon. I hesitated about climbing out into the desert, for I wasn't +sure of the trail to the waterholes. Noddle wandered off up the canyon +and never came back. After he was gone and I knew I couldn't get out I +grew homesick. The days weren't so bad because I was always hunting for +something to eat, but the nights were lonely. I couldn't sleep. I lay +awake listening to the river, and at last I could hear whispering and +singing and music, and strange sounds, and low thunder, always low +thunder. I wasn't really frightened, only lonely, and the canyon was so +black and full of mutterings. Sometimes I'd dream I was back on the +plateau with you, Jack, and Bolly and the sheep, and when I'd awake in +the loneliness I'd cry right out--" + +"Mescal, I heard those cries," said Hare. + +"It was strange--the way I felt. I believe if I'd never known and--and +loved you, Jack, I'd have forgotten home. After I'd been here a while, I +seemed to be drifting, drifting. It was as if I had lived in the canyon +long before, and was remembering. The feeling was strong, but always +thoughts of you, and of the big world, brought me back to the present +with its loneliness and fear of starvation. Then I wanted you, and I'd +cry out. I knew I must send Wolf home. How hard it was to make him go! +But at last he trotted off, looking backward, and I--waited and waited." + +She leaned against him. The hand which had plucked at his sleeve dropped +to his fingers and clung there. Hare knew how her story had slighted the +perils and privations of that long year. She had grown lonely in the +canyon darkness; she had sent Wolf away and had waited--all was said in +that. But more than any speech, the look of her, and the story told in +the thin brown hands touched his heart. Not for an instant since his +arrival had she altogether let loose of his fingers, or coat, or arm. +She had lived so long alone in this weird world of silence and moving +shadows and murmuring water, that she needed to feel the substance of her +hopes, to assure herself of the reality of the man she loved. + +"My mustang--Bolly--tell me of her," said Mescal. + +"Bolly's fine. Sleek and fat and lazy! She's been in the fields ever +since you left. Not a bridle on her. Many times have I seen her poke +her black muzzle over the fence and look down the lane. She'd never +forget you, Mescal." + +"Oh! how I want to see her! Tell me--everything." + +"Wait a little. Let me fetch Silvermane and we'll make a fire and eat. +Then--" + +"Tell me now." + +"Well, Mescal, it's soon told." Then came the story of events growing out +of her flight. When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal rose +with heaving bosom and blazing eyes. + +"It was nothing--I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We saw +no more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's wife +died." + +"Oh, I am sorry--sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the cause +of it all! But I couldn't stay--I couldn't marry Snap." + +"Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you had +married him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer. +But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snap +would have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's a +rustler, if not worse." + +"Then those men think Snap killed you?" + +"Yes." + +"What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?" + +"Somebody will be surprised," replied Hare, with a laugh. + +"Jack, it's no laughing matter." She fastened her hands in the lapels of +his coat and her eyes grew sad. "You can never hang up your gun again." + +"No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's. +Mescal, you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run." + +"I haven't forgotten. He can run, but he can't beat Bolly." She said +this with a hint of her old spirit." Jack--you want to take me back +home?" + +"Of course. What did you expect when you sent Wolf?" + +"I didn't expect. I just wanted to see you, or somebody, and I thought +of the Navajos. Couldn't I live with them? Why can't we stay here or in +a canyon across the Colorado where there's plenty of game?" + +"I'm going to take you home and Father Naab shall marry you--to--to me." + +Startled, Mescal fell back upon his shoulder and did not stir nor speak +for a long time. "Did--did you tell him?" + +"Yes." + +"What did he say? Was he angry? Tell me." + +"He was kind and good as he always is. He said if I found you, then the +issue would be between Snap and me, as man to man. You are still pledged +to Snap in the Mormon Church and that can't be changed. I don't suppose +even if he's outlawed that it could be changed." + +"Snap will not let any grass grow in the trails to the oasis," said +Mescal. "Once he finds I've come back to life he'll have me. You don't +know him, Jack. I'm afraid to go home." + +"My dear, there's no other place for us to go. We can't live the life of +Indians." + +"But Jack, think of me watching you ride out from home! Think of me +always looking for Snap! I couldn't endure it. I've grown weak in this +year of absence." + +"Mescal, look at me." His voice rang as he held her face to face. "We +must decide everything. Now--say you love me!" + +"Yes--yes." + +"Say it." + +"I--love you--Jack. + +"Say you'll marry me + +"I will marry you." + +"Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. You +are mine and I'll keep you." He held her tightly with strong arms; his +face paled, his eyes darkened. "I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shall +try to keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now. +Your happiness--perhaps your life--depends on me. That makes a +difference. Understand!" + +Silvermane walked into the glade with a saddle-girth so tight that his +master unbuckled it only by dint of repeated effort. Evidently the rich +grass of Thunder River Canyon appealed strongly to the desert stallion. + +"Here, Silver, how do you expect to carry us out if you eat and drink +like that?" Hare removed the saddle and tethered the gray to one of the +cottonwoods. Wolf came trotting into camp proudly carrying a rabbit. + +"Mescal, can we get across the Colorado and find a way up over Coconina?" +asked Hare. + +"Yes, I'm sure we can. My peon never made a mistake about directions. +There's no trail, but Navajos have crossed the river at this season, and +worked up a canyon." + +The shadows had gathered under the cliffs, and the rosy light high up on +the ramparts had chilled and waned when Hare and Mescal sat down to their +meal. Wolf lay close to the girl and begged for morsels. Then in the +twilight they sat together content to be silent, listening to the low +thunder of the river. Long after Mescal had retired into her hogan Hare +lay awake before her door with his head in his saddle and listened to the +low roll, the dull burr, the dreamy hum of the tumbling waters. The +place was like the oasis, only infinitely more hidden under the cliffs. +A few stars twinkled out of the dark blue, and one hung, beaconlike, on +the crest of a noble crag. There were times when he imagined the valley +was as silent as the desert night, and other times when he imagined he +heard the thundering roll of avalanches and the tramp of armies. Then +the voices of Mescal's solitude spoke to him--glorious laughter and low +sad wails of woe, sweet songs and whispers and murmurs. His last waking +thoughts were of the haunting sound of Thunder River, and that he had +come to bear Mescal away from its loneliness. + +He bestirred himself at the first glimpse of day, and when the gray mists +had lifted to wreathe the crags it was light enough to begin the journey. +Mescal shed tears at the grave of the faithful peon. "He loved this +canyon," she said, softly. Hare lifted her upon Silvermane. He walked +beside the horse and Wolf trotted on before. They travelled awhile under +the flowering cottonwoods on a trail bordered with green tufts of grass +and great star-shaped lilies. The river was still hidden, but it filled +the grove with its soft thunder. Gradually the trees thinned out, hard +stony ground encroached upon the sand, bowlders appeared in the way; and +presently, when Silvermane stepped out of the shade of the cottonwoods, +Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its ragged vent. + +"Look back!" said Mescal. + +Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two white +streams which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous cascade. +Step by step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a broken, foaming +raceway, and at the lower end of the valley it took its final leap into a +blue abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, hidden underground. + +The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted long +after the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in the +close air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stones +cracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollow +sound and echo. Silvermane clattered down the easy trail at a gait which +urged Hare now and then from walk to run. Soon the gully opened out upon +a plateau through the centre of which, in a black gulf, wound the red +Colorado, sullen-voiced, booming, never silent nor restful. Here were +distances by which Hare could begin to comprehend the immensity of the +canyon, and he felt lost among the great terraces leading up to mesas +that dwarfed the Echo Cliffs. All was bare rock of many hues burning +under the sun. + +"Jack, this is mescal," said the girl, pointing to some towering plants. + +All over the sunny slopes cacti lifted slender shafts, unfolding in +spiral leaves as they shot upward and bursting at the top into plumes of +yellow flowers. The blossoming stalks waved in the wind, and black bees +circled round them. + +"Mescal, I've always wanted to see the Flower of the Desert from which +you're named. It's beautiful." + +Hare broke a dead stalk of the cactus and was put to instant flight by a +stream of bees pouring with angry buzz from the hollow centre. Two big +fellows were so persistent that he had to beat them off with his hat. + +"You shouldn't despoil their homes," said Mescal, with a peal of +laughter. + +"I'll break another stalk and get stung, if you'll laugh again," replied +Hare. + +They traversed the remaining slope of the plateau, and entering the head +of a ravine, descended a steep cleft of flinty rock, rock so hard that +Silvermane's iron hoofs not so much as scratched it. Then reaching a +level, they passed out to rounded sand and the river. + +"It's a little high," said Hare dubiously. "Mescal, I don't like the +looks of those rapids." + +Only a few hundred rods of the river could be seen. In front of Hare the +current was swift but not broken. Above, where the canyon turned, the +river sheered out with a majestic roll and falling in a wide smooth curve +suddenly narrowed into a leaping crest of reddish waves. Below Hare was +a smaller rapid where the broken water turned toward the nearer side of +the river, but with an accompaniment of twisting swirls and vicious +waves. + +"I guess we'd better risk it," said Hare, grimly recalling the hot rock, +the sand, and lava of the desert. + +"It's safe, if Silvermane is a good swimmer," replied Mescal. "We can +take the river above and cut across so the current will help." + +"Silvermane loves the water. He'll make this crossing easily. But he +can't carry us both, and it's impossible to make two trips. I'll have to +swim." + +Without wasting more words and time over a task which would only grow +more formidable with every look and thought, Hare led Silvermane up the +sand-bar to its limit. He removed his coat and strapped it behind the +saddle; his belt and revolver and boots he hung over the pommel. + +"How about Wolf? I'd forgotten him." + +"Never fear for him! He'll stick close to me." + +"Now, Mescal, there's the point we want to make, that bar; see it?" + +"Surely we can land above that." + +"I'll be satisfied if we get even there. You guide him for it. And, +Mescal, here's my gun. Try to keep it from getting wet. Balance it on +the pommel--so. Come, Silver; come, Wolf." + +"Keep up-stream," called Mescal as Hare plunged in. "Don't drift below +us." + +In two steps Silvermane went in to his saddle, and he rolled with a +splash and a snort, sinking Mescal to her hips. His nose level with the +water, mane and tail floating, he swam powerfully with the current. + +For Hare the water was just cold enough to be delightful after the long +hot descent, but its quality was strange. Keeping up-stream of the horse +and even with Mescal, he swam with long regular strokes for perhaps +one-quarter of the distance. But when they reached the swirling eddies +he found that he was tiring. The water was thick and heavy; it +compressed his lungs and dragged at his feet. He whirled round and round +in the eddies and saw Silvermane doing the same. Only by main force +could he breast his way out of these whirlpools. When a wave slapped his +face he tasted sand, and then he knew what the strange feeling meant. +There was sand here as on the desert. Even in the depths of the canyon +he could not escape it. As the current grew rougher he began to feel +that he could scarcely spread his arms in the wide stroke. Changing the +stroke he discovered that he could not keep up with Silvermane, and he +changed back again. Gradually his feet sank lower and lower, the water +pressed tighter round him, his arms seemed to grow useless. Then he +remembered a saying of August Naab that the Navajos did not attempt to +swim the river when it was in flood and full of sand. He ceased to +struggle, and drifting with the current, soon was close to Silvermane, +and grasped a saddle strap. + +"Not there!" called Mescal." He might strike you. Hang to his tail!" + +Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly. The +stallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped at +Mescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down out +of line with + +The black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescal lifted the +rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright. The roar of +the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died in the +splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal turned to +him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she shouted: + +"Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids. +Hang on!" + +In the swelling did Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As he +held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane +dipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing +water of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond +was a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal +crouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one white +flash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went out +of sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into the +backlash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost tore +his arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane's +tail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him from +wave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stinging +blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention of +waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he could +breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally, his +feet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his eyes of +the sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river on +Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar. Hare staggered up +and fell on the sand. + +"Jack, are you all right?" inquired Mescal. + +"All right, only' pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand. +How about you?" + +"I don't think I ever was any wetter," replied Mescal, laughing." It was +hard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me. +I was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep. +Silvermane is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and was +waiting for us when we landed." + +Hare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding himself +little the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the water from +the long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a tint of +color showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short skirt +clung tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture and +appeared so little affected by the peril they had just passed through +that Hare, yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, kissed the +pink cheeks till they flamed. + +"All wet," said he, "you and I, clothes, food, guns--everything." + +"It's hot and we'll soon dry," returned Mescal. "Here's the canyon and +creek we must follow up to Coconina. My peon mapped them in the sand for +me one day. It'll probably be a long climb." + +Hare poured the water out of his boots, pulled them on, and helping +Mescal to mount Silvermane, he took the bridle over his arm and led the +way into a black-mouthed canyon, through which flowed a stream of clear +water. Wolf splashed and pattered along beside him. Beyond the marble +rock this canyon opened out to great breadth and wonderful walls. Hare +had eyes only for the gravelly bars and shallow levels of the creek; +intent on finding the easy going for his horse he strode on and on +thoughtless of time. Nor did he talk to Mescal, for the work was hard, +and he needed his breath. Splashing the water, hammering the stones, +Silvermane ever kept his nose at Hare's elbow. They climbed little +ridges, making short cuts from point to point, they threaded miles of +narrow winding creek floor, and passed under ferny cliffs and over grassy +banks and through thickets of yellow willow. As they wound along the +course of the creek, always up and up, the great walls imperceptibly +lowered their rims. The warm sun soared to the zenith. Jumble of +bowlders, stretches of white gravel ridges of sage, blocks of granite, +thickets of manzanita long yellow slopes, crumbling crags, clumps of +cedar and lines of pinon--all were passed in the persistent plodding +climb. The canyon grew narrower toward its source; the creek lost its +volume; patches of snow gleamed in sheltered places. At last the +yellow-streaked walls edged out upon a grassy hollow and the great dark +pines of Coconina shadowed the snow. + +"We're up," panted Hare." What a climb! Five hours! One more day--then +home!" + +Silvermane's ears shot up and Wolf barked. Two gray deer loped out of a +thicket and turned inquisitively. Reaching for his rifle Hare threw back +the lever, but the action clogged, it rasped with the sound of crunching +sand, and the cartridge could not be pressed into the chamber or ejected. +He fumbled about the breach of the gun and his brow clouded. + +"Sand! Out of commission!" he exclaimed." Mescal, I don't like that." + +"Use your Colt," suggested Mescal. + +The distance was too great. Hare missed, and the deer bounded away into +the forest. + +Hare built a fire under a sheltering pine where no snow covered the soft +mat of needles, and while Mescal dried the blankets and roasted the last +portion of meat he made a wind-break of spruce boughs. When they had +eaten, not forgetting to give Wolf a portion, Hare fed Silvermane the +last few handfuls of grain, and tied him with a long halter on the grassy +bank. The daylight failed and darkness came on apace. The old familiar +roar of the wind in the pines was disturbing; it might mean only the lull +and crash of the breaking night-gusts, and it might mean the north wind, +storm, and snow. It whooped down the hollow, scattering the few +scrub-oak leaves; it whirled the red embers of the fire away into the +dark to sputter in the snow, and blew the burning logs into a white glow. +Mescal slept in the shelter of the spruce boughs with Wolf snug and warm +beside her. Hare stretched his tired limbs in the heat of the blaze. + +When he awakened the fire was low and he was numb with cold. He took +care to put on logs enough to last until morning; then he lay down once +more, but did not sleep. The dawn came with a gray shade in the forest; +it was a cloud, and it rolled over him soft, tangible, moist, and cool, +and passed away under the pines. With its vanishing the dawn lightened. +"Mescal, if we're on the spur of Coconina, it's only ten miles or so to +Silver Cup," said Hare, as he saddled Silvermane. "Mount now and we'll +go up out of the hollow and get our bearings." + +While ascending the last step to the rim Hare revolved in his mind the +probabilities of marking a straight course to Silver Cup. + +"Oh! Jack!" exclaimed Mescal, suddenly." Vermillion Cliffs and home!" + +"I've travelled in a circle!" replied Hare. + +Mescal was enraptured at the scene. Vermillion Cliffs shone red as a +rose. The split in the wall marking the oasis defined its outlines +sharply against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight. Hare +knew he stood on the highest point of Coconina overhanging the Grand +Canyon and the Painted Desert, thousands of feet below. He noted the +wondrous abyss sleeping in blue mist at his feet, while he gazed across +to the desert awakening in the first red rays of the rising sun. + +"Mescal, your Thunder River Canyon is only one little crack in the rocks. +It is lost in this chasm," said Hare. + +"It's lost, surely. I can t even see the tip of the peak that stood so +high over the valley." + +Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the Vermillion +Cliffs, and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculating +his bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow and +the soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermane +often sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they made +better time, for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave way +to the brown dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of Mescal, +and put the stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding they +struck a bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to the +spring. In another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, and +saw the familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of gray +sage patches down through the pines. + +"I smell smoke," said Hare. + +"The boys must be at the spring," rejoined Mescal. + +"Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip +down through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home +side of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it." + +With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a +diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached +the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turned +toward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringe +of cedars. + +"Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley," he said, looking at +her significantly. + +"They can't all be ours, that's sure," she replied." What do you think?" + +"Holderness!" With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on, +cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breaking +brush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so worked +his way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress was +checked by the bulging wall of rock. + +"Only cattle in the valley, no horses," he said. "I've a good chance to +cut across this cube and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up and +see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't believe +Dave and the boys are there." + +He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed +the gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He +felt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks. + +"Jack, look at that brand," said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked +steer. "There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a +new brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!" + +"Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil to +brand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added the +bar, making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive a +child." + +They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniff +suspiciously at the wind. + +"Look!" whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. "Look! +A new corral!" + +Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked through +a network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther up +were piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a new +cabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermane +off the trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passed +the old pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be brought +suddenly to a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointing +to the left, and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heard +the stamping of hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fully +determined the direction from which the sound came three horses and a man +stepped from the shade into a sunlit space. + +As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick cedar; +and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he chose to +take it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare felt +Mescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure her. +Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves leading the +horses--a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man--Dene! The blood beat +hotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his Colt. It seemed +a fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He was whistling; he +had two halters in one hand and with the other he led his bay horse by +the mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was unarmed; on the +horses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare dropped his Colt +back into its holster. + +Dene sauntered on, whistling "Dixie." When he reached the trail, instead +of crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down. + +Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane a +stinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash of +brush and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. But +the outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It +was not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting +eyes was the terror of the supernatural. + +The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning +out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then +rise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the +cabin. + + + +XVII +THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + + +Jack! the saddle's slipping!" cried Mescal, clinging closer to him. +"What luck!" Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on the +bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the sawing +bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: "Whoa there, Silver! Whoa-- +slow now--whoa--easy!" and finally halted him. Hare swung down, and as +he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground. + +"Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried +out." Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that +he found in a saddle-bag. + +"Listen! Hear the yells!" Oh! hurry!" cried Mescal. + +"I've never ridden bareback. Suppose you go ahead with Silver, and I'll +hide in the cedars till dark, then walk home!" + +"No--No. There's time, but hurry." + +"It's got to be strong," muttered Hare, holding the strap over his knee +and pulling the laced knot with all his strength, "for we'll have to ride +some. If it comes loose--Good-bye!" + +Silvermane's broad chest muscles rippled and he stamped restlessly. The +dog whined and looked back. Mescal had the blanket smooth on the gray +when Hare threw the saddle over him. The yells had ceased, but +clattering hoofs on the stony trail were a greater menace. While Hare's +brown hands worked swiftly over buckle and strap Mescal climbed to a seat +behind the saddle. + +"Get into the saddle," said Hare, leaping astride and pressing forward +over the pommel. "Slip down--there! and hold to me. Go! Silver!" + +The rapid pounding of the stallion's hoofs drowned the clatter coming up +the trail. A backward glance relieved Hare, for dust-clouds some few +hundred yards in the rear showed the position of the pursuing horsemen. +He held in Silvermane to a steady gallop. The trail was up-hill, and +steep enough to wind even a desert racer, if put to his limit. + +"Look back!" cried Mescal. "Can you see them? Is Snap with them?" + +"I can't see for trees," replied Hare, over his shoulder. "There's dust- +-we're far in the lead--never fear, Mescal. The lead's all we want." + +Cedars grew thickly all the way up the steeper part of the divide, and +ended abruptly at a pathway of stone, where the ascent became gradual. +When Silvermane struck out of the grove upon this slope Hare kept turning +keen glances rearward. The dust cloud rolled to the edge of the cedars, +and out of it trooped half-a-dozen horsemen who began to shoot as soon as +they had reached the open. Bullets zipped along the red stone, cutting +little puffs of red dust, and sung through the air. + +"Good God!" cried Hare. "They're firing on us! They'd shoot a woman!" + +"Has it taken you so long to learn that?" + +Hare slashed his steed with the switch. But Silvermane needed no goad or +spur; he had been shot at before, and the whistle of one bullet was +sufficient to stretch his gallop into a run. Then distance between him +and his pursuers grew wider and wider and soon he was out of range. The +yells of the rustlers seemed at first to come from baffled rage, but +Mescal's startled cry shoveled their meaning. Other horsemen appeared +ahead and to the right of him, tearing down the ridge to the divide. +Evidently they had been returning from the western curve of Coconina. + +The direction in which Silvermane was stretching was the only possible +one for Hare. If he swerved off the trail to the left it would be upon +rough rising ground. Not only must he outride this second band to the +point where the trail went down on the other side of the divide, but also +he must get beyond it before they came within rifle range. + +"Now! Silver! Go! Go!" Fast as the noble stallion was speeding he +answered to the call. He was in the open now, free of stones and brush, +with the span" of rifles in the air. The wind rushed into Hare's ears, +filling them with a hollow roar; the ground blurred by in reddish sheets. +The horsemen cut down the half mile to a quarter, lessened that, swept +closer and closer, till Hare recognized Chance and Culver, and Snap Naab +on his cream-colored pinto. Seeing that they could not head the +invincible stallion they sheered more to the right. But Silvermane +thundered on, crossing the line ahead of them at full three hundred +yards, and went over the divide, drawing them in behind dime + +Then, at the sharp crack of the rifles, leaden messengers whizzed high in +the air over horse and riders, and skipped along the red shale in front +of the running dog. + +"Oh--Silvermane!" cried Hare. It was just a call, as if the horse were +human, and knew what that pace meant to his master. The stern business +of the race had ceased to rest on Hare. Silvermane was out to the front! +He was like a level-rushing thunderbolt. Hare felt the instantaneous +pause between his long low leaps, the gather of mighty muscles, the +strain, the tension, then the quivering expulsion of force. It was a +perilous ride down that red slope, not so much from the hissing bullets +as from the washes and gullies which Silvermane sailed over in +magnificent leaps. Hare thrilled with savage delight in the wonderful +prowess of his desert king, in the primal instinct of joy at escaping +with the woman he loved. + +"Outrun!" he cried, with blazing eyes. Mescal's white face was pressed +close to his shoulder. "Silver has beaten them. They'll hang on till we +reach the sand-strip, hoping the slow-down will let them come up in time. +But they'll be far too late." + +The rustlers continued on the trail, firing desultorily, till Silvermane +so far distanced them that even the necessary lapse into a walk in the +red sand placed him beyond range when they arrived at the strip. + +"They've turned back, Mescal. We're safe. Why, you look as you did the +day the bear ran for you." + +"I'd rather a bear got me than Snap. Jack, did you see him?" + +"See him? Rather! I'll bet he nearly killed his pinto. Mescal, what do +you think of Silvermane now? Can he run? Can he outrun Bolly?" + +"Yes--yes. Oh! Jack! how I'll love him! Look back again. Are we safe? +Will we ever be safe?" + +It was still daylight when they rounded the portal of the oasis and +entered the lane with the familiar wall on one side, the peeled +fence-pickets on the other. Wolf dashed on ahead, and presently a chorus +of barks announced that he had been met by the other dogs. Silvermane +neighed shrilly, and the horses and mustangs in the corrals trooped +noisily to the lower sides and hung inquisitive heads over the top bars. + +A Navajo whom Hare remembered stared with axe idle by the woodpile, then +Judith Naab dropped a bundle of sticks and with a cry of gladness ran +from the house. Before Silvermane had come to a full stop Mescal was +off. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then she left +Judith to dart to the corral where a little black mustang had begun to +whistle and stamp and try to climb over the bars. + +August Naab, bareheaded, with shaggy locks shaking at every step, strode +off the porch and his great hands lifted Hare from the saddle. + +"Every day I've watched the river for you," he said. His eyes were warm +and his grasp like a vise. + +'<Mescal--child!" he continued, as she came running to him. "Safe and +well. He's brought you back. Thank the Lord!" He took her to his breast +and bent his gray head over her. + +Then the crowd of big and little Naabs burst from the house and came +under the cottonwoods to offer noisy welcome to Mescal and Hare. + +"Jack, you look done up," said Dave Naab solicitously, when the first +greetings had been spoken, and Mother Ruth had led Mescal indoors. +"Silvermane, too--he's wet and winded. He's been running?" + +"Yes, a little," replied Hare, as he removed the saddle from the weary +horse. + +"Ah! What's this?" questioned August Naab, with his hand on Silvermane's +flank. He touched a raw groove, and the stallion flinched. "Hare, a +bullet made that!" + +"Yes." + +"Then you didn't ride in by the Navajo crossing?" + +"No. I came by Silver Cup." + +"Silver Cup? How on earth did you get down there?" + +"We climbed out of the canyon up over Coconina, and so made the spring." + +Naab whistled in surprise and he flashed another keen glance over Hare +and his horse. "Your story can wait. I know about what it is--after you +reached Silver Cup. Come in, come in, Dave will look out for the +stallion." + +But Hare would allow no one else to attend to Silvermane. He rubbed the +tired gray, gave him a drink at the trough, led him to the corral, and +took leave of him with a caress like Mescal's. Then he went to his room +and bathed himself and changed his clothes, afterward presenting himself +at the supper-table to eat like one famished. Mescal and he ate alone, +as they had been too late for the regular hour. The women-folk waited +upon them as if they could not do enough. There were pleasant words and +smiles; but in spite of them something sombre attended the meal. There +was a shadow in each face, each step was slow, each voice subdued. Naab +and his sons were waiting for Hare when he entered the sitting room, and +after his entrance the door was closed. They were all quiet and stern, +especially the father. "Tell us all," said Naab, simply. + +While Hare was telling his adventures not a word or a move interrupted +him till he spoke of Silvermane's running Dene down. + +"That's the second time!" rolled out Naab." The stallion will kill him +yet!" + +Hare finished his story. + +"What don't you owe to that whirlwind of a horse!" exclaimed Dave Naab. +No other comment on Hare or Silvermane was offered by the Naabs. + +"You knew Holderness had taken in Silver Cup?" inquired Hare. + +August Naab nodded gloomily. + +"I guess we knew it," replied Dave for him. "While I was in White Sage +and the boys were here at home, Holderness rode to the spring and took +possession. I called to see him on my way back, but he wasn't around. +Snap was there, the boss of a bunch of riders. Dene, too, was there." + +"Did you go right into camp?" asked Hare. + +"Sure. I was looking for Holderness. There were eighteen or twenty +riders in the bunch. I talked to several of them, Mormons, good fellows, +they used to be. Also I had some words with Dene. He said: 'I shore was +sorry Snap got to my spy first. I wanted him bad, an' I'm shore goin' to +have his white horse.' Snap and Dene, all of them, thought you were +number thirty-one in dad's cemetery." + +"Not yet," said Hare. "Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when +Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all +there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new +brand on all your stock proves that." + +"Such a trick we never heard of," replied August Naab. "If we had we +might have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock." + +"But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt." + +"It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness +has stolen my water and my stock." + +"They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that." + +"Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?" interposed Dave, curiously. + +"I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about +cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running +too fast." + +"Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life," said August Naab. +"My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. +I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. +Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. +Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected +sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely +a day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of +Lund finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others +out. Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now +has a strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I +see it. I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow +to wrath. But--" + +The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words. + +"They need a leader," replied Hare, sharply. + +August Naab rose with haggard face and his eyes had the look of a man +accused. + +"Dad figures this way," put in Dave." On the one hand we lose our water +and stock without bloodshed. We have a living in the oasis. There's +little here to attract rustlers, so we may live in peace if we give up +our rights. On the other hand, suppose Dad gets the Navajos down here +and we join them and go after Holderness and his gang. There's going to +be an all-fired bloody fight. Of course we'd wipe out the rustlers, but +some of us would get killed--and there are the wives and kids. See!" + +The force of August Naab's argument for peace, entirely aside from his +Christian repugnance to the shedding of blood, was plainly unassailable. + +"Remember what Snap said?" asked Hare, suddenly. "One man to kill Dene! +Therefore one man to kill Holderness! That would break the power of this +band." + +"Ah! you've said it," replied Dave, raising a tense arm. "It's a one-man +job. D n Snap! He could have done it, if he hadn't gone to the bad. But +it won't be easy. I tried to get Holderness. He was wise, and his men +politely said they had enjoyed my call, but I wasn't to come again." + +"One man to kill Holderness!" repeated Hare. + +August Naab cast at the speaker one of his far-seeing glances; then he +shook himself, as if to throw off the grip of something hard and +inevitable. "I'm still master here," he said, and his voice showed the +conquest of his passions. + +"I give up Silver Cup and my stock. Maybe that will content Holderness." + +Some days went by pleasantly for Hare, as he rested from his long +exertions. Naab's former cheer and that of his family reasserted itself +once the decision was made, and the daily life went on as usual. The +sons worked in the fields by day, and in the evening played at pitching +horseshoes on the bare circle where the children romped. The women went +on baking, sewing, and singing. August Naab's prayers were more fervent +than ever, and he even prayed for the soul of the man who had robbed him. +Mescal's cheeks soon rounded out to their old contour and her eyes shone +with a happier light than Hare had ever seen there. The races between +Silvermane and Black Bolly were renewed on the long stretch under the +wall, and Mescal forgot that she had once acknowledged the superiority of +the gray. The cottonwoods showered silken floss till the cabins and +grass were white; the birds returned to the oasis; the sun kissed warm +color into the cherries, and the distant noise of the river seemed like +the humming of a swarm of bees. + +"Here, Jack," said August Naab, one morning, "get a spade and come with +me. There's a break somewhere in the ditch." + +Hare went with him out along the fence by the alfalfa fields, and round +the corner of red wall toward the irrigating dam. + +"Well, Jack, I suppose you'll be asking me for Mescal one of these days," +said Naab. + +"Yes," replied Hare. + +"There's a little story to tell you about Mescal, when the day comes." + +"Tell it now." + +"No. Not yet. I'm glad you found her. I never knew her to be so happy, +not even when she was a child. But somehow there's a better feeling +between her and my womenfolk. The old antagonism is gone. Well, well, +life is so. I pray that things may turn out well for you and her. But I +fear--I seem to see--Hare, I'm a poor man once more. I can't do for you +what I'd like. Still we'll see, we'll hope." + +Hare was perfectly happy. The old Mormon's hint did not disturb him; +even the thought of Snap Naab did not return to trouble his contentment. +The full present was sufficient for Hare, and his joy bubbled over, +bringing smiles to August's grave face. Never had a summer afternoon in +the oasis been so fair. The green fields, the red walls, the blue sky, +all seemed drenched in deeper, richer hues. The wind-song in the crags, +the river-murmur from the canyon, filled Hare's ears with music. To be +alive, to feel the sun, to see the colors, to hear the sounds, was +beautiful; and to know that Mescal awaited him, was enough. + +Work on the washed-out bank of the ditch had not gone far when Naub +raised his head as if listening. + +"Did you hear anything?" he asked. + +"No," replied Hare. + +"The roar of the river is heavy here. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I +heard shots." Then he went on spading clay into the break, but he stopped +every moment or so, uneasily, as if he could not get rid of some +disturbing thought. Suddenly he dropped the spade and his eyes flashed. + +"Judith! Judith! Here!" he called. Wheeling with a sudden premonition of +evil Hare saw the girl running along the wall toward them. Her face was +white as death; she wrung her hands and her cries rose above the sound of +the river. Naab sprang toward her and Hare ran at his heels. + +"Father!-- Father!" she panted. "Come--quick--the rustlers!--the +rustlers! Snap!--Dene--Oh--hurry! They've killed Dave--they've got +Mescal!" + +Death itself shuddered through Hare's veins and then a raging flood of +fire. He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm. + +"Foul! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through +the fields, under the trees." + +Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the +alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when +he could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill. + +They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The +screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread. + +"I see only the women--the children--no--there's a man--Zeke," said Hare, +bending low to gaze under the branches. + +"Go slow," muttered Naab. + +"The rustlers rode off--after Mescal--she's gone!" panted Judith. + +Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, cast +caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's heavy +steps thudded behind him. + +In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a +heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the +steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was +trying to calm the women. + +"My God! Dave!" cried Hare. "You're not hard hit? Don't say it!" + +"Hard hit--Jack--old fellow," replied Dave, with a pale smile. His face +was white and clammy. + +August Naab looked once at him and groaned, "My son! My son!" + +"Dad--I got Chance and Culver--there they lie in the road--not bungled, +either!" + +Hare saw the inert forms of two men lying near the gate; one rested on +his face, arm outstretched with a Colt gripped in the stiff hand; the
other lay on his back, his spurs deep in the ground, as if driven there
+in his last convulsion. + +August Naab and Zeke carried the injured man into the house. The women +and children followed, and Hare, with Billy and George, entered last. + +"Dad--I'm shot clean through--low down," said Dave, as they laid him on a +couch. "It's just as well I--as any one--somebody had to--start this +fight." + +Naab got the children and the girls out of the room. The women were +silent now, except Dave's wife, who clung to him with low moans. He +smiled upon all with a quick intent smile, then he held out a hand to +Hare. + +"Jack, we got--to be--good friends. Don't forget--that--when you meet-- +Holderness. He shot me--from behind Chance and Culver--and after I fell- +-I killed them both--trying to get him. You--won't hang up--your gun-- +again--will you?" + +Hare wrung the cold hand clasping his so feebly. "No! Dave, no!" Then he +fled from the room. For an hour he stood on the porch waiting in dumb +misery. George and Zeke came noiselessly out, followed by their father. + +"It's all over, Hare." Another tragedy had passed by this man of the +desert, and left his strength unshaken, but his deadly quiet and the +gloom of his iron face were more terrible to see than any grief. + +"Father, and you, Hare, come out into the road," said George. + +Another motionless form lay beyond Chance and Culver. It was that of a +slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the +dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody +curve. + +"Dene!" burst from Hare, in a whisper. + +"Killed by a horse!" exclaimed August Naab. "Ah! What horse?" + +"Silvermane!" replied George. + +"Who rode my horse--tell me--quick!" cried Hare, in a frenzy. + +"It was Mescal. Listen. Let me tell you how it all happened. I was out +at the forge when I heard a bunch of horses coming up the lane. I wasn't +packing my gun, but I ran anyway. When I got to the house there was Dave +facing Snap, Dene, and a bunch of rustlers. I saw Chance at first, but +not Holderness. There must have been twenty men. + +"'I came after Mescal, that's what,' Snap was saying. + +"'You can't have her,' Dave answered. + +"'We'll shore take her, an' we want Silvermane, too,' said Dene. + +"'So you're a horse-thief as well as a rustler?' asked Dave. + +"'Naab, I ain't in any mind to fool. Snap wants the girl, an' I want +Silvermane, an' that damned spy that come back to life.' + +"Then Holderness spoke from the back of the crowd: 'Naab, you'd better +hurry, if you don't want the house burned!' + +"Dave drew and Holderness fired from behind the men. Dave fell, raised +up and shot Chance and Culver, then dropped his gun. + +"With that the women in the house began to scream, and Mescal ran out +saying she'd go with Snap if they'd do no more harm. + +"'All right,' said Snap, 'get a horse, hurry--hurry!' + +"Then Dene dismounted and went toward the corral saying, 'I shore want +Silvermane.' + +"Mescal reached the gate ahead of Dene. 'Let me get Silvermane. He's +wild; he doesn't know you; he'll kick you if you go near him.' She +dropped the bars and went up to the horse. He was rearing and snorting. +She coaxed him down and then stepped up on the fence to untie him. When +she had him loose she leaped off the fence to his back, screaming as she +hit him with the halter. Silvermane snorted and jumped, and in three +jumps he was going like a bullet. Dene tried to stop him, and was +knocked twenty feet. He was raising up when the stallion ran over him. +He never moved again. Once in the lane Silvermane got going--Lord! how +he did run! Mescal hung low over his neck like an Indian. He was gone in +a cloud of dust before Snap and the rustlers knew what had happened. +Snap came to first and, yelling and waving his gun, spurred down the +lane. The rest of the rustlers galloped after him." + +August Naab placed a sympathetic hand on Hare's shaking shoulder. + +"You see, lad, things are never so bad as they seem at first. Snap might +as well try to catch a bird as Silvermane." + + + +XVIII +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + + +Mescal's far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare," went on +Naab. "That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane +into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop +will take care of her. She'll be safe for the present in White Sage. +Now we must bury these men. To-morrow--my son. Then--" + +"What then?" Hare straightened up. + +Unutterable pain darkened the flame in the Mormon's gaze. For an instant +his face worked spasmodically, only to stiffen into a stony mask. It was +the old conflict once more, the never-ending war between flesh and +spirit. And now the flesh had prevailed. + +"The time has come!" said George Naab. + +"Yes," replied his father, harshly. + +A great calm settled over Hare; his blood ceased to race, his mind to +riot; in August Naab's momentous word he knew the old man had found +himself. At last he had learned the lesson of the desert--to strike +first and hard. + +"Zeke, hitch up a team," said August Naab. "No--wait a moment. Here +comes Piute. Let's hear what he has to say." + +Piute appeared on the zigzag cliff-trail, driving a burro at dangerous +speed. + +"He's sighted Silvermane and the rustlers," suggested George, as the +shepherd approached. + +Naab translated the excited Indian's mingling of Navajo and Piute +languages to mean just what George had said."Snap ahead of riders-- +Silvermane far, far ahead of Snap--running fast--damn!" + +"Mescal's pushing him hard to make the sand-strip," said George. + +"Piute--three fires to-night--Lookout Point!" This order meant the +execution of August Naab's hurry-signal for the Navajos, and after he had +given it, he waved the Indian toward the cliff, and lapsed into a silence +which no one dared to break. + +Naab consigned the bodies of the rustlers to the famous cemetery under +the red wall. He laid Dene in grave thirty-one. It was the grave that +the outlaw had promised as the last resting-place of Dene's spy. Chance +and Culver he buried together. It was noteworthy that no Mormon rites +were conferred on Culver, once a Mormon in good standing, nor were any +prayers spoken over the open graves. + +What did August Naab intend to do? That was the question in Hare's mind +as he left the house. It was a silent day, warm as summer, though the +sun was overcast with gray clouds; the birds were quiet in the trees; +there was no bray of burro or clarion-call of peacock, even the hum of +the river had fallen into silence. Hare wandered .over the farm and down +the red lane, brooding over the issue. Naab's few words had been full of +meaning; the cold gloom so foreign to his nature, had been even more +impressive. His had been the revolt of the meek. The gentle, the +loving, the administering, the spiritual uses of his life had failed. + +Hare recalled what the desert had done to his own nature, how it had bred +in him its impulse to fight, to resist, to survive. If he, a stranger of +a few years, could be moulded in the flaming furnace of its fiery life, +what then must be the cast of August Naab, born on the desert, and +sleeping five nights out of seven on the sands for sixty years? + +The desert! Hare trembled as he grasped all its meaning. Then he slowly +resolved that meaning. There were the measureless distances to narrow +the eye and teach restraint; the untrodden trails, the shifting sands, +the thorny brakes, the broken lava to pierce the flesh; the heights and +depths, unscalable and unplumbed. And over all the sun, red and burning. + +The parched plants of the desert fought for life, growing far apart, +sending enormous roots deep to pierce the sand and split the rock for +moisture, arming every leaf with a barbed thorn or poisoned sap, never +thriving and ever thirsting. + +The creatures of the desert endured the sun and lived without water, and +were at endless war. The hawk had a keener eye than his fellow of more +fruitful lands, sharper beak, greater spread of wings, and claws of +deeper curve. For him there was little to eat, a rabbit now, a rock-rat +then; nature made his swoop like lightning and it never missed its aim. +The gaunt wolf never failed in his sure scent, in his silent hunt. The +lizard flicked an invisible tongue into the heart of a flower; and the +bee he caught stung with a poisoned sting. The battle of life went to +the strong. + +So the desert trained each of its wild things to survive. No eye of the +desert but burned with the flame of the sun. To kill or to escape death- +-that was the dominant motive. To fight barrenness and heat--that was +stern enough, but each creature must fight his fellow. + +What then of the men who drifted into the desert and survived? They must +of necessity endure the wind and heat, the drouth and famine; they must +grow lean and hard, keen-eyed and silent. The weak, the humble, the +sacrificing must be winnowed from among them. As each man developed he +took on some aspect of the desert--Holderness had the amber clearness of +its distances in his eyes, its deceit in his soul; August Naab, the +magnificence of the desert-pine in his giant form, its strength in his +heart; Snap Naab, the cast of the hawk-beak in his face, its cruelty in +his nature. But all shared alike in the common element of survival-- +ferocity. August Naab had subdued his to the promptings of a Christ-like +spirit; yet did not his very energy, his wonderful tirelessness, his will +to achieve, his power to resist, partake of that fierceness? Moreover, +after many struggles, he too had been overcome by the desert's call for +blood. His mystery was no longer a mystery. Always in those moments of +revelation which he disclaimed, he had seen himself as faithful to the +desert in the end. + +Hare's slumbers that night were broken. He dreamed of a great gray horse +leaping in the sky from cloud to cloud with the lightning and the thunder +under his hoofs, the storm-winds sweeping from his silver mane. He +dreamed of Mescal's brooding eyes. They were dark gateways of the desert +open only to him, and he entered to chase the alluring stars deep into +the purple distance. He dreamed of himself waiting in serene confidence +for some unknown thing to pass. He awakened late in the morning and +found the house hushed. The day wore on in a repose unstirred by breeze +and sound, in accord with the mourning of August Naab. At noon a solemn +procession wended its slow course to the shadow of the red cliff, and as +solemnly returned. + +Then a long-drawn piercing Indian whoop broke the midday hush. It +heralded the approach of the Navajos. In single-file they rode up the +lane, and when the falcon-eyed Eschtah dismounted before his white +friend, the line of his warriors still turned the corner of the red wall. +Next to the chieftain rode Scarbreast, the grim war-lord of the Navajos. +His followers trailed into the grove. Their sinewy bronze bodies, almost +naked, glistened wet from the river. Full a hundred strong were they, a +silent, lean-limbed desert troop. + +"The White Prophet's fires burned bright," said the chieftain. "Eschtah +is here." + +"The Navajo is a friend," replied Naab. "The white man needs counsel and +help. He has fallen upon evil days." + +"Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend." + +"War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we +shall speak." + +A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors. +Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the +burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods. When the afternoon waned +and the shade from the western wall crept into the oasis, August Naab +came from his cabin clad in buckskins, with a large blue Colt swinging +handle outward from his left hip. He ordered his sons to replenish the +fire which had been built in the circle, and when the fierce-eyed Indians +gathered round the blaze he called to his women to bring meat and drink. + +Hare's unnatural calmness had prevailed until he saw Naab stride out to +front the waiting Indians. Then a ripple of cold passed over him. He +leaned against a tree in the shadow and watched the gray-faced giant +stalking to and fro before his Indian friends. A long while he strode in +the circle of light to pause at length before the chieftains and to break +the impressive silence with his deep voice. + +"Eschtah sees before him a friend stung to his heart. Men of his own +color have long injured him, yet have lived. The Mormon loved his +fellows and forgave. Five sons he laid in their graves, yet his heart +was not hardened. His first-born went the trail of the fire-water and is +an outcast from his people. Many enemies has he and one is a chief. He +has killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water. + +To-day the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the +chief? Would he not crush the scorpion that stung him?" + +The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, vitas as +stately as the Mormon's. + +"Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise. The White +Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks +too much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the +lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah +grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's +friend has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his +springs. Only a few can live on the desert. Let him who has found the +springs and the trails keep them for his own. Let him who came too late +go away to find for himself, to prove himself a warrior, or let his bones +whiten in the sand. The Navajo counsels his white friend to kill." + +"The great Eschtah speaks wise words," said Naab. "The White Prophet is +richer for them. He will lay aside the prayers to his unseeing God, and +will seek his foe." + +"It is well." + +"The white man's foe is strong," went on the Mormon; "he has many men, +they will fight. If Eschtah sends his braves with his friend there will +be war. Many braves will fall. The White Prophet wishes to save them if +he can. He will go forth alone to kill his foe. If the sun sets four +times and the white man is not here, then Eschtah will send his great +war-chief and his warriors. They will kill whom they find at the white +man's springs. And thereafter half of all the white man's cattle that +were stolen shall be Eschtah's, so that he watch over the water and +range." + +"Eschtah greets a chief," answered the Indian. "The White Prophet knows +he will kill his enemy, but he is not sure he will return. He is not +sure that the little braves of his foe will fly like the winds, yet he +hopes. So he holds the Navajo back to the last. Eschtah will watch the +sun set four times. If his white friend returns he will rejoice. If he +does not return the Navajo will send his warriors on the trail." + +August Naab walked swiftly from the circle of light into the darkness; +his heavy steps sounded on the porch, and in the hallway. His three sons +went toward their cabins with bowed heads and silent tongues. Eschtah +folded his blanket about him and stalked off into the gloom of the grove, +followed by his warriors. + +Hare remained in the shadow of the cottonwood where he had stood +unnoticed. He had not moved a muscle since he had heard August Naab's +declaration. That one word of Naab's intention, "Alone!" had arrested +him. For it had struck into his heart and mind. It had paralyzed him +with the revelation it brought; for Hare now knew as he had never known +anything before, that he would forestall August Naab, avenge the death of +Dave, and kill the rustler Holderness. Through blinding shock he passed +slowly into cold acceptance of his heritage from the desert. + +The two long years of his desert training were as an open page to Hare's +unveiled eyes. The life he owed to August Naab, the strength built up by +the old man's knowledge of the healing power of plateau and range--these +lay in a long curve between the day Naab had lifted him out of the White +Sage trail and this day of the Mormon's extremity. A long curve with +Holderness's insulting blow at the beginning, his murder of a beloved +friend at the end! For Hare remembered the blow, and never would he +forget Dave's last words. Yet unforgetable as these were, it was duty +rather than revenge that called him. This was August Naab's hour of +need. Hare knew himself to be the tool of inscrutable fate; he was the +one to fight the old desert-scarred Mormon's battle. Hare recalled how +humbly he had expressed his gratitude to Naab, and the apparent +impossibility of ever repaying him, and then Naab's reply: "Lad, you can +never tell how one man may repay another." Hare could pay his own debt +and that of the many wanderers who had drifted across the sands to find a +home with the Mormon. These men stirred in their graves, and from out +the shadow of the cliff whispered the voice of Mescal's nameless father: +"Is there no one to rise up for this old hero of the desert?" + +Softly Hare slipped into his room. Putting on coat and belt and catching +up his rifle he stole out again stealthily, like an Indian. In the +darkness of the wagon-shed he felt for his saddle, and finding it, he +groped with eager hands for the grain-box; raising the lid he filled a +measure with grain, and emptied it into his saddle-bag. Then lifting the +saddle he carried it out of the yard, through the gate and across the +lane to the corrals. The wilder mustangs in the far corral began to kick +and snort, and those in the corral where Black Bolly was kept trooped +noisily to the bars. Bolly whinnied and thrust her black muzzle over the +fence. Hare placed a caressing hand on her while he waited listening and +watching. It was not unusual for the mustangs to get restless at any +time, and Hare was confident that this would pass without investigation. + +Gradually the restless stampings and suspicious snortings ceased, and +Hare, letting down the bars, led Bolly out into the lane. It was the +work of a moment to saddle her; his bridle hung where he always kept it, +on the pommel, and with nimble fingers he shortened the several straps to +fit Bolly's head, and slipped the bit between her teeth. Then he put up +the bars of the gate. + +Before mounting he stood a moment thinking coolly, deliberately numbering +the several necessities he must not forget--grain for Bolly, food for +himself, his Colt and Winchester, cartridges, canteen, matches, knife. +He inserted a hand into one of his saddle-bags expecting to find some +strips of meat. The bag was empty. He felt in the other one, and under +the grain he found what he sought. The canteen lay in the coil of his +lasso tied to the saddle, and its heavy canvas covering was damp to his +touch. With that he thrust the long Winchester into its saddle-sheath, +and swung his leg over the mustang. + +The house of the Naabs was dark and still. The dying council-fire cast +flickering shadows under the black cottonwoods where the Navajos slept. +The faint breeze that rustled the leaves brought the low sullen roar of +the river. + +Hare guided Bolly into the thick dust of the lane, laid the bridle +loosely on her neck for her to choose the trail, and silently rode out +into the lonely desert night. + + + +XIX +UNLEASHED + + +Hare, listening breathlessly, rode on toward the gateway of the cliffs, +and when he had passed the corner of the wall he sighed in relief. +Spurring Bolly into a trot he rode forward with a strange elation. He +had slipped out of the oasis unheard, and it would be morning before +August Naab discovered his absence, perhaps longer before he divined his +purpose. Then Hare would have a long start. He thrilled with something +akin to fear when he pictured the old man's rage, and wondered what +change it would make in his plans. Hare saw in mind Naab and his sons, +and the Navajos sweeping in pursuit to save him from the rustlers. + +But the future must take care of itself, and he addressed all the +faculties at his command to cool consideration of the present. The strip +of sand under the Blue Star had to be crossed at night--a feat which even +the Navajos did not have to their credit. Yet Hare had no shrinking; he +had no doubt; he must go on. As he had been drawn to the Painted Desert +by a voiceless call, so now he was urged forward by something nameless. + +In the blackness of the night it seemed as if he were riding through a +vaulted hall swept by a current of air. The night had turned cold, the +stars had brightened icily, the rumble of the river had died away when +Bolly's ringing trot suddenly changed to a noiseless floundering walk. +She had come upon the sand. Hare saw the Blue Star in the cliff, and +once more loosed the rein on Bolly's neck. She stopped and champed her +bit, and turned her black head to him as if to intimate that she wanted +the guidance of a sure arm. But as it was not forthcoming she stepped +onward into the yielding sand. + +With hands resting idly on the pommel Hare sat at ease in the saddle. +The billowy dunes reflected the pale starlight and fell away from him to +darken in obscurity. So long as the Blue Star remained in sight he kept +his sense of direction; when it had disappeared he felt himself lost. +Bolly's course seemed as crooked as the jagged outline of the cliffs. +She climbed straight up little knolls, descended them at an angle, turned +sharply at wind-washed gullies, made winding detours, zigzagged levels +that shone like a polished floor; and at last (so it seemed to Hare) she +doubled back on her trail. The black cliff receded over the waves of +sand; the stars changed positions, travelled round in the blue dome, and +the few that he knew finally sank below the horizon. Bolly never lagged; +she was like the homeward - bound horse, indifferent to direction because +sure of it, eager to finish the journey because now it was short. Hare +was glad though not surprised when she snorted and cracked her iron-shod +hoof on a stone at the edge of the sand. He smiled with tightening lips +as he rode into the shadow of a rock which he recognized. Bolly had +crossed the treacherous belt of dunes and washes and had struck the trail +on the other side. + +The long level of wind-carved rocks under the cliffs, the ridges of the +desert, the miles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual +descent to the cedars--these stretches of his journey took the night +hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile of +Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on +Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the +trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the +right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone or +snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was no +sound other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp, he +caught the dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements +became as guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn +broke over the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring. + +He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the +wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket +encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit +Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and, +after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from +below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope. + +Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he struck +the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At last he +reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent so many +days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness. He stole +down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The sun, red +as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the soft mists of +the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in toward the +spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone, Hare +descended the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every step. +Soon the edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower level of +cedars. While resting he listened. Then he marked his course down the +last bit of slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the valley. +This space was open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar brush--a +difficult place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his choice of +steps, very slow in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which satisfied +even his intent ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew slowly into +the circle of his downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a slight +trembling in all his limbs. There was a thick bush on the edge of the +cliff; in three steps he could reach it and, unseen himself, look down +upon the camp. + +A little cloud or smoke rose lazily and capped a slender column of blue. +Sounds were wafted softly upward, the low voices of men in conversation, +a merry whistle, and then the humming of a tune. Hare's mouth was dry +and his temples throbbed as he asked himself what it was best to do. The +answer came instantaneously as though it had lain just below the level of +his conscious thought. "I'll watch till Holderness walks out into sight, +jump up with a yell when he comes, give him time to see me, to draw his +gun--then kill him!" + +Hare slipped to the bush, drew in a deep long breath that stilled his +agitation, and peered over the cliff. The crude shingles of the cabin +first rose into sight; then beyond he saw the corral with a number of +shaggy mustangs and a great gray horse. Hare stared blankly. As in a +dream he saw the proud arch of a splendid neck, the graceful wave of a +white-crested mane. + +"Silvermane! ... My God!" he gasped, suddenly. "They caught him--after +all!" + +He fell backward upon the cliff and lay there with hands clinching his +rifle, shudderingly conscious of a blow, trying to comprehend its +meaning. + +"Silvermane! ... they caught him--after all!" he kept repeating; then in +a flash of agonized understanding he whispered: "Mescal ... Mescal!" + +He rolled upon his face, shutting our the blue sky; his body stretched +stiff as a bent spring released from its compress, and his nails dented +the stock of his rifle. Then this rigidity softened to sobs that shook +him from head to foot. He sat up, haggard and wild-eyed. + +Silvermane had been captured, probably by rustlers waiting at the western +edge of the sand-strip. Mescal had fallen into the hands of Snap Naab. +But Mescal was surely alive and Snap was there to be killed; his long +career of unrestrained cruelty was in its last day--something told Hare +that this thing must and should be. The stern deliberation of his intent +to kill Holderness, the passion of his purpose to pay his debt to August +Naab, were as nothing compared to the gathering might of this new +resolve; suddenly he felt free and strong as an untamed lion broken free +from his captors. + +>From the cover of the bush he peered again over the cliff. The cabin +with its closed door facing him was scarcely two hundred feet down from +his hiding- place. One of the rustlers sang as he bent over the +camp-fire and raked the coals around the pots; others lounged on a bench +waiting for breakfast; some rolled out of their blankets; they stretched +and yawned, and pulling on their boots made for the spring. The last man +to rise was Snap Naab, and he had slept with his head on the threshold of +the door. Evidently Snap had made Mescal a prisoner in the cabin, and no +one could go in or out without stepping upon him. The rustler-foreman of +Holderness's company had slept with his belt containing two Colts, nor +had he removed his boots. Hare noted these details with grim humor. Now +the tall Holderness, face shining, gold-red beard agleam, rounded the +cabin whistling. Hare watched the rustlers sit down to breakfast, and +here and there caught a loud-spoken word, and marked their leisurely +care-free manner. Snap Naab took up a pan of food and a cup of coffee, +carried them into the cabin, and came out, shutting the door. + +After breakfast most of the rustlers set themselves to their various +tasks. Hare watched them with the eyes of a lynx watching deer. Several +men were arranging articles for packing, and their actions were slow to +the point of laziness; others trooped down toward the corral. Holderness +rolled a cigarette and stooped over the campfire to reach a burning +stick. Snap Naab stalked to and fro before the door of the cabin. He +alone of the rustler's band showed restlessness, and more than once he +glanced up the trail that led over the divide toward his father's oasis. +Holderness sent expectant glances in the other direction toward Seeping +Springs. Once his clear voice rang out: + +"I tell you, Naab, there's no hurry. We'll ride in tomorrow." + +A thousand tnoughts flitted through Hare's mind--a steady stream of +questions and answers. Why did Snap look anxiously along the oasis +trail? It was not that he feared his father or his brothers alone, but +there was always the menace of the Navajos. Why was Holderness in no +hurry to leave Silver Cup? Why did he lag at the spring when, if he +expected riders from his ranch, he could have gone on to meet them, +obviously saving time and putting greater distance between him and the +men he had wronged? Was it utter fearlessness or only a deep-played +game? Holderness and his rustlers, all except the gloomy Naab, were +blind to the peril that lay beyond the divide. How soon would August +Naab strike out on the White Sage trail? Would he come alone? Whether +he came alone or at the head of his hard-riding Navajos he would arrive +too late. Holderness's life was not worth a pinch of the ashes he +flecked so carelessly from his cigarette. Snap Naab's gloom, his long +stride, his nervous hand always on or near the butt of his Colt, spoke +the keenness of his desert instinct. For him the sun had arisen red over +the red wall. Had he harmed Mescal? Why did he keep the cabin door shut +and guard it so closely? + +While Hare watched and thought the hours sped by. Holderness lounged +about and Snap kept silent guard. The rustlers smoked, slept, and moved +about; the day waned, and the shadow of the cliff crept over the cabin. +To Hare the time had been as a moment; he was amazed to find the sun had +gone down behind Coconina. If August Naab had left the oasis at dawn he +must now be near the divide, unless he had been delayed by a wind-storm +at the strip of sand. Hare longed to see the roan charger come up over +the crest; he longed to see a file of Navajos, plumes waving, dark +mustangs gleaming in the red light, sweep down the stony ridge toward the +cedars. "If they come," he whispered, "I'll kill Holderness and Snap and +any man who tries to open that cabin door." + +So he waited in tense watchfulness, his gaze alternating between the wavy +line of the divide and the camp glade. Out in the valley it was still +daylight, but under the cliff twilight had fallen. All day Hare had +strained his ears to hear the talk of the rustlers, and it now occurred +to him that if he climbed down through the split in the cliff to the +bench where Dave and George had always hidden to watch the spring he +would be just above the camp. This descent involved risk, but since it +would enable him to see the cabin door when darkness set in, he decided +to venture. The moment was propitious, for the rustlers were bustling +around, cooking dinner, unrolling blankets, and moving to and fro from +spring and corral. Hare crawled back a few yards and along the cliff +until he reached the split. It was a narrow steep crack which he well +remembered. Going down was attended with two dangers--losing his hold, +and the possible rattling of stones. Face foremost he slipped downward +with the gliding, sinuous movement of a snake, and reaching the grassy +bench he lay quiet. Jesting voices and loud laughter from below +reassured him. He had not been heard. His new position afforded every +chance to see and hear, and also gave means of rapid, noiseless retreat +along the bench to the cedars. Lying flat he crawled stealthily to the +bushy fringe of the bench. + +A bright fire blazed under the cliff. Men were moving and laughing. The +cabin door was open. Mescal stood leaning back from Snap Naab, +struggling to release her hands. + +"Let me untie them, I say," growled Snap. + +Mescal tore loose from him and stepped back. Her hands were bound before +her, and twisting them outward, she warded him off. Her dishevelled hair +almost hid her dark eyes. They burned in a level glance of hate and +defiance. She was a little lioness, quivering with fiery life, fight in +every line of her form. + +"All right, don't eat then--starve!" said Snap. + +"I'll starve before I eat what you give me." + +The rustlers laughed. Holderness blew out a puff of smoke and smiled. +Snap glowered upon Mescal and then upon his amiable companions. One of +them, a ruddyfaced fellow, walked toward Mescal. + +"Cool down, Snap, cool down," he said. "We're not goin' to stand for a +girl starvin'. She ain't eat White yet. Here, Miss, let me untie your +hands--there. . . . Say! Naab, d--n you, her wrists are black an' +blue!" + +"Look out! Your gun!" yelled Snap. + +With a swift movement Mescal snatched the man's Colt from its holster and +was raising it when he grasped her arm. She winced and dropped the +weapon. + +"You little Indian devil!" exclaimed the rustler, in a rapt admiration. +"Sorry to hurt you, an' more'n sorry to spoil your aim. Thet wasn't kind +to throw my own gun on me, jest after I'd played the gentleman, now, was +it?" + +"I didn't--intend--to shoot--you," panted Mescal. + +"Naab, if this's your Mormon kind of wife--excuse me! Though I ain't +denyin' she's the sassiest an' sweetest little cat I ever seen!" + +"We Mormons don't talk about our women or hear any talk," returned Snap, +a dancing fury in his pale eyes. "You're from Nebraska?" + +"Yep, jest a plain Nebraska rustler, cattle-thief, an' all round no-good +customer, though I ain't taken to houndin' women yet." + +For answer Snap Naab's right hand slowly curved upward before him and +stopped taut and inflexible, while his strange eyes seemed to shoot +sparks. + +"See here, Naab, why do you want to throw a gun on me?" asked the +rustler, coolly. "Haven't you shot enough of your friends yet? I reckon +I've no right to interfere in your affairs. I was only protestin' +friendly like, for the little lady. She's game, an' she's called your +hand. An' it's not a straight hand. Thet's all, an' d--n if I care +whether you are a Mormon or not. I'll bet a hoss Holderness will back me +up." + +"Snap, he's right," put in Holdemess, smoothly. "You needn't be so +touchy about Mescal. She's showed what little use she's got for you. If +you must rope her around like you do a mustang, be easy about it. Let's +have supper. Now, Mescal, you sit here on the bench and behave yourself. +I don't want you shooting up my camp." + +Snap turned sullenly aside while Holderness seated Mescal near the door +and fetched her food and drink. The rustlers squatted round the +camp-fire, and conversation ceased in the business of the meal. + +To Hare the scene had brought a storm of emotions. Joy at the sight of +Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting +spirit--these came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska +rustler, strange deepening insight into Holderness's game, +unextinguishable white-hot hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the +ever-mounting will to rescue Mescal, which was held in check by an +inexorable judgment; he must continue to wait. And he did wait with +blind faith in the something to be, keeping ever in mind the last resort- +-the rifle he clutched with eager hands. Meanwhile the darkness +descended, the fire sent forth a brighter blaze, and the rustlers +finished their supper. Mescal arose and stepped across the threshold of +the cabin door. + +"Hold on!" ordered Snap, as he approached with swift strides. "Stick out +your hands!" + +Some of the rustlers grumbled; and one blurted out: "Aw no, Snap, don't +tie her up--no!" + +"Who says no?" hissed the Mormon, with snapping teeth. As he wheeled +upon them his Colt seemed to leap forward, and suddenly quivered at +arm's-length, gleaming in the ruddy fire-rays. + +Holderness laughed in the muzzle of the weapon. "Go ahead, Snap, tie up +your lady love. What a tame little wife she's going to make you! Tie her +up, but do it without hurting her." + +The rustlers growled or laughed at their leader's order. Snap turned to +his task. Mescal stood in the doorway and shrinkingly extended her +clasped hands. Holderness whirled to the fire with a look which betrayed +his game. Snap bound Mescal's hands securely, thrust her inside the +cabin, and after hesitating for a long moment, finally shut the door. + +"It's funny about a woman, now, ain't it?" said Nebraska, confidentially, +to a companion. "One minnit she'll snatch you bald-headed; the next, +she'll melt in your mouth like sugar. An' I'll be darned if the +changeablest one ain't the kind to hold a feller longest. But it's h--1. +I was married onct. Not any more for mine! A pal I had used to say thet +whiskey riled him, thet rattlesnake pisen het up his blood some, but it +took a woman to make him plumb bad. D__n if it ain't so. When there's a +woman around there's somethin' allus comin' off." + +But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness +suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals +from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side +of the door, his narrow gaze cunningly studying the rustlers before him. +More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk +he could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half +opening it while he faced the men. + +"Stop!" commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had +come from another man. "You don't go in there!" + +"I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage," replied Naab, in +slow deliberation. + +"Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her. +You tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or +something'll happen." + +"There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't +interfere now, I'm going." + +"Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!" + +Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him. + +"So-ho!" he exclaimed, sneeringly." That's why you've made me foreman, +eh?" His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale +eyes strove to pierce_ the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The +rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic +smile. + +"Naab, you don't get the girl." + +"Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap. + +"I always intended to." + +Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His +Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click I Click! Click! The hammer +fell upon empty chambers. + +"H--l!" he shrieked. + +Holderness laughed sarcastically. + +"That's where you're going!" he cried. "Here's to Naab's trick with a +gun_Bah!" And he shot his foreman through the heart. + +Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling +wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread +convulsively, straightened, and sank limp. + +Holderness called through the door of the cabin. "Mescal, I've rid you +of your would-be husband. Cheer-up!" Then, pointing to the fallen man, +he said to the nearest bystanders: "Some of you drag that out for the +coyotes." + +The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler, +and he curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up." No +shells!" he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and +unbreeched that."No shells! Well, d--n me!" He surveyed the group of grim +men, not one of whom had any reply. + +Holderness again laughed harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened +the door with a lasso. + +It was a long time before Hare recovered from the starting revelation of +the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap Naab +had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely +preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position +and se tied himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour +Holderness and his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching +doom. Hare's strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these +men had received its first verification in the sudden taking off of Snap +Naab. The deep-scheming Holderness, confident that his strong band meant +sure protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had +not caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested warning. Yet somewhere +out on the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of +life to the lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind +him waited a troop of Navajos, swift as eagles, merciless as wolves, +desert warriors with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins. +As Hare waited and watched with all his inner being cold, he could almost +feel pity for Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the rustler +chief had sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, Hare had +covered him with the rifle, waiting, waiting for the step upon the +threshold. But Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's +finger eased its pressure upon the trigger. + +The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no starlight; the +wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled +in their blankets and all dropped into slumber while the camp-fire slowly +burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the breeze and +the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes. + +Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man +raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked +long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he +softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do. +Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening +intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep. +Gently he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and +guarded of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between +the rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's, +and he went toward the cabin door. + +He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting +six-shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached +the door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy +movements, his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom +hovered over the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that +this softly stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the +woman pledged in his creed. He meant to free Mescal. + +If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band +awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in the +flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a +sound. + +Hare whispered: "Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake +Holderness--then I must shoot--I must!" + +But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth. + +"Hist!" he whispered into the cabin." Hist!" + +Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning +of that low whisper, for silently she appeared ha the doorway, silently +she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed +into the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a fitting +shadow Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary, +unhurried steps back to his bed and rolled in his blankets. + +Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed to +have but one issue--the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be upon +Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there would be +no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler while he +was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to his men +the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing down on +the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever his +power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the +temptation from him. To ward off pursuit as long as possible, to aid +Mescal in every way to some safe hiding-place, and then to seek +Holderness--that was the forethought of a man who had learned to wait. + +Under the dark projection of the upper cliff Hare felt his way to the +cedar slope, and the trail, and then he went swiftly down into the little +hollow where he had left Bolly. The darkness of the forest hindered him, +but he came at length to the edge of the aspen thicket; he penetrated it, +and guided toward Bolly by a suspicious stamp and neigh, he found her and +quieted her with a word. He rode down the hollow, out upon the level +valley. + +The clouds had broken somewhat, letting pale light down through rifts. +All about him cattle were lying in a thick gloom. It was penetrable for +only a few rods. The ground was like a cushion under Bolly's hoofs, +giving forth no sound. The mustang threw up her head, causing Hare to +peer into the night-fog. Rapid hoof-beats broke the silence, a vague +gray shadow moved into sight. He saw Silvermane and called as loudly as +he dared. The stallion melted into the misty curtain, the beating of +hoofs softened and ceased. Hare spurred Bolly to her fleetest. He had a +long, silent chase, but it was futile, and unnecessarily hard on the +mustang; so he pulled her in to a trot. + +Hare kept Bolly to this gait the remainder of the night, and when the +eastern sky lightened he found the trail and reached Seeping Springs at +dawn. Silvermane's tracks were deep in the clay at the drinking-trough. +He rested a few moments, gave Bolly sparingly of grain and water, and +once more took to the trail. + +>From the ridge below the spring he saw Silvermane beyond the valley, +miles ahead of him. This day seemed shorter than the foregoing one; it +passed while he watched Silvermane grow smaller and smaller and disappear +on the looming slope of Coconina. Hare's fear that Mescal would run into +the riders Holderness expected from his ranch grew less and less after +she had reached the cover of the cedars. That she would rest the +stallion at the Navajo pool on the mountain he made certain. Late in the +night he came to the camping spot and found no trace to prove that she +had halted there even to let Silvermane drink. So he tied the tired +mustang and slept until daylight. + +He crossed the plateau and began the descent. Before he was half-way +down the vvarrn bright sun had cleared the valley of vapor and shadow. +Far along the winding white trail shone a speck. It was Silvermane +almost out of sight. + +"Ten miles--fifteen, more maybe," said Hare. "Mescal will soon be in the +village." + +Again hours of travel flew by like winged moments. Thoughts of time, +distance, monotony, fatigue, purpose, were shut out from his mind. A +rushing kaleidoscopic dance of images filled his consciousness, but they +were all of Mescal. Safety for her had unsealed the fountain of +happiness. + +It was near sundown when he rode Black Bolly into White Sage, and took +the back road, and the pasture lane to Bishop Caldwell's cottage. John, +one of the Bishop's sons, was in the barn-yard and ran to open the gate. + +"Mescal!" cried Hare. + +"Safe," replied the Mormon. + +"Have you hidden her?" + +"She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men +know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe." + +"Thank God! ... then that's settled." Hare drew a long, deep breath. + +"Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and +escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?" + +"Silvermane killed him." + +"Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here +in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap +Naab?" + +"Yes." + +"What of old N.aab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons +against the rustlers?" + +"He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail +alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he +failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his +plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him." + +"For what? Mescal?" + +"No. For Holderness." + +"You'll kill him!" + +"Yes." + +"He'll be coming soon?--When?" + +"To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance +Naab may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it." + +"May I know your plan?" The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face +flashed with daring inspiration. "I--I've a good reason." + +"Plan?-- Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in the +orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little--for I'm dead tired- +-and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his men, +perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use +strategy. I'll meet him when he comes--that's all." + +"It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now. +You need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the +arbor." + +Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival +following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed +repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell +did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table +before finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the +open window. + +Darkness found Hare wrapped in a blanket under the trees. He needed +sleep that would loose the strange deadlock of his thoughts, clear the +blur from his eyes, ease the pain in his head and weariness of limbs--all +these weaknesses of which he had suddenly become conscious. Time and +again he had almost wooed slumber to him when soft footsteps on the +gravel paths, low voices, the gentle closing of the gate, brought him +back to the unreal listening wakefulness. The sounds continued late into +the night, and when he did fall asleep he dreamed of them. He awoke to a +dawn clearer than the light from the noonday sun. In his ears was the +ringing of a bell. He could not stand still, and his movements were +subtle and swift. His hands took a peculiar, tenacious, hold of +everything he chanced to touch. He paced his hidden walk behind the +arbor, at every turn glancing sharply up and down the road. Thoughts +came to him clearly, yet one was dominant. The morning was curiously +quiet, the sons of the Bishop had strangely disappeared--a sense of +imminent catastrophe was in the air. + +A band of horsemen closely grouped turned into the road and trotted +forward. Some of the men wore black masks. Holderness rode at the +front, his red-gold beard shining in the sunlight. The steady clip-crop +of hoofs and clinking of iron stirrups broke the morning quiet. +Holderness, with two of his men, dismounted before the Bishop's gate; the +others of the band trotted on down the road. The ring of Holderness's +laugh preceded the snap of the gate-latch + +Hare stood calm and cold behind his green covert watching the three men +stroll up the garden path. Holderness took a cigarette from his lips as +he neared the porch and blew out circles of white smoke. Bishop Caldwell +tottered from the cottage rapping the porch-floor with his cane. + +"Good-morning, Bishop," greeted Holderness, blandly, baring his head. + +"To you, sir," quavered the old man, with his wavering blue eyes fixed on +the spurred and belted rustler. Holderness stepped out in front of his +companions, a superb man, courteous, smiling, entirely at his ease. + +"I rode in to--" + +Hare leaped from his hiding-place. + +"Holderness!" + +The rustler pivoted on whirling heels. + +"Dene's spy!" he exclaimed, aghast. Swift changes swept his mobile +features. Fear flickered in his eyes as he faced his foe; then came +wonder, a glint of amusement, dark anger, and the terrible instinct of +death impending. + +"Naab's trick!" hissed Hare, with his hand held high. The suggestion in +his words, the meaning in his look, held the three rustlers transfixed. +The surprise was his strength. + +In Holderness's amber eyes shone his desperate calculation of chances. +Hare's fateful glance, impossible to elude, his strung Arm slightly +crouched, his cold deliberate mention of Naab's trick, and more than all +the poise of that quivering hand, filled the rustler with a terror that +he could not hide. + +He had been bidden to draw and he could not summon the force. + +"Naab's trick!" repeated Hare, mockingly. + +Suddenly Holderness reached for his gun. + +Hare's hand leapt like a lightning stroke. Gleam of blue--spurt of red-- +crash! + +Holderness swayed with blond head swinging backward; the amber of his +eyes suddenly darkened; the life in them glazed; like a log he fell +clutching the weapon he had half drawn. + + + +XX +THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + + +Take Holderness away--quick!" ordered Hare. A thin curl of blue smoke +floated from the muzzle of his raised weapon. + +The rustlers started out of their statue-like immobility, and lifting +their dead leader dragged him down the garden path with his spurs +clinking on the gravel and ploughing little furrows.
"Bishop, go in now. They may return," said Hare. He hurried up the
+steps to place his arm round the tottering old man. + +"Was that Holderness?" + +"Yes," replied Hare. + +"The deeds of the wicked return unto them! God's will!" + +Hare led the Bishop indoors. The sitting-room was full Or wailing women +and crying children. None of the young men were present. Again Hare +made note of their inexplicable absence. He spoke soothingly to the +frightened family. The little boys and girls yielded readily to his +persuasion, but the women took no heed of him. + +"Where are your sons?" asked Hare. + +"I don't know," replied the Bishop. "They should be here to stand by +you. It's strange. I don't understand. + +Last night my sons were visited by many men, coming and going in twos and +threes till late. They didn't sleep in their beds. I know not what to +think." + +Hare remembered John Caldwell's enigmatic face. + +"Have the rustlers really come?" asked a young woman, whose eyes were red +and cheeks tear-stained + +"They have. Nineteen in all. I counted them," answered Hare. + +The young woman burst out weeping afresh, and the wailing of the others +answered her. Hare left the cottage He picked up his rifle and went down +through the orchard to the hiding-place of the horses. Silvermane +pranced and snorted his gladness at sight of his master. The desert king +was fit for a grueling race. Black Bolly quietly cropped the long grass. +Hare saddled the stallion to have him in instant readiness, and then +returned to the front of the yard. + +He heard the sound of a gun down the road, then another, and several +shots following in quick succession. A distant angry murmuring and +trampling of many feet drew Hare to the gate. Riderless mustangs were +galloping down the road; several frightened boys were fleeing across the +square; not a man was in sight. Three more shots cracked, and the low +murmur and trampling swelled into a hoarse uproar. Hare had heard that +sound before; it was the tumult of mob-violence. A black dense throng of +men appeared crowding into the main street, and crossing toward the +square. The procession had some order; it was led and flanked by mounted +men. But the upflinging of many arms, the craning of necks, and the +leaping of men on the outskirts of the mass, the pressure inward and the +hideous roar, proclaimed its real character. + +"By Heaven!" exclaimed Hare. "The Mormons have risen against the +rustlers. I understand now. John Caldwell spent last night in secretly +rousing his neighbors. They have surprised the rustlers. Now what?" + +Hare vaulted the fence and ran down the road A compact mob of men, a +hundred or more, had halted in the village under the wide - spreading +cottonwoods. Hare suddenly grasped the terrible significance of those +outstretched branches, and out of the thought grew another which made him +run at bursting break-neck speed. + +"Open up! Let me in!" he yelled to the thickly thronged circle. Right +and left he flung men. "Make way!" His piercing voice stilled the angry +murmur. Fierce men with weapons held aloft fell back from his face. + +"Dene's spy!" they cried. + +The circle opened and closed upon him. He saw bound rustlers under armed +guard. Four still forms were on the ground. Holderness lay +outstretched, a dark - red blot staining his gray shirt. Flinty-faced +Mormons, ruthless now as they had once been mild, surrounded the +rustlers. John Caldwell stood foremost, with ashen lips breaking +bitterly into speech: + +"Mormons, this is Dene's spy, the man who killed Holderness!" + +The listeners burst into the short stern shout of men proclaiming a +leader in war. + +"What's the game?" demanded Hare. + +"A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope," replied John Caldwell. The +low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again. + +"There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them +hanged." + +"Pick them out!" A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in +John Caldwell's hard face. + +Hare eyed the prisoners. + +"Nebraska, step out here," said he. + +"I reckon you're mistaken," replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently +on Hare. "I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to +cheat the man you mean." + +"I saw you untie the girl's hands." + +"You did? Well, d--n me!" + +"Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You +weren't cut out for a thief." + +"Will I? D--n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin' +for you, stranger, an' prove it." + +"Cut him loose from the others," said Hare. He scrutinized the line of +rustlers. Several were masked in black." Take off those masks!" + +"No! Those men go to their graves masked." Again the strange twinge of +pain crossed John Caldwell's face. + +"Ah, I see," exclaimed Hare. Then quickly: "I couldn't recognize the +other man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her +and I'll save him. But how?" + +Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent, clamored +that he was the one to be saved. + +"Hurry back home," said Caldwell in Hare's ear "Tell them to fetch +Mescal. Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are +wavering. You've got only a few minutes." + +Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the +run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family. + +"No danger--don't be alarmed--all's well," he panted. 'The rustlers are +captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, somebody." + +One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a +latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone, and +dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly +pattering footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall, +black hair flying, dark eyes beaming. + +"My darling!" Oblivious of the Mormons he swung her up and held her in +his arms." Mescal! Mescal!" + +When he raised his face from the tumbling mass of her black hair, the +Bishop and his family had left the room. + +"Listen, Mescal. Be calm. I'm safe. The rustlers are prisoners. One +of them released you from Holderness. Tell me which one?" + +"I don't know," replied Mescal. "I've tried to think. I didn't see his +face; I can't remember his voice." + +"Think! Think! He'll be hanged if you don't recall something to identify +him. He deserves a chance. Holderness's crowd are thieves, murderers. +But two were not all bad. That showed the night you were at Silver Cup. +I saved Nebraska--" + +"Were you at Silver Cup? Jack!" + +"Hush! don't interrupt me. We must save this man who saved you. Think' +Mescal! Think!" + +"Oh! I can't. What--how shall I remember?" + +"Something about him. Think of his coat, his sleeve. You must remember +something. Did you see his hands?" + +"Yes, I did--when he was loosing the cords," said Mescal, eagerly. +"Long, strong fingers. I felt them too. He has a sharp rough wart on +one hand, I don't know which. He wears a leather wristband." + +"That's enough!" Hare bounded out upon the garden walk and raced back to +the crowded square. The uneasy circle stirred and opened for him to +enter. He stumbled over a pile of lassoes which had not been there when +he left. The stony Mormons waited; the rustlers coughed and shifted +their feet. John Caldwell turned a gray face. Hare bent over the three +dead rustlers lying with Holderness, and after a moment of anxious +scrutiny he rose to confront the line of prisoners. + +"Hold out your hands." + +One by one they complied. The sixth rustler in the line, a tall fellow, +completely masked, refused to do as he was bidden. Twice Hare spoke. +The rustler twisted his bound hands under his coat. + +"Let's see them," said Hare, quickly. He grasped the fellow's arm and +received a violent push that almost knocked him over. Grappling with the +rustler, he pulled up the bound hands, in spite of fierce resistance, and +there were the long fingers, the sharp wart, the laced wristband. +"Here's my man!" he said. + +"No," hoarsely mumbled the rustler. The perspiration ran down his corded +neck; his breast heaved convulsively. + +"You fool!" cried Hare, dumfounded and resentful. "I recognized you. +Would you rather hang than live? What's your secret?" + +He snatched off the black mask. The Bishop's eldest son stood revealed. + +"Good God!" cried Hare, recoiling from that convulsed face. + +"Brother! Oh! I feared this," groaned John Caldwell. + +The rustlers broke out into curses and harsh laughter. + +"You Mormons! See him! Paul Caldwell! Son of a Bishop! Thought he was +shepherdin' sheep?" + +"D--n you, Hare!" shouted the guilty Mormon, in passionate fury and shame. +"Why didn't you hang me? Why didn't you bury me unknown?" + +"Caldwell! I can't believe it," cried Hare, slowly coming to himself." +But you don't hang. Here, come out of the crowd. Make way, men!" + +The silent crowd of Mormons with lowered and averted eyes made passage +for Hare and Caldwell. Then cold, stern voices in sharp questions and +orders went on with the grim trial. Leading the bowed and stricken +Mormon, Hare drew off to the side of the town-hall and turned his back +upon the crowd. The constant trampling of many feet, the harsh medley of +many voices swelled into one dreadful sound. It passed away, and a long +hush followed. But this in turn was suddenly broken by an outcry: + +"The Navajos! The Navajos!" + +Hare thrilled at that cry and his glance turned to the eastern end of the +village road where a column of mounted Indians, four abreast, was riding +toward the square. + +"Nanb and his Indians," shouted Hare. "Naab and his Indians! No fear!" +His call was timely, for the aroused Mormons, ignorant of Naab's pursuit, +fearful of hostile Navajos, were handling their guns ominously. + +But there came a cry of recognition--"August Naab!" + +Onward came the band, Naab in the lead on his spotted roan. The mustangs +were spent and lashed with foam. Naab reined in his charger and the +keen-eyed Navajos closed in behind him. The old Mormon's eagle glance +passed over the dark forms dangling from the cottonwoods to the files of +waiting men. + +"Where is he?" + +"There!" answered John Caldwell, pointing to the body of Holderness. + +"Who robbed me of my vengeance? Who killed the rustler?" Naab's +stentorian voice rolled over the listening multitude. In it was a hunger +of thwarted hate that held men mute. He bent a downward gaze at the dead +Holderness as if to make sure of the ghastly reality. Then he seemed to +rise in his saddle, and his broad chest to expand. "I know--I saw it +all--blind I was not to believe my own eyes! Where is he? Where is +Hare?" + +Some one pointed Hare out. Naab swung from his saddle and scattered the +men before him as if they had been sheep. His shaggy gray head and +massive shoulders towered above the tallest there. + +Hare felt again a cold sense of fear. He grew weak in all his being. He +reeled when the gray shaggy giant laid a huge hand on his shoulder and +with one pull dragged him close. Was this his kind Mormon benefactor, +this man with the awful eyes? + +"You killed Holderness?" roared Naab. + +"Yes," whispered Hare. + +"You heard me say I'd go alone? You forestalled me? You took upon +yourself my work? ... Speak." + +"I--did." + +"By what right?" + +"My debt--duty--your family--Dave!" + +"Boy! Boy! You've robbed me." Naab waved his arm from the gaping crowd to +the swinging rustlers. "You've led these white-livered Mormons to do my +work. How can I avenge my sons--seven sons?" + +His was the rage of the old desert-lion. He loosed Hare and strode in +magnificent wrath over Holderness and raised his brawny fists. + +"Eighteen years I prayed for wicked men," he rolled out. "One by one I +buried my sons. I gave my springs and my cattle. Then I yielded to the +lust for blood. I renounced my religion. I paid my soul to everlasting +hell for the life of my foe. But he's dead! Killed by a wild boy! I sold +myself to the devil for nothing!" + +August Naab raved out his unnatural rage amid awed silence. His revolt +was the flood of years undammed at the last. The ferocity of the desert +spirit spoke silently in the hanging rustlers, in the ruthlessness of the +vigilantes who had destroyed them, but it spoke truest in the sonorous +roll of the old Mormon's wrath. + +"August, young Hare saved two of the rustlers," spoke up an old friend, +hoping to divert the angry flood. "Paul Caldwell there, he was one of +them. The other's gone." + +Naab loomed over him. "What!" he roared. His friend edged away, +repeating his words and jerking his thumb backward toward the Bishop's +son. + +"Judas Iscariot!" thundered Naab. "False to thyself, thy kin, and thy +God! Thrice traitor! ... Why didn't you get yourself killed? ... Why +are you left? Ah-h! for me--a rustler for me to kill--with my own +hands!--A rope there--a rope!" + +"I wanted them to hang me," hoarsely cried Caldwell, writhing in Naab's +grasp. + +Hare threw all his weight and strength upon the Mormon's iron arm."Naab! +Naab! For God's sake, hear! He saved Mescal. This man, thief, traitor, +false Mormon--whatever he is--he saved Mescal." + +August Naub's eyes were bloodshot. One shake of his great body flung +Hare off. He dragged Paul Caldwell across the grass toward the +cottonwood as easily as if he were handling an empty grain-sack. + +Hare suddenly darted after him. "August! August!--look! look!" he +cried. He pointed a shaking finger down the square. The old Bishop came +tottering over the grass, leaning on his cane, shading his eyes with his +hand. "August. See, the Bishop's coming. Paul's father! Do you hear?" + +Hare's appeal pierced Naab's frenzied brain. The Mormon Elder saw his +old Bishop pause and stare at the dark shapes suspended from the +cottonwoods and hold up his hands in horror. + +Naab loosed his hold. His frame seemed wrenched as though by the passing +of an evil spirit, and the reaction left his face transfigured. + +"Paul, it's your father, the Bishop," he said, brokenly. "Be a man. He +must never know." Naab spread wide his arms to the crowd. "Men, +listen," he said. "Of all of us Mormons I have lost most, suffered most. +Then hear me. Bishop Caldwell must never know of his son's guilt. He +would sink under it. Keep the secret. Paul will be a man again. I +know. I see. For, Mormons, August Naab has the gift of revelation!" + + + +XXI +MESCAL + + +Summer gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls of +the oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea, +darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke were +wafted far above the cottonwoods and floated in the still air. The +desert-red color of Navajo blankets brightened the grove. + +Half-naked bronze Indians lolled in the shade, lounged on the cabin +porches and stood about the sunny glade in idle groups. They wore the +dress of peace. A single black-tipped white eagle feather waved above +the band binding each black head. They watched the merry children tumble +round the playground. Silvermane browsed where he listed under the shady +trees, and many a sinewy red hand caressed his flowing mane. Black Bolly +neighed her jealous displeasure from the corral, and the other mustangs +trampled and kicked and whistled defiance across the bars. The peacocks +preened their gorgeous plumage and uttered their clarion calls. The +belligerent turkey-gobblers sidled about ruffling their feathers. The +blackbirds and swallows sang and twittered their happiness to find old +nests in the branches and under the eaves. Over all boomed the dull roar +of the Colorado in flood. + +It was the morning of Mescal's wedding-day. + +August Naab, for once without a task, sat astride a peeled log of +driftwood in the lane, and Hare stood beside him. + +"Five thousand steers, lad! Why do you refuse them? They're worth ten +dollars a head to-day in Salt Lake City. A good start for a young man." + +"No, I'm still in your debt." + +"Then share alike with my sons in work and profit?" + +"Yes, I can accept that." + +"Good! Jack, I see happiness and prosperity for you. Do you remember +that night on the White Sage trail? Ah! Novell, the worst is over. We +can look forward to better times. It's not likely the rustlers will ride +into Utah again. But this desert will never be free from strife." + +"Tell me of Mescal," said Hare. + +"Ah! Yes, I'm coming to that." Naab bent his head over the log and +chipped off little pieces with his knife." Jack, will you come into the +Mormon Church?" + +Long had Hare shrunk from this question which he felt must inevitably +come, and now he met it as bravely as he could, knowing he would pain his +friend. + +"No, August, I can't," he replied. "I feel--differently from Mormons +about--about women. If it wasn't for that! I look upon you as a father. +I'll do anything for you, except that. No one could pray to be a better +man than you. Your work, your religion, your life-- Why! I've no words +to say what I feel. Teach me what little you can of them, August, but +don't ask me--that." + +"Well, well," sighed Naab. The gray clearness of his eagle eyes grew +shadowed and his worn face was sad. It was the look of a strong wise man +who seemed to hear doubt and failure knocking at the gate of his creed. +But he loved life too well to be unhappy; he saw it too clearly not to +know there was nothing wholly good, wholly perfect, wholly without error. +The shade passed from his face like the cloud-shadow from the sunlit +lane. + +"You ask about Mescal," he mused. "There's little more to tell." + +"But her father--can you tell me more of him?" + +"Little more than I've already told. He was evidently a man of some +rank. I suspected that he ruined his life and became an adventurer. His +health was shattered when I brought him here, but he got well after a +year or so. He was a splendid, handsome fellow. He spoke very seldom +and I don't remember ever seeing him smile. His favorite walk was the +river trail. I came upon him there one day, and found him dying. He +asked me to have a care of Mescal. And he died muttering a Spanish word, +a woman's name, I think." + +"I'll cherish Mescal the more," said Hare. + +"Cherish her, yes. My Bible will this day give her a name. We know she +has the blood of a great chief. Beautiful she is and good. I raised her +for the Mormon Church, but God disposes after all, and I--" + +A shrill screeching sound split the warm stillness, the long-drawn-out +bray of a burro. + +"Jack, look down the lane. If it isn't Noddle!" + +Under the shady line of the red wall a little gray burro came trotting +leisurely along with one long brown ear standing straight up, the other +hanging down over his nose. + +"By George! it's Noddle!" exclaimed Hare. "He's climbed out of the +canyon. Won't this please Mescal?" + +"Hey, Mother Mary," called Naab toward the cabin." Send Mescal out. +Here's a wedding-present." + +With laughing wonder the women-folk flocked out into the yard. Mescal +hung back shy-eyed, roses dyeing the brown of her cheeks. + +"Mescal's wedding-present from Thunder River. Just arrived!" called Naab +cheerily, yet deep-voiced with the happiness he knew the tidings would +give. "A dusty, dirty, shaggy, starved, lop-eared, lazy burro--Noddle!" + +Mescal flew out into the lane, and with a strange broken cry of joy that +was half a sob she fell upon her knees and clasped the little burro's +neck. Noddle wearily flapped his long brown ears, wearily nodded his +white nose; then evidently considering the incident closed, he went +lazily to sleep. + +"Noddle! dear old Noddle!" murmured Mescal, with far-seeing, +thought-mirroring eyes. "For you to come back to-day from our canyon! +... Oh! The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonely +voices! ... they come back to me.... Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the same +faithful old Noddle!" + +August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of the +cottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them. +The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed an +attentive circle around them. The ceremony was brief. At its close the +Mormon lifted his face and arms in characteristic invocation. + +"Almighty God, we entreat Thy blessing upon this marriage. Many and +inscrutable are Thy ways; strange are the workings of Thy will; wondrous +the purpose with which Thou hast brought this man and this woman +together. Watch over them in the new path they are to tread, help them +in the trials to come; and in Thy good time, when they have reached the +fulness of days, when they have known the joy of life and rendered their +service, gather them to Thy bosom in that eternal home where we all pray +to meet Thy chosen ones of good; yea, and the evil ones purified in Thy +mercy. Amen." + +Happy congratulations of the Mormon family, a merry romp of children +flinging flowers, marriage-dance of singing Navajos--these, with the +feast spread under the cottonwoods, filled the warm noon-hours of the +day. + +Then the chief Eschtah raised his lofty form, and turned his eyes upon +the bride and groom. + +"Eschtah's hundred summers smile in the face of youth. The arm of the +White Chief is strong; the kiss of the Flower of the Desert is sweet. +Let Mescal and Jack rest their heads on one pillow, and sleep under the +trees, and chant when the dawn brightens in the east. Out of his wise +years the Navajo bids them love while they may. Daughter of my race, +take the blessing of the Navajo." + +Jack lifted Mescal upon Black Bolly and mounted Silvermane. Piute +grinned till he shook his earrings and started the pack burros toward the +plateau trail. Wolf pattered on before, turning his white head, +impatient of delay. Amid tears and waving of hands and cheers they began +the zigzag ascent. + +When they reached the old camp on the plateau the sun was setting behind +the Painted Desert. With hands closely interwoven they watched the color +fade and the mustering of purple shadows. + +Twilight fell. Piute raked the red coals from the glowing centre of the +camp-fire. Wolf crouched all his long white length, his sharp nose on +his paws, watching Mescal. Hare watched her, too. The night shone in +her eyes, the light of the fire, the old brooding mystic desert-spirit, +and something more. The thump of Silvermane's hobbled hoofs was heard in +the darkness; Bolly's bell jangled musically. The sheep were bleating. +A lonesome coyote barked. The white stars blinked out of the blue and +the night breeze whispered softly among the cedars. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Heritage of the Desert, by Grey + diff --git a/old/old/hdsrt10.zip b/old/old/hdsrt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b278ec8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/hdsrt10.zip diff --git a/old/old/hdsrt11.txt b/old/old/hdsrt11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c122566 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/hdsrt11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9396 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Heritage of the Desert, by Grey +#6 in our series by Zane Grey + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by: Bill Brewer +billbrewer@worldnet.att.net/billbrewer@ttu.edu + +Corrections by: Rick Fane +rfane@earthlink.net + + + + +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + +A NOVEL + +BY + +ZANE GREY + + + + +I +THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET + + +"BUT the man's almost dead." + +The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his +eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that +had overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a +sombre group of men. + +"Leave him here," said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. "He's the +fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. He's all +but dead. Dene's outlaws are after him. Don't cross Dene." + +The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a +follower of Cromwell. + +"Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or +any other man. You forget your religion. I see my duty to God." + +"Yes, August Naab, I know," replied the little man, bitterly. "You would +cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who went down +from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. But I've suffered +enough at the hands of Dene." + +The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving Hare +that he was still in the land of the Mormons. As he lay there the +strange words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few +days with the stern reality of the present. + +"Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers," replied Naab, like +one reading from the Old Testament. "They came into this desert land to +worship and multiply in peace. They conquered the desert; they prospered +with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all +hostile to their religion and their livelihood. Nor did they ever fail +to succor the sick and unfortunate. What are our toils and perils +compared to theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn +from mercy because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the +times, but I am a Mormon; I trust in God." + +"August Naab, I am a Mormon too," returned Cole, "but my hands are +stained with blood. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and +your cattle. Yes, I know. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far +off in your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, guarded +by your Navajo friends. But Holderness is creeping slowly on you. He'll +ignore your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will steal +cattle under your very eyes. Don't make them enemies." + +"I can't pass by this helpless man," rolled out August Naab's sonorous +voice. + +Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward. +"There! Dene and his band! See, under the red wall; see the dust, not ten +miles away. See them?" + +The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to the +west. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched the waste, and followed the +red mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional in its +craggy sweep, shut out the north. Far away little puffs of dust rose +above the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace. + +"See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for my +prophecy," cried Cole, fanatically. "The red sunset--the sign of the +times--blood!" + +A broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme +west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several clouds of +striking color and shape. They alone, in all that expanse, were dyed in +the desert's sunset crimson. The largest projected from behind the dark +cloud-bank in the shape of a huge fist, and the others, small and round, +floated below. To Cole it seemed a giant hand, clutching, with +inexorable strength, a bleeding heart. His terror spread to his +companions as they stared. + +Then, as light surrendered to shade, the sinister color faded; the +tracing of the closed hand softened; flush and glow paled, leaving the +sky purple, as if mirroring the desert floor. One golden shaft shot up, +to be blotted out by sudden darkening change, and the sun had set. + +"That may be God's will," said August Naab. "So be it. Martin Cole, +take your men and go." + +There was a word, half oath, half prayer, and then rattle of stirrups, +the creak of saddles, and clink of spurs, followed by the driving rush of +fiery horses. Cole and his men disappeared in a pall of yellow dust. + +A wan smile lightened John Hare's face as he spoke weakly: "I fear your-- +generous act--can't save me . . . may bring you harm. I'd rather you left +me--seeing you have women in your party." + +"Don't try to talk yet," said August Naab. "You're faint. Here--drink." +He stooped to Hare, who was leaning against a sage-bush, and held a flask +to his lips. Rising, he called to his men: "Make camp, sons. We've an +hour before the outlaws come up, and if they don't go round the sand-dune +we'll have longer." + +Hare's flagging senses rallied, and he forgot himself in wonder. While +the bustle went on, unhitching of wagon-teams, hobbling and feeding of +horses, unpacking of camp-supplies, Naab appeared to be lost in deep +meditation or prayer. Not once did he glance backward over the trail on +which peril was fast approaching. His gaze was fastened on a ridge to +the east where desert line, fringed by stunted cedars, met the pale-blue +sky, and for a long time he neither spoke nor stirred. At length he +turned to the camp-fire; he raked out red coals, and placed the iron pots +in position, by way of assistance to the women who were preparing the +evening meal. + +A cool wind blew in from the desert, rustling the sage, sifting the sand, +fanning the dull coals to burning opals. Twilight failed and night fell; +one by one great stars shone out, cold and bright. From the zone of +blackness surrounding the camp burst the short bark, the hungry whine, +the long-drawn-out wail of desert wolves. + +"Supper, sons," called Naab, as he replenished the fire with an armful of +grease-wood. + +Naab's sons had his stature, though not his bulk. They were wiry, rangy +men, young, yet somehow old. The desert had multiplied their years. +Hare could not have told one face from another, the bronze skin and steel +eye and hard line of each were so alike. The women, one middle-aged, the +others young, were of comely, serious aspect. + +"Mescal," called the Mormon. + +A slender girl slipped from one of the covered wagons; she was dark, +supple, straight as an Indian. + +August Naab dropped to his knees, and, as the members of his family bowed +their heads, he extended his hands over them and over the food laid on +the ground. + +"Lord, we kneel in humble thanksgiving. Bless this food to our use. +Strengthen us, guide us, keep us as Thou hast in the past. Bless this +stranger within our gates. Help us to help him. Teach us Thy ways, O +Lord--Amen." + +Hare found himself flushing and thrilling, found himself unable to +control a painful binding in his throat. In forty-eight hours he had +learned to hate the Mormons unutterably; here, in the presence of this +austere man, he felt that hatred wrenched from his heart, and in its +place stirred something warm and living. He was glad, for if he had to +die, as he believed, either from the deed of evil men, or from this last +struggle of his wasted body, he did not want to die in bitterness. That +simple prayer recalled the home he had long since left in Connecticut, +and the time when he used to tease his sister and anger his father and +hurt his mother while grace was being said at the breakfast-table. Now +he was alone in the world, sick and dependent upon the kindness of these +strangers. But they were really friends--it was a wonderful thought. + +"Mescal, wait on the stranger," said August Naab, and the girl knelt +beside him, tendering meat and drink. His nerveless fingers refused to +hold the cup, and she put it to his lips while he drank. Hot coffee +revived him; he ate and grew stronger, and readily began to talk when the +Mormon asked for his story. + +"There isn't much to tell. My name is Hare. I am twenty-four. My +parents are dead. I came West because the doctors said I couldn't live +in the East. At first I got better. But my money gave out and work +became a necessity. I tramped from place to place, ending up ill in Salt +Lake City. People were kind to me there. Some one got me a job with a +big cattle company, and sent me to Marysvale, southward over the bleak +plains. It was cold; I was ill when I reached Lund. Before I even knew +what my duties were for at Lund I was to begin work--men called me a spy. +A fellow named Chance threatened me. An innkeeper led me out the back +way, gave me bread and water, and said: 'Take this road to Bane; it's +sixteen miles. If you make it some one'll give you a lift North.' I +walked all night, and all the next day. Then I wandered on till I +dropped here where you found me." + +"You missed the road to Bane," said Naab. "This is the trail to White +Sage. It's a trail of sand and stone that leaves no tracks, a lucky +thing for you. Dene wasn't in Lund while you were there--else you +wouldn't be here. He hasn't seen you, and he can't be certain of your +trail. Maybe he rode to Bane, but still we may find a way--" + +One of his sons whistled low, causing Naab to rise slowly, to peer into +the darkness, to listen intently. + +"Here, get up," he said, extending a hand to Hare. "Pretty shaky, eh? +Can you walk? Give me a hold--there. . . . Mescal, come." The slender +girl obeyed, gliding noiselessly like a shadow. "Take his arm." Between +them they led Hare to a jumble of stones on the outer edge of the circle +of light. + +"It wouldn't do to hide," continued Naab, lowering his voice to a swift +whisper, "that might be fatal. You're in sight from the camp-fire, but +indistinct. By-and-by the outlaws will get here, and if any of them +prowl around close, you and Mescal must pretend to be sweethearts. +Understand? They'll pass by Mormon love-making without a second look. +Now, lad, courage . . . Mescal, it may save his life." + +Naab returned to the fire, his shadow looming in gigantic proportions on +the white canopy of a covered wagon. Fitful gusts of wind fretted the +blaze; it roared and crackled and sputtered, now illuminating the still +forms, then enveloping them in fantastic obscurity. Hare shivered, +perhaps from the cold air, perhaps from growing dread. Westward lay the +desert, an impenetrable black void; in front, the gloomy mountain wall +lifted jagged peaks close to the stars; to the right rose the ridge, the +rocks and stunted cedars of its summit standing in weird relief. +Suddenly Hare's fugitive glance descried a dark object; he watched +intently as it moved and rose from behind the summit of the ridge to make +a bold black figure silhouetted against the cold clearness of sky. He +saw it distinctly, realized it was close, and breathed hard as the +wind-swept mane and tail, the lean, wild shape and single plume resolved +themselves into the unmistakable outline of an Indian mustang and rider. + +"Look!" he whispered to the girl. "See, a mounted Indian, there on the +ridge--there, he's gone--no, I see him again. But that's another. Look! +there are more." He ceased in breathless suspense and stared fearfully +at a line of mounted Indians moving in single file over the ridge to +become lost to view in the intervening blackness. A faint rattling of +gravel and the peculiar crack of unshod hoof on stone gave reality to +that shadowy train. + +"Navajos," said Mescal. + +"Navajos!" he echoed. "I heard of them at Lund; 'desert hawks' the men +called them, worse than Piutes. Must we not alarm the men?--You--aren't +you afraid? + +"No." + +"But they are hostile." + +"Not to him." She pointed at the stalwart figure standing against the +firelight. + +"Ah! I remember. The man Cole spoke of friendly Navajos. They must be +close by. What does it mean?" + +"I'm not sure. I think they are out there in the cedars, waiting." + +"Waiting! For what?" + +"Perhaps for a signal." + +"Then they were expected?" + +"I don't know; I only guess. We used to ride often to White Sage and +Lund; now we go seldom, and when we do there seem to be Navajos near the +camp at night, and riding the ridges by day. I believe Father Naab +knows." + +"Your father's risking much for me. He's good. I wish I could show my +gratitude." + +"I call him Father Naab, but he is not my father." + +"A niece or granddaughter, then?" + +"I'm no relation. Father Naab raised me in his family. My mother was a +Navajo, my father a Spaniard." + +"Why!" exclaimed Hare. "When you came out of the wagon I took you for an +Indian girl. But the moment you spoke--you talk so well--no one would +dream--" + +"Mormons are well educated and teach the children they raise," she said, +as he paused in embarrassment. + +He wanted to ask if she were a Mormon by religion, but the question +seemed curious and unnecessary. His interest was aroused; he realized +suddenly that he had found pleasure in her low voice; it was new and +strange, unlike any woman's voice he had ever heard; and he regarded her +closely. He had only time for a glance at her straight, clean-cut +profile, when she turned startled eyes on him, eyes black as the night. +And they were eyes that looked through and beyond him. She held up a +hand, slowly bent toward the wind, and whispered: + +"Listen." + +Hare heard nothing save the barking of coyotes and the breeze in the +sage. He saw, however, the men rise from round the camp-fire to face the +north, and the women climb into the wagon, and close the canvas flaps. +And he prepared himself, with what fortitude he could command for the +approach of the outlaws. He waited, straining to catch a sound. His +heart throbbed audibly, like a muffled drum, and for an endless moment his +ears seemed deadened to aught else. Then a stronger puff of wind whipped +in, banging the rhythmic beat of flying hoofs. Suspense ended. Hare +felt the easing of a weight upon him. Whatever was to be his fate, it +would be soon decided. The sound grew into a clattering roar. A black +mass hurled itself over the border of opaque circle, plunged into the +light, and halted. + +August Naab deliberately threw a bundle of grease-wood upon the +camp-fire. A blaze leaped up, sending abroad a red flare. "Who comes?" +he called. + +"Friends, Mormons, friends," was the answer. + +"Get down--friends--and come to the fire." + +Three horsemen advanced to the foreground; others, a troop of eight or +ten, remained in the shadow, a silent group. + +Hare sank back against the stone. He knew the foremost of those horsemen +though he had never seen him. + +"Dene," whispered Mescal, and confirmed his instinctive fear. + +Hare was nervously alive to the handsome presence of the outlaw. +Glimpses that he had caught of "bad" men returned vividly as he noted the +clean-shaven face, the youthful, supple body, the cool, careless mien. +Dene's eyes glittered as he pulled off his gauntlets and beat the sand +out of them; and but for that quick fierce glance his leisurely friendly +manner would have disarmed suspicion. + +"Are you the Mormon Naab?" he queried. + +"August Naab, I am." + +"Dry camp, eh? Hosses tired, I reckon. Shore it's a sandy trail. +Where's the rest of you fellers?" + +"Cole and his men were in a hurry to make White Sage to-night. They were +travelling light; I've heavy wagons." + +"Naab, I reckon you shore wouldn't tell a lie?" + +"I have never lied." + +"Heerd of a young feller thet was in Lund--pale chap--lunger, we'd call +him back West?" + +"I heard that he had been mistaken for a spy at Lund and had fled toward +Bane." + +"Hadn't seen nothin' of him this side of Lund?" + +"No." + +"Seen any Navvies?" + +"Yes." + +The outlaw stared hard at him. Apparently he was about to speak of the +Navajos, for his quick uplift of head at Naab's blunt affirmative +suggested the impulse. But he checked himself and slowly drew on his +gloves. + +"Naab, I'm shore comin' to visit you some day. Never been over thet +range. Heerd you hed fine water, fine cattle. An' say, I seen thet +little Navajo girl you have, an' I wouldn't mind seein' her again." + +August Naab kicked the fire into brighter blaze. "Yes fine range," he +presently replied, his gaze fixed on Dene. "Fine water, fine cattle, +fine browse. I've a fine graveyard, too; thirty graves, and not one a +woman's. Fine place for graves, the canyon country. You don't have to +dig. There's one grave the Indians never named; it's three thousand feet +deep." + +"Thet must be in hell," replied Dene, with a smile, ignoring the covert +meaning. He leisurely surveyed Naab's four sons, the wagons and horses, +till his eye fell upon Hare and Mescal. With that he swung in his saddle +as if to dismount. + +"I shore want a look around." + +"Get down, get down," returned the Mormon. The deep voice, unwelcoming, +vibrant with an odd ring, would have struck a less suspicious man than +Dene. The outlaw wrung his leg back over the pommel, sagged in the +saddle, and appeared to be pondering the question. Plainly he was +uncertain of his ground. But his indecision was brief. + +"Two-Spot, you look 'em over," he ordered. + +The third horseman dismounted and went toward the wagons. + +Hare, watching this scene, became conscious that his fear had intensified +with the recognition of Two-Spot as Chance, the outlaw whom he would not +soon forget. In his excitement he moved against Mescal and felt her +trembling violently. + +"Are you afraid?" he whispered. + +"Yes, of Dene." + +The outlaw rummaged in one of the wagons, pulled aside the canvas flaps +of the other, laughed harshly, and then with clinking spurs tramped +through the camp, kicking the beds, overturning a pile of saddles, and +making disorder generally, till he spied the couple sitting on the stone +in the shadow. + +As the outlaw lurched that way, Hare, with a start of recollection, took +Mescal in his arms and leaned his head against hers. He felt one of her +hands lightly brush his shoulder and rest there, trembling. + +Shuffling footsteps scraped the sand, sounded nearer and nearer, slowed +and paused. + +"Sparkin'! Dead to the world. Ham! Haw! Haw!" + +The coarse laugh gave place to moving footsteps. The rattling clink of +stirrup and spur mingled with the restless stamp of horse. Chance had +mounted. Dene's voice drawled out: "Good-bye, Naab, I shore will see you +all some day." The heavy thuds of many hoofs evened into a roar that +diminished as it rushed away. + +In unutterable relief Hare realized his deliverance. He tried to rise, +but power of movement had gone from him. + +He was fainting, yet his sensations were singularly acute. Mescal's hand +dropped from his shoulder; her cheek, that had been cold against his, +grew hot; she quivered through all her slender length. Confusion claimed +his senses. Gratitude and hope flooded his soul. Something sweet and +beautiful, the touch of this desert girl, rioted in his blood; his heart +swelled in exquisite agony. Then he was whirling in darkness; and he +knew no more. + + + +II +WHITE SAGE + + +THE night was as a blank to Hare; the morning like a drifting of hazy +clouds before his eyes. He felt himself moving; and when he awakened +clearly to consciousness he lay upon a couch on the vine-covered porch of +a cottage. He saw August Naab open a garden gate to admit Martin Cole. +They met as friends; no trace of scorn marred August's greeting, and +Martin was not the same man who had shown fear on the desert. His +welcome was one of respectful regard for his superior. + +"Elder, I heard you were safe in," he said, fervently. "We feared--I +know not what. I was distressed till I got the news of your arrival. +How's the young man?" + +"He's very ill. But while there's life there's hope." + +"Will the Bishop administer to him?" + +"Gladly, if the young man's willing. Come, let's go in." + +"Wait, August," said Cole. "Did you know your son Snap was in the +village?" + +"My son here!" August Naab betrayed anxiety. "I left him home with work. +He shouldn't have come. Is--is he--" + +"He's drinking and in an ugly mood. It seems he traded horses with Jeff +Larsen, and got the worst of the deal. There's pretty sure to be a +fight." + +"He always hated Larsen." + +"Small wonder. Larsen is mean; he's as bad as we've got and that's +saying a good deal. Snap has done worse things than fight with Larsen. +He's doing a worse thing now, August--he's too friendly with Dene." + +"I've heard--I've heard it before. But, Martin, what can I do?" + +"Do? God knows. What can any of us do? Times have changed, August. +Dene is here in White Sage, free, welcome in many homes. Some of our +neighbors, perhaps men we trust, are secret members of this rustler's +band." + +"You're right, Cole. There are Mormons who are cattle-thieves. To my +eternal shame I confess it. Under cover of night they ride with Dene, +and here in our midst they meet him in easy tolerance. Driven from +Montana he comes here to corrupt our young men. God's mercy!" + +"August, some of our young men need no one to corrupt them. Dene had no +great task to win them. He rode in here with a few outlaws and now he +has a strong band. We've got to face it. We haven't any law, but he can +be killed. Some one must kill him. Yet bad as Dene is, he doesn't +threaten our living as Holderness does. Dene steals a few cattle, kills +a man here and there. Holderness reaches out and takes our springs. +Because we've no law to stop him, he steals the blood of our life--water-- +water--God's gift to the desert! Some one must kill Holderness, too!" + +"Martin, this lust to kill is a fearful thing. Come in, you must pray +with the Bishop." + +"No, it's not prayer I need, Elder," replied Cole, stubbornly. "I'm still +a good Mormon. What I want is the stock I've lost, and my fields green +again." + +August Naab had no answer for his friend. A very old man with snow-white +hair and beard came out on the porch. + +"Bishop, brother Martin is railing again," said Naab, as Cole bared his +head. + +"Martin, my son, unbosom thyself," rejoined the Bishop. + +"Black doubt and no light," said Cole, despondently. "I'm of the younger +generation of Mormons, and faith is harder for me. I see signs you can't +see. I've had trials hard to bear. I was rich in cattle, sheep, and +water. These Gentiles, this rancher Holderness and this outlaw Dene, +have driven my cattle, killed my sheep, piped my water off my fields. I +don't like the present. We are no longer in the old days. Our young men +are drifting away, and the few who return come with ideas opposed to +Mormonism. Our girls and boys are growing up influenced by the Gentiles +among us. They intermarry, and that's a death-blow to our creed." + +"Martin, cast out this poison from your heart. Return to your faith. +The millennium will come. Christ will reign on earth again. The ten +tribes of Israel will be restored. The Book of Mormon is the Word of +God. The creed will live. We may suffer here and die, but our spirits +will go marching on; and the City of Zion will be builded over our +graves." + +Cole held up his hands in a meekness that signified hope if not faith. + +August Naab bent over Hare. "I would like to have the Bishop administer +to you," he said. + +"What's that?" asked Hare. + +"A Mormon custom, 'the laying on of hands.' We know its efficacy in +trouble and illness. A Bishop of the Mormon Church has the gift of +tongues, of prophecy, of revelation, of healing. Let him administer to +you. It entails no obligation. Accept it as a prayer." + +"I'm willing." replied the young man. + +Thereupon Naab spoke a few low words to some one through the open door. +Voices ceased; soft footsteps sounded without; women crossed the +threshold, followed by tall young men and rosy-checked girls and +round-eyed children. A white-haired old woman came forward with solemn +dignity. She carried a silver bowl which she held for the Bishop as he +stood close by Hare's couch. The Bishop put his hands into the bowl, +anointing them with fragrant oil; then he placed them on the young man's +head, and offered up a brief prayer, beautiful in its simplicty and +tremulous utterance. + +The ceremony ended, the onlookers came forward with pleasant words on +their lips, pleasant smiles on their faces. The children filed by his +couch, bashful yet sympathetic; the women murmured, the young men grasped +his hand. Mescal flitted by with downcast eye, with shy smile, but no +word. + +"Your fever is gone," said August Naab, with his hand on Hare's cheek. + +"It comes and goes suddenly," replied Hare. "I feel better now, only I'm +oppressed. I can't breathe freely. I want air, and I'm hungry." + +"Mother Mary, the lad's hungry. Judith, Esther, where are your wits? +Help your mother. Mescal, wait on him, see to his comfort." + +Mescal brought a little table and a pillow, and the other girls soon +followed with food and drink; then they hovered about, absorbed in caring +for him. + +"They said I fell among thieves," mused Hare, when he was once more +alone. "I've fallen among saints as well." He felt that he could never +repay this August Naab. "If only I might live!" he ejaculated. How +restful was this cottage garden! The green sward was a balm to his eyes. +Flowers new to him, though of familiar springtime hue, lifted fresh faces +everywhere; fruit-trees, with branches intermingling, blended the white +and pink of blossoms. There was the soft laughter of children in the +garden. Strange birds darted among the trees. Their notes were new, but +their song was the old delicious monotone--the joy of living and love of +spring. A green-bowered irrigation ditch led by the porch and unseen +water flowed gently, with gurgle and tinkle, with music in its hurry. +Innumerable bees murmured amid the blossoms. + +Hare fell asleep. Upon returning drowsily to consciousness he caught +through half-open eyes the gleam of level shafts of gold sunlight low +down in the trees; then he felt himself being carried into the house to +be laid upon a bed. Some one gently unbuttoned his shirt at the neck, +removed his shoes, and covered him with a blanket. Before he had fully +awakened he was left alone, and quiet settled over the house. A +languorous sense of ease and rest lulled him to sleep again. In another +moment, it seemed to him, he was awake; bright daylight streamed through +the window, and a morning breeze stirred the faded curtain. + +The drag in his breathing which was always a forerunner of a +coughing-spell warned him now; he put on coat and shoes and went outside, +where his cough attacked him, had its sway, and left him. + +"Good-morning," sang out August Naab's cheery voice. "Sixteen hours of +sleep, my lad!" + +"I did sleep, didn't I? No wonder I feel well this morning. A +peculiarity of my illness is that one day I'm down, the next day up." + +"With the goodness of God, my lad, we'll gradually increase the days up. +Go in to breakfast. Afterward I want to talk to you. This'll be a busy +day for me, shoeing the horses and packing supplies. I want to start for +home to-morrow." + +Hare pondered over Naab's words while he ate. The suggestion in them, +implying a relation to his future, made him wonder if the good Mormon +intended to take him to his desert home. He hoped so, and warmed anew to +this friend. But he had no enthusiasm for himself; his future seemed +hopeless. + +Naab was waiting for him on the porch, and drew him away from the cottage +down the path toward the gate. + +"I want you to go home with me." + +"You're kind--I'm only a sort of beggar--I've no strength left to work my +way. I'll go--though it's only to die." + +"I haven't the gift of revelation--yet somehow I see that you won't die +of this illness. You will come home with me. It's a beautiful place, my +Navajo oasis. The Indians call it the Garden of Eschtah. If you can get +well anywhere it'll be there." + +"I'll go but I ought not. What can I do for you? + +"No man can ever tell what he may do for another. The time may come-- +well, John, is it settled?" He offered his huge broad hand. + +"It's settled--I--" Hare faltered as he put his hand in Naab's. The +Mormon's grip straightened his frame and braced him. Strength and +simplicity flowed from the giant's toil-hardened palm. Hare swallowed +his thanks along with his emotion, and for what he had intended to say he +substituted: "No one ever called me John. I don't know the name. Call +me Jack." + +"Very well, Jack, and now let's see. You'll need some things from the +store. Can you come with me? It's not far." + +"Surely. And now what I need most is a razor to scrape the alkali and +stubble off my face." + +The wide street, bordered by cottages peeping out of green and white +orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which +led up to the Pink Cliffs. A green square enclosed a gray church, a +school-house and public hall. Farther down the main thoroughfare were +several weather-boarded whitewashed stores. Two dusty men were riding +along, one on each side of the wildest, most vicious little horse Hare +had ever seen. It reared and bucked and kicked, trying to escape from +two lassoes. In front of the largest store were a number of mustangs all +standing free, with bridles thrown over their heads and trailing on the +ground. The loungers leaning against the railing and about the doors +were lank brown men very like Naab's sons. Some wore sheepskin "chaps," +some blue overalls; all wore boots and spurs, wide soft hats, and in +their belts, far to the back, hung large Colt's revolvers. + +"We'll buy what you need, just as if you expected to ride the ranges for +me to-morrow," said Naab. "The first thing we ask a new man is, can he +ride? Next, can he shoot?" + +"I could ride before I got so weak. I've never handled a revolver, but I +can shoot a rifle. Never shot at anything except targets, and it seemed +to come natural for me to hit them." + +"Good. We'll show you some targets--lions, bears, deer, cats, wolves. +There's a fine forty-four Winchester here that my friend Abe has been +trying to sell. It has a long barrel and weighs eight pounds. Our +desert riders like the light carbines that go easy on a saddle. Most of +the mustangs aren't weight-carriers. This rifle has a great range; I've +shot it, and it's just the gun for you to use on wolves and coyotes. +You'll need a Colt and a saddle, too." + +"By-the-way," he went on, as they mounted the store steps, "here's the +kind of money we use in this country." He handed Hare a slip of blue +paper, a written check for a sum of money, signed, but without register +of bank or name of firm. "We don't use real money," he added. "There's +very little coin or currency in southern Utah. Most of the Gentiles +lately come in have money, and some of us Mormons have a bag or two of +gold, but scarcely any of it gets into circulation. We use these checks, +which go from man to man sometimes for six months. The roundup of a check +means sheep, cattle, horses, grain, merchandise or labor. Every man gets +his real money's value without paying out an actual cent." + +"Such a system at least means honest men," said Hare, laughing his +surprise. + +They went into a wide door to tread a maze of narrow aisles between boxes +and barrels, stacks of canned vegetables, and piles of harness and dry +goods; they entered an open space where several men leaned on a counter. + +"Hello, Abe," said Naab; "seen anything of Snap?" + +"Hello, August. Yes, Snap's inside. So's Holderness. Says he rode in +off the range on purpose to see you." Abe designated an open doorway from +which issued loud voices. Hare glanced into a long narrow room full of +smoke and the fumes of rum. Through the haze he made out a crowd of men +at a rude bar. Abe went to the door and called out: "Hey, Snap, your dad +wants you. Holderness, here's August Naab." + +A man staggered up the few steps leading to the store and swayed in. His +long face had a hawkish cast, and it was gray, not with age, but with the +sage-gray of the desert. His eyes were of the same hue, cold yet burning +with little fiery flecks in their depths. He appeared short of stature +because of a curvature of the spine, but straightened up he would have +been tall. He wore a blue flannel shirt, and blue overalls; round his +lean hips was a belt holding two Colt's revolvers, their heavy, dark +butts projecting outward, and he had on high boots with long, cruel +spurs. + +"Howdy, father?" he said. + +"I'm packing to-day," returned August Naab. "We ride out to-morrow. I +need your help." + +"All-l right. When I get my pinto from Larsen." + +"Never mind Larsen. If he got the better of you let the matter drop." + +"Jeff got my pinto for a mustang with three legs. If I hadn't been drunk +I'd never have traded. So I'm looking for Jeff." + +He bit out the last words with a peculiar snap of his long teeth, a +circumstance which caused Hare instantly to associate the savage clicking +with the name he had heard given this man. August Naab looked at him with +gloomy eyes and stern shut mouth, an expression of righteous anger, +helplessness and grief combined, the look of a man to whom obstacles had +been nothing, at last confronted with crowning defeat. Hare realized that +this son was Naab's first-born, best-loved, a thorn in his side, a black +sheep. + +"Say, father, is that the spy you found on the trail?" Snap's pale eyes +gleamed on Hare and the little flames seemed to darken and leap. + +"This is John Hare, the young man I found. But he's not a spy." + +"You can't make any one believe that. He's down as a spy. Dene's spy! +His name's gone over the ranges as a counter of unbranded stock. Dene +has named him and Dene has marked him. Don't take him home, as you've +taken so many sick and hunted men before. What's the good of it? You +never made a Mormon of one of them yet. Don't take him--unless you want +another grave for your cemetery. Ha! Ha!" + +Hare recoiled with a shock. Snap Naab swayed to the door, and stepped +down, all the time with his face over his shoulder, his baleful glance on +Hare; then the blue haze swallowed him. + +The several loungers went out; August engaged the storekeeper in +conversation, introducing Hare and explaining their wants. They +inspected the various needs of a range-rider, selecting, in the end, not +the few suggested by Hare, but the many chosen by Naab. The last +purchase was the rifle Naab had talked about. It was a beautiful weapon, +finely polished and carved, entirely out of place among the plain +coarse-sighted and coarse-stocked guns in the rack. + +"Never had a chance to sell it," said Abe. "Too long and heavy for the +riders. I'll let it go cheap, half price, and the cartridges also, two +thousand." + +"Taken," replied Naab, quickly, with a satisfaction which showed he liked +a bargain. + +"August, you must be going to shoot some?" queried Abe. "Something +bigger than rabbits and coyotes. Its about time--even if you are an +Elder. We Mormons must--" he broke off, continuing in a low tone: "Here's +Holderness now." + +Hare wheeled with the interest that had gathered with the reiteration of +this man's name. A new-comer stooped to get in the door. He out-topped +even Naab in height, and was a superb blond-bearded man, striding with +the spring of a mountaineer. + +"Good-day to you, Naab," he said. "Is this the young fellow you picked +up?" + +"Yes. Jack Hare," rejoined Naab. + +"Well, Hare, I'm Holderness. You'll recall my name. You were sent to Lund +by men interested in my ranges. I expected to see you in Lund, but +couldn't get over." + +Hare met the proffered hand with his own, and as he had recoiled from +Snap Naab so now he received another shock, different indeed but +impelling in its power, instinctive of some great portent. Hare was +impressed by an indefinable subtlety, a nameless distrust, as colorless +as the clear penetrating amber lightness of the eyes that bent upon him. + +"Holderness, will you right the story about Hare?" inquired Naab. + +"You mean about his being a spy? Well, Naab, the truth is that was his +job. I advised against sending a man down here for that sort of work. +It won't do. These Mormons will steal each other's cattle, and they've +got to get rid of them; so they won't have a man taking account of stock, +brands, and all that. If the Mormons would stand for it the rustlers +wouldn't. I'll take Hare out to the ranch and give him work, if he +wants. But he'd do best to leave Utah." + +"Thank you, no," replied Hare, decidedly. + +"He's going with me," said August Naab. + +Holderness accepted this with an almost imperceptible nod, and he swept +Hare with eyes that searched and probed for latent possibilities. It was +the keen intelligence of a man who knew what development meant on the +desert; not in any sense an interest in the young man at present. Then +he turned his back. + +Hare, feeling that Holderness wished to talk with Naab, walked to the +counter, and began assorting his purchases, but he could not help hearing +what was said. + +"Lungs bad?" queried Holderness. + +"One of them," replied Naab. + +"He's all in. Better send him out of the country. He's got the name of +Dene's spy and he'll never get another on this desert. Dene will kill +him. This isn't good judgment, Naab, to take him with you. Even your +friends don't like it, and it means trouble for you." + +"We've settled it," said Naab, coldly. + +"Well, remember, I've warned you. I've tried to be friendly with you, +Naab, but you won't have it. Anyway, I've wanted to see you lately to +find out how we stand." + +"What do you mean?" + +"How we stand on several things--to begin with, there Mescal." + +"You asked me several times for Mescal, and I said no." + +"But I never said I'd marry her. Now I want her, and I will marry her." + +"No," rejoined Naab, adding brevity to his coldness. + +"Why not?" demanded Holderness. "Oh, well, I can't take that as an +insult. I know there's not enough money in Utah to get a girl away from +a Mormon. . . . About the offer for the water-rights--how do we stand? +I'll give you ten thousand dollars for the rights to Seeping Springs and +Silver Cup." + +"Ten thousand!" ejaculated Naab. "Holderness, I wouldn't take a hundred +thousand. You might as well ask to buy my home, my stock, my range, +twenty years of toil, for ten thousand dollars!" + +"You refuse? All right. I think I've made you a fair proposition," said +Holderness, in a smooth, quick tone. "The land is owned by the +Government, and though your ranges are across the Arizona line they +really figure as Utah land. My company's spending big money, and the +Government won't let you have a monopoly. No one man can control the +water-supply of a hundred miles of range. Times are changing. You want +to see that. You ought to protect yourself before it's too late." + +"Holderness, this is a desert. No men save Mormons could ever have made +it habitable. The Government scarcely knows of its existence. It'll be +fifty years before man can come in here to take our water." + +"Why can't he? The water doesn't belong to any one. Why can't he?" + +"Because of the unwritten law of the desert. No Mormon would refuse you +or your horse a drink, or even a reasonable supply for your stock. But +you can't come in here and take our water for your own use, to supplant +us, to parch our stock. Why, even an Indian respects desert law!" + +"Bah! I'm not a Mormon or an Indian. I'm a cattleman. It's plain +business with me. Once more I make you the offer." + +Naab scorned to reply. The men faced each other for a silent moment, +their glances scintillating. Then Holderness whirled on his heel, +jostling into Hare. + +"Get out of my way," said the rancher, in the disgust of intense +irritation. He swung his arm, and his open hand sent Hare reeling +against the counter. + +"Jack," said Naab, breathing hard, "Holderness showed his real self +to-day. I always knew it, yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt. . . . +For him to strike you! I've not the gift of revelation, but I see--let us +go." + +On the return to the Bishop's cottage Naab did not speak once; the +transformation which had begun with the appearance of his drunken son had +reached a climax of gloomy silence after the clash with Holderness. Naab +went directly to the Bishop, and presently the quavering voice of the old +minister rose in prayer. + +Hare dropped wearily into the chair on the porch; and presently fell into +a doze, from which he awakened with a start. Naab's sons, with Martin +Cole and several other men, were standing in the yard. Naab himself was +gently crowding the women into the house. When he got them all inside he +closed the door and turned to Cole. + +"Was it a fair fight?" + +"Yes, an even break. They met in front of Abe's. I saw the meeting. +Neither was surprised. They stood for a moment watching each other. +Then they drew--only Snap was quicker. Larsen's gun went off as he fell. +That trick you taught Snap saved his life again. Larsen was no slouch on +the draw." + +"Where's Snap now?" + +"Gone after his pinto. He was sober. Said he'd pack at once. Larsen's +friends are ugly. Snap said to tell you to hurry out of the village with +young Hare, if you want to take him at all. Dene has ridden in; he +swears you won't take Hare away." + +"We're all packed and ready to hitch up," returned Naab. "We could start +at once, only until dark I'd rather take chances here than out on the +trail." + +"Snap said Dene would ride right into the Bishop's after Hare." + +"No. He wouldn't dare." + +"Father!" Dave Naab spoke sharply from where he stood high on a grassy +bank. "Here's Dene now, riding up with Culver, and some man I don't +know. They're coming in. Dene's jumped the fence! Look out!" + +A clatter of hoofs and rattling of gravel preceded the appearance of a +black horse in the garden path. His rider bent low to dodge the vines of +the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with +the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant. + +"What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" challenged August Naab, +planting his broad bulk square before Hare. + +"Dene's spy!" + +"What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" repeated Naab. + +"I shore want to see the young feller you lied to me about," returned +Dene, his smile slowly fading. + +"No speech could be a lie to an outlaw." + +"I want him, you Mormon preacher!" + +"You can't have him." + +"I'll shore get him." + +In one great stride Naab confronted and towered over Dene. + +The rustler's gaze shifted warily from Naab to the quiet Mormons and back +again. Then his right hand quivered and shot downward. Naab's act was +even quicker. A Colt gleamed and whirled to the grass, and the outlaw +cried as his arm cracked in the Mormon's grasp. + +Dave Naab leaped off the bank directly in front of Dene's approaching +companions, and faced them, alert and silent, his hand on his hip. + +August Naab swung the outlaw against the porch-post and held him there +with brawny arm. + +"Whelp of an evil breed!" he thundered, shaking his gray head. "Do you +think we fear you and your gunsharp tricks? Look! See this!" He released +Dene and stepped back with his hand before him. Suddenly it moved, +quicker than sight, and a Colt revolver lay in his outstretched palm. He +dropped it back into the holster. "Let that teach you never to draw on me +again." He doubled his huge fist and shoved it before Dene's eyes. "One +blow would crack your skull like an egg-shell. Why don't I deal it? +Because, you mindless hell-hound, because there's a higher law than +man's--God's law--Thou shalt not kill! Understand that if you can. Leave +me and mine alone from this day. Now go!" + +He pushed Dene down the path into the arms of his companions. + +"Out with you!" said Dave Naab. "Hurry! Get your horse. Hurry! I'm not +so particular about God as Dad is!" + + + +III +THE TRAIL OF THE RED WALL + + +AFTER the departure of Dene and his comrades Naab decided to leave White +Sage at nightfall. Martin Cole and the Bishop's sons tried to persuade +him to remain, urging that the trouble sure to come could be more safely +met in the village. Naab, however, was obdurate, unreasonably so, Cole +said, unless there were some good reason why he wished to strike the +trail in the night. When twilight closed in Naab had his teams ready and +the women shut in the canvas-covered wagons. Hare was to ride in an open +wagon, one that Naab had left at White Sage to be loaded with grain. +When it grew so dark that objects were scarcely discernible a man vaulted +the cottage fence. + +"Dave, where are the boys?" asked Naab. + +"Not so loud! The boys are coming," replied Dave in a whisper. "Dene is +wild. I guess you snapped a bone in his arm. He swears he'll kill us +all. But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've +time to reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle." + +"Any news of Snap?" + +"He rode out before sundown." + +Three more forms emerged from the gloom. + +"All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead." + +Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate; +the first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving in +the darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his +seat on the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and +climbed over the tail-board of the wagon. + +A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the sound +made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the right +low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and there +lights twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked. + +Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels +cracked and crunched the stones. + +Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of +poplar-trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and +rider, just a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant +they vanished, and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his +eyes had not deceived him. + +"Getup," growled Naab to his horses. "Jack, did you see that fellow?" + +"Yes. What was he doing there?" + +"Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts." + +"Will Dene--" + +One of Naab's sons came trotting back. "Think that was Larsen's pal. He +was laying in wait for Snap." + +"I thought he was a scout for Dene," replied August. + +"Maybe he's that too." + +"Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively. +They've had a week's rest." + +Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, like +Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the huge +windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet +transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under +the blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a +polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed +it under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening +on the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round +head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where +Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop +to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent +insistence, disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given him +a man's part to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his +self-abasement; once more he felt himself a man. + +Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he +endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his +eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he +could not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his +face, the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady +trot of horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him, +recalled the actuality of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had +been covered, how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in +the trail, and whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped +the team and, climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt +sure that Dene was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the +horses and the rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could hear. +Naab returned to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a trot; +they were climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which he +could hear the slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he awoke +to raise himself and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he +discovered that the black night had changed to gray; dawn was not far +distant; he dozed and awakened to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay +far below and to the eastward; the intervening descent was like a rolling +sea with league-long swells. + +"Glad you slept some," was Naab's greeting. "No sign of Dene yet. If we +can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain +in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it +runs far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred +miles of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona +line now." + +Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to +his inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble +proportions. + +"Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while," said Naab, +reading Hare's expression. "They'd only have to be made over as soon as +you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a +mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're lucky. +There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? Look +sharp. Good! That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from here. +Nine Mile Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole. +Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide." + +The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the +increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in +color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the +half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of +other cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length +Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his +eyes. The wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored; +Naab's "Getup" was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then +hot; and the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his +lethargy. The wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with +outstretched arm. George and Dave were close by their mustangs, and Snap +Naab, mounted on a cream-colored pinto, reined him under August's arm, +and faced the valley below. + +"Maybe you'll make them out," said August. "I can't, and I've watched +those dust-clouds for hours. George can't decide, either." + +Hare, looking at Snap, was attracted by the eyes from which his father +and brothers expected so much. If ever a human being had the eyes of a +hawk Snap Naab had them. The little brown flecks danced in clear pale +yellow. Evidently Snap had not located the perplexing dust-clouds, for +his glance drifted. Suddenly the remarkable vibration of his pupils +ceased, and his glance grew fixed, steely, certain. + +"That's a bunch of wild mustangs," he said. + +Hare gazed till his eyes hurt, but could see neither clouds of dust nor +moving objects. No more was said. The sons wheeled their mustangs and +rode to the fore; August Naab reseated himself and took up the reins; the +ascent proceeded. + +But it proceeded leisurely, with more frequent rests. At the end of an +hour the horses toiled over the last rise to the summit and entered a +level forest of cedars; in another hour they were descending gradually. + +"Here we are at the tanks," said Naab. + +Hare saw that they had come up with the other wagons. George Naab was +leading a team down a rocky declivity to a pool of yellow water. The +other boys were unharnessing and unsaddling. + +"About three," said Naab, looking at the sun. "We're in good time. +Jack, get out and stretch yourself. We camp here. There's the Coconina +Trail where the Navajos go in after deer." + +It was not a pretty spot, this little rock-strewn glade where the white +hard trail forked with the road. The yellow water with its green scum +made Hare sick. The horses drank with loud gulps. Naab and his sons +drank of it. The women filled a pail and portioned it out in basins and +washed their faces and hands with evident pleasure. Dave Naab whistled +as he wielded an axe vigorously on a cedar. It came home to Hare that +the tension of the past night and morning had relaxed. Whether to +attribute that fact to the distance from White Sage or to the arrival at +the water-hole he could not determine. But the certainty was shown in +August's cheerful talk to the horses as he slipped bags of grain over +their noses, and in the subdued laughter of the women. Hare sent up an +unspoken thanksgiving that these good Mormons had apparently escaped from +the dangers incurred for his sake. He sat with his back to a cedar and +watched the kindling of fires, the deft manipulating of biscuit dough in +a basin, and the steaming of pots. The generous meal was spread on a +canvas cloth, around which men and women sat cross-legged, after the +fashion of Indians. Hare found it hard to adapt his long legs to the +posture, and he wondered how these men, whose legs were longer than his, +could sit so easily. It was the crown of a cheerful dinner after hours +of anxiety and abstinence to have Snap Naab speak civilly to him, and to +see him bow his head meekly as his father asked the blessing. Snap ate +as though he had utterly forgotten that he had recently killed a man; to +hear the others talk to him one would suppose that they had forgotten it +also. + +All had finished eating, except Snap and Dave Naab, when one of the +mustangs neighed shrilly. Hare would not have noticed it but for looks +exchanged among the men. The glances were explained a few minutes later +when a pattering of hoofs came from the cedar forest, and a stream of +mounted Indians poured into the glade. + +The ugly glade became a place of color and action. The Navajos rode +wiry, wild-looking mustangs and drove ponies and burros carrying packs, +most of which consisted of deer-hides. Each Indian dismounted, and +unstrapping the blanket which had served as a saddle headed his mustang +for the water-hole and gave him a slap. Then the hides and packs were +slipped from the pack-train, and soon the pool became a kicking, +splashing melee. Every cedar-tree circling the glade and every branch +served as a peg for deer meat. Some of it was in the haunch, the bulk in +dark dried strips. The Indians laid their weapons aside. Every sagebush +and low stone held a blanket. A few of these blankets were of solid +color, most of them had bars of white and gray and red, the last color +predominating. The mustangs and burros filed out among the cedars, +nipping at the sage and the scattered tufts of spare grass. A group of +fires, sending up curling columns of blue smoke, and surrounded by a +circle of lean, half-naked, bronze-skinned Indians, cooking and eating, +completed a picture which afforded Hare the satisfying fulfilment of +boyish dreams. What a contrast to the memory of a camp-site on the +Connecticut shore, with boy friends telling tales in the glow of the +fire, and the wash of the waves on the beach! + +The sun sank low in the west, sending gleams through the gnarled branches +of the cedars, and turning the green into gold. At precisely the moment +of sunset, the Mormon women broke into soft song which had the element of +prayer; and the lips of the men moved in silent harmony. Dave Naab, the +only one who smoked, removed his pipe for the moment's grace to dying +day. + +This simple ceremony over, one of the boys put wood on the fire, and Snap +took a jews'-harp out of his pocket and began to extract doleful discords +from it, for which George kicked at him in disgust, finally causing him +to leave the circle and repair to the cedars, where he twanged with +supreme egotism. + +"Jack," said August Naab, "our friends the Navajo chiefs, Scarbreast and +Eschtah, are coming to visit us. Take no notice of them at first. +They've great dignity, and if you entered their hogans they'd sit for +some moments before appearing to see you. Scarbreast is a war-chief. +Eschtah is the wise old chief of all the Navajos on the Painted Desert. +It may interest you to know he is Mescal's grandfather. Some day I'll +tell you the story." + +Hare tried very hard to appear unconscious when two tall Indians stalked +into the circle of Mormons; he set his eyes on the white heart of the +camp-fire and waited. For several minutes no one spoke or even moved. +The Indians remained standing for a time; then seated themselves. +Presently August Naab greeted them in the Navajo language. This was a +signal for Hare to use his eyes and ears. Another interval of silence +followed before they began to talk. Hare could see only their blanketed +shoulders and black heads. + +"Jack, come round here," said Naab at length. "I've been telling them +about you. These Indians do not like the whites, except my own family. +I hope you'll make friends with them." + +"How do?" said the chief whom Naab had called Eschtah, a stately, +keen-eyed warrior, despite his age. + +The next Navajo greeted him with a guttural word. This was a warrior +whose name might well have been Scarface, for the signs of conflict were +there. It was a face like a bronze mask, cast in the one expression of +untamed desert fierceness. + +Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were +doubtful, yet not unfriendly. + +"Shake," finally said Eschtah, offering his hand. + +"Ugh!" exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm. + +This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies +of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf. In his ensuing +speech, which was plentifully emphasized with gestures, he lapsed often +into English, saying "weak--no strong" when he placed his hand on Hare's +legs, and "bad" when he touched the young man's chest, concluding with +the words "sick--sick." + +Scarbreast regarded Hare with great earnestness, and when Naab had +finished he said: "Chineago--ping!" and rubbed his hand over his stomach. + +"He says you need meat--lots of deer-meat," translated Naab. + +"Sick," repeated Eschtah, whose English was intelligible. He appeared to +be casting about in his mind for additional words to express his knowledge +of the white man's tongue, and, failing, continued in Navajo: "Tohodena-- +moocha--malocha." + +Hare was nonplussed at the roar of laughter from the Mormons. August +shook like a mountain in an earthquake. + +"Eschtah says, 'you hurry, get many squaws--many wives.'" + +Other Indians, russet-skinned warriors, with black hair held close by +bands round their foreheads, joined the circle, and sitting before the +fire clasped their knees and talked. Hare listened awhile, and then, +being fatigued, he sought the cedar-tree where he had left his blankets. +The dry mat of needles made an odorous bed. He placed a sack of grain +for a pillow, and doubling up one blanket to lie upon, he pulled the +others over him. Then he watched and listened. The cedar-wood burned +with a clear flame, and occasionally snapped out a red spark. The voices +of the Navajos, scarcely audible, sounded "toa's" and "taa's"--syllables +he soon learned were characteristic and dominant--in low, deep murmurs. +It reminded Hare of something that before had been pleasant to his ear. +Then it came to mind: a remembrance of Mescal's sweet voice, and that +recalled the kinship between her and the Navajo chieftain. He looked +about, endeavoring to find her in the ring of light, for he felt in her a +fascination akin to the charm of this twilight hour. Dusky forms passed +to and fro under the trees; the tinkle of bells on hobbled mustangs rang +from the forest; coyotes had begun their night quest with wild howls; the +camp-fire burned red, and shadows flickered on the blanketed Indians; the +wind now moaned, now lulled in the cedars. + +Hare lay back in his blankets and saw lustrous stars through the network +of branches. With their light in his face and the cold wind waving his +hair on his brow he thought of the strangeness of it all, of its +remoteness from anything ever known to him before, of its inexpressible +wildness. And a rush of emotion he failed wholly to stifle proved to him +that he could have loved this life if--if he had not of late come to +believe that he had not long to live. Still Naab's influence exorcised +even that one sad thought; and he flung it from him in resentment. + +Sleep did not come so readily; he was not very well this night; the flush +of fever was on his cheek, and the heat of feverish blood burned his +body. He raised himself and, resolutely seeking for distraction, once +more stared at the camp-fire. Some time must have passed during his +dreaming, for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was +bowed and his head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat +Eschtah beside a slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized +Mescal. Surprise claimed him, not more for her presence there than for +the white band binding her smooth black tresses. She had not worn such +an ornament before. That slender band lent her the one touch which made +her a Navajo. Was it worn in respect to her aged grandfather? What did +this mean for a girl reared with Christian teaching? Was it desert +blood? Hare had no answers for these questions. They only increased the +mystery and romance. He fell asleep with the picture in his mind of +Eschtah and Mescal, sitting in the glow of the fire, and of August Naab, +nodding silently. + +"Jack, Jack, wake up." The words broke dully into his slumbers; wearily +he opened his eyes. August Naab bent over him, shaking him gently. + +"Not so well this morning, eh? Here's a cup of coffee. We're all packed +and starting. Drink now, and climb aboard. We expect to make Seeping +Springs to-night." + +Hare rose presently and, laboring into the wagon, lay down on the sacks. +He had one of his blind, sickening headaches. The familiar lumbering of +wheels began, and the clanking of the wagon-chain. Despite jar and jolt +he dozed at times, awakening to the scrape of the wheel on the leathern +brake. After a while the rapid descent of the wagon changed to a roll, +without the irritating rattle. He saw a narrow valley; on one side the +green, slow-swelling cedar slope of the mountain; on the other the +perpendicular red wall, with its pinnacles like spears against the sky. +All day this backward outlook was the same, except that each time he +opened aching eyes the valley had lengthened, the red wall and green +slope had come closer together in the distance. By and by there came a +halt, the din of stamping horses and sharp commands, the bustle and +confusion of camp. Naab spoke kindly to him, but he refused any food, +lay still and went to sleep. + +Daylight brought him the relief of a clear head and cooled blood. The +camp had been pitched close under the red wall. A lichen-covered cliff, +wet with dripping water, overhung a round pool. A ditch led the water +down the ridge to a pond. Cattle stood up to their knees drinking; +others lay on the yellow clay, which was packed as hard as stone; still +others were climbing the ridge and passing down on both sides. + +"You look as if you enjoyed that water," remarked Naab, when Hare +presented himself at the fire. "Well, it's good, only a little salty. +Seeping Springs this is, and it's mine. This ridge we call The Saddle; +you see it dips between wall and mountain and separates two valleys. +This valley we go through to-day is where my cattle range. At the other +end is Silver Cup Spring, also mine. Keep your eyes open now, my lad." + +How different was the beginning of this day! The sky was as blue as the +sea; the valley snuggled deep in the embrace of wall and mountain. Hare +took a place on the seat beside Naab and faced the descent. The line of +Navajos, a graceful straggling curve of color on the trail, led the way +for the white-domed wagons. + +Naab pointed to a little calf lying half hidden under a bunch of sage. +"That's what I hate to see. There's a calf, just born; its mother has +gone in for water. Wolves and lions range this valley. We lose hundreds +of calves that way." + +As far as Hare could see red and white and black cattle speckled the +valley. + +"If not overstocked, this range is the best in Utah," said Naab. "I say +Utah, but it's really Arizona. The Grand Canyon seems to us Mormons to +mark the line. There's enough browse here to feed a hundred thousand +cattle. But water's the thing. In some seasons the springs go almost +dry, though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle." + +Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth; +evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to +support only one tuft. + +"What's that?" he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black +bobbing borders. + +"Wild mustangs," replied Naab. "There are perhaps five thousand on the +mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad +as sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a +range once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too +plentiful. There are also several bands of wild horses." + +"What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?" + +"I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in +here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally +wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at +Silvermane or Whitefoot." + +"What are they?" + +"Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the +most beautiful horse I ever saw. Whitefoot's an old black shaggy demon, +with one white foot. Both stallions ought to be killed. They fight my +horses and lead off the mares. I had a chance to shoot Silvermane on the +way over this trip, but he looked so splendid that I just laid down my +rifle." + +"Can they run?" asked Hare eagerly, with the eyes of a man who loved a +horse. + +"Run? Whew! Just you wait till you see Silvermane cover ground! He can +look over his shoulder at you and beat any horse in this country. The +Navajos have given up catching him as a bad job. Why--here! Jack! quick, +get out your rifle--coyotes!" + +Naab pulled on the reins, and pointed to one side. Hare discerned three +grayish sharp-nosed beasts sneaking off in the sage, and he reached back +for the rifle. Naab whistled, stopping the coyotes; then Hare shot. The +ball cut a wisp of dust above and beyond them. They loped away into the +sage. + +"How that rifle spangs!" exclaimed Naab. "It's good to hear it. Jack, +you shot high. That's the trouble with men who have never shot at game. +They can't hold low enough. Aim low, lower than you want. Ha! There's +another--this side--hold ahead of him and low, quick!--too high again." + +It was in this way that August and Hare fell far behind the other wagons. +The nearer Naab got to his home the more genial he became. When he was +not answering Hare's queries he was giving information of his own accord, +telling about the cattle and the range, the mustangs, the Navajos, and +the desert. Naab liked to talk; he had said he had not the gift of +revelation, but he certainly had the gift of tongues. + +The sun was in the west when they began to climb a ridge. A short +ascent, and a long turn to the right brought them under a bold spur of +the mountain which shut out the northwest. Camp had been pitched in a +grove of trees of a species new to Hare. From under a bowlder gushed the +sparkling spring, a grateful sight and sound to desert travellers. In a +niche of the rock hung a silver cup. + +"Jack, no man knows how old this cup is, or anything about it. We named +the spring after it--Silver Cup. The strange thing is that the cup has +never been lost nor stolen. But--could any desert man, or outlaw, or +Indian, take it away, after drinking here?" + +The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on the +bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood. + +That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap Naab +buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger braves +to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing, "hoya-heeya- +howya," as they moved in and out of the firelight. + +Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and +repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a +curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward +motions and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him and +fought for possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous +for its welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the +clamor of a delighted circle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew +so strenuous in his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the Navajos +about like shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, sought to +break away. But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to the ground, +and calmly sat astride him while they went through his pockets. August +Naab roared his merriment and Hare laughed till he cried. The incident +was as surprising to him as it was amusing. These serious Mormons and +silent Navajos were capable of mirth. + +Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying to +him, "Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!" sent him off to his blankets, +where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager to +know what the day would bring. + +"Wait," said August, soberly. + +They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare +had not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses +climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonous ascent. There was +nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the +summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable +place on the sacks. + +"Now, Jack," said August. + +Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood. Red +scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a vast +irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath. +To the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a black-timbered +plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped vent +in the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earth-riven +line lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reaching vision of white +wastes, of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the +shimmering dust-veiled desert. + +"Here we come to the real thing," explained Naab. "This is Windy Slope; +that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side is the +Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows his flat +head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the Vermillion +Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be able to +see." + +"Why?" + +"Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles--watch out for your eyes!" + +Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians +trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white +wagons disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which +justified Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once +more he could see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his +eyes with dust difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the +wind. + +The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of +Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died. + +"Five miles of red sand," said Naab. "Here's what kills the horses. +Getup." + +There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels, +dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels +ploughed deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab +trudged on foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also, +soon tired, and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again. +Twilight came with the horses still toiling. + +"There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that +trailless waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun +it after dark. We'll be home soon. There's my sign. See? Night or +day we call it the Blue Star." + +High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky +through. + +There was cheer in Naab's "Getup," now, and the horses quickened with it. +Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. "Easy, easy-- +soho!" cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the +shelving cliff they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner. +Lights twinkled in Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water, +dampened his cheek, and a hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant +thunder, filled his ears. + +"What's that?" he asked. + +"That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's +the roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon." + + + +IV +THE OASIS + + +AUGUST NAAB'S oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with leaf +and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of vivid +vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the red +walls from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, remote +as of some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was east a +dreamy hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the cottonwoods; +when no wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of serene plain or +mountain fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and breathless. +Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world was this +Garden of Eschtah. + +Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but routed +him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of +cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow. A grove of gray-barked trees +spread green canopy overhead, and through the intricate web shone crimson +walls, soaring with resistless onsweep up and up to shut out all but a +blue lake of sky. + +"I want you to see the Navajos cross the river," said Naab. + +Hare accompanied him out through the grove to a road that flanked the +first rise of the red wall; they followed this for half a mile, and +turning a corner came into an unobstructed view. A roar of rushing +waters had prepared Hare, but the river that he saw appalled him. It was +red and swift; it slid onward like an enormous slippery snake; its +constricted head raised a crest of leaping waves, and disappeared in a +dark chasm, whence came a bellow and boom. + +"That opening where she jumps off is the head of the Grand Canyon," said +Naab. "It's five hundred feet deep there, and thirty miles below it's +five thousand. Oh, once in, she tears in a hurry! Come, we turn up the +bank here." + +Hare could find no speech, and he felt immeasurably small. All that he +had seen in reaching this isolated spot was dwarfed in comparison. This +"Crossing of the Fathers," as Naab called it, was the gateway of the +desert. This roar of turbulent waters was the sinister monotone of the +mighty desert symphony of great depths, great heights, great reaches. + +On a sandy strip of bank the Navajos had halted. This was as far as they +could go, for above the wall jutted out into the river. From here the +head of the Canyon was not visible, and the roar of the rapids was +accordingly lessened in volume. But even in this smooth water the river +spoke a warning. + +"The Navajos go in here and swim their mustangs across to that sand bar," +explained Naab. "The current helps when she's high, and there's a +three-foot raise on now." + +"I can't believe it possible. What danger they must run--those little +mustangs!" exclaimed Hare. + +"Danger? Yes, I suppose so," replied Naab, as if it were a new idea. +"My lad, the Mormons crossed here by the hundreds. Many were drowned. +This trail and crossing were unknown except to Indians before the Mormon +exodus." + +The mustangs had to be driven into the water. Scarbreast led, and his +mustang, after many kicks and reluctant steps, went over his depth, +wetting the stalwart chief to the waist. Bare-legged Indians waded in +and urged their pack-ponies. Shouts, shrill cries, blows mingled with +snorts and splashes. + +Dave and George Naab in flat boats rowed slowly on the down-stream side +of the Indians. Presently all the mustangs and ponies were in, the +procession widening out in a triangle from Scarbreast, the leader. The +pack-ponies appeared to swim better than the mounted mustangs, or else +the packs of deer-pelts made them more buoyant. When one-third way +across the head of the swimming train met the current, and the line of +progress broke. Mustang after mustang swept down with a rapidity which +showed the power of the current. Yet they swam steadily with flanks +shining, tails sometimes afloat, sometimes under, noses up, and riders +holding weapons aloft. But the pack-ponies labored when the current +struck them, and whirling about, they held back the Indians who were +leading them, and blocked those behind. The orderly procession of the +start became a broken line, and then a rout. Here and there a Navajo +slipped into the water and swam, leading his mustang; others pulled on +pack-ponies and beat their mounts; strong-swimming mustangs forged ahead; +weak ones hung back, and all obeyed the downward will of the current. + +While Hare feared for the lives of some of the Navajos, and pitied the +laden ponies, he could not but revel in the scene, in its vivid action +and varying color, in the cries and shrill whoops of the Indians, and the +snorts of the frightened mustangs, in Naab's hoarse yells to his sons, +and the ever-present menacing roar from around the bend. The wildness of +it all, the necessity of peril and calm acceptance of it, stirred within +Hare the call, the awakening, the spirit of the desert. + +August Naab's stentorian voice rolled out over the river. "Ho! Dave--the +yellow pinto--pull him loose--George, back this way--there's a pack +slipping--down now, downstream, turn that straggler in--Dave, in that +tangle--quick! There's a boy drowning--his foot's caught--he's been +kicked-- Hurry! Hurry!-- pull him in the boat-- There's a pony under-- +Too late, George, let that one go--let him go, I tell you!" + +So the crossing of the Navajos proceeded, never an instant free from +danger in that churning current. The mustangs and ponies floundered +somewhat on the sand-bar and then parted the willows and appeared on a +trail skirting the red wall. Dave Naab moored his boat on that side of +the river, and returned with George. + +"We'll look over my farm," said August, as they retraced their steps. He +led Hare through fields of alfalfa, in all stages of growth, explaining +that it yielded six crops a year. Into one ten-acre lot pigs and cows +had been turned to feed at will. Everywhere the ground was soggy; little +streams of water trickled down ditches. Next to the fields was an +orchard, where cherries were ripe, apricots already large, plum-trees +shedding their blossoms, and apple-trees just opening into bloom. Naab +explained that the products of his oasis were abnormal; the ground was +exceedingly rich and could be kept always wet; the reflection of the sun +from the walls robbed even winter of any rigor, and the spring, summer, +and autumn were tropical. He pointed to grape-vines as large as a man's +thigh and told of bunches of grapes four feet long; he showed sprouting +plants on which watermelons and pumpkins would grow so large that one man +could not lift them; he told of one pumpkin that held a record of taking +two men to roll it. + +"I can raise any kind of fruit in such abundance that it can't be used. +My garden is prodigal. But we get little benefit, except for our own +use, for we cannot transport things across the desert." + +The water which was the prime factor in all this richness came from a +small stream which Naab, by making a dam and tunnelling a corner of +cliff, had diverted from its natural course into his oasis. + +Between the fence and the red wall there was a wide bare plain which +stretched to the house. At its farthest end was a green enclosure, which +Hare recognized as the cemetery mentioned by Snap. Hare counted thirty +graves, a few with crude monuments of stone, the others marked by wooden +head-pieces. + +"I've the reputation of doctoring the women, and letting the men die," +said Naab, with a smile. "I hardly think it's fair. But the fact is no +women are buried here. Some graves are of men I fished out of the river; +others of those who drifted here, and who were killed or died keeping +their secrets. I've numbered those unknown graves and have kept a +description of the men, so, if the chance ever comes, I may tell some one +where a father or brother lies buried. Five sons of mine, not one of +whom died a natural death, found graves here--God rest them! Here's the +grave of Mescal's father, a Spaniard. He was an adventurer. I helped +him over in Nevada when he was ill; he came here with me, got well, and +lived nine years, and he died without speaking one word of himself or +telling his name." + +"What strange ends men come to!" mused Hare. Well, a grave was a grave, +wherever it lay. He wondered if he would come to rest in that quiet +nook, with its steady light, its simple dignity of bare plain graves +fitting the brevity of life, the littleness of man. + +"We break wild mustangs along this stretch," said Naab, drawing Hare +away. "It's a fine run. Wait till you see Mescal on Black Bolly tearing +up the dust! She's a Navajo for riding." + +Three huge corrals filled a wide curved space in the wall. In one corral +were the teams that had hauled the wagons from White Sage; in another +upward of thirty burros, drooping, lazy little fellows half asleep; in +the third a dozen or more mustangs and some horses which delighted Hare. +Snap Naab's cream pinto, a bay, and a giant horse of mottled white +attracted him most. + +"Our best stock is out on the range," said Naab. "The white is Charger, +my saddle-horse. When he was a yearling he got away and ran wild for +three years. But we caught him. He's a weight-carrier and he can run +some. You're fond of a horse--I can see that." + +"Yes," returned Hare, "but I--I'll never ride again." He said it +brightly, smiling the while; still the look in his eyes belied the +cheerful resignation. + +"I've not the gift of revelation, yet I seem to see you on a big gray +horse with a shining mane." Naab appeared to be gazing far away. + +The cottonwood grove, at the western curve of the oasis, shaded the five +log huts where August's grown sons lived with their wives, and his own +cabin, which was of considerable dimensions. It had a covered porch on +one side, an open one on the other, a shingle roof, and was a roomy and +comfortable habitation. + +Naab was pointing out the school-house when he was interrupted by +childish laughter, shrieks of glee, and the rush of little feet. + +"It's recess-time," he said. + +A frantic crowd of tousled-headed little ones were running from the log +school-house to form a circle under the trees. There were fourteen of +them, from four years of age up to ten or twelve. Such sturdy, glad-eyed +children Hare had never seen. In a few moments, as though their happy +screams were signals, the shady circle was filled with hounds, and a +string of puppies stepping on their long ears, and ruffling +turkey-gobblers, that gobbled and gobbled, and guinea-hens with their +shrill cries, and cackling chickens, and a lame wild goose that hobbled +along alone. Then there were shiny peafowls screeching clarion calls +from the trees overhead, and flocks of singing blackbirds, and pigeons +hovering over and alighting upon the house. Last to approach were a +woolly sheep that added his baa-baa to the din, and a bald-faced burro +that walked in his sleep. These two became the centre of clamor. After +many tumbles four chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others, +with loud acclaim, shouting, "Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!" endeavored +to make him go. But Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then +an ambitious urchin of six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and +essayed to climb to his back. Willing hands assisted him. "Ride him, +Billy, ride him. Getup, Navvy, getup!" + +Navvy evidently had never been ridden, for he began a fair imitation of a +bucking bronco. Billy held on, but the smile vanished and he corners of +his mouth drew down. + +"Hang on, Billy, hang on," cried August Naab, in delight. Billy hung on +a moment longer, and then Navvy, bewildered by the pestering crowd about +him, launched out and, butting into Noddle, spilled the four youngsters +and Billy also into a wriggling heap. + +This recess-time completed Hare's introduction to the Naabs. There were +Mother Mary, and Judith and Esther, whom he knew, and Mother Ruth and her +two daughters very like their sisters. Mother Ruth, August's second +wife, was younger than Mother Mary, more comely of face, and more sad and +serious of expression. The wives of the five sons, except Snap Naab's +frail bride, were stalwart women, fit to make homes and rear children. + +"Now, Jack, things are moving all right," said August. "For the present +you must eat and rest. Walk some, but don't tire yourself. We'll +practice shooting a little every day; that's one thing I'll spare time +for. I've a trick with a gun to teach you. And if you feel able, take a +burro and ride. Anyway, make yourself at home." + +Hare found eating and resting to be matters of profound enjoyment. +Before he had fallen in with these good people it had been a year since +he had sat down to a full meal; longer still since he had eaten whole +some food. And now he had come to a "land overflowing with milk and +honey," as Mother Ruth smilingly said. He could not choose between roast +beef and chicken, and so he waived the question by taking both; and what +with the biscuits and butter, apple-sauce and blackberry jam, cherry pie +and milk like cream, there was danger of making himself ill. He told his +friends that he simply could not help it, which shameless confession +brought a hearty laugh from August and beaming smiles from his +women-folk. + +For several days Hare was remarkably well, for an invalid. He won golden +praise from August at the rifle practice, and he began to take lessons in +the quick drawing and rapid firing of a Colt revolver. Naab was +wonderfully proficient in the use of both firearms; and his skill in +drawing the smaller weapon, in which his movement was quicker than the +eye, astonished Hare. "My lad," said August, "it doesn't follow because +I'm a Christian that I don't know how to handle a gun. Besides, I like +to shoot." + +In these few days Hare learned what conquering the desert made of a man. +August Naab was close to threescore years; his chest was wide as a door, +his arm like the branch of an oak. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, a +carpenter, a cooper, a potter. At his forge and in his shop, everywhere, +were crude tools, wagons, farming implements, sets of buckskin harness, +odds and ends of nameless things, eloquent and pregnant proof of the fact +that necessity is the mother of invention. He was a mason; the levee +that buffeted back the rage of the Colorado in flood, the wall that +turned the creek, the irrigation tunnel, the zigzag trail cut on the face +of the cliff--all these attested his eye for line, his judgment of +distance, his strength in toil. He was a farmer, a cattle man, a grafter +of fruit-trees, a breeder of horses, a herder of sheep, a preacher, a +physician. Best and strangest of all in this wonderful man was the +instinct and the heart to heal. "I don't combat the doctrine of the +Mormon church," he said, "but I administer a little medicine with my +healing. I learned that from the Navajos." The children ran to him with +bruised heads, and cut fingers, and stubbed toes; and his blacksmith's +hands were as gentle as a woman's. A mustang with a lame leg claimed his +serious attention; a sick sheep gave him an anxious look; a steer with a +gored skin sent him running for a bucket of salve. He could not pass by +a crippled quail. The farm was overrun by Navajo sheep which he had +found strayed and lost on the desert. Anything hurt or helpless had in +August Naab a friend. Hare found himself looking up to a great and +luminous figure, and he loved this man. + +As the days passed Hare learned many other things. For a while illness +confined him to his bed on the porch. At night he lay listening to the +roar of the river, and watching the stars. Twice he heard a distant +crash and rumble, heavy as thunder, and he knew that somewhere along the +cliffs avalanches were slipping. By day he watched the cotton snow down +upon him, and listened to the many birds, and waited for the merry show +at recess-time. After a short time the children grew less shy and came +readily to him. They were the most wholesome children he had ever +known. Hare wondered about it, and decided it was not so much Mormon +teaching as isolation from the world. These children had never been out +of their cliff-walled home, and civilization was for them as if it were +not. He told them stories, and after school hours they would race to him +and climb on his bed, and beg for more. + +He exhausted his supply of fairy-stories and animal stories; and had +begun to tell about the places and cities which he had visited when the +eager-eyed children were peremptorily called within by Mother Mary. This +pained him and he was at a loss to understand it. Enlightenment came, +however, in the way of an argument between Naab and Mother Mary which he +overheard. The elder wife said that the stranger was welcome to the +children, but she insisted that they hear nothing of the outside world, +and that they be kept to the teachings of the Mormon geography--which +made all the world outside Utah an untrodden wilderness. August Naab did +not hold to the letter of the Mormon law; he argued that if the children +could not be raised as Mormons with a full knowledge of the world, they +would only be lost in the end to the Church. + +Other developments surprised Hare. The house of this good Mormon was +divided against itself. Precedence was given to the first and elder +wife--Mother Mary; Mother Ruth's life was not without pain. The men were +out on the ranges all day, usually two or more of them for several days +at a time, and this left the women alone. One daughter taught the +school, the other daughters did all the chores about the house, from +feeding the stock to chopping wood. The work was hard, and the girls +would rather have been in White Sage or Lund. They disliked Mescal, and +said things inspired by jealousy. Snap Naab's wife was vindictive, and +called Mescal "that Indian!" + +It struck him on hearing this gossip that he had missed Mescal. What had +become of her? Curiosity prompting him, he asked little Billy about her. + +"Mescal's with the sheep," piped Billy. + +That she was a shepherdess pleased Hare, and he thought of her as free on +the open range, with the wind blowing her hair. + +One day when Hare felt stronger he took his walk round the farm with new +zest. Upon his return to the house he saw Snap's cream pinto in the +yard, and Dave's mustang cropping the grass near by. A dusty pack lay on +the ground. Hare walked down the avenue of cottonwoods and was about to +turn the corner of the old forge when he stopped short. + +"Now mind you, I'll take a bead on this white-faced spy if you send him +up there." + +It was Snap Naab's voice, and his speech concluded with the click of +teeth characteristic of him in anger. + +"Stand there!" August Naab exclaimed in wrath. "Listen. You have been +drinking again or you wouldn't talk of killing a man. I warned you. I +won't do this thing you ask of me till I have your promise. Why won't +you leave the bottle alone?" + +"I'll promise," came the sullen reply. + +"Very well. Then pack and go across to Bitter Seeps." + +"That job'll take all summer," growled Snap. + +"So much the better. When you come home I'll keep my promise." + +Hare moved away silently; the shock of Snap's first words had kept him +fast in his tracks long enough to hear the conversation. Why did Snap +threaten him? Where was August Naab going to send him? Hare had no +means of coming to an understanding of either question. He was disturbed +in mind and resolved to keep out of Snap's way. He went to the orchard, +but his stay of an hour availed nothing, for on his return, after +threading the maze of cottonwoods, he came face to face with the man he +wanted to avoid. + +Snap Naab, at the moment of meeting, had a black bottle tipped high above +his lips. + +With a curse he threw the bottle at Hare, missing him narrowly. He was +drunk. His eyes were bloodshot. + +"If you tell father you saw me drinking I'll kill you!" he hissed, and +rattling his Colt in its holster, he walked away. + +Hare walked back to his bed, where he lay for a long time with his whole +inner being in a state of strife. It gradually wore off as he strove for +calm. The playground was deserted; no one had seen Snap's action, and +for that he was glad. Then his attention was diverted by a clatter of +ringing hoofs on the road; a mustang and a cloud of dust were +approaching. + +"Mescal and Black Bolly!" he exclaimed, and sat up quickly. The mustang +turned in the gate, slid to a stop, and stood quivering, restive, tossing +its thoroughbred head, black as a coal, with freedom and fire in every +line. Mescal leaped off lightly. A gray form flashed in at the gate, +fell at her feet and rose to leap about her. It was a splendid dog, huge +in frame, almost white, wild as the mustang. + +This was the Mescal whom he remembered, yet somehow different. The +sombre homespun garments had given place to fringed and beaded buckskin. + +"I've come for you," she said. + +"For me?" he asked, wonderingly, as she approached with the bridle of the +black over her arm. + +"Down, Wolf!" she cried to the leaping dog. "Yes. Didn't you know? +Father Naab says you're to help me tend the sheep. Are you better? I +hope so-- You're quite pale." + +"I--I'm not so well," said Hare. + +He looked up at her, at the black sweep of her hair under the white band, +at her eyes, like jet; and suddenly realized, with a gladness new and +strange to him, that he liked to look at her, that she was beautiful. + + + +V +BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER + + +AUGUST NAAB appeared on the path leading from his fields. + +"Mescal, here you are," he greeted. "How about the sheep?" + +"Piute's driving them down to the lower range. There are a thousand +coyotes hanging about the flock." + +"That's bad," rejoined August. "Jack, there's evidently some real +shooting in store for you. We'll pack to-day and get an early start +to-morrow. I'll put you on Noddle; he's slow, but the easiest climber I +ever owned. He's like riding . . . What's the matter with you? What's +happened to make you angry?" + +One of his long strides spanned the distance between them. + +"Oh, nothing," said Hare, flushing. + +"Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie. You've met Snap." + +Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August's +stern face showed the uselessness of it. He kept silent. + +"Drink makes my son unnatural," said Naab. He breathed heavily as one in +conflict with wrath. "We'll not wait till to-morrow to go up on the +plateau; we'll go at once." + +Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal's eyes; he +caught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a glow +of an emotion half pleasure, half pain. + +"Mescal," went on August, "go into the house, and keep out of Snap's way. +Jack, watch me pack. You need to learn these things. I could put all +this outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack might +bump a burro off. Let's see, I've got all your stuff but the saddle; +that we'll leave till we get a horse for you. Well, all's ready." + +Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward the +cliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her. Hare bestrode Noddle. +August, waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burros +after Mescal. + +How they would be able to climb the face of that steep cliff puzzled +Hare. Upon nearer view he discovered the yard-wide trail curving upward +in cork-screw fashion round a projecting corner of cliff. The stone was +a soft red shale, and the trail had been cut in it at a steep angle. It +was so steep that the burros appeared to be climbing straight up. Noddle +pattered into it, dropped his head and his long ears and slackened his +pace to patient plodding. August walked in the rear. + +The first thing that struck Hare was the way the burros in front of him +stopped at the curves in the trail, and turned in a space so small that +their four feet were close together; yet as they swung their packs they +scarcely scraped the wall. At every turn they were higher than he was, +going in the opposite direction, yet he could reach out and touch them. +He glanced up to see Mescal right above him, leaning forward with her +brown hands clasping the pommel. Then he looked out and down; already +the green cluster of cottonwoods lay far below. After that sensations +pressed upon him. Round and round, up and up, steadily, surely, the +beautiful mustang led the train; there were sounds of rattling stones, +and click of hoofs, and scrape of pack. On one side towered the +iron-stained cliff, not smooth or glistening at close range, but of dull, +dead, rotting rock. The trail changed to a zigzag along a seamed and +cracked buttress where ledges leaned outward waiting to fall. Then a +steeper incline, where the burros crept upward warily, led to a level +ledge heading to the left. + +Mescal halted on a promontory. She, with her windblown hair, the gleam +of white band about her head, and a dash of red along the fringed +leggings, gave inexpressible life and beauty to that wild, jagged point +of rock, sharp against the glaring sky. + +"This is Lookout Point," said Naab. "I keep an Indian here all the time +during daylight. He's a peon, a Navajo slave. He can't talk, as he was +born without a tongue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of any +Indian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing, the +Navajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the Navajos +signal to me, and also the White Sage Trail." + +The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with its +rising roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To the +right white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across the +Canyon line opened the many-hued desert. + +"With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised," said Naab. +"That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've never +had anything to fear from across the river." + +Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the greeting +he could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians resembled each +other. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not differing in +blanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze skin, but in the +bird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of his glittering +eyes. Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a few words in +Navajo, and then slapped the burros into the trail. + +The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trail +now led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones had +changed from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places. +Hare's judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that he +gave up trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell on +his strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to stay +longer upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sun +was yet an hour high, his fingers were numb. + +"Hang on, Jack," cheered August. "We're almost up." + +At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by one, +then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw a +gray-green cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, and +a rush of cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could not +get his breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply trying +to overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble was +not with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweet +penetrating odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like the +smell of pine, though it made him think of pine-trees. + +"Ha! that's good!" said Naab, expanding his great chest. "That's air for +you, my lad. Can you taste it? Well, here's camp, your home for many a +day, Jack. There's Piute--how do? how're the sheep?" + +A short, squat Indian, good-humored of face, shook his black head till +the silver rings danced in his ears, and replied: "Bad--damn coyotee!" + +"Piute--shake with Jack. Him shoot coyote--got big gun," said Naab. + +"How-do-Jack?" replied Piute, extending his hand, and then straightway +began examining the new rifle. "Damn--heap big gun!" + +"Jack, you'll find this Indian one you can trust, for all he's a Piute +outcast," went on August. "I've had him with me ever since Mescal found +him on the Coconina Trail five years ago. What Piute doesn't know about +this side of Coconina isn't worth learning." + +In a depression sheltered from the wind lay the camp. A fire burned in +the centre; a conical tent, like a tepee in shape, hung suspended from a +cedar branch and was staked at its four points; a leaning slab of rock +furnished shelter for camp supplies and for the Indian, and at one end a +spring gushed out. A gray-sheathed cedar-tree marked the entrance to +this hollow glade, and under it August began preparing Hare's bed. + +"Here's the place you're to sleep, rain or shine or snow," he said. "Now +I've spent my life sleeping on the ground, and mother earth makes the +best bed. I'll dig out a little pit in this soft mat of needles; that's +for your hips. Then the tarpaulin so; a blanket so. Now the other +blankets. Your feet must be a little higher than your head; you really +sleep down hill, which breaks the wind. So you never catch cold. All +you need do is to change your position according to the direction of the +wind. Pull up the blankets, and then the long end of the tarpaulin. If +it rains or snows cover your head, and sleep, my lad, sleep to the song +of the wind!" + +From where Hare lay, resting a weary body, he could see down into the +depression which his position guarded. Naab built up the fire; Piute +peeled potatoes with deliberate care; Mescal, on her knees, her brown +arms bare, kneaded dough in a basin; Wolf crouched on the ground, and +watched his mistress; Black Bolly tossed her head, elevating the bag on +her nose so as to get all the grain. + +Naab called him to supper, and when Hare set to with a will on the bacon +and eggs, and hot biscuits, he nodded approvingly. "That's what I want to +see," he said approvingly. "You must eat. Piute will get deer, or you +may shoot them yourself; eat all the venison you can. Remember what +Scarbreast said. Then rest. That's the secret. If you eat and rest you +will gain strength." + +The edge of the wall was not a hundred paces from the camp; and when Hare +strolled out to it after supper, the sun had dipped the under side of its +red disc behind the desert. He watched it sink, while the golden-red +flood of light grew darker and darker. Thought seemed remote from him +then; he watched, and watched, until he saw the last spark of fire die +from the snow-slopes of Coconina. The desert became dimmer and dimmer; +the oasis lost its outline in a bottomless purple pit, except for a faint +light, like a star. + +The bleating of sheep aroused him and he returned to camp. The fire was +still bright. Wolf slept close to Mescal's tent; Piute was not in sight; +and Naab had rolled himself in blankets. Crawling into his bed, Hare +stretched aching legs and lay still, as if he would never move again. +Tired as he was, the bleating of the sheep, the clear ring of the bell on +Black Bolly, and the faint tinkle of lighter bells on some of the rams, +drove away sleep for a while. Accompanied by the sough of the wind +through the cedars the music of the bells was sweet, and he listened till +he heard no more. + +A thin coating of frost crackled on his bed when he awakened; and out +from under the shelter of the cedar all the ground was hoar-white. As he +slipped from his blankets the same strong smell of black sage and juniper +smote him, almost like a blow. His nostrils seemed glued together by +some rich piny pitch; and when he opened his lips to breathe a sudden +pain, as of a knife-thrust, pierced his lungs. The thought following was +as sharp as the pain. Pneumonia! What he had long expected! He sank +against the cedar, overcome by the shock. But he rallied presently, for +with the reestablishment of the old settled bitterness, which had been +forgotten in the interest of his situation, he remembered that he had +given up hope. Still, he could not get back at once to his former +resignation. He hated to acknowledge that the wildness of this desert +canyon country, and the spirit it sought to instil in him, had wakened a +desire to live. For it meant only more to give up. And after one short +instant of battle he was himself again. He put his hand under his +flannel shirt and felt of the soreness of his lungs. He found it not at +the apex of the right lung, always the one sensitive spot, but all +through his breast. Little panting breaths did not hurt; but the deep +inhalation, which alone satisfied him filled his whole chest with +thousands of pricking needles. In the depth of his breast was a hollow +that burned. + +When he had pulled on his boots and coat, and had washed himself in the +runway of the spring, his hands were so numb with cold they refused to +hold his comb and brush; and he presented himself at the roaring fire +half-frozen, dishevelled, trembling, but cheerful. He would not tell +Naab. If he had to die to-day, to-morrow or next week, he would lie down +under a cedar and die; he could not whine about it to this man. + +"Up with the sun!" was Naab's greeting. His cheerfulness was as +impelling as his splendid virility. Following the wave of his hand Hare +saw the sun, a pale-pink globe through a misty blue, rising between the +golden crags of the eastern wall. + +Mescal had a shy "good-morning" for him, and Piute a broad smile, and +familiar "how-do"; the peon slave, who had finished breakfast and was +about to depart, moved his lips in friendly greeting that had no sound. + +"Did you hear the coyotes last night?" inquired August. "No! Well, of all +the choruses I ever heard. There must be a thousand on the bench. Jack, +I wish I could spare the time to stay up here with you and shoot some. +You'll have practice with the rifle, but don't neglect the Colt. +Practice particularly the draw I taught you. Piute has a carbine, and he +shoots at the coyotes, but who ever saw an Indian that could hit +anything?" + +"Damn--gun no good!" growled Piute, who evidently understood English +pretty well. Naab laughed, and while Hare ate breakfast he talked of the +sheep. The flock he had numbered three thousand. They were a goodly +part of them Navajo stock: small, hardy sheep that could live on anything +but cactus, and needed little water. This flock had grown from a small +number to its present size in a few years. Being remarkably free from +the diseases and pests which retard increase in low countries, the sheep +had multiplied almost one for one for every year. But for the ravages of +wild beasts Naab believed he could raise a flock of many thousands and in +a brief time be rich in sheep alone. In the winter he drove them down +into the oasis; the other seasons he herded them on the high ranges where +the cattle could not climb. There was grass enough on this plateau for a +million sheep. After the spring thaw in early March, occasional snows +fell till the end of May, and frost hung on until early summer; then the +July rains made the plateau a garden. + +"Get the forty-four," concluded Naab, "and we'll go out and break it in." + +With the long rifle in the hollow of his arm Jack forgot that he was a +sick man. When he came within gunshot of the flock the smell of sheep +effectually smothered the keen, tasty odor of black sage and juniper. +Sheep ranged everywhere under the low cedars. They browsed with noses in +the frost, and from all around came the tinkle of tiny bells on the +curly-horned rams, and an endless variety of bleats. + +"They're spread now," said August. "Mescal drives them on every little +while and Piute goes ahead to pick out the best browse. Watch the dog, +Jack; he's all but human. His mother was a big shepherd dog that I got +in Lund. She must have had a strain of wild blood. Once while I was +hunting deer on Coconina she ran off with timber wolves and we thought +she was killed. But she came back, and had a litter of three puppies. +Two were white, the other black. I think she killed the black one. And +she neglected the others. One died, and Mescal raised the other. We +called him Wolf. He loves Mescal, and loves the sheep, and hates a wolf. +Mescal puts a bell on him when she is driving, and the sheep know the +bell. I think it would be a good plan for her to tie something red round +his neck--a scarf, so as to keep you from shooting him for a wolf." + +Nimble, alert, the big white dog was not still a moment. His duty was to +keep the flock compact, to head the stragglers and turn them back; and he +knew his part perfectly. There was dash and fire in his work. He never +barked. As he circled the flock the small Navajo sheep, edging ever +toward forbidden ground, bleated their way back to the fold, the larger +ones wheeled reluctantly, and the old belled rams squared themselves, +lowering their massive horns as if to butt him. Never, however, did they +stand their ground when he reached them, for there was a decision about +Wolf which brooked no opposition. At times when he was working on one +side a crafty sheep on the other would steal out into the thicket. Then +Mescal called and Wolf flashed back to her, lifting his proud head, +eager, spirited, ready to take his order. A word, a wave of her whip +sufficed for the dog to rout out the recalcitrant sheep and send him +bleating to his fellows. + +"He manages them easily now," said Naab, "but when the lambs come they +can't be kept in. The coyotes and wolves hang out in the thickets and +pick up the stragglers. The worst enemy of sheep, though, is the old +grizzly bear. Usually he is grouchy, and dangerous to hunt. He comes +into the herd, kills the mother sheep, and eats the milk-bag--no more! +He will kill forty sheep in a night. Piute saw the tracks of one up on +the high range, and believes this bear is following the flock. Let's get +off into the woods some little way, into the edge of the thickets--for +Piute always keeps to the glades--and see if we can pick off a few +coyotes." + +August cautioned Jack to step stealthily, and slip from cedar to cedar, +to use every bunch of sage and juniper to hide his advance. + +"Watch sharp, Jack. I've seen two already. Look for moving things. +Don't try to see one quiet, for you can't till after your eye catches him +moving. They are gray, gray as the cedars, the grass, the ground. Good! +Yes, I see him, but don't shoot. That's too far. Wait. They sneak +away, but they return. You can afford to make sure. Here now, by that +stone--aim low and be quick." + +In the course of a mile, without keeping the sheep near at hand, they saw +upward of twenty coyotes, five of which Jack killed in as many shots. + +"You've got the hang of it," said Naab, rubbing his hands. "You'll kill +the varmints. Piute will skin and salt the pelts. Now I'm going up on +the high range to look for bear sign. Go ahead, on your own hook." + +Hare was regardless of time while he stole under the cedars and through +the thickets, spying out the cunning coyotes. Then Naab's yell pealing +out claimed his attention; he answered and returned. When they met he +recounted his adventures in mingled excitement and disappointment. + +"Are you tired?" asked Naab. + +"Tired? No," replied Jack. + +"Well, you mustn't overdo the very first day. I've news for you. There +are some wild horses on the high range. I didn't see them, but found +tracks everywhere. If they come down here you send Piute to close the +trail at the upper end of the bench, and you close the one where we came +up. There are only two trails where even a deer can get off this +plateau, and both are narrow splits in the wall, which can be barred by +the gates. We made the gates to keep the sheep in, and they'll serve a +turn. If you get the wild horses on the bench send Piute for me at +once." + +They passed the Indian herding the sheep into a corral built against an +uprising ridge of stone. Naab dispatched him to look for the dead +coyotes. The three burros were in camp, two wearing empty pack-saddles, +and Noddle, for once not asleep, was eating from Mescal's hand. + +"Mescal, hadn't I better take Black Bolly home?" asked August. + +"Mayn't I keep her?" + +"She's yours. But you run a risk. There are wild horses on the range. +Will you keep her hobbled?" + +"Yes," replied Mescal, reluctantly. "Though I don't believe Bolly would +run off from me." + +"Look out she doesn't go, hobbles and all. Jack, here's the other bit of +news I have for you. There's a big grizzly camping on the trail of our +sheep. Now what I want to know is--shall I leave him to you, or put off +work and come up here to wait for him myself?" + +"Why--" said Jack, slowly, "whatever you say. If you think you can +safely leave him to me--I'm willing." + +"A grizzly won't be pleasant to face. I never knew one of those +sheep-killers that wouldn't run at a man, if wounded." + +"Tell me what to do." + +"If he comes down it's more than likely to be after dark. Don't risk +hunting him then. Wait till morning, and put Wolf on his trail. He'll +be up in the rocks, and by holding in the dog you may find him asleep in +a cave. However, if you happen to meet him by day do this. Don't waste +any shots. Climb a ledge or tree if one be handy. If not, stand your +ground. Get down on your knee and shoot and let him come. Mind you, +he'll grunt when he's hit, and start for you, and keep coming till he's +dead. Have confidence in yourself and your gun, for you can kill him. +Aim low, and shoot steady. If he keeps on coming there's always a fatal +shot, and that is when he rises. You'll see a bare spot on his breast. +Put a forty-four into that, and he'll go down." + +August had spoken so easily, quite as if he were explaining how to shear +a yearling sheep, that Jack's feelings fluctuated between amazement and +laughter. Verily this desert man was stripped of all the false fears of +civilization. + +"Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out for +him. . . . So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!" And with many a cheery word and +slap he urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall form +soon disappeared among the trees. + +Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he could +scarcely be seen under the gray pile. With a fervent "damn" he tumbled +them under a cedar, and trotted back into the forest for another load. +Jack insisted on assuming his share of the duties about camp; and Mescal +assigned him to the task of gathering firewood, breaking red-hot sticks +of wood into small pieces, and raking them into piles of live coals. +Then they ate, these two alone. Jack did not do justice to the supper; +excitement had robbed him of appetite. He told Mescal how he had crept +upon the coyotes, how so many had eluded him, how he had missed a gray +wolf. He plied her with questions about the sheep, and wanted to know if +there would be more wolves, and if she thought the "silvertip" would +come. He was quite carried away by the events of the day. + +The sunset drew him to the rim. Dark clouds were mantling the desert +like rolling smoke from a prairie-fire. He almost stumbled over Mescal, +who sat with her back to a stone. Wolf lay with his head in her lap, and +he growled. + +"There's a storm on the desert," she said. "Those smoky streaks are +flying sand. We may have snow to-night. It's colder, and the wind is +north. See, I've a blanket. You had better get one." + +He thanked her and went for it. Piute was eating his supper, and the +peon had just come in. The bright campfire was agreeable, yet Hare did +not feel cold. But he wrapped himself in a blanket and returned to +Mescal and sat beside her. The desert lay indistinct in the foreground, +inscrutable beyond; the canyon lost its line in gloom. The solemnity of +the scene stilled his unrest, the strange freedom of longings unleashed +that day. What had come over him? He shook his head; but with the +consciousness of self returned a feeling of fatigue, the burning pain in +his chest, the bitter-sweet smell of black sage and juniper. + +"You love this outlook?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Do you sit here often?" + +"Every evening." + +"Is it the sunset that you care for, the roar of the river, just being +here high above it all?" + +"It's that last, perhaps; I don't know." + +"Haven't you been lonely?" + +"No." + +"You'd rather be here with the sheep than be in Lund, or Salt Lake City, +as Esther and Judith want to be?" + +"Yes." + +Any other reply from her would not have been consistent with the +impression she was making on him. As yet he had hardly regarded her as a +young girl; she had been part of this beautiful desert-land. But he +began to see in her a responsive being, influenced by his presence. If +the situation was wonderful to him what must it be for her? Like a shy, +illusive creature, unused to men, she was troubled by questions, fearful +of the sound of her own voice. Yet in repose, as she watched the lights +and shadows, she was serene, unconscious; her dark, quiet glance was +dreamy and sad, and in it was the sombre, brooding strength of the +desert. + +Twilight and falling dew sent them back to the camp. Piute and Peon were +skinning coyotes by the blaze of the fire. The night wind had not yet +risen; the sheep were quiet; there was no sound save the crackle of +burning cedar sticks. Jack began to talk; he had to talk, so, addressing +Piute and the dumb peon, he struck at random into speech, and words +flowed with a rush. Piute approved, for he said "damn" whenever his +intelligence grasped a meaning, and the peon twisted his lips and fixed +his diamond eyes upon Hare in rapt gaze. The sound of a voice was +welcome to the sentinels of that lonely sheep-range. Jack talked of +cities, of ships, of people, of simple things in the life he had left, +and he discovered that Mescal listened. Not only did she listen; she +became absorbed; it was romance to her, fulfilment of her vague dreams. +Nor did she seek her tent till he ceased; then with a startled +"good-night" she was gone. + +From under the snugness of his warm blankets Jack watched out the last +wakeful moments of that day of days. A star peeped through the fringe of +cedar foliage. The wind sighed, and rose steadily, to sweep over him +with breath of ice, with the fragrance of juniper and black sage and a +tang of cedar. + +But that day was only the beginning of eventful days, of increasing +charm, of forgetfulness of self, of time that passed unnoted. Every +succeeding day was like its predecessor, only richer. Every day the +hoar-frost silvered the dawn; the sheep browsed; the coyotes skulked in +the thickets; the rifle spoke truer and truer. Every sunset Mescal's +changing eyes mirrored the desert. Every twilight Jack sat beside her in +the silence; every night, in the camp-fire flare, he talked to Piute and +the peon. + +The Indians were appreciative listeners, whether they understood Jack or +not, but his talk with them was only a presence. He wished to reveal the +outside world to Mescal, and he saw with pleasure that every day she grew +more interested. + +One evening he was telling of New York City, of the monster buildings +where men worked, and of the elevated railways, for the time was the late +seventies and they were still a novelty. Then something unprecedented +occurred, inasmuch as Piute earnestly and vigorously interrupted Jack, +demanding to have this last strange story made more clear. Jack did his +best in gesture and speech, but he had to appeal to Mescal to translate +his meaning to the Indian. This Mescal did with surprising fluency. The +result, however, was that Piute took exception to the story of trains +carrying people through the air. He lost his grin and regarded Jack with +much disfavor. Evidently he was experiencing the bitterness of misplaced +trust. + +"Heap damn lie!" he exclaimed with a growl, and stalked off into the +gloom. + +Piute's expressive doubt discomfited Hare, but only momentarily, for +Mescal's silvery peal of laughter told him that the incident had brought +them closer together. He laughed with her and discovered a well of +joyousness behind her reserve. Thereafter he talked directly to Mescal. +The ice being broken she began to ask questions, shyly at first, yet more +and more eagerly, until she forgot herself in the desire to learn of +cities and people; of women especially, what they wore and how they +lived, and all that life meant to them. + +The sweetest thing which had ever come to Hare was the teaching of this +desert girl. How naive in her questions and how quick to grasp she was! +The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidently +the Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn. + +But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now, +liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth. + +Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew no +rest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the +howling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in +a day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and +filled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after +their mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth--and the +carnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and +many lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always +near; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not +at all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night. +Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them +lie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands. +His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their +tracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth. + +One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds +rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold +wind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect. + +"Wolf!" called Mescal. + +The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told +of an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence. + +"Chus--chus!" exclaimed Piute. + +Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars. +The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an +uproar. + +"Bear! Bear!" cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle. + +"Don't go," she implored, her hand on his arm. "Not at night--remember +Father Naab said not." + +"Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree--quick!" + +"No--no--" + +"Do as I say!" It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the +rifle, and swung her up. "Climb!" + +"No--don't go--Jack!" + +With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness. + + + +VI +THE WIND IN THE CEDARS + + +PIUTE'S Indian sense of the advantage of position in attack stood Jack in +good stead; he led him up the ledge which overhung one end of the corral. +In the pale starlight the sheep could be seen running in bands, massing +together, crowding the fence; their cries made a deafening din. + +The Indian shouted, but Jack could not understand him. A large black +object was visible in the shade of the ledge. Piute fired his carbine. +Before Jack could bring his rifle up the black thing moved into +startlingly rapid flight. Then spouts of red flame illumined the corral. +As he shot, Jack got fleeting glimpses of the bear moving like a dark +streak against a blur of white. For all he could tell no bullet took +effect. + +When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the +corral. He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their +surprise, found none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken +it with him; and estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in +the fence, he could easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the +break and returned to camp. + +"He's gone, Mescal. Come down," called Jack into the cedar. "Let me +help you--there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the +flashes from the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how +fast he could run." + +Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws. + +"He nipped the brute, that's sure," said Jack. "Good dog! Maybe he kept +the bear from-- Why Mescal! you're white--you're shaking. There's no +danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf." + +Mescal went silently into her tent. + +The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The +dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up, +hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow +whitened the cedars. After breakfast Jack tried to get Wolf to take the +track of the grizzly, but the scent had cooled. + +Next day Mescal drove the sheep eastward toward the crags, and about the +middle of the afternoon reached the edge of the slope. Grass grew +luxuriantly and it was easy to keep the sheep in. Moreover, that part of +the forest had fewer trees, and scarcely any sage or thickets, so that +the lambs were safer, barring danger which might lurk in the seamed and +cracked cliffs overshadowing the open grassy plots. Piute's task at the +moment was to drag dead coyotes to the rim, near at hand, and throw them +over. Mescal rested on a stone, and Wolf reclined at her feet. + +Jack presently found a fresh deer track, and trailed it into the cedars, +then up the slope to where the huge rocks massed. + +Suddenly a cry from Mescal halted him; another, a piercing scream of +mortal fright, sent him flying down the slope. He bounded out of the +cedars into the open. + +The white, well-bunched flock had spread, and streams of jumping sheep +fled frantically from an enormous silver-backed bear. + +As the bear struck right and left, a brute-engine of destruction, Jack +sent a bullet into him at long range. Stung, the grizzly whirled, bit at +his side, and then reared with a roar of fury. + +But he did not see Jack. He dropped down and launched his huge bulk for +Mescal. The blood rushed back to Jack's heart, and his empty veins +seemed to freeze. + +The grizzly hurdled the streams of sheep. Terror for Mescal dominated +Jack; if he had possessed wings he could not have flown quickly enough to +head the bear. Checking himself with a suddenness that fetched him to +his knees, he levelled the rifle. It waved as if it were a stick of +willow. The bead-sight described a blurred curve round the bear. Yet he +shot--in vain--again--in vain. + +Above the bleat of sheep and trample of many hoofs rang out Mescal's cry, +despairing. + +She had turned, her hands over her breast. Wolf spread his legs before +her and crouched to spring, mane erect, jaws wide. + +By some lightning flash of memory, August Naab's words steadied Jack's +shaken nerves. He aimed low and ahead of the running bear. Down the +beast went in a sliding sprawl with a muffled roar of rage. Up he +sprang, dangling a useless leg, yet leaping swiftly forward. One blow +sent the attacking dog aside. Jack fired again. The bear became a +wrestling, fiery demon, death-stricken, but full of savage fury. Jack +aimed low and shot again. + +Slowly now the grizzly reared, his frosted coat blood-flecked, his great +head swaying. Another shot. There was one wide sweep of the huge paw, +and then the bear sank forward, drooping slowly, and stretched all his +length as if to rest. + +Mescal, recalled to life, staggered backward. Between her and the +outstretched paw was the distance of one short stride. + +Jack, bounding up, made sure the bear was dead before he looked at +Mescal. She was faint. Wolf whined about her. Piute came running from +the cedars. Her eyes were still fixed in a look of fear. + +"I couldn't run--I couldn't move," she said, shuddering. A blush drove +the white from her cheeks as she raised her face to Jack. "He'd soon +have reached me." + +Piute added his encomium: "Damn--heap big bear-- Jack kill um--big +chief!" + +Hare laughed away his own fear and turned their attention to the +stampeded sheep. It was dark before they got the flock together again, +and they never knew whether they had found them all. Supper-time was +unusually quiet that night. Piute was jovial, but no one appeared +willing to talk save the peon, and he could only grimace. The reaction +of feeling following Mescal's escape had robbed Jack of strength of +voice; he could scarcely whisper. Mescal spoke no word; her black lashes +hid her eyes; she was silent, but there was that in her silence which was +eloquent. Wolf, always indifferent save to Mescal, reacted to the subtle +change, and as if to make amends laid his head on Jack's knees. The +quiet hour round the camp-fire passed, and sleep claimed them. Another +day dawned, awakening them fresh, faithful to their duties, regardless of +what had gone before. + +So the days slipped by. June came, with more leisure for the shepherds, +better grazing for the sheep, heavier dews, lighter frosts, snow-squalls +half rain, and bursting blossoms on the prickly thorns, wild-primrose +patches in every shady spot, and bluebells lifting wan azure faces to the +sun. + +The last snow-storm of June threatened all one morning; hung menacing +over the yellow crags, in dull lead clouds waiting for the wind. Then +like ships heaving anchor to a single command they sailed down off the +heights; and the cedar forest became the centre of a blinding, eddying +storm. The flakes were as large as feathers, moist, almost warm. The +low cedars changed to mounds of white; the sheep became drooping curves +of snow; the little lambs were lost in the color of their own pure +fleece. Though the storm had been long in coming it was brief in +passing. Wind-driven toward the desert, it moaned its last in the +cedars, and swept away, a sheeted pall. Out over the Canyon it floated, +trailing long veils of white that thinned out, darkened, and failed far +above the golden desert. The winding columns of snow merged into +straight lines of leaden rain; the rain flowed into vapory mist, and the +mist cleared in the gold-red glare of endless level and slope. No +moisture reached the parched desert. + +Jack marched into camp with a snowy burden over his shoulder. He flung +it down, disclosing a small deer; then he shook the white mantle from his +coat, and whistling, kicked the fire-logs, and looked abroad at the +silver cedars, now dripping under the sun, at the rainbows in the +settling mists, at the rapidly melting snow on the ground. + +"Got lost in that squall. Fine! Fine!" he exclaimed, and threw wide his +arms. + +"Jack!" said Mescal. "Jack!" Memory had revived some forgotten thing. +The dark olive of her skin crimsoned; her eyes dilated and shadowed with +a rare change of emotion. + +"Jack," she repeated. + +"Well?" he replied, in surprise. + +"To look at you!--I never dreamed--I'd forgotten--" + +"What's the matter with me?" demanded Jack. + +Wonderingly, her mind on the past, she replied: "You were dying when we +found you at White Sage." + +He drew himself up with a sharp catch in his breath, and stared at her as +if he saw a ghost. + +"Oh--Jack! You're going to get well!" + +Her lips curved in a smile. + +For an instant Jack Hare spent his soul in searching her face for truth. +While waiting for death he had utterly forgotten it; he remembered now, +when life gleamed in the girl's dark eyes. Passionate joy flooded his +heart. + +"Mescal--Mescal!" he cried, brokenly. The eyes were true that shed this +sudden light on him; glad and sweet were the lips that bade him hope and +live again. Blindly, instinctively he kissed them--a kiss unutterably +grateful; then he fled into the forest, running without aim. + +That flight ended in sheer exhaustion on the far rim of the plateau. The +spreading cedars seemed to have eyes; and he shunned eyes in this hour. +"God! to think I cared so much," he whispered. "What has happened?" With +time relief came to limbs, to labored breast and lungs, but not to mind. +In doubt that would not die, he looked at himself. The leanness of arms, +the flat chest, the hollows were gone. He did not recognize his own +body. He breathed to the depths of his lungs. No pain--only exhilaration! +He pounded his chest--no pain! He dug his trembling fingers into the firm +flesh over the apex of his right lung--the place of his torture--no pain! + +"I wanted to live!" he cried. He buried his face in the fragrant +juniper; he rolled on the soft brown mat of earth and hugged it close; he +cooled his hot cheeks in the primrose clusters. He opened his eyes to +new bright green of cedar, to sky of a richer blue, to a desert, strange, +beckoning, enthralling as life itself. He counted backward a month, two +months, and marvelled at the swiftness of time. He counted time forward, +he looked into the future, and all was beautiful--long days, long hunts, +long rides, service to his friend, freedom on the wild steppes, +blue-white dawns upon the eastern crags, red-gold sunsets over the lilac +mountains of the desert. He saw himself in triumphant health and +strength, earning day by day the spirit of this wilderness, coming to +fight for it, to live for it, and in far-off time, when he had won his +victory, to die for it. + +Suddenly his mind was illumined. The lofty plateau with its healing +breath of sage and juniper had given back strength to him; the silence +and solitude and strife of his surroundings had called to something deep +within him; but it was Mescal who made this wild life sweet and +significant. It was Mescal, the embodiment of the desert spirit. Like a +man facing a great light Hare divined his love. Through all the days on +the plateau, living with her the natural free life of Indians, close to +the earth, his unconscious love had ripened. He understood now her charm +for him; he knew now the lure of her wonderful eyes, flashing fire, +desert-trained, like the falcon eyes of her Indian grandfather. The +knowledge of what she had become to him dawned with a mounting desire +that thrilled all his blood. + +Twilight had enfolded the plateau when Hare traced his way back to camp. +Mescal was not there. His supper awaited him; Piute hummed a song; the +peon sat grimacing at the fire. Hare told them to eat, and moved away +toward the rim. + +Mescal was at her favorite seat, with the white dog beside her; and she +watched the desert where the last glow of sunset gilded the mesas. How +cold and calm was her face! How strange to him in this new character! + +"Mescal, I didn't know I loved you--then--but I know it now." + +Her face dropped quickly from its level poise, hiding the brooding eyes; +her hand trembled on Wolf's head. + +"You spoke the truth. I'll get well. I'd rather have had it from your +lips than from any in the world. I mean to live my life here where these +wonderful things have come to me. The friendship of the good man who +saved me, this wild, free desert, the glory of new hope, strength, life-- +and love." + +He took her hand in his and whispered, "For I love you. Do you care for +me? Mescal! It must be complete. Do you care--a little?" + +The wind blew her dusky hair; he could not see her face; he tried gently +to turn her to him. The hand he had taken lay warm and trembling in his, +but it was not withdrawn. As he waited, in fear, in hope, it became +still. Her slender form, rigid within his arm, gradually relaxed, and +yielded to him; her face sank on his breast, and her dark hair loosened +from its band, covered her, and blew across his lips. That was his +answer. + +The wind sang in the cedars. No longer a sigh, sad as thoughts of a past +forever flown, but a song of what had come to him, of hope, of life, of +Mescal's love, of the things to be! + + + +VII +SILVERMANE + + +LITTLE dew fell on the night of July first; the dawn brightened without +mists; a hot sun rose; the short summer of the plateau had begun. + +As Hare rose, refreshed and happy from his breakfast, his whistle was cut +short by the Indian. + +"Ugh!" exclaimed Piute, lifting a dark finger. Black Bolly had thrown +her nose-bag and slipped her halter, and she moved toward the opening in +the cedars, her head high, her black ears straight up. + +"Bolly!" called Mescal. The mare did not stop. + +"What the deuce?" Hare ran forward to catch her. + +"I never knew Bolly to act that way," said Mescal. "See--she didn't eat +half the oats. Well, Bolly--Jack! look at Wolf!" + +The white dog had risen and stood warily shifting his nose. He sniffed +the wind, turned round and round, and slowly stiffened with his head +pointed toward the eastern rise of the plateau. + +"Hold, Wolf, hold!" called Mescal, as the dog appeared to be about to +dash away. + +"Ugh!" grunted Piute. + +"Listen, Jack; did you hear?" whispered the girl. + +"Hear what?" + +"Listen." + +The warm breeze came down in puffs from the crags; it rustled in the +cedars and blew fragrant whiffs of camp-fire smoke into his face; and +presently it bore a low, prolonged whistle. He had never before heard +its like. The sound broke the silence again, clearer, a keen, sharp +whistle. + +"What is it?" he queried, reaching for his rifle. + +"Wild mustangs," said Mescal. + +"No," corrected Piute, vehemently shaking his head. "Clea, Clea." + +"Jack, he says 'horse, horse.' It's a wild horse." + +A third time the whistle rang down from the ridge, splitting the air, +strong and trenchant, the fiery, shrill challenge of a stallion. + +Black Bolly reared straight up. + +Jack ran to the rise of ground above the camp, and looked over the +cedars. "Oh!" he cried, and beckoned for Mescal. She ran to him, and +Piute, tying Black Bolly, hurried after. "Look! look!" cried Jack. He +pointed to a ridge rising to the left of the yellow crags. On the bare +summit stood a splendid stallion clearly silhouetted against the ruddy +morning sky. He was an iron-gray, wild and proud, with long silver-white +mane waving in the wind. + +"Silvermane! Silvermane!" exclaimed Mescal. + +"What a magnificent animal!" Jack stared at the splendid picture for the +moment before the horse moved back along the ridge and disappeared. +Other horses, blacks and bays, showed above the sage for a moment, and +they, too, passed out of sight. + +"He's got some of his band with him," said Jack, thrilled with +excitement. "Mescal, they're down off the upper range, and grazing along +easy. The wind favors us. That whistle was just plain fight, judging +from what Naab told me of wild stallions. He came to the hilltop, and +whistled down defiance to any horse, wild or tame, that might be below. +I'll slip round through the cedars, and block the trail leading up to the +other range, and you and Piute close the gate of our trail at this end. +Then send Piute down to tell Naab we've got Silvermane." + +Jack chose the lowest edge of the plateau rim where the cedars were +thickest for his detour to get behind the wild band; he ran from tree to +tree, avoiding the open places, taking advantage of the thickets, keeping +away from the ridge. He had never gone so far as the gate, but, knowing +where the trail led into a split in the crags, he climbed the slope, and +threaded a way over masses of fallen cliff, until he reached the base of +the wall. The tracks of the wildhorse band were very fresh and plain in +the yellow trail. Four stout posts guarded the opening, and a number of +bars lay ready to be pushed into place. He put them up, making a gate +ten feet high, an impregnable barrier. This done, he hurried back to +camp. + +"Jack, Bolly will need more watching to-day than the sheep, unless I let +her loose. Why, she pulls and strains so she'll break that halter." + +"She wants to go with the band; isn't that it?" + +"I don't like to think so. But Father Naab doesn't trust Bolly, though +she's the best mustang he ever broke." + +"Better keep her in," replied Jack, remembering Naab's warning. "I'll +hobble her, so if she does break loose she can't go far." + +When Mescal and Jack drove in the sheep that afternoon, rather earlier +than usual, Piute had returned with August Naab, Dave, and Billy, a +string of mustangs and a pack-train of burros. + +"Hello, Mescal," cheerily called August, as they came into camp. "Well +Jack--bless me! Why, my lad, how fine and brown--and yes, how you've +filled out!" He crushed Jack's hand in his broad palm, and his gray eyes +beamed. "I've not the gift of revelation--but, Jack, you're going to get +well." + +"Yes, I--" He had difficulty with his enunciation, but he thumped his +breast significantly and smiled. + +"Black sage and juniper!" exclaimed August. "In this air if a man +doesn't go off quickly with pneumonia, he'll get well. I never had a +doubt for you, Jack--and thank God!" + +He questioned Piute and Mescal about the sheep, and was greatly pleased +with their report. He shook his head when Jack spread out the +grizzly-pelt, and asked for the story of the killing. Jack made a poor +showing with the tale and slighted his share in it, but Mescal told it as +it actually happened. And Naab's great hand resounded from Jack's +shoulder. Then, catching sight of the pile of coyote skins under the +stone shelf, he gave vent to his surprise and delight. Then he came back +to the object of his trip upon the plateau. + +"So you've corralled Silvermane? Well, Jack, if he doesn't jump over the +cliff he's ours. He can't get off any other way. How many horses with +him?" + +"We had no chance to count. I saw at least twelve." + +"Good! He's out with his picked band. Weren't they all blacks and +bays?" + +"Yes." + +"Jack, the history of that stallion wouldn't make you proud of him. +We've corralled him by a lucky chance. If I don't miss my guess he's +after Bolly. He has been a lot of trouble to ranchers all the way from +the Nevada line across Utah. The stallions he's killed, the mares he's +led off! Well, Dave, shall we thirst him out, or line up a long corral?" + +"Better have a look around to-morrow," replied Dave. "It'll take a lot +of chasing to run him down, but there's not a spring on the bench where +we can throw up a trap-corral. We'll have to chase him." + +"Mescal, has Bolly been good since Silvermane came down?" + +"No, she hasn't," declared Mescal, and told of the circumstance. + +"Bolly's all right," said Billy Naab. "Any mustang will do that. Keep +her belled and hobbled." + +"Silvermane would care a lot about that, if he wanted Bolly, wouldn't +he?" queried Dave in quiet scorn. "Keep her roped and haltered, I say." + +"Dave's right," said August. "You can't trust a wild mustang any more +than a wild horse." + +August was right. Black Bolly broke her halter about midnight and +escaped into the forest, hobbled as she was. The Indian heard her first, +and he awoke August, who aroused the others. + +"Don't make any noise," he said, as Jack came up, throwing on his coat. +"There's likely to be some fun here presently. Bolly's loose, broke her +rope, and I think Silvermane is close. Listen sharp now." + +The slight breeze favored them, the camp-fire was dead, and the night was +clear and starlit. They had not been quiet many moments when the shrill +neigh of a mustang rang out. The Naabs raised themselves and looked at +one another in the starlight. + +"Now what do you think of that?" whispered Billy. + +"No more than I expected. It was Bolly," replied Dave. + +"Bolly it was, confound her black hide!" added August. "Now, boys, did +she whistle for Silvermane, or to warn him, which?" + +"No telling," answered Billy. "Let's lie low, and take a chance on him +coming close. It proves one thing--you can't break a wild mare. That +spirit may sleep in her blood, maybe for years, but some time it'll +answer to--" + +"Shut up--listen," interrupted Dave. + +Jack strained his hearing, yet caught no sound, except the distant yelp +of a coyote. Moments went by. + +"There!" whispered Dave. + +From the direction of the ridge came the faint rattling of stones. + +"They're coming," put in Billy. + +Presently sharp clicks preceded the rattles, and the sounds began to +merge into a regular rhythmic tramp. It softened at intervals, probably +when the horses were under the cedars, and strengthened as they came out +on the harder ground of the open. + +"I see them," whispered Dave. + +A black, undulating line wound out of the cedars, a line of horses +approaching with drooping heads, hurrying a little as they neared the +spring. + +"Twenty-odd, all blacks and bays," said August, "and some of them are +mustangs. But where's Silvermane?-- hark!" + +Out among the cedars rose the peculiar halting thump of a hobbled horse +trying to cover ground, followed by snorts and crashings of brush and the +pound of plunging hoofs. The long black line stopped short and began to +stamp. Then into the starlit glade below moved two shadows, the first a +great gray horse with snowy mane; the second, a small, shiny, black +mustang. + +"Silvermane and Bolly!" exclaimed August, "and now she's broken her +hobbles." + +The stallion, in the fulfilment of a conquest such as had made him king +of the wild ranges, was magnificent in action. Wheeling about her, +neighing, and plunging, he arched his splendid neck and pushed his head +against her. His action was that of a master. Suddenly Black Bolly +snorted and whirled down the glade. Silvermane whistled one blast of +anger or terror and thundered after her. They vanished in the gloom of +the cedars, and the band of frightened horses and mustangs clattered +after them. + +"It's one on me," remarked Billy. "That little mare played us at the +finish. Caught when she was a yearling, broken better than any mustang +we ever had, she has helped us run down many a stallion, and now she runs +off with that big white-maned brute!" + +"They'll make a team, and if they get out of here we'll have to chase +them to the Great Salt Basin," replied Dave. + +"Mescal, that's a well-behaved mustang of yours," said August; "not only +did she break loose, but she whistled an alarm to Silvermane and his +band. Well, roll in now, everybody, and sleep." + +At breakfast the following day the Naabs fell into a discussion upon the +possibility of there being other means of exit from the plateau than the +two trails already closed. They had never run any mustangs on the +plateau, and in the case of a wild horse like Silvermane, who would take +desperate chances, it was advisable to know the ground exactly. Billy +and Dave taking their mounts from the sheep-corral, where they had put +them up for the night, rode in opposite directions around the rim of the +plateau. It was triangular in shape, and some six or seven miles in +circumference; and the brothers rode around it in less than an hour. + +"Corralled," said Dave, laconically. + +"Good! Did you see him? What kind of a bunch has he with him?" asked his +father. + +"If we get the pick of the lot it will be worth two weeks' work," replied +Dave. "I saw him, and Bolly, too. I believe we can catch her easily. +She was off from the bunch, and it looks as though the mares were +jealous. I think we can run her into a cove under the wall, and get her. +Then Mescal can help us run down the stallion. And you can look out on +this end for the best level stretch to drop the line of cedars and make +our trap." + +The brothers, at their father's nod, rode off into the forest. Naab had +detained the peon, and now gave him orders and sent him off. + +"To-night you can stand on the rim here, and watch him signal across to +the top of Echo Cliffs to the Navajos," explained August to Jack. "I've +sent for the best breaker of wild mustangs on the desert. Dave can break +mustangs, and Piute is very good; but I want the best man in the country, +because this is a grand horse, and I intend to give him to you." + +"To me!" exclaimed Hare. + +"Yes, and if he's broken right at the start, he'll serve you faithfully, +and not try to bite your arm off every day, or kick your brains out. No +white man can break a wild mustang to the best advantage." + +"Why is that?" + +"I don't know. To be truthful, I have an idea it's bad temper and lack +of patience. Just wait till you see this Navajo go at Silvermane!" + +After Mescal and Piute drove down the sheep, Jack accompanied Naab to the +corral. + +"I've brought up your saddle," said Naab, "and you can put it on any +mustang here." + +What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength to +remain there! He rode with August all over the western end of the +plateau. They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the +bordering forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and +when August had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction. + +"Fine, better than I hoped for! This stretch is about a mile long, and +narrow at this end. Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, +this side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it +curves in a half circle, which will save us work. We'll cut cedars, drag +them in line, and make a big corral against the rock. From the opening +in the corral we'll build two fences of trees; then we'll chase +Silvermane till he's done, run him down into this level, and turn him +inside the fence. No horse can break through a close line of cedars. +He'll run till he's in the corral, and then we'll rope him." + +"Great!" said Jack, all enthusiasm. "But isn't it going to take a lot of +work?" + +"Rather," said August, dryly. "It'll take a week to cut and drag the +cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion. When the finish comes +you want to be on that ledge where we'll have the corral." + +They returned to camp and prepared supper. Mescal and Piute soon +arrived, and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs. Black Bolly +limped behind, stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, +foam-stained coat and hanging head. + +"Not bad," said August, examining the lame leg. "She'll be fit in a few +days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane. Bring the +liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral +to-night." + +Mescal's love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out +the crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck. + +"Bolly, to think you'd do it!" And Bolly dropped her head as though +really ashamed. + +When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals. A fire +blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and +flamed higher. + +"Ugh!" said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs. + +"Of course he'd see it first," laughed Naab. "Dave, have you caught it +yet? Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs." + +"No, I don't see any light, except that white star. Have you seen it?" + +"Long ago," replied Naab. "Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your +eyes down." + +"I believe I see it--yes, I'm sure." + +"Good. How about you, Mescal?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, +and Billy claimed priority to all of them. To these men bred on the +desert keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts. + +"Jack, look sharp!" said August. "Peon is blanketing his fire. See the +flicker? One, two--one, two--one. Now for the answer." + +Jack peered out into the shadowy space, star-studded above, ebony below. +Far across the depths shone a pinpoint of steady light. The Indian +grunted again, August vented his "ha!" and then Jack saw the light blink +like a star, go out for a second, and blink again. + +"That's what I like to see," said August. "We're answered. Now all's +over but the work." + +Work it certainly was, as Jack discovered next day. He helped the +brothers cut down cedars while August hauled them into line with his +roan. What with this labor and the necessary camp duties nearly a week +passed, and in the mean time Black Bolly recovered from her lameness. + +Twice the workers saw Silvermane standing on open high ridges, restive +and suspicious, with his silver mane flying, and his head turned over his +shoulder, watching, always watching. + +"It'd be worth something to find out how long that stallion could go +without water," commented Dave. "But we'll make his tongue hang out +to-morrow. It'd serve him right to break him with Black Bolly." + +Daylight came warm and misty; veils unrolled from the desert; a purple +curtain lifted from the eastern crags; then the red sun burned. + +Dave and Billy Naab mounted their mustangs, and each led another mount by +a halter. + +"We'll go to the ridge, cut Silvermane out of his band and warm him up; +then we'll drive him down to this end." + +Hare, in his eagerness, found the time very tedious while August delayed +about camp, punching new holes in his saddle-girth, shortening his +stirrups, and smoothing kinks out of his lasso. At last he saddled the +roan, and also Black Bolly. Mescal came out of her tent ready for the +chase; she wore a short skirt of buckskin, and leggings of the same +material. Her hair, braided, and fastened at the back, was bound by a +double band closely fitting her black head. Hare walked, leading two +mustangs by the halters, and Naab and Mescal rode, each of them followed +by two other spare mounts. August tied three mustangs at one point along +the level stretch, and three at another. Then he led Mescal and Jack to +the top of the stone wall above the corral, where they had good view of a +considerable part of the plateau. + +The eastern rise of ground, a sage and juniper slope, was in plain sight. +Hare saw a white flash; then Silvermane broke out of the cedars into the +sage. One of the brothers raced him half the length of the slope, and +then the other coming out headed him off down toward the forest. Soon +the pounding of hoofs sounded through the trees nearer and nearer. +Silvermane came out straight ahead on the open level. He was running +easily. + +"He hasn't opened up yet," said August. + +Hare watched the stallion with sheer fascination; He ran seemingly +without effort. What a stride he had. How beautifully his silver mane +waved in the wind! He veered off to the left, out of sight in the brush, +while Dave and Billy galloped up to the spot where August had tied the +first three mustangs. Here they dismounted, changed saddles to fresh +horses, and were off again. + +The chase now was close and all down-hill for the watchers. Silvermane +twinkled in and out among the cedars, and suddenly stopped short on the +rim. He wheeled and coursed away toward the crags, and vanished. But +soon he reappeared, for Billy had cut across and faced him about. Again +he struck the level stretch. Dave was there in front of him. He shot +away to the left, and flashed through the glades beyond. The brothers +saved their steeds, content to keep him cornered in that end of the +plateau. Then August spurred his roan into the scene of action. +Silvermane came out on the one piece of rising ground beyond the level, +and stood looking backward toward the brothers. When the great roan +crashed through the thickets into his sight he leaped as if he had been +stung, and plunged away. + +The Naabs had hemmed him in a triangle, Dave and Billy at the broad end, +August at the apex, and now the real race began. August chased him up +and down, along the rim, across to the long line of cedars, always in the +end heading him for the open stretch. Down this he fled with flying +mane, only to be checked by the relentless brothers. To cover this broad +end of the open required riding the like of which Hare had never dreamed +of. The brothers, taking advantage of the brief periods when the +stallion was going toward August, changed their tired mustangs for fresh +ones. + +"Ho! Mescal!" rolled out August's voice. That was the call for Mescal to +put Black Bolly after Silvermane. Her fleetness made the other mustangs +seem slow. All in a flash she was round the corral, with Silvermane +between her and the long fence of cedars. Uttering a piercing snort of +terror the gray stallion lunged out, for the first time panic-stricken, +and lengthened his stride in a wonderful way. He raced down the stretch +with his head over his shoulder watching the little black. Seeing her +gaining, he burst into desperate headlong flight. He saved nothing; he +had found his match; he won that first race down the level but it had +cost him his best. If he had been fresh he might have left Black Bolly +far behind, but now he could not elude her. + +August Naab let him run this time, and Silvermane, keeping close to the +fence, passed the gate, ran down to the rim, and wheeled. The black +mustang was on him again, holding him in close to the fence, driving him +back down the stretch. + +The brothers remorselessly turned him, and now Mescal, forcing the +running, caught him, lashed his haunches with her whip, and drove him +into the gate of the corral. + +August and his two sons were close behind, and blocked the gate. +Silvermane's race was nearly run. + +"Hold here, boys," said August. "I'll go in and drive him round and +round till he's done, then, when I yell, you stand aside and rope him as +he comes out." + +Silvermane ran round the corral, tore at the steep scaly walls, fell back +and began his weary round again and yet again. Then as sense and courage +yielded gradually to unreasoning terror, he ran blindly; every time he +passed the guarded gateway his eyes were wilder, and his stride more +labored. + +"Now!" yelled August Naab. + +Mescal drew out of the opening, and Dave and Billy pulled away, one on +each side, their lassoes swinging loosely. + +Silvermane sprang for the opening with something of his old speed. As he +went through, yellow loops flashed in the sun, circling, narrowing, and +he seemed to run straight into them. One loop whipped close round his +glossy neck; the other caught his head. Dave's mustang staggered under +the violent shock, went to his knees, struggled up and held firmly. +Bill's mount slid on his haunches and spilled his rider from the saddle. +Silvermane seemed to be climbing into the air. Then August Naab, darting +through the gate in a cloud of dust, shot his lasso, catching the right +foreleg. Silvermane landed hard, his hoofs striking fire from the +stones; and for an instant strained in convulsive struggle; then fell +heaving and groaning. In a twinkling Billy loosened his lasso over a +knot, making of it a halter, and tied the end to a cedar stump. + +The Naabs stood back and gazed at their prize. + +Silvermane was badly spent; he was wet with foam, but no fleck of blood +marred his mane; his superb coat showed scratches, but none cut into the +flesh. After a while he rose, panting heavily, and trembling in every +muscle. He was a beaten horse; the noble head was bowed; yet he showed +no viciousness, only the fear of a trapped animal. He eyed Black Bolly +and then the halter, as though he had divined the fatal connection +between them. + + +VIII +THE BREAKER OF WILD MUSTANGS + + +FOR a few days after the capture of Silvermane, a time full to the brim +of excitement for Hare, he had no word with Mescal, save for morning and +evening greetings. When he did come to seek her, with a purpose which +had grown more impelling since August Naab's arrival, he learned to his +bewilderment that she avoided him. She gave him no chance to speak with +her alone; her accustomed resting-place on the rim at sunset knew her no +more; early after supper she retired to her tent. + +Hare nursed a grievance for forty-eight hours, and then, taking advantage +of Piute's absence on an errand down to the farm, and of the Naabs' +strenuous day with four vicious wild horses in the corral at one time, he +walked out to the pasture where Mescal shepherded the flock. + +"Mescal, why are you avoiding me?" he asked. "What has happened?" + +She looked tired and unhappy, and her gaze, instead of meeting his, +wandered to the crags. + +"Nothing," she replied. + +"But there must be something. You have given me no chance to talk to +you, and I wanted to know if you'd let me speak to Father Naab." + +"To Father Naab? Why--what about?" + +"About you, of course--and me--that I love you and want to marry you." + +She turned white. "No--no!" + +Hare paused blankly, not so much at her refusal as at the unmistakable +fear in her face. + +"Why--not?" he asked presently, with an odd sense of trouble. There was +more here than Mescal's habitual shyness. + +"Because he'll be terribly angry." + +"Angry--I don't understand. Why angry?" + +The girl did not answer, and looked so forlorn that Hare attempted to +take her in his arms. She resisted and broke from him. + +"You must never--never do that again." + +Hare drew back sharply. + +"Why not? What's wrong? You must tell me, Mescal." + +"I remembered." She hung her head. + +"Remembered--what?" + +"I am pledged to marry Father Naab's eldest son." + +For a moment Hare did not understand. He stared at her unbelievingly. + +"What did you say?" he asked, slowly. + +Mescal repeated her words in a whisper. + +"But--but Mescal--I love you. You let me kiss you," said Hare stupidly, +as if he did not grasp her meaning. "You let me kiss you," he repeated. + +"Oh, Jack, I forgot," she wailed. "It was so new, so strange, to have +you up here. It was like a kind of dream. And after--after you kissed +me I--I found out--" + +"What, Mescal?" + +Her silence answered him. + +"But, Mescal, if you really love me you can't marry any one else," said +Hare. It was the simple persistence of a simple swain. + +"Oh, you don't know, you don't know. It's impossible!" + +"Impossible!" Hare's anger flared up. "You let me believe I had won you. +What kind of a girl are you? You were not true. Your actions were +lies." + +"Not lies," she faltered, and turned her face from him. + +With no gentle hand he grasped her arm and forced her to look at him. +But the misery in her eyes overcame him, and he roughly threw his arms +around her and held her close. + +"It can't be a lie. You do care for me--love me. Look at me." He drew +her head back from his breast. Her face was pale and drawn; her eyes +closed tight, with tears forcing a way out under the long lashes; her +lips were parted. He bowed to their sweet nearness; he kissed them again +and again, while the shade of the cedars seemed to whirl about him. "I +love you, Mescal. You are mine--I will have you--I will keep you--I will +not let him have you!" + +She vibrated to that like a keen strung wire under a strong touch. All +in a flash the trembling, shame-stricken girl was transformed. She +leaned back in his arms, supple, pliant with quivering life, and for the +first time gave him wide-open level eyes, in which there were now no +tears, no shyness, no fear, but a dark smouldering fire. + +"You do love me, Mescal?" + +"I--I couldn't help it." + +There was a pause, tense with feeling. + +"Mescal, tell me--about your being pledged," he said, at last. + +"I gave him my promise because there was nothing else to do. I was +pledged to--to him in the church at White Sage. It can't be changed. +I've got to marry--Father Naab's eldest son." + +"Eldest son?" echoed Jack, suddenly mindful of the implication. "Why! +that's Snap Naab. Ah! I begin to see light. That--Mescal--" + +"I hate him." + +"You hate him and you're pledged to marry him! . . . God! Mescal, I'd +utterly forgotten Snap Naab already has a wife." + +"You've also forgotten that we're Mormons." + +"Are you a Mormon?" he queried bluntly. + +"I've been raised as one." + +"That's not an answer. Are you one? Do you believe any man under God's +sky ought to have more than one wife at a time?" + +"No. But I've been taught that it gave woman greater glory in heaven. +There have been men here before you, men who talked to me, and I doubted +before I ever saw you. And afterward--I knew." + +"Would not Father Naab release you?" + +"Release me? Why, he would have taken me as a wife for himself but for +Mother Mary. She hates me. So he pledged me to Snap." + +"Does August Naab love you?" + +"Love me? No. Not in the way you mean--perhaps as a daughter. But +Mormons teach duty to church first, and say such love comes--to the +wives--afterward. But it doesn't--not in the women I've seen. There's +Mother Ruth--her heart is broken. She loves me, and I can tell." + +"When was this--this marriage to be?" + +"I don't know. Father Naab promised me to his son when he came home from +the Navajo range. It would be soon if they found out that you and I-- +Jack, Snap Naab would kill you!" + +The sudden thought startled the girl. Her eyes betrayed her terror. + +"I mightn't be so easy to kill," said Hare, darkly. The words came +unbidden, his first answer to the wild influences about him. "Mescal, +I'm sorry--maybe I've brought you unhappiness. + +"No. No. To be with you has been like sitting there on the rim watching +the desert, the greatest happiness I have ever known. I used to love to +be with the children, but Mother Mary forbade. When I am down there, +which is seldom, I'm not allowed to play with the children any more." + +"What can I do?" asked Hare, passionately. + +"Don't speak to Father Naab. Don't let him guess. Don't leave me here +alone," she answered low. It was not the Navajo speaking in her now. +Love had sounded depths hitherto unplumbed; a quick, soft impulsiveness +made the contrast sharp and vivid. + +"How can I help but leave you if he wants me on the cattle ranges?" + +"I don't know. You must think. He has been so pleased with what you've +done. He's had Mormons up here, and two men not of his Church, and they +did nothing. You've been ill, besides you're different. He will keep me +with the sheep as long as he can, for two reasons--because I drive them +best, he says, and because Snap Naab's wife must be persuaded to welcome +me in her home." + +"I'll stay, if I have to get a relapse and go down on my back again," +declared Jack. "I hate to deceive him, but Mescal, pledged or not--I +love you, and I won't give up hope." + +Her hands flew to her face again and tried to hide the dark blush. + +"Mescal, there's one question I wish you'd answer. Does August Naab +think he'll make a Mormon of me? Is that the secret of his wonderful +kindness?" + +"Of course he believes he'll make a Mormon of you. That's his religion. +He's felt that way over all the strangers who ever came out here. But +he'd be the same to them without his hopes. I don't know the secret of +his kindness, but I think he loves everybody and everything. And Jack, +he's so good. I owe him all my life. He would not let the Navajos take +me; he raised me, kept me, taught me. I can't break my promise to him. +He's been a father to me, and I love him." + +"I think I love him, too," replied Hare, simply. + +With an effort he left her at last and mounted the grassy slope and +climbed high up among the tottering yellow crags; and there he battled +with himself. Whatever the charm of Mescal's surrender, and the +insistence of his love, stern hammer-strokes of fairness, duty, honor, +beat into his brain his debt to the man who had saved him. It was a +long-drawn-out battle not to be won merely by saying right was right. +He loved Mescal, she loved him; and something born in him with his new +health, with the breath of this sage and juniper forest, with the sight +of purple canyons and silent beckoning desert, made him fiercely +tenacious of all that life had come to mean for him. He could not give +her up--and yet-- + +Twilight forced Hare from his lofty retreat, and he trod his way +campward, weary and jaded, but victorious over himself. He thought he +had renounced his hope of Mescal; he returned with a resolve to be true +to August, and to himself; bitterness he would not allow himself to feel. +And yet he feared the rising in him of a new spirit akin to that of the +desert itself, intractable and free. + +"Well, Jack, we rode down the last of Silvermane's band," said August, at +supper. "The Navajos came up and helped us out. To-morrow you'll see +some fun, when we start to break Silvermane. As soon as that's done I'll +go, leaving the Indians to bring the horses down when they're broken." + +"Are you going to leave Silvermane with me?" asked Jack. + +"Surely. Why, in three days, if I don't lose my guess, he'll be like a +lamb. Those desert stallions can be made into the finest kind of +saddle-horses. I've seen one or two. I want you to stay up here with +the sheep. You're getting well, you'll soon be a strapping big fellow. +Then when we drive the sheep down in the fall you can begin life on the +cattle ranges, driving wild steers. There's where you'll grow lean and +hard, like an iron bar. You'll need that horse, too, my lad." + +"Why--because he's fast?" queried Jack, quickly answering to the implied +suggestion. + +August nodded gloomily. "I haven't the gift of revelation, but I've come +to believe Martin Cole. Holderness is building an outpost for his riders +close to Seeping Springs. He has no water. If he tries to pipe my +water--" The pause was not a threat; it implied the Mormon's doubt of +himself. "Then Dene is on the march this way. He's driven some of +Marshall's cattle from the range next to mine. Dene got away with about +a hundred head. The barefaced robber sold them in Lund to a buying +company from Salt Lake." + +"Is he openly an outlaw, a rustler?" inquired Hare. + +"Everybody knows it, and he's finding White Sage and vicinity warmer than +it was. Every time he comes in he and his band shoot up things pretty +lively. Now the Mormons are slow to wrath. But they are awakening. All +the way from Salt Lake to the border outlaws have come in. They'll never +get the power on this desert that they had in the places from which +they've been driven. Men of the Holderness type are more to be dreaded. +He's a rancher, greedy, unscrupulous, but hard to corner in dishonesty. +Dene is only a bad man, a gun-fighter. He and all his ilk will get run +out of Utah. Did you ever hear of Plummer, John Slade, Boone Helm, any +of those bad men?" + +"No." + +"Well, they were men to fear. Plummer was a sheriff in Idaho, a man high +in the estimation of his townspeople, but he was the leader of the most +desperate band of criminals ever known in the West; and he instigated the +murder of, or killed outright, more than one hundred men. Slade was a +bad man, fatal on the draw. Helm was a killing machine. These men all +tried Utah, and had to get out. So will Dene have to get out. But I'm +afraid there'll be warm times before that happens. When you get in the +thick of it you'll appreciate Silvermane." + +"I surely will. But I can't see that wild stallion with a saddle and a +bridle, eating oats like any common horse, and being led to water." + +"Well, he'll come to your whistle, presently, if I'm not greatly +mistaken. You must make him love you, Jack. It can be done with any +wild creature. Be gentle, but firm. Teach him to obey the slightest +touch of rein, to stand when you throw your bridle on the ground, to come +at your whistle. Always remember this. He's a desert-bred horse; he can +live on scant browse and little water. Never break him of those best +virtues in a horse. Never feed him grain if you can find a little patch +of browse; never give him a drink till he needs it. That's one-tenth as +often as a tame horse. Some day you'll be caught in the desert, and with +these qualities of endurance Silvermane will carry you out." + +Silvermane snorted defiance from the cedar corral next morning when the +Naabs, and Indians, and Hare appeared. A half-naked sinewy Navajo with a +face as changeless as a bronze mask sat astride August's blindfolded +roan, Charger. He rode bareback except for a blanket strapped upon the +horse; he carried only a long, thick halter, with a loop and a knot. +When August opened the improvised gate, with its sharp bayonet-like +branches of cedar, the Indian rode into the corral. The watchers climbed +to the knoll. Silvermane snorted a blast of fear and anger. August's +huge roan showed uneasiness; he stamped, and shook his head, as if to rid +himself of the blinders. + +Into the farthest corner of densely packed cedar boughs Silvermane +pressed himself and watched. The Indian rode around the corral, circling +closer and closer, yet appearing not to see the stallion. Many rounds he +made; closer he got, and always with the same steady gait. Silvermane +left his corner and tried another. The old unwearying round brought +Charger and the Navajo close by him. Silvermane pranced out of his +thicket of boughs; he whistled; he wheeled with his shiny hoofs lifting. +In an hour the Indian was edging the outer circle of the corral, with the +stallion pivoting in the centre, ears laid back, eyes shooting sparks, +fight in every line of him. And the circle narrowed inward. + +Suddenly the Navajo sent the roan at Silvermane and threw his halter. It +spread out like a lasso, and the loop went over the head of the stallion, +slipped to the knot and held fast, while the rope tightened. Silvermane +leaped up, forehoofs pawing the air, and his long shrill cry was neither +whistle, snort, nor screech, but all combined. He came down, missing +Charger with his hoofs, sliding off his haunches. The Indian, his bronze +muscles rippling, close-hauled on the rope, making half hitches round his +bony wrist. + +In a whirl of dust the roan drew closer to the gray, and Silvermane began +a mad race around the corral. The roan ran with him nose to nose. When +Silvermane saw he could not shake him, he opened his jaws, rolled back +his lip in an ugly snarl, his white teeth glistening, and tried to bite. +But the Indian's moccasined foot shot up under the stallion's ear and +pressed him back. Then the roan hugged Silvermane so close that half the +time the Navajo virtually rode two horses. But for the rigidity of his +arms, and the play and sudden tension of his leg-muscles, the Indian's +work would have appeared commonplace, so dexterous was he, so perfectly +at home in his dangerous seat. Suddenly he whooped and August Naab +hauled back the gate, and the two horses, neck and neck, thundered out +upon the level stretch. + +"Good!" cried August. "Let him rip now, Navvy. All over but the work, +Jack. I feared Silvermane would spear himself on some of those dead +cedar spikes in the corral. He's safe now." + +Jack watched the horses plunge at breakneck speed down the stretch, +circle at the forest edge, and come tearing back. Silvermane was pulling +the roan faster than he had ever gone in his life, but the dark Indian +kept his graceful seat. The speed slackened on the second turn, and +decreased as, mile after mile, the imperturbable Indian held roan and +gray side to side and let them run. + +The time passed, but Hare's interest in the breaking of the stallion +never flagged. He began to understand the Indian, and to feel what the +restraint and drag must be to the horse. Never for a moment could +Silvermane elude the huge roan, the tight halter, the relentless Navajo. +Gallop fell to trot, and trot to jog, and jog to walk; and hour by hour, +without whip or spur or word, the breaker of desert mustangs drove the +wild stallion. If there were cruelty it was in his implacable slow +patience, his farsighted purpose. Silvermane would have killed himself +in an hour; he would have cut himself to pieces in one headlong dash, but +that steel arm suffered him only to wear himself out. Late that +afternoon the Navajo led a dripping, drooping, foam-lashed stallion into +the corral, tied him with the halter, and left him. + +Later Silvermane drank of the water poured into the corral trough, and +had not the strength or spirit to resent the Navajo's caressing hand on +his mane. + +Next morning the Indian rode again into the corral on blindfolded +Charger. Again he dragged Silvermane out on the level and drove him up +and down with remorseless, machine-like persistence. At noon he took him +back, tied him up, and roped him fast. Silvermane tried to rear and +kick, but the saddle went on, strapped with a flash of the dark-skinned +hands. Then again Silvermane ran the level stretch beside the giant +roan, only he carried a saddle now. At the first, he broke out with free +wild stride as if to run forever from under the hateful thing. But as +the afternoon waned he crept weariedly back to the corral. + +On the morning of the third day the Navajo went into the corral without +Charger, and roped the gray, tied him fast, and saddled him. Then he +loosed the lassoes except the one around Silvermane's neck, which he +whipped under his foreleg to draw him down. Silvermane heaved a groan +which plainly said he never wanted to rise again. Swiftly the Indian +knelt on the stallion's head; his hands flashed; there was a scream, a +click of steel on bone; and proud Silvermane jumped to his feet with a +bit between his teeth. + +The Navajo, firmly in the saddle, rose with him, and Silvermane leaped +through the corral gate, and out upon the stretch, lengthening out with +every stride, and settling into a wild, despairing burst of speed. The +white mane waved in the wind; the half-naked Navajo swayed to the motion. +Horse and rider disappeared in the cedars. + +They were gone all day. Toward night they appeared on the stretch. The +Indian rode into camp and, dismounting, handed the bridle-rein to Naab. +He spoke no word; his dark impassiveness invited no comment. Silvermane +was dust-covered and sweat-stained. His silver crest had the same proud +beauty, his neck still the splendid arch, his head the noble outline, but +his was a broken spirit. + +"Here, my lad," said August Naab, throwing the bridle-rein over Hare's +arm. "What did I say once about seeing you on a great gray horse? Ah! +Well, take him and know this: you've the swiftest horse in this desert +country." + + + +IX +THE SCENT OF DESERT-WATER + + +SOON the shepherds were left to a quiet unbroken by the whistle of wild +mustangs, the whoop of hunters, the ring of iron-shod hoofs on the +stones. The scream of an eagle, the bleating of sheep, the bark of a +coyote were once more the only familiar sounds accentuating the silence +of the plateau. For Hare, time seemed to stand still. He thought but +little; his whole life was a matter of feeling from without. He rose at +dawn, never failing to see the red sun tip the eastern crags; he glowed +with the touch of cold spring-water and the morning air; he trailed +Silvermane under the cedars and thrilled when the stallion, answering his +call, thumped the ground with hobbled feet and came his way, learning day +by day to be glad at sight of his master. He rode with Mescal behind the +flock; he hunted hour by hour, crawling over the fragrant brown mats of +cedar, through the sage and juniper, up the grassy slopes. He rode back +to camp beside Mescal, drove the sheep, and put Silvermane to his +fleetest to beat Black Bolly down the level stretch where once the gray, +even with freedom at stake, had lost to the black. Then back to camp and +fire and curling blue smoke, a supper that testified to busy Piute's +farmward trips, sunset on the rim, endless changing desert, the wind in +the cedars, bright stars in the blue, and sleep--so time stood still. + +Mescal and Hare were together, or never far apart, from dawn to night. +Until the sheep were in the corral, every moment had its duty, from +camp-work and care of horses to the many problems of the flock, so that +they earned the rest on the rim-wall at sundown. Only a touch of hands +bridged the chasm between them. They never spoke of their love, of +Mescal's future, of Jack's return to hearth; a glance and a smile, +scarcely sad yet not altogether happy, was the substance of their dream. +Where Jack had once talked about the canyon and desert, he now seldom +spoke at all. From watching Mescal he had learned that to see was +enough. But there were moments when some association recalled the past +and the strangeness of the present faced him. Then he was wont to +question Mescal. + +"What are you thinking of?" he asked, curiously, interrupting their +silence. She leaned against the rocks and kept a changeless, tranquil, +unseeing gaze on the desert. The level eyes were full of thought, of +sadness, of mystery; they seemed to look afar. + +Then she turned to him with puzzled questioning look and enigmatical +reply. "Thinking?" asked her eyes. "I wasn't thinking," were her words. + +"I fancied--I don't know exactly what," he went on. "You looked so +earnest. Do you ever think of going to the Navajos?" + +"No." + +"Or across that Painted Desert to find some place you seem to know, or +see?" + +"No." + +"I don't know why, but, Mescal, sometimes I have the queerest ideas when +I catch your eyes watching, watching. You look at once happy and sad. +You see something out there that I can't see. Your eyes are haunted. +I've a feeling that if I'd look into them I'd see the sun setting, the +clouds coloring, the twilight shadows changing; and then back of that the +secret of it all--of you--Oh! I can't explain, but it seems so." + +"I never had a secret, except the one you know," she answered. "You ask +me so often what I think about, and you always ask me when we're here." +She was silent for a pause. "I don't think at all till you make me. +It's beautiful out there. But that's not what it is to me. I can't tell +you. When I sit down here all within me is--is somehow stilled. I +watch--and it's different from what it is now, since you've made me +think. Then I watch, and I see, that's all." + +It came to Hare afterward with a little start of surprise that Mescal's +purposeless, yet all-satisfying, watchful gaze had come to be part of his +own experience. It was inscrutable to him, but he got from it a fancy, +which he tried in vain to dispel, that something would happen to them out +there on the desert. + +And then he realized that when they returned to the camp-fire they +seemed freed from this spell of the desert. The blaze-lit circle was +shut in by the darkness; and the immensity of their wild environment, +because for the hour it could not be seen, lost its paralyzing effect. +Hare fell naturally into a talkative mood. Mescal had developed a +vivacity, an ambition which contrasted strongly with her silent moods; +she became alive and curious, human like the girls he had known in the +East, and she fascinated him the more for this complexity. + +The July rains did not come; the mists failed; the dews no longer +freshened the grass, and the hot sun began to tell on shepherds and +sheep. Both sought the shade. The flowers withered first--all the +blue-bells and lavender patches of primrose, and pale-yellow lilies, and +white thistle-blossoms. Only the deep magenta of cactus and vermilion of +Indian paint-brush, flowers of the sun, survived the heat. Day by day +the shepherds scanned the sky for storm-clouds that did not appear. The +spring ran lower and lower. At last the ditch that carried water to the +corral went dry, and the margin of the pool began to retreat. Then +Mescal sent Piute down for August Naab. + +He arrived at the plateau the next day with Dave and at once ordered the +breaking up of camp. + +"It will rain some time," he said, "but we can't wait any longer. Dave, +when did you last see the Blue Star waterhole?" + +"On the trip in from Silver Cup, ten days ago. The waterhole was full +then." + +"Will there be water enough now?" + +"We've got to chance it. There's no water here, and no springs on the +upper range where we can drive sheep; we've got to go round under the +Star." + +"That's so," replied August. His fears needed confirmation, because his +hopes always influenced his judgment till no hope was left. "I wish I had +brought Zeke and George. It'll be a hard drive, though we've got Jack +and Mescal to help." + +Hot as it was August Naab lost no time in the start. Piute led the train +on foot, and the flock, used to following him, got under way readily. +Dave and Mescal rode along the sides, and August with Jack came behind, +with the pack-burros bringing up the rear. Wolf circled them all, +keeping the flanks close in, heading the lambs that strayed, and, ever +vigilant, made the drive orderly and rapid. + +The trail to the upper range was wide and easy of ascent, the first of it +winding under crags, the latter part climbing long slopes. It forked +before the summit, where dark pine trees showed against the sky, one fork +ascending, the other, which Piute took, beginning to go down. It +admitted of no extended view, being shut in for the most part on the +left, but there were times when Hare could see a curving stream of sheep +on half a mile of descending trail. Once started down the flock could +not be stopped, that was as plain as Piute's hard task. There were times +when Hare could have tossed a pebble on the Indian just below him, yet +there were more than three thousand sheep, strung out in line between +them. Clouds of dust rolled up, sheets of gravel and shale rattled down +the inclines, the clatter, clatter, clatter of little hoofs, the steady +baa-baa-baa filled the air. Save for the crowding of lambs off the +trail, and a jamming of sheep in the corners, the drive went on without +mishap. Hare was glad to see the lambs scramble back bleating for their +mothers, and to note that, though peril threatened at every steep turn, +the steady down-flow always made space for the sheep behind. He was +glad, too, when through a wide break ahead his eye followed the face of a +vast cliff down to the red ground below, and he knew the flock would soon +be safe on the level. + +A blast as from a furnace smote Hare from this open break in the wall. +The air was dust-laden, and carried besides the smell of dust and the +warm breath of desert growths, a dank odor that was unpleasant. + +The sheep massed in a flock on the level, and the drivers spread to their +places. The route lay under projecting red cliffs, between the base and +enormous sections of wall that had broken off and fallen far out. There +was no weathering slope; the wind had carried away the smaller stones and +particles, and had cut the huge pieces of pinnacle and tower into +hollowed forms. This zone of rim merged into another of strange +contrast, the sloping red stream of sand which flowed from the wall of +the canyon. + +Piute swung the flock up to the left into an amphitheatre, and there +halted. The sheep formed a densely packed mass in the curve of the wall. +Dave Naab galloped back toward August and Hare, and before he reached +them shouted out: "The waterhole's plugged!" + +"What?" yelled his father. + +"Plugged, filled with stone and sand." + +"Was it a cave-in?" + +"I reckon not. There's been no rain." + +August spurred his roan after Dave, and Hare kept close behind them, till +they reined in on a muddy bank. What had once been a waterhole was a red +and yellow heap of shale, fragments of stones, gravel, and sand. There +was no water, and the sheep were bleating. August dismounted and climbed +high above the hole to examine the slope; soon he strode down with giant +steps, his huge fists clinched, shaking his gray mane like a lion. + +"I've found the tracks! Somebody climbed up and rolled the stones, +started the cave-in. Who?" + +"Holderness's men. They did the same for Martin Cole's waterhole at +Rocky Point. How old are the tracks?" + +"Two days, perhaps. We can't follow them. What can be done?" + +"Some of Holderness's men are Mormons, and others are square fellows. +They wouldn't stand for such work as this, and somebody ought to ride in +there and tell them." + +"And get shot up by the men paid to do the dirty work. No. I won't hear +of it. This amounts to nothing; we seldom use this hole, only twice a +year when driving the flock. But it makes me fear for Silver Cup and +Seeping Springs." + +"It makes me fear for the sheep, if this wind doesn't change." + +"Ah! I had forgotten the river scent. It's not strong to-night. We +might venture if it wasn't for the strip of sand. We'll camp here and +start the drive at dawn." + +The sun went down under a crimson veil; a dull glow spread, fan-shaped, +upward; twilight faded to darkness with the going down of the wind. +August Naab paced to and fro before his tired and thirsty flock. + +"I'd like to know," said Hare to Dave, "why those men filled up this +waterhole." + +"Holderness wants to cut us off from Silver Cup Spring, and this was a +half-way waterhole. Probably he didn't know we had the sheep upland, but +he wouldn't have cared. He's set himself to get our cattle range and +he'll stop at nothing. Prospects look black for us. Father never gives +up. He doesn't believe yet that we can lose our water. He prays and +hopes, and sees good and mercy in his worst enemies." + +"If Holderness works as far as Silver Cup, how will he go to work to +steal another man's range and water?" + +"He'll throw up a cabin, send in his men, drive in ten thousand steers." + +"Well, will his men try to keep you away from your own water, or your +cattle?" + +"Not openly. They'll pretend to welcome us, and drive our cattle away in +our absence. You see there are only five of us to ride the ranges, and +we'd need five times five to watch all the stock." + +"Then you can't stop this outrage?" + +"There's only one way," said Dave, significantly tapping the black handle +of his Colt. "Holderness thinks he pulls the wool over our eyes by +talking of the cattle company that employs him. He's the company +himself, and he's hand and glove with Dene." + +"And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to +Holderness's newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a +fight." + +"We'd never reach him now, that is, if we went together. One of us alone +might get to see him, especially in White Sage. If we all rode over to +his ranch we'd have to fight his men before we reached the corrals. You +yourself will find it pretty warm when you go out with us on the ranges, +and if you make White Sage you'll find it hot. You're called 'Dene's +spy' there, and the rustlers are still looking for you. I wouldn't worry +about it, though." + +"Why not, I'd like to know?" inquired Hare, with a short laugh. + +"Well, if you're like the other Gentiles who have come into Utah you +won't have scruples about drawing on a man. Father says the draw comes +natural to you, and you're as quick as he is. Then he says you can beat +any rifle shot he ever saw, and that long-barrelled gun you've got will +shoot a mile. So if it comes to shooting--why, you can shoot. If you +want to run--who's going to catch you on that white-maned stallion? We +talked about you, George and I; we're mighty glad you're well and can +ride with us." + +Long into the night Jack Hare thought over this talk. It opened up a +vista of the range-life into which he was soon to enter. He tried to +silence the voice within that cried out, eager and reckless, for the long +rides on the windy open. The years of his illness returned in fancy, the +narrow room with the lamp and the book, and the tears over stories and +dreams of adventure never to be for such as he. And now how wonderful +was life! It was, after all, to be full for him. It was already full. +Already he slept on the ground, open to the sky. He looked up at a wild +black cliff, mountain-high, with its windworn star of blue; he felt +himself on the threshold of the desert, with that subtle mystery waiting; +he knew himself to be close to strenuous action on the ranges, companion +of these sombre Mormons, exposed to their peril, making their cause his +cause, their life his life. What of their friendship, their confidence? +Was he worthy? Would he fail at the pinch? What a man he must become to +approach their simple estimate of him! Because he had found health and +strength, because he could shoot, because he had the fleetest horse on +the desert, were these reasons for their friendship? No, these were only +reasons for their trust. August Naab loved him. Mescal loved him; Dave +and George made of him a brother. "They shall have my life," he muttered. + +The bleating of the sheep heralded another day. With the brightening +light began the drive over the sand. Under the cliff the shade was cool +and fresh; there was no wind; the sheep made good progress. But the +broken line of shade crept inward toward the flock, and passed it. The +sun beat down, and the wind arose. A red haze of fine sand eddied about +the toiling sheep and shepherds. Piute trudged ahead leading the +king-ram, old Socker, the leader of the flock; Mescal and Hare rode at +the right, turning their faces from the sand-filled puffs of wind; August +and Dave drove behind; Wolf, as always, took care of the stragglers. An +hour went by without signs of distress; and with half the five-mile trip +at his back August Naab's voice gathered cheer. The sun beat hotter. +Another hour told a different story--the sheep labored; they had to be +forced by urge of whip, by knees of horses, by Wolf's threatening bark. +They stopped altogether during the frequent hot sand-blasts, and could +not be driven. So time dragged. The flock straggled out to a long +irregular line; rams refused to budge till they were ready; sheep lay +down to rest; lambs fell. But there was an end to the belt of sand, and +August Naab at last drove the lagging trailers out upon the stony bench. + +The sun was about two hours past the meridian; the red walls of the +desert were closing in; the V-shaped split where the Colorado cut through +was in sight. The trail now was wide and unobstructed and the distance +short, yet August Naab ever and anon turned to face the canyon and shook +his head in anxious foreboding. + +It quickly dawned upon Hare that the sheep were behaving in a way new and +singular to him. They packed densely now, crowding forward, many raising +their heads over the haunches of others and bleating. They were not in +their usual calm pattering hurry, but nervous, excited, and continually +facing west toward the canyon, noses up. + +On the top of the next little ridge Hare heard Silvermane snort as he did +when led to drink. There was a scent of water on the wind. Hare caught +it, a damp, muggy smell. The sheep had noticed it long before, and now +under its nearer, stronger influence began to bleat wildly, to run +faster, to crowd without aim. + +"There's work ahead. Keep them packed and going. Turn the wheelers," +ordered August. + +What had been a drive became a flight. And it was well so long as the +sheep headed straight up the trail. Piute had to go to the right to +avoid being run down. Mescal rode up to fill his place. Hare took his +cue from Dave, and rode along the flank, crowding the sheep inward. +August cracked his whip behind. For half a mile the flock kept to the +trail, then, as if by common consent, they sheered off to the right. +With this move August and Dave were transformed from quiet almost to +frenzy. They galloped to the fore, and into the very faces of the +turning sheep, and drove them back. Then the rear-guard of the flock +curved outward. + +"Drive them in!" roared August. + +Hare sent Silvermane at the deflecting sheep and frightened them into +line. + +Wolf no longer had power to chase the stragglers; they had to be turned +by a horse. All along the flank noses pointed outward; here and there +sheep wilder than the others leaped forward to lead a widening wave of +bobbing woolly backs. Mescal engaged one point, Hare another, Dave +another, and August Naab's roan thundered up and down the constantly +broken line. All this while as the shepherds fought back the sheep, the +flight continued faster eastward, farther canyonward. Each side gained, +but the flock gained more toward the canyon than the drivers gained +toward the oasis. + +By August's hoarse yells, by Dave's stern face and ceaseless swift +action, by the increasing din, Hare knew terrible danger hung over the +flock; what it was he could not tell. He heard the roar of the river +rapids, and it seemed that the sheep heard it with him. They plunged +madly; they had gone wild from the scent and sound of water. Their eyes +gleamed red; their tongues flew out. There was no aim to the rush of the +great body of sheep, but they followed the leaders and the leaders +followed the scent. And the drivers headed them off, rode them down, +ceaselessly, riding forward to check one outbreak, wheeling backward to +check another. + +The flight became a rout. Hare was in the thick of dust and din, of the +terror-stricken jumping mob, of the ever-starting, ever-widening streams +of sheep; he rode and yelled and fired his Colt. The dust choked him, +the sun burned him, the flying pebbles cut his cheek. Once he had a +glimpse of Black Bolly in a melee of dust and sheep; Dave's mustang +blurred in his sight; August's roan seemed to be double. Then +Silvermane, of his own accord, was out before them all. + +The sheep had almost gained the victory; their keen noses were pointed +toward the water; nothing could stop their flight; but still the drivers +dashed at them, ever fighting, never wearying, never ceasing. + +At the last incline, where a gentle slope led down to a dark break in the +desert, the rout became a stampede. Left and right flanks swung round, +the line lengthened, and round the struggling horses, knee-deep in woolly +backs, split the streams to flow together beyond in one resistless river +of sheep. Mescal forced Bolly out of danger; Dave escaped the right +flank, August and Hare swept on with the flood, till the horses, sighting +the dark canyon, halted to stand like rocks. + +"Will they run over the rim?" yelled Hare, horrified. His voice came to +him as a whisper. August Naab, sweat-stained in red dust, haggard, gray +locks streaming in the wind, raised his arms above his head, hopeless. + +The long nodding line of woolly forms, lifting like the crest of a yellow +wave, plunged out and down in rounded billow over the canyon rim. With +din of hoofs and bleats the sheep spilled themselves over the precipice, +and an awful deafening roar boomed up from the river, like the spreading +thunderous crash of an avalanche. + +How endless seemed that fatal plunge! The last line of sheep, pressing +close to those gone before, and yet impelled by the strange instinct of +life, turned their eyes too late on the brink, carried over by their own +momentum. + +The sliding roar ceased; its echo, muffled and hollow, pealed from the +cliffs, then rumbled down the canyon to merge at length in the sullen, +dull, continuous sound of the rapids. + +Hare turned at last from that narrow iron-walled cleft, the depth of +which he had not seen, and now had no wish to see; and his eyes fell upon +a little Navajo lamb limping in the trail of the flock, headed for the +canyon, as sure as its mother in purpose. He dismounted and seized it to +find, to his infinite wonder and gladness, that it wore a string and bell +round its neck. It was Mescal's pet. + + + +X +RIDING THE RANGES + + +THE shepherds were home in the oasis that evening, and next day the +tragedy of the sheep was a thing of the past. No other circumstance of +Hare's four months with the Naabs had so affected him as this swift +inevitable sweeping away of the flock; nothing else had so vividly told +him the nature of this country of abrupt heights and depths. He +remembered August Naab's magnificent gesture of despair; and now the man +was cheerful again; he showed no sign of his great loss. His tasks were +many, and when one was done, he went on to the next. If Hare had not had +many proofs of this Mormon's feeling he would have thought him callous. +August Naab trusted God and men, loved animals, did what he had to do +with all his force, and accepted fate. The tragedy of the sheep had been +only an incident in a tragical life--that Hare divined with awe. + +Mescal sorrowed, and Wolf mourned in sympathy with her, for their +occupation was gone, but both brightened when August made known his +intention to cross the river to the Navajo range, to trade with the +Indians for another flock. He began his preparations immediately. The +snow-freshets had long run out of the river, the water was low, and he +wanted to fetch the sheep down before the summer rains. He also wanted +to find out what kept his son Snap so long among the Navajos. + +"I'll take Billy and go at once. Dave, you join George and Zeke out on +the Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can +before the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid +Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for +their doings." + +It was a relief to Hare that Snap Naab had not yet returned to the oasis, +for he felt a sense of freedom which otherwise would have been lacking. +He spent the whole of a long calm summer day in the orchard and the +vineyard. The fruit season was at its height. Grapes, plums, pears, +melons were ripe and luscious. Midsummer was vacationtime for the +children, and they flocked into the trees like birds. The girls were +picking grapes; Mother Ruth enlisted Jack in her service at the +pear-trees; Mescal came, too, and caught the golden pears he threw down, +and smiled up at him; Wolf was there, and Noddle; Black Bolly pushed her +black nose over the fence, and whinnied for apples; the turkeys strutted, +the peafowls preened their beautiful plumage, the guinea-hens ran like +quail. Save for those frowning red cliffs Hare would have forgotten +where he was; the warm sun, the yellow fruit, the merry screams of +children, the joyous laughter of girls, were pleasant reminders of autumn +picnic days long gone. But, in the face of those dominating wind-scarred +walls, he could not forget. + +That night Hare endeavored to see Mescal alone for a few moments, to see +her once more with unguarded eyes, to whisper a few words, to say +good-bye; but it was impossible. + +On the morrow he rode out of the red cliff gate with Dave and the pack- +horses, a dull ache in his heart; for amid the cheering crowd of children +and women who bade them good-bye he had caught the wave of Mescal's hand +and a look of her eyes that would be with him always. What might happen +before he returned, if he ever did return! For he knew now, as well as he +could feel Silvermane's easy stride, that out there under the white glare +of desert, the white gleam of the slopes of Coconina, was wild life +awaiting him. And he shut his teeth, and narrowed his eyes, and faced it +with an eager joy that was in strange contrast to the pang in his breast. + +That morning the wind dipped down off the Vermillion Cliffs and whipped +west; there was no scent of river-water, and Hare thought of the fatality +of the sheep-drive, when, for one day out of the year, a moistened dank +breeze had met the flock on the narrow bench. Soon the bench lay far +behind them, and the strip of treacherous sand, and the maze of +sculptured cliff under the Blue Star, and the hummocky low ridges beyond, +with their dry white washes. Silvermane kept on in front. Already Hare +had learned that the gray would have no horse before him. His pace was +swift, steady, tireless. Dave was astride his Navajo mount, an +Indian-bred horse, half mustang, which had to be held in with a firm +rein. The pack train strung out far behind, trotting faithfully along, +with the white packs, like the humps of camels, nodding up and down. +Jack and Dave slackened their gait at the foot of the stony divide. It +was an ascent of miles, so long that it did not appear steep. Here the +pack-train caught up, and thereafter hung at the heels of the riders. + +From the broad bare summit Jack saw the Silver Cup valley - range with +eyes which seemed to magnify the winding trail, the long red wall, the +green slopes, the dots of sage and cattle. Then he made allowance for +months of unobstructed vision; he had learned to see; his eyes had +adjusted themselves to distance and dimensions. + +Silver Cup Spring lay in a bright green spot close under a break in the +rocky slope that soon lost its gray cliff in the shaggy cedared side of +Coconina. + +The camp of the brothers was situated upon this cliff in a split between +two sections of wall. Well sheltered from the north and west winds was a +grassy plot which afforded a good survey of the valley and the trails. +Dave and Jack received glad greetings from Zeke and George, and +Silvermane was an object of wonder and admiration. Zeke, who had often +seen the gray and chased him too, walked round and round him, stroking +the silver mane, feeling the great chest muscles, slapping his flanks. + +"Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle +and bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare! +Never will be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that +horse he'll chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast +horses. He's from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he +sees one." + +"How are things?" queried Dave. + +"We can't complain much," replied Zeke, "though we've wasted some time on +old Whitefoot. He's been chasing our horses. It's been pretty hot and +dry. Most of the cattle are on the slopes; fair browse yet. There's a +bunch of steers gone up on the mountain, and some more round toward the +Saddle or the canyon." + +"Been over Seeping Springs way?" + +"Yes. No change since your trip. Holderness's cattle are ranging in the +upper valley. George found tracks near the spring. We believe somebody +was watching there and made off when we came up." + +"We'll see Holderness's men when we get to riding out," put in George. +"And some of Dene's too. Zeke met Two-Spot Chance and Culver below at the +spring one day, sort of surprised them." + +"What day was that?" + +"Let's see, this's Friday. It was last Monday." + +"What were they doing over here?" + +"Said they were tracking a horse that had broken his hobbles. But they +seemed uneasy, and soon rode off." + +"Did either of them ride a horse with one shoe shy?" + +"Now I think of it, yes. Zeke noticed the track at the spring." + +"Well, Chance and Culver had been out our way," declared Dave. "I saw +their tracks, and they filled up the Blue Star waterhole--and cost us +three thousand sheep." + +Then he related the story of the drive of the sheep, the finding of the +plugged waterhole, the scent of the Colorado, and the plunge of the sheep +into the canyon. + +"We've saved one, Mescal's belled lamb," he concluded. + +Neither Zeke nor George had a word in reply. Hare thought their silence +unnatural. Neither did the mask-like stillness of their faces change. +But Hare saw in their eyes a pointed clear flame, vibrating like a +compass-needle, a mere glimmering spark. + +"I'd like to know," continued Dave, calmly poking the fire, "who hired +Dene's men to plug the waterhole. Dene couldn't do that. He loves a +horse, and any man who loves a horse couldn't fill a waterhole in this +desert." + +Hare entered upon his new duties as a range-rider with a zeal that almost +made up for his lack of experience; he bade fair to develop into a +right-hand man for Dave, under whose watchful eye he worked. His natural +qualifications were soon shown; he could ride, though his seat was awkward +and clumsy compared to that of the desert rangers, a fault that Dave +said would correct itself as time fitted him close to the saddle and to +the swing of his horse. His sight had become extraordinarily keen for a +new-comer on the ranges, and when experience had taught him the land- +marks, the trails, the distances, the difference between smoke and dust +and haze, when he could distinguish a band of mustangs from cattle, and +range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a word, when he had learned to +know what it was that he saw, to trust his judgment, he would have +acquired the basic feature of a rider's training. But he showed no gift +for the lasso, that other essential requirement of his new calling. + +"It's funny," said Dave, patiently, "you can't get the hang of it. Maybe +it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some +fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as +quick as you can throw your gun!" + +Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when he +missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed +altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try +roping from a fiery mustang. But Silvermane was as intelligent as he was +beautiful and fleet. The horse learned rapidly the agile turns and +sudden stops necessary, and as for free running he never got enough. Out +on the range Silvermane always had his head up and watched; his life had +been spent in watching; he saw cattle, riders, mustangs, deer, coyotes, +every moving thing. So that Hare, in the chasing of a cow, had but to +start Silvermane, and then he could devote himself to the handling of his +rope. It took him ten times longer to lasso the cow than it took +Silvermane to head the animal. Dave laughed at some of Jack's exploits, +encouraged him often, praised his intent if not his deed; and always +after a run nodded at Silvermane in mute admiration. + +Branding the cows and yearlings and tame steers which watered at Silver +Cup, and never wandered far away, was play according to Dave's version. +"Wait till we get after the wild steers up on the mountain and in the +canyons," he would say when Jack dropped like a log at supper. Work it +certainly was for him. At night he was so tired that he could scarcely +crawl into bed; his back felt as if it were broken; his legs were raw, +and his bones ached. Many mornings he thought it impossible to arise, +but always he crawled out, grim and haggard, and hobbled round the +camp-fire to warm his sore and bruised muscles. Then when Zeke and +George rode in with the horses the day's work began. During these weeks +of his "hardening up," as Dave called it, Hare bore much pain, but he +continued well and never missed a day. At the most trying time when for +a few days he had to be helped on and off Silvermane--for he insisted +that he would not stay in camp--the brothers made his work as light as +possible. They gave him the branding outfit to carry, a running-iron and +a little pot with charcoal and bellows; and with these he followed the +riders at a convenient distance and leisurely pace. + +Some days they branded one hundred cattle. By October they had August +Naab's crudely fashioned cross on thousands of cows and steers. Still +the stock kept coming down from the mountain, driven to the valley by +cold weather and snow-covered grass. It was well into November before +the riders finished at Silver Cup, and then arose a question as to +whether it would be advisable to go to Seeping Springs or to the canyons +farther west along the slope of Coconina. George favored the former, but +Dave overruled him. + +"Father's orders," he said. "He wants us to ride Seeping Springs last +because he'll be with us then, and Snap too. We're going to have trouble +over there." + +"How's this branding stock going to help the matter any, I'd like to +know?" inquired George. "We Mormons never needed it." + +"Father says we'll all have to come to it. Holderness's stock is +branded. Perhaps he's marked a good many steers of ours. We can't tell. +But if we have our own branded we'll know what's ours. If he drives our +stock we'll know it; if Dene steals, it can be proved that he steals." + +"Well, what then? Do you think he'll care for that, or Holderness +either?" + +"No, only it makes this difference: both things will then be barefaced +robbery. We've never been able to prove anything, though we boys know; +we don't need any proof. Father gives these men the benefit of a doubt. +We've got to stand by him. I know, George, your hand's begun to itch for +your gun. So does mine. But we've orders to obey." + +Many gullies and canyons headed up on the slope of Coconina west of +Silver Cup, and ran down to open wide on the flat desert. They contained +plots of white sage and bunches of rich grass and cold springs. The +steers that ranged these ravines were wild as wolves, and in the tangled +thickets of juniper and manzanita and jumbles of weathered cliff they +were exceedingly difficult to catch. + +Well it was that Hare had received his initiation and had become inured +to rough, incessant work, for now he came to know the real stuff of which +these Mormons were made. No obstacle barred them. They penetrated the +gullies to the last step; they rode weathered slopes that were difficult +for deer to stick upon; they thrashed the bayonet-guarded manzanita +copses; they climbed into labyrinthine fastnesses, penetrating to every +nook where a steer could hide. Miles of sliding slope and +marble-bottomed streambeds were ascended on foot, for cattle could climb +where a horse could not. Climbing was arduous enough, yet the hardest +and most perilous toil began when a wild steer was cornered. They roped +the animals on moving slopes of weathered stone, and branded them on the +edges of precipices. + +The days and weeks passed, how many no one counted or cared. The circle +of the sun daily lowered over the south end of Coconina; and the black +snow-clouds crept down the slopes. Frost whitened the ground at dawn, +and held half the day in the shade. Winter was close at the heels of the +long autumn. + +As for Hare, true to August Naab's assertion, he had lost flesh and +suffered, and though the process was heartbreaking in its severity, he +hung on till he hardened into a leather lunged, wire-muscled man, capable +of keeping pace with his companions. + +He began his day with the dawn when he threw off the frost-coated +tarpaulin; the icy water brought him a glow of exhilaration; he drank in +the spiced cold air, and there was the spring of the deer-hunter in his +step as he went down the slope for his horse. He no longer feared that +Silvermane would run away. The gray's bell could always be heard near +camp in the mornings, and when Hare whistled there came always the +answering thump of hobbled feet. When Silvermane saw him striding +through the cedars or across the grassy belt of the valley he would neigh +his gladness. Hare had come to love Silvermane and talked to him and +treated him as if he were human. + +When the mustangs were brought into camp the day's work began, the same +work as that of yesterday, and yet with endless variety, with +ever-changing situations that called for quick wits, steel arms, stout +hearts, and unflagging energies. The darkening blue sky and the +sun-tipped crags of Vermillion Cliffs were signals to start for camp. +They ate like wolves, sat for a while around the camp-fire, a ragged, +weary, silent group; and soon lay down, their dark faces in the shadow of +the cedars. + +In the beginning of this toil-filled time Hare had resolutely set himself +to forget Mescal, and he had succeeded at least for a time, when he was +so sore and weary that he scarcely thought at all. But she came back to +him, and then there was seldom an hour that was not hers. The long +months which seemed years since he had seen her, the change in him +wrought by labor and peril, the deepening friendship between him and +Dave, even the love he bore Silvermane--these, instead of making dim the +memory of the dark-eyed girl, only made him tenderer in his thought of +her. + +Snow drove the riders from the canyon-camp down to Silver Cup, where they +found August Naab and Snap, who had ridden in the day before. + +"Now you couldn't guess how many cattle are back there in the canyons," +said Dave to his father. + +"I haven't any idea," answered August, dubiously. + +"Five thousand head." + +"Dave!" His father's tone was incredulous. + +"Yes. You know we haven't been back in there for years. The stock has +multiplied rapidly in spite of the lions and wolves. Not only that, but +they're safe from the winter, and are not likely to be found by Dene or +anybody else." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"The first cattle we drove in used to come back here to Silver Cup to +winter. Then they stopped coming, and we almost forgot them. Well, +they've got a trail round under the Saddle, and they go down and winter +in the canyon. In summer they head up those rocky gullies, but they +can't get up on the mountain. So it isn't likely any one will ever +discover them. They are wild as deer and fatter than any stock on the +ranges." + +"Good! That's the best news I've had in many a day. Now, boys, we'll +ride the mountain slope toward Seeping Springs, drive the cattle down, +and finish up this branding. Somebody ought to go to White Sage. I'd +like to know what's going on, what Holderness is up to, what Dene is +doing, if there's any stock being driven to Lund." + +"I told you I'd go," said Snap Naab. + +"I don't want you to," replied his father. "I guess it can wait till +spring, then we'll all go in. I might have thought to bring you boys out +some clothes and boots. You're pretty ragged. Jack there, especially, +looks like a scarecrow. Has he worked as hard as he looks?" + +"Father, he never lost a day," replied Dave, warmly, "and you know what +riding is in these canyons." + +August Naab looked at Hare and laughed. "It'd be funny, wouldn't it, if +Holderness tried to slap you now? I always knew you'd do, Jack, and now +you're one of us, and you'll have a share with my sons in the cattle." + +But the generous promise failed to offset the feeling aroused by the +presence of Snap Naab. With the first sight of Snap's sharp face and +strange eyes Hare became conscious of an inward heat, which he had felt +before, but never as now, when there seemed to be an actual flame within +his breast. Yet Snap seemed greatly changed; the red flush, the swollen +lines no longer showed in his face; evidently in his absence on the +Navajo desert he had had no liquor; he was good-natured, lively, much +inclined to joking, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten his animosity +toward Hare. It was easy for Hare to see that the man's evil nature +was in the ascendancy only when he was under the dominance of drink. +But he could not forgive; he could not forget. Mescal's dark, beautiful +eyes haunted him. Even now she might be married to this man. Perhaps +that was why Snap appeared to be in such cheerful spirits. Suspense +added its burdensome insistent question, but he could not bring himself +to ask August if the marriage had taken place. For a day he fought to +resign himself to the inevitability of the Mormon custom, to forget +Mescal, and then he gave up trying. This surrender he felt to be +something crucial in his life, though he could not wholly understand it. +It was the darkening of his spirit; the death of boyish gentleness; the +concluding step from youth into a forced manhood. The desert +regeneration had not stopped at turning weak lungs, vitiated blood, and +flaccid muscles into a powerful man; it was at work on his mind, his +heart, his soul. They answered more and more to the call of some +outside, ever-present, fiercely subtle thing. + +Thenceforth he no longer vexed himself by trying to forget Mescal; if she +came to mind he told himself the truth, that the weeks and months had +only added to his love. And though it was bitter-sweet there was relief +in speaking the truth to himself. He no longer blinded himself by +hoping, striving to have generous feelings toward Snap Naab; he called +the inward fire by its real name--jealousy--and knew that in the end it +would become hatred. + +On the third morning after leaving Silver Cup the riders were working +slowly along the slope of Coconina; and Hare having driven down a bunch +of cattle, found himself on an open ridge near the temporary camp. +Happening to glance up the valley he saw what appeared to be smoke +hanging over Seeping Springs. + +"That can't be dust," he soliloquized. "Looks blue to me." + +He studied the hazy bluish cloud for some time, but it was so many miles +away that he could not be certain whether it was smoke or not, so he +decided to ride over and make sure. None of the Naabs was in camp, and +there was no telling when they would return, so he set off alone. He +expected to get back before dark, but it was of little consequence +whether he did or not, for he had his blanket under the saddle, and grain +for Silvermane and food for himself in the saddle-bags. + +Long before Silvermane's easy trot had covered half the distance Hare +recognized the cloud that had made him curious. It was smoke. He +thought that range-riders were camping at the springs, and he meant to +see what they were about. After three hours of brisk travel he reached +the top of a low rolling knoll that hid Seeping Springs. He remembered +the springs were up under the red wall, and that the pool where the +cattle drank was lower down in a clump of cedars. He saw smoke rising in +a column from the cedars, and he heard the lowing of cattle. + +"Something wrong here," he muttered. Following the trail, he rode +through the cedars to come upon the dry hole where the pool had once +been. There was no water in the flume. The bellowing cattle came from +beyond the cedars, down the other side of the ridge. He was not long in +reaching the open, and then one glance made all clear. + +A new pool, large as a little lake, shone in the sunlight, and round it a +jostling horned mass of cattle were pressing against a high corral. The +flume that fed water to the pool was fenced all the way up to the +springs. + +Jack slowly rode down the ridge with eyes roving under the cedars and up +to the wall. Not a man was in sight. + +When he got to the fire he saw that it was not many hours old and was +surrounded by fresh boot and horse tracks in the dust. Piles of slender +pine logs, trimmed flat on one side, were proof of somebody's intention +to erect a cabin. In a rage he flung himself from the saddle. It was +not many moments' work for him to push part of the fire under the fence, +and part of it against the pile of logs. The pitch-pines went off like +rockets, driving the thirsty cattle back. + +"I'm going to trail those horse-tracks," said Hare. + +He tore down a portion of the fence enclosing the flume, and gave +Silvermane a drink, then put him to a fast trot on the white trail. The +tracks he had resolved to follow were clean-cut. A few inches of snow +had fallen in the valley, and melting, had softened the hard ground. +Silvermane kept to his gait with the tirelessness of a desert horse. +August Naab had once said fifty miles a day would be play for the +stallion. All the afternoon Hare watched the trail speed toward him and +the end of Coconina rise above him. Long before sunset he had reached +the slope of the mountain and had begun the ascent. Half way up he came +to the snow and counted the tracks of three horses. At twilight he rode +into the glade where August Naab had waited for his Navajo friends. +There, in a sheltered nook among the rocks, he unsaddled Silvermane, +covered and fed him, built a fire, ate sparingly of his meat and bread, +and rolling up in his blanket, was soon asleep. + +He was up and off before sunrise, and he came out on the western slope of +Coconina just as the shadowy valley awakened from its misty sleep into +daylight. Soon the Pink Cliffs leaned out, glimmering and vast, to +change from gloomy gray to rosy glow, and then to brighten and to redden +in the morning sun. + +The snow thinned and failed, but the iron-cut horsetracks showed plainly +in the trail. At the foot of the mountain the tracks left the White Sage +trail and led off to the north toward the cliffs. Hare searched the red +sagespotted waste for Holderness's ranch. He located it, a black patch +on the rising edge of the valley under the wall, and turned Silvermane +into the tracks that pointed straight toward it. + +The sun cleared Coconina and shone warm on his back; the Pink Cliffs +lifted higher and higher before him. From the ridge-tops he saw the +black patch grow into cabins and corrals. As he neared the ranch he came +into rolling pasture-land where the bleached grass shone white and the +cattle were ranging in the thousands. This range had once belonged to +Martin Cole, and Hare thought of the bitter Mormon as he noted the snug +cabins for the riders, the rambling, picturesque ranch-house, the large +corrals, and the long flume that ran down from the cliff. There was a +corral full of shaggy horses, and another full of steers, and two lines +of cattle, one going into a pond-corral, and one coming out. The air was +gray with dust. A bunch of yearlings were licking at huge lumps of brown +rock-salt. A wagonful of cowhides stood before the ranch-house. + +Hare reined in at the door and helloed. + +A red-faced ranger with sandy hair and twinkling eyes appeared. + +"Hello, stranger, get down an' come in," he said. + +"Is Holderness here?" asked Hare. + +"No. He's been to Lund with a bunch of steers. I reckon he'll be in +White Sage by now. I'm Snood, the foreman. Is it a job ridin' you +want?" + +"No." + +"Say! thet hoss--" he exclaimed. His gaze of friendly curiosity had +moved from Hare to Silvermane. "You can corral me if it ain't thet +Sevier range stallion!" + +"Yes," said Hare. + +Snood's whoop brought three riders to the door, and when he pointed to +the horse, they stepped out with good-natured grins and admiring eyes. + +"I never seen him but onc't," said one. + +"Lordy, what a hoss!" Snood walked round Silvermane. "If I owned this +ranch I'd trade it for that stallion. I know Silvermane. He an' I hed +some chases over in Nevada. An', stranger, who might you be?" + +"I'm one of August Naab's riders." + +"Dene's spy!" Snood looked Hare over carefully, with much interest, and +without any show of ill-will. "I've heerd of you. An' what might one of +Naab's riders want of Holderness?" + +"I rode in to Seeping Springs yesterday," said Hare, eying the foreman. +"There was a new pond, fenced in. Our cattle couldn't drink. There were +a lot of trimmed logs. Somebody was going to build a cabin. I burned +the corrals and logs--and I trailed fresh tracks from Seeping Springs to +this ranch." + +"The h--l you did!" shouted Snood, and his face flamed. "See here, +stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such dirty +tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till this +minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't +know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no +man's water. Is thet good with you?" + +Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at +his pipe. Hare offered his hand. + +"Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but +you weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told +me." + +"Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now. +I've no more to say, except I never hired them." + +"I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry." + +With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of +the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it. +He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that +he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode +in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard, +where he put up his horse. Then he went to the house. It was necessary +to introduce himself for none of the Bishop's family recognized in him +the young man they had once befriended. The old Bishop prayed and +reminded him of the laying on of hands. The women served him with food, +the young men brought him new boots and garments to replace those that +had been worn to tatters. Then they plied him with questions about the +Naabs, whom they had not seen for nearly a year. They rejoiced at his +recovered health; they welcomed him with warm words. + +Later Hare sought an interview alone with the Bishop's sons, and he told +them of the loss of the sheep, of the burning of the new corrals, of the +tracks leading to Holderness's ranch. In turn they warned him of his +danger, and gave him information desired by August Naab. Holderness's +grasp on the outlying ranges and water-rights had slowly and surely +tightened; every month he acquired new territory; he drove cattle +regularly to Lund, and it was no secret that much of the stock came from +the eastern slope of Coconina. He could not hire enough riders to do his +work. A suspicion that he was not a cattle-man but a rustler had slowly +gained ground; it was scarcely hinted, but it was believed. His +friendship with Dene had become offensive to the Mormons, who had +formerly been on good footing with him. Dene's killing of Martin Cole +was believed to have been at Holderness's instigation. Cole had +threatened Holderness. Then Dene and Cole had met in the main street of +White Sage. Cole's death ushered in the bloody time that he had +prophesied. Dene's band had grown; no man could say how many men he had +or who they were. Chance and Culver were openly his lieutenants, and +whenever they came into the village there was shooting. There were ugly +rumors afloat in regard to their treatment of Mormon women. The wives +and daughters of once peaceful White Sage dared no longer venture +out-of-doors after nightfall. There was more money in coin and more +whiskey than ever before in the village. Lund and the few villages +northward were terrorized as well as White Sage. It was a bitter story. + +The Bishop and his sons tried to persuade Hare next morning to leave the +village without seeing Holderness, urging the futility of such a meeting. + +"I will see him," said Hare. He spent the morning at the cottage, and +when it came time to take his leave he smiled into the anxious faces. "If +I weren't able to take care of myself August Naab would never have said +so." + +Had Hare asked himself what he intended to do when he faced Holderness he +could not have told. His feelings were pent-in, bound, but at the bottom +something rankled. His mind seemed steeped in still thunderous +atmosphere. + +How well he remembered the quaint wide street, the gray church! As he +rode many persons stopped to gaze at Silvermane. He turned the corner +into the main thoroughfare. A new building had been added to the several +stores. Mustangs stood, bridles down, before the doors; men lounged +along the railings. + +As he dismounted he heard the loungers speak of his horse, and he saw +their leisurely manner quicken. He stepped into the store to meet more +men, among them August Naab's friend Abe. Hare might never have been in +White Sage for all the recognition he found, but he excited something +keener than curiosity. He asked for spurs, a clasp-knife and some other +necessaries, and he contrived, when momentarily out of sight behind a +pile of boxes, to whisper his identity to Abe. The Mormon was +dumbfounded. When he came out of his trance he showed his gladness, and +at a question of Hare's he silently pointed toward the saloon. + +Hare faced the open door. The room had been enlarged; it was now on a +level with the store floor, and was blue with smoke, foul with the fumes +of rum, and noisy with the voices of dark, rugged men. + +A man in the middle of the room was dancing a jig. + +"Hello, who's this?" he said, straightening up. + +It might have been the stopping of the dance or the quick spark in Hare's +eyes that suddenly quieted the room. Hare had once vowed to himself that +he would never forget the scarred face; it belonged to the outlaw Chance. + +The sight of it flashed into the gulf of Hare's mind like a meteor into +black night. A sudden madness raced through his veins. + +"Hello, Don't you know me?" he said, with a long step that brought him +close to Chance. + +The outlaw stood irresolute. Was this an old friend or an enemy? His +beady eyes scintillated and twitched as if they sought to look him over, +yet dared not because it was only in the face that intention could be +read. + +The stillness of the room broke to a hoarse whisper from some one. + +"Look how he packs his gun." + +Another man answering whispered: "There's not six men in Utah who pack a +gun thet way." + +Chance heard these whispers, for his eye shifted downward the merest +fraction of a second. The brick color of his face turned a dirty white. + +"Do you know me?" demanded Hare. + +Chance's answer was a spasmodic jerking of his hand toward his hip. +Hare's arm moved quicker, and Chance's Colt went spinning to the floor. + +"Too slow," said Hare. Then he flung Chance backward and struck him +blows that sent his head with sodden thuds against the log wall. Chance +sank to the floor in a heap. + +Hare kicked the outlaw's gun out of the way, and wheeled to the crowd. +Holderness stood foremost, his tall form leaning against the bar, his +clear eyes shining like light on ice. + +"Do you know me?" asked Hare, curtly. + +Holderness started slightly. "I certainly don't," he replied. + +"You slapped my face once." Hare leaned close to the rancher. "Slap it +now--you rustler!" + +In the slow, guarded instant when Hare's gaze held Holderness and the +other men, a low murmuring ran through the room. + +"Dene's spy!" suddenly burst out Holderness. + +Hare slapped his face. Then he backed a few paces with his right arm +held before him almost as high as his shoulder, the wrist rigid, the +fingers quivering. + +"Don't try to draw, Holderness. Thet's August Naab's trick with a gun," +whispered a man, hurriedly. + +"Holderness, I made a bonfire over at Seeping Springs," said Hare. "I +burned the new corrals your men built, and I tracked them to your ranch. +Snood threw up his job when he heard it. He's an honest man, and no +honest man will work for a water-thief, a cattle-rustler, a sheep-killer. +You're shown up, Holderness. Leave the country before some one kills +you--understand, before some one kills you!" + +Holderness stood motionless against the bar, his eyes fierce with +passionate hate. + +Hare backed step by step to the outside door, his right hand still high, +his look holding the crowd bound to the last instant. Then he slipped +out, scattered the group round Silvermane, and struck hard with the +spurs. + +The gray, never before spurred, broke down the road into his old wild +speed. + +Men were crossing from the corner of the green square. One, a compact +little fellow, swarthy, his dark hair long and flowing, with jaunty and +alert air, was Dene, the outlaw leader. He stopped, with his companions, +to let the horse cross. + +Hare guided the thundering stallion slightly to the left. Silvermane +swerved and in two mighty leaps bore down on the outlaw. Dene saved +himself by quickly leaping aside, but even as he moved Silvermane struck +him with his left fore-leg, sending him into the dust. + +At the street corner Hare glanced back. Yelling men were rushing from +the saloon and some of them fired after him. The bullets whistled +harmlessly behind Hare. Then the corner house shut off his view. + +Silvermane lengthened out and stretched lower with his white mane flying +and his nose pointed level for the desert. + + + +XI +THE DESERT-HAWK + + +TOWARD the close of the next day Jack Hare arrived at Seeping Springs. A +pile of gray ashes marked the spot where the trimmed logs had lain. +Round the pool ran a black circle hard packed into the ground by many +hoofs. Even the board flume had been burned to a level with the glancing +sheet of water. Hare was slipping Silvermane's bit to let him drink when +he heard a halloo. Dave Naab galloped out of the cedars, and presently +August Naab and his other sons appeared with a pack-train. + +"Now you've played bob!" exclaimed Dave. He swung out of his saddle and +gripped Hare with both hands. "I know what you've done; I know where +you've been. Father will be furious, but don't you care." + +The other Naabs trotted down the slope and lined their horses before the +pool. The sons stared in blank astonishment; the father surveyed the +scene slowly, and then fixed wrathful eyes on Hare. + +"What does this mean?" he demanded, with the sonorous roll of his angry +voice. + +Hare told all that had happened. + +August Naab's gloomy face worked, and his eagle-gaze had in it a strange +far-seeing light; his mind was dwelling upon his mystic power of +revelation. + +"I see--I see," he said haltingly. + +"Ki--yi-i-i!" yelled Dave Naab with all the power of his lungs. His head +was back, his mouth wide open, his face red, his neck corded and swollen +with the intensity of his passion. + +"Be still--boy!" ordered his father. "Hare, this was madness--but tell me +what you learned." + +Briefly Hare repeated all that he had been told at the Bishop's, and +concluded with the killing of Martin Cole by Dene. + +August Naab bowed his head and his giant frame shook under the force of +his emotion. Martin Cole was the last of his life-long friends. + +"This--this outlaw--you say you ran him down?" asked Naab, rising haggard +and shaken out of his grief. + +"Yes. He didn't recognize me or know what was coming till Silvermane was +on him. But he was quick, and fell sidewise. Silvermane's knee sent him +sprawling." + +"What will it all lead to?" asked August Naab, and in his extremity he +appealed to his eldest son. + +"The bars are down," said Snap Naab, with a click of his long teeth. + +"Father," began Dave Naab earnestly, "Jack has done a splendid thing. +The news will fly over Utah like wildfire. Mormons are slow. They need +a leader. But they can follow and they will. We can't cure these evils +by hoping and praying. We've got to fight!" + +"Dave's right, dad, it means fight," cried George, with his fist clinched +high. + +"You've been wrong, father, in holding back," said Zeke Naab, his lean +jaw bulging. "This Holderness will steal the water and meat out of our +children's mouths. We've got to fight!" + +"Let's ride to White Sage," put in Snap Naab, and the little flecks in +his eyes were dancing. "I'll throw a gun on Dene. I can get to him. +We've been tolerable friends. He's wanted me to join his band. I'll +kill him." + +He laughed as he raised his right hand and swept it down to his left +side; the blue Colt lay on his outstretched palm. Dene's life and +Holderness's, too, hung in the balance between two deadly snaps of this +desert-wolf's teeth. He was one of the Naabs, and yet apart from them, +for neither religion, nor friendship, nor life itself mattered to him. + +August Naab's huge bulk shook again, not this time with grief, but in +wrestling effort to withstand the fiery influence of this unholy fighting +spirit among his sons. + +"I am forbidden." + +His answer was gentle, but its very gentleness breathed of his battle +over himself, of allegiance to something beyond earthly duty. "We'll +drive the cattle to Silver Cup," he decided, "and then go home. I give +up Seeping Springs. Perhaps this valley and water will content +Holderness." + +When they reached the oasis Hare was surprised to find that it was the +day before Christmas. The welcome given the long-absent riders was like +a celebration. Much to Hare's disappointment Mescal did not appear; the +homecoming was not joyful to him because it lacked her welcoming smile. + +Christmas Day ushered in the short desert winter; ice formed in the +ditches and snow fell, but neither long resisted the reflection of the +sun from the walls. The early morning hours were devoted to religious +services. At midday dinner was served in the big room of August Naab's +cabin. At one end was a stone fireplace where logs blazed and crackled. + +In all his days Hare had never seen such a bountiful board. Yet he was +unable to appreciate it, to share in the general thanksgiving. +Dominating all other feeling was the fear that Mescal would come in and +take a seat by Snap Naab's side. When Snap seated himself opposite with +his pale little wife Hare found himself waiting for Mescal with an +intensity that made him dead to all else. The girls, Judith, Esther, +Rebecca, came running gayly in, clad in their best dresses, with bright +ribbons to honor the occasion. Rebecca took the seat beside Snap, and +Hare gulped with a hard contraction of his throat. Mescal was not yet a +Mormon's wife! He seemed to be lifted upward, to grow light-headed with +the blessed assurance. Then Mescal entered and took the seat next to +him. She smiled and spoke, and the blood beat thick in his ears. + +That moment was happy, but it was as nothing to its successor. Under the +table-cover Mescal's hand found his, and pressed it daringly and gladly. +Her hand lingered in his all the time August Naab spent in carving the +turkey--lingered there even though Snap Naab's hawk eyes were never far +away. In the warm touch of her hand, in some subtle thing that radiated +from her Hare felt a change in the girl he loved. A few months had +wrought in her some indefinable difference, even as they had increased +his love to its full volume and depth. Had his absence brought her to +the realization of her woman's heart? + +In the afternoon Hare left the house and spent a little while with +Silvermane; then he wandered along the wall to the head of the oasis, and +found a seat on the fence. The next few weeks presented to him a +situation that would be difficult to endure. He would be near Mescal, +but only to have the truth forced cruelly home to him every sane moment-- +that she was not for him. Out on the ranges he had abandoned himself to +dreams of her; they had been beautiful; they had made the long hours seem +like minutes; but they had forged chains that could not be broken, and +now he was hopelessly fettered. + +The clatter of hoofs roused him from a reverie which was half sad, half +sweet. Mescal came tearing down the level on Black Bolly. She pulled in +the mustang and halted beside Hare to hold out shyly a red scarf +embroidered with Navajo symbols in white and red beads. + +"I've wanted a chance to give you this," she said, "a little Christmas +present." + +For a few seconds Hare could find no words. + +"Did you make it for me, Mescal?" he finally asked. "How good of you! +I'll keep it always." + +"Put it on now--let me tie it--there!" + +"But, child. Suppose he--they saw it?" + +"I don't care who sees it." + +She met him with clear, level eyes. Her curt, crisp speech was full of +meaning. He looked long at her, with a yearning denied for many a day. +Her face was the same, yet wonderfully changed; the same in line and +color, but different in soul and spirit. The old sombre shadow lay deep +in the eyes, but to it had been added gleam of will and reflection of +thought. The whole face had been refined and transformed. + +"Mescal! What's happened? You're not the same. You seem almost happy. +Have you--has he--given you up?" + +"Don't you know Mormons better than that? The thing is the same--so far +as they're concerned." + +"But Mescal--are you going to marry him? For God's sake, tell me." + +"Never." It was a woman's word, instant, inflexible, desperate. With a +deep breath Hare realized where the girl had changed. + +"Still you're promised, pledged to him! How'll you get out of it?" + +"I don't know how. But I'll cut out my tongue, and be dumb as my poor +peon before I'll speak the word that'll make me Snap Naab's wife." + +There was a long silence. Mescal smoothed out Bolly's mane, and Hare +gazed up at the walls with eyes that did not see them. + +Presently he spoke. "I'm afraid for you. Snap watched us to-day at +dinner." + +"He's jealous." + +"Suppose he sees this scarf?" + +Mescal laughed defiantly. It was bewildering for Hare to hear her. + +"He'll--Mescal, I may yet come to this." Hare's laugh echoed Mescal's as +he pointed to the enclosure under the wall, where the graves showed bare +and rough. + +Her warm color fled, but it flooded back, rich, mantling brow and cheek +and neck. + +"Snap Naab will never kill you," she said impulsively. + +"Mescal." + +She swiftly turned her face away as his hand closed on hers. + +"Mescal, do you love me?" + +The trembling of her fingers and the heaving of her bosom lent his hope +conviction. "Mescal," he went on, "these past months have been years, +years of toiling, thinking, changing, but always loving. I'm not the man +you knew. I'm wild-- I'm starved for a sight of you. I love you! Mescal, +my desert flower!" + +She raised her free hand to his shoulder and swayed toward him. He held +her a moment, clasped tight, and then released her. + +"I'm quite mad!" he exclaimed, in a passion of self-reproach. "What a +risk I'm putting on you! But I couldn't help it. Look at me-- Just +once--please-- Mescal, just one look. . . . Now go." + +The drama of the succeeding days was of absorbing interest. Hare had +liberty; there was little work for him to do save to care for Silvermane. +He tried to hunt foxes in the caves and clefts; he rode up and down the +broad space under the walls; he sought the open desert only to be driven +in by the bitter, biting winds. Then he would return to the big +living-room of the Naabs and sit before the burning logs. This spacious +room was warm, light, pleasant, and was used by every one in leisure +hours. Mescal spent most of her time there. She was engaged upon a new +frock of buckskin, and over this she bent with her needle and beads. +When there was a chance Hare talked with her, speaking one language with +his tongue, a far different one with his eyes. When she was not present +he looked into the glowing red fire and dreamed of her. + +In the evenings when Snap came in to his wooing and drew Mescal into a +corner, Hare watched with covert glance and smouldering jealousy. +Somehow he had come to see all things and all people in the desert glass, +and his symbol for Snap Naab was the desert-hawk. Snap's eyes were as +wild and piercing as those of a hawk; his nose and mouth were as the beak +of a hawk; his hands resembled the claws of a hawk; and the spurs he +wore, always bloody, were still more significant of his ruthless nature. +Then Snap's courting of the girl, the cool assurance, the unhastening +ease, were like the slow rise, the sail, and the poise of a desert-hawk +before the downward lightning-swift swoop on his quarry. + +It was intolerable for Hare to sit there in the evenings, to try to play +with the children who loved him, to talk to August Naab when his eye +seemed ever drawn to the quiet couple in the corner, and his ear was +unconsciously strained to catch a passing word. That hour was a +miserable one for him, yet he could not bring himself to leave the room. +He never saw Snap touch her; he never heard Mescal's voice; he believed +that she spoke very little. When the hour was over and Mescal rose to +pass to her room, then his doubt, his fear, his misery, were as though +they had never been, for as Mescal said good-night she would give him one +look, swift as a flash, and in it were womanliness and purity, and +something beyond his comprehension. Her Indian serenity and mysticism +veiled yet suggested some secret, some power by which she might yet +escape the iron band of this Mormon rule. Hare could not fathom it. +In that good-night glance was a meaning for him alone, if meaning ever +shone in woman's eyes, and it said: "I will be true to you and to myself!" + +Once the idea struck him that as soon as spring returned it would be an +easy matter, and probably wise, for him to leave the oasis and go up into +Utah, far from the desert-canyon country. But the thought refused to +stay before his consciousness a moment. New life had flushed his veins +here. He loved the dreamy, sleepy oasis with its mellow sunshine always +at rest on the glistening walls; he loved the cedar-scented plateau where +hope had dawned, and the wind-swept sand-strips, where hard out-of-door +life and work had renewed his wasting youth; he loved the canyon winding +away toward Coconina, opening into wide abyss; and always, more than all, +he loved the Painted Desert, with its ever-changing pictures, printed in +sweeping dust and bare peaks and purple haze. He loved the beauty of +these places, and the wildness in them had an affinity with something +strange and untamed in him. He would never leave them. When his blood +had cooled, when this tumultuous thrill and swell had worn themselves +out, happiness would come again. + +Early in the winter Snap Naab had forced his wife to visit his father's +house with him; and she had remained in the room, white-faced, +passionately jealous, while he wooed Mescal. Then had come a scene. +Hare had not been present, but he knew its results. Snap had been +furious, his father grave, Mescal tearful and ashamed. The wife found +many ways to interrupt her husband's lovemaking. She sent the children +for him; she was taken suddenly ill; she discovered that the corral gate +was open and his cream-colored pinto, dearest to his heart, was running +loose; she even set her cottage on fire. + +One Sunday evening just before twilight Hare was sitting on the porch +with August Naab and Dave, when their talk was interrupted by Snap's loud +calling for his wife. At first the sounds came from inside his cabin. +Then he put his head out of a window and yelled. Plainly he was both +impatient and angry. It was nearly time for him to make his Sunday call +upon Mescal. + +"Something's wrong," muttered Dave. + +"Hester! Hester!" yelled Snap. + +Mother Ruth came out and said that Hester was not there. + +"Where is she?" Snap banged on the window-sill with his fists. "Find +her, somebody--Hester!" + +"Son, this is the Sabbath," called Father Naab, gravely. "Lower your +voice. Now what's the matter?" + +"Matter!" bawled Snap, giving way to rage. "When I was asleep Hester +stole all my clothes. She's hid them--she's run off--there's not a +d--n thing for me to put on! I'll--" + +The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the speech. +Hare managed to stifle his own mirth. Snap pulled in his head and +slammed the window shut. + +"Jack," said August, "even among Mormons the course of true love never +runs smooth." + +Hare finally forgot his bitter humor in pity for the wife. Snap came to +care not at all for her messages and tricks, and he let nothing interfere +with his evening beside Mescal. It was plain that he had gone far on the +road of love. Whatever he had been in the beginning of the betrothal, he +was now a lover, eager, importunate. His hawk's eyes were softer than +Hare had ever seen them; he was obliging, kind, gay, an altogether +different Snap Naab. He groomed himself often, and wore clean scarfs, +and left off his bloody spurs. For eight months he had not touched the +bottle. When spring approached he was madly in love with Mescal. And +the marriage was delayed because his wife would not have another woman in +her home. + +Once Hare heard Snap remonstrating with his father. + +"If she don't come to time soon I'll keep the kids and send her back to +her father." + +"Don't be hasty, son. Let her have time," replied August. "Women must +be humored. I'll wager she'll give in before the cottonwood blows, and +that's not long." + +It was Hare's habit, as the days grew warmer, to walk a good deal, and +one evening, as twilight shadowed the oasis and grew black under the +towering walls, he strolled out toward the fields. While passing Snap's +cottage Hare heard a woman's voice in passionate protest and a man's in +strident anger. Later as he stood with his arm on Silvermane, a woman's +scream, at first high-pitched, then suddenly faint and smothered, caused +him to grow rigid, and his hand clinched tight. When he went back by the +cottage a low moaning confirmed his suspicion. + +That evening Snap appeared unusually bright and happy; and he asked his +father to name the day for the wedding. August did so in a loud voice +and with evident relief. Then the quaint Mormon congratulations were +offered to Mescal. To Hare, watching the strange girl with the +distressingly keen intuition of an unfortunate lover, she appeared as +pleased as any of them that the marriage was settled. But there was no +shyness, no blushing confusion. When Snap bent to kiss her--his first +kiss--she slightly turned her face, so that his lips brushed her cheek, +yet even then her self-command did not break for an instant. It was a +task for Hare to pretend to congratulate her; nevertheless he mumbled +something. She lifted her long lashes, and there, deep beneath the +shadows, was unutterable anguish. It gave him a shock. He went to his +room, convinced that she had yielded; and though he could not blame her, +and he knew she was helpless, he cried out in reproach and resentment. +She had failed him, as he had known she must fail. He tossed on his bed +and thought; he lay quiet, wide-open eyes staring into the darkness, and +his mind burned and seethed. Through the hours of that long night he +learned what love had cost him. + +With the morning light came some degree of resignation. Several days +went slowly by, bringing the first of April, which was to be the +wedding-day. August Naab had said it would come before the cottonwoods +shed their white floss; and their buds had just commenced to open. The +day was not a holiday, and George and Zeke and Dave began to pack for the +ranges, yet there was an air of jollity and festivity. Snap Naab had a +springy step and jaunty mien. Once he regarded Hare with a slow smile. + +Piute prepared to drive his new flock up on the plateau. The women of +the household were busy and excited; the children romped. + +The afternoon waned into twilight, and Hare sought the quiet shadows +under the wall near the river trail. He meant to stay there until August +Naab had pronounced his son and Mescal man and wife. The dull roar of +the rapids borne on a faint puff of westerly breeze was lulled into a +soothing murmur. A radiant white star peeped over the black rim of the +wall. The solitude and silence were speaking to Hare's heart, easing his +pain, when a soft patter of moccasined feet brought him bolt upright. + +A slender form rounded the corner wall. It was Mescal. The white dog +Wolf hung close by her side. Swiftly she reached Hare. + +"Mescal!" he exclaimed. + +"Hush! Speak softly," she whispered fearfully. Her hands were clinging +to his. + +"Jack, do you love me still?" + +More than woman's sweetness was in the whisper; the portent of +indefinable motive made Hare tremble like a shaking leaf. + +"Good heavens! You are to be married in a few minutes--What do you mean? +Where are you going? this buckskin suit--and Wolf with you-- Mescal!" + +"There's no time--only a word--hurry--do you love me still?" she panted, +with great shining eyes close to his. + +"Love you? With all my soul!" + +"Listen," she whispered, and leaned against him. A fresh breeze bore the +boom of the river. She caught her breath quickly: "I love you!--I love +you!--Good-bye!" + +She kissed him and broke from his clasp. Then silently, like a shadow, +with the white dog close beside her, she disappeared in the darkness of +the river trail. + +She was gone before he came out of his bewilderment. He rushed down the +trail; he called her name. The gloom had swallowed her, and only the +echo of his voice made answer. + + + +XII +ECHO CLIFFS + + +WHEN thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake +he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any +knowledge of it. + +With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the +gloomy shade, and felt his way to a point beyond the twinkling lights. +Then, peering through the gloom until assured he was safe from +observation, and taking the dark side of the house, he gained the hall, +and his room. He threw himself on his bed, and endeavored to compose +himself, to quiet his vibrating nerves, to still the triumphant bell-beat +of his heart. For a while all his being swung to the palpitating +consciousness of joy--Mescal had taken her freedom. She had escaped the +swoop of the hawk. + +While Hare lay there, trying to gather his shattered senses, the merry +sound of voices and the music of an accordion hummed from the big +living-room next to his. Presently heavy boots thumped on the floor of +the hall; then a hand rapped on his door. + +"Jack, are you there?" called August Naab. + +"Yes." + +"Come along then." + +Hare rose, opened the door and followed August. The room was bright with +lights; the table was set, and the Naabs, large and small, were standing +expectantly. As Hare found a place behind them Snap Naab entered with +his wife. She was as pale as if she were in her shroud. Hare caught +Mother Ruth's pitying subdued glance as she drew the frail little woman +to her side. When August Naab began fingering his Bible the whispering +ceased. + +"Why don't they fetch her?" he questioned. + +"Judith, Esther, bring her in," said Mother Mary, calling into the +hallway. + +Quick footsteps, and the girls burst in impetuously, exclaiming: +"Mescal's not there!" + +"Where is she, then?" demanded August Naab, going to the door. "Mescal!" +he called. + +Succeeding his authoritative summons only the cheery sputter of the +wood-fire broke the silence. + +"She hadn't put on her white frock," went on Judith. + +"Her buckskins aren't hanging where they always are," continued Esther. + +August Naab laid his Bible on the table. "I always feared it," he said +simply. + +"She's gone!" cried Snap Naab. He ran into the hall, into Mescal's room, +and returned trailing the white wedding-dress. "The time we thought she +spent to put this on she's been--" + +He choked over the words, and sank into a chair, face convulsed, hands +shaking, weak in the grip of a grief that he had never before known. +Suddenly he flung the dress into the fire. His wife fell to the floor in +a dead faint. Then the desert-hawk showed his claws. His hands tore at +the close scarf round his throat as if to liberate a fury that was +stifling him; his face lost all semblance to anything human. He began to +howl, to rave, to curse; and his father circled him with iron arm and +dragged him from the room. + +The children were whimpering, the wives lamenting. The quiet men +searched the house and yard and corrals and fields. But they found no +sign of Mescal. After long hours the excitement subsided and all sought +their beds. + +Morning disclosed the facts of Mescal's flight. She had dressed for the +trail; a knapsack was missing and food enough to fill it; Wolf was gone; +Noddle was not in his corral; the peon slave had not slept in his shack; +there were moccasin-tracks and burro-tracks and dog-tracks in the sand at +the river crossing, and one of the boats was gone. This boat was not +moored to the opposite shore. Questions arose. Had the boat sunk? Had +the fugitives crossed safely or had they drifted into the canyon? Dave +Naab rode out along the river and saw the boat, a mile below the rapids, +bottom side up and lodged on a sand-bar. + +"She got across, and then set the boat loose," said August. "That's the +Indian of her. If she went up on the cliffs to the Navajos maybe we'll +find her. If she went into the Painted Desert--" a grave shake of his +shaggy head completed his sentence. + +Morning also disclosed Snap Naab once more in the clutch of his demon, +drunk and unconscious, lying like a log on the porch of his cottage. + +"This means ruin to him," said his father. "He had one chance; he was +mad over Mescal, and if he had got her, he might have conquered his +thirst for rum." + +He gave orders for the sheep to be driven up on the plateau, and for his +sons to ride out to the cattle ranges. He bade Hare pack and get in +readiness to accompany him to the Navajo cliffs, there to search for +Mescal. + +The river was low, as the spring thaws had not yet set in, and the +crossing promised none of the hazard so menacing at a later period. +Billy Naab rowed across with the saddle and packs. Then August had to +crowd the lazy burros into the water. Silvermane went in with a rush, +and Charger took to the river like an old duck. August and Jack sat in +the stern of the boat, while Billy handled the oars. They crossed +swiftly and safely. The three burros were then loaded, two with packs, +the other with a heavy water-bag. + +"See there," said August, pointing to tracks in the sand. The imprints +of little moccasins reassured Hare, for he had feared the possibility +suggested by the upturned boat. "Perhaps it'll be better if I never find +her," continued Naab. "If I bring her back Snap's as likely to kill her +as to marry her. But I must try to find her. Only what to do with her--" + +"Give her to me," interrupted Jack. + +"Hare!" + +"I love her!" + +Naab's stern face relaxed. "Well, I'm beat! Though I don't see why you +should be different from all the others. It was that time you spent with +her on the plateau. I thought you too sick to think of a woman!" + +"Mescal cares for me," said Hare. + +"Ah! That accounts. Hare, did you play me fair?" + +"We tried to, though we couldn't help loving." + +"She would have married Snap but for you." + +"Yes. But I couldn't help that. You brought me out here, and saved my +life. I know what I owe you. Mescal meant to marry your son when I left +for the range last fall. But she's a true woman and couldn't. August +Naab, if we ever find her will you marry her to him--now?" + +"That depends. Did you know she intended to run?" + +"I never dreamed of it. I learned it only at the last moment. I met her +on the river trail." + +"You should have stopped her." + +Hare maintained silence. + +"You should have told me," went on Naab. + +"I couldn't. I'm only human." + +"Well, well, I'm not blaming you, Hare. I had hot blood once. But I'm +afraid the desert will not be large enough for you and Snap. She's +pledged to him. You can't change the Mormon Church. For the sake of +peace I'd give you Mescal, if I could. Snap will either have her or kill +her. I'm going to hunt this desert in advance of him, because he'll +trail her like a hound. It would be better to marry her to him than to +see her dead." + +"I'm not so sure of that." + +"Hare, your nose is on a blood scent, like a wolf's. I can see--I've +always seen--well, remember, it's man to man between you now." + +During this talk they were winding under Echo Cliffs, gradually climbing, +and working up to a level with the desert, which they presently attained +at a point near the head of the canyon. The trail swerved to the left +following the base of the cliffs. The tracks of Noddle and Wolf were +plainly visible in the dust. Hare felt that if they ever led out into +the immense airy space of the desert all hope of finding Mescal must be +abandoned. + +They trailed the tracks of the dog and burro to Bitter Seeps, a shallow +spring of alkali, and there lost all track of them. The path up the +cliffs to the Navajo ranges was bare, time-worn in solid rock, and showed +only the imprint of age. Desertward the ridges of shale, the washes of +copper earth, baked in the sun, gave no sign of the fugitives' course. +August Naab shrugged his broad shoulders and pointed his horse to the +cliff. It was dusk when they surmounted it. + +They camped in the lee of an uplifting crag. When the wind died down the +night was no longer unpleasantly cool; and Hare, finding August Naab +uncommunicative and sleepy, strolled along the rim of the cliff, as he +had been wont to do in the sheep-herding days. He could scarcely +dissociate them from the present, for the bitter-sweet smell of tree and +bush, the almost inaudible sigh of breeze, the opening and shutting of +the great white stars in the blue dome, the silence, the sense of the +invisible void beneath him--all were thought-provoking parts of that past +of which nothing could ever be forgotten. And it was a silence which +brought much to the ear that could hear. It was a silence penetrated by +faint and distant sounds, by mourning wolf, or moan of wind in a +splintered crag. Weird and low, an inarticulate voice, it wailed up from +the desert, winding along the hollow trail, freeing itself in the wide +air, and dying away. He had often heard the scream of lion and cry of +wildcat, but this was the strange sound of which August Naab had told +him, the mysterious call of canyon and desert night. + +Daylight showed Echo Cliffs to be of vastly greater range than the sister +plateau across the river. The roll of cedar level, the heave of craggy +ridge, the dip of white-sage valley gave this side a diversity widely +differing from the two steps of the Vermillion tableland. August Naab +followed a trail leading back toward the river. For the most part thick +cedars hid the surroundings from Hare's view; occasionally, however, he +had a backward glimpse from a high point, or a wide prospect below, where +the trail overlooked an oval hemmed-in valley. + +About midday August Naab brushed through a thicket, and came abruptly on +a declivity. He turned to his companion with a wave of his hand. + +"The Navajo camp," he said. "Eschtah has lived there for many years. +It's the only permanent Navajo camp I know. These Indians are nomads. +Most of them live wherever the sheep lead them. This plateau ranges for +a hundred miles, farther than any white man knows, and everywhere, in the +valleys and green nooks, will be found Navajo hogans. That's why we may +never find Mescal." + +Hare's gaze travelled down over the tips of cedar and crag to a pleasant +vale, dotted with round mound-like white-streaked hogans, from which lazy +floating columns of blue smoke curled upward. Mustangs and burros and +sheep browsed on the white patches of grass. Bright-red blankets blazed +on the cedar branches. There was slow colorful movement of Indians, +passing in and out of their homes. The scene brought irresistibly to +Hare the thought of summer, of long warm afternoons, of leisure that took +no stock of time. + +On the way down the trail they encountered a flock of sheep driven by a +little Navajo boy on a brown burro. It was difficult to tell which was +the more surprised, the long-eared burro, which stood stock-still, or the +boy, who first kicked and pounded his shaggy steed, and then jumped off +and ran with black locks flying. Farther down Indian girls started up +from their tasks, and darted silently into the shade of the cedars. +August Naab whooped when he reached the valley, and Indian braves +appeared, to cluster round him, shake his hand and Hare's, and lead them +toward the centre of the encampment. + +The hogans where these desert savages dwelt were all alike; only the +chief's was larger. From without it resembled a mound of clay with a few +white logs, half imbedded, shining against the brick red. August Naab +drew aside a blanket hanging over a door, and entered, beckoning his +companion to follow. Inured as Hare had become to the smell and smart of +wood-smoke, for a moment he could not see, or scarcely breathe, so thick +was the atmosphere. A fire, the size of which attested the desert +Indian's love of warmth, blazed in the middle of the hogan, and sent part +of its smoke upward through a round hole in the roof. Eschtah, with +blanket over his shoulders, his lean black head bent, sat near the fire. +He noted the entrance of his visitors, but immediately resumed his +meditative posture, and appeared to be unaware of their presence. + +Hare followed August's example, sitting down and speaking no word. His +eyes, however, roved discreetly to and fro. Eschtah's three wives +presented great differences in age and appearance. The eldest was a +wrinkled, parchment-skinned old hag who sat sightless before the fire; +the next was a solid square squaw, employed in the task of combing a +naked boy's hair with a comb made of stiff thin roots tied tightly in a +round bunch. Judging from the youngster's actions and grimaces, this +combing process was not a pleasant one. The third wife, much younger, +had a comely face, and long braids of black hair, of which, evidently, +she was proud. She leaned on her knees over a flat slab of rock, and +holding in her hands a long oval stone, she rolled and mashed corn into +meal. There were young braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way, +with bands binding their straight thick hair, silver rings in their ears, +silver bracelets on their wrists, silver buttons on their moccasins. +There were girls who looked up from their blanket-weaving with shy +curiosity, and then turned to their frames strung with long threads. +Under their nimble fingers the wool-carrying needles slipped in and out, +and the colored stripes grew apace. Then there were younger boys and +girls, all bright-eyed and curious; and babies sleeping on blankets. +Where the walls and ceiling were not covered with buckskin garments, +weapons and blankets, Hare saw the white wood-ribs of the hogan +structure. It was a work of art, this circular house of forked logs and +branches, interwoven into a dome, arched and strong, and all covered and +cemented with clay. + +At a touch of August's hand Hare turned to the old chief; and awaited his +speech. It came with the uplifting of Eschtah's head, and the offering +of his hand in the white man's salute. August's replies were slow and +labored; he could not speak the Navajo language fluently, but he +understood it. + +"The White Prophet is welcome," was the chief's greeting. "Does he come +for sheep or braves or to honor the Navajo in his home?" + +"Eschtah, he seeks the Flower of the Desert," replied August Naab. +"Mescal has left him. Her trail leads to the bitter waters under the +cliff, and then is as a bird's." + +"Eschtah has waited, yet Mescal has not come to him." + +"She has not been here?" + +"Mescal's shadow has not gladdened the Navajo's door." + +"She has climbed the crags or wandered into the canyons. The white +father loves her; he must find her." + +"Eschtah's braves and mustangs are for his friend's use. The Navajo will +find her if she is not as the grain of drifting sand. But is the White +Prophet wise in his years? Let the Flower of the Desert take root in the +soil of her forefathers." + +"Eschtah's wisdom is great, but he thinks only of Indian blood. Mescal +is half white, and her ways have been the ways of the white man. Nor +does Eschtah think of the white man's love." + +"The desert has called. Where is the White Prophet's vision? White +blood and red blood will not mix. The Indian's blood pales in the white +man's stream; or it burns red for the sun and the waste and the wild. +Eschtah's forefathers, sleeping here in the silence, have called the +Desert Flower." + +"It is true. But the white man is bound; he cannot be as the Indian; he +does not content himself with life as it is; he hopes and prays for +change; he believes in the progress of his race on earth. Therefore +Eschtah's white friend smelts Mescal; he has brought her up as his own; +he wants to take her home, to love her better, to trust to the future." + +"The white man's ways are white man's ways. Eschtah understands. He +remembers his daughter lying here. He closed her dead eyes and sent word +to his white friend. He named this child for the flower that blows in +the wind of silent places. Eschtah gave his granddaughter to his friend. +She has been the bond between them. Now she is flown and the White +Father seeks the Navajo. Let him command. Eschtah has spoken." + +Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the +guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every +waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the +river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, +ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into +the thickets and caves. From Eschtah's encampment westward the hogans +diminished in number till only one here and there was discovered, hidden +under a yellow wall, or amid a clump of cedars. All the Indians met with +were sternly questioned by the chiefs, their dwellings were searched, and +the ground about their waterholes was closely examined. Mile after mile +the plateau was covered by these Indians, who beat the brush and +penetrated the fastnesses with a hunting instinct that left scarcely a +rabbit-burrow unrevealed. The days sped by; the circle of the sun arched +higher; the patches of snow in high places disappeared; and the search +proceeded westward. They camped where the night overtook them, sometimes +near water and grass, sometimes in bare dry places. To the westward the +plateau widened. Rugged ridges rose here and there, and seared crags +split the sky like sharp sawteeth. And after many miles of wild +up-ranging they reached a divide which marked the line of Eschtah's +domain. + +Naab's dogged persistence and the Navajos' faithfulness carried them into +the country of the Moki Indians, a tribe classed as slaves by the proud +race of Eschtah. Here they searched the villages and ancient tombs and +ruins, but of Mescal there was never a trace. + +Hare rode as diligently and searched as indefatigably as August, but he +never had any real hope of finding the girl. To hunt for her, however, +despite its hopelessness, was a melancholy satisfaction, for never was +she out of his mind. + +Nor was the month's hard riding with the Navajos without profit. He made +friends with the Indians, and learned to speak many of their words. Then +a whole host of desert tricks became part of his accumulating knowledge. +In climbing the crags, in looking for water and grass, in loosing +Silvermane at night and searching for him at dawn, in marking tracks on +hard ground, in all the sight and feeling and smell of desert things he +learned much from the Navajos. The whole outward life of the Indian was +concerned with the material aspect of Nature--dust, rock, air, wind, +smoke, the cedars, the beasts of the desert. These things made up the +Indians' day. The Navajos were worshippers of the physical; the sun was +their supreme god. In the mornings when the gray of dawn flushed to rosy +red they began their chant to the sun. At sunset the Navajos were +watchful and silent with faces westward. The Moki Indians also, Hare +observed, had their morning service to the great giver of light. In the +gloom of early dawn, before the pink appeared in the east, and all was +whitening gray, the Mokis emerged from their little mud and stone huts +and sat upon the roofs with blanketed and drooping heads. + +One day August Naab showed in few words how significant a factor the sun +was in the lives of desert men. + +"We've got to turn back," he said to Hare. "The sun's getting hot and +the snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we +can't cross." + +They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received +them in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of +departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, +which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs. +It was the Navajos' outlook over the Painted Desert. + +"Mescal is there," said August Naab. "She's there with the slave Eschtah +gave her. He leads Mescal. Who can follow him there?" + +The old chieftain reined in his horse, beside the time-hollowed trail, +and the same hand that waved his white friend downward swept up in slow +stately gesture toward the illimitable expanse. It was a warrior's +salute to an unconquered world. Hare saw in his falcon eyes the still +gleam, the brooding fire, the mystical passion that haunted the eyes of +Mescal. + +"The slave without a tongue is a wolf. He scents the trails and the +waters. Eschtah's eyes have grown old watching here, but he has seen no +Indian who could follow Mescal's slave. Eschtah will lie there, but no +Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is +lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. +Look!" + +To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored +dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and +dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a +veritable rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred +Hare--he saw the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of +alkali and washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and +dust-encumbered ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of the +flat tableland rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the eye +beyond to veils and vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line of +level lanes, and so on, and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare +grasped a little of its meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed +world. Here was deep and majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But +it was only through Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its +terrifying desolateness, its sleeping death. + +When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere speech, +the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner being seemed +to shrink. + +"The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him," said Eschtah. +"The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand." + + + +XIII +THE SOMBRE LINE + + +AUGUST NAAB hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to +Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy +faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's +flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had +followed. + +Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy. +For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself +in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his +almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his +wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave +Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had +ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since. + +The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the +life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as +to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, +gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August +Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to +the range, and tell his sons that he would come later. + +It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and +made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars +toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of +the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab. + +"Hello, Jack," called Dave Naab, into the dark. "I knew that was you. +Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you +and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you +clear to the Little Colorado." + +Hare told the story of the fruitless search. + +"It's no more than we expected," said Dave. "The man doesn't live who +can trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped +her halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn +into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, +for she's a good girl, too good for Snap." + +"What's your news?" inquired Hare. + +"Oh, nothing much," replied Dave, with a short laugh. "The cattle +wintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke +and I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping +Springs. We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's. +He's with Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the +corrals at the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen +riders there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He +finished up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you." + +"About me!" + +"Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for it. +Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's going +too far--he is--" Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence was +more significant than any utterance. + +"What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap's killing Snood?" + +"They've said a lot. This even-break business goes all right among +gun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed +Culver, and Snap will be outlawed next." + +"Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert too small for him and +me?" + +"Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak to you about it. +Snap will ride in here some day and then--" Dave's pause was not +reassuring. + +And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding +down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and +saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a +tall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and +Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught +sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars. +While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail. + +"It's Snap and Holderness," he called out, sharply "What's Snap doing +with Holderness? What's he bringing him here for?" + +"I don't like the looks of it," replied Zeke, deliberately. + +"Jack, what what'll you do?" asked Dave, suddenly. + +"Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit +from men who don't like me." + +"It might be wisest." + +"Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?" + +"No." The dull red came to Dave's cheek. "But will you draw on him?" + +"Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother." + +"Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on +Holderness, then?" + +"For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you," replied Hare, pacing the +trail. "Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd +draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull +too late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap +or Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would +either of them shoot an unarmed man?" + +"Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun." + +Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over +the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats near +the camp-fire. + +"There they come," whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by +George. + +"Steady, you fellows," said Dave, with a warning glance. "I'll do the +talking." + +Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the +glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood +directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside. + +"Howdy, boys?" called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a +gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, +their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the +cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed his +brother. + +"Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?" + +"I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round," replied Snap. +The hard lines, the sullen shade the hawk-beak cruelty had returned +tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame. + +"New foreman!" exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared in +amazement. "No--you can't mean that--you're drunk!" + +"That's what I said," growled Snap. + +"You're a liar!" shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown on +his cheeks. He jumped off the ground in his fury. + +"It's true, Naab; he's my new foreman," put in Holderness, suavely. "A +hundred a month--in gold--and I've got as good a place for you." + +"Well, by G--d!" Dave's arms came down and his face blanched to his lips. +"Holderness!" + +"I know what you'd say," interrupted the ranchman. + +"But stop it. I know you're game. And what's the use of fighting? I'm +talking business. I'll--" + +"You can't talk business or anything else to me," said Dave Naab, and he +veered sharply toward his brother. "Say it again, Snap Naab. You've +hired out to ride for this man?" + +"That's it." + +"You're going against your father, your brothers, your own flesh and +blood?" + +"I can't see it that way." + +"Then you're a drunken, easily-led fool. This man's no rancher. He's a +rustler. He ruined Martin Cole, the father of your first wife. He's +stolen our cattle; he's jumped our water-rights. He's trying to break +us. For God's sake, ain't you a man?" + +"Things have gone bad for me," replied Snap, sullenly, shifting in his +saddle. "I reckon I'll do better to cut out alone for myself." + +"You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I always +knew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace the +Naabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here? +Be quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. You +can't even water your horses. Out with it!" + +At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenly +felt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of his +breast. The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemed +instantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Hare +dodged, but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave place +to a tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a +bloody hand fumbling at his breast. + +Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt, +held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick +which made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was +nearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone. + +"Cool down, there!" ordered Zeke. "He's done for." + +"My God--my God!" cried Dave, in a broken voice. "Not--not dead?" + +"Shot through the heart!" + +Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse. "D--n you! run, or +I'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again--you +draw!" He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. They +plunged out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing the +cedars, disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers. + +"Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my friend! . . . +Who's to tell father?" + +Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bare +shoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. "Cheer +up, Dave. I'm not dead yet." + +"Sure he's not," said Zeke. "He ducked none too soon, or too late, and +caught the bullet high up in the shoulder." + +Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on Hare's +knee shook a little. + +"When I saw George go for his gun," went on Zeke, "I knew there'd be a +lively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack was +dead." + +"Do you think they came over to get me?" asked Hare. + +"No doubt," replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from his +brow. "I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's going +over to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snap +edging over till too late." + +"Listen, I hear horses," said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare's +wound. + +"It's Billy, up on the home trail," added George "Yes, and there's father +with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?" + +"Some one must tell him," answered Dave. + +"That'll be you, then. You always do the talking." + +August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the saddle. +"I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?--Hare! Why--lad--how is it +with you?" + +"Not bad," rejoined Hare. + +"Let me see," August thrust Zeke aside. "A bullet-hole--just missed the +bone--not serious. Tie it up tight. I'll take him home to-morrow. . . . +Hare, who's been here?" + +"Snap rode in and left his respects." + +"Snap! Already? Yet I knew it--I saw it. You had Providence with you, +lad, for this wound is not bad. Snap surprised you, then?" + +"No. I knew it was coming." + +"Jack hung his belt and gun on Silvermane's saddle," said Dave. "He +didn't feel as if he could draw on either Snap or Holderness--" + +"Holderness!" + +"Yes. Snap rode in with Holderness. Hare thought if he was unarmed they +wouldn't draw. But Snap did." + +"Was he drunk?" + +"No. They came over to kill Hare." Dave went on to recount the incident +in full. "And--and see here, dad--that's not all. Snap's gone to the +bad." + +Dave Naab hid his face while he told of his brother's treachery; the +others turned away, and Hare closed his eyes. + +For long moments there was silence broken only by the tramp of the old +man as he strode heavily to and fro. At last the footsteps ceased, and +Hare opened his eyes to see Naab's tall form erect, his arms uplifted, +his shaggy head rigid. + +"Hare," began August, presently. "I'm responsible for this cowardly +attack on you. I brought you out here. This is the second one. Beware +of the third! I see--but tell me, do you remember that I said you must +meet Snap as man to man?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't you want to live?" + +"Of course." + +"You hold to no Mormon creed?" + +"Why, no," Hare replied, wonderingly. + +"What was the reason I taught you my trick with a gun?" + +"I suppose it was to help me to defend myself." + +"Then why do you let yourself be shot down in cold blood? Why did you +hang up your gun? Why didn't you draw on Snap? Was it because of his +father, his brothers, his family?" + +"Partly, but not altogether," replied Hare, slowly. "I didn't know +before what I know now. My flesh sickened at the thought of killing a +man, even to save my own life; and to kill--your son--" + +"No son of mine!" thundered Naab. "Remember that when next you meet. I +don't want your blood on my hands. Don't stand to be killed like a +sheep! If you have felt duty to me, I release you." + +Zeke finished bandaging the wound. Making a bed of blankets he lifted +Hare into it, and covered him, cautioning him to lie still. Hare had a +sensation of extreme lassitude, a deep drowsiness which permeated even to +his bones. There were intervals of oblivion, then a time when the stars +blinked in his eyes; he heard the wind, Silvermane's bell, the murmur of +voices, yet all seemed remote from him, intangible as things in a dream. + +He rode home next day, drooping in the saddle and fainting at the end of +the trail, with the strong arm of August Naab upholding him. His wound +was dressed and he was put to bed, where he lay sleeping most of the +time, brooding the rest. + +In three weeks he was in the saddle again, riding out over the red strip +of desert toward the range. During his convalescence he had learned that +he had come to the sombre line of choice. Either he must deliberately +back away, and show his unfitness to survive in the desert, or he must +step across into its dark wilds. The stern question haunted him. Yet he +knew a swift decision waited on the crucial moment. + +He sought lonely rides more than ever, and, like Silvermane, he was +always watching and listening. His duties carried him half way to +Seeping Springs, across the valley to the red wall, up the slope of +Coconina far into the forest of stately pines. What with Silvermane's +wonderful scent and sight, and his own constant watchfulness, there were +never range-riders or wild horses nor even deer near him without his +knowledge. + +The days flew by; spring had long since given place to summer; the blaze +of sun and blast of flying sand were succeeded by the cooling breezes +from the mountain; October brought the flurries of snow and November the +dark storm-clouds. + +Hare was the last of the riders to be driven off the mountain. The +brothers were waiting for him at Silver Cup, and they at once packed and +started for home. + +August Naab listened to the details of the range-riding since his +absence, with silent surprise. Holderness and Snap had kept away from +Silver Cup after the supposed killing of Hare. Occasionally a group of +horsemen rode across the valley or up a trail within sight of Dave and +his followers, but there was never a meeting. Not a steer had been +driven off the range that summer and fall; and except for the menace +always hanging in the blue smoke over Seeping Springs the range-riding +had passed without unusual incident. + +So for Hare the months had gone by swiftly; though when he looked back +afterward they seemed years. The winter at the oasis he filled as best +he could, with the children playing in the yard, with Silvermane under +the sunny lee of the great red wall, with any work that offered itself. +It was during the long evenings, when he could not be active, that time +oppressed him, and the memories of the past hurt him. A glimpse of the +red sunset through the cliff-gate toward the west would start the train +of thought; he both loved and hated the Painted Desert. Mescal was there +in the purple shadows. He dreamed of her in the glowing embers of the +log-fire. He saw her on Black Bolly with hair flying free to the wind. +And he could not shut out the picture of her sitting in the corner of the +room, silent, with bowed head, while the man to whom she was pledged hung +close over her. That memory had a sting. It was like a spark of fire +dropped on the wound in his breast where the desert-hawk had struck him. +It was like a light gleaming on the sombre line he was waiting to cross. + + + +XIV +WOLF + + +ON the anniversary of the night Mescal disappeared the mysterious voice +which had called to Hare so often and so strangely again pierced his +slumber, and brought him bolt upright in his bed shuddering and +listening. The dark room was as quiet as a tomb. He fell back into his +blankets trembling with emotion. Sleep did not close his eyes again that +night; he lay in a fever waiting for the dawn, and when the gray gloom +lightened he knew what he must do. + +After breakfast he sought August Naab. "May I go across the river?" he +asked. + +The old man looked up from his carpenter's task and fastened his glance +on Hare. "Mescal?" + +"Yes." + +"I saw it long ago." He shook his head and spread his great hands. +"There's no use for me to say what the desert is. If you ever come back +you'll bring her. Yes, you may go. It's a man's deed. God keep you!" + +Hare spoke to no other person; he filled one saddle-bag with grain, +another with meat, bread, and dried fruits, strapped a five-gallon +leather water-sack back of Silvermane's saddle, and set out toward the +river. At the crossing-bar he removed Silvermane's equipments and placed +them in the boat. At that moment a long howl, as of a dog baying the +moon, startled him from his musings, and his eyes sought the river-bank, +up and down, and then the opposite side. An animal, which at first he +took to be a gray timber-wolf, was running along the sand-bar of the +landing. + +"Pretty white for a wolf," he muttered. "Might be a Navajo dog." + +The beast sat down on his haunches and, lifting a lean head, sent up a +doleful howl. Then he began trotting along the bar, every few paces +stepping to the edge of the water. Presently he spied Hare, and he began +to bark furiously. + +"It's a dog all right; wants to get across," said Hare. "Where have I +seen him?" + +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. "He's like +Mescal's Wolf!" He looked closer, his heart beginning to thump, and then +he yelled: "Ki-yi! Wolf! Hyer! Hyer!" + +The dog leaped straight up in the air, and coming down, began to dash +back and forth along the sand with piercing yelps. + +"It's Wolf! Mescal must be near," cried Hare. A veil obscured his sight, +and every vein was like a hot cord. "Wolf! Wolf! I'm coming!" + +With trembling hands he tied Silvermane's bridle to the stern seat of the +boat and pushed off. In his eagerness he rowed too hard, dragging +Silvermane's nose under water, and he had to check himself. Time and +again he turned to call to the dog. At length the bow grated on the +sand, and Silvermane emerged with a splash and a snort. + +"Wolf, old fellow!" cried Hare. "Where's Mescal? Wolf, where is she?" +He threw his arms around the dog. Wolf whined, licked Hare's face, and +breaking away, ran up the sandy trail, and back again. But he barked no +more; he waited to see if Hare was following. + +"All right, Wolf--coming." Never had Hare saddled so speedily, nor +mounted so quickly. He sent Silvermane into the willow-skirted trail +close behind the dog, up on the rocky bench, and then under the bulging +wall. Wolf reached the level between the canyon and Echo Cliffs, and +then started straight west toward the Painted Desert. He trotted a few +rods and turned to see if the man was coming. + +Doubt, fear, uncertainty ceased for Hare. With the first blast of +dust-scented air in his face he knew Wolf was leading him to Mescal. He +knew that the cry he had heard in his dream was hers, that the old +mysterious promise of the desert had at last begun its fulfilment. He +gave one sharp exultant answer to that call. The horizon, ever-widening, +lay before him, and the treeless plains, the sun-scorched slopes, the +sandy stretches, the massed blocks of black mesas, all seemed to welcome +him; his soul sang within him. + +For Mescal was there. Far away she must be, a mere grain of sand in all +that world of drifting sands, perhaps ill, perhaps hurt, but alive, +waiting for him, calling for him, crying out with a voice that no +distance could silence. He did not see the sharp peaks as pitiless +barriers, nor the mesas and domes as black-faced death, nor the +moisture-drinking sands as life-sucking foes to plant and beast and man. +That painted wonderland had sheltered Mescal for a year. He had loved it +for its color, its change, its secrecy; he loved it now because it had +not been a grave for Mescal, but a home. Therefore he laughed at the +deceiving yellow distances in the foreground of glistening mesas, at the +deceiving purple distances of the far-off horizon. The wind blew a song +in his ears; the dry desert odors were fragrance in his nostrils; the +sand tasted sweet between his teeth, and the quivering heat-waves, +veiling the desert in transparent haze, framed beautiful pictures for his +eyes. + +Wolf kept to the fore for some thirty paces, and though he had ceased to +stop, he still looked back to see if the horse and man were following. +Hare had noted the dog occasionally in the first hours of travel, but he +had given his eyes mostly to the broken line of sky and desert in the +west, to the receding contour of Echo Cliffs, to the spread and break of +the desert near at hand. Here and there life showed itself in a gaunt +coyote sneaking into the cactus, or a horned toad huddling down in the +dust, or a jewel-eyed lizard sunning himself upon a stone. It was only +when his excited fancy had cooled that Hare came to look closely at Wolf. +But for the dog's color he could not have been distinguished from a real +wolf. His head and ears and tail drooped, and he was lame in his right +front paw. + +Hare halted in the shade of a stone, dismounted and called the dog to +him. Wolf returned without quickness, without eagerness, without any of +the old-time friendliness of shepherding days. His eyes were sad and +strange. Hare felt a sudden foreboding, but rejected it with passionate +force. Yet a chill remained. Lifting Wolf's paw he discovered that the +ball of the foot was worn through; whereupon he called into service a +piece of buckskin, and fashioning a rude moccasin he tied it round the +foot. Wolf licked his hand, but there was no change in the sad light of +his eyes. He turned toward the west as if anxious to be off. + +"All right, old fellow," said Hare, "only go slow. From the look of that +foot I think you've turned back on a long trail." + +Again they faced the west, dog leading, man following, and addressed +themselves to a gradual ascent. When it had been surmounted Hare +realized that his ride so far had brought him only through an anteroom; +the real portal now stood open to the Painted Desert. The immensity of +the thing seemed to reach up to him with a thousand lines, ridges, +canyons, all ascending out of a purple gulf. The arms of the desert +enveloped him, a chill beneath their warmth. + +As he descended into the valley, keeping close to Wolf, he marked a +straight course in line with a volcanic spur. He was surprised when the +dog, though continually threading jumbles of rock, heading canyons, +crossing deep washes, and going round obstructions, always veered back to +this bearing as true as a compass-needle to its magnet. + +Hare felt the air growing warmer and closer as he continued the descent. +By mid-afternoon, when he had travelled perhaps thirty miles, he was +moist from head to foot, and Silvermane's coat was wet. Looking backward +Hare had a blank feeling of loss; the sweeping line of Echo Cliffs had +retreated behind the horizon. There was no familiar landmark left. + +Sunset brought him to a standstill, as much from its sudden glorious +gathering of brilliant crimsons splashed with gold, as from its warning +that the day was done. Hare made his camp beside a stone which would +serve as a wind-break. He laid his saddle for a pillow and his blanket +for a bed. He gave Silvermane a nose-bag full of water and then one of +grain; he fed the dog, and afterward attended to his own needs. When his +task was done the desert brightness had faded to gray; the warm air had +blown away on a cool breeze, and night approached. He scooped out a +little hollow in the sand for his hips, took a last look at Silvermane +haltered to the rock, and calling Wolf to his side stretched himself to +rest. He was used to lying on the ground, under the open sky, out where +the wind blew and the sand seeped in, yet all these were different on +this night. He was in the Painted Desert; Wolf crept close to him; +Mescal lay somewhere under the blue-white stars. + +He awakened and arose before any color of dawn hinted of the day. While +he fed his four-footed companions the sky warmed and lightened. A tinge +of rose gathered in the east. The air was cool and transparent. He +tried to cheer Wolf out of his sad-eyed forlornness, and failed. + +Hare vaulted into the saddle. The day had its possibilities, and while +he had sobered down from his first unthinking exuberance, there was still +a ring in his voice as he called to the dog: + +"On, Wolf, on, old boy!" + +Out of the east burst the sun, and the gray curtain was lifted by shafts +of pink and white and gold, flashing westward long trails of color. + +When they started the actions of the dog showed Hare that Wolf was not +tracking a back-trail, but travelling by instinct. There were draws +which necessitated a search for a crossing, and areas of broken rock +which had to be rounded, and steep flat mesas rising in the path, and +strips of deep sand and canyons impassable for long distances. But the +dog always found a way and always came back to a line with the black spur +that Hare had marked. It still stood in sharp relief, no nearer than +before, receding with every step, an illusive landmark, which Hare began +to distrust. + +Then quite suddenly it vanished in the ragged blue mass of the Ghost +Mountains. Hare had seen them several times, though never so distinctly. +The purple tips, the bold rock-ribs, the shadowed canyons, so sharp and +clear in the morning light--how impossible to believe that these were +only the deceit of the desert mirage! Yet so they were; even for the +Navajos they were spirit-mountains. + +The splintered desert-floor merged into an area of sand. Wolf slowed his +trot, and Silvermane's hoofs sunk deep. Dismounting Hare labored beside +him, and felt the heat steal through his boots and burn the soles of his +feet. Hare plodded onward, stopping once to tie another moccasin on +Wolf's worn paw, this time the left one; and often he pulled the stopper +from the water-bag and cooled his parching lips and throat. The waves of +the sand-dunes were as the waves of the ocean. He did not look backward, +dreading to see what little progress he had made. Ahead were miles on +miles of graceful heaps, swelling mounds, crested ridges, all different, +yet regular and rhythmical, drift on drift, dune on dune, in endless +waves. Wisps of sand were whipped from their summits in white ribbons +and wreaths, and pale clouds of sand shrouded little hollows. The +morning breeze, rising out of the west, approached in a rippling lines +like the crest of an inflowing tide. + +Silvermane snorted, lifted his ears and looked westward toward a yellow +pall which swooped up from the desert. + +"Sand-storm," said Hare, and calling Wolf he made for the nearest rock +that was large enough to shelter them. The whirling sand-cloud +mushroomed into an enormous desert covering, engulfing the dunes, +obscuring the light. The sunlight failed; the day turned to gloom. +Then an eddying fog of sand and dust enveloped Hare. His last glimpse +before he covered his face with a silk handkerchief was of sheets of sand +streaming past his shelter. The storm came with a low, soft, hissing +roar, like the sound in a sea-shell magnified. Breathing through the +handkerchief Hare avoided inhaling the sand which beat against his face, +but the finer dust particles filtered through and stifled him. At first +he felt that he would suffocate, and he coughed and gasped; but +presently, when the thicker sand-clouds had passed, he managed to get air +enough to breathe. Then he waited patiently while the steady seeping +rustle swept by, and the band of his hat sagged heavier, and the load on +his shoulders had to be continually shaken off, and the weighty trap +round his feet crept upward. When the light, fine touch ceased he +removed the covering from his face to see himself standing nearly to his +knees in sand, and Silvermane's back and the saddle burdened with it. +The storm was moving eastward, a dull red now with the sun faintly +showing through it like a ball of fire. + +"Well, Wolf, old boy, how many storms like that will we have to weather?" +asked Hare, in a cheery tone which he had to force. He knew these +sand-storms were but vagaries of the desert-wind. Before the hour closed +he had to seek the cover of a stone and wait for another to pass. Then +he was caught in the open, with not a shelter in sight. He was compelled +to turn his back to a third storm, the worst of all, and to bear as best +he could the heavy impact of the first blow, and the succeeding rush and +flow of sand. After that his head drooped and he wearily trudged beside +Silvermane, dreading the interminable distance he must cover before once +more gaining hard ground. But he discovered that it was useless to try +to judge distance on the desert. What had appeared miles at his last +look turned out to be only rods. + +It was good to get into the saddle again and face clear air. Far away +the black spur again loomed up, now surrounded by groups of mesas with +sage-slopes tinged with green. That surely meant the end of this long +trail; the faint spots of green lent suggestion of a desert waterhole; +there Mescal must be, hidden in some shady canyon. Hare built his hopes +anew. + +So he pressed on down a plain of bare rock dotted by huge bowlders; and +out upon a level floor of scant sage and greasewood where a few living +creatures, a desert-hawk sailing low, lizards darting into holes, and a +swiftly running ground-bird, emphasized the lack of life in the waste. +He entered a zone of clay-dunes of violet and heliotrope hues; and then a +belt of lava and cactus. Reddish points studded the desert, and here and +there were meagre patches of white grass. Far away myriads of cactus +plants showed like a troop of distorted horsemen. As he went on the +grass failed, and streams of jagged lava flowed downward. Beds of +cinders told of the fury of a volcanic fire. Soon Hare had to dismount +to make moccasins for Wolf's hind feet; and to lead Silvermane carefully +over the cracked lava. For a while there were strips of ground bare of +lava and harboring only an occasional bunch of cactus, but soon every +foot free of the reddish iron bore a projecting mass of fierce spikes and +thorns. The huge barrel-shaped cacti, and thickets of slender dark-green +rods with bayonet points, and broad leaves with yellow spines, drove Hare +and his sore-footed fellow-travellers to the lava. + +Hare thought there must be an end to it some time, yet it seemed as +though he were never to cross that black forbidding inferno. Blistered +by the heat, pierced by the thorns, lame from long toil on the lava, he +was sorely spent when once more he stepped out upon the bare desert. On +pitching camp he made the grievous discovery that the water-bag had +leaked or the water had evaporated, for there was only enough left for +one more day. He ministered to thirsty dog and horse in silence, his +mind revolving the grim fact of his situation. + +His little fire of greasewood threw a wan circle into the surrounding +blackness. Not a sound hinted of life. He longed for even the bark of a +coyote. Silvermane stooped motionless with tired head. Wolf stretched +limply on the sand. Hare rolled into his blanket and stretched out with +slow aching relief. + +He dreamed he was a boy roaming over the green hills of the old farm, +wading through dewy clover-fields, and fishing in the Connecticut River. +It was the long vacationtime, an endless freedom. Then he was at the +swimming-hole, and playmates tied his clothes in knots, and with shouts +of glee ran up the bank leaving him there to shiver. + +When he awakened the blazing globe of the sun had arisen over the eastern +horizon, and the red of the desert swathed all the reach of valley. + +Hare pondered whether he should use his water at once or dole it out. +That ball of fire in the sky, a glazed circle, like iron at white heat, +decided for him. The sun would be hot and would evaporate such water as +leakage did not claim, and so he shared alike with Wolf, and gave the +rest to Silvermane. + +For an hour the mocking lilac mountains hung in the air and then paled in +the intense light. The day was soundless and windless, and the +heat-waves rose from the desert like smoke. For Hare the realities were +the baked clay flats, where Silvermane broke through at every step; the +beds of alkali, which sent aloft clouds of powdered dust; the deep +gullies full of round bowlders; thickets of mesquite and prickly thorn +which tore at his legs; the weary detour to head the canyons; the climb +to get between two bridging mesas; and always the haunting presence of +the sad-eyed dog. His unrealities were the shimmering sheets of water in +every low place; the baseless mountains floating in the air; the green +slopes rising close at hand; beautiful buttes of dark blue riding the +open sand, like monstrous barks at sea; the changing outlines of desert +shapes in pink haze and veils of purple and white lustre--all illusions, +all mysterious tricks of the mirage. + +In the heat of midday Hare yielded to its influence and reined in his +horse under a slate-bank where there was shade. His face was swollen +and peeling, and his lips had begun to dry and crack and taste of alkali. +Then Wolf pattered on; Silvermane kept at his heels; Hare dozed in the +saddle. His eyes burned in their sockets from the glare, and it was a +relief to shut out the barren reaches. So the afternoon waned. + +Silvermane stumbled, jolting Hare out of his stupid lethargy. Before him +spread a great field of bowlders with not a slope or a ridge or a mesa or +an escarpment. Not even a tip of a spur rose in the background. He +rubbed his sore eyes. Was this another illusion? + +When Silvermane started onward Hare thought of the Navajos' custom to +trust horse and dog in such an emergency. They were desert-bred; beyond +human understanding were their sight and scent. He was at the mercy now +of Wolf's instinct and Silvermane's endurance. Resignation brought him a +certain calmness of soul, cold as the touch of an icy hand on fevered +cheek. He remembered the desert secret in Mescal's eyes; he was about to +solve it. He remembered August Naab's words: "It's a man's deed!" If so, +he had achieved the spirit of it, if not the letter. He remembered +Eschtah's tribute to the wilderness of painted wastes: "There is the +grave of the Navajo, and no one knows the trail to the place of his +sleep!" He remembered the something evermore about to be, the unknown +always subtly calling; now it was revealed in the stone-fettering grip of +the desert. It had opened wide to him, bright with its face of danger, +beautiful with its painted windows, inscrutable with its alluring call. +Bidding him enter, it had closed behind him; now he looked upon it in its +iron order, its strange ruins racked by fire, its inevitable +remorselessness. + + + +XV +DESERT NIGHT + + +THE gray stallion, finding the rein loose on his neck, trotted forward +and overtook the dog, and thereafter followed at his heels. With the +setting of the sun a slight breeze stirred, and freshened as twilight +fell, rolling away the sultry atmosphere. Then the black desert night +mantled the plain. + +For a while this blackness soothed the pain of Hare's sun-blinded eyes. +It was a relief to have the unattainable horizon line blotted out. But +by-and-by the opaque gloom brought home to him, as the day had never +done, the reality of his solitude. He was alone in this immense place of +barrenness, and his dumb companions were the world to him. Wolf pattered +onward, a silent guide; and Silvermane followed, never lagging, +sure-footed in the dark, faithful to his master. All the love Hare had +borne the horse was as nothing to that which came to him on this desert +night. In and out, round and round, ever winding, ever zigzagging, +Silvermane hung close to Wolf, and the sandy lanes between the bowlders +gave forth no sound. Dog and horse, free to choose their trail, trotted +onward miles and miles into the night. + +A pale light in the east turned to a glow, then to gold, and the round +disc of the moon silhouetted the black bowlders on the horizon. It +cleared the dotted line and rose, an oval orange-hued strange moon, not +mellow nor silvery nor gloriously brilliant as Hare had known it in the +past, but a vast dead-gold melancholy orb, rising sadly over the desert. +To Hare it was the crowning reminder of lifelessness; it fitted this +world of dull gleaming stones. + +Silvermane went lame and slackened his trot, causing Hare to rein in and +dismount. He lifted the right forefoot, the one the horse had favored, +and found a stone imbedded tightly in the cloven hoof. He pried it out +with his knife and mounted again. Wolf shone faintly far ahead, and +presently he uttered a mournful cry which sent a chill to the rider's +heart. The silence had been oppressive before; now it was terrible. It +was not a silence of life. It had been broken suddenly by Wolf's howl, +and had closed sharply after it, without echo; it was a silence of death. + +Hare took care not to fall behind Wolf again, he had no wish to hear that +cry repeated. The dog moved onward with silent feet; the horse wound +after him with hoofs padded in the sand; the moon lifted and the desert +gleamed; the bowlders grew larger and the lanes wider. So the night wore +on, and Hare's eyelids grew heavy, and his whole weary body cried out for +rest and forgetfulness. He nodded until he swayed in the saddle; then +righted himself, only to doze again. The east gave birth to the morning +star. The whitening sky was the harbinger of day. Hare could not bring +himself to face the light and heat, and he stopped at a wind-worn cave +under a shelving rock. He was asleep when he rolled out on the +sand-strewn floor. Once he awoke and it was still day, for his eyes +quickly shut upon the glare. He lay sweltering till once more slumber +claimed him. The dog awakened him, with cold nose and low whine. Another +twilight had fallen. Hare crawled out, stiff and sore, hungry and +parching with thirst. He made an attempt to eat, but it was a failure. +There was a dry burning in his throat, a dizzy feeling in his brain, and +there were red flashes before his eyes. Wolf refused meat, and Silvermane +turned from the grain, and lowered his head to munch a few blades of +desert grass. + +Then the journey began, and the night fell black. A cool wind blew from +the west, the white stars blinked, the weird moon rose with its ghastly +glow. Huge bowlders rose before him in grotesque shapes, tombs and +pillars and statues of Nature's dead, carved by wind and sand. But some +had life in Hare's disordered fancy. They loomed and towered over him, +and stalked abroad and peered at him with deep-set eyes. + +Hare fought with all his force against this mood of gloom. Wolf was not +a phantom; he trotted forward with unerring instinct; and he would find +water, and that meant life. Silvermane, desert-steeled, would travel to +the furthermost corner of this hell of sand-swept stone. Hare tried to +collect all his spirit, all his energies, but the battle seemed to be +going against him. All about him was silence, breathless silence, +insupportable silence of ages. Desert spectres danced in the darkness. +The worn-out moon gleamed golden over the worn-out waste. Desolation +lurked under the sable shadows. + +Hare rode on into the night, tumbled from his saddle in the gray of dawn +to sleep, and stumbled in the twilight to his drooping horse. His eyes +were blind now to the desert shapes, his brain burned and his tongue +filled his mouth. Silvermane trod ever upon Wolf's heels; he had come into +the kingdom of his desert-strength; he lifted his drooping head and +lengthened his stride; weariness had gone and he snorted his welcome to +something on the wind. Then he passed the limping dog and led the way. + +Hare held to the pommel and bent dizzily forward in the saddle. +Silvermane was going down, step by step, with metallic clicks upon flinty +rock. Whether he went down or up was all the same to Hare; he held on +with closed eyes and whispered to himself. Down and down, step by step, +cracking the stones with iron-shod hoofs, the gray stallion worked his +perilous way, sure-footed as a mountain-sheep. Then he stopped with a +great slow heave and bent his head. + +The black bulge of a canyon rim blurred in Hare's hot eyes. A trickling +sound penetrated his tired brain. His ears had grown like his eyes-- +false. Only another delusion! As he had been tortured with the sight of +lake and stream now he was to be tortured with the sound of running +water. Yet he listened, for it was sweet even in its mockery. What a +clear musical tinkle, like silver bells tossing on the wind! He listened. +Soft murmuring flow, babble and gurgle, little hollow fall and splash! + +Suddenly Silvermane, lifting his head, broke the silence of the canyon +with a great sigh of content. It pierced the dull fantasy of Hare's +mind; it burst the gloomy spell. The sigh and the snort which followed +were Silvermane's triumphant signals when he had drunk his fill. + +Hare fell from the saddle. The gray dog lay stretched low in the +darkness. Hare crawled beside him and reached out with his hot hands. +Smooth cool marble rock, growing slippery, then wet, led into running +water. He slid forward on his face and wonderful cold thrills quivered +over his burning skin. He drank and drank until he could drink no more. +Then he lay back upon the rock; the madness of his brain went out with +the light of the stars, and he slept. + +When he awoke red canyon walls leaned far above him to a gap spanned by +blue sky. A song of rushing water murmured near his ears. He looked +down; a spring gushed from a crack in the wall; Silvermane cropped green +bushes, and Wolf sat on his haunches waiting, but no longer with sad eyes +and strange mien. Hare raised himself, looking again and again, and +slowly gathered his wits. The crimson blur had gone from his eyes and +the burning from his skin, and the painful swelling from his tongue. + +He drank long and deeply, and rising with clearing thoughts and thankful +heart, he kissed Wolf's white head, and laid his arms round Silvermane's +neck. He fed them, and ate himself, not without difficulty, for his lips +were puffed and his tongue felt like a piece of rope. When he had eaten, +his strength came back. + +At a word Wolf, with a wag of his tail, splashed into the gravelly stream +bed. Hare followed on foot, leading Silvermane. There were little beds +of pebbles and beaches of sand and short steps down which the water +babbled. The canyon was narrow and tortuous; Hare could not see ahead or +below, for the projecting red cliffs, growing higher as he descended, +walled out the view. The blue stream of sky above grew bluer and the +light and shade less bright. For an hour he went down steadily without a +check, and the farther down the rougher grew the way. Bowlders wedged in +narrow places made foaming waterfalls. Silvermane clicked down +confidently. + +The slender stream of water, swelled by seeping springs and little rills, +gained the dignity of a brook; it began to dash merrily and hurriedly +downward. The depth of the falls, the height of cliffs, and the size of +the bowlders increased in the descent. Wolf splashed on unmindful; there +was a new spirit in his movements; and when he looked back for his +laboring companions there was friendly protest in his eyes. Silvermane's +mien plainly showed that where a dog could go he could follow. +Silvermane's blood was heated; the desert was an old story to him; it had +only tired him and parched his throat; this canyon of downward steps and +falls, with ever-deepening drops, was new to him, and roused his mettle; +and from his long training in the wilds he had gained a marvellous +sure-footedness. + +The canyon narrowed as it deepened; the jutting walls leaned together, +shutting out the light; the sky above was now a ribbon of blue, only to +be seen when Hare threw back his head and stared straight up. + +"It'll be easier climbing up, Silvermane," he panted--"if we ever get +the chance." + +The sand and gravel and shale had disappeared; all was bare clean-washed +rock. In many places the brook failed as a trail, for it leaped down in +white sheets over mossy cliffs. Hare faced these walls in despair. But +Wolf led on over the ledges and Silvermane followed, nothing daunted. At +last Hare shrank back from a hole which defied him utterly. Even Wolf +hesitated. The canyon was barely twenty feet wide; the floor ended in a +precipice; the stream leaped out and fell into a dark cleft from which no +sound arose. On the right there was a shelf of rock; it was scarce half +a foot broad at the narrowest and then apparently vanished altogether. +Hare stared helplessly up at the slanting shut-in walls. + +While he hesitated Wolf pattered out upon the ledge and Silvermane +stamped restlessly. With a desperate fear of losing his beloved horse +Hare let go the bridle and stepped upon the ledge. He walked rapidly, +for a slow step meant uncertainty and a false one meant death. He heard +the sharp ring of Silvermane's shoes, and he listened in agonized +suspense for the slip, the snort, the crash that he feared must come. +But it did not come. Seeing nothing except the narrow ledge, yet feeling +the blue abyss beneath him, he bent all his mind to his task, and finally +walked out into lighter space upon level rock. To his infinite relief +Silvermane appeared rounding a corner out of the dark passage, and was +soon beside him. + +Hare cried aloud in welcome. + +The canyon widened; there was a clear demarcation where the red walls +gave place to yellow; the brook showed no outlet from its subterranean +channel. Sheer exhaustion made Hare almost forget his mission; the +strength of his resolve had gone into mechanical toil; he kept on, +conscious only of the smart of bruised hands and feet and the ache of +laboring lungs. + +Time went on and the sun hung in the midst of the broadening belt of blue +sky. A long slant of yellow slope led down to a sage-covered level, +which Hare crossed, pleased to see blooming cacti and wondering at their +slender lofty green stems shining with gold flowers. He descended into a +ravine which became precipitous. Here he made only slow advance. At the +bottom he found himself in a wonderful lane with an almost level floor; +here flowed a shallow stream bordered by green willows. Wolf took the +direction of the flowing water. Hare's thoughts were all of Mescal, and +his hopes began to mount, his heart to beat high. + +He gazed ahead with straining eyes. Presently there was not a break in +the walls. A drowsy hum of falling water came to Hare, strange reminder +of the oasis, the dull roar of the Colorado, and of Mescal. + +His flagging energies leaped into life with the canyon suddenly opening +to bright light and blue sky and beautiful valley, white and gold in +blossom, green with grass and cottonwood. On a flower-scented wind +rushed that muffled roar again, like distant thunder. + +Wolf dashed into the cottonwoods. Silvermane whistled with satisfaction +and reached for the long grass. + +For Hare the light held something more than beauty, the breeze something +more than sweet scent of water and blossom. Both were charged with +meaning--with suspense. + +Wolf appeared in the open leaping upon a slender brown-garbed form. + +"Mescal!" cried Hare. + +With a cry she ran to him, her arms outstretched, her hair flying in the +wind, her dark eyes wild with joy. + + + +XVI +THUNDER RIVER + + +FOR an instant Hare's brain reeled, and Mescal's broken murmurings were +meaningless Then his faculties grew steady and acute; he held the girl as +if he intended never to let her go. Mescal clung to him with a wildness +that gave him anxiety for her reason; there was something almost fierce +in the tension of her arms, in the blind groping for his face. + +"Mescal! It's Jack, safe and well," he said. "Let me look at you." + +At the sound of his voice all her rigid strength changed to a yielding +weakness; she leaned back supported by his arms and looked at him. Hare +trembled before the dusky level glance he remembered so well, and as +tears began to flow he drew her head to his shoulder. He had forgotten +to prepare himself for a different Mescal. Despite the quivering smile +of happiness, her eyes were strained with pain. The oval contour, the +rich bloom of her face had gone; beauty was there still, but it was the +ghost of the old beauty. + +"Jack--is it--really you?" she asked. + +He answered with a kiss. + +She slipped out of his arms breathless and scarlet. "Tell me all--" + +"There's much to tell, but not before you kiss me. It has been more than +a year." + +"Only a year! Have I been gone only a year?" + +"Yes, a year. But it's past now. Kiss me, Mescal. One kiss will pay +for that long year, though it broke my heart." + +Shyly she raised her hands to his shoulders and put her lips to his. +"Yes, you've found me, Jack, thank God! just in time!" + +"Mescal! What's wrong? Aren't you well?" + +"Pretty well. But if you had not come soon I should have starved." + +"Starved? Let me get my saddle-bags--I have bread and meat." + +"Wait. I'm not so hungry now. I mean very soon I should not have had +any food at all." + +"But your peon--the dumb Indian? Surely he could find something to eat. +What of him? Where is he?" + +"My peon is dead. He has been dead for months, I don't know how many." + +"Dead! What was the matter with him?" + +"I never knew. I found him dead one morning and I buried him in the +sand." + +Mescal led Hare under the cottonwoods and pointed to the Indian's grave, +now green with grass. Farther on in a circle of trees stood a little +hogan skilfully constructed out of brush; the edge of a red blanket +peeped from the door; a burnt-out fire smoked on a stone fireplace, and +blackened earthen vessels lay near. The white seeds of the cottonwoods +were flying light as feathers; plum-trees were pink in blossom; there +were vines twining all about; through the openings in the foliage shone +the blue of sky and red of cliff. Patches of blossoming Bowers were here +and there lit to brilliance by golden shafts of sunlight. The twitter of +birds and hum of bees were almost drowned in the soft roar of water. + +"Is that the Colorado I hear?" asked Hare. + +"No, that's Thunder River. The Colorado is farther down in the Grand +Canyon." + +"Farther down! Mescal, I must have come a mile from the rim. Where are +we?" + +"We are almost at the Colorado, and directly under the head of Coconina. +We can see the mountain from the break in the valley below." + +"Come sit by me here under this tree. Tell me--how did you ever get +here?" + +Then Mescal told him how the peon had led her on a long trail from Bitter +Seeps, how they had camped at desert waterholes, and on the fourth day +descended to Thunder River. + +"I was quite happy at first. It's always summer down here. There were +rabbits, birds, beaver, and fruit--we had enough to eat. I explored the +valley with Wolf or rode Noddle up and down the canyon. Then my peon +died, and I had to shift for myself. There came a time when the beaver +left the valley, and Wolf and I had to make a rabbit serve for days. I +knew then I'd have to get across the desert to the Navajos or starve in +the canyon. I hesitated about climbing out into the desert, for I wasn't +sure of the trail to the waterholes. Noddle wandered off up the canyon +and never came back. After he was gone and I knew I couldn't get out I +grew homesick. The days weren't so bad because I was always hunting for +something to eat, but the nights were lonely. I couldn't sleep. I lay +awake listening to the river, and at last I could hear whispering and +singing and music, and strange sounds, and low thunder, always low +thunder. I wasn't really frightened, only lonely, and the canyon was so +black and full of mutterings. Sometimes I'd dream I was back on the +plateau with you, Jack, and Bolly and the sheep, and when I'd awake in +the loneliness I'd cry right out--" + +"Mescal, I heard those cries," said Hare. + +"It was strange--the way I felt. I believe if I'd never known and--and +loved you, Jack, I'd have forgotten home. After I'd been here a while, I +seemed to be drifting, drifting. It was as if I had lived in the canyon +long before, and was remembering. The feeling was strong, but always +thoughts of you, and of the big world, brought me back to the present +with its loneliness and fear of starvation. Then I wanted you, and I'd +cry out. I knew I must send Wolf home. How hard it was to make him go! +But at last he trotted off, looking backward, and I--waited and waited." + +She leaned against him. The hand which had plucked at his sleeve dropped +to his fingers and clung there. Hare knew how her story had slighted the +perils and privations of that long year. She had grown lonely in the +canyon darkness; she had sent Wolf away and had waited--all was said in +that. But more than any speech, the look of her, and the story told in +the thin brown hands touched his heart. Not for an instant since his +arrival had she altogether let loose of his fingers, or coat, or arm. +She had lived so long alone in this weird world of silence and moving +shadows and murmuring water, that she needed to feel the substance of her +hopes, to assure herself of the reality of the man she loved. + +"My mustang--Bolly--tell me of her," said Mescal. + +"Bolly's fine. Sleek and fat and lazy! She's been in the fields ever +since you left. Not a bridle on her. Many times have I seen her poke +her black muzzle over the fence and look down the lane. She'd never +forget you, Mescal." + +"Oh! how I want to see her! Tell me--everything." + +"Wait a little. Let me fetch Silvermane and we'll make a fire and eat. +Then--" + +"Tell me now." + +"Well, Mescal, it's soon told." Then came the story of events growing out +of her flight. When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal rose +with heaving bosom and blazing eyes. + +"It was nothing--I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We saw +no more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's wife +died." + +"Oh, I am sorry--sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the cause +of it all! But I couldn't stay--I couldn't marry Snap." + +"Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you had +married him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer. +But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snap +would have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's a +rustler, if not worse." + +"Then those men think Snap killed you?" + +"Yes." + +"What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?" + +"Somebody will be surprised," replied Hare, with a laugh. + +"Jack, it's no laughing matter." She fastened her hands in the lapels of +his coat and her eyes grew sad. "You can never hang up your gun again." + +"No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's. +Mescal, you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run." + +"I haven't forgotten. He can run, but he can't beat Bolly." She said +this with a hint of her old spirit. "Jack--you want to take me back +home?" + +"Of course. What did you expect when you sent Wolf?" + +"I didn't expect. I just wanted to see you, or somebody, and I thought +of the Navajos. Couldn't I live with them? Why can't we stay here or in +a canyon across the Colorado where there's plenty of game?" + +"I'm going to take you home and Father Naab shall marry you--to--to me." + +Startled, Mescal fell back upon his shoulder and did not stir nor speak +for a long time. "Did--did you tell him?" + +"Yes." + +"What did he say? Was he angry? Tell me." + +"He was kind and good as he always is. He said if I found you, then the +issue would be between Snap and me, as man to man. You are still pledged +to Snap in the Mormon Church and that can't be changed. I don't suppose +even if he's outlawed that it could be changed." + +"Snap will not let any grass grow in the trails to the oasis," said +Mescal. "Once he finds I've come back to life he'll have me. You don't +know him, Jack. I'm afraid to go home." + +"My dear, there's no other place for us to go. We can't live the life of +Indians." + +"But Jack, think of me watching you ride out from home! Think of me +always looking for Snap! I couldn't endure it. I've grown weak in this +year of absence." + +"Mescal, look at me." His voice rang as he held her face to face. "We +must decide everything. Now--say you love me!" + +"Yes--yes." + +"Say it." + +"I--love you--Jack." + +"Say you'll marry me!" + +"I will marry you." + +"Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. You +are mine and I'll keep you." He held her tightly with strong arms; his +face paled, his eyes darkened. "I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shall +try to keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now. +Your happiness--perhaps your life--depends on me. That makes a +difference. Understand!" + +Silvermane walked into the glade with a saddle-girth so tight that his +master unbuckled it only by dint of repeated effort. Evidently the rich +grass of Thunder River Canyon appealed strongly to the desert stallion. + +"Here, Silver, how do you expect to carry us out if you eat and drink +like that?" Hare removed the saddle and tethered the gray to one of the +cottonwoods. Wolf came trotting into camp proudly carrying a rabbit. + +"Mescal, can we get across the Colorado and find a way up over Coconina?" +asked Hare. + +"Yes, I'm sure we can. My peon never made a mistake about directions. +There's no trail, but Navajos have crossed the river at this season, and +worked up a canyon." + +The shadows had gathered under the cliffs, and the rosy light high up on +the ramparts had chilled and waned when Hare and Mescal sat down to their +meal. Wolf lay close to the girl and begged for morsels. Then in the +twilight they sat together content to be silent, listening to the low +thunder of the river. Long after Mescal had retired into her hogan Hare +lay awake before her door with his head in his saddle and listened to the +low roll, the dull burr, the dreamy hum of the tumbling waters. The +place was like the oasis, only infinitely more hidden under the cliffs. +A few stars twinkled out of the dark blue, and one hung, beaconlike, on +the crest of a noble crag. There were times when he imagined the valley +was as silent as the desert night, and other times when he imagined he +heard the thundering roll of avalanches and the tramp of armies. Then +the voices of Mescal's solitude spoke to him--glorious laughter and low +sad wails of woe, sweet songs and whispers and murmurs. His last waking +thoughts were of the haunting sound of Thunder River, and that he had +come to bear Mescal away from its loneliness. + +He bestirred himself at the first glimpse of day, and when the gray mists +had lifted to wreathe the crags it was light enough to begin the journey. +Mescal shed tears at the grave of the faithful peon. "He loved this +canyon," she said, softly. Hare lifted her upon Silvermane. He walked +beside the horse and Wolf trotted on before. They travelled awhile under +the flowering cottonwoods on a trail bordered with green tufts of grass +and great star-shaped lilies. The river was still hidden, but it filled +the grove with its soft thunder. Gradually the trees thinned out, hard +stony ground encroached upon the sand, bowlders appeared in the way; and +presently, when Silvermane stepped out of the shade of the cottonwoods, +Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its ragged vent. + +"Look back!" said Mescal. + +Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two white +streams which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous cascade. +Step by step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a broken, foaming +raceway, and at the lower end of the valley it took its final leap into a +blue abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, hidden underground. + +The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted long +after the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in the +close air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stones +cracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollow +sound and echo. Silvermane clattered down the easy trail at a gait which +urged Hare now and then from walk to run. Soon the gully opened out upon +a plateau through the centre of which, in a black gulf, wound the red +Colorado, sullen-voiced, booming, never silent nor restful. Here were +distances by which Hare could begin to comprehend the immensity of the +canyon, and he felt lost among the great terraces leading up to mesas +that dwarfed the Echo Cliffs. All was bare rock of many hues burning +under the sun. + +"Jack, this is mescal," said the girl, pointing to some towering plants. + +All over the sunny slopes cacti lifted slender shafts, unfolding in +spiral leaves as they shot upward and bursting at the top into plumes of +yellow flowers. The blossoming stalks waved in the wind, and black bees +circled round them. + +"Mescal, I've always wanted to see the Flower of the Desert from which +you're named. It's beautiful." + +Hare broke a dead stalk of the cactus and was put to instant flight by a +stream of bees pouring with angry buzz from the hollow centre. Two big +fellows were so persistent that he had to beat them off with his hat. + +"You shouldn't despoil their homes," said Mescal, with a peal of +laughter. + +"I'll break another stalk and get stung, if you'll laugh again," replied +Hare. + +They traversed the remaining slope of the plateau, and entering the head +of a ravine, descended a steep cleft of flinty rock, rock so hard that +Silvermane's iron hoofs not so much as scratched it. Then reaching a +level, they passed out to rounded sand and the river. + +"It's a little high," said Hare dubiously. "Mescal, I don't like the +looks of those rapids." + +Only a few hundred rods of the river could be seen. In front of Hare the +current was swift but not broken. Above, where the canyon turned, the +river sheered out with a majestic roll and falling in a wide smooth curve +suddenly narrowed into a leaping crest of reddish waves. Below Hare was +a smaller rapid where the broken water turned toward the nearer side of +the river, but with an accompaniment of twisting swirls and vicious +waves. + +"I guess we'd better risk it," said Hare, grimly recalling the hot rock, +the sand, and lava of the desert. + +"It's safe, if Silvermane is a good swimmer," replied Mescal. "We can +take the river above and cut across so the current will help." + +"Silvermane loves the water. He'll make this crossing easily. But he +can't carry us both, and it's impossible to make two trips. I'll have to +swim." + +Without wasting more words and time over a task which would only grow +more formidable with every look and thought, Hare led Silvermane up the +sand-bar to its limit. He removed his coat and strapped it behind the +saddle; his belt and revolver and boots he hung over the pommel. + +"How about Wolf? I'd forgotten him." + +"Never fear for him! He'll stick close to me." + +"Now, Mescal, there's the point we want to make, that bar; see it?" + +"Surely we can land above that." + +"I'll be satisfied if we get even there. You guide him for it. And, +Mescal, here's my gun. Try to keep it from getting wet. Balance it on +the pommel--so. Come, Silver; come, Wolf." + +"Keep up-stream," called Mescal as Hare plunged in. "Don't drift below +us." + +In two steps Silvermane went in to his saddle, and he rolled with a +splash and a snort, sinking Mescal to her hips. His nose level with the +water, mane and tail floating, he swam powerfully with the current. + +For Hare the water was just cold enough to be delightful after the long +hot descent, but its quality was strange. Keeping up-stream of the horse +and even with Mescal, he swam with long regular strokes for perhaps +one-quarter of the distance. But when they reached the swirling eddies +he found that he was tiring. The water was thick and heavy; it +compressed his lungs and dragged at his feet. He whirled round and round +in the eddies and saw Silvermane doing the same. Only by main force +could he breast his way out of these whirlpools. When a wave slapped his +face he tasted sand, and then he knew what the strange feeling meant. +There was sand here as on the desert. Even in the depths of the canyon +he could not escape it. As the current grew rougher he began to feel +that he could scarcely spread his arms in the wide stroke. Changing the +stroke he discovered that he could not keep up with Silvermane, and he +changed back again. Gradually his feet sank lower and lower, the water +pressed tighter round him, his arms seemed to grow useless. Then he +remembered a saying of August Naab that the Navajos did not attempt to +swim the river when it was in flood and full of sand. He ceased to +struggle, and drifting with the current, soon was close to Silvermane, +and grasped a saddle strap. + +"Not there!" called Mescal. "He might strike you. Hang to his tail!" + +Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly. The +stallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped at +Mescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down out +of line with the black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescal +lifted the rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright. +The roar of the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died in +the splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal turned +to him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she shouted: + +"Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids. +Hang on!" + +In the swelling did Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As he +held on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermane +dipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushing +water of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyond +was a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescal +crouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one white +flash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went out +of sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into the +backlash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost tore +his arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane's +tail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him from +wave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stinging +blows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention of +waves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he could +breathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally, his +feet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his eyes of +the sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river on +Silvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar. Hare staggered up +and fell on the sand. + +"Jack, are you all right?" inquired Mescal. + +"All right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand. +How about you?" + +"I don't think I ever was any wetter," replied Mescal, laughing. "It was +hard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me. +I was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep. +Silvermane is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and was +waiting for us when we landed." + +Hare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding himself +little the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the water from +the long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a tint of +color showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short skirt +clung tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture and +appeared so little affected by the peril they had just passed through +that Hare, yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, kissed the +pink cheeks till they flamed. + +"All wet," said he, "you and I, clothes, food, guns--everything." + +"It's hot and we'll soon dry," returned Mescal. "Here's the canyon and +creek we must follow up to Coconina. My peon mapped them in the sand for +me one day. It'll probably be a long climb." + +Hare poured the water out of his boots, pulled them on, and helping +Mescal to mount Silvermane, he took the bridle over his arm and led the +way into a black-mouthed canyon, through which flowed a stream of clear +water. Wolf splashed and pattered along beside him. Beyond the marble +rock this canyon opened out to great breadth and wonderful walls. Hare +had eyes only for the gravelly bars and shallow levels of the creek; +intent on finding the easy going for his horse he strode on and on +thoughtless of time. Nor did he talk to Mescal, for the work was hard, +and he needed his breath. Splashing the water, hammering the stones, +Silvermane ever kept his nose at Hare's elbow. They climbed little +ridges, making short cuts from point to point, they threaded miles of +narrow winding creek floor, and passed under ferny cliffs and over grassy +banks and through thickets of yellow willow. As they wound along the +course of the creek, always up and up, the great walls imperceptibly +lowered their rims. The warm sun soared to the zenith. Jumble of +bowlders, stretches of white gravel, ridges of sage, blocks of granite, +thickets of manzanita, long yellow slopes, crumbling crags, clumps of +cedar and lines of pinon--all were passed in the persistent plodding +climb. The canon grew narrower toward its source; the creek lost its +volume; patches of snow gleamed in sheltered places. At last the +yellow-streaked walls edged out upon a grassy hollow and the great dark +pines of Coconina shadowed the snow. + +"We're up," panted Hare. "What a climb! Five hours! One more day--then +home!" + +Silvermane's ears shot up and Wolf barked. Two gray deer loped out of a +thicket and turned inquisitively. Reaching for his rifle Hare threw back +the lever, but the action clogged, it rasped with the sound of crunching +sand, and the cartridge could not be pressed into the chamber or ejected. +He fumbled about the breach of the gun and his brow clouded. + +"Sand! Out of commission!" he exclaimed. "Mescal, I don't like that." + +"Use your Colt," suggested Mescal. + +The distance was too great. Hare missed, and the deer bounded away into +the forest. + +Hare built a fire under a sheltering pine where no snow covered the soft +mat of needles, and while Mescal dried the blankets and roasted the last +portion of meat he made a wind-break of spruce boughs. When they had +eaten, not forgetting to give Wolf a portion, Hare fed Silvermane the +last few handfuls of grain, and tied him with a long halter on the grassy +bank. The daylight failed and darkness came on apace. The old familiar +roar of the wind in the pines was disturbing; it might mean only the lull +and crash of the breaking night-gusts, and it might mean the north wind, +storm, and snow. It whooped down the hollow, scattering the few +scrub-oak leaves; it whirled the red embers of the fire away into the +dark to sputter in the snow, and blew the burning logs into a white glow. +Mescal slept in the shelter of the spruce boughs with Wolf snug and warm +beside her. Hare stretched his tired limbs in the heat of the blaze. + +When he awakened the fire was low and he was numb with cold. He took +care to put on logs enough to last until morning; then he lay down once +more, but did not sleep. The dawn came with a gray shade in the forest; +it was a cloud, and it rolled over him soft, tangible, moist, and cool, +and passed away under the pines. With its vanishing the dawn lightened. +"Mescal, if we're on the spur of Coconina, it's only ten miles or so to +Silver Cup," said Hare, as he saddled Silvermane. "Mount now and we'll +go up out of the hollow and get our bearings." + +While ascending the last step to the rim Hare revolved in his mind the +probabilities of marking a straight course to Silver Cup. + +"Oh! Jack!" exclaimed Mescal, suddenly. "Vermillion Cliffs and home!" + +"I've travelled in a circle!" replied Hare. + +Mescal was enraptured at the scene. Vermillion Cliffs shone red as a +rose. The split in the wall marking the oasis defined its outlines +sharply against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight. Hare +knew he stood on the highest point of Coconina overhanging the Grand +Canyon and the Painted Desert, thousands of feet below. He noted the +wondrous abyss sleeping in blue mist at his feet, while he gazed across +to the desert awakening in the first red rays of the rising sun. + +"Mescal, your Thunder River Canyon is only one little crack in the rocks. +It is lost in this chasm," said Hare. + +"It's lost, surely. I can t even see the tip of the peak that stood so +high over the valley." + +Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the Vermillion +Cliffs, and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculating +his bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow and +the soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermane +often sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they made +better time, for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave way +to the brown dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of Mescal, +and put the stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding they +struck a bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to the +spring. In another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, and +saw the familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of gray +sage patches down through the pines. + +"I smell smoke," said Hare. + +"The boys must be at the spring," rejoined Mescal. + +"Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slip +down through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the home +side of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it." + +With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed a +diagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reached +the edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turned +toward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringe +of cedars. + +"Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley," he said, looking at +her significantly. + +"They can't all be ours, that's sure," she replied. "What do you think?" + +"Holderness!" With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on, +cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breaking +brush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so worked +his way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress was +checked by the bulging wall of rock. + +"Only cattle in the valley, no horses," he said. "I've a good chance to +cut across this cube and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up and +see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't believe +Dave and the boys are there." + +He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed +the gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He +felt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks. + +"Jack, look at that brand," said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked +steer. "There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a +new brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!" + +"Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil to +brand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added the +bar, making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive a +child." + +They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniff +suspiciously at the wind. + +"Look!" whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. "Look! +A new corral!" + +Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked through +a network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther up +were piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a new +cabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermane +off the trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passed +the old pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be brought +suddenly to a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointing +to the left, and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heard +the stamping of hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fully +determined the direction from which the sound came three horses and a man +stepped from the shade into a sunlit space. + +As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick cedar; +and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he chose to +take it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare felt +Mescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure her. +Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves leading the +horses--a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man--Dene! The blood beat +hotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his Colt. It seemed +a fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He was whistling; he +had two halters in one hand and with the other he led his bay horse by +the mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was unarmed; on the +horses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare dropped his Colt +back into its holster. + +Dene sauntered on, whistling "Dixie." When he reached the trail, instead +of crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down. + +Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane a +stinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash of +brush and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. But +the outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. It +was not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his starting +eyes was the terror of the supernatural. + +The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinning +out of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, then +rise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward the +cabin. + + + +XVII +THE SWOOP OF THE HAWK + + +"JACK! the saddle's slipping!" cried Mescal, clinging closer to him. +"What luck!" Hare muttered through clinched teeth, and pulled hard on the +bridle. But the mouth of the stallion was iron; regardless of the sawing +bit, he galloped on. Hare called steadily: "Whoa there, Silver! Whoa-- +slow now--whoa--easy!" and finally halted him. Hare swung down, and as +he lifted Mescal off, the saddle slipped to the ground. + +"Lucky not to get a spill! The girth snapped. It was wet, and dried +out." Hare hurriedly began to repair the break with buckskin thongs that +he found in a saddle-bag. + +"Listen! Hear the yells! Oh! hurry!" cried Mescal. + +"I've never ridden bareback. Suppose you go ahead with Silver, and I'll +hide in the cedars till dark, then walk home!" + +"No--No. There's time, but hurry." + +"It's got to be strong," muttered Hare, holding the strap over his knee +and pulling the laced knot with all his strength, "for we'll have to ride +some. If it comes loose--Good-bye!" + +Silvermane's broad chest muscles rippled and he stamped restlessly. The +dog whined and looked back. Mescal had the blanket smooth on the gray +when Hare threw the saddle over him. The yells had ceased, but +clattering hoofs on the stony trail were a greater menace. While Hare's +brown hands worked swiftly over buckle and strap Mescal climbed to a seat +behind the saddle. + +"Get into the saddle," said Hare, leaping astride and pressing forward +over the pommel. "Slip down--there! and hold to me. Go! Silver!" + +The rapid pounding of the stallion's hoofs drowned the clatter coming up +the trail. A backward glance relieved Hare, for dust-clouds some few +hundred yards in the rear showed the position of the pursuing horsemen. +He held in Silvermane to a steady gallop. The trail was up-hill, and +steep enough to wind even a desert racer, if put to his limit. + +"Look back!" cried Mescal. "Can you see them? Is Snap with them?" + +"I can't see for trees," replied Hare, over his shoulder. "There's dust-- +we're far in the lead--never fear, Mescal. The lead's all we want." + +Cedars grew thickly all the way up the steeper part of the divide, and +ended abruptly at a pathway of stone, where the ascent became gradual. +When Silvermane struck out of the grove upon this slope Hare kept turning +keen glances rearward. The dust cloud rolled to the edge of the cedars, +and out of it trooped half-a-dozen horsemen who began to shoot as soon as +they had reached the open. Bullets zipped along the red stone, cutting +little puffs of red dust, and sung through the air. + +"Good God!" cried Hare. "They're firing on us! They'd shoot a woman!" + +"Has it taken you so long to learn that?" + +Hare slashed his steed with the switch. But Silvermane needed no goad or +spur; he had been shot at before, and the whistle of one bullet was +sufficient to stretch his gallop into a run. Then distance between him +and his pursuers grew wider and wider and soon he was out of range. The +yells of the rustlers seemed at first to come from baffled rage, but +Mescal's startled cry shoveled their meaning. Other horsemen appeared +ahead and to the right of him, tearing down the ridge to the divide. +Evidently they had been returning from the western curve of Coconina. + +The direction in which Silvermane was stretching was the only possible +one for Hare. If he swerved off the trail to the left it would be upon +rough rising ground. Not only must he outride this second band to the +point where the trail went down on the other side of the divide, but also +he must get beyond it before they came within rifle range. + +"Now! Silver! Go! Go!" Fast as the noble stallion was speeding he +answered to the call. He was in the open now, free of stones and brush, +with the spang of rifles in the air. The wind rushed into Hare's ears, +filling them with a hollow roar; the ground blurred by in reddish sheets. +The horsemen cut down the half mile to a quarter, lessened that, swept +closer and closer, till Hare recognized Chance and Culver, and Snap Naab +on his cream-colored pinto. Seeing that they could not head the +invincible stallion they sheered more to the right. But Silvermane +thundered on, crossing the line ahead of them a full three hundred +yards, and went over the divide, drawing them in behind him. + +Then, at the sharp crack of the rifles, leaden messengers whizzed high in +the air over horse and riders, and skipped along the red shale in front +of the running dog. + +"Oh--Silvermane!" cried Hare. It was just a call, as if the horse were +human, and knew what that pace meant to his master. The stern business +of the race had ceased to rest on Hare. Silvermane was out to the front! +He was like a level-rushing thunderbolt. Hare felt the instantaneous +pause between his long low leaps, the gather of mighty muscles, the +strain, the tension, then the quivering expulsion of force. It was a +perilous ride down that red slope, not so much from the hissing bullets +as from the washes and gullies which Silvermane sailed over in +magnificent leaps. Hare thrilled with savage delight in the wonderful +prowess of his desert king, in the primal instinct of joy at escaping +with the woman he loved. + +"Outrun!" he cried, with blazing eyes. Mescal's white face was pressed +close to his shoulder. "Silver has beaten them. They'll hang on till we +reach the sand-strip, hoping the slow-down will let them come up in time. +But they'll be far too late." + +The rustlers continued on the trail, firing desultorily, till Silvermane +so far distanced them that even the necessary lapse into a walk in the +red sand placed him beyond range when they arrived at the strip. + +"They've turned back, Mescal. We're safe. Why, you look as you did the +day the bear ran for you." + +"I'd rather a bear got me than Snap. Jack, did you see him?" + +"See him? Rather! I'll bet he nearly killed his pinto. Mescal, what do +you think of Silvermane now? Can he run? Can he outrun Bolly?" + +"Yes--yes. Oh! Jack! how I'll love him! Look back again. Are we safe? +Will we ever be safe?" + +It was still daylight when they rounded the portal of the oasis and +entered the lane with the familiar wall on one side, the peeled +fence-pickets on the other. Wolf dashed on ahead, and presently a chorus +of barks announced that he had been met by the other dogs. Silvermane +neighed shrilly, and the horses and mustangs in the corrals trooped +noisily to the lower sides and hung inquisitive heads over the top bars. + +A Navajo whom Hare remembered stared with axe idle by the woodpile, then +Judith Naab dropped a bundle of sticks and with a cry of gladness ran +from the house. Before Silvermane had come to a full stop Mescal was +off. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then she left +Judith to dart to the corral where a little black mustang had begun to +whistle and stamp and try to climb over the bars. + +August Naab, bareheaded, with shaggy locks shaking at every step, strode +off the porch and his great hands lifted Hare from the saddle. + +"Every day I've watched the river for you," he said. His eyes were warm +and his grasp like a vise. + +"Mescal--child!" he continued, as she came running to him. "Safe and +well. He's brought you back. Thank the Lord!" He took her to his breast +and bent his gray head over her. + +Then the crowd of big and little Naabs burst from the house and came +under the cottonwoods to offer noisy welcome to Mescal and Hare. + +"Jack, you look done up," said Dave Naab solicitously, when the first +greetings had been spoken, and Mother Ruth had led Mescal indoors. +"Silvermane, too--he's wet and winded. He's been running?" + +"Yes, a little," replied Hare, as he removed the saddle from the weary +horse. + +"Ah! What's this?" questioned August Naab, with his hand on Silvermane's +flank. He touched a raw groove, and the stallion flinched. "Hare, a +bullet made that!" + +"Yes." + +"Then you didn't ride in by the Navajo crossing?" + +"No. I came by Silver Cup." + +"Silver Cup? How on earth did you get down there?" + +"We climbed out of the canyon up over Coconina, and so made the spring." + +Naab whistled in surprise and he flashed another keen glance over Hare +and his horse. "Your story can wait. I know about what it is--after you +reached Silver Cup. Come in, come in, Dave will look out for the +stallion." + +But Hare would allow no one else to attend to Silvermane. He rubbed the +tired gray, gave him a drink at the trough, led him to the corral, and +took leave of him with a caress like Mescal's. Then he went to his room +and bathed himself and changed his clothes, afterward presenting himself +at the supper-table to eat like one famished. Mescal and he ate alone, +as they had been too late for the regular hour. The women-folk waited +upon them as if they could not do enough. There were pleasant words and +smiles; but in spite of them something sombre attended the meal. There +was a shadow in each face, each step was slow, each voice subdued. Naab +and his sons were waiting for Hare when he entered the sitting room, and +after his entrance the door was closed. They were all quiet and stern, +especially the father. "Tell us all," said Naab, simply. + +While Hare was telling his adventures not a word or a move interrupted +him till he spoke of Silvermane's running Dene down. + +"That's the second time!" rolled out Naab. "The stallion will kill him +yet!" + +Hare finished his story. + +"What don't you owe to that whirlwind of a horse!" exclaimed Dave Naab. +No other comment on Hare or Silvermane was offered by the Naabs. + +"You knew Holderness had taken in Silver Cup?" inquired Hare. + +August Naab nodded gloomily. + +"I guess we knew it," replied Dave for him. "While I was in White Sage +and the boys were here at home, Holderness rode to the spring and took +possession. I called to see him on my way back, but he wasn't around. +Snap was there, the boss of a bunch of riders. Dene, too, was there." + +"Did you go right into camp?" asked Hare. + +"Sure. I was looking for Holderness. There were eighteen or twenty +riders in the bunch. I talked to several of them, Mormons, good fellows, +they used to be. Also I had some words with Dene. He said: 'I shore was +sorry Snap got to my spy first. I wanted him bad, an' I'm shore goin' to +have his white horse.' Snap and Dene, all of them, thought you were +number thirty-one in dad's cemetery." + +"Not yet," said Hare. "Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when +Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all +there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new +brand on all your stock proves that." + +"Such a trick we never heard of," replied August Naab. "If we had we +might have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock." + +"But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt." + +"It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness +has stolen my water and my stock." + +"They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that." + +"Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?" interposed Dave, curiously. + +"I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about +cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running +too fast." + +"Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life," said August Naab. +"My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. +I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. +Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. +Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected +sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely +a day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of +Lund finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others +out. Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now +has a strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I +see it. I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow +to wrath. But--" + +The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words. + +"They need a leader," replied Hare, sharply. + +August Naab rose with haggard face and his eyes had the look of a man +accused. + +"Dad figures this way," put in Dave. "On the one hand we lose our water +and stock without bloodshed. We have a living in the oasis. There's +little here to attract rustlers, so we may live in peace if we give up +our rights. On the other hand, suppose Dad gets the Navajos down here +and we join them and go after Holderness and his gang. There's going to +be an all-fired bloody fight. Of course we'd wipe out the rustlers, but +some of us would get killed--and there are the wives and kids. See!" + +The force of August Naab's argument for peace, entirely aside from his +Christian repugnance to the shedding of blood, was plainly unassailable. + +"Remember what Snap said?" asked Hare, suddenly. "One man to kill Dene! +Therefore one man to kill Holderness! That would break the power of this +band." + +"Ah! you've said it," replied Dave, raising a tense arm. "It's a one-man +job. D--n Snap! He could have done it, if he hadn't gone to the bad. But +it won't be easy. I tried to get Holderness. He was wise, and his men +politely said they had enjoyed my call, but I wasn't to come again." + +"One man to kill Holderness!" repeated Hare. + +August Naab cast at the speaker one of his far-seeing glances; then he +shook himself, as if to throw off the grip of something hard and +inevitable. "I'm still master here," he said, and his voice showed the +conquest of his passions. + +"I give up Silver Cup and my stock. Maybe that will content Holderness." + +Some days went by pleasantly for Hare, as he rested from his long +exertions. Naab's former cheer and that of his family reasserted itself +once the decision was made, and the daily life went on as usual. The +sons worked in the fields by day, and in the evening played at pitching +horseshoes on the bare circle where the children romped. The women went +on baking, sewing, and singing. August Naab's prayers were more fervent +than ever, and he even prayed for the soul of the man who had robbed him. +Mescal's cheeks soon rounded out to their old contour and her eyes shone +with a happier light than Hare had ever seen there. The races between +Silvermane and Black Bolly were renewed on the long stretch under the +wall, and Mescal forgot that she had once acknowledged the superiority of +the gray. The cottonwoods showered silken floss till the cabins and +grass were white; the birds returned to the oasis; the sun kissed warm +color into the cherries, and the distant noise of the river seemed like +the humming of a swarm of bees. + +"Here, Jack," said August Naab, one morning, "get a spade and come with +me. There's a break somewhere in the ditch." + +Hare went with him out along the fence by the alfalfa fields, and round +the corner of red wall toward the irrigating dam. + +"Well, Jack, I suppose you'll be asking me for Mescal one of these days," +said Naab. + +"Yes," replied Hare. + +"There's a little story to tell you about Mescal, when the day comes." + +"Tell it now." + +"No. Not yet. I'm glad you found her. I never knew her to be so happy, +not even when she was a child. But somehow there's a better feeling +between her and my womenfolk. The old antagonism is gone. Well, well, +life is so. I pray that things may turn out well for you and her. But I +fear--I seem to see--Hare, I'm a poor man once more. I can't do for you +what I'd like. Still we'll see, we'll hope." + +Hare was perfectly happy. The old Mormon's hint did not disturb him; +even the thought of Snap Naab did not return to trouble his contentment. +The full present was sufficient for Hare, and his joy bubbled over, +bringing smiles to August's grave face. Never had a summer afternoon in +the oasis been so fair. The green fields, the red walls, the blue sky, +all seemed drenched in deeper, richer hues. The wind-song in the crags, +the river-murmur from the canyon, filled Hare's ears with music. To be +alive, to feel the sun, to see the colors, to hear the sounds, was +beautiful; and to know that Mescal awaited him, was enough. + +Work on the washed-out bank of the ditch had not gone far when Naab +raised his head as if listening. + +"Did you hear anything?" he asked. + +"No," replied Hare. + +"The roar of the river is heavy here. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I +heard shots." Then he went on spading clay into the break, but he stopped +every moment or so, uneasily, as if he could not get rid of some +disturbing thought. Suddenly he dropped the spade and his eyes flashed. + +"Judith! Judith! Here!" he called. Wheeling with a sudden premonition of +evil Hare saw the girl running along the wall toward them. Her face was +white as death; she wrung her hands and her cries rose above the sound of +the river. Naab sprang toward her and Hare ran at his heels. + +"Father!-- Father!" she panted. "Come--quick--the rustlers!--the +rustlers! Snap!--Dene--Oh--hurry! They've killed Dave--they've got +Mescal!" + +Death itself shuddered through Hare's veins and then a raging flood of +fire. He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm. + +"Fool! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through +the fields, under the trees." + +Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the +alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when +he could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill. + +They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The +screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread. + +"I see only the women--the children--no--there's a man--Zeke," said Hare, +bending low to gaze under the branches. + +"Go slow," muttered Naab. + +"The rustlers rode off--after Mescal--she's gone!" panted Judith. + +Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, cast +caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's heavy +steps thudded behind him. + +In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a +heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the +steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was +trying to calm the women. + +"My God! Dave!" cried Hare. "You're not hard hit? Don't say it!" + +"Hard hit--Jack--old fellow," replied Dave, with a pale smile. His face +was white and clammy. + +August Naab looked once at him and groaned, "My son! My son!" + +"Dad--I got Chance and Culver--there they lie in the road--not bungled, +either!" + +Hare saw the inert forms of two men lying near the gate; one rested on +his face, arm outstretched with a Colt gripped in the stiff hand; the +other lay on his back, his spurs deep in the ground, as if driven there +in his last convulsion. + +August Naab and Zeke carried the injured man into the house. The women +and children followed, and Hare, with Billy and George, entered last. + +"Dad--I'm shot clean through--low down," said Dave, as they laid him on a +couch. "It's just as well I--as any one--somebody had to--start this +fight." + +Naab got the children and the girls out of the room. The women were +silent now, except Dave's wife, who clung to him with low moans. He +smiled upon all with a quick intent smile, then he held out a hand to +Hare. + +"Jack, we got--to be--good friends. Don't forget--that--when you meet-- +Holderness. He shot me--from behind Chance and Culver--and after I fell-- +I killed them both--trying to get him. You--won't hang up--your gun-- +again--will you?" + +Hare wrung the cold hand clasping his so feebly. "No! Dave, no!" Then he +fled from the room. For an hour he stood on the porch waiting in dumb +misery. George and Zeke came noiselessly out, followed by their father. + +"It's all over, Hare." Another tragedy had passed by this man of the +desert, and left his strength unshaken, but his deadly quiet and the +gloom of his iron face were more terrible to see than any grief. + +"Father, and you, Hare, come out into the road," said George. + +Another motionless form lay beyond Chance and Culver. It was that of a +slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the +dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody +curve. + +"Dene!" burst from Hare, in a whisper. + +"Killed by a horse!" exclaimed August Naab. "Ah! What horse?" + +"Silvermane!" replied George. + +"Who rode my horse--tell me--quick!" cried Hare, in a frenzy. + +"It was Mescal. Listen. Let me tell you how it all happened. I was out +at the forge when I heard a bunch of horses coming up the lane. I wasn't +packing my gun, but I ran anyway. When I got to the house there was Dave +facing Snap, Dene, and a bunch of rustlers. I saw Chance at first, but +not Holderness. There must have been twenty men. + +"'I came after Mescal, that's what,' Snap was saying. + +"'You can't have her,' Dave answered. + +"'We'll shore take her, an' we want Silvermane, too,' said Dene. + +"'So you're a horse-thief as well as a rustler?' asked Dave. + +"'Naab, I ain't in any mind to fool. Snap wants the girl, an' I want +Silvermane, an' that damned spy that come back to life.' + +"Then Holderness spoke from the back of the crowd: 'Naab, you'd better +hurry, if you don't want the house burned!' + +"Dave drew and Holderness fired from behind the men. Dave fell, raised +up and shot Chance and Culver, then dropped his gun. + +"With that the women in the house began to scream, and Mescal ran out +saying she'd go with Snap if they'd do no more harm. + +"'All right,' said Snap, 'get a horse, hurry--hurry!' + +"Then Dene dismounted and went toward the corral saying, 'I shore want +Silvermane.' + +"Mescal reached the gate ahead of Dene. 'Let me get Silvermane. He's +wild; he doesn't know you; he'll kick you if you go near him.' She +dropped the bars and went up to the horse. He was rearing and snorting. +She coaxed him down and then stepped up on the fence to untie him. When +she had him loose she leaped off the fence to his back, screaming as she +hit him with the halter. Silvermane snorted and jumped, and in three +jumps he was going like a bullet. Dene tried to stop him, and was +knocked twenty feet. He was raising up when the stallion ran over him. +He never moved again. Once in the lane Silvermane got going--Lord! how +he did run! Mescal hung low over his neck like an Indian. He was gone in +a cloud of dust before Snap and the rustlers knew what had happened. +Snap came to first and, yelling and waving his gun, spurred down the +lane. The rest of the rustlers galloped after him." + +August Naab placed a sympathetic hand on Hare's shaking shoulder. + +"You see, lad, things are never so bad as they seem at first. Snap might +as well try to catch a bird as Silvermane." + + + +XVIII +THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + + +"MESCAL'S far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare," went on +Naab. "That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane +into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop +will take care of her. She'll be safe for the present in White Sage. +Now we must bury these men. To-morrow--my son. Then--" + +"What then?" Hare straightened up. + +Unutterable pain darkened the flame in the Mormon's gaze. For an instant +his face worked spasmodically, only to stiffen into a stony mask. It was +the old conflict once more, the never-ending war between flesh and +spirit. And now the flesh had prevailed. + +"The time has come!" said George Naab. + +"Yes," replied his father, harshly. + +A great calm settled over Hare; his blood ceased to race, his mind to +riot; in August Naab's momentous word he knew the old man had found +himself. At last he had learned the lesson of the desert--to strike +first and hard. + +"Zeke, hitch up a team," said August Naab. "No--wait a moment. Here +comes Piute. Let's hear what he has to say." + +Piute appeared on the zigzag cliff-trail, driving a burro at dangerous +speed. + +"He's sighted Silvermane and the rustlers," suggested George, as the +shepherd approached. + +Naab translated the excited Indian's mingling of Navajo and Piute +languages to mean just what George had said. "Snap ahead of riders-- +Silvermane far, far ahead of Snap--running fast--damn!" + +"Mescal's pushing him hard to make the sand-strip," said George. + +"Piute--three fires to-night--Lookout Point!" This order meant the +execution of August Naab's hurry-signal for the Navajos, and after he had +given it, he waved the Indian toward the cliff, and lapsed into a silence +which no one dared to break. + +Naab consigned the bodies of the rustlers to the famous cemetery under +the red wall. He laid Dene in grave thirty-one. It was the grave that +the outlaw had promised as the last resting-place of Dene's spy. Chance +and Culver he buried together. It was noteworthy that no Mormon rites +were conferred on Culver, once a Mormon in good standing, nor were any +prayers spoken over the open graves. + +What did August Naab intend to do? That was the question in Hare's mind +as he left the house. It was a silent day, warm as summer, though the +sun was overcast with gray clouds; the birds were quiet in the trees; +there was no bray of burro or clarion-call of peacock, even the hum of +the river had fallen into silence. Hare wandered over the farm and down +the red lane, brooding over the issue. Naab's few words had been full of +meaning; the cold gloom so foreign to his nature, had been even more +impressive. His had been the revolt of the meek. The gentle, the +loving, the administering, the spiritual uses of his life had failed. + +Hare recalled what the desert had done to his own nature, how it had bred +in him its impulse to fight, to resist, to survive. If he, a stranger of +a few years, could be moulded in the flaming furnace of its fiery life, +what then must be the cast of August Naab, born on the desert, and +sleeping five nights out of seven on the sands for sixty years? + +The desert! Hare trembled as he grasped all its meaning. Then he slowly +resolved that meaning. There were the measureless distances to narrow +the eye and teach restraint; the untrodden trails, the shifting sands, +the thorny brakes, the broken lava to pierce the flesh; the heights and +depths, unscalable and unplumbed. And over all the sun, red and burning. + +The parched plants of the desert fought for life, growing far apart, +sending enormous roots deep to pierce the sand and split the rock for +moisture, arming every leaf with a barbed thorn or poisoned sap, never +thriving and ever thirsting. + +The creatures of the desert endured the sun and lived without water, and +were at endless war. The hawk had a keener eye than his fellow of more +fruitful lands, sharper beak, greater spread of wings, and claws of +deeper curve. For him there was little to eat, a rabbit now, a rock-rat +then; nature made his swoop like lightning and it never missed its aim. +The gaunt wolf never failed in his sure scent, in his silent hunt. The +lizard flicked an invisible tongue into the heart of a flower; and the +bee he caught stung with a poisoned sting. The battle of life went to +the strong. + +So the desert trained each of its wild things to survive. No eye of the +desert but burned with the flame of the sun. To kill or to escape death- +-that was the dominant motive. To fight barrenness and heat--that was +stern enough, but each creature must fight his fellow. + +What then of the men who drifted into the desert and survived? They must +of necessity endure the wind and heat, the drouth and famine; they must +grow lean and hard, keen-eyed and silent. The weak, the humble, the +sacrificing must be winnowed from among them. As each man developed he +took on some aspect of the desert--Holderness had the amber clearness of +its distances in his eyes, its deceit in his soul; August Naab, the +magnificence of the desert-pine in his giant form, its strength in his +heart; Snap Naab, the cast of the hawk-beak in his face, its cruelty in +his nature. But all shared alike in the common element of survival-- +ferocity. August Naab had subdued his to the promptings of a Christ-like +spirit; yet did not his very energy, his wonderful tirelessness, his will +to achieve, his power to resist, partake of that fierceness? Moreover, +after many struggles, he too had been overcome by the desert's call for +blood. His mystery was no longer a mystery. Always in those moments of +revelation which he disclaimed, he had seen himself as faithful to the +desert in the end. + +Hare's slumbers that night were broken. He dreamed of a great gray horse +leaping in the sky from cloud to cloud with the lightning and the thunder +under his hoofs, the storm-winds sweeping from his silver mane. He +dreamed of Mescal's brooding eyes. They were dark gateways of the desert +open only to him, and he entered to chase the alluring stars deep into +the purple distance. He dreamed of himself waiting in serene confidence +for some unknown thing to pass. He awakened late in the morning and +found the house hushed. The day wore on in a repose unstirred by breeze +and sound, in accord with the mourning of August Naab. At noon a solemn +procession wended its slow course to the shadow of the red cliff, and as +solemnly returned. + +Then a long-drawn piercing Indian whoop broke the midday hush. It +heralded the approach of the Navajos. In single-file they rode up the +lane, and when the falcon-eyed Eschtah dismounted before his white +friend, the line of his warriors still turned the corner of the red wall. +Next to the chieftain rode Scarbreast, the grim war-lord of the Navajos. +His followers trailed into the grove. Their sinewy bronze bodies, almost +naked, glistened wet from the river. Full a hundred strong were they, a +silent, lean-limbed desert troop. + +"The White Prophet's fires burned bright," said the chieftain. "Eschtah +is here." + +"The Navajo is a friend," replied Naab. "The white man needs counsel and +help. He has fallen upon evil days." + +"Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend." + +"War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we +shall speak." + +A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors. +Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the +burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods. When the afternoon waned +and the shade from the western wall crept into the oasis, August Naab +came from his cabin clad in buckskins, with a large blue Colt swinging +handle outward from his left hip. He ordered his sons to replenish the +fire which had been built in the circle, and when the fierce-eyed Indians +gathered round the blaze he called to his women to bring meat and drink. + +Hare's unnatural calmness had prevailed until he saw Naab stride out to +front the waiting Indians. Then a ripple of cold passed over him. He +leaned against a tree in the shadow and watched the gray-faced giant +stalking to and fro before his Indian friends. A long while he strode in +the circle of light to pause at length before the chieftains and to break +the impressive silence with his deep voice. + +"Eschtah sees before him a friend stung to his heart. Men of his own +color have long injured him, yet have lived. The Mormon loved his +fellows and forgave. Five sons he laid in their graves, yet his heart +was not hardened. His first-born went the trail of the fire-water and is +an outcast from his people. Many enemies has he and one is a chief. He +has killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water. +To-day the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the +chief? Would he not crush the scorpion that stung him?" + +The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, was as +stately as the Mormon's. + +"Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise. The White +Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks +too much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the +lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah +grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's +friend has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his +springs. Only a few can live on the desert. Let him who has found the +springs and the trails keep them for his own. Let him who came too late +go away to find for himself, to prove himself a warrior, or let his bones +whiten in the sand. The Navajo counsels his white friend to kill." + +"The great Eschtah speaks wise words," said Naab. "The White Prophet is +richer for them. He will lay aside the prayers to his unseeing God, and +will seek his foe." + +"It is well." + +"The white man's foe is strong," went on the Mormon; "he has many men, +they will fight. If Eschtah sends his braves with his friend there will +be war. Many braves will fall. The White Prophet wishes to save them if +he can. He will go forth alone to kill his foe. If the sun sets four +times and the white man is not here, then Eschtah will send his great +war-chief and his warriors. They will kill whom they find at the white +man's springs. And thereafter half of all the white man's cattle that +were stolen shall be Eschtah's, so that he watch over the water and +range." + +"Eschtah greets a chief," answered the Indian. "The White Prophet knows +he will kill his enemy, but he is not sure he will return. He is not +sure that the little braves of his foe will fly like the winds, yet he +hopes. So he holds the Navajo back to the last. Eschtah will watch the +sun set four times. If his white friend returns he will rejoice. If he +does not return the Navajo will send his warriors on the trail." + +August Naab walked swiftly from the circle of light into the darkness; +his heavy steps sounded on the porch, and in the hallway. His three sons +went toward their cabins with bowed heads and silent tongues. Eschtah +folded his blanket about him and stalked off into the gloom of the grove, +followed by his warriors. + +Hare remained in the shadow of the cottonwood where he had stood +unnoticed. He had not moved a muscle since he had heard August Naab's +declaration. That one word of Naab's intention, "Alone!" had arrested +him. For it had struck into his heart and mind. It had paralyzed him +with the revelation it brought; for Hare now knew as he had never known +anything before, that he would forestall August Naab, avenge the death of +Dave, and kill the rustler Holderness. Through blinding shock he passed +slowly into cold acceptance of his heritage from the desert. + +The two long years of his desert training were as an open page to Hare's +unveiled eyes. The life he owed to August Naab, the strength built up by +the old man's knowledge of the healing power of plateau and range--these +lay in a long curve between the day Naab had lifted him out of the White +Sage trail and this day of the Mormon's extremity. A long curve with +Holderness's insulting blow at the beginning, his murder of a beloved +friend at the end! For Hare remembered the blow, and never would he +forget Dave's last words. Yet unforgetable as these were, it was duty +rather than revenge that called him. This was August Naab's hour of +need. Hare knew himself to be the tool of inscrutable fate; he was the +one to fight the old desert-scarred Mormon's battle. Hare recalled how +humbly he had expressed his gratitude to Naab, and the apparent +impossibility of ever repaying him, and then Naab's reply: "Lad, you can +never tell how one man may repay another." Hare could pay his own debt +and that of the many wanderers who had drifted across the sands to find a +home with the Mormon. These men stirred in their graves, and from out +the shadow of the cliff whispered the voice of Mescal's nameless father: +"Is there no one to rise up for this old hero of the desert?" + +Softly Hare slipped into his room. Putting on coat and belt and catching +up his rifle he stole out again stealthily, like an Indian. In the +darkness of the wagon-shed he felt for his saddle, and finding it, he +groped with eager hands for the grain-box; raising the lid he filled a +measure with grain, and emptied it into his saddle-bag. Then lifting the +saddle he carried it out of the yard, through the gate and across the +lane to the corrals. The wilder mustangs in the far corral began to kick +and snort, and those in the corral where Black Bolly was kept trooped +noisily to the bars. Bolly whinnied and thrust her black muzzle over the +fence. Hare placed a caressing hand on her while he waited listening and +watching. It was not unusual for the mustangs to get restless at any +time, and Hare was confident that this would pass without investigation. + +Gradually the restless stampings and suspicious snortings ceased, and +Hare, letting down the bars, led Bolly out into the lane. It was the +work of a moment to saddle her; his bridle hung where he always kept it, +on the pommel, and with nimble fingers he shortened the several straps to +fit Bolly's head, and slipped the bit between her teeth. Then he put up +the bars of the gate. + +Before mounting he stood a moment thinking coolly, deliberately numbering +the several necessities he must not forget--grain for Bolly, food for +himself, his Colt and Winchester, cartridges, canteen, matches, knife. +He inserted a hand into one of his saddle-bags expecting to find some +strips of meat. The bag was empty. He felt in the other one, and under +the grain he found what he sought. The canteen lay in the coil of his +lasso tied to the saddle, and its heavy canvas covering was damp to his +touch. With that he thrust the long Winchester into its saddle-sheath, +and swung his leg over the mustang. + +The house of the Naabs was dark and still. The dying council-fire cast +flickering shadows under the black cottonwoods where the Navajos slept. +The faint breeze that rustled the leaves brought the low sullen roar of +the river. + +Hare guided Bolly into the thick dust of the lane, laid the bridle +loosely on her neck for her to choose the trail, and silently rode out +into the lonely desert night. + + + +XIX +UNLEASHED + + +HARE, listening breathlessly, rode on toward the gateway of the cliffs, +and when he had passed the corner of the wall he sighed in relief. +Spurring Bolly into a trot he rode forward with a strange elation. He +had slipped out of the oasis unheard, and it would be morning before +August Naab discovered his absence, perhaps longer before he divined his +purpose. Then Hare would have a long start. He thrilled with something +akin to fear when he pictured the old man's rage, and wondered what +change it would make in his plans. Hare saw in mind Naab and his sons, +and the Navajos sweeping in pursuit to save him from the rustlers. + +But the future must take care of itself, and he addressed all the +faculties at his command to cool consideration of the present. The strip +of sand under the Blue Star had to be crossed at night--a feat which even +the Navajos did not have to their credit. Yet Hare had no shrinking; he +had no doubt; he must go on. As he had been drawn to the Painted Desert +by a voiceless call, so now he was urged forward by something nameless. + +In the blackness of the night it seemed as if he were riding through a +vaulted hall swept by a current of air. The night had turned cold, the +stars had brightened icily, the rumble of the river had died away when +Bolly's ringing trot suddenly changed to a noiseless floundering walk. +She had come upon the sand. Hare saw the Blue Star in the cliff, and +once more loosed the rein on Bolly's neck. She stopped and champed her +bit, and turned her black head to him as if to intimate that she wanted +the guidance of a sure arm. But as it was not forthcoming she stepped +onward into the yielding sand. + +With hands resting idly on the pommel Hare sat at ease in the saddle. +The billowy dunes reflected the pale starlight and fell away from him to +darken in obscurity. So long as the Blue Star remained in sight he kept +his sense of direction; when it had disappeared he felt himself lost. +Bolly's course seemed as crooked as the jagged outline of the cliffs. +She climbed straight up little knolls, descended them at an angle, turned +sharply at wind-washed gullies, made winding detours, zigzagged levels +that shone like a polished floor; and at last (so it seemed to Hare) she +doubled back on her trail. The black cliff receded over the waves of +sand; the stars changed positions, travelled round in the blue dome, and +the few that he knew finally sank below the horizon. Bolly never lagged; +she was like the homeward-bound horse, indifferent to direction because +sure of it, eager to finish the journey because now it was short. Hare +was glad though not surprised when she snorted and cracked her iron-shod +hoof on a stone at the edge of the sand. He smiled with tightening lips +as he rode into the shadow of a rock which he recognized. Bolly had +crossed the treacherous belt of dunes and washes and had struck the trail +on the other side. + +The long level of wind-carved rocks under the cliffs, the ridges of the +desert, the miles of slow ascent up to the rough divide, the gradual +descent to the cedars--these stretches of his journey took the night +hours and ended with the brightening gray in the east. Within a mile of +Silver Cup Spring Hare dismounted, to tie folded pads of buckskin on +Bolly's hoofs. When her feet were muffled, he cautiously advanced on the +trail for the matter of a hundred rods or more; then sheered off to the +right into the cedars. He led Bolly slowly, without rattling a stone or +snapping a twig, and stopped every few paces to listen. There was no +sound other than the wind in the cedars. Presently, with a gasp, he +caught the dull gleam of a burned-out camp-fire. Then his movements +became as guarded, as noiseless as those of a scouting Indian. The dawn +broke over the red wall as he gained the trail beyond the spring. + +He skirted the curve of the valley and led Bolly a little way up the +wooded slope to a dense thicket of aspens in a hollow. This thicket +encircled a patch of grass. Hare pressed the lithe aspens aside to admit +Bolly and left her there free. He drew his rifle from its sheath and, +after assuring himself that the mustang could not be seen or heard from +below, he bent his steps diagonally up the slope. + +Every foot of this ground he knew, and he climbed swiftly until he struck +the mountain trail. Then, descending, he entered the cedars. At last he +reached a point directly above the cliff-camp where he had spent so many +days, and this he knew overhung the cabin built by Holderness. He stole +down from tree to tree and slipped from thicket to thicket. The sun, red +as blood, raised a bright crescent over the red wall; the soft mists of +the valley began to glow and move; cattle were working in toward the +spring. Never brushing a branch, never dislodging a stone, Hare +descended the slope, his eyes keener, his ears sharper with every step. +Soon the edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower level of +cedars. While resting he listened. Then he marked his course down the +last bit of slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the valley. +This space was open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar brush--a +difficult place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his choice of +steps, very slow in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which satisfied +even his intent ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew slowly into +the circle of his downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a slight +trembling in all his limbs. There was a thick bush on the edge of the +cliff; in three steps he could reach it and, unseen himself, look down +upon the camp. + +A little cloud or smoke rose lazily and capped a slender column of blue. +Sounds were wafted softly upward, the low voices of men in conversation, +a merry whistle, and then the humming of a tune. Hare's mouth was dry +and his temples throbbed as he asked himself what it was best to do. The +answer came instantaneously as though it had lain just below the level of +his conscious thought. "I'll watch till Holderness walks out into sight, +jump up with a yell when he comes, give him time to see me, to draw his +gun--then kill him!" + +Hare slipped to the bush, drew in a deep long breath that stilled his +agitation, and peered over the cliff. The crude shingles of the cabin +first rose into sight; then beyond he saw the corral with a number of +shaggy mustangs and a great gray horse. Hare stared blankly. As in a +dream he saw the proud arch of a splendid neck, the graceful wave of a +white-crested mane. + +"Silvermane! . . . My God!" he gasped, suddenly. "They caught him--after +all!" + +He fell backward upon the cliff and lay there with hands clinching his +rifle, shudderingly conscious of a blow, trying to comprehend its +meaning. + +"Silvermane! . . . they caught him--after all!" he kept repeating; then in +a flash of agonized understanding he whispered: "Mescal . . . Mescal!" + +He rolled upon his face, shutting out the blue sky; his body stretched +stiff as a bent spring released from its compress, and his nails dented +the stock of his rifle. Then this rigidity softened to sobs that shook +him from head to foot. He sat up, haggard and wild-eyed. + +Silvermane had been captured, probably by rustlers waiting at the western +edge of the sand-strip. Mescal had fallen into the hands of Snap Naab. +But Mescal was surely alive and Snap was there to be killed; his long +career of unrestrained cruelty was in its last day--something told Hare +that this thing must and should be. The stern deliberation of his intent +to kill Holderness, the passion of his purpose to pay his debt to August +Naab, were as nothing compared to the gathering might of this new +resolve; suddenly he felt free and strong as an untamed lion broken free +from his captors. + +From the cover of the bush he peered again over the cliff. The cabin +with its closed door facing him was scarcely two hundred feet down from +his hiding-place. One of the rustlers sang as he bent over the +camp-fire and raked the coals around the pots; others lounged on a bench +waiting for breakfast; some rolled out of their blankets; they stretched +and yawned, and pulling on their boots made for the spring. The last man +to rise was Snap Naab, and he had slept with his head on the threshold of +the door. Evidently Snap had made Mescal a prisoner in the cabin, and no +one could go in or out without stepping upon him. The rustler-foreman of +Holderness's company had slept with his belt containing two Colts, nor +had he removed his boots. Hare noted these details with grim humor. Now +the tall Holderness, face shining, gold-red beard agleam, rounded the +cabin whistling. Hare watched the rustlers sit down to breakfast, and +here and there caught a loud-spoken word, and marked their leisurely +care-free manner. Snap Naab took up a pan of food and a cup of coffee, +carried them into the cabin, and came out, shutting the door. + +After breakfast most of the rustlers set themselves to their various +tasks. Hare watched them with the eyes of a lynx watching deer. Several +men were arranging articles for packing, and their actions were slow to +the point of laziness; others trooped down toward the corral. Holderness +rolled a cigarette and stooped over the campfire to reach a burning +stick. Snap Naab stalked to and fro before the door of the cabin. He +alone of the rustler's band showed restlessness, and more than once he +glanced up the trail that led over the divide toward his father's oasis. +Holderness sent expectant glances in the other direction toward Seeping +Springs. Once his clear voice rang out: + +"I tell you, Naab, there's no hurry. We'll ride in tomorrow." + +A thousand thoughts flitted through Hare's mind--a steady stream of +questions and answers. Why did Snap look anxiously along the oasis +trail? It was not that he feared his father or his brothers alone, but +there was always the menace of the Navajos. Why was Holderness in no +hurry to leave Silver Cup? Why did he lag at the spring when, if he +expected riders from his ranch, he could have gone on to meet them, +obviously saving time and putting greater distance between him and the +men he had wronged? Was it utter fearlessness or only a deep-played +game? Holderness and his rustlers, all except the gloomy Naab, were +blind to the peril that lay beyond the divide. How soon would August +Naab strike out on the White Sage trail? Would he come alone? Whether +he came alone or at the head of his hard-riding Navajos he would arrive +too late. Holderness's life was not worth a pinch of the ashes he +flecked so carelessly from his cigarette. Snap Naab's gloom, his long +stride, his nervous hand always on or near the butt of his Colt, spoke +the keenness of his desert instinct. For him the sun had arisen red over +the red wall. Had he harmed Mescal? Why did he keep the cabin door shut +and guard it so closely? + +While Hare watched and thought the hours sped by. Holderness lounged +about and Snap kept silent guard. The rustlers smoked, slept, and moved +about; the day waned, and the shadow of the cliff crept over the cabin. +To Hare the time had been as a moment; he was amazed to find the sun had +gone down behind Coconina. If August Naab had left the oasis at dawn he +must now be near the divide, unless he had been delayed by a wind-storm +at the strip of sand. Hare longed to see the roan charger come up over +the crest; he longed to see a file of Navajos, plumes waving, dark +mustangs gleaming in the red light, sweep down the stony ridge toward the +cedars. "If they come," he whispered, "I'll kill Holderness and Snap and +any man who tries to open that cabin door." + +So he waited in tense watchfulness, his gaze alternating between the wavy +line of the divide and the camp glade. Out in the valley it was still +daylight, but under the cliff twilight had fallen. All day Hare had +strained his ears to hear the talk of the rustlers, and it now occurred +to him that if he climbed down through the split in the cliff to the +bench where Dave and George had always hidden to watch the spring he +would be just above the camp. This descent involved risk, but since it +would enable him to see the cabin door when darkness set in, he decided +to venture. The moment was propitious, for the rustlers were bustling +around, cooking dinner, unrolling blankets, and moving to and fro from +spring and corral. Hare crawled back a few yards and along the cliff +until he reached the split. It was a narrow steep crack which he well +remembered. Going down was attended with two dangers--losing his hold, +and the possible rattling of stones. Face foremost he slipped downward +with the gliding, sinuous movement of a snake, and reaching the grassy +bench he lay quiet. Jesting voices and loud laughter from below +reassured him. He had not been heard. His new position afforded every +chance to see and hear, and also gave means of rapid, noiseless retreat +along the bench to the cedars. Lying flat he crawled stealthily to the +bushy fringe of the bench. + +A bright fire blazed under the cliff. Men were moving and laughing. The +cabin door was open. Mescal stood leaning back from Snap Naab, +struggling to release her hands. + +"Let me untie them, I say," growled Snap. + +Mescal tore loose from him and stepped back. Her hands were bound before +her, and twisting them outward, she warded him off. Her dishevelled hair +almost hid her dark eyes. They burned in a level glance of hate and +defiance. She was a little lioness, quivering with fiery life, fight in +every line of her form. + +"All right, don't eat then--starve!" said Snap. + +"I'll starve before I eat what you give me." + +The rustlers laughed. Holderness blew out a puff of smoke and smiled. +Snap glowered upon Mescal and then upon his amiable companions. One of +them, a ruddyfaced fellow, walked toward Mescal. + +"Cool down, Snap, cool down," he said. "We're not goin' to stand for a +girl starvin'. She ain't eat a bite yet. Here, Miss, let me untie your +hands--there. . . . Say! Naab, d--n you, her wrists are black an' +blue!" + +"Look out! Your gun!" yelled Snap. + +With a swift movement Mescal snatched the man's Colt from its holster and +was raising it when he grasped her arm. She winced and dropped the +weapon. + +"You little Indian devil!" exclaimed the rustler, in a rapt admiration. +"Sorry to hurt you, an' more'n sorry to spoil your aim. Thet wasn't kind +to throw my own gun on me, jest after I'd played the gentleman, now, was +it?" + +"I didn't--intend--to shoot--you," panted Mescal. + +"Naab, if this's your Mormon kind of wife--excuse me! Though I ain't +denyin' she's the sassiest an' sweetest little cat I ever seen!" + +"We Mormons don't talk about our women or hear any talk," returned Snap, +a dancing fury in his pale eyes. "You're from Nebraska?" + +"Yep, jest a plain Nebraska rustler, cattle-thief, an' all round no-good +customer, though I ain't taken to houndin' women yet." + +For answer Snap Naab's right hand slowly curved upward before him and +stopped taut and inflexible, while his strange eyes seemed to shoot +sparks. + +"See here, Naab, why do you want to throw a gun on me?" asked the +rustler, coolly. "Haven't you shot enough of your friends yet? I reckon +I've no right to interfere in your affairs. I was only protestin' +friendly like, for the little lady. She's game, an' she's called your +hand. An' it's not a straight hand. Thet's all, an' d--n if I care +whether you are a Mormon or not. I'll bet a hoss Holderness will back me +up." + +"Snap, he's right," put in Holderness, smoothly. "You needn't be so +touchy about Mescal. She's showed what little use she's got for you. If +you must rope her around like you do a mustang, be easy about it. Let's +have supper. Now, Mescal, you sit here on the bench and behave yourself. +I don't want you shooting up my camp." + +Snap turned sullenly aside while Holderness seated Mescal near the door +and fetched her food and drink. The rustlers squatted round the +camp-fire, and conversation ceased in the business of the meal. + +To Hare the scene had brought a storm of emotions. Joy at the sight of +Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting +spirit--these came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska +rustler, strange deepening insight into Holderness's game, +unextinguishable white-hot hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the +ever-mounting will to rescue Mescal, which was held in check by an +inexorable judgment; he must continue to wait. And he did wait with +blind faith in the something to be, keeping ever in mind the last resort- +-the rifle he clutched with eager hands. Meanwhile the darkness +descended, the fire sent forth a brighter blaze, and the rustlers +finished their supper. Mescal arose and stepped across the threshold of +the cabin door. + +"Hold on!" ordered Snap, as he approached with swift strides. "Stick out +your hands!" + +Some of the rustlers grumbled; and one blurted out: "Aw no, Snap, don't +tie her up--no!" + +"Who says no?" hissed the Mormon, with snapping teeth. As he wheeled +upon them his Colt seemed to leap forward, and suddenly quivered at +arm's-length, gleaming in the ruddy fire-rays. + +Holderness laughed in the muzzle of the weapon. "Go ahead, Snap, tie up +your lady love. What a tame little wife she's going to make you! Tie her +up, but do it without hurting her." + +The rustlers growled or laughed at their leader's order. Snap turned to +his task. Mescal stood in the doorway and shrinkingly extended her +clasped hands. Holderness whirled to the fire with a look which betrayed +his game. Snap bound Mescal's hands securely, thrust her inside the +cabin, and after hesitating for a long moment, finally shut the door. + +"It's funny about a woman, now, ain't it?" said Nebraska, confidentially, +to a companion. "One minnit she'll snatch you bald-headed; the next, +she'll melt in your mouth like sugar. An' I'll be darned if the +changeablest one ain't the kind to hold a feller longest. But it's h--l. +I was married onct. Not any more for mine! A pal I had used to say thet +whiskey riled him, thet rattlesnake pisen het up his blood some, but it +took a woman to make him plumb bad. D--n if it ain't so. When there's a +woman around there's somethin' allus comin' off." + +But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness +suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals +from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side +of the door, his narrow gaze cunningly studying the rustlers before him. +More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk +he could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half +opening it while he faced the men. + +"Stop!" commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had +come from another man. "You don't go in there!" + +"I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage," replied Naab, in +slow deliberation. + +"Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her. +You tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or +something'll happen." + +"There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't +interfere now, I'm going." + +"Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!" + +Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him. + +"So-ho!" he exclaimed, sneeringly. "That's why you've made me foreman, +eh?" His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale +eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The +rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic +smile. + +"Naab, you don't get the girl." + +"Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap. + +"I always intended to." + +Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed. His +Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click! Click! Click! The hammer +fell upon empty chambers. + +"H--l!" he shrieked. + +Holderness laughed sarcastically. + +"That's where you're going!" he cried. "Here's to Naab's trick with a +gun-- Bah!" And he shot his foreman through the heart. + +Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling +wings of a wounded partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread +convulsively, straightened, and sank limp. + +Holderness called through the door of the cabin. "Mescal, I've rid you +of your would-be husband. Cheer-up!" Then, pointing to the fallen man, +he said to the nearest bystanders: "Some of you drag that out for the +coyotes." + +The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler, +and he curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up. "No +shells!" he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and +unbreeched that. "No shells! Well, d--n me!" He surveyed the group of +grim men, not one of whom had any reply. + +Holderness again laughed harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened +the door with a lasso. + +It was a long time before Hare recovered from the starting revelation of +the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap Naab +had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely +preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position +and settled himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour +Holderness and his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching +doom. Hare's strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these +men had received its first verification in the sudden taking off of Snap +Naab. The deep-scheming Holderness, confident that his strong band meant +sure protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had +not caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested warning. Yet somewhere +out on the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of +life to the lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind +him waited a troop of Navajos, swift as eagles, merciless as wolves, +desert warriors with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins. +As Hare waited and watched with all his inner being cold, he could almost +feel pity for Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the rustler +chief had sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, Hare had +covered him with the rifle, waiting, waiting for the step upon the +threshold. But Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's +finger eased its pressure upon the trigger. + +The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no starlight; the +wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled +in their blankets and all dropped into slumber while the camp-fire slowly +burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the breeze and +the wild notes of far-off trailing coyotes. + +Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man +raised himself very cautiously; he glanced at his companions, and looked +long at Holderness, who lay squarely in the dimming light. Then he +softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do. +Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening +intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep. +Gently he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and +guarded of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between +the rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's, +and he went toward the cabin door. + +He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting +six-shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached +the door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy +movements, his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom +hovered over the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that +this softly stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the +woman pledged in his creed. He meant to free Mescal. + +If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band +awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in the +flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a +sound. + +Hare whispered: "Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake +Holderness--then I must shoot--I must!" + +But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth. + +"Hist!" he whispered into the cabin. "Hist!" + +Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning +of that low whisper, for silently she appeared in the doorway, silently +she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed +into the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a flitting +shadow Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary, +unhurried steps back to his bed and rolled in his blankets. + +Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed to +have but one issue--the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be upon +Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there would be +no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler while he +was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to his men +the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing down on +the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever his +power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the +temptation from him. To ward off pursuit as long as possible, to aid +Mescal in every way to some safe hiding-place, and then to seek +Holderness--that was the forethought of a man who had learned to wait. + +Under the dark projection of the upper cliff Hare felt his way to the +cedar slope, and the trail, and then he went swiftly down into the little +hollow where he had left Bolly. The darkness of the forest hindered him, +but he came at length to the edge of the aspen thicket; he penetrated it, +and guided toward Bolly by a suspicious stamp and neigh, he found her and +quieted her with a word. He rode down the hollow, out upon the level +valley. + +The clouds had broken somewhat, letting pale light down through rifts. +All about him cattle were lying in a thick gloom. It was penetrable for +only a few rods. The ground was like a cushion under Bolly's hoofs, +giving forth no sound. The mustang threw up her head, causing Hare to +peer into the night-fog. Rapid hoof-beats broke the silence, a vague +gray shadow moved into sight. He saw Silvermane and called as loudly as +he dared. The stallion melted into the misty curtain, the beating of +hoofs softened and ceased. Hare spurred Bolly to her fleetest. He had a +long, silent chase, but it was futile, and unnecessarily hard on the +mustang; so he pulled her in to a trot. + +Hare kept Bolly to this gait the remainder of the night, and when the +eastern sky lightened he found the trail and reached Seeping Springs at +dawn. Silvermane's tracks were deep in the clay at the drinking-trough. +He rested a few moments, gave Bolly sparingly of grain and water, and +once more took to the trail. + +From the ridge below the spring he saw Silvermane beyond the valley, +miles ahead of him. This day seemed shorter than the foregoing one; it +passed while he watched Silvermane grow smaller and smaller and disappear +on the looming slope of Coconina. Hare's fear that Mescal would run into +the riders Holderness expected from his ranch grew less and less after +she had reached the cover of the cedars. That she would rest the +stallion at the Navajo pool on the mountain he made certain. Late in the +night he came to the camping spot and found no trace to prove that she +had halted there even to let Silvermane drink. So he tied the tired +mustang and slept until daylight. + +He crossed the plateau and began the descent. Before he was half-way +down the warm bright sun had cleared the valley of vapor and shadow. +Far along the winding white trail shone a speck. It was Silvermane +almost out of sight. + +"Ten miles--fifteen, more maybe," said Hare. "Mescal will soon be in the +village." + +Again hours of travel flew by like winged moments. Thoughts of time, +distance, monotony, fatigue, purpose, were shut out from his mind. A +rushing kaleidoscopic dance of images filled his consciousness, but they +were all of Mescal. Safety for her had unsealed the fountain of +happiness. + +It was near sundown when he rode Black Bolly into White Sage, and took +the back road, and the pasture lane to Bishop Caldwell's cottage. John, +one of the Bishop's sons, was in the barn-yard and ran to open the gate. + +"Mescal!" cried Hare. + +"Safe," replied the Mormon. + +"Have you hidden her?" + +"She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men +know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe." + +"Thank God! . . . then that's settled." Hare drew a long, deep breath. + +"Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and +escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?" + +"Silvermane killed him." + +"Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here +in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap +Naab?" + +"Yes." + +"What of old Naab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons +against the rustlers?" + +"He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail +alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he +failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his +plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him." + +"For what? Mescal?" + +"No. For Holderness." + +"You'll kill him!" + +"Yes." + +"He'll be coming soon?--When?" + +"To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance +Naab may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it." + +"May I know your plan?" The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face +flashed with daring inspiration. "I--I've a good reason." + +"Plan?-- Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in the +orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little--for I'm dead tired-- +and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his men, +perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use +strategy. I'll meet him when he comes--that's all." + +"It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now. +You need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the +arbor." + +Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival +following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed +repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell +did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table +before finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the +open window. + +Darkness found Hare wrapped in a blanket under the trees. He needed +sleep that would loose the strange deadlock of his thoughts, clear the +blur from his eyes, ease the pain in his head and weariness of limbs--all +these weaknesses of which he had suddenly become conscious. Time and +again he had almost wooed slumber to him when soft footsteps on the +gravel paths, low voices, the gentle closing of the gate, brought him +back to the unreal listening wakefulness. The sounds continued late into +the night, and when he did fall asleep he dreamed of them. He awoke to a +dawn clearer than the light from the noonday sun. In his ears was the +ringing of a bell. He could not stand still, and his movements were +subtle and swift. His hands took a peculiar, tenacious, hold of +everything he chanced to touch. He paced his hidden walk behind the +arbor, at every turn glancing sharply up and down the road. Thoughts +came to him clearly, yet one was dominant. The morning was curiously +quiet, the sons of the Bishop had strangely disappeared--a sense of +imminent catastrophe was in the air. + +A band of horsemen closely grouped turned into the road and trotted +forward. Some of the men wore black masks. Holderness rode at the +front, his red-gold beard shining in the sunlight. The steady clip-crop +of hoofs and clinking of iron stirrups broke the morning quiet. +Holderness, with two of his men, dismounted before the Bishop's gate; the +others of the band trotted on down the road. The ring of Holderness's +laugh preceded the snap of the gate-latch. + +Hare stood calm and cold behind his green covert watching the three men +stroll up the garden path. Holderness took a cigarette from his lips as +he neared the porch and blew out circles of white smoke. Bishop Caldwell +tottered from the cottage rapping the porch-floor with his cane. + +"Good-morning, Bishop," greeted Holderness, blandly, baring his head. + +"To you, sir," quavered the old man, with his wavering blue eyes fixed on +the spurred and belted rustler. Holderness stepped out in front of his +companions, a superb man, courteous, smiling, entirely at his ease. + +"I rode in to--" + +Hare leaped from his hiding-place. + +"Holderness!" + +The rustler pivoted on whirling heels. + +"Dene's spy!" he exclaimed, aghast. Swift changes swept his mobile +features. Fear flickered in his eyes as he faced his foe; then came +wonder, a glint of amusement, dark anger, and the terrible instinct of +death impending. + +"Naab's trick!" hissed Hare, with his hand held high. The suggestion in +his words, the meaning in his look, held the three rustlers transfixed. +The surprise was his strength. + +In Holderness's amber eyes shone his desperate calculation of chances. +Hare's fateful glance, impossible to elude, his strung form slightly +crouched, his cold deliberate mention of Naab's trick, and more than all +the poise of that quivering hand, filled the rustler with a terror that +he could not hide. + +He had been bidden to draw and he could not summon the force. + +"Naab's trick!" repeated Hare, mockingly. + +Suddenly Holderness reached for his gun. + +Hare's hand leapt like a lightning stroke. Gleam of blue--spurt of red-- +crash! + +Holderness swayed with blond head swinging backward; the amber of his +eyes suddenly darkened; the life in them glazed; like a log he fell +clutching the weapon he had half drawn. + + + +XX +THE RAGE OF THE OLD LION + + +"TAKE Holderness away--quick!" ordered Hare. A thin curl of blue smoke +floated from the muzzle of his raised weapon. + +The rustlers started out of their statue-like immobility, and lifting +their dead leader dragged him down the garden path with his spurs +clinking on the gravel and ploughing little furrows. + +"Bishop, go in now. They may return," said Hare. He hurried up the +steps to place his arm round the tottering old man. + +"Was that Holderness?" + +"Yes," replied Hare. + +"The deeds of the wicked return unto them! God's will!" + +Hare led the Bishop indoors. The sitting-room was full of wailing women +and crying children. None of the young men were present. Again Hare +made note of their inexplicable absence. He spoke soothingly to the +frightened family. The little boys and girls yielded readily to his +persuasion, but the women took no heed of him. + +"Where are your sons?" asked Hare. + +"I don't know," replied the Bishop. "They should be here to stand by +you. It's strange. I don't understand. Last night my sons were visited +by many men, coming and going in twos and threes till late. They didn't +sleep in their beds. I know not what to think." + +Hare remembered John Caldwell's enigmatic face. + +"Have the rustlers really come?" asked a young woman, whose eyes were red +and cheeks tear-stained. + +"They have. Nineteen in all. I counted them," answered Hare. + +The young woman burst out weeping afresh, and the wailing of the others +answered her. Hare left the cottage. He picked up his rifle and went down +through the orchard to the hiding-place of the horses. Silvermane +pranced and snorted his gladness at sight of his master. The desert king +was fit for a grueling race. Black Bolly quietly cropped the long grass. +Hare saddled the stallion to have him in instant readiness, and then +returned to the front of the yard. + +He heard the sound of a gun down the road, then another, and several +shots following in quick succession. A distant angry murmuring and +trampling of many feet drew Hare to the gate. Riderless mustangs were +galloping down the road; several frightened boys were fleeing across the +square; not a man was in sight. Three more shots cracked, and the low +murmur and trampling swelled into a hoarse uproar. Hare had heard that +sound before; it was the tumult of mob-violence. A black dense throng of +men appeared crowding into the main street, and crossing toward the +square. The procession had some order; it was led and flanked by mounted +men. But the upflinging of many arms, the craning of necks, and the +leaping of men on the outskirts of the mass, the pressure inward and the +hideous roar, proclaimed its real character. + +"By Heaven!" exclaimed Hare. "The Mormons have risen against the +rustlers. I understand now. John Caldwell spent last night in secretly +rousing his neighbors. They have surprised the rustlers. Now what?" + +Hare vaulted the fence and ran down the road. A compact mob of men, a +hundred or more, had halted in the village under the wide-spreading +cottonwoods. Hare suddenly grasped the terrible significance of those +outstretched branches, and out of the thought grew another which made him +run at bursting break-neck speed. + +"Open up! Let me in!" he yelled to the thickly thronged circle. Right +and left he flung men. "Make way!" His piercing voice stilled the angry +murmur. Fierce men with weapons held aloft fell back from his face. + +"Dene's spy!" they cried. + +The circle opened and closed upon him. He saw bound rustlers under armed +guard. Four still forms were on the ground. Holderness lay +outstretched, a dark-red blot staining his gray shirt. Flinty-faced +Mormons, ruthless now as they had once been mild, surrounded the +rustlers. John Caldwell stood foremost, with ashen lips breaking +bitterly into speech: + +"Mormons, this is Dene's spy, the man who killed Holderness!" + +The listeners burst into the short stern shout of men proclaiming a +leader in war. + +"What's the game?" demanded Hare. + +"A fair trial for the rustlers, then a rope," replied John Caldwell. The +low ominous murmur swelled through the crowd again. + +"There are two men here who have befriended me. I won't see them +hanged." + +"Pick them out!" A strange ripple of emotion made a fleeting break in +John Caldwell's hard face. + +Hare eyed the prisoners. + +"Nebraska, step out here," said he. + +"I reckon you're mistaken," replied the rustler, his blue eyes intently +on Hare. "I never seen you before. An' I ain't the kind of a feller to +cheat the man you mean." + +"I saw you untie the girl's hands." + +"You did? Well, d--n me!" + +"Nebraska, if I save your life will you quit rustling cattle? You +weren't cut out for a thief." + +"Will I? D--n me! I'll be straight an' decent. I'll take a job ridin' +for you, stranger, an' prove it." + +"Cut him loose from the others," said Hare. He scrutinized the line of +rustlers. Several were masked in black. "Take off those masks!" + +"No! Those men go to their graves masked." Again the strange twinge of +pain crossed John Caldwell's face. + +"Ah, I see," exclaimed Hare. Then quickly: "I couldn't recognize the +other man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her +and I'll save him. But how?" + +Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent, clamored +that he was the one to be saved. + +"Hurry back home," said Caldwell in Hare's ear "Tell them to fetch +Mescal. Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are +wavering. You've got only a few minutes." + +Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the +run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family. + +"No danger--don't be alarmed--all's well," he panted. "The rustlers are +captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, somebody." + +One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a +latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone, and +dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly +pattering footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall, +black hair flying, dark eyes beaming. + +"My darling!" Oblivious of the Mormons he swung her up and held her in +his arms. "Mescal! Mescal!" + +When he raised his face from the tumbling mass of her black hair, the +Bishop and his family had left the room. + +"Listen, Mescal. Be calm. I'm safe. The rustlers are prisoners. One +of them released you from Holderness. Tell me which one?" + +"I don't know," replied Mescal. "I've tried to think. I didn't see his +face; I can't remember his voice." + +"Think! Think! He'll be hanged if you don't recall something to identify +him. He deserves a chance. Holderness's crowd are thieves, murderers. +But two were not all bad. That showed the night you were at Silver Cup. +I saved Nebraska--" + +"Were you at Silver Cup? Jack!" + +"Hush! don't interrupt me. We must save this man who saved you. Think! +Mescal! Think!" + +"Oh! I can't. What--how shall I remember?" + +"Something about him. Think of his coat, his sleeve. You must remember +something. Did you see his hands?" + +"Yes, I did--when he was loosing the cords," said Mescal, eagerly. +"Long, strong fingers. I felt them too. He has a sharp rough wart on +one hand, I don't know which. He wears a leather wristband." + +"That's enough!" Hare bounded out upon the garden walk and raced back to +the crowded square. The uneasy circle stirred and opened for him to +enter. He stumbled over a pile of lassoes which had not been there when +he left. The stony Mormons waited; the rustlers coughed and shifted +their feet. John Caldwell turned a gray face. Hare bent over the three +dead rustlers lying with Holderness, and after a moment of anxious +scrutiny he rose to confront the line of prisoners. + +"Hold out your hands." + +One by one they complied. The sixth rustler in the line, a tall fellow, +completely masked, refused to do as he was bidden. Twice Hare spoke. +The rustler twisted his bound hands under his coat. + +"Let's see them," said Hare, quickly. He grasped the fellow's arm and +received a violent push that almost knocked him over. Grappling with the +rustler, he pulled up the bound hands, in spite of fierce resistance, and +there were the long fingers, the sharp wart, the laced wristband. +"Here's my man!" he said. + +"No," hoarsely mumbled the rustler. The perspiration ran down his corded +neck; his breast heaved convulsively. + +"You fool!" cried Hare, dumfounded and resentful. "I recognized you. +Would you rather hang than live? What's your secret?" + +He snatched off the black mask. The Bishop's eldest son stood revealed. + +"Good God!" cried Hare, recoiling from that convulsed face. + +"Brother! Oh! I feared this," groaned John Caldwell. + +The rustlers broke out into curses and harsh laughter. + +"--- --- you Mormons! See him! Paul Caldwell! Son of a Bishop! Thought he +was shepherdin' sheep?" + +"D--n you, Hare!" shouted the guilty Mormon, in passionate fury and shame. +"Why didn't you hang me? Why didn't you bury me unknown?" + +"Caldwell! I can't believe it," cried Hare, slowly coming to himself. +"But you don't hang. Here, come out of the crowd. Make way, men!" + +The silent crowd of Mormons with lowered and averted eyes made passage +for Hare and Caldwell. Then cold, stern voices in sharp questions and +orders went on with the grim trial. Leading the bowed and stricken +Mormon, Hare drew off to the side of the town-hall and turned his back +upon the crowd. The constant trampling of many feet, the harsh medley of +many voices swelled into one dreadful sound. It passed away, and a long +hush followed. But this in turn was suddenly broken by an outcry: + +"The Navajos! The Navajos!" + +Hare thrilled at that cry and his glance turned to the eastern end of the +village road where a column of mounted Indians, four abreast, was riding +toward the square. + +"Naab and his Indians," shouted Hare. "Naab and his Indians! No fear!" +His call was timely, for the aroused Mormons, ignorant of Naab's pursuit, +fearful of hostile Navajos, were handling their guns ominously. + +But there came a cry of recognition--"August Naab!" + +Onward came the band, Naab in the lead on his spotted roan. The mustangs +were spent and lashed with foam. Naab reined in his charger and the +keen-eyed Navajos closed in behind him. The old Mormon's eagle glance +passed over the dark forms dangling from the cottonwoods to the files of +waiting men. + +"Where is he?" + +"There!" answered John Caldwell, pointing to the body of Holderness. + +"Who robbed me of my vengeance? Who killed the rustler?" Naab's +stentorian voice rolled over the listening multitude. In it was a hunger +of thwarted hate that held men mute. He bent a downward gaze at the dead +Holderness as if to make sure of the ghastly reality. Then he seemed to +rise in his saddle, and his broad chest to expand. "I know--I saw it +all--blind I was not to believe my own eyes! Where is he? Where is +Hare?" + +Some one pointed Hare out. Naab swung from his saddle and scattered the +men before him as if they had been sheep. His shaggy gray head and +massive shoulders towered above the tallest there. + +Hare felt again a cold sense of fear. He grew weak in all his being. He +reeled when the gray shaggy giant laid a huge hand on his shoulder and +with one pull dragged him close. Was this his kind Mormon benefactor, +this man with the awful eyes? + +"You killed Holderness?" roared Naab. + +"Yes," whispered Hare. + +"You heard me say I'd go alone? You forestalled me? You took upon +yourself my work? . . . Speak." + +"I--did." + +"By what right?" + +"My debt--duty--your family--Dave!" + +"Boy! Boy! You've robbed me." Naab waved his arm from the gaping crowd to +the swinging rustlers. "You've led these white-livered Mormons to do my +work. How can I avenge my sons--seven sons?" + +His was the rage of the old desert-lion. He loosed Hare and strode in +magnificent wrath over Holderness and raised his brawny fists. + +"Eighteen years I prayed for wicked men," he rolled out. "One by one I +buried my sons. I gave my springs and my cattle. Then I yielded to the +lust for blood. I renounced my religion. I paid my soul to everlasting +hell for the life of my foe. But he's dead! Killed by a wild boy! I sold +myself to the devil for nothing!" + +August Naab raved out his unnatural rage amid awed silence. His revolt +was the flood of years undammed at the last. The ferocity of the desert +spirit spoke silently in the hanging rustlers, in the ruthlessness of the +vigilantes who had destroyed them, but it spoke truest in the sonorous +roll of the old Mormon's wrath. + +"August, young Hare saved two of the rustlers," spoke up an old friend, +hoping to divert the angry flood. "Paul Caldwell there, he was one of +them. The other's gone." + +Naab loomed over him. "What!" he roared. His friend edged away, +repeating his words and jerking his thumb backward toward the Bishop's +son. + +"Judas Iscariot!" thundered Naab. "False to thyself, thy kin, and thy +God! Thrice traitor! . . . Why didn't you get yourself killed? . . . Why +are you left? Ah-h! for me--a rustler for me to kill--with my own +hands!--A rope there--a rope!" + +"I wanted them to hang me," hoarsely cried Caldwell, writhing in Naab's +grasp. + +Hare threw all his weight and strength upon the Mormon's iron arm. "Naab! +Naab! For God's sake, hear! He saved Mescal. This man, thief, traitor, +false Mormon--whatever he is--he saved Mescal." + +August Naab's eyes were bloodshot. One shake of his great body flung +Hare off. He dragged Paul Caldwell across the grass toward the +cottonwood as easily as if he were handling an empty grain-sack. + +Hare suddenly darted after him. "August! August!--look! look!" he +cried. He pointed a shaking finger down the square. The old Bishop came +tottering over the grass, leaning on his cane, shading his eyes with his +hand. "August. See, the Bishop's coming. Paul's father! Do you hear?" + +Hare's appeal pierced Naab's frenzied brain. The Mormon Elder saw his +old Bishop pause and stare at the dark shapes suspended from the +cottonwoods and hold up his hands in horror. + +Naab loosed his hold. His frame seemed wrenched as though by the passing +of an evil spirit, and the reaction left his face transfigured. + +"Paul, it's your father, the Bishop," he said, brokenly. "Be a man. He +must never know." Naab spread wide his arms to the crowd. "Men, +listen," he said. "Of all of us Mormons I have lost most, suffered most. +Then hear me. Bishop Caldwell must never know of his son's guilt. He +would sink under it. Keep the secret. Paul will be a man again. I +know. I see. For, Mormons, August Naab has the gift of revelation!" + + + +XXI +MESCAL + + +SUMMER gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls of +the oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea, +darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke were +wafted far above the cottonwoods and floated in the still air. The +desert-red color of Navajo blankets brightened the grove. + +Half-naked bronze Indians lolled in the shade, lounged on the cabin +porches and stood about the sunny glade in idle groups. They wore the +dress of peace. A single black-tipped white eagle feather waved above +the band binding each black head. They watched the merry children tumble +round the playground. Silvermane browsed where he listed under the shady +trees, and many a sinewy red hand caressed his flowing mane. Black Bolly +neighed her jealous displeasure from the corral, and the other mustangs +trampled and kicked and whistled defiance across the bars. The peacocks +preened their gorgeous plumage and uttered their clarion calls. The +belligerent turkey-gobblers sidled about ruffling their feathers. The +blackbirds and swallows sang and twittered their happiness to find old +nests in the branches and under the eaves. Over all boomed the dull roar +of the Colorado in flood. + +It was the morning of Mescal's wedding-day. + +August Naab, for once without a task, sat astride a peeled log of +driftwood in the lane, and Hare stood beside him. + +"Five thousand steers, lad! Why do you refuse them? They're worth ten +dollars a head to-day in Salt Lake City. A good start for a young man." + +"No, I'm still in your debt." + +"Then share alike with my sons in work and profit?" + +"Yes, I can accept that." + +"Good! Jack, I see happiness and prosperity for you. Do you remember +that night on the White Sage trail? Ah! Well, the worst is over. We +can look forward to better times. It's not likely the rustlers will ride +into Utah again. But this desert will never be free from strife." + +"Tell me of Mescal," said Hare. + +"Ah! Yes, I'm coming to that." Naab bent his head over the log and +chipped off little pieces with his knife. "Jack, will you come into the +Mormon Church?" + +Long had Hare shrunk from this question which he felt must inevitably +come, and now he met it as bravely as he could, knowing he would pain his +friend. + +"No, August, I can't," he replied. "I feel--differently from Mormons +about--about women. If it wasn't for that! I look upon you as a father. +I'll do anything for you, except that. No one could pray to be a better +man than you. Your work, your religion, your life-- Why! I've no words +to say what I feel. Teach me what little you can of them, August, but +don't ask me--that." + +"Well, well," sighed Naab. The gray clearness of his eagle eyes grew +shadowed and his worn face was sad. It was the look of a strong wise man +who seemed to hear doubt and failure knocking at the gate of his creed. +But he loved life too well to be unhappy; he saw it too clearly not to +know there was nothing wholly good, wholly perfect, wholly without error. +The shade passed from his face like the cloud-shadow from the sunlit +lane. + +"You ask about Mescal," he mused. "There's little more to tell." + +"But her father--can you tell me more of him?" + +"Little more than I've already told. He was evidently a man of some +rank. I suspected that he ruined his life and became an adventurer. His +health was shattered when I brought him here, but he got well after a +year or so. He was a splendid, handsome fellow. He spoke very seldom +and I don't remember ever seeing him smile. His favorite walk was the +river trail. I came upon him there one day, and found him dying. He +asked me to have a care of Mescal. And he died muttering a Spanish word, +a woman's name, I think." + +"I'll cherish Mescal the more," said Hare. + +"Cherish her, yes. My Bible will this day give her a name. We know she +has the blood of a great chief. Beautiful she is and good. I raised her +for the Mormon Church, but God disposes after all, and I--" + +A shrill screeching sound split the warm stillness, the long-drawn-out +bray of a burro. + +"Jack, look down the lane. If it isn't Noddle!" + +Under the shady line of the red wall a little gray burro came trotting +leisurely along with one long brown ear standing straight up, the other +hanging down over his nose. + +"By George! it's Noddle!" exclaimed Hare. "He's climbed out of the +canyon. Won't this please Mescal?" + +"Hey, Mother Mary," called Naab toward the cabin. "Send Mescal out. +Here's a wedding-present." + +With laughing wonder the women-folk flocked out into the yard. Mescal +hung back shy-eyed, roses dyeing the brown of her cheeks. + +"Mescal's wedding-present from Thunder River. Just arrived!" called Naab +cheerily, yet deep-voiced with the happiness he knew the tidings would +give. "A dusty, dirty, shaggy, starved, lop-eared, lazy burro--Noddle!" + +Mescal flew out into the lane, and with a strange broken cry of joy that +was half a sob she fell upon her knees and clasped the little burro's +neck. Noddle wearily flapped his long brown ears, wearily nodded his +white nose; then evidently considering the incident closed, he went +lazily to sleep. + +"Noddle! dear old Noddle!" murmured Mescal, with far-seeing, +thought-mirroring eyes. "For you to come back to-day from our canyon! +. . . Oh! The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonely +voices! . . . they come back to me. . . . Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the same +faithful old Noddle!" + +August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of the +cottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them. +The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed an +attentive circle around them. The ceremony was brief. At its close the +Mormon lifted his face and arms in characteristic invocation. + +"Almighty God, we entreat Thy blessing upon this marriage. Many and +inscrutable are Thy ways; strange are the workings of Thy will; wondrous +the purpose with which Thou hast brought this man and this woman +together. Watch over them in the new path they are to tread, help them +in the trials to come; and in Thy good time, when they have reached the +fulness of days, when they have known the joy of life and rendered their +service, gather them to Thy bosom in that eternal home where we all pray +to meet Thy chosen ones of good; yea, and the evil ones purified in Thy +mercy. Amen." + +Happy congratulations of the Mormon family, a merry romp of children +flinging flowers, marriage-dance of singing Navajos--these, with the +feast spread under the cottonwoods, filled the warm noon-hours of the +day. + +Then the chief Eschtah raised his lofty form, and turned his eyes upon +the bride and groom. + +"Eschtah's hundred summers smile in the face of youth. The arm of the +White Chief is strong; the kiss of the Flower of the Desert is sweet. +Let Mescal and Jack rest their heads on one pillow, and sleep under the +trees, and chant when the dawn brightens in the east. Out of his wise +years the Navajo bids them love while they may. Daughter of my race, +take the blessing of the Navajo." + +Jack lifted Mescal upon Black Bolly and mounted Silvermane. Piute +grinned till he shook his earrings and started the pack burros toward the +plateau trail. Wolf pattered on before, turning his white head, +impatient of delay. Amid tears and waving of hands and cheers they began +the zigzag ascent. + +When they reached the old camp on the plateau the sun was setting behind +the Painted Desert. With hands closely interwoven they watched the color +fade and the mustering of purple shadows. + +Twilight fell. Piute raked the red coals from the glowing centre of the +camp-fire. Wolf crouched all his long white length, his sharp nose on +his paws, watching Mescal. Hare watched her, too. The night shone in +her eyes, the light of the fire, the old brooding mystic desert-spirit, +and something more. The thump of Silvermane's hobbled hoofs was heard in +the darkness; Bolly's bell jangled musically. The sheep were bleating. +A lonesome coyote barked. The white stars blinked out of the blue and +the night breeze whispered softly among the cedars. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Heritage of the Desert, by Grey + diff --git a/old/old/hdsrt11.zip b/old/old/hdsrt11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2be8bd8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/hdsrt11.zip |