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diff --git a/14362-h/14362-h.htm b/14362-h/14362-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5af337c --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/14362-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12784 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Way of a Man, by Emerson Hough</title> +<style title="Standard Format" type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify } +body.marginalia { margin: 4em 2em 4em 10em; text-align: justify } + +div { margin: 2em 0em } +div.frontpage { margin: 4em 0em } +div.contents { margin: 2em 0em } +div.colophon { margin: 4em 0em; font-size: 80% } +div.footnotes { margin: 2em 0em } +div.figure-caption { margin: 1em 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 80% } +div.epigraph { margin: 0em 0em 1em 10em; font-size: small; } +div.sp { margin: 1em 0em 1em 2em; text-align: left } +div.speaker { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; text-align: left; + font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0em } +div.stage { margin: 1em 0em; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic } +span.stage { font-weight: normal; font-style: italic } +div.lg { margin: 1em 0em 1em 2em } +div.eg { margin: 1em -1em; padding: 1ex 1em; font-size: 80%; + color: black; background-color: #eee } +.marginnote { margin: 0em 0em 0em -12em; width: 10em; float: left; font-size: 80%} + +p.pubdate { margin: 4em 0em; text-indent: 0em } +p.dateline { margin: 1ex 0em; text-align: right } +p.salute { margin: 1ex 0em; } +p.signed { margin: 1ex 0em; text-align: right } +p.byline { margin: 1ex 0em; } +/* indent verse continuation lines 4em */ +p.l { margin: 0em 0em 0em 4em; text-align: left; + text-indent: -4em } + +hr.doublepage { margin: 4em 0em; height: 5px } +hr.page { margin: 4em 0em } + +.display { margin: 2em 4em } +blockquote { margin: 2em 4em } + +h1.pg { text-align: center; } +h4.pg { text-align: center; } +h1.author { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 173% } +h1.title { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 207% } +h1 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 173% } +h2, h1.sub { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 144% } +h3, h2.sub { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 120% } +h4, h3.sub { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 100% } + +h4.sub, h5.sub, h6.sub { margin-top: 1em; font-size: smaller } + +ol, ul.dgp { margin: 2em 0em } +ul.simple { margin: 2em 0em; list-style-type: none } +ul.toc { margin: 2em 0em; list-style-type: none } +li { margin: 1em 0em } +dt { font-weight: bold; } +ul.toc li { margin: 0em } + +span.title { font-style: italic } +span.name-ship { font-style: italic } +span.footnoteref { vertical-align: super; font-size: 60% } +span.code { font-family: monospace; font-size: 110%; } + +dl { } +dl dt { } +dl dd { margin: 0em 0em 0em 4em } + +dl.footnote { font-size: 80% } +dl.footnote dt { font-weight: normal; text-align: right; + float: left; width: 3em } +dl.footnote dd { margin: 0em 0em 1ex 4em } + +ul.dgp-castlist { margin: 0em; list-style-type: none } +li.dgp-castitem { margin: 0em; } +table.dgp-castgroup { margin: 0em; } +ul.dgp-castgroup { margin: 0em; list-style-type: none; + padding-right: 2em; border-right: solid black 2px; } +caption.dgp-castgroup-head { caption-side: right; width: 50%; text-align: left; + vertical-align: middle; padding-left: 2em; } +.dgp-roledesc { font-style: italic } +.dgp-set { font-style: italic } + +th { padding: 0em 1em } +td { padding: 0em 1em } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14362 ***</div> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Way of a Man, by Emerson Hough</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="doublepage"> + + +<div class="text"> +<div class="front"> + +<div class="div"> +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image1.png" alt="Grace Shows a Lack of Sympathy."></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Grace Shows a Lack of Sympathy.</p> +</div> + +<div class="div"> +<h2>The Way Of A Man</h2> + +<h2 class="sub">by Emerson Hough</h2> + +<h2 class="sub">Author of <i>The Covered Wagon</i>, etc.</h2> + +<h2 class="sub">ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY<br> + A PATHÉ PICTURE</h2> + +<h6>Grosset & Dunlap<br> +Publishers New York</h6> + + +<h4>1907</h4> +</div> + +<div class="div" id="toc"><a name="toc_1"></a><h2>Contents</h2><ul class="toc"> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_1">Contents</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_2">Chapter I - The Kissing Of Miss Grace Sheraton</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_3">Chapter II - The Meeting Of Gordon Orme</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_4">Chapter III - The Art Of The Orient</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_5">Chapter IV - Wars And Rumors Of War</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_6">Chapter V - The Madness Of Much Kissing</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_7">Chapter VI - A Sad Lover</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_8">Chapter VII - What Cometh In The Night</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_9">Chapter VIII - Beginning Adventures In New Lands</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_10">Chapter IX - The Girl With The Heart</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_11">Chapter X - The Supreme Court</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_12">Chapter XI - The Morning After</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_13">Chapter XII - The Wreck On The River</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_14">Chapter XIII - The Face In The Firelight</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_15">Chapter XIV - Au Large</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_16">Chapter XV - Her Infinite Variety</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_17">Chapter XVI - Buffalo!</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_18">Chapter XVII - Sioux!</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_19">Chapter XVIII - The Test</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_20">Chapter XIX - The Quality Of Mercy</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_21">Chapter Xx - Gordon Orme, Magician</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_22">Chapter XXI - Two In The Desert</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_23">Chapter XXII - Mandy McGovern On Marriage</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_24">Chapter XXIII - Issue Joined</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_25">Chapter XXIV - Forsaking All Others</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_26">Chapter XXV - Cleaving Only Unto Her.</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_27">Chapter XXVI - In Sickness And In Health</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_28">Chapter XXVII - With All My Worldly Goods I Thee Endow</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_29">Chapter XXVIII - Till Death Do Part</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_30">Chapter XXIX - The Garden</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_31">Chapter XXX - They Twain</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_32">Chapter XXXI - The Betrothal</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_33">Chapter XXXII - The Covenant</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_34">Chapter XXXIII - The Flaming Sword</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_35">Chapter XXXIV - The Loss Of Paradise</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_36">Chapter XXXV - The Yoke</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_37">Chapter XXXVI - The Goad</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_38">Chapter XXXVII - The Furrow</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_39">Chapter XXXVIII - Hearts Hypothecated</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_40">Chapter XXXIX - The Uncovering Of Gordon Orme</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_41">Chapter XL - A Confusion In Covenants</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_42">Chapter XLI - Ellen Or Grace</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_43">Chapter XLII - Face To Face</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_44">Chapter XLIII - The Reckoning</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_45">Chapter XLIV - This Indenture Witnesseth</a></li> +<li style="margin: 0em 0em;"><a href="#toc_46">Chapter XLV - Ellen</a></li> +</ul></div> + +</div> + +<div class="body"> + +<hr class="doublepage"> + +<div class="div"> + +<a name="toc_2"></a> +<h2>Chapter I - The Kissing Of Miss Grace Sheraton</h2> + +<p>I admit I kissed her.</p> + +<p>Perhaps I should not have done so. Perhaps I +would not do so again. Had I known what was to +come I could not have done so. Nevertheless I did.</p> + +<p>After all, it was not strange. All things about us conspired +to be accessory and incendiary. The air of the Virginia +morning was so soft and warm, the honeysuckles +along the wall were so languid sweet, the bees and the hollyhocks +up to the walk so fat and lazy, the smell of the orchard +was so rich, the south wind from the fields was so wanton! +Moreover, I was only twenty-six. As it chances, I was this +sort of a man: thick in the arm and neck, deep through, just +short of six feet tall, and wide as a door, my mother said; +strong as one man out of a thousand, my father said. And +then—the girl was there.</p> + +<p>So this was how it happened that I threw the reins of +Satan, my black horse, over the hooked iron of the gate at +Dixiana Farm and strode up to the side of the stone pillar +where Grace Sheraton stood, shading her eyes with her +hand, watching me approach through the deep trough road +that flattened there, near the Sheraton lane. So I laughed + +and strode up—and kept my promise. I had promised myself +that I would kiss her the first time that seemed feasible. +I had even promised her—when she came home from Philadelphia +so lofty and superior for her stopping a brace of +years with Miss Carey at her Allendale Academy for Young +Ladies—that if she mitigated not something of her haughtiness, +I would kiss her fair, as if she were but a girl of the +country. Of these latter I may guiltily confess, though with +no names, I had known many who rebelled little more than +formally.</p> + +<p>She stood in the shade of the stone pillar, where the ivy +made a deep green, and held back her light blue skirt daintily, +in her high-bred way; for never was a girl Sheraton who +was not high-bred or other than fair to look upon in the +Sheraton way—slender, rather tall, long cheeked, with very +much dark hair and a deep color under the skin, and something +of long curves withal. They were ladies, every one, +these Sheraton girls; and as Miss Grace presently advised +me, no milkmaids wandering and waiting in lanes for lovers.</p> + +<p>When I sprang down from Satan Miss Grace was but a +pace or so away. I put out a hand on either side of her as +she stood in the shade, and so prisoned her against the pillar. +She flushed at this, and caught at my arm with both hands, +which made me smile, for few men in that country could have +put away my arms from the stone until I liked. Then I +bent and kissed her fair, and took what revenge was due +our girls for her Philadelphia manners.</p> + +<p>When she boxed my ears I kissed her once more. Had +she not at that smiled at me a little, I should have been +a boor, I admit. As she did—and as I in my innocence +supposed all girls did—I presume I may be called but a man + +as men go. Miss Grace grew very rosy for a Sheraton, but +her eyes were bright. So I threw my hat on the grass by +the side of the gate and bowed her to be seated. We sat +and looked up the lane which wound on to the big Sheraton +house, and up the red road which led from their farm over +toward our lands, the John Cowles farm, which had been +three generations in our family as against four on the part +of the Sheratons' holdings; a fact which I think always +ranked us in the Sheraton soul a trifle lower than themselves.</p> + +<p>We were neighbors, Miss Grace and I, and as I lazily +looked out over the red road unoccupied at the time by even +the wobbling wheel of some negro's cart, I said to her some +word of our being neighbors, and of its being no sin for +neighbors to exchange the courtesy of a greeting when they +met upon such a morning. This seemed not to please her; +indeed I opine that the best way of a man with a maid is to +make no manner of speech whatever before or after any such +incident as this.</p> + +<p>"I was just wandering down the lane," she said, "to see +if Jerry had found my horse, Fanny."</p> + +<p>"Old Jerry's a mile back up the road," said I, "fast +asleep under the hedge."</p> + +<p>"The black rascal!"</p> + +<p>"He is my friend," said I, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You do indeed take me for some common person," said +she; "as though I had been looking for—"</p> + +<p>"No, I take you only for the sweetest Sheraton that ever +came to meet a Cowles from the farm yonder." Which was +coming rather close home, for our families, though neighbors, +had once had trouble over some such meeting as this two +generations back; though of that I do not now speak.</p> + + + +<p>"Cannot a girl walk down her own carriage road of a +morning, after hollyhocks for the windows, without—"</p> + +<p>"She cannot!" I answered. I would have put out an arm +for further mistreatment, but all at once I pulled up. What +was I coming to, I, John Cowles, this morning when the +bees droned fat and the flowers made fragrant all the air? +I was no boy, but a man grown; and ruthless as I was, I +had all the breeding the land could give me, full Virginia +training as to what a gentleman should be. And a gentleman, +unless he may travel all a road, does not set foot too +far into it when he sees that he is taken at what seems his +wish. So now I said how glad I was that she had come back +from school, though a fine lady now, and no doubt forgetful +of her friends, of myself, who once caught young rabbits and +birds for her, and made pens for the little pink pigs at the +orchard edge, and all of that. But she had no mind, it +seemed to me, to talk of these old days; and though now +some sort of wall seemed to me to arise between us as we +sat there on the bank blowing at dandelions and pulling loose +grass blades, and humming a bit of tune now and then as +young persons will, still, thickheaded as I was, it was in +some way made apparent to me that I was quite as willing +the wall should be there as she herself was willing.</p> + +<p>My mother had mentioned Miss Grace Sheraton to me +before. My father had never opposed my riding over now +and then to the Sheraton gates. There were no better +families in our county than these two. There was no reason +why I should feel troubled. Yet as I looked out into the +haze of the hilltops where the red road appeared to leap off +sheer to meet the distant rim of the Blue Ridge, I seemed to +hear some whispered warning. I was young, and wild as + +any deer in those hills beyond. Had it been any enterprise +scorning settled ways; had it been merely a breaking of +orders and a following of my own will, I suppose I might +have gone on. But there are ever two things which govern +an adventure for one of my sex. He may be a man; but he +must also be a gentleman. I suppose books might be written +about the war between those two things. He may be a gentleman +sometimes and have credit for being a soft-headed +fool, with no daring to approach the very woman who has +contempt for him; whereas she may not know his reasons +for restraint. So much for civilization, which at times I +hated because it brought such problems. Yet these problems +never cease, at least while youth lasts, and no community +is free from them, even so quiet a one as ours there in +the valley of the old Blue Ridge, before the wars had rolled +across it and made all the young people old.</p> + +<p>I was of no mind to end my wildness and my roaming +just yet; and still, seeing that I was, by gentleness of my +Quaker mother and by sternness of my Virginia father, set +in the class of gentlemen, I had no wish dishonorably to +engage a woman's heart. Alas, I was not the first to learn +that kissing is a most difficult art to practice!</p> + +<p>When one reflects, the matter seems most intricate. Life +to the young is barren without kissing; yet a kiss with too +much warmth may mean overmuch, whereas a kiss with no +warmth to it is not worth the pains. The kiss which comes +precisely at the moment when it should, in quite sufficient +warmth and yet not of complicating fervor, working no +harm and but joy to both involved—those kisses, now that +one pauses to think it over, are relatively few.</p> + +<p>As for me, I thought it was time for me to be going.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_3"></a> + +<h2>Chapter II - The Meeting Of Gordon Orme</h2> + + +<p>I had enough to do when it came to mounting my horse +Satan. Few cared to ride Satan, since it meant a +battle each time he was mounted. He was a splendid +brute, black and clean, with abundant bone in the head and +a brilliant eye—blood all over, that was easy to see. Yet he +was a murderer at heart. I have known him to bite the +backbone out of a yearling pig that came under his manger, +and no other horse on our farm would stand before him a +moment when he came on, mouth open and ears laid back. +He would fight man, dog, or devil, and fear was not in him, +nor any real submission. He was no harder to sit than +many horses I have ridden. I have seen Arabians and +Barbary horses and English hunters that would buck-jump +now and then. Satan contented himself with rearing high +and whirling sharply, and lunging with a low head; so that +to ride him was a matter of strength as well as skill. +The greatest danger was in coming near his mouth or heels. +My father always told me that this horse was not fit to ride; +but since my father rode him—as he would any horse that +offered—nothing would serve me but I must ride Satan +also, and so I made him my private saddler on occasion.</p> + +<p>I ought to speak of my father, that very brave and kindly +gentleman from whom I got what daring I ever had, I suppose. +He was a clean-cut man, five-eleven in his stockings, + +and few men in all that country had a handsomer body. +His shoulders sloped—an excellent configuration for strength—as +a study of no less a man than George Washington will +prove—his arms were round, his skin white as milk, his hair, +like my own, a sandy red, and his eyes blue and very quiet. +There was a balance in his nature that I have ever lacked. +I rejoice even now in his love of justice. Fair play meant +with him something more than fair play for the sake of +sport—it meant as well fair play for the sake of justice. +Temperate to the point of caring always for his body's welfare, +as regular in his habits as he was in his promises and +their fulfillments, kindling readily enough at any risk, though +never boasting—I always admired him, and trust I may be +pardoned for saying so. I fear that at the time I mention +now I admired him most for his strength and courage.</p> + +<p>Thus as I swung leg over Satan that morning I resolved +to handle him as I had seen my father do, and I felt strong +enough for that. I remembered, in the proud way a boy will +have, the time when my father and I, riding through the +muddy streets of Leesburg town together, saw a farmer's +wagon stuck midway of a crossing. "Come, Jack," my +father called me, "we must send Bill Yarnley home to his +family." Then we two dismounted, and stooping in the +mud got our two shoulders under the axle of the wagon, +before we were done with it, our blood getting up at the +laughter of the townsfolk. When we heaved together, out +came Bill Yarnley's wagon from the mud, and the laughter +ended. It was like him—he would not stop when once he +started. Why, it was so he married my mother, that very +sweet Quakeress from the foot of old Catoctin. He told me +she said him no many times, not liking his wild ways, so contrary + +to the manner of the Society of Friends; and she only +consented after binding him to go with her once each week +to the little stone church at Wallingford village, near our +farm, provided he should be at home and able to attend. +My mother I think during her life had not missed a half +dozen meetings at the little stone church. Twice a week, +and once each Sunday, and once each month, and four times +each year, and also annually, the Society of Friends met +there at Wallingford, and have done so for over one hundred +and thirty-five years. Thither went my mother, quiet, +brown-haired, gentle, as good a soul as ever lived, and with +her my father, tall, strong as a tree, keeping his promise +until at length by sheer force of this kept promise, he himself +became half Quaker and all gentle, since he saw what it +meant to her.</p> + +<p>As I have paused in my horsemanship to speak thus of +my father, I ought also to speak of my mother. It was she +who in those troublous times just before the Civil War was +the first to raise the voice in the Quaker Meeting which said +that the Friends ought to free their slaves, law or no law; +and so started what was called later the Unionist sentiment +in that part of old Virginia. It was my mother did that. +Then she asked my father to manumit all his slaves; and +he thought for an hour, and then raised his head and said it +should be done; after which the servants lived on as before, +and gave less in return, at which my father made wry faces, +but said nothing in regret. After us others also set free +their people, and presently this part of Virginia was a sort +of Mecca for escaped blacks. It was my mother did that; +and I believe that it was her influence which had much to do +with the position of East Virginia on the question of the war. + +And this also in time had much to do with this strange story +of mine, and much to do with the presence thereabout of the +man whom I was to meet that very morning; although when +I started to mount my horse Satan I did not know that such +a man as Gordon Orme existed in the world.</p> + +<p>When I approached Satan he lunged at me, but I caught +him by the cheek strap of the bridle and swung his head +close up, feeling for the saddle front as he reached for me +with open mouth. Then as he reared I swung up with him +into place, and so felt safe, for once I clamped a horse fair +there was an end of his throwing me. I laughed when Miss +Grace Sheraton called out in alarm, and so wheeled Satan +around a few times and rode on down the road, past the +fields where the blacks were busy as blacks ever are, and so +on to our own red pillared-gates.</p> + +<p>Then, since the morning was still young, and since the air +seemed to me like wine, and since I wanted something to +subdue and Satan offered, I spurred him back from the gate +and rode him hard down toward Wallingford. Of course +he picked up a stone en route. Two of us held his head +while Billings the blacksmith fished out the stone and tapped +the shoe nails tight. After that I had time to look around.</p> + +<p>As I did so I saw approaching a gentleman who was looking +with interest at my mount. He was one of the most +striking men I have ever seen, a stranger as I could see, for I +knew each family on both sides the Blue Ridge as far up the +valley as White Sulphur.</p> + +<p>"A grand animal you have there, sir," said he, accosting +Me. "I did not know his like existed in this country."</p> + +<p>"As well in this as in any country," said I tartly. He +smiled at this.</p> + + +<p>"You know his breeding?"</p> + +<p>"Klingwalla out of Bonnie Waters."</p> + +<p>"No wonder he's vicious," said the stranger, calmly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you know something of the English strains," said I. +He shrugged his shoulders. "As much as that," he commented +indifferently.</p> + +<p>There was something about him I did not fancy, a sort of +condescension, as though he were better than those about +him. They say that we Virginians have a way of reserving +that right to ourselves; and I suppose that a family of clean +strain may perhaps become proud after generations of independence +and comfort and freedom from care. None the +less I was forced to admit this newcomer to the class of +gentlemen. He stood as a gentleman, with no resting or +bracing with an arm, or crossing of legs or hitching about, +but balanced on his legs easily—like a fencer or boxer or +fighting man, or gentleman, in short. His face, as I now +perceived, was long and thin, his chin square, although somewhat +narrow. His mouth, too, was narrow, and his teeth +were narrow, one of the upper teeth at each side like the +tooth of a carnivore, longer than its fellows. His hair was +thick and close cut to his head, dark, and if the least bit +gray about the edges, requiring close scrutiny to prove it so. +In color his skin was dark, sunburned beyond tan, almost to +parchment dryness. His eyes were gray, the most remarkable +eyes that I have ever seen—calm, emotionless, direct, +the most fearless eyes I have ever seen in mortal head, and +I have looked into many men's eyes in my time. He was +taller than most men, I think above the six feet line. His +figure was thin, his limbs thin, his hands and feet slender. +He did not look one-tenth his strength. He was simply + +dressed, dressed indeed as a gentleman. He stood as one, +spoke as one, and assumed that all the world accepted him +as one. His voice was warmer in accent than even our +Virginia speech. I saw him to be an Englishman.</p> + +<p>"He is a bit nasty, that one"; he nodded his head toward +Satan.</p> + +<p>I grinned. "I know of only two men in Fairfax County +I'd back to ride him."</p> + +<p>"Yourself and—"</p> + +<p>"My father."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! How old is your father, my good fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Sixty, my good fellow," I replied. He laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "there's a third in Fairfax can ride him."</p> + +<p>"Meaning yourself?"</p> + +<p>He nodded carelessly. I did not share his confidence. +"He's not a saddler in any sense," said I. "We keep him +for the farms."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, my friend," he rejoined—"my name's Orme, +Gordon Orme—I'm just stopping here at the inn for a +time, and I'm deucedly bored. I've not had leg over a +decent mount since I've been here, and if I might ride this +beggar, I'd be awfully obliged."</p> + +<p>My jaw may have dropped at his words; I am not sure. +It was not that he called our little tavern an "inn." It +was the name he gave me which caused me to start.</p> + +<p>"Orme," said I, "Mr. Gordon Orme? That was the +name of the speaker the other evening here at the church of +the Methodists."</p> + +<p>He nodded, smiling. "Don't let that trouble you," +said he.</p> + +<p>None the less it did trouble me; for the truth was that + +word had gone about to the effect that a new minister from +some place not stated had spoken from the pulpit on that +evening upon no less a topic than the ever present one of +Southern slavery. Now, I could not clear it to my mind +how a minister of the gospel might take so keen and swift an +interest in a stranger in the street, and that stranger's horse. +I expressed to him something of my surprise.</p> + +<p>"It's of no importance," said he again. "What seems to +me of most importance just at present is that here's a son of +old Klingwalla, and that I want to ride him."</p> + +<p>"Just for the sake of saying you have done so?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>His face changed swiftly as he answered: "We owned +Klingwalla ourselves back home. He broke a leg for my +father, and was near killing him."</p> + +<p>"Sir," I said to him, catching his thought quickly, "we +could not afford to have the horse injured, but if you wish +to ride him fair or be beaten by him fair, you are welcome +to the chance."</p> + +<p>His eye kindled at this. "You're a sportsman, sir," he +exclaimed, and he advanced at once toward Satan.</p> + +<p>I saw in him something which awakened a responsive +chord in my nature. He was a man to take a risk and welcome +it for the risk's sake. Moreover, he was a horseman; +as I saw by his quick glance over Satan's furniture. He +caught the cheek strap of the bridle, and motioned us away +as we would have helped him at the horse's head. Then +ensued as pretty a fight between man and horse as one could +ask to see. The black brute reared and fairly took him from +the ground, fairly chased him about the street, as a great +dog would a rat. But never did the iron hold on the bridle +loosen, and the man was light on his feet as a boy. Finally + +he had his chance, and with the lightest spring I ever saw at +a saddle skirt, up he went and nailed old Satan fair, with a +grip which ridged his legs out. I saw then that he was a +rider. His head was bare, his hat having fallen off; his hair +was tumbled, but his color scarcely heightened. As the +horse lunged and bolted about the street, Orme sat him in +perfect confidence. He kept his hands low, his knees a +little more up and forward than we use in our style of riding, +and his weight a trifle further back; but I saw from the lines +of his limbs that he had the horse in a steel grip. He gazed +down contemplatively, with a half serious look, master of +himself and of the horse as well. Then presently he turned +him up the road and went off at a gallop, with the brute +under perfect control. I do not know what art he used; all +I can say is that in a half hour he brought Satan back in a +canter.</p> + +<p>This was my first acquaintance with Gordon Orme, that +strange personality with whom I was later to have much to +do. This was my first witnessing of that half uncanny +power by which he seemed to win all things to his purposes. +I admired him, yet did not like him, when he swung carelessly +down and handed me the reins.</p> + +<p>"He's a grand one," he said easily, "but not so difficult to +ride as old Klingwalla. Not that I would discount your +own skill in riding him, sir, for I doubt not you have taken +a lot out of him before now."</p> + +<p>At least this was generous, and as I later learned, it was +like him to give full credit to the performance of any able +adversary.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_4"></a> +<h2>Chapter III - The Art Of The Orient</h2> + + +<p>"Come," said Orme to me, "let us go into the shade, +for I find your Virginia morning warm."</p> + +<p>We stepped over to the gallery of the little tavern, +where the shade was deep and the chairs were wide and the +honeysuckles sweet. I threw myself rather discontentedly +into a chair. Orme seated himself quietly in another, his +slender legs crossed easily, his hands meeting above his elbows +supported on the chair rails, as he gazed somewhat meditatively +at his finger tips.</p> + +<p>"So you did not hear my little effort the other night?" he +remarked, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I was not so fortunate as to hear you speak. But I will +only say I will back you against any minister of the gospel +I ever knew when it comes to riding horses."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," he deprecated, "I'm just passing through on +my way to Albemarle County across the mountains. You +couldn't blame me for wanting something to do—speaking +or riding, or what not. One must be occupied, you know. +But shall we not have them bring us one of these juleps of +the country? I find them most agreeable, I declare."</p> + +<p>I did not criticise his conduct as a wearer of the cloth, but +declined his hospitality on the ground that it was early in +the day for me. He urged me so little and was so much +the gentleman that I explained.</p> + + +<p>"Awhile ago," I said, "my father came to me and said, +'I see, Jack, that thee is trying to do three things—to farm, +hunt foxes, and drink juleps. Does thee think thee can +handle all three of these activities in combination?' You +see, my mother is a Quakeress, and when my father wished +to reprove me he uses the plain speech. Well, sir, I thought +it over, and for the most part I dropped the other two, and +took up more farming."</p> + +<p>"Your father is Mr. John Cowles, of Cowles' Farms?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"No doubt your family know every one in this part of the +country?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, very well."</p> + +<p>"These are troublous times," he ventured, after a time. +"I mean in regard to this talk of secession of the Southern +States."</p> + +<p>I was studying this man. What was he doing here in our +quiet country community? What was his errand? What +business had a julep-drinking, horse-riding parson speaking +in a Virginia pulpit where only the gospel was known, and +that from exponents worth the name?</p> + +<p>"You are from Washington?" I said at length.</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"The country is going into deep water one way or the +other," said I. "Virginia is going to divide on slavery. It +is not for me, nor for any of us, to hasten that time. Trouble +will come fast enough without our help."</p> + +<p>"I infer you did not wholly approve of my little effort the +other evening. I was simply looking at the matter from a +logical standpoint. It is perfectly clear that the old world +must have cotton, that the Southern States must supply that + +cotton, and that slavery alone makes cotton possible for the +world. It is a question of geography rather than of politics; +yet your Northern men make it a question of politics. Your +Congress is full of rotten tariff legislation, which will make a +few of your Northern men rich—and which will bring on this +war quite as much as anything the South may do. Moreover, +this tariff disgusts England, very naturally. Where +will England side when the break comes? And what will +be the result when the South, plus England, fights these +tariff makers over here? I have no doubt that you, sir, +know the complexion of all these neighborhood families in +these matters. I should be most happy if you could find it +possible for me to meet your father and his neighbors, for in +truth I am interested in these matters, merely as a student. +And I have heard much of the kindness of this country toward +strangers."</p> + +<p>It was not our way in Virginia to allow persons of any +breeding to put up at public taverns. We took them to our +homes. I have seen a hundred horses around my father's +barns during the Quarterly Meetings of the Society of Friends. +Perhaps we did not scrutinize all our guests over-closely, but +that was the way of the place. I had no hesitation in saying +to Mr. Orme that we should be glad to entertain him at +Cowles' Farms. He was just beginning to thank me for this +when we were suddenly interrupted.</p> + +<p>We were sitting some paces from the room where landlord +Sanderson kept his bar, so that we heard only occasionally +the sound of loud talk which came through the windows. +But now came footsteps and confused words in voices, one of +which I seemed to know. There staggered through the door +a friend of mine, Harry Singleton, a young planter of our + +neighborhood, who had not taken my father's advice, but continued +to divide his favor between farming, hunting and drinking. +He stood there leaning against the wall, his face more +flushed than one likes to see a friend's face before midday.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, ol' fel," he croaked at me. "Hurrah for C'fedrate +States of America!"</p> + +<p>"Very well," I said to him, "suppose we do hurrah for the +Confederate States of America. But let us wait until there is +such a thing."</p> + +<p>He glowered at me. "Also," he said, solemnly, "Hurrah +for Miss Grace Sheraton, the pretties' girl in whole C'federate +States America!"</p> + +<p>"Harry," I cried, "stop! You're drunk, man. Come +on, I'll take you home."</p> + +<p>He waved at me an uncertain hand. "Go 'way, slight +man!" he muttered. "Grace Sheraton pretties' girl in +whole C'federate States America."</p> + +<p>According to our creed it was not permissible for a gentleman, +drunk or sober, to mention a lady's name in a place +like that. I rose and put my hand across Harry's mouth, +unwilling that a stranger should hear a girl's name mentioned +in the place. No doubt I should have done quite as +much for any girl of our country whose name came up in +that way. But to my surprise Harry Singleton was just +sufficiently intoxicated to resent the act of his best friend. +With no word of warning he drew back his hand and struck +me in the face with all his force, the blow making a smart +crack which brought all the others running from within. +Still, I reflected, that this was not the act of Harry Singleton, +but only that of a drunken man who to-morrow would not +remember what had been done.</p> + + + +<p>"That will be quite enough, Harry," said I. "Come, now, +I'll take you home. Sanderson, go get his horse or wagon, +or whatever brought him here."</p> + +<p>"Not home!" cried Harry. "First inflict punishment on +you for denyin' Miss Gracie Sheraton pretties' girl whole +C'fedrate States America. Girls like John Cowles too much! +Must mash John Cowles! Must mash John Cowles sake of +Gracie Sheraton, pretties' girl in whole wide worl'!"</p> + +<p>He came toward me as best he might, his hands clenched. +I caught him by the wrist, and as he stumbled past, I turned +and had his arm over my shoulder. I admit I threw him +rather cruelly hard, for I thought he needed it. He was +entirely quiet when we carried him into the room and placed +him on the leather lounge.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" I heard a voice at my elbow. "That was +handsomely done—handsomely done all around."</p> + +<p>I turned to meet the outstretched hand of my new friend, +Gordon Orme.</p> + +<p>"Where did you learn the trick?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The trick of being a gentleman," I answered him slowly, +my face red with anger at Singleton's foolishness, "I never +learned at all. But to toss a poor drunken fool like that +over one's head any boy might learn at school."</p> + +<p>"No," said my quasi-minister of the gospel, emphatically, +"I differ with you. Your time was perfect. You made +him do the work, not yourself. Tell me, are you a skilled +wrestler?"</p> + +<p>I was nettled now at all these things which were coming to +puzzle and perturb an honest fellow out for a morning ride.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered him, "since you are anxious to know, +I'll say I can throw any man in Fairfax except one."</p> + + + +<p>"And he?"</p> + +<p>"My father. He's sixty, as I told you, but he can always +beat me."</p> + +<p>"There are two in Fairfax you cannot throw," said Orme, +smiling.</p> + +<p>My blood was up just enough to resent this challenge. +There came to me what old Dr. Hallowell at Alexandria +calls the "<em>gaudium certaminis</em>." In a moment I was little +more than a full-blooded fighting animal, and had forgotten +all the influences of my Quaker home.</p> + +<p>"Sir," I said to him hotly, "I propose taking you home +with me. But before I do that, and since you seem to wish +it, I am going to lay you on your back here in the road. +Frankly, there are some things about you I do not like, and +if that will remedy your conceit, I'm going to do it for you—for +any sort of wager you like."</p> + +<p>"Money against your horse?" he inquired, stripping to +his ruffled shirt as he spoke. "A hundred guineas, five +hundred?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for the horse," I said. "He's worth ten thousand. +But if you've two or three hundred to pay for my soiling the +shoulders of your shirt, I'm willing to let the odds stand so."</p> + +<p>He smiled at me simply—I swear almost winningly, such +was the quality of the man.</p> + +<p>"I like you," he said simply. "If all the men of this +country resembled you, all the world could not beat it."</p> + +<p>I was stripped by this time myself, and so, without pausing +to consider the propriety on either side of our meeting in this +sudden encounter in a public street, we went at it as though +we had made a rendezvous there for that express purpose, +with no more hesitation and no more fitness than two game + +cocks which might fall fighting in a church in case they met +there.</p> + +<p>Orme came to me with no hurry and no anxiety, light on +his feet as a skilled fencer. As he passed he struck for my +shoulder, and his grip, although it did not hold, was like the +cutting of a hawk's talons. He branded me red with his +fingers wherever he touched me, although the stroke of his +hand was half tentative rather than aggressive. I went to +him with head low, and he caught me at the back of the neck +with a stroke like that of a smiting bar; but I flung him off, +and so we stepped about, hands extended, waiting for a +hold. He grew eager, and allowed me to catch him by the +wrist. I drew him toward me, but he braced with his free +arm bent against my throat, and the more I pulled, the more +I choked. Then by sheer strength I drew his arm over my +shoulder as I had that of Harry Singleton. He glided into +this as though it had been his own purpose, and true as I +speak I think he aided me in throwing him over my head, +for he went light as a feather, and fell on his feet when I +freed him. I was puzzled not a little, for the like of this I +had not seen in all my meetings with good men.</p> + +<p>As we stepped about cautiously, seeking to engage again, +his eye was fixed on mine curiously, half contemplatively, +but utterly without concern or fear of any kind. I never +saw an eye like his. It gave me not fear, but horror! The +more I encountered him, the more uncanny he appeared. +The lock of the arm at the back of the neck, those holds +known as the Nelson and the half-Nelson, and the ancient +"hip lock," and the ineffectual schoolboy "grapevine"—he +would none of things so crude, and slipped out of them +like a snake. Continually I felt his hands, and where he + +touched there was pain—on my forehead, at the edge of +the eye sockets, at the sides of my neck, in the middle of my +back—whenever we locked and broke I felt pain, and I +knew that such assault upon the nerve centers of a man's +body might well disable him, no matter how strong he was. +But, as for him, he did not breathe the faster. It was system +with him. I say, I felt not fear only but a horror of him.</p> + +<p>By chance I found myself with both hands on his arms, +and I knew that no man could break that hold when once +set, for vast strength of forearm and wrist was one of the +inheritances of all men of the Cowles family. I drew him +steadily to me, pulled his head against my chest, and upended +him fair, throwing him this time at length across my shoulder. +I was sure I had him then, for he fell on his side. But even +as he fell he rose, and I felt a grip like steel on each ankle. +Then there was a snake-like bend on his part, and before I +had time to think I was on my face. His knees were astride +my body, and gradually I felt them pushing my arms up +toward my neck. I felt a slight blow on the back of my +head, as though by the edge of the hand—light, delicate, +gentle, but dreamy in its results. Then I was half conscious +of a hand pushing down my head, of another hand reaching +for my right wrist. It occurred to me in a distant way that +I was about to be beaten, subdued—I, John Cowles!</p> + +<p>This had been done, as he had said of my own work with +Singleton, as much by the momentum of my own fall as by +any great effort on his part. As he had said regarding my +own simple trick, the time of this was perfect, though how +far more difficult than mine, only those who have wrestled +with able men can understand.</p> + +<p>For the first time in my life I found myself about to be + +mastered by another man. Had he been more careful he +certainly would have had the victory over me. But the +morning was warm, and we had worked for some moments. +My man stopped for a moment in his calm pinioning of my +arms, and perhaps raised his hand to brush his face or push +back his hair. At that moment luck came to my aid. He +did not repeat the strange gentle blow at the back of my +head—one which I think would have left unconscious a man +with a neck less stiff—and as his pressure on my twisted arm +relaxed, I suddenly got back my faculties. At once I used +my whole body as a spring, and so straightened enough to +turn and put my arm power against his own, which was all +I wanted.</p> + +<p>He laughed when I turned, and with perfect good nature +freed my arm and sprang to his feet, bowing with hand +upreached to me. His eye had lost its peculiar stare, and +shone now with what seemed genuine interest and admiration. +He seemed ready to call me a sportsman, and a good +rival, and much as I disliked to do so, I was obliged to say +as much for him in my own heart.</p> + +<p>"By the Lord! sir," he said—with a certain looseness of +speech, as it seemed to me, for a minister of the gospel to +employ, "you're the first I ever knew to break it."</p> + +<p>"'Twas no credit to me," I owned. "You let go your +hand. The horse is yours."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," he responded, "not in the least. If I +felt I had won him I'd take him, and not leave you feeling +as though you had been given a present. But if you like +I'll draw my own little wager as well. You're the best man +I ever met in any country. By the Lord! man, you broke +the hold that I once saw an ex-guardsman killed at Singapore + +for resisting—broke his arm short off, and he died on +the table. I've seen it at Tokio and Nagasaki—why, man, +it's the yellow policeman's hold, the secret trick of the +Orient. Done in proper time, and the little gentleman is +the match of any size, yellow or white."</p> + +<p>I did not understand him then, but later I knew that I +had for my first time seen the Oriental art of wrestling put +in practice. I do not want to meet a master in it again. I +shook Orme by the hand.</p> + +<p>"If you like to call it a draw," said I, "it would suit me +mighty well. You're the best man I ever took off coat to +in my life. And I'll never wrestle you again unless"—I fear +I blushed a little—"well, unless you want it."</p> + +<p>"Game! Game!" he cried, laughing, and dusting off his +knees. "I swear you Virginians are fellows after my own +heart. But come, I think your friend wants you now."</p> + +<p>We turned toward the room where poor Harry was mumbling +to himself, and presently I loaded him into the wagon +and told the negro man to drive him home.</p> + +<p>For myself, I mounted Satan and rode off up the street of +Wallingford toward Cowles' Farms with my head dropped +in thought; for certainly, when I came to review the incidents +of the morning, I had had enough to give me reason for +reflection.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_5"></a> +<h2>Chapter IV - Wars And Rumors Of War</h2> + + +<p>We sent our carriage down to Wallingford that +evening and had my new friend, Mr. Orme, +out to Cowles' Farms for that night. He was a +stranger in the land, and that was enough. I often think +to-day how ready we were to welcome any who came, and +how easily we might have been deceived as to the nature of +such chance guests.</p> + +<p>Yet Orme so finely conducted himself that none might +criticise him, and indeed both my father and mother appeared +fairly to form a liking for him. This was the more +surprising on the part of both, since they were fully advised +of the nature of his recent speech, or sermon, or what you +choose to call it, at the Methodist church, the sentiments of +which scarce jumped with their own. Both my parents +accepted Orme for what he purported to be, a minister of +the gospel; and any singularity of his conduct which they +may have noticed they ascribed to his education in communities +different from our own quiet one. I remember no +acrimonious speech during his visit with us, although the +doctrine which he had pronounced and which now and again, +in one form or another, he renewed, was not in accord with +ours. I recall very well the discussions they had, and remember +how formally my mother would begin her little +arguments: "Friend, I am moved to say to thee"; and then + +she would go on to tell him gently that all men should be +brothers, and that there should be peace on earth, and that +no man should oppress his brother in any way, and that +slavery ought not to exist.</p> + +<p>"What! madam," Orme would exclaim, "this manner of +thought in a Southern family!" And so he in turn would +go on repeating his old argument of geography, and saying +how England must side with the South, and how the South +must soon break with the North. "This man Lincoln, if +elected," said he, "will confiscate every slave in the Southern +States. He will cripple and ruin the South, mark my words. +He will cost the South millions that never will be repaid. I +cannot see how any Virginian can fail to stand with all his +Southern brothers, front to front against the North on these +vital questions."</p> + +<p>"I do not think the South would fight the North over +slavery alone. The South loves the flag, because she helped +create it as much or more than the North. She will not +bear treason to the flag." Thus my father.</p> + +<p>"It would be no treason," affirmed Orme, "but duty, if +that flag became the flag of oppression. The Anglo-Saxon +has from King John down refused to be governed unjustly +and oppressively."</p> + +<p>And so they went on, hour after hour, not bitterly, but +hotly, as was the fashion all over the land at that time. My +father remained a Whig, which put him in line, sometimes, +with the Northern men then coming into prominence, such +as Morrill of New England, and young Sherman from across +the mountains, who believed in the tariff in spite of what +England might say to us. This set him against the Jefferson +clans of our state, who feared not a war with the North so + +much as one with Europe. Already England was pronouncing +her course; yet those were not days of triumphant +conclusions, but of doubtful weighing and hard judgment, +as we in old Virginia could have told you, who saw neighbors +set against each other, and even families divided among +themselves.</p> + +<p>For six years the war talk had been growing stronger. +Those of the South recoiled from the word treason—it had a +hateful sound to them—nor have they to this day justified its +application to themselves. I myself believe to-day that +that war was much one of geography and of lack of transportation. +Not all the common folk of the North or of the +South then knew that it was never so much a war of principle, +as they were taught to think, but rather a war of self-interest +between two clashing commercial parties. We did not know +that the unscrupulous kings of the cotton world, here and +abroad, were making deliberate propaganda of secession +all over the South; that secession was not a thing voluntary +and spontaneous, but an idea nourished to wrong growth by +a secret and shrewd commercial campaign, whose nature +and extent few dreamed, either then or afterward. It was +not these rich and arrogant planters of the South, even, +men like our kin in the Carolinas, men like those of the +Sheraton family, who were the pillars of the Confederacy, +or rather, of the secession idea. Back of them, enshrouded +forever in darkness—then in mystery, and now in oblivion +which cannot be broken—were certain great figures of the +commercial world in this land and in other lands. These +made a victim of our country at that time, even as a few +great commercial figures seek to do to-day, and we, poor +innocent fools, flew at each other's throats, and fought, + +and slew, and laid waste a land, for no real principle and to +no gain to ourselves. Nothing is so easy to deceive, to +hoodwink, to blind and betray, as a great and innocent +people that in its heart loves justice and fair play.</p> + +<p>I fear, however, that while much of this talk was going on +upon the galleries at Cowles' Farms, I myself was busier with +the training of my pointer than I was with matters of politics. +I was not displeased when my mother came to me presently +that afternoon and suggested that we should all make a +visit to Dixiana Farm, to call upon our neighbors, the Sheratons.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Orme says he would like to meet Colonel Sheraton," +she explained, "and thee knows that we have not been to see +our neighbors for some time now. I thought that perhaps +Colonel Sheraton might be moved to listen to me as well as +to Mr. Orme, if I should speak of peace—not in argument, +as thee knows, but as his neighbor."</p> + +<p>She looked at me a moment, her hand dusting at my coat. +"Thee knows the Sheratons and the Cowles have sometimes +been friends and sometimes enemies—I would rather we +were friends. And, Jack, Miss Grace is quite thy equal—it +any may be the equal of my boy. And some day thee must +be thinking, thee knows—"</p> + +<p>"I was already thinking, mother," said I gravely; and so, +indeed, I was, though perhaps not quite as she imagined.</p> + +<p>At least that is how we happened to ride to the Sheratons +that afternoon, in our greater carriage, my father and Mr. +Orme by the side of my mother, and I alongside on horseback. +In some way the visit seemed to have a formal nature.</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton met us at his lawn, and as the day +was somewhat warm, asked us to be seated in the chairs + +beneath the oaks. Here Miss Grace joined us presently, +and Orme was presented to her, as well as to Mrs. Sheraton, +tall, dark, and lace-draped, who also joined us in response +to Colonel Sheraton's request. I could not fail to notice +the quick glance with which Orme took in the face and figure +of Grace Sheraton; and, indeed he had been a critical man +who would not have called her fair to look upon.</p> + +<p>The elder members of the party fell to conversing in their +rocking-chairs there on the lawn, and I was selfish enough +to withdraw Miss Grace to the gallery steps, where we sat +for a time, laughing and talking, while I pulled the ears of +their hunting dog, and rolled under foot a puppy or two, +which were my friends. I say, none could have failed to +call Grace Sheraton fair. It pleased me better to sit there +on the gallery steps and talk with her than to listen once more +to the arguments over slavery and secession. I could hear +Colonel Sheraton's deep voice every now and then emphatically +coinciding with some statement made by Orme. I could +see the clean-cut features of the latter, and his gestures, +strongly but not flamboyantly made.</p> + +<p>As for us two, the language that goes without speech between +a young man and a maid passed between us. I +rejoiced to mock at her, always, and did so now, declaring +again my purpose to treat her simply as my neighbor and not +as a young lady finished at the best schools of Philadelphia. +But presently in some way, I scarce can say by whose first +motion, we arose and strolled together around the corner of +the house and out into the orchard.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_6"></a> +<h2>Chapter V - The Madness Of Much Kissing</h2> + + +<p>"That was a very noble thing of you," Miss Grace +Sheraton was saying to me, as we passed slowly +among the big trees of the Sheraton apple orchard. +Her eyes were rather soft and a slight color lay upon +her cheeks, whose ivory hue was rarely heightened in this +way.</p> + +<p>"I am in ignorance, Miss Grace," I said to her.</p> + +<p>"Fie! You know very well what I mean—about yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that," said I, and went rather red of the face, for I +thought she meant my salutation at the gate.</p> + +<p>She, redder now than myself, needed no explanation as to +what I meant. "No, not that," she began hastily, "that +was not noble, but vile of you! I mean at the tavern, where +you took my part—"</p> + +<p>So then I saw that word in some way had come to her of +the little brawl between Harry Singleton and myself. Then +indeed my face grew scarlet. "It was nothing," said I, +"simply nothing at all." But to this she would not listen.</p> + +<p>"To protect an absent woman is always manly," she said. +(It was the women of the South who set us all foolish about +chivalry.) "I thank you for caring for my name."</p> + +<p>Now, I should have grown warmer in the face and in the +heart at this, but the very truth is that I felt a chill come over + +me, as though I were getting deeper into cold water. I +guessed her mind. Now, how was I, who had kissed her at +the lane, who had defended her when absent, who called now +in state with his father and mother in the family carriage—how +was I to say I was not of the same mind as she? I +pulled the ears of the hunting dog until he yelped in pain.</p> + +<p>We were deep in the great Sheraton orchard, across the +fence which divided it from the house grounds, so far that +only the great chimney of the house showed above the trees. +The shade was gracious, the fragrance alluring. At a distance +the voices of singing negroes came to us. Presently +we came to a fallen apple tree, a giant perhaps planted there +generations before. We seated ourselves here, and we +should have been happy, for we were young, and all about +us was sweet and comforting. Yet, on my honor, I would +rather at that moment have been talking to my mother than +to Grace Sheraton. I did not know why.</p> + +<p>For some time we sat there, pulling at apple blossoms and +grass stems, and talking of many things quite beside the real +question; but at last there came an interruption. I heard +the sound of a low, rumbling bellow approaching through +the trees, and as I looked up I saw, coming forward with a +certain confidence, Sir Jonas, the red Sheraton bull, with a +ring in his nose, and in his carriage an intense haughtiness +for one so young. I knew all about Sir Jonas, for we had +bred him on our farm, and sold him not long since to the +Sheratons.</p> + +<p>Miss Grace gathered her skirts for instant flight, but I +quickly pushed her down. I knew the nature of Sir Jonas +very well, and saw that flight would mean disaster long before +she could reach any place of safety.</p> + + +<p>"Keep quiet," I said to her in a low voice. "Don't make +any quick motions, or he'll charge. Come with me, slowly +now."</p> + +<p>Very pale, and with eyes staring at the intruder, she arose +as I bade her and slowly moved toward the tree which I had +in mind. "Now—quick!" I said, and catching her beneath +the arms I swung her up into the low branches. Her light +lawn gown caught on a knotty limb, somewhat to her perturbation, +and ere I could adjust it and get her safe aloft Sir +Jonas had made up his mind. He came on with head down, +in a short, savage rush, and his horn missed my trouser leg +by no more than an inch as I dodged around the tree. At +this I laughed, but Miss Grace screamed, until between my +hasty actions I called to her to keep quiet.</p> + +<p>Sir Jonas seemed to have forgotten my voice, and though I +commanded him to be gone, he only shook his curly front +and came again with head low and short legs working very +fast. Once more he nearly caught me with a side lunge of +his wicked horns as he whirled. He tossed up his head then +and bolted for the tree where Miss Grace had her refuge. +Then I saw it was the red lining of her Parisian parasol which +had enraged him. "Throw it down!" I called out to her. +She could not find it in her heart to toss it straight down to +Sir Jonas, who would have trampled it at once, so she cast +it sidelong toward me, and inch by inch I beat Sir Jonas in +the race to it. Then I resolved that he should not have it +at all, and so tossed it into the branches of another tree as +I ran.</p> + +<p>"Come," called the girl to me, "jump! Get up into a +tree. He can't catch you there."</p> + +<p>But I was in no mind to take to a tree, and wait for some + +inglorious discovery by a rescue party from the house. I +found my fighting blood rising, and became of the mind to +show Sir Jonas who was his master, regardless of who might +be his owner.</p> + +<p>His youth kept him in good wind still, and he charged me +again and again, keeping me hard put to it to find trees +enough, even in an orchard full of trees. Once he ripped +the bark half off a big trunk as I sprang behind it, and he +stood with his head still pressed there, not two feet from +where I was, with my hand against the tree, braced for a +sudden spring. His front foot dug in the sod, his eyes were +red, and between his grumbles his breath came in puffs +and snorts of anger. Evidently he meant me ill, and this +thought offended me.</p> + +<p>Near by me on the ground lay a ragged limb, cut from +some tree by the pruners, now dry, tough and not ill-shaped +for a club. I reached back with my foot and pulled it +within reach, then stooped quickly and got it in hand, breaking +off a few of the lesser branches with one foot, as we still +stood there eying each other. "Now, sir," said I to Sir +Jonas at last, "I shall show you that no little bull two years +old can make me a laughing stock." Then I sprang out and +carried the war into Africa forthwith.</p> + +<p>Sir Jonas was surprised when I came from behind the +tree and swung a hard blow to the side of his tender nose; +and as I repeated this, he grunted, blew out his breath and +turned his head to one side with closed eyes, raising his +muzzle aloft in pain. Once more I struck him fair on the +muzzle, and this time he bawled loudly in surprise and +anguish, and so turned to run. This act of his offered me +fair hold upon his tail, and so affixed to him, I followed + +smiting him upon the back with blows which I think cut +through his hide where the pointed knots struck. Thus +with loud orders and with a voice which he ought better to +have remembered, I brought him to his senses and pursued +him entirely out of the orchard, so that he had no mind +whatever to return. After which, with what dignity I could +summon, I returned to the tree where Grace Sheraton was +still perched aloft. Drawing my riding gloves from my +pocket I reached up my hands, somewhat soiled with the +encounter, and so helped her down to earth once more. +And once more her gaze, soft and not easily to be mistaken, +rested upon me.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Jack Cowles," she said, "is there anything in +the world you are afraid to do?"</p> + +<p>"At least I'm not afraid to give a lesson to any little Sir +Jonas that has forgot his manners," I replied. "But I hope +you are not hurt in any way?" She shook her head, smoothing +out her gown, and again raised her eyes to mine.</p> + +<p>We seated ourselves again upon our fallen apple tree. +Her hand fell upon my coat sleeve. We raised our eyes. +They met. Our lips met also—I do not know how.</p> + +<p>I do not hold myself either guilty or guiltless. I am only +a man now. I was only a boy then. But even then I had +my notions, right or wrong, as to what a gentleman should +be and do. At least this is how Grace Sheraton and I +became engaged.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_7"></a> +<h2>Chapter VI - A Sad Lover</h2> + + +<p>I shall never forget the scene there under the oak +of the Sheraton front yard, which met my gaze when +Miss Grace and I came about the corner of the house.</p> + +<p>Before us, and facing each other, stood my father and +Colonel Sheraton, the former standing straight and tall, Colonel +Sheraton with tightly clenched hand resting on his stick, +his white hair thrown back, his shaggy brows contracted. +My mother sat in the low rocker which had been brought +to her, and opposite her, leaning forward, was Mrs. Sheraton, +tall, thin, her black eyes fixed upon the men. Orme, +also standing, his hands behind him, regarded the troubled +men intently. Near at hand was the Sheratons' Jim, his +face also fixed upon them; and such was his own emotion +that he had tipped his silver tray and dropped one of the +Sheraton cut glass julep glasses to the sod.</p> + +<p>It was mid-afternoon, or evening, as we call it in Virginia, +and the light was still frank and strong, though the wind was +softening among the great oaks, and the flowers were sweet +all about. It was a scene of peace; but it was not peace +which occupied those who made its central figures.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Cowles," said Colonel Sheraton, grinding his +stick into the turf, "you do not talk like a Virginian. If the +North keeps on this course, then we Southerners must start +a country of our own. Look, man—" He swept about + +him an arm which included his own wide acres and ours, +lying there shimmering clear to the thin line of the old Blue +Ridge—"We must fight for these homes!"</p> + +<p>My mother stirred in her chair, but she made no speech, +only looked at my father.</p> + +<p>"You forget, Colonel," said my father in his low, deep +voice, "that this man Lincoln has not yet been elected, and +that even if elected he may prove a greater figure than we +think. He has not yet had chance to learn the South."</p> + +<p>Orme had been standing silent, his face indifferent or +faintly lighted with an habitual cynicism. Now he broke in. +"He will never be elected," he said emphatically. "It +would ruin the entire industry of the South. I tell you +Lincoln is thinking of his own political advancement and +caring nothing for this country. The South <em>must</em> secede, +gentlemen—if you will allow me as a stranger to venture an +opinion."</p> + +<p>My mother turned her gaze to him, but it was Sheraton +who spoke.</p> + +<p>"It goes back to the old Articles of Federation, our first +compact," he said. "From the very first the makers of this +country saw that by reason of diverse industries the South +was separated from the North. This secession has been +written in the sky from the beginning of the world."</p> + +<p>"Nay, brother Sheraton," broke in my mother eagerly +"it was the union of brothership that was written first in the +sky."</p> + +<p>He turned to her with the bow of a gentleman. "It is +you ladies who knit the world together with kindness," he +said. "Alas, that men must rend it with fighting."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" whispered she.</p> + + + +<p>Sheraton's own face was sad as he went on with the old +justification. "Jefferson would turn over in his grave if he +saw Virginia divided as it is. Why, Cowles, we've all the +world we need here. We can live alone here, each on his +own acres, a gentleman, and all he needs of government is +protection and fair laws. Calhoun was right. Better give +us two peaceful countries, each living happily and content, +than one at war with itself. Clay was a great man, but both +he and Webster were fighting against the inevitable."</p> + +<p>"That is true," interrupted Orme; "unquestionably true. +Texas came near becoming a colony of England because this +country would not take her. She declared for slavery, and +had that right. The Spaniards had made California a slave +state, but the gold seekers by vote declared her free. They +had that right to govern themselves. As to the new lands +coming in, it is their right also to vote upon the question of +slavery, each new state for itself."</p> + +<p>"The war has already begun on the border," said my +father. "My friend and partner, Colonel Meriwether of +Albemarle, who is with the Army in the West, says that +white men are killing white men all across the lands west +of the Missouri."</p> + +<p>"At least, Cowles," said Colonel Sheraton, pacing a short +way apart, his hands behind his back, "we can wait until +after this election."</p> + +<p>"But if the Government takes action?" suggested Orme.</p> + +<p>Sheraton whirled quickly, "Then war! war!" he cried, +"War till each Virginian is dead on his doorstep, and each +woman starved at her fireside. John Cowles, you and I will +fight—I <em>know</em> that you will fight."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said my father, "I will fight."</p> + + +<p>"And with us!"</p> + +<p>"No," said my father, sighing; "no, my friend, against +you!" I saw my mother look at him and sink back in her +chair. I saw Orme also gaze at him sharply, with a peculiar +look upon his face.</p> + +<p>But so, at least, this argument ended for the time. The +two men, old neighbors, took each other solemnly by the +hand, and presently, after talk of more pleasant sort on +lesser matters, the servants brought our carriage and we +started back for Cowles' Farms.</p> + +<p>There had been no opportunity for me to mention to Colonel +and Mrs. Sheraton something that was upon my mind. +I had small chance for farewell to Miss Grace, and if I shall +admit the truth, this pleased me quite as well as not.</p> + +<p>We rode in silence for a time, my father musing, my +mother silent also. It was Orme who was the first I heard +to speak.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Mr. Cowles," he said, "you spoke of Colonel +Meriwether of Albemarle County. Is he away in the West? +It chances that I have letters to him, and I was purposing +going into that country before long."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir?" replied my father. "I am delighted to +know that you are to meet my friend. As it chances, he is my +associate in a considerable business enterprise—a splendid +man, a splendid man, Meriwether. I will, if you do not mind, +add my letter to others you may have, and I trust you will +carry him our best wishes from this side of the mountains."</p> + +<p>That was like my father—innocent, unsuspicious, ever +ready to accept other men as worthy of his trust, and ever +ready to help a stranger as he might. For myself, I confess +I was more suspicious. Something about Orme set me on + +edge, I knew not what. I heard them speaking further +about Meriwether's being somewhere in the West, and heard +Orme also say carelessly that he must in any case run over +to Albemarle and call upon some men whom he was to meet +at the University of Virginia. We did not ask his errand, +and none of us suspected the purpose of his systematic visiting +among the more influential centers of that country. But +if you will go now to that white-domed building planned by +Thomas Jefferson at Charlottesville, and read the names on +the brazen tablets by the doors, names of boys who left +school there to enter a harder school, then you will see the +results of the visit there of Gordon Orme.</p> + +<p>My little personal affairs were at that time so close to me +that they obscured clear vision of larger ones. I did not hear +all the talk in the carriage, but pulled my horse in behind +and so rode on moodily, gazing out across the pleasant lands +to the foot of old Catoctin and the dim Blue Ridge. A +sudden discontent assailed me. Must I live here always—must +I settle down and be simply a farmer forever? I +wanted to ride over there, over the Rock Fish Gap, where +once King Charles' men broke a bottle in honor of the king, +and took possession of all the lands west of the Pacific. The +West—the word in some way thrilled in my blood—I knew +not why. I was a boy. I had not learned to question any +emotion, and introspection troubled me no more than it did +my pointer dog.</p> + +<p>Before we had separated at the door of our house, I motioned +to my mother, and we drew apart and seated ourselves +beneath our own oaks in the front yard of Cowles' +Farms. Then I told her what had happened between Miss +Grace and myself, and asked her if she was pleased.</p> + + + +<p>"I am very content with thee," she answered, slowly, +musingly. "Thee must think of settling, Jack, and Miss +Grace is a worthy girl. I hope it will bring peace between +our families always." I saw a film cross her clear, dark +eye. "Peace!" she whispered to herself. "I wish that it +might be."</p> + +<p>But peace was not in my heart. Leaving her presently, I +once more swung leg over saddle and rode off across our fields, +as sad a lover as ever closed the first day of his engagement to +be wed.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_8"></a> +<h2>Chapter VII - What Cometh In The Night</h2> + + +<p>When I rode up our lane in the dusk, I found my +father and mother sitting in the cool of the front +gallery, and giving my rein to one of our boys, I +flung myself down on the steps near by, and now and again +joined in their conversation.</p> + +<p>I was much surprised to learn that our whilom guest, +Gordon Orme, had taken sudden departure during my +absence, he having been summoned by a messenger from +the village, who he stated brought him word that he must +forthwith be on his way to Albemarle. He had asked my +father if he cared to sell the black horse, Satan, to which he +had taken a fancy, but this had been declined. Then it +seems there had come up something of our late meeting at +the village, and Orme, laughing, had told of our horse breaking +and wrestling in a way which it seemed had not detracted +from my standing in my parents' eyes. None of us +three was willing to criticise our guest, yet I doubt if any +one of us failed to entertain a certain wonder, not to say +suspicion, regarding him. At least he was gone.</p> + +<p>Our talk now gradually resolved itself to one on business +matters. I ought to have said that my father was an ambitious +man and one of wide plans. I think that even then he +foresaw the day when the half-patriarchial life of our State +would pass away before one of wider horizons of commercial + +sort. He was anxious to hand down his family fortune +much increased, and foreseeing troublous times ahead as to +the institution of slavery in the South, he had of late been +taking large risks to assure success in spite of any change of +times. Now, moved by some strange reasons which he himself +perhaps did not recognize, he began for the first time, +contrary to his usual reticence, to explain to my mother and +me something of these matters. He told us that in connection +with his friend, Colonel William Meriwether, of Albemarle, +he had invested heavily in coal lands in the western +part of the State, in what is now West Virginia. This requiring +very large sums of money, he for his part had encumbered +not only the lands themselves, but these lands of Cowles' +Farms to secure the payment. The holder of these mortgages +was a banking firm in Fredericksburg. The interest was one +which in these times would be considered a cruel one, and +indeed the whole enterprise was one which required a sanguine +courage, precisely as his; for I have said that risk he +always held as challenge and invitation.</p> + +<p>"Does thee think that in these times thee should go so +deeply in debt," asked my mother of him.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth," he said, "that is why I have gone in debt. +Two years from now, and the value of these lands here may +have been cut in half. Ten years from now the coal lands +yonder will be worth ten times what they are to-day."</p> + +<p>"John," she said to him suddenly, "sell those coal lands, +or a part of them."</p> + +<p>"Now, that I could not do," he answered, "for half their +value. The country now is fuller of war than of investment. +But come peace, come war, there lies a fortune for us all. +For my share there remains but one heavy payment; and + +to-morrow I ride to raise funds for that among our tenants +and elsewhere. I admit that my bankers are shrewd and +severe—in fact, I think they would rather see the payments +forfeited than not. As Meriwether is away, it is with me +to attend to this business now."</p> + +<p>And so, with this prelude, I may as well tell without more +delay what evil fortune was in store for us.</p> + +<p>That coming day my father rode abroad as he had planned, +taking black Satan for his mount, since he needed to travel +far. He had collected from various sources, as his account +book later showed, a sum of over five thousand dollars, which +he must have had in gold and negotiable papers in his saddle-bags. +During his return home, he came down the deep +trough road which ran in front of the Sheraton farms and +ours. He passed near to a certain clump of bushes at the +roadside. And there that happened which brought to a +sudden end all the peace and comfort of our lives, and which +made me old before my time.</p> + +<p>I heard the horse Satan whinny at our lane gate, wildly, +as though in fright; and even as I went out my heart stopped +with sudden fear. He had leaped the gate at the lower end +of the lane. His bridle rein was broken, and caught at his +feet as he moved about, throwing up his head in fright as +much as viciousness. I hastily looked at the saddle, but it +bore no mark of anything unusual. Not pausing to look +farther, I caught the broken reins in my hand, and sprung +into the saddle, spurring the horse down the lane and over +the gate again, and back up the road which I knew my +father must have taken.</p> + +<p>There, at the side of the road, near the clump of blackberry +vines and sumac growth, lay my father, a long dark + +blot, motionless, awesome, as I could see by the light of the +moon, now just rising in a gap of the distant mountains. I +sprang down and ran to him, lifted his head, called to him in +a voice so hoarse I did not recognize it. I told him that it +was his son had come to him, and that he must speak. So +at last, as though by sheer will he had held on to this time, +he turned his gray face toward me, and as a dead man, +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Tell your mother," he said; "Tell Meriwether—must +protect—good-by."</p> + +<p>Then he said "Lizzie!" and opened wide his arms.</p> + +<p>Presently he said, "Jack, lay my head down, please." +I did so. He was dead, there in the moon.</p> + +<p>I straightened him, and put my coat across his face, and +spurred back down the road again and over the gate. But +my mother already knew. She met me at the hall, and her +face was white.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said, "I know!"</p> + +<p>Then the servants came, and we brought him home, and +laid him in his own great room, as the master of the house +should lie when the end comes, and arrayed him like the gentleman +he was.</p> + +<p>Now came that old wire-hair, Doctor Bond, his mane +standing stiff and gray over a gray face, down which tears +rolled the first time known of any man. He sent my mother +away and called me to him. And then he told me that in +my father's back were three or four pierced wounds, no +doubt received from the sharp stubs of underbrushes when +he fell. But this, he said, could hardly have been the cause +of death. He admitted that the matter seemed mysterious +to him.</p> + + + +<p>Up to this time we had not thought of the cause of this +disaster, nor pondered upon motives, were it worse than +accident. Now we began to think. Doctor Bond felt in +the pockets of my father's coat; and so for the first time we +found his account book and his wallets. Doctor Bond and +I at once went out and searched the saddle pockets my +father had carried. They were quite empty.</p> + +<p>All this, of course, proved nothing to us. The most that +we could argue was that the horse in some way had thrown +his rider, and that the fall had proved fatal; and that perhaps +some wandering negro had committed the theft. These +conclusions were the next day bad for the horse Satan, +whom I whipped and spurred, and rode till he trembled, +meting out to him what had been given old Klingwalla, his +sire, for another murdering deed like this. In my brutal +rage I hated all the world. Like the savage I was, I must +be avenged on something. I could not believe that my father +was gone, the man who had been my model, my friend, my +companion all my life.</p> + +<p>But in time we laid him away in the sunny little graveyard +of the Society of Friends, back of the little stone church +at Wallingford. We put a small, narrow, rough little slab +of sandstone at his head, and cut into it his name and the +dates of his birth and death; this being all that the simple +manners of the Society of Friends thought fit. "His temple +is in my heart," said my mother; and from that day to her +death she offered tribute to him.</p> + +<p>Thus, I say, it was that I changed from a boy into a man. +But not the man my father had been. Life and business +matters had hitherto been much a sealed book for me. I was +seized of consternation when a man came riding over from + +the little Wallingford bank, asking attention to word from +Abrams & Halliday, bankers of Fredericksburg. I understood +vaguely of notes overdue, and somewhat of mortgages +on our lands, our house, our crops. I explained our present +troubles and confusion; but the messenger shook his head +with a coldness on his face I had not been accustomed to see +worn by any at Cowles' Farms. Sweat stood on my face +when I saw that we owed over fifteen thousand dollars—a +large sum in those simple days—and that more would presently +follow, remainder of a purchase price of over a hundred +thousand dollars for lands I had never seen. I looked about +me at the great house of Cowles' Farms, and a coldness came +upon my heart as I realized for the first time that perhaps +this home was not ours, but another's. Anger again possessed +me at this thought, and with small adieu I ordered the +man from the place, and told him I would horsewhip him if +he lingered but a moment. Then, too late, I thought of +more business-like action, and of following the advice my +father had given me, at once to see his associate, Colonel +Meriwether. Thereafter I consulted my mother.</p> + +<p>In the chaotic state of affairs then existing, with the excitement +of a turbulent election approaching, it may be supposed +that all commercial matters were much unsettled. None +knew what might be the condition of the country after the +fall elections; but all agreed that now was no time to advance +money upon any sort of credit. As to further pledges, with +a view to raising these sums now due, I found the matter +hopeless.</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton might, perhaps, have aided us, but him +I would not ask. Before this time I had acquainted him of +my intentions in regard to his daughter; and now I went to + +him and placed the matter before him, explaining to him +the nature of our affairs and announcing my intention to +make a quick journey to the West, in order to obtain assistance +from Colonel Meriwether, of whom I hoped to find +instant solution of the financial problems, at least. It +seemed wise for me to place before Miss Grace's father the +question of advisability of allowing her to remain pledged to +a man whose fortunes were in so sad a state. I asked him +what was right for me to do. His face was very grave as he +pondered, but he said, "If my girl's word has been passed, +we will wait. We will wait, sir." And that was all I knew +when I made my hurried preparations for the longest journey +I had at that time ever known.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_9"></a> +<h2>Chapter VIII - Beginning Adventures In New Lands</h2> + + +<p>In those days travel was not so easy as it is now. I +went by carriage to Washington, and thence by stage +to the village of York in Pennsylvania, and again by +stage thence to Carlisle Barracks, a good road offering thence +into the western countries. In spite of all my grief I was +a young man, and I was conscious of a keen exhilaration in +these my earliest travels. I was to go toward that great +West, which then was on the tongue of all the South, and +indeed all the East. I found Pennsylvania old for a hundred +years. The men of Western Pennsylvania, Ohio and New +York were passing westward in swarms like feeding pigeons. +Illinois and Iowa were filling up, and men from Kentucky +were passing north across the Ohio. The great rivers of the +West were then leading out their thousands of settlers. +Presently I was to see those great trains of white-topped +west-bound wagons which at that time made a distinguishing +feature of American life.</p> + +<p>At this Army post, which then was used as a drilling +ground for the cavalry arm, one caught the full flavor of the +Western lands, heard the talk of officers who had been beyond +the frontier, and saw troops passing out for the Western +service. Here I heard also, and to my consternation, quiet +conversation among some of the officers, regarding affairs at +our National capital. Buchanan, it seems, was shipping + +arms and ordnance and supplies to all the posts in the +South. Disaffection, fomented by some secret, unknown +cause, was spreading among the officers of the Army. I was +young; this was my first journey; yet none the less these +matters left my mind uneasy. I was eager to be back in +Virginia, for by every sign and token there certainly was +trouble ahead for all who dwelt near the Potomac.</p> + +<p>Next I went on to Harrisburg, and thence took rail up the +beautiful Susquehanna valley, deep into and over the mountains. +At Pittsburg I, poor provincial, learned that all this +country too was very old, and that adventures must be sought +more than a thousand miles to the westward, yet a continual +stir and bustle existed at this river point. A great +military party was embarking here for the West—two companies +of dragoons, their officers and mounts. I managed +to get passage on this boat to Louisville, and thence to the +city of St. Louis. Thus, finally, we pushed in at the vast +busy levee of this western military capital.</p> + +<p>At that time Jefferson Barracks made the central depot +of Army operations in the West. Here recruits and supplies +were received and readjusted to the needs of the scattered +outposts in the Indian lands. Still I was not in the West, +for St. Louis also was old, almost as old as our pleasant +valley back in Virginia. I heard of lands still more remote, +a thousand miles still to the West, heard of great rivers leading +to the mountains, and of the vast, mysterious plains, of +which even yet men spoke in awe. Shall I admit it—in spite +of grief and trouble, my heart leaped at these thoughts. I +wished nothing so much as that I might properly and fitly +join this eager, hurrying, keen-faced throng of the west-bound +Americans. It seemed to me I heard the voice of + +youth and life beyond, and that youth was blotted out behind +me in the blue Virginia hills.</p> + +<p>I inquired for Colonel Meriwether about my hotel in the +city, but was unable to get definite word regarding his whereabouts, +although the impression was that he was somewhere +in the farther West. This made it necessary for me to ride +at once to Jefferson Barracks. I had at least one acquaintance +there, Captain Martin Stevenson of the Sixth Cavalry, +a Maryland man whom we formerly met frequently when he +was paying suit to Kitty Dillingham, of the Shenandoah +country. After their marriage they had been stationed +practically all of the time in Western posts.</p> + +<p>I made my compliments at Number 16 of Officers' Row, +their present quarters at Jefferson. I found Kitty quite as +she had been in her youth at home, as careless and wild, as +disorderly and as full of good-heartedness. Even my story, +sad as it was, failed to trouble her long, and as was her +fashion, she set about comforting me, upon her usual +principle that, whatever threatened, it were best be blithe +to-day.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said, "we'll put you up with us, right here. +Johnson, take Mr. Cowles' things; and go down to the city +at once for his bags."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Mrs. Kitty," I protested, "I can't. I really +must be getting on. I'm here on business with Colonel +Meriwether."</p> + +<p>"Never mind about Colonel Meriwether," rejoined my +hostess, "we'll find him later—he's up the river somewhere. +Always take care of the important things first. The most +important thing in the whole world just now is the officers' +ball to-night. Don't you see them fixing up the dancing + +platform on Parade? It's just as well the K.O.'s away, because +to-night the mice certainly are going to play."</p> + +<p>It seemed good to hear the voice of friends again, and I +was nothing loath to put aside business matters for the time +and listen to Kitty Stevenson's chatter. So, while I hesitated, +Johnson had my hat and stick.</p> + +<p>The city of St. Louis, I repeat, was then the richest and +gayest capital of the West, the center of the commercial and +social life of West and South alike. Some of the most beautiful +women of the world dwelt there, and never, I imagine, +had belles bolder suitors than these who passed through or +tarried with the Army. What wonder the saying that no +Army man ever passed St. Louis without leaving a heart, or +taking one with him? What wonder that these gay young +beauties emptied many an Army pocket for flowers and +gems, and only filled many an Army heart with despondency +in return? Sackcloth lay beyond, on the frontier. Ball +followed ball, one packed reception another. Dinings and +sendings of flowers, and evening love-makings—these for the +time seemed the main business of Jefferson Barracks. Social +exemptions are always made for Army men, ever more gallant +than affluent, and St. Louis entertained these gentlemen +mightily with no expectation of equivalent; yet occasionally +the sons of Mars gave return entertainments to the limits, +or more than the limits, of their purses. The officers' balls +at these barracks were the envy of all the Army; and I doubt +if any regimental bands in the service had reason for more +proficiency in waltz time.</p> + +<p>Of some of these things my hostess advised me as we sat, +for the sake of the shade, on the gallery of Number 16, where +Stevenson's man of all work had brought a glass-topped + +table and some glasses. Here Captain Stevenson presently +joined us, and after that escape was impossible.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose Mr. Cowles is engaged?" asked Kitty of +her husband impersonally, and apropos of nothing that I +could see.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. He looks too deuced comfortable," +drawled Stevenson. I smiled.</p> + +<p>"If he isn't engaged he will be before morning," remarked +Kitty, smiling at me.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and to whom, pray?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"How should I know? Indeed, how should you know? +Any one of a dozen—first one you see—first one who sees +you; because you are tall, and can dance."</p> + +<p>"I hardly think I should dance."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will dance. If you refuse you will be put +in irons and taken out to-morrow and shot. It will do you +no good to sit and think, poor boy."</p> + +<p>"I have no clothes," I protested.</p> + +<p>"Johnson will have your boxes out in time. But you +don't want your own clothes. This is <em>bal masque</em>, of course, +and you want some sort of disguise, I think you'd look well +in one of Matt's uniforms."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Stevenson, "we're about of a size. +Good disguise, too, especially since you've never been here. +They'll wonder who the new officer is, and where he comes +from. I say, Kitty, what an awfully good joke it would be +to put him up against two or three of those heartless flirts +you call your friends—Ellen, for instance."</p> + +<p>"There won't be a button left on the uniform by morning," +said Kitty contemplatively. "To-night the Army entertains."</p> + +<p>"And conquers," I suggested.</p> + + + +<p>"Sometimes. But at the officers' ball it mostly surrenders. +The casualty list, after one of these balls, is something +awful. After all, Jack, all these modern improvements in +arms have not superceded the old bow and arrow." She +smiled at me with white teeth and lazy eyes. A handsome +woman, Kitty.</p> + +<p>"And who is that dangerous flirt you were talking about a +moment ago?" I asked her, interested in spite of myself.</p> + +<p>"I lose my mess number if I dare to tell. Oh, they'll all +be here to-night, both Army and civilians. There's Sadie +Galloway of the Eighth, and Toodie Devlin of Kentucky, +and the Evans girl from up North, and Mrs. Willie Weiland—"</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Matthew Stevenson."</p> + +<p>"Yes, myself, of course; and then besides, Ellen."</p> + +<p>"Ellen who?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. She is the most dangerous creature now +at large in the Western country. Avoid her! Pass not by +her! She stalketh by night. She'll get you sure, my son. +She has a string of hearts at her will as long as from here to +the red barn."</p> + +<p>"I shall dance to-night," I said. "If you please, I will +dance with her, the first waltz."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" She raised her eyebrows. "You've a nice conceit, +at least. But, then, I don't like modest men."</p> + +<p>"Listen to that," chuckled Stevenson, "and yet she married +me! But what she says is true, Cowles. It will be +worse than Chapultepec in the crowd anywhere around +Ellen to-night. You might lose a leg or an arm in the crush, +and if you got through, you'd only lose your heart. Better +leave her alone."</p> + + + +<p>"Lord, what a night it'll be for the ball," said Kitty, +sweeping an idle arm toward Parade, which was now filling +up with strings of carriages from the city. We could see +men now putting down the dancing floor. The sun was +sinking. From somewhere came the faint sound of band +music, muffled behind the buildings.</p> + +<p>"Evening gun!" said Stevenson presently, and we arose +and saluted as the jet of smoke burst from a field piece and +the roar of the report brought the flag fluttering down. +Then came strains of a regimental band, breaking out into +the national air; after which the music slid into a hurrying +medley, and presently closed in the sweet refrain of "Robin +Adair," crooning in brass and reeds as though miles away. +Twilight began to fall, and the lamps winked out here and +there. The sound of wheels and hoofs upon the gravel +came more often. Here and there a bird twittered gently in +the trees along the walks; and after a time music came again +and again, for four bands now were stationed at the four +corners of the Parade. (And always the music began of +war and deeds, and always it ended in some soft love strain.) +Groups gathered now upon the balconies near the marquees +which rose upon the Parade. Couples strolled arm in +arm. The scene spoke little enough of war's alarms or of +life's battles and its sadness.</p> + +<p>A carriage passed with two gentlemen, and drew up at +the Officers' Club. "Billy Williams, adjutant," commented +Captain Stevenson lazily. "Who's the other?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, who's the tall one?" asked Kitty, as the gentlemen +descended from the carriage. "Good figure, anyhow; wonder +if he dances."</p> + +<p>"Coming over, I believe," said Stevenson, for now the + +two turned our way. Stevenson rose to greet his fellow +officer, and as the latter approached our stoop, I caught a +glance at his companion.</p> + +<p>It was Gordon Orme!</p> + +<p>Orme was as much surprised on his own part. After the +presentations all around he turned to me with Kitty Stevenson. +"My dear Madam," he said, "you have given me the +great pleasure of meeting again my shadow, Mr. Cowles, of +Virginia. There is where I supposed him now, back home +in Virginia."</p> + +<p>"I should expect to meet Mr. Orme if I landed on the +moon," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Er—Captain Orme," murmured Adjutant Williams to +me gently.</p> + +<p>So then my preacher had turned captain since I saw him +last!</p> + +<p>"You see, Stevenson," went on Williams easily, "Captain +Orme was formerly with the British Army. He is traveling +in this country for a little sport, but the old ways hang to him. +He brings letters to our Colonel, who's off up river, and meantime. +I'm trying to show him what I can of our service."</p> + +<p>"So good of you to bring Captain Orme here, Major. +I'm sure he will join us to-night?" Kitty motioned toward +the dancing pavilion, now well under way. Orme smiled +and bowed, and declared himself most happy. Thus in a +few moments he was of our party. I could not avoid the +feeling that it was some strange fate which continually +brought us two together.</p> + +<p>"The Army's rotten for want of service," grumbled Williams, +following out his own pet hobby. "Nothing in the +world to do for our fellows here. Sport? Why, Captain + +Orme, we couldn't show you a horse race where I'd advise +you to bet a dollar. The fishing doesn't carry, and the shooting +is pretty much gone, even if it were the season. Outside +of a pigeon match or so, this Post is stagnant. We dance, +and that's all. Bah!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Major, you old ingrate," reproved Kitty Stevenson. +"If you talk that way we'll not let you on the floor to-night."</p> + +<p>"You spoke of pigeon shooting," said Orme lazily, "Blue +rocks, I imagine?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Williams, "Natives—we use the wild birds. +Thousands of them around here, you know. Ever do anything +at it?"</p> + +<p>"Not in this country," replied Orme. "Sometimes I have +taken on a match at Hurlingham; and we found the Egyptian +pigeons around Cairo not bad."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to have a little match at our birds?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't mind."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll be welcome! We'll take your money away +from you. There is Bardine—or say, Major Westover. +Haskins of the Sixth got eighty-five out of his last hundred. +Once he made it ninety-two, but that's above average, of +course."</p> + +<p>"You interest me," said Orme, still lazily. "For the honor +of my country I shouldn't mind a go with one of your gentlemen. +Make it at a hundred, for what wagers you like."</p> + +<p>"And when?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow afternoon, if you say; I'm not stopping long, +I am afraid. I'm off up river soon."</p> + +<p>"Let's see," mused Williams. "Haskins is away, and I +doubt if Westover could come, for he's Officer of the Day, +also bottle-washer. And—"</p> + + +<p>"How about my friend Mr. Cowles?" asked Orme. "My +acquaintance with him makes me think he'd take on any +sort of sporting proposition. Do you shoot, sir?"</p> + +<p>"All Virginians do," I answered. And so I did in the +field, although I had never shot or seen a pigeon match in +all my life.</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Mrs. Stevenson, will you allow this sort of +talk?"</p> + +<p>"Go on, go on," said Kitty. "I'll have something up +myself on Mr. Cowles." ("Don't let him scare you, Jack," +she whispered to me aside.)</p> + +<p>That was a foolish speech of hers, and a foolish act of mine. +But for my part, I continually found myself doing things I +should not do.</p> + +<p>Orme passed his cigarette case. "In view of my possibly +greater experience," he said, "I'd allow Mr. Cowles six in +the hundred."</p> + +<p>"I am not looking for matches," said I, my blood kindling +at his accustomed insolence; "but if I shot it would be both +men at scratch."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," smiled Orme. "And should we make a +little wager about it—I ask your consent, Mrs. Stevenson?"</p> + +<p>"America forever!" said Kitty.</p> + +<p>What could I do after that? But all at once I thought of +my scanty purse and of the many troubles that beset me, and +the strange unfitness in one of my present situation engaging +in any such talk. In spite of that, my stubborn blood had its +way as usual.</p> + +<p>"My war chest is light," I answered, "as I am farther +away from home than I had planned. But you know my +black horse, Mr. Orme, that you fancied?"</p> + + +<p>"Oh, by Jove! I'll stake you anything you like against +him—a thousand pounds, if you like."</p> + +<p>"The odds must be even," I said, "and the only question +is as to the worth of the horse. That you may not think I +overvalue him, however, make it half that sum, or less, if +these gentlemen think the horse has not that value."</p> + +<p>"A son of old Klingwalla is worth three times that," insisted +Orme. "If you don't mind, and care to close it, +we'll shoot to-morrow, if Major Williams will arrange it."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said that gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Very well," I said.</p> + +<p>"And we will be so discourteous to the stranger within +our gates," said the vivacious Kitty, "as to give you a jolly +good beating, Captain Orme. We'll turn out the Post to +see the match. But now we must be making ready for the +serious matters of the evening. Mr. Orme, you dance, of +course. Are you a married man—but what a question for +me to ask—of course you're not!"</p> + +<p>Orme smiled, showing his long, narrow teeth. "I've +been a bit busy for that," he said; "but perhaps my time has +come."</p> + +<p>"It surely has," said Kitty Stevenson. "I've offered to +wager Mr. Cowles anything he liked that he'd be engaged +before twelve o'clock. Look, isn't it nicely done?"</p> + +<p>We now turned toward the big square of the Parade, +which had by this time wholly been taken over for the purposes +of military occupation. A vast canopy covered the +dancing floor. Innumerable tents for refreshments and wide +flapped marquees with chairs were springing up, men were +placing the decorations of flags, and roping about the dancing +floor with braided ribbons and post rosettes. Throngs + +now filled the open spaces, and more carriages continually +came. The quarters of every officer by this time were +packed, and a babel of chatter came from every balcony +party. Now and again breathed the soft music from the +distant military bands. It was a gay scene, one for youth +and life, and not for melancholy.</p> + +<p>"Now, I wonder who is this Ellen?" mused I to myself.</p> +</div> + + + +<div class="div"> +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image2.png" alt="Gordon Orme Laughs At Ellen's Accusation Of His Treachery"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Gordon Orme Laughs At Ellen's Accusation Of His Treachery</p> +</div> + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_10"></a> +<h2>Chapter IX - The Girl With The Heart</h2> + + +<p>Captain Stevenson left us soon after dinner, +he being one of the officers' committee on preparations +for the ball, so that I spent a little time +alone at his quarters, Orme and Major Williams having +gone over to the Officers' Club at the conclusion of their +call. I was aroused from the brown study into which I had +fallen by the sound of a loud voice at the rear of Number 16, +and presently heard also Kitty's summons for me to come. +I found her undertaking to remove from the hands of Annie, +her ponderous black cook, a musket which the latter was +attempting to rest over the window sill of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Thar he goes now, the brack rascal!" cried Annie, down +whose sable countenance large tears were coursing. "Lemme +get one good shot at him. I can shore hit him that clost."</p> + +<p>"Be silent! Annie," commanded Kitty, "and give me this +gun. If I hear of your shooting at Benjie any more I'll certainly +discharge you.</p> + +<p>"You see," explained Kitty to me, "Annie used to be married +to Benjie Martin, who works for Colonel Meriwether, at +the house just beyond the trees there."</p> + +<p>"I'se married to him <em>yit</em>," said Annie, between sobs. +"Heap more'n that taller-faced yaller girl he done taken up +with now."</p> + +<p>"I think myself," said Kitty, judicially, "that Benjie might +at least bow to his former wife when he passes by."</p> + + +<p>"That'd be all I <em>wanted</em>," said Annie; "but I kaint stand +them horty ways. Why, I mended the very shirt he's got +on his back right now; and I <em>bought</em> them shoes fer him."</p> + +<p>"Annie's <em>such</em> a poor shot!" explained Kitty. "She has +taken a pot-shot at Benjie I don't know how many times, +but she always misses. Colonel Meriwether sent a file down +to see what was going on, the first time, but when I explained +it was my cook, he said it was all right, and that if she missed +Benjie it harmed no one, and if she happened to kill him it +would be only what he deserved. Annie's the best cook in +the Army, and the Colonel knows it. Aren't you, Annie?"</p> + +<p>"Ef I could only shoot as good as I ken cook," remarked +Annie, "it would be a powerful sight o' res' to my soul. I +shorely will git that nigger yet."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will," said Kitty. "Just wait till to-morrow +morning, Annie, and when he starts around in the +yard, you take a rest over the window sill. You see," she +resumed to me, "we try to do everything in the world to keep +our servants happy and comfortable, Mr. Cowles.</p> + +<p>"But now, as to you, sir, it is time you were getting ready +for the serious business of the evening. Go into Matt's +room, there, and Johnson will bring you your disguise."</p> + +<p>So finally I got into Captain Stevenson's uniform, which I +did not dislike, although the coat was a trifle tight across the +back. At the domino mask they fetched I hesitated, for +anything like mummery of this sort was always repugnant +to me. Not to comply with the order of the day, however, +would now have made me seem rather churlish, so presently, +although with mental reservations, I placed myself in the +hands of my hostess, who joined me in full ball costume, +mask and all.</p> + + +<p>"You may know me," said Kitty, "by the pink flowers on +my gown. They're printed on the silk, I suspect. When +Matt and I are a major, we'll have them hand embroidered; +but a captain's pay day doesn't come half often enough for +real hand embroidery."</p> + +<p>"I should know you anywhere, Mrs. Kitty," I said. +"But now as to this Ellen? How shall I know <em>her</em>?"</p> + +<p>"You will not know her at all."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you tell me something of how she will look?"</p> + +<p>"No, I've not the slightest idea. Ellen doesn't repeat +herself. There'll be a row of a dozen beauties, the most +dangerous girls in all St. Louis. You shall meet them all, +and have your guess as to which is Ellen."</p> + +<p>"And shall I never know, in all the world?"</p> + +<p>"Never in all the world. But grieve not. To-night joy +is to be unconfined, and there is no to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And one may make mad love to any?"</p> + +<p>"To any whom one madly loves, of course; not to twelve +at once. But we must go. See, isn't it fine?"</p> + +<p>Indeed the scene on Parade was now gayer than ever. +Laughter and chatter came from the crowded galleries all +about the square, whose houses seemed literally full to overflowing. +Music mingled with the sound of merry voices, +and forsooth now and again we heard the faint popping of +corks along Officers' Row. The Army entertained.</p> + +<p>At once, from somewhere on Parade, there came the clear +note of a bugle, which seemed to draw the attention of all. +We could see, ascending the great flagstaff at the end of its +halyard, the broad folds of the flag. Following this was +hoisted a hoop or rim of torches, which paused in such position +that the folds of the flag were well illuminated. A + +moment of silence came at that, and then a clapping of hands +from all about the Parade as the banner floated out, and the +voices of men, deep throated, greeting the flag. Again the +bands broke into the strains of the national anthem; but +immediately they swung into a rollicking cavalry air. As +they played, all four of the bands marched toward the center +of the Parade, and halted at the dancing pavilion, where the +lighter instruments selected for the orchestra took their places +at the head of the floor.</p> + +<p>The throngs at the galleries began to lessen, and from every +available roof of the Post there poured out incredible numbers +of gayly-dressed ladies and men in uniform or evening +garb, each one masked, and all given over fully to the spirit +of the hour.</p> + +<p>"To-night," said Kitty to me, "one may be faithless, and +be shriven by the morning sun. Isn't it funny how these +things go? Such a lot of fuss is made in the world by ignoring +the great fact that man is by nature both gregarious and +polygamous. Believe me, there is much in this doctrine of +the Mormons, out there in the West!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, look at Benjie, for instance," I answered. "It is +the spell of new faces."</p> + +<p>"You see a face on the street, in the church, passing you, +to be gone the next instant forever," she mused. "Once I +did myself. I was mad to follow the man. I saw him again, +and was yet madder. I saw him yet again, and made love to +him madly, and then—"</p> + +<p>"You married him," said I, knowing perfectly well the +devotion of these two.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Kitty, sighing contentedly, "it was Matt, +of course. There's something in that 'Whom God hath + +joined together.' But it ought to be God, and not man, that +does the joining."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we talk philosophy rather than dance."</p> + +<p>"Not I! We are here to-night to be young. After all, +Jack, you are young, and so is—"</p> + +<p>"Ellen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so is Ellen."</p> + +<p>The floor now was beginning to fill with dancers. There +moved before us a kaleidoscope of gay colors, over which +breathed the fragrance of soft music. A subtle charm emanated +from these surroundings. Music, the sight and odor +of sweet flowers, the sound of pleasant waters, the presence +of things beautiful—these have ever had their effect on me. +So now I felt come upon me a sort of soft content, and I was +no longer moved to talk philosophy.</p> + +<p>Sighing, I said to myself that I was young. I turned to +speak to my hostess, but she was gone on business of her +own. So there I stood for half an hour, biting my thumb. +I had as yet seen nothing of the mysterious Ellen, although +many a score of eyes, in license of the carnival, had flashed +through their masks at me, and many others as their owners +passed by in the dance or promenade near where I stood. +Presently I felt a tug at my sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Come with me," whispered a voice.</p> + +<p>It was Kitty. We passed to the opposite side of the dancing +floor, and halted at the front of a wide marquee, whose +flaps were spread to cover a long row of seats.</p> + +<p>"Count them," whispered Kitty hoarsely. "There are +twelve!"</p> + +<p>And so indeed there were, twelve beautiful young girls, as +one might pronounce, even though all were masked with half-face + +dominos. Half of them were dressed in white and half +in black, and thus they alternated down the row. Twelve +hands handled divers fans. Twelve pairs of eyes looked +out, eyes merry, or challenging, or mysterious, one could +not tell. About these young belles gathered the densest +throng of all the crowd. Some gentlemen appeared to know +certain of the beauties, but these had hard work to keep +their places, for continually others came, and one after another +was introduced in turn, all down the line, as presently +it was to be my fortune to be.</p> + +<p>"Is she here, Mrs. Kitty?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>"You shall guess. Come." And so, as occasion offered, +I was put through this ordeal, by no means an easy one. At +each fair charmer, as I bowed, I looked with what directness +I dared, to see if I might penetrate the mask and so foil +Kitty in her amiable intentions. This occupation caused me +promptly to forget most of the names which I heard, and +which I doubt not were all fictitious. As we passed out at +the foot of the row I recalled that I had not heard the name +of Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Now then, which one is she?" I queried of my hostess.</p> + +<p>"Silly, do you want me to put your hand in hers? You are +now on your own resources. Play the game." And the +next moment she again was gone.</p> + +<p>I had opportunity, without rudeness, the crowd so pressing +in behind me, to glance once more up the line. I saw, or +thought I saw, just a chance glance toward where I stood, +near the foot of the Row of Mystery, as they called it. I +looked a second time, and then all doubt whatever vanished.</p> + +<p>If this girl in the black laces, with the gold comb in her +hair, and the gold-shot little shoes just showing at the edge + +of her gown, and the red rose at her hair, held down by the +comb—half hidden by the pile of locks caught up by the +ribbon of the mask—if this girl were not the mysterious +Ellen, then indeed must Ellen look well to her laurels, for +here, indeed, was a rival for her!</p> + +<p>I began to edge through the ranks of young men who +gathered there, laughing, beseeching, imploring, claiming. +The sparkle of the scene was in my veins. The breath of +the human herd assembled, sex and sex, each challenging +the other, gregarious, polygamous.</p> + +<p>I did not walk; the music carried me before her. And so +I bowed and murmured, "I have waited hours for my hostess +to present me to Miss Ellen." (I mumbled the rest of +some imaginary name, since I had heard none.)</p> + +<p>The girl pressed the tip of her fan against her teeth and +looked at me meditatively.</p> + +<p>"And ours, of course, is <em>this</em> dance," I went on.</p> + +<p>"If I could only remember all the names—" she began +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"I was introduced as Jack C., of Virginia."</p> + +<p>"Yes? And in what arm?"</p> + +<p>"Cavalry," I replied promptly. "Do you not see the +yellow?" I gestured toward the facings. "You who belong +to the Army ought to know."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think I belong to the Army?" she asked, in +a voice whose low sweetness was enough to impel any man +to catch the mask from her face and throw it down the nearest +well.</p> + +<p>"You belong to the Army, and to Virginia," I said, "because +you asked me what is my arm of the service; and because +your voice could come from nowhere but Virginia. + +Now since I have come so far to see you and have found you +out so soon, why do you not confess that you are Miss Ellen? +Tell me your name, so that I may not be awkward!"</p> + +<p>"We have no names to-night," she answered. "But I +was just thinking; there is no Jack C. in the <em>Gazette</em> who +comes from Virginia and who wears a captain's straps. I +do not know who you are."</p> + +<p>"At least the game then is fair," said I, disappointed. +"But I promise you that some time I shall see you face to +face, and without masks. To-morrow—"</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" she reproved. "There is no to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>I looked down on her as I stood, and a certain madness +of youth seized hold upon me. I knew that when she rose +she would be just tall enough; that she would be round, full, +perfect woman in every line of her figure; that her hair would +be some sort of dark brown in the daylight; that her eyes +would also be of some sort of darkness, I knew not what, for +I could not see them fully through the domino. I could see +the hair piled back from the nape of as lovely a neck as ever +caught a kiss. I could see at the edge of the mask that her +ear was small and close to the head; could see that her nose +must be straight, and that it sprang from the brow strongly, +with no weak indentation. The sweep of a strong, clean +chin was not to be disguised, and at the edge of the mask I +caught now and then the gleam of white, even teeth, and the +mocking smile of red, strongly curved lips, hid by her fan at +the very moment when I was about to fix them in my memory, +so that I might see them again and know. I suspect she +hid a smile, but her eyes looked up at me grandly and darkly. +Nineteen, perhaps twenty, I considered her age to be; gentle, +and yet strong, with character and yet with tenderness, I + +made estimate that she must be; and that she had more +brains than to be merely a lay figure I held sure, because +there was something, that indefinable magnetism, what you +like to call it, which is not to be denied, which assured me +that here indeed was a woman not lightly to accept, nor +lightly to be forgotten. Ah, now I was seized and swept on +in a swift madness. Still the music sang on.</p> + +<p>"My hostess said it would be a lottery to-night in this Row +of Mystery," I went on, "but I do not find it so."</p> + +<p>"All life is lottery," she said in answer.</p> + +<p>"And lotteries are lawful when one wins the capital prize. +One stretches out his hand in the dark. But some one must +win. I win now. The game of masks is a fine one. I am +vastly pleased with it. Some day I shall see you without +any mask. Come. We must dance. I could talk better if +we were more alone."</p> + +<p>As I live, she rose and put her hand upon my arm with no +further argument; why, I cannot say, perhaps because I had +allowed no other man to stand thus near her.</p> + +<p>We stepped out upon the crowded floor. I was swept +away by it all, by the waltz, by the stars above, by the moon, +by the breath of women and the scent of their hair, and the +perfume of roses, by the passion of living, by youth, youth! +Ah, God! ah, God!—I say to you, it was sweet. Whatever +life brings to us of age and sorrow, let us remember our +youth, and say it was worth the while. Had I never lived +but that one night, it had been worth while.</p> + +<p>She danced as she stood, with the grace of a perfect young +creature, and the ease of a perfect culture as well. I was of +no mind to look further. If this was not Ellen, then there +was no Ellen there for me!</p> + + +<p>Around and around we passed, borne on the limpid shining +stream of the waltz music, as melancholy as it was joyous; +music that was young; for youth is ever full of melancholy +and wonder and mystery. We danced. Now and again I +saw her little feet peep out. I felt her weight rest light +against my arm. I caught the indescribable fragrance of +her hair. A gem in the gold comb now and then flashed +out; and now and again I saw her eyes half raised, less often +now, as though the music made her dream. But yet I +could have sworn I saw a dimple in her cheek through the +mask, and a smile of mockery on her lips.</p> + +<p>I have said that her gown was dark, black laces draping +over a close fitted under bodice; and there was no relief to this +somberness excepting that in the front of the bodice were +many folds of lacy lawn, falling in many sheer pleats, edge +to edge, gathered at the waist by a girdle confined by a simple +buckle of gold. Now as I danced, myself absorbed so fully +that I sought little analysis of impressions so pleasing, I +became conscious dimly of a faint outline of some figure in +color, deep in these folds of lacy lawn, an evanescent spot or +blur of red, which, to my imagination, assumed the outline +of a veritable heart, as though indeed the girl's heart quite +shone through! If this were a trick I could not say, but for +a long time I resisted it. Meantime, as chance offered in +the dance—to which she resigned herself utterly—I went on +with such foolish words as men employ.</p> + +<p>"Ah, nonsense!" she flashed back at me at last. "Discover +something new. If men but knew how utterly transparent +they are! I say that to-night we girls are but spirits, +to be forgot to-morrow. Do not teach us to forget before +to-morrow comes."</p> + + +<p>"I shall not forget," I insisted.</p> + +<p>"Then so much the worse."</p> + +<p>"I cannot."</p> + +<p>"But you must."</p> + +<p>"I will not. I shall not allow—"</p> + +<p>"How obstinate a brute a man can be," she remonstrated.</p> + +<p>"If you are not nice I shall go at once."</p> + +<p>"I dreamed I saw a red heart," said I. "But that cannot +have been, for I see you have no heart."</p> + +<p>"No," she laughed. "It was only a dream."</p> + +<p>"To-night, then, we only dream."</p> + +<p>She was silent at this. "I knew you from the very first," +I reiterated.</p> + +<p>"What, has Kitty talked?"</p> + +<p>It was my turn to laugh. "Ah, ha!" I said. "I thought +no names were to be mentioned! At least, if Kitty has +talked, I shall not betray her. But I knew you directly, as +the most beautiful girl in all the city. Kitty said that much."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank thee, kind sir!"</p> + +<p>"Then you knew I was a Quaker? Kitty has talked again? +I had forgotten it to-night, and indeed forgotten that Quakers +do not dance. I said I ought not to come here to-night, but +now I see Fate said I must. I would not have lived all my +life otherwise. To-night I hardly know who I am."</p> + +<p>"Officer and gentleman," she smiled.</p> + +<p>The chance compliment came to me like a blow. I was +not an officer. I was masking, mumming, I, John Cowles, +who had no right. Once more, whither was my folly carrying +me? Suddenly I felt saddened.</p> + +<p>"I shall call you The Sorrowful Knight," chided my fair +companion."</p> + + +<p>"Quite as well as any name, my very good friend."</p> + +<p>"I am not your friend."</p> + +<p>"No, and indeed, perhaps, never may be."</p> + +<p>Her spirit caught the chill of this, and at once she motioned +the edge of the floor.</p> + +<p>"Now I must go," she said. "There are very many to +whom I am promised." I looked at her and could very well +believe the truth of that. Many things revolved in my mind. +I wondered whether if after all Kitty had had her way; wondered +if this was the mysterious Ellen, and if after all she +had also had her way! Ah, I had fallen easily!</p> + +<p>"Sir Sorrowful," she said, "take me back." She extended +a little hand and a round arm, whose beauty I could fully +catch. The long mousquetaires of later days were then not +known, but her hands stood perfectly the trying test of white +kids that ended short at the wrist.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly I moved away with her from the merry throng +upon the pavilion floor. At the edge of the better lighted +circle she paused for a moment, standing straight and drawing +a full, deep breath. If that were coquetry it was perfect. +I swear that now I caught the full outline of a red, red +heart upon her corsage!</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," I said, as I left her, "you are Ellen, and +you have a heart! At half past ten I shall come again. +Some day I shall take away your mask and your heart."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank thee!" she mocked again.</p> + +<p>At half past ten I had kept my word, and I stood once more +at the Row of Mystery. The chairs were vacant, for the blue +coats had wrought havoc there! A little apart sat a blonde +beauty of petite figure, who talked in a deep contralto voice, +astonishing for one so slight, with a young lieutenant who + +leaned close to her. I selected her for Tudie Devlin of +Kentucky. She whom I fancied to be the "Evans girl from +up North," was just promenading away with a young man in +evening dress. A brunette whom I imagined to be Sadie +Galloway of the Ninth was leaning on the back of a chair +and conversing with a man whom I could not see, hidden in +the shade of a tent fold. I looked behind me and saw a row +of disgruntled gentlemen, nervously pacing up and down. +At least there were others disappointed!</p> + +<p>I searched the dancing floor and presently wished I had +not done so. I saw her once more—dancing with a tall, +slender man in uniform. At least he offered no disguise to +me. In my heart I resented seeing him wear the blue of our +government. And certainly it gave me some pang to which +I was not entitled, which I did not stop to analyze, some feeling +of wretchedness, to see this girl dancing with none less +than Gordon Orme, minister of the Gospel, captain of the +English Army, and what other inconsistent things I knew +not!</p> + +<p>"Buck up, Jack," I heard a voice at my side. "Did she +run away from you?"</p> + +<p>I feigned ignorance to Kitty. "They are all alike," said I, +indifferently. "All dressed alike—"</p> + +<p>"And I doubt not all acted alike."</p> + +<p>"I saw but one," I admitted, "the one with a red heart on +her corsage."</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed a merry peal. "There were twelve red +hearts," she said. "All there, and all offered to any who +might take them. Silly, silly! Now, I wonder if indeed you +did meet Ellen? Come, I'll introduce you to a hundred +more, the nicest girls you ever saw."</p> + + +<p>"Then it was Ellen?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know? I did not see you. I was too busy +flirting with my husband—for after awhile I found that it +was Matt, of course! It seems some sort of fate that I never +see a handsome man who doesn't turn out to be Matt."</p> + +<p>"I must have one more dance," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then select some other partner. It is too late to find +Ellen now, or to get a word with her if we did. The last I +saw of her she was simply persecuted by Larry Belknap of +the Ninth Dragoons—all the Army knows that he's awfully +gone over Ellen."</p> + +<p>"But we'll find her somewhere—"</p> + +<p>"No, Jack, you'd better banish Ellen, and all the rest. +Take my advice and run over home and go to bed. You +forget you've the match on for to-morrow; and I must say, +not wanting to disturb you in the least, I believe you're going +to need all your nerve. There's Scotch on the sideboard, +but don't drink champagne."</p> + +<p>The scene had lost interest to me. The lights had paled, +the music was less sweet.</p> + +<p>Presently I strolled over to Number 16 and got Johnson +to show me my little room. But I did very little at the +business of sleeping; and when at last I slept I saw a long +row of figures in alternate black and white; and of these +one wore a red rose and a gold comb with a jewel in it, and +her hair was very fragrant. I did not see Grace Sheraton +in my dreams. Clearly I reasoned it out to myself as I lay +awake, that if I had seen Ellen once, then indeed it were best +for me I should never see Ellen again!</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_11"></a> +<h2>Chapter X - The Supreme Court</h2> + + +<p>If remorse, mental or physical, affected any of the +dwellers at Jefferson Barracks on the morning following +the officers' ball, at least neither was in evidence. +By noon all traces of the late festivities had been removed +from the parade ground, and the routine of the Post went on +with the usual mechanical precision. The Army had entertained, +it now labored. In a few hours it would again be +ready to be entertained; the next little event of interest +being the pigeon match between Orme and myself, which +swift rumor seemed to have magnified into an importance +not wholly welcome to myself.</p> + +<p>We had a late breakfast at Number 16, and my friend +Stevenson, who was to handle me in the match, saw to it that +I had a hard tubbing before breakfast and a good run afterward, +and later a hearty luncheon with no heavy wines. I +was surprised at these business-like proceedings, which were +all new to me, and I reflected with no satisfaction that my hot-headedness +in accepting Orme's challenge might result in no +glory to myself, and worse than that, let in my friends for +loss; for Stevenson informed me that in spite of the fact that +I had never shot in a race, a number of wagers were backing +me against the Englishman. I reasoned, however, that these +responsibilities should not be considered by one who needed + +perfect command of himself. Moreover, although I had +never shot at trapped birds, I reasoned that a bird in the air +was a flying bird after all, whether from trap or tree. Then, +again, I was offended at Orme's air of superiority. Lastly, +though it might be the fault of the Cowles' blood to accept +any sort of challenge, it was not our way to regret that so +soon as the day following.</p> + +<p>The grounds for the match had been arranged at the usual +place, near to the edge of the military reservation, and here, +a half hour before the time set, there began to gather practically +all of the young officers about the Post, all the enlisted +men who could get leave, with cooks, strikers, laundresses, +and other scattered personnel of the barracks. There came +as well many civilians from the city, and I was surprised to +see a line of carriages, with many ladies, drawn up back of +the score. Evidently our little matter was to be made a +semi-fashionable affair, and used as another expedient to +while away ennui-ridden Army time.</p> + +<p>My opponent, accompanied by Major Williams, arrived +at about the same time that our party reached the grounds. +Orme shook hands with me, and declared that he was feeling +well, although Williams laughingly announced that he had +not been able to make his man go to bed for more than an +hour that morning, or to keep him from eating and drinking +everything he could lay his hands upon. Yet now his eye +was bright, his skin firm, his step light and easy. That the +man had a superb constitution was evident, and I knew that +my work was cut out for me, for Orme, whatever his profession, +was an old one at the game of speedy going. As a +man I disliked and now suspected him. As an opponent at +any game one was obliged to take account of him.</p> + + +<p>"What boundary do we use, gentlemen?" Orme asked, as +he looked out over the field. This question showed his +acquaintance, but none the less his confidence and his courtesy +as well, for in closely made matches all details are carefully +weighed before the issue is joined. "I am more used +to the Monaco bounds of eighteen yards," he added, "but +whatever is your custom here will please me. I only want +to have a notion of your sport."</p> + +<p>"Our races here have usually been shot at fifty yards +bounds," said Stevenson.</p> + +<p>"As you like," said Orme, "if that pleases Mr. Cowles."</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said I, who indeed knew little about the +matter.</p> + +<p>Orme stepped over to the coops where the birds were +kept—splendid, iridescent creatures, with long tails, clean, +gamy heads and all the colors of the rainbow on their breasts. +"By Jove!" he said, "they're rippers for looks, and they +should fly a bit, I'm thinking. I have never seen them +before, much less shot a race at them."</p> + +<p>"Still your advantage," said I, laughing, "for I never shot +a race at any sort in my life."</p> + +<p>"And yet you match against me? My dear fellow, I +hardly like—"</p> + +<p>"The match is made, Captain Orme, and I am sure Mr. +Cowles would not ask for any readjustment," commented +Stevenson stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Don't understand me to wish to urge anything," said +Orme. "I only wish it so we shall all have a chance at +revenge. Is there any one who wishes to back me, perhaps, +or to back Mr. Cowles? Sometimes in England we shoot at +a guinea a bird or five, or ten." Stevenson shook his head. + +"Too gaited for me at this time of the month," he said; "but +I'll lay you a hundred dollars on the issue."</p> + +<p>"Five if you like, on the Virginian, sir," said young +Belknap of the Ninth to Orme.</p> + +<p>"Done, and done, gentlemen. Let it be dollars and not +guineas if you like. Would any one else like to lay a little +something? You see, I'm a stranger here, but I wish to do +what will make it interesting for any of you who care to +wager something."</p> + +<p>A few more wagers were laid, and the civilian element +began to plunge a bit on Orme, word having passed that he +was an old hand at the game, whereas I was but a novice. +Orme took some of these wagers carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Now as to our referee, Captain," said Stevenson. "You +are, as you say, something of a stranger among us, and we +wish your acquaintance were greater, so that you might name +some one who would suit you."</p> + +<p>"I'm indifferent," said Orme politely. "Any one Mr. +Cowles may name will please me."</p> + +<p>His conduct was handsome throughout, and his sporting +attitude made him many friends among us. I suspect some +Army money went on him, quietly, although little betting +was now done in our presence.</p> + +<p>"I see Judge Reeves, of the Supreme Court of the State, +over there in a carriage," suggested Major Williams. "I've +very much a notion to go and ask him to act as our referee."</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul!" said Orme, "this is an extraordinary +country! What—a judge of the Supreme Court?"</p> + +<p>Williams laughed. "You don't know this country, Captain, +and you don't know Judge Reeves. He's a trifle old, +but game as a fighting cock, and not to mention a few duels + +in his time, he knows more even about guns and dogs to-day +than he does about law. He'll not be offended if I ask him, +and here goes."</p> + +<p>He edged off through the crowd, and we saw him engaged +in earnest conversation with the judge. To our surprise +and amusement we observed the judge climb hastily down +out of his carriage and take Major Williams' arm.</p> + +<p>Judge Reeves was a tall, thin man, whose long hair and +beard were silvery white, yet his stature was erect and vigorous. +It was always said of him that he was the most dignified +man in the State of Missouri, and that he carried this +formality into every detail of his daily life. The story ran +that each night, when he and his aged consort retired, they +stood, each with candle in hand, on either side of the great +bed which all their married life they had occupied in harmony. +She, formally bowing to him across the bed, said +"Good-night, Judge Reeves"; whereat he, bowing with yet +greater formality, replied, "Good-night, Mrs. Reeves." Each +then blew out the candle, and so retired! I cannot vouch as +to the truth of this story, or of the further report that they +carried out their ceremony when seating themselves at table, +each meal of the day; but I will say that the appearance of +this gentleman would have given such stories likelihood.</p> + +<p>We uncovered as the judge approached us, and he shook +hands with us in the most solemn way, his own wide black +hat in his hand. "A—a—hem, gentlemen," he said, "a +somewhat unusual situation for one on the bench—most +unusual, I may say. But the Court can see no harm in it, +since no law of the land is violated. Neither does the Court +hold it beneath the dignity of its office to witness this little +trial of skill between gentlemen. Further speaking, the + +Court does not here pass upon questions of law, but sits +rather as jury in matters of ocular evidence, with the simple +duty of determining whether certain flying objects fall upon +this or the other side of that certain line marked out as the +boundaries. Gentlemen, I am, a—hem, yours with great +pleasure." If there was a twinkle in his eye it was a very +solemn one. I venture to say he would have lost no votes +at the next election were he up for office.</p> + +<p>"Is the case ready for argument?" presently asked the +judge, benignly. Williams and Stevenson both replied "All +ready."</p> + +<p>"I suggest that the gentlemen place their ammunition and +loading tools upon the head of the cask at my right," said +the judge. "I presume it to be understood that each may +employ such charge as he prefers, and that each shall load +his own piece?" The seconds assented to this. Of course, +in those days only muzzle loaders were used, although we had +cut-felt wads and all the improvements in gunnery known at +that time. My weapon was supplied me by Captain Stevenson—a +good Manton, somewhat battered up from much use, +but of excellent even pattern. Orme shot a Pope-made gun +of London, with the customary straight hand and slight drop +of the English makes. I think he had brought this with him +on his travels.</p> + +<p>"Shall the firing be with the single barrel, or with both +barrels?" inquired our referee. In those days many American +matches were shot from plunge traps, and with the single +barrel.</p> + +<p>"I'm more used to the use of both barrels," suggested +Orme, "but I do not insist."</p> + +<p>"It is the same to me," I said. So finally we decided that + +the rise should be at twenty-eight yards, the use of both barrels +allowed, and the boundary at fifty yards—such rules as +came to be later more generally accepted in this country.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, I suggest that you agree each bird to be +gathered fairly by the hand, each of you to select a gatherer. +Each gentleman may remunerate his gatherer, but the said +remuneration shall in each case remain the same. Is that +satisfactory?" We agreed, and each tossed a silver dollar +to a grinning darky boy.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, gentlemen, the Court is informed that this +match is to be for the sum of twenty-five hundred dollars, +wagered by Captain Orme, against a certain black stallion +horse, the same not introduced in evidence, but stated by +Mr. Cowles to be of the value of twenty-five hundred dollars +in the open market. As the match is stated to be on even +terms, the said John Cowles guarantees this certain horse +to be of such value, or agrees to make good any deficit in +that value. Is that understood, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"I did not ask any guarantee," said Orme. "I know the +horse, and he is worth more than twice that sum. You are +using me very handsomely, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"Judge Reeves is right," said I. "The match is to be +even." We bowed to each other.</p> + +<p>The judge felt in his pockets. "Ahem, gentlemen," he +resumed. "The Court being, as it were, broke, will some +one be so good as to lend the Court a silver coin? Thank +you," to Williams, "and now, gentlemen, will you toss for the +order of precedence?"</p> + +<p>We threw the coin, and I lost the toss. Orme sent me to +the score first, with the purpose, as I knew, of studying his +man.</p> + + +<p>I loaded at the open bowls, and adjusted the caps as I +stepped to the score. I was perhaps a bit too tense and eager, +although my health and youth had never allowed me to be a +victim of what is known as nervousness. Our birds were to +be flown by hand from behind a screen, and my first bird +started off a trifle low, but fast, and I knew I was not on with +the first barrel, the hang of Stevenson's gun being not quite +the same as my own. I killed it with the second, but it +struggled over the tape.</p> + +<p>"Lost bird!" called out Judge Reeves sharply and distinctly; +and it was evident that now he would be as decisive +as he had hitherto been deliberate.</p> + +<p>Under the etiquette of the game no comment was made +on my mishap, and my second, Stevenson, did not make the +mistake of commiserating me. No one spoke a word as +Orme stepped to the score. He killed his bird as clean as +though he had done nothing else all his life, and indeed, I +think he was half turned about from the score before the bird +was down. "Dead bird!" called the referee, with jaw closing +like a steel trap.</p> + +<p>Stevenson whispered to me this time. "Get full on with +your first," he said. "They're lead-packers—old ones, +every one, and a picked lot."</p> + +<p>I was a trifle angry with myself by this time, but it only left +me well keyed. My bird fell dead inside of Orme's. A murmur +of applause ran down the line. "Silence in the court," +thundered Judge Reeves.</p> + +<p>We shot along for ten birds, and Orme was straight, to my +nine killed. Stevenson whispered to me once more. "Take +it easy, and don't be worried about it. It's a long road to a +hundred. Don't think about your next bird, and don't + +worry whether he kills his or not. Just you kill 'em one at +a time and kill each one dead. You mustn't think of anything +on earth but that one bird before you."</p> + +<p>This was excellent advice in the game, and I nodded to +him. Whatever the cause, I was by this time perfectly calm. +I was now accustomed to my gun, and had confidence in it. +I knew I could shoot to the top of my skill, and if I were +beaten it would be through no fault of my own nerves and +muscles, but through the luck of the birds or the greater skill +of the other man.</p> + +<p>Orme went on as though he could kill a hundred straight. +His time was perfect, and his style at the trap beautiful. He +shot carelessly, but with absolute confidence, and more than +half the time he did not use his second barrel.</p> + +<p>"Old Virginia never tires," whispered Stevenson. "He'll +come back to you before long, never fear."</p> + +<p>But Orme made it twenty straight before he came back. +Then he caught a strong right-quarterer, which escaped +altogether, apparently very lightly hit. No one spoke a +word of sympathy or exultation, but I caught the glint of +Stevenson's eye. Orme seemed not in the least disturbed.</p> + +<p>We were now tied, but luck ran against us both for a time, +since out of the next five I missed three and Orme two, and +the odds again were against me. It stood the same at thirty, +and at thirty-five. At forty the fortune of war once more +favored me, for although Orme shot like a machine, with a +grace and beauty of delivery I have never seen surpassed, +he lost one bird stone dead over the line, carried out by a +slant of the rising wind, which blew from left to right across +the field. Five birds farther on, yet another struggled over +for him, and at sixty-five I had him back of me two birds. + +The interest all along the line was now intense. Stevenson +later told me that they had never seen such shooting as we +were doing. For myself, it did not seem that I could miss. +I doubt not that eventually I must have won, for fate does +not so favor two men at the same hour.</p> + +<p>We went on slowly, as such a match must, occasionally +pausing to cool our barrels, and taking full time with the +loading. Following my second's instructions perfectly, I +looked neither to the right nor to the left, not even watching +Orme. I heard the confusion of low talk back of us, and +knew that a large crowd had assembled, but I did not look +toward the row of carriages, nor pay attention to the new +arrivals which constantly came in. We shot on steadily, +and presently I lost a bird, which came in sharply to the +left.</p> + +<p>The heap of dead birds, some of them still fluttering in their +last gasps, now grew larger at the side of the referee, and the +negro boys were perhaps less careful to wring the necks of the +birds as they gathered them. Occasionally a bird was tossed +in such a way as to leave a fluttering wing. Wild pigeons +decoy readily to any such sign, and I noticed that several +birds, rising in such position that they headed toward the +score, were incomers, and very fast. My seventieth bird was +such, and it came straight and swift as an arrow, swooping +down and curving about with the great speed of these birds +when fairly on the wing. I covered it, lost sight of it, then +suddenly realized that I must fire quickly if I was to reach it +before it crossed the score. It was so close when I fired that +the charge cut away the quills of a wing. It fell, just inside +the line, with its head up, and my gatherer pounced upon it +like a cat. The decision of the referee was prompt, but even + +so, it was almost lost in the sudden stir and murmur which +arose behind us.</p> + +<p>Some one came pushing through the crowd, evidently having +sprung down from one of the carriages. I turned to see +a young girl, clad in white lawn, a thin silver-gray veil drawn +tight under her chin, who now pushed forward through the +men, and ran up to the black boy who stood with the bird in +his hand, hanging by one wing. She caught it from him, +and held it against her breast, where its blood drabbled her +gown and hands. I remember I saw one drop of blood at +its beak, and remember how glad I was that the bird was in +effect dead, so that a trying scene would soon be ended.</p> + +<p>"Stop this at once!" cried the girl, raising an imperative +hand. "Aren't you ashamed, all of you? Look, look at +this!" She held out the dying bird in her hand. "Judge +Reeves," she cried, "what are you doing there?"</p> + +<p>Our decisive referee grew suddenly abashed. "Ah—ah, +my dear young lady—my very dear young lady," he began.</p> + +<p>"Captain Stevenson," exclaimed the girl, whirling suddenly +on my second, "stop this at once! I'm ashamed of +you."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, my dear Miss Ellen," began Stevenson, +"can't you be a good fellow and run back home? We're +off the reservation, and really—this, you see, is a judge +of the Supreme Court! We're doing nothing unlawful." +He motioned toward Judge Reeves, who looked suddenly +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>Major Williams added his counsel. "It is a little sport +between Captain Orme and Mr. Cowles, Miss Ellen."</p> + +<p>"Sport, great sport, isn't it?" cried the girl, holding out +her drabbled hands. "Look there"—she pointed toward + +the pile of dead birds—"hundreds of these killed, for money, +for sport. It <em>isn't</em> sport. You had all these birds once, you +owned them."</p> + +<p>And there she hit a large truth, with a woman's guess, +although none of us had paused to consider it so before.</p> + +<p>"The law, Miss Ellen," began Judge Reeves, clearing his +throat, "allows the reducing to possession of animals <em>feroe +naturoe</em>, that is to say, of wild nature, and ancient custom +sanctions it."</p> + +<p>"They were already <em>reduced</em>" she flashed. "The sport +was in getting them the first time, not in butchering them +afterward."</p> + +<p>Stevenson and Williams rubbed their chins and looked at +each other. As for me, I was looking at the girl; for it +seemed to me that never in my life had I seen one so beautiful.</p> + +<p>Her hair, reddish brown in the sunlight, was massed up +by the binding veil, which she pushed back now from her +face. Her eyes, wide and dark, were as sad as they were +angry. Tears streamed from them down her cheek, which +she did not dry. Fearless, eager, she had, without thought, +intruded where the average woman would not have ventured, +and she stood now courageously intent only upon having the +way of what she felt was right and justice. There came to me +as I looked at her a curious sense that I and all my friends +were very insignificant creatures; and it was so, I think, in +sooth, she held us.</p> + +<p>"Captain Orme," said I to my opponent, "you observe +the actual Supreme Court of America!" He bowed to me, +with a questioning raising of his eyebrows, as though he did +not like to go on under the circumstances.</p> + + +<p>"I am unfortunate to lead by a bird," said I, tentatively. +For some reason the sport had lost its zest to me.</p> + +<p>"And I being the loser as it stands," replied Orme, "do +not see how I can beg off." Yet I thought him as little +eager to go on as I myself.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ellen," said Judge Reeves, removing the hat from +his white hair, "these gentlemen desire to be sportsmen as +among themselves, but of course always gentlemen as regards +the wish of ladies. Certain financial considerations are +involved, so that both feel a delicacy in regard to making +any motion looking to the altering of the original conditions +of this contract. Under these circumstances, then, appeal is +taken from this lower Court"—and he bowed very low—"to +what my young friend very justly calls the Supreme Court +of the United States. Miss Ellen, it is for you to say whether +we shall resume or discontinue."</p> + +<p>The girl bowed to Judge Reeves, and then swept a sudden +hand toward Stevenson and Williams. "Go home, all of +you!" she said.</p> + +<p>And so, in sooth, much shamefaced, we did go home, +Judge of the Supreme Court, officers of the Army, and all, +vaguely feeling we had been caught doing some ignoble +thing. For my part, although I hope mawkishness no more +marks me than another, and although I made neither then +nor at any time a resolution to discontinue sports of the field, +I have never since then shot in a pigeon match, nor cared to +see others do so, for it has never again seemed to me as +actual sport. I think the intuitive dictum of the Army girl +was right.</p> + +<p>"Now <em>wasn't</em> that like Ellen!" exclaimed Kitty, when +finally we found ourselves at her carriage—"just <em>like</em> that girl. + +Just <em>wasn't</em> it <em>like</em> that <em>girl</em>! To fly in the face of the +Supreme Court of the State, and all the laws of sport as well! +Jack, I was keeping count," she held out her ivory tablets. +"You'd have beaten him sure, and I wanted to see you do +it. You were one ahead, and would have made it better in +the next twenty-five. Oh, won't I talk to that girl when I +see her!"</p> + +<p>"So that was Ellen!" I said to Kitty.</p> + +<p>"The very same. Now you've seen her. What you +think I don't know, but what she thinks of you is pretty +evident."</p> + +<p>"You were right, Mrs. Kitty," said I. "She's desperately +good looking. But that isn't the girl I danced with last +night. In the name of Providence, let me get away from +this country, for I know not what may happen to me! No +man is safe in this neighborhood of beauties."</p> + +<p>"Let's all go home and get a bite to eat," said Stevenson, +with much common sense. "You've got glory enough just +the way it stands."</p> + +<p>So that was Ellen! And it moreover was none less than +Ellen Meriwether, daughter of my father's friend and business +associate, whom I had traveled thus far to see, and whom, +as I now determined, I must meet at the very first possible +opportunity. Perhaps, then, it might very naturally come +about that—but I dismissed this very rational supposition +as swiftly as I was able.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_12"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XI - The Morning After</h2> + + +<p>Events had somewhat hurried me in the two days +since my arrival at Jefferson Barracks, but on the +morning following the awkward ending of my +match with Orme I had both opportunity and occasion to +take stock of myself and of my plans. The mails brought +me two letters, posted at Wallingford soon after my departure; +one from Grace Sheraton and one from my mother. +The first one was—what shall I say? Better perhaps that I +should say nothing, save that it was like Grace Sheraton herself, +formal, correct and cold. It was the first written word +I had ever received from my fiancée, and I had expected—I +do not know what. At least I had thought to be warmed, +comforted, consoled in these times of my adversity. It +seemed to my judgment, perhaps warped by sudden misfortune, +that possibly my fiancée regretted her hasty promise, +rued an engagement to one whose affairs had suddenly +taken an attitude of so little promise. I was a poor man +now, and worse than poor, because lately I had been rich, +as things went in my surroundings. In this letter, I say, I +had expected—I do not know what. But certainly I had +not expected to see sitting on the page written in my fiancée's +hand, the face of another woman. I hated myself for it.</p> + +<p>The second letter was from my mother, and it left me +still more disconcerted and sad. "Jack," it said, "I grieve + +unspeakably. I am sad beyond all imaginings of sadness. +I need thee. Come back the first day thee can to thy mother."</p> + +<p>There was indeed need for me at home. Yet here was I +with my errand not yet well begun; for Captain Stevenson +told me this morning that the Post Adjutant had received +word from Colonel Meriwether saying that he would be gone +for some days or weeks on the upper frontier. Rumor passed +about that a new man, Sherman, was possibly to come on to +assume charge of Jefferson, a man reported to be a martinet +fit to stamp out any demonstration in a locality where secession +sentiment was waxing strong. Meriwether, a Virginian, +and hence suspected of Southern sympathy, was like many +other Army officers at the time, shifted to points where his +influence would be less felt, President Buchanan to the contrary +notwithstanding. The sum of all which was that if I +wished to meet Colonel Meriwether and lay before him my +own personal request, I would be obliged to seek for him +far to the West, in all likelihood at Fort Leavenworth, if not +at the lower settlements around the old town of Independence. +Therefore I wrote at once both to my fiancée and to +my mother that it would be impossible for me to return at +the time, nor at any positive future time then determinable. +I bade a hasty good-by to my host and hostess, and before +noon was off for the city. That night I took passage on the +<em>River Belle</em>, a boat bound up the Missouri.</p> + +<p>Thus, somewhat against my will, I found myself a part of +that motley throng of keen-faced, fearless American life then +pushing out over the frontiers. About me were men bound +for Oregon, for California, for the Plains, and not a few +whose purpose I took to be partisanship in the border fighting +between slavery and free soil. It was in the West, and on + +the new soils, that the question of slavery was really to be +debated and settled finally.</p> + +<p>The intenseness, the eagerness, the compelling confidence +of all this west-bound population did not fail to make the +utmost impression upon my own heart, hitherto limited by +the horizon of our Virginia hills. I say that I had entered +upon this journey against my will. Our churning wheels +had hardly reached the turbid flood of the Missouri before +the spell of the frontier had caught me. In spite of sadness, +trouble, doubt, I would now only with reluctance have resigned +my advance into that country which offered to all men, +young and old, a zest of deeds bold enough to banish sadness, +doubt and grief.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_13"></a> +<h2>Chapter XII - The Wreck On The River</h2> + + +<p>I made friends with many of these strange travelers, +and was attracted especially by one, a reticent man +of perhaps sixty odd years, in Western garb, full of +beard and with long hair reaching to his shoulders. He had +the face of an old Teuton war chief I had once seen depicted +in a canvas showing a raid in some European forest in years +long before a Christian civilization was known—a face fierce +and eager, aquiline in nose, blue of eye; a figure stalwart, +muscular, whose every movement spoke courage and self-confidence. +Auberry was his name, and as I talked with him +he told me of days passed with my heroes—Fremont, Carson, +Ashley, Bill Williams, Jim Bridger, even the negro ruffian +Beckwourth—all men of the border of whose deeds I had +read. Auberry had trapped from the St. Mary's to the sources +of the Red, and his tales, told in simple and matter-of-fact +terms, set my very blood atingle. He was bound, as he +informed me, for Laramie; always provided that the Sioux, +now grown exceedingly restless over the many wagon-trains +pushing up the Platte to all the swiftly-opening West, had +not by this time swooped down and closed all the trails +entirely. I wished nothing then so much as that occasion +might permit me to join him in a journey across the Plains.</p> + +<p>Among all these west-bound travelers the savage and the +half-civilized seemed to me to preponderate; this not to say +that they were so much coarse and crude as they were fierce, + +absorbed, self-centered. Each man depended upon himself +and needed to do so. The crew on the decks were relics from +keel-boat days, surly and ugly of temper. The captain was +an ex-pilot of the lower river, taciturn and surly of disposition. +Our pilot had been drunk for a week at the levee of +St. Louis and I misdoubt that all snags and sandbars looked +alike to him.</p> + +<p>Among the skin-clad trappers, hunters and long-haired +plainsmen, I saw but one woman, and she certainly was fit +to bear them company. I should say that she was at least +sixty years of age, and nearly six feet in height, thin, angular, +wrinkled and sinewy. She wore a sunbonnet of enormous +projection, dipped snuff vigorously each few moments, and +never allowed from her hands the long squirrel rifle which +made a part of her equipage. She was accompanied by her +son, a tall, thin, ague-smitten youth of perhaps seventeen +years and of a height about as great as her own. Of the two +the mother was evidently the controlling spirit, and in her +case all motherly love seemed to have been replaced by a +vast contempt for the inefficiency and general lack of male +qualities in her offspring. When I first saw them she was +driving her son before her to a spot where an opening offered +near the bow of the boat, in full sight of all the passengers, of +whose attention she was quite oblivious.</p> + +<p>"Git up, there, Andy Jackson!" she said. "Stan' up!"</p> + +<p>The boy, his long legs braiding under him, and his peaked +face still more pale, did as he was bid. He had no sooner +taken his position than to my surprise I saw his mother cover +him with the long barrel of a dragoon revolver.</p> + +<p>"Pull your gun, you low-down coward," she commanded, +in tones that might have been heard half the length of the + +boat. Reluctantly the boy complied, his own revolver +trembling in his unready hand.</p> + +<p>"Now, whut'd you do if a man was to kivver you like +I'm a-doin' now?" demanded his mother.</p> + +<p>"G-g-g-Gawd, Maw, I dunno! I think I'd j-j-j-jump off +in the river," confessed the boy.</p> + +<p>"Shore you would, and good luck if you'd git plumb +drownded, you white-livered son of misery. Whatever in +Gawd A'mighty's world you was borned for certainly is +more'n I can tell—and I your Maw at that, that orto know +if anybody could."</p> + +<p>"Madam," I interrupted, astonished at this discourse, +"what do you mean by such talk to your son—for I presume +he is your son. Why do you abuse him in this way?" I +was sorry for the shivering wretch whom she had made the +object of her wrath.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, and mind yore own business," answered the +virago, swiftly turning the barrel of her weapon upon me. +"Whut business is this here of yores?"</p> + +<p>"None, madam," I bowed, "but I was only curious."</p> + +<p>"You keep your own cur'osity to yourself ef you'r goin' to +travel in these parts. That's a mighty good thing for you +to learn."</p> + +<p>"Very true, madam," said I, gently disengaging the revolver +barrel from the line of my waist, "but won't you tell +me why you do these things with your son?"</p> + +<p>"It's none of your damned business," she answered, "but +I don't mind tellin' you. I'm tryin' to make a man out'n +him."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and this is part of the drill?"</p> + +<p>"Part of it. You, Andrew Jackson, stick yore pistol up + +agin your head the way I tol' you. Now snap it, damn you! +Keep <em>on</em> a-snappin'! Quit that jumpin', I tell you! Snap, +it till you git through bein' scared of it. Do it now, or by +Gawd, I'll chase you over the side of the boat and feed you +to the catfish, you low-down imertation of a he-thing. +Mister," she turned to me again, "will you please tell me +how come me to be the mother of a thing like this—me, a +woman of ole Missoury; and me a cousin of ole Simon Kenton +of Kentucky beside?"</p> + +<p>"My good woman," said I, somewhat amused by her +methods of action and speech, "do you mind telling me what +is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Name's Mandy McGovern; and I come from Pike," she +answered, almost before the words were out of my mouth. +"I've been merried three times and my first two husbands +died a-fightin, like gentlemen, in diffikilties with friends. +Then along come this Danny Calkins, that taken up some +land nigh to me in the bottoms—low-downest coward of a, +man that ever disgraced the sile of yearth—and then I merried +<em>him</em>."</p> + +<p>"Is he dead, too, my dear woman?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't you 'dear woman' me—I ain't free to merry agin +yit," said she. "Naw, he ain't dead, and I ain't deevorced +either. I just done left him. Why, every man in Pike has +whupped Danny Calkins one time or other. When a man +couldn't git no reputation any other way, he'd come erlong +and whupped my husband. I got right tired of it."</p> + +<p>"I should think you might."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and me the wife of two real men befo' then. If +ever a woman had hard luck the same is me," she went on. +"I had eight chillen by my two husbands that was real men, + +and every one of them died, or got killed like a man, or went +West like a man—exceptin' this thing here, the son of that +there Danny Calkins. Why, he's afraid to go coon huntin' +at night for fear the cats'll get him. He don't like to melk +a keow for fear she'll kick him. He's afraid to court a gal. +He kaint shoot, he kaint chop, he kaint do nothin'. I'm +takin' him out West to begin over again where the plowin's +easier; and whiles we go along, I'm givin' him a 'casional +dose of immanuel trainin', to see if I can't make him part +way intoe a man. I dunno!" Mrs. McGovern dipped snuff +vigorously.</p> + +<p>Thereafter she looked at me carefully. "Say, mister," +said she, "how tall are you?"</p> + +<p>"About six feet, I think."</p> + +<p>"Hum! That's just about how tall my first husband was. +You look some like him in the face, too. Say, he was the +fightin'est man in Pike. How come him to get killed was +a diffikilty with his brother-in-law, a Dutchman that kept a +saloon and couldn't talk English. Jim, he went in there to +get a bite to eat and asked this Dutchman what he could set +up. Paul—that was the Dutchman's name—he says, 'Well, +we got dawg—mallard dawg, and red head dawg, and canvas +back dawg—what's the kind of dawg you like, Chim?'</p> + +<p>"My husband thought he was pokin' fun at him, talkin' +about eatin' dawg—not knowin' the Dutchman was tryin' to +say 'duck,' and couldn't. 'I might have a piece of duck,' +said Jim, 'bit I ain't eatin' no dawg.'</p> + +<p>"'I <em>said</em> dawg,' says Paul, still a-tryin' to say 'duck.'</p> + +<p>"'I know you did,' says Jim, and then they clinched. Jim +He broke his knife off, and the Dutchman soaked him with +a beer mallet. 'But Mandy,' says Jim to me, jest before + +he shet his eyes, 'I die content. That there fellow was the +sweetest cuttin' man I ever did cut in all my life—he was jest +like a ripe pumpkin.' Say, there was a man for you, was +Jim—you look some like him." She dipped snuff again +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"You compliment me very much, Mrs. McGovern," I +said.</p> + +<p>"Say," she responded, "I got two thousand head o' +hawgs runnin' around in the timber down there in Pike."</p> + +<p>At the moment I did not see the veiled tenderness of this +speech, but thought of nothing better than to tell her that I +was going no further up the river than Fort Leavenworth.</p> + +<p>"Um-hum!" she said. "Say, mister, mebbe that's yore +wife back there in the kebbin in the middle of the boat?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. In fact I did not know there was any other +lady on the boat besides yourself. I am not much interested +in young ladies, as it happens."</p> + +<p>"You lie," said Mrs. McGovern promptly, "there ain't +nothin' in the whole world you are ez much interested in as +young wimmin. I'm a merried woman, and I know the +signs. If I had a deevorce I might be a leetle jealous o' that +gal in there. She's the best lookin' gal I ever did see in all +my time. If I was merried to you I dunno but I'd be a leetle +bit jealous o' you. Say, I may be a widder almost any day +now. Somebody'll shore kill Danny Calkins 'fore long."</p> + +<p>"And, according to you, I may be a married man almost +any day," I replied, smiling.</p> + +<p>"But you ain't merried yit."</p> + +<p>"No, not yet," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you git a chanct you take a look at that gal back +there in the kebbin."</p> + + +<p>Opportunity did not offer, however, to accept Mrs. McGovern's +kindly counsel, and, occupied with my own somewhat +unhappy reflections, I resigned myself to the monotony +of the voyage up the Missouri River. We plowed along +steadily, although laboriously, all night, all the next day and +the next night, passing through regions rich in forest growth, +marked here and there by the many clearings of the advancing +settlers. We were by this time far above the junction of +the Missouri River with the Mississippi—a point traceable +by a long line of discolored water stained with the erosion +of the mountains and plains far up the Missouri. As the +boat advanced, hour after hour, finally approaching the +prairie country beyond the Missouri forests, I found little +in the surroundings to occupy my mind; and so far as my +communings with myself were concerned, they offered little +satisfaction. A sort of shuddering self-reproach overcame +me. I wondered whether or not I was less coarse, less a +thing polygamous than these crowding Mormons hurrying +out to their sodden temples in the West, because now (since +I have volunteered in these pages to tell the truth regarding +one man's heart), I must admit that in the hours of dusk I +found myself dreaming not of my fiancée back in old Virginia, +but of other women seen more recently. As to the girl of +the masked ball, I admitted that she was becoming a fading +memory; but this young girl who had thrust through the +crowd and broken up our proceedings the other day—the +girl with the white lawn gown and the silver gray veil and +the tear-stained eyes—in some way, as I was angrily obliged +to admit, her face seemed annoyingly to thrust itself again +into my consciousness. I sat near a deck lamp. Grace +Sheraton's letter was in my pocket. I did not draw it out to + +read it and re-read it. I contented myself with watching the +masked shadows on the shores. I contented myself with +dreams, dreams which I stigmatized as unwarranted and +wrong.</p> + +<p>We were running that night in the dark, before the rising +of the moon, a thing which cautious steamboat men would +not have ventured, although our pilot was confident that no +harm could come to him. Against assurance such as this +the dangerous Missouri with its bars and snags purposed a +present revenge. Our whistle awakened the echoes along +the shores as we plowed on up the yellow flood, hour after +hour. Then, some time toward midnight, while most of +the passengers were attempting some sort of rest, wrapped +in their blankets along the deck, there came a slight shock, +a grating slide, and a rasping crash of wood. With a forward +churning of her paddles which sent water high along +the rail, the <em>River Belle</em> shuddered and lay still, her engines +throbbing and groaning.</p> + +<p>In an instant every one on the boat was on his feet and +running to the side. I joined the rush to the bows, and +leaning over, saw that we were hard aground at the lower +end of a sand bar. Imbedded in this bar was a long white +snag, a tree trunk whose naked arms, thrusting far down +stream, had literally impaled us. The upper woodwork of +the boat was pierced quite through; and for all that one +could tell at the moment, the hull below the line was in all +likelihood similarly crushed. We hung and gently swung, +apparently at the mercy of the tawny flood of old Missouri.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_14"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIII - The Face In The Firelight</h2> + + +<p>Sudden disaster usually brings sudden calm, the +pause before resolution or resignation. For the first +instant after the shock of the boat upon the impaling +snag I stood irresolute; the next, I was busy with +plans for escape. Running down the companionway, I +found myself among a crowd of excited deck hands, most of +whom, with many of the passengers, were pushing toward +the starboard rail, whence could be seen the gloom of the +forest along shore. The gangway door on the opposite side +of the boat was open, and as I looked out I could see the +long white arms of the giant snag reaching alongside. Without +much plan or premeditation I sprang out, and making +good my hold upon the nearest limb as I plunged, found +myself, to my surprise, standing in not more than four feet +of water, the foot of the bar evidently running down well +under the boat.</p> + +<p>Just as I turned to call to others I saw the tall figure of my +plainsman, Auberry, appear at the doorway, and he also, +with scarcely a moment's deliberation, took a flying leap +and joined me on the snag. "It's better here than there," +he said, "if she sinks or busts, and they're allus likely to do +both."</p> + +<p>As we pulled ourselves up into the fork of the long naked +branch we heard a voice, and saw the face of a woman leaning + +over the rail of the upper deck. I recognized my whilom +friend, Mandy McGovern. "Whut you all doin' down +there?" she called. "Wait a minute; I'm comin', too." +A moment later she appeared at the opening of the lower +deck and craned out her long neck. I then saw at her side +the figure of a young woman, her hair fallen from its coils, +her feet bare, her body wrapped apparently only in some +light silken dressing to be thrown above her nightwear. She, +too, looked out into the darkness, but shrank back.</p> + +<p>"Here, you," called out Mandy McGovern, "git hold of +the end of this rope."</p> + +<p>She tossed to me the end of the gang-plank rope, by which +the sliding stage was drawn out and in at the boat landings. +I caught this and passed it over a projection on the snag.</p> + +<p>"Now, haul it out," commanded she; and as we pulled, +she pushed, so that presently indeed we found that the end +reached the edge of the limb on which we sat. Without any +concern, Mrs. McGovern stepped out on the swaying bridge, +sunbonnet hanging down her back, her long rifle under one +arm, while by the other hand she dragged her tall son, +Andrew Jackson, who was blubbering in terror.</p> + +<p>This bridge, however, proved insecure, for as Mandy gave +Andrew Jackson a final yank at its farther end, the latter +stumbled, and in his struggles to lay hold upon the snag, +pushed the end of the planks off their support. His mother's +sinewy arm thrust him into safety, and she herself clambered +up, very wet and very voluble in her imprecations on his +clumsiness.</p> + +<p>"Thar, now, look what ye did, ye low-down coward," she +said. "Like to 'a' drownded both of us, and left the gal back +there on the boat!"</p> + + +<p>The gang plank, confined by the rope, swung in the current +alongside the snag, but it seemed useless to undertake +to restore it to its position. The girl cowered against the side +of the deck opening, undecided. "Wait," I called out to her; +and slipping down into the water again, I waded as close as +I could to the door, the water then catching me close to the +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Jump!" I said to her, holding out my arms.</p> + +<p>"I can't—I'm afraid," she said, in a voice hardly above a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Do as I tell you!" I roared, in no gentle tones, I fear. +"Jump at once!" She stooped, and sprang, and as I caught +her weight with my arms under hers, she was for the moment +almost immersed; but I staggered backwards and managed +to hold my footing till Auberry's arms reached us from the +snag, up which we clambered, the girl dripping wet and +catching her breath in terror.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Mandy McGovern, calmly, "now +here we be, all of us. Now, you men, git hold of this here +rope an' haul up them boards, an' make a seat for us."</p> + +<p>Auberry and I found it difficult to execute this order, for +the current of old Missouri, thrusting against so large an +object, was incredibly strong; but at last, little by little +edging the heavy staging up over the limb of the snag, we +got its end upon another fork and so made a ticklish support, +half in and half out of the water.</p> + +<p>"That's better," said Mandy, climbing upon it. "Now +come here, you pore child. You're powerful cold." She +gathered the girl between her knees as she sat. "Here, you +man, give me your coat," she said to me; and I complied, +wishing it were not so wet.</p> + + +<p>None on the boat seemed to have any notion of what was +going on upon our side of the vessel. We heard many +shouts and orders, much trampling of feet, but for the most +part on the opposite part of the boat. Then at once we +heard the engines reverse, and were nearly swept from our +insecure hold upon the snag by the surges kicked up under +the wheel. The current caught the long underbody of the +boat as she swung. We heard something rip and splinter +and grate; and then the boat, backing free from the snag, +gradually slipped down from the bar and swept into the +current under steam again.</p> + +<p>Not so lucky ourselves, for this wrenching free of the boat +had torn loose the long imbedded roots of the giant snag, +and the plowing current getting under the vast flat back of +matted roots, now slowly forced it, grinding and shuddering, +down from the toe of the bar. With a sullen roll it settled +down into new lines as it reached the deeper water. Then +the hiss of the water among the branches ceased. Rolling +and swaying, we were going with the current, fully afloat on +the yellow flood of the Missouri!</p> + +<p>I held my breath for a moment, fearing lest the snag might +roll over entirely; but no concern seemed to reach the mind +of our friend Mrs. McGovern. "It's all right," said she, +calmly. "No use gittin' skeered till the time comes. Boat's +left us, so I reckon we'd better be gittin' somewhere for +ourselves. You, Andrew Jackson, dem yer fool soul, if you +don't quit snivelin' I'll throw you off into the worter."</p> + +<p>Looking across the stream I could see the lights of the +<em>River Belle</em> swing gradually into a longer line, and presently +heard the clanging of her bells as she came to a full stop, +apparently tied up along shore. From that direction the + +current seemed to come toward us with a long slant, so that +as we dropped down stream, we also edged away.</p> + +<p>We had traveled perhaps three quarters of a mile, when I +noticed the dim loom of trees on our side of the stream, and +saw that we were approaching a long point which ran out +below us. This should have been the deep side of the river, +but no one can account for the vagaries of the Missouri. +When we were within a hundred yards or so of the point, +we felt a long shuddering scrape under us, and after a series +of slips and jerks, our old snag came to anchor again, its +roots having once more laid hold upon a bar. The sand-wash +seemed to have been deflected by the projecting mass +of a heap of driftwood which I now saw opposite to us, its +long white arms reaching out toward those of our floating +craft. Once more the hissing of the water began among +the buried limbs, and once more the snag rolled ominously, +and then lay still, its giant, naked trunk, white and half +submerged, reaching up stream fifty feet above us. We +were apparently as far from safety as ever, although almost +within touch of shore.</p> + +<p>It occurred to me that as I had been able to touch bottom +on the other bar, I might do so here. I crawled back +along the trunk of the snag to a place as near the roots as I +could reach, and letting myself down gently, found that I +could keep my footing on the sand.</p> + +<p>"Look out there! boy," cried Auberry to me. "This +river's dangerous. If it takes you down, swim for the shore. +Don't try to get back here." We could see that the set of +the current below ran close inshore, although doubtless the +water there was very deep.</p> + +<p>Little by little I edged up the stream, and found presently + +that the water shoaled toward the heap of driftwood. It +dropped off, I know not how deep, between the edge of the +bar and the piled drift; but standing no more than waist deep; +I could reach the outer limbs of the drift and saw that they +would support my weight. After that I waded back to the +snag carefully, and once more ordered the young woman to +come to me.</p> + +<p>She came back along the naked and slippery trunk of the +snag, pulling herself along by her hands, her bare feet and +limbs deep in the water alongside. I could hear the sob of +her intaken breath, and saw that she trembled in fright.</p> + +<p>"Come," I said, as she finally reached the mass of the +roots. And more dead than alive, it seemed to me, she fell +once more into my arms. I felt her grasp tighten about my +neck, and her firm body crowd against me as we both sank +down for an instant. Then I caught my feet and straightened, +and was really the steadier for the added weight, as +any one knows who has waded in fast water. Little by little +I edged up on the bar, quite conscious of her very gracious +weight, but sure we should thus reach safety.</p> + +<p>"Put me down," she said at length, as she saw the water +shoaling. It was hip deep to me, but waist deep to her; +and I felt her shudder as she caught its chill. Her little hand +gripped tight to mine.</p> + +<p>By this time the others had also descended from the snag. +I saw old Auberry plunging methodically along, at his side +Mrs. McGovern, clasping the hand of her son. "Come on +here, you boy," she said. "What ye skeered of? Tall as +you air, you could wade the whole Missouri without your +hair gettin' wet. Come along!"</p> + +<p>"Get up, Auberry," I said to him as he approached, and + +motioned to the long, overhanging branches from the driftwood. +He swung up, breaking off the more insecure boughs, +and was of the belief that we could get across in that way. +As he reached down, I swung the young woman up to him, +and she clambered on as best she could. Thus, I scarce +know how, we all managed to reach the solid drift, and so +presently found ourselves ashore, on a narrow, sandy beach, +hedged on the back by a heavy growth of willows.</p> + +<p>"Now then, you men," ordered Mandy McGovern, "get +some wood out and start a fire, right away. This here girl +is shaking the teeth plumb out'n her head."</p> + +<p>Auberry and I had dragged some wood from the edge of +the drift and pulled it into a heap near by, before we realized +that neither of us had matches.</p> + +<p>"Humph!" snorted our leader, feeling in her pockets. +She drew forth two flasks, each stoppered with a bit of corncob. +The one held sulphur matches, thus kept quite dry, +and this she passed to me. The other she handed to the +young woman.</p> + +<p>"Here," said she, "take a drink of that. It'll do you +good."</p> + +<p>I heard the girl gasp and choke as she obeyed this injunction; +and then Mandy applied the bottle gurglingly to her +own lips.</p> + +<p>"I've got a gallon of that back there on the boat," said +Auberry ruefully.</p> + +<p>"Heap of good it'll do you there," remarked Mandy. +"Looks to me like you all never did travel much. Fer me, +I always go heeled. Wherever I gits throwed, there my +rifle, and my matches, and my licker gits throwed <em>too</em>! +Now I'll show you how to, light a fire."</p> + + +<p>Presently we had a roaring blaze started, which added +much to the comfort of all, for the chill of night was over the +river, despite the fact that this was in the springtime. Mandy +seated herself comfortably upon a log, and producing a corncob +pipe and a quantity of natural leaf tobacco, proceeded to +enjoy herself in her own fashion. "This here's all right," +she remarked. "We might be a heap worse off'n we air."</p> + +<p>I could not help pitying the young woman who crouched +near her at the fireside, still shivering; she seemed so young +and helpless and so out of place in such surroundings. As +presently the heat of the flame made her more comfortable, +she began to tuck back the tumbled locks of her hair, which +I could see was thick and dark. The firelight showed in +silhouette the outlines of her face. It seemed to me I had +never seen one more beautiful. I remembered the round +firmness of her body in my arms, the clasp of her hands +about my neck, her hair blown across my cheek, and I +reflected that since fortune had elected me to be a rescuer, +it was not ill that so fair an object had been there for the +rescuing.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she felt my gaze, for presently she turned and said +to me, in as pleasant a speaking voice as I had ever heard, +"Indeed, it might be worse. I thank you so much. It was +very brave of you."</p> + +<p>"Listen at that!" grunted Mandy McGovern. "What'd +them men have to do with it? Where'd you all be now if it +wasn't for me?"</p> + +<p>"You'd be much better off," I ventured, "if I hadn't done +any rescuing at all, and if we'd all stayed over there on the +boat." I pointed to the lights of the <em>River Belle</em>, lying on +the opposite shore, something like a mile above us.</p> + + +<p>"We're all right now," said old Auberry after a time. "If +we can't get across to the boat, it's only four or five miles up +to the settlements on this side, opposite the old Independence +landing."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't walk," said the girl. She shyly looked down +at the edge of her thin wrapper, and I saw the outline of +an uncovered toe.</p> + +<p>"Here, ma'am," said Auberry, unknotting from his neck +a heavy bandana. "This is the best I can do. You and +the woman see if you can tie up your feet somehow."</p> + +<p>The girl hesitated, laughed, and took the kerchief. She +and Mandy bent apart, and I heard the ripping of the handkerchief +torn across. The girl turned back to the fire and +put out a little foot for us to see, muffled now in the red folds +of the kerchief. Her thin garments by this time were becoming +dry, and her spirits now became more gay. She fell +into a ready comradeship with us.</p> + +<p>As she stood at the fire, innocent of its defining light, I saw +that she was a beautiful creature, apparently about twenty +years of age. Given proper surroundings, I fancied, here was +a girl who might make trouble for a man. Eyes like hers, I +imagined, had before this set some man's heart astir; and +one so fair as she never waited long in this world for admirers.</p> + +<p>She stooped and spread out her hands before the flames. +I could see that her hands were small and well formed, could +see the firelight shine pink at the inner edges of her fingers. +On one finger, as I could not avoid noticing, was a curious +ring of plain gold. The setting, also of gold, was deeply +cut into the figure of a rose. I recalled that I had never +seen a ring just similar. Indeed, it seemed to me, as I stole + +a furtive glance at her now and then, I had never seen a girl +just similar.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<img src="images/image3.png" alt="They Fought Furiously The Yelling Charging Redskin Warriors"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">They Fought Furiously The Yelling Charging Redskin +Warriors</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<img src="images/image4.png" alt="The Wagons Draw Into A Defensive Circle"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">The Wagons Draw Into A Defensive Circle</p> + +<p>We had waited perhaps not over an hour at our fireside, +undecided what to do, when Auberry raised a hand. "Listen," +he said. "There's a boat coming"; and presently we +all heard the splash of oars. Our fire had been seen by one +of the boats of the <em>River Belle</em>, out picking up such stragglers +as could be found.</p> + +<p>"Hello, there!" called a rough voice to us, as the boat +grated at our beach. Auberry and I walked over and found +that it was the mate of the boat, with a pair of oarsmen in a +narrow river skiff.</p> + +<p>"How many's there of you?" asked the mate—"Five?—I +can't take you all."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Auberry, "this gentleman and I will +walk up to the town on this side. You take the women and +the boy. We'll send down for our things in the morning, if +you don't come up."</p> + +<p>So our little bivouac on the beach came to an end. A +moment later the passengers were embarked, and Auberry +and I, standing at the bow, were about to push off the boat +for them.</p> + +<p>"A moment, sir," exclaimed our friend of the fireside, +rising and stepping toward me as I stood alongside the boat. +"You are forgetting your coat."</p> + +<p>She would have taken it from her shoulders, but I forbade +it. She hesitated, and finally said, "I thank you so much"; +holding out her hand.</p> + +<p>I took it. It was a small hand, with round fingers, firm of +clasp. I hate a hard-handed woman, or one with mushy +fingers, but this, as it seemed to me, was a hand excellently + +good to clasp—warm now, and no longer trembling in the +terrors of the night.</p> + +<p>"I do not know your name, sir," she said, "but I should +like my father to thank you some day."</p> + +<p>"All ready!" cried the mate.</p> + +<p>"My name is Cowles," I began, "and sometime, perhaps—"</p> + +<p>"All aboard!" cried the mate; and so the oars gave way.</p> + +<p>So I did not get the name of the girl I had seen there in +the firelight. What did remain—and that not wholly to +my pleasure, so distinct it seemed—was the picture of her +high-bred profile, shown in chiaroscuro at the fireside, the +line of her chin and neck, the tumbled masses of her hair. +These were things I did not care to remember; and I hated +myself as a soft-hearted fool, seeing that I did so.</p> + +<p>"Son," said old Auberry to me, after a time, as we trudged +along up the bank, stumbling over roots and braided grasses, +"that was a almighty fine lookin' gal we brung along with +us there."</p> + +<p>"I didn't notice," said I.</p> + +<p>"No," said Auberry, solemnly, "I noticed you didn't take +no notice; so you can just take my judgment on it, which I +allow is safe. Are you a married man?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," I said.</p> + +<p>"You might do a heap worse than that gal," said Auberry.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're married yourself," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Some," said Auberry, chuckling in the dark. "In fact, +a good deal, I reckon. My present woman's a Shoshone—we're +livin' up Horse Creek, below Laramie. Them Shoshones +make about the best dressers of 'em all."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand—"</p> + + +<p>"I meant hides. They can make the best buckskin of any +tribe I know." He walked on ahead in the dark for some +time, before he added irrelevantly, "Well, after all, in some +ways, women is women, my son, and men is men; that bein' +the way this world is made just at these here present times. +As I was sayin', that's a powerful nice lookin' gal."</p> + +<p>I shuddered in my soul. I glanced up at the heavens, +studded thick with stars. It seemed to me that I saw gazing +down directly at me one cold, bright, reproving star, staring +straight into my soul, and accusing me of being nothing more +than a savage, nothing better than a man.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_15"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIV - Au Large</h2> + + +<p>At our little village on the following morning, +Auberry and I learned that the <em>River Bell</em> would +lie up indefinitely for repairs, and that at least one, +perhaps several days would elapse before she resumed her +journey up stream. This suited neither of us, so we sent a +negro down with a skiff, and had him bring up our rifles, +Auberry's bedding, my portmanteaus, etc., it being our intention +to take the stage up to Leavenworth. By noon our +plans were changed again, for a young Army officer came +down from that Post with the information that Colonel +Meriwether was not there. He had been ordered out to the +Posts up the Platte River, had been gone for three weeks; +and no one could tell what time he would return. The +Indians were reported very bad along the Platte. Possibly +Colonel Meriwether might be back at Leavenworth within +the week, possibly not for a month or more!</p> + +<p>This was desperate news for me, for I knew that I ought +to be starting home at that very time. Still, since I had +come hither as a last resort, it would do no good for me to go +back unsuccessful. Should I wait here, or at Leavenworth; +or should I go on still farther west? Auberry decided that +for me.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what we can do," he said. "We can outfit +here, and take the Cut-off trail to the Platte, across the Kaw + +and the Big and Little Blue—that'll bring us in far enough +east to catch the Colonel if he's comin' down the valley. +You'd just as well be travelin' as loafin', and that's like +enough the quickest way to find him."</p> + +<p>The counsel seemed good. I sat down and wrote two +more letters home, once more stating that I was not starting +east, but going still farther west. This done, I tried to persuade +myself to feel no further uneasiness, and to content +my mind with the sense of duty done.</p> + +<p>Auberry, as it chanced, fell in with a party bound for Denver, +five men who had two wagons, a heavy Conestoga freight +wagon, or prairie schooner, and a lighter vehicle without a +cover. We arranged with these men, and their cook as to +our share in the mess box, and so threw in our dunnage with +theirs, Auberry and I purchasing us a good horse apiece. +By noon of the next day we were on our way westward, +Auberry himself now much content.</p> + +<p>"The settlements for them that likes 'em," said he. "For +me, there's nothing like the time when I start west, with a +horse under me, and run <em>au large</em>, as the French traders say. +You'll get a chance now to see the Plains, my son."</p> + +<p>At first we saw rather the prairies than the Plains proper. +We were following a plainly marked trail, which wound in +and out among low rolling hills; and for two days we remained +in touch with the scattered huts of the squalid, half-civilized +Indians and squaw men who still hung around the +upper reservations. Bleached bones of the buffalo we saw +here and there, but there was no game. The buffalo had +long years since been driven far to the westward. We took +some fine fish in the clear waters of the forks of the Blue, +which with some difficulty we were able to ford. Gradually + +shaking down into better organization, we fared on and on +day after day, until the grass grew shorter and the hills +flatter. At last we approached the valley of the Platte.</p> + +<p>We were coming now indeed into the great Plains, of which +I had heard all my youth. A new atmosphere seemed to +invest the world. The talk of my companions was of things +new and wild and strange to me. All my old life seemed to +be slipping back of me, into a far oblivion. A feeling of +rest, of confidence and of uplift came to me. It was difficult +to be sad. The days were calm, the nights were full of peace. +Nature seemed to be loftily above all notice of small frettings. +Many things became more clear to me, as I rode and +reflected. In some way, I know not how, it seemed to me +that I was growing older.</p> + +<p>We had been out more than two weeks when finally we +reached the great valley along which lay the western highway +of the old Oregon trail, now worn deep and dusty by countless +wheels. Our progress had not been very rapid, and we had +lost time on two occasions in hunting up strayed animals. +But, here at last, I saw the road of the old fur traders, of +Ashley and Sublette and Bridger, of Carson and Fremont, +later of Kearney, Sibley, Marcy, one knew not how many +Army men, who had for years been fighting back the tribes +and making ready this country for white occupation. As I +looked at this wild, wide region, treeless, fruitless, it seemed +to me that none could want it. The next thought was the +impression that, no matter how many might covet it, it was +exhaustless, and would last forever. This land, this West, +seemed to all then unbelievably large and limitless.</p> + +<p>We pushed up the main trail of the Platte but a short distance +that night, keeping out an eye for grazing ground for + +our horses. Auberry knew the country perfectly. "About +five or six miles above here," he said, "there's a stage station, +if the company's still running through here now. Used +to be two or three fellers and some horses stayed there."</p> + +<p>We looked forward to meeting human faces with some +pleasure; but an hour or so later, as we rode on, I saw +Auberry pull up his horse, with a strange tightening of his +lips. "Boys," said he, "there's where it <em>was!</em>" His pointing +finger showed nothing more than a low line of ruins, bits +of broken fencing, a heap of half-charred timbers.</p> + +<p>"They've been here," said Auberry, grimly. "Who'd +have thought the Sioux would be this far east?"</p> + +<p>He circled his horse out across the valley, riding with his +head bent down. "Four days ago at least," he said, "and +a bunch of fifty or more of them. Come on, men."</p> + +<p>We rode up to the station, guessing what we would see. +The buildings lay waste and white in ashes. The front of +the dugout was torn down, the wood of its doors and windows +burned. The door of the larger dugout, where the horses +had been stabled, was also torn away. Five dead horses lay +near by, a part of the stage stock kept there. We kept our +eyes as long as we could from what we knew must next be +seen—the bodies of the agent and his two stablemen, mutilated +and half consumed, under the burned-out timbers. I +say the bodies, for the lower limbs of all three had been dismembered +and cast in a heap near where the bodies of the +horses lay. We were on the scene of one of the brutal massacres +of the savage Indian tribes. It seemed strange these +things should be in a spot so silent and peaceful, under a +sky so blue and gentle.</p> + +<p>"Sioux!" said Auberry, looking down as he leaned on his + +long rifle. "Not a wheel has crossed their trail, and I reckon +the trail's blocked both east and west. But the boys put up +a fight." He led us here and there and showed dried blotches +on the soil, half buried now in the shifting sand; showed us +the bodies of a half-dozen ponies, killed a couple of hundred +yards from the door of the dugout.</p> + +<p>"They must have shot in at the front till they killed the +boys," he added. "And they was so mad they stabbed +the horses for revenge, the way they do sometimes. Yes, +the boys paid their way when they went, I reckon."</p> + +<p>We stood now in a silent group, and what was best to be +done none at first could tell. Two of our party were for +turning back down the valley, but Auberry said he could +see no advantage in that.</p> + +<p>"Which way they've gone above here no one can tell," +he said. "They're less likely to come here now, so it seems +to me the best thing we can do is to lay up here and wait for +some teams comin' west. There'll be news of some kind +along one way or the other, before so very long."</p> + +<p>So now we, the living, took up our places almost upon the +bodies of the dead, after giving these the best interment possible. +We hobbled and side-lined our horses, and kept our +guards both day and night; and so we lay here for three +days.</p> + +<p>The third day passed until the sun sank toward the sand +dunes, and cast a long path of light across the rippling shallows +among the sand bars of the Platte; but still we saw no +signs of newcomers. Evening was approaching when we +heard the sound of a distant shot, and turning saw our +horse-guard, who had been stationed at the top of a bluff +near by, start down the slope, running toward the camp. + +As he approached he pointed, and we looked down the +valley toward the east.</p> + +<p>Surely enough, we saw a faint cloud of dust coming toward +us, whether of vehicles or horsemen we could not tell. Auberry +thought that it was perhaps some west-bound emigrant +or freight wagon, or perhaps a stage with belated mails.</p> + +<p>"Stay here, boys," he said, "and I'll ride down and see." +He galloped off, half a mile or so, and then we saw him pause, +throw up his hand, and ride forward at full speed. By that +time the travelers were topping a slight rise in the floor of +the valley, and we could see that they were horsemen, perhaps +thirty or forty in all. Following them came the dust-whitened +top of an Army ambulance, and several camp +wagons, to the best of our figuring at that distance. We +hesitated no longer and quickly mounting our horses rode +full speed toward them. Auberry met us, coming back.</p> + +<p>"Troop of dragoons, bound for Laramie," he said. "No +Indians back of them, but orders are out for all of the wagons +and stages to hole up till further orders. This party's going +through. I told them to camp down there," he said to +me aside, "because they've got women with 'em, and I didn't +want them to see what's happened up here. We'll move our +camp down to theirs to-night, and like enough go on with +them to-morrow."</p> + +<p>By the time I was ready to approach these new arrivals, +they had their plans for encampment under way with the +celerity of old campaigners. Their horses were hobbled, +their cook-fires of buffalo "chips" were lit, their wagons +backed into a rude stockade. Guards were moving out with +the horses to the grazing ground. They were a seasoned lot +of Harney's frontier fighters, grimed and grizzled, their hats, + +boots and clothing gray with dust, but their weapons bright. +Their leader was a young lieutenant, who approached me +when I rode up. It seemed to me I remembered his blue +eyes and his light mustaches, curled upward at the points.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant Belknap!" I exclaimed. "Do you remember +meeting me down at Jefferson?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Cowles!" he exclaimed. "How on earth did +you get here? Of course I remember you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how did you get here yourself—you were not +on my boat?"</p> + +<p>"I was ordered up the day after you left Jefferson Barracks," +he said, "and took the <em>Asia</em>. We got into St. Joe +the same day with the <em>River Belle</em>, and heard about your +accident down river. I suppose you came out on the old +Cut-off trail."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and of course you took the main trail west from +Leavenworth."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Orders to take this detachment out to +Laramie," he said, "and meet Colonel Meriwether there."</p> + +<p>"He'll not be back?" I exclaimed in consternation. "I +was hoping to meet him coming east."</p> + +<p>"No," said Belknap, "you'll have to go on with us if you +wish to see him. I'm afraid the Sioux are bad on beyond. +Horrible thing your man tells me about up there," he motioned +toward the ruined station. "I'm taking his advice +and going into camp here, for I imagine it isn't a nice thing +for a woman to see."</p> + +<p>He turned toward the ambulance, and I glanced that way. +There stood near it a tall, angular figure, head enshrouded in +an enormous sunbonnet; a personality which it seemed to +me I recognized.</p> + + +<p>"Why, that's my friend, Mandy McGovern," said I. "I +met her on the boat. Came out from Leavenworth with +you, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"That isn't the one," said Belknap. "No, I don't fancy +that sister McGovern would cut up much worse than the rest +of us over that matter up there; but the other one—"</p> + +<p>At that moment, descending at the rear of the ambulance, +I saw the other one.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_16"></a> +<h2>Chapter XV - Her Infinite Variety</h2> + + +<p>It was a young woman who left the step of the ambulance +and stood for a moment shading her eyes with +her hand and looking out over the shimmering expanse +of the broad river. All at once the entire landscape was +changed. It was not the desert, but civilization which swept +about us. A transfiguration had been wrought by one +figure, fair to look upon.</p> + +<p>I could see that this was no newcomer in the world of +the out-of-doors, however. She was turned out in what one +might have called workmanlike fashion, although neat and +wholly feminine. Her skirt was short, of good gray cloth, +and she wore a rather mannish coat over a blue woolen +shirt or blouse. Her hands were covered with long gauntlets, +and her hat was a soft gray felt, tied under the chin with +a leather string, while a soft gray veil was knotted carelessly +about her neck as kerchief. Her face for the time was turned +from us, but I could see that her hair was dark and heavy, +could see, in spite of its loose garb, that her figure was +straight, round and slender. The swift versatility of my +soul was upon the point of calling this as fine a figure of +young womanhood as I had ever seen. Now, indeed, the +gray desert had blossomed as a rose.</p> + +<p>I was about to ask some questions of Belknap, when all at +once I saw something which utterly changed my pleasant + +frame of mind. The tall figure of a man came from beyond +the line of wagons—a man clad in well-fitting tweeds cut for +riding. His gloves seemed neat, his boots equally neat, his +general appearance immaculate as that of the young lady +whom he approached. I imagine it was the same swift male +jealousy which affected both Belknap and myself as we saw +Gordon Orme!</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is your friend, the Englishman," said Belknap +rather bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I meet him everywhere," I answered. "The thing is +simply uncanny. What is he doing out here?"</p> + +<p>"We are taking him out to Laramie with us. He has +letters to Colonel Meriwether, it seems. Cowles, what do +you know about that man?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said I, "except that he purports to come from +the English Army."</p> + +<p>"I wish that he had stayed in the English Army, and not +come bothering about ours. He's prowling about every +military Post he can get into."</p> + +<p>"With a special reference to Army officers born in the +South?" I looked Belknap full in the eye.</p> + +<p>"There's something in that," he replied. "I don't like +the look of it. These are good times for every man to attend +to his own business."</p> + +<p>As Orme stood chatting with the young woman, both +Belknap and I turned away. A moment later I ran across +my former friend, Mandy McGovern. In her surprise she +stopped chewing tobacco, when her eyes fell on me, but she +quickly came to shake me by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, I dee-clare to gracious!" she began, "if here ain't +the man I met on the boat! How'd you git away out here + +ahead of us? Have you saw airy buffeler? I'm gettin' +plumb wolfish fer something to shoot at. Where all you +goin', anyhow? An' whut you doin' out here?"</p> + +<p>What I was doing at that precise moment, as I must confess, +was taking a half unconscious look once more toward +the tail of the ambulance, where Orme and the young woman +stood chatting. But it was at this time that Orme first saw +or seemed to see me. He left the ambulance and came +rapidly forward.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said, "here you are again! Am I your +shadow, Mr. Cowles, or are you mine? It is really singular +how we meet. I'm awfully glad to meet you, although I +don't in the least see how you've managed to get here ahead +of us."</p> + +<p>Belknap by this time had turned away about his duties, +and Orme and I spoke for a few minutes. I explained to +him the changes of my plans which had been brought about +by the accident to the <em>River Belle</em>. "Lieutenant Belknap +tells me that you are going through to Laramie with him," +I added. "As it chances, we have the same errand—it is +my purpose also to call on Colonel Meriwether there, in case +we do not meet him coming down."</p> + +<p>"How extraordinary! Then we'll be fellow travelers for +a time, and I hope have a little sport together. Fine young +fellow, Belknap. And I must say that his men, although an +uncommonly ragged looking lot and very far from smart +as soldiers, have rather a workmanlike way about them, +after all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think they would fight," I remarked, coolly. +"And from the look of things, they may have need to." I +told him then of what he had discovered at the station house + +near by, and added the caution not to mention it about the +camp. Orme's eyes merely brightened with interest. Anything +like danger or adventure had appeal to him. I said to +him that he seemed to me more soldier than preacher, but +he only laughed and evaded.</p> + +<p>"You'll eat at our mess to-night, of course" said he. +"That's our fire just over there, and I'm thinking the cook +is nearly ready. There comes Belknap now."</p> + +<p>Thus, it may be seen, the confusion of these varied meetings +had kept me from learning the name or identity of the +late passenger of the ambulance. I presume both Orme and +Belknap supposed that the young lady and I had met before +we took our places on the ground at the edge of the +blanket which served as a table. She was seated as I finally +approached, and her face was turned aside as she spoke to +the camp cook, with whom she seemed on the best of terms. +"Hurry, Daniels," she called out. "I'm absolutely starved +to death!"</p> + +<p>There was something in her voice which sounded familiar +to me, and I sought a glance at her face, which the next +instant was hid by the rim of her hat as she looked down, +removing her long gloves. At least I saw her hands—small +hands, sun-browned now. On one finger was a plain gold +ring, with a peculiar setting—the figure of a rose, carved +deep into the gold!</p> + +<p>"After all," thought I to myself, "there are some things +which can not be duplicated. Among these, hair like this, +a profile like this, a figure like this." I gazed in wonder, then +in certainty.</p> + +<p>No there was no escaping the conclusion. This was not +another girl, but the same girl seen again. A moment's + +reflection showed how possible and indeed natural this might +be. My chance companion in the river accident had simply +gone on up the river a little farther and then started west +precisely as Mandy McGovern had explained.</p> + +<p>Belknap caught the slight restraint as the girl and I both +raised our eyes. "Oh, I say, why—what in the world—Mr. +Cowles, didn't you—that is, haven't you—"</p> + +<p>"No," said I, "I haven't and didn't, I think. But I +think also—"</p> + +<p>The girl's face was a trifle flushed, but her eyes were +merry. "Yes," said she, "I think Mr. Cowles and I have +met once before." She slightly emphasized the word +"once," as I noticed.</p> + +<p>"But still I may remind you all, gentlemen," said I, "that +I have not yet heard this lady's name, and am only guessing, +of course, that it is Miss Meriwether, whom you are taking +out to Laramie."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said Belknap, and "of course," echoed +everybody else. My fair <em>vis-a-vis</em> looked me now full in +the face and smiled, so that a dimple in her right cheek was +plainly visible.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she, "I'm going on out to join my father on +the front. This is my second time across, though. Is it +your first, Mr. Cowles?"</p> + +<p>"My first; and I am very lucky. You know, I also am +going out to meet your father, Miss Meriwether."</p> + +<p>"How singular!" She put down her tin cup of coffee on +the blanket.</p> + +<p>"My father was an associate of Colonel Meriwether in +some business matters back in Virginia—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know—it's about the coal lands, that are going to + +make us all rich some day. Yes, I know about that; though +I think your father rarely came over into Albemarle."</p> + +<p>Under the circumstances I did not care to intrude my +personal matters, so I did not mention the cause or explain +the nature of my mission in the West. "I suppose that you +rarely came into our county either, but went down the +Shenandoah when you journeyed to Washington?" I said +simply, "I myself have never met Colonel Meriwether."</p> + +<p>All this sudden acquaintance and somewhat intimate relation +between us two seemed to afford no real pleasure either +to Belknap or Orme. For my part, with no clear reason in +the world, it seemed to me that both Belknap and Orme were +very detestable persons. Had the framing of this scene been +left utterly to me, I should have had none present at the fireside +save myself and Ellen Meriwether. All these wide gray +plains, faintly tinged in the hollows with green, and all this +sweeping sky of blue, and all this sparkling river, should +have been just for ourselves and no one else.</p> + +<p>But my opportunity came in due course, after all. As +we rose from the ground at the conclusion of our meal, the +girl dropped one of her gloves. I hastened to pick it up, +walking with her a few paces afterward.</p> + +<p>"The next time we are shipwrecked together," said I, +"I shall leave you on the boat. You do not know your +friends!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> + +<p>"And yet I knew you at once. I saw the ring on your +hand, and recognized it—it is the same I saw in the firelight +on the river bank, the night we left the <em>Belle</em>."</p> + +<p>"How brilliant of you! At least you can remember a +ring."</p> + + +<p>"I remember seeing the veil you wear once before—at a +certain little meeting between Mr. Orme and myself."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have been a haberdasher in your time, Mr. +Cowles! Your memory of a lady's wearing apparel is very +exact. I should feel very much nattered." None the less I +saw the dimple come in her cheek.</p> + +<p>She was pulling on her glove as she spoke. I saw embroidered +on the gauntlet the figure of a red heart.</p> + +<p>"My memory is still more exact in the matter of apparel," +said I. "Miss Meriwether, is this your emblem indeed—this +red heart? It seems to me I have also seen <em>it</em> somewhere +before!"</p> + +<p>The dimple deepened. "When Columbus found America," +she answered, "it is said that the savages looked up +and remarked to him, 'Ah, we see we are discovered!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, "you are fully discovered—each of you—all +of you, all three or four of you, Miss <em>Ellen Meriwether</em>."</p> + +<p>"But you did not know it until now—until this very moment. +You did not know me—could not remember me—not +even when the masks were off! Ah, it was good as a play!"</p> + +<p>"I have done nothing else but remember you."</p> + +<p>"How much I should value your acquaintance, Mr. +Cowles of Virginia! How rare an opportunity you have +given me of seeing on the inside of a man's heart." She +spoke half bitterly, and I saw that in one way or other she +meant revenge.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," I rejoined.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose you men are all alike—that any one of +you would do the same. It is only the last girl, the nearest +girl, that is remembered. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"It is not so," I answered.</p> + + +<p>"How long will you remember me this time—me or my +clothes, Mr. Cowles? Until you meet another?"</p> + +<p>"All my life," I said; "and until I meet you again, in +some other infinite variety. Each last time that I see you +makes me forget all the others; but never once have I forgotten +<em>you</em>."</p> + +<p>"In my experience," commented the girl, sagely, "all men +talk very much alike."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I told you at the masked ball," said I, "that sometime +I would see you, masks off. Was it not true? I did +not at first know you when you broke up my match with +Orme, but I swore that sometime I would know you. And +when I saw you that night on the river, it seemed to me +I certainly must have met you before—have known you +always—and now—"</p> + +<p>"You had to study my rings and clothing to identify me +with myself!"</p> + +<p>"But you flatter me when you say that you knew me each +time," I ventured. "I am glad that I have given you no +occasion to prove the truth of your own statement, that I, +like other men, am interested only in the last girl, the nearest +girl. You have had no reason—"</p> + +<p>"My experience with men," went on this sage young person, +"leads me to believe that they are the stupidest of all +created creatures. There was never once, there is never +once, when a girl does not notice a man who is—well, who +is taking notice!"</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," I broke out, "I admit it! I did take +notice of four different girls, one after the other—but it was +because each of them was fit to wipe out the image of all the +others—and of all the others in the world."</p> + + +<p>This was going far. I was a young man. I urge no more +excuse. I am setting down simply the truth, as I have +promised.</p> + +<p>The girl looked about, gladly, I thought, at the sound of a +shuffling step approaching. "You, Aunt Mandy?" she +called out. And to me, "I must say good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>I turned away moodily, and found the embers of the fire +at my own camp. Not far away I could hear the stamp of +horses, the occasional sound of low voices and of laughter, +where some of the enlisted men were grouped upon the +ground. The black blur made by the wagon stockade and +a tent or so was visible against the lighter line of the waterway +of the Platte. Night came down, brooding with its +million stars. I could hear the voices of the wolves calling +here and there. It was a scene wild and appealing. I was +indeed, it seemed to me, in a strange new world, where all +was young, where everything was beginning. Where was the +old world I had left behind me?</p> + +<p>I rolled into my blankets, but I could not sleep. The +stars were too bright, the wind too full of words, the sweep of +the sky too strong. I shifted the saddle under my head, +and turned and turned, but I could not rest. I looked up +again into the eye of my cold, reproving star.</p> + +<p>But now, to my surprise and horror, when I looked into +the eye of my monitor, my own eye would not waver nor +admit subjection! I rebelled at my own conscience. I, +John Cowles, had all my life been a strong man. I had +wrestled with any who came, fought with any who asked it, +matched with any man on any terms he named. Conflict +was in my blood, and always I had fought blithely. But +never with sweat like this on my forehead! Never with fear + +catching at my heart! Never with the agony of self-reproach +assailing me! Now, to-night, I was meeting the +strongest antagonist of all my life, the only one I had ever +feared.</p> + +<p>It was none other than I myself, that other John Cowles, +young man, and now loose in the vast, free, garden of +living.</p> + +<p>Yet I fought with myself. I tried to banish her face from +my heart—with all my might, and all my conscience, and all +my remaining principles, I did try. I called up to mind my +promises, my duties, my honor. But none of these would +put her face away. I tried to forget the softness of her +voice, the fragrance of her hair, the sweetness of her body +once held in my arms, all the vague charm of woman, the +enigma, the sphinx, the mystery-magnet of the world, the +charm that has no analysis, that knows no formula; but I +could not forget. A rage filled me against all the other men +in the world. I have said I would set down the truth. The +truth is that I longed to rise and roar in my throat, challenging +all the other men in the world. In truth it was my +wish to stride over there, just beyond, into the darkness, to +take this woman by the shoulders and tell her what was in +my blood and in my heart—even though I must tell her even +in bitterness and self-reproach.</p> + +<p>It was not the girl to whom I was pledged and plighted, +not she to whom I was bound in honor—that was not the one +with the fragrant hair and the eyes of night, and the clear-cut +face, and the graciously deep-bosomed figure—that was +not the one. It was another, of infinite variety, one more +irresistible with each change, that had set on this combat +between me and my own self.</p> + + +<p>I beat my fists upon the earth. All that I could say to +myself was that she was sweet, sweet, and wonderful—here +in the mystery of this wide, calm, inscrutable desert that lay +all about, in a world young and strong and full of the primeval +lusts of man.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_17"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XVI - Buffalo!</h2> + + +<p>Before dawn had broken, the clear bugle notes of +reveille sounded and set the camp astir. Presently +the smokes of the cook fires arose, and in the +gray light we could see the horse-guards bringing in the +mounts. By the time the sun was faintly tinging the edge +of the valley we were drawn up for hot coffee and the plain +fare of the prairies. A half hour later the wagon masters +called "Roll out! Roll out!" The bugles again sounded for +the troopers to take saddle, and we were under way once +more.</p> + +<p>Thus far we had seen very little game in our westward +journeying, a few antelope and occasional wolves, but none +of the herds of buffalo which then roamed the Western +plains. The monotony of our travel was to be broken now. +We had hardly gone five miles beyond the ruined station +house—which we passed at a trot, so that none might know +what had happened there—when we saw our advance men +pull up and raise their hands. We caught it also—the sound +of approaching hoofs, and all joined in the cry, "Buffalo! +Buffalo!" In an instant every horseman was pressing +forward.</p> + +<p>The thunderous rolling sound approached, heavy as that +of artillery going into action. We saw dust arise from the + +mouth of a little draw on the left, running down toward the +valley, and even as we turned there came rolling from its +mouth, with the noise of a tornado and the might of a mountain +torrent, a vast, confused, dark mass, which rapidly +spilled out across the valley ahead of us. Half hid in the +dust of their going, we could see great dark bulks rolling and +tossing. Thus it was, and close at hand, that I saw for the +first time in my life these huge creatures whose mission +seemed to have been to support an uncivilized people, and +to make possible the holding by another race of those lands +late held as savage harvest grounds.</p> + +<p>We were almost at the flanks of the herd before they +reached the river bank. We were among them when they +paused stupidly, for some reason not wishing to cross the +stream. The front ranks rolled back upon those behind, +which, crowded from the rear, resisted. The whole front of +the mass wrinkled up mightily, dark humps arising in some +places two or three deep. Then the entire mass sensed the +danger all at once, and with as much unanimity as they had +lacked concert in their late confusion, they wheeled front +and rear, and rolled off up the valley, still enveloped in a +cloud of white, biting dust.</p> + +<p>In such a chase speed and courage of one's horse are the +main essentials. My horse, luckily for me, was able to lay +me alongside my game within a few hundred yards. I +coursed close to a big black bull and, obeying injunctions +old Auberry had often given me, did not touch the trigger +until I found I was holding well forward and rather low. I +could scarcely hear the crack of the rifle, such was the noise +of hoofs, but I saw the bull switch his tail and push on as +though unhurt, in spite of the trickle of red which sprung + +on his flank. As I followed on, fumbling for a pistol at my +holster, the bull suddenly turned, head down and tail stiffly +erect, his mane bristling. My horse sprang aside, and the +herd passed on. The old bull, his head lowered, presently +stopped, deliberately eying us, and a moment later he deliberately +lay down, presently sinking lower, and at length +rolled over dead.</p> + +<p>I got down, fastening my horse to one of the horns of the +dead bull. As I looked up the valley, I could see others dismounted, +and many vast dark blotches on the gray. Here +and there, where the pursuers still hung on, blue smoke was +cutting through the white. Certainly we would have meat +that day, enough and far more than enough. The valley +was full of carcasses, product of the wasteful white man's +hunting. Later I learned that old Mandy, riding a mule +astride, had made the run and killed a buffalo with her own +rifle!</p> + +<p>I found the great weight of the bull difficult to turn, but +at length I hooked one horn into the ground, and laying hold +of the lower hind leg, I actually turned the carcass on its back. +I was busy skinning when my old friend Auberry rode up.</p> + +<p>"That's the first time I ever saw a bull die on his back," +said he.</p> + +<p>"He did not die on his back," I replied. "I turned him +over."</p> + +<p>"You did—and alone? It's rarely a single man could do +that, nor have I seen it done in all my life with so big a bull."</p> + +<p>I laughed at him. "It was easy. My father and I once +lifted a loaded wagon out of the mud."</p> + +<p>"The Indians," said Auberry, "don't bother to turn a +bull over. They split the hide down the back, and skin + +both ways. The best meat is on top, anyhow"; and then +he gave me lessons in buffalo values, which later I remembered.</p> + +<p>We had taken some meat from my bull, since I insisted +upon it in spite of better beef from a young cow Auberry had +killed not far above, when suddenly I heard the sound of a +bugle, sharp and clear, and recognized the notes of the +"recall." The sergeant of our troop, with a small number +who did not care to hunt, had been left behind by Belknap's +hurried orders. Again and again we heard the bugle +call, and now at once saw coming down the valley the men +of our little command.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" inquired Auberry, as we pulled up our +galloping horses near the wagon line.</p> + +<p>"Indians!" was the answer. "Fall in!" In a moment +most of our men were gathered at the wagon line, and like +magic the scene changed.</p> + +<p>We could all now see coming down from a little flattened +coulee to the left, a head of a line of mounted men, who +doubtless had been the cause of the buffalo stampede which +had crossed in front of us. The shouts of teamsters and +the crack of whips punctuated the crunch of wheels as our +wagons swiftly swung again into stockade. The ambulance +was hurriedly driven into the center of the heavier wagons, +which formed in a rude half circle.</p> + +<p>After all, there seemed no immediate danger. The column +of the tribesmen came on toward us fearlessly, as though +they neither dreaded us nor indeed recognized us. They +made a long calvacade, two hundred horses or more, with +many travaux and dogs trailing on behind. They were all +clad in their native finery, seemingly hearty and well fed, + +and each as arrogant as a king. They passed us contemptuously, +with not a sidelong glance.</p> + +<p>In advance of the head men who rode foremost in the column +were three or four young women, bearing long lance +shafts decorated with feathers and locks of human hair, the +steel tips shining gray in the sun. These young women, +perhaps not squires or heralds of the tribe, but wives of one +or more of the head men, were decorated with brass and +beads and shining things, their hair covered with gauds, +their black eyes shining too, though directed straight ahead. +Their garb was of tanned leather, the tunics or dresses were +of elk skin, and the white leggins of antelope hide or that of +mountain sheep. Their buffalo hide moccasins were handsomely +beaded and stained. As they passed, followed by +the long train of stalwart savage figures, they made a spectacle +strange and savage, but surely not less than impressive.</p> + +<p>Not a word was spoken on either side. The course of +their column took them to the edge of the water a short distance +above us. They drove their horses down to drink +scrambled up the bank again, and then presently, in answer +to some sort of signal, quietly rode on a quarter of a mile or +so and pulled up at the side of the valley. They saw abundance +of meat lying there already killed, and perhaps guessed +that we could not use all of it.</p> + +<p>"Auberry," said Belknap, "we must go talk to these +people, and see what's up."</p> + +<p>"They're Sioux!" said Auberry. "Like enough the very +devils that cleaned out the station down there. But come +on; they don't mean fight right now."</p> + +<p>Belknap and Auberry took with them the sergeant and a +dozen troopers. I pushed in with these, and saw Orme at + +my side; and Belknap did not send us back. We four rode +on together presently. Two or three hundred yards from +the place where the Indians halted, Auberry told Belknap +to halt his men. We four, with one private to hold our +horses, rode forward a hundred yards farther, halted and +raised our hands in sign of peace. There rode out to us four +of the head men of the Sioux, beautifully dressed, each a +stalwart man. We dismounted, laid down our weapons on +the ground, and approached each other.</p> + +<p>"Watch them close, boys," whispered Auberry. "They've +got plenty of irons around them somewhere, and plenty of +scalps, too, maybe."</p> + +<p>"Talk to them, Auberry," said Belknap; and as the +former was the only one of us who understood the Sioux +tongue, he acted as interpreter.</p> + +<p>"What are the Sioux doing so far east?" he asked of their +spokesman, sternly.</p> + +<p>"Hunting," answered the Sioux, as Auberry informed us. +"The white soldiers drive away our buffalo. The white +men kill too many. Let them go. This is our country." +It seemed to me I could see the black eyes of the Sioux boring +straight through every one of us, glittering, not in the +least afraid.</p> + +<p>"Go back to the north and west, where you belong," said +Auberry. "You have no business here on the wagon trails."</p> + +<p>"The Sioux hunt where they please," was the grim answer. +"But you see we have our women and children with us, the +same as you have—and he pointed toward our camp, doubtless +knowing the personnel of our party as well as we did +ourselves.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked our interpreter.</p> + + +<p>The Sioux waved his arm vaguely. "Heap hunt," he +said, in broken English now. "Where you go?" he asked, +in return.</p> + +<p>Auberry was also a diplomat, and answered that we were +going a half sleep to the west, to meet a big war party coming +down the Platte, the white men from Laramie.</p> + +<p>The Indian looked grave at this. "Is that so?" he asked, +calmly. "I had not any word from my young men about a +war party coming down the river. Many white tepees on +wheels going up the river; no soldiers coming down this +way."</p> + +<p>"We are going on up to meet our soldiers," said Auberry, +sternly. "The Sioux have killed some of our men below +here. We shall meet our soldiers and come and wipe the +Sioux off the land if they come into the valley where our +great road runs west."</p> + +<p>"That is good," said the Sioux. "As for us, we harm no +white man. We hunt where we please. White men go!"</p> + +<p>Auberry now turned to us. "I don't think they mean +trouble, Lieutenant," he said, "and I think the best thing +we can do is to let them alone and go on up the valley. Let's +go on and pull on straight by them, the way they did us, and +call it a draw all around."</p> + +<p>Belknap nodded, and Auberry turned again to the four +Sioux, who stood tall and motionless, looking at us with the +same fixed, glittering eyes. I shall remember the actors in +that little scene so long as I live.</p> + +<p>"We have spoken," said Auberry. "That is all we have +to say."</p> + +<p>Both parties turned and went back to their companions. +Belknap, Auberry and I had nearly reached our waiting + +troopers, when we missed Orme, and turned back to see +where he was. He was standing close to the four chiefs, +who had by this time reached their horses. Orme was +leading by the bridle his own horse, which was slightly lame +from a strain received in the hunt.</p> + +<p>"Some buck'll slip an arrer into him, if he don't look out," +said Auberry. "He's got no business out there."</p> + +<p>We saw Orme making some sort of gestures, pointing to +his horse and the others.</p> + +<p>"Wonder if he wants to trade horses!" mused Auberry, +chuckling. Then in the same breath he called, "Look out! +By God! Look!"</p> + +<p>We all saw it. Orme's arm shot out straight, tipped by a +blue puff of smoke, and we heard the crack of the dragoon +pistol. One of the Sioux, the chief who by this time had +mounted his horse, threw his hand against his chest and +leaned slightly back, then straightened up slightly as he sat. +As he fell, or before he fell, Orme pushed his body clear from +the saddle, and with a leap was in the dead man's place and +riding swiftly toward us, leading his own horse by the rein!</p> + +<p>It seemed that it was the Sioux who had kept faith after +all; for none of the remaining three could find a weapon. +Orme rode up laughing and unconcerned. "The beggar +wouldn't trade with me at all," he said. "By Jove, I believe +he'd have got me if he'd had any sort of tools for it."</p> + +<p>"You broke treaty!" ejaculated Belknap—"you broke the +council word."</p> + +<p>"Did that man make the first break at you?" Auberry +blazed at him.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?" answered Orme, coolly. "It's well to +be a trifle ahead in such matters." He seemed utterly unconcerned. + +He could kill a man as lightly as a rabbit, and +think no more about it.</p> + +<p>Within the instant the entire party of the Sioux was in +confusion. We saw them running about, mounting, heard +them shouting and wailing.</p> + +<p>"It's fight now!" said Auberry. "Back to the wagons +now and get your men ready, Lieutenant. As soon as the +Sioux can get shut of their women, they'll come on, and +come a boilin', too. You damned fool!" he said to Orme. +"You murdered that man!"</p> + +<p>"What's that, my good fellow?" said Orme, sharply. "Now +I advise you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll teach +you some manners."</p> + +<p>Even as we swung and rode back, Auberry pushed alongside +Orme, his rifle at ready. "By God! man, if you want +to teach <em>me</em> any manners, begin it now. You make your +break," he cried.</p> + +<p>Belknap spurred in between them. "Here, you men," he +commanded with swift sternness. "Into your places. I'm +in command here, and I'll shoot the first man who raises a +hand. Mr. Orme, take your place at the wagons. Auberry, +keep with me. We'll have fighting enough without anything +of this."</p> + +<p>"He murdered that Sioux, Lieutenant," reiterated Auberry.</p> + +<p>"Damn it, sir, I know he did, but this is no time to argue +about that. Look there!"</p> + +<p>A long, ragged, parti-colored line, made up of the squaws +and children of the party, was whipping up the sides of the +rough bluffs on the left of the valley. We heard wailing, the +barking of dogs, the crying of children. We saw the Sioux + +separate thus into two bands, the men remaining behind +riding back and forth, whooping and holding aloft their +weapons. We heard the note of a dull war drum beating +the clacking of their rattles and the shrill notes of their war +whistles.</p> + +<p>"They'll fight," said Auberry. "Look at 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Here they come," said Belknap, coolly. "Get down, +men."</p> +</div> + +<div class="div"> +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image5.png" alt="At Every Turn Forced To Hide Their Tracks"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">At Every Turn Forced To Hide Their Tracks</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_18"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XVII - Sioux!</h2> + + +<p>The record of this part of my life comes to me sometimes +as a series of vivid pictures. I can see this +picture now—the wide gray of the flat valley, +edged with green at the coulee mouths; the sandy spots +where the wind had worked at the foot of the banks; the +dotted islands out in the shimmering, shallow river. I can +see again, under the clear, sweet, quiet sky, the picture of +those painted men—their waving lances, their swaying +bodies as they reached for the quivers across their shoulders. +I can see the loose ropes trailing at the horses' noses, and see +the light leaning forward of the red and yellow and ghastly +white-striped and black-stained bodies, and the barred black +of the war paint on their faces. I feel again, so much almost +that my body swings in unison, the gathering stride of the +ponies cutting the dust into clouds. I see the color and the +swiftness of it all, and feel its thrill, the strength and tenseness +of it all. And again I feel, as though it were to-day, +the high, keen, pleasant resolution which came to me. We +had women with us. Whether this young woman was now +to die or not, none of us men would see it happen.</p> + +<p>They came on, massed as I have said, to within about +two hundred and fifty yards, then swung out around us, +their horse line rippling up over the broken ground apparently +as easily as it had gone on the level floor of the valley. + +Still we made no volley fire. I rejoiced to see the cool pallor +of Belknap's face, and saw him brave and angry to the core. +Our plainsmen, too, were grim, though eager; and our little +band of cavalry, hired fighters, rose above that station and +became not mongrel private soldiers, but Anglo-Saxons each. +They lay or knelt or stood back of the wagon line, imperturbable +as wooden men, and waited for the order to fire, +though meantime two of them dropped, hit by chance bullets +from the wavering line of horsemen that now encircled us.</p> + +<p>"Tell us when to fire, Auberry," I heard Belknap say, for +he had practically given over the situation to the old plainsman. +At last I heard the voice of Auberry, changed from +that of an old man into the quick, clear accents of youth, +sounding hard and clear. "Ready now! Each fellow pick +his own man, and kill him, d'ye hear, <em>kill</em> him!"</p> + +<p>We had no further tactics. Our fire began to patter and +crackle. Our troopers were armed with the worthless old +Spencer carbines, and I doubt if these did much execution; +but there were some good old Hawkin rifles and old big-bored +Yagers and more modern Sharps' rifles and other buffalo +guns of one sort or another with us, among the plainsmen +and teamsters; and when these spoke there came breaks in +the flaunting line that sought to hedge us. The Sioux +dropped behind their horses' bodies, firing as they rode, +some with rifles, more with bows and arrows. Most of our +work was done as they topped the rough ground close on our +left, and we saw here a half-dozen bodies lying limp, flat and +ragged, though presently other riders came and dragged them +away.</p> + +<p>The bow and arrow is no match for the rifle behind barricades; +but when the Sioux got behind us they saw that our + +barricade was open in the rear, and at this they whooped +and rode in closer. At a hundred yards their arrows fell +extraordinarily close to the mark, and time and again they +spiked our mules and horses with these hissing shafts that +quivered where they struck. They came near breaking our +rear in this way, for our men fell into confusion, the horses +and mules plunging and trying to break away. There were +now men leaning on their elbows, blood dripping from their +mouths. There were cries, sounding far away, inconsequent +to us still standing. The whir of many arrows came, and we +could hear them chuck into the woodwork of the wagons, +into the leather of saddle and harness, and now and again +into something that gave out a softer, different sound.</p> + +<p>I was crowding a ball down my rifle with its hickory rod +when I felt a shove at my arm and heard a voice at my ear. +"Git out of the way, man—how can I see how to shoot if +you bob your head acrost my sights all the time?"</p> + +<p>There stood old Mandy McGovern, her long brown rifle +half raised, her finger lying sophisticatedly along the trigger +guard, that she might not touch the hair trigger. She was +as cool as any man in the line, and as deadly. As I finished +reloading, I saw her hard, gray face drop as she crooked her +elbow and settled to the sights—saw her swing as though +she were following a running deer; and then at the crack of +her piece I saw a Sioux drop out of his high-peaked saddle. +Mandy turned to the rear.</p> + +<p>"Git in here, git in here, son!" I heard her cry. And to +my wonder now I saw the long, lean figure of Andrew +Jackson McGovern come forward, a carbine clutched in his +hand, while from his mouth came some sort of eerie screech +of incipient courage, which seemed to give wondrous comfort + +to his fierce dam. At about this moment one of the Sioux, +mortally wounded by our fire, turned his horse and ran +straight toward us hard as he could go. He knew that he +must die, and this was his way—ah, those red men knew +how to die. He got within forty yards, reeling and swaying, +but still trying to fit an arrow to the string, and as none of us +would fire on him now, seeing that he was dying, for a moment +it looked as though he would ride directly into us, and +perhaps do some harm. Then I heard the boom of the boy's +carbine, and almost at the instant, whether by accident or +not I could not tell, I saw the red man drop out of the forks +of his saddle and roll on the ground with his arms spread +out.</p> + +<p>Perhaps never was metamorphosis more complete than +that which now took place. Shaking off detaining hands, +Andrew Jackson sprang from our line, ran up to the fallen +foe and in a frenzy of rage began to belabor and kick his +body, winding up by catching him by the hair and actually +dragging him some paces toward our firing line! An expression +of absolute beatitude spread over the countenance +of Mandy McGovern. She called out as though he were a +young dog at his first fight. "Whoopee! Git to him, boy, +git to him! Take him, boy! Whoopee!"</p> + +<p>We got Andrew Jackson back into the ranks. His mother +stepped to him and took him by the hand, as though for the +first time she recognized him as a man.</p> + +<p>"Now, boy, <em>that's</em> somethin' <em>like</em>." Presently she turned +to me. "Some says it's in the Paw," she remarked. "I +reckon it's some in the Maw; an' a leetle in the trainin'."</p> + +<p>Cut up badly by our fire, the Sioux scattered and hugged +the shelter of the river bank, beyond which they rode along + +the sand or in the shallow water, scrambling up the bank +after they had gotten out of fire. Our men were firing less, +frequently at the last of the line, who came swiftly down from +the bluff and charged across behind us, sending in a scattering +flight of arrows as they rode.</p> + +<p>I looked about me now at the interior of our barricade. I +saw Ellen Meriwether on her knees, lifting the shoulders of a +wounded man who lay back, his hair dropping from his forehead, +now gone bluish gray. She pulled him to the shelter +of a wagon, where there had been drawn four others of the +wounded. I saw tears falling from her eyes—saw the same +pity on her face which I had noted once before when a +wounded creature lay in her hands. I had been proud of +Mandy McGovern. I was proud of Ellen Meriwether now. +They were two generations of our women, the women of +America, whom may God ever have in his keeping.</p> + +<p>I say I had turned my head; but almost as I did so I felt +a sudden jar as though some one had taken a board and +struck me over the head with all his might. Then, as I +slowly became aware, my head was utterly and entirely +detached from my body, and went sailing off, deliberately, +in front of me. I could see it going distinctly, and yet, +oddly enough, I could also see a sudden change come on the +face of the girl who was stooping before me, and who at the +moment raised her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is strange," thought I, "but my head, thus detached, +is going to pass directly above her, right there!"</p> + +<p>Then I ceased to take interest in anything, and sank back +into the arms of that from which we come, calmly taking +bold of the hand of Mystery.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_19"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVIII - The Test</h2> + + +<p>I awoke, I knew not how much later, into a world +which at first had a certain warm comfort and languid +luxury about it. Then I felt a sharp wrenching +and a great pain in my neck, to which it seemed my departed +head had, after all, returned. Stimulated by this pain, I +turned and looked up into the face of Auberry. He stood +frowning, holding in his hand a feathered arrow shaft of +willow, grooved along its sides to let the blood run free, +sinew-wrapped to hold its feathers tight—a typical arrow of +the buffalo tribes. But, as I joined Auberry's gaze, I saw +the arrow was headless! Dully I argued that, therefore, +this head must be somewhere in my neck. I also saw that +the sun was bright. I realized that there must have been a +fight of some sort, but did not trouble to know whence the +arrow had come to me, for my mind could grasp nothing +more than simple things.</p> + +<p>Thus I felt that my head was not uncomfortable, after all. +I looked again, and saw that it rested on Ellen Meriwether's +knees. She sat on the sand, gently stroking my forehead, +pushing back the hair. She had turned my head so that +the wound would not be pressed. It seemed to me that her +voice sounded very far away and quiet.</p> + +<p>"We are thinking," said she to me. I nodded as best +I could. "Has anything happened?" I asked.</p> + + +<p>"They have gone," said she. "We whipped them." Her +hand again lightly pressed my forehead.</p> + +<p>I heard some one else say, behind me, "But we have +nothing in the world—not even opium."</p> + +<p>"True," said another voice, which I recognized as that of +Orme; "but that's his one chance."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about surgery?" asked the first +voice, which I knew now was Belknap's.</p> + +<p>"More than most doctors," was the answer, with a laugh. +Their voices grew less distinguishable, but presently I heard +Orme say, "Yes, I'm game to do it, if the man says so." +Then he came and stooped down beside me.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cowles," said he, "you're rather badly off. That +arrow head ought to come out, but the risk of going after it +is very great. I am willing to do what you say. If you +decide that you would like me to operate for it, I will do so. +It's only right for me to tell you that it lies very close to +the carotid artery, and that it will be an extraordinarily nice +operation to get it out without—well, you know—"</p> + +<p>I looked up into his face, that strange face which I was now +beginning so well to know—the face of my enemy. I knew +it was the face of a murderer, a man who would have no compunction +at taking a human life.</p> + +<p>My mind then was strangely clear. I saw his glance at the +girl. I saw, as clearly as though he had told me, that this +man was as deeply in love with Ellen Meriwether as I myself; +that he would win her if he could; that his chance was +as good as mine, even if we were both at our best. I knew +there was nothing at which he would hesitate, unless some +strange freak in his nature might influence him, such freaks +as come to the lightning, to the wild beast slaying, changes + +for no reason ever known. Remorse, mercy, pity, I knew did +not exist for him. But with a flash it came to my mind that +this was all the better, if he must now serve as my surgeon.</p> + +<p>He looked into my eye, and I returned his gaze, scorning +to ask him not to take advantage of me, now that I was fallen. +His own eye changed. It asked of me, as though he spoke: +"Are you, then, game to the core? Shall I admire you and +give you another chance, or shall I kill you now?" I say +that I saw, felt, read all this in his mind. I looked up into +his face, and said:</p> + +<p>"You cannot kill me. I am not going to die. Go on. +Soon, then."</p> + +<p>A sort of sigh broke from his lips, as though he felt content. +I do not think it was because he found his foe a worthy +one. I do not think he considered me either as his foe or his +friend or his patient. He was simply about to do something +which would test his own nerve, his own resources, something +which, if successful, would allow him to approve his own +belief in himself. I say that this was merely sport for him. +I knew he would not turn his hand to save my life; but also +I knew that he would not cost it if that could be avoided, for +that would mean disappointment to himself. What he did +he did well. I said then to myself that I would pay him if he +brought me through—pay him in some way.</p> + +<p>Presently I heard them on the sand again, and I saw him +come again and bend over me. All the instruments they +could find had been a razor and a keen penknife; and all +they could secure to staunch the blood was some water, +nearly boiling. For forceps Orme had a pair of bullet molds, +and these he cleansed as best he could by dipping them into +the hot water.</p> + + +<p>"Cowles," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice, "I'm going +after it. But now I tell you one thing frankly, it's life or +death, and if you move your head it may mean death at once. +That iron's lying against the big carotid artery. If it hasn't +broken the artery wall, there's a ghost of a chance we can get +it out safely, in which case you would probably pull through. +I've got to open the neck and reach in. I'll do it as fast as I +can. Now, I'm not going to think of you, and, gad!—if you +can help it—please don't think of me."</p> + +<p>Ellen Meriwether had not spoken. She still held my +head in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Are you game—can you do this, Miss Meriwether?" I +heard Orme ask. She made no answer that I could hear, +but must have nodded. I felt her hands press my head more +tightly. I turned my face down and kissed her hand. "I +will not move," I said.</p> + +<p>I saw Orme's slender, naked wrist pass to my face and +gently turn me into the position desired, with my face down +and a little at one side, resting in her lap above her knees. +Her skirt was already wet with the blood of the wound, and +where my head lay it was damp with blood. Belknap took +my hands and pulled them above my head, squatting beyond +me. Between Orme's legs as he stooped I could see the dead +body of a mule, I remember, and back of that the blue sky +I and the sand dunes. Unknown to her, I kissed the hem of +her garment; and then I said a short appeal to the Mystery.</p> + +<p>I felt the entrance of the knife or razor blade, felt keenly +the pain when the edge lifted and stretched the skin tight +before the tough hide of my neck parted smoothly in a long +line. Then I felt something warm settle under my cheek as + +I lay, and I felt a low shiver, whether of my body or that of +the girl who held me I could not tell; but her hands were +steady. I felt about me an infinite kindness and carefulness +and pitying—oh, then I learned that life, after all, is not +wholly war—that there is such a thing as fellow-suffering and +loving kindness and a wish to aid others to survive in this +hard fight of living; I knew that very well. But I did not +gain it from the touch of my surgeon's hands.</p> + +<p>The immediate pain of this long cutting which laid open +my neck for some inches through the side muscles was less +after the point of the blade went through and ceased to push +forward. Deeper down I did not feel so much, until finally +a gentle searching movement produced a jar strangely large, +something which grated, and nearly sent all the world black +again. I knew then that the knife was on the base of the +arrow head; then I could feel it move softly and gently along +the side of the arrow head—I could almost see it creep along +in this delicate part of the work.</p> + +<p>Then, all at once, I felt one hand removed from my neck. +Orme, half rising from his stooping posture, but with the +fingers of his left hand still at the wound, said: "Belknap, +let go one of his hands. Just put your hand on this knife-blade, +and feel that artery throb! Isn't it curious?"</p> + +<p>I heard some muttered answer, but the grasp at my wrists +did not relax. "Oh, it's all right now," calmly went on +Orme, again stooping. "I thought you might be interested. +It's all over now but pulling out the head."</p> + +<p>I felt again a shiver run through the limbs of the girl. +Perhaps she turned away her head, I do not know. I felt +Orme's fingers spreading widely the sides of the wound along +the neck, and the boring of the big headed bullet molds as + +they went down after a grip, their impact softened by the +finger extended along the blade knife.</p> + +<p>The throbbing artery whose location this man knew so +well was protected. Gently feeling down, the tips of the +mold got their grip at last, and an instant later I felt release +from a certain stiff pressure which I had experienced in my +neck. Relief came, then a dizziness and much pain. A +hand patted me twice on the back of the neck.</p> + +<p>"All right, my man," said Orme. "All over; and jolly +well done, too, if I do say it myself!"</p> + +<p>Belknap put his arm about me and helped me to sit up. +I saw Orme holding out the stained arrow head, long and +thin, in his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Would you like it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, grinning. And I confess I have it now +somewhere about my house. I doubt if few souvenirs exist +to remind one of a scene exactly similar.</p> + +<p>The girl now kept cloths wrung from the hot water on my +neck. I thanked them all as best I could. "I say, you men," +remarked Mandy McGovern, coming up with a cob-stoppered +flask in her hand, half filled with a pale yellow-white fluid, +"ain't it about time for some of that thar anarthestic I heerd +you all talking about a while ago?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder," said Orme. "The stitching hurts +about as much as anything. Auberry, can't you find me a +bit of sinew somewhere, and perhaps a needle of some sort?"</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_20"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XIX - The Quality Of Mercy</h2> + + +<p>A vast dizziness and a throbbing of the head remained +after they were quite done with me, but +something of this left me when finally I sat leaning +back against the wagon body and looked about me. There +were straight, motionless figures lying under the blankets in +the shade, and under other blankets were men who writhed +and moaned. Belknap passed about the place, graver and +apparently years older than at the beginning of this, his first +experience in the field. He put out burial parties at once. +A few of the Sioux, including the one on whom Andrew +Jackson McGovern had vented his new-found spleen, were +covered scantily where they lay. Our own dead were removed +to the edge of the bluff; and so more headstones, +simple and rude, went to line the great pathway into the +West.</p> + +<p>Again Ellen Meriwether came and sat by me. She had +now removed the gray traveling gown, for reasons which I +could guess, and her costume might have been taken from a +collector's chest rather than a woman's wardrobe. All at +once we seemed, all of us, to be blending with these surroundings, +becoming savage as these other savages. It +might almost have been a savage woman who came to me.</p> + +<p>Her skirt was short; made of white tanned antelope leather. +Above it fell the ragged edges of a native tunic or shirt of + +yellow buck, ornamented with elk teeth, embroidered in +stained quills. Her feet still wore a white woman's shoes, +although the short skirt was enforced by native leggins, +beaded and becylindered in metals so that she tinkled as the +walked. Her hair, now becoming yellower and more sunburned +at the ends, was piled under her felt hat, and the +modishness of long cylindrical curls was quite forgot. The +brown of her cheeks, already strongly sunburned, showed in +strange contrast to the snowy white of her neck, now exposed +by the low neck aperture of the Indian tunic. Her gloves, +still fairly fresh, she wore tucked through her belt, army +fashion. I could see the red heart still, embroidered on the +cuff!</p> + +<p>She came and sat down beside me on the ground, I say, +and spoke to me. I could not help reflecting how she was +reverting, becoming savage. I thought this—but in my +heart I knew she was not savage as myself.</p> + +<p>"How are you coming on?" she said. "You sit up +nicely—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and can stand, or walk, or ride," I added.</p> + +<p>Her brown eyes were turned full on me. In the sunlight +I could see the dark specks in their depths. I could see +every shade of tan on her face.</p> + +<p>"You are not to be foolish," she said.</p> + +<p>"You stand all this nobly," I commented presently.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you men—I love you, you men!" She said it suddenly +and with perfect sincerity. "I love you all—you are +so strong, so full of the desire to live, to win. It is wonderful, +wonderful! Just look at those poor boys there—some +of them are dying, almost, but they won't whimper. It is +wonderful."</p> + + +<p>"It is the Plains," I said. "They have simply learned +how little a thing is life."</p> + +<p>"Yet it is sweet," she said.</p> + +<p>"But for you, I see that you have changed again."</p> + +<p>She spread her leather skirt down with her hands, as +though to make it longer, and looked contemplatively at the +fringed leggins below.</p> + +<p>"You were four different women," I mused, "and now +you are another, quite another."</p> + +<p>At this she frowned a bit, and rose. "You are not to +talk," she said, "nor to think that you are well; because +you are not. I must go and see the others."</p> + +<p>I lay back against the wagon bed, wondering in which +garb she had been most beautiful—the filmy ball dress and +the mocking mask, the gray gown and veil of the day after, +the thin drapery of her hasty flight in the night, her half conventional +costume of the day before—or this, the garb of +some primeval woman. I knew I could never forget her +again. The thought gave me pain, and perhaps this showed +on my face, for my eyes followed her so that presently she +turned and came back to me.</p> + +<p>"Does the wound hurt you?" she asked. "Are you in +pain?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ellen Meriwether," I said, "I am in pain. I am +in very great pain."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she cried, "I am sorry! What can we do? What +do you wish? But perhaps it will not be so bad after a while—it +will be over soon."</p> + +<p>"No, Ellen Meriwether," I said, "it will not be over soon. +It will not go away at all."</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_21"></a> + +<h2>Chapter Xx - Gordon Orme, Magician</h2> + + +<p>We lay in our hot camp on the sandy valley for +some days, and buried two more of our men +who finally succumbed to their wounds. Gloom +sat on us all, for fever now raged among our wounded. Pests +of flies by day and mosquitoes by night became almost unbearable. +The sun blistered us, the night froze us. Still +not a sign of any white-topped wagon from the east, nor any +dust-cloud of troopers from the west served to break the +monotony of the shimmering waste that lay about us on every +hand. We were growing gaunt now and haggard; but still +we lay, waiting for our men to grow strong enough to travel, +or to lose all strength and so be laid away.</p> + +<p>We had no touch with the civilization of the outer world. +At that time the first threads of the white man's occupancy +were just beginning to cross the midway deserts. Near by +our camp ran the recently erected line of telegraph, its shining +cedar poles, stripped of their bark, offering wonder for +savage and civilized man alike, for hundreds of miles across +an uninhabited country. We could see the poles rubbed +smooth at their base by the shoulders of the buffalo. Here +and there a little tuft of hair clung to some untrimmed knot. +High up in some of the naked poles we could see still sticking, +the iron shod arrows of contemptuous tribesmen, who had + +thus sought to assail the "great medicine" of the white man. +We heard the wires above us humming mysteriously in the +wind, but if they bore messages east or west, we might not +read them, nor might we send any message of our own.</p> + +<p>At times old Auberry growled at this new feature of the +landscape. "That was not here when I first came West," +he said, "and I don't like its looks. The old ways were good +enough. Now they are even talkin' of runnin' a railroad up +the valley—as though horses couldn't carry in everything +the West needs or bring out everything the East may want. +No, the old ways were good enough for me."</p> + +<p>Orme smiled at the old man.</p> + +<p>"None the less," said he, "you will see the day before long, +when not one railroad, but many, will cross these plains. As +for the telegraph, if only we had a way of tapping these wires, +we might find it extremely useful to us all right now."</p> + +<p>"The old ways were good enough," insisted Auberry. +"As fur telegraphin', it ain't new on these plains. The +Injuns could always telegraph, and they didn't need no poles +nor wires. The Sioux may be at both ends of this bend, for +all we know. They may have cleaned up all the wagons +coming west. They have planned for a general wipin' out +of the whites, and you can be plumb certain that what has +happened here is knowed all acrost this country to-day, +clean to the big bend of the Missouri, and on the Yellowstone, +and west to the Rockies."</p> + +<p>"How could that be?" asked Orme, suddenly, with interest. +"You talk as if there were something in this country like the +old 'secret mail' of East India, where I once lived."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by that," said Auberry, +"but I do know that the Injuns in this country have ways + +of talkin' at long range. Why, onct a bunch of us had five +men killed up on the Powder River by the Crows. That +was ten o'clock in the morning. By two in the afternoon +everyone in the Crow village, two hundred miles away, +knowed all about the fight—how many whites was killed, +how many Injuns—the whole shootin'-match. How they +done it, I don't know, but they shore done it. Any Western +man knows that much about Injun ways."</p> + +<p>"That is rather extraordinary," commented Orme.</p> + +<p>"Nothin' extraordinary about it," said Auberry, "it's +just common. Maybe they done it by lookin'-glasses and +smokes—fact is, I know that's one way they use a heap. +But they've got other ways of talkin'. Looks like a Injun +could set right down on a hill, and think good and hard, and +some other Injun a hundred miles away'd know what he was +thinkin' about. You talk about a prairie fire runnin' fast—it +ain't nothin' to the way news travels amongst the tribes."</p> + +<p>Belknap expressed his contempt for all this sort of thing, +but the old man assured him he would know more of this +sort of thing when he had been longer in the West. "I +know they do telegraph," reiterated the plainsman.</p> + +<p>"I can well believe that," remarked Orme, quietly.</p> + +<p>"Whether you do or not," said Auberry, "Injuns is strange +critters. A few of us has married among Injuns and lived +among them, and we have seen things you wouldn't believe +if I told you."</p> + +<p>"Tell some of them," said Orme. "I, for one, might believe +them."</p> + +<p>"Well, now," said the plainsman, "I will tell you some +things I have seen their medicine men do, and ye can believe +me or not, the way ye feel about it."</p> + + +<p>"I have seen 'em hold a pow-wow for two or three days at +a time, some of 'em settin' 'round, dreamin', as they call it +all of 'em starvin', whole camp howlin', everybody eatin' +medicine herbs. Then after while, they all come and set +down just like it was right out here in the open. Somebody +pulls a naked Injun boy right out in the middle of them. +Old Mr. Medicine Man, he stands up in the plain daylight, +and he draws his bow and shoots a arrer plum through that +boy. Boy squirms a heap and Mr. Medicine Man socks +another arrer through him, cool as you please—I have seen +that done. Then the medicine man steps up, cuts off the +boy's head with his knife—holds it up plain, so everybody +can see it. That looked pretty hard to me first time I ever +seen it. But now the old medicine man takes a blanket and +throws it over this dead boy. He lifts up a corner of the +blanket, chucks the boy's head under it, and pulls down the +edges of the blanket and puts rocks on them. Then he +begins to sing, and the whole bunch gets up and dances +'round the blanket. After while, say a few minutes, medicine +man pulls off the blanket—and thar gets up the boy, good as +new, his head growed on good and tight as ever, and not a +sign of an arrer on him 'cept the scars where the wounds +has plumb healed up!"</p> + +<p>Belknap laughed long and hard at this old trapper's yarn, +and weak as I was myself, I was disposed to join him. Orme +was the only one who did not ridicule the story. Auberry +himself was disgusted at the merriment. "I knowed you +wouldn't believe it," he said. "There is no use tellin' a +passel of tenderfeet anything they hain't seed for theirselves. +But I could tell you a heap more things. Why, I have seen +their buffalo callers call a thousand buffalo right in from the + +plains, and over the edge of a cut bank, where they'd pitch +down and bust theirselves to pieces. I can show you bones +Of a hundred such places. Buffalo don't do that when they +are alone—thay have got to be <em>called</em>, I tell you.</p> + +<p>"Injuns can talk with other animals—they can call them +others, too. I have seed an old medicine man, right out on +the plain ground in the middle of the village, go to dancin', +and I have seed him call three full-sized beavers right up +out'n the ground—seed them with my own <em>eyes</em>, I tell you! +Yes, and I have seed them three old beavers standin' right +there, turn into full-growed old men, gray haired. I have +seed 'em sit down at a fire and smoke, too, and finally get up +when they got through, and clean out—just disappear back +into the ground. Now, how you all explain them there +things, I don't pretend to say; but there can't no man call +me a liar, fur I seed 'em and seed 'em unmistakable."</p> + +<p>Belknap and the others only smiled, but Orme turned +soberly toward Auberry. "I don't call you a liar, my man," +said he. "On the contrary, what you say is very interesting. +I quite believe it, although I never knew before that your +natives in this country were possessed of these powers."</p> + +<p>"It ain't all of 'em can do it," said Auberry, "only a few +men of a few tribes can do them things; but them that can +shore can, and that's all I know about it."</p> + +<p>"Quite so," said Orme. "Now, as it chances, I have +traveled a bit in my time in the old countries of the East. +I have seen some wonderful things done there."</p> + +<p>"I have read about the East Indian jugglers," said Belknap, +interested. "Tell me, have you seen those feats? +are they feats, or simply lies?"</p> + +<p>"They are actual occurrences," said Orme. "I have seen + +them with my own eyes, just as Auberry has seen the things +he describes; and it is no more right to accuse the one than +the other of us of untruthfulness.</p> + +<p>"For instance, I have seen an Indian juggler take a plain +bowl, such as they use for rice, and hold it out in his hand in +the open sunlight; and then I have seen a little bamboo tree +start in it and grow two feet high, right in the middle of the +bowl, within the space of a minute or so.</p> + +<p>"You talk about the old story of 'Jack and the Bean +Stalk'; I have seen an old fakir take a bamboo stick, no +thicker than his finger, and thrust it down in the ground and +start and climb up it, as if it were a tree, and keep on climbing +till he was out of sight; and then there would come falling +down out of the sky, legs and arms, his head, pieces of his +body. When these struck the ground, they would reassemble +and make the man all over again—just like Auberry's +dead boy, you know.</p> + +<p>"These tricks are so common in Asia that they do not +excite any wonder. As to tribal telegraph, they have got it +there. Time and again, when our forces were marching +against the hill tribes of northwestern India, we found they +knew all of our plans a hundred miles ahead of us—how, +none of us could tell—only the fact was there, plain and +unmistakable."</p> + +<p>"They never do tell," broke in Auberry. "You couldn't +get a red to explain any of this to you—not even a squaw you +have lived with for years. They certainly do stand pat for +keeps."</p> + +<p>"Yet once in a while," smiled Orme, in his easy way, "a +white man does pick up some of these tricks. I believe I +could do a few of them myself, if I liked—in fact, I have + +sometimes learned some of the simpler ones for my own +amusement."</p> + +<p>General exclamations of surprise and doubt greeted him +from our little circle, and this seemed to nettle him somewhat. +"By Jove!" he went on, "if you doubt it, I don't +mind trying a hand at it right now. Perhaps I have forgotten +something of my old skill, but we'll see. Come, +hen."</p> + +<p>All arose now and gathered about him on the ground +there in the full sunlight. He evinced no uneasiness or surprise, +and he employed no mechanism or deception which +we could detect.</p> + +<p>"My good man," said he to Auberry, "let me take your +knife." Auberry loosed the long hunting-knife at his belt +and handed it to him. Taking it, Orme seated himself +cross-legged on a white blanket, which he spread out on the +sandy soil.</p> + +<p>All at once Orme looked up with an expression of surprise +on his face. "This was not the knife I wanted," he said. +"I asked for a plain American hunting-knife, not this one. +See, you have given me a Malay kris! I have not the slightest +idea where you got it."</p> + +<p>We all looked intently at him. There, held up in his +hand, was full proof of what he had said—a long blade of +wavy steel, with a little crooked, carved handle. From what +I had read, I saw this to be a kris, a wavy bladed knife of the +Malays. It did not shine or gleam in the sun, but threw +back a dull reflection from its gray steel, as though lead and +silver mingled in its make. The blade was about thirty +inches long, whereas that of Auberry's knife could not have +exceeded eight inches at the most.</p> + + +<p>"We did not know you had that thing around you!" exclaimed +Belknap. "That is only sleight of hand."</p> + +<p>"Is it, indeed?" said Orme, smiling. "I tell you, I did +not have it with me. After all, you see it is the same knife."</p> + +<p>We all gaped curiously, and there, as I am a living man, +we saw that wavy kris, extended in his hand, turn back into +the form of the plainsman's hunting-knife! A gasp of wonder +and half terror came from the circle. Some of the men +drew back. I heard an Irish private swear and saw him +cross himself. I do not explain these things, I only say I +saw them.</p> + +<p>"I was mistaken," said Orme, politely, "in offering so +simple a test as this; but now, if you still think I had the kris +in my clothing—how that could be, I don't know, I'm sure—and +if you still wish to call my little performance sleight of +hand, then I'll do something to prove what I have said, and +make it quite plain that all my friend here has said is true +and more than true. Watch now, and you will see blood +drip from the point of this blade—every drop of blood +it ever drew, of man or animal. Look, now—watch it +closely."</p> + +<p>We looked, and again, as I am a living man, and an honest +one, I hope, I saw, as the others did, running from the point +of the steel blade, a little trickling stream of red blood! It +dropped in a stream, I say, and fell on the white blanket +upon which Orme was sitting. It stained the blanket entirely +red. At this sight the entire group broke apart, only a +few remaining to witness the rest of the scene.</p> + +<p>I do not attempt to explain this illusion, or whatever it +was. I do not know how long it lasted; but presently, as I +may testify, I saw Orme rise and kick at the wetted, bloodstained + +blanket. He lifted it, heavy with dripping blood. +I saw the blood fall from its corners upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he remarked, calmly, "it's getting dry now. Here +is your knife, my good fellow."</p> + +<p>I looked about me, almost disposed to rub my eyes, as +were, perhaps, the others of our party. The same great +plains were there, the same wide shimmering stream, rippling +in the sunlight, the same groups of animals grazing on +the bluff, the same sentinels outlined against the sky. Over +all shone the blinding light of the Western mid-day sun. +Yet, as Orme straightened out this blanket, it was white as +it had been before! Auberry looked at his knife blade as +though he would have preferred to throw it away, but he +sheathed it and it fitted the sheath as before.</p> + +<p>Orme smiled at us all pleasantly. "Do you believe in the +Indian telegraph now?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>I have told you many things of this strange man, Gordon +Orme, and I shall need to tell yet others. Sometimes my +friends smile at me even yet over these things. But since +that day, I have not doubted the tales old Auberry told me +of our own Indians. Since then, too, I have better understood +Gordon Orme and his strange personality, the like of +which I never knew in any land.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_22"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXI - Two In The Desert</h2> + + +<p>How long it was I hardly knew, for I had slink into +a sort of dull apathy in which one day was much +like another; but at last we gathered our crippled +party together and broke camp, our wounded men in the +wagons, and so slowly passed on westward, up the trail. +We supposed, what later proved to be true, that the Sioux +had raided in the valley on both sides of us, and that the scattered +portions of the army had all they could do, while the +freight trains were held back until the road was clear.</p> + +<p>I wearied of the monotony of wagon travel, and without +council with any, finally, weak as I was, called for my horse +and rode on slowly with the walking teams. I had gone for +some distance before I heard hoofs on the sand behind me.</p> + +<p>"Guess who it is," called a voice. "Don't turn your head."</p> + +<p>"I can't turn," I answered; "but I know who it is."</p> + +<p>She rode up alongside, where I could see her; and fair +enough she was to look upon, and glad enough I was to look. +She was thinner now with this prairie life, and browner, and +the ends of her hair were still yellowing, like that of outdoors +men. She still was booted and gloved after the fashion +of civilization, and still elsewise garbed in the aboriginal +costume, which she filled and honored graciously. The +metal cylinders on her leggins rattled as she rode.</p> + + +<p>"You ought not to ride," she said. "You are pale."</p> + +<p>"You are beautiful," said I; "and I ride because you are +beautiful."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were busy with her gloves, but I saw a sidelong +glance. "I do not understand you," she said, demurely.</p> + +<p>"I could not sit back there in the wagon and think," said +I. "I knew that you would be riding before long, and I +guessed I might, perhaps, talk with you."</p> + +<p>She bit her lip and half pulled up her horse as if to fall +back. "That will depend," was her comment. But we +rode on, side by side, knee to knee.</p> + +<p>Many things I had studied before then, for certain mysteries +had come to me, as to many men, who wish logically +to know the causes of great phenomena. From boyhood I +had pondered many things. I had lain on my back and +looked up at the stars and wondered how far they were, and +how far the farthest thing beyond them was. I had wondered +at that indeterminate quotient in my sums, where the +same figure came, always the same, running on and on. I +used to wonder what was my soul, and I fancied that it was +a pale, blue flaming oblate, somewhere near my back and in +the middle of my body—such was my boyish guess of what +they told me was a real thing. I had pondered on that compass +of the skies by which the wild fowl guide themselves. +I had wondered, as a child, how far the mountains ran. As +I had grown older I had read the law, read of the birth of +civilization, pondered on laws and customs. Declaring that +I must know their reasons, I had read of marriages in many +lands, and many times had studied into the questions of +dowry and bride-price, and consent of parents, and consent +of the bride—studied marriage as a covenant, a contract, as a + +human and a so-called divine thing. I had questioned the +cause of the old myth that makes Cupid blind. I had delved +deep as I might in law, and history and literature, seeking to +solve, as I might—what?</p> + +<p>Ah, witless! it was to solve this very riddle that rode by +my side now, to answer the question of the Sphinx. What +had come of all my studies? Not so much as I was learning +now, here in the open, with this sweet savage woman whose +leggins tinkled as she rode, whose tunic swelled softly, whose +jaw was clean and brown. How weak the precepts of the +social covenant seemed. How feeble and far away the old +world we too had known. And how infinitely sweet, how +compellingly necessary now seemed to me this new, sweet +world that swept around us now.</p> + +<p>We rode on, side by side, knee to knee. Her garments +rustled and tinkled.</p> + +<p>Her voice awoke me from my brooding. "I wish, Mr. +Cowles," said she, "that if you are strong enough and can +do so without discomfort, you would ride with me each day +when I ride."</p> + +<p>"Why?" I asked. That was the wish in my own mind; +but I knew her reason was not the same as mine.</p> + +<p>"Because," she said. She looked at me, but would not +answer farther.</p> + +<p>"You ought to tell me," I said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Because it is prescribed for you."</p> + +<p>"Not by my doctor." I shook my head. "Why, then?"</p> + +<p>"Stupid—oh, very stupid officer and gentleman!" she +aid, smiling slowly. "Lieutenant Belknap has his duties +to look after; and as for Mr. Orme, I am not sure he is either +officer or gentleman."</p> + + +<p>She spoke quietly but positively. I looked on straight up +the valley and pondered. Then I put out a hand and +touched the fringe of her sleeve.</p> + +<p>"I am going to try to be a gentleman," said I. "But I +wish some fate would tell me why it is a gentleman can be +made from nothing but a man."</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_23"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXII - Mandy McGovern On Marriage</h2> + + +<p>Our slow travel finally brought us near to the historic +forks of the Platte where that shallow +stream stretches out two arms, one running to +the mountains far to the south, the other still reaching westward +for a time. Between these two ran the Oregon Trail, +pointing the way to the Pacific, and on this trail, somewhere +to the west, lay Laramie. Before us now lay two alternatives. +We could go up the beaten road to Laramie, or we +could cross here and take an old trail on the north side of +the river for a time. Auberry thought this latter would give +better feed and water, and perhaps be safer as to Indians, +so we held a little council over it.</p> + +<p>The Platte even here was a wide, treacherous stream, its +sandy bottom continuously shifting. At night the melted +floods from the mountains came down and rendered it +deeper than during the day, when for the most part it was +scarcely more than knee deep. Yet here and there at any +time, undiscoverable to the eye, were watery pitfalls where +the sand was washed out, and in places there was shifting +quicksand, dangerous for man or animal.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to boat across," said Auberry finally. "We +couldn't get the wagons over loaded." Wherefore we presently +resorted to the old Plains makeshift of calking the +wagon bodies and turning them into boats, it being thought + +probable that two or three days would be required to make +the crossing in this way. By noon of the following day our +rude boats were ready and our work began.</p> + +<p>I was not yet strong enough to be of much assistance, so I +sat on the bank watching the busy scene. Our men were +stripped to the skin, some of the mountaineers brown almost +as Indians, for even in those days white hunters often rode +with no covering but the blanket, and not that when the sun +was warm. They were now in, now out of the water, straining +at the lines which steadied the rude boxes that bore our +goods, pulling at the heads of the horses and mules, shouting, +steadying, encouraging, always getting forward. It took +them nearly an hour to make the first crossing, and presently +we could see the fire of their farther camp, now occupied by +some of those not engaged in the work.</p> + +<p>As I sat thus I was joined by Mandy McGovern, who +pulled out her contemplative pipe. "Did you see my boy, +Andy Jackson?" she asked. "He went acrost with the first +bunch—nary stitch of clothes on to him. He ain't much +thicker'n a straw, but say—he was a-rastlin' them mules and +a-swearin' like a full-growed man! I certainly have got hopes +that boy's goin' to come out all right. Say, I heerd him tell +the cook this mornin' he wasn't goin' to take no more sass +off n him. I has hopes—I certainly has hopes, that Andrew +Jackson '11 kill a man some time yit; and like enough it'll be +right soon."</p> + +<p>I gave my assent to this amiable hope, and presently +Mandy went on.</p> + +<p>"But say, man, you and me has got to get that girl acrost +somehow, between us. You know her and me—and sometimes +that Englishman—travels along in the amberlanch. + +She's allowed to me quiet that when the time come for her +to go acrost, she'd ruther you and me went along. She's all +ready now, if you air."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said I, "we'll go now—they've got a fire +there, and are cooking, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Mandy left me, and I went for my own horse. Presently +we three, all mounted, met at the bank. Taking the girl +between us, Mandy and I started, and the three horses +plunged down the bank. As it chanced, we struck a deep +channel at the send-off, and the horses were at once separated. +The girl was swept out of her saddle, but before I +could render any assistance she called out not to be alarmed. +I saw that she was swimming, down stream from the horse, +with one hand on the pommel. Without much concern, she +reached footing on the bar at which the horse scrambled up.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm good and wet," laughed she. "It won't make +any difference after this. I see now how the squaws do."</p> + +<p>We plunged on across the stream, keeping our saddles for +most of the way, sometimes in shallow water, sometimes on +dry, sandy bars, and now and again in swift, swirling channels; +but at last we got over and fell upon the steaks of buffalo +and the hot coffee which we found at the fire. The girl +presently left us to make such changes in her apparel as she +might. Mandy and I were left alone once more.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me like it certainly is too bad," said she bitterly, +over her pipe stem, "that there don't seem to be no +real man around nowhere fittin' to marry a real woman. +That gal's good enough for a real man, like my first husband +was."</p> + +<p>"What could he do?" I asked her, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Snuff a candle at fifty yards, or drive a nail at forty. + +He nach'elly scorned to bring home a squirrel shot back of +the ears. He killed four men in fair knife fightin', an' +each time come free in co'te. He was six foot in the clean, +could hug like a bar, and he wa'n't skeered of anything that +drawed the breath of life."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Aunt Mandy," I said, "tell me how he came +courting you, anyway."</p> + +<p>"He never did no great at co'tin'," said she, grinning. +"He just come along, an' he sot eyes on me. Then he sot +eyes on me again. I sot eyes on him, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"One evenin', says he, 'Mandy, gal, I'm goin' to marry +you all right soon.'</p> + +<p>"Says I, '<em>No</em>, you ain't!'</p> + +<p>"Says he, '<em>Yes</em>, I air!' I jest laughed at him then and +started to run away, but he jumped and ketched me—I told +you he could hug like a bar. Mebbe I wasn't hard to ketch. +Then he holds me right tight, an' says he,' Gal, quit this here +foolin'. I'm goin' to marry you, you hear!—then maybe he +kisses me—law! I dunno! Whut business is it o' yourn, +anyhow? That's about all there was to it. I didn't seem +to keer. But that," she concluded, "was a real <em>man</em>. He +shore had my other two men plumb faded."</p> + +<p>"What became of your last husband, Mandy?" I asked, +willing to be amused for a time. "Did he die?"</p> + +<p>"Nope, didn't die."</p> + +<p>"Divorced, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Deevorced, hell! No, I tole you, I up an' left him."</p> + +<p>"Didn't God join you in holy wedlock, Mandy?"</p> + +<p>"No, it was the Jestice of the Peace."</p> + +<p>"Ah?"</p> + + +<p>"Yep. And them ain't holy none—leastways in Missouri. +But say, man, look yere, it ain't God that marries +folks, and it ain't Jestices of the Peace—it's <em>theirselves</em>."</p> + +<p>I pondered for a moment. "But your vow—your promise?"</p> + +<p>"My promise? Whut's the word of a woman to a man? +Whut's the word of a man to a woman? It ain't words, +man, it's <em>feelin's</em>."</p> + +<p>"In sickness or in health?" I quoted.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, if your <em>feelin's</em> is all right. The Church +is all right, too. I ain't got no kick. All I'm sayin' to you +is, folks marries <em>theirselves</em>."</p> + +<p>I pondered yet further. "Mandy," said I, "suppose you +were a man, and your word was given to a girl, and you met +another girl and couldn't get her out of your head, or out of +your heart—you loved the new one most and knew you +always would—what would you do?"</p> + +<p>But the Sphinx of womanhood may lie under linsey-woolsey +as well as silk. "Man," said she, rising and knocking +her pipe against her bony knee, "you talk like a fool. If +my first husband was alive, he might maybe answer that for +you."</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_24"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXIII - Issue Joined</h2> + + +<p>Later in the evening, Mandy McGovern having left +me, perhaps for the purpose of assisting her protégée +in the somewhat difficult art of drying buckskin +clothing, I was again alone on the river bank, idly +watching the men out on the bars, struggling with their +teams and box boats. Orme had crossed the river some +time earlier, and now he joined me at the edge of our disordered +camp.</p> + +<p>"How is the patient getting along?" he inquired. I replied, +somewhat surlily, I fear, that I was doing very well, +and thenceforth intended to ride horseback and to comport +myself as though nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>"I am somewhat sorry to hear that," said he, still smiling +in his own way. "I was in hopes that you would be disposed +to turn back down the river, if Belknap would spare +you an escort east."</p> + +<p>I looked at him in surprise. "I don't in the least understand +why I should be going east, when my business lies in +precisely the opposite direction," I remarked, coolly.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, I will make myself plain," he went on, +seating himself beside me. "Granted that you will get well +directly—which is very likely, for the equal of this Plains +air for surgery does not exist in the world—I may perhaps +point out to you that at least your injury might serve as an + +explanation—as an excuse—you might put it that way—for +your going back home. I thought perhaps that your +duty lay there as well."</p> + +<p>"You become somewhat interested in my affairs, Mr. +Orme?"</p> + +<p>"Very much so, if you force me to say it."</p> + +<p>"I think they need trouble you no farther."</p> + +<p>"I thought that possibly you might be sensible of a certain +obligation to me," he began.</p> + +<p>"I am deeply sensible of it. Are you pleased to tell me +what will settle this debt between us?"</p> + +<p>He turned squarely toward me and looked me keenly in +the eye. "I have told you. Turn about and go home. +That is all."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"But I understand your position perfectly."</p> + +<p>"Meaning?"</p> + +<p>"That your affections are engaged with a highly respectable +young lady back at your home in Virginia. Wait—" +he raised his hand as I turned toward him. "Meaning also," +he went on, "that your affections are apparently also somewhat +engaged with an equally respectable young lady who is +not back home in Virginia. Therefore—"</p> + +<p>He caught my wrist in a grip of steel as I would have +struck him. I saw then that I still was weak.</p> + +<p>"Wait," he said, smiling coldly. "Wait till you are +stronger."</p> + +<p>"You are right," I said, "but we shall settle these matters."</p> + +<p>"That, of course. But in the meantime, I have only suggested +to you that could you agree with me in my point of +view our obligation as it stands would be settled."</p> + + +<p>"Orme," said I, suddenly, "your love is a disgrace to any +woman."</p> + +<p>"Usually," he admitted, calmly, "but not in this case. I +propose to marry Miss Meriwether; and I tell you frankly, +I do not propose to have anything stand in my way."</p> + +<p>"Then, by God!" I cried, "take her. Why barter and +dicker over any woman with another man? The field is +open. Do what you can. I know that is the way I'd +do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly; but one needs all his chances even in an +open field, in a matter so doubtful as this. I thought that I +would place it before you—knowing your situation back in +Virginia—and ask you—"</p> + +<p>"Orme," said I, "one question—Why did you not kill me +the other day when you could? Your tracks would have been +covered. As it is, I may later have to uncover some tracks +for you."</p> + +<p>"I preferred it the other way," he remarked, still smiling +his inscrutable smile.</p> + +<p>"You surely had no scruples about it."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I'd as soon have killed you as to have +taken a drink of water. But I simply love to play any kind +of game that tests me, tries me, puts me to my utmost mettle. +I played that game in my own way."</p> + +<p>"I was never very subtle," I said to him simply.</p> + +<p>"No, on the contrary, you are rather dull. I dared not +kill you—it would have been a mistake in the game. It +would have cost me her sympathy at once. Since I did not, +and since, therefore, you owe me something for that fact, +what do you say about it yourself, my friend?"</p> + +<p>I thought for a long time, my head between my hands, + +before I answered him. "That I shall pay you some day +Orme, but not in any such way as you suggest."</p> + +<p>"Then it is to be war?" he asked, quietly.</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. "You heard me."</p> + +<p>"Very well!" he replied, calmly, after a while. "But +listen. I don't forget. If I do not have my pay voluntarily +in the way I ask, I shall some day collect it in my own +fashion."</p> + +<p>"As you like. But we Cowles men borrow no fears very +far in advance."</p> + +<p>Orme rose and stood beside me, his slender figure resembling +less that of a man than of some fierce creature, +animated by some uncanny spirit, whose motives did not +parallel those of human beings. "Then, Mr. Cowles, you +do not care to go back down the valley, and to return to the +girl in Virginia?"</p> + +<p>"You are a coward to make any such request."</p> + +<p>His long white teeth showed as he answered. "Very +well," he said. "It is the game. Let the best man win. +Shall it then be war?"</p> + +<p>"Let the best man win," I answered. "It is war."</p> + +<p>We both smiled, each into the other's face.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_25"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXIV - Forsaking All Others</h2> + + +<p>When finally our entire party had been gotten +across the Platte, and we had resumed our westward +journey, the routine of travel was, for the +time, broken, and our line of march became somewhat scattered +across the low, hilly country to which we presently +came. For my own part, our progress seemed too slow, +and mounting my horse, I pushed on in advance of the +column, careless of what risk this might mean in an Indian +country. I wished to be alone; and yet I wished to be not +alone. I hoped that might occur which presently actually +did happen.</p> + +<p>It was early in the afternoon when I heard her horse's feet +coming up behind me as I rode. She passed me at a gallop; +laughing back as though in challenge, and so we raced on for +a time, until we quite left out of sight behind us the remainder +of our party. Ellen Meriwether was a Virginia girl with +Western experience, and it goes without saying that she rode +well—of course in the cavalry saddle and with the cross seat. +Her costume still was composed of the somewhat shriveled +and wrinkled buckskins which had been so thoroughly wetted +in crossing the river. I noticed that she had now even discarded +her shoes, and wore the aboriginal costume almost in +full, moccasins and all, her gloves and hat alone remaining +to distinguish her in appearance at a distance from a native + +woman of the Plains. The voluminous and beruffled skirts +of the period, and that feminine monstrosity of the day, the +wide spreading crinoline, she had left far behind her at the +Missouri River. Again the long curls, which civilization at +that time decreed, had been forgotten. Her hair at the front +and sides half-waved naturally, but now, instead of neck +curls or the low dressing of the hair which in those days +partly covered the fashionable forehead, she had, like a native +woman, arranged her hair in two long braids. Her hat, no +longer the flat straw or the flaring, rose-laden bonnet of the +city, was now simply a man's cavalry hat, and almost her +only mark of coquetry was the rakish cockade which confined +it at one side. Long, heavy-hooped earrings such as women +at that time wore, and which heretofore I had never known +her to employ, she now disported. Brown as her face was +now becoming, one might indeed, at a little distance, have +suspected her to be rather a daughter of the Plains than a +belle of civilization. I made some comment on this. She +responded by sitting the more erect in her saddle and drawing +a long, deep breath.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall throw away my gloves," she said, "and +hunt up some brass bracelets. I grow more Indian every +day. Isn't it glorious, here on the Plains? Isn't it <em>glorious</em>!"</p> + +<p>It so seemed to me, and I so advised her, saying I wished +the western journey might be twice as long.</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Orme was saying that he rather thought you +might take an escort and go back down the river."</p> + +<p>"I wish Mr. Orme no disrespect," I answered, "but +neither he nor any one else regulates my travel. I have +already told you how necessary it was for me to see your +father, Colonel Meriwether."</p> + + +<p>"Yes, I remember. But tell me, why did not your father +himself come out?"</p> + +<p>I did not answer her for a time. "My father is dead," +I replied finally.</p> + +<p>I saw her face flush in quick trouble and embarrassment. +"Why did you not tell me? I am so sorry! I beg your +pardon."</p> + +<p>"No," I answered quietly, "we Quakers never wish to +intrude our own griefs, or make any show of them. I should +have told you, but there were many other things that prevented +for the time." Then, briefly, I reviewed the happenings +that had led to my journey into the West. Her +sympathy was sweet to me.</p> + +<p>"So now, you see, I ought indeed to return," I concluded, +"but I can not. We shall be at Laramie now very soon. +After that errand I shall go back to Virginia."</p> + +<p>"And that will be your home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said bitterly. "I shall settle down and become +a staid old farmer. I shall be utterly cheerless."</p> + +<p>"You must not speak so. You are young."</p> + +<p>"But you," I ventured, "will always live with the Army?"</p> + +<p>"Why, our home is in Virginia, too, over in old Albemarle, +though we don't often see it. I have been West since +I came out of school, pretty much all the time, and unless +there should be a war I suppose I shall stay always out here +with my father. My mother died when I was very young."</p> + +<p>"And you will never come back to quiet old Virginia, +where plodding farmers go on as their fathers did a hundred +years ago?"</p> + +<p>She made no immediate answer, and when she did, apparently +mused on other things. "The Plains," she said, + +"how big—how endless they are! Is it not all wild and +free?"</p> + +<p>Always she came back to that same word "free." Always +she spoke of wildness, of freedom.</p> + +<p>"For all one could tell, there might be lions and tigers +and camels and gazelles out there." She gestured vaguely +toward the wide horizon. "It is the desert."</p> + +<p>We rode on for a time, silent, and I began to hum to myself +the rest of the words of an old song, then commonly +heard:</p> + +<div class="lg"> +<p class="l">"O come with me, and be my love,</p> +<p class="l">For thee the jungle's depths I'll rove.</p> +<p class="l">I'll chase the antelope over the plain,</p> +<p class="l">And the tiger's cub I'll bind with a chain,</p> +<p class="l">And the wild gazelle with the silvery feet</p> +<p class="l">I'll give to thee for a playmate sweet."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Poets," said I, "can very well sing about such things, +but perhaps they could not practice all they sing. They +always—"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she whispered, drawing her horse gently down +to a walk, and finally to a pause. "Look! Over there is +one of the wild gazelles."</p> + +<p>I followed the direction of her eyes and saw, peering +curiously down at us from beyond the top of a little ridge, +something like a hundred yards away, the head, horns, and +neck of a prong-horn buck, standing facing us, and seeming +not much thicker than a knife blade. Her keen eyes caught +this first; my own, I fancy, being busy elsewhere. At once +I slipped out of my saddle and freed the long, heavy rifle +from its sling. I heard her voice, hard now with eagerness. +I caught a glance at her face, brown between her braids. +She was a savage woman!</p> + + +<p>"Quick!" she whispered. "He'll run."</p> + +<p>Eager as she, but deliberately, I raised the long barrel to +line and touched the trigger. I heard the thud of the ball +against the antelope's shoulder, and had no doubt that we +should pick it up dead, for it disappeared, apparently end +over end, at the moment of the shot. Springing into the +saddle, I raced with my companion to the top of the ridge. +But, lo! there was the antelope two hundred yards away, +and going as fast on three legs as our horses were on +four.</p> + +<p>"Ride!" she called. "Hurry!" And she spurred off at +breakneck speed in pursuit, myself following, both of us +now forgetting poesy, and quite become creatures of the +chase.</p> + +<p>The prong-horn, carrying lead as only the prong-horn +can, kept ahead of us, ridge after ridge, farther and farther +away, mile after mile, until our horses began to blow heavily, +and our own faces were covered with perspiration. Still we +raced on, neck and neck, she riding with hands low and +weight slightly forward, workmanlike as a jockey. Now and +again I heard her call out in eagerness.</p> + +<p>We should perhaps have continued this chase until one +or the other of the horses dropped, but now her horse picked +up a pebble and went somewhat lame. She pulled up and +told me to ride on alone. After a pause I slowly approached +the top of the next ridge, and there, as I more than half suspected, +I saw the antelope lying down, its head turned back. +Eager to finish the chase, I sprang down, carelessly neglecting +to throw the bridle rein over my horse's head. Dropping +flat, I rested on my elbow and fired carefully once more. +This time the animal rolled over dead. I rose, throwing up + +my hat with a shout of victory, and I heard, shrilling to me +across the distance, her own cry of exultation, as that of +some native woman applauding a red hunter.</p> + +<p>Alas for our joy of victory! Our success was our undoing. +The very motion of my throwing up my hat, boyish +as it was, gave fright to my horse, already startled by the +shot. He flung up his head high, snorted, and was off, fast +as he could go. I followed him on foot, rapidly as I could, +but he would none of that, and was all for keeping away +from me at a safe distance. This the girl saw, and she rode +up now, springing down and offering me her horse.</p> + +<p>"Stay here," I called to her as I mounted. "I'll be back +directly"; and then with such speed as I could spur out of +my new mount, I started again after the fugitive.</p> + +<p>It was useless. Her horse, already lame and weary, and +further handicapped by my weight, could not close with the +free animal, and without a rope to aid me in the capture, it +would have been almost impossible to have stopped him, +even had I been able to come alongside. I headed him time +and again, and turned him, but it was to no purpose. At +last I suddenly realized that I had no idea how far I had +gone or in what direction. I must now think of my companion. +Never was more welcome sight than when I saw +her on a distant ridge, waving her hat. I gave up the chase +and returned to her, finding that in her fatigue she had sunk +to the ground exhausted. She herself had run far away +from the spot where I had left 'her.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid," she panted. "I followed. Can't you +catch him?"</p> + +<p>"No," said I, "he's gone. He probably will go back to +the trail."</p> + + +<p>"No," she said, "they run wild, sometimes. But now +what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>I looked at her in anxiety. I had read all my life of being +afoot on the Plains. Here was the reality.</p> + +<p>"But you are hurt," she cried. "Look, your wound is +bleeding."</p> + +<p>I had not known it, but my neck was wet with blood.</p> + +<p>"Get up and ride," she said. "We must be going." +But I held the stirrup for her instead, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Mount!" I said, and so I put her up.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go back to camp?" she asked in some perturbation, +apparently forgetting that there was no camp, and that +by this time the wagons would be far to the west. For reasons +of my own I thought it better to go back to the dead +antelope, and so I told her.</p> + +<p>"It is over there," she said, pointing in the direction from +which she thought she had come. I differed with her, remembering +I had ridden with the sun in my face when following it, +and remembering the shape of the hilltop near by. Finally +my guess proved correct, and we found the dead animal, +nearly a mile from where she had waited for me. I hurried +with the butchering, cutting the loin well forward, and rolling +it all tight in the hide, bound the meat behind the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Now, shall we go back?" she asked. "If we rode opposite +to the sun, we might strike the trail. These hills look +all alike."</p> + +<p>"The river runs east and west," I said, "so we might +perhaps better strike to the southward."</p> + +<p>"But I heard them say that the river bends far to the +south not far from where we crossed. We might parallel +the river if we went straight south."</p> + + +<p>"But does not the trail cut off the bend, and run straight +west?" I rejoined. Neither of us knew that the course of +the north fork ran thence far to the northwest and quite +away from the trail to Laramie.</p> + +<p>Evidently our council was of little avail. We started +southwest as nearly as we could determine it, and I admit +that grave anxiety had now settled upon me. In that monotonous +country only the sun and the stars might guide +one. Now, hard as it was to admit the thought, I realized +that we would be most fortunate if we saw the wagons again +that night. I had my watch with me, and with this I made +the traveler's compass, using the dial and the noon mark to +orient myself; but this was of small assistance, for we were +not certain of the direction of the compass in which the +trail lay. As a matter of fact, it is probable that we went +rather west than southwest, and so paralleled both the trail +and the river for more than a dozen miles that afternoon. +The girl's face was very grave, and now and again she watched +me walking or trotting alongside at such speed as I could +muster. My clothing was covered with blood from my +wound.</p> + +<p>I looked always for some little rivulet which I knew must +lead us to the Platte, but we struck no running water until +late that evening, and then could not be sure that we had +found an actual water course. There were some pools of +water standing in a coulee, at whose head grew a clump of +wild plum trees and other straggly growth. At least here +was water and some sort of shelter. I dared go no farther.</p> + +<p>Over in the west I saw rising a low, black bank of clouds. +A film was coming across the sky. Any way I looked I +could see no break, no landmark, no trend of the land which + +could offer any sort of guidance. I wished myself all places +in the world but there, and reproached myself bitterly that +through my clumsiness I had brought the girl into such a +situation.</p> + +<p>"Miss Meriwether," I said to her finally, putting my hand +on the pommel of her saddle as we halted, "it's no use. We +might as well admit it; we are lost."</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_26"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXV - Cleaving Only Unto Her.</h2> + + +<p>She made no great outcry. I saw her bend her face +forward into her hands.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" she asked at length.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said I to her soberly; "but since there +is water here and a little shelter, it is my belief that we ought +to stop here for the night."</p> + +<p>She looked out across the gray monotony that surrounded +us, toward the horizon now grown implacable and ominous. +Her eyes were wide, and evidently she was pondering matters +in her mind. At last she turned to me and held out her +hands for me to assist her in dismounting.</p> + +<p>"John Cowles, <em>of Virginia</em>," she said, "I am sorry we +are lost."</p> + +<p>I could make no answer, save to vow silently that if I +lived she must be returned safely to her home, unhurt body +and soul. I dared not ponder on conventions in a case so +desperate as I knew ours yet might be. Silently I unsaddled +the horse and hobbled it securely as I might with the +bridle rein. Then I spread the saddle blanket for her to +sit upon, and hurried about for Plains fuel. Water we drank +from my hat, and were somewhat refreshed. Now we had +food and water. We needed fire. But this, when I came to +fumble in my pockets, seemed at first impossible, for I found +not a match.</p> + + +<p>"I was afraid of that," she said, catching the meaning of +my look. "What shall we do? We shall starve!"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said I, stoutly. "We are good Indians +enough to make a fire, I hope."</p> + +<p>In my sheath was a heavy hunting knife; and now, searching +about us on the side of the coulee bank, I found several +flints, hard and white. Then I tore out a bit of my coat +lining and moistened it a trifle, and saturated it with powder +from my flask, rubbed in until it all was dry. This niter-soaked +fabric I thought might serve as tinder for the spark. +So then I struck flint and steel, and got the strange spark, +hidden in the cold stone ages and ages there on the Plains; +and presently the spark was a little flame, and then a good +fire, and so we were more comfortable.</p> + +<p>We roasted meat now, flat on the coals, the best we might, +and so we ate, with no salt to aid us. The girl became a +trifle more cheerful, though still distant and quiet. If I +rose to leave the fire for an instant, I saw her eyes following +me all the time. I knew her fears, though she did not complain.</p> + +<p>Man is the most needful of all the animals, albeit the most +resourceful. We needed shelter, and we had none. Night +came on. The great gray wolves, haunters of the buffalo +herds, roared their wild salute to us, savage enough to strike +terror to any woman's soul. The girl edged close to me as +the dark came down. We spoke but little. Our dangers +had not yet made us other than conventional.</p> + +<p>Now, worst of all, the dark bank of cloud arose and blotted +out all the map of the stars. The sun scarce had sunk before +a cold breath, silent, with no motion in its coming, +swept across or settled down upon the Plains. The little + +grasses no longer stirred in the wind. The temperature +mysteriously fell more and more, until it was cold, very +cold. And those pale, heatless flames, icy as serpent tongues +played along the darkening heavens, and mocked at us who +craved warmth and shelter. I felt my own body shiver. +She looked at me startled.</p> + +<p>"You are cold," said she.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered, "only angry because I am so weak." +We sat silent for very long intervals. At length she raised +her hand and pointed.</p> + +<p>Even as dusk sank upon us, all the lower sky went black. +An advancing roar came upon our ears. And then a blinding +wave of rain drove across the surface of the earth, wiping +out the day, beating down with remorseless strength and +volume as though it would smother and drown us twain in +its deluge—us, the last two human creatures of the world!</p> + +<p>It caught us, that wave of damp and darkness, and rolled +over us and crushed us down as we cowered. I caught up +the blanket from the ground and pulled it around the girl's +shoulders. I drew her tight to me as I lay with my own +back to the storm, and pulled the saddle over her head, +with this and my own body keeping out the tempest from +her as much as I could. There was no other fence for her, +and but for this she might perhaps have died; I do not know. +I felt her strain at my arms first, then settle back and sink +her head under the saddle flap and cower close like some +little schoolfellow, all the curves of her body craving shelter, +comfort, warmth. She shivered terribly. I heard her gasp +and sob. Ah, how I pitied her that hour!</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image6.png" alt="Colonel Meriweather Expresses His Thanks For The Rescue Of His Daughter"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Colonel Meriweather Expresses His Thanks For The +Rescue Of His Daughter</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image7.png" alt="Orme Testifies That He Heard John And The Colonel Quarreling"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">Orme Testifies That He Heard John And The Colonel +Quarreling</p> + +<p>Our fire was gone at the first sweep of the storm, which +raged thunderously by, with heavy feet, over the echoing + +floor of the world. There came other fires, such blazes and +explosions of pale balls of electricity as I had never dreamed +might be, with these detonations of pent-up elemental wrath +such as I never conceived might have existence under any +sky. Night, death, storm, the strength of the elements, all +the primeval factors of the world and life were upon us, +testing us, seeking to destroy us, beating upon us, freezing, +choking, blinding us, leaving us scarce animate.</p> + +<p>Yet not destroying us. Still, somewhere under the huddle +and draggle of it all burned on the human soul. The steel +in my belt was cold, but it had held its fire. The ice in the +flints about us held fire also in its depths. Fire was in our +bodies, the fire of life—indomitable, yearning—in our two +bodies. So that which made the storm test us and try us +and seek to slay us, must perhaps have smiled grimly as it +howled on and at length disappeared, baffled by the final +success of the immutable and imperishable scheme. The +fire in our two bodies still was there.</p> + +<p>As the rain lessened, and the cold increased, I knew that +rigors would soon come upon us. "We must walk," I said. +"You shiver, you freeze."</p> + +<p>"You tremble," she said. "You are cold. You are very +cold."</p> + +<p>"Walk, or we die," I gasped; and so I led her at last +lower down the side of the ravine, where the wind was not +so strong.</p> + +<p>"We must run," I said, "or we shall die." I staggered as +I ran. With all my soul I challenged my weakness, summoning +to my aid that reserve of strength I had always +known each hour in my life. Strangely I felt—how I cannot +explain—that she must be saved, that she was I. Strange + +phrases ran through my brain. I remembered only one, +"Cleaving only unto her"; and this, in my weakened frame +of body and mind, I could not separate from my stern prayer +to my own strength, once so ready, now so strangely departed +from me.</p> + +<p>We ran as we might, back and forward on the slippery +mud, scrambled up and down, panting, until at length our +hearts began to beat more quickly, and the love of life came +back strongly, and the unknown, mysterious fire deep down +somewhere, inscrutable, elemental, began to flicker up once +more, and we were saved—saved, we two savages, we two +primitive human beings, the only ones left alive after the +deluge which had flooded all the earth—left alive to begin +the world all over again.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_27"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXVI - In Sickness And In Health</h2> + + +<p>To the delirious or the perishing man, time has +no measuring. I do not know how we spent the +night, or how long it was. Some time it became +morning, if morning might be called this gray and cheerless +lifting of the gloom, revealing to us the sodden landscape, +overcast with still drizzling skies which blotted out each ray +of sunlight.</p> + +<p>Search what way I might, I could find nothing to relieve +our plight. I knew that Auberry would before this time +have gone back to follow our trail, perhaps starting after us +even before night had approached; but now the rain had +blotted out all manner of trails, so rescue from that source +was not to be expected. Not even we ourselves could tell +where we had wandered, nor could we, using the best of our +wits as we then had them, do more than vaguely guess where +our fellow travelers by that time might be. Neither did we +know distance nor direction of any settlement. What geography +we thought right was altogether wrong. The desert, +the wilderness, had us in its grip.</p> + +<p>We sat, draggled and weary, at the shoulder of the little +ravine, haggard and worn by the long strain. Her skin garments, +again wet through, clung tight to her figure, uncomfortably. +Now and again I could see a tremor running +through her body from the chill. Yet as I looked at her I + +could not withhold my homage to her spirit. She was a +splendid creature, so my soul swore to me, thoroughbred as +any in all the world. Her chin was high, not drawn down +in defeat. I caught sight of her small ear, flat to the head, +pink with cold, but the ear of a game creature. Her nose, +not aquiline, not masculine, still was not weak. Her chin, +as I remember I noted even then, was strong, but lean and +not over-laden with flesh. Her mouth, not thin-lipped and +cold, yet not too loose and easy, was now plaintive as it was +sweet in its full, red Cupid bow. Round and soft and gentle +she seemed, yet all the lines of her figure, all the features +of her face, betokened bone and breeding. The low-cut +Indian shirt left her neck bare. I could see the brick red +line of the sunburn creeping down; but most I noted, since +ever it was my delight to trace good lineage in any creature, +the splendid curve of her neck, not long and weak, not short +and animal, but round and strong—perfect, I was willing to +call that and every other thing about her.</p> + +<p>She turned to me after a time and smiled wanly. "I am +hungry," she said.</p> + +<p>"We shall make a fire," I answered. "But first I must +wait until my coat dries. The lining is wet, and we have no +tinder. The bark is wet on the little trees; each spear of +grass is wet."</p> + +<p>Then I bethought me of an old expedient my father had +once shown me. At the bandolier across my shoulder swung +my bullet pouch and powder flask, in the former also some +bits of tow along with the cleaning worm. I made a loose +wad of the tow kept thus dry in the shelter of the pouch, and +pushed this down the rifle barrel, after I had with some +difficulty discharged the load already there. Then I rubbed + +a little more powder into another loose wad of tow, and fired +the rifle into this. As luck would have it, some sparks still +smoldered in the tow, and thus I was able once more to +nurse up a tiny flame. I never knew before how comforting +a fire might be. So now again we ate, and once more, as +the hours advanced, we felt strength coming to us. Yet, in +spite of the food, I was obliged to admit a strange aching in +my head, and a hot fever burning in my bones.</p> + +<p>"See the poor horse," she said, and pointed to our single +steed, humped up in the wind, one hip high, his head low, +all dejection.</p> + +<p>"He must eat," said I, and so started to loosen his hobble. +Thus engaged I thought to push on toward the top of the +next ridge to see what might be beyond. What I saw was +the worst thing that could have met my eyes. I sank down +almost in despair.</p> + +<p>There, on a flat valley nearly a mile away in its slow descent, +stood the peaked tops of more than a score of Indian +tepees. Horses were scattered all about. From the tops of +the lodges little dribbles of smoke were coming. The wet of +the morning kept the occupants within, but here and there +a robed figure stalked among the horses.</p> + +<p>I gazed through the fringe of grasses at the top of the ridge, +feeling that now indeed our cup of danger well-nigh was full. +For some moments I lay examining the camp, seeking to +divine the intent of these people, whom I supposed to be +Sioux. The size of the encampment disposed me to think +that it was a hunting party and not an expedition out for +war. I saw meat scaffolds, as I supposed, and strips of +meat hanging over ropes strung here and there; although of +this I could not be sure.</p> + + +<p>I turned as I heard a whisper at my shoulder. "What is +it?" she asked me; and then the next moment, gazing as I +did over the ridge, she saw. I felt her cower close to me in +her instant terror. "My God!" she murmured, "what shall +we do? They will find us; they will kill us!"</p> + +<p>"Wait, now," said I. "They have not yet seen us. They +may go away in quite the other direction. Do not be +alarmed."</p> + +<p>We lay there looking at this unwelcome sight for some +moments, but at last I saw something which pleased me +better.</p> + +<p>The men among the horses stopped, looked, and began to +hurry about, began to lead up their horses, to gesticulate. +Then, far off upon the other side, I saw a blanket waving.</p> + +<p>"It is the buffalo signal," I said to her. "They are going +to hunt, and their hunt will be in the opposite direction from +us. That is good."</p> + +<p>We crept back from the top of the ridge, and I asked her +to bring me the saddle blanket while I held the horse. This +I bound fast around the horse's head.</p> + +<p>"Why do you blind the poor fellow?" she inquired, "He +cannot eat, he will starve. Besides, we ought to be getting +away from here as fast as we can."</p> + +<p>"I tie up his head so that he cannot see, or smell, and so +fall to neighing to the other horses," I explained to her. +"As to getting away, our trail would show plainly on this wet +ground. All the trail we left yesterday has been wiped out; +so that here is our very safest place, if they do not happen to +run across the head of this little draw. Besides, we can still +eat; and besides again—" perhaps I staggered a little as +I stood.</p> + + +<p>"You are weak!" she exclaimed. "You are ill!"</p> + +<p>"I must admit," said I, "that I could probably not travel +far. If I dared tell you to go on alone and leave me, I +would command you to do so."</p> + +<p>Her face was pale. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Is it +a fever? Is it your wound again?"</p> + +<p>"It is fever," I answered thickly. "My head is bad. I +do not see distinctly. If you please, I think I will lie down +for a time."</p> + +<p>I staggered blindly now as I walked. I felt her arm under +mine. She led me to our little fireside, knelt on the wet +ground beside me as I sat, my head hanging dully. I remember +that her hands were clasped. I recall the agony on +her face.</p> + +<p>The day grew warmer as the sun arose. The clouds hung +low and moved rapidly under the rising airs. Now and +again I heard faint sounds, muffled, far off. "They are +firing," I muttered. "They are among the buffalo. That +is good. Soon they will go away."</p> + +<p>I do not remember much of what I said after that, and +recall only that my head throbbed heavily, and that I wanted +to lie down and rest. And so, some time during that morning, +I suppose, I did lie down, and once more laid hold upon +the hand of Mystery.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to speak of what followed after that. For +me, a, merciful ignorance came; but what that poor girl +must have suffered, hour after hour, night after night, day +after day, alone, without shelter, almost without food, in +such agony of terror as might have been natural even had +her solitary protector been possessed of all his faculties—I +say I cannot dwell upon that, because it makes the cold + +sweat stand on my face even now to think of it. So I will +say only that one time I awoke. She told me later that she +did not know whether it was two or three days we had been +there thus. She told me that now and then she left me and +crept to the top of the ridge to watch the Indian camp. She +saw them come in from the chase, their horses loaded with +meat. Then, as the sun came out, they went to drying +meat, and the squaws began to scrape the hides. As they +had abundant food they did not hunt more than that one day, +and no one rode in our direction. Our horse she kept concealed +and blindfolded until dark, when she allowed him to +feed. This morning she had removed the blanket from his +head, because now, as she told me with exultation, the +Indians had broken camp, mounted and driven away, all of +them, far off toward the west. She had cut and dried the +remainder of our antelope meat, taking this hint from what +we saw the Indians doing, and so most of our remaining +meat had been saved.</p> + +<p>I looked at her now, idly, dully. I saw that her belt was +drawn tighter about a thinner waist. Her face was much +thinner and browner, her eyes more sunken. The white +strip of her lower neck was now brick red. I dared not ask +her how she had gotten through the nights, because she had +used the blanket to blindfold the horse. She had hollowed +out a place for my hips to lie more easily, and pulled grasses +for my bed. In all ways thoughtfulness and unselfishness +had been hers. As I realized this, I put my hands over my +face and groaned aloud. Then I felt her hand on my +head.</p> + +<p>"How did you eat?" I asked her. "You have no fire." +"Once I had a fire," she said. "I made it with flint and + +steel as I saw you do. See," she added, and pointed to a +ring of ashes, where there were bits of twigs and other fuel.</p> + +<p>"Now you must eat," she said. "You are like a shadow. +See, I have made you broth."</p> + +<p>"Broth?" said I. "How?"</p> + +<p>"In your hat," she said. "My father told me how the +Indians boil water with hot stones. I tried it in my own hat +first, but it is gone. A hot stone burned it through." Then +I noticed that she was bareheaded. I lay still for a time, +pondering feebly, as best I could, on the courage and resource +of this girl, who now no doubt had saved my life, +unworthy as it seemed to me. At last I looked up to her.</p> + +<p>"After all, I may get well," I said. "Go now to the thicket +at the head of the ravine, and see if there are any little cotton-wood +trees. Auberry told me that the inner bark is bitter. +It may act like quinine, and break the fever."</p> + +<p>So presently she came back with my knife and her hands +full of soft green bark which she had found. "It is bitter," +said she, "but if I boil it it will spoil your broth." I drank +of the crude preparation as best I might, and ate feebly as I +might at some of the more tender meat thus softened. And +then we boiled the bitter bark, and I drank that water, the +only medicine we might have. Alas! it was our last use of +my hat as a kettle, for now it, too, gave way.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said to me, "I must leave you for a time. +I am going over to the Indian camp to see what I can +find."</p> + +<p>She put my head in the saddle for a pillow, and gave me +the remnant of her hat for a shade. I saw her go away, clad +like an Indian woman, her long braids down her back, her +head bare, her face brown, her moccasined feet slipping + +softly over the grasses, the metals of her leggins tinkling. +My eyes followed her as long as she remained visible, and +it seemed to me hours before she returned. I missed her.</p> + +<p>She came back laughing and joyful. "See!" she exclaimed. +"Many things! I have found a knife, and I have found a +broken kettle; and here is an awl made from a bone; and here +is something which I think their women use in scraping +hides." She showed me all these things, last the saw-edged +bone, or scraping hoe of the squaws, used for dressing hides, +as she had thought.</p> + +<p>"Now I am a squaw," she said, smiling oddly. She stood +thoughtfully looking at these things for a time. "Yes," she +said, "we are savages now."</p> + +<p>I looked at her, but could see no despair on her face. "I +do not believe you are afraid," I said to her. "You are a +splendid creature. You are brave."</p> + +<p>She looked down at me at length as I lay. "Have courage, +John Cowles," she said. "Get well now soon, so that we +may go and hunt. Our meat is nearly gone."</p> + +<p>"But you do not despair," said I, wondering. She shook +her head.</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Are we not as well off as those?" she pointed +toward the old encampment of the Indians. A faint tinge +came to her cheeks. "It is strange," said she, "I feel as if +the world had absolutely come to an end, and yet—"</p> + +<p>"It is just beginning," said I to her. "We are alone. +This is the first garden of the world. You are the first +woman; I am the first cave man, and all the world depends +on us. See," I said—perhaps still a trifle confused in my +mind—"all the arts and letters of the future, all the paintings, +all the money and goods of all the world; all the peace and + +war, and all the happiness and content of the world rest with +us, just us two. We are the world, you and I."</p> + +<p>She sat thoughtful and silent for a time, a faint pink, as I +said, just showing on her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"John Cowles, of Virginia," she said simply, "now tell +me, how shall I mend this broken kettle?"</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_28"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXVII - With All My Worldly Goods I Thee Endow</h2> + + +<p>Poor, indeed, in worldly goods must be those to whom +the discarded refuse of an abandoned Indian camp +seems wealth. Yet such was the case with us, two +representatives of the higher civilization, thus removed from +that civilization by no more than a few days' span. As soon +as I was able to stand we removed our little encampment to +the ground lately occupied by the Indian village.</p> + +<p>We must have food, and I could not yet hunt. Here at +the camp we found some bits of dried meat. We found a +ragged and half-hairless robe, discarded by some squaw, +and to us it seemed priceless, for now we had a house by day +and a bed by night. A half-dozen broken lodge poles seemed +riches to us. We hoarded some broken moccasins which +had been thrown away. Like jackals we prowled around +the filth and refuse of this savage encampment—-we, so lately +used to all the comforts that civilization could give.</p> + +<p>In the minds of us both came a thought new to both—a +desire for food. Never before had we known how urgent is +this desire. How few, indeed, ever really know what hunger +is! If our great men, those who shape the destinies of a +people, could know what hunger means, how different would +be their acts! The trail of the lodge poles of these departing +savages showed where they had gone farther in their own +senseless pursuit of food, food. We also must eat. After + +that might begin all the deeds of the world. The surplus +beyond the necessary provender of the hour is what constitutes +the world's progress, its philosophy, its art, all its +stored material gains. We who sat there under the shade +of our ragged hide, gaunt, browned by the sun, hatless, ill-clad, +animals freed from the yoke of society, none the less +were not free from the yet more perpetual yoke of savagery.</p> + +<p>For myself, weakened by sickness, such food as we had +was of little service. I knew that I was starving, and feared +that she was doing little better. I looked at her that morning, +after we had propped up our little canopy of hide to +break the sun. Her face was clean drawn now into hard +lines of muscle. Her limbs lay straight and clean before +her as she sat, her hands lying in her lap as she looked out +across the plains. Her eyes were still brown and clear, her +figure still was that of woman; she was still sweet to look +upon, but her cheeks were growing hollow. I said to myself +that she suffered, that she needed food. Upon us rested +the fate of the earth, as it seemed to me. Unless presently I +could arise and kill meat for her, then must the world roll +void through the ether, unpeopled ever more.</p> + +<p>It was at that time useless for us to think of making our +way to any settlements or any human aid. The immediate +burden of life was first to be supported. And yet we were +unable to go out in search of food. I know not what thoughts +came to her mind as we sat looking out on the pictures o; +the mirage which the sun was painting on the desert landscape. +But, finally, as we gazed, there seemed, among these +weird images, one colossal tragic shape which moved, advanced, +changed definitely. Now It stood in giant stature, +and now dwindled, but always it came nearer. At last it + +darkened and denned and so disappeared beyond a blue +ridge not half a mile away from us. We realized at last that +it was a solitary buffalo bull, no doubt coming down to +water at a little coulee just beyond us. I turned to look at +her, and saw her eyes growing fierce. She reached back for +my rifle, and I arose.</p> + +<p>"Come," I said, and so we started. We dared not use +the horse in stalking our game.</p> + +<p>I could stand, I could walk a short way, but the weight of +this great rifle, sixteen pounds or more, which I had never +felt before, now seemed to crush me down. I saw that I +was starved, that the sap was gone from my muscles. I +could stagger but a few yards before I was obliged to stop +and put down the rifle. She came and put her arm about +me firmly, her face frowning and eager. But a tall man can +ill be aided by a woman of her stature.</p> + +<p>"Can you go?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No," said I, "I cannot; but I must and I shall." I put +away her arm from me, but in turn she caught up the rifle. +Even for this I was still too proud. "No," said I, "I have +always carried my own weapons thus far."</p> + +<p>"Come, then," she said, "this way"; and so caught the +muzzle of the heavy barrel and walked on, leaving me the +stock to support for my share of the weight. Thus we carried +the great rifle between us, and so stumbled on, until at +length the sun grew too warm for me, and I dropped, overcome +with fatigue. Patiently she waited for me, and so +we two, partners, mates, a man and a woman, primitive, the +first, went on little by little.</p> + +<p>I knew that the bull would in all likelihood stop near the +rivulet, for his progress seemed to indicate that he was very + +old or else wounded. Finally I could see his huge black +hump standing less than a quarter of a mile away from the +ridge where I last paused. I motioned to her, and she crept +to my side, like some desert creature. We were hunting +animals now, the two sexes of Man—nothing more.</p> + +<p>"Go," said I, motioning toward the rifle. "I am too +weak. I might miss. I can get no farther."</p> + +<p>She caught up the rifle barrel at its balancing point, +looked to the lock as a man might have done, and leaned +forward, eager as any man for the chase. There was no +fear in her eye.</p> + +<p>"Where shall I shoot it?" she whispered to me, as though +it might overhear her.</p> + +<p>"At the life, at the bare spot where his shoulder rubs, +very low down," I said to her. "And when you shoot, +drop and He still. He will soon lie down."</p> + +<p>Lithe, brown, sinuous, she crept rapidly away, and presently +was hid where the grass grew taller in the flat beyond. +The bull moved forward a little also, and I lost sight of both +for what seemed to me an unconscionable time. She told +me later that she crept close to the water hole and waited +there for the bull to come, but that he stood back and stared +ahead stupidly and would not move. She said she trembled +when at last he approached, so savage was his look. Even a +man might be smitten with terror at the fierce aspect of one +of these animals.</p> + +<p>But at last I heard the bitter crack of the rifle and, raising +my head, I saw her spring up and then drop down again. +Then, staggering a short way up the opposite slope, I saw +the slow bulk of the great black bull. He turned and looked +back, his head low, his eyes straight ahead. Then slowly + +he kneeled down, and so died, with his forefeet doubled +under him.</p> + +<p>She came running back to me, full of savage joy at her +Success, and put her arm under my shoulder and told me +to come. Slowly, fast as I could, I went with her to our +prey.</p> + +<p>We butchered our buffalo as Auberry had showed me, +from the backbone down, as he sat dead on his forearms, +splitting the skin along the spine, and laying it out for the +meat to rest upon. Again I made a fire by shooting a tow +wad into such tinder as we could arrange from my coat +lining, having dried this almost into flame by a burning-glass +I made out of a watch crystal filled with water, not in +the least a weak sort of lens. She ran for fuel, and for +water, and now we cooked and ate, the fresh meat seeming +excellent to me. Once more now we moved our camp, the +girl returning for the horse and our scanty belongings.</p> + +<p>Always now we ate, haggling out the hump ribs, the tongue, +the rich back fat; so almost immediately we began to gain +In strength. All the next day we worked as we could at +drying the meat, and taking the things we needed from the +carcass. We got loose one horn, drying one side of the head +in the fire. I saved carefully all the sinews of the back, +knowing we might need them. Then between us we scraped +At the two halves of the hide, drying it in the sun, fleshing it +with our little Indian hoe, and presently rubbing into it +brains from the head of the carcass, as the hide grew drier +in the sun. We were not yet skilled in tanning as the Indian +women are, but we saw that now we would have a house +and a bed apiece, and food, food. We broiled the ribs at +our fire, boiled the broken leg bones in our little kettle. We + +made fillets of hide to shade our eyes, she thus binding back +the long braids of her hair. We rested and were comforted. +Each hour, it seemed to me, she rounded and became more +beautiful, supple, young, strong—there, in the beginning of +the world. We were rich in these, our belongings, which +we shared.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_29"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXVIII - Till Death Do Part</h2> + + +<p>Hitherto, while I was weak, exhausted, and +unable to reason beyond the vague factors of +anxiety and dread, she had cared for me simply, +as though she were a young boy and I an older man. The +small details of our daily life she had assumed, because she +still was the stronger. Without plot or plan, and simply +through the stern command of necessity, our interests had +been identical, our plans covered us both as one. At night, +for the sake of warmth, we had slept closely, side by side, +both too weary and worn out to reason regarding that or +any other thing. Once, in the night, I know I felt her arm +across my face, upon my head her hand—she still sleeping, +and millions of miles away among the stars. I would not +have waked her.</p> + +<p>But now, behold the strange story of man's advance in +what he calls civilization. Behold what property means in +regard to what we call laws. We were rich now. We had +two pieces of robe instead of one. We might be two creatures +now, a man and a woman, a wall between, instead of +two suffering, perishing animals, with but one common +need, that of self-preservation. There were two houses now, +two beds; because this might be and still allow us to survive. +Our table was common, and that was all.</p> + + +<p>I grew stronger rapidly. In spite of my wish, my eyes +rested upon her; and thus I noticed that she had changed. +My little boy was no longer a little boy, but some strange +creature—I knew hot what—like to nothing I had ever seen +or known; like no woman of the towns, and no savage of +the plains, but better than both and different from either, +inscrutable, sweet, yes, and very sad. Often I saw tears +in her eyes.</p> + +<p>During that first night when we slept apart, the wolves +came very close to our meat heaps and set up their usual +roaring chorus. The terror of this she could not endure, +and so she came creeping with her half robe to my side +where I lay. That was necessary. Later that night when +she awoke under the shelter of her half hide, she found +me sitting awake, near the opening. But she would not +have me put over her my portion of the robe. She made of +our party two individuals, and that I must understand. I +must understand now that society was beginning again, and +law, and custom. My playfellow was gone. I liked scarce +so well this new creature, with the face of a Sphinx, the +form of a woman, the eyes of something hurt, that wept—that +wept, because of these results of my own awkwardness +and misfortunes.</p> + +<p>I say that I was growing stronger. At night, in front of +her poor shelter, I sat and thought, and looked out at the +stars. The stars said to me that life and desire were one, +that the world must go on, that all the future of the world +rested with us two. But at this I rebelled. "Ah, prurient +stars!" I cried, "and evil of mind! What matters it that +you suffer or that I suffer? Let the world end, yes, let the +world end before this strange new companion, gained in + +want, and poverty, and suffering, and now lost by reason of +comforts and health, shall shed one tear of suffering!"</p> + +<p>But sometimes, worn out by watching, I, too, must lie +down. Again, in her sleep, I felt her arm rest upon my +neck. Now, God give me what He listeth, but may not this +thing come to me again.</p> + +<p>For now, day by day, night by night, against all my will +and wish, against all my mind and resolution, I knew that +I was loving this new being with all my heart and all my +soul, forsaking all others, and that this would be until death +should us part. I knew that neither here nor elsewhere in +the world was anything which could make me whole of this—no +principles of duty or honor, no wish nor inclination +nor resolve!</p> + +<p>I had eaten. I loved. I saw what life is.</p> + +<p>I saw the great deceit of Nature. I saw her plan, her +wish, her merciless, pitiless desire; and seeing this, I smiled +slowly in the dark at the mockery of what we call civilization, +its fuss and flurry, its pretense, its misery. Indeed, we +are small, but life is not small. We are small, but love is +very large and strong, born as it is of the great necessity that +man shall not forget the world, that woman shall not rob the +race.</p> + +<p>For myself, I accepted my station in this plan, saying +nothing beyond my own soul. None the less, I said there +to my own soul, that this must be now, till death should +come to part us twain.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_30"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXIX - The Garden</h2> + + +<p>Soon now we would be able to travel; but whither, +and for what purpose? I began to shrink from the +thought of change. This wild world was enough +for me. So long as we might eat and sleep thus, and so long +as I might not lose sight of her, it seemed to me I could not +anywhere gain in happiness and content. Elsewhere I must +lose both.</p> + +<p>None the less we must travel. We had been absent now +from civilization some three weeks, and must have been +given up long since. Our party must have passed far to the +westward, and by this time our story was known at Laramie +and elsewhere. Parties were no doubt in search of us at +that time. But where should these search in that wilderness +of the unknown Plains. How should it be known that +we were almost within touch of the great highway of the +West, now again thronging with wagon trains? By force of +these strange circumstances which I have related we were +utterly gone, blotted out; our old world no longer existed for +us, nor we for it.</p> + +<p>As I argued to myself again and again, the laws and customs +of that forgotten world no longer belonged to us. We +must build laws again, laws for the good of the greatest +number. I can promise, who have been in place to know, +that in one month's time civilization shall utterly fade away + +from the human heart, that a new state of life shall within +that space enforce itself, so close lies the savage in us always +to the skin. This vast scheme of organized selfishness, which +is called civilization, shall within three weeks be forgot and +found useless, be rescinded as a contract between remaining +units of society. This vast fabric of waste and ruin known +as wealth shall be swept away at a breath within one month. +Then shall endure only the great things of life. Above those +shall stand two things—a woman and a man. Without these +society is not, these two, a woman and a man.</p> + +<p>So I would sit at night, nodding under the stars, and +vaguely dreaming of these matters, and things came to me +sweetly, things unknown in our ignorance and evil of mind, +as we live in what we call civilization. They would become +clear underneath the stars; and then the dawn would come, +and she would come and sit by me, looking out over the Plains +at the shimmering pictures. "What do you see?" she would +ask of me.</p> + +<p>"I see the ruins of that dome known as the capitol of our +nation," I said to her, "where they make laws. See, it is in +ruins, and what I see beyond is better."</p> + +<p>"Then what more do you see," she would ask.</p> + +<p>"I see the ruins of tall buildings of brick and iron, prisons +where souls are racked, and deeds of evil are done, and iron +sunk into human hearts, and vice and crime, and oppression +and wrong of life and love are wrought. These are in ruins, +and what I see beyond is better." Humoring me, she would +ask that I would tell her further what I saw.</p> + +<p>"I see the ruins of tall spires, where the truth was offered +by bold assertion. I see the ruins of religion, corrupt because +done for gain.</p> + + +<p>"I see houses also, much crowded, where much traffic and +bartering and evil was done, much sale of flesh and blood +and love and happiness, ruin, unhappiness. And what I see +now is far better than all that."</p> + +<p>"And then—" she whispered faintly, her hand upon my +sleeve, and looking out with me over the Plains, where the +mirage was wavering.</p> + +<p>"I see there," I said, and pointed it out to her, "only a +Garden, a vast, sweet Garden. And there arises a Tree—-one +Tree."</p> + +<p>This was my world. But she, looking out over the Plains, +still saw with the eye of yesterday. Upon woman the artificial +imprint of heredity is set more deeply than with man. +The commands of society are wrought into her soul.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_31"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXX - They Twain</h2> + + +<p>Even as we were putting together our small belongings +for the resumption of our journey, I looked up +and saw what I took to be a wolf, stalking along in +the grass near the edge of our encampment. I would have +shot it, but reflected that I must not waste a shot on wolves. +Advancing closer toward it, as something about its motions +attracted me, I saw it was a dog. It would not allow me to +approach, but as Ellen came it lay down in the grass, and +she got close to it.</p> + +<p>"It is sick," she said, "or hurt," and she tossed it a +bone.</p> + +<p>"Quick," I called out to her, "get it! Tame it. It is +worth more than riches to us, that dog."</p> + +<p>So she, coaxing it, at last got her hands upon its head, +though it would not wag its tail or make any sign of friendship. +It was a wolfish mongrel Indian dog. One side of +its head was cut or crushed, and it seemed that possibly some +squaw had struck it, with intent perhaps to put it into the +kettle, but with aim so bad that the victim had escaped.</p> + +<p>To savage man, a dog is of nearly as much use as a horse. +Now we had a horse and a dog, and food, and weapons, and +shelter. It was time we should depart, and we now were +well equipped to travel. But whither?</p> + + +<p>"It seems to me," said I, "that our safest plan is to keep +away from the Platte, where the Indians are more apt to be. +If we keep west until we reach the mountains, we certainly +will be above Laramie, and then if we follow south along the +mountains, we must strike the Platte again, and so find +Laramie, if we do not meet any one before that time." It +may be seen how vague was my geography in regard to a +region then little known to any.</p> + +<p>"My father will have out the whole Army looking for us," +said Ellen Meriwether to me. "We may be found any day."</p> + +<p>But for many a day we were not found. We traveled +westward day after day, she upon the horse, I walking with +the dog. We had a rude travois, which we forced our horse +to draw, and our little belongings we carried in a leathern +bag, slung between two lodge poles. The dog we did not +yet load, although the rubbed hair on his shoulders showed +that he was used to harness.</p> + +<p>At times on these high rolling plains we saw the buffalo, +and when our dried meat ran low I paused for food, not daring +to risk waste of our scanty ammunition at such hard +game as antelope. Once I lay at a path near a water hole in +the pocket of a half-dried stream, and killed two buffalo +cows. Here was abundant work for more than two days, +cutting, drying, scraping, feasting. Life began to run keen +in our veins, in spite of all. I heard her sing, that day, saw +her smile. Now our worldly goods were increasing, so I +cut down two lodge poles and made a little travois for the +dog. We had hides enough now for a small tent, needing +only sufficient poles.</p> + +<p>"Soon," said she to me, "we will be at Laramie."</p> + +<p>"Pray God," said I to myself, "that we never may see + +Laramie!" I have said that I would set down the truth. +And this is the truth; I was becoming a savage. I truly +wanted nothing better. I think this might happen to many +a man, at least of that day.</p> + +<p>We forded several streams, one a large one, which I now +think must have been the North Platte; but no river ran as +we fancied the Platte must run. So we kept on, until we +came one day to a spot whence we saw something low and +unmoving and purple, far off in the northwest. This we +studied, and so at length saw that it was the mountains. At +last our journeying would change, at least, perhaps terminate +ere long. A few more days would bring us within touch of +this distant range, which, as I suppose now, might possibly +have been a spur of what then were still called the Black +Hills, a name which applied to several ranges far to the west +and south of the mountains now so called. Or perhaps +these were peaks of the mountains later called the Laramie +Range.</p> + +<p>Then came a thing hard for us to bear. Our horse, hobbled +as usual for the night, and, moreover, picketed on a +long rope I had made from buffalo hides, managed some +time in the night to break his hobbles and in some way to +pull loose the picket pin. When we saw that he was gone +we looked at each other blankly.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" she asked me in horror. For the +first time I saw her sit down in despair. "We are lost! +What shall we do?" she wailed.</p> + +<p>I trailed the missing horse for many miles, but could only +tell he was going steadily, lined out for some distant point. +I dared not pursue him farther and leave her behind. An +hour after noon I returned and sullenly threw myself on the + +ground beside her at our little bivouac. I could not bear to +think of her being reduced to foot travel over all these cruel +miles. Yet, indeed, it now must come to that.</p> + +<p>"We have the dog," said I at length. "We can carry a +robe and a little meat, and walk slowly. I can carry a hundred +pound pack if need be, and the dog can take twenty-five—"</p> + +<p>"And I can carry something," she said, rising with her old +courage. "It is my part." I made her a pack of ten pounds, +and soon seeing that it was too heavy, I took it from her and +threw it on my own.</p> + +<p>"At least I shall carry the belt," she said. And so she took +my belt, with its flask and bullet pouch, the latter now all +too scantily filled.</p> + +<p>Thus, sore at heart, and somewhat weary, we struggled +on through that afternoon, and sank down beside a little +water hole. And that night, when I reached to her for my +belt that we might again make our fire, she went pale and +cried aloud that she had lost it, and that now indeed we +must die!</p> + +<p>I could hardly comfort her by telling her that on the morrow +I would certainly find it. I knew that in case I did not +our plight indeed was serious. She wept that night, wept +like a child, starting and moaning often in her sleep. That +night, for the first time, I took her in my arms and tried to +comfort her. I, being now a savage, prayed to the Great +Spirit, the Mystery, that my own blood might not be as water, +that my heart might be strong—the old savage prayers of +primitive man brought face to face with nature.</p> + +<p>When morning came I told her I must go back on the +trail. "See, now, what this dog has done for us," I said. + +"The scratches on the ground of his little travois poles will +make a trail easy to be followed. I must take him with me +and run back the trail. For you, stay here by the water +and no matter what your fears, do not move from here in any +case, even if I should not be back by night."</p> + +<p>"But what if you should not come back!" she said, her +terror showing in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"But I will come back," I replied. "I will never leave +you. I would rise from my grave to come back to you. +But the time has not yet come to lie down and die. Be +strong. We shall yet be safe."</p> + +<p>So I was obliged to turn and leave her sitting alone there, +the gray sweep of the merciless Plains all about her. Another +woman would have gone mad.</p> + +<p>But it was as I said. This dog was our savior. Without +his nose I could not have traced out the little travois trail; +but he, seeing what was needed, and finding me nosing along +and doubling back and seeking on the hard ground, seemed +to know what was required, or perhaps himself thought to +go back to some old camp for food. So presently he trotted +along, his ears up, his nose straight ahead; and I, a savage, +depended upon a creature still a little lower in the order of +life, and that creature proved a faithful servant.</p> + +<p>We went on at a swinging walk, or trot, or lope, as the +ground said, and ate up the distance at twice the speed we +had used the day before. In a couple of hours I was close +to where she had taken the belt, and so at last I saw the dog +drop his nose and sniff. There were the missing riches, +priceless beyond gold—the little leaden balls, the powder, +dry in its horn, the little rolls of tow, the knife swung at the +girdle! I knelt down there on the sand, I, John Cowles, + +once civilized and now heathen, and I raised my frayed and +ragged hands toward the Mystery, and begged that I might +be forever free of the great crime of thanklessness. Then, +laughing at the dog, and loping on tireless as when I was a +boy, I ran as though sickness and weakness had never been +mine, and presently came back to the place where I had +left her.</p> + +<p>She saw me coming. She ran out to meet me, holding +out her arms.... I say she came, holding out her +arms to me.</p> + +<p>"Sit down here by my side," I commanded her. "I must +talk to you. I will—I will."</p> + +<p>"Do not," she implored of me, seeing what was in my +mind. "Ah, what shall I do! You are not fair!"</p> + +<p>But I took her hands in mine. "I can endure it no +longer," I said. "I will not endure it."</p> + +<p>She looked at me with her eyes wide—looked me full in +the face with such a gaze as I have never seen on any woman's +face.</p> + +<p>"I love you," I said to her. "I have never loved any one +else. I can never love any one again but you." I say that +I, John Cowles, had at that moment utterly forgotten all of +life and all of the world except this, then and there. "I +love you!" I said, over and over again to her.</p> + +<p>She pushed away my arm. "They are all the same," she +said, as though to herself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all the same," I said. "There is no man who would +not love you, here or anywhere."</p> + +<p>"To how many have you said that?" she asked me, +frowning, as though absorbed, studious, intent on some +problem.</p> + + +<p>"To some," I said to her, honestly. "But it was never +thus."</p> + +<p>She curled her lip, scorning the truth which she had asked +now that she had it. "And if any other woman were here +it would be the same. It is because I am here, because we +are alone, because I am a woman—ah, that is neither wise +nor brave nor good of you!"</p> + +<p>"That is not true! Were it any other woman, yes, what +you say might be true in one way. But I love you not because +you are a woman. It is because you are Ellen. You +would be the only woman in the world, no matter where we +were nor how many were about us. Though I could choose +from all the world, it would be the same!"</p> + +<p>She listened with her eyes far away, thinking, thinking. +"It is the old story," she sighed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the old story," I said. "It is the same story, the +old one. There are the witnesses, the hills, the sky."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have thought of such things," she said to +me, slowly. "I have not thought. I have simply lived along, +enjoying life, not thinking. Do we love because we are but +creatures? I cannot be loved so—I will not be! I will not +submit that what I have sometimes dreamed shall be so +narrow as this. John Cowles, a woman must be loved for +herself, not for her sex, by some one who is a man, but who +is beside—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have said all that. I loved you the first time I saw +you—the first time, there at the dance."</p> + +<p>"And forgot, and cared for another girl the next day.' +She argued that all over again.</p> + +<p>"That other girl was you," I once more reiterated.</p> + +<p>"And again you forgot me."</p> + + +<p>"And again what made me forget you was yourself! +Each time you were that other girl, that other woman. Each +time I have seen you you have been different, and each time +I have loved you over again. Each day I see you now you +are different, Ellen, and each day I love you more. How +many times shall I solve this same problem, and come to the +same answer. I tell you, the thing is ended and done for +me."</p> + +<p>"It is easy to think so here, with only the hills and skies +to see and hear."</p> + +<p>"No, it would be the same," I said. "It is not because +of that."</p> + +<p>"It is not because I am in your power?" she said. She +turned and faced me, her hands on my shoulders, looking me +full in the eye. The act a brave one.</p> + +<p>"Because I am in your power, John Cowles?" she asked. +"Because by accident you have learned that I am a comely +woman, as you are a strong man, normal, because I am fit to +love, not ill to look at? Because a cruel accident has put me +where my name is jeopardized forever—in a situation out of +which I can never, never come clean again—is <em>that</em> why? +Do you figure that I am a woman because you are a man? +Is that why? Is it because you know I am human, and +young, and fit for love? Ah, I know that as well as you. +But I am in your hands—I am in your power. That is why +I say, John Cowles, that you must try to think, that you must +do nothing which shall make me hate you or make you hate +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I thought you missed me when I was gone," I murmured +faintly.</p> + +<p>"I did miss you," she said. "The world seemed ended + +for me. I needed you, I wanted you—" I turned toward +her swiftly. "Wanted me?"</p> + +<p>"I was glad to see you come back. While you were gone +I thought. Yes, you have been brave and you have been +kind, and you have been strong. Now I am only asking +you still to be brave, and kind, and strong."</p> + +<p>"But do you love me, will you love me—can you—"</p> + +<p>"Because we are here," she said, "I will not answer. +What is right, John Cowles, that we should do."</p> + +<p>Woman is strongest when armored in her own weakness. +My hands fell to the ground beside me. The heats vanished +from my blood. I shuddered. I could not smile without +my mouth going crooked, I fear. But at last I smiled as +best I could, and I said to her, "Ellen! Ellen!" That was +all I could find to say.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_32"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXI - The Betrothal</h2> + + +<p>Strength came to us as we had need, and gradually +even the weaker of us two became able to complete +the day's journey without the exhaustion it at first +had cost her. Summer was now upon us, and the heat at +midday was intense, although the nights, as usual, were +cold. Deprived of all pack animals, except our dog, we were +perforce reduced to the lightest of gear, and discomfort was +our continual lot. Food, however, we could still secure, +abundant meat, and sometimes the roots of plants which I +dug up and tested, though I scarce knew what they were.</p> + +<p>We moved steadily on toward the west and northwest, but +although we crossed many old Indian trails, we saw no more +of these travelers of the Plains. At that time the country +which we were traversing had no white population, although +the valley of the Platte had long been part of a dusty transcontinental +highway. It was on this highway that the savages +were that summer hanging, and even had we been +certain of its exact location, I should have feared to enter the +Platte valley, lest we should meet red men rather than white.</p> + +<p>At times we lost the buffalo for days, more especially as we +approached the foothills of the mountains, and although +antelope became more numerous there, they were far more +difficult to kill, and apt to cost us more of our precious ammunition. +I planned to myself that if we did not presently + +escape I would see what might be done toward making a +bow and arrows for use on small game, which we could not +afford to purchase at the cost of precious powder and ball.</p> + +<p>I was glad, therefore, when we saw the first timber of the +foothills; still gladder, for many reasons, when I found that +we were entering the winding course of a flattened, broken +stream, which presently ran back into a shingly valley, +hedged in by ranks of noble mountains, snow white on their +peaks. Here life should prove easier to us for the time, the +country offering abundant shelter and fuel, perhaps game, +and certainly change from the monotony of the Plains.</p> + +<p>Here, I said to myself, our westward journey must end. +It would be bootless to pass beyond Laramie into the mountains, +and our next course, I thought, must be toward the +south. I did not know that we were then perhaps a hundred +miles or more northwest of Laramie, deep in a mountain +range far north of the transcontinental trail. For the time, +however, it seemed wise to tarry here for rest and recruiting. +I threw down the pack. "Now," said I to her, "we rest."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, turning her face to the south, "Laramie +is that way now. If we stop here my father will come +and find us. But then, how could he find us, little as we +are, in this big country? Our trail would not be different +from that of Indians, even if they found it fresh enough to +read. Suppose they <em>never</em> found us!"</p> + +<p>"Then," said I, "we should have to live here, forever and +ever."</p> + +<p>She looked at me curiously. "Could we?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Until I was too old to hunt, you too weak to sew the robes +or cook the food."</p> + +<p>"What would happen then?"</p> + + +<p>"We would die," said I. "The world would end, would +have to begin all over again and wait twice ten million +years until man again was evolved from the amoeba, the +reptile, the ape. When we died, this dog here would be +the only hope of the world."</p> + +<p>She looked at the eternal hills in their snow, and made no +answer. Presently we turned to our duties about the camp.</p> + +<p>It was understood that we should stay here for at least +two days, to mend our clothing and prepare food for the +southern journey. I have said I was not happy at the +thought of turning toward that world which I had missed so +little. Could the wild freedom of this life have worked a +similar spell on her? The next day she came to me as I +sat by our meager fireside. Without leading of mine she +began a manner of speech until now foreign to her.</p> + +<p>"What is marriage, John Cowles?" she asked of me, +abruptly, with no preface.</p> + +<p>"It is the Plan," I answered, apathetically. She pondered +for a time.</p> + +<p>"Are we, then, only creatures, puppets, toys?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said to her. "A man is a toy. Love was born +before man was created, before animals or plants. Atom, +ran to atom, seeking. It was love." She pondered yet a +while.</p> + +<p>"And what is it, then, John Cowles, that women call +'wrong'?"</p> + +<p>"Very often what is right," I said to her, apathetically. +"When two love the crime is that they shall not wed. When +they do not love, the crime is when they do wed."</p> + +<p>"But without marriage," she hesitated, "the home—"</p> + +<p>"It is the old question," I said. "The home is built on + +woman's virtue; but virtue is not the same where there is no +tome, no property, where there is no society—it is an artificial +thing, born of compromise, and grown stronger by +custom of the ages of property-owning man."</p> + +<p>I saw a horror come across her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What do you say to me, John Cowles? That what a +woman prizes is not right, is not good? No, that I shall +<em>not</em> think!" She drew apart from me.</p> + +<p>"Because you think just as you do, I love you," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yet you say so many things. I have taken life as it +came, just as other girls do, not thinking. It is not nice, it +is not <em>clean</em>, that girls should study over these things. That +is not right."</p> + +<p>"No, that is not right," said I, dully.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me, what is marriage—that one thing a girl +dreams of all her life. Is it of the church?"</p> + +<p>"It is not of the church," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then it is the law."</p> + +<p>"It is not the law," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then what is it?" she asked. "John Cowles, tell me, +what makes a wedding between two who really and truly +love. Can marriage be of but two?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I.</p> + +<p>"But there must be witnesses—there must be ceremony—else +there is no marriage," she went on. Her woman's brain +clung to the safe, sane groove which alone can guide progress +and civilization and society—that great, cruel, kind, imperative +compromise of marriage, without which all the advancement +of the world would be as naught. I loved her for it. +But for me, I say I had gone savage. I was at the beginning +of all this, whereas it remained with her as she had left it.</p> + + +<p>"Witnesses?" I said. "Look at those!" I pointed to the +mountains. "Marriages, many of them, have been made +with no better witnesses than those."</p> + +<p>My heart stopped when I saw how far she had jumped +to her next speech.</p> + +<p>"Then we two are all the people left in the world, John +Cowles? When I am old, will you cast me off? When +another woman comes into this valley, when I am bent and +old, and cannot see, will you cast me off, and, being stronger +than I am, will you go and leave me?"</p> + +<p>I could not speak at first. "We have talked too much," +I said to her presently. But now it was she who would not +desist.</p> + +<p>"You see, with a woman it is for better, for worse—but +with a man—"</p> + +<p>"With a Saxon man," I said, "it is also for better, for +worse. It is one woman."</p> + +<p>She sat and thought for a long time. "Suppose," she +said, "that no one ever came."</p> + +<p>Now with swift remorse I could see that in her own courage +she was feeling her way, haltingly, slowly, toward solution of +problems which most women take ready solved from others. +But, as I thank God, a filmy veil, softening, refining, always +lay between her and reality. In her intentness she laid hold +upon my arm, her two hands clasping.</p> + +<p>"Suppose two were here, a man and a woman, and he +swore before those eternal witnesses that he would not go +away any time until she was dead and laid away up in the +trees, to dry away and blow off into the air, and go back—"</p> + +<p>"Into the flowers," I added, choking.</p> + +<p>"Yes, into the trees and the flowers—so that when she was + +dead and he was dead, and they were both gone back into +the flowers, they would still know each other for ever and +ever and never be ashamed—would that be a marriage +before God, John Cowles?"</p> + +<p>What had I brought to this girl's creed of life, heretofore +always so sweet and usual? I did not answer. She shook +at my arm. "Tell me!" she said. But I would not tell her.</p> + +<p>"Suppose they did not come," she said once more. "It +is true, they may not find us. Suppose we two were to live +here alone, all this winter—just as we are now—none of my +people or yours near us. Could we go on?"</p> + +<p>"God! Woman, have you no mercy!"</p> + +<p>She sat and pondered for yet a time, as though seriously +weighing some question in her mind.</p> + +<p>"But you have taught me to think, John Cowles. It is +you who have begun my thinking, so now I must think. I +know we cannot tell what may happen. I ask you, 'John +Cowles, if we were brought to that state which we both +know might happen—if we were here all alone and no one +came, and if you loved me—ah, then would you promise, +forever and forever, to love me till death did us part—till +I was gone back into the flowers? I remember what they +say at weddings. They cling one to the other, forsaking all +others, till death do them part. Could you promise me—in +that way? Could you promise me, clean and solemn? +Because, I would not promise you unless it was solemn, and +clean, and unless it was forever."</p> + +<p>Strange, indeed, these few days in the desert, which had so +drawn apart the veil of things and left us both ready to see +so far. She had not seen so far as I, but, womanlike, had +reasoned more quickly.</p> + + +<p>As for me, it seemed that I saw into her heart. I dropped +my hands from my eyes and looked at her strangely, my own +brain in a whirl, my logic gone. All I knew was that then +or elsewhere, whether or not rescue ever came for us, whether +we died now or later, there or anywhere in all the world, I +would, indeed, love her and her only, forsaking all others +until, indeed, we were gone back into the sky and flowers, +until we whispered again in the trees, one unto the other! +Marriage or no marriage, together or apart, in sickness or in +health—so there came to me the stern conviction—love +could knock no more at my heart, where once she had stood +in her courage and her cleanness. Reverence, I say, was +now the one thing left in my heart. Still we sat, and watched +the sun shine on the distant white-topped peaks. I turned to +her slowly at length.</p> + +<p>"Ellen," I said, "do you indeed love me?"</p> + +<p>"How can I help it, John Cowles," she answered bravely. +My heart stopped short, then raced on, bursting all control. +It was long before I could be calm as she.</p> + +<p>"You have helped it very long," I said at last, quietly. +"But now I must know—would you love me anywhere, in +any circumstances, in spite of all? I love you because you +are You, not because you are here. I must be loved in the +same way, always."</p> + +<p>She looked at me now silently, and I leaned and kissed +her full on the mouth.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_33"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXII - The Covenant</h2> + + +<p>She did not rebel or draw away, but there was that on +her face, I say, which left me only reverent. Her +hand fell into mine. We sat there, plighted, plighted +in our rags and misery and want and solitude. Though I +should live twice the allotted span of man, never should I +forget what came into my soul that hour.</p> + +<p>After a time I turned from her, and from the hills, and +from the sky, and looked about us at the poor belongings +with which we were to begin our world. All at once my eye +fell upon one of our lighter robes, now fairly white with +much working. I drew it toward me, and with her still +leaning against my shoulder, I took up a charred stick, and +so, laboriously, I wrote upon the surface of the hide, these +words of our covenant:</p> + +<p>"<em>I, John Cowles, take thee, Ellen Meriwether, to be my +lawful, wedded wife, in sickness, and in health, for better of +for worse, till death do us part.</em>"</p> + +<p>And I signed it; and made a seal after my name.</p> + +<p>"Write," said I to her. "Write as I have written."</p> + +<p>She took a fresh brand, blackened at the end, and in +lesser characters wrote slowly, letter by letter:</p> + +<p>"<em>I, Ellen Meriwether, take thee, John Cowles, to be my +lawful, wedded husband</em>—" She paused, but I would not +urge her, and it was moments before she resumed—"<em>in + +sickness and in health, for better or for worse</em>—" Again she +paused, thinking, thinking—and so concluded, "<em>till death +do us part</em>."</p> + +<p>"It means," she said to me, simply as a child, "until we +have both gone back into the flowers and the trees."</p> + +<p>I took her hand in mine. Mayhap book and bell and +organ peal and vestured choir and high ceremony of the +church may be more solemn; but I, who speak the truth +from this very knowledge, think it could not be.</p> + +<p>"When you have signed that, Ellen," I said to her at last, +"we two are man and wife, now and forever, here and any +place in the world. That is a binding ceremony, and it +endows you with your share of all my property, small or +large as that may be. It is a legal wedding, and it holds us +with all the powers the law can have. It is a contract."</p> + +<p>"Do not talk to me of contracts," she said. "I am thinking +of nothing but our—wedding."</p> + +<p>Still mystical, still enigma, still woman, she would have it +that the stars, the mountains—-the witnesses—and not ourselves, +made the wedding. I left it so, sure of nothing so +much as that, whatever her way of thought might be, it was +better than my own.</p> + +<p>"But if I do not sign this?" she asked at length.</p> + +<p>"Then we are not married."</p> + +<p>She sighed and laid down the pen. "Then I shall not +sign it—yet," she said.</p> + +<p>I caught up her hand as though I would write for her.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "it shall be only our engagement, our troth +between us. This will be our way. I have not yet been +sufficiently wooed, John Cowles!"</p> + +<p>I looked into her eyes and it seemed to me I saw there + +something of the same light I had seen when she was the +masked coquette of the Army ball—the yearning, the melancholy, +the mysticism, the challenge, the invitation and the +doubting—ah, who shall say what there is in a woman's +eye! But I saw also what had been in her eyes each time I +had seen her since that hour. I left it so, knowing that her +way would be best.</p> + +<p>"When we have escaped," she went on, "if ever we do +escape, then this will still be our troth, will it not, John +Cowles?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and our marriage, when you have signed, now or +any other time."</p> + +<p>"But if you had ever signed words like these with any +<em>other</em> woman, then it would not be our marriage nor our +troth, would it, John Cowles?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said. <em>And, then I felt my face grow ashy cold +and pale in one sudden breath!</em></p> + +<p>"But why do you look so sad?" she asked of me, suddenly. +"Is it not well to wait?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is well to wait," I said. She was so absorbed that +she did not look at me closely at that instant.</p> + +<p>Again she took up the charred stick in her little hand, and +hesitated. "See," she said, "I shall sign one letter of my +name each week, until all my name is written! Till that +last letter we shall be engaged. After the last letter, when I +have signed it of my own free will, and clean, and solemn—clean +and solemn, John Cowles—then we will be—Oh, +take me home—take me to my father, John Cowles! This +is a hard place for a girl to be."</p> + +<p>Suddenly she dropped her face into her hands, sobbing.</p> + +<p>She hid her head on my breast, sore distressed now. She + +was glad that she might now be more free, needing some +manner of friend; but she was still—what? Still woman! +Poor Saxon I must have been had I not sworn to love her +fiercely and singly all my life. But yet—</p> + +<p>I looked at the robe, now fallen loose upon the ground, +and saw that she had affixed one letter of her name and +stopped. She smiled wanly. "Your name would be shorter +to sign a little at a time," she said; "but a girl must have +time. She must wait. And see," she said, "I have no +ring. A girl always has a ring."</p> + +<p>This lack I could not solve, for I had none.</p> + +<p>"Take mine," she said, removing the ring with the rose +seal. "Put it on the other finger—the—the right one."</p> + +<p>I did so; and I kissed her. But yet—</p> + +<p>She was weary and strained now. A pathetic droop came +to the corners of her mouth. The palm of her little hand +turned up loosely, as though she had been tired and now +was resting. "We must wait," she said, as though to herself.</p> + +<p>But what of me that night? When I had taken my own +house and bed beyond a little thicket, that she might be alone, +that night I found myself breathing hard in terror and dread, +gazing up at the stars in agony, beating my hands on the +ground at the thought of the ruin I had wrought, the crime +that I had done in gaining this I had sought.</p> + +<p>I had written covenants before! I have said that I would +tell simply the truth in these pages, and this is the truth, the +only extenuation I may claim. The strength and sweetness +of all this strange new life with her had utterly wiped out my +past, had put away, as though forever, the world I once had +known. Until the moment Ellen Meriwether began the +signing of her name, I swear I had forgotten that ever in the + +world was another by name of Grace Sheraton! I may not +be believed—I ought not to be believed; but this is the truth +and the truth by what measure my love for Ellen Meriwether +was bright and fixed, as much as my promise to the other +had been ill-advised and wrong.</p> + +<p>A forsworn man, I lay there, thinking of her, sweet, simple, +serious and trusting, who had promised to love me, an +utterly unworthy man, until we two should go back into the +flowers.</p> + +<p>Far rather had I been beneath the sod that moment; +for I knew, since I loved Ellen Meriwether, <em>she must not +complete the signing of her name upon the scroll of our +covenant!</em></p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_34"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXIII - The Flaming Sword</h2> + + +<p>The question of food ever arose for settlement, and +early the next morning I set out upon a short +exploring expedition through our new country, +to learn what I might of its resources. There were trout in +our little mountain stream, and although we had no hooks +or lines I managed to take a few of these in my hands, chasing +them under the stones. Also I found many berries now +beginning to ripen, and as the forest growth offered us new +supplies, I gathered certain barks, thinking that we might +make some sort of drink, medicinal if not pleasant. Tracks +of deer were abundant; I saw a few antelope, and supposed +that possibly these bolder slopes might hold mountain sheep. +None of these smaller animals was so useful to us as the +buffalo, for each would cost as much expenditure of precious +ammunition, and yield less return in bulk. I shook the +bullet pouch at my belt, and found it light. We had barely +two dozen bullets left; and few hunters would promise +themselves over a dozen head of big game for twice as many +shots.</p> + +<p>I cast about me in search of red cedar that I might make a +bow. I searched the willow thicket for arrow shafts, and +prowled among little flints and pointed stones on the shores +of our stream, seeking arrow points. It finally appeared to +me that we might rest here for a time and be fairly safe to + +make a living in some way. Then, as I was obliged to admit, +we would need to hurry on to the southward.</p> + +<p>But again fate had its way with us, setting aside all plans. +When I returned to our encampment, instead of seeing +Ellen come out to meet me as I expected, I found her lying +in the shade of the little tepee.</p> + +<p>"You are hurt!" I cried. "What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"My foot," said she, "I think it is broken!" She was unable +to stand.</p> + +<p>As she could, catching her breath, she told me how this +accident had happened. Walking along the stony creek +bank, she had slipped, and her moccasined foot, caught in +the narrow crack between two rocks, had been held fast as +she fell forward. It pained her now almost unbearably. +Tears stood in her eyes.</p> + +<p>So now it was my term to be surgeon. Tenderly as I +might, I examined the foot, now badly swollen and rapidly +becoming discolored. In spite of her protest—although I +know it hurt me more than herself—I flexed the joints and +found the ankle at least safe. Alas! a little grating in the +smaller bones, just below the instep, told me of a fracture.</p> + +<p>"Ellen," said I to her, "the foot is broken here—two +bones, I think, are gone."</p> + +<p>She sank back upon her robe with an exclamation as much +of horror as pain.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do!" she murmured. "I shall be crippled! +I cannot walk—we shall perish!"</p> + +<p>"No," I said to her, "we shall mend it. In time you will +not know it has happened." Thus we gave courage to each +other.</p> + +<p>All that morning I poured water from a little height upon + +the bared foot, so that presently the inflammation and the +pain lessened. Then I set out to secure flat splints and some +soft bark, and so presently splintered and bound the foot, +skillfully as I knew how; and this must have brought the +broken bones in good juxtaposition, for at least I know that +eventually nature was kind enough to heal this hurt and +leave no trace of it.</p> + +<p>Now, when she was thus helpless and suffering, needing +all her strength, how could I find it in my heart to tell her +that secret which it was my duty to tell? How could I inflict +upon her a still more poignant suffering than this +physical one? Each morning I said to myself, "To-day, if +she is better, I will tell her of Grace Sheraton; she must +know." But each time I saw her face I could not tell her.</p> + +<p>Each day she placed a clean white pebble in a little pile +at her side. Presently there were seven.</p> + +<p>"John Cowles," she said to me that morning, "bring me +our writing, and bring me my pen. To-day I must sign +another letter." And, smiling, she did so, looking up into +my face with love showing on her own. Had the charcoal +been living flame, and had she written on my bare heart, she +could not have hurt me more.</p> + +<p>Of course, all the simple duties of our life now devolved +upon myself. I must hunt, and keep the camp, and cook, +and bring the fuel; so that much of the time I was by necessity +away from her. Feverishly I explored all our little valley +and exulted that here nature was so kind to us. I trapped +hares in little runways. I made me a bow and some arrows, +and very often I killed stupid grouse with these or even with +stones or sticks, as they sat in the trees; and in bark baskets +that I made I brought home many berries, now beginning + +to ripen fully. Roots and bulbs as I found them I experimented +with, though not with much success. Occasionally +I found fungi which made food. Flowers also I brought to +her, flowers of the early autumn, because now the snows +were beginning to come down lower on the mountains. In +two months winter would be upon us. In one month we +would have snow in the valley.</p> + +<p>The little pile of white stones at her side again grew, +slowly, slowly. Letter by letter her name grew invisible +form on the scroll of our covenant—her name, already +written, and more deeply, on my heart. On the fifth week +she called once more for her charcoal pen, and signed the +last letter of her Christian name!</p> + +<p>"See, there," she said, "it is all my girl name, E-l-l-e-n." +I looked at it, her hand in mine.</p> + +<p>"'Ellen!'" I murmured. "It is signature enough, because +you are the only Ellen in the world." But she put +away my hand gently and said, "Wait."</p> + +<p>She asked me now to get her some sort of cut branch for a +crutch, saying she was going to walk. And walk she did, +though resting her foot very little on the ground. After +that, daily she went farther and farther, watched me as I +guddled for trout in the stream, aided me as I picked berries +in the thickets, helped me with the deer I brought into +camp.</p> + +<p>"You are very good to me," she said, "and you hunt +well. You work. You are a man, John Cowles. I love +you."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image8.png" alt="'Out Thar In Californy The Hills Are Full Of Gold'"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">'Out Thar In Californy The Hills Are Full Of Gold'</p> + +<p>But hearing words so sweet as these to me, still I did not +tell her what secret was in my soul. Each day I said to +myself that presently she would be strong enough to bear it, + +and that then I would tell her. Each day that other world +seemed vaguer and farther away. But each day passed +and I could not speak. Each day it seemed less worth while +to speak. Now I could not endure the thought of losing her. +I say that I could not. Let none judge me too harshly who +have not known the full measure of this world and that.</p> + +<p>There was much sign of bears in our thickets, and I warned +her not to go out alone after berries where these long-footed +beasts now fed regularly. Sometimes we went there together, +with our vessels of bark, and filled them slowly, as she hobbled +along. Our little dog was now always with us, having +become far more tamed and docile with us than is ever the +case of an Indian dog in savagery. One day we wandered +in a dense berry thicket, out of which rose here and there +chokecherry trees, and we began to gather some of these +sour fruits for use in the pemmican which we planned to +manufacture. All at once we came to a spot where the +cherry trees were torn down, pulled over, ripped up by +the roots. The torn earth was very fresh, and I knew that +the bear that had done the work could not be far away.</p> + +<p>All at once our dog began to growl and erect his hair, +sniffing not at the foot scent, but looking directly into the +thicket just ahead. He began then to bark, and as he did +so there rose, with a sullen sort of grunt and a champing of +jaws like a great hog, a vast yellow-gray object, whose head +topped the bushes that grew densely all about. The girl at +my side uttered a cry of terror and turned to run as best she +might, but she fell, and lay there cowering.</p> + +<p>The grizzly stood looking at me vindictively with little eyes, +its ears back, its jaws working, its paws swinging loosely at +its side, the claws white at the lower end, as though newly + +sharpened for slaughtering. I saw then that it was angered +by the sight of the dog, and would not leave us. Each moment +I expected to hear it crash through the bush in its +charge. Once down in the brush, there would be small +chance of delivering a fatal shot; whereas now, as it swung +its broad head slightly to one side, the best possible opportunity +for killing it presented itself immediately. Without +hesitation I swung up the heavy barrel, and drew the small +silver bead directly on the base of the ear, where the side +bones of a bear's head are flatter and thinner, directly alongside +the brain. The vicious crack of the rifle sounded loud +there in the thicket; but there came no answer in response +to it save a crashing and slipping and a breaking down of +the bushes as the vast carcass fell at full length. The little +ball had done its work and found the brain.</p> + +<p>I knew the bear was dead, but for a time did not venture +closely. I looked about and saw the girl slowly rising on her +elbow, her face uncovered now, but white in terror. I motioned +for her to lie still, and having reloaded, I pushed +quietly through the undergrowth. I saw a vast gray, grizzled +heap lying there, shapeless, motionless. Then I shouted +aloud and went back and picked her up and carried her +through the broken thicket, and placed her on the dead body +of the grizzly, seating myself at her side.</p> + +<p>We were two savages, successful now in the chase—successful, +indeed, in winning the capital prize of all savages; +for few Indians will attack the grizzly if it can be avoided. +She laid her hand wonderingly upon the barrel of the rifle, +looking at it curiously, that it had been so deadly as to slay +a creature so vast as this. Then she leaned contentedly +against my side, and so we sat there for a time. "John + +Cowles," she said, "you are brave. You are very much a +man. I am not afraid when you are with me." I put my +arm about her. The world seemed wild and fair and sweet +to me. Life, savage, stern, swept through all my veins.</p> + +<p>The skinning of the bear was a task of some moment, and +as we did this we exulted that we would now have so fine a +robe. The coarse meat we could not use, but the fat I took +off in flakes and strips, and hung upon the bushes around us +for later carrying into camp. In this work she assisted me, +hobbling about as best she might.</p> + +<p>We were busy at this, both of us greasy and bloody to our +elbows, when all at once we stopped and looked at each +other in silence. We had heard a sound. To me it sounded +like a rifle shot. We listened. It came again, with others. +There was a volley of several shots, sounds certain beyond +any manner of question.</p> + +<p>My heart stopped. She looked at me, some strange +thought written upon her face. It was not joy, nor exultation, +nor relief. Her eyes were large and startled. There +was no smile on her face. These things I noted. I caught +her bloody hand in my bloody one, and for an instant I believed +we both meditated flight deeper into the wilderness. +Yet I reasoned that since these shots were fired on our trail, +we must be in all likelihood found in any case, even were +these chance hunters coming into our valley, and not a party +searching for us.</p> + +<p>"It may not be any one we know," I said. "It may be +Indians."</p> + +<p>"No," said she, "it is my father. They have found us. +We must go! John"—she turned toward me and put her +hands on my breast—"John!" I saw terror, and regret, + +and resolve look out of her eyes, but not joy at this deliverance. +No, it was not joy that shone in her eyes. None the +less, the ancient yoke of society being offered, we bowed our +necks again, fools and slaves, surrendering freedom, joy, +content, as though that were our duty.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_35"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXIV - The Loss Of Paradise</h2> + + +<p>Silently we made our way toward the edge of the +thicket where it faced upon the open valley. All +about me I could hear the tinkling and crashing of +fairy crystal walls, the ruins of that vision house I had +builded in my soul. At the edge of the thicket we crouched +low, waiting and looking out over the valley, two savages, +laired, suspicious.</p> + +<p>Almost as we paused I saw coming forward the stooping +figure of an Indian trailer, half naked, beleggined, moccasined, +following our fresh tracks at a trot. I covered him +with the little silver bead, minded to end his quest. But +before I could estimate his errand, or prepare to receive him, +closely in case he proved an enemy, I saw approaching around +a little point of timber other men, white men, a half dozen of +them, one a tall man in dusty garments, with boots, and hat, +and gloves.</p> + +<p>And then I saw her, my promised wife, leave my side, +and limp and stagger forward, her arms outstretched. I saw +the yoke of submission, the covenant of society, once more +accepted.</p> + +<p>"Father!" she cried.</p> + +<p>They gathered about us. I saw him look down at her +with half horror on his face. Then I noticed that she was, +clad in fringed skins, that her head covering was a bit of + +hide, that her hair was burned yellow at the ends, that her +foot coverings were uncouth, that her hands and arms were +brown, where not stained red by the blood in which they had +dabbled. I looked down also at myself, and saw then that +I was tall, brown, gaunt, bearded, ragged, my clothing of +wool well-nigh gone, my limbs wound in puttee bands of +hide, my hands large, horny, blackened, rough. I reeked +with grime. I was a savage new drawn from my cave. I +dragged behind me the great grizzled hide of the dead bear, +clutched in one hairy hand. And somber and sullen as any +savage, brutal and silent in resentment at being disturbed, I +stared at them.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" demanded the tall man of me sternly; +but still I did not answer. The girl's hands tugged at his +shoulders. "It is my friend," she said. "He saved me. +It is Mr. John Cowles, father, of the Virginia Cowles family. +He has come to see you—" But he did not hear her, or +show that he heard. His arm about her, supporting her as +she limped, he turned back down the valley, and we others +followed slowly.</p> + +<p>Presently he came to the rude shelter which had been our +home. Without speaking he walked about the camp, pushed +open the door of the little ragged tepee and looked within. +The floor was very narrow. There was one meager bed of +hides. There was one fire.</p> + +<p>"Come with me," he said at length to me. And so I followed +him apart, where a little thicket gave us more privacy.</p> + +<p>His was a strong face, keen under heavy gray brows, with +hair that rose stiff and gray over a high forehead, so that he +seemed like some Osage chief, taller by a third than most +men, and naturally a commander among others.</p> + + +<p>"You are John Cowles, sir, then?" he said to me at length, +quietly. "Lieutenant Belknap told me something of this +when he came in with his men from the East." I nodded +and waited.</p> + +<p>"Are you aware, sir, of the seriousness of what you have +done?" he broke out. "Why did you not come on to the +settlements? What reason was there for you not coming +back at once to the valley of the Platte—here you are, a +hundred miles out of your way, where a man of any intelligence, +it seems to me, would naturally have turned back to +the great trail. Hundreds of wagons pass there every day. +There is a stage line with daily coaches, stations, houses. A +telegraph line runs from one end of the valley to the other. +You could not have missed all this had you struck south. A +fool would have known that. But you took my girl—" he +choked up, and pointed to me, ragged and uncouth.</p> + +<p>"Good God! Colonel Meriwether," I cried out at length, +"you are not regretting that I brought her through?"</p> + +<p>"Almost, sir," he said, setting his lips together. "Almost!"</p> + +<p>"Do you regret then that she brought me through—that +I owe my life to her?"</p> + +<p>"Almost, sir," he repeated. "I almost regret it."</p> + +<p>"Then go back—leave us—report us dead!" I broke out, +savagely. It was moments before I could accept this old +life again offered me.</p> + +<p>"She is a splendid girl, a noble being," I said to him, slowly, +at last. "She saved me when I was sick and unable to +travel. There is nothing I could do that would pay the debt +I owe to her. She is a noble woman, a princess among +women, body and soul."</p> + +<p>"She is like her mother," said he, quietly. "She was too + +good for this. Sir, you have done my family a grievous +wrong. You have ruined my daughter's life."</p> + +<p>Now at last I could talk. I struck my hand hard on his +shoulder and looked him full in the eye. "Colonel Meriwether," +I said to him, "I am ashamed of you."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" He frowned sternly and shook +off my hand.</p> + +<p>"I brought her through," I said, "and if it would do any +good, I would lie down here and die for her. If what I say +is not true, draw up your men for a firing squad and let us +end it. I don't care to go back to Laramie."</p> + +<p>"What good would that do?" said he. "It's the girl's +<em>name</em> that's compromised, man! Why, the news of this is +all over the country—the wires have carried it both sides of +the mountains; the papers are full of it in the East. You +have been gone nearly three months together, and all the +world knows it. Don't you suppose all the world will <em>talk</em>? +Did I not see—" he motioned his hand toward our encampment.</p> + +<p>He babbled of such things, small, unimportant, to me, +late from large things in life. I interrupted long enough to +tell him briefly of our journey, of our hardships, of what we +had gone through, of how my sickness had rendered it impossible +for us to return at once, of how we had wandered, +with what little judgment remained to us, how we had lived +in the meantime.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "I know men," said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, "I would have been no man worth the name +had I not loved your daughter. And I admit to you that I +shall never love another woman, not in all my life."</p> + +<p>In answer he flung down on the ground in front of me something + +that he carried—the scroll of our covenant, signed by +my name and in part by hers.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It means," said I, "what it says; that here or anywhere, +in sickness or in health, in adversity or prosperity, until I lie +down to die and she beside me in her time, we two are in the +eye of God married; and in the eye of man would have been, +here or wherever else we might be."</p> + +<p>I saw his face pale; but a somber flame came into his eyes. +"And you say this—you, <em>after all I know regarding you</em>!"</p> + +<p>Again I felt that old chill of terror and self-reproach strike +to my heart. I saw my guilt once more, horrible as though +an actual presence. I remembered what Ellen Meriwether +had said to me regarding any other or earlier covenant. I +recalled my troth, plighted earlier, before I had ever seen her,—my +faith, pledged in another world. So, seeing myself +utterly ruined in my own sight and his and hers, I turned to +him at length, with no pride in my bearing.</p> + +<p>"So I presume Gordon Orme has told you," I said to him. +"You know of Grace Sheraton, back there?"</p> + +<p>His lips but closed the tighter. "Have you told her—have +you told this to my girl?" he asked, finally.</p> + +<p>"Draw up your file!" I cried, springing to my feet. "Execute +me! I deserve it. No, I have not told her. I planned +to do so—I should never have allowed her to sign her name +there before I had told her everything—been fair to her as I +could. But her accident left her weak—I could not tell her—a +thousand things delayed it. Yes, it was my fault."</p> + +<p>He looked me over with contempt. "You are not fit to +touch the shoe on my girl's foot," he said slowly. "But +now, since this thing has begun, since you have thus involved + +her and compromised her, and as I imagine in some foul +way have engaged her affections—now, I say, it must go on. +When we get to Laramie, by God! sir, you shall marry that +girl. And then out you go, and never see her face again. +She is too good for you, but where you can be of use to her, +for this reason, you shall be used."</p> + +<p>I seated myself, my head in my hands, and pondered. He +was commanding me to do that which was my dearest wish in +life. But he was commanding me to complete my own folly. +"Colonel Meriwether," said I to him, finally, "if it would +do her any good I would give up my life for her. But her +father can neither tell me how nor when my marriage ceremony +runs; nor can he tell me when to leave the side of the +woman who is my wife. I am subject to the orders of no +man in the world."</p> + +<p>"You refuse to do what you have planned to do? Sir, +that shows you as you are. You proposed to—to live with +her here, but not be bound to her elsewhere!"</p> + +<p>"It is not true!" I said to him in somber anger. "I proposed +to put before her the fact of my own weakness, of my +own self-deception, which also was deception of her. I propose +to do that now."</p> + +<p>"If you did, she would refuse to look at you again."</p> + +<p>"I know it, but it must be done. I must take my chances."</p> + +<p>"And your chances mean this alternative—either that my +girl's reputation shall be ruined all over the country—all +through the Army, where she is known and loved—or else +that her heart must be broken. This is what it means, Mr. +Cowles. This is what you have brought to my family."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said to him, slowly, "this is what I have brought."</p> + +<p>"Then which do you choose, sir?" he demanded of me.</p> + + +<p>"I choose to break her heart!" I answered. "Because +that is the truth, and that is right. I only know one way to +ride, and that is straight."</p> + +<p>He smiled at me coldly in his frosty beard. "That sounds +well from you!" he said bitterly. "Ellen!" he raised his +voice. "Ellen, I say, come here at once!"</p> + +<p>It was my ear which first heard the rustling of her footsteps +at the edge of the thicket as she approached. She +came before us slowly, halting, leaning on her crutch. A +soft flush shone through the brown upon her cheeks.</p> + +<p>I shall not forget in all my life the picture of her as she +stood. Neither shall I forget the change which came across +her face as she saw us sitting there silent, cold, staring at her. +Then, lovable in her rags, beautiful in her savagery, the gentleness +of generations of culture in all her mien in spite of +her rude surroundings, she stepped up and laid her hand +upon her father's shoulder, one finger half pointing at the +ragged scroll of hide which lay upon the ground before us. +I loved her—ah, how I loved her then!</p> + +<p>"I signed that, father," she said gently. "I was going to +sign it, little by little, a letter each week. We were engaged—nothing +more. But here or anywhere, some time, I intend to +marry Mr. Cowles. This I have promised of my own free will. +He has been both man and gentleman, father. I love him."</p> + +<p>I heard the groan which came from his throat. She +sprang back. "What is it?" she said. The old fire of her +disposition again broke out.</p> + +<p>"What!" she cried. "You object? Listen, I will sign +my name now—I will finish it—give me—give me—" She +sought about on the ground for something which would +leave a mark. "I say I have not been his, but will be, + +father—as I like, when I like—now, this very night if I +choose—forever! He has done everything for me—I trust +him—I know he is a man of honor, that he—" Her voice +broke as she looked at my face.</p> + +<p>"But what—what <em>is</em> it?" she demanded, brokenly, in her +own eyes something of the horror which sat in mine. I say +I see her picture now, tall, straight, sweet, her hands on her +lifting bosom, eagerness and anxiety fighting on her face.</p> + +<p>"Ellen, child, Mr. Cowles has something to tell you."</p> + +<p>Then some one, in a voice which sounded like mine, but +was not mine, told her—told her the truth, which sounded +so like a lie. Some one, myself, yet not myself, went on, +cruelly, blackening all the sweet blue sky for her. Some +one—I suppose it was myself, late free—felt the damp of +an iron yoke upon his neck.</p> + +<p>I saw her knees sink beneath her, but she shrank back +when I would have reached out an arm as of old.</p> + +<p>"I hate that woman!" she blazed. "Suppose she does +love you—do I not love you more? Let her lose—some one +must lose!" But at the next moment her anger had changed +to doubt, to horror. I saw her face change, saw her hand +drop to her side.</p> + +<p>"It is not that you loved another girl," she whispered, "but +that you have deceived <em>me</em>—here, when I was in your power. +Oh, it was not right! How could you! Oh, how could you!"</p> + +<p>Then once more she changed. The flame of her thoroughbred +soul came back to her. Her courage saved her from +shame. Her face flushed, she stood straight. "I hate <em>you!</em>" +she cried to me. "Go! I will never see you any more."</p> + +<p>Still the bright sun shone on. A little bird trilled in the +thicket near.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_36"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXV - The Yoke</h2> + + +<p>When we started to the south on the following +morning, I rode far at the rear, under guard. I +recall little of our journey toward Laramie, +save that after a day or two we swung out from the foothills +into a short grass country, and so finally struck the steady +upward sweep of a valley along which lay the great transcontinental +trail. I do not know whether we traveled two +days, or three, or four, since all the days seemed night to +me, and all the nights were uniform in torture. Finally, we +drove down into a dusty plain, and so presently came to the +old frontier fort. Here, then, was civilization—the stage +coach, the new telegraph wire, men and women, weekly or +daily touch with the world, that prying curiosity regarding +the affairs of others which we call news. To me it seemed +tawdry, sordid, worthless, after that which I had left. The +noise seemed insupportable, the food distasteful. I could +tolerate no roof, and in my own ragged robes slept on the +ground within the old stockade.</p> + +<p>I was still guarded as a prisoner; I was approached by +none and had conversation with none until evening of the +day after my arrival. When I ate, it was at no gentleman's +table, but in the barracks. I resented judgment, sentence +and punishment, thus executed in one.</p> + +<p>Evening gun had sounded, and the flag had been furled + +on my second day at Laramie, when finally Colonel Meriwether +sent for me to come to his office quarters. He got +swiftly enough to the matters on his mind.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cowles," said he, "it is time now that you and I +had a talk. Presently you will be leaving Laramie. I can +not try you by court martial, for you are a civilian. In +short, all I can say to you is to go, with the hope that you +may never again cross our lives."</p> + +<p>I looked at him a time, silently, hating not him personally +as much as I hated all the world. But presently I asked +him, "Have you no word for me from her?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Meriwether has no word for you," he answered, +sternly, "nor ever will have. You are no longer necessary +in her plans."</p> + +<p>"Ah, then," said I, "you have changed your own mind +mightily."</p> + +<p>He set his lips together in his grim fashion. "Yes," said +he, "I have changed my mind absolutely. I have just come +from a very trying interview. It is not necessary for me to +explain to you the full nature of it—"</p> + +<p>"Then she has sent for me?"</p> + +<p>"She will never send for you, I have said."</p> + +<p>"But listen. At least, I have brought her back to you +safe and sound. Setting aside all my own acts in other +matters, why can you not remember at least so much as that? +Yet you treat me like a dog. I tell you, I shall not leave +without word from her, and when I leave I shall make no +promises as to when I shall or shall not come back. So +long as one chance remains—"</p> + +<p>"I tell you that there is no longer any chance, no longer +the ghost of a chance. It is my duty to inform you, sir, that + +a proper suitor long ago applied for my daughter's hand, +that he has renewed his suit, and that now she has accepted +him."</p> + +<p>For a time I sat staring stupidly at him. "You need speak +nothing but the truth with me," I said at last. "Colonel +Meriwether, I have never given bonds to be gentle when +abused."</p> + +<p>"I am telling you the truth," he said. "By God, sir! +Miss Meriwether is engaged to Lieutenant Lawrence Belknap +of the Ninth Dragoons! You feel your honor too deeply +touched? Perhaps at a later time Lieutenant Belknap will +do himself the disgrace of accommodating you."</p> + +<p>All these things seemed to dull and stupefy me rather than +excite. I could not understand.</p> + +<p>"If I killed him," said I, finally, "how would it better her +case? Moreover, before I could take any more risk, I must go +back to Virginia. My mother needs me there most sadly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and Miss Grace Sheraton needs you there sadly, as +well," he retorted. "Go back, then, and mend your promises, +and do some of those duties which you now begin to +remember. You have proved yourself a man of no honor. +I stigmatize you now as a coward."</p> + +<p>There seemed no tinder left in my spirit to flame at this +spark. "You speak freely to your prisoner, Colonel Meriwether," +I said, slowly, at length. "There is time yet for +many risks—chances for many things. But now I think you +owe it to me to tell me how this matter was arranged."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then. Belknap asked me for permission to +try his chance long ago—before I came west to Laramie. +I assigned him to bring her through to me. He was distracted +at his failure to do so. He has been out with parties + +all the summer, searching for you both, and has not been +back at Laramie more than ten days. Oh, we all knew why +you did not come back to the settlements. When we came +in he guessed all that you know. He knew that all the +world would talk. And like a man he asked the right to +silence all that talk forever."</p> + +<p>"And she agreed? Ellen Meriwether accepted him on +such terms?"</p> + +<p>"It is arranged," said he, not answering me directly, "and +it removes at once all necessity for any other arrangement. +As for you, you disappear. It will be announced all through +the Army that she and Lieutenant Belknap were married at +Leavenworth before they started West, and that it was they +two, and not you and my daughter, who were lost."</p> + +<p>"And Belknap was content to do this?" I mused. "He +would do this after Ellen told him that she loved me—"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" thundered Colonel Meriwether. "I have told +you all that is necessary. I will add that he said to me, like +the gentleman he is, that in case my daughter asked it, <em>he</em> +would marry her and leave her at once, until she of her own +free will asked him to return. There is abundant opportunity +for swift changes in the Army. What seems to you +absurd will work out in perfectly practical fashion."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, "in fashion perfectly practical for the ruin +of her life. You may leave mine out of the question."</p> + +<p>"I do, sir," was his icy reply. "She told you to your +face, and in my hearing, that you had deceived her, that you +must go."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, dully, "I did deceive her, and there is no +punishment on earth great enough to give me for that—except +to have no word from her!"</p> + + +<p>"You are to go at once. I put it beyond you to understand +Belknap's conduct in this matter."</p> + +<p>"He is a gentleman," I said, "and fit to love her. I think +none of us needs praise or blame for that."</p> + +<p>He choked up. "She's my girl," he said. "Yes, all my +boys in the Army love her—there isn't one of them that +wouldn't be proud to marry her on any terms she would lay +down. And there isn't a man in the Army, married or single, +that wouldn't challenge you if you breathed a word of what +has gone between you and her."</p> + +<p>I looked at him and made no motion. It seemed to me +go unspeakably sad, so incredible, that one should be so +unbelievably underestimated.</p> + +<p>"Now, finally," resumed Colonel Meriwether, after a +time, ceasing his walking up and down, "I must close up +what remains between you and me. My daughter said to +me that you wanted to see me on some business matter. Of +course you had some reason for coming out here."</p> + +<p>"That was my only reason for coming," I rejoined. "I +wanted to see you upon an important business matter. I +was sent here by the last message my father gave any one—by +the last words he spoke in his life. He told me I should +come to you."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, if you have any favor to ask of me, out with +it, and let us end it all at one sitting."</p> + +<p>"Sir," I said, "I would see you damned in hell before I +would ask a crust or a cup of water of you, though I were +starving and burning. I have heard enough."</p> + +<p>"Orderly!" he called out. "Show this man to the gate."</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_37"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXVI - The Goad</h2> + + +<p>It was at last borne in upon me that I must leave +without any word from Ellen. She was hedged about +by all the stern and cold machinery of an Army Post, +out of whose calculations I was left as much as though I +belonged to a different world. I cannot express what this +meant for me. For weeks now, for months, indeed, we two +had been together each hour of the day. I had come to +expect her greeting in the morning, to turn to her a thousand +times in the day with some query or answer. I had made +no plan from which she was absent. I had come to accept +myself, with her, as fit part of an appointed and happy +scheme. Now, in a twinkling, all that had been subverted. +I was robbed of her exquisite dependence upon me, of those +tender defects of nature that rendered her most dear. I was +to miss now her fineness, her weakness and trustfulness, +which had been a continual delight. I could no longer see +her eyes nor touch her hands, nor sit silent at her feet, dreaming +of days to come. Her voice was gone from my listening +ears. Always I waited to hear her footstep, but it came no +longer, rustling in the grasses. It seemed to me that by +some hard decree I had been deprived of all my senses; for +not one was left which did not crave and cry aloud for her.</p> + +<p>It was thus that I, dulled, bereft; I, having lived, now +dead; I, late free, now bound again, turned away sullenly, and + +began my journey back to the life I had known before I +met her.</p> + +<p>As I passed East by the Denver stage, I met hurrying +throngs always coming westward, a wavelike migration of +population now even denser than it had been the preceding +spring. It was as Colonel Meriwether said, the wagons +almost touched from the Platte to the Rockies. They came +on, a vast, continuous stream of hope, confidence and youth. +I, who stemmed that current, alone was unlike it in all ways.</p> + +<p>One thing only quickened my laggard heart, and that was +the all prevalent talk of war. The debates of Lincoln and +Douglas, the consequences of Lincoln's possible election, +the growing dissensions in the Army over Buchanan's practically +overt acts of war—these made the sole topics of conversation. +I heard my own section, my own State, criticised +bitterly, and all Southerners called traitors to that flag I had +seen flying over the frontiers of the West. At times, I say, +these things caused my blood to stir once more, though perhaps +it was not all through patriotism.</p> + +<p>At last, after weeks of travel across a disturbed country, I +finally reached the angry hive of political dissension at +Washington. Here I was near home, but did not tarry, +and passed thence by stage to Leesburg, in Virginia; and so +finally came back into our little valley and the quiet town of +Wallingford. I had gone away the victim of misfortune; I +returned home with a broken word and an unfinished promise +and a shaken heart. That was my return.</p> + +<p>I got me a horse at Wallingford barns, and rode out to +Cowles' Farms. At the gate I halted and looked in over +the wide lawns. It seemed to me I noted a change in them +as in myself. The grass was unkempt, the flower beds + +showed little attention. The very seats upon the distant +gallery seemed unfamiliar, as though arranged by some careless +hand. I opened the gate for myself, rode up to the old +stoop and dismounted, for the first time in my life there +without a boy to take my horse. I walked slowly up the +steps to the great front door of the old house. No servant +came to meet me, grinning. I, grandson of the man who +built that house, my father's home and mine, lifted the brazen +knocker of the door and heard no footstep anticipate my +knock. The place sounded empty.</p> + +<p>Finally there came a shuffling footfall and the door was +opened, but there stood before me no one that I recognized. +It was a smallish, oldish, grayish man who opened the door +and smiled in query at me.</p> + +<p>"I am John Cowles, sir," I said, hesitating. "Yourself I +do not seem to know—"</p> + +<p>"My name is Halliday, Mr. Cowles," he replied. A flush +of humiliation came to my face.</p> + +<p>"I should know you. You were my father's creditor."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, my firm was the holder of certain obligations at +the time of your father's death. You have been gone very +long without word to us. Meantime, pending any action—"</p> + +<p>"You have moved in!"</p> + +<p>"I have ventured to take possession, Mr. Cowles. That +was as your mother wished. She waived all her rights and +surrendered everything, said all the debts must be paid—"</p> + +<p>"Of course—"</p> + +<p>"And all we could prevail upon her to do was to take up +her quarters there in one of the little houses."</p> + +<p>He pointed with this euphemism toward our old servants' +quarters. So there was my mother, a woman gently reared, + +tenderly cared for all her life, living in a cabin where once +slaves had lived. And I had come back to her, to tell a story +such as mine!</p> + +<p>"I hope," said he, hesitating, "that all these matters may +presently be adjusted. But first I ask you to influence your +mother to come back into the place and take up her residence."</p> + +<p>I smiled slowly. "You hardly understand her," I said. +"I doubt if my influence will suffice for that. But I shall +meet you again." I was turning away.</p> + +<p>"Your mother, I believe, is not here—she went over to +Wallingford. I think it is the day when she goes to the little +church—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. If you will excuse me I shall ride over to +see if I can find her." He bowed. Presently I was hurrying +down the road again. It seemed to me that I could never +tolerate the sight of a stranger as master at Cowles' Farms.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_38"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXVII - The Furrow</h2> + + +<p>I Found her at the churchyard of the old meetinghouse. +She was just turning toward the gate in the +low sandstone wall which surrounded the burying +ground and separated it from the space immediately about +the little stone church. It was a beautiful spot, here where +the sun came through the great oaks that had never known +an ax, resting upon blue grass that had never known a plow—a +spot virgin as it was before old Lord Fairfax ever claimed +it hi his loose ownership. Everything about it spoke of quiet +and gentleness.</p> + +<p>I knew what it was that she looked upon as she turned +back toward that spot—it was one more low mound, simple, +unpretentious, added to the many which had been placed +there this last century and a half; one more little gray sandstone +head-mark, cut simply with the name and dates of him +who rested there, last in a long roll of our others. The slight +figure in the dove-colored gown looked back lingeringly. It +gave a new ache to my heart to see her there.</p> + +<p>She did not notice me as I slipped down from my saddle +and fastened my horse at the long rack. But when I called +she turned and came to me with open arms.</p> + +<p>"Jack!" she cried. "My son, how I have missed thee! +Now thee has come back to thy mother." She put her forehead +on my shoulder, but presently took up a mother's scrutiny. + +Her hand stroked my hair, my unshaven beard, took +in each line of my face.</p> + +<p>"Thee has a button from thy coat," she said, reprovingly. +"And what is this scar on thy neck—thee did not tell me +when thee wrote, Jack, what ails thee?" She looked at me +closely. "Thee is changed. Thee is older—what has come +to thee, my son?"</p> + +<p>"Come," I said to her at length, and led her toward the +steps of the little church.</p> + +<p>Then I broke out bitterly and railed against our ill-fortune, +and cursed at the man who would allow her to live in servants' +quarters—indeed, railed at all of life.</p> + +<p>"Thee must learn to subdue thyself, my son," she said. +"It is only so that strength comes to us—when we bend the +back to the furrow God sets for us. I am quite content in +my little rooms. I have made them very clean; and I have +with me a few things of my own—a few, not many."</p> + +<p>"But your neighbors, mother, the Sheratons—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, they asked me to live with them. But I +was not moved to do that. You see, I know each rose bush +and each apple tree on our old place. I did not like to leave +them.</p> + +<p>"Besides, as to the Sheratons, Jack," she began again—"I +do not wish to say one word to hurt thy feelings, but Miss +Grace—"</p> + +<p>"What about Miss Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Orme, the gentleman who once stopped with us a +few days—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Orme! Is he here again? He was all through the +West with me—I met him everywhere there. Now I meet +him here!"</p> + + +<p>"He returned last summer, and for most of his time has +been living at the Sheratons'. He and Colonel Sheraton +agree very well. And he and Miss Grace—I do not like to +say these things to thee, my son, but they also seem to agree."</p> + +<p>"Go on," I demanded, bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Whether Miss Grace's fancy has changed, I do not know, +but thy mother ought to tell thee this, so that if she should +jilt thee, why, then—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, slowly, "it would be hard for me to speak +the first word as to a release."</p> + +<p>"But if she does not love thee, surely she will speak that +word. So then say good-by to her and set about thy business."</p> + +<p>I could not at that moment find it in my heart to speak +further. We rose and walked down to the street of the little +town, and at the tavern barn I secured a conveyance which +took us both back to what had once been our home. It was +my mother's hands which, at a blackened old fireplace, in +a former slave's cabin, prepared what we ate that evening. +Then, as the sun sank in a warm glow beyond the old Blue +Ridge, and our little valley lay there warm and peaceful as +of old, I drew her to the rude porch of the whitewashed cabin, +and we looked out, and talked of things which must be mentioned. +I told her—told her all my sad and bitter story, +from end to end.</p> + +<p>"This, then," I concluded, more than an hour after I had +begun, "is what I have brought back to you—failure, failure, +nothing but failure."</p> + +<p>We sat in silence, looking out into the starry night, how +long I do not know. Then I heard her pray, openly, as was +not the custom of her people. "Lord, this is not my will. +Is this Thy will?"</p> + + +<p>After a time she put her hand upon mine. "My son, +now let us reason what is the law. From the law no man +may escape. Let us see who is the criminal. And if that +be thee, then let my son have his punishment."</p> + +<p>I allowed the edge of her gentle words to bite into my soul, +but I could not speak.</p> + +<p>"But one thing I know," she concluded, "thee is John +Cowles, the son of my husband, John; and thee at the last +will do what is right, what thy heart says to thee is right."</p> + +<p>She kissed me on the cheek and so arose. All that night +I felt her prayers.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_39"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXVIII - Hearts Hypothecated</h2> + + +<p>The next morning at the proper hour I started for +the Sheraton mansion. This time it was not my +old horse Satan that I rode. My mother told me +that Satan had been given over under the blanket chattel +mortgage, and sold at the town livery stable to some purchaser, +whom she did not know, who had taken the horse out +of the country. I reflected bitterly upon the changes in my +fortunes since the last time I rode this way.</p> + +<p>At least I was not so much coward as to turn about. So +presently I rode up the little pitch from the trough road and +pulled the gate latch with my riding crop. And then, as +though it were by appointment, precisely as I saw her that +morning last spring—a hundred years ago it seemed to me—I +saw Grace Sheraton coming down the walk toward me, +tall, thin. Alas! she did not fill my eye. She was elegantly +clad, as usual. I had liefer seen dress of skins. Her dainty +boots clicked on the gravel. A moccasin would not.</p> + +<p>I threw my rein over the hook at the iron arm of the stone +gate pillar and, hat in hand, I went to meet her. I was an +older man now. I was done with roystering and fighting, +and the kissing of country girls all across the land. I did +not prison Grace Sheraton against the stone gate pillar now, +and kiss her against her will until she became willing. All I +did was to lift her hand and kiss her finger tips.</p> + + +<p>She was changed. I felt that rather than saw it. If anything, +she was thinner, her face had a deeper olive tint, her +eyes were darker. Her expression was gay, feverish, yet not +natural, as she approached. What was it that sat upon her +face—melancholy, or fear, or sorrow, or resentment? I was +never very bright of mind. I do not know.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you," she said to me at length, awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"And I to see you, of course." I misdoubt we both lied.</p> + +<p>"It is very sad, your home-coming thus," she added; at +which clue I caught gladly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, matters could hardly be worse for us."</p> + +<p>"Your mother would not come to us. We asked her. We +feel deeply mortified. But now—we hope you both will +come."</p> + +<p>"We are beggars now, Miss Grace," I said. "I need +time to look around, to hit upon some plan of life. I must +make another home for myself, and for—"</p> + +<p>"For me?" She faced me squarely now, eye to eye. A +smile was on her lips, and it seemed to me a bitter one, but +I could not guess what was hidden in her mind. I saw her +cheek flush slowly, deeper than was usual with a Sheraton +girl.</p> + +<p>"For my wife, as soon as that may be," I answered, as red +as she.</p> + +<p>"I learn that you did not see Colonel Meriwether," she +went on politely.</p> + +<p>"How did you know it?"</p> + +<p>"Through Captain Orme."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, quietly, "I have heard of Captain Orme—much +of him—very much." Still I could not read her face.</p> + + +<p>"He was with us a long time this summer," she resumed, +presently. "Some two weeks ago he left, for Charleston, I +think. He has much business about the country."</p> + +<p>"Much business," I assented, "in many parts of the country. +But most of all with men of the Army. So Captain +Orme—since we must call him Captain and not minister—was +so good as to inform you of my private matters."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Again she looked at me squarely, with defiance. +"I know all about it. I know all about that girl."</p> + +<p>So there it was! But I kept myself under whip hand still. +"I am very glad. It will save me telling you of myself. It +is not always that one has the good fortune of such early +messengers."</p> + +<p>"Go on," she said bitterly, "tell me about her."</p> + +<p>"I have no praises to sound for her. I do not wish to +speak of this, if you prefer to hear it from others than myself."</p> + +<p>She only smiled enigmatically, her mouth crooking in +some confidence she held with herself, but not with me. +"It was natural," she said at last, slowly. "Doubtless I +would have done as she did. Doubtless any other man +would have done precisely as you did. That is the way +with men. After all, I suppose the world is the world, and +that we are as we are. The girl who is closest to a man has +the best chance with him. Opportunity is much, very +much. Secrecy is everything."</p> + +<p>I found nothing which suited me to say; but presently she +went on, again leaning on the ivy-covered stone pillar of the +gate, her hat held by its strings at her side, her body not imprisoned +by my arms.</p> + +<p>"Why should you not both have done so?" she resumed, +bitterly. "We are all human."</p> + + +<p>"Why should we not have done what—what is it that you +mean?" I demanded of her.</p> + +<p>"Why, there was she, engaged to Mr. Belknap, as I am +told; and there were you, engaged to a certain young lady +by the name of Grace Sheraton, very far away. And you +were conveniently lost—very conveniently—and you found +each other's society agreeable. You kept away for some +weeks or months, both of you forgetting. It was idyllic—ideal. +You were not precisely babes in the woods. You were +a man and a woman. I presume you enjoyed yourselves, +after a very possible little fashion—I do not blame you—I +say I might have done the same. I should like to know it for +a time myself—freedom! I do not blame you. Only," she +said slowly, "in society we do not have freedom. Here it is +different. I suppose different laws apply, different customs!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Grace," said I, "I do not in the least understand +you. You are not the same girl I left."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not. But that is not my fault. Can not a +woman be free as much as a man? Have I not right as +much as you? Have you not been free?"</p> + +<p>"One thing only I want to say," I rejoined, "and it is +this, which I ought not to say at all. If you mean anything +regarding Ellen Meriwether, I have to tell you, or any one, +that she is clean—mind, body, soul, heart—as clean as when +I saw her first."</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I like you for saying that!" she retorted. +"I would never marry a man who knew nothing of other +women—I don't want a milksop; and I would not marry a +man who would not lie for the sake of a sweetheart. You +lie beautifully! Do you know, Jack, I believe you are a bit +of a gentleman, after all!</p> + + +<p>"But tell me, when is the wedding to be?" This last with +obvious effort.</p> + +<p>"You have not advised me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon. I meant your marriage with +Ellen Meriwether. I supposed of course you had quite forgotten +me!"</p> + +<p>"Ellen Meriwether is already married," I said to her, with +a calmness which surprised myself. But what surprised me +most was the change which came upon her face at the +words—the flush—the gleam of triumph, of satisfaction. I +guessed this much and no more—that she had had certain +plans, and that now she had other plans, changed with +lightning swiftness, and by reason of my words.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant Lawrence Belknap and Miss Ellen Meriwether +were married, I presume, some time after I started for the +East," I went on. "But they were never engaged before our +return to the settlements. It was all very suddenly arranged."</p> + +<p>"How like a story-book! So he forgot her little incidents +with you—all summer—side by side—day and night! How +romantic! I don't know that I could have done so much, +had I been a man, and myself not guilty of the same incidents. +At least, he kept his promise."</p> + +<p>"There had never been any promise at all between them."</p> + +<p>"Then Captain Orme was quite mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"Captain Orme does not trouble himself always to be +accurate."</p> + +<p>"At least, then, you are unmarried, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and likely to be for some years."</p> + +<p>Now her face changed once more. Whether by plan of her +own or not, I cannot say, but it softened to a more gentle—shall +I say a more beseeching look? Was it that I again was at + +her side, that old associations awakened? Or was it because +she was keen, shrewd and in control of herself, able to make +plans to her own advantage? I cannot tell as to that. But I +saw her face soften, and her voice was gentle when she spoke.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Jack?" she asked.</p> + +<p>If there was not love and caress in her tones, then I could +not detect the counterfeit. I reiterate, if I should live a +thousand years, I should know nothing of women, nothing. +We men are but toys with them. As in life and in sex man +is in nature's plan no master, no chooser, but merely an +incident; so, indeed, I believe that he is thus always with a +woman—only an incident. With women we are toys. +They play with us. We never read them. They are the +mystery of the world. When they would deceive us it is +beyond all our art to read them. Never shall man, even the +wisest, fathom the shallowest depths of a woman's heart. +Their superiors? God! we are their slaves, and the stronger +we are as men, the more are we enslaved.</p> + +<p>Had it been left to my judgment to pronounce, I should +have called her emotion now a genuine one. Mocking, +cynical, contemptuous she might have been, and it would +have suited my own mood. But what was it now on the +face of Grace Sheraton, girl of a proud family, woman I once +had kissed here at this very place until she blushed—kissed +until she warmed—until she—</p> + +<p>But now I know she changed once again, and I know +that this time I read her look aright. It was pathos on her +face, and terror. Her eye was that of the stricken antelope +in dread of the pursuer.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she whispered, "don't leave me! Jack, <em>I shall +need you!</em>"</p> + + +<p>Before I could resolve any questions in my mind, I heard +behind us the sound of approaching hoofs, and there rode +up to the gate her brother, Harry Sheraton, who dismounted +and hitched his horse near mine, saluting me as he pushed +open the great gate. It was the first time I had seen him +since my return.</p> + +<p>"Am I intruding?" he asked. "I'm awfully glad to see +you, Cowles—I heard below you were home. You've had a +long journey."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, "longer than I had planned, by many +weeks. And now I am glad to be back once more. No—" +in answer to his turning toward his horse as though he would +leave us. "You are looking well, Harry. Indeed, everything +in old Virginia is good to see again."</p> + +<p>"Wish I could be as polite with you. Have you been sick? +And, I say, you did meet the savages, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>I knew he meant the scar on the side of my neck, which +still was rather evident, but I did not care to repeat the old +story again. "Yes," I answered a bit shortly, "rather a near +thing of it. I presume Captain Orme told you?" I turned +to Miss Grace, who then admitted that she had heard something +of the surgery which had thus left its mark. Harry +seemed puzzled, so I saw it was news to him. Miss Grace +relieved the situation somewhat by turning toward the house.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will want to talk with Jack," she said to +him. "And listen, Harry, you must have him and Mrs. +Cowles over here this very evening—we cannot think of her +living alone at the old place. I shall send Cato down with, +the carriage directly, and you may drive over after Mrs. +Cowles." She held out her hand to me. "At dinner to-night, +then?"</p> + + +<p>I bowed, saying that we would be very happy, by which +I meant that we would be very miserable.</p> + +<p>This, then, was all that had been determined by my visit. +I was still an engaged man. Evidently nothing otherwise +had been discussed in the Sheraton family councils, if any +such had been held. If never suitor in Old Virginia rode up +in sorrier case than mine that morning, as I came to call upon +my fiancée, certainly did never one depart in more uncertain +frame of mind than mine at this very moment. I presume +that young Sheraton felt something of this, for he began +awkwardly to speak of matters related thereto.</p> + +<p>"It's awfully hard," he began, "to see strangers there in +your own house—I know it must be hard. But I say, your +father must have plunged heavily on those lands over West +in the mountains. I've heard they're very rich in coal, and +that all that was necessary was simply cash or credit enough +to tide the deal over till next year's crops."</p> + +<p>"My father always said there was a great fortune in the +lands," I replied. "Yes, I think another year would have +seen him through; but that year was not to come for him."</p> + +<p>"But couldn't funds be raised somehow, even yet?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "It is going to be hard in these times +to raise funds in any way. Values are bad now, and if the +Republican party elects Lincoln next month, there will be +no such things as values left in Virginia. I don't see how +anything can save our property."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not so sure," he went on, embarrassed. "My +father and I have been talking over these matters, and we +concluded to ask you if we might not take a hand in this. +At least, we have agreed all along that—in this case you know—you +and my sister—we have planned definitely that you + +should live in your old place. We're going to take that over. +The redemption time has plenty of margin, and we can't +allow those people to come in here and steal one of the old +Virginia places in that way. We are going to arrange to +hold that for you and my sister, and we thought that perhaps +in time something could be worked out of the rest of the +property in the same way. That is, unless Colonel Meriwether, +your father's partner, shall offer some better solution. +I suppose you talked it over with him?"</p> + +<p>"I did not talk with him about it at all," said I, dully. +For many reasons I did not care to repeat all of my story to +him. I had told it often enough already. "None the less, +it seems very generous of you and your father to take this +interest in me. It would be very churlish of me if I did not +appreciate it. But I trust nothing has been done as yet—"</p> + +<p>"You trust not? Why, Cowles, you speak as though you +did not want us to do it."</p> + +<p>"I do not," said I.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then—"</p> + +<p>"You know our family well enough."</p> + +<p>"That's true. But you won't be offended if I suggest to +you that there are two sides to this, and two prides. All the +country knows of your engagement, and now that you have +returned, it will be expected that my sister will set the day +before long. Of course, we shouldn't want my sister to +begin too far down—oh, damn it, Cowles, you know what I +mean."</p> + +<p>"I presume so," said I to him, slowly. "But suppose that +your sister should offer to her friends the explanation that +the change in my fortunes no longer leaves desirable this +alliance with my family?"</p> + + +<p>"Do you suggest that?"</p> + +<p>"I have not done so."</p> + +<p>"Has she suggested it?"</p> + +<p>"We have not talked of it, yet it might be hard for your +sister to share a lot so humble and so uncertain."</p> + +<p>"That I presume will be for her to decide," he said slowly. +"I admit it is a hard question all around. But, of course, in +a matter of this kind, the man has to carry the heavy end of +the log if there is one. If that falls to you, we know you will +not complain."</p> + +<p>"No," said I, "I hope not."</p> + +<p>His forehead still remained furrowed with the old Sheraton +wrinkles. He seemed uneasy. "By Jove," he broke +out at length, flushing as he turned to me, "it is hard for a +fellow to tell sometimes what's right, isn't it? Jack, you +remember Jennie Williams, across under Catoctin?"</p> + +<p>I nodded. "I thought you two were going to make a +match of it sometime," I said.</p> + +<p>"Prettiest girl in the valley," he assented; "but her family +is hardly what we would call the best, you know." I looked +at him very hard.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you go there so often all last year?" I +asked him. "Might she not think—"</p> + +<p>He flushed still more, his mouth twitching now. "Jack," +he said, "it's all through. I want to ask you. I ought to +marry Jennie Williams, but—"</p> + +<p>Now I looked at him full and hard, and guessed. Perhaps +my face was grave. I was beginning to wonder whether +there was one clean thing in all the world.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she can marry," went on Harry. "No difficulty +about that. She has another beau who loves her to distraction, + +and who doesn't in the least suspect—a decent sort +of a fellow, a young farmer of her own class."</p> + +<p>"And, in your belief, that wedding should go on?"</p> + +<p>He shifted uneasily.</p> + +<p>"When is this wedding to be?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, naturally, very soon," he answered. "I am doing +as handsome a thing as I know how by her. Sometimes it's +mighty hard to do the handsome thing—even mighty hard to +know what is the handsome thing itself."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I. But who was I that I should judge him?</p> + +<p>"If you were just where I am," asked Harry Sheraton, +slowly, "what would you do? I'd like to do what is right, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, you don't, Harry," I broke out. "You want to +do what is easiest. If you wanted to do what is right, you'd +never ask me nor any one else. Don't ask me, because I +don't know. Suppose you were in the case of that other +young man who loves her? Suppose he did not know—or +suppose he <em>did</em> know. What would be right for him?"</p> + +<p>"Heavy end of the log for him," admitted he, grimly. +"That's true, sure as you're born."</p> + +<p>"When one does not love a girl, and sees no happiness in +the thought of living with her all his life, what squares that, +Harry, in your opinion?"</p> + +<p>"I've just asked you," he rejoined. "Why do you ask +me? You say one ought to know what is right in his own +case without any such asking, and I say that isn't always +true. Oh, damn it all, anyway. Why are we made the way +we are?"</p> + +<p>"If only the girl in each case would be content by having +the handsome thing done by her!" said I, bitterly.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_40"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XXXIX - The Uncovering Of Gordon Orme</h2> + + +<p>It is not necessary for me to state that dinner in the +Sheraton hall, with its dull mahogany and its shining +silver and glass, was barely better than a nightmare to +me, who should have been most happy. At least there remained +the topic of politics and war; and never was I more +glad to plunge into such matters than upon that evening. In +some way the dinner hour passed. Miss Grace pleaded a +headache and left us; my mother asked leave; and presently +our hostess and host departed. Harry and I remained to +stare at each other moodily. I admit I was glad when +finally he announced his intention of retiring.</p> + +<p>A servant showed me my own room, and some time before +midnight I went up, hoping that I might sleep. My long life +in the open air had made all rooms and roofs seem confining +and distasteful to me, and I slept badly in the best of beds. +Now my restlessness so grew upon me that, some time past +midnight, not having made any attempt to prepare for sleep, +I arose, went quietly down the stair and out at the front door, +to see if I could find more peace in the open air. I sat down +on the grass with my back against one of the big oaks, and so +continued brooding moodily over my affairs, confused as +they had now become.</p> + +<p>By this time every one of the household had retired. I +was surprised, therefore, when I saw a faint streak of light + +from one of the windows flash out across the lawn. Not +wishing to intrude, I rose quietly and changed my position, +passing around the tree. Almost at that instant I saw the +figure of a man appear from the shrubbery and walk directly +toward the house, apparently headed for the window from +which emerged the light.</p> + +<p>I watched him advance, and when I saw him reach the +heavily barred trellis which ran up to the second gallery, I +felt confirmed in my suspicion that he was a burglar. Approaching +carefully in the shadow, I made a rapid run at +him, and as his head was turned at the time, managed to +catch him about the neck by an arm. His face, thus thrown +back, was illuminated by the flare of light. I saw him +plainly. It was Gordon Orme!</p> + +<p>The light disappeared. There was no cry from above. +The great house, lying dark and silent, heard no alarm. I +did not stop to reason about this, but tightened my grip upon +him in so fell a fashion that all his arts in wrestling could +avail him nothing. I had caught him from behind, and now +I held him with a hand on each of his arms above the elbow. +No man could escape me when I had that hold.</p> + +<p>He did not speak, but struggled silently with all his power. +At length he relaxed a trifle. I stood close to him, slipped +my left arm under his left along his back, and caught his +right arm in my left hand. Then I took from his pocket a +pistol, which I put into my own. I felt in his clothing, and +finally discovered a knife, hidden in a scabbard at the back +of his neck. I drew it out—a long-bladed, ivory thing I +found it later, with gold let into the hilt and woven into the +steel.</p> + +<p>He eased himself in my grip as much as he could, waiting; + +as I knew, for his chance to twist and grapple with me. I +could feel him breathing deeply and easily, resting, waiting +for his time, using his brains to aid his body with perfect +deliberation.</p> + +<p>"It's no use, Orme," I said to him, finally. "I can wring +your neck, or break your back, or twist your arms off, and +by God! I've a notion to do them all. If you make any attempt +to get away I'm going to kill you. Now come along."</p> + +<p>I shoved him ahead of me, his arms pinioned, until we +found a seat far away in a dark portion of the great front +yard. Here I pushed him down and took the other end of +the seat, covering him with his own pistol.</p> + +<p>"Now," I demanded, "tell me what you are doing here."</p> + +<p>"You have your privilege at guessing," he sneered, in his +easy, mocking way. "Have you never taken a little adventure +of this sort yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, some servant girl—at your host's house. Excellent +adventure. But this is your last one," I said to him.</p> + +<p>"Is it so," he sneered. "Then let me make my prayers!" +He mocked at me, and had no fear of me whatever.</p> + +<p>"In Virginia we keep the shotgun for men who prowl +around houses at night. What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"You have no right to ask. It is not your house."</p> + +<p>"There was a light," said I. "For that reason I have a +right to ask. I am a guest, and a guest has duties as well as +a host."</p> + +<p>A certain change in mood seized him. "If I give you +parole," he asked, "will you believe me, and let us talk +freely?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I at length, slowly. "You are a liar; but I +do not think you will break parole."</p> + + +<p>"You gauge me with perfect accuracy," he answered. +"That is why I wish to talk."</p> + +<p>I threw the pistol on the seat between us. "What is it +you want to know," I asked. "And again I ask you, why +are you here, when you are supposed to be in South Carolina?"</p> + +<p>"I have business here. You cost me my chance out there +in the West," he answered, slowly. "In turn I cost you +your chance there. I shall cost you other things here. I +said you should pay my debt." He motioned toward my +neck with his slim finger.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you saved my life," I said, "and I have hated you +for that ever since."</p> + +<p>"Will you make me one promise?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, but not in advance."</p> + +<p>"And will you keep it?"</p> + +<p>"If I make it."</p> + +<p>"Will you promise me to do one thing you have already +promised to do?"</p> + +<p>"Orme, I am in no mood to sit here and gossip like an +old woman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't cut up ugly. You're done out of it all around, +in any case. Belknap, it seems, was to beat both you and +me. Then why should not you and I try to forget? But +now as to this little promise. I was only going to ask you +to do as much as Belknap, or less."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then."</p> + +<p>"I want you to promise to marry Grace Sheraton."</p> + +<p>I laughed in his face. "I thought you knew me better +than that, Orme. I'll attend to my own matters for myself. +I shall not even ask you why you want so puerile a promise. + +I am much of a mind to shoot you. Tell me, who are you, +and what are you, and what are you doing in this country?"</p> + +<p>"Do you really want to know?" he smiled.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly I do. I demand it."</p> + +<p>"I believe I will tell you, then," he said quietly. He mused +for a time before he raised his head and went on.</p> + +<p>"I am Charles Gordon Orme, Marquis of Bute and Rayne. +Once I lived in England. For good reasons I have since +lived elsewhere. I am what is known as a black sheep—a +very, very black one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are a retrograde, a renegade, a blackguard and +a murderer," I said to him, calmly.</p> + +<p>"All of those things, and much more," he admitted, cheerfully +and calmly. "I am two persons, or more than two. I +can't in the least make all this plain to you in your grade of +intelligence. Perhaps you have heard of exchangeable personalities?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard of double personalities, and double lives," +I said, "but I have never admired them."</p> + +<p>"We will waive your admiration. Let me say that I can +exchange my personality. The Jews used to say that men +of certain mentality were possessed of a devil. I only say +that I was a student in India. One phrase is good as another. +The Swami Hamadata was my teacher."</p> + +<p>"It would have been far better for you had you never +known him, and better for many others," was my answer to +his astonishing discourse.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; but I am only explaining as you have requested. +I am a Raja Yogi. I have taken the eight mystic steps. +For years, even here in this country, I have kept up the sacred +exercises of breath, of posture, of thought."</p> + + +<p>"All that means nothing to me," I admitted simply.</p> + +<p>"No, it means nothing for me to tell you that I have learned +Yama, Niyama, Asana, Pranayama, Pratyahara, Dharana, +Dyhana and Samadhi! Yes, I was something of an adept +once. I learned calm, meditation, contemplation, introspection, +super-conscious reasoning—how to cast my own +mind to a distance, how to bring other minds close up to me. +But,"—he smiled with all his old mockery—"mostly I failed +on Pratyahara, which says the senses must be quelled, subdued +and set aside! All religions are alike to me, but they +must not intrude on my own religion. I'd liefer die than +not enjoy. My religion, I say, is to play the great games—to +adventure, and above all, to enjoy! That is why I am in +this country, also why I am in these grounds to-night."</p> + +<p>"You are playing some deeper game than I know?"</p> + +<p>"I always am! How could you be expected to understand +what it took me years to learn? But I suppose in your case +you need a few practical and concrete proofs. Let me show +you a few things. Here, put your hand on my heart."</p> + +<p>I obeyed. "You feel it beat?" he said. "Now it stops +beating, does it not?" And as I live, it <em>had slopped</em>!</p> + +<p>"Feel on the opposite side," he commanded. I did so, +and there was his heart, clear across his body, and beating +as before! "Now I shall stop it again," he remarked, +calmly. And I swear it did stop, and resumed when he +liked!</p> + +<p>"Put your hand upon my abdomen," he said. I did so. +All at once his body seemed thin and empty, as a spent +cocoon.</p> + +<p>"I draw all the organs into the thorax," he explained. +"When one has studied under the Swami, as I have, he gains + +control over all his different muscles, voluntary and involuntary. +He can, to a great extent, cut off or increase the nerve +force in any muscle. Simple tricks in magic become easy to +him. He gains, as you may suppose, a certain influence over +men, and more especially over women, if that be a part of +his religion. It was not with the Swami. It is with me!"</p> + +<p>"You are a strange man, Orme," I said, drawing a long +breath. "The most dangerous man, the most singular, the +most immoral I ever knew."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, reaching for his cigar case, "I was only +born without what you call morals. They are not necessary +in abstruse thought. Yet in some ways I retain the old +influences of my own country. For instance, I lie as readily +as I speak the truth, because it is more convenient; but +though I am a liar, I do not break my word of honor. I am +a renegade, but I am still an English officer! You have +caught that distinction."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I would trust you," I said, "if you gave me your +word of honor."</p> + +<p>He turned full upon me. "By Jove, old chap," he said, +with a queer note in his voice, "you touch me awfully close. +You're like men of my own family—you stir something in me +that I used to know. The word of a fighting man—that's +the same for yours and mine; and that's why I've always +admired you. That's the sort of man that wins with the +best sort of women."</p> + +<p>"You were not worth the best sort of woman," I said to +him. "You had no chance with Ellen Meriwether."</p> + +<p>"No, but at least every fellow is worth his own fight with +himself. I wanted to be a gentleman once more. Oh, a +man may mate with a woman of any color—he does, all over + +the world. He may find a mistress in any nationality of +his own color, or a wife in any class similar to his own—he +does, all over the world. But a sweetheart, and a wife, and a +woman—when a fellow even like myself finds himself honestly +gone like that—when he begins to fight inside himself, +old India against old England, renegade against gentleman—say, +that's awfully bitter—when he sees the other fellow +win. You won—"</p> + +<p>"No," said I, "I did not win. You know that perfectly +well. There is no way in the world that I can win. All I +can do is to keep parole—well, with myself, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"You touch me awfully close," he mused again. "You +play big and fair. You're a fighting man and a gentleman +and—excuse me, but it's true—an awful ass all in one. +You're such an ass I almost hesitate to play the game with +you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said I. "But now take a very stupid fellow's +advice. Leave this country, and don't be seen about +here again, for if so, you will be killed."</p> + +<p>"Precisely," he admitted. "In fact, I was just intending +to arrange a permanent departure. That was why I was +asking you to promise me to—in short, to keep your own +promise. There's going to be war next spring. The dreams +of this strange new man Lincoln, out in the West, are going +to come true—there will be catastrophies here. That is why +I am here. War, one of the great games, is something that +one must sometimes cross the globe to play. I will be here +to have a hand in this one."</p> + +<p>"You have had much of a hand in it already," I hazarded. +He smiled frankly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "one must live. I admit I have been + +what you call a secret agent. There is much money behind +me, big politics, big commercial interests. I love the big +games, and my game and my task—my duty to my masters, +has been to split this country along a clean line from east to +west, from ocean to ocean—to make two countries of it! +You will see that happen, my friend."</p> + +<p>"No one will ever see it happen," I said to him, soberly.</p> + +<p>"Under which flag, then, for you?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"The flag you saw on the frontier, Orme," I answered +him. "That is the flag of America, and will be. The +frontier is free. It will make America free forever."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," he said, "the argument will be obvious +enough by next spring—in April, I should guess. And whatever +you or I may think, the game will be big, very big—the +biggest until you have your real war between black and +white, and your yet bigger one between yellow and white. +I imagine old England will be in that with you, or with one +of you, if you make two countries here. But I may be a +wandering Jew on some other planet before that time."</p> + +<p>He sat for a time, his chin dropped on his breast. Finally +he reached me his hand.</p> + +<p>"Let me go," he said. "I promise you to leave."</p> + +<p>"To leave the State?"</p> + +<p>"No, I will not promise that."</p> + +<p>"To leave the County?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, unless war should bring me here in the course of +my duty. But I will promise to leave this town, this residence—this +girl—in short, I must do that. And you are such an +ass that I was going to ask you to promise to keep your +promise—up there." He motioned toward the window +where the light lately had been.</p> + + +<p>"You do not ask that now?" I queried.</p> + +<p>"You are a fighting man," he said, suddenly. "Let all +these questions answer themselves when their time comes. +After all, I suppose a woman is a woman in the greatest of +the Barnes, and one takes one's chances. Suppose we leave +the debt unsettled until we meet some time? You know, you +may be claiming debt of me."</p> + +<p>"Will you be ready?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"Always. You know that. Now, may I go? Is my +parole ended?"</p> + +<p>"It ends at the gate," I said to him, and handed him his +pistol. The knife I retained, forgetfully; but when I turned +to offer it to him he was gone.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_41"></a> +<h2>Chapter XL - A Confusion In Covenants</h2> + + +<p>During the next morning Harry Sheraton galloped +down to the village after the morning's mail. +On his return he handed me two letters. One was +from Captain Matthew Stevenson, dated at Fort Henry, and +informed me that he had been transferred to the East from +Jefferson Barracks, in company with other officers. He +hinted at many changes in the disposition of the Army of +late. His present purpose in writing, as he explained, was to +promise us that, in case he came our way, he would certainly +look us up.</p> + +<p>This letter I put aside quickly, for the other seemed to +me to have a more immediate importance. I glanced it over, +and presently found occasion to request a word or so with +Colonel Sheraton. We withdrew to his library, and then I +handed him the letter.</p> + +<p>"This," I explained, "is from Jennings & Jennings, my +father's agents at Huntington, on whose advice he went into +his coal speculations."</p> + +<p>"I see. Their advice seems to have been rather disastrous."</p> + +<p>"At first it seemed so," I answered, "but now they advise +me by no means to allow foreclosure to be completed if it +can be avoided. The lands are worth many times the price +paid for them."</p> + + +<p>"I see—and they have some sort of an offer as well—eh?"</p> + +<p>"A half loaf is better than no bread," I assented. "I +think I ought to go out there and examine all this in +detail."</p> + +<p>"But one thing I don't understand about this," began +Colonel Sheraton, "your father's partner, Colonel Meriwether, +was on joint paper with him. What did he say to +you when you saw him?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I replied. "We did not discuss the matter."</p> + +<p>"What? That was the sole reason why you went out to +see him!"</p> + +<p>"Other matters came up," said I. "This was not brought +up at all between us."</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton looked at me keenly. "I must admit, +Mr. Cowles," said he, slowly weighing his words, that of late +certain things have seemed more than a little strange to me. +If you will allow me so to express myself, there is in my own +house, since you came, a sort of atmosphere of indefiniteness. +Now, why was it you did not take up these matters with +Colonel Meriwether? Certainly they were important to you; +and under the circumstances they have a certain interest to +myself. What are you trying to cover up?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing from you of a business nature, sir; and nothing +from Miss Grace of any nature which I think she ought to +know."</p> + +<p>He turned on me swiftly. "Young man, what do you propose +to do in regard to my daughter? I confess I have +contemplated certain plans in your benefit. I feel it is time +to mention these matters with you."</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image9.png" alt="On His Way Back Home John Finds His Mother And Grace, Who Have Come To Meet Him"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">On His Way Back Home John Finds His Mother And Grace, +Who Have Come To Meet Him</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image10.png" alt="John's Mother Hears That His Mission Has Been A Failure "I've Failed. Mother!""></p> +<p style="text-align: center">John's Mother Hears That His Mission Has Been A Failure +"I've Failed. Mother!"</p> + +<p>"It is time," I answered. "But if you please, it seems to +me Miss Grace and I should first take them up together. Has + +she spoken to you in any way that might lead you to think +she would prefer our engagement to be broken?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. There has only been a vagueness and indefiniteness +which I did not like."</p> + +<p>"Had my affairs not mended, Colonel Sheraton, I could +not have blamed any of you for breaking the engagement. +If conditions prove to be practically the same now as then, +it is she who must decide her course and mine."</p> + +<p>"That is perfectly honorable. I have no criticism to +offer. I have only her happiness at heart."</p> + +<p>"Then, if you please, sir, since I am rather awkwardly situated +here, I should like very much to see Miss Grace this +morning."</p> + +<p>He bowed in his lofty way and left me. Within a half +hour a servant brought me word that Miss Grace would see +me in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>She was seated in a wide, low chair near the sunny window, +half hid by the leafy plants that grew in the boxes there. +She was clad in loose morning wear over ample crinoline, her +dark hair drawn in broad bands over the temples, half confined +by a broad gold comb, save two long curls which hung +down her neck at either side. It seemed to me she was very +thin—thinner and darker than ever. Under her wide eyes +were heavy circles. She held out her hand to me, and it lay +cold and lifeless in my own. I made some pleasant talk of +small matters as I might, and soon as I could arrived at the +business of the letter I had received.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I have been a little hurried, after all, in classing +myself as an absolute pauper," I explained as she read. +"You see, I must go out there and look into these things."</p> + +<p>"Going away again?" She looked up at me, startled.</p> + + +<p>"For a couple of weeks. And when I come back, Miss +Grace—"</p> + +<p>So now I was up to the verge of that same old, definite +question.</p> + +<p>She sat up in the chair as though pulling herself together +in some sudden resolve, and looked me straight in the face.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said, "why should we wait?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said I. "Only I do not want you to marry +a pauper if any act of my own can make him better than a +pauper in the meantime."</p> + +<p>"You temporize," she said, bitterly. "You are not glad. +Yet you came to me only last spring, and you—"</p> + +<p>"I come to you now, Miss Grace," I said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, what a difference between then and now!" she +sighed.</p> + +<p>For a time we could find nothing fit to say. At last I was +forced to bring up one thing I did not like to mention.</p> + +<p>"Miss Grace," said I, seating myself beside her, "last +night, or rather this morning, after midnight, I found a man +prowling around in the yard."</p> + +<p>She sprang up as though shocked, her face gray, her eyes +full of terror.</p> + +<p>"You have told!" she exclaimed, "My father knows that +Captain Orme—"</p> + +<p>It was my own turn to feel surprise, which perhaps I showed.</p> + +<p>"I have told no one. It seemed to me that first I ought +to come to you and ask you about this. Why was Orme +there?"</p> + +<p>She stared at me. "He told me he would come back +some time," she admitted at length. All the while she was +fighting with herself, striving, exactly as Orme had done, to + +husband her powers for an impending struggle. "You +see," she added, "he has secret business all over the country—I +will own I believe him to be in the secret service of the +inner circle of a number of Southern congressmen and business +men. He is in with the Southern circle—of New Orleans, +of Charleston—Washington. For this reason he could +not always choose his hours of going and coming."</p> + +<p>"Does your father know of his peculiar hours?"</p> + +<p>"I presume so, of course."</p> + +<p>"I saw a light at a window," I began, "whose window I +do not know, doubtless some servant's. It could not have +been a signal?"</p> + +<p>"A <em>signal</em>? What do you mean? Do you suspect me of +putting out a beacon light for a cheap night adventure with +some man? Do you expect me to tolerate that sort of thing +from you?"</p> + +<p>"I ask you to tolerate nothing," I said. "I am not in the +habit of suspecting ladies. But I ask you if you can explain +the light on that side of the house."</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said, flinging out a hand, "forgive me. I +admit that Captain Orme and I carried on a bit of a flirtation, +after he came back—after he had told me about you. +But why should that—why, he did not know you were +here."</p> + +<p>"No," said I, dryly, "I don't think he did. I am glad +to know that you found something to amuse you in my +absence."</p> + +<p>"Let us not speak of amusements in the absence of each +other," she said bitterly. "Think of your own. But when +you came back, it was all as it was last spring. I could love +no other man but you, Jack, and you know it. After all, if + +we are quits, let us stay quits, and forgive, and forget—let us +forget, Jack."</p> + +<p>I sat looking at her as she turned to me, pleading, imploring +in her face, her gesture.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she went on, "a woman needs some one to take +care of her, to love her. I want you to take care of me—you +wouldn't throw me over for just a little thing—when all +the time you yourself—"</p> + +<p>"The light shone for miles across the valley," said I.</p> + +<p>"Precisely, and that was how he happened to come up, I +do not doubt. He thought we were still up about the place. +My father has always told him to make this his home, and +not to go to the tavern. They are friends politically, in many +ways, as you know."</p> + +<p>"The light then was that of some servant?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly it was. I know nothing of it. It was an accident, +and yet you blame me as though—why, it was all accident +that you met Captain Orme. Tell me, Jack, did you +quarrel? What did he tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Many things. He is no fit man for you to know, nor for +any woman."</p> + +<p>"Do I not know that? I will never see him again."</p> + +<p>"No, he will never come back here again, that is fairly +sure. He has promised that; and he asked me to promise +one thing, by the way."</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"To keep my promise with you. He asked me to marry +you! Why?"</p> + +<p>Infinite wit of woman! What chance have we men against +such weapons? It was coquetry she forced to her face, and +nothing else, when she answered: "So, then, he was hard + +hit, after all! I did not know that. How tender of him, to +wish me married to another than himself! The conceit of +you men is something wondrous."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Orme was so kind as to inform me that I was a gentleman, +and likewise a very great ass."</p> + +<p>"Did you promise him to keep your promise, Jack?" +She put both her hands on mine as it lay on the chair arm. +Her eyes looked into mine straight and full. It would have +taken more imagination than mine to suspect the slightest +flickering in their lids. "Jack," she murmured over and +over again. "I love you! I have never loved any other +man."</p> + +<p>"So now," I resumed, "I have come to you to tell you of +all these things, and to decide definitely and finally in regard +to our next plans."</p> + +<p>"But you believe me, Jack? You do promise to keep +your promise? You do love me?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt no woman whom I wed," I answered. "I shall +be gone for two or three weeks. As matters are at this moment +it would be folly for either of us to do more than let +everything stand precisely as it is until we have had time to +think. I shall come back, Miss Grace, and I shall ask +your answer."</p> + +<p>"Jack, I'm sure of that," she murmured. "It is a grand +thing for a woman to have the promise of a man who knows +what a promise is."</p> + +<p>I winced at this, as I had winced a thousand times at similar +thrusts unconsciously delivered by so many. "No," +said I, "I think Orme is right. I am only a very stupid +ass."</p> + +<p>She reached out her hand. I felt her fingers close cold + +and hard on mine, as though loth to let me go. I kissed her +fingers and withdrew, myself at least very glad to be away.</p> + +<p>I retired presently to my room to arrange my portmanteaus +for an early journey. And there, filling up one-half +of the greater valise, was a roll of hide, ragged about its edge. +I drew it out, and spread it flat upon the bed before me, +whitened and roughened with bone, reddened with blood, +written on with rude stylus, bearing certain words which all +the time, day and night, rang, yes, and sang, in my brain.</p> + +<p>"<em>I, John Cowles—I, Ellen Meriwether—take thee, for +better, for worse—till death—</em>" I saw her name, <em>E-l-l-e-n.</em></p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_42"></a> +<h2>Chapter XLI - Ellen Or Grace</h2> + + +<p>Presently once more I departed. My mother +also ended her visit at Dixiana, preferring to return +to the quiet of her two little whitewashed rooms, +and the old fireplace, and the sooty pot-hooks which our +people's slaves had used for two generations in the past.</p> + +<p>As to what I learned at Huntington, which place I reached +after some days of travel, I need say no more than that I began +to see fully verified my father's daring and his foresight. The +matter of the coal land speculation was proved perfectly feasible. +Indeed, my conference with our agents made it clear +that little remained excepting the questions of a partition of +interests, or of joint action between Colonel Meriwether and +my father's estate. The right of redemption still remained, +and there offered a definite alternative of selling a part of the +lands and retaining the remainder clear of incumbrance. We +wrote Colonel Meriwether all these facts from Huntington, +requesting his immediate attention. After this, I set out for +home, not ill-pleased with the outlook of my material affairs.</p> + +<p>All these details of surveying and locating lands, of measuring +shafts and drifts, and estimating cubic yards in coal, +and determining the status of tenures and fees, had occupied +me longer than I had anticipated. I had been gone two +days beyond a month, when finally, somewhat wearied with +stage travel, I pulled up at Wallingford.</p> + + +<p>As I approached the little tavern I heard much laughing, +talking, footfalls, hurrying, as men came or went on one +errand or another. A large party had evidently arrived on a +conveyance earlier than my own. I leaned against the front +rail of the tavern gallery and waited for some stable-boy to +come. The postmaster carried away his mail sack, the +loungers at the stoop gradually disappeared, and so presently +I began to look about me. I found my eyes resting +upon a long figure at the farther end of the gallery, sitting in +the shade of the steep hill which came down, almost sharp +as a house roof, back of the tavern, and so cut off the evening +sun. It was apparently a woman, tall and thin, clad in a +loose, stayless gown, her face hid in an extraordinarily long, +green sun-bonnet. Her arms were folded, and she was +motionless. But now and then there came a puff of smoke +from within the caverns of the sun-bonnet, accompanied with +the fragrant odor of natural leaf, whose presence brooked no +debate by the human nose. I looked at this stranger again +and yet again, then slowly walked up and held out my hand. +No one in all the world who could counterfeit Mandy McGovern, +even so far away, and under conditions seemingly +impossible for her presence!</p> + +<p>Mandy's pipe well-nigh fell from her lips. "Well, good +God A'mighty! If it ain't you, son!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I smiled.</p> + +<p>"They told me you-all lived somewheres around here."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mandy," I interrupted. "Tell me, what in the +world are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, me and the folks just come down to look around. Her +and her Pa was comin', and I come, too."</p> + +<p>"<em>Who</em> came with you, Aunt Mandy?"</p> + + +<p>"Still askin' fool questions like you didn't know! Why, +you know who it was. The Colonel's ordered to jine his +rigiment at Fort Henry. Gal come along o' him, o' course. +I come along with the gal, o' course. My boy and my husband +come along with me, o' course."</p> + +<p>"Your son, Andrew Jackson?"</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. He's somewheres 'round, I reckon. I see +him lickin' a nigger a few minutes ago. Say, that boy's +come out to be the fightenest feller I ever did see. Him +allowin' he got that there Injun, day we had the fight down +on the Platte, it just made a new man out'n him. 'Fore long +he whupped a teamster that got sassy with him. Then he +taken a rock and lammed the cook 'cause he looked like he +was laffin' at him. Not long atter that, he killed a Injun +he 'lowed was crawlin' 'round our place—done kilt him and +taken his skulp 'fore I had time to explain to him that like +enough that Injun was plum peaceful, and only comin' in +to get a loaf o' bread."</p> + +<p>"Bread? Aunt Mandy, where was all this?"</p> + +<p>"Where d'ye suppose it was unlessen at our <em>ho</em>tel? My +man and me seen there was a good openin' there on the trail +this side o' the south fork, and we set up a hotel in a dugout. +Them <em>emigrants</em> would give you anything you aste for +a piece o' pie, or a real baked loaf o' bread. We may go +back there some time. We could make our pile in a couple +o' years. I got over three hundred dollars right here in my +pocket."</p> + +<p>"But I don't quite understand about the man—your husband—"</p> + +<p>"Yep, my lastest one. Didn't you know I married ole +man Auberry? He's 'round here somewheres, lookin' fer + +a drink o' licker, I reckon. Colonel Meriwether 'lowed +there'd be some fightin' 'round these parts afore long. My +man and my son 'lowed the West was gettin' right quiet for +them, and they'd just take a chanct down here, to see a little +life in other parts."</p> + +<p>"I hadn't heard of this last marriage of yours, Aunt +Mandy," I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, me and him hooked up right soon atter you +and the gal got lost. Don't see how you missed our place +when you come East. We done took at least six bits off'n +every other man, woman or child that come through there, +east or west, all summer long. You see I was tired of that +lazy husband o' mine back home, and Auberry he couldn't +see nothin' to that woman o' his'n atter he found out how I +could bake pie and bread. So we both seem' the chanct +there was there on the trail, we done set up in business. Say, +I didn't know there was so many people in the whole world +as they was of them emi<em>grants</em>. Preacher come along in a +wagon one day—broke, like most preachers is. We kep' him +overnight, free, and he merried us next mornin' for nothin'. +Turn about's fair play, I reckon."</p> + +<p>I scarcely heard her querulous confidences. "Where is +Colonel Meriwether?" I asked her at last.</p> + +<p>"Inside," she motioned with her pipe. "Him and the gal, +too. But say, who's that a-comin' down the street there in +that little sawed-off wagon?"</p> + +<p>I looked. It was my fiancée, Grace Sheraton!</p> + +<p>By her side was my friend, Captain Stevenson, and at the +other end of the seat was a fluttering and animated figure +that could be no one else but Kitty. So then I guessed that +Stevenson and his wife had come on during my absence and + +were visiting at Dixiana. No doubt they had driven down +now for the evening mail.</p> + +<p>Could anything have lacked now to set in worse snarl my +already tangled skein of evil fortune! Out of all the thousand +ways in which we several actors in this human comedy +might have gone without crossing each other's paths, +why should Fate have chosen the only one to bring us thus +together?</p> + +<p>Kitty seemed first to spy me, and greeted me with an +enthusiastic waving of her gloves, parasol, veil and handkerchief, +all held confusedly, after her fashion, in one +hand. "P-r-r-r-t!" she trilled, school-girl-like, to attract my +attention meanwhile. "Howdy, you man! If it isn't John +Cowles I'm a sinner. Matt, look at him, isn't he old, and +sour, and solemn?"</p> + +<p>Stevenson jumped out and came up to me, smiling, as I +passed down the steps. I assisted his vivacious helpmeet +to alight. I knew that all this tangle would presently force +itself one way or the other. So I only smiled, and urged her +and her husband rapidly as I might up the steps and in at +the door, where I knew they would immediately be surprised +and fully occupied. Then again I approached Grace Sheraton +where she still sat, somewhat discomfited at not being +included in these plans, yet not unwilling to have a word with +me alone.</p> + +<p>"You sent me no word," began she, hurriedly. "I was +not expecting you to-day; but you have been gone more than +two weeks longer than you said you would be." The reproach +of her voice was not lost to me.</p> + +<p>Stevenson had run on into the tavern after his first greeting +to me, and presently I heard his voice raised in surprise, and + +Kitty's excited chatter. I heard Colonel Meriwether's voice +answering. I heard another voice.</p> + +<p>"Who is in there?" asked Grace Sheraton of me, curiously. +I looked her slowly and fully in the face.</p> + +<p>"It is Colonel Meriwether," I answered. "He has come +on unexpectedly from the West. His daughter is there also, +I think. I have not yet seen her."</p> + +<p>"That woman!" breathed Grace Sheraton, sinking back +upon her seat. Her eye glittered as she turned to me. "Oh, +I see it all now—you have been with them—<em>you have met her +again!</em> My God! I could kill you both—I could—I say I +could!"</p> + +<p>"Listen," I whispered to her, putting a hand on her wrist +firmly. "You are out of your head. Pull up at once. I +have not seen or heard from either of them. I did not know +they were coming, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, Cowles," sang out Stevenson, at that moment +running out, flushed and laughing. "What do you think, +here's my Colonel come and caught me at my leave of absence! +He's going across the mountains, over to his home +in Albemarle. We're all to be at Henry together. But I +suppose you met them—"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet," I said. "I've just got in myself."</p> + +<p>We both turned to the girl sitting pale and limp upon the +seat of the wagonette. I was glad for her sake that the +twilight was coming.</p> + +<p>The courage of her family did not forsake Grace Sheraton. +I saw her force her lips to smile, compel her face to brighten +as she spoke to Captain Stevenson.</p> + +<p>"I have never met any of the Meriwethers. Will you +gentlemen present me?"</p> + + +<p>I assisted her to alight, and at that time a servant came +and stood at the horse's head. Stevenson stepped back to +the door, not having as yet mentioned my presence there.</p> + +<p>There came out upon the gallery as he entered that other +whose presence I had for some moments known, whom I +knew within the moment I must meet—Ellen!</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell upon me. She stepped back with a faint +exclamation, leaning against the wall, her hands at her +cheeks as she stared. I do not know after that who or what +our spectators were. I presume Stevenson went on into the +house to talk with Colonel Meriwether, whom I did not see +at all at that time.</p> + +<p>The first to speak was Grace Sheraton. Tall, thin, +darker than ever, it seemed to me, and now with eyes which +flickered and glittered as I had never seen them, she approached +the girl who stood there shrinking. "It is Miss +Meriwether? I believe I should know you," she began, +holding out her hand.</p> + +<p>"This is Miss Grace Sheraton," I said to Ellen, and +stopped. Then I drew them both away from the door and +from the gallery, walking to the shadows of the long row of +elms which shaded the street, where we would be less observed.</p> + +<p>For the first time in my life I saw the two together and +might compare them. Without my will or wish I found my +eyes resting upon Ellen. Without my will or wish, fate, +nature, love, I know not what, made selection.</p> + +<p>Ellen had not as yet spoken. "Miss Sheraton," I repeated +to her finally, "is the lady to whom I am engaged to +be married."</p> + +<p>The vicious Sheraton temper broke bounds. There was + +more than half a sneer on my fiancée's face. "I should +easily know who this lady is," she said.</p> + +<p>Ellen, flushed, perturbed, would have returned to the gallery, +but I raised my hand. Grace Sheraton went on. "An +engagement is little. You and he, I am advised, lived as +man and wife, forgetting that he and I were already pledged +as man and wife."</p> + +<p>"That is not true!" broke in Ellen, her voice low and even. +She at least had herself in hand and would tolerate no vulgar +scene.</p> + +<p>"I could not blame either of you for denying it."</p> + +<p>"It was Gordon Orme that told her," I said to Ellen.</p> + +<p>She would not speak or commit herself, except to shake +her head, and to beat her hands softly together as I had seen +her do before when in distress.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman must lie like a gentleman," went on Grace +Sheraton, mercilessly. "I am here to congratulate you +both."</p> + +<p>I saw a drop of blood spring from Ellen's bitten lip.</p> + +<p>"What she says is true," I went on to Ellen. "It is just +as Gordon Orme told your father, and as I admitted to you. +I was engaged to be married to Miss Sheraton, and I am +still so engaged."</p> + +<p>Still her small hands beat together softly, but she would +not cry out, she would not exclaim, protest, accuse. I went +on with the accusation against myself.</p> + +<p>"I did not tell you. I had and have no excuse except that +I loved you. I am here now for my punishment. You two +shall decide it."</p> + +<p>At last Ellen spoke to my fiancée. "It is true," said she. +"I thought myself engaged to Mr. Cowles. I did not know + +of you—did not know that he had deceived me, too. But +fortunately, my father found us before it was too late."</p> + +<p>"Let us spare ourselves details," rejoined Grace Sheraton. +"He has wronged both of us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has done wrong," I heard Ellen say. "Perhaps +all men do—I do not want to know. Perhaps they are not +always to blame—I do not want to know."</p> + +<p>The measure of the two women was there in those words, +and I felt it.</p> + +<p>"Could you want such a man?" asked Grace Sheraton, +bitterly. I saw Ellen shake her head slowly. I heard her +lips answer slowly. "No," she said. "Could you?"</p> + +<p>I looked to Grace Sheraton for her answer, and as I +looked I saw a strange and ghastly change come over her +face. "My God!" she exclaimed, reaching out a hand +against a tree trunk to steady herself, "Your leavings? No! +But what is to become of me!"</p> + +<p>"You wish him?" asked Ellen. "You are entirely free. +But now, if you please, I see no reason why I should trouble +you both. Please, now, I shall go."</p> + +<p>But Grace Sheraton sprang to her side as she turned. I +was amazed at her look. It was entreaty on her face, not +anger! She held out her hands to Ellen, her face strangely +distorted. And then I saw Ellen's face also change. She +put out her hand in turn.</p> + +<p>"There," she said, "time mends very much. Let us +hope—" Then I saw her throat work oddly, and her +words stop.</p> + +<p>No man may know the speech with which women exchange +thought. I saw the two pass a few paces apart, saw Grace +Sheraton stoop and whisper something.</p> + + +<p>It was her last desperate resource, a hazard handsomely +taken. It won, as courage should, or at least as much as a +lie may win at any time; for it was a bitter, daring, desperate +shaming lie she whispered to Ellen.</p> + +<p>As Ellen's face turned toward me again I saw a slow, deep +scorn invade it. "If I were free," she said to me, "if you +were the last man on earth, I would not look at you again. +You deceived me—but that was only a broken word, and +not a broken life! This girl—indeed she may ask what will +become of her!"</p> + +<p>"I am tired of all these riddles," I broke out, my own +anger now arising, and myself not caring to be made thus +sport of petticoats.</p> + +<p>"Your duty is clear," went on my new accuser, flashing +out at me. "If you have a trace of manhood left, then let +the marriage be at once—to-morrow. How dare you delay +so long!" She choked in her own anger, humiliation, scorn—I +know not what, blushed in her own shame.</p> + +<p>Orme was right. I have always been a stupid ass. It +took me moments to grasp the amazing truth, to understand +the daring stroke by which Grace Sheraton had won her +game. It had cost her much. I saw her standing there +trembling, tearful, suffering, her eyes wet. She turned to +me, waiting for me to save her or leave her damned.</p> + +<p>I would not do it. All the world will say that I was a fool, +that I was in no way bound to any abhorrent compact, that +last that any man could tolerate. Most will say that I +should have turned and walked away from both. But I, +who have always been simple and slow of wit, I fear, and perhaps +foolish as to certain principles, now felt ice pass through +all my veins as my resolution came to me.</p> + + +<p>I could not declare against the woman who had thus sworn +against me. With horror I saw what grotesque injustice was +done to me. I broke out into a horrible laughter.</p> + +<p>I had said that I had come for my punishment, and here +it was for me to take. I had told Orme that one day I would +pay him for my life. Here now was Orme's price to be +paid! If this girl had not sinned with me, she had done so +by reason of me. It was my fault; and a gentleman pays +for his fault in one way or another. There seemed to me, I +say, but one way in which I could pay, I being ever simple +and slow of wit. I, John Cowles, without thinking so far as +the swift consequences, must now act as the shield of the girl +who stood there trembling, the girl who had confessed to her +rival her own bitter sin, but who had lied as to her accomplice +in her sin!</p> + +<p>"It is true," I said, turning to Ellen. "I am guilty. I +told you I deserved no mercy, and I ask none. I have not +asked Miss Sheraton to release me from my engagement. I +shall feel honored if she will now accept my hand. I shall +be glad if she will set the date early as may be."</p> + +<p>Night was now coming swiftly from the hills.</p> + +<p>Ellen turned to pass back toward the door. "Your pardon!" +I exclaimed to Grace Sheraton, and sprang after +Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," I said, and held out my hand to her. "Let +us end all these heroics, and do our best. Where is your +husband? I want to congratulate him."</p> + +<p>"My husband!" she said in wonder. "What do you +mean?"</p> + +<p>Night, I say, was dropping quickly, like a shroud spread +by a mighty hand.</p> + + +<p>"Belknap—" I began.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she said bitterly. "You rate me low—as low as +I do you!"</p> + +<p>"But your father told me himself you two were to be married," +I broke out, surprise, wonder, dread, rebellion now in +every fiber of my body and soul.</p> + +<p>"My father loves me dearly," she replied slowly. "But +he cannot marry me until I wish. No, I am not married, +and I never will be. Good-by."</p> + +<p>Again I heard my own horrible laughter.</p> + +<p>Night had fallen thick and heavy from the mountains, like +a dark, black shroud.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_43"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XLII - Face To Face</h2> + + +<p>I did not see Colonel Meriwether. He passed on +through to his seat in Albemarle without stopping in +our valley longer than over night. Part of the next +morning I spent in writing a letter to my agents at Huntington, +with the request that they should inform Colonel Meriwether +at once on the business situation, since now he was +in touch by mail. The alternative was offered him of taking +over my father's interests through these creditors, accepting +them as partners, or purchasing their rights; or of doing +what my father had planned to do for him, which was to +care individually for the joint account, and then to allot +each partner a dividend interest, carrying a clear title.</p> + +<p>All these matters I explained to my mother. Then I told +her fully what had occurred at the village the night previous +between Ellen Meriwether and my fiancée. She sat silent.</p> + +<p>"In any case," I concluded, "it would suit me better if +you and I could leave this place forever, and begin again +somewhere else."</p> + +<p>She looked out of the little window across our pleasant +valley to its edge, where lay the little church of the Society of +Friends. Then she turned to me slowly, with a smile upon +her face. "Whatever thee says," was her answer. "I shall +not ask thee to try to mend what cannot be mended. Thee +is like thy father," she said. "I shall not try to change thee. + +Go, then, thy own way. Only hear me, thee cannot mend +the unmendable by such a wrongful marriage."</p> + +<p>But I went; and under my arm I bore a certain roll of +crinkled, hairy parchment.</p> + +<p>This was on the morning of Wednesday, in November, +the day following the national election in the year 1860. +News traveled more slowly then, but we in our valley might +expect word from Washington by noon of that day. If +Lincoln won, then the South would secede. Two nations +would inevitably be formed, and if necessary, issue would be +joined between them as soon as the leaders could formulate +their plans for war. This much was generally conceded; +and it was conceded also that the South would start in, if war +should come, with an army well supplied with munitions of +war and led by the ablest men who ever served under the +old flag—men such as Lee, Jackson, Early, Smith, Stuart—scores +and hundreds trained in arms at West Point or at the +Virginia Military Institute at Lexington—men who would +be loyal to their States and to the South at any cost.</p> + +<p>Our State was divided, our valley especially so, peace +sentiment there being strong. The entire country was a +magazine needing but a spark to cause explosion. It was +conceded that by noon we should know whether or not this +explosion was to come. Few of us there, whether Unionists +or not, had much better than contempt for the uncouth man +from the West, Lincoln, that most pathetic figure of our +history, later loved by North and South alike as greatest of +our great men. We did not know him in our valley. All +of us there, Unionists or Secessionists, for peace or for war, +dreaded to hear of his election.</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton met me at the door, his face flushed, his + +brow frowning. He was all politics. "Have you any +news?" he demanded. "Have you heard from Leesburg, +Washington?"</p> + +<p>"Not as yet," I answered, "but there should be messages +from Leesburg within the next few hours." We had no +telegraph in our valley at that time.</p> + +<p>"I have arranged with the postmaster to let us all know up +here, the instant he gets word," said Sheraton. "If that +black abolitionist, Lincoln, wins, they're going to fire one +anvil shot in the street, and we can hear it up this valley this +far. If the South wins, then two anvils, as fast as they can +load. So, Mr. Cowles, if we hear a single shot, it is war—<em>war</em>, +I tell you!</p> + +<p>"But come in," he added hastily. "I keep you waiting. +I am glad to see you this morning, sir. From my daughter I +learn that you have returned from a somewhat successful +journey—that matters seem to mend for you. We are all +pleased to learn it. I offer you my hand, sir. My daughter +has advised me of her decision and your own. Your conduct +throughout, Mr. Cowles, has been most manly, quite above +reproach. I could want no better son to join my family." +His words, spoken in ignorance, cut me unbearably.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Sheraton," I said to him, "there is but one +way for a man to ride, and that is straight. I say to you; +my conduct has not been in the least above reproach, and +your daughter has not told you all that she ought to have +told."</p> + +<p>We had entered the great dining room as we talked, and +he was drawing me to his great sideboard, with hospitable +intent to which at that moment I could not yield. Now, +however, we were interrupted.</p> + + +<p>A door opened at the side of the room, where a narrow +stairway ran down from the second floor, and there appeared +the short, stocky figure, the iron gray mane, of our friend, +Dr. Samuel Bond, physician for two counties thereabout, +bachelor, benefactor, man of charity, despite his lancet, his +quinine and his calomel.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Doctor," began Colonel Sheraton, "here is our +young friend back from his travels again. I'm going to tell +you now, as I think I may without much risk, that there is +every hope the Cowles family will win in this legal tangle +which has threatened them lately—win handsomely, too. +We shall not lose our neighbors, after all, nor have any +strangers breaking in where they don't belong. Old Virginia, +as she was, and forever, gentlemen! Join us, Doctor. +You see, Mr. Cowles," he added to me, "Doctor Bond has +stopped in as he passed by, for a look at my daughter. Miss +Grace seems just a trifle indisposed this morning—nothing +in the least serious, of course."</p> + +<p>We all turned again, as the front door opened. Harry +Sheraton entered.</p> + +<p>"Come, son," exclaimed his father. "Draw up, draw up +with us. Pour us a drink around, son, for the success of +our two families. You, Doctor, are glad as I am, that I +know."</p> + +<p>We stood now where we had slowly advanced toward the +sideboard. But Doctor Bond did not seem glad. He +paused, looking strangely at me and at our host. "Harry," +said he, "suppose you go look in the hall for my saddle-bags—I +have left my medicine case."</p> + +<p>The young man turned, but for no reason apparently, +stopped at the door, and presently joined us again.</p> + + +<p>"May I ask for Miss Grace this morning, Doctor," I +began, politely.</p> + +<p>"Yes," interjected Colonel Sheraton. "How's the girl? +She ought to be with us this minute—a moment like this, you +know."</p> + +<p>Doctor Bond looked at us still gravely. He turned from +me to Colonel Sheraton, and again to Harry Sheraton. +"Harry," said he, sternly. "Didn't you hear me? Get +out!"</p> + +<p>We three were left alone. "Jack, I must see you a moment +alone," said Doctor Bond to me.</p> + +<p>"What's up," demanded Colonel Sheraton. "What's the +mystery? It seems to me I'm interested in everything +proper here. What's wrong, Doctor? Is my girl sick?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the physician.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>"She needs aid," said the old wire-hair slowly.</p> + +<p>"Can you not give it, then? Isn't that your business?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. It belongs to another profession," said Doctor. +Bond, dryly, taking snuff and brushing his nose with his +immense red kerchief.</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton looked at him for the space of a full +minute, but got no further word. "Damn your soul, sir!" +he thundered, "explain yourself, or I'll make you wish you +had. What do you mean?" He turned fiercely upon me.</p> + +<p>"By God, sir, there's only one meaning that I can guess. +You, sir, what's wrong? <em>Are you to blame</em>?"</p> + +<p>I faced him fairly now. "I am so accused by her," I +answered slowly.</p> + +<p>"What! <em>What</em>!" He stood as though frozen.</p> + + +<p>"I shall not lie about it. It is not necessary for me to +accuse a girl of falsehood. I only say, let us have this wedding, +and have it soon. I so agreed with Miss Grace last +night."</p> + +<p>The old man sprang at me like a maddened tiger now, +his eyes glaring about the room for a weapon. He saw it—a +long knife with ivory handle and inlaid blade, lying on the +ledge where I myself had placed it when I last was there. +Doctor Bond sprang between him and the knife. I also +caught Colonel Sheraton and held him fast.</p> + +<p>"Wait," I said. "Wait! Let us have it all understood +plainly. Then let us take it up in any way you Sheratons +prefer."</p> + +<p>"Stop, I say," cried the stern-faced doctor—as honest a +man, I think, as ever drew the breath of life. He hurled his +sinewy form against Colonel Sheraton again as I released +him. "That boy is lying to us both, I tell you. I say he's +not to blame, and I know it. I <em>know</em> it, I say. I'm her +physician. Listen, you, Sheraton—you shall not harm a +man who has lied like this, like a gentleman, to <em>save</em> you and +your girl."</p> + +<p>"Damn you both," sobbed the struggling man. "Let me +go! Let me alone! Didn't I <em>hear</em> him—didn't you hear +him <em>admit</em> it?" He broke free and stood panting in the center +of the room, we between him and the weapon. "Harry!" +he called out sharply. The door burst open.</p> + +<p>"A gun—my pistol—get me something, boy! Arm yourself—we'll +kill these—"</p> + +<p>"Harry," I called out to him in turn. "Do nothing of the +sort! You'll have me to handle in this. Some things I'll +endure, but not all things always—I swear I'll stand this no + +longer, from all of you or any of you. Listen to me. Listen +I say—it is as Doctor Bond says."</p> + +<p>So now they did listen, silently.</p> + +<p>"I am guiltless of any harm or wish of harm to any woman +of this family," I went on. "Search your own hearts. Put +blame where it belongs. But don't think you can crowd me, +or force me to do what I do not freely offer."</p> + +<p>"It is true," said Doctor Bond. "I tell you, what he says +could not by any possibility be anything else but true. He's +just back home. <em>He has been gone all summer.</em>"</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton felt about him for a chair and sank down, +his gray face dropped in his hands. He was a proud man, +and one of courage. It irked him sore that revenge must +wait.</p> + +<p>"Now," said I, "I have something to add to the record. +I hoped that a part of my story could be hid forever, except +for Miss Grace and me alone. I have not been blameless. +For that reason, I was willing, freely—not through force—to +do what I could in the way of punishment to myself and +salvation for her. But now as this thing comes up, I can no +longer shield her, or myself, or any of you. We'll have to +go to the bottom now."</p> + +<p>I flung out on the table the roll which I had brought with +me to show that morning to Grace Sheraton—the ragged +hide, holding writings placed there by my hand and that of +another.</p> + +<p>"This," I said, "must be shown to you all. Colonel Sheraton, +I have been very gravely at fault. I was alone for some +months in the wilderness with another woman. I loved her +very much. I forgot your daughter at that time, because I +found I loved her less. Through force of circumstances I + +lived with this other woman very closely for some months. +We foresaw no immediate release. I loved her, and she +loved me—the only time I knew what love really meant, I +admit it. We made this contract of marriage between us. +It was never enforced. We never were married, because +that contract was never signed by us both. Here it is. +Examine it."</p> + +<p>It lay there before us. I saw its words again stare up at +me. I saw again the old pictures of the great mountains; +and the cloudless sky, and the cities of peace wavering on +the far horizon. I gazed once more upon that different and +more happy world, when I saw, blurring before my eyes, +the words—<em>"I, John Cowles—I, Ellen Meriwether—take +thee—take thee—for better, for worse—till death do us part."</em> +I saw her name, "<em>E-l-l-e-n</em>."</p> + +<p>"Harry," said I, turning on him swiftly. "Your father is +old. This is for you and me, I think. I shall be at your +service soon."</p> + +<p>His face paled. But that of his father was now gray, +very old and gray.</p> + +<p>"Treachery!" he murmured. "Treachery! You slighted +my girl. My God, sir, she should not marry you though she +died! This—" he put out his hand toward the hide scroll.</p> + +<p>"No," I said to him. "This is mine. The record of my +fault belongs to me. The question for you is only in regard +to the punishment.</p> + +<p>"We are four men here," I added, presently, "and it +seems to me that first of all we owe protection to the woman +who needs it. Moreover, I repeat, that though her error is +not mine, it was perhaps pride or sorrow or anger with me +which led her to her own fault. It was Gordon Orme who + +told her that I was false to her, and added lies about me and +this other woman. It was Gordon Orme, Colonel Sheraton, +I do not doubt—sir, <em>I found him in your yard, here, at midnight</em>, +when I last was here. And, sir, there was a light—a +light—" I tried to smile, though I fear my face was only +distorted. "I agreed with your daughter that it was without +question a light that some servant had left by chance at +a window."</p> + +<p>I wish never to hear again such a groan as broke from that +old man's lips. He was sunken and broken when he put out +his hand to me. "Boy," said he, "have mercy. Forgive. +Can you—could you—"</p> + +<p>"Can you yourself forgive this?" I answered, pointing to +the scroll. "I admit to you I love Ellen Meriwether yet, +and always will. Sir, if I married your daughter, it could +only be to leave her within the hour."</p> + +<p>Silence fell upon all of us. Harry set down his glass, and +the clink on the silver tray sounded loud. None moved but +Doctor Bond, who, glasses upon nose, bent over the blurred +hide, studying it.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Sheraton," said he at length, "it seems to me +that we have no quarrel here among ourselves. We all want +to do what is best done now to make amends for what has +not always been best done. Mr. Cowles has given every +proof we could ask—we could not ask more of any man—you +have no right to ask so much. He wishes, at great cost to +himself, I think, to do what he can to save your girl's happiness +and honor. He admits his own fault." He looked +at me, savagely shaking a finger, but went on.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I, a physician, unfortunately condemned to see +much of the inner side of human nature, am as well equipped + +as any to call him more guiltless than society might call him. +I say with him, let him who is without guilt first cast a stone. +Few of us are all we ought to be, but why? We speak of +double lives—why, we all lead double lives—the entire +world leads a double life; that of sex and of society, that of +nature and of property. I say to you, gentlemen, that all +the world is double. So let us be careful how we adjudge +punishment; and let us be as fair to our neighbor as we are +to ourselves. This is only the old, old question of love and +the law.</p> + +<p>"But wait a minute—" he raised a hand as Colonel Sheraton +stirred. "I have something else to say. As it chances, +I am curious in other professions than my own sometimes—I +read in the law sometimes, again in theology, literature. I +wish to be an educated man so far as I may be, since a university +education was denied me. Now, I say to you, from +my reading in the law, a strong question arises whether the two +who wrote this covenant of marriage are not at this moment +<em>man and wife</em>!" He rapped a finger on the parchment.</p> + +<p>A sigh broke in concert from all within that room. The +next moment, I know not how, we were all four of us bending +above the scroll. "See there," went on the old doctor. +"There is a definite, mutual promise, a consideration moving +from each side, the same consideration in each case, the +promise from each bearing the same intent and value, and +having the same qualifying clauses. The contract is definite; +it is dated. It is evidently the record of a unanimous intent, +an identical frame of mind between the two making it +at that time. It is signed and sealed in full by one party, +no doubt in his own hand. It is written and acknowledged +by the other party in her own hand—"</p> + + +<p>"But not <em>signed</em>!" I broke in. "See, it is not <em>signed</em>. +She said she would sign it one letter each week—weeks and +weeks—until at last, this, which was only our engagement, +should with the last letter make our marriage. Gentlemen," +I said to them, "it was an honest contract. It was all the +formality we could have, all the ceremony we could have. +It was all that we could do. I stand before you promised to +two women. Before God I was promised to one. I loved +her. I could do no more—"</p> + +<p>"It was enough," said Doctor Bond, dryly, taking snuff. +"It was a wedding."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" declared Colonel Sheraton.</p> + +<p>"Impossible? Not in the least," said the doctor. "It +can be invalid only upon one ground. It might be urged +that the marriage was not consummated. But in the courts +that would be a matter of proof. Whatever our young friend +here might say, a court would say that consummation was +very probable.</p> + +<p>"I say, as this stands, the contract is a definite one, agreeing +to do a definite thing, namely, to enter into the state of +marriage. The question of the uncompleted signature does +not invalidate it, nor indeed come into the matter at all. It +is only a question whether the signature, so far as it goes, +means the identity of the Ellen Meriwether who wrote the +clause preceding it. It is a question of identification solely. +Nothing appears on this contract stipulating that she must +sign her full name before the marriage can take place. That +verbal agreement, which Mr. Cowles mentions, of signing it +letter by letter, does not in law affect a written agreement. +This written contract must, in the law, be construed just as +It stands, and under its own phrasing, by its own inherent + +evidence. The obvious and apparent evidence is that the +person beginning this signature was Ellen Meriwether—the +same who wrote the last clause of the contract. The handwriting +is the same—the supposition is that it is the same, +and the burden of proof would lie on the one denying it.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he went on, taking a turn, hands behind +back, his big red kerchief hanging from his coat tails, "I +take Mr. Cowles' word as to acts before and after this contract. +I think he has shown to us that he is a gentleman. +In that world, very different from this world, he acted like +a gentleman. In that life he was for the time freed of the +covenant of society. Now, in this life, thrown again under +the laws of society, he again shows to us that he is a gentleman, +here as much as there. We cannot reason from that +world to this. I say—yes, I hope I am big enough man to +say—that we cannot blame him, arguing from that world to +this. We can exact of a man that he shall be a gentleman in +either one of those worlds; but we cannot exact it of him to +be the <em>same</em> gentleman in <em>both</em>!</p> + +<p>"Now, the question comes, to which of these worlds belongs +John Cowles? The court will say that this bit of hide +is a wedding ceremony. Gentlemen," he smiled grimly, +"we need all the professions here to-day—medicine, ministry +and law! At least, Colonel Sheraton, I think we need +legal counsel before we go on with any more weddings for +this young man here."</p> + +<p>"But there is no record of this," I said. "There is no +execution in duplicate."</p> + +<p>"No," said the doctor. "It is only a question of which +world you elect." I looked at him, and he added, "It is +also only a question of morals. If this record here should be + +destroyed, you would leave the other party with no proof on +her side of the case."</p> + +<p>He brushed off his nose again, and took another short turn +from the table, his head dropped in thought. "It is customary," +he said as he turned to me, "to give the wife the wedding +certificate. The law, the ministry, and the profession +of medicine, all unite in their estimate of the relative value +of marital faithfulness as between the sexes. It is the +<em>woman</em> who needs the proof. All nature shields the woman's +sex. She is the apple of Nature's eye, and even the law +knows that."</p> + +<p>I walked to the mantel and took up the knife that lay there. +I returned to the table, and with a long stroke I ripped the +hide in two. I threw the two pieces into the grate.</p> + +<p>"That is my proof," said I, "that Ellen Meriwether needs +no marriage certificate! I am the certificate for that, and +for her!"</p> + +<p>Colonel Sheraton staggered to me, his hand trembling, +outstretched. "You're free to marry my poor girl—" he +began.</p> + +<p>"It is proof also," I went on, "that I shall never see +Ellen Meriwether again, any more than I shall see Grace +Sheraton again after I have married her. What happens +after that is not my business. It is my business, Colonel +Sheraton, and yours—possibly even your son's"—I smiled +at Harry—"to find Gordon Orme. I claim him first. If +I do not kill him, then you—and you last, Harry, because you +are least fit."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, is it all agreed?" I asked. I tossed the knife +back on the mantel, and turned my back to it and them.</p> + +<p>"Jack," said my old wire-hair, Doctor Bond, "I pray + +God I may never see this done again to any man. I thank +God the woman I loved died years ago. She was too good—they're +all too good—I, a physician, say they are all too +good. Only in that gap between them and us lies any margin +which permits you to lie to yourself at the altar. To +care for them—to shield them—they, the apple of the Eye—that +is why we men are here." He turned away, his face +working.</p> + +<p>"Is it agreed?" I asked of Colonel Sheraton, sternly.</p> + +<p>His trembling hand sought mine. "Yes," he said. "Our +quarrel is discharged, and more than so. Harry, shake +hands with Mr. Cowles. By God! men, our quarrel now +runs to Gordon Orme. To-morrow we start for Carolina, +where we had his last address. Mr. Cowles, my heart +bleeds, it bleeds, sir, for you. But for her also—for her up +there. The courts shall free you quickly and quietly, as +soon as it can be done. It is you who have freed us all. +You have been tried hard. You have proved yourself a +man."</p> + +<p>But it was not the courts that freed us. None of us ever +sought actual knowledge of what agency really freed us. +Indeed, the time came swiftly for us all to draw the cloak of +secrecy about one figure of this story, and to shield her in +it forever.</p> + +<p>Again we were interrupted. The door at the stair burst +open. A black maid, breathless, broke into the room.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image11.png" alt="When The Way Of Women Passeth A Man's Understanding"></p> +<p style="text-align: center">When The Way Of Women Passeth A Man's Understanding</p> + +<p>"She's a-settin' there—Miss Grace just a-settin' there—" +she began, and choked and stammered.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" cried Doctor Bond, sharply, and sprang at +the door. I heard him go up the stairs lightly as though he +were a boy. We all followed, plying the girl with questions.</p> + + +<p>"I went in to make up the room," blubbered she, "an' +she was just settin' there, an' I spoke to her an' she didn't +answer—an' I called to her, an' she didn't answer—she's +just a-settin' there right <em>now</em>."</p> + +<p>As a cloud sweeps over a gray, broken moor, so now horror +swept upon us in our distress and grief. We paused one +moment to listen, then went on to see what we knew we must +see.</p> + +<p>I say that we men of Virginia were slow to suspect a woman. +I hope we are still slower to gossip regarding one. Not one +of us ever asked Doctor Bond a question, fearing lest we +might learn what perhaps he knew.</p> + +<p>He stood beyond her now, his head bowed, his hand +touching her wrist, feeling for the pulse that was no longer +there. The solemnity of his face was louder than speech. +It seemed to me that I heard his silent demand that we +should all hold our peace forever.</p> + +<p>Grace Sheraton, her lips just parted in a little crooked +smile, such as she might have worn when she was a child, sat +at a low dressing table, staring directly into the wide mirror +which swung before her at its back. Her left arm lay at +length along the table. Her right, with its hand under her +cheek and chin, supported her head, which leaned but +slightly to one side. She gazed into her own face, into her +own heart, into the mystery of human life and its double +worlds, I doubt not. She could not tell us what she had +learned.</p> + +<p>Her father stepped to her side, opposite the old doctor. +I heard sobs as they placed her upon her little white bed, +still with that little crooked smile upon her face, as though, +she were young, very young again.</p> + + +<p>I went to the window, and Harry, I think, was close behind +me. Before me lay the long reaches of our valley, +shimmering in the midday autumn sun. It seemed a scene +of peace and not of tragedy.</p> + +<p>But even as I looked, there came rolling up our valley, +slowly, almost as though visible, the low, deep boom of the +signal gun from the village below. It carried news, the news +from America!</p> + +<p>We started, all of us. I saw Colonel Sheraton half look +up as he stood, bent over the bed. Thus, stunned by horror +as we were, we waited. It was a long time, an interminable +time, moments, minutes, it seemed to me, until there must +have been thrice time for the repetition of the signal, if there +was to be one.</p> + +<p>There was no second sound. The signal was alone, single; +ominous.</p> + +<p>"Thank God! Thank God!" cried Colonel Sheraton; +swinging his hands aloft, tears rolling down his old gray +cheeks. "<em>It is war</em>! Now we may find forgetfulness!"</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_44"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XLIII - The Reckoning</h2> + + +<p>So it was war. We drew apart into hostile camps. +By midwinter South Carolina, Mississippi, Georgia, +Alabama, Florida, Louisiana, Texas, had withdrawn +from the Union. There arose two capitals, each claiming a +government, each planning war: Washington and Richmond.</p> + +<p>As for me, I had seen the flag on our far frontiers, in wide, +free lands. It was a time when each must choose for himself. +I knew with whom my own lot must be cast. I +pledged myself to follow the flag of the frontier, wherever it +might go.</p> + +<p>During the winter I busied myself, and when the gun of +Sumpter came on that sad day of April, I was ready with a +company of volunteers who had known some months of drill, +at least, and who had been good enough to elect me for their +captain. Most of my men came from the mountains of +Western Virginia, where geography made loyalty, and loyalty +later made a State. I heard, remotely, that Colonel +Meriwether would not join the Confederacy. Some men of +Western Virginia and Eastern Kentucky remained with the +older flag. Both the Sheratons, the old Colonel and his son +Harry, were of course for the South, and early in January +they both left home for Richmond. On the other hand, +again, our friend Captain Stevenson stood for the Federal + +government; and so I heard, also indirectly, did young +Belknap of the Ninth Dragoons, Regulars, a gallant boy +who swiftly reached distinction, and died a gallant man's +death at Shiloh later on.</p> + +<p>My mother, all for peace, was gray and silent over these +hurrying events. She wept when she saw me in uniform and +belt. "See," she said, "we freed our slaves long ago. We +thought as the North thinks. This war is not for the Society +of Friends." But she saw my father's blood in me again, +and sighed. "Go, then," she said.</p> + +<p>All over the country, North and South, came the same +sighed consent of the women, "Go, then." And so we went +out to kill each other, we who should all have been brothers. +None of us would listen. The armies formed, facing each +other on Virginia soil. Soon in our trampled fields, and +broken herds, and ruined crops, in our desolated homes and +hearts, we, brothers in America, learned the significance +of war.</p> + +<p>They crossed our little valley, passing through Alexandria, +coming from Harper's Ferry, these raw ninety-day men of +McDowell and Patterson, who thought to end the Confederacy +that spring. Northern politics drove them into battle +before they had learned arms. By midsummer all the +world knew that they would presently encounter, somewhere +near Manassas, to the south and west, the forces of Beauregard +and Johnston, then lying within practical touch of each +other by rail.</p> + +<p>My men, most of them young fellows used to horse and +arms, were brigaded as infantry with one of the four divisions +of McDowell's men, who converged along different +lines toward Fairfax. For nearly a week we lay near the + +front of the advance, moving on in snail-like fashion, which +ill-suited most of us Virginians, who saw no virtue in postponing +fight, since we were there for fighting. We scattered +our forces, we did not unite, we did not entrench, we did not +advance; we made all the mistakes a young army could, +worst of all the mistake of hesitancy.</p> + +<p>It was not until the twentieth of July that our leaders determined +upon a flanking movement to our right, which was +to cross Bull Run at the Sudley Ford. Even so, we dallied +along until every one knew our plans. Back of us, the battle +opened on the following day, a regiment at a time, with no +concert, no <em>plan</em>. My men were with this right wing, which +made the turning movement, but four brigades in all. Four +other brigades, those of Howard, Burnside, Keyes and +Schenck, were lost somewhere to the rear of us. Finally, we +crossed and reached the left flank of the Confederates under +Beauregard, and swung south along Bull Run. Our attack +was scattering and ill-planned, but by three o'clock of the +next day we were in the thickest of the fighting around the +slopes which led up to the Henry House, back of which lay +the Confederate headquarters.</p> + +<p>I saw the batteries of Rickett and Griffin of our Regulars +advance and take this height against the steadily thickening +line of the Confederates, who had now had full time to concentrate. +There came a hot cavalry charge upon the +Zouave regiment on my left, and I saw the Zouaves lie down +in the woods and melt the line of that charge with their fire, +and save the battery for a time. Then in turn I saw that +blunder by which the battery commander allowed Cummings' +men—the Thirty-third Virginia, I think it was—deliberately +to march within stone's throw of them, mistaken + +for Federal troops. I saw them pour a volley at short range +into the guns, which wiped out their handlers, and let through +the charging lines now converging rapidly upon us. Then, +though it was but my first battle, I knew that our movement +must fail, that our extended line, lying upon nothing, supported +by nothing, must roll back in retreat along a trough +road, where the horses and guns would mow us down.</p> + +<p>Stuart's men came on, riding through us as we broke and +scattered. Wheat's Louisiana Tigers came through our +remnants as well. We had no support. We did not know +that back of the hill the Confederate recruits were breaking +badly as ourselves, and running to the rear. We were all +new in war. We of the invading forces caught the full +terror of that awful panic which the next day set the North +in mourning, and the South aflame with a red exultation.</p> + +<p>All around us our lines wavered, turned and fled. But to +some, who knew the danger of the country back of us, it +seemed safer to stay than to run. To that fact I owe my +life, and at least a little satisfaction that some of us Virginians +held our line for a time, even against those other +Virginians who came on at us.</p> + +<p>We were scattered in a thin line in cover of heavy timber, +and when the pursuit came over us we killed a score of their +men after they had passed. Such was the confusion and the +madness of the pursuit, that they rolled beyond our broken +line like a wave, scarce knowing we were there. Why I +escaped I do not know, for I was now easily visible, mounted +on a horse which I had caught as it came through the wood +riderless. I was passing along our little front, up and down, +as best I could in the tangle.</p> + +<p>The pursuit went through us strung out, scattered, as disorganized + +as our own flight. They were practically over us +and gone when, as I rode to the right flank of the remaining +splinter of my little company, I saw, riding down upon us, a +splendid soldier, almost alone, and apparently endeavoring +to reach his command after some delay at the rear. He was +mounted on a fine horse—a great black animal. His tall +figure was clad in the gray uniform of the Confederates, +with a black hat sweeping back from his forehead. He wore +cavalry boots and deep gauntleted gloves, and in all made a +gallant martial figure as he rode. A few of our men, half +witless with their terror, crossed his path. I saw him half +rise, once, twice, four times, standing in the stirrups to enforce +his saber cuts, each one of which dropped a man. He +and his horse moved together, a splendid engine of ruthless, +butchery.</p> + +<p>"Look out, Cap!" I heard a squeaking voice behind me +call, and looking down, I saw one of my men, his left arm +hanging loose, resting his gun across a log with his right. +"Git out 'o the way," he repeated. "I'm goin' to kill him." +It was that new-made warrior, Andrew Jackson McGovern, +who had drifted back into our valley from some place, and +joined my company soon after its organization. I ordered +the boy now to drop his gun. "Leave him alone!" I cried. +"He belongs to me."</p> + +<p>It was Gordon Orme. At last, fate had relented for me. +My enemy was at hand. No man but Orme could thus ride +my old horse, Satan. Now I saw where the horse had gone, +and who it was that owned him, and why Orme was here.</p> + +<p>I rode out to meet him. The keenness of the coming, +encounter for the time almost caused me to forget my anger. +I seem never to have thought but that fate had brought me + +there for that one purpose. He saw me advance, and +whirled in my direction, eager as myself; and presently I +saw also that he recognized me, as I did him.</p> + +<p>This is to be said of Gordon Orme, that he feared no man +or thing on earth. He smiled at me now, showing his long, +narrow teeth, as he came, lightly twirling his long blade. +Two pistols lay in my holsters, and both were freshly loaded, +but without thought I had drawn my sword for a weapon, I +suppose because he was using his. He was a master of the +sword, I but a beginner with it.</p> + +<p>We rode straight in, and I heard the whistle of his blade as +he circled it about his head like a band of light. As we joined +he made a cut to the left, easily, gently, as he leaned forward; +but it came with such swiftness that had it landed I doubt +not my neck would have been shorn like a robin's. But at +least I could ride as well as he or any other man. I dropped +and swerved, pulling out of line a few inches as we passed. +My own blow, back-handed, was fruitless as his.</p> + +<p>We wheeled and came on again, and yet again, and each +time he put me on defense, and each time I learned more of +what was before me to do. My old servant, Satan, was now +his servant, and the great black horse was savage against me +as was his rider. Wishing nothing so much as to kill his +own rival, he came each time with his ears back and his +mouth open, wicked in the old blood lust that I knew. It +was the fury of his horse that saved me, I suppose, for as that +mad beast bored in, striving to overthrow my own horse, the +latter would flinch away in spite of all I could do, so that I +needed to give him small attention when we met in these +short, desperate charges. I escaped with nothing more than +a rip across the shoulder, a touch on the cheek, on the arm, + +where his point reached me lightly, as my horse swerved +away from the encounters. I could not reach Orme at all.</p> + +<p>At last, I know not how, we clashed front on, and his horse +bore mine back, with a scream fastening his teeth in the crest +of my mount, as a dog seizes his prey. I saw Orme's sword +turn lightly, easily again around his head, saw his wrist turn +gently, smoothly down and extend in a cut which was aimed +to catch me full across the head. There was no parry I +could think, but the full counter in kind. My blade met +his with a shock that jarred my arm to the shoulder.</p> + +<p>I saw him give back, pull off his mad horse and look at his +hand, where his own sword was broken off, a foot above the +hilt. Smiling, he saluted with it, reigning back his horse, +and no more afraid of me than if I were a child. He did not +speak, nor did I. I pulled up my own horse, not wishing to +take the advantage that now was mine, but knowing that he +would not yield—that I must kill him.</p> + +<p>He did so at his own peril who took Orme for a dullard. +I watched him closely. He saluted again with his broken +sword, and made as though to toss it from him, as indeed he +did. Then like a flash his hand dropped to his holster.</p> + +<p>I read his thought, I presume, when he made his second +salute. His motion of tossing away the sword hilt gave me +the fraction of time which sometimes is the difference between +life and death. Our fire was almost at the same +instant, but not quite. His bullet cut the epaulet clean from +my left shoulder; but he did not fire again, nor did I. I saw +him straighten up in his saddle, precisely as I had once seen +an Indian chieftain do under Orme's own fire. He looked +at me with a startled expression on his face.</p> + +<p>At that moment there came from the edge of the woods + +the crack of a musket. The great horse Satan pitched his +head forward and dropped limp, sinking to his knees. As +he rolled he caught his rider under him. I myself sprung +down, shouting out some command toward the edge of the +wood, that they should leave this man to me.</p> + +<p>Whether my men heard me or not I do not know. Perhaps +they heard rather the hoarse shouts of a fresh column +in gray which came up in the pursuit, fagged with its own +running. When these new men passed me all they saw +was a bit of wood torn with shot and ball, and in the open +two figures, both dusty and gray, one helping the other from +what seemed to be a fall of his horse. Scenes like that were +common. We were not disturbed by the men of either side. +We were alone presently, Gordon Orme and I.</p> + +<p>I stooped and caught hold of the hind leg of the great +black horse, and even as I had once turned a dead bull, so +now I turned this carcass on its back. I picked up the +fallen rider and carried him to the woods, and there I propped +his body against a tree. Slowly he opened his eyes, even +pulled himself up more fully against the support.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, old man," he said. "The horse was deucedly +heavy—spoiled that leg, I think." He pointed to his boot, +where his foot lay turned to one side. "I suffer badly. Be +a good fellow and end it."</p> + +<p>I answered him by tossing down one of his own pistols, +both of which I had secured against need. He looked at it, +but shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Let's talk it over a bit first," he said. "I'm done. I'll +not make any trouble. Did you ever know me to break +parole?"</p> + +<p>"No," said I, and I threw down the other weapon on the + +ground. "In mercy to us both, Orme, die. I do not want +to kill you now; and you shall not live."</p> + +<p>"I'm safe enough," he said. "It's through the liver and +stomach. I can't possibly get over it."</p> + +<p>He stared straight ahead of him, as though summoning his +will. "<em>Swami</em>!" I heard him mutter, as though addressing +some one.</p> + +<p>"There, that's better," he said finally. He sat almost +erect, smiling at me. "It is <em>Asana</em>, the art of posture," he +said. "I rest my body on my ribs, my soul on the air. +Feel my heart."</p> + +<p>I did so, and drew away my hand almost in terror. It +stopped beating at his will, and began again! His uncanny +art was still under his control!</p> + +<p>"I shall be master here for a little while," he said. "So—I +move those hurt organs to ease the flow. But I can't stop +the holes, nor mend them. We can't get at the tissues to +sew them fast. After a while I shall die." He spoke clearly, +with utter calmness, dispassionately. I never saw his like +among men.</p> + +<p>I stood by him silently. He put his own hand on his +chest. "Poor old heart," he said. "Feel it work! Enormous +pumping engine, tremendous thing, the heart. Think +what it does in seventy years—and all for what—that we may +live and enjoy, and so maybe die. What few minutes I have +now I owe to having trained what most folk call an involuntary +muscle. I command my heart to beat, and so it does."</p> + +<p>I looked down at a strange, fascinating soul, a fearsome +personality, whose like I never knew in all my life.</p> + +<p>"Will you make me a promise?" he said, smiling at me, +mocking at me.</p> + + +<p>"No," I answered.</p> + +<p>"I was going to ask you, after my death to take my heart +and send it back to my people at Orme Castle, Gordon +Arms, in England—you know where. It would be a kindness +to the family." I gazed at him in a sort of horror, but +he smiled and went on. "We're mediaeval to-day as ever we +were. Some of us are always making trouble, one corner or +the other of the world, and until the last Gordon heart comes +home to rest, there's no peace for that generation. Hundreds +of years, they've traveled all over the world, and been +lost, and stolen, and hidden. My father's is lost now, somewhere. +Had it come back home to rest, my own life might +have been different. I say, Cowles, couldn't you do that for +me? We've nearly always had some last friend that would—we +Gordons."</p> + +<p>"I would do nothing for you as a favor," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Then do it because it is right. I'd rather it should be +you. You've a wrist like steel, and a mind like steel when +you set yourself to do a thing."</p> + +<p>"I say, old man," he went on, a trifle weary now, "you've +won. I'm jolly well accounted for, and it was fair. I hope +they'll not bag you when you try to get out of this. But +won't you promise what I've asked? Won't you promise?"</p> + +<p>It is not for me to say whether or not I made a promise to +Gordon Orme, or to say whether or not things mediaeval or +occult belong with us to-day. Neither do I expect many to +believe the strange truth about Gordon Orme. I only say +it is hard to deny those about to die.</p> + +<p>"Orme," I said, "I wish you had laid out your life differently. +You are a wonderful man."</p> + +<p>"The great games," he smiled—"sport, love, war!" + +Then his face saddened. "I say, have you kept your other +promise to me?" he asked. "Did you marry that girl—what +was her name—Miss Sheraton?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Sheraton is dead."</p> + +<p>"Married?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No. She died within two months after the night I +caught you in the yard. I should have killed you then, +Orme."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Yes, but at least I showed some sort of +remorse—the first time, I think. Not a bad sort, that girl, +but madly jealous. Fighting blood, I imagine, in that +family!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "her father and brother and I, all three, +swore the same oath."</p> + +<p>"The same spirit was in the girl," he said, nodding again. +"Revenge—that was what she wanted. That's why it all +happened. It was what <em>I</em> wanted, too! You blocked me +with the only woman—"</p> + +<p>"Do not speak her name," I said to him, quietly. "The +nails on your fingers are growing blue, Orme. Go with some +sort of squaring of your own accounts. Try to think."</p> + +<p>He shrugged a shoulder. "My Swami said we do not +die—we only change worlds or forms. What! I, Gordon +Orme, to be blotted out—to lose my mind and soul and body +and senses—not to be able to <em>enjoy</em>. No, Cowles, somewhere +there are other worlds, with women in them. I do not die—I +transfer." But sweat stood on his forehead.</p> + +<p>"As to going, no ways are better than this," he mused, +presently. "I swear I'm rather comfortable now; a trifle +numb—but we—I say, we must all—all go some time, you +know. Did you hear me?" he repeated, smiling. "I was + +just saying that we must all go, one way or another, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I heard you," I said. "You are going now."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted, "one can't hold together forever +under a pull like this. You're an awfully decent sort. Give +me a bit of paper. I want to write." I found him a pencil +and some pages of my notebook.</p> + +<p>"To please you, I'll try to square some things," he said. +"You've been so deuced square and straight with me, all +along. I'm—I'm Gordon, now, I'm English. Word of a +fighting man, my—my <em>friend</em>."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward, peering down at the paper as though +he did not clearly see; but he wrote slowly for a time, absorbed +in thought.</p> + +<p>In all the death scenes which our country knew in thousands +during those years, I doubt if any more unbelievable +than this ever had occurrence. I saw the blood soaking all +his garments, lying black on the ground about him. I saw +his face grow gray and his nails grow blue, his pallor deepen +as the veins lost their contents. I saw him die. But I swear +that he still sat there, calm as though he did not suffer, and +forced his body to do his will. And—though I ask a rough +man's pardon for intruding my own beliefs—since he used +his last superb reserves to leave the truth behind him, I myself +thought that there must be somewhere an undying instinct of +truth and justice, governing even such as Gordon Orme; yes, +I hope, governing such as myself as well. Since then I have +felt that somewhere there must be a great religion written on +the earth and in the sky. As to what this could offer in +peace to Gordon Orme I do not say. His was a vast debt. +Perhaps Truth never accepted it as paid. I do not know.</p> + + +<p>There he sat, at last smiling again as he looked up. "Fingers +getting dreadfully stiff. Tongue will go next. Muscles +still under the power for a little time. Here, take this. +You're going to live, and this is the only thing—it'll make +you miserable, but happy, too. Good-by. I'll not stop +longer, I think."</p> + +<p>Like a flash his hand shot out to the weapon that lay near +him on the ground. I shrank back, expecting the ball full +in my face. Instead, it passed through his own brain!</p> + +<p>His will was broken as that physical instrument, the brain, +wonder seat of the mysteries of the mind, was rent apart. +His splendid mind no longer ruled his splendid body. His +body itself, relaxing, sank forward, his head at one side, his +hand dropping limp. A smile drew down the corner of his +mouth—a smile horrible in its pathos; mocking, and yet +beseeching.</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>At last I rubbed the blood from my own face and stooped +to read what he had written. Then I thanked God that he +was dead, knowing how impossible it would have been +elsewise for me to stay my hand. These were the words:</p> + +<div class="display"> +<p>"I, Gordon Orme, dying July 21, 1861, confess that I killed John +Cowles, Senior, in the month of April, 1860, at the road near Wallingford. +I wanted the horse, but had to kill Cowles. Later took +the money. I was a secret agent, detailed for work among U.S. +Army men.</p> + +<p>"I, Gordon Orme, having seduced Grace Sheraton, asked John +Cowles to marry her to cover up that act.</p> + +<p>"I, Gordon Orme, appoint John Cowles my executor. I ask him +to fulfill last request. I give him what property I have on my +person for his own. Further, I say not; and being long ago held as +dead, I make no bequests as to other property whatsoever.—Gordon +Orme. In Virginia, U.S.A."</p> +</div> + + +<p>It was he, then, who had in cold blood killed my father! +That horrid riddle at last was read. In that confession I saw +only his intent to give me his last touch of misery and pain. +It was some moments before I could read all the puzzle of +his speech, half of which had promised me wretchedness, and +half happiness. Then slowly I realized what I held in my +hand. It was the proof of his guilt, of my innocence. He +had robbed me of my father. He had given me—what? +At least he had given me a chance. Perhaps Ellen Meriwether +would believe!</p> + +<p style="text-align: center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>It was my duty to care for the personal belongings of +Gordon Orme; but regarding these matters a soldier does +not care to speak. I took from his coat a long, folded +leather book. It was hours later, indeed late the following +morning, before I looked into it. During the night I was +busy making my escape from that fated field. As I came +from the rear, mounted, I was supposed to be of the Confederate +forces, and so I got through the weary and scattered +columns of pursuit, already overloaded with prisoners. By +morning I was far on my way toward the Potomac. Then +I felt in my pockets, and opened the wallet I had found en +Orme's body.</p> + +<p>It held various memoranda, certain writings in cipher, +others in foreign characters, pieces of drawings, maps and +the like, all of which I destroyed. It contained also, in thin +foreign notes, a sum large beyond the belief of what an ordinary +officer would carry into battle; and this money, for the +time, I felt justified in retaining.</p> + +<p>Orme was no ordinary officer. He had his own ways, and + +his own errand. His secret, however great it was—and at +different times I have had reason to believe that men high in +power on both sides knew how great it was, and how important +to be kept a secret—never became fully known. +In all likelihood it was not his business actually to join in the +fighting ranks. But so at least it happened that his secret +went into the unknown with himself. He was lost as utterly +as though he were a dark vision passing into a darker and +engulfing night. If I learned more than most regarding him, +I am not free to speak. He named no heirs beyond myself. +I doubt not it was his wish that he should indeed be held as +one who long ago had died.</p> + +<p>Should Gordon Orme arise from his grave and front me +now, I should hardly feel surprise, for mortal conditions +scarce seem to give his dimensions. But should I see him +now, I should fear him no more than when I saw him last. +His page then was closed in my life forever. It was not for +me to understand him. It is not for me to judge him.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_45"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XLIV - This Indenture Witnesseth</h2> + + +<p>Within the few days following the battle, the newspapers +paused in their warnings and rebukes on +the one side, their paeans of victory on the other, +and turned to the sober business of printing the long lists of +the dead. Then, presently, each section but the more resolved, +the North and South again joined issue, and the war +went on.</p> + +<p>As for myself, I was busy with my work, for now my +superiors were good enough to advance me for what they +called valor on the field. Before autumn ended I was one +of the youngest colonels of volunteers in the Federal Army. +Thus it was easy for me to find a brief furlough when we +passed near Leesburg on our way to the Blue Ridge Gap, +and I then ran down for a look at our little valley.</p> + +<p>The women now were taking ranks steadfastly as the men. +My mother greeted me, and in spite of all her sorrow, in spite +of all the ruin that lay around us there, I think she felt a certain +pride. I doubt if she would have suffered me to lay +aside my uniform. It hung in our home long after the war +was ended, and my Quaker mother, bless her! kept it whole +and clean.</p> + +<p>There were some business matters to be attended to with +our friend Dr. Samuel Bond, who had been charged to handle +our estate matters during my absence. He himself, too + +old and too busy to serve in either army, had remained at +home, where certainly he had enough to do before the end +of the war, as first one army and then the other swept across +Wallingford.</p> + +<p>I found Doctor Bond in his little brick office at the top of +the hill overlooking the village. It was he who first showed +me the Richmond papers with lists of the Confederate dead. +Colonel Sheraton's name was among the first I saw. He +had been with Cumming's forces, closely opposed to my own +position at Bull Run. He himself was instantly killed, and +his son Harry, practically at his side, seriously, possibly fatally +wounded, was now in hospital at Richmond. Even by +this time we were learning the dullness to surprise and shock +which war always brings. We had not time to grieve.</p> + +<p>I showed Doctor Bond the last writing of Gordon Orme, +and put before him the Bank of England notes which I had +found on Orme's person, and which, by the terms of his +testament, I thought might perhaps belong to me.</p> + +<p>"Could I use any of this money with clean conscience?" +I asked. "Could it honorably be employed in the discharging +of the debt Orme left on my family?"</p> + +<p>"A part of that debt you have already caused him to discharge," +the old doctor answered, slowly. "You would be +doing a wrong if you did not oblige him to discharge the +rest."</p> + +<p>I counted out and laid on the desk before him the amount +of the funds which my father's memoranda showed had been +taken from him by Orme that fatal night more than a year +ago. The balance of the notes I tossed into the little grate, +and with no more ado we burned them there.</p> + +<p>We concluded our conference in regard to my business + +matters. I learned that the coal lands had been redeemed +from foreclosure, Colonel Meriwether having advanced the +necessary funds; and as this now left our debt running to +him, I instructed Doctor Bond to take steps to cancel it immediately, +and to have the property partitioned as Colonel Meriwether +should determine.</p> + +<p>"And now, Jack," said my wire-haired old friend to me +at last, "when do you ride to Albemarle? There is something +in this slip of paper"—he pointed to Orme's last will +and confession—"which a certain person ought to see."</p> + +<p>"My duties do not permit me to go and come as I like +these days," I answered evasively. But Dr. Samuel Bond +was a hard man to evade.</p> + +<p>"Jack," said he, fumbling in his dusty desk, "here's +something <em>you</em> ought to see. I saved it for you, over there, +the morning you threw it into the fireplace."</p> + +<p>He spread out on the top of the desk a folded bit of hide. +Familiar enough it was to me.</p> + +<p>"You saved but half," I said. "The other half is gone!"</p> + +<p>He pushed a flake of snuff far up his long nose. "Yes," +said he quietly. "I sent it to her some three months ago."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, you fool. What did you expect?"</p> + +<p>"Listen," he went on presently. "Your brain is dull. +What say the words of the law? 'This Indenture Witnesseth!' +Now what is an 'indenture'? The old Romans +and the old English knew. They wrote a contract on parchment, +and cut it in two with an indented line, and they gave +each party a half. When the court saw that these two +halves fitted—as no other portions could—then indeed the +indenture witnessed. It was its own proof.</p> + + +<p>"Now, my son," he concluded savagely, "if you ever +dreamed of marrying any other woman, damn me if I wouldn't +come into court and make this indenture witness for you +<em>both</em>—for her as well as you! Go on away now, and don't +bother me any more."</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="page"> + +<div class="div"> +<a name="toc_46"></a> + +<h2>Chapter XLV - Ellen</h2> + + +<p>Our forces passed up the valley of Virginia and +rolled through the old Rockfish Gap—where once +the Knights of the Golden Horn paused and took +possession, in the name of King Charles, of all the land +thence to the South Sea. We overspread all the Piedmont +Valley and passed down to the old town of Charlottesville. +It was nearly deserted now. The gay Southern boys who in +the past rode there with their negro servants, and set at +naught good Thomas Jefferson's intent of simplicity in the +narrow little chambers of the old University of Virginia, now +were gone with their horses and their servants. To-day you +may see their names in bronze on the tablets at the University +doors.</p> + +<p>I quartered my men about the quiet old place, and myself +hunted up an office-room on one of the rambling streets that +wandered beneath the trees. I was well toward the finish +of my morning's work when I heard the voice of my sentry +challenge, and caught an answering word of indignation in +a woman's voice. I stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>A low, single-seated cart was halted near the curb, and one +of its occupants was apparently much angered. I saw heir +clutch the long brown rifle barrel which extended out at the +rear over the top of the seat. "You git out'n the road, +man," repeated she, "or I'll take a shot at you for luck! We + +done come this fur, and I reckon we c'n go the rest the +way."</p> + +<p>That could be no one but old Mandy McGovern! For +the sake of amusement I should have left her to make her +own argument with the guard, had I not in the same glance +caught sight of her companion, a trim figure in close fitting +corduroy of golden brown, a wide hat of russet straw shading +her face, wide gauntlet gloves drawn over her little hands.</p> + +<p>Women were not usual within the Army lines. Women +such as this were not usual anywhere. It was Ellen!</p> + +<p>Her face went rosy red as I hastened to the side of the cart +and put down Mandy's arm. She stammered, unable to +speak more connectedly than I myself. Mandy could not +forget her anger, and insisted that she wanted to see the +"boss."</p> + +<p>"I am the Colonel in command right here, Aunt Mandy," +I said. "Won't I do?"</p> + +<p>"You a kunnel?" she retorted. "Looks to me like kunnels +is mighty easy made if you'll do. No, we're atter +Ginral Meriwether, who's comin' here to be the real boss of +all you folks. Say, man, you taken away my man and my +boy. Where they at?"</p> + +<p>"With me here," I was glad to answer, "safe, and somewhere +not far away. The boy is wounded, but his arm is +nearly well."</p> + +<p>"Ain't got his bellyful o' fightin' yit?"</p> + +<p>"No, both he and Auberry seem to be just beginning."</p> + +<p>"Humph! Reackon they're happy, then. If a man's +gettin' three squares a day and plenty o' fightin', don't see +whut more he kin ask."</p> + +<p>"Corporal," I called to my sentry, who was now pacing + +back and forth before the door, hiding his mouth behind his +hand, "put this woman under arrest, and hold her until I +return. She's looking for privates Auberry and McGovern, +G Company, First Virginia Volunteers. Keep her in my +office while they're sent for. Bring me my bag from the +table."</p> + +<p>It was really a pretty fight, that between Mandy and the +corporal. The latter was obliged to call out the guard for +aid. "Sick 'em, Pete!" cried Mandy, when she found her +arms pinioned; and at once there darted out from under the +cart a hairy little demon of a dog, mute, mongrelish, pink-eared, +which began silent havoc with the corporal's legs.</p> + +<p>I looked again at that dog. I was ready to take it in my +arms and cry out that it was my friend! It was the little +Indian dog that Ellen and I had tamed! Why, then, had +she kept it, why had she brought it home with her? I +doubt which way the contest would have gone, had not Mandy +seen me climb into her vacated seat and take up the reins. +"Pete" then stolidly took up his place under the cart.</p> + +<p>We turned and drove back up the shady street, Ellen and +I. I saw her fingers twisting together in her lap, but as yet +she had not spoken. The flush on her cheek was deeper +now. She beat her hands together softly, confused, half +frightened; but she did not beg me to leave her.</p> + +<p>"If you could get away," she began at last, "I would ask +you to drive me back home. Aunt Mandy and I are living +there together. Kitty Stevenson's visiting me—you'll—you'll +want to call on Kitty. My father has been in East +Kentucky, but I understand he's ordered here this week. +Major Stevenson is with him. We thought we might get +word, and so came on through the lines."</p> + + +<p>"You had no right to do so. The pickets should have +stopped you," I said. "At the same time, I am very glad +they didn't."</p> + +<p>"So you are a Colonel," she said after a time, with an +Army girl's nice reading of insignia.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, "I am an officer. Now if I could only +be a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she whispered. "Don't talk in that way, +please."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I could be?"</p> + +<p>"I think you have been," she whispered, all her face rosy +now.</p> + +<p>We were now near the line of our own pickets on this edge +of the town. Making myself known, I passed through and +drove out into the country roads, along the edge of the hills, +now glorious in their autumn hues. It was a scene fair as +Paradise to me. Presently Ellen pointed to a mansion +house on a far off hill—such a house as can be found nowhere +in America but in this very valley; an old family seat, +lying, reserved and full of dignity, at a hilltop shielded with +great oaks. I bethought me again of the cities of peace I +had seen on the far horizons of another land than this.</p> + +<p>"That is our home," she said. "We have not often been +here since grandfather died, and then my mother. But this +is the place that we Meriwethers all call home."</p> + +<p>Then I saw again what appeal the profession of arms +makes to a man—how strong is its fascination. It had +taken the master of a home like this from a life like this, +and plunged him into the hardships and dangers of frontier +war, again into the still more difficult and dangerous conflicts +between great armies. Not for months, for years, had + +he set foot on his own sod—sod like ours in Loudoun, never +broken by a plow.</p> + +<p>As we approached the gate I heard behind us the sound of +galloping horses. There came up the road a mounted officer, +with his personal escort, an orderly, several troopers, and a +grinning body servant.</p> + +<p>"Look—there he comes—it is my father!" exclaimed +Ellen; and in a moment she was out of the cart and running +down the road to meet him, taking his hand, resting her +cheek against his dusty thigh, as he sat in saddle.</p> + +<p>The officer saluted me sharply. "You are outside the +lines," said he. "Have you leave?"</p> + +<p>I saluted also, and caught the twinkle in his eye as I looked +into his face.</p> + +<p>"On detached service this morning, General," I said. +"If you please, I shall report to you within the hour."</p> + +<p>He wheeled his horse and spurred on up along his own +grounds, fit master for their stateliness. But he entered, +leaving the gate wide open for us to pass.</p> + +<p>"Shut the gate, Benjie," said Ellen as I tossed down a +coin to the grinning black. And then to me, "You don't know +Benjie? Yes, he's married again to Kitty's old cook, Annie. +They're both here."</p> + +<p>An orderly took our horse when finally we drove up; but +at the time I did not go into the house. I did not ask for +Mrs. Kitty Stevenson. A wide seat lay beneath one of the +oaks. We wandered thither, Ellen and I. The little dog, +mute, watchful, kept close at her side.</p> + +<p>"Ellen," said I to her, "the time has come now. I am +not going to wait any longer. Read this." I put into her +hand Gordon Orme's confession.</p> + + +<p>She read, with horror starting on her face. "What a +scoundrel—what a criminal!" she said. "The man was a +demon. He killed your father!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and in turn I killed him," I said, slowly. Her eyes +flashed. She was savage again, as I had seen her. My soul +leaped out to see her fierce, relentless, exulting that I had +fought and won, careless that I had slain.</p> + +<p>"Orme did all he could to ruin me in every way," I added. +"Read on." Then I saw her face change to pity as she +came to the next clause. So now she knew the truth about +Grace Sheraton, and, I hoped, the truth about John Cowles.</p> + +<p>"Can you forgive me?" she said, brokenly, her dark eyes +swimming in tears, as she turned toward me.</p> + +<p>"That is not the question," I answered, slowly. "It is, +can <em>you</em> forgive <em>me</em>?" Her hand fell on my arm imploringly.</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt that I was much to blame for that poor +girl's act," I continued. "The question only is, has my +punishment been enough, or can it be enough? Do you +forgive me? We all make mistakes. Am I good enough +for you, Ellen? answer me."</p> + +<p>But she would not yet answer. So I went on.</p> + +<p>"I killed Gordon Orme myself, in fair fight; but he wrote +this of his own free will. He himself told me it would be +proof. Is it proof?"</p> + +<p>She put the paper gently to one side of her on the long +seat. "I do not need it," she said. "If it came to question +of proof, we have learned much of these matters, my father +and I, since we last met you. But I have never needed it; +not even that night we said good-by. Ah! how I wanted +you back after you had gone!"</p> + + +<p>"And your father?" I asked of her, my hand falling on hers.</p> + +<p>"He knows as much as I. Lately he has heard from your +friend, Doctor Bond—we have both learned a great many +things. We are sorry. I am sorry. I have <em>always</em> been +sorry."</p> + +<p>"But what more?" I asked. "Ellen!"</p> + +<p>She put out her hands in a sort of terror. "Don't," she +said. "I have put all this away for so long that now—I +can't begin again. I can't! I can't! I am afraid. Do not +ask me. Do not. No—no!"</p> + +<p>She started from the seat as though she would have fled +in a swift panic. But now I caught her.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" I exclaimed, rage in all my heart. "I've been a +fool long enough, and now I will have no more of foolishness. +I will try no more to figure niceties. I'll not try to understand +a woman. But gentleman or not, I swear by God! if +we were alone again, we two, out there—then I'd not use you +the same the second time whatever you said, or asked, or +pleaded, or argued, I would not listen—not a word would +I listen to—you should do as I said, as I desired. And I say +now you <em>must</em>, you <em>shall</em>!"</p> + +<p>Anger may have been in my face—I do not know. I +crushed her back into the seat.</p> + +<p>And she—Ellen—the girl I had seen and loved in the desert +silences?</p> + +<p>She sank back against the rail with a little sigh as of content, +a little smile as of a child caught in mischief and barred +from escape. Oh, though I lived a thousand years, never +would I say I understood a woman!</p> + +<p>"Now we will end all this," I said, frowning. I caught +her by the arm and led her to the gallery, where I picked up + +the bag I had left at the driveway. I myself rang at the door, +not allowing her to lead me in. The orderly came.</p> + +<p>"My compliments to General Meriwether," I said, "and +Colonel Cowles would like to speak with him."</p> + +<p>He came, that tall man, master of the mansion, dusty with +his travel, stern of face, maned like a gray bear of the +hills; but he smiled and reached out his hand. "Come in, +sir," he said. And now we entered.</p> + +<p>"It seems you have brought back my girl again. I hope +my welcome will be warmer than it was at Laramie!" He +looked at us, from one to the other, the brown skin about his +keen eyes wrinkling.</p> + +<p>"I have certain things to say, General," I began. We +were walking into the hall. As soon as I might, I handed +to him the confession of Gordon Orme. He read it with +shut lips.</p> + +<p>"Part of this I knew already," he said, finally, "but not +this as to your father. You have my sympathy—and, sir, +my congratulations on your accounting for such a fiend. +There, at least, justice has been served." He hesitated before +continuing.</p> + +<p>"As to some details, I regret that my daughter has been +brought into such matters," he said, slowly. "I regret also +that I have made many other matters worse; but I am very +glad that they have now been made plain. Dr. Samuel +Bond, of Wallingford, your father's friend, has cleared up +much of all this. I infer that he has advised you of the condition +of our joint business matters?"</p> + +<p>"Our estate is in your debt General," I said, "but I can +now adjust that. We shall pay our share. After that, the +lands shall be divided, or held jointly as yourself shall say."</p> + + +<p>"Why could they not remain as they are?" He smiled at +me. "Let me hope so."</p> + +<p>I turned to Ellen. "Please," I said, "bring me the other +half of this."</p> + +<p>I flung open my bag and spread upon the nearest table my +half of the record of our covenant, done, as it had seemed to +me, long years ago. Colonel Meriwether and I bent over +the half rigid parchment. I saw that Ellen had gone; but +presently she came again, hesitating, flushing red, and put +into my hands the other half of our indenture. She carried +Pete, the little dog, under her arm, his legs projecting stiffly; +and now a wail of protest broke from Pete, squeezed too +tightly in her unconscious clasp.</p> + +<p>I placed the pieces edge to edge upon the table. The old +familiar words looked up at me again, solemnly. Again I +felt my heart choke my throat as I read: "<em>I, John Cowles—I, +Ellen Meriwether—take thee—take thee—until death do +us part</em>."</p> + +<p>I handed her a pencil. She wrote slowly, freakishly, having +her maiden will; and it seemed to me still a week to a +letter as she signed. But at last her name stood in full—<em>E-l-l-e-n +M-e-r-i-w-e-t-h-e-r</em>.</p> + +<p>"General," I said, "this indenture witnesseth! We two +are bound by it. We have 'consented together in holy wedlock.' +We have 'witnessed the same before God.' We have +'pledged our faith, either to other.'"</p> + +<p>He dashed his hand across his eyes; then, with a swift +motion, he placed our hands together. "My boy," said he, +"I've always wanted my girl to be taken by an Army man—an +officer and a gentleman. Damn it, sir! I beg your pardon, +Ellen—give me that pencil. I'll sign my own name—I'll + +witness this myself! There's a regimental chaplain with our +command—if we can't find a preacher left in Charlottesville."</p> + +<p>"Orderly!" I called, with a gesture asking permission of +my superior.</p> + +<p>"Yes, orderly," he finished for me, "get ready to ride to +town. We have an errand there." He turned to us and +motioned us as though to ownership, bowing with grave +courtesy as he himself left the room. I heard the chatter of +Mrs. Kitty greet him. I was conscious of a grinning black +face peering in at a window—Annie, perhaps. They all +loved Ellen.</p> + +<p>But Ellen and I, as though by instinct, stepped toward +the open door, so that we might again see the mountain +tops.</p> + +<p>I admit I kissed her!</p> + +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14362 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14362-h/images/image1.png b/14362-h/images/image1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac95989 --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image1.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image10.png b/14362-h/images/image10.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ff76ea --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image10.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image11.png b/14362-h/images/image11.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce869cb --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image11.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image2.png b/14362-h/images/image2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8eeccc9 --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image2.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image3.png b/14362-h/images/image3.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e156d22 --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image3.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image4.png b/14362-h/images/image4.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7e732b --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image4.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image5.png b/14362-h/images/image5.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eace7bd --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image5.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image6.png b/14362-h/images/image6.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b89168 --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image6.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image7.png b/14362-h/images/image7.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61bdf0f --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image7.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image8.png b/14362-h/images/image8.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c255728 --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image8.png diff --git a/14362-h/images/image9.png b/14362-h/images/image9.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..593afab --- /dev/null +++ b/14362-h/images/image9.png |
